Fic: Everybody Hurts (1/3)
Title: Everybody Hurts (1/3)
Pairing: Jim/Spock
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Although the POV mostly remains with Jim, Leonard gets his one random appearance, because I rather love him, and he just kinda snuck in here.
Warnings: Angst and fighting. Sexy times. Melding and dangerous aliens. References to character death, as seen in the movie. Eventual sap. And did I mention the sexy times?
Summary: Six months after their confrontation with Nero, Jim is still devastated by what happened, and he blames himself for not acting fast enough. To make matters worse, working with Spock is still the most infuriating thing Jim has ever done, and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to last the mission without getting strangled again.
- - -
Guilt was a funny thing.
The thought twisted through Jim’s mind as he lay gasping against his bed sheets, his head crawling with images of broken starships. His latest nightmare - the reason he was now awake and shaking, his heart beating painfully fast - had been of Gaila’s beaming face, her smile frozen into a permanent expression of forced happiness, a mockery of the unquenchable love of life that had dictated her every movement.
Jim shuddered and curled in on himself, unable to deal with the image. He had never met anyone who approached life with the enthusiasm Gaila had, and he knew that her blinding smile - her all-consuming love for every new sensation, for every moment of freedom - would be his rallying banner whenever he felt beaten.
Jim would honour her memory - and those of the other 2,400 murdered cadets - by never again letting someone like Nero get away with his insanity.
It had been sheer dumb luck that Starfleet Command had assigned Bones to the Enterprise. Sheer luck that Bones had decided to sneak Jim aboard, that Jim had woken up in time to hear Chekov’s announcement, that Jim had been with Gaila when Uhura came home, her constant thirst for knowledge spilling forth in an impassioned discussion of the long range sensor laboratory -
The only reason he was still here, the only reason the Enterprise was in one piece, and the only reason Earth was still revolving around her sun, its eight billion inhabitants saved from the violent quest of a deranged madman.
But sheer dumb luck hadn’t been enough to save Vulcan.
Jim forced his breathing into a regular pattern, trying to get his brain to turn off, wondering if he’d ever again sleep through the night. He kept reliving those moments on the drill, when he had been hanging helpless over the side - those precious wasted moments, which he could have been using to end his opponent, and to start taking the drill apart.
Instead, Jim had been useless, and he hadn’t destroyed the drill in time.
Mere minutes, maybe - sixty short seconds, for all that he knew - would have likely been enough to stop the drill from doing its job. In the sixty seconds Jim was hanging there, the drill had completed its horrendous mission, and nothing would ever convince him that Vulcan’s destruction wasn’t his own fault.
Jim understood the dangers of self-blame, and he knew that Bones would tell him that he was being ridiculous. Nobody had guessed Nero’s plan until it was too late, and Jim was the reason the Enterprise hadn’t been slaughtered along with the rest of Starfleet’s armada - which also made him the reason Earth was still intact, with millions of little children able to see the sun rise on a new day.
That simple fact didn’t help the six billion who had perished on Vulcan, and although six months had passed since that day, Jim could still barely look at Spock.
Jim hated himself for it, but the memory of Spock’s expression on the transporter pad was burned into his mind, and he didn’t think he had ever seen that much agony in one person. Six months since the loss of his entire world, and Spock still looked like Vulcan had been destroyed yesterday - there were very human-like circles under his eyes, and the spark that had flashed there when Jim had first met him had all but been extinguished.
Watching Spock stoically fall apart was more terrifying than anything Jim had encountered in space. He wanted to help somehow, to let Spock know that he wasn’t alone - but they had yet to overcome the animosity that underlined their every interaction, and Spock still looked at him like he wanted his hands back around Jim’s throat.
He knew that part of their unceasing hostility was due to his own guilt and self-loathing - and there was no telling what Spock was feeling, or to what extent those emotions were dictating his enmity - but the other part of it stemmed from the fact that Spock truly didn’t seem to like him, had never liked him, and probably would never like him.
I have been, and always shall be, your friend.
The words were accompanied by a remembered wash of heat and devotion, along with a staggering amount of respect and love, and Jim let out a pathetic sound as he curled closer in on himself. He had felt what the ambassador had felt - had instinctively understood that this Spock would have given everything for Jim, from his life to his sanity to his very soul - and that knowledge had left him feeling like he’d been punched in the lungs.
I have been, and always shall be, your friend.
In this world - in this devastatingly skewed universe - he and Spock could rarely speak to each other without fighting, and Spock could barely look at him without those all-too-expressive eyes filling with something dangerous.
It would have been difficult to take under any circumstances, but Jim had felt something akin to a merging of souls in the ambassador’s mind, and that experience had made the current situation unbearable. The knowledge of what he and Spock had lost - before they even knew they had it - was tearing Jim into tiny pieces, causing him to lash out at the one person he was beginning to love beyond the realm of any love he’d ever experienced before.
I have been, and always shall be, your friend.
His mind now filled with memories of his first officer’s cold eyes, Jim curled in even tighter into himself as he squeezed his own eyes shut, desperate to escape the world he was living in, but terrified of slipping into a horrendous dream world -
As though the universe suddenly understood his predicament, Jim’s console chirped to life, with Sulu’s calm voice informing him that he was needed on the Bridge. The ship rocked wildly even as Jim was yanking himself out of bed, and he cursed fluently as he grabbed his boots from the ground, threw on a shirt, and sprinted into the hallway, wondering who the hell thought they had permission to beat up his ship.
- - -
When the sickbay doors slid open, Leonard quickly realised that his entrance had gone unnoticed, and he slunk into the outer room, pressing himself against the wall. Twelve hours had passed since Spock and Jim had beamed back aboard, another crisis averted through their foolhardy heroics, and Spock had finally decided to check on his captain.
Unsurprisingly, Leonard found himself wishing that Spock had stayed on the Bridge, knowing that Spock’s presence in sickbay was only going to cause trouble. In the process of convincing their attackers that they had beamed aboard with good intentions, Jim had put himself in the path of a knife meant for Spock, and Leonard was willing to bet that Spock wasn’t too happy about the situation.
“I do not understand why you feel the need to constantly endanger yourself.”
“You don’t need to! I can make my own decisions.”
“Captain -”
“And stop with the captain bullshit!”
As expected, they were fighting again - Jim loud and angry, Spock dangerously calm. As Leonard eavesdropped outside the door of his own sickbay, exasperation curling across his skin, he wondered if they would ever do anything but fight. Even after six months of working together, Spock and Jim were still like oil and water, and situations like this didn’t make their relationship any easier.
“If you’d get your pointy-eared head out of your ass for even one minute -”
“My ears are irrelevant to this conversation.”
“Stop doing that!”
“Stating a fact?”
“Treating me like a child!”
Leonard sighed softly, and wondered if he had anything to hit his captain over the head with. Intelligent as Jim was, he had a lot to learn if he thought he’d make any progress with Spock this way - and Spock certainly wasn’t making things better.
