CHAPTER TWO
Fifteen minutes before entering the mediation room/broom closet:
Spock had stood and approached the Captain.
"Captain, I am requesting a ten minute leave of absence from my post."
"Granted." Spock nodded and turned.
Kirk playfully said "And what, may I ask, are you ditching your lovely and adoring crew to attend to my dearest friend?"
A longish pause.
"It is…personal." Kirk was intrigued. Spock had to abandon his post for something personal?! Holy shit! What could it possibly be? In the entirety of Kirk and Spock's tumultuous relationship, Kirk had not a single time seen Spock leave a minute early. It seemed to be his human frailty. Certainly pride was a human condition, but he had never suspected Spock to be one to fall victim to its grimy undertow. Kirk recalled the long twelve-hour shift eight weeks ago. Spock had stumbled onto the bridge, no joke, looking completely dazed and green faced, literally. "Vulcans can stumble. What a novel thought. What else is possible?" Uhura's mind wondered. He had wordlessly taken in his surroundings, as if surprised to find himself here in the workplace. He had dreamily nodded to Kirk and attempted to briskly walk to his station. Attempted. His foot caught and he stumbled. He had rigidly corrected himself, obviously mortified to be seen in such a weak state.
"Hey, you don't look too good Spock." This is Sulu, ever caring and forever stating the obvious. Uhura turned to shoot him a look as if to say, "Do not discount the Vulcan. He is aware of his current condition." He shrugged and mimed crying, then striking an imaginary nail with a hammer, then walking his index and middle finger over the fake bridge; "Cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it." He winked and she sighed, a small smile gracing her lips at his joke. Sulu just appreciated a tense moment used to inject the victims of such moment with relentlessly inappropriate jokes and wit. He took great pleasure in illustrating the absurdity of events, which drew such attention from his friends. Sulu coveted his own mind, believed great things would spill forth from him, shearing open the belly of the accepted, allowing all things banned or discouraged to play.
"Spock, go lay down. Now." Kirk was reluctant to order the Vulcan to do something he had chosen not to do, but he also knew Spock probably wasn't thinking straight.
"I am fine." The words seemed watery on the man's tongue, they dammed up against his lips, blocking each others path on the way out, giving his words a near slur effect. Spock noticed this and did not attempt to speak further. He merely sat, hoping Kirk would accept the one sentence. He did not. He pressed the matter, as he had also feared he would.
"Alright, well, you've got me convinced. Obviously your fine! Please, as you were." Spock did not acknowledge he had even spoken, turning away halfway through Kirk's sarcastic comment. Kirk raised his eyebrows and pretended to gasp at his bold disrespect. Inside, he was giggling. He had never seen Spock so disorientated. It was pretty funny. He decided to let Spock attempt to do some work, which he knew would be impossible. He had decided to throw incredibly challenging tasks at him in order to force him into surrender.
"Spock, translate this Klingon transmission." The simple task alone took him two hours. Uhura watched him silently, worried. She could not understand why he did not rest, why being as insightful as she knew him to be he did not advocate for his own self-care. It frustrated her. She made no comment to Spock, wishing to punish him for his own neglect. Uhura watched as he tapped a button on his keyboard, slowly, nearly squinting. "What in the world is he doing?" She smirked as it dawned on her that he would otherwise miss the key he aimed to strike if he did not severely concentrate. Sickness affects Vulcans tenfold a human. They can catch only the most dangerous viruses, which while are not lethal, deem them nearly senseless. Their death perception is eaten away. They experience intense fatigue as compensation for the energy spent keeping their emotion in check. Sleep is also the only cure. The fact that Spock refused to do so only prolonged his suffering. Surely he knew this. She glared.
CLANK
Every set of eyes turned to Spock. He intently stared at his screen as if a huge disruption had not just erupted from his desk. If he could whistle he would, anything to alleviate the awkward silence. His eyes had drifted shut and his head had collapsed against his touch screen. Nine seconds eclipsed and everyone turned away. He quit listening to the same ugly, retched Klingon sentence and rubbed his temples. He did not go rest. He completed his shift, all his tasks, the three assigned to him (he normally completed up to thirty during one shift) and caught Uhura's eye. No compassion in her normally empathetic eyes. He loved her eyes, her expression, her emotion so readily put on the table for him.
"Shift change." Came over the intercom.
"Spock, go away." Spock had been blankly spacing out as everyone else evacuated the room and new officers filed in. Spock looked up at Kirk with unfocused eyes. He made an unintelligible mumble and went to stand and keeled forward. Kirk surprised, grabbed his waist and allowed Spock to throw his arms over his neck, miming a slow dance in middle school. "I cannot believe this is happening. Oh my god." Where's a camera when you need one? This was the most contact with Spock he had ever experienced. A light trickle of pain, frustration, and sleepiness filtered into him through Spock's fingers on his neck.
