While ejecting the warp cores had saved their lives by enabling them to clear the event horizon of the black hole, it did mean that they were crawling towards the nearest Starbase at a snail's pace. Without the deuterium-antideuterium combination – and without the dilithium crystals used to regulate the reaction – warp travel was impossible. While they were travelling faster than, say, the aeroplanes of Earth's 21st century, they were nowhere near the velocity befitting a Federation vessel – and the newest one at that. Scotty could be heard bemoaning this very fact, and so the crew of the Enterprise learned to walk very quickly in the other direction once they heard the Chief Engineer's brogue.
The prospect of having no warp drive was particularly draining seeing as all the 'excitement' of fighting was long over. No lives were in danger, all crises were averted – all they had to do was get back to Starfleet. Back to Earth.
To one unique and easily recognisable crewmember, said planet was to be his new home. The only home he had left.
Spock was not a social creature. Even though Vulcans did have gatherings and such – certainly not parties like Terrans! – being half-human was something that was never overlooked on the desert world. Although Vulcans quite proudly spouted – and that description is rather inaccurate when applied to Vulcans, I do apologise – the concept of IDIC, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, respect was not the same as emulating. They found Terrans complex and intriguing, but that did not mean that they thought their own way of life in any way lacking that they would embrace that of humans.
Digression aside, the point was that being ostracized for what Vulcans saw as a failing meant that he kept to himself. Even after being accepted into Starfleet, graduating and then lecturing, he was seen as something different, untouchable. He had done nothing to dispel that reputation, not feeling lonely, as he faced respect in San Francisco and not the years of contempt he'd had on Vulcan.
Now, though, whenever Spock ventured along the hallways to and from the bridge, everyone – with the exception of certain bridge crew and the Elders of the Vulcan Council still aboard – stared at him with equal parts fear and awe; the former because of the – likely exaggerated – accounts of what he had done to their now-captain, and the latter because of the – equally over embellished – story of what he had done with their now-captain. Had he been fully human, he might have been unsettled. However, Spock being who he was, he merely noted the fact, and continued about his duties.
He did have a friend, though. One human had been brave enough to step forward and attempt to further their relationship from that of lecturer and student. That Nyota was genuinely intelligent and exceptionally skilled in Xenolinguistics helped their companionship along. He had been wary at first, but had eventually come to accept her as his only friend.
Spock was not so ignorant of human behaviour that he didn't notice that said friend was avoiding him.
Curious.
For the first time in his life, Spock found himself wanting to seek company. He would not have been averse to debating with Nyota on the nuances of pre-warp English or some such thing – however she seemed to have memorised his schedule and managed to not be where he was. The Vulcan could not do something similar to find her – he quickly deduced that with humans being so unpredictable (and Nyota being a force to be reckoned with) it was not a solution to his problem.
Luckily enough, then, that their shifts ended at the same time. She was not quite quick enough to get to the turbolift today; mostly because the Captain had stopped her to deliver some sort of witty comment. He did not try to understand the nature of their banter.
"Oh, better hold the 'lift for Spock, Lieutenant," said Kirk. He grinned at Spock as he passed, and the Vulcan acknowledged it with a nod of his head.
Once the turbolift doors closed soundlessly, he stopped it. A tiny flare of amusement cropped up at their reversed positions.
"You have been avoiding me."
She didn't meet his gaze, not immediately. He could see Nyota's shoulders slump just slightly, before she looked up. "I needed to talk to you."
He raised an eyebrow. "You would find, I think, that talking to me would be somewhat facilitated with my presence."
She let out a huff of laughter. "What I meant was that...I needed to talk, but I wasn't sure how. I'm still not."
"I will attempt to comprehend anything you try to convey."
"I..." Nyota sighed, and then eyed the turbolift controls. "Do you mind if we continue this somewhere else? My quarters?"
"If that is comfortable to you."
She smiled faintly at his respect for her privacy and restarted the 'lift. It took less than a second to reach the appropriate deck, and slightly more than a minute to reach her quarters. Uhura offered him the only chair, and when he informed her that he preferred to stand, took it herself. She sat leaning forwards, with her elbows on her knees, looking at her clasped hands.