“Captain -”
“How many times -”
“It would be inappropriate to address you -”
“Goddamnit!”
There was a crashing sound, and Leonard cautiously peeked around the door frame, needing to see what was going on. Jim was out of bed and standing up, the gauze around his waist just barely holding his blood and skin together, and Leonard actually stopped breathing, half a second away from tearing into the room and strapping Jim to the goddamn bed.
He restrained himself as Spock reacted first, planting himself firmly in front of the captain.
“You should not be standing.”
Spock’s voice was even calmer than a moment ago, but Jim didn’t heed the silent warning. He managed a shaky movement forward, and Spock held his ground, his expression less emotive than a statue’s.
“So tell me what else I shouldn’t be doing. Tearing me down seems to be your favourite hobby.”
“As you regularly elect to jeopardize your own life -”
“Maybe I’d stop getting hurt if you and I could function like a goddamn team!”
Jim’s voice echoed around the room, his words shattering between them like shards of glass, and the ensuing silence was loud enough to fill the entire ship. As Spock’s shoulders become even stiffer, Leonard only realized he was holding his breath when his lungs started to hurt.
“I regret that my services as first officer are inadequate, Captain.”
Spock barely seemed to be breathing, his fingers curled in against his palms, and Leonard hadn’t known that it was possible for a living creature to be that motionless.
“I recognize that you and I do not communicate well beyond our necessary duties, but I was unaware that you were displeased with our professional interactions.”
His ominously low voice sounded like he’d been chewing on glass, and as the angry glint in Jim’s eyes only got stronger, foreboding crept along every inch of Leonard’s body. Something dangerous seemed to be gathering in the room - some billowing cloud of anger and frustration - and the feeling of dread was so complete Leonard could barely stand still.
“If that is your true perception of our working relationship, then I shall immediately request a transfer.”
Spock turned away, but before Leonard had even managed to breathe through his nausea, Jim’s hand was shooting out with lightning speed, his fingers digging into the fabric of Spock’s shirt.
“No you won’t.”
Jim slowly bit out each word, and Spock let himself be held, his gaze dropping pointedly to Jim’s hand.
“Release me.”
As Jim tightened his grip and moved closer, crowding into Spock’s personal space, Leonard wondered just how much of a death wish Jim actually had. Spock’s eyes were the only emotive part of his body he couldn’t seem to turn off around Jim, and Leonard could see the anger crackling there.
“I said release me.”
“Why do you hate me?”
Jim moved even closer, and Leonard held his breath as Spock slowly placed a hand over Jim’s, without a flicker of expression crossing his face. The captain’s eyes widened with sudden pain, and Leonard watched as those long fingers dug mercilessly into Jim’s skin, pressing hard enough to bruise.
“Hatred is an emotion -”
“Remember that ring of bruises around my neck?”
Leonard watched as Spock’s posture became impossibly stiff, and Jim moved even closer, the air around them seeming to crackle.
“You’re a fucking liar, Spock.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, anger twisting along their locked gaze, before Spock hissed sharply and pulled away, easily breaking the grip Jim had on his shirt. Before Leonard could figure out what had happened, Jim was stumbling for balance, one hand going to his own side, pressing against the bandages -
Spock caught Jim as he fell, holding him almost tenderly against his body, and Leonard’s heart suddenly hurt.
“Lie down.”
When Jim didn’t protest, Spock pulled him upright and slowly helped him into bed. Jim’s mouth was twisted with pain, and the look he gave Spock was part loathing and part gratitude, a faint flush staining his cheeks.
“I’m not a fucking invalid.”
Spock didn’t seem to have an answer. His eyes were dangerously unguarded, and he turned to leave, his face a dangerous shade of white.
“I’ll stand up again. Swear to god I will.”
Spock’s back was to Jim, and Leonard watched as Spock actually closed his eyes, taking a moment to just breathe. There was something suddenly vulnerable about him, and Leonard knew he wasn’t supposed to be seeing this.
“Captain -”
“What did you see?”
Jim’s voice cracked slightly, and Spock pressed his lips together, still not turning around. Fear was trying to creep across Jim’s expression, and Leonard watched as he settled a little further into the bed, as though needing the support.
“You’re a touch telepath.”
Spock almost flinched at the words, and Leonard’s heart seemed to skip a beat.
“I know you are. We both know that I know. You might as well tell me now.”
Spock couldn’t seem to find any words. When he remained silent and motionless, something dark crossed Jim’s face.
“Sit down and talk to me.”
Spock didn’t move.
“I can make it a goddamn order.”
The glint in Spock’s eyes and the thin press of his lips were truly frightening. He turned back to Jim, who met his gaze evenly, an obvious challenge in his eyes.
“I mean it, Spock -”
With an odd little twitch, Spock suddenly turned his back on Jim and walked away. Jim was yelling something at him, but Leonard barely heard, too busy trying to scramble away from the door -
“Doctor.”
Spock seemed to be holding himself together by the tiniest sliver of control, and Leonard couldn’t stop the flutter of fear in his chest. The last time Spock had worn this expression, Jim had nearly been murdered in full view of the entire command crew.
“If the captain attempts to follow me, use your medical authority to prevent him from doing so.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, and the clipped words brooked no argument. When Leonard managed a nod, Spock stared at him for a moment longer, as though not truly seeing him, before he turned away and walked out the door.
Leonard watched him go, too frightened to find amusement in the way the hall emptied, as nervous crewmembers gave Spock a good foot of space. Letting out a slow exhale, Leonard went into the other room, and stopped Jim as he tried to push himself out of bed.
“Goddamnit, Bones -”
“Don’t even try it.”
Jim stopped struggling, obvious betrayal flashing through his eyes, and Leonard felt like someone had twisted a knife through his heart. He exhaled shakily and rested a hand against Jim’s shoulder, some of the heaviness in his chest easing when it wasn’t shrugged away.
“Talk to him later, Jim. Preferably when you can walk.”
“What if he tries to leave?”
“Where will he go?”
It was the truth, but Jim was practically biting his lip, glaring down at the bed sheets, and his sudden vulnerability seemed to cut straight through Leonard. When the captain spoke, his voice was a whisper, and it took Leonard a few seconds to process the words.
“I need him, Bones.”
Not knowing what to say, Leonard placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder, realizing that Jim was shaking with frustration.
“We’re supposed to be this fantastic team, but we can’t even eat lunch together without fighting.” Jim finally met Leonard’s eyes, and the obvious sense of loss there caused his fingers to tighten on Jim’s shoulder. “Ambassador Spock had more love and respect for me than I could have ever imagined… what if this world’s circumstances are too different?”
Not for the first time, Leonard found himself wanting to strangle this older version of Spock. Jim bristled up like a cactus whenever Leonard voiced his anger - and he knew that Jim would protect the Ambassador until the day he died - but Leonard still couldn’t help feeling that their meld had done far too much harm with the good.
“For god’s sake - you’ve known Spock for six months. The Ambassador had decades with his version of you. Do you think you can just construct that closeness overnight?”
