How We Are (but now how we're going to be) Part 3
Artist: insideapollo
Mixer: jazzy_peaches
Summary: Even when they hate each other, they're still sort of falling in love.
Link to Art: This is how we are (but not how we're going to be)
Link to Mix: Judging From Picture Books
Masterpost
[part three]
Miranda Jones is telepathic. Spock can feel it the moment she enters Doctor McCoy’s office, her mind whispering across the corners of Spock’s telepathic periphery. She turns to him upon her entrance, milky-blue eyes quickly going over his entire frame. She wears a long sensory web over her uniform, draping over her pants like a cloak. Her hair is only just regulation, with half pulled away from her eyes and ears and half cascading down her back in a dark curtain of curls. It hides the four nodes surgically implanted along her neck. Spock knows it hides where her sensory web connects to key neurons in her spinal cord, allowing her to see.
She has studied on Vulcan. Spock can recall the way his mother would speak of her in his years before Starfleet, the approving lilt of her voice all those years ago. It is for this reason alone that Spock has agreed to meet with her as a suitable replacement for Counselor Vrinda.
McCoy and Kirk are also present, and Jones sweeps her gaze over them as well, her milky gaze lingering over McCoy before she sits.
“Eloise has informed me of the situation,” she says in an airy voice. “She asked me to relay her deepest condolences that she was unable to help with your situation.”
Kirk grumbles something incoherent to himself, but for once offers no comment. Doctor McCoy scowls at him darkly before he turns to Jones and explains quickly what would be required of her.
It is relatively simple to explain the situation to Doctor Jones. At last, Doctor McCoy stops and gestures for her to speak. Jones rubs at the back of her neck thoughtfully, toying with one of the nodes in her neck.
"I think the situation is fixable," she finally says.
"Great," McCoy says, and abruptly stands, both his hands running down his shirt as if he is wiping away dust. "My shift's just ended. So, I'll be in the mess if you all need me."
With that, he exits.
"I have time available at the end of the week, if you're both free then, to begin," Jones says as if she hardly noticed McCoy's exit.
"I'll check my schedule," Kirk says.
"I too, must consult my schedule to find the most appropriate time in which we could meet," Spock adds.
"All right," Jones says. "But first, I have something for you both to do." She pauses here, studying them both with equal curiosity. "I want the captain to go to four of Commander Spock's closest friends and ask them why they're friends with him. Commander, I'd like for you to do the same with the captain's friends."
"What good will that do?" Kirk asks tightly.
"Some, hopefully," she answers dismissively. "Mostly, it'll get you both thinking about the other's good qualities, instead of the negative."
"Right," Kirk says, but either Jones does not hear him or ignores the word.
She watches them for another moment quietly, before standing and sauntering over to the exit.
"I'll expect both of you to complete the exercise in good faith," she warns. "Take as long as you need to, as I don’t want either of you rushing through the other’s positive traits. Also, message me some time after 1700 hours. I have appointments all day until then.”
She wanders out of McCoy’s office, rather like she had never had any intention of remaining for an extended length of time. Spock is left alone with Kirk. Silence stretches between them. Kirk clears his throat and runs his hand along the back of his neck.
“So, Uhura first, right?”
“I consider Nyota Uhura a close confidant, yes,” Spock answers. He hesitates a moment before adding, “Do you require a list of crewmembers with whom I converse?”
“What? Wow, no. Don’t-don’t do that.” Kirk stands quickly and paces to the opposite end of the room. He remains facing the wall as he speaks. “I know who your friends are, Spock.”
The news comes as a surprise to Spock, as he did not believe the Captain took notice of his extracurricular activities.
“I see.”
He does not entirely know what to make of the statement, and as such remains silent. Kirk turns to him, somewhat sheepishly, before taking several hesitant steps towards him again.
“Not in a creepy, I-know-where-you-live, stalkerish sort of way, though,” Kirk begins, almost as if he is speaking to himself. “Just in an Oh-so-there-are-people-that-Spock-actually-tolerates kind of way.”
Spock does not necessarily understand the difference.
“But Captain,” he tries, “you do know where I live.”
“Right. And this is where the conversation ends.” Kirk abruptly spins nearly 90 degrees and rushes to the door. “I’ll see you whenever, Commander.”
“Of course.”
His first visit, naturally, is Doctor McCoy, whom he finds sharing a meal with several off-duty nurses in the mess hall. McCoy watches his approach with his customary scowl in place. Spock refuses to be intimidated by it.
“Doctor, I require a moment of your time.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure Miranda sent you,” McCoy responds. “And whatever she gave you as homework, it can wait ten damned minutes.”
“Of course, Doctor,” Spock answers placidly. “I will await a more opportune moment.”
He clasps his hands behind his back and assumes parade rest, .87 meters away from McCoy. Improbably, the doctor’s scowl deepens; he pushes away his empty plate and stands irritably Spock had not known one could accomplish such mundane tasks irritably, but Doctor McCoy lives his life in a permanent state of near-irritability and has no problem letting his crewmembers know it.
“Serves me right for trying to help you out,” he mumbles and walks away.
He gives no indication that Spock is to follow; nevertheless, he does so. Unexpectedly, the doctor does not lead him back to his office in medbay. Rather, when they enter the turbolift, McCoy instructs it to take them to deck twelve, the officers’ quarters.
If he were to have put any logical thought into it, Spock would not have assumed McCoy actually lived in his office. It is a foolish rumor, given that he would have undoubtedly been given his own quarters in which to rest. As such, it is illogical to be so surprised to be led into his living quarters.
“I’m off duty,” McCoy explains, “and like Hell am I going to go back into that black-hole of an office for the likes of you.”
“Doctor,” Spock begins, standing awkwardly outside the room when the door opens and McCoy enters.
“Get your hobgoblin ass in here before people see you standing out there like some kinda jilted lover,” McCoy says when he turns back and sees Spock has not followed.
Spock takes three measured steps and stops, clasps his hands behind his back, and regards the doctor while the man collapses onto his couch.
On the far side of the living area, a desk sits, large piles of old-fashioned paperwork littering its surface. The terminal's screen is facing away from them, but its blue shine indicates that McCoy did not power it down before leaving earlier for work today. The entryway to his sleeping area is closed off by a black, three-pane screen. There are holopics on nearly every available surface, some of the Captain, no doubt from when they were still studying at the Academy. Yet, overwhelmingly, they are snapshots of a young, bright-faced girl with long dark hair and shockingly green eyes.
"So, what do you want?"
To his credit, the doctor does not delay.
"Doctor Jones expressed a wish for us to speak with the others' close companions," Spock begins.
"Always did have a soft spot for creative solutions, Miranda did," McCoy grumbles, one side of his mouth quirking up. "So what exactly did you need to know?"
Spock shifts his stance slightly and looks around again to avoid the doctor's piercing gaze. Spock estimates that McCoy's quarters are roughly eleven percent smaller than his own before he speaks again.
"I wished to ascertain why you became friends with the Captain," he finally says.
"That's easy," McCoy says, putting his feet up on the small glass table in front of him. "He let me throw up on him." The statement alarms Spock, and it is not until the doctor lets out a bark of laughter that he realizes the man had not been entirely truthful. “Sweet heaven almighty, that look on your face was priceless.”
Spock tries not to frown.
“Doctor, if you cannot answer my question seriously-”
“I know, you’ll throw me out an airlock,” McCoy says. He sits up again, letting his feet fall back to the floor loudly. "Jim, he's-well, there're tons of reasons why people like him. He's friendly and honest and great when you need to drown your sorrows in whiskey but don't want to end up in the county detention facility. You know he's a smart guy. Hell, at the Academy it was a fight to get the damned fool to do anything other than study."
"You are responding to my query with generalizations, Doctor," Spock says. "My question regards you, specifically."
McCoy runs a hand through his hair in a way that reminds him suddenly of Kirk. He wonders if the doctor acquired this habit from the Captain, or if perhaps it was the other way around.
