When I started writing this in April, I'd only literally seen seven episodes and two of the TOS movies, so I am sorry if I've gotten any details wrong – even the littlest ones. I just fell completely in love with Spirk; I just needed to write something about them! *cookies and love*
The Child of Two Worlds
In all the chaos that occurred aboard the USS Enterprise, whether it was a Romulan attack, a disease pandemic or a rescue mission gone awry, the captain always found solace in his first officer. A complete opposite of the quick-acting human, the Vulcan being not only offered his upmost logical thoughts and opinions, he gave his captain the gift of friendship, devotion; unending love. He did not allow himself to let these feelings show, of course, it was just something that always went unsaid. He just knew all too well that Jim Kirk felt the same way. He didn't fully understand how he knew; it was just there, alight in those mischievous hazel eyes and in the curl of the welcoming smile that Spock found so charming and comforting. Therefore no one felt the need to admit it out loud. It was love that sang to them, its ethereal song bringing the two souls together; something they didn't even know could exist for them, so they welcomed it and nourished it. And it wasn't exactly a secret, either. Everyone else on the ship knew it, too, and most were gobsmacked at this little phenomenon, and it was their love that helped them all realise that soulmates did really exist in this world, and not just in the fairytales of centuries past. So, even amongst all the pandemonium, the Enterprise's crew knew where to find the light on their ship as if a love between two people was something so rare; so extraordinary. But, as it was inevitable in a crew of all personalities and beliefs, not everyone was in favour of it.
Dr. McCoy would often notice glances; longing, lustful glances, almost in pain with desire. He didn't make anything of it. Flirtatious looks of this nature were harmless and meaningless – something that everyone was guilty of doing at some point – so the medic chose to ignore them, believing that the whole thing was just a phase and would hopefully pass. But the relationship only grew stronger between the two, and as it became clear to the old doctor, this love was becoming something that they would die for and that they were not going to give up on it. McCoy didn't say a word against them – they were good friends, after all – but he would go over it in his head, with sickening thoughts and feelings there waiting to be awakened. He never intended to, or even wanted, to hurt them, but he didn't know what else to do. He had walked in on them once, quite by accident, in Kirk's quarters, where they were engrossed in an epic battle of flesh against flesh. The couple were never aware of this incident as McCoy never spoke of it. But in the doctor's eyes, something had to be done about it. He could see the effects were starting to take place. Jim's judgment was beginning to wither away. The man feared for the future of his captain, and the welfare of the ship he commanded. If Jim's head was to be filled with the memories of the ecstasy that Spock gave him, in times of peril, lives would be at stake – hundreds of them; thousands, maybe even millions. The doctor empathised with the need to be held, to be loved, but, as he would gradually learn over time, the most well-meaning men make mistakes. And so, with McCoy's doing, the doctor lost all his dignity. He convinced Jim that he was suffering from a form of exhaustion, which was to be remedied by extended shore leave. Without Spock.
It mirrored the end of a romantic movie, with the surrounding crowd almost suffocating them in the shuttle bay as they uttered their farewells. His entire body quaking with sadness, Kirk fully realised that he would be without his t'hy'la for the next seven months, and he began to weep bitterly into Spock's comforting shoulder. And in return, Spock whispered loving things to him in his ear in order to bring faith to the man's heart. The Vulcan's strong arms tightened around Jim's quivering body, and let the captain's tears soak his uniform. And slowly but surely, Spock rested his head in the crook of Jim's shoulder. He released a deep, shuddering sigh, his lover's sobs contagious. They stood like this for what felt like aeons, the human and the Vulcan locked in this embrace, with all of the ship's crew watching them. The engineers, and the yeomen, and the security staff, and countless more had tears in their own eyes, but they were left to fall in silence. Dr. McCoy stood apart from the crowd, his arms stubbornly folded, as he stared miserably at the floor. It was only now that he was beginning to realise the consequences of his brash decision. The couple parted, and when Kirk gazed up into Spock's chocolate-brown eyes, he was shocked to find that the Vulcan was crying.
" Spock," he murmured, sniffing. " You're crying."
Spock swallowed hard in embarrassment, and he brushed his eye with the tips of his index and middle fingers. He looked at it, frowning curiously, the texture damp against his skin. Then he looked back at Jim. " It appears that I am," he muttered slowly. " You mean that much to me, James Kirk."
Jim heaved a sigh, the tears starting to form again. He lowered his head for a moment before looking back at his lover. " I wish I didn't have to go!" he cried tearfully. " I can't bear to leave you!"
" You're not leaving me, Captain. I will be here," he paused to place a hand on Jim's chest, " and you will be here," and Spock gestured to his abdomen, where his heart lay beating.
Jim scrunched up his face a little as he broke down sobbing, and he went to hug his friend once more.
" Just promise me one thing."
