( mixed. ) pasa mi corazón del frío al fuego

[ashaya]

Who: Spock, Jim, Gwen, Peter, and various.
Where: Various locations (see prompts for details).
What: Gnosia-related shenanigans.
Warnings: Uh. Probably more than a few? Most likely: references to genocide, references to starvation/famine, references/overt descriptions of being targeted by racially motivated crimes, general violence, and gore. Maybe some vaguely racy commentary here and there (linked).

Comments

[spidermenaces]

(one thing at a time. like a rollercoaster, his feelings fluctuate from incredibly offended, to completely compliant in a matter of seconds. there's something here that helps him listen - the authority in both their voices that reminds him of a certain someone, and if they're - like he did, are trusting him, then he has no desire to argue for now.

it also helps that his spider-senses begin to tingle he more they're talking, the more he's seeing, it's nearly as if his brain isn't completely capable of pinpointing what is wrong, but something definitely is, and it is coming faster than he realized initially. to gwen, he nods, nanites covering him from neck down, the webslinger snug against his wrist.)

Mine said 'Crew' - I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to do, but it doesn't have a creepy name or anything, so it isn't bad, right?

(they go to their tub, nevermind the damn mess this place is at present, and he nods towards gwen as he starts the webbing - he doesn't know exactly how much it is needed to hold down a vulcan, it didn't do much to hold thanos, mind you, but they're a beacon of trial-and-error, with an insistence to coming back up when they err. it's quite a weird sight, them on the tub surrounded by web as he listens to the information he so scolded for.)

We'll be suited the whole time, so it will at least prevent accidents... Sorry for snapping, Mr. Spock.

[arachnerina]

Let's hope not. [The last thing they needed was for something creepy to happen with Peter, too. Gwen's feeling the unease, as well. It's impossible to say what exactly is setting it off at this point, but the tingling is definitely getting stronger-- and it's a reasonable assumption that it's because of Jim and Spock. But thankfully Peter has finally responded to the urgency coming from the two older men, and she follows him to the bathroom.

It feels wrong, to have to do this-- but she knows they have to. She knows they don't have a choice, and can't safely wait until she figures out this power of healing she supposedly has, so she points her wrists at the two men, letting her own streams of webs loose.

It isn't until she's satisfied with the job that she stops, stepping away and pulling out her tablet. She types on it, taking extra time to delete and retype-- just in case Spock had somehow memorized the finger placements and sounds and could decipher what it was without seeing it. Only once she was sure, did she hold the screen to Peter.

We should probably take shifts, and reapply the webbing before the two hours is up. Maybe switch out every hour and a half?

Even if she's pretty sure Jim and Spock already knew this, she didn't want them to hear her and Peter plotting. Just in case. The webbing would dissipate after two hours, the last thing she wanted to do was put it in their head about an opening to escape.]

Our suits should help, but yeah. We need to be careful. I brushed fingers with him at STEM one day, and it was not fun. I can't imagine how bad it'd be if he put effort into trying to disable us.

[finalfrontiersman]

[ It feels like an oil spill at the back of his mind, the coldness of it cracking like an egg, slimy and slick, on his consciousness. Jim has no shields, nothing to dampen the sensation, nothing but his own will to stop it from taking hold. A long-fingered claw, sinking into the parts of himself he cannot contain - his mind is not lashed together, it oozes, like water filling cupped hands - there cannot help but be spillage, and this is where the rot snakes its way in.

Peter's a good kid - they both are, unquestionably - but this place is about to get a lot more dangerous. God forbid one or both of them get loose; Jim knows the kind of havoc they can wreak on a good day, and with nothing inhibiting their judgment... ]

I don't think so. [ They have no way of knowing. There's so much about this place that they don't know, and Jim can't help but be frustrated by the powerlessness that lies within it. Knowledge is power, and they know far, far too little. He takes his place in the tub - it's cramped, with two six-foot men in it - but his legs bump against Spock's, hands folded in his lap as they start laying down the layers of webbing. It will certainly be enough for Jim, but Spock? Well, only time would tell. ] Use the phasers if you have to, guys. I'm serious. The stun setting won't hurt either of us, but it'll take me down like a bag of bricks in one shot - Spock needs a few more hits, but it'll work.

[ Jim blows out a breath, letting his head fall back against the wall; the gnawing, greasy smoke at the back of his mind feels cloying, numb dread seated on the back of his tongue. However long he has or doesn't have, Jim's under no illusions this will be a pleasant experience. ] Gwen, you said your tablet assigned you 'Doctor'? Did it say anything else?