"I joined the Academy because I had nothing waiting for me back on Earth," McCoy says on a sigh, seemingly off-topic. "The divorce paperwork'd just gone through, and dammit if The Wife hadn't taken the whole damn planet in the divorce. So I'm there with my liquid courage to get me through that godawful shuttle ride, when in walks this kid who looks like he's at least had a pretty rough time of it himself, not like all those other clean-cut Academy folks littering the shuttle. There ain't a way I don't reek of alcohol and seven different types of failure, but this kid, he doesn't even blink a goddamn eyelash at it." McCoy pauses here, but something tells Spock that he is not quite finished with his story. "You know I did throw up on him? And the damned fool just laughed it off. Said you owe me a drink the second we set foot in San Fransisco. That's how I knew. That goddamn idiot’s the best friend I ever had, and I knew he’d be right from the start."
"I see," Spock finally says, unsure of what other response he should give.
“Don’t you ever tell him I said that though,” McCoy warns, sitting up and scowling at him from across the room. “He’ll never let me live it down.”
"Of course not, Doctor," Spock responds in all seriousness. For a moment he hesitates, unsure how to phrase his next request. "Doctor-"
"For God's sake, Spock, I just told you my goddamn sob story, at least call me McCoy in my own damned quarters."
"Very well. McCoy, Doctor Jones specifically requested we interview no fewer than four friends. The Captain initially stated that he knew those with whom I conversed, yet I find that I cannot say the same for myself."
McCoy frowns thoughtfully for two-point-seven seconds, rubbing his hand across the bottom of his jaw.
“Honestly, Jim doesn’t have too many close friends,” he finally says. “He’s got a lot of acquaintances, but not many people he can confide in.”
“I see.”
“I’d try Sulu first, though.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock says, inclining his head once in thanks. He turns to leave, but the doctor’s voice stays him.
“Don’t tell him I said this either, but he’s kind of looking for you to be one of those few he can confide in,” McCoy says quickly, as if he is speaking against his better judgment.
“Unlikely,” Spock says, refusing to believe he is disappointed by the truth. “The Captain has not shown any interest in beginning a personal relationship with me.”
“Why you goddamned, thick-skulled, know-nothing genius,” McCoy mumbles, so quiet Spock is sure he is not meant to hear it. “You really don’t-” He breaks off, seemingly unable to continue. After a moment, he composes himself and speaks at a regular decibel. “Just get out of here. And think about what I said, dammit.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock forces himself to say, turning away to inspect the wall on the far right side of the room. “I shall endeavor to do so.”
McCoy waves him off, and Spock turns back to the exit. It is then, of course, that the door slides open of its own volition, and Captain Kirk enters the room, not appearing to notice Spock.
“Bones, have you seen-”
He stops, both in speech and in movement when he finally catches sight of Spock. His eyes-bright in the harsh overhead lighting-sweep over Spock then flick to where McCoy is now standing, arms out as if to soothe a raging beast.
“Now Jim-”
“Bones, did you know there’s a Spock in your rooms?” he asks, his tight question at odds with the loose stance of his body. “Or am I just seeing things?”
“If you would excuse me, Captain,” Spock says, unwilling to argue. “I have bridge duty in seventeen point six-five minutes.”
Spock leaves them, and the sound of the door sliding shut behind him is unreasonably dissatisfying.
***
Sulu appears alarmed when Spock asks him for a moment of his time the next day after his shift. He shares a horrified look with Ensign Chekov that Spock pretends not to notice. Sulu follows Spock into the turbolift, to the apparent bemusement of the entire bridge crew. The captain, thankfully, was called down to engineering twenty-three minutes previous, and so is not present to send Spock his abnormally hostile glares, as he has been doing the entire shift. Spock thinks it may have something to do with the betrayed look on his face last night, when he had caught Spock in McCoy's quarters, but Spock will not make assumptions in regards to the captain. He is-a dynamic individual, Spock will admit, and is difficult to predict.
"Sir?" Sulu prompts as the turbolift doors shut. "Is there something you needed?"
"It is unrelated to your performance on board this vessel," Spock begins, and watches in mild fascination as the Lieutenant takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes. "My query is in regards to your relationship with the captain."
"We're just friends," Sulu is quick to assure. "Nothing unbecoming going on there."
Spock raises an eyebrow, wondering if there are perhaps rumors to the contrary Sulu has heard that Spock has not.
"I believe you, Lieutenant. I only wish to know-" Spock pauses here, thinking of the most efficacious way he could word his query, "why you are such good friends with the captain."
"Oh."
The turbolift comes to a halt then, and Spock quickly presses the hold button to keep this conversation private. That alarmed look crosses the lieutenant's features once more, as his eyes dart from Spock, to the turbolift doors, and down to where Spock continues to press the hold button. When his eyes once more find Spock's there is determination etched into the line of his jaw. It is startlingly similar to the way Kirk looks in the midst of an argument.
"Jim's a great guy," Sulu insists, as if Spock doubted the statement. "When he counts you as a friend, you'll never have to worry about falling to your death into a rapidly destabilizing singularity. At least not alone."
“You and the captain were not friends when Vulcan was destroyed,” Spock says bluntly.
“Of course, sir,” Sulu says, looking down at the floor. “Only-well, it kind of still applies.”
There is a moment where Spock considers asking Sulu to clarify his answer, but in the end he only drops his arm and allows the turbolift doors to slide open. Still Sulu hesitates, glancing between Spock and the exit repeatedly.
“Why do you need to know, sir?”
“Merely for my own personal curiosity,” Spock answers, remembering the way Kirk had so opposed them speaking of their relationship counseling to anyone on board.
“Oh. O-kay then,” Sulu remarks, stretching out the word. He exits the turbolift, but stops just outside the threshold. “Give him a chance, Commander,” he says, turning around and facing Spock directly.
He does not have a chance to respond to Sulu’s remark, for at that moment the turbolift doors slide shut again.
After Sulu, Spock admits that he has little idea who else he may speak with. It is troubling, he thinks, that he has worked with James Kirk as his official captain for two months and nineteen days now, and yet still knows so very little of the man. They have explored four new planets and visited thirteen Federation planets on various missions, saved the world and stood by the human as his planet disappeared, and does not even know with whom he spends the majority of his off time.
He entertains the idea of asking Doctor McCoy again for a list of the captain’s comrades, but ultimately discards the idea as inefficient. It is most logical-and in the spirit of Doctor Jones’ intent, namely, to become more acquainted with one another-that Spock discover such information on his own. It is simply for this reason, and not for the insufferably smug looks Doctor McCoy sends his way when they are around each other, that Spock begins to surreptitiously observe Captain Kirk.
“Have you been stalking the Captain?” Nyota asks of him, over a quiet dinner in her quarters.
“No. I have been gathering data,” Spock answers, because even if he cannot give her the full explanation, there is a strangely pressing need to justify himself. “To better understand Captain Kirk’s-recreational habits.”
Nyota watches him for a very long time, her fork poised inches off of her plate, before speaking again.
“Be careful, okay? I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with him-”
“I have not.” Except he realizes suddenly that he has. He has spent more time with the Captain in the preceding weeks than ever before.
“Right,” Nyota responds. Her hand reaches across the small table as if to take hold of Spock’s. He closes his fist on the tabletop, and her hand retreats. “Just trust me. Be careful around him.”
It is after some observation that he begins his search for Lieutenant Gaila Im’pha. He finds her in engineering, laughing with Commander Scott in the shadow of the warp core. Scott frowns at him when he asks to speak with Im’pha. She, however, only waves away the engineer’s suspicion before following Spock to a relatively secluded area of the engineering deck.
She frowns thoughtfully when Spock asks her of Captain Kirk, picks up a spare PADD from nearby and fiddles with it restlessly.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it,” she finally says. “Back at the Academy, we were in this class, Advanced Warp Core Engineering, that only had six beings in it. We clicked.”
Spock does not respond, unsure if any response that comes to mind is appropriate. He has no right to question the captain’s romantic dalliances while at Academy, not when Kirk has restrained himself from asking Spock of his relationship with Nyota (even though none exists). Still, he finds it difficult to avoid a query on their old relationship.
“Jimmy gets underestimated a lot,” she continues after a moment. “Captain Kirk, sorry. But he’s kind of hard to quantify, if you know what I mean.”
He does not. He suspects however that he might never truly understand Kirk’s friends, thinks perhaps that has something to do with why Kirk is such good friends with them in the first place. He thanks Im’pha for her time and leaves, listening to her echoing laugh as he goes.
