Crash and Burn

I'll admit, no matter how cheesy it seems, I was inspired by the song "Crash and Burn" by Savage Garden. The lyrics in particular that struck me were the first lines of "When you feel all alone/And the world has turned its back on you," and the end of the chorus, "If you need to crash/Then crash and burn/You're not alone." I'll leave it to you to figure out where these musical tidbits led me. Thank you to the many K/S writers who paved the way before me, and very extra-special thanks go to my ever-patient beta, darksagegrl0, who was truly a godsend.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing of Star Trek, much to my chagrin. That honor goes to the medley of Paramount, CBS, the estate of Gene Roddenberry, and now J.J. Abrams. No money made here, so don't sue me por favor.

Jim rooted through the few belongings that he had left hastily at the Academy. He was still in shock that he, the cadet brought up on charges of cheating, had just been promoted to Captain. Not just any Captain, though—Captain of the Enterprise. It was almost too good to be true.

He only had a few personal belongings, but they were special to him, and he wanted to take them with him to the ship. As he piled clothes and holos into a box, he reached back under the bed and felt something cool and smooth. It seemed to be some sort of plastic disk….

"Dude," he breathed as he drew it out. It was his old Discman! He had almost forgotten about the player. Nobody used the horrendously outdated equipment anymore, but he had always been attracted to antiques. He sat down propped against his bunk and opened the lid. The disc inside was labeled "Love Songs." Ugh. No doubt left over from when he was trying to woo Gaila. Still, he had to admit they had worked. It wasn't his fault that she turned out to be a nympho.

And you aren't? A little voice inside him whispered, and guilt pricked at him. Well, he may have been a playboy at the Academy, but those days were behind him. He was the commander of the best ship in the Fleet. He was going to put forth a more professional image from now on. Grabbing the box of possessions, he strode out the door without looking back.

* * *

After sprucing up his Captain's quarters, he headed for the bridge. There were very few details left to iron out before they embarked on their mission. The most troubling, however, was filling the position of First Officer. The files the Academy had sent him were all very good, but… he wanted Spock. He didn't quite understand why, but he felt he needed the stoic Vulcan. He sure had turned out to be a great asset when fighting Nero.

He shivered, remembering what the older Spock had shown him. In the other time line, that Spock and Jim had been best friends; actually, more than that. While he wasn't expecting any miracles, he did have the feeling that if he could just try again, get through to him somehow, Spock would end up being a very good friend. Maybe even as close as Bones, although he couldn't imagine trusting anyone as much as he did the cranky CMO.

The lift opened and he stood at the edge of the bridge, looking around like a man who has finally come home. Seeing his buddy standing to the side, he slapped him on the shoulder and said, "Bones! Buckle up!" Then he walked purposefully and sat in the center chair. Perhaps he could choose a first officer from his current crew. As he mulled over his options, the lift opened again and the bridge went quiet. He turned to face the occupant, and felt a wave of relief when he saw Spock, dressed in Sciences blue. He couldn't stop the grin that broke over his face as he stood to greet him. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be alright after all.

* * *

They settled in to routine as they passed through the Sol system. Everyone seemed to be relaxed; Chekov was yapping incessantly at Sulu, who was pretending to pay attention. Uhura was humming softly to herself as she scanned the channels. It wasn't the most professional setting, but Kirk figured since nothing serious was happening, it was okay. As his glance swept the bridge, he stopped at the science station.

Commander Spock was bent over the viewer, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Although he was pretty certain nothing dangerous was out there, Kirk was a little curious as to what had his First Officer's attention. He got up silently and walked over.

"Captain," Spock murmured, straightening and turning around. Apparently it wasn't possible to sneak up on Vulcans.

"Anything juicy?" Kirk quipped as he leaned an elbow on the console. One elegantly angled eyebrow rose.

"'Juicy,' sir?"

Kirk laughed heartily. "Interesting, Commander. Is there anything interesting out there?" he gestured casually at the forward viewscreen.

Spock cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "With all due respect, Captain, the Sol system has been mapped and explored since before Starfleet began. To discover something… 'interesting'… would indicate an unexplained phenomenon or change, neither of which should be handled so informally."

Kirk began to feel a blush creep up his cheeks. Of course the science officer had a point, but did he have to make it seem like James T. Kirk was an idiot?

"Thank you for clearing that up for me, Commander," he growled. Suddenly, he wanted to be anywhere but the bridge.

"Since you seem to have everything well at hand, you have the conn, Mr. Spock." With that, Jim turned on his heel and walked as calmly as he could to the turbolift. When the doors closed, he sagged against the wall. What on earth had possessed him to think he could be friends with that walking iceberg?

Spock walked fluidly down to the command chair. He was about to sit when Uhura moved gently to his side. "Spock," she whispered, trying to be polite. "Don't you think you were a little harsh on him?"

He turned to face her, not bothering to lower his voice. "I do not believe I was 'harsh' on the Captain, Lieutenant. His cavalier attitude about space exploration could endanger this ship and its crew. If I have, as the expression goes, 'hurt his feelings,' perhaps it is for the best. A starship captain cannot afford the luxury of being overconfident."

