A different view
Friendship, S/J
Spock's relationship with the Captain is cordial enough; he just likes to keep his distance. Will Jim's sudden appeal for help change that?
The door opened and Mr. Spock cautiously peered into the observatory. It was usually empty, but he always checked before he ventured into it.
The lights were dimmed here as in other parts of the ship to give humans the impression of nighttime, and for Spock this was proof that the observatory was empty. Humans rarely came here, and when they did, they usually turned on every light.
Spock confidently entered the observatory. He had a leather bag with him, and he carried it with the care one bestows on a rare object –which it was. It was one of his most precious possessions. He never thought he'd be taking it out of storage but recent events, coupled with the discovery of this observatory, had made him realize he could indulge in his secret passion once more.
Not the most sociable of creatures in normal circumstances, Spock was adamant about keeping certain activities entirely to himself, and the observatory lent itself admirably to this. Humans usually shunned it, preferring instead the observatories on the lower decks, where they could see parts of the Enterprise. Spock liked this observatory precisely because all you could see from it was the open space -blackness, barely relieved by a faint dusting of stars. At times, you almost felt like you were floating out there... It was a most stimulating sensation.
And the acoustics were perfect.
Spock put his bag on a nearby table and set out to work.
The bag had several locks and he opened the first; it was only when he was about to open the second that he first noticed it; a subtle change in the atmosphere -something difficult to grasp. He didn't want to call it a 'feeling', but there it was. A sense of unease. Not danger, no. Distress... Restlessness...
Spock held still, and he finally noticed something tangible. The sound of someone else's breathing.
Spock frowned. He'd obviously not been careful enough. He'd counted on humans' preference for light, yet there was someone in here that was perfectly happy to remain in shadows. Or had simply fallen asleep…
Spock didn't need to know who it was; all he had to do now was close his bag and leave -
"Hey, Spock."
That voice was the last Spock expected to hear. Captain Kirk's voice.
Spock turned.
Jim Kirk raised a hand. He was lying flat on one of the divans, something humans rarely did because it made them feel as if they were being squashed by the open space. Evidently, Kirk didn't feel the same. Or he didn't mind the feeling.
"Captain," Spock said levelly.
"We're not on the bridge, Spock; you can call me Jim."
Spock didn't reply.
"But you won't," Jim added.
Spock didn't comment. Kirk insisted on people dropping formalities while in their time off, but Spock resisted. Structure was important to him; limitations. Jim Kirk wanted to be friends with everybody; Spock didn't.
Their relationship was cordial enough, however, and that's how Spock wanted it to be. He just didn't relish meeting the Captain in his time off, and certainly not here of all places.
Kirk rolled off the divan. "What's that?" he asked, nodding at the table.
Spock hesitated, and that brief pause was enough to fuel Kirk's curiosity. The young man took a couple of steps in Spock's direction.
"I hope you didn't smuggle an Anturian hashish pipe into the ship, Spock."
"Vulcans are allergic to hashish, Captain."
"Oh. So, it's only the allergies that would keep you from bringing one on board?"
"No, Captain," Spock said evenly, "There are regulations that clearly state that -"
"I was only joking, Spock," Jim said patiently. "Or trying to," he muttered morosely, almost to himself. "So, what is it?"
Spock reluctantly opened the last lock and then folded the bag to reveal a gleaming, beautiful object.
"It is a Vulcan Lyrette," he said simply. Jim looked blankly at him, so he added, "A musical instrument."
"A musical instrument," Jim repeated, as if he weren't quite sure that the words meant. "You mean you play that?"
"Yes." He'd inherited the multi-string instrument from his father's father, and that alone made the object invaluable. He had not played it since he left Vulcan, but now that Vulcan didn't exist anymore, he was determined to reacquaint himself with it. He wanted to preserve something from the past, and maybe teach others in the future. It was a matter of pride for him…
But he didn't expect Jim Kirk to understand any of this.
The Captain was examining the lyrette from all angles.
"Planning on serenading Miss Uhura, Spock?"
Spock didn't bother to reply. The Captain seemed inordinately interested in his relationship with Nyota, and he'd taken a firm stand not to discuss the matter with Kirk, no matter how close he might come to insubordination.
But Kirk never took offense -on the contrary; he always seemed amused by Spock's silence.
"Go ahead, then," Jim said. "Play something."
"It needs to be tuned first, Captain," Spock said stiffly.
"All right," Jim said patiently. "Tune it then." He sat and put his feet on the table. When Spock didn't move, he added, "You're not interrupting anything, if that's what worries you, Mr. Spock. I was just... willing the time away."
Spock frowned over the meaning of the phrase, then decided to ignore it altogether. Resigned, he sat and started tuning the Lyrette, string by string. He was focused on his task but he was aware of Jim Kirk too. The Captain was fidgeting. Patience wasn't a virtue in Kirk's world, and with that thought in mind, Spock decided to take longer in tuning the Lyrette. Maybe the Captain would get bored then, and leave.