Jim wasn’t looking at him again.
“Come on, kid. Talk to me.”
That got him the tiniest hint of a smile, although Jim’s gaze was still focused on the blankets. “I think there are regulations that forbid crewmembers from calling their superior officers by their pet names.”
“Jim, I swear to god -”
Jim sighed softly and curled his fingers around Leonard’s, who fought down an embarrassing surge of affection as he squeezed back, finding a small amount comfort in the gentle contact. He’d never known anyone who craved physical contact like Jim did - needed it, even, probably as much as he needed oxygen - and it made Leonard’s heart ache every time.
“Bones.”
“Right here.”
“I didn’t tell you everything about that meld.”
“So spill.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
After three years spent patching each other up at the Academy, Leonard knew every nuance of Jim’s emotions, and he tightened his grip at the lost tone, cursing himself for being a sentimental fool when it came to this man.
“Look, Jim, you’ve seen me drunk out of my mind and sobbing on your carpet. You can stop worrying that I’m going to bail on you.” The small smile was genuine this time, if tinged with a little sympathy, and Leonard couldn’t stop his own lips from softening, even though the sad humour was at his expense. “So, what do you say?”
“I say that if we’re doing this, you might need a drink.”
“I knew there was a reason they made you captain. Shame that you’re injured, and that I’m your attending physician.”
“You need to stop worrying so much.”
“Sure, will do, as soon as you get over your death wish. Now shut up and tell me about that meld.”
Jim shot him a nasty look, but let the argument drop, and sank a little further into the bed. He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the pillows, and Leonard realized that this had to be bad, if Jim wasn’t even able to look at him.
“Bones, you know what love feels like.”
It wasn’t phrased as question, and Leonard blinked at him, not seeing where this was going. He nodded cautiously, not knowing how else to respond, before he remembered that Jim wasn’t looking at him.
“Yeah, of course. Why does it matter?”
“It matters.” Jim’s eyes were still closed, and there was something odd to his voice. “Alright, just hear me out. You loved your wife.”
“Not anymore.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“And you love Joanna.”
“More than anything.”
“How far would you go to keep your daughter safe?”
The question came from nowhere, and Leonard could feel himself bristling, even though Jim hadn’t meant it as an insult. “I’d follow her to the end of the universe. I’d do anything to keep her safe.”
“Imagine feeling something like that from a complete stranger.”
Leonard stared at him, still not getting it.
“Ambassador Spock knew every nuance of my mind - stuff I didn’t even know myself. I had never believed in the concept of a soul, until that day… but Bones, he just knew me. He would have given every inch of himself for me - body and soul, spirit, whatever you want to call it, and - and it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.”
Jim was staring down at his blankets, and Leonard couldn’t quite stop a sigh, easily seeing where this was going. “So the ambassador had a thing for a certain captain. Why should that affect -”
“It matters, Bones, because I want the same thing.”
Leonard stared at him for a long moment, his mind reeling from those impossible words, before Jim met his eyes again, and Leonard could see the truth there. In that moment, his head still filled with images of Spock and Jim fighting, Leonard came to a ridiculous decision, cursed himself for being a sentiment fool, and casually rested his hand on top of Jim’s.
“If that’s what you want… well, I think you’re crazy, but if you’re gonna do this, you’d best do it right. And that means dropping the enraged feline act that you both seem to like so much.”
Jim blinked at him for a moment, before a relieved grin spread across his face, and Leonard was nearly bowled over from the force of such obvious happiness. He hadn’t even realized that his support was needed for this endeavour, but apparently it had been, and when Jim squeezed his hand with unrestrained affection, Leonard couldn’t even be bothered to rethink his position.
“You’re a pal, Bones. How soon can you get me out of here?”
Jim still looked like hell, but there was a new spark in his eyes, and Leonard suddenly realized how interesting the next four and a half years were going to be. He stopped a sigh, wondering if there was enough alcohol in the universe to deal with the concept of his best friend falling in love with the resident know-it-all.
- - -
“I do say, Captain, you’re looking perfectly fantastic. I hope that means my ship’s in good shape?”
Cursing his fair complexion, Jim failed to stop a blush, knowing that his face was still bruised from his earlier mishap. As soon as Bones had let him out of sickbay - two days after Jim had first been admitted, during which Spock had run the ship, and stayed far away from Jim - he had put through a call to Earth, wanting the comfort of someone who had complete faith in him. As Christopher’s teasing words settled between them, Jim felt a measure of sanity return to his bruised form, drawing strength from the reassurance of such calm support.
“Yeah, well, you know me - always putting myself between the ship and danger. Seems I learned it from a certain admiral.”
Jim tried to blink innocently at the computer, and ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind that kept harassing him over this apparent need for a father image.
“Give it up, kid. You were always going to put your safety last, with or without my influence.”
“Have you been talking to Bones again? He calls me that, too - it’ll be detrimental to my self-esteem if I’m hearing it from both of you.”
“I doubt anything could dent your ego.”
“Harsh, Chris.”
“Just telling it like it is.”
Jim stopped trying to hide a smile, loving the affection in Christopher’s eyes, but his grin faded with shocking speed at Christopher’s next question.
“How’s Spock doing?”
As though the words had physically touched him, Jim found that his tongue had suddenly stopped working, his mind flashing back to their devastating scene in sickbay. He shrugged helplessly, waving his hands around as though they could make some kind of point, and Christopher raised his eyebrow in a positively uncanny imitation, somehow making the situation that much worse.
“Jim, it’s been six months. He’ll never tell you, but he’s hurting.”
“He hates me.”
Jim wanted to take back the words as soon as they were out, but Christopher was already frowning at him, and Jim knew there was no going backwards. Not to mention that, if Jim was going to lie to anyone, it was not going to be this man - for in addition to being his friend, Chris was the one Starfleet member he could come to for advice. He knew that every other captain would dismiss his questions as proof of his inability to command the Enterprise.
“Jim, I talk to him almost as much as I talk to you, and I’m worried about him, though he’d cut off his ears before he accepted my concern. You’ve got a much better chance of getting through to him than I do.”
“All we do is fight.”
“So stop provoking him.”
Jim could hear himself making some kind of insulted sputtering sound, but Chris shook his head at his gobsmacked reaction, clearly not buying the indignation. Jim boggled at him for another long moment, before a wave of shame swept through him, and he silently cursed both Spock and himself.
“Only if he stops ripping me to pieces.”
“If you two want to be able to keep the Enterprise from harm -”
“I won’t let anything happen to her.” There was an unintended bite to his words, but Jim didn’t care to censor himself, even when Chris raised that disconcerting eyebrow again. “This ship and her crew come before everything else. You know that. You know that I know it. Whatever problems Spock and I have - I won’t let them hurt our mission. I would never let -”
“I know, Jim.”
The softly understanding words cut off his tirade, and Jim found himself blushing again, wondering why his insecurities always came to light around this man. He had spent his life going it alone, with very little support - but something about Christopher made him willing to appear less than perfect.
