Chapter One: Chess
(I would like to apologise for the layout, i can't get to do the line breaks properly. If anyone knows how to, please drop me a message.)
Thank you all very much for your kind reviews as well, I seriously appreciate them :)
There was nobody to blame. That was, Spock thought, one of the hardest things for the rest of the crew of the Enterprise. They could not swear vengeance for their Captain, they could not direct their grief towards anyone. It was simply a mistake, a faulty suit, an incompatible atmosphere.
Jim deserved better.
Spock realised he had been staring at his terminal blankly for nearly ten minutes. While he was now Acting-Captain, he had been unable to sit in Jim's chair. He knew it was illogical, and emotional and the crew were both taken aback and thankful for this gesture. The bridge was unbearably silent, the air weighed down with grief. They had reported to Starfleet Command, and the Captain had been declared Missing In Action. Spock reasoned that it was logical that the Admirals would try and reduce the hit in morale, and it would have been much worse if they had simply declared him dead. They had been ordered to patrol the neutral zone for two weeks and then to return to Earth.
The crew were all dealing with Jim's death in different ways. Doctor McCoy veered between moods of intense anger and complete desolation and had begun to drink. Chekov and Sulu took solace in discussing everything under the sun other than what had happened. Scotty refused to leave engineering. Uhura had initially attempted to find her comfort in Spock.
"Spock." Uhura's voice was a whisper at his door. Spock considered ignoring her for a moment, but realised that he could not be so unkind as to leave her alone in her grief.
"Nyota." he stood from his desk and clasped his hands behind his back. "Please, come in."
She entered, glancing around Spock's quarters. They were spotless as usual, warm and the scent of incense hung delicately in the air from his earlier attempts at meditation. Spock had been unable to reach the desired mediative state, and after two hours, had given up trying. After a pause, Nyota broke the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Spock's waist.
"I know he was your friend," she whispered, "He was all our friend. I'm so sorry." Spock did not understand why Nyota was apologising, but he accepted her attempts to comfort him and returned her embrace, albeit a little stiffly. She pulled away and sighed. Her eyes were puffy and Spock surmised that she had been crying.
"Thank you, Nyota." he managed to say. His chest felt tight and there was a lump in his throat. He took in a deep breath and attempted to calm his mind. Spock had built barriers against his emotional turmoil at his Captain's death. There would be time to grieve later, when he was not responsible for the Enterprise and its crew.
Nyota studied him for a moment.
"You are going to go to the New Vulcan colony, aren't you."
While it was phrased as a question, Nyota's tone suggested it was a statement. Spock nodded.
"You are correct, Nyota. I believe my skills will be of more value there, and I cannot miss the opportunity to speak with my father." or my alternate self, he added silently. Spock had so many questions, and many of them only he could answer. He also had to know, had to see what life had been like while Jim was still in it.
Nyota looked as though she was going to cry again. Spock stayed still, unsure. He had expected that the news would be hard on Nyota, but had given no real thought as to the best way to tell her that he wished to leave. Jim had always told him that life had a habit of taking you by surprise when decisions had to be made. Spock was inclined to agree.
Nyota struggled with herself for a moment. Spock understood that this admission would also lead to the termination of their relationship, but he could not bring himself to feel regret. He could not bring himself to feel anything for the fear that he would drown in his emotions.
"I understand, Spock." she smiled sadly, but honestly. "But you have to keep in touch."
Spock assured her that he would. She gave him a peck on the cheek and then left, the door sliding shut behind her. Spock was left in the solitude of his quarters once more. He had never personalised his quarters much - mainly because he was usually on the bridge or in the science labs, and he did not see the logic in wasting credits on a space that he did nothing but sleep and meditate in. There were only three things that defined these quarters as belonging to him. There was a small Vulcan artifact that his mother had given to him as a gift when he had joined Starfleet, a painting of the house he had lived in on Vulcan, and a vintage glass chess set that Jim had bought him for his birthday.
X
Spock had been unaware that Jim even knew the date of his birth, and had been inordinately surprised when his Captain had shown up with a wrapped parcel and a grin. Spock had been...touched by the gesture. While he found that 3D chess was much more complex and required more concentration, he was not opposed to playing the original version that had begun on Earth. Jim had been nervous, Spock remembered. His Captain had been bouncing from foot to foot, rubbing his neck and had an elevated heart-rate. He had found Jim's nervousness and anticipation illogical, but oddly endearing.
"Open it then." he pushed into Spock's room impatiently, perching on the very edge of the made bed. Spock stood by the door still, the hastily wrapped parcel in his hands. After a moment he crossed the room to sit next to Jim and began to tear the paper away. The present was heavy in his hands, and as he disposed of the last of the wrapping Spock saw that it was made of a silky reddish wood that he knew from research was mahogany. He also knew that mahogany was extremely expensive. He found the brass catch and deftly opened the wooden box. It opened out to become a beautiful chessboard with glass tiles and intricately carved glass pieces. Spock found himself inexplicably speechless.
