It's So Much Easier to Go
Spock watched his captain closely from his station. The youngest Starfleet captain so far had successfully managed to avoid extensive conversation with anyone, including his own First Officer, and that was different. More often than not before shift started Jim would challenge Spock to a game of chess wherever they felt necessary, but not today. Jim hardly said a word the entire morning and seemed to go out of his way to steer clear of sentient life.
The reason behind this behavior was no mystery. At least it wasn't to Spock. He'd been trying to understand the evasive behavior earlier during the time he and Jim would normally be playing chess, and out of curiosity he investigated with the computer in his quarters.
"Computer," he'd said quietly, holding his fingers in a steeple shape as he sat back in his chair. "List all significant events pertaining to Captain James Kirk that occurred on this date in the past thirty years."
"Working...." Spock waited patiently. "On this date twenty-six years ago Captain George Samuel Kirk of the U.S.S. Kelvin was killed...on this date twenty-six years ago Captain James Tiberius Kirk was born...."
"That's enough," Spock had said both then to the computer and at present to his captain. He didn't even realize he said it aloud until Jim looked over at him, trying to decide for himself if the half-Vulcan did indeed say something.
"Did you say something, Mr. Spock?"
Spock stood and clasped his hands behind his back, walking casually over to his commanding officer. "May I have a word with you, Captain?"
"Not now, Spock, I—"
"Please?"
The word was a whisper that undoubtedly threw them both for a loop. After a minute of contemplation, Jim nodded and followed him into the turbolift. They got off a few floors later and Spock led his captain into the empty briefing room.
Jim was obviously not letting his guard down, however. With a huff, he turned to the science officer. "What's going on? What do you want?"
As Spock looked at him, he could almost feel the heavy disappointment, grief, rage, and guilt that weighed on Jim's shoulders. Somehow, for twenty-six years today, Jim Kirk has been asking himself why fate curled around him like an iron fist.
Out of nowhere and seemingly of its own accord a pale, green-tinged hand rested itself upon a gold-clad right shoulder and stayed there, its grip firm and solid.
Jim looked at the hand, then the face of the owner of the hand. "Spock...?"
Spock did not look away from Jim. In an almost telepathic whisper, he ghosted one word:
Release.
For eighteen years celebrations of Jim's birthday had been half-hearted. He would receive a nice gift or two from his mother and the occasional little replicated batch of cupcakes. She'd always smile, but Jim knew his mother and knew that smile was hollow. Congratulations, my boy, the smile seemed to say. There goes another wonderful year of you and another horrifying year without him. She never said as much aloud, but that fake smile still cut pretty deep.
When he turned eighteen, everything just stopped. His mom gave him no gifts. There were no special cupcakes or anything. It honestly didn't bother him as much. It probably would have continued to not bother him had he not received a letter the first time his birthday rolled around while he was at the Academy.
In truth it was as much a letter as a dilithium crystal was a horse.
"Jim," it had said. "I think it would be better if you didn't come to visit for your birthday. Love you, Mom."
Spock visibly recoiled at the sudden jolt of hurt he felt spiked off of his captain. He removed his hand from his shoulder too quickly, and for a nanosecond he was afraid Jim would take that the wrong way. But he didn't need to worry, because suddenly Jim Kirk grabbed his First Officer's arms and rested his forehead on the stiffened shoulders.
What surprised him, though, was the fact that Jim wasn't crying. He wasn't doing much of anything save for breathing steadily, his eyes closed. The young captain needed his composure back, and damn it all if Spock wasn't willing to let him do just that. Reaching up, he gripped the other man's arms as well.
After a few seconds more of that, Jim let go and distanced himself. "Sorry," he murmured. "In all honesty...it's so much easier to go. To let everything out." He straightened his shirt and regained his authoritative air. "But as we both know very well...a captain can't be emotionally compromised."
Spock watched him walk away.