Balance of Terror – The Aftermath
A little vignette of friendship-y fluff set directly after the events of 'The Original Series' episode entitled 'Balance of Terror'. Spock looked so self-deprecating after that mistake with the console, I couldn't help but explore his feelings (because he does have them, no matter his protestations). No plot, just cuteness. Please, R&R – come on, people, you know the drill! o.O
For those who don't know, here's a brief synopsis of the events relevant to this work from that episode:
Spock catches a switch on the science station as he pulls himself up from repairing the wiring that restores the phasers to fully operational, causing an alarm to sound that alerts the Romulans as to their location. The navigator is quick to leap upon his mistake, but Kirk quickly diffuses the situation.
The button seemed to depress in slow motion, his hand falling upon it too heavily to pull back before the inevitable sounds of the scanner were ringing around the bridge. All eyes fell upon his horizontal form, and Spock felt vulnerable and exposed, their glares cutting into him like steel blades. Only one pair of eyes did not cause him to shy away; one person who did not expect him to be flawlessly Vulcan all of the time.
It was outside this person's door Spock now found himself, breath uncharacteristically shallow as he signalled to request entry to the captain's quarters.
"Come."
Spock stepped through the aperture into a room which, though darkened by shadows, presented itself as pleasantly organised, albeit in a very human manner. "Spock," greeted Kirk from across the room, and Spock felt a faint green flush creeping up his angled cheeks as he realised that the captain had clearly already retired for the evening, sitting as he did semi-clad on the bed.
"I am sorry to disturb you, captain," Spock apologised softly, "My request is not urgent, so-" He made to leave but a startling "No!" stopped him in his tracks. Turning on his heel, he faced the captain with one eyebrow raised in silent query.
"Take a seat, Spock," sighed Kirk, gesturing to the chair at his desk. Seated, Spock opened his mouth again to query his presence but was again cut short as Kirk spoke first. The words came quickly, as if he had just run a marathon and was short of breath. "You wanted to see me?" There was an expression on the captain's face that Spock did not recognise, but it appealed to some part of him that was not entirely tamed by his Vulcan disciplines. Slowly, the words began to tumble from his nervously dry lips, falling faster and harder as the dam broke away.
"I wish to apologise for my earlier indiscretion on the bridge, captain," Spock began softly. Recognising the difficulty of the topic, Kirk laid an unthinking hand on his First Officer's arm for comfort. It was a testament to his distracted state that Spock barely flinched at the contact. "Had I thought more carefully, at least twenty-two of today's casualties could have been avoided," he continued, the pained look in his eyes barely echoed in his voice as he spoke.
"It was my careless mistake which alerted the Romulans to our presence, and our precise location. Without this, we were not in any calculable danger, captain," Spock informed him, raising his eyes to meet Kirk's with great reluctance. He expected to be faced with recrimination, disappointment, anger even, but what dominated the gaze of his captain was none of these things. Spock wasn't exactly sure what it was, but it made him feel less afraid inside.
"Spock, you listen to me," his companion began, his voice oddly rough as if holding something back at great cost to himself. "You are the best officer on this ship, and damn near the best in the fleet – if not the best. You made a mistake. It happens to us all, Spock. Nobody blames you for what happened after," he paused significantly, meeting Spock's uneasy gaze, "except for yourself."
"Captain..." the half-Vulcan murmured. He was at a loss for words, trying to convey the precise issue. "I am a Vulcan. Vulcans do not make... mistakes." He sighed the last word, hanging his head slightly under the weight of his shame.
Kirk rubbed his face, tired. He knew how hard it was for Spock to expose himself like this and risk his sensitive emotions, and he felt touched that his First Officer trusted him enough to do so. But he, too, was unsure what to say. "Listen, we've had this discussion before, Spock," he sighed. "Maybe Vulcans don't make mistakes – and I highly doubt that – but you're half human, too. You know that nobody can be perfect all of the time, and you know I don't expect it of you. What do you want me to say, Spock? That it isn't your fault? Because you already know that." Kirk groaned, letting himself fall back onto the bed with a soft 'thunk'.
"Captain, I..." Spock stammered. His mind latched onto one sentence, playing it back over and over. All of the time, all of the time, all of the time. "I am... never... perfect," Spock blurted out suddenly. A surprised huff of breath preceded Kirk's face as he pulled himself upright, leaning from the edge of the bed toward his friend. "You...?" He laughed suddenly, slightly hysterically. Spock raised a concerned eyebrow and he drew a shaky breath to calm himself.
Looking across at Spock, the captain observed his discomfort with a pang of guilt. "Sorry," he offered softly across the dimly lit space between them. An inclined head; forgiven. Kirk smiled gently. "Spock," he began, "listen to me. You are a better First Officer than I've had any right to expect. You consistently go above and beyond the call of duty – hell, you even make the best damn coffee...! But, you're too hard on yourself. Look at what you've achieved: chief Science Officer, First Officer, the first Vulcan in Starfleet, posted on the most beautiful flagship..."
Spock listened, the praise washing over him in soothing waves of genuine enthusiasm from his captain, but the feeling of unrest in the pit of his stomach was unmoving. Suddenly, his work seemed so... so entirely without meaning. It was not enough to assuage the lead ball of wrongness that weighed so heavily inside of him.
"...the most brilliant mind I've ever had the pleasure to encounter, and a heart to match," Kirk concluded with a soft breath of a sigh. The captain briefly wondered if his words of friendship offered any comfort at all to the reserved Vulcan, but a momentary glance into his face dissolved any fears in that department.
Spock's eyes glistened with a sheen of moisture that bore a suspiciously close resemblance to tears, and his normally unshakeable composure was betrayed by a shallow trembling of his long fingers where they rested on his thighs. Tentatively, Kirk reached out to take the splayed hands in his own, smiling up at the half-Vulcan. Spock sucked in a sharp breath, the direct skin-on-skin contact intensified by his tumultuous emotional state. "Alright?" the captain asked, the patented Kirk grin accompanying his trademark understatement. He was offering Spock a dignified way out, and his friend appreciated it.
"Affirmative, capt... Jim," Spock, responded, remembering his captain's numerous entreaties with a shy half-smile. "And... thank you." Kirk, positively beaming, patted him on the shoulder companionably. "No problem," he reassured, "it's what friends are here for."