Second Chances
Chapter Four
…
"Lights."
It took more strength than Spock thought it would to say it, but finally, he did, the computer illuminating the room in full. McCoy's voice echoed back into his thoughts, 'dead man' rapping against his skull. For a moment, he couldn't even see the room, his thoughts clouding his vision and making his heart at his side ache uncontrollably.
Steadying himself, physically and mentally, he blinked away the harsh echoes and looked around at the cabin.
Though it was warm, it strangely felt cold. The walls where he had placed antiques and shrouds dedicated to his culture, his counterpart's room bore nothing. Vacant, stale grey. The bed was pushed as far back as possible, concealed by a mesh wall divider that looked almost like prison bars to him, casting a terrible prison-bar-like shadow over the simple bedspread. Mute red. The floor had virtually nothing on it, save the required furniture such as a desk and chair. The room felt lonely, as though his counterpart had spent many nights in this room alone without so much as a Yoeman to come and brighten it up. Or Jim, he thought absently, but bat the thought away when he remembered that his counterpart had had Uhura. Had she ever seen this room? Perhaps the two had spent more time in her quarters than this one? A part of him hoped it was true, because this room was just too clean, too pristine, too—lonely.
He began to look around for the storage of supplies reserved for meditation. Even if his younger self hadn't kept around reminders of his Vulcan heritage, he must have kept some form of candles and incense for meditating. Looking around, he was surprised not to find them in the closet or in the wall-drawers. His last place to look seemed to be the nightstand by the bed. There was a small drawer that looked like it could hold candles. Approaching it, he settled down on to his knees for better access when he came to an abrupt stop. On the nightstand, a lying frame caught his eye. Curiosity appeared to get the better of him as he reached out to the frame and propped it upright. It was strange for anyone with twenty-third century technology to keep pictures instead of holographs, even more so the technology-loving Vulcans, but the contents of the picture helped him to form a hypothesis as to why his counterpart had had it at all.
In the picture was Amanda, his mother, smiling while lying on a couch, and in her arms was a small infant—Spock, sleeping curled in her arms. The picture would have been sweet, nostalgic even, if it weren't for the cracks. At the base of the frame was an indention that fit his fingers perfectly, and then there were cracks at the top right that were symptoms of being thrown. Analyzing the room, Spock observed small flecks of glass towards the closet area in the corner he didn't see before. The picture had indeed, at one time, been thrown. And by the noticeable glass yet to be cleaned up, it had to have been recent.
Spock turned back to the picture, studying it, trying to piece together what might have caused the outburst of emotion. He couldn't think of a time where he might have been angry with his mother, and certainly since her death, his younger self hadn't shown any signs of resentment towards her or himself when speaking about her. It was…odd.
He lacked any further evidence to support any theories, so logically, Spock decided it best to respect the departed and put the picture back on the nightstand, right side up. Then, he opened the drawers to reveal exactly what he was looking for: candles and incense. He took them out one at a time and set up a small spot on the vacant floor until he was certain he had formed a perfect circle with ten lit candles and one incense. Then he settled into the middle of the alien room, ordered the lights out and straightened his back. He breathed for many moments, steadying his heartbeat and reducing the strain on his new body. After silent minutes, he fell into a steady meditation, all emotions vacating his body like watery ink running off paper.
It seemed so easy at first. Meditation being something he had done for decades, but now, it was harder to concentrate than usual. Spock decided to attribute it to the fact that he was resting in a quiet, empty room that spoke of no sign of his counterpart. However, logic soon whittled through his thoughts and told him it was actually due to his new body. Something about it was off, making concentrating on meditation difficult. He attempted several times to regain his focus, trying to clear the unwanted emotions, feeling something like an invisible thread tugging at his mind to prevent him. Spock couldn't explain the feeling, deciding it was a form of anxiety. Thinking it best not to strain the new flesh about his bones, Spock settled into a light meditation. He would attempt something deeper at a later time, possibly in the presence of Dr. McCoy, but for now, this would do. Anything was better than feeling the clutch of both the doctor's and the communication officer's emotional left-overs.
