Periphery

Time slows. Stops.

It takes all the willpower he can muster to prevent himself from running onto that transporter pad and fling his arms around the broken, broken man that stands before him. That man who, as the last swirls of atoms fade away into the air, stands with his arm outstretched, reaching for a ghost.

Jim has never seen Spock look so utterly destroyed.

Granted, he has only known the stoic Vulcan for but a few days, nonetheless he knows sorrow when he sees it, especially when it is on his face. Spock slowly lowers his arm, eyes wide, staring, pleading, and Chekov sits in silence, head bowed, staring at the screen before him.

Sulu is panting from the exertion of their fall just minutes before, but slowly slides his hand onto Chekov's shoulder. The Russian acknowledges this gesture with a jerky nod of the head.

Spock hesitates for a split second, walks inelegantly over to the one empty pad that should have been full. He stares at the blue dome with eyes full of turmoil, jaw set, fists clenched.

The all of a sudden time rushes back into the room with a flood of noise and movement. Uhura flashes past, a streak of red, and does what Jim should have done the very moment he realised what had happened.

Shamed, Jim turns away, he does not want to see the consequences of human failure, but more importantly, he does not want to see his own failings. His human aversion to Spock, who is so clever, so irritatingly perfect, should not get in the way of his duties as acting first officer, and more importantly, as comrade.

The pain of his injuries stream back into his body and he gasps at the unrelenting, searing burn. Bones fusses, but Jim is only half aware of what his friend is saying to him, because out of the corner of his eye, over Uhura's shoulder, Spock is staring at him.

The sensation when their eyes meet is terrifying. All the emotion bottled up underneath the surface of Spock's stoic mask is spilling through his eyes. And Jim sees sorrow, pain, but most of all anger. And that scares him.

He wrenches his arm out of Bone's grip with a surge of strength that leaves him dizzy. Insisting in a slurred voice that Bones "should be looking after the Vulcans; after Sp-", but Bones silences him with a sharp jab of a hypospray, and the darkness swallows him up.

Time slows. Stops.

And all Jim sees is eyes that hide an aspect of Spock that should not be seen.

And it burns.