Chapter 2
When McCoy and Kirk surfaced the following morning, Spock was nowhere to be found. There was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for them, however. Kirk retreated to the porch overlooking the beach, scanning the horizon for a glimpse of his First Officer. He spotted the man, kneeling on top of a sand dune to the left of their path to the water, fingers steepled together, facing into the rising sun as the light sparkled and refracted into the facets of what appeared to be thousands of tiny diamonds reflecting off the gently cresting waves.
McCoy emerged momentarily, a large mug in each hand. "Here, Jim," his CMO intoned, handing him a cup of the aromatic brew and settling into one of the rocking chairs on the porch. Kirk quickly followed suit, continuing to gaze at the still form of his XO.
The two sat enjoying the post-dawn stillness for several long minutes, the captain being the first to disturb the morning calm. "How is he, Bones?" Kirk asked, his feet propped up on the railing, the warm, steaming mug cradled in his lap, his eyes never leaving his First's form.
"Physically or mentally?" McCoy asked, and Kirk could feel the intensity of his CMO's gaze.
"Both. Either. Does it really matter?"
McCoy's look was uncertain. "I don't know which was harder on him – having his body broken on Uriman V or having his spirit broken by the Platonians. Medically, he's recovered completely from his near-drowning, but the last year or so has been hard on him emotionally, although the stubborn, pig-headed hobgoblin would never admit it. Frankly Jim, when dealing with his emotional well-being, I'd say that's more your area of expertise."
Startled, Kirk snapped his head to McCoy; those perceptive words had struck a chord he'd just as soon keep from registering on his face. There was no question; McCoy was a keen judge of character, especially where his CO and XO were concerned.
The doctor's eyes matched his voice as he started speaking again. Gently, "I suppose I'm the one who should be asking you that question." He paused briefly. "Or better yet, you're the one who should be asking Spock that question."
The doctor sipped at his coffee before adding, "You know him – he never tells me anything except that 'Vulcans don't have feelings,' which we both know is a load of bull."
Kirk scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. "You give me more credit than I deserve. What makes you think he'd tell me?"
"Well, for starters, he's certainly been more forthright with you about a number of things than he's ever been with me."
Jim's thoughts traveled to the Pon Farr, just as he knew McCoy's had, his stomach clenching involuntarily at the memory. They had come so close to losing Spock then, Kirk's obstinance and force of will the only thing standing between the Vulcan and certain death. It wasn't until days later, after the immediate danger had passed, that Kirk finally allowed himself to be perturbed with his First. He had thought they had come a long way during their first year together, their friendship and trust in each other growing ever stronger, so it was like a slap in the face when Spock opted for death instead of coming to Kirk of his own volition and explaining the nature of his problem. Even though Spock had been scrupulously honest when pressed, it seemed that the Vulcan didn't trust his captain as completely as Kirk had believed.
"Not to mention," his CMO persisted, "you have a knack for getting him to do whatever it is you ask of him or to spill his guts to you about whatever it is you feel you need to know at the moment."
Kirk flushed uncomfortably, thinking of the mind meld they had shared on Uriman V. "That's only in the line of duty, Bones. In spite of what you obviously think, I don't make a habit of prying into Spock's personal affairs."
"I'm not advocating ferreting out all his dirty little secrets, Jim. However, we have both seen that despite Spock's assurances to the contrary, he often struggles with emotional issues, and frankly, his brain just isn't wired right to adequately deal with them. He's been under a lot of pressure lately and I just don't want to see him crack."
Kirk smiled inwardly. As much as he'd deny it outright, his CMO had a soft spot when it came to the reserved Vulcan. The captain wondered idly if someday he'd ever be able to get those two to acknowledge their friendship, their utmost respect for one another.
McCoy's next words landed him squarely back in the moment. "The fact that we almost lost you on Amerind, in Tholian space and to Janice Lester affected him more profoundly than he'd be willing to admit."
"Really?" Kirk remarked casually. "I hadn't noticed."
"C'mon Jim, this is me you're talking to. I've been observing how you two interact for the last three years. Someone else might believe that, but not me." His trademark recalcitrance in full swing, Kirk refused to respond. McCoy proceeded bluntly. "And you're just as bad where he's concerned," the doctor commented astutely. "How about that whole drowning thing on Uriman? The fact that he almost died didn't affect you at all? Somehow managing to keep him breathing until we beamed you aboard? Strictly in the line of duty? It's clear as a bell to anyone who really knows you that something profound happened between the two of you down there." The captain's silence dragged on. "For him to have survived at all is a damn miracle, and I'm sure you had a hand in it somehow."
