As You Were (7/10)
A/N: Thanks to JadeMac2442 for the beta.
* * *
He was never good at hiding from his mother. So when Sam quietly came up to her, hours before the start of the ceremony, and told her he couldn't find him, he knew she would know where he had gone.
Winona Kirk also liked to sit in that room, surrounded by George and vacant of him at the same time. So it was no surprise that she found him there, curled on his side, picking absently at one of George's old uniforms. She also isn't surprised that Jim had managed to lose both his tie and his jacket in the process of getting up there. She does not announce her presence to him, merely folded her legs to sit down beside him.
Her dress was not white. She wore white for George. She wore ivory for Frank. It was a small detail, but one Jim noticed now, staring intently at the edges of her dress darkening from the dirt on their storage unit floor. It was less noticeable with the ivory.
After a few moments in silence, he spoke, "Mom? Why are you doing this?"
"I want to be happy Jim," she said, picking at the dark edges of her gown, "Don't you want me to be happy?"
Jim eyes were bright, despite the darkness of the room. "Don't we make you happy, mom? Sam and me?"
Winona nodded, pulling Jim to her and running her fingers through her son's fine blonde hair. "You do. You both do. But it's different with Frank. It was different with your father. Happiness is," she paused, still holding a lax Jim in her arms and pressing her lips to his blonde head, "happiness is having someone you love call you by your name."
* * *
It is late when the last of his mother's guests packed up to leave. Jim does not know how late, but it felt like it had been dark for a long time. Sam was asleep in one of the white chairs and Jim considered poking and prodding at him until he woke up so someone could take him to bed. But he saw his mother, sitting alone in another white chair and went to her. He wanted her to hold him suddenly. She did. She held his hand and curled an arm loosely around his waist.
* * *
His mother had beautiful hands, Spock thought, watching her work the fingertips of them into an earth fruit, peeling the orange skin back to reveal the flesh underneath. They are not like the hands of his father or any Vulcan for that matter. Her fingers were not as long and their color far too white, but Spock thought they were beautiful and when his mother smiled, he believed for just a moment that maybe she could read his mind after all. He took the fruit from her and bit into its sweetness.
Spock blinked, aware at an instant that he was awakened by unnatural means. Uhura stood at the door, much like she did a few days ago, although now there was purpose in her dark stare.
"Spock. You look terrible," She chided gently, handing him a warm beverage. He took the offering from her, careful to avoid touching her hand.
It was tea. Good tea. "Thank you," he spoke between slips of liquid. "This is pleasant."
"You spoke to Jim's mother and brother."
Spock nodded although it didn't sound like a question, "Affirmative, however, they were unable to provide me with any assistance in my task."
Uhura eyed him in her gentle, nudging manner and Spock continued, "Both insisted I am the most qualified candidate to ascertain where Jim has retreated to. As I have continued to be unsuccessful, their assessment is obviously flawed. I have plans to speak with Doctor McCoy tonight."
"Don't tell me it hasn't occurred to you that maybe they're right?"
Spock said nothing, but raised an eyebrow slightly in quiet inquiry.
"How many of these memories that you have been searching through are of you?"
Spock held the beverage gingerly in his hands, letting its warmth seep between his fingers. "There is a danger in doing so."
"Danger?" Uhura sat opposite of him now. Hands to her side. Not touching. ."What sort of danger?"
"Jim and I are not bonded. Although we have developed an initial connection to one another, it has not fully developed into a bond between mates. The deeper I venture into his mind, the harder it will be for me to pull away. I have already begun to unconsciously strengthen our connection even now. Our memories have begun to…comingle."
Uhura shrugged, the discomfort never leaving her eyes. "You love him?" She thought Spock looked a bit uncomfortable as well, but maybe she just wanted him to.
His lack of hesitation surprised even him. "Yes."
"I don't see a problem then, Spock. Go get him." Spock said nothing. There were times when he and Uhura were together where it seemed she understood him implicitly. It was one of the reasons he thought he loved her and although that fact had changed, some things did not. "You're scared," she assessed.
Jim he almost never understood. The feeling was largely shared. His relationship with Uhura was one of comfort, intellectual equality and kindness. With Jim, it was an illogical, all encompassing passion, one that made it hard to direct his emotions, steer his thoughts and tread through his memories. It was because he loved Jim that he was failing him so completely.
Spock flinched at the touch of Uhura's hand. He had not spoken for some time it seemed and struggled for a moment for a response to her words. "Such a bond once created is not so easily sundered."
"You love him."
Unbidden, impatience crept into his voice. "You have already asked this of me."
"I wasn't asking you a question that time, Spock," Uhura said with a sigh. "You love him."
"It is not enough."
"Look Spock," Uhura's tone shifted slightly to that of a lecturing one, "Everybody, humans and Vulcans alike, make all kinds of decisions like this. You think a mother gives birth realizing the enormity of her decision to bring life into this world? We can only go by what we know at any given time. You love him. If you don't try-" Uhura paused, eyes softening at Spock's stilted expression, "I'm sorry Spock, if you think I've misspoke. But if you don't try now, you may not get another chance. When you love somebody you really only have two options, let them know or let them go."
Spock stiffened. "If you are telling me I must let Jim go, I cannot."
Uhura smiled tolerantly and planted a chaste kiss to Spock's temple before rising. "I would never advise you of such a thing, but I am asking you to make a decision."
Focused on Jim's face, Spock did not hear her footfalls as she left.
* * *
"Who I was. Who I am. Who I will be. We're all here. In this room."