“I wouldn’t have fought for anyone else to have my ship. I trust you with her, and with Spock, and with the whole crew - and if I didn’t, you wouldn’t be there.”
The implication that he hadn’t gotten his position alone should have rankled him, but Jim knew better than to argue against such a simple fact. Although Starfleet Command had been hurting for personnel after the Battle of Vulcan, they still hadn’t wanted a twenty-five year old in the captain’s seat, and he would never have been promoted without Christopher’s support.
The sobering thought brought back the guilt that had been tearing at him for months, and Jim found himself forcing out his trademark grin, somehow making it believable enough to fool even Christopher. He may not want to lie to this man, but he also wasn’t going to discuss the nightmares that kept waking him up - or the fact that he was only here because an entire year of cadets had been slaughtered.
“Well, I for one am glad that you frog-marched Command into putting me in charge, and I promise to do you credit.”
He could hear none of his unease in his voice, and he distantly wondered how long it had been since he put his hard-earned poker face into play against someone he cared about. Christopher accepted the conversation change with a sardonic smirk, but his next words were cut off by a yawn, and Jim wondered what time it was on Earth.
“You look like you need to be sleeping.”
“It’s the seven hours of rehab every day.” Something dark flashed across Christopher’s face, and Jim suddenly realized that he had no real idea of how Christopher was coping with his lost mobility. “I feel like they’ve had me bench-pressing Vulcans.”
The phrasing of the statement should have been funny, but it brought an unpleasant prickle to Jim’s throat instead, and he fought down the need to pull Christopher into a massive virtual hug, wanting to tell him all sorts of ridiculous things about him being a mentor and inspiration. He was never going to forget the way Chris had yanked that phaser from Jim’s belt, despite having lost control of his entire lower body.
“At least you’re going to be buff when you get out of there.”
Christopher did the eyebrow thing again, and Jim somehow kept his smile in place, despite the unhappy turn his thoughts had taken. He didn’t like that lost look on Chris’ face, and his own concerns seemed suddenly minimal in comparison.
“I mean, you were already smoking hot before, with the silver hair and the command thing you’ve got going - I mean, goddamnit, Chris, couldn’t you leave some of the looks for us common folk? - but I bet by the time you get out of there -”
The sincere laugh he got was a welcome change to the unhappiness in Christopher’s eyes, and Jim’s smile became a little more genuine, loving the fact that he could bring some contentment into Chris’ life.
“You’re a good friend, Captain. Thanks for cheering up a maudlin old man.”
The screen switched off before Jim could say anything, and Jim’s smile disappeared as silence settled around him, its loud presence an overwhelming weight on his shoulders. His thoughts were suddenly much too dark to handle sober, and he didn’t want to be alone, with no distraction from the guilt that had begun to choke him again.
As though in answer to his silent prayer, the door buzzed at him, and Jim didn’t care who it was, as long as he could be distracted from his thoughts.
“Come on in.”
He stood up from his computer, but his forced smile faded completely when Spock entered the room, his hands clasped carefully behind his back. They stared at each other for a moment, the silence between them close to excruciating, before Spock gave a tiny half nod, as though the action actually pained him.
“Captain.”
His voice was colder than the ice on Delta Vega, and Jim dragged a distracted hand through his hair, trying to find some way to make this situation better. The sudden remembrance of Delta Vega wasn’t helping matters, bringing back the chill of alien jaws snapping behind him, and Jim finally settled for shaking his head helplessly.
“Hell, Spock. Come sit down at least, before we start yelling?”
Spock continued to just stare at him, with nothing of what he was thinking reflected in his eyes, and Jim felt the sudden urge to strangle him, wanting to break that hated impassivity. He fought down the instinct with valiant effort, knowing that one more fight would probably push them both over the edge.
“I think not, Captain.”
As they stared at each other in strained silence, Jim silently marvelled at how truly beautiful Spock was, even while looking at Jim as though his captain was too stupid to exist. Spock held himself with almost tangible self-respect, and Jim had no doubt that Spock would abandon his entire race before he ever compromised the unwavering principles that made him who he was.
Of course, that only increased Jim’s desire to hit Spock across the head, and then kiss him until neither of them could breathe.
“You and I have a serious problem, Spock.”
He was trying to start something resembling a civil discussion, but when there was still no response, Jim suddenly felt exhausted. He wanted to see something behind those cold eyes - something beyond the contempt that seemed to underlie their every interaction.
“You look like hell. When’d you last sleep?”
“That is Doctor McCoy’s area of expertise. As long as I am fit for duty, you need not concern yourself with my physical welfare.”
“I’m not worried about your body.”
And there it was, finally - a flicker of something beyond Spock’s icy impassivity, flashing across his eyes so quickly Jim almost didn’t catch it. He instantly leapt on that opportunity, his heart skipping at finally glimpsing through the wall that Spock had been constructing between them over the last six months.
“Spock, come on, talk to me. It’s been six months since we destroyed Nero, and you haven’t talk about it, not once. We might not exactly get along, but -” I’m worried about you “- I’ll happily lend an ear.”
It was the closest thing he could extend to an olive branch, but Spock simply looked at him as though Jim had said something particularly idiotic, that eyebrow clearly conveying a sentiment of condescending disbelief.
“What makes you believe that I would choose to discuss my concerns with you?”
The toneless words hit like a physical slap, tainting his vision with a red haze, and Jim felt the blood leave his face. When Spock said nothing else, his expression as impassive as an ice sculpture, Jim suddenly realized that he almost wanted those fingers back around his throat. At least it would give them a clear method of communication, and get them out of this horrible state of festering animosity.
“Well, screw you, too, Spock. What the hell did you want, anyway?”
“It is obvious that you and I cannot work together. I came to discuss this issue.”
Still not a flicker of expression, and Jim found himself taking a step closer, hurt and anger making it difficult to see straight. He suddenly flashed back to a freezing cave, his thoughts wrapping around a memory that felt like it had happened years ago -
I have been, and always shall be, your friend.
“If you’re thinking about leaving, you can think again.”
“Captain -”
“Don’t you dare ‘captain’ me.” Jim could hear the shake in his voice, and he hated himself for it, but there was no chance of calming himself down now. “Unless you want a fist fight, you need to get out. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, when we’re both less likely to murder each other.”
Spock’s lips thinned with irritation, but he exited without another word, leaving Jim’s room feeling emptier than it had before, the silence around Jim now laced with hostility. Realizing that he was trembling, Jim concentrated on slowing his breathing, his eyes slipping shut as he tried to calm down.
My god, how are we ever going to make this work?
Suddenly feeling like his skin was too small for his body, Jim grabbed his shorts and headed for the gym, needing something to keep his mind occupied. Getting beaten up by security staff wasn’t a particularly appealing prospect, but it was better than sitting alone, thinking about how desperately he wanted to touch Spock -
As though if Jim could just press their bodies together, it would give him some indication of how to get through to him.