While his attention was primarily on Nyota, he was able to formulate a tentative method of boosting impulse power to be put forward to Mr. Scott – though dealing with the man would most likely prove a trying task – in the time she remained silent.
"I...I'm sorry, Spock." When he made no move to comment, even to ask what she was feeling responsible for or to tell her that such sentiments were generally useless (perhaps he was getting used to human social interaction after all), she continued. "I may have…taken advantage of you."
A single raised eyebrow, which he would no doubt mean to convey the command "Explain", though she knew that it was his version of a "Huh?"
Nyota rested her chin on her entwined fingers and surveyed him. Instead of clarifying her previous statement, she instead said, "We're friends, right, Spock?"
He seemed to know that she wanted confirmation, as opposed to him elucidating what he thought 'friend' meant – my, he was being perceptive today – and so simply said, "Yes, Nyota, we are friends." (When she just knew he could've – would've – said something along the lines of, "In my limited experiences with humans, and based on the fact that we have interacted well outside of a strictly professional relationship for [insert painfully exact measure of time here], while not exactly a friendship by normal Terran standards, I do concede that our association can be termed a [insert scientific jargon that basically amounts to 'friendship'].")
She sighed. "Then I hope that survives this." Before he could ask her to clarify (or raise his eyebrow again), the Xenolinguist continued, "Kissing, for humans, can carry certain connotations – especially between two people who aren't related."
Spock's countenance, as usual, betrayed no clue of what he was thinking, which didn't help her. "What do you mean by 'connotations'?"
Nyota met his eyes. "It's like touching hands among Vulcans."
He was silent as he digested this information. Had she been anyone else, she would've quailed under his stare. But, being Nyota Uhura, she merely awaited his reply.
"Then you kissed me for amorous purposes?"
"Y – no. Not at all, Spock. I kissed you because I was trying to comfort you."
The tiny line between his eyebrows was practically a brow wrinkling frown.
"You did not kiss me to change the parameters of our relationship?"
"Well, not primarily, but I… I…" Temporarily at a loss as to how to explain her reasoning, she instead fired a question back at him. "You don't have any romantic interest in me?"
There was no hesitation. "No."
A part of her – the realistic part, which was quite large – already knew that. But it still hurt. "Oh. To answer your question, though, Spock; I was trying to comfort you. I would've rather confessed my feelings to you under better circumstances." Namely, when he hadn't just lost his planet and his mother in a megalomaniacal revenge plot by a time-travelling and crazy Romulan, but she didn't say it out loud, because she wasn't as tactless as Jim Kirk. "I should've kept it friendly, but I guess I… lost control. I'm sorry I forced myself on you."
"I do not find you at fault. You are human."
If anyone else had said it, it would've sounded like he was saying it was pretty impossible for anyone to resist him – he would've sounded like their Acting Captain. But, being Spock, what he meant was that he didn't blame her, because humans were impulsive and impetuous. He could hardly fault her her nature.
Nyota smiled at him. "So…still friends?"
He inclined his head.
"Okay." She rose to her feet. "Though…could you give me a few days? As you said, I am human, and we need awhile to collect ourselves after having our advances rejected."
The Vulcan now tilted his head to the side. "I will endeavour to, as they say, 'give you space'."
Her laugh was lovely. "Thanks. And, uh…Spock?" Her voice was tentative, as if she was unsure of whether she was going to overstep her bounds, and it was enough to get him to stop. "One last thing… could I have a hug?"
And because they were friends, Spock saw no reason not to give her one.
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"Ah, Spock! Just the Vulcan I wanted to see."
Though it was more likely that he was the only Vulcan the Captain was familiar enough with to have business with, Spock merely said, "How may I be of assistance, Captain?"
Instead of answering the question, Kirk enquired, "You eaten?"
The Science Officer shook his head, no, he had not.
"Come on, then; join me for lunch – I'm starving. We can discuss it over some food."
