I Would Take All My Shame to the Grave
It had been a little over a year since Jim had seen the older version of his First Officer. He took that into consideration when he watched the wizened man step down from the transporter pad as if he'd done it a million times, which probably wasn't far from the truth. Jim had missed Spock Prime—he'd heard the younger Spock call him that occasionally—and he had to restrain himself from hugging him the moment he saw him.
That was earlier in the day, however, and Jim was reminiscing on it as he tried to sleep in his own somewhat lonely quarters. He found himself sitting up in bed as a memory of his First Officer trying to comfort him floated through his head. It was something he'd never experienced before; the sense of importance...that he mattered to someone in some way.
But he couldn't release the feelings of hurt he felt, he remembered. It was ironic that Spock had to basically tell him to let go, yet he refused to avoid emotional compromise. He understood then what layers he had to dig through to get Spock to let go all that time ago. Jim felt horrible for trying so hard to prevent his friend from digging into his layers.
The door sensor buzzed.
Jim frowned and rubbed his face. "Come in," he said passively. When he lifted his gaze, he was visibly shocked to see Spock Prime standing directly in front of him, his hands behind his back in an almost regal pose as he regarded the younger man carefully. The captain stood respectfully.
"Tushah nash-veh k'du," the old man said so quietly it neared a whisper. "I grieve with thee."
Suddenly Jim felt it. In his mind, he felt all of the pain Spock Prime had been repressing throughout his long life. He felt his own pain, knowing the other man was suffering but wouldn't do anything to let him help. It was a memory he never lived through, a memory his other self lived through, and Jim knew...just knew...that Spock Prime was feeling what the younger Spock felt when he tried to coax the hurt out of his captain. The four of them were one.
Without thinking, Jim threw his arms around the old man and buried his face in his shoulder. Without realizing the full significance of it, he felt surprisingly strong arms lock around him in return. Spock Prime rested his cheek on top of Jim's head affectionately as the latter's tears became absorbed in the Vulcan fabric.
"We can no longer evade what we have been evading for our entire lives, Jim," Spock Prime murmured. "We can no longer deny the wounds. I do not want you to go through this for as long as I have." His voice broke, and he found himself encouraging his own tears. "We have both tried to live with pain we have had since birth. We cannot let it destroy any longer!"
Jim clutched the back of his friend's robes, unable to hold back the sob lodged in his throat. He heard the hitch in Spock Prime's breath, and he felt oddly comforted knowing the old man was crying, too.
"It's easier to run, Mr. Spock. But that doesn't make it better."
"That may be so. However, that is all I know how to do."
"In all honesty...it's so much easier to go. To let everything out. But as we both know very well...a captain can't be emotionally compromised."
"There was a time I thought that if I could take all my shame to the grave, I would," Jim murmured into Spock Prime's robes.
The aged half-Vulcan did not make any movement to let the captain go, which was fine where the captain was concerned. "And now?"
"Now...now I have nothing to be ashamed of."
Spock Prime's tearful smile could be heard by Jim. "Nor have I, dear friend. Nor have I."