- - -
Part Two - http://twisting-vine-x.livejournal.com/165230.html#cutid1
Pairing: Jim/Spock
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Although the POV mostly remains with Jim, Leonard gets his one random appearance, because I rather love him, and he just kinda snuck in here.
Warnings: Angst and fighting. Sexy times. Melding and dangerous aliens. References to character death, as seen in the movie. Eventual sap. And did I mention the sexy times?
Summary: Six months after their confrontation with Nero, Jim is still devastated by what happened, and he blames himself for not acting fast enough. To make matters worse, working with Spock is still the most infuriating thing Jim has ever done, and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to last the mission without getting strangled again.
- - -
Guilt was a funny thing.
The thought twisted through Jim’s mind as he lay gasping against his bed sheets, his head crawling with images of broken starships. His latest nightmare - the reason he was now awake and shaking, his heart beating painfully fast - had been of Gaila’s beaming face, her smile frozen into a permanent expression of forced happiness, a mockery of the unquenchable love of life that had dictated her every movement.
Jim shuddered and curled in on himself, unable to deal with the image. He had never met anyone who approached life with the enthusiasm Gaila had, and he knew that her blinding smile - her all-consuming love for every new sensation, for every moment of freedom - would be his rallying banner whenever he felt beaten.
Jim would honour her memory - and those of the other 2,400 murdered cadets - by never again letting someone like Nero get away with his insanity.
It had been sheer dumb luck that Starfleet Command had assigned Bones to the Enterprise. Sheer luck that Bones had decided to sneak Jim aboard, that Jim had woken up in time to hear Chekov’s announcement, that Jim had been with Gaila when Uhura came home, her constant thirst for knowledge spilling forth in an impassioned discussion of the long range sensor laboratory -
The only reason he was still here, the only reason the Enterprise was in one piece, and the only reason Earth was still revolving around her sun, its eight billion inhabitants saved from the violent quest of a deranged madman.
But sheer dumb luck hadn’t been enough to save Vulcan.
Jim forced his breathing into a regular pattern, trying to get his brain to turn off, wondering if he’d ever again sleep through the night. He kept reliving those moments on the drill, when he had been hanging helpless over the side - those precious wasted moments, which he could have been using to end his opponent, and to start taking the drill apart.
Instead, Jim had been useless, and he hadn’t destroyed the drill in time.
Mere minutes, maybe - sixty short seconds, for all that he knew - would have likely been enough to stop the drill from doing its job. In the sixty seconds Jim was hanging there, the drill had completed its horrendous mission, and nothing would ever convince him that Vulcan’s destruction wasn’t his own fault.
Jim understood the dangers of self-blame, and he knew that Bones would tell him that he was being ridiculous. Nobody had guessed Nero’s plan until it was too late, and Jim was the reason the Enterprise hadn’t been slaughtered along with the rest of Starfleet’s armada - which also made him the reason Earth was still intact, with millions of little children able to see the sun rise on a new day.
That simple fact didn’t help the six billion who had perished on Vulcan, and although six months had passed since that day, Jim could still barely look at Spock.
Jim hated himself for it, but the memory of Spock’s expression on the transporter pad was burned into his mind, and he didn’t think he had ever seen that much agony in one person. Six months since the loss of his entire world, and Spock still looked like Vulcan had been destroyed yesterday - there were very human-like circles under his eyes, and the spark that had flashed there when Jim had first met him had all but been extinguished.
Watching Spock stoically fall apart was more terrifying than anything Jim had encountered in space. He wanted to help somehow, to let Spock know that he wasn’t alone - but they had yet to overcome the animosity that underlined their every interaction, and Spock still looked at him like he wanted his hands back around Jim’s throat.
He knew that part of their unceasing hostility was due to his own guilt and self-loathing - and there was no telling what Spock was feeling, or to what extent those emotions were dictating his enmity - but the other part of it stemmed from the fact that Spock truly didn’t seem to like him, had never liked him, and probably would never like him.
I have been, and always shall be, your friend.
The words were accompanied by a remembered wash of heat and devotion, along with a staggering amount of respect and love, and Jim let out a pathetic sound as he curled closer in on himself. He had felt what the ambassador had felt - had instinctively understood that this Spock would have given everything for Jim, from his life to his sanity to his very soul - and that knowledge had left him feeling like he’d been punched in the lungs.
I have been, and always shall be, your friend.
In this world - in this devastatingly skewed universe - he and Spock could rarely speak to each other without fighting, and Spock could barely look at him without those all-too-expressive eyes filling with something dangerous.
It would have been difficult to take under any circumstances, but Jim had felt something akin to a merging of souls in the ambassador’s mind, and that experience had made the current situation unbearable. The knowledge of what he and Spock had lost - before they even knew they had it - was tearing Jim into tiny pieces, causing him to lash out at the one person he was beginning to love beyond the realm of any love he’d ever experienced before.
I have been, and always shall be, your friend.
His mind now filled with memories of his first officer’s cold eyes, Jim curled in even tighter into himself as he squeezed his own eyes shut, desperate to escape the world he was living in, but terrified of slipping into a horrendous dream world -
As though the universe suddenly understood his predicament, Jim’s console chirped to life, with Sulu’s calm voice informing him that he was needed on the Bridge. The ship rocked wildly even as Jim was yanking himself out of bed, and he cursed fluently as he grabbed his boots from the ground, threw on a shirt, and sprinted into the hallway, wondering who the hell thought they had permission to beat up his ship.
- - -
When the sickbay doors slid open, Leonard quickly realised that his entrance had gone unnoticed, and he slunk into the outer room, pressing himself against the wall. Twelve hours had passed since Spock and Jim had beamed back aboard, another crisis averted through their foolhardy heroics, and Spock had finally decided to check on his captain.
Unsurprisingly, Leonard found himself wishing that Spock had stayed on the Bridge, knowing that Spock’s presence in sickbay was only going to cause trouble. In the process of convincing their attackers that they had beamed aboard with good intentions, Jim had put himself in the path of a knife meant for Spock, and Leonard was willing to bet that Spock wasn’t too happy about the situation.
“I do not understand why you feel the need to constantly endanger yourself.”
“You don’t need to! I can make my own decisions.”
“Captain -”
“And stop with the captain bullshit!”
As expected, they were fighting again - Jim loud and angry, Spock dangerously calm. As Leonard eavesdropped outside the door of his own sickbay, exasperation curling across his skin, he wondered if they would ever do anything but fight. Even after six months of working together, Spock and Jim were still like oil and water, and situations like this didn’t make their relationship any easier.
“If you’d get your pointy-eared head out of your ass for even one minute -”
“My ears are irrelevant to this conversation.”
“Stop doing that!”
“Stating a fact?”
“Treating me like a child!”
Leonard sighed softly, and wondered if he had anything to hit his captain over the head with. Intelligent as Jim was, he had a lot to learn if he thought he’d make any progress with Spock this way - and Spock certainly wasn’t making things better.
“Captain -”
“How many times -”
“It would be inappropriate to address you -”
“Goddamnit!”