"I apologize for this breach of conduct." Spock groggily murmured into Kirk's shoulder. Uhura stood frozen in the doorway. Chekov dialed for Bones. Spock's grip on Kirk went loose and Kirk allowed him to slide gently to the ground. He slumped backward against his desk. Uhura appeared suddenly and her hands were all over Spock, feeling his warmth, his face, his hands. She took his hand and placed it against her cheek. Kirk sighed, "What a fucking hopeless romantic. Cute, but unnecessary. " Yes, he was feeling bitter.
Uhura's eyes fluttered. She gently took Spock's hand off her face. Spock blearily dragged his lids open. He met Uhura's eyes and nodded.
"He just needs to sleep. Medical assistance is not needed." Uhura looped Spock's arm around her shoulder. Ah. She had been peeking into his mind, seeing what he needed as he was apparently not cognizant enough to be coherent. He chastised his selfish thought during what seemed to be his First Officer's weakest moment.
"Come on, you idiot! I can't support him myself!" Uhura grunted as she struggled to help Spock to his feet. Kirk stepped forward and Spock placed his other arm clumsily around Kirk. They half dragged, half carried Spock to his bed. He remained pitifully silent but occasionally turned his head to try and nuzzle Uhura. It seemed in these moments he was conversing with her, the touch of their foreheads his only means of conversation. He felt guilty for being privy to these seemingly intimate acts of affection between the two. Uhura would laugh and tell him, "I'm staying. Don't worry." Kirk felt Spock wasn't even aware he was present. Spock would then let his head roll forward.
They removed his shoes and Kirk let out a bark at this. Removing a Vulcan's shoes, Spock's shoes!, seemed hilarious and absurd.
"Thank you Kirk."
"Of course, Lieutenant."
"I mean it."
"I know."
"I know he would be thankful, too. I doubt he'll have any recollection of this. Vulcans remove any memories of moments outside of their control so that their emotional capacity remains undamaged. But you are his friend and I know he cares for you."
"Cares for me? And here I thought he could feel only indifference!" Uhura laughed.
"That may appear to be true, but I assure he feels more than you or I am capable."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, that's so." Uhura and Kirk let out a small laugh.
A tender silence befell the two. Uhura's heart swelled with affection for her Captain. Kirk felt her appreciation and moved forward to touch her hand. Uhura looked at his hand and met his eyes.
"You can leave now."
"Gotcha."
Disbelieving, Uhura met the swish of the door shutting behind Kirk with a chuckle. That man was unbelievable.
She moved forward to remove Spock's shirt. He lay sprawled across the bed haphazardly, one leg hanging off the side. She lifted it up and aligned him in the middle of the bed. She touched his forehead, sending a message of adoration into the haze of his mind. She hadn't thought it had been able to make it through the fog, but then Spock had breathed her name, and she heard his bottomless anger at being an unwilling participant in this virus. She knew he wanted to push out the sleep he had been forced to dream. She lay beside him, hummed a light, Vulcan melody he had played for her. His mind quieted and she was fulfilled.
Yes, Spock did not ask for time off.
"As your Captain I demand the purpose of your time."
"As your First Officer I respectfully decline to answer and request anonymity as to my motivation for a brief pause in work."
Silence.
"Fine, you big secret keeper! The next time I do something suspicious and your DYING to understand what makes me tick and why I do what I do, I'm not going to tell you! You'll never know. Ungrateful best friend… Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." Kirk muttered most of this to himself as Spock had begun to exit after he had spoken the word, "fine." Kirk glared resentfully at the head of black hair leaving his bridge before turning to Chekov and saying, "Do we have a music stereo in here?"
"Yez Keptain!" Russian concerto exploded into the soon to be bleeding ears of the U.S.S Enterprise crew. Chekov bobbled his head to the symphony, waving his hands around, following the riffs.
Bones entered the bridge. "What in the hell is this bullshit?" He announced. Chekov quickly shut it off and became as small as possible. Kirk sat down and Bones grunted and left. Uhura was not in the room.
Still in his closet sanctuary, Spock felt something. He felt worry. It hurt his heart and affected his work ethic. Uhura had not been at her station. An Orion had entered two minutes later than the second Nyota ought to have walked through the door. He had asked no one of her whereabouts as he feared that might suggest emotional attachment. He wondered if her absence had to do with his comments the previous night...
"You believe we should share a housing complex." They were in bed together. Both naked, Nyota folded herself against Spock, head cocooned in his neck and his breath tickling her ear. Spock and Nyota thought to themselves, "This is happiness."
"Move in together, yes."
"For what reason."
"For the reason of my loving you. Why else?" She laughed and touched his cheek. He felt the feeling flow into him and rebelled.
"A decision based merely on a fictitious feeling is not logical." It had escaped his lips before he could censor the words.
