He thought, rather illogically, to himself, that the sky had an odd way of falling. They were walking, side by side, through the fog. He did not like it there, the weight of the sorrows of setting were pressing against his coat, the cold was running through his blood, and he was tired. Jim looked happy, was chattering away, Spock allowed himself, for a half a millisecond, to feel used. But then Jim put his hand on Spock's with a gentle smile, pushed him into the rushing heat of a café and ordered him a tea, and Spock returned to comfort, finally a little bit warm.

"This isn't your idea of shore leave"

"You state the obvious, Jim"

Kirk gave a wistful smirk, looked up and thanked the waiter as she produced their drinks, and then turned back to Spock.

"I would apologize to dragging you here, except I'm not sorry."

There was a pause, Kirk looked to Spock almost boyish, like a child. An easy smile appeared on Jim's face, Spock fought the urge to mirror it as Kirk continued.

"but I am thankful"

"It is illogical to thank me Jim, I am, despite the cold, enjoying our shore leave, however illogical the manner is."

And they say Vulcans don't lie. Spock was tired, he was cold, he wanted to meditate, to be alone for any amount of time, the emotions of humans, especially the unusually raw and unhampered ones of Kirk were beginning to wear on him. He found himself biting back a sigh.

Kirk watched the turned back of Spock from his position in the hotel room. Something sad was swirling around his first officer, a darkness that was refusing to be disturbed. He wanted to touch Spock, be it ever so briefly, on the shoulder, on the arm, anywhere, to simply gain a reaction. He wanted to see Spock's shoulders slump and his head shake as he quietly said that he did not know himself what was wrong. Because Kirk knew that was the case. Spock did not dwell in emotionalism unless he was unaware of the cause, unless he was drowning.

Spock retreated to his room. Kirk knocked softly on the door an hour later, entered when he heard no response, and found himself shocked at the heat, even for Spock. And there was his first officer, his friend, curled tightly on the bed, his face untwisted and then mangled into what had to be agony; a man plunged into the hell that was dreaming.