Gary Mitchell works in administration. Spock finds him at his post on Deck C. The man laughs for twelve point seven seconds before saying, “We’re friends because it would’ve been too much trouble to stop being friends, sir.”
He is called away by his supervisor seconds later, and so Spock leaves, dissatisfied with the response. He wonders why Kirk would associate with someone like Mitchell, who does not appreciate him the way his other acquaintances appear to.
It is in this frame of mind that he inadvertently stumbles across Lieutenant Benjamin Finney. Finney was in the Laurentian system when Vulcan was destroyed, and so is one of the few Academy professors who was not promoted after Nero’s destruction.
“You either love Jim or you hate him,” Finney says once Spock has posed his question. “There’s no middle ground with him. We went through survival training on Andor together, and I was unlucky enough to need rescuing at least twice while we were there. I owe Jim my life, at least twice over. Captain Kirk’s resourceful, creative, loyal, and great company, once you get over some of his idiosyncrasies.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Spock says, because Finney appears to be running late for something. “I will not keep you any longer.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Finney says, before saluting sharply and hurrying away.
Spock is not entirely sure this exercise has been useful to him at all, at least not in the way he thinks Jones may have wanted. At their next counseling session, Jones does not ask them to report their findings. Instead, she merely clasps her hands in her lap and says,
“Commander, what can you tell me about the Captain?”
“James Tiberius Kirk,” Spock begins, unsure the motive behind the question. “Captain of the United Starship Enterprise NCC-1701. Serial number-”
“Wait, you know my serial number?” Kirk interrupts.
“Captain, please, let the Commander finish,” Jones admonishes. Kirk fidgets in his seat and scowls, but ultimately remains silent. “Please, continue.”
“Serial number SC937-0176CEC. He is-” But Spock hesitates, suddenly unsure. “He is well-versed in engineering and the sciences, although he keeps such information relatively hidden from common knowledge.”
He stops there, unwilling to say more. There are other personality traits that he has discovered over the course of this mission and others the man’s friends assure Spock exist within him. However, this is all merely hearsay. Spock must await tangible evidence of these before he is comfortable verbalizing such information.
“What about you, Captain?” Jones says. “Can you tell me about the Commander?”
“Commander Spock is the Executive Officer on board this vessel,” he says. “That makes him second-in-command and resident terrorizer of the crew. He’s also head of the Science Department, which frankly kind of boggles my mind, since he works fifty hour work weeks on the bridge, but apparently Vulcans are just generally better than any other species in the galaxy because they don’t need silly things like sleep to slow them down.”
“Captain, I must protest,” Spock begins, but stops after the twin looks of mild annoyance on Jones’ and Kirk’s faces.
“Also, the Commander’s got friends who are just as scary and genius-y as he is, except they all have feelings and have started the Spock fanclub or something.”
Spock doubts that whomever Captain Kirk spoke with would ever seriously consider starting such an illogical group.
“Is that all, Captain?” Jones asks, frowning slightly at the captain.
Kirk runs a hand over the back of his head, the ever-present smirk slipping for a moment.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s it.”
“Bridge to Captain Kirk,” a small voice says.
“Captain, may I remind you that I’ve asked you both to not bring your communicators to our counseling sessions-”
“Captain,” he responds as if it is an adequate explanation, lifting one shoulder in an almost apologetic shrug. “Can’t afford to leave my communicator behind.” He flips open his communicator and turns towards the door. “Kirk here, what’s up?”
“There’s a Captain Stone on the vid feed who wants to speak with you,” the unfamiliar voice says.
“I’ll take it in my quarters,” he says. “Give me five minutes.”
And with that, he leaves, without so much as a backward glance.
***
It is stardate 2259.323, and so Spock is scheduled to work the latter half of Alpha shift. There are less than five minutes in his shift when Kirk rushes in, halfway to the navigation console before Ensign Chekov yelps, “Keptin on the bridge!” Kirk pauses where he stands, turns to where Spock is standing beside the captain’s chair and shakes his head.
“Okay, first, how are you always on the bridge?”
“Is there some emergency that requires your immediate attention, Captain?” Spock asks, assuming Kirk’s inquiry was rhetorical.
“Um, no. Just-” he makes a dismissive gesture with one arm, “carry on. As you were, that is.”
The crewmembers return their attention back to their proper stations, except for Spock, who watches the Captain speak in quiet undertones with Lieutenant Sulu. Sulu nods somewhat reluctantly, and Kirk grins, clasping him roughly on the shoulder as he does so.
“Awesome,” he says aloud as the Beta shift complement begin to enter the bridge. He turns to Spock, some of the mirth fading from his features. “With me, Spock?”
Spock nods once in acquiescence and follows Kirk to one of the turbolifts. They do not speak a word to one another until they are sitting in Doctor Jones’ office, awaiting her arrival.
“You never answered my question,” Kirk says abruptly.
“Regarding my presence on the bridge?” Spock replies. At Kirk’s nod, he continues. “I work there, Captain.”
“Well, yeah obviously. But. Well, say I’ve got Beta shift. So I come up a couple hours early to check up on whoever’s taking care of my girl, and you’re the Acting Captain. Or if we both worked Alpha shift, and that night I can’t sleep and come up to the bridge, you’re still there. I mean, it seems like you’re always working. And I know you can’t be, because our resident union workers would have skinned me alive by now had that been the case.”
Admittedly, Spock’s schedule is somewhat chaotic. Every week he updates it, as his sleeping cycle clashes with the standard 24 hour work day. He is not entirely sure how he can expediently explain the matter, however.
“One Vulcan day corresponds to eighteen standard hours,” Spock finally says.
“So when it’s eighteen hundred ship’s time, your body’s telling you it’s midnight?”
“It is complicated,” Spock finally admits. “Today, for example, my morning shift starts three hours after Gamma begins.”
“Huh,” Kirk says after a moment, but does not offer another comment until after Jones enters her office from the side door.
“Hello,” she says placidly, sitting behind her desk and smiling at the two of them. Spock nods once in greeting, while the captain answers with a deliberately casual “Hey.”
“Is there anything you two wish to discuss?” she asks.
“No,” Kirk says quickly, perhaps too quickly to be entirely truthful.
“Really? How about you, Spock?”
“There is nothing I wish to discuss with the captain at this time.”
“Okay,” Jones says, and then proceeds to pull a PADD-modified to accommodate her blindness-towards herself and immerse herself in work.
The silence stretches between them.
“What was the nature of your conversation with Lieutenant Sulu today?” he asks.
“Rescheduling our fencing session for the day,” Kirk says. He frowns suddenly. “Because he’s, you know. My friend.”
He puts a strange emphasis on the statement. Spock knows Sulu and the Captain are friends. He does not understand, however, why he feels the need to restate the fact. But the captain shifts his chair away minutely, tension evident in his deep scowl, irritation disproportionate to their innocuous conversation.
Spock is very aware of the minutes that pass quietly, seemingly uselessly.
“Is there nothing you, as our mediator, would have us do?” Spock probes, turning to the doctor instead.
“Not particularly,” Jones says, shaking her head without looking up from her modified PADD.
There are a multitude of ways both he and the captain would be better suited in spending an hour of their time. Sitting in a psychologist’s office without speaking is not one of them. At any rate, Spock is at least familiar enough with Captain Kirk to know he cannot sit still, quietly no less, for an undetermined length of time.
“You can’t just steal my friends, Spock,” Jim says abruptly mere minutes later, missing any sort of context to make the statement sensible. “You just. You can’t do that.”
“I do not know to what you are referring.”
Kirk scoffs at that and crosses his arms over his chest. Doctor Jones remains resolutely silent at her desk. She has begun to study them again at least, eyes trained on them despite the fact that they are relatively useless to her.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” is the terse response. “Bones is my friend. You can’t have him.”
It takes him several seconds before he finally understands the captain’s ire. It is so illogical that it makes outrage curl to life at the base of his spine, unwanted and unstoppable. He does not have any significant relationship with Doctor McCoy. In fact, he has not communicated with the man directly since before their first official session with Miranda Jones. Then, the only reason they were conversing was because of Jones’ request. They were speaking of Captain Kirk. He cannot believe that Kirk would still be upset at an incident so insignificant.
