"We need him."
The words recklessly fell from Jim's lips, his voice both soft and sincere with emotion that he couldn't keep down. He leaned forward so that his elbows touched his knees, and as he tried to still his pounding heart, scrutinized Spock with a look that appeared much too close to transfixed awe—and far too desperate to detect some kind of indication that there was more to Spock's arrival than what he had let on. "Ineed him."
Jim continued to search with his pointed gaze, his bottom eyelids rising in the slightest squint and lips barely parting. Without even needing to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the window, he was painfully aware of how hopeful and anguished he must have looked, how his eyes nearly begged Spock for even the slightest confirmation that—
"Then my presence is to our mutual advantage," Spock declared in monotone with not even the most minute change in his demeanor. His eyes were upon Jim's in a cold and foreign gaze, supplying his answer as if they had never even met before.
The bitter sting of utter humiliation swept across Jim's insides at that moment, causing whatever anticipation he had worn across his features to immediately vanish. Any trace of hope was instantly obliterated in that simple reply, and overtaken by a disappointment that he should have known he would endure.
Defeated and angered that he even allowed himself to wish for something he knew couldn't be reality, Jim straightened his spine a little so that he wasn't leaning toward Spock any longer. Silence persisted for several seconds.
At that time, Jim couldn't believe that Spock's statement was entirely correct, if only because he was convinced that the sole beneficiaries from their abrupt reunion were anyone but themselves. If they managed to work miracles and somehow resolved the situation with the cloud, the mutual advantage would surely have run its course by the conclusion of the crisis…as would have Spock's presence on this ship, and in Jim's life.
After all, Spock had already left once because Jim had loved him with all that he had. And now, two years and nine months later, as they sat across from each other in the officer's lounge of the refitted Enterprise, Jim found himself wondering how long it would take for Spock to realize that, despite all of the time spent apart, his adoration had only deepened and augmented…and how quickly that realization would send him running away once again.
Jim's face lowered, and within thirty seconds, Spock was already walking out of the lounge, leaving him and McCoy in silence.
No, nothing had changed—especially not Jim's feelings, and he found that very regrettable as he watched Spock disappear through the doorway.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Spock stood before him, tensity looming within the captain's quarters. There was no more V'GER crisis, no more pressing orders from Starfleet Command, no more dependency on them from the crew—only a proper shakedown of the refitted Enterprise that had just gone underway, and a gaping rift that desperately needed mending between the two men staring into each other's eyes.
In a rare laconic moment of uncertainty, Jim couldn't find the correct words to say that would shatter the deafening silence in his quarters. Of course, he knew what he wanted to tell Spock, but wouldn't dare say any of these things firing across his mind. That was the kind of talk that chased Spock away at the end of their five year mission, and even as the words 'this simple feeling' were now eternally branded into Jim's soul, he could leave nothing to the whim of careless confession. No, he wouldn't make the first move this time.
The awkward quiescence was uncomfortable and Jim diverted his eyes. Stiffly, he raised his hand and turned his head to the side slightly as he let his fingers run through his darkened hair.
"Please sit—" he began at the same moment that Spock started, "Jim—"
There was a strange pause when Jim lifted his gaze back to Spock's.
"Jim."
After hearing his name uttered so softly again, it took Jim a great deal of effort to repress the desire to reach out for Spock's hand once more. However, he was very adamant about sticking to his strategy of not pushing, and so his arms remained at his sides. There was something he had learned in the nearly three years that agonizingly crawled by, after all; Jim had been forced to subdue the desire to reach for Spock: to touch him, hear him, drink him in, drown in him. Employing that control now was certainly difficult with the object of every one of his affections and miseries standing before him, but nothing was impossible.
"I realize that this is presumptuous on my behalf and that I do not deserve to even inquire this of you," Spock began again. "I have, however, found the answer to all of my questions. Have you?"
Jim shook his head as though he hadn't understood what was just asked of him, quietly responding, "Have I…what?"
"Found your own answers? Or does uncertainty still remain?"
With his chest expanding as a deep breath was drawn, Jim let his eyes fall again to the ground. How could he even begin to answer that? Everything was uncertain, because it all depended on Spock. He swallowed, and then looked back into those dark eyes.
"No," Jim replied with another shake of his head, keeping his response carefully ambiguous. "What did you find, though, Spock? After all that happened, what was the answer?"
They stared at each other for several seconds, curiosity and careful interest present in Jim's eyes as he tried to make out what Spock was attempting to tell him. Finally, Spock raised his right hand slowly, his fingers stretching up to the ceiling.
"May I?"
Jim looked at the familiar palm for a moment before nodding and taking a step closer. He felt those thin digits on his face, settling on his psi points and closed his eyes as a presence he once knew very well slipped into his mind. To his surprise, it hadn't changed at all.
'It was always you, Jim.'
Jim's eyelashes parted and he caught Spock's gaze again, searching for the same confirmation he had wanted in the officer's lounge hours ago. All it took was for Spock to nod his head once, before Jim pulled him into his arms and hugged him with all of the emotion he had tried to keep under throughout their time apart. Nearly three years of loneliness and heartbreak and uncertainty and affection he could never get rid of went into that embrace…and he held Spock tightly as each of those feelings coursed through him once more.
He felt unsure hands dock at his hips and then heard Spock's gravelly voice. "However, I shall not arrogantly assume—"
"What? That I don't love you anymore?" Jim asked as he pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, a soft smile spreading across his lips. He took hold of Spock's lean biceps and gave them a gentle squeeze.
"Or that I deserve your forgiveness," Spock concluded.
Unconsciously, Jim's thumbs caressed his skin in tiny circles through the uniform. He quietly asked, "Are you planning to go back to Vulcan?"
"It is my desire to remain here with you, Jim. However, I will return if that is not also your wish, which is quite understandable."
Jim's fingers slid down the arms they clung to slowly until they slipped off. Both hands sought out the same one they held in the sick bay, holding tightly as Jim brought it up between their chests and clutched it like treasure.
The soft smile never left his lips as Jim simply shook his head. "You asked if I found my answer before." Squeezing Spock's hand between his own, he continued quietly, "I did. It's that I'm lost without you, and I want nothing more than to find my way again…if you're willing to help me, that is."
Spock's other hand rose and cupped over Jim's. He nodded slowly several times, his expression mirroring the one he had shown earlier when Jim and he held to each other. "Yes. Yes, I am."
Jim lowered his forehead down to their hands and closed his eyes. For the first time since the end of their mission, he felt, finally, that he knew which direction to go in…and that if he just followed it, he would be okay. More than that, they would be.
Maybe that simple feeling wasn't so simple, after all.