Despite the fact that he was hardly enamoured by the prospect of spending time with this man, he followed Kirk down the hallway and towards the Officers' Mess. As usual, Spock's steps were precise, a little faster than usual to catch up with the Captain, with his hands folded at the small of his back. In sharp contrast, the human's arms swung loosely around him, not quite in sync with his uneven stride. They weren't even constantly swinging; sometimes he would gesture to explain a point, or touch his face or hair, or wave at a familiar crewmember. It was a testament to how different their styles of approach were to, well, everything.
"– so, anyway, Pike's finally stable, though it doesn't look like he'll be able to walk anymore. But it's amazing; he managed to shoot down two Romulans while he was in that state! God knows what that thing did to him."
Spock wondered if Kirk was using the term 'thing' as a substitute for 'Nero' because he felt genuine disgust for the madman, or in deference to the Vulcan's apparent hatred towards the being – hatred enough to be willing to let him die painfully in a crumbling ship than face fair trial. It wasn't important enough for him to give it more than a passing thought.
"Dr. McCoy apprised you of his condition?"
The blue-eyed man shook his head, rather violently, like a dog shaking off excess water. "Nah. He's asleep. It was that Head Nurse – Chapel, I think. D'you know her?"
He did, in fact. He had met her twice – once in Starfleet Academy and once on the Enterprise, after he had lost his mother. Though the former could hardly be called a meeting; she had dropped a PADD, and he'd wordlessly picked it up and handed it to her. Her response had been a stammered thank you – or what he'd assumed was a thank you, seeing as it'd been hard to decipher the words – and he'd merely nodded and continued on his way.
During the latter, of course, it was understandable that recognising a familiar face was hardly noteworthy in the face of what had happened. Therefore he found it unnecessary to reply to Kirk's question.
He took it as annoyance.
"I'm not, uh, disturbing you, am I?"
"Captain?"
"You don't have, like, other plans? Date with Uhura, that kind of thing?"
"If you are referring to the act of partaking in a shared activity to strengthen emotional bonds and ensure compatibility –"
"Yes, I am –"
"– then no, seeing as Lieutenant Uhura and I are not engaged in a romantic relationship. We never were."
Spock had to stop, because Kirk had. He boggled at the First Officer, the action causing his already large blue eyes to seem larger. His jaw was agape, rather unattractively. He recognised the expression as one of shock.
"What? Then what about that kiss I saw?"
He merely raised an eyebrow, to which Kirk laughed. An odd reaction. Most humans – with the exception of Nyota and his late mother – were frustrated whenever he answered – or rather, did not answer – their queries with the action.
"Man, who'd've thought Vulcans were into the whole friends with benefits thing?"
This time the other eyebrow joined its fellow. "What do you mean by that term, Captain?"
But Kirk chose to flap a hand at him dismissively, wry smile on his lips. "Nah, never mind. Let's get to the Mess. And we're off duty, Spock, call me Jim. Or Kirk, if that's too informal for you."
They continued walking. "You are currently Acting Captain, whether or not we are on duty. Furthermore, I assume that you wanted to speak to me, not for personal matters but on ship business. Is this not true?"
He sighed, and seemed to give up on trying to change Spock's mind about calling him by his first name, and nodded. As they entered the Officers' Mess, the doors swishing open and closed, he asked, "Vulcans are vegetarians, right?"
"That is correct."
"Ah, good. I just wanted to know if it was possible to get some of your men working on updating the personal replicators – so that, you know, the other Vulcans onboard don't have to come out to the Mess to get food."
Spock merely stared at Kirk, who had his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he programmed his preferred meal into the replicator and didn't seem to be bothered with being responded to, quite frankly amazed. The same man who had cheated on the Kobayashi Maru for no more reason than wanting to be the first to pass it, was now showing compassion to Vulcans he hardly knew – didn't know – Vulcans that were the perfect example of the Terran misconception that they had no emotions.
Kirk waited with his lasagne – Spock threw the plate a distasteful look; he did not like Terran pasta – and once the programmed ratatouille was done, they sat at a nearby table, facing each other.
The human took a few hurried bites of his meal, using only a fork, which made the plate quite messy. Sauce and cheese and minced beef and mushrooms and sheet pasta – wheat, oddly enough. Spock saw no reason to follow his example, as his mother had drilled into him proper etiquette while eating.