The captain’s brash audacity has always made him behave illogically, and so now he actively has to resist the urge to be contrary.
“I am not sure I understand your meaning,” Spock says quietly, slowly. “Please, enlighten me.”
“It’s not that difficult, Commander,” Kirk says, voice rising with every syllable. “You. Can’t. Have. Him. You’re my First Officer. You can’t suddenly have this friendship with Bones, not when I’ve been here-”
“If you do not want me speaking with our Chief Medical Officer, Captain,” Spock interrupts, finished with the conversation at hand, “then perhaps you should order me away from medical bay.”
“Right, like that’ll work. You don’t follow orders, Spock, and you know it. You deign to obey them. You’re not meant to serve under anyone less than-”
“If you are implying that I am insubordinate-”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Spock,” the captain says in a rush. He makes an aborted movement with his hands, as if he wants to grab Spock by the shoulders and shake him violently. Instead he turns sharply and begins pacing the length of the room. “I thought I could handle this, working with you until your other commission opened up, but I can’t. I’ve already started your transfer paperwork for you; if you-”
At that moment, the sharp trill of a communicator goes off, and Kirk bites off the end of his sentence as Doctor Jones reaches for the device lying innocently on her desk. A strange buzzing has taken residence inside of Spock’s head, making it impossible for him to form any sort of response. He is aware, dimly, of Doctor Jones arguing sharply with whoever called her, but he is unable to discern the details of the conversation. The captain’s words, transfer paperwork ring through his mind, over and over.
Spock will not be fired from his position as First Officer. He will not allow it.
“It’s an emergency, Doctor,” a small voice says from Jones’ communicator. “It’s about John Kyle.”
For a moment the doctor’s demeanor changes. Her shoulders slump, and she looks between the captain, himself, and her communicator, clearly conflicted.
“I’ll be right over,” she finally says. When she speaks again, she is not looking at either Spock or the captain. “I’m sorry,” she starts. “I wouldn’t leave unless it was for something gravely important.”
“There is no need to apologize,” Spock manages to say around the burning anger which has begun to replace his initial disbelief. “We have clearly finished for the day.”
He does not bother to look at Kirk. Instead, he turns abruptly and walks off. At the edge of his peripheral vision, the captain stands as well, his hands clenched into fists. He hears the doctor attempt to stay them, but Spock finds he is in no mood to linger.
He does not realize until later they exit Doctor Jones’ conference room together, almost in unison. If Spock were not so angry, he would find it ironic how easily they are moving in synchronization. Neither of them speaks a word until they are two decks above the psychiatric ward. Finally, almost as one, they stop and turn to one another.
“I find myself offended that you would consider my commitment to this position in question,” Spock says into the silence.
"Spock, you deserve better than me."
Spock raises an eyebrow, unsure of Kirk's meaning. It seems that Kirk takes the gesture to mean something else entirely, however, because he takes a step back, almost in retreat. There is hurt clear in his wide eyes, and for a moment, Spock is distracted by how bright they are. They remind him, illogically, of the MX240 twins they catalogued not last week, two blue supergiants forever orbiting each other, constantly in danger of collision. Not, of course, because Kirk’s eyes move in a way that resembles an orbit, but because they are unpredictable, violent, and hauntingly beautiful.
“Look, I know you think I'm a shitty captain or whatever,” Kirk says, looking away from him. "I had thought we would be able to work things out, but it always feels like we're not getting anywhere. You're always so--”
“I am aware of my basic personality traits, Captain, and I must insist-”
“Don’t try to turn this into some kind of personal vendetta against you, Spock-”
“I believe you are the one who has turned the matter personal, Captain,” Spock says deliberately, stopping the Captain’s argument. “If you want me off this ship, sir, you need only ask, and I will more than gladly ‘deign’ to acquiesce to your request.”
The captain opens his mouth, presumably to make another argument, and closes it without saying a word. Spock finds the sight oddly satisfying.
“That’s not what I meant at all, Spock,” he finally says quietly, but Spock has no interest in knowing what the captain truly meant. He turns away and quickly finds himself in his own quarters.
Perhaps meditation would be beneficial at this juncture. However, the captain does not appear to know when a conversation is over, because no sooner has Spock lit his incense than his door chimes for entry. He has a moment where he considers ignoring the chime. However, it rings again, twice in quick succession, and so he takes a deep breath and calls out, “Enter.”
The captain shuffles in and stands in the living area awkwardly. Spock uncurls himself from the lotus position and moves into the kitchen alcove, avoiding Kirks piercing gaze. He remembers, of all things, Counselor Vrinda’s advice on the merit of honesty within a command team, and takes a deep breath.
“I find I do not want to leave this vessel,” Spock begins.
“And I don’t want you off this ship,” the captain says quietly. “So, I guess that’s a good place to start.”
“Indeed.”
Another moment passes in silence before Kirk sighs and runs a hand over his face. When he speaks again, his voice is subdued.
“Look. Let’s try this again, with me being mostly honest about what’s been bothering me. I-I really kind of wanted us to get along. And it just wouldn’t happen and wouldn’t happen, and yeah, it would frustrate me. I’d look for things to pick at because that’s what it felt like you were doing to me, just looking for examples of why I was the shittiest captain this side of the Quadrant. I thought ‘if Spock doesn’t trust me to run this ship, how am I supposed to fucking trust him?’ And it’d really piss me off when you’d be on the bridge, telling me how to do my job, without even asking me if I wanted your help or not. And, you know what? Half of the time I would have fucking welcomed your input, just not when you make it feel like I’m incompetent. The only reason I started up the paperwork for your transfer was because I thought you were hours away from asking for it yourself, and I figured I’d at least do you a favor and let you go with a damn good recommendation.”
There is a long silence after that particular declaration. Spock thinks of and discards multiple responses before he finally settles on one appropriate.
“I would have done no such thing,” he says, weighs the power of each syllable.
“Well, that’s good to know,” the captain says quietly, after a moment. “I mean, I guess.”
“I harbor no ill intentions towards you.”
“Right.”
“I am a scientist first, Captain,” Spock continues, now strangely compelled to be understood. “My first objective is to observe. It is true that there are times when I have not remained neutral around you, but I have never considered you an inadequate captain. Indeed, when there is no-animosity-between us, I find our working relationship to be quite satisfying.”
Empirically, Spock has noticed that the captain smiles in very distinct ways. This time, his smile is slow and small, almost shy.
“That’s probably the nicest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, Commander.”
Spock feels the first flicker of amusement in his chest at that; he nods solemnly to Kirk.
“And I also have found this conversation to be most adequate,” he says. “The next time I hear you speak of my idiosyncrasies, I will feel gratified to remind you of how-I believe the adjective was ‘amazing’-I am.”
A light blush appears on the tops of his cheekbones when the Captain laughs.
“Fair enough,” Kirk says, still smiling. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some very important captain-things to be doing.”
“Of course, sir,” Spock says. “Goodnight.”
Kirk turns and begins to walk off. At the door he stops, puts one hand on the frame and studies the floor.
“So. We’re good, right?”
The question is unsurprisingly vague. However, Spock finds he neither needs nor wants elucidation.
“Yes, Captain. We are ‘good,’ as you say.”
“Awesome,” he says, biting his lower lip around a smile. “Thanks, Spock. I’ll see you at Alpha tomorrow.”
Spock means to reply, but the captain rushes out of his quarters before Spock can respond in the affirmative. He stares at his door for twenty three point four seconds before he reenters his sleeping area and resumes meditation.
***
The next day on the bridge, Spock and Jim arrive on almost simultaneously from the two separate turbolifts. He watches the way Kirk pauses minutely before continuing on his way to the captain’s chair. He smiles stiffly at Spock, bright eyes darting around the bridge twice before focusing on Spock again.
“Commander,” he acknowledges.
Captain Kirk does not want Spock to leave Enterprise. With this thought in mind, Spock nods once to Kirk and sits. When they speak to one another, it is over-formal, especially for Kirk, who is often very casual with other members of the crew. However, they do not have any disagreements over the course of the shift.
Spock is willing to call this progress.