[ashaya]

[ The crown of his head still to the cool of the tile, Spock tips his chin. His hands too are folded in his lap, a perfect mirror to Jim's position with a singular exception: he leaves his index fingers steepled. A preferred meditative practice, he focuses much of his mind upon the space between his fingertips — the perceived boundary of touch. It is this that buys them time, the remainder of his faculties upon discerning Jim's location and less upon the way Gwen (most wisely) obfuscates her password and text.

He might only imagine what such infection might feel like to Jim. He might only imagine, as his own begins to worm its way in. Like rot within the foundations, it is cloying to the mind and copper to the tongue. ]

You are young and under duress, [ he says, eventually. His dark eyes flit once to Peter. ] Your emotional response is not unexpected.

[ Best to cover that while he can, he supposes. He too lacks any knowledge here, a fact that similarly causes a reasonable amount of frustration. It is masked, knowing it will not serve him or them, but it is there. It lingers at the periphery, just out of reach of the infection. ] To your point, Miss Gwen: I was and likely will be in full or in part unshielded. I am sorry, to have exposed my capabilities like this. This is... [ The webbing is unpleasant, as he presumed it would be, but the internal and external sensations are a touch... Overwhelming, perhaps. His nose wrinkles as he winces, only just. As though one had taken a particularly bold swig of wine and had not expected it to bite. ] An atypical experience. [ A beat. ] Three hits have proven effective.

[ Why does he know that? Never mind that. But: indeed, most contact of the decidedly telepathic nature was not at all unpleasant if both parties were at baseline and mutually consented. He is not unsurprised that such perceptions continue to spread among Humans and others in their time, never mind here.

Either way, Jim has that question covered. For the moment, Spock focuses on testing the strength of the bonds and occasionally indicates other parts of himself that will require further webbing with low murmurs and directional glances. ]

[spidermenaces]

(he catches a glimpse of what gwen is doing on her tablet, he knows she's a fast typer much like him - a skill for those born in gen z, so it is strange enough that when she shows him, there's a smile on his face. man, she's so smart! he gives her a thumbs up with no second thoughts, that sounds perfect.)

So you knew and you let me scold them? Oof.

(gwen!!!! but it's fine, totally fine, forgotten. for now, after they are both contained, peter finds a spot to crouch - his fingers move, swipe, as if he was reviewing the webs he has available. he even mutters 'karen, find me-- oh, right, damn', before he does a full hand swipe to clear his visor.)

We'll take care of you guys. I'm not happy that we'll have to stun you and stuff, but that's not all we have. Maybe it's good that you never looked at my suits completely.

(over 500 combinations is excessive. his hand moves to gwen, a little squeeze to tell her they'll be fine, he wholeheartedly believes.)

Mister Spock, mis-- Jim.

(the mask retreats, to show his face. concern is painted all over it, no concealing.)

We're going to do our best.

[arachnerina]

[Gwen shrugs sheepishly at Peter. She feels bad. She wanted to tell him sooner, but even without Spock binding her with a promise to keep it under wraps, she still didn't feel right sharing it.]

... It wasn't my secret to share. [He of all people will understand that. They both do. While they share their biggest no-longer-a-secrete secret, that doesn't mean everyone else does.

She shifts on her feet, trying to calm her nerves. She knows Peter can hear the way her heart beats. Talking about having to fight them, to stun them, or whatever else is necessary-- she doesn't like it. It's too close to what happened to her Peter, too damn close to how awful that situation ended. She couldn't let that happen again. She had to figure this Doctor thing out.]

No, it didn't. But I'll figure it out. I promise, I'll fix you guys. No matter what. [She's grateful for Peter's hand, and she squeezes back, trying to feel confident. It's the unknown that's bothering her. They don't know what this infection will do to their friends. But if anyone can figure this out, her and Peter can. Together.

But any amount of confidence she might have been gaining quickly was thrown out the window. Jim and Spock escaped, far more easily than she expected. Her and Peter put up a fight, but waiting until the middle of the night when they were tired, sleep deprived, and the webs were at it's weakest was definitely a bold and successful move on their part.

So they swerved tactics. Since containing them didn't work the first time, they had to reevaluate their webbing, make something new and stronger to handle Spock, and then move to trying to contain them again.

Which. Unfortunately, once again, does not go as planned. Gwen managed to save Jim! Which was part of the plan, at least. She finally figured out to heal him! Only!! The Spock distraction plan didn't work right. Peter was only supposed to lure Spock away, maybe try to use the new webbing on him to detain him so she could heal him later. He wasn't supposed to go and get himself captured!

Needless to say, she's been a worried mess since she realized he was gone. Taken. By a Gnosia with the power to end him without a moments notice. The only thing keeping her sane was knowing that Jim and Spock hadn't been really killing anyone they captured, just toying with them. Peter might be hurt, but he should at least be alive, and she had to hold on to that hope.

