Sequel to 'Requiem for Methuselah'.

Part two

Note: I'm a big fan of Spock and TOS but I really don't have a grasp of the science behind it nor Vulcan mythology...

Jim Kirk lay in bed in the semi dark. Having given up on sleep, he stared at the ceiling, his attention drawn to the shadowy recesses in it. He was frowning at them, actually; he couldn't quite understand how anyone could sleep in the same room for over three years and not notice the strange angles present in his own ceiling.

There were lots of things he didn't know, apparently. He didn't know this room, he didn't know the people he worked with -

But he didn't want to think about that. Instead, he closed his eyes and covered them with his arm. It didn't help much; what he needed was a sleeping aid. One call to Sickbay would have solved this little problem, but any request from him would have go to Dr. McCoy, and Jim didn't want to talk to him right now; not after the conversation they'd had earlier that day.

Jim had confronted him just like he did Spock but unlike the first Officer, Bones had been less than repentant.

"You can't put my loyalty into question!" he'd snapped before Jim could finish. "My opinions were harsh -I grant you that; I said more than I should have -yeah, probably. But I'm not taking anything back!" He waved at Jim's computer, "And if you believe I goaded Spock into taking a chunk of your memory, all I can say is: I'm not sorry he did!"

"Is that all you have to say?" Jim had asked sternly.

But instead of replying, McCoy studied the image of Spock touching Jim's temple.

"Good God," he muttered. "No wonder you were back on your feet so soon." He looked up. "You haven't showed him this, have you?"

"No," Jim said curtly.

"Good. I don't think he'll want to talk about it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know what he did is highly irregular, don't you?"

"Irregular?" Jim said incredulously. "That's not the way I'd put it!"

"From a Vulcan's point of view, I mean."

"I know that a Vulcan must ask permission before making contact with somebody," Jim said angrily; "He didn't ask for any. He stole my memories, my pain -"

"Oh, your pain," McCoy scoffed. His dismissal took Jim by surprise and he knew it. "You won't be getting much sympathy from me, Jim," he said dryly. "Let me ask you this," he added. "Do you remember Gary Mitchell?" He paused, but not enough to let Jim answer. "Do you remember Carol Marcus? Or Talaya, or Megan 4, or Ceilita Kumax -"

"Yes," Jim said, frowning.

"They were your lovers, Jim. Each one of them. Once upon a time."

"I know."

"And you were devastated after they were gone," McCoy said. "Sometimes it looked like you'd never recover," he added. "And yet you fell in love again. And again."

"What are you saying?" Jim said hotly. "That my feelings for Rayna weren't genuine? Or that I didn't love Carol, or -"

McCoy raised a hand.

"Relax, Jim; that's not what I'm trying to say here. I'm just trying to make you see this from a different perspective; you know, before you barge into Spock's room and accuse him of disloyalty or worse. Jim, there have been times when you were so immersed in your personal pain you couldn't quite function as a leader. Spock's covered for you every time. He didn't mind. But this time your pain was too overwhelming for even him to ignore. He was only trying to help you." Bones looked at the screen again. He shook his head. "Poor Spock."

"Poor Spock?"

"Jim, Spock didn't 'rob' you. What he did wasn't as simple as removing something and discarding it, like a tumor. He shared your pain. He assimilated it, then gave it a place within himself."

Jim looked at the screen again.

"Is that what he did?"

Bones nodded.

"That's what a Vulcan does."

---

Jim rolled out of bed and paced about his room.

He'd spent the entire day like this, it seemed -restlessly looking for something to do while fate thwarted him every time. The day had been excruciatingly uneventful.

At one point he had even demanded that Sulu and Uhura checked and double-checked their instruments after they failed to detect anything out of the ordinary. Not that it made any difference; there was nothing out there, only space, infinite and peaceful.

Where were Klingons when you needed them?

At least Spock hadn't been on the bridge; it was Wednesday, the day he'd set aside to perform his duties as Science Officer. With him gone, Jim was able to put off their last conversation and its possible consequences.

He still didn't want to think about it.

Jim Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise, celebrated for his capacity to solve entire civilizations' troubles, was sadly unfit to deal with his own. Introspection just wasn't his forte. Whenever a moral issue arose in the course of his job, he let Bones and Spock discuss it between themselves, with him acting as a mediator. He'd made lots of decisions, based on their input but unfortunately, he couldn't turn to them for help this time.