It took many moments, but it appeared to work. Spock found the light meditation just as he needed and relaxed in the ghostly cabin until each candle flickered out of existence.
…
Dead man.
Dead man.
Dead man.
The Vulcan saw his younger counterpart. He was leaned over his science table where the older Vulcan had been working on some experiments for Starfleet. His younger self looked just as uptight as Spock remembered himself to be. The old Vulcan gave a small inward smile and approached him.
Younger Spock didn't move from where he was standing, moving the papers about and adding data to his tricorder. He didn't even look up at his older self until the older Vulcan called his name.
"Spock."
The younger Spock looked up, his deep brown eyes betraying nothing of his heritage as Older Spock reached out with the grace a father might his own son. He almost pitied himself that he never knew the love of a father, and embraced the boy's cheek in hopes to convey the love and warmth he felt from seeing his younger self obtain the opportunities he had been deprived in his universe. A father's love. The younger Vulcan's eyes shut smoothly, and his breath hitched. His younger self didn't seem to mind the touch, so Elder Spock decided to test his boundaries a bit further, bringing his younger self towards his breast into a light embrace.
His younger self stilled in the touch, but slowly began to relax as their breathing began to match. Then slowly, and after many moments of nothing, his younger counterpart reached his arms up and placed them tightly about his older self. Elder Spock secured the embrace. The younger Vulcan increasing strength too, until it seemed that both wanted to be pulled inside the other. Many more minutes passed, the hold remaining firm until Elder Spock heard small whimpers on his shoulder.
It was harder to pull younger Spock away than he thought it would be, but he succeeded after a few tugs at the boy's arms and finally revealed his younger face to the cool air around them.
Tears stained the younger Vulcan's cheeks.
"I am... afraid." Younger Spock admitted. Elder Spock's heart thrummed a hard beat as he took his younger self back into the strong hold.
"I am with you now. There is no need to be afraid."
"It is cold… and dark."
"You are in error, my younger self. We are in my studies. The New Vulcan suns are bright and warm. Open your eyes." He felt Spock struggle in his arms.
"I… cannot."
"You must try."
"I… I am sorry. I… cannot." Elder Spock felt the younger Vulcan tremble in his grip. Almost feeling panic rise in his throat, the older Vulcan removed himself, grasping Spock by the shoulders to stare him in the face. Younger Spock's eyes were screwed shut, obvious pain written on his face. Elder Spock shook him once, trying to get him to open his eyes, feeling the strong urge to keep telling him to open them, but they did not. When several moments passed, Elder Spock's worry deepened and with that, so did his shakes.
"Spock!" On his last and final shake, he had apparently done it too hard. His eyes went wide, his heart sinking into his hips as he watched in slow motion every fiber of his younger counterpart's being turn into sand. Elder Spock reached out, trying to grasp him as he fell into pieces around him. It was for naught. The younger Vulcan slowly crumbled like wet sand, until he lay in tiny grains among the dark floor.
He could only stare.
Spock's eyes shot open with the fierceness he hadn't known since his childhood days. He gazed up at the ceiling above him, registering it as the same stale grey he remembered from earlier. His brow was clammy, and his limbs heavy, but there was no doubt that what Spock had just experienced was what Humans called a nightmare.
Spock sat up in the bed. His body's natural cooling system was struggling to regulate his body temperature, symptoms of tossing and turning while asleep. When his skin met the air around him, it made him feel cold, so Spock brought the covers up and over his naked shoulders for warmth. He stared down at the bed where his knees made peaks in the covers, and then his gaze was slowly brought up to his own hands. For some reason, he felt the need to make sure everything around him was real. Vulcans didn't often dream, and nightmares were practically unheard of in their culture. Was his Human half to blame for this?
The dream was still fresh in his mind, so the Vulcan tried to catalogue and save any data he could fathom on the occurrence. He had dreamed of his younger self and himself fighting for something. What were they fighting for? His mind sat stagnate on the images for some time, until finally, and sleepily, Spock could think no more. This was silly. Dreams were not so unheard of that this was of any significance, and it was probably attributed to the fact that he had gone to bed without any sustenance with the thoughts of a recently departed Vulcan on his mind. Though strange, it was illogical to think of it as anything else. Clearly, Spock was hungry and unVulcanly upset. The dream meant nothing. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself up until he lied back down and tried again for a peaceful rest.