Her eyes widened in shock. She knew from personal experience that Spock wasn't heartless, but it seemed he was either still upset about the whole Narada incident, or he actually hated Kirk. This cold, ruthlessly logical behavior was a side to her boyfriend she'd never been comfortable with, and it was even more unsettling seeing it directed at a superior officer in public.

* * *

Late that night, Spock was sitting at his desk reading a journal he'd just received. Uhura was lying on his bed, writing in her diary. Every few minutes, she would glance up at him, only to shake her head and return to her writing. They often spent their evenings together, so this wasn't out of the ordinary. However, they had barely spoken to each other since the bridge, and Uhura was getting frustrated.

With a final flourish of her stylus, she signed her diary and shut it off. Trying for a casual approach, she rose gracefully and wandered over behind Spock. She trailed her fingertips lightly across his shoulders.

"Hey, Spock," she began. He inhaled softly through his nose and set his journal down, turning to face her. He did not appear very pleased. She felt the anger from earlier flare, and set her jaw determinedly. "Look, we need to talk."

"Very well."

"Okay, I know Kirk probably rubbed you the wrong way when you first met. Hell, he made a pass at me when we first met and got his ass handed to him for it. But don't you think it was a little rude to speak to him like that on the bridge?" She couldn't believe it, but she was actually defending the twerp.

Spock closed his eyes briefly, which over time Uhura had learned to interpret as a sigh. "If the Captain intends to treat this mission as a game, I will be forced to reconsider my request to be First Officer. These patrols are often dangerous, and--"

"Spock!" she exclaimed. "Can't you loosen up a bit? He wasn't treating anything like a game; he was trying to be friendly. He's trying to make peace between you two, and you shot him down cold!" When he didn't respond, she exhaled sharply, snatched her PADD off the bed, and headed for the door.

"Nyota," he called, but she was gone. He stared at the closed door for a moment, and then turned back to his desk. He had lost interest in the scientific journal; his mind was dissecting what she had told him. Was Kirk trying to start a friendship? If so, it was precisely the outcome his elder counterpart had wanted for him, and he had indeed handled it very poorly.

* * *

Vulcans do not make apologies lightly. In fact, there was rarely an occasion calling for one in his native culture. However, for the sake of efficiency among the senior staff, he would have to make one to Kirk. He began wording his speech precisely. I was unaware that… No. He did not want to admit ignorance. I apparently misinterpreted… No, that was no good either. That made him sound even more alien than he felt. Hearing a soft chime from his terminal, he tapped the switch to receive the incoming message.

What he saw took the breath out of him. He forced himself to read it several times, illogically hoping each time the message would change. It did not.

Spock,

I'm sorry things haven't worked out better for us. I've tried to be there, I've tried to listen but you won't even talk. I need more than just acknowledgement in a relationship. This isn't going to work. I hope we can still be friends; right now I just need some time to think. Whatever you do, take care of yourself. I am glad you're here. I'm so sorry.

Nyota

He was aware of time passing, but for once his internal clock was silent. So, he mused bitterly, this is what humans call "breaking up." He considered replying to her letter, but in consideration of her request for time to think, he decided it would not be wise. He felt vaguely restless. He snapped the terminal off and walked out of his quarters. Not really heading in any direction, he traced a path through the hallways. He rode the lift aimlessly, finally stopping on the floor for the aft observation deck.

Walking into the darkness, he was so absorbed in the chains of logic and illogic circling in his mind he didn't notice the room's other occupant. After a moment, though, he became aware of the strong scent of alcohol coming from the far end of the room. He debated investigating or leaving, and had finally decided to leave when a stray beam of light reflected off familiar sandy blond hair. It was the captain.

Making an apology to an intoxicated Kirk would be an exercise in futility; however, Spock found he forgot his previous mission and instead became concerned about his CO. Why was he lying on the floor of the observation deck, so obviously incapacitated? Cautiously, Spock began to approach him. When he was barely a foot away, he called out to him.

"Captain?"

Kirk's head lolled from one side to the other, and he snorted. "Dammit, Spock, I'm fuckin' drunk off my ass, if you call me 'Captain' right now I'm gonna…." But he ran out of breath at the end and simply closed his eyes.

Spock tilted his head to one side. "What would be a more appropriate form of address, then, sir?" Kirk snickered, but Spock saw a single tear trail down the side of his face.

"My friends call me Jim. Actually, I only have one friend, and if he caught me like this I'd get the lecture of a lifetime and another one of those damn hypos to the neck. I think he just likes jamming me with the things," he finished affectionately.

Without thinking, Spock sat down close to him. "Forgive me, sir. Your speech indicates mirth; however, your appearance indicates sadness. I am…confused," he admitted.

Jim slowly raised himself on one elbow and used his other hand to wipe at the sides of his face. "You mean the tears? Never mind. Just being, I dunno, illogical and crap like that. You wouldn't understand." Then he gave a harsh, barking laugh. "Understand? Hell, you wouldn't give a shit."

Spock frowned. If he understood his Terran colloquialisms correctly, Kirk was saying he didn't care.