Jim took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Damn," he muttered. Hard to believe things had come to this. All he'd wanted from Spock was an apology. A simple, 'I'm sorry,' would have placated him. Instead –

Jim cut that train of thought by turning to his computer. He needed something to distract him from his present dilemma.

"Any messages?" he said.

"Thirteen," the computer announced. "Two from Commodore Orlan; one from First Officer Spock; one from -"

"Stop," Jim said, "Proceed with Mr. Spock's message."

Spock's image was displayed on the screen.

"Good day, Captain," he said formally. "Regarding our last conversation, I have compiled a list of candidates for the position of First Officer. I am sending it to you on a separate file. Should you require more information on the subjects, I shall provide it immediately."

"End of message," the computer said. "Shall proceed with messages from -."

"Stop," Jim said. He stood motionless for a moment, then mechanically walked back into his bedroom, taking off his pajamas as he went.

---

Spock rose to his feet when the door opened, then straightened up when he saw it was the Captain.

Jim noticed Spock was wearing a black tunic, the one he wore whenever he did his meditation. Obviously, he wasn't getting any sleep either.

"This isn't a bad time, I hope," Jim said.

"No, Captain."

Jim let the door close behind him.

Spock was staring ahead, standing at attention as if this were an official inspection and not a visit from a fellow officer.

"At ease, Spock," Jim said good-naturedly.

"Thank you, Captain." But he didn't relax one bit.

Jim thought of their first encounter, all those years back. Spock had been extremely formal with the new Captain, pointedly resisting each and every one of Jim's friendly overtures. That Spock's attitude did eventually change was a testament to Jim's efficiency as a Captain. Simply put, Jim won him over. They became friends too, though there was a part of Spock not even Jim could reach. Vulcans were a secretive race, and Jim had accepted that fact a long time ago.

Which made Spock's sudden confession all the more difficult to understand.

Spock, of all people!

Jim didn't know what to do. He knew that telling Spock to forget the whole thing was not an option -it would only make it look like he didn't put any value in Spock's feelings- but so far it seemed like the only thing he could do.

"Spock..." he hesitated, then decided to go straight to the point; "I cannot accept your resignation."

"Permission to speak freely, Captain."

"Permission denied," Jim retorted. If Spock wanted to treat this as a formal meeting, then he would act accordingly. He was gratified to see Spock wince. Softening his tone, he added, "Look, Spock. About our last talk... I was angry; I said things I didn't mean."

"Unfortunately, I meant everything I said, Captain."

"That's not enough to warrant a resignation."

Spock started to look in Jim's direction, then checked himself.

"My behavior was most inappropriate, Captain," he said firmly; "Both as a Starfleet Officer and as a Vulcan. I violated every teaching -"

"Yes, well," Jim muttered. "We all have our bad days."

"You are very kind," Spock said courteously. "I, however, cannot condone my behavior. I wish to apologize for the distress I -"

"Apology accepted."

But his words didn't have the expected effect. Spock seemed more troubled than ever.

"I made some unfortunate comments regarding my personal feelings, Captain. I am deeply sorry."

Jim considered this. "Are you sorry that you made them, or sorry that you have them?" He studied Spock's profile for a moment. "Are you ashamed of those feelings, Spock?"

"I am not," Spock said quietly. He was silent for a moment. "But that is beside the point, Captain. My comments were uncalled for; Regulations are very specific in this case."

"Regulations." Jim said the word as if he despised it.

He felt tired, all of a sudden.

There were a couple of chairs in Spock's quarters, but Jim took a seat on a nearby bench. He sat and after a moment leant back and looked at the ceiling. And as he looked, it suddenly occurred to him that this was a familiar sight -just as if he spent more time here than he did in his own quarters. Maybe he did. He certainly liked Spock's room better; he liked everything in it, from the antiques and the wall coverings, to the faint scent of tea.

It was a peaceful place.

He glanced at Spock, only to find that Spock had been looking at him all along.

Caught staring, the First Officer studiously looked away, but not before Jim saw the naked emotion playing in Spock's eyes. Love. Pure and simple.

It was then that the enormity of Spock's words hit him. 'I have loved,' he'd said. Spock. In love.

Poor Spock.

Spock looked down.

"What troubles me is my lack of self-control," he confessed. "My private views should have remained exactly that: private."