…
Spock walked from his cabin with a bit of uneasiness in his steps. He would not say that he had tried to leave quickly, but certainly his pattern of stride had increased over the days in direct correlation to his dreams, making his departure from the cabin twelve percent quicker than any other time he had exited.
The halls around him were bustling with morning life as off-duty crew made their way to bed and the morning crew made their way to their stations. Before Spock would go to his station himself, he decided it best to eat something. The night before had made him weary and logically having food in his stomach would help to remedy the situation. Dressed in his proper uniform, Spock descended the halls for the turbolift.
He mentally noted that since his 'break-up' with Lt. Uhura over two weeks ago, the rumour he was available had spread through the female crewmembers not unlike wildfires on Vulcan. Making his way to the turbolift, he had counted a minimum of twelve ladies who had given the type of look often referred to as flirtatious. The soft fluttering of eyelashes, the quiet and sincere voices, the new hairstyles and make-up. It was illogical to deny his aesthetics if women approved of them, so he only nodded and conceded to the fact that he was considered handsome by some of the females on board the Enterprise. Oh, and one male, that he was aware of.
Back in his own universe, Spock vaguely remembered his bouts with the female populace. Being the first Vulcan to enlist in Starfleet, he had attracted many men and women, all who claimed him handsome. One woman who really believed this was a tall blonde named Leila. Looking back on it, it was no wonder he had been attracted to her as well as her to him. She was tall, masculine for a woman, with bleach blonde hair, and strong features. In all respects, she was the female version of the blonde cadet he refused to acknowledge attraction for: Cadet James Kirk.
After working in Starfleet and later becoming the first officer to this boisterous cadet, he still had many bouts with multiple men and women, some of which seemed to be encouraged by his captain. However, though the memories served to remind him that there would be those who would always find him aesthetically pleasing, Spock had not been prepared for the shear onslaught of attractions his counterpart would receive. It seemed that in this reality, Spock was considered an unattainable sex icon throughout the Enterprise.
Humans may have viewed his thoughts as smug, but Spock found it illogical to deny facts. He was hot.
Spock entered the turbolift, unknowingly taking with him a passenger he hadn't expected. Once it started, his vision became full of Ensign Jacqueline Russo, a tall, curvy, dark-haired woman with hazel eyes and a skin-tight red uniform. In his universe, Ensign Russo had been considered one of the most beautiful woman on board by the men, and in this universe, it appeared no different if her bold pose was anything to judge by. She sauntered her hips and placed her hands at her sides in such a way to give Spock a view of her curvy body. When she spoke, her voice sounded soothing with an Italian brogue he was unfamiliar with.
"Commander Spock," she began, her full lips showing how plush they were with each syllable.
"Ensign Russo." Spock acknowledged back.
Her eyes flicked him up and down, very unprofessional like. "Perhaps you can help me settle something that's been spreading among the gossip lines."
"I am no stranger to gossip, Ensign, however, I do not contribute to it." Her smile seductively widened.
"Of course not, Commander, but I assume you would know the truth behind any gossip that involves yourself." The Vulcan inclined his head in a manner to suggest that he would. She continued. "For the past two weeks there's been rumour that you and Lt. Uhura are no longer a couple. Now, I've heard this rumour spread before, so I'm reluctant to give it credit, but I must admit that even I have noticed the lack of audience with her. Does this rumour hold any legitimacy?" Why wasn't the turbolift fast enough?
"That is a personal matter, Ensign, and not one I am inclined to accept or dismiss willingly. As you know, Starfleet urges professionalism on starships and romantic anonymity to remain an anonymity." She nodded and moved her body so that she was standing beside him. Her long, wavy dark hair was coincidentally out of uniform regulation and draped across her shoulders and back.
"Let me guess, she dumped you?" Spock said nothing, only stared at the doors in hopes that they would open soon. Ensign Russo wasn't an unappealing woman, it was just that he didn't have time to play Human love games, at least not with her. He decided to end it.