Jim was confident he could find Spock, too. Confident that he convince him to meet them, that they could get Peter back, and while she was still trying to process all the shit he said to her the day before, she agreed to trust him. He knew Spock best, after all.

So here they were, Jim meditating and reaching out?? Somehow?? Gwen has so many questions, but she's too uneasy and eager to get Peter back to push it right now. So she keeps watch as they sit in the park. She knows she should rest, but she can't, not until Peter's home and safe, so she waits. And waits.

It feels like forever, but suddenly Jim speaks up and she's on her feet instantly.]

What? Where? How-- [She literally has a million questions running through her head right now, but him saying "they" gives her so much relief.]

Tell me everything.

[finalfrontiersman]

I know you will, Gwen. [ Jim's smile is soft but earnest, full of faith. It's all they have at this point, but there's a reason they came here - sure, fates in the hands of teenagers didn't exactly sound great on paper, but Jim and Spock do trust them. More than their abilities, more than the web fluid - Jim trusts that they'll do their best to minimize harm.

And then everything goes to shit. Best laid plans, as it were.

In retrospect, it had been optimistic of them to believe that a half-baked plan the four of them had cooked up in less than two hours could reasonably hold Jim and Spock for very long. Each of them individually, perhaps, but together? As soon as the sickness had enough of a hold on the pair of them for them to actually plan the escape together, well - they were fucked, plain and simple.

Then Gwen cured his ass, and now they've got a whole new set of problems.

Jim's exhausted; every bone in his body hurts, aches, pains, and scrapes littering his person. He hasn't slept adequately in far too long, can't remember the last thing he ate - the laundry list goes on. Caked in blood, head rattling with horrible memories both new and old - and what's more, he can still feel Spock.

Like he said, whole new set of problems.

There's no time for him to apologize to Gwen in depth - the way it fucking requires, Jesus Christ, he had said some truly heinous shit to her - no time to process anything, really. They'd cleared out the warehouse, shuffling all of those poor people to one of the makeshift hospitals before setting out in search of Spock and Peter. Peter hadn't made contact as he should have, which could only mean Spock had won the fight as Jim had predicted, oh God. The longer they leave them out there, the more at-risk Peter was of an impatient, unbalanced Vulcan doing something none of them could take back.

He hadn't stopped to explain it to Gwen, why he was so sure he could find Spock - hell, Jim barely understood it himself - but whatever Spock had done to them (Jim remembers, in the bathtub, as his mind succumbed to the Gnosia - their ankles, brushing beneath the webbing. That must have been it, skin on skin contact, allowing them to plan without speaking...) still remained, connecting their minds. The Gnosia is raging on the other side of the bond, enveloping Spock's mind, but he still hasn't turned on Jim.

Jim's pretty sure Spock could crush him to dust, even from a distance, but he also knows, intrinsically, that he wouldn't. To do so would be destroying a piece of himself, too.

Yeah, like he said: not really the time for explanations.

Jim heaves himself out of his seated position, having mimicked Spock's usual meditative pose. His joints crack, muscles protesting, but still, Jim stands. He jerks his head towards a side street, making for it, sure that Gwen will follow. ] I saw Peter, with Spock. He's hurt - I don't know how badly - but he's alive and able to walk.

Spock did this - thing. [ Jim makes an aborted motion to his head, hand trembling slightly as he does so; his gait is not as steady as it usually is, listing to the side as he leads them down the street. ] I know you mentioned you got a good zap from him that one time but - telepathy isn't all bad. Isn't bad most of the time, actually it can be - nice.

[ Jim swallows around the lump in his throat, remembering their hands clasped together at the bar, his fingertips dancing over the back of Spock's hand. How happy his Vulcan companion had been, the way it echoed. He tries to take that memory and send some of it along to Spock via the tether he's built, though how much of it makes it there before the worry overshadows it, he's not sure. ] Anyway, Vulcans can do something called a mind meld. They can literally go inside your mind, your thoughts, your memories. You can do a lot of damage with something like that, but you can also - link two minds together.

[ Jim blows out a breath, cutting a glance over at Gwen. ] That's what he did. Linked the two of us together. They're at the park, by the library, and Spock - wants to trade.

[ They're not far from the park now, and Jim slows, coming to a stop just around the corner. He turns to Gwen, gaze serious, holding out a hand - he doesn't dare touch her, after their fight earlier, but it's clear that his normal impulse would have been a friendly shoulder squeeze. ] Listen to me very carefully, Gwen. You get Peter away from Spock, and if you can't get a clear shot on healing him, you run like hell. Do not try to fight him, and do not try to renege on the deal and take me with you. He won't hurt me, but he will hurt you two, if you get in his way.