There was a crashing sound, and Leonard cautiously peeked around the door frame, needing to see what was going on. Jim was out of bed and standing up, the gauze around his waist just barely holding his blood and skin together, and Leonard actually stopped breathing, half a second away from tearing into the room and strapping Jim to the goddamn bed.
He restrained himself as Spock reacted first, planting himself firmly in front of the captain.
“You should not be standing.”
Spock’s voice was even calmer than a moment ago, but Jim didn’t heed the silent warning. He managed a shaky movement forward, and Spock held his ground, his expression less emotive than a statue’s.
“So tell me what else I shouldn’t be doing. Tearing me down seems to be your favourite hobby.”
“As you regularly elect to jeopardize your own life -”
“Maybe I’d stop getting hurt if you and I could function like a goddamn team!”
Jim’s voice echoed around the room, his words shattering between them like shards of glass, and the ensuing silence was loud enough to fill the entire ship. As Spock’s shoulders become even stiffer, Leonard only realized he was holding his breath when his lungs started to hurt.
“I regret that my services as first officer are inadequate, Captain.”
Spock barely seemed to be breathing, his fingers curled in against his palms, and Leonard hadn’t known that it was possible for a living creature to be that motionless.
“I recognize that you and I do not communicate well beyond our necessary duties, but I was unaware that you were displeased with our professional interactions.”
His ominously low voice sounded like he’d been chewing on glass, and as the angry glint in Jim’s eyes only got stronger, foreboding crept along every inch of Leonard’s body. Something dangerous seemed to be gathering in the room - some billowing cloud of anger and frustration - and the feeling of dread was so complete Leonard could barely stand still.
“If that is your true perception of our working relationship, then I shall immediately request a transfer.”
Spock turned away, but before Leonard had even managed to breathe through his nausea, Jim’s hand was shooting out with lightning speed, his fingers digging into the fabric of Spock’s shirt.
“No you won’t.”
Jim slowly bit out each word, and Spock let himself be held, his gaze dropping pointedly to Jim’s hand.
“Release me.”
As Jim tightened his grip and moved closer, crowding into Spock’s personal space, Leonard wondered just how much of a death wish Jim actually had. Spock’s eyes were the only emotive part of his body he couldn’t seem to turn off around Jim, and Leonard could see the anger crackling there.
“I said release me.”
“Why do you hate me?”
Jim moved even closer, and Leonard held his breath as Spock slowly placed a hand over Jim’s, without a flicker of expression crossing his face. The captain’s eyes widened with sudden pain, and Leonard watched as those long fingers dug mercilessly into Jim’s skin, pressing hard enough to bruise.
“Hatred is an emotion -”
“Remember that ring of bruises around my neck?”
Leonard watched as Spock’s posture became impossibly stiff, and Jim moved even closer, the air around them seeming to crackle.
“You’re a fucking liar, Spock.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, anger twisting along their locked gaze, before Spock hissed sharply and pulled away, easily breaking the grip Jim had on his shirt. Before Leonard could figure out what had happened, Jim was stumbling for balance, one hand going to his own side, pressing against the bandages -
Spock caught Jim as he fell, holding him almost tenderly against his body, and Leonard’s heart suddenly hurt.
“Lie down.”
When Jim didn’t protest, Spock pulled him upright and slowly helped him into bed. Jim’s mouth was twisted with pain, and the look he gave Spock was part loathing and part gratitude, a faint flush staining his cheeks.
“I’m not a fucking invalid.”
Spock didn’t seem to have an answer. His eyes were dangerously unguarded, and he turned to leave, his face a dangerous shade of white.
“I’ll stand up again. Swear to god I will.”
Spock’s back was to Jim, and Leonard watched as Spock actually closed his eyes, taking a moment to just breathe. There was something suddenly vulnerable about him, and Leonard knew he wasn’t supposed to be seeing this.
“Captain -”
“What did you see?”
Jim’s voice cracked slightly, and Spock pressed his lips together, still not turning around. Fear was trying to creep across Jim’s expression, and Leonard watched as he settled a little further into the bed, as though needing the support.
“You’re a touch telepath.”
Spock almost flinched at the words, and Leonard’s heart seemed to skip a beat.
“I know you are. We both know that I know. You might as well tell me now.”
Spock couldn’t seem to find any words. When he remained silent and motionless, something dark crossed Jim’s face.
“Sit down and talk to me.”
Spock didn’t move.
“I can make it a goddamn order.”
The glint in Spock’s eyes and the thin press of his lips were truly frightening. He turned back to Jim, who met his gaze evenly, an obvious challenge in his eyes.
“I mean it, Spock -”
With an odd little twitch, Spock suddenly turned his back on Jim and walked away. Jim was yelling something at him, but Leonard barely heard, too busy trying to scramble away from the door -
“Doctor.”
Spock seemed to be holding himself together by the tiniest sliver of control, and Leonard couldn’t stop the flutter of fear in his chest. The last time Spock had worn this expression, Jim had nearly been murdered in full view of the entire command crew.
“If the captain attempts to follow me, use your medical authority to prevent him from doing so.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, and the clipped words brooked no argument. When Leonard managed a nod, Spock stared at him for a moment longer, as though not truly seeing him, before he turned away and walked out the door.
Leonard watched him go, too frightened to find amusement in the way the hall emptied, as nervous crewmembers gave Spock a good foot of space. Letting out a slow exhale, Leonard went into the other room, and stopped Jim as he tried to push himself out of bed.
“Goddamnit, Bones -”
“Don’t even try it.”
Jim stopped struggling, obvious betrayal flashing through his eyes, and Leonard felt like someone had twisted a knife through his heart. He exhaled shakily and rested a hand against Jim’s shoulder, some of the heaviness in his chest easing when it wasn’t shrugged away.
“Talk to him later, Jim. Preferably when you can walk.”
“What if he tries to leave?”
“Where will he go?”
It was the truth, but Jim was practically biting his lip, glaring down at the bed sheets, and his sudden vulnerability seemed to cut straight through Leonard. When the captain spoke, his voice was a whisper, and it took Leonard a few seconds to process the words.
“I need him, Bones.”
Not knowing what to say, Leonard placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder, realizing that Jim was shaking with frustration.
“We’re supposed to be this fantastic team, but we can’t even eat lunch together without fighting.” Jim finally met Leonard’s eyes, and the obvious sense of loss there caused his fingers to tighten on Jim’s shoulder. “Ambassador Spock had more love and respect for me than I could have ever imagined… what if this world’s circumstances are too different?”
Not for the first time, Leonard found himself wanting to strangle this older version of Spock. Jim bristled up like a cactus whenever Leonard voiced his anger - and he knew that Jim would protect the Ambassador until the day he died - but Leonard still couldn’t help feeling that their meld had done far too much harm with the good.
“For god’s sake - you’ve known Spock for six months. The Ambassador had decades with his version of you. Do you think you can just construct that closeness overnight?”
Jim wasn’t looking at him again.