"For personal reasons, I ended our courtship. Lt. Uhura understood and we went our separate ways. I am not looking nor am I inclined to search for another woman to take her place at this moment and would be gratified if you and any others in the gossip chain would cease your rumours." The answer appeared to startle Ensign Russo. Her eyes went a little wide and her pouty mouth taking on an 'o' shape. It was another few seconds before anyone spoke.
"Forgive me, Commander, I didn't mean to offend you."
"There is no need, Ensign, I am Vulcan and therefore can not be offended, however, the same can not be said for Lt. Uhura and I am certain rumours like these do not please her." At that moment, the turbolift doors finally opened, allowing Spock to make his escape to the Mess Hall. Once he stepped from the confines of the turbolift, Ensign Russo held the doors open in order to call out to him one last time.
"Commander Spock," he stopped and only turned his head to give the impression he was listening, "I thank you for your honesty, but if you are convinced gossip won't offend you, then I'm almost certain you haven't heard the latest rumour about yourself." Reluctantly, Spock turned to face her. What was she talking about? Her lips curled into a beautiful smile again. She had his attention. "There's word you left Lt. Uhura for another."
"Hardly seems worth my acknowledgment, Ensign." She gave a tiny giggle.
"Yes, it does seem insignificant, and normally it would be since it's all hearsay, but the rumour I heard wasn't that it was another woman. I heard it was a man." When Spock looked at her again, his Vulcan civilities told him he could not lie, but there was no way he was going to give that away to her. He schooled his face, almost giving off an expression of annoyance and began off.
"I am not concerned, Ensign, as rumours like that have followed me as long as I have served in Starfleet." He left her on that note, giving the impression he had business elsewhere and not enough time to play on the playground with her. When he turned a corner, he saw her out of the corner of his eye her shaking her head with a smile that one might call devious. Of course, the new younged Vulcan had given nothing away that he as aware of and decided it best to ignore her.
Logical.
Now that he was no longer in the scrutiny of Ensign Russo, Spock allowed himself to relax marginally. There wasn't a real reason to be so concerned with her nor the rumours she had provided to him. It was true what he had said, after all. Rumours like that had been following him ever since he first enlisted into Starfleet. First it was Ensign S't'olle, a man who had managed to befriend him over sciences. Then there was Captain Pike, because they had been close in their professional and private lives, and a few others had been peppered in from time to time, but more from girlish fantasies than any actual proof. It was an entertaining thought that while he served on the Enterprise no one had ever questioned his feelings for Captain Kirk. It had taken many years, after his travels to complete Kolinahr on Gol, before anyone began to question his and Jim's 'friendship'. But little did they understand that there really hadn't been anything between them. Perhaps they both had been in love, it was just too much a risk to chance their professional careers—or perhaps it had only been one-sided. The thought brought a sense of gloom to his eyes. Though it was a possibility like all the other ideas, its chances of being true were the highest. He found himself feeling thankful that at least in this universe, in this body, he could get a second chance—and lucky for him that Jim had reciprocated.
He internally thanked his departed younger counterpart.
The moment the Mess doors swished open, Spock's normal face set itself back into its usual stone. He had no more desire to think about what could have been and what wasn't. He was here now, and he did know that Jim loved him back, it was all just a matter of proof and time now before he could relish in its warmth. Nothing spurred on that desire more than when Spock glanced around the Mess and saw the captain and Dr. McCoy enjoying their breakfast together. It was just like old times to him, and since the young doctor was present, Spock now had an excuse to gather his breakfast and join them. It wasn't the right time to chance being alone with the captain just yet. No matter how much he wanted to be.
After gathering his breakfast tray of fruit from the Mess replicator, Spock walked to the table inhabited by his fellow superior officers and sat down in front of them. Dr. McCoy offered a small roll of his eyes while Jim gave a beautiful smile.
"So you do eat breakfast." Jim stated, "And here I thought Bones's been lying to me all these years!" It was true that this was the first time Spock had eaten in the presence of his captain since coming aboard and knew very little of his younger counterpart's eating habits, but surely the captain and he had eaten together for breakfast before?