"It's not like that, Bones. I didn't do anything out of the ordinary, just talked him through it until we were rescued." Kirk dropped his gaze to his lap, reluctant to share intimate details of that very private moment between the two of them with the doctor, yet fully aware his CMO remained unconvinced by that explanation. McCoy's unwavering scrutiny becoming nearly unbearable, he chose to ignore it, raising the mug he had laced firmly in his fingers to his lips, sipping carefully at the hot liquid. His eyes came to rest once again on the form of his First Officer, silhouetted against the azure sky.
"Look Jim, I'm not asking you to break any confidences or anything," the doctor announced, oddly echoing Kirk's thoughts, "but I've seen this from you two before." Kirk couldn't prevent his eyes from locking with McCoy's. That man didn't miss a thing. His CMO continued, "I've watched you two – you almost lose each other, somehow resolve things, and then pull away, clam up as if you've done something wrong." McCoy stopped abruptly and he watched the doctor struggle to put his thoughts into words that would adequately convey his meaning. Taking a deep breath, the ship's surgeon began again. "All I'm saying is, if you're worried about Spock, ask him about it. Hell, he is Spock, so maybe he won't say anything – maybe he'll dismiss it outright, but then again, maybe he'll confide in you if it's still bothering him. He's responded to you in the past after all, when he wouldn't tell a soul what was eating him."
The captain's shoulders slumped involuntarily as he quietly considered the doctor's point. To his mind, Spock had seemed more distant lately, beginning when they returned from Sarpeidon and increasing after Uriman V, and he was at a loss to explain the reason behind it. So much had been expressed between them in the meld that had taken place on that planet, under the most distressing circumstances, and while he thought that had brought them even closer, Spock seemed more out of reach than ever. Yes, they still spent time together, engaging in all their usual activities, but studiously avoided any further discussion of the meld they had shared, or its implications.
Ever the gifted psychiatrist, Bones had hit the nail on the head. For a man who was used to taking charge of any given situation, Kirk found himself at a total loss as to what to do in the face of this unexpected development. He felt his stomach turn over. Despite their growing rapport, there was still so much he didn't know about the Vulcan psyche. Their tentative link, which for Kirk had manifested as a warm, gentle presence in the deeper areas of his consciousness for several months now, had become almost non-existent over the past few weeks. He'd tried to follow the slender thread on more than one occasion, but each time had come up against an impenetrable barrier blocking his path to Spock's mind. Had he somehow inadvertently done something to unnerve Spock, violated some Vulcan taboo he was unaware of? He realized suddenly that McCoy was still speaking.
"Now that Spock's better, it's really none of my business what happened between you two, so long as it worked. However, it is my business to oversee the smooth functioning of the Enterprise's command team. I'm just trying to do my job and—"
"Back off, Bones," he interrupted hotly. We're fine." …I think, he added silently.
***
He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, the salt air crisp and pungent in his nostrils, the fine, temperate sand molding comfortably to his bent legs. It should be the ideal place to meditate, but the deeper levels of concentration were eluding him. His mind kept returning to the meld he had shared with his captain, and the ensuing conversation he had had with him afterward in sickbay.
He had touched Kirk's mind before this – several times in the line of duty and on two other occasions of a more personal nature – but none had been as deep, had allowed for so much to be expressed by both of them, as the one they had shared on Uriman V.
He was becoming emotionally attached to, emotionally dependent on his captain, each time Kirk's life was at risk affecting him more deeply than the last. His cheeks burned with shame. All his life, he had been taught to forego such things, strong bonds of affection permitted only within the family. Vulcans prided themselves on their independence, their ability to be individuals, to make decisions for themselves, to be self-reliant, their actions driven by logic, unaffected by the perceptions of those around them.
There was a tentative bond forming between the two, reminiscent of the ancient bond of t'hy'la, warrior brothers, shield mates. It was a bond Spock was not actively encouraging or attempting to establish, and yet it was solidifying, growing stronger with each passing day nonetheless, much to his dismay.
After Babel, his father had warned him of this: "It was not logical, Spock, for your captain to have risked everything in an effort to preserve my life, therefore he must have done so due to a personal, emotional attachment to you. It was fortunate that all was not lost, that all the ambassadors and dignitaries were not killed, this ship destroyed, but this clearly demonstrates the risks of acting on feelings as opposed to logic. This epitomizes the reason our people have learned to understand the significance of placing logic above such things. While he may have done so to save face with you, there was so much more at stake. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. You would do well to remember this."
