Prologue
"Personal log, Stardate: Thirty-three twenty-five point four
I am at an even greater loss to understanding the nature, complexities, and all encompassing enigma that is my first officer."
The soft glow of the ships lighting reflected off the metallic lid of the jar resting upon the delicate knitting of a fleshy palm. He watched it spark and fade with each turn of his wrist, trying to both reconcile the sight of the tissue floating within the formaldehyde, and ignore the emotions the last couple of months brought to him.
"At times, he is so completely withdrawn from me that it seems any sort of friendship is beyond our grasp. Yet, he seems to come out of left field with a sense of compassion and loyalty. Nay, it is, I know not 'seems', but it does leave me with a fear for my own heart. It is not possible for him to be both unfeeling and compassionate, and yet I can't find a way to explain one or the other away."
With a weary sigh borne by shouldered emotions and a conundrum of a life, Kirk set down the container; a brief flare of thought was given to calculating the length of time it might take Bones to realize it was missing. Jim smiled at this, before finishing his motion by rising to his feet. Movement was incredibly necessary at this time.
"While searching for McCoy in the 1930's, Spock's unyielding logic to the circumstances with Edith Keeler was infuriating; to say the least." Jim brushed his fingers against the tricorder placed unassumingly upon his desk. It was positioned in such a manner as to hide the scorch marks it had received when the radio tubes had blown out.
"His emotionless ultimatum of an innocent's death still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. It was obviously the only option present to our situation, but each justification Spock gave could not put an end to the gut-wrenching feeling that I could have done more. That I could have saved her. I will never be able to deny the logic of what I allowed to happen, but that does not change the fact that in my sleep, I still dream of McCoy's accusing cries."
Jim's fists balled together, taking most of his fraying control to keep from flinging the tricorder into the nearest, or furthest, wall in his quarters. "Do I really know what I've done? Was there truly no other way? Did I just accept Spock's statement as the only route, simply because he is Spock?"
Running his fingers through his hair, as though the act itself was pulling upon a string linked directly to Kirk. With a graceful grip and passive pull his spine straightened and his shoulders braced together.
"All foolish questions, I know. I find that I am second guessing myself lately where Spock is concerned. I strive to find the friendship I know is possible between us, yet more often than not, I feel myself reaching for it, for him, but my attempts are not met with his own. He is unwilling, or simply, incapable of meeting me halfway.
"How was my other self able to break through such high Vulcan walls? How do I achieve a place in his inner sanctum? Is it even possible for a person like me?"
Kirk paused his ramblings at the sound of his own chuckles, pulled from him by the ridiculousness of the situation. How many others paced to the beat of questions and comparisons to those of themselves. Jim felt it was necessary at times, even if it proved to be totally pointless.
"Another illogical piece that is James T. Kirk, I suppose. Edith stated that Spock belonged at my side, 'as if you've always been there and always will.' Such a clever woman lost to our history. A shame she had to come at such a backwards time.
"Even her insight could see the distance Spock keeps himself. I fear I will never hear my name come from him. Should he actually use it, I am certain it would come out as Captain, anyway."
Jim's pacing led him over to the screen partition separating him from the bedroom. His mind still too restless for sleep. "How can we ever become some great and destined command team? I believe the apathy is what gets me the most. Hate is simple enough to turn into affection. Passion is passion, no matter the form. But without it, how does one become important to the other?"
His ever active feet take him back to the desk where that disturbing jar continues to sit. It was the only piece of Spock he could hold onto, and it was a piece that had caused his Vulcan officer so much pain. Jim was sure that was the real representation of their relationship, that really wasn't the correct connotation for what laid between them. Interaction seemed far more neutral. The only way Jim was able to draw any sort of feeling from Spock was by manipulating the pain and loss Spock was already harboring.
"He is capable of emotion. That is not what is at question, especially not after the events of Deneva. I know he does not ask of those what he is not already willing to do. I forgave him his callous view of Edith's life the moment he offered to be beamed down to Deneva and commit himself to death with the other million inhabitants. I can still visualize that raised brow as I vehemently denied such a solution. It terrifies me to see him so willing to sacrifice himself for others with the ease of reciting Surak's teachings."
Jim picked up the jar again, the cold of the glass echoing down his spine and back up to burden his shoulders.
"So selfish of me. Bones was right, it was not simply my unwillingness to sacrifice so many that kept me searching for an out to that scenario. I would not accept the loss of Spock, my brother in arms, to the same thing that killed my brother in blood. To believe, Spock thought I would allow such a thing to happen."
More flickers of light as the bottle turns and shifts. The floating worm of tissue spins and bobs, giving life where there is none. It sent Jim's mind back to each instance when Spock had twitched. A constant reminder of what he was suffering through. His Vulcan control, a source of uncompromising faith for him, broken by jolts of immeasurable pain. Jim finds himself following Spock with his eyes now, searching for any sign of a fidget. There is nothing more serene to him now, than the unmoving perfection of Spock's posture.
"And yet, I did allow him to be a test subject, like he wasn't any better than the one they had just killed. When he revealed that he was completely blinded by the light, I took it as a simple casualty because at least he was alive, and he was free of the torment. As if my own heartlessness wasn't enough, I had the nerve to turn my anger on Bones when we found that the blindness wasn't even necessary."
Kirk fell into his chair, the strain of such revelations becoming too much for his exhausted body. His elbows fell upon the desk, bridging his fingers together and letting his head rest upon his flesh, his eyes upon the alien flesh dangling between.
"I can not allow myself to continue like this. It will only end with either myself or, more likely, Spock hurt beyond measure." Jim closed his eyes, his head rocking upon his hands. " I fear it is time I looked for answers in a more unconventional place, before even more can go wrong. The next two weeks will be spent en route to the planet Hudor. I will take that time to pull my flailing emotions into line."
One last sigh, filled with a bone deep wariness just as the one to proceed it, was picked up by the recorder before Kirk reached over to flick the switch and bring it to an end. The tense muscles in his neck eased once the jar sat upon his desk once more.
"Lieutenant Uhura," Captain Kirk commanded over the intercom following a second click of a switch.
"Uhura here."
"Please send a request for a personal conference with New Vulcan's ambassador to Romulus at his earliest convenience. "
The pause after his order was miniscule at best, but was further enhanced by the hesitance of her speech patterns.
"Yes, Captain." The why in her voice went unasked.