"That is illogical, Captain. Vulcans are known to eat three meals a day just as the Humans." He told him while lifting a fork of fruit to his mouth. Jim offered a small chuckle.
"You wouldn't know it with how often we catch you in the labs than we do in the Mess." So his counterpart had decided to deem his work more logical than spending time with his captain. How odd since Spock knew in his universe he would spend any time he could with Jim, that didn't look so obvious, of course. From empty rooms, to nearly absent stations and possessions, Spock was beginning to wonder if his counterpart had been enjoying his time serving on the Enterprise at all. Certainly when he had told his younger self to do what 'felt right', he hadn't meant to imply that the boy should sacrifice his own happiness just because an older version of him told him to. This weighted heavy on Spock's mind. He was, after all, in an alternate universe, the rules that had applied to his timeline didn't necessarily apply to this one. Perhaps he had been wrong…
"Spock?" The newly younged Vulcan looked up, trying his best not to look so startled at the call of his name. The looks on both the doctor's and the captain's face were enough to inform him that they had called him more than once. "Are you okay?" Jim continued, a weak smile and slight furrowed brows appeared. "For the past few days you've seemed really out of it." The sentence was an innocent one, there was absolutely no reason for his heart to skip a beat and a clot form in his throat. Looking at Dr. McCoy, it appeared he wasn't the only one flustered over the completely-not-in-any-way-accusing sentence.
"I am Vulcan." Spock defaulted, taking a casual bite of his fruit. "You must be in error, Captain. Vulcans do not appear 'out of it' as we are more logical and organized in our thought patterns than Humans." A sharp blow struck his shin, but Spock kept his firm posture and stone-like features. Bones had coincidentally yawned at the precise moment he was struck and was currently glancing away with a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was no doubt in his mind that the doctor had decided his Vulcan ego needed a little more shattering.
"Yeah," Jim agreed with a small stifled laugh, "silly me to keep assigning you illogical Human traits, Spock." It was a quip like any other, and yet there was an unspoken sadness behind it. Before Spock could analyze the sentence any further, Jim stood up with his tray. His overexcited ego was in full flair and grin as wide as possible. "Just try to get more sleep, okay? I can't have my strong, sturdy, Vulcan first officer falling down on the job."
"I shall endeavour to increase my rest period, Captain, should you feel it necessary." He nodded his head in approval, but the captain didn't acknowledge him any further, simply giving a smile and heading out of the Mess. When he was completely out of earshot, a loud, distinct southern drawl forced its way through Vulcan ears.
"So you'll do it when Jim tells you but screw what the damn doctor has to say on the matter!" Spock took another casual bite of his fruit.
"You are speaking nonsense, Doctor."
"Don't toy with me, you ice-blooded, asshole! You know damn well that I've been trying to tell you to get more rest since we beamed back on board! And from the looks of it, you're so damn obvious with your lack of rest that even your captain is beginning to notice!" Spock tried his best to hide a faint smile.
"I am not surprised to garner his notice."
"Well, I am!" Bones interjected angrily but still managing to keep his voice in a whisper, throwing his fork down on his tray at the same instance. "If he keeps eyeing you like he does we're going to be in a shitload of trouble!" he slammed his fist to further grab the Vulcan's attention, "All it's going to take is for him to see one thing that isn't right, one thing that reminds him of you—the older you—and it's game over!" This was true. The fact that Jim had asked if he was okay did imply that he was noticing irregularities, but the captain was also aware of his still recent 'trauma' and 'memory loss'. Though the doctor had every right to be worried, the more logical assumption would be that Jim was still concerned for his health via the problems encountered on New Vulcan, so there was no need for alarm. Spock told Bones as such.
"It's becoming very apparent to me that you don't know Jim." Bones warned, moving his tray aside so he could rest his palms on the table. That sentence strangely irritated the Vulcan, but he didn't show it. "I don't know how different he is when comparing him to your Jim Kirk, but this Jim Kirk has a keen eye on him and he was also practically stitched to Spock's hip before the whole crazy storm down on New Vulcan. It's only a matter of time before he realizes you're not the same—you're not his Spock—and comes to terms with the fact your relationship has changed." The more Spock listened to him, the more the Vulcan became aware that anger was rising in his throat. His quickly threw the emotion aside, but found it lurking in the shadows of his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was calm and cool, but he words were laced with slight tension.