His cheeks had flushed with embarrassment and shame then as well. There was no logical argument he could put forth explaining his captain's actions. To try to rationalize an irrational decision would only have made him, made Jim, appear desperate in Sarek's eyes, so he had chosen to say nothing, all the while knowing that his father was absolutely right. And yet, at that time, he had refused to acknowledge that their friendship could potentially be dangerous, destructive to those around them. However, his single-minded effort to retrieve Kirk during the Tholian incident only served to reinforce his father's point. It didn't matter that they had been able to safely recover the captain. He had put the ship and the lives of the crew in jeopardy in his effort to do so. "The ends do not justify the means, my son," his father would have admonished. And he would have been right.
Ever since completing his kahs-wan, he had not actively sought out the approval of others. He had learned at an early age that that was counterproductive. He had even eschewed the acceptance of his father, joining Starfleet despite Sarek's strident wishes to the contrary, all the while knowing it would cause a rift between him and his father, and cause his mother much anguish and heartache as she watched the rift widen between the two men in her life, to become an almost insurmountable obstacle.
Yet inexplicably, Kirk's approval was of paramount importance to him. It differed drastically from his relationship with Captain Pike. He had wanted to please that man, as a subordinate strives for excellence in order to please a superior, but nothing more. With Jim, it was altogether different: he wanted Kirk's personal, as well as professional approval. He quietly cultivated his captain's friendship, sought his approbation, and would do whatever was asked of him in order to preclude disappointing that singular, dynamic personality. As much as Spock had succeeded in preventing emotional entanglements in his life up till now, he welcomed this one, much to his chagrin.
Even Jim had said it, during their conversation after his near-drowning: "I'm not looking to change you, to make you more human. I want to celebrate the unique being that is my friend Spock." And yet he was changing, but was it so wrong? It was undeniable that they worked well together as a team, much of that due to the growing rapport between them that often allowed them to communicate without words; to anticipate each others' thoughts, each others' moves. Undoubtedly this ability had saved both their lives on several occasions. Was it also not logical to use whatever gifts one was given to overcome adversity? Was this not the major tenet of IDIC? Would it not be logical to use this personal affinity, that made them each stronger together than they were separately, to their advantage?
He permitted himself a small sigh. This train of thought was going nowhere, impeding his ability to attain the higher levels of meditation. One moment he was deeply disturbed by this thing that was happening between them, the next, elated. Conflicted. This seemed to be his lot in life; to be neither wholly one nor the other, at home nowhere, accepted completely by none, lost somewhere in between, always searching, striving to find his proper place in the universe. And it seemed to him that despite the teachings of his youth, that place was at Jim Kirk's side, at least at this point in time. You, you belong at his side as if you've always been there and always will be. Of all the beings in the universe, Jim Kirk was the only one who accepted him for who he was, without projecting his own expectations on that acceptance.
Knowing that his inability to focus would persist, that effective meditation as not within his grasp this morning he rose to his feet, making his way back to the small cottage.
***
As he approached, he could see that his captain and the CMO were engaged in a heated discussion which ended abruptly as he came within earshot of the two. Kirk favored him with a warm smile as he reached the top of the stairs.
"Did you sleep well, Mr. Spock? You look refreshed this morning."
"Yes, thank you, Captain. The accommodations are most satisfactory." He turned to McCoy. "My compliments Doctor, on your choice of location. Did you gentlemen also have a restful night?" he asked, his gaze lingering on Kirk as he recalled the captain's hasty retreat to the beach during the early hours of the morning.
"I for one, slept like a rock," McCoy chimed in, "and this salt air is making me so hungry I could eat a Rigellian ox. I think I'll go see if I can rustle us up some grub for breakfast," he finished, getting to his feet and heading for the door.
"And you, Captain? Was your rest also restorative?"
Kirk averted his eyes before answering, choosing instead to scan the horizon. "I slept better than I have in the past few weeks," he answered evasively.
Spock could sense no deception from his captain, and it pained him greatly to think last night had been one of Kirk's better nights. He found himself silently thanking McCoy for insisting upon this shore leave.
"C'mon Spock, have a seat," Kirk said lightly, gesturing to the chair McCoy had vacated. "It's really a spectacular view."