[ Once Spock had Jim, with no leverage over him? Well, Jim's banking on Spock being too preoccupied to care much about the teenagers. If not, they're all fucked. ] I'll distract him for as long as I can.

[arachnerina]

[A lot had really happened quickly. Gwen hadn't really pushed Jim for many answers until now, but it was partially because of how uncomfortable she felt around him. A part of her felt silly, since she knew whatever infected him had been in control, it was the infection saying and doing those things, but it was hard to erase that feral image of him out of her head, hard to forget the awful things he had said to her, trying to rattle her. It did rattle her, and she was still rattled, even if she didn't want to admit it.

And right now, she had to trust him. She had to get his help to lure out Spock so they could save Peter, even if she wanted to get as far away as possible from him-- at least until she could actually sleep and isolate until she was ready to get past all this.

But Peter took priority to everything. She wasn't going to rest until he was okay.

So she followed Jim, trying to keep her unease under wraps. At least her spider-sense wasn't going off too badly, but with a city wide plague, it wasn't going to stop entirely. She nodded as he explained more about Spock's telepathy, and this...bond, they supposedly had between them. How long had they had this? That was...intimate. And completely unsurprising, given what she'd witnessed of the two of them interacting. If Peter was here, he'd be giving them so much shit about how they're such a married couple, and she smiles to herself at the thought, but that only makes her feel worse. She can't even bring herself to joke about it either. Not to mention the tension she feels when she sees his hand more towards her. He doesn't actually try to touch her, thank god, and it just brings her to avoid his gaze again.]

We upgraded our webbing, by the way. After you two escaped. It doesn't last as long as the other kind, but it should be enough to hold him if I can get a good shot. Then I can heal him too. [He wouldn't have noticed, because she didn't exactly get a chance to use the webbing on him. It's a good thing they had thought ahead and made a few extra webshooters, so she was able to replace what Jim destroyed during their fight.]

I shouldn't have let Peter try to distract him. I thought, with the Iron Spider suit, he would stand a better chance-- it's my fault Spock got him in the first place. [Even with how strong Spock was, they were stronger. They just had the disadvantage of not wanting to hurt their friends going against them. It's the same reason she struggled to subdue Jim. They both knew too much about Peter and Gwen and their powers, even if they didn't know everything, and were too crafty. Strength and webbing didn't matter.

Still, she shouldn't have let Peter go off alone. They should've taken them as a team, they should have stayed together. Infected Jim might've been onto something with the Collateral Damage Hall of Fame.]

[ashaya]

[ Stronger? Yes, he would have no such quibble with that.

Spock had opted for the way of his father, encouraged by the words of his mother. He had opted to pursue what was logical and reasonable, what was controlled and focused. To be reduced to such a base thing, to feel with the whole of the self in measures both full and in part - his mind and his body might only take so much. It might only take so much, before it starts to give.

For all that the brain alights with the fires of infection, for all that his blood rages hotter than any plak tow - Spock is only a sum of his parts. Halved across species, limped and poisoned and pressed to the corners of his skull by the dark, he is only so capable as he is for the depths of his stubbornness. His stubbornness and the prospect of Jim, both lost and found to him. That he drags along Peter is more an afterthought, one hand clamped tight at the shoulder. It is not enough to bruise, the Gnosia knows that such value is diminished if he injures him too much, but his bared hand rests close to the cusp of fabric and skin. They do not need to know that this will not hurt Peter, not really. They do not need to know that this touch will be more suggestion, the ability to meld and mangle hampered by the distal proximity to his qui'lari - by his own reservations.

For as much as the Gnosia thrives and breeds and weaves through the synaptic firings, he is still Spock. And Spock? Well, Spock has no real wish to cause excess harm to anyone. Not like this. Not like that. And he knows, too, that Jim knows as much. He knows as much, because he knows himself. He knows them.

But, it is the sound of their footsteps that draws his attention. Long before they appear at the entrance to the park, he hears them. Jim, stiff in the way of his gait and Gwen lighter still. His end of the bond throbs, sympathetic and suddenly snapped to the full of some awareness. The want to see and steady and solidify laps end over end, inchoate and inconsolable. A tide, that pulls and locks before it ebbs.

He doesn't call out to them. He needn't have to. He dare not steer Peter out into the open, but he moves position. Within the dotted architecture that breaks against the greenery of the park, Spock extends out from behind the curved base of some faceless monument a pale, stained hand.

The robes he's worn throughout the excursion are tattered at the cuff, stained with the copper color of his oxidized blood.

Where?

It less a word than it is a feeling, a need. He would have Gwen show Jim first. To confirm, though he might feel how close Jim must be. Like one spooling thread about a bobbin, he works the impression of closer against the bond.