"Then what do you propose we do, Doctor?" Bones stared at him, but Spock barely noticed it since he kept his eyes firmly on his half-eaten fruit tray.
"Propose? I propose you give up this damn charade before you not only hurt Jim, but yourself! You're just not Spock." The Vulcan's chair slid out from under him so loudly that he managed to make the Mess fall into silence. Spock stood, eyeing the doctor with evenness only a Vulcan could control. His lips were drawn in a thin line and eyes piercing into the brown ones of the younger doctor. It took most of his strength to keep him from shouting, but the new commander managed it with his years of experience.
"I have said this before, and I will say it again," Spock began in a hushed tone that only Dr. McCoy could hear, "I. Am. Spock. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?" The stare off lasted a complete thirty seconds. Bones huffed and crossed his arms stubbornly, wholly ignoring the Vulcan's unspoken threat, knowing he had numbers on his side since they couldn't really discuss this in public.
"Yeah, you're Spock alright." He grumbled under his breath. Then he turned his dark eyes strictly to the Vulcan's and held them tightly. "But you'll never be his Spock. Our Spock." Anger encompassed his mind, but Spock knew it was only his younger counterpart's inexperienced body trying to fathom his experienced mental techniques. Control appeared to grace him as instead of letting the anger prove him more unVulcan than his display at his own funeral, Spock turned on his heels and paused.
"Good day, Doctor. I shall see you in the briefing room in one hour for our next assignment. I do believe our breakfast is finished. If you will excuse me…" And with that, he left the Mess, not even bothering to give the doctor a proper salute of any kind, or even an optical acknowledgement. Anger was developing inside him so quickly that Spock didn't mind he'd left his tray on the table. He needed to meditate. Now, lest he wished to make a fool of himself in front of the entire crew he'd only known once. It was good that no one stood in between him and the turbolift, his feet were walking nearly on instinct and his mind was practically blind with the fumes of the unwanted Human emotions. When the turbolift doors shut around him, only then, did he allow himself to finally breathe.
…
No matter how hard he tried, a deep meditation eluded his grasp. Spock had managed to control the anger and tuck it away, bringing back a sense of strength and power to his Vulcan half, however, Spock could not lie to himself. It was illogical. He had experienced anger, hatred, and jealousy all in one sitting—simply because Dr. McCoy was fearing of being caught and worse, hurting Jim. The doctor had been right to voice his concerns, Spock had needed to know them, but it didn't help bandage the wound McCoy had opened since this had all began.
"You're just not Spock."
Could it be true? Was he nothing more than a shadow of a universe that would never be again? Dead man. No. That couldn't be true. What was so different between him and his younger self? What was so different that when Jim kissed him it could have only been for his counterpart and not him? Was he not Spock? Was he not half-Vulcan and full of illogical pipe dreams of a dual-heritage? Did he not love his mother and mourn her death just as his counterpart had done? By that logic there was no difference! He was Spock! The body made no difference, and their minds were so alike that only a select few could see him as his katra was. Dr. McCoy was simply blinded by his Human emotions. Yes. Logical. His opinion on the matter couldn't be trusted, Spock deduced and nodded his head in physical approval.
However, though he told himself this truth and knew logically that he was Spock, had always been Spock, and would forever be Spock, somewhere in the back of his mind fluttered the smallest butterfly of doubt. It was the same doubt he had felt back on Gol before the Kolinahr Masters almost granted him his logic and acceptance as a full Vulcan. Looking at the tiny butterfly, Spock was overcome with mental grief to crush it, and when he went to, he found the mental butterfly glowed a bright white and Spock stopped his mental self from crushing it. He instead hovered a ghostly mental hand over it and was surprised not to see flutter away in fright. Something told him not to crush it, but there was no way he could accept it. Despite wanting to end it's metaphorical life, Spock found himself blowing the butterfly away to the depths of his consciousness and bringing himself out slowly from his meditation. It had been light, so it took little strength, but Spock still wished it could have been deeper and with less imagery.