"You're always busy, aren't you, Spock?" Jim said after a moment. "You work a full shift on the bridge; you supervise the Science Department; you teach... You even helped Bones develop a sanitary program for the Ulna 5 Colony. And now it turns out you also play an instrument. Interesting."
Spock paused for a second. Was the Captain mocking him?
It was hard to tell with Jim Kirk.
"Bones is like that, too," Kirk continued, "Can't keep still it seems. As for Scotty, well -" He let the word trail off. Everybody knew the Engineer hardly took any time off.
Spock looked up.
"Engaging in multiple tasks has been sanctioned by Starfleet Command, Captain," he said formally. "To the best of my knowledge, neither one of us has neglected his duties."
"I'm not criticizing you, Spock," Jim replied. "God, you're touchy, aren't you? It was only an observation." He took his feet off the table, and for a moment, it seemed he was preparing to leave. Then, on an impulse, he said, "To tell you the truth, I envy you, sometimes."
Spock stopped his tuning altogether this time. Jim Kirk was looking at the floor, seemingly embarrassed by his own words.
"You all make me feel like I should be doing something else, too," he said. "You make me feel... Useless." He looked back at Spock.
The Vulcan was frowning.
"Useless, Captain?"
Jim hesitated, then said, "Look, you're the last person I'd want to know this but... for some crazy reason, I also feel like you're the only one I can tell it to. The thing is, you find so much joy in those tasks of yours -"
"I merely do them to the best of my ability, Captain."
"No. You do enjoy them. All of you. You come to the bridge and tell me about these supposedly great breakthroughs -a plant that's been saved from extinction, a cure for some disease I've never heard off, or a new promising alternative to Dilithium… And I try to muster some interest, Spock; I really do. I want to share in your enthusiasm… But I can't. The only time I get fired up about something it's when the ship's safety's on the line; when we're in a fight."
He paused. "The problem is, battles come only once in a while. So, what am I supposed to do the rest of the time?"
Jim's vehemence took Spock by surprise. Kirk was leaning forward now, and looking at him as if he actually expected Spock to give him an answer.
But Spock didn't have any. He had nothing to offer the Captain and, truth to be told, he didn't feel under any obligation to help him find one. To borrow the Captain's own words, he couldn't muster enough interest in the matter.
Jim seemed to realize this. He swallowed hard, and then he smiled -a slightly sardonic smile, obviously designed to belie the anguish of his earlier words.
"Well!" he said as he rose, "I think I'll leave you to your tuning, Spock. Remember what they say: practice makes the expert."
"Yes, Captain."
Spock watched as Kirk walked to the door. The young man had spoken lightly in the end, but the stoop on his shoulders revealed the turmoil inside.
Spock almost let him go.
Almost.
"Jim," Spock said, and that alone was enough to make Jim stop. Kirk turned slowly.
For Spock, the next words were probably as difficult to say as Jim's had been, but if a human could be honest, so could he.
"There is a reason we engage in so many other activities," Spock said quietly. "You are on the bridge. We know the ship is safe. We know we are safe."
Jim blinked. He seemed to be waiting for more, but Spock felt he had made his point, and so he dropped his gaze and focused on the Lyrette once more. He put it on his lap and tentatively strummed a light melody.
Jim returned to his seat, only this time he seemed more interested in Spock's music.
"Do you take requests, Spock?"
"I am only familiar with Vulcan melodies, Captain. Jim," he amended. "And I have yet to recover my former ability."
"Oh. Ok." Jim paused for a couple of seconds, then, "I could teach you a song."
Spock sighed to himself. He knew that tone. He'd heard it countless times when he was a new recruit at the academy. By the time he'd finally caught on his schoolmates' true intentions, he'd already learned (and repeated) all sort of limericks and obscene phrases that took him a long time to forget.
"The Lyrette does not lend itself well to the current styles of music," he said curtly.
"This is an old song," Jim insisted. He sat. "A romantic song."
Spock paused. "Romantic?"
"Yeah," Jim said. "A very old, romantic song, Mr. Spock."
Spock hesitated; the idea of learning a song he could play for Uhura appealed to him but he didn't quite trust Kirk in this. The Captain was smiling mischievously, a sure sign that he was not being exactly honest. But Jim's smile started fading under the Vulcan's gaze. He didn't say a word, yet Spock had a sudden feeling that he knew exactly what Jim Kirk was thinking.
He was thinking that he could either play a joke on Spock or work on their very tenuous truce…
And that meant Jim Kirk was gauging the consequences of his actions for once.
Finally, Jim smiled good-naturedly.
"Actually, it's not romantic," he admitted. "But it's easy to learn. It's called 'Row, Row your Boat."
The End