(>>>next>>>)
Mixer: jazzy_peaches
Summary: Even when they hate each other, they're still sort of falling in love.
Link to Art: This is how we are (but not how we're going to be)
Link to Mix: Judging From Picture Books
Masterpost
[part three]
Miranda Jones is telepathic. Spock can feel it the moment she enters Doctor McCoy’s office, her mind whispering across the corners of Spock’s telepathic periphery. She turns to him upon her entrance, milky-blue eyes quickly going over his entire frame. She wears a long sensory web over her uniform, draping over her pants like a cloak. Her hair is only just regulation, with half pulled away from her eyes and ears and half cascading down her back in a dark curtain of curls. It hides the four nodes surgically implanted along her neck. Spock knows it hides where her sensory web connects to key neurons in her spinal cord, allowing her to see.
She has studied on Vulcan. Spock can recall the way his mother would speak of her in his years before Starfleet, the approving lilt of her voice all those years ago. It is for this reason alone that Spock has agreed to meet with her as a suitable replacement for Counselor Vrinda.
McCoy and Kirk are also present, and Jones sweeps her gaze over them as well, her milky gaze lingering over McCoy before she sits.
“Eloise has informed me of the situation,” she says in an airy voice. “She asked me to relay her deepest condolences that she was unable to help with your situation.”
Kirk grumbles something incoherent to himself, but for once offers no comment. Doctor McCoy scowls at him darkly before he turns to Jones and explains quickly what would be required of her.
It is relatively simple to explain the situation to Doctor Jones. At last, Doctor McCoy stops and gestures for her to speak. Jones rubs at the back of her neck thoughtfully, toying with one of the nodes in her neck.
"I think the situation is fixable," she finally says.
"Great," McCoy says, and abruptly stands, both his hands running down his shirt as if he is wiping away dust. "My shift's just ended. So, I'll be in the mess if you all need me."
With that, he exits.
"I have time available at the end of the week, if you're both free then, to begin," Jones says as if she hardly noticed McCoy's exit.
"I'll check my schedule," Kirk says.
"I too, must consult my schedule to find the most appropriate time in which we could meet," Spock adds.
"All right," Jones says. "But first, I have something for you both to do." She pauses here, studying them both with equal curiosity. "I want the captain to go to four of Commander Spock's closest friends and ask them why they're friends with him. Commander, I'd like for you to do the same with the captain's friends."
"What good will that do?" Kirk asks tightly.
"Some, hopefully," she answers dismissively. "Mostly, it'll get you both thinking about the other's good qualities, instead of the negative."
"Right," Kirk says, but either Jones does not hear him or ignores the word.
She watches them for another moment quietly, before standing and sauntering over to the exit.
"I'll expect both of you to complete the exercise in good faith," she warns. "Take as long as you need to, as I don’t want either of you rushing through the other’s positive traits. Also, message me some time after 1700 hours. I have appointments all day until then.”
She wanders out of McCoy’s office, rather like she had never had any intention of remaining for an extended length of time. Spock is left alone with Kirk. Silence stretches between them. Kirk clears his throat and runs his hand along the back of his neck.
“So, Uhura first, right?”
“I consider Nyota Uhura a close confidant, yes,” Spock answers. He hesitates a moment before adding, “Do you require a list of crewmembers with whom I converse?”
“What? Wow, no. Don’t-don’t do that.” Kirk stands quickly and paces to the opposite end of the room. He remains facing the wall as he speaks. “I know who your friends are, Spock.”
The news comes as a surprise to Spock, as he did not believe the Captain took notice of his extracurricular activities.
“I see.”
He does not entirely know what to make of the statement, and as such remains silent. Kirk turns to him, somewhat sheepishly, before taking several hesitant steps towards him again.
“Not in a creepy, I-know-where-you-live, stalkerish sort of way, though,” Kirk begins, almost as if he is speaking to himself. “Just in an Oh-so-there-are-people-that-Spock-actually-tolerates kind of way.”
Spock does not necessarily understand the difference.
“But Captain,” he tries, “you do know where I live.”
“Right. And this is where the conversation ends.” Kirk abruptly spins nearly 90 degrees and rushes to the door. “I’ll see you whenever, Commander.”
“Of course.”
His first visit, naturally, is Doctor McCoy, whom he finds sharing a meal with several off-duty nurses in the mess hall. McCoy watches his approach with his customary scowl in place. Spock refuses to be intimidated by it.
“Doctor, I require a moment of your time.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure Miranda sent you,” McCoy responds. “And whatever she gave you as homework, it can wait ten damned minutes.”
“Of course, Doctor,” Spock answers placidly. “I will await a more opportune moment.”
He clasps his hands behind his back and assumes parade rest, .87 meters away from McCoy. Improbably, the doctor’s scowl deepens; he pushes away his empty plate and stands irritably Spock had not known one could accomplish such mundane tasks irritably, but Doctor McCoy lives his life in a permanent state of near-irritability and has no problem letting his crewmembers know it.
“Serves me right for trying to help you out,” he mumbles and walks away.
He gives no indication that Spock is to follow; nevertheless, he does so. Unexpectedly, the doctor does not lead him back to his office in medbay. Rather, when they enter the turbolift, McCoy instructs it to take them to deck twelve, the officers’ quarters.
If he were to have put any logical thought into it, Spock would not have assumed McCoy actually lived in his office. It is a foolish rumor, given that he would have undoubtedly been given his own quarters in which to rest. As such, it is illogical to be so surprised to be led into his living quarters.
“I’m off duty,” McCoy explains, “and like Hell am I going to go back into that black-hole of an office for the likes of you.”
“Doctor,” Spock begins, standing awkwardly outside the room when the door opens and McCoy enters.
“Get your hobgoblin ass in here before people see you standing out there like some kinda jilted lover,” McCoy says when he turns back and sees Spock has not followed.
Spock takes three measured steps and stops, clasps his hands behind his back, and regards the doctor while the man collapses onto his couch.
On the far side of the living area, a desk sits, large piles of old-fashioned paperwork littering its surface. The terminal's screen is facing away from them, but its blue shine indicates that McCoy did not power it down before leaving earlier for work today. The entryway to his sleeping area is closed off by a black, three-pane screen. There are holopics on nearly every available surface, some of the Captain, no doubt from when they were still studying at the Academy. Yet, overwhelmingly, they are snapshots of a young, bright-faced girl with long dark hair and shockingly green eyes.
"So, what do you want?"
To his credit, the doctor does not delay.
"Doctor Jones expressed a wish for us to speak with the others' close companions," Spock begins.
"Always did have a soft spot for creative solutions, Miranda did," McCoy grumbles, one side of his mouth quirking up. "So what exactly did you need to know?"
Spock shifts his stance slightly and looks around again to avoid the doctor's piercing gaze. Spock estimates that McCoy's quarters are roughly eleven percent smaller than his own before he speaks again.
"I wished to ascertain why you became friends with the Captain," he finally says.
"That's easy," McCoy says, putting his feet up on the small glass table in front of him. "He let me throw up on him." The statement alarms Spock, and it is not until the doctor lets out a bark of laughter that he realizes the man had not been entirely truthful. “Sweet heaven almighty, that look on your face was priceless.”
Spock tries not to frown.
“Doctor, if you cannot answer my question seriously-”
“I know, you’ll throw me out an airlock,” McCoy says. He sits up again, letting his feet fall back to the floor loudly. "Jim, he's-well, there're tons of reasons why people like him. He's friendly and honest and great when you need to drown your sorrows in whiskey but don't want to end up in the county detention facility. You know he's a smart guy. Hell, at the Academy it was a fight to get the damned fool to do anything other than study."
"You are responding to my query with generalizations, Doctor," Spock says. "My question regards you, specifically."
McCoy runs a hand through his hair in a way that reminds him suddenly of Kirk. He wonders if the doctor acquired this habit from the Captain, or if perhaps it was the other way around.