Jim rolled his eyes and swiped one of Bones's shots. "No more alcohol for you. God, you're such a maudlin drunk."
Bones grunted and pressed his hands to the side of his head. "You're useless, you know that?"
"I'm useless? I've had to sit here for over an hour while you lament about your failed marriage. If that's the speech you gave Jocelyn, it's no wonder she left you."
"Thank you Jim. That's fucking beautiful. What the fuck was I thinking expecting comfort from you."
Jim rolled his tongue, forming a "tsk" sound on his lips. In his hands, he was balancing the empty shot glass between two long, pale fingers. "She left because she wanted to leave and you left because you had no reason to stay. There's no poetry in that, Bones."
"I did love her, you know."
Jim snorted. "No, Bones, you really didn't. You know why?" Jim continued despite Bones's subtle request that he 'shut the fuck up.' "Because if you loved her, you'd be with her. Simple as that."
* * *
It was September on Earth, meaning soon the oppressive heat of an Iowa summer would die down to something slightly more tolerable than scorching. It was a chilly day in San Francisco, however, as Jim hefted his leather jacket over his shoulders and watched as his crew began loading the new pieces equipment onto his ship.
"Captain."
Jim did not need to turn to know who had spoken. "Spock, you know we have another…two hours of shore leave. You can call me Jim," turning, Jim watched the Vulcan make his way towards him. "Actually, you can call me Jim even if we weren't on shore leave. It's my preference."
To no great surprise to Jim, Spock seemed to ignore his rambling and proceeded to list all the repairs and upgrades made to The Enterprise, both finished and unfinished. Jim scanned the PADD Spock handed to him and nodded. "Looks good to me. I'll have Scotty do some preliminary tests to make sure everything's running smoothly before take off."
Spock gave a slight nod of approval. "That would be advisable, Captain."
"Jim." Kirk had spoken at the same time as Spock, knowing full well his first officer would refer to him by his rank again.
"May I ask why it is so important to you that I refer to you by your name?" Spock asked tonelessly. If Kirk noticed any hint of irritation in Spock's voice, he did not acknowledge it. Instead he shrugged.
"Because it would make me happy."
Spock paused at this and inclined his head. After a moment, Kirk noticed his shoulder slump slightly into a more relaxed position. "Very well then. Good-bye, Jim."
Kirk grinned, "Thank you, Mr. Spock."
"Jim." Spock curled his fingers slightly around the other man's. His voice seemed loud in the utter silence of the room.
* * *
It was a red sunset on Tarsus. Fitting, Jim thought, as he silently made his way to the emergency transporter. He was still clutching the little girl's hand in a grip that had to be uncomfortably tight. She said nothing the whole way and her grip on his hand was equally tight.
Jim had seen plenty of spaceships before. His mom was a Starfleet lieutenant and while he always thought they were impressive, even awesome, they had never looked like angels before to him. He clutched the tiny hand under his and closed his eyes, feeling the wind whip dust over his face as the transporter touched down.
God, he wanted to go home.
* * *
"You taste good," Kirk grunted and as if to confirm this, he traced the grooves of Spock's neck with his tongue. Spock arched, wordlessly giving his approval while simultaneously making it more difficult for Jim to gain access to said neck. Jim, however, didn't seem to mind and sprawled closer, drawn to the Vulcan's warmth.
"You did not finish your oratory for tomorrow's diplomatic talks."
Jim almost laughed. This was Spock's way, to talk about banal things while Jim had his tongue down Spock's "fun places."
"I have a few hours to knock it out tomorrow. Don't worry about it. I work best under pressure," Jim's smirk was incandescent in the dim light. He paused, feeling Spock shift under him.
Spock's eyes were black in the darkness. "You will stay?"
Jim knows that Spock only means for the night, but a part of him clinched at the words anyway. A soft kiss in response, not blatantly sexual, almost shy, if James T. Kirk did "shy."
"To me, you are home."
* * *
"You are getting better at this."
Spock blinked at the expanse of white light. He was not awake. Not in sick bay.
"No." The denial was on his lips before he completed his analysis of the situation. It could not be her, but it could be no one else.
"What are you doing here?" Spock demanded, the white light becoming almost painful now. The Leeran's mind, however, seemed to make up in brute strength where it lacked in refinement and Spock felt the sensation of hands on him, all over him, pushing him backwards.
* * *
Spock blinked awake, gasping. McCoy's arm was in his peripheral vision. "No," he cried, batting away the doctor's hypospray.
"Are you out of your goddamn Vulcan mind?! You almost fucking well died a second ago. What the hell happened?" McCoy roared, nostrils flaring. With some reluctance, however, he set the hypospray down, giving Spock his best unimpressed glare.
Spock took a breath. Then another. Gathering his composure to him like a child wrapping himself in his blanket.
"It was her."
* * *
Next (8/10):
"Spock. You look like shit."
Spock did not turn around, hardly moved at all except to run a dark finger down the front of Jim's hands. "As always, doctor, I appreciate your candidness on this situation."
"Don't give me that bullshit Spock. We all know you're an emotionally retarded bastard," McCoy ran a hand through his mousy brown hair. "Most of the time anyway. Look, there's nothing to goddamn feel guilty about. You're doing all you can."
"It's not my fault you sleep like the dead."
"He will kill you."
"Me though, she'll probably kill me."
Spock turned at this. "I am afraid I have to ask you to clarify as I am uncertain as to what you mean."
McCoy snorted, shaking his head. "Goddamn, you emotionally retarded bastard."