"So, what? Think it's worth doing? I mean, we do have quite a while before we get to the Starbase 1." Which was the one orbiting above the continent of North America.
He swallowed his mouthful before answering. "Certainly, Captain. I will oversee the changes myself, seeing as I will know which meals are suitable."
"Yeah, thanks Spock." He rubbed at his eye, and then used the same hand to pick up his drink.
"Was that all you wanted to discuss?"
"Oh, no, no. I also wanted to ask if you've made any progress with the firearm I...procured."
Ah. It was a fascinating weapon – outwardly it looked crude, and it was clearly a type of disruptor pistol, but the technology far surpassed their own. While it was unlikely that it would replace the phasers Starfleet employed, it would no doubt contribute greatly to nanotechnology and even bring about significant advances in medicine.
Spock explained this to Kirk, with considerably more examples than I gave, seeing as I'm hardly the Science Officer of a 23rd century flagship. Their conversation lasted throughout the meal, as Kirk could actually ask intelligent questions (surprisingly) which Spock could elucidate, as he was in charge of examining said weapon and carrying out experiments on it.
There was a lull, in which Kirk played with the remaining liquid in his cup, and Spock noticed something he hadn't earlier.
"You look fatigued, Captain."
"Hmm? Oh." He smiled, but didn't meet Spock's brown eyes. "Well, being a castaway I don't exactly have quarters, so Bones and I have been doubling up. Anyway, he'd been in the OR for almost 50 hours, you know, since Dr. Puri…" Jim cleared his throat. "He was running on caffeine hypos, and since everyone's pretty much stable, I made him grab forty winks." He looked pleased with himself, as if the fact that he could now order his friend around was a novelty he couldn't wait to take full advantage of.
"Why would he want to seize a facial tic? For that matter, how would he do so?"
Jim snorted and chose not to answer, instead finishing off his drink. Spock was a little surprised that his plate was clean; his messy eating style would have suggested otherwise. As one they got up to place their scraps and their trays in the respective disposal units.
"Hey, you said that Vulcans and Romulans have similar ancestors or something, right?"
"Affirmative."
"And that made the meld-y thing you did easier?"
Unsure as to where this line of questioning was going, he merely nodded.
"So can you meld with humans?"
Spock tried not to look as startled as he felt (and he succeeded in doing so). Why would Kirk be interested in such a thing?
"In theory, yes. However, I have never melded with a human, so I cannot verify anything. May I ask why you brought the subject up?"
"No reason. Just curious." From the way his blue eyes slid away from the Vulcan's gaze, he just knew that it was a lie, but just then Kirk yawned, and Spock didn't need to be Vulcan to be able to hear the creak of his jaw. His eyes narrowed fractionally, in suspicion.
"When was the last time you rested, Captain?"
"Um…"
"The doctor would not be happy that you are neglecting your own health."
"Meh, he'll bitch for awhile and stick me with a couple of hypos when he gets up. It's no big deal."
"Even so, Captain –"
"Don't worry about it, Spock. It's not like we're having a crisis right now, right?"
Spock conceded the point, although he found himself wishing that he could be the one driving the hypospray into Kirk's neck. He dismissed the thought, as it was self-indulgent and unlikely to happen.
"Where you headed, then?"
"I will rest for a short while, and then continue with my experiments."
"Hmm. I think I'll go bother Scotty. He's sure to have some job for me. Deck six still needs some serious repairs."
"You would do well to rest instead of participating in manual labour, Captain." It was amazing that Spock was talking to Kirk as if he was concerned for his welfare, when only days ago they'd been at each other's throats – or, rather, Kirk had been at Spock's throat figuratively, while Spock had done so literally.
"That lunch will keep me going for awhile, don't you worry." He saluted lazily, grinning. "See you around, Spock."
"Very well, Captain."
He looked a little annoyed. "Jim!"
"Captain."
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"Ensign, if I may have a word?"