Spock seated himself beside his captain, unsure of what to say. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, watching a flock of native Quammeril, the large, colorful sea birds engaged in an intricate, eye-catching aerial ballet as they twisted and dove among the waves, plucking fish from the sparkling blue water.
Glancing out of the corner of his eye at his captain, he felt a swell of protectiveness. The man had had to bear more than anyone should during the last year. Sometimes, unbeknownst to his captain, Jim's pain and anguish bled through their weak link despite the Vulcan's best efforts to prevent it, only adding to Spock's distress. He longed to discuss these episodes with his friend, to provide what assistance he could, but Kirk had seemed distant recently, despite the feelings and revelations they had shared after the events on Uriman V, reluctant to discuss anything but ship's business with his First.
Spock's attention snapped to the fore as Kirk began speaking.
"You know, as nice as this is, I've concluded that I'm really irritated with McCoy – how dare he decide that the repairs could be carried out smoothly without us. That's my ship – I should be there to oversee things. At times, he just takes this whole CMO thing a bit too far." His tone was forbidding, brooding.
"Mister Scott is more than qualified to ensure that the repairs are executed properly, and in his own overbearing, brusque manner, the good doctor was just trying to be helpful, Jim," Spock responded softly.
"Since when have you started defending him?" Quizzical hazel eyes met his.
"The doctor is correct in his observation that you require rest, Jim. I am merely in agreement with his reasoning."
"Et tu, Spock?" He smiled thinly at his First.
Spock was fraught with confusion. "I can assure you I am not working against you, Jim, quite the contrary. This brief respite will afford you the time you need to reenergize. It should prove most beneficial."
"Funny, because that sounds like the same argument McCoy used with me when trying to convince me that you were the one who needed a break." Kirk's expression became dour. "It seems we've both been had. You know, sometimes that man frustrates the hell out of me."
"And yet you still consider him to be a friend," Spock remarked, the inconsistency of that inexplicable mix of human emotions completely baffling to the logical Vulcan.
"Weird how that works, huh?" Kirk commented wryly. "Just another one of our strange, human idiosyncrasies. We can be fond of and irritated by someone at the same time. And right now, I'm more than a little irritated." This last said with more intensity than Kirk intended.
Spock glanced at his captain. There was certainly more behind that statement than being forced to take leave against his will. One look at Kirk's tight-lipped countenance, however, and Spock realized the matter was not open for discussion. He took the conversation in a different direction.
"Had the Vians been successful in their attempt to deprive the Doctor of his life, it would have affected you profoundly, Jim."
"And I suppose it would have had no effect on you whatsoever?" Kirk countered, amusement, coupled with a touch of annoyance creeping into his tone.
Spock pondered that question for several long moments. "Yes, it would have deprived me of a most gifted verbal sparring partner." He turned what he thought were expressionless eyes on his captain, but watched helplessly as a knowing grin spread slowly over Jim's face.
"I suspect it would have meant just as much to you as it would have to me," Kirk replied enigmatically, the irritation evaporating, to be replaced with genuine affection. Spock chose not to answer, not wanting to give more away to this man who could read him as easily as a blind man deciphered the bumps and dashes of Braille.
At that moment, the object of their discussion poked his head out the door. "You two coming in, or do I have to eat all these flapjacks myself?"
"You don't have to tell me twice, I'm starved," Kirk said, getting swiftly to his feet. Spock followed suit, trailing behind his captain.
McCoy had the table set, a fresh pot of coffee in the center, a steaming mug of tea beside Spock's plate. A large bowl of fresh fruit was available, and there were several pitchers of juice, both Terran and Vulcan, a small platter of sausage links and of course, an ample stack of pancakes with all the trimmings.
"Gosh Bones, I'm impressed," Kirk said, glancing at the table approvingly.
"Well before you get too excited, I have to confess it's all synthesized. We'll have to go out sometime today and stock up on some supplies. I, for one, don't want to eat fake food if I don't have to. The local seafood is supposed to be outstanding, and while Spock of course won't eat any of the marine animal life, Triani Prime boasts a wide variety of edible salt water plants that should be right up his alley."
"You really put a lot of thought into this leave, didn't you Bones?" Kirk said, and Spock saw him blush slightly, no doubt due to the complaints he had lodged against the doctor a few minutes before on the porch. "Thank you for this," the captain added sincerely, locking eyes briefly with his CMO before seating himself at the table and starting to fill his plate.