He coaxes, tired and starved as he is. ]

[arachnerina]

[Gwen also hears them before she sees them. Her spider-sense started alarming in her head before her and Jim even entered the park, putting her on guard. Her mask was back in place, her suit still dirty and roughed up from her fight with Jim, but that was future-Gwen's problem to deal with. It was in one piece enough that she felt at least mostly safe, taking on the sensory overloading Vulcan that was somewhere near by.

She keeps low and out of sight to start with, periodically glancing back to check that Jim was staying close. Even if their plan mainly meant he was going to distract Spock, that didn't mean she wanted him to run off and do something stupid too soon.

It isn't until Gwen spots Spock's hand that she dares to move out into the open. Her hands are up in the air, in a motion of surrender, so Spock knows she's coming in peaceful. She doesn't want trouble, it's true-- but she's hell bent and determined to heal Spock and save Peter.

She leaves Jim behind cover for now, wanting to at least confirm Peter's safety. She knows he's alive, at least. She can hear him, knows his heart beat anywhere, but that doesn't make her any more reassured. The infection made Jim hurt himself. She had no idea what it might tempt Spock to do, should he get upset.]

Is he here? Is he safe? [He knows enough of her powers to probably assume it's just a ploy, and, well. It is. She doesn't want him to think about what she knows and can do, with her powers. He needs to put his guard down, so she can get the better of him.]

[finalfrontiersman]

It's one thing to know something, intellectually, and know it instinctively. Gwen had just focused all of her energy on stopping him - he had tased her, shot at her, tried to beat her into submission. Just because he's back in his right mind doesn't mean that the body has forgotten the adrenaline of the moment - Jim's going to give it longer than a few hours, even if neither of them are talking about it directly at the moment.

He watched her flip that car earlier - they do need to talk about it, but later.

Good. It's worth a shot. [ It's the only shot they have, so they're taking it - but Jim is so very serious about her and Peter getting out, if it comes to that. He wisely doesn't mention that whatever Peter had tried clearly hadn't worked - they both know it, he doesn't need to say it. They don't know how the fight went, if Peter tried to web Spock and he broke free...they'll just have to find out for themselves.

At the follow-up, however, Jim's gaze cuts over to Gwen sharply. He can hear the words she's not saying, the ones his addled mind had flung at her, and the nauseous feeling churns in the pit of his stomach. ] Hey. Don't do that to yourself, Gwen. Splitting us up was the only way this was going to work, and it did work. I'm here, and Peter's going to be fine.

[ Honestly? The glass is kind of half full, even if they're both worried to death over it.

The bond aches the closer they get, and Jim bears the wave of howling emptiness - the demand that he go to Spock, to quell it, ratcheting up in intensity. Spock is certainly not helping things, calling out to him with every atom of his being - it's all Jim can do to keep his pace even, just behind Gwen, settling one mental hand against the tether. Here, I am here.

Gwen moves out into the open, and Jim aches to follow - he edges out a little bit from behind the tall line of bushes Gwen left him by, enough to see. He hasn't seen Spock's condition with clear eyes, and he's worried it's going to be worse than he thinks (he's probably right).

Show her the boy...she wants proof of life. She will hold up her end...t'hy'la, come to me...

Hopefully if he focuses on the messages he wants to press through to Spock's mind, he'll be distracted enough he won't notice the thousand other worries plaguing Jim - or their plan to heal him. ]

[ashaya]

[ It is something Spock will be following in a later vein, enveloped as he is at the moment by the weight of his own paranoia and his own fears. What is himself and what is the Gnosia is interwoven at the base, rot in the root of the foundation. What has been and will always be soft and vulnerable and lonely has been feasted upon by the beak of something both unmoored and insensate — it cares little for the positives and the gains. It knows only hunger, it knows only taste. Like fingers shoved through the bruised skins of stone fruits, what it holds now in the palm is the source of the ache. What it holds now is the boy who knew only his mother to guide him, knew only the brutality of his singular and exceptional existence.

Their risk was a selfless one. And this is how it is repaid: an absolute and unwavering stubbornness until Jim broadcasts that certainty that he is here. That he is near, the visual confirmation that Jim provides despite protestation quelling the cacophonous urges to take and steal — reclaim. His skin itches, sears. What remains of the arrows and poisons grind, shear.

And yet, the bond maintains. It remains, a driving force behind the inevitable way he appears to capitulate.

His hand withdraws.

He is not so foolish as to appear outside of cover entirely. The Gnosia sup upon the knowledge of her capabilities, limited though they may be in part. However, what is Spock twists against the restraint. Both require Jim, the bond too should prefer him. And it is these factors, that bring Spock to steer Peter partly into the open. Enough to show that he is alive, in better form than one may have suspected.