"Even if they involved me?" Jim asked. Spock didn't reply, but Jim didn't really expect him to. He sighed. "Spock… You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Sometimes... Well... Sometimes we can't help ourselves. Love always finds a way to express itself. Not with words, necessarily. What you did… What you said... That took guts, Spock. I have never -" He let the word trail off. His own words saddened him, for a reason he couldn't fathom. He scoffed. "It's ironic, isn't it? Here I am, telling you about love. Compared to you, I guess I don't even know what true love is."

"Your feelings are yours alone, Jim. You should not compare them to others'".

"Can't help it," Jim said softly. He looked down. "I have loved many, Spock."

"Yes."

"I remember what I loved about each one of them..." he added. "And yet... I don't miss them."

"To pine for a love long gone would not be logical," Spock said kindly.

"Is that why you want to leave?" Jim said. "So you can forget?"

"I wish to leave because my judgment has been compromised," Spock said with a frown, as if the answer should be obvious.

"Spock, all you did was say that you loved me. It's not that terrible." he paused. "Why can't you forgive yourself? God knows you've forgiven me, time and time." He saw Spock raise an eyebrow in silent questioning. "Yes, you," Jim said, pointing at him. "And Bones, too, I suppose." He was silent for a moment. "I'm thinking of all the times you covered for me while I was in my rooms, getting over the loss of a loved one. I didn't realize till now -"

"I was only doing my duty."

Jim smiled faintly. "Spock, I'm the only Captain in the fleet who can leave his ship in his first Officer's hands and not worry about losing face." He looked up. "You've spoiled me."

Spock didn't immediately reply. "Whoever replaces me will do his job admirably, Captain."

"But they won't be you."

"An advantage, perhaps."

"No," Jim said quietly. "Spock; I can picture others sitting in that Science Officer chair, and I know that whoever gets the job, will perform to the best of his abilities. But what about friendship? What about… companionship. Love."

Spock looked away.

"Love," Jim said again, and it felt as if he'd never said the word before. Or as if he'd discovered its meaning just now. Maybe he had. He rose. "Spock… For what it's worth… I do love you."

Spock shook his head.

"Jim... No."

"No?"

"I do not want your compassion."

"It's not compassion," Jim said. "Except for me, perhaps," he added wearily. "I've been blind for so long -"

Spock was still shaking his head.

"Jim, this is not necessary -"

Jim smiled a little. "You mean I don't get a chance to tell my side of the story?"

Spock stopped.

Jim took a moment to put his thoughts in order.

It wasn't easy.

"I envy you, Spock," he said at last. "You know what you feel and you act accordingly. My feelings are not as clear. I'm not good with words. I'm a man of action. I..." He paused. He was trying to explain, but didn't know how. Finally, he said, "I own a piece of land in Iowa."

"Iowa?" Spock asked. Clearly, he didn't understand what that had to do with their conversation.

"It's been in my family for generations," Jim explained. "It will be mine for keeps when I retire from Starfleet –if I want it. I just haven't made up my mind about it. My aunt Clara's been after me for years to make a decision. The last time we spoke she asked me why and I… well, I said to her, 'I just don't know if Spock will tolerate the weather.'" He chuckled at the memory.

Spock looked up sharply but didn't say anything.

"She didn't know what I was talking about," Jim said. "Neither did I. I didn't wonder why I was picturing you living in my farm with me, or why it was you and not Bones or Scotty, or Uhura." He shrugged awkwardly, "I'm just not good at examining my feelings."

Spock was stunned. "You asked me," he said . "You presented it as a hypothetical situation, but you did ask me whether I'd want to live in a farm."

Jim smiled.

"And you said you didn't have enough data to make a statement on the matter."

"You did not give me any," Spock said reasonably.

"You're right," Jim said gently. "I didn't. Like I said, I didn't know why I said those things. But it means something, doesn't it?" He looked at Spock. "I never had a better friend. I can't picture life without you in it. I… I could even accept your resignation if you promised you'll be there when I retire."

Spock was too shocked to reply.

Jim reached for Spock's arm.

"I think I know why you want to leave."

Spock gulped. He didn't shake off Jim's hand though. He only looked at it.

Encouraged, Jim took a step closer.

"Sometimes, we see something from afar," he said. "We admire it and cherish it, but only at a distance. We're afraid that if we touch it, it will disappear. Or it will disappoint us." He paused. "I've been afraid all these years."

Emboldened, Jim pulled Spock closer. With his other hand, he gently touched Spock's face. Spock hesitated, then, finally, leant into Jim's embrace.

"I am not afraid anymore."

The end