"Oh, god you hate it, don't you?" Jim began to babble, taking his silence as dislike "It's fine, honestly I'll get you something better-"
"On the contrary, Jim. It is a wonderful gift. You have my sincere gratitude."
Jim let out a relieved breath and grinned. His posture relaxed and he almost looked as though he was going to flop backwards onto Spock's bed, but then thought better of it.
"I'm glad, Spock." Jim smiled warmly and nudged Spock in the ribs with his elbow, "Now, let's see if you're any good."
Spock raised an eyebrow in amusement and set out the board. Jim claimed the white, and he the black. It seemed that Jim's intelligence extended to playing chess as well, and Spock had to concentrate hard in order to win the game. It took a long time, with very few pieces left on the board.
"Checkmate." Spock said. The slight upward turn of his lips spoke of satisfaction. Jim chuckled and ran his hands through his hair.
"Ah, I knew you'd beat me." he narrowed his eyes and surveyed the board, "It was close though. Rematch, tomorrow? My quarters, after Beta shift."
He got up to leave, still smiling. Spock hadn't answered him, but the vulcan had the suspicion that Jim wouldn't take no for an answer. While he may have beaten Jim at chess, he would not presume to match his Captain in stubbornness. He looked back at the gift as Jim left the room.
"Oh, and happy birthday, Spock." Jim's voice was low, intimate, and Spock did not reply as the door had shut before he had formulated an appropriate response.
It was not until later, much later when Spock had carefully begun to put away the chessboard that he understood the gift he had been given. His fingers had caught on a nick on the bottom of the board, and he curiously turned it over. Etched in that priceless wood was the scratched writing of a child.
Property of James T Kirk.
Spock had run his fingers over those words in what could only be expressed as wonder. He knew very little of James Kirk as a child. Even to his crew, Jim's file was mostly classified, and any information concerning his early life was completely inaccessible. But Spock was the opposite of stupid, and he had garnered enough clues to understand exactly what he had been given. And it was very much more than just a chess set. It was a piece of Jim, a piece of him from the past he tried so hard to forget. And yet he had seen fit to trust Spock with it.
Spock had noticed that Jim was fiercely protective of children, even going so far as to take on the role of almost an older brother to Pavel Chenkov. Whenever his childhood was mentioned, he would clam up and Doctor McCoy's face would become grim. The Doctor was the only crew member who had unlimited access to Jim's files, in the interest of his role as Chief Medical Officer. However, on the occasion that the Doctor had left Jim's medical files open when he left the infirmary, Spock found it only reasonable that he should look at the files. It was, after all, his duty as Jim's First Officer to understand the troubles his Captain may have faced.
It had taken several hours to read through all of Jim's admissions to the sickbay, to those incidents he had as a child. Spock had been thankful for the lack of interruptions, if not slightly suspicious of the Doctor's whereabouts. What he did find made his gut twist in sympathy for Jim, and strengthened his resolve to never speak of it. Such things were, along with many others, best left unsaid.
X
Spock could not remember the last time he had had an unbroken, peaceful sleep. He tossed and turned all night and often he dreamed. He dreamed of falling.
He would awake, sweating and confused. It was illogical that he should dream of falling. His parachute had not failed. He had not fallen. It would be far more logical if his subconscious tortured his sleep with nightmares of Jim falling to his death, but yet he never once dreamt of this. He only dreamt of falling and falling, and woke with his heart in his throat and feeling achingly alone. It was getting harder and harder to achieve a state of mental serenity. Any attempts to mediate frustrated him rather than calmed him and he was finding it much more difficult to control his emotions as each day passed. He was thankful for his expertise at controlling himself in tense situations, as it was becoming an invaluable skill as Acting Captain of the Enterprise. None of the crew appeared to have noticed, but he surmised that this was because they were caught up in their own grief. He was incorrect. There were often pointed looks exchanged, looks of understanding because the crew understood that Spock had been Jim's friend too, and he had loved him and grieved for him along with them.
Doctor McCoy was the only one brave enough to confront Spock, cornering him in the turbolift one evening at the end of Gamma shift.
"Spock." he said gruffly.
"Doctor McCoy." Spock's own voice was tired - while trawling up and down the neutral zone wasn't exactly a difficult job for the crew, he had ben looking forward to attempting to get some rest. Unconsciousness was the only respite from those thoughts.
Jim is dead.
"Now, I know you can do that Vulcan hoodoo to keep yourself sane, but dammit Spock, you look rough. Get some rest, eat properly and we won't have a problem."
While the doctor's words were strong, Spock could not help but notice McCoy himself had dark shadows under his eyes.
"I believe that out of the two of us, you are the one who looks 'rough'." Spock commented dryly. To his surprise, the doctor burst into laughter.
"You might be right about that. Ah, dammit Spock." he clapped Spock on the shoulder and headed back in the direction of the medical bay. Spock could not ever remember the Doctor having touched him in a friendly manner before. The only person who had ever done that had been Uhura. And Jim.
Spock entered his quarters with the intent on sleeping, but instead he lit incense and sat down cross-legged on the floor. He had to mediate, had to think. Had to grieve in the vulcan way for his friend.