He is conscious, certainly. Roughed over in part, but no more than Spock is. If one were to make argument, his appearance from half-behind the cover of the monument would provide insight into his comparatively worse state of being. Despite the robes that drape his frame, he appears smaller these days. Pulled into his himself, the infection has stolen the stability of his posture and the firm line of his shoulders. It has taken from him any semblance of Humanity, the bronzing shadows beneath his dark of his eyes more a bruise that he bears than a fatigue.

It is difficult to gauge to scale of his own injuries from here, but there is a line of green blood that sluices off the curve of a wrist. It rests against Peter's shoulder, nails digging in just enough to hold him.

His fingers are placed precariously close to the division between fabric and skin.

He does not trust her, that much is certain. That much is obvious, his attentions burning through her and settling upon where Jim himself is. ]

Speak, [ he says, the word a low command. It is obvious, despite where it is his gaze fixes, that it is directed at Peter. ]

[spidermenaces]

(hope is what makes his feet move, and yet, remorse is what makes them drag. she had always said she doesn't like that suit - but to him, it's something remarkable. it was a gift for conquering his challenges, an invitation to something greater, one he rejected at first, and had no choice but to wear proudly later. it's his bond to tony stark, that one suit a lot more personal due to the similarities to the man's armor than anything else, and it failed him, and he failed... everyone, everything.

he's battered, fatigued, and undoubtedly will need a stitch or two. he may heal with much less effort, but any skin rupture still stings, bruises, and pains. along with relief to see both jim and gwen, that pang of guilt twirls in his stomach, his heart beating as fast a high tempo drum - gwen might be able to hear the nervousness in the way his body sounds.

commands are commands under spock's touch, and all he wants to say is what comes out:)

Let me go, Spock.

(no mister. this is not mister spock.)

[arachnerina]

[She's feels so stupid, but it's hard to take one of Jim's peptalks, after everything that happened. After all the vulgar words he threw like knives hit in just the right places, because, of course, he knew her. Knew her heart. Knew the things that had broken her before.

She doesn't blame him, still, but that doesn't make it easier.

Still, she has to keep it together. Just a little bit longer. Just until she knows Peter is safe.

Just like with Jim, Spock looks terrible. Less human, more monstrous. The green blood is also striking, making him seem even more otherworldly in the moment. But none of that matters once he brings Peter out into the open.]

Peter! [He's alive. He's breathing. He looks terrible, but he's alive. It takes everything in Gwen not to rush to him in that moment, but she knows the Vulcan won't let her close to him, not when he still hasn't seen Jim. She pulls her eyes from Peter back to Spock, her fists tightening.

Keep it cool, Stacy. Stick to the plan, and you'll save them both.

She finally dares to turn her gaze back to where Jim is hiding, and she waves for him to come out. Once Spock had Jim in his sights, she didn't know how much time she would have, but she would have to be quick. Get Peter out of the way, and heal Spock. She could do this. She had to do this.]

[finalfrontiersman]

[ Spock looks even worse than Jim remembers.

He's a dark specter, the edges of him serrated, sure to cut anything in his path. He looks dangerous, despite (or maybe even because) of the green stains splotched across his robes. There's enough of them that even the dark fabric can't hide it completely as Spock steps into the halo of light given off by the park lamp illuminating their chosen meeting point. Claude's arrows stick out of him in various places, left embedded in flesh, slowly tearing at muscle with every move Spock makes. The longer Jim looks, the more wrong he sees.

Spock's expression is even worse.

The Gnosia has made him almost unrecognizable. Dark shadows plague his undereyes, severity hangs heavy on his brow. Peter looks roughed up, but in one (misshapen) piece, and Gwen's relief is palpable. Jim shares it, though he scrambles to arrange his mind into some other configuration. Spock is still far too close for comfort, still with a grip about Peter, still dangling him over the edge as if to see how far Gwen will swoop to catch him.

Let him go, Jim steps forward when bidden, listing slightly as he does so. He ends his slow approach just behind Gwen, as impossible as it seems not to keep moving forward. Let him go, and we can be reunited. ]

[ashaya]

[ It is only iterations — giving up, letting go. Letting go, to receive what has brought him back to the fold of the scraping buildings, the rounding greenery. And yet, he does not see that Gwen budges. Not entirely. Instead, he is focused upon his mark. He is focused upon Jim>, who lists into the static proximity of Gwen.

And yet, it is —

Reluctant to leave the shield of the monument, it is Jim's unsteadiness that causes him to move. That causes him to consider. That causes him, in the intervening moments, to study each in turn.