"I joined the Academy because I had nothing waiting for me back on Earth," McCoy says on a sigh, seemingly off-topic. "The divorce paperwork'd just gone through, and dammit if The Wife hadn't taken the whole damn planet in the divorce. So I'm there with my liquid courage to get me through that godawful shuttle ride, when in walks this kid who looks like he's at least had a pretty rough time of it himself, not like all those other clean-cut Academy folks littering the shuttle. There ain't a way I don't reek of alcohol and seven different types of failure, but this kid, he doesn't even blink a goddamn eyelash at it." McCoy pauses here, but something tells Spock that he is not quite finished with his story. "You know I did throw up on him? And the damned fool just laughed it off. Said you owe me a drink the second we set foot in San Fransisco. That's how I knew. That goddamn idiot’s the best friend I ever had, and I knew he’d be right from the start."
"I see," Spock finally says, unsure of what other response he should give.
“Don’t you ever tell him I said that though,” McCoy warns, sitting up and scowling at him from across the room. “He’ll never let me live it down.”
"Of course not, Doctor," Spock responds in all seriousness. For a moment he hesitates, unsure how to phrase his next request. "Doctor-"
"For God's sake, Spock, I just told you my goddamn sob story, at least call me McCoy in my own damned quarters."
"Very well. McCoy, Doctor Jones specifically requested we interview no fewer than four friends. The Captain initially stated that he knew those with whom I conversed, yet I find that I cannot say the same for myself."
McCoy frowns thoughtfully for two-point-seven seconds, rubbing his hand across the bottom of his jaw.
“Honestly, Jim doesn’t have too many close friends,” he finally says. “He’s got a lot of acquaintances, but not many people he can confide in.”
“I see.”
“I’d try Sulu first, though.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock says, inclining his head once in thanks. He turns to leave, but the doctor’s voice stays him.
“Don’t tell him I said this either, but he’s kind of looking for you to be one of those few he can confide in,” McCoy says quickly, as if he is speaking against his better judgment.
“Unlikely,” Spock says, refusing to believe he is disappointed by the truth. “The Captain has not shown any interest in beginning a personal relationship with me.”
“Why you goddamned, thick-skulled, know-nothing genius,” McCoy mumbles, so quiet Spock is sure he is not meant to hear it. “You really don’t-” He breaks off, seemingly unable to continue. After a moment, he composes himself and speaks at a regular decibel. “Just get out of here. And think about what I said, dammit.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock forces himself to say, turning away to inspect the wall on the far right side of the room. “I shall endeavor to do so.”
McCoy waves him off, and Spock turns back to the exit. It is then, of course, that the door slides open of its own volition, and Captain Kirk enters the room, not appearing to notice Spock.
“Bones, have you seen-”
He stops, both in speech and in movement when he finally catches sight of Spock. His eyes-bright in the harsh overhead lighting-sweep over Spock then flick to where McCoy is now standing, arms out as if to soothe a raging beast.
“Now Jim-”
“Bones, did you know there’s a Spock in your rooms?” he asks, his tight question at odds with the loose stance of his body. “Or am I just seeing things?”
“If you would excuse me, Captain,” Spock says, unwilling to argue. “I have bridge duty in seventeen point six-five minutes.”
Spock leaves them, and the sound of the door sliding shut behind him is unreasonably dissatisfying.
***
Sulu appears alarmed when Spock asks him for a moment of his time the next day after his shift. He shares a horrified look with Ensign Chekov that Spock pretends not to notice. Sulu follows Spock into the turbolift, to the apparent bemusement of the entire bridge crew. The captain, thankfully, was called down to engineering twenty-three minutes previous, and so is not present to send Spock his abnormally hostile glares, as he has been doing the entire shift. Spock thinks it may have something to do with the betrayed look on his face last night, when he had caught Spock in McCoy's quarters, but Spock will not make assumptions in regards to the captain. He is-a dynamic individual, Spock will admit, and is difficult to predict.
"Sir?" Sulu prompts as the turbolift doors shut. "Is there something you needed?"
"It is unrelated to your performance on board this vessel," Spock begins, and watches in mild fascination as the Lieutenant takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes. "My query is in regards to your relationship with the captain."
"We're just friends," Sulu is quick to assure. "Nothing unbecoming going on there."
Spock raises an eyebrow, wondering if there are perhaps rumors to the contrary Sulu has heard that Spock has not.
"I believe you, Lieutenant. I only wish to know-" Spock pauses here, thinking of the most efficacious way he could word his query, "why you are such good friends with the captain."
"Oh."
The turbolift comes to a halt then, and Spock quickly presses the hold button to keep this conversation private. That alarmed look crosses the lieutenant's features once more, as his eyes dart from Spock, to the turbolift doors, and down to where Spock continues to press the hold button. When his eyes once more find Spock's there is determination etched into the line of his jaw. It is startlingly similar to the way Kirk looks in the midst of an argument.
"Jim's a great guy," Sulu insists, as if Spock doubted the statement. "When he counts you as a friend, you'll never have to worry about falling to your death into a rapidly destabilizing singularity. At least not alone."
“You and the captain were not friends when Vulcan was destroyed,” Spock says bluntly.
“Of course, sir,” Sulu says, looking down at the floor. “Only-well, it kind of still applies.”
There is a moment where Spock considers asking Sulu to clarify his answer, but in the end he only drops his arm and allows the turbolift doors to slide open. Still Sulu hesitates, glancing between Spock and the exit repeatedly.
“Why do you need to know, sir?”
“Merely for my own personal curiosity,” Spock answers, remembering the way Kirk had so opposed them speaking of their relationship counseling to anyone on board.
“Oh. O-kay then,” Sulu remarks, stretching out the word. He exits the turbolift, but stops just outside the threshold. “Give him a chance, Commander,” he says, turning around and facing Spock directly.
He does not have a chance to respond to Sulu’s remark, for at that moment the turbolift doors slide shut again.
After Sulu, Spock admits that he has little idea who else he may speak with. It is troubling, he thinks, that he has worked with James Kirk as his official captain for two months and nineteen days now, and yet still knows so very little of the man. They have explored four new planets and visited thirteen Federation planets on various missions, saved the world and stood by the human as his planet disappeared, and does not even know with whom he spends the majority of his off time.
He entertains the idea of asking Doctor McCoy again for a list of the captain’s comrades, but ultimately discards the idea as inefficient. It is most logical-and in the spirit of Doctor Jones’ intent, namely, to become more acquainted with one another-that Spock discover such information on his own. It is simply for this reason, and not for the insufferably smug looks Doctor McCoy sends his way when they are around each other, that Spock begins to surreptitiously observe Captain Kirk.
“Have you been stalking the Captain?” Nyota asks of him, over a quiet dinner in her quarters.
“No. I have been gathering data,” Spock answers, because even if he cannot give her the full explanation, there is a strangely pressing need to justify himself. “To better understand Captain Kirk’s-recreational habits.”
Nyota watches him for a very long time, her fork poised inches off of her plate, before speaking again.
“Be careful, okay? I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with him-”
“I have not.” Except he realizes suddenly that he has. He has spent more time with the Captain in the preceding weeks than ever before.
“Right,” Nyota responds. Her hand reaches across the small table as if to take hold of Spock’s. He closes his fist on the tabletop, and her hand retreats. “Just trust me. Be careful around him.”
It is after some observation that he begins his search for Lieutenant Gaila Im’pha. He finds her in engineering, laughing with Commander Scott in the shadow of the warp core. Scott frowns at him when he asks to speak with Im’pha. She, however, only waves away the engineer’s suspicion before following Spock to a relatively secluded area of the engineering deck.
She frowns thoughtfully when Spock asks her of Captain Kirk, picks up a spare PADD from nearby and fiddles with it restlessly.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it,” she finally says. “Back at the Academy, we were in this class, Advanced Warp Core Engineering, that only had six beings in it. We clicked.”
Spock does not respond, unsure if any response that comes to mind is appropriate. He has no right to question the captain’s romantic dalliances while at Academy, not when Kirk has restrained himself from asking Spock of his relationship with Nyota (even though none exists). Still, he finds it difficult to avoid a query on their old relationship.
“Jimmy gets underestimated a lot,” she continues after a moment. “Captain Kirk, sorry. But he’s kind of hard to quantify, if you know what I mean.”
He does not. He suspects however that he might never truly understand Kirk’s friends, thinks perhaps that has something to do with why Kirk is such good friends with them in the first place. He thanks Im’pha for her time and leaves, listening to her echoing laugh as he goes.