“Come on, kid. Talk to me.”
That got him the tiniest hint of a smile, although Jim’s gaze was still focused on the blankets. “I think there are regulations that forbid crewmembers from calling their superior officers by their pet names.”
“Jim, I swear to god -”
Jim sighed softly and curled his fingers around Leonard’s, who fought down an embarrassing surge of affection as he squeezed back, finding a small amount comfort in the gentle contact. He’d never known anyone who craved physical contact like Jim did - needed it, even, probably as much as he needed oxygen - and it made Leonard’s heart ache every time.
“Bones.”
“Right here.”
“I didn’t tell you everything about that meld.”
“So spill.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
After three years spent patching each other up at the Academy, Leonard knew every nuance of Jim’s emotions, and he tightened his grip at the lost tone, cursing himself for being a sentimental fool when it came to this man.
“Look, Jim, you’ve seen me drunk out of my mind and sobbing on your carpet. You can stop worrying that I’m going to bail on you.” The small smile was genuine this time, if tinged with a little sympathy, and Leonard couldn’t stop his own lips from softening, even though the sad humour was at his expense. “So, what do you say?”
“I say that if we’re doing this, you might need a drink.”
“I knew there was a reason they made you captain. Shame that you’re injured, and that I’m your attending physician.”
“You need to stop worrying so much.”
“Sure, will do, as soon as you get over your death wish. Now shut up and tell me about that meld.”
Jim shot him a nasty look, but let the argument drop, and sank a little further into the bed. He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the pillows, and Leonard realized that this had to be bad, if Jim wasn’t even able to look at him.
“Bones, you know what love feels like.”
It wasn’t phrased as question, and Leonard blinked at him, not seeing where this was going. He nodded cautiously, not knowing how else to respond, before he remembered that Jim wasn’t looking at him.
“Yeah, of course. Why does it matter?”
“It matters.” Jim’s eyes were still closed, and there was something odd to his voice. “Alright, just hear me out. You loved your wife.”
“Not anymore.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“And you love Joanna.”
“More than anything.”
“How far would you go to keep your daughter safe?”
The question came from nowhere, and Leonard could feel himself bristling, even though Jim hadn’t meant it as an insult. “I’d follow her to the end of the universe. I’d do anything to keep her safe.”
“Imagine feeling something like that from a complete stranger.”
Leonard stared at him, still not getting it.
“Ambassador Spock knew every nuance of my mind - stuff I didn’t even know myself. I had never believed in the concept of a soul, until that day… but Bones, he just knew me. He would have given every inch of himself for me - body and soul, spirit, whatever you want to call it, and - and it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.”
Jim was staring down at his blankets, and Leonard couldn’t quite stop a sigh, easily seeing where this was going. “So the ambassador had a thing for a certain captain. Why should that affect -”
“It matters, Bones, because I want the same thing.”
Leonard stared at him for a long moment, his mind reeling from those impossible words, before Jim met his eyes again, and Leonard could see the truth there. In that moment, his head still filled with images of Spock and Jim fighting, Leonard came to a ridiculous decision, cursed himself for being a sentiment fool, and casually rested his hand on top of Jim’s.
“If that’s what you want… well, I think you’re crazy, but if you’re gonna do this, you’d best do it right. And that means dropping the enraged feline act that you both seem to like so much.”
Jim blinked at him for a moment, before a relieved grin spread across his face, and Leonard was nearly bowled over from the force of such obvious happiness. He hadn’t even realized that his support was needed for this endeavour, but apparently it had been, and when Jim squeezed his hand with unrestrained affection, Leonard couldn’t even be bothered to rethink his position.
“You’re a pal, Bones. How soon can you get me out of here?”
Jim still looked like hell, but there was a new spark in his eyes, and Leonard suddenly realized how interesting the next four and a half years were going to be. He stopped a sigh, wondering if there was enough alcohol in the universe to deal with the concept of his best friend falling in love with the resident know-it-all.
- - -
“I do say, Captain, you’re looking perfectly fantastic. I hope that means my ship’s in good shape?”
Cursing his fair complexion, Jim failed to stop a blush, knowing that his face was still bruised from his earlier mishap. As soon as Bones had let him out of sickbay - two days after Jim had first been admitted, during which Spock had run the ship, and stayed far away from Jim - he had put through a call to Earth, wanting the comfort of someone who had complete faith in him. As Christopher’s teasing words settled between them, Jim felt a measure of sanity return to his bruised form, drawing strength from the reassurance of such calm support.
“Yeah, well, you know me - always putting myself between the ship and danger. Seems I learned it from a certain admiral.”
Jim tried to blink innocently at the computer, and ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind that kept harassing him over this apparent need for a father image.
“Give it up, kid. You were always going to put your safety last, with or without my influence.”
“Have you been talking to Bones again? He calls me that, too - it’ll be detrimental to my self-esteem if I’m hearing it from both of you.”
“I doubt anything could dent your ego.”
“Harsh, Chris.”
“Just telling it like it is.”
Jim stopped trying to hide a smile, loving the affection in Christopher’s eyes, but his grin faded with shocking speed at Christopher’s next question.
“How’s Spock doing?”
As though the words had physically touched him, Jim found that his tongue had suddenly stopped working, his mind flashing back to their devastating scene in sickbay. He shrugged helplessly, waving his hands around as though they could make some kind of point, and Christopher raised his eyebrow in a positively uncanny imitation, somehow making the situation that much worse.
“Jim, it’s been six months. He’ll never tell you, but he’s hurting.”
“He hates me.”
Jim wanted to take back the words as soon as they were out, but Christopher was already frowning at him, and Jim knew there was no going backwards. Not to mention that, if Jim was going to lie to anyone, it was not going to be this man - for in addition to being his friend, Chris was the one Starfleet member he could come to for advice. He knew that every other captain would dismiss his questions as proof of his inability to command the Enterprise.
“Jim, I talk to him almost as much as I talk to you, and I’m worried about him, though he’d cut off his ears before he accepted my concern. You’ve got a much better chance of getting through to him than I do.”
“All we do is fight.”
“So stop provoking him.”
Jim could hear himself making some kind of insulted sputtering sound, but Chris shook his head at his gobsmacked reaction, clearly not buying the indignation. Jim boggled at him for another long moment, before a wave of shame swept through him, and he silently cursed both Spock and himself.
“Only if he stops ripping me to pieces.”
“If you two want to be able to keep the Enterprise from harm -”
“I won’t let anything happen to her.” There was an unintended bite to his words, but Jim didn’t care to censor himself, even when Chris raised that disconcerting eyebrow again. “This ship and her crew come before everything else. You know that. You know that I know it. Whatever problems Spock and I have - I won’t let them hurt our mission. I would never let -”
“I know, Jim.”
The softly understanding words cut off his tirade, and Jim found himself blushing again, wondering why his insecurities always came to light around this man. He had spent his life going it alone, with very little support - but something about Christopher made him willing to appear less than perfect.