" Yes! Anything, Spock, anything!"
" Stay faithful. Knowing your history, it's slightly disconcerting."
The captain let out a breathless chuckle, indicating that what Spock had just said was absurd. " I'm not that guy anymore. You know that. I'd never fall for anyone else as long as I'm with you."
" Promise me that."
Kirk stared at him for a second in almost disbelief. " Of course! When I come back, we'll act as if this never happened!"
McCoy swallowed, his throat feeling tight under the weight of his remorse. He approached the distraught couple and rested a hand on the captain's back. " Well, then, we've wasted enough time already. Come, Captain. You've put yourself under a lot of stress as it is."
Jim nodded solemnly. " I'd, um, I'd better get going." He hugged Spock one last time, leaving him with nothing more than a sweet kiss on the lips.
Accompanied by Dr. McCoy, the captain stepped inside the shuttle pod that was to take him to Earth. McCoy couldn't bear to look at his captain in the eye, he knew that they were pleading; begging him to let him stay. Kirk's gaze never left Spock's as McCoy pushed the door down effortlessly to close the craft.
" Safe journey, Jim," he muttered. He turned and saw Spock standing there, his cheeks puffy and tear-stained. But that emotionless expression had remained. That was the most heartbreaking thing of all. " Sorry, Spock," he mumbled to the Vulcan.
Minutes later, the engine of the craft started up and it took off far away into space. All fell silent once more. Spock hung his head, the feeling of despair hitting him hard in the stomach, and he uttered some quiet words in his native tongue. No one could hear him, and if anyone did, they had no idea that he was reciting a prayer – not just for Jim, but for all the people in the universe who were separated from their loved ones. Finally, he turned to face the crew.
" Make course for Betazed," he announced as if nothing had happened.
" Aye, sir!" a number of people responded in unison, including Uhura, Scotty, Sulu and Chekov, and everyone returned to their posts. And as acting captain, Spock wandered back to the bridge, heartbroken at the thought that Jim would no longer be there. Just as his people had taught him, he didn't let it show, but he was effected by it; deeply so.
Life, from then on, became somewhat of a hardship for the Vulcan. For most of the time, he kept it hidden from those around him, and he sought out things to do, so his mind wouldn't be plagued with the memories of his t'hy'la and the precious time they had spent together. The assignments he received from Starfleet were completed in only half the time it usually took Jim, which he saw as a grand accomplishment. His closest friends offered as much support as they could, even though Spock frequently said that it was unnecessary as he was getting along fine, and that it was foolish to still dwell over such a thing. But what they didn't know was that Spock had these monthly outbursts of emotion; often late at night, when he laid awake in bed, buried in the sheets as he howled for hours on end. In these bouts of desolation, he wondered where his Jim was, and what he might be doing, or if he was thinking of Spock, too. Then came a new batch of tears, and the Vulcan would curse all the gods he knew, crying out to them in anger, asking them why Jim was so cruelly snatched away from him; the very place he belonged. This depressing cycle of heartache was degrading and it was embarrassing, but it was well beyond Spock's control. However, he was grateful that he had the strength to keep it a secret from the others. Spock knew his emotions, from happiness to sadness, were a sign of weakness, especially among his people, but also as a Starfleet captain. His work now meant nothing to him, his only concern was having his t'hy'la there with him in the middle of the night to console him when he cried. Spock wasn't the only one who was affected by Jim's leaving, and it was the man who had sent him away in the first place.
It was beginning to gnaw away at his mind like a tattoo he couldn't remove. A million voices spun around his head, the raucous, mocking laughter and the guilty cries of regret crashing together, the noise unbearable to the ears. McCoy swore he would never breathe a word for as long as he lived, even though he'd initially believed that it was the right thing to do, but Spock had cried. He had bawled when he was forced to say goodbye. The doctor had always thought that his image of the Vulcan race was correct; that they all had the inability to feel emotions; that their hearts could never break; that they could never feel love like humans could. But from the scene he had witnessed, he quickly learnt that he had been totally wrong. Ashamed and undignified, McCoy revealed this sad truth to the acting captain, and a dangerous yet subdued rage was born. In a calm, restrained manner, Spock stripped McCoy of his position and had him clean the ship's bathroom facilities, while a new chief medical officer beamed up from the nearest Starbase took over to care for the Enterprise's sick and wounded. Although he was upset over the fact that he was no longer allowed to look after his patients, Dr. McCoy was thankful that Spock didn't fire him completely. He tried to let the acting captain see how much he regretted his mistake, but Spock wouldn't listen for fear that he was still telling lies. McCoy didn't blame him. At least he wouldn't be taking this terrible burden to his grave. But, as time so curiously does, the seven months eventually became nothing more than a distant nightmare, and the Enterprise was on her way to Earth to be reunited with her beloved captain.