"That is not true. Jim." The young man sat up and slowly turned to face the other. His eyes were bloodshot and raw, but clearly showed his vulnerability. "What is troubling you so?" Spock prompted gently.

Jim wiped his nose unceremoniously on the back of his sleeve, and sighed deeply. "You ever feel like your whole life has been leading up to something, and then when you get it you find out it's not what you really wanted?" Spock shook his head slightly. Jim turned to face the window again.

"From the first time I saw her in the shipyard, I knew I wanted to be on the Enterprise. Maybe even get to be her captain. Well, here I am. I should be overjoyed, but instead I'm scared I'm gonna screw up and to top it off I'm crying like a teenage girl over the fact that my First Officer hates me." He broke off and looked down. "I'm sorry, I'm drunk, ignore me. You don't have to listen to me whine. I'll just leave," he offered as he staggered to his feet. His boot knocked over the glass bottle beside him. "Damn," he sighed.

Spock stood, retrieving the bottle as he rose. He looked at it cautiously. "Jack Daniels?" he inquired.

"Whiskey. Really, really good, old whiskey. I'd offer you some, but I know you don't--" His eyes shot wide open as Spock effortlessly removed the top and took quite a healthy swallow. "—drink?" he finished in surprise. Spock handed the bottle back to him and nodded once.

"The ingestion of intoxicating substances is often illogical. However, I believe that it is considered bad manners on Earth to let a friend drink alone." He took a step closer and the two watched the stars streak by in silence, occasionally passing the bottle between them.

After a while, Jim yawned. He glanced over at Spock, who was still watching the stars.

"So, did Bones send the cavalry after me, or did you come here to think too?" Spock lowered his head, thankful his blush could not be seen. "Oh, sorry, if you don't want to talk about it, that's cool," Jim offered.

"No, Jim, it is alright. I came here to think, because…" he trailed off. To break Nyota's confidence would be wrong. However, he had often observed that cadets who considered themselves friends would discuss topics of a personal nature with each other. It seemed almost ritualistic or bonding in nature. Perhaps if he made such a gesture towards Kirk, it would bring them closer.

He breathed deeply. "It is because Lt. Uhura has chosen to end our relationship."

Jim winced and brought a hand to Spock's shoulder. "Damn, Spock, I'm sorry." In any other instance, Spock would have felt violated. However, the combination of the late hour, the alcohol, and the need to connect to someone overrode his discomfort. He allowed the gesture.

"Did she say why?"

Spock closed his eyes. "I believe she made reference to my not talking to her enough."

Kirk laughed softly and dropped his hand. "Women. All they want is talk, talk, talk. 'What are you feeling?' 'What are you thinking?' 'Where is this going?'" He shook his head. "You want a study in illogic; there is your topic, Commander. Women," he repeated, a little frustrated. A sudden wave of exhaustion struck him, and he swayed backwards before he felt warm hands catch him.

"Jim, I believe you should return to your quarters. You will need your rest before the next shift," Spock chided softly. Kirk nodded and made several false starts towards the doors. When Jim could still not keep his feet steady enough, Spock carefully wrapped one arm around his waist and brought his friend's arm around his own shoulder. "Come, I will escort you."

When they reached the room, Spock led Kirk into the sleeping area and eased him onto the bunk. Seeing that Jim was in no condition to prepare for sleep, he removed his boots and then draped an old afghan over him. He ordered the lights to low and turned to leave when a small voice called out to him.

"Spock?"

"Yes, Jim?" he turned around halfway. Kirk was groping at his nightstand.

"Have you seen my Discman?"

His eyebrows rose. "You are in possession of an antique form of musical playback equipment?" He was curious, because he didn't know many beings that cared for such old items. Kirk chuckled and nodded sleepily. Glancing over the furniture, Spock found the Discman on a shelf. He handed it to Kirk, who placed the headphones on and curled up on his side. He was about to leave again when Kirk called out again.

"Spock?" This time he sounded frightened. "Don't leave. Please, just… sit with me for a bit." At that moment, the captain seemed so young and so alone that Spock almost saw himself there, and his throat tightened.

"Of course," he answered, and moved a chair by the bed. He closed his eyes to begin a light meditation when he became aware of Kirk singing faintly.

Jim had a very nice singing voice; it was a rich tenor. Spock decided to abandon his meditation in favor of listening to his friend. As sleepy as Jim was, the words came out muffled, but that didn't concern Spock. The melody was quite pleasant. For a moment, Spock remembered his mother singing him to sleep when he was very young. He had always enjoyed it, and was somewhat disappointed when his father asked her not to do so anymore.

He pondered for a moment the actions and words that had passed between he and Jim tonight. Part of him—the professional part—insisted it was necessary for the two men to continue working together. However, in the privacy of his own mind, he acknowledged the fact that he had often wished to have a close friend.

"I could not deprive you of…a friendship that will define you both in ways you cannot yet realize." His elder self had seemed quite certain of this fact. At the time, Spock had scoffed at the idea; but looking down at the sleeping captain, he was grateful the events had worked out in this way. Permitting himself a tiny smile, Spock pulled the afghan over his friend's shoulders and turned to leave for his own quarters. Before the door could sense his presence and open, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Good night, Jim."