And then, it is thousand hands and mouths and eyes that stagger, waver — pull. They brush about the boundary of the bond, sleek and feathered animals. It is not a simple want, they think. It is the whole of some great need, some vast starvation. It is a vacancy, a light burned out in a room that Jim has left. The ache is bitter, tannic and earthy within the pit of his stomach. The more it is he waits for Jim to surpass her, the more that it too burns.

Spock's hand stutters at the cusp of Peter's shoulder. His breath, so often even and unpronounced, rattles like a wound.

Khart-lan.

And for all that Spock knows within himself the overflow of churning uncertainties, he knows best that each contrasted surety is carried within Jim. Jim, for whom he would do most anything. Jim, who makes even the Gnosia concede that there is no such stability without him.

He does not release him, not entirely. The intent to trade is obvious, steering him out into the open further as he does. He keeps behind Peter, using him as a shield as he limps further into the clearing, eyes blacker and murkier than they ought.

He crooks his other arm, unable to lift it entirely, but reaching for Jim even so. He's close enough now, that if he were to let go —

Ma ish-veh tan-tor. Nash-veh dungi palutunau du.

— he might have hand upon Jim in a moment. A moment, before they would have to run. ]

[spidermenaces]

(his eyes dart from spock, monstrous green, not himself, in any shape or form. jim, himself, but unequivocally not in his best self, with all considered... and gwen. the guilt makes it nearly impossible to look at her long, his eyes meeting the floor for a longer beat.

defeat never looked great on him, and he might wallow on it for a moment, two, but he never really gives up. with spock now focused on jim, a chance, however fickle it may be, presents. all is strength goes to his legs, a sweeping kick with all the force he may muster, an attempt to cause imbalance in his posture, enough for the others to act.)

[arachnerina]

[Gwen tenses as Jim steps forward. Her gaze was only on him for a second before they went back to Spock, watching him intently. His hand was still on Peter, but he was reaching for Jim.

Good. Focus on Jim. Forget about Peter.

But before Jim could even go towards Spock, her spider-sense exploded in her mind, and she knew something was about to happen. And sure enough--

Peter drop kicked Spock.

She only had seconds to react, rushing forward to Peter. She scooped him up without a moment of hesitation, shooting her webbing and in moments, they were flying through the air. She didn't really have an exact plan on where to take him, just away, so once they were a decent distance, she landed again, gently helping him to the ground.

Thank god he can't see her face, as she's on the verge of tears as she wraps her arms around him, but it only lasts a few seconds. She pulls away, cupping her hands to his face.]

I've got to go save Spock, but I'll be right back. Are you okay to stay here? I won't be long, I promise.

[finalfrontiersman]

[ It's as they thought, thank whatever deity may or may not exist - with Jim there, Spock's attention is divided. Caught between the Gnosia and instinct, there is only so much the Gnosia can dictate. Only so much that can be suppressed, until it comes spilling out - pulling at the bond, making Jim's head ache with the effort it takes not to completely collapse, or go running forward towards Spock. Jim is not the only one who can lure; he is not unaffected by Spock's desperate siren call. The urge to return to him, to fix what has been broken and heal that ache inside him -

Well, he doesn't have to wait long.

Peter's sweeping kick takes Jim by as much surprise as he's sure it does Spock, but it lands successfully and the kids are gone in the blink of an eye. Jim rushes forward, catching Spock by the arm - it's not enough to stop him hitting the ground, but it is enough to slow him, and send them both down together.

Spock!

Jim's grip is firm, tight, as if to ever stop them being separated again. He catches him, landing hard on his knees, but hopefully mitigating any agitation of Spock's wounds. His other hand rises to the gaunt cut of Spock's cheek, a tenderness that belies the fear - fear for him, of him, perhaps all of the above. You're okay. I've got you. I've got you... ]

[ashaya]

[ It is not unexpected.

The Gnosia writhe and ramble, the wet of their mouths both wild and weak. For all that they burn at the mind they'd found their tinder in, there is only so much that the body might do. There is only so much that the body might withstand. There is only so much that the Gnosia might command, might seize within its formless hands. There is only so much a body might do, molded to the shape of its emptiness.

Even Vulcans require rest and respite. Meditation. Meditation, to sort through the muddle of days - the emotions they hold. Secreted, between what was the body and what was the katra, dug into the places that one might not access without the permission of touch. Touch, which Jim does, without touching. His mind is a sun-sweet and flickering thing, pulled at the edges of Spock's dark periphery. He is many things and for all that the Gnosia hungers, Spock thinks dimly, how is it know how it feels?

The kick doesn't drop him. Not entirely. It staggers him, stuns him. It makes what is dark and viscous in him howl, but all that is pulled from the lips is short and sharp and quick. A gasp, a breath - from the damp of his lungs somewhere, the Gnosia still attempt to catch - to stage a reclamation -, but Peter is gone. Peter is gone and in the lack of impetus to move, the lack of want to lay down his own leverage, Spock has miscalculated. He has miscalculated and yet, somehow -

Rewarded.