"I will crush you at some point." Spock warned the butterfly of doubt, noting how illogical it was to speak to something non-existent, "But today, I shall let you live."
…
Spock walked the corridors confidently. Since he managed even the slightest of meditation, he felt much better, and well rested compared to earlier. Though a little hungry, the Vulcan paid it no mind to complete his transit to the briefing room where he knew the captain, the doctor, the engineer, and the communications officer would be waiting. Their next mission had just arrived from Starfleet Command twenty hours previous and after glancing at its contents, the captain had told him and the others to be ready for a briefing. It was now the appointed time and Spock was anxious to learn what it was. Anything would be better than allowing him any more time to sit with his thoughts.
Upon arrival to the briefing room, Spock was brought to a halt when he noted that he and the doctor had managed to arrive at the same time. Neither one moved when they noticed the other, the doctor's Human features showing something equivalent to shame and uncertainty. Spock simply stood, placing his hands firmly behind his back and gracefully arched his brow in hopes either the doctor would say something or move. While standing there, Spock couldn't stop himself from feeling a bit of his own shame at his actions. His face gave a small flush. It was many moments before anyone spoke. It was not unexpected that McCoy began first.
"Listen," he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about what I said in the Mess this morning." Brown eyes kept themselves away from Spock's. "It doesn't matter if it was how I felt or not, it was—well, it was wrong. There's more than one way to skin a cat and I managed to do it the one wrong way." Before he could continue, Spock held up his hand as a gesture of quiet.
"No apologies are necessary, Dr. McCoy." In all sincerity, the fact that the doctor pushed himself to apologize at all brought him a form of delight that quelled the silent anger into a faint ember.
"I swear to god, if your next sentence begins with 'Vulcans don't insert some Human illogical trait here', I'll wring your neck! It took a lot of my pride to apologize to you!" But Spock didn't say that, or even look as though he was going to imply it. After many more moments of silence, Spock allowed himself a small quirk of the lips as he leaned forward and whispered into the doctor's ear.
"You are a loyal friend of both universes, Leonard, and for that, I thank you." Bones' face was the lightest shade of red when the Vulcan pulled away, the doctor's eyes looking everywhere but at him. As if rubbing his ear would somehow make the whispered words disappear, McCoy brushed his head several times and nodded.
"Don't mention it." McCoy was left little recovery time since they both had a briefing to attend, so Spock bowed his head marginally to signal Bones he could enter first. After a second of deliberation, the doctor accepted and both entered the briefing room one after the other.
Upon entering, Mr. Scott, Lt. Uhura, and the captain were already present. The table was small but could hold six people, so the addition of Dr. McCoy and the new commander didn't make the seating arrangement tighter. Now together, Jim gave his best, professional smile and motioned for everyone to take a seat and ready themselves. As Spock sat, he suddenly felt a strange form of déjà vu, but blinked it away since he knew that he'd been in a setting like this many times and it would be illogical to think he wouldn't have to repeat some parts of his life over again. He was reliving his life through the virgin life of his counterpart. It was only logical.
Jim decided to begin and took from the table a dataPADD. "Alright, now that we're all here and all settled, let's begin, shall we?" Everyone turned their attention to him pointedly. "I've chosen all of you to come to this briefing for a reason, but I'll get to that in a moment. Let's begin with what Starfleet Command decided to shove on us this time." His smile was a good indication that the next mission was going to be something no one wanted to do, but obviously Starfleet had assigned it to them because they just happened to 'be in the area' again. The captain paced for a short moment, then started back up. "We're currently en route to a small star system in a neutral zone. In this star system is a Class M planet named Halkan, and Starfleet has set up negotiations with their high councilman Tharn to speak with us about mining rights. You see, the planet is rich in dilithium, and I do mean rich, so it's Starfleet's best interest that we negotiate with them before some other species walks along and finds this discovery. It could bring these peaceful people danger and Federation protection would be in their benefit." As the captain continued, Spock fell into thought. 'Halkan' sounded very familiar to him, like a little red flag was popping up in his mind to warn him of something he should remember. When he drew a blank, the Vulcan decided it was just a routine mission he had done once before and thought nothing of it. It was then Jim began to explain why he had chosen them specifically.
