Every Hug
The Fourth Time
"Let me… please let me just get it together and I'll let you go…"
The fourth time was the first time I put my arms around him as well. Carefully, and gently, I laid my flat palms against his back, knowing how inappropriate the gesture was but discarding any counter-arguments as irrelevant. Jim needed me, he was saying as much. There was something in his voice, something vulnerable that I knew he would never let the rest of the crew see or hear.
Because I could not deny it anymore, I had the empirical evidence to support me: Jim did not hug anybody else.
I did not know why I was to always be the exception. I did not understand it; it remained one of the many, many things I did not understand about Jim.
Why am I the only one who is allowed to glimpse into your mind when you cannot hold yourself together anymore? Why am I the only person you trust to see…?
If you feel broken, Jim, Captain, friend… why do I heal you?
How do I help you, if it seems to me like I barely do anything at all? Why do you look more like yourself after this strange new routine that I do not understand?
That I cannot understand, Jim?
Because what help might I possibly be to you, when we hardly speak about it, when all you do is ask me, without words, to hold you in my arms?
I thought this so strongly it was as if I had forgotten Jim was not a telepath, as if I was hoping to convey the thought through the touch we shared alone. This question that he could not hear, and would never know because I refused to express it out loud and therefore acknowledge it's existence… it was simpler to banish it from my mind and carefully forget the strange reactions that accompanied it. But…
But why me, Jim?
Jim was shaking in my arms, exhaustion and sadness and perhaps relief that our lives had been spared causing his body to spasm against mine. No one had embraced me in this way before. Not… never quite like this, with such desperation, such force, such weariness. So I held him firmly, to lessen the shivers, to lessen his pain, focusing my mind sharply and solely on him, foregoing my own reactions, to be examined at another time.
It was not… an unpleasant experience. It was certainly a new one. I knew I must be careful as Jim always evoked many emotions in me, but for the first time since these strange encounters began, the feelings of surprise and the urge to recoil were not among them. I did not even think of pushing Jim away, I did not need to fight my desire for space, for solitude.
Perhaps being together with Jim was logical. As friends, of course. Friendship, after all, was not compatible with solitude. It was in this moment, when for the first time in my life I reciprocated such a Human gesture so completely, that I thought… I would never be alone as long as Jim was by my side.
When he did eventually pull away his eyes shone with gratitude, as if I had conveyed a special, precious gift to him.
A gift I feared I would never understand.
I was forced to remember frustration was a Human emotion.
"I'm sorry." He began apologising the moment our eyes met. "Did it hurt? How's your side? That's where the fucking bastards were aiming at, right? Your heart? I'm so sorry. Did I… hold you too hard? I'm sorry, Spock, I'm so sorry, forgive me… please forgive this… this wretched… I can't… control… I want to stop but it's so… fucking hell, I don't even…"
For a moment I could not speak. That shine in his eyes… it had spilled down his face.
Jim was crying.
"Jim, you must cease this most illogical reaction." I said immediately, appalled.
He wiped his face roughly with his burnt, dirty sleeve. It smeared dust and grime over his tense, set features. It did not diminish the force of his burning gaze.
"Didn't exactly do it on purpose, did I?" He mumbled, but the tears stopped after he took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Jim." I spoke with firm conviction, all the better to make him see sense once more, knowing the Enterprise needed him back. And I did too.
As his first officer.
But also as his friend.
"Jim, I am going to recover fully. Dr McCoy has already stated as much, and although I would be most grateful if you did not inform him of my next confession, I must admit there have been certain occasions when he has not been wrong."
This made Jim abruptly laugh, and the tightness around his eyes to disappear. I inexplicably felt my own worries melt away with the sound.
A most curious reaction.
"Man, you're really something, aren't you, Spock?"
"… I do not understand the complexities of Human jokes sometimes, Jim. Is this question rhetorical?"
The smile after this was bright as a supernova, and reminiscent of his more usual behaviour. In turn, my own answering smile was even more difficult to contain. This was beginning to form a most curious pattern. A pity I knew I must not convince Jim to stay, and further study his effects on me.
"Thank you, Spock."
I was about to ask what for.
And then I knew.
"Goodbye, Captain."
"I'll come back, you know. Check up on you. Make sure you're being a good little boy down here."
"I do not doubt it."
"Good."
With a parting smile he left my private medical room to go back to the bridge and resume his duties. I noted that his stance was determined, firm, and commanding, as though his calm confidence had been restored once more. How, I did not know, but I was very aware that this was the opposite of when he had run into the Sickbay like a lost, wounded animal, shouting my name.
However, despite his eased manner, he had obviously regretted his actions. Regretted the embrace, regretted the impulse.
I was not even surprised when I realised that I did not.
*blinks*
Huh. I think this is actually my favourite hug so far. I know the angst-meter went sliiiiightly overboard but... uh, I like it :)
Also... rrrrrrrreeeeeeevieeeeeeew? *makes puppy-dog eyes*
(oh, if only I had the awesome power of Jim's baby-blue-eyes on my side! Must. Steal. Chris. Pine!)