Gary Mitchell works in administration. Spock finds him at his post on Deck C. The man laughs for twelve point seven seconds before saying, “We’re friends because it would’ve been too much trouble to stop being friends, sir.”
He is called away by his supervisor seconds later, and so Spock leaves, dissatisfied with the response. He wonders why Kirk would associate with someone like Mitchell, who does not appreciate him the way his other acquaintances appear to.
It is in this frame of mind that he inadvertently stumbles across Lieutenant Benjamin Finney. Finney was in the Laurentian system when Vulcan was destroyed, and so is one of the few Academy professors who was not promoted after Nero’s destruction.
“You either love Jim or you hate him,” Finney says once Spock has posed his question. “There’s no middle ground with him. We went through survival training on Andor together, and I was unlucky enough to need rescuing at least twice while we were there. I owe Jim my life, at least twice over. Captain Kirk’s resourceful, creative, loyal, and great company, once you get over some of his idiosyncrasies.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Spock says, because Finney appears to be running late for something. “I will not keep you any longer.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Finney says, before saluting sharply and hurrying away.
Spock is not entirely sure this exercise has been useful to him at all, at least not in the way he thinks Jones may have wanted. At their next counseling session, Jones does not ask them to report their findings. Instead, she merely clasps her hands in her lap and says,
“Commander, what can you tell me about the Captain?”
“James Tiberius Kirk,” Spock begins, unsure the motive behind the question. “Captain of the United Starship Enterprise NCC-1701. Serial number-”
“Wait, you know my serial number?” Kirk interrupts.
“Captain, please, let the Commander finish,” Jones admonishes. Kirk fidgets in his seat and scowls, but ultimately remains silent. “Please, continue.”
“Serial number SC937-0176CEC. He is-” But Spock hesitates, suddenly unsure. “He is well-versed in engineering and the sciences, although he keeps such information relatively hidden from common knowledge.”
He stops there, unwilling to say more. There are other personality traits that he has discovered over the course of this mission and others the man’s friends assure Spock exist within him. However, this is all merely hearsay. Spock must await tangible evidence of these before he is comfortable verbalizing such information.
“What about you, Captain?” Jones says. “Can you tell me about the Commander?”
“Commander Spock is the Executive Officer on board this vessel,” he says. “That makes him second-in-command and resident terrorizer of the crew. He’s also head of the Science Department, which frankly kind of boggles my mind, since he works fifty hour work weeks on the bridge, but apparently Vulcans are just generally better than any other species in the galaxy because they don’t need silly things like sleep to slow them down.”
“Captain, I must protest,” Spock begins, but stops after the twin looks of mild annoyance on Jones’ and Kirk’s faces.
“Also, the Commander’s got friends who are just as scary and genius-y as he is, except they all have feelings and have started the Spock fanclub or something.”
Spock doubts that whomever Captain Kirk spoke with would ever seriously consider starting such an illogical group.
“Is that all, Captain?” Jones asks, frowning slightly at the captain.
Kirk runs a hand over the back of his head, the ever-present smirk slipping for a moment.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s it.”
“Bridge to Captain Kirk,” a small voice says.
“Captain, may I remind you that I’ve asked you both to not bring your communicators to our counseling sessions-”
“Captain,” he responds as if it is an adequate explanation, lifting one shoulder in an almost apologetic shrug. “Can’t afford to leave my communicator behind.” He flips open his communicator and turns towards the door. “Kirk here, what’s up?”
“There’s a Captain Stone on the vid feed who wants to speak with you,” the unfamiliar voice says.
“I’ll take it in my quarters,” he says. “Give me five minutes.”
And with that, he leaves, without so much as a backward glance.
***
It is stardate 2259.323, and so Spock is scheduled to work the latter half of Alpha shift. There are less than five minutes in his shift when Kirk rushes in, halfway to the navigation console before Ensign Chekov yelps, “Keptin on the bridge!” Kirk pauses where he stands, turns to where Spock is standing beside the captain’s chair and shakes his head.
“Okay, first, how are you always on the bridge?”
“Is there some emergency that requires your immediate attention, Captain?” Spock asks, assuming Kirk’s inquiry was rhetorical.
“Um, no. Just-” he makes a dismissive gesture with one arm, “carry on. As you were, that is.”
The crewmembers return their attention back to their proper stations, except for Spock, who watches the Captain speak in quiet undertones with Lieutenant Sulu. Sulu nods somewhat reluctantly, and Kirk grins, clasping him roughly on the shoulder as he does so.
“Awesome,” he says aloud as the Beta shift complement begin to enter the bridge. He turns to Spock, some of the mirth fading from his features. “With me, Spock?”
Spock nods once in acquiescence and follows Kirk to one of the turbolifts. They do not speak a word to one another until they are sitting in Doctor Jones’ office, awaiting her arrival.
“You never answered my question,” Kirk says abruptly.
“Regarding my presence on the bridge?” Spock replies. At Kirk’s nod, he continues. “I work there, Captain.”
“Well, yeah obviously. But. Well, say I’ve got Beta shift. So I come up a couple hours early to check up on whoever’s taking care of my girl, and you’re the Acting Captain. Or if we both worked Alpha shift, and that night I can’t sleep and come up to the bridge, you’re still there. I mean, it seems like you’re always working. And I know you can’t be, because our resident union workers would have skinned me alive by now had that been the case.”
Admittedly, Spock’s schedule is somewhat chaotic. Every week he updates it, as his sleeping cycle clashes with the standard 24 hour work day. He is not entirely sure how he can expediently explain the matter, however.
“One Vulcan day corresponds to eighteen standard hours,” Spock finally says.
“So when it’s eighteen hundred ship’s time, your body’s telling you it’s midnight?”
“It is complicated,” Spock finally admits. “Today, for example, my morning shift starts three hours after Gamma begins.”
“Huh,” Kirk says after a moment, but does not offer another comment until after Jones enters her office from the side door.
“Hello,” she says placidly, sitting behind her desk and smiling at the two of them. Spock nods once in greeting, while the captain answers with a deliberately casual “Hey.”
“Is there anything you two wish to discuss?” she asks.
“No,” Kirk says quickly, perhaps too quickly to be entirely truthful.
“Really? How about you, Spock?”
“There is nothing I wish to discuss with the captain at this time.”
“Okay,” Jones says, and then proceeds to pull a PADD-modified to accommodate her blindness-towards herself and immerse herself in work.
The silence stretches between them.
“What was the nature of your conversation with Lieutenant Sulu today?” he asks.
“Rescheduling our fencing session for the day,” Kirk says. He frowns suddenly. “Because he’s, you know. My friend.”
He puts a strange emphasis on the statement. Spock knows Sulu and the Captain are friends. He does not understand, however, why he feels the need to restate the fact. But the captain shifts his chair away minutely, tension evident in his deep scowl, irritation disproportionate to their innocuous conversation.
Spock is very aware of the minutes that pass quietly, seemingly uselessly.
“Is there nothing you, as our mediator, would have us do?” Spock probes, turning to the doctor instead.
“Not particularly,” Jones says, shaking her head without looking up from her modified PADD.
There are a multitude of ways both he and the captain would be better suited in spending an hour of their time. Sitting in a psychologist’s office without speaking is not one of them. At any rate, Spock is at least familiar enough with Captain Kirk to know he cannot sit still, quietly no less, for an undetermined length of time.
“You can’t just steal my friends, Spock,” Jim says abruptly mere minutes later, missing any sort of context to make the statement sensible. “You just. You can’t do that.”
“I do not know to what you are referring.”
Kirk scoffs at that and crosses his arms over his chest. Doctor Jones remains resolutely silent at her desk. She has begun to study them again at least, eyes trained on them despite the fact that they are relatively useless to her.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” is the terse response. “Bones is my friend. You can’t have him.”
It takes him several seconds before he finally understands the captain’s ire. It is so illogical that it makes outrage curl to life at the base of his spine, unwanted and unstoppable. He does not have any significant relationship with Doctor McCoy. In fact, he has not communicated with the man directly since before their first official session with Miranda Jones. Then, the only reason they were conversing was because of Jones’ request. They were speaking of Captain Kirk. He cannot believe that Kirk would still be upset at an incident so insignificant.