"Spock, I want you to remain here on the ship and run scans of the planet for Starfleet. Keep them up to date on just how much dilithium the Halkans can offer and give them an estimate on how much protection the planet could need."
Spock nodded in approval.
"The rest of you are going to join me in the landing party. Uhura's linguistics will allow us to make sure we don't absently flip them off; Bones' medical expertise may be needed since the planet is known for it's strange flora and airbourne toxins; and Scotty, you're just an awesome guy who can really help represent the Federation. Your knowledge in technology may also benefit them since they read to be primitive, and we can offer peace by establishing a solar generator for their people." Everyone appeared to be in agreement, though Spock still couldn't shake a strange feeling welling up inside him. "All we know is that the Halkans are unusually peaceful and may require a push into our direction, so stay alert, put on your friendliest smiles and be ready for beam down in four hours. Savvy?" Everyone nodded. "All data will be transferred to your personal dataPADDs for review. Dismissed."
All stood on cue to excuse themselves, except Spock. He remained in his seat for a few seconds longer than the others, drawing the ship's doctor's notice.
"Nervous?" He asked in a low voice. Spock shook his head minutely in reply.
"I am experiencing a small form of what you Humans term 'déjà vu'. I do believe I have done this mission before, but an important aspect of it eludes me." Bones shook his head and smiled.
"You probably have. Don't stress on it so much. I'm sure if it were anything terribly important you'd have remembered it by now. Relax, you look a little on edge." He indicated it by shaking his shoulder a little, but his hand was a little unsteady and the pat quick like he didn't want to be seen doing it. But it looked like he was seen anyway when Jim's worried brow moved to them.
"Everything okay?" The captain asked after Uhura and Scotty took their leave with curious eyes. He looked down at the Vulcan still sitting in the chair, his eyes showing worry and emotion.
"He's fine, Jim. His head's just giving him a little trouble. Headaches and whatnot." It was good the doctor had decided to lie for him, because Spock honestly didn't want to tell Jim that he was feeling a strange anxiety about their mission and explain it was because he felt he had done it before.
"I figured he wouldn't be ready for a beam down mission yet." Jim confirmed with an easy smile, one might even say was affectionate. "That's why I thought it'd be best to keep him on the ship for this mission. Don't want to over do it."
"Captain," Spock interrupted, "if you still believe me unfit for duty—"
"I don't think that, Mr. Spock." Jim told him quickly. "I know you and your Vulcan stamina could probably make you an invincible warrior, but with all the emotional stress you've been enduring since you've come back, I just don't want to see you emotionally compromised and find my neck appealing again." He winked and Spock felt himself barely flush. Though it hadn't really been him who had tried to strangle Jim, the thought of what the captain must have looked like struggling under his counterpart's grip, writhing for air and making the most beautiful, pleading faces quickly placed his thoughts towards the more eroticism of it. He gulped, he really shouldn't be thinking about such violent acts as sexually alluring. But something about seeing the great captain James Kirk writhe underneath him, pleading him to make their bodies and minds one… Spock quickly shut the mental door on it. This was not the time.
"Captain," Spock began again in a sensual voice that he immediately corrected, "I am Vulcan. I can assure you that I will not become emotionally compromised with any mission you assign to me."
"Great." Jim beamed with another large smile, pulling the Vulcan to standing by grasping his upper arm. "Then you'll have no trouble scanning Halkan for data." Their eyes caught when Spock was finally vertical. Jim's hand was still playfully around his upper arm, the heat of his skin seeping onto Spock's chilled body. He was uncertain how long they stood there like that since peering into those deep blue eyes was like the most intoxicating substance, but the other person in the room made it clear he was still around with a loud clearing of his throat. Jim instantly released him, blushing, and turned away.
"See you on the Bridge, Spock." He added under his breath and then nodded to the doctor before heading out of the briefing room. Spock internally sighed at the loss. For a moment, he had felt whole again.
…