"You find love to be fictitious?!"
"My upbringing demonstrated this idea." Love" is an intoxicating release of endorphins which in turn causes important life turns to be made whim fully, and without consideration to the future." She appeared speechless.
"Whoa."
"Whoa?"
"Whoa."
"Did you expect more from me, Nyota?"
"I knew it to be foolish, but I did. Of course, I did."
"Nyota, I do not believe that I am capable of even identifying this emotion. What is love? Could love be the time I spend in your company? Could it be the music I play for you, and only you? I have kissed no one but you. What else is love?" He was curious. Nyota did not answer.
"Your silence troubles me."
"Love is a confession of vulnerability. You can't give this too me. As a human I will forever search for validation through the love of others. A clinical human condition to put it logically. I feel like a failure because I do just that; I fail to bring out the emotions I know are buried deep inside of you. I believed I could melt you. You remain as steadfast in your vigilant exterior coldness as the day I met you. I can not do without returned affection, something I can feel."
He could not bring himself to say a word. His expression faltered and she reached for his hand. He made no response, no move to hold her hand. His eyes were trained on the wall behind her. She stepped back.
"Spock." His composure threatened to crumble. He was undone. Should she touch him once more with those tiny, trembling brown fingers he would unwind and lay in a disarrayed pile at her feet, ready, ready to lap up the milk of her endless love. She did not touch him. She held her hand up to her face. She stumbled back another step. Merely watching him. He finally met her stricken gaze. His innards screamed at him, cut him up into ribbons, begged him to step forward, pleaded with him to confess it all! He displayed nothing in his eyes, trained them to lie dead and reveal nothing, his greatest asset a straight poker face.
She turned and left.
After she had departed, he had stood in the same spot in the center of the room for two hours. His meditation had begun the moment she shut the door. He had not been able to move himself. By the time the trance had been broken, he was at last completely detached from what had transpired between Uhura and himself. He logically evaluated what had occurred, weighing chance and odds. He decided to approach her the next morning. Something inside of him was aching.
Love. He did not understand her utter need for it; it compelled her to create this rift between them. Spock often wondered if Nyota truly understood that his emotions were out of his reach. As he had never lived with them fully, he did not completely understand what each felt like or how to even utilize them. He did not know love. If love was what he felt for Nyota, then he was in love. He failed to see the use of a single word to define a connection between the bonded. He cared deeply for her. He noticed her absences, longed for her company when she was away, thoughts of her drifted through him as the day waxed and waned; what more did she desire?
Alas, the next morning she had not been at her station. Kirk had given him a funny look when he had sat down. Chekov had raised his eyebrows and clucked sharply to him. Sulu had shaken his head without even looking away from his work. Scotty passed through briefly, in a hurry. He had halted before Spock, opened his mouth as if to speak, and had looked over Spock's shoulder to Kirk. He had spun away without any words exchanged and exited the bridge. Spock raised his eyebrow questioningly but no one provided any answers and if anything, seemed angry. All but Kirk. Through the reflection of his touch screen, he had witnessed Kirk use his arms to wildly drag his hand across his neck, "Cut it out!" Spock swiveled in his chair and felt a deadening pull drag his navel to the floor. Spock felt overwhelmed. Emotions from last night were escaping the mediation circle and he could not focus on the task at hand. He had had to compose himself.
And here he was, hiding in a broom closet.
Spock looked at the darkness.
"Well." He said.
He opened the door and walked back to the bridge. The door whooshed open and he approached Kirk. Kirk knew immediately what he would say.
"May I request a word, Captain." Yes, he had known.
"May I suggest talking to that cute little guy over yonder?" Kirk, ever sassy, pointed to Sulu. Sulu sighed and turned around. He didn't want to have this conversation or walk where this was sure to head. Sulu stood and sauntered into the private briefing room adjacent to the main view room. He sat and Spock shortly entered and remained standing.
"Sit down, Commander."
"I prefer to stand."
"Very well. She is at the bar drunk."
"She?"
"You know who I am talking about."
"Do I?"
"Don't play dumb."
They were interrupted as the intercom yelled its message to the inhabitants of the ship; "PREPARATIONS FOR EXPLORATION OF PLANET X WILL BEGIN WITHIN THE HOUR. DISCOVERY CREW BE READY TO EVACUATE IN ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY MINUTES."
Sulu swallowed and turned back to Spock.
"She is not here because she is being taken to her room even now. Scotty just got her from the Watering Hole."
Spock sat. Scotty's bizarre behavior. Spock stood, nodded to Sulu, thanked him with a hand on his forehead, "Not good" Sulu knew as Spock's gratitude entered him, and Spock returned to his workstation. Two minutes later, Kirk placed a hand on Spock's shoulder.
"Get outta here, man." Spock got outta there.