The young human looked nervous, but bobbed a nod and rose from his chair, walking over to where Spock stood. It should be obvious that Spock did not pander to the emotional needs of humans (well, not while on duty), and so although he was clearly going to dress down the ensign, he did not deign to take him to the side or out to the hallway to do so. At any rate, the point was rather moot, seeing as all subordinates under the Vulcan learned early on that he would know and wouldn't hesitate to point out when they weren't paying full attention to their allotted tasks. As he was now demonstrating.
"Ensign, you have made four errors since the start of your shift, two of which were committed in the last hour alone. Explicate why this is so."
He cleared his throat. "Eh…lack of sleep, I am thinking, Commander. I am sorry."
"I see. It would behove you to request an appointment with Dr. McCoy, as it is affecting your cognitive functions."
If Spock was reading the human's face correctly, his terrified expression had been replaced by abject misery. "Y-yes, sir."
In an uncharacteristic show of sympathy, the Science Officer offered, "I had thought you suitable for this post after your commendable efforts during the Nero Incident. However, should you desire an alternate posting; I would suggest you report to Lieutenant Uhura."
Curls bounced as he shook his head. "Zhat will not be necessary, Commander." A deep breath, possibly to calm himself. "I will not be making any more mistakes."
"As you were."
It was hours later, at the end of the shift, that Spock heard all but one human leave the room. Absorbed in his work, he didn't think much of it until Ensign Chekov came to stand by his chair.
True to his word, the seventeen-year-old had not made any more miscalculations. As a result, Spock had seen no reason to call attention to him as he had earlier. He could not come up with a viable reason for Chekov to remain behind to talk to him, and so merely swivelled his chair slightly to face the ensign, and raised an eyebrow.
"Commander. I… You said earlier zhat my efforts during zhe Nero Incident were commendable. I… do not thinking zhis is zhe case."
It was his tone that told Spock that Chekov was not merely fishing for compliments, as humans sometimes did. So Spock stated simply, "While manning the transporter controls, you managed to lock on to the Captain' and Lieutenant Sulu's signatures while they were in freefall, as well as those of the Vulcan Elders and myself. You were also responsible for correctly postulating that the magnetic distortion of Saturn's rings would render us undetectable by Nero."
By the movement of his arms, Spock could see that the Russian was twisting both his hands together behind his back. "I still…I lost…"
And suddenly, the Vulcan knew what it was Chekov was losing sleep over.
"Ensign, you are not at fault for what happened to my mother." The words were still slightly hard to say, but at least he was no longer fighting for control and in danger of snapping and killing anyone in sight. It was small comfort, but comfort all the same.
"How ken you say – Commander, if I was being a little faster –"
"I have meditated on this, Ensign. It took exceptional skill to beam all of us to the ship while the planet was undergoing such significant seismic activity." Spock took an almost imperceptibly deeper breath than usual. "It would take even more skill to have saved my mother, skill that no one on this vessel possesses."
Chekov made a frustrated sound. "I should haf! If I could haf rerouted zhe transporter controls to negate zhe interference of zhe planet's exposed core –"
"You could not. Kaiidth. Dwelling on the past will not change the present." Unless you factored in time travel and alternate realities, of course, but those were hardly everyday circumstances.
If Spock had been standing, then he would have been able to see the top of Chekov's head since the beginning of their conversation, as he was significantly taller than the human. Still, he was now treated to the sight of those brown curls as the ensign seemed to be inordinately interested in the tips of his boots.
"Commander, I v… I am sorry, sir."
Spock considered his words carefully before answering. "It would be illogical of me to forgive you –"
The ensign's head snapped up, his mouth open and brown eyes glistening with moisture.
"– seeing as you were never assigned any blame. Understood, Ensign?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"I will speak no more on the matter." The Vulcan turned back to his console, considering the schematics on the screen. "Requesting a soporific hypospray from Dr. McCoy would be in your best interests."
"Sir."
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Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or its affiliates.
So. This fic is just basically my take on what happened in between the time of Nero's defeat, and the end of the movie. It's long (and as of posting this, actually not finished), so I figured I should break it up. Thanks for reminding me about it, Kelsey.
Review, guys. Please?
Anila.