The captain’s brash audacity has always made him behave illogically, and so now he actively has to resist the urge to be contrary.
“I am not sure I understand your meaning,” Spock says quietly, slowly. “Please, enlighten me.”
“It’s not that difficult, Commander,” Kirk says, voice rising with every syllable. “You. Can’t. Have. Him. You’re my First Officer. You can’t suddenly have this friendship with Bones, not when I’ve been here-”
“If you do not want me speaking with our Chief Medical Officer, Captain,” Spock interrupts, finished with the conversation at hand, “then perhaps you should order me away from medical bay.”
“Right, like that’ll work. You don’t follow orders, Spock, and you know it. You deign to obey them. You’re not meant to serve under anyone less than-”
“If you are implying that I am insubordinate-”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Spock,” the captain says in a rush. He makes an aborted movement with his hands, as if he wants to grab Spock by the shoulders and shake him violently. Instead he turns sharply and begins pacing the length of the room. “I thought I could handle this, working with you until your other commission opened up, but I can’t. I’ve already started your transfer paperwork for you; if you-”
At that moment, the sharp trill of a communicator goes off, and Kirk bites off the end of his sentence as Doctor Jones reaches for the device lying innocently on her desk. A strange buzzing has taken residence inside of Spock’s head, making it impossible for him to form any sort of response. He is aware, dimly, of Doctor Jones arguing sharply with whoever called her, but he is unable to discern the details of the conversation. The captain’s words, transfer paperwork ring through his mind, over and over.
Spock will not be fired from his position as First Officer. He will not allow it.
“It’s an emergency, Doctor,” a small voice says from Jones’ communicator. “It’s about John Kyle.”
For a moment the doctor’s demeanor changes. Her shoulders slump, and she looks between the captain, himself, and her communicator, clearly conflicted.
“I’ll be right over,” she finally says. When she speaks again, she is not looking at either Spock or the captain. “I’m sorry,” she starts. “I wouldn’t leave unless it was for something gravely important.”
“There is no need to apologize,” Spock manages to say around the burning anger which has begun to replace his initial disbelief. “We have clearly finished for the day.”
He does not bother to look at Kirk. Instead, he turns abruptly and walks off. At the edge of his peripheral vision, the captain stands as well, his hands clenched into fists. He hears the doctor attempt to stay them, but Spock finds he is in no mood to linger.
He does not realize until later they exit Doctor Jones’ conference room together, almost in unison. If Spock were not so angry, he would find it ironic how easily they are moving in synchronization. Neither of them speaks a word until they are two decks above the psychiatric ward. Finally, almost as one, they stop and turn to one another.
“I find myself offended that you would consider my commitment to this position in question,” Spock says into the silence.
"Spock, you deserve better than me."
Spock raises an eyebrow, unsure of Kirk's meaning. It seems that Kirk takes the gesture to mean something else entirely, however, because he takes a step back, almost in retreat. There is hurt clear in his wide eyes, and for a moment, Spock is distracted by how bright they are. They remind him, illogically, of the MX240 twins they catalogued not last week, two blue supergiants forever orbiting each other, constantly in danger of collision. Not, of course, because Kirk’s eyes move in a way that resembles an orbit, but because they are unpredictable, violent, and hauntingly beautiful.
“Look, I know you think I'm a shitty captain or whatever,” Kirk says, looking away from him. "I had thought we would be able to work things out, but it always feels like we're not getting anywhere. You're always so--”
“I am aware of my basic personality traits, Captain, and I must insist-”
“Don’t try to turn this into some kind of personal vendetta against you, Spock-”
“I believe you are the one who has turned the matter personal, Captain,” Spock says deliberately, stopping the Captain’s argument. “If you want me off this ship, sir, you need only ask, and I will more than gladly ‘deign’ to acquiesce to your request.”
The captain opens his mouth, presumably to make another argument, and closes it without saying a word. Spock finds the sight oddly satisfying.
“That’s not what I meant at all, Spock,” he finally says quietly, but Spock has no interest in knowing what the captain truly meant. He turns away and quickly finds himself in his own quarters.
Perhaps meditation would be beneficial at this juncture. However, the captain does not appear to know when a conversation is over, because no sooner has Spock lit his incense than his door chimes for entry. He has a moment where he considers ignoring the chime. However, it rings again, twice in quick succession, and so he takes a deep breath and calls out, “Enter.”
The captain shuffles in and stands in the living area awkwardly. Spock uncurls himself from the lotus position and moves into the kitchen alcove, avoiding Kirks piercing gaze. He remembers, of all things, Counselor Vrinda’s advice on the merit of honesty within a command team, and takes a deep breath.
“I find I do not want to leave this vessel,” Spock begins.
“And I don’t want you off this ship,” the captain says quietly. “So, I guess that’s a good place to start.”
“Indeed.”
Another moment passes in silence before Kirk sighs and runs a hand over his face. When he speaks again, his voice is subdued.
“Look. Let’s try this again, with me being mostly honest about what’s been bothering me. I-I really kind of wanted us to get along. And it just wouldn’t happen and wouldn’t happen, and yeah, it would frustrate me. I’d look for things to pick at because that’s what it felt like you were doing to me, just looking for examples of why I was the shittiest captain this side of the Quadrant. I thought ‘if Spock doesn’t trust me to run this ship, how am I supposed to fucking trust him?’ And it’d really piss me off when you’d be on the bridge, telling me how to do my job, without even asking me if I wanted your help or not. And, you know what? Half of the time I would have fucking welcomed your input, just not when you make it feel like I’m incompetent. The only reason I started up the paperwork for your transfer was because I thought you were hours away from asking for it yourself, and I figured I’d at least do you a favor and let you go with a damn good recommendation.”
There is a long silence after that particular declaration. Spock thinks of and discards multiple responses before he finally settles on one appropriate.
“I would have done no such thing,” he says, weighs the power of each syllable.
“Well, that’s good to know,” the captain says quietly, after a moment. “I mean, I guess.”
“I harbor no ill intentions towards you.”
“Right.”
“I am a scientist first, Captain,” Spock continues, now strangely compelled to be understood. “My first objective is to observe. It is true that there are times when I have not remained neutral around you, but I have never considered you an inadequate captain. Indeed, when there is no-animosity-between us, I find our working relationship to be quite satisfying.”
Empirically, Spock has noticed that the captain smiles in very distinct ways. This time, his smile is slow and small, almost shy.
“That’s probably the nicest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, Commander.”
Spock feels the first flicker of amusement in his chest at that; he nods solemnly to Kirk.
“And I also have found this conversation to be most adequate,” he says. “The next time I hear you speak of my idiosyncrasies, I will feel gratified to remind you of how-I believe the adjective was ‘amazing’-I am.”
A light blush appears on the tops of his cheekbones when the Captain laughs.
“Fair enough,” Kirk says, still smiling. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some very important captain-things to be doing.”
“Of course, sir,” Spock says. “Goodnight.”
Kirk turns and begins to walk off. At the door he stops, puts one hand on the frame and studies the floor.
“So. We’re good, right?”
The question is unsurprisingly vague. However, Spock finds he neither needs nor wants elucidation.
“Yes, Captain. We are ‘good,’ as you say.”
“Awesome,” he says, biting his lower lip around a smile. “Thanks, Spock. I’ll see you at Alpha tomorrow.”
Spock means to reply, but the captain rushes out of his quarters before Spock can respond in the affirmative. He stares at his door for twenty three point four seconds before he reenters his sleeping area and resumes meditation.
***
The next day on the bridge, Spock and Jim arrive on almost simultaneously from the two separate turbolifts. He watches the way Kirk pauses minutely before continuing on his way to the captain’s chair. He smiles stiffly at Spock, bright eyes darting around the bridge twice before focusing on Spock again.
“Commander,” he acknowledges.
Captain Kirk does not want Spock to leave Enterprise. With this thought in mind, Spock nods once to Kirk and sits. When they speak to one another, it is over-formal, especially for Kirk, who is often very casual with other members of the crew. However, they do not have any disagreements over the course of the shift.
Spock is willing to call this progress.
(>>>next>>>)