“I wouldn’t have fought for anyone else to have my ship. I trust you with her, and with Spock, and with the whole crew - and if I didn’t, you wouldn’t be there.”
The implication that he hadn’t gotten his position alone should have rankled him, but Jim knew better than to argue against such a simple fact. Although Starfleet Command had been hurting for personnel after the Battle of Vulcan, they still hadn’t wanted a twenty-five year old in the captain’s seat, and he would never have been promoted without Christopher’s support.
The sobering thought brought back the guilt that had been tearing at him for months, and Jim found himself forcing out his trademark grin, somehow making it believable enough to fool even Christopher. He may not want to lie to this man, but he also wasn’t going to discuss the nightmares that kept waking him up - or the fact that he was only here because an entire year of cadets had been slaughtered.
“Well, I for one am glad that you frog-marched Command into putting me in charge, and I promise to do you credit.”
He could hear none of his unease in his voice, and he distantly wondered how long it had been since he put his hard-earned poker face into play against someone he cared about. Christopher accepted the conversation change with a sardonic smirk, but his next words were cut off by a yawn, and Jim wondered what time it was on Earth.
“You look like you need to be sleeping.”
“It’s the seven hours of rehab every day.” Something dark flashed across Christopher’s face, and Jim suddenly realized that he had no real idea of how Christopher was coping with his lost mobility. “I feel like they’ve had me bench-pressing Vulcans.”
The phrasing of the statement should have been funny, but it brought an unpleasant prickle to Jim’s throat instead, and he fought down the need to pull Christopher into a massive virtual hug, wanting to tell him all sorts of ridiculous things about him being a mentor and inspiration. He was never going to forget the way Chris had yanked that phaser from Jim’s belt, despite having lost control of his entire lower body.
“At least you’re going to be buff when you get out of there.”
Christopher did the eyebrow thing again, and Jim somehow kept his smile in place, despite the unhappy turn his thoughts had taken. He didn’t like that lost look on Chris’ face, and his own concerns seemed suddenly minimal in comparison.
“I mean, you were already smoking hot before, with the silver hair and the command thing you’ve got going - I mean, goddamnit, Chris, couldn’t you leave some of the looks for us common folk? - but I bet by the time you get out of there -”
The sincere laugh he got was a welcome change to the unhappiness in Christopher’s eyes, and Jim’s smile became a little more genuine, loving the fact that he could bring some contentment into Chris’ life.
“You’re a good friend, Captain. Thanks for cheering up a maudlin old man.”
The screen switched off before Jim could say anything, and Jim’s smile disappeared as silence settled around him, its loud presence an overwhelming weight on his shoulders. His thoughts were suddenly much too dark to handle sober, and he didn’t want to be alone, with no distraction from the guilt that had begun to choke him again.
As though in answer to his silent prayer, the door buzzed at him, and Jim didn’t care who it was, as long as he could be distracted from his thoughts.
“Come on in.”
He stood up from his computer, but his forced smile faded completely when Spock entered the room, his hands clasped carefully behind his back. They stared at each other for a moment, the silence between them close to excruciating, before Spock gave a tiny half nod, as though the action actually pained him.
“Captain.”
His voice was colder than the ice on Delta Vega, and Jim dragged a distracted hand through his hair, trying to find some way to make this situation better. The sudden remembrance of Delta Vega wasn’t helping matters, bringing back the chill of alien jaws snapping behind him, and Jim finally settled for shaking his head helplessly.
“Hell, Spock. Come sit down at least, before we start yelling?”
Spock continued to just stare at him, with nothing of what he was thinking reflected in his eyes, and Jim felt the sudden urge to strangle him, wanting to break that hated impassivity. He fought down the instinct with valiant effort, knowing that one more fight would probably push them both over the edge.
“I think not, Captain.”
As they stared at each other in strained silence, Jim silently marvelled at how truly beautiful Spock was, even while looking at Jim as though his captain was too stupid to exist. Spock held himself with almost tangible self-respect, and Jim had no doubt that Spock would abandon his entire race before he ever compromised the unwavering principles that made him who he was.
Of course, that only increased Jim’s desire to hit Spock across the head, and then kiss him until neither of them could breathe.
“You and I have a serious problem, Spock.”
He was trying to start something resembling a civil discussion, but when there was still no response, Jim suddenly felt exhausted. He wanted to see something behind those cold eyes - something beyond the contempt that seemed to underlie their every interaction.
“You look like hell. When’d you last sleep?”
“That is Doctor McCoy’s area of expertise. As long as I am fit for duty, you need not concern yourself with my physical welfare.”
“I’m not worried about your body.”
And there it was, finally - a flicker of something beyond Spock’s icy impassivity, flashing across his eyes so quickly Jim almost didn’t catch it. He instantly leapt on that opportunity, his heart skipping at finally glimpsing through the wall that Spock had been constructing between them over the last six months.
“Spock, come on, talk to me. It’s been six months since we destroyed Nero, and you haven’t talk about it, not once. We might not exactly get along, but -” I’m worried about you “- I’ll happily lend an ear.”
It was the closest thing he could extend to an olive branch, but Spock simply looked at him as though Jim had said something particularly idiotic, that eyebrow clearly conveying a sentiment of condescending disbelief.
“What makes you believe that I would choose to discuss my concerns with you?”
The toneless words hit like a physical slap, tainting his vision with a red haze, and Jim felt the blood leave his face. When Spock said nothing else, his expression as impassive as an ice sculpture, Jim suddenly realized that he almost wanted those fingers back around his throat. At least it would give them a clear method of communication, and get them out of this horrible state of festering animosity.
“Well, screw you, too, Spock. What the hell did you want, anyway?”
“It is obvious that you and I cannot work together. I came to discuss this issue.”
Still not a flicker of expression, and Jim found himself taking a step closer, hurt and anger making it difficult to see straight. He suddenly flashed back to a freezing cave, his thoughts wrapping around a memory that felt like it had happened years ago -
I have been, and always shall be, your friend.
“If you’re thinking about leaving, you can think again.”
“Captain -”
“Don’t you dare ‘captain’ me.” Jim could hear the shake in his voice, and he hated himself for it, but there was no chance of calming himself down now. “Unless you want a fist fight, you need to get out. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, when we’re both less likely to murder each other.”
Spock’s lips thinned with irritation, but he exited without another word, leaving Jim’s room feeling emptier than it had before, the silence around Jim now laced with hostility. Realizing that he was trembling, Jim concentrated on slowing his breathing, his eyes slipping shut as he tried to calm down.
My god, how are we ever going to make this work?
Suddenly feeling like his skin was too small for his body, Jim grabbed his shorts and headed for the gym, needing something to keep his mind occupied. Getting beaten up by security staff wasn’t a particularly appealing prospect, but it was better than sitting alone, thinking about how desperately he wanted to touch Spock -
As though if Jim could just press their bodies together, it would give him some indication of how to get through to him.
- - -
Part Two - http://twisting-vine-x.livejournal.com/165230.html#cutid1