Here's Spock's POV!!!!
Kinda inspired by See The World by Gomez, which is a brilliant song, by the way, and by You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift which is another great song.
Something is wrong with the Capt—Jim. Something is very wrong with Jim. He seems to have withdrawn from his usual behaviour and self. He appears to be losing weight at a rate of one point two five kilos a week. This is not healthy, and possibly lethal if sustained. My first thought was to reproach Dr. McCoy for putting Jim on such a strict diet, but I have noticed concern in his eyes as well. Dr. McCoy is not behind this, then. No doubt he will speak to Jim about his concerns.
But he does not. Or if he does Jim ignores him. The man has a capacity to ignore advice given in good will.
My mind goes back to that time I found Jim outside the sick bay, the sound of Dr. McCoy's laughter penetrating the walls. I knew it was a bad idea to ask Jim anything; he seemed to be in a dangerous mood. Of course, Jim would never hurt me, but he might lash out. I have no desire to inflict emotional damage on him.
I walked with him and suddenly found myself soothed, even though my problems were large. I had come there to speak to Jim about my issue. It is difficult to speak of, or even reflect, but I feel that if anyone had the right to know, it was Jim. I was going to admit to him that I had been feeling feelings which could not, rightly, be classified as platonic. Not anymore. I was going to be honest with him and tell him that my psyche profile showed a preference to men and that I would be perfectly okay if he desired to have me reassigned to another ship, that very instant.
But all these negative and unwanted ideas and emotions flowed away as I walked beside Jim, matching his pace was automatic. It felt right and good, or it would if 'good' wasn't an emotion, and hence unacceptable. I began thinking that it would be quite okay if I did not reveal my disposition to him at this very moment, I could enjoy his presence a while more.
I could feel his utter outrage and his anger covering his confusion and panic, like he had gotten an answer he knew was coming, but he didn't want it. I had become particularly sensitive to his emotions, and can sense them from a distance even if I do not know specifically what he is thinking. It also has to do with the bond which has developed between our minds as a result of too many mind melds in the line of duty.
He had been blocking it.
It was unusual for Jim to be aware of his thoughts, but for a while now he had been particularly aware of his bond and of the fact that Spock could sense his emotions and read his thoughts. Spock understood, completely. In fact he had been the one urging that he teach Jim how to block his thoughts completely. But it kind hurt to an extent, not that he'd ever admit it.
He was so used to the constant connection in his mind, the harmless, innocent input, that now when it was absent it felt… it felt empty.
He wondered how his father had felt when his bond had been ripped away as his mother died. It must have been excruciatingly painful. And it was a normal marriage bond. He couldn't even fathom how it had felt for the select few who had life bonds with their partners. It would be crippling agony. Physically destructive, even. He shivered. The thought was uncomfortable to say the least.
He wondered what it was that Jim needed so desperately to hide that he had blocked off his own thoughts. His curiosity was… stoked. But he wouldn't ask. No, he would hold his tongue, as usual.
It was just that… he thought Jim was his friend… this sudden withdrawal hurt.
Spock sighed, startling the ensign in the same turbolift. This is what emotion did to one. It made one insane and incapable of controlling themselves. Most importantly it made them hurt and generally speaking, hurt was bad.
His friend, Jim, his Captain, his t'hy'la was beautiful. He was golden, the colour of the suns that gave light and life to the galaxies around Space. He gave light and life to Spock. He made life interesting, and beautiful, and delicate. His eyes and his smile told more to Spock than any words or touch ever did, and he felt like he was special around Jim. He was amazing.
He found himself in his room, not remembering anything that happened between the turbolift and his door. He slumped his head onto his table, letting his composure slip for the first time in a long time. This entire business was getting worse.
Now all he could recall was the warmth in Jim's eyes when he had inquired after his health, against his better judgment. It was obvious that his friend was not well. It was pointless to ask. But there was the emotional turmoil which Spock could sense. So he had asked, and suddenly the whole mood had changed.
The emotional turmoil was there, but blanketing it was a warmth and deep appreciation for the very fact that Spock was there, which, honestly, Spock didn't understand. However his thoughts were redundant. Jim's eyes lit up like stars, warm and beautiful like only Jim could be. It was the one sight which had truly destroyed Spock, utterly, completely shattered him. It was the same sight that he was unable to escape, he could see it day and night, eyes open or closed. It was permanently burned into his cornea.
He found himself unable to sleep, and when he did wake up he was breathless and short of composure, hair ruffled and panicked. The problem was he didn't remember why.
Needless to say he figured that the emotion was coming from Jim, and sighed. He needed to help his friend, now more than ever. But he didn't know how.
He was so worried that if he approached Jim, Jim would see through his façade, that he would reject him for his admittedly unnatural impulses. He was so worried that if he didn't approach Jim, he would die of something unknown, something that was plaguing him. It would have to be a large matter to have him behave so strangely. It must be important.
And if Jim didn't want to share it with Spock as his best friend (oh, he hoped he was still Jim's best friend) then Spock would have to approach Jim in the capacity of his First, concerned about the Captain's ability to work.
He pressed his forehead on the cool table, trying to sooth his pounding head, imagining that his face was in the hands of his mother, or someone who loved him enough to lie and tell him that it wasn't his fault that he had fallen in love with a human. An illogical, irrational, irresistible human.
Sometimes he thinks that Universe has, as the Terrans say, dealt him the worst hand. But this is illogical. The Universe, though made up of conscious creatures, had no consciousness of its own. But it's so hard to accept this hand, and the fact that there is nothing he can do to change it.
Well? I like Spock! Let me know how this one is!
Love,
Lady
Merlin