Rewarded, by what is familiar and home and comfort. Rewarded, by what he has gone seeking to begin with. Rewarded, as Jim catches him as much as Spock tries (oh, he tries) too to catch him.

It isn't a graceful fall by any metric. They both land upon the crowns of their knees, Spock sucking in a breath around the ache that flows through in duplicate, triplicate. He feels the fatigue that Jim too feels, the bruising and blistering skin. And yet, and yet - the shuddering, slithering things in his mind go quiet. They still. They watch him, watch Jim, from behind the dark of Spock's eyes as his hand settles along the cut of his cheek.

He does not know if it is them or himself that makes a soft, stifled sound. He does not know if it is the relief of the Gnosia or Jim or himself that enfolds him, that drives him to turn into the heat of Jim's palm. He does not know what it is, who it is, that pulls his shoulders inward. That makes his hands, battered and bloodied as they are, scrabble for any inch of him. Any inch of Jim, who grips him so tightly that Spock thinks he might drift without the anchor of his body, the steadiness of him. ]

Jim, [ he murmurs, so soft and so reverent. He is tired. He is so, so tired and all it is that Spock and the Gnosia both want is to rest. To sleep. To recuperate, closer to the flare of Jim's mind. To bask, in what makes him him. His hands settle upon the round of Jim's shoulders, smooth along the strong line of his neck. They cradle, just as Jim cradles, the face he's long memorized. He presses cool palms against the curve of his jaw. Holds them, against the heat of his skin. ] Jim.

[arachnerina]

[It honestly kills Gwen to leave Peter, but she knows she has to. Just seeing him alive and mostly well is at least satisfying the fears she had over the last 24 hours. She held him in her arms, even if just briefly, so she knew he was okay. Thank god, he was okay.

One last glance at him, then she was off, swinging back to the others as quickly and as silently as she could manage. She landed several feet away, not wanting to arouse suspicion on Spock's part. She knew his senses were stronger than the average humans. Whether or not it was at the level of her and Peter was up for debate, but if it was anywhere close, she had to be careful.

But Jim had his attention (?? whatever was happening over there sure was something, but she was not about to open that can of worms), and hopefully that would be enough. She crept closer, each step as silent as the last. She attempts to lock eyes with Jim for any hint of a signal. She doesn't want to make a move too soon, but if she waits too long, Spock will notice her. Finally, before it's too late, she makes to clear the last few feet in seconds and throw her arms around Spock from behind. It's a risky move, given his own senses and strength, but she has to try. She has to save him, whatever the cost.]

[finalfrontiersman]

[ Spock is injured, in every way it's possible to be injured. Jim holds him, one hand still gripping desperately his elbow to keep him steady, the other following trickles of oxidized copper blood back to their origin points. Spock's hands find him, slipping around his shoulders, and Jim makes no fuss about it. His heart is in his throat, but Spock is here, he's alive, and that's about all Jim can ask, nowadays. Whatever else comes, they can deal with the rest but - Christ, just let him live. ]

I'm here, I'm here. [ Spock leans into the warmth of his hand, face pressing fully into the pillow of his palm, and Jim's thumb sweeps under the delicate, shadowed skin beneath his eye. Deep bags, ones Jim is sure are mirrored on his own face, mar the paleness of Spock's countenance. Spock's fingers press against him and Jim obliges, lets him map out the path up to Jim's own cheek. He can still sense the Gnosia through the bond, buzzing along Spock's skin, relentless. Determined to eat away at him, bit by bit, to enslave him to the will of the Gnosia. ] Spock, hey...I'm here. I've got you.

I'm not going anywhere. [ Words designed to soothe, but they're no trick. Even if this gambit doesn't work...Jim's not going anywhere. He's not leaving Spock, certainly not like this. Jim's hand strokes gently against Spock's cheek, leaning his own face into the insistent press of Spock's long digits. ] You hear me? You're stuck with me.

[ Jim would be more self-conscious about the situation - when Gwen returns and gives the exchange an audience - if he weren't still stuck in an adrenaline rush. Pushing down the shakiness, Jim's hand slides to the back of Spock's head, carding through the long hair - and hopefully keeping his attention on him, and not Gwen, sneaking up from behind. ] Just you and me, okay? We'll go home, get you cleaned up...

[ He's not looking at Gwen, because if he looks at her it'll give it away - and who knows what could happen, what Spock would do, if they'd even get another chance -

Gwen crashes into Spock's back and Jim grabs him from the front, unsure if Spock will try to throw her off. He'll be less likely to attempt with any kind of force with Jim in the way, at least. ]