A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks to all my lovely readers who left reviews. Lately I've been really bad about replying individually to reviews - sorry! Dx - but I promise that I read and appreciate every review left to me!

Just as a quick heads-up, the next chapter might be a little bit late I'm still trying to aim for an update every Saturday though! So please bear with me ^^;

As always, comments and critiques are appreciated!


Chapter Nine

"We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future." - George Bernard Shaw


After that near-disaster of a mission, their "milk run" streak came to an end – only to be replaced by a sudden influx of diplomatic missions, which irritated Jim nearly as much. Not that he didn't enjoy the exotic cultures and the fancy parties they nearly always attended – but for the most part, diplomacy was boring and he hated it.

"We're supposed to be an exploration ship, you know," he grumbled over his breakfast one morning after their third diplomatic mission in a row. "I can't even remember the last time we had a real, decent mission on a nice unexplored planet."

"I do," Sulu replied from across from him, Chekov nodding in agreement from the next seat over. "It was when I almost got my hand bitten off a month ago on Anaxamine III."

"Yeah, yeah!" Jim exclaimed. "The planet with those velociraptor-looking things. See, that's what I'm talking about, that's why we're supposed to be in space, not to go to dinner parties with presidents of planets whose names I can't even pronounce."

"I presume you are referring to our mission on Xmpedj," Spock said, his first contribution to the conversation – Jim scowled as the name flowed easily from the Vulcan's lips. "Their leader was not a president, but was called the Highest of Ones."

"Yeah, whatever," he replied, cramming a forkful of syrup-soaked waffle into his mouth.

"With an attitude such as yours, I am not surprised you find diplomatic missions so distasteful," Spock said dryly. "I am sure the recipients of your attempts at diplomacy find it just as unpleasant."

"Hey!" Jim replied warningly, gesturing with his fork as Chekov and Sulu stifled their laughter. Before he could continue, though, Uhura and Scotty approached their table.

"Morning, guys," Uhura said brightly. "Mind if we sit with you?"

"Go for it," Sulu replied, scooting down the bench and pulling Chekov with him. Uhura squeezed in and Scotty frowned, dismayed – there was nowhere for him to sit.

"Scoot over, Spock," Jim exclaimed. "Here, Scotty, sit here."

"Much obliged, Cap'n," Scotty laughed, sitting down next to him. Jim grinned broadly at the group.

"Gang's all here," he declared, and they all chuckled in agreement (save, of course, for Spock, though his eyes did soften as he glanced over at Jim). The conversation carried on but after a moment Jim's smile faltered – over Sulu's shoulder he could see McCoy sitting down by himself on the opposite side of the room. On his tray was the breakfast the doctor ate nearly every morning for as long as Jim had known him – oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. He suppressed a sigh, feeling suddenly melancholy – which was stupid, he told himself, he shouldn't feel at all bad for him, but thinking it did nothing to change the way he felt.

He was suddenly aware of Spock's warm hand on his knee under the table and he looked away, surprised, to see the Vulcan glancing furtively at him, having obviously followed his gaze. Jim smiled and gave his hand a gentle reassuring squeeze, projecting though the contact, "I'm okay, it's nothing."

Spock studied him a brief moment longer, then pulled his hand away and they turned their attention back to the conversation at hand. Jim suddenly couldn't even fathom why he had felt sad – he had Spock, didn't he? And that alone as more than enough to make him the happiest man alive.


"Sir, I'm receiving a transmission from Admiral Pike," Uhura said towards the end of Alpha shift. Before Kirk could reply she frowned slightly, put a hand to her earpiece and added uncertainly, "He's requesting for this not to be broadcast on the bridge, sir." Kirk furrowed his brows, surprised, but finally replied,

"Patch it through to my briefing room, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir."

He stood from his chair and began to walk towards the small private briefing room on the other end of the bridge, then paused and added,

"Mr. Spock, come with me, please."

"Yes, sir," came the prompt and, to Kirk's discerning ear, slightly surprised reply. They stepped into the briefing room together and the door slid shut behind them.

"Any idea on what Pike could want?" Kirk asked.

"I do not know."

"Well, that makes two of us," he sighed, and he reached for the commlink. It hummed to life and Pike's face appeared on the screen.

"Captain Kirk," he acknowledged quickly, then eyed Spock hesitantly. "...Commander Spock."

"Admiral Pike," Spock replied, tilting his head. Kirk raised an eyebrow, unnerved by the admiral's peculiarly tense behavior, and so he asked without preamble,

"What's this about, Admiral?"

"It's about your next mission," he replied. "I wanted to let you know before the formal orders get sent in. I... To be frank, I don't know if Spock being here is a good idea." The Vulcan simply raised an eyebrow, seemingly unperturbed, but Kirk frowned openly and said,

"Whatever it is, sir, Spock can hear it."

"All right," Pike acquiesced, and he sighed. "Your next mission is on a planet called Gabrilis. It was colonized six years ago with a four-year Federation aid contract. The colony has been doing fine by itself so far, but a sudden crop failure has them facing a massive famine."

Kirk's jaw clenched and he glanced away. Spock noted his reaction and was filled with curiosity, but he kept his gaze locked on the admiral's face on the screen.

"What's worse is that the Federation is offering them assistance, but their leader is refusing to be helped," Pike added grimly, and Kirk looked back at him sharply, his face paling.

"Why?" he said curtly, his voice strained, and Spock became quite concerned. This was, for an unknown reason, having a seriously detrimental effect on the captain.

"That's what we can't figure out," Pike sighed. "And that's why you're going there, to try and talk some sense into him." The older man pinched the bridge of his nose, an action that Spock recognized as a common reaction to stress among Humans. "Look, Jim, I tried to talk them out of giving you this mission, but the admiralty was adamant that you're the man for the job. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be, it's..." Kirk said quickly, then swallowed heavily. "...It's fine."

"You'll be getting the formal orders early tomorrow morning," Pike continued carefully. "It'll take you about three days to reach the planet. Try to take it easy, okay? And if you think it's too much for you – "

"No, no," Kirk interrupted. "No, it's... I'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"...All right," Pike replied, though his expression was one of guarded disbelief. "I just wanted to give you a bit of warning, so that's all I needed to tell you. Good luck."

"Okay," Kirk said slowly. "Thanks for – for letting me know. Kirk out." He turned the commlink off quickly and leaned back heavily in his seat with a deep sigh, closing his eyes. Spock studied him before saying cautiously,

"You are distressed by this mission."

"It's not that, it's just – " he began to protest, then seemed to give up under Spock's disbelieving scrutiny. "...Yeah."

"May I ask why you find it so disturbing?" he asked, and Kirk's expression hardened and he looked away from Spock.

"It's nothing, okay?" he retorted. "It's nothing. Just... don't worry about it." He stood up and took a step towards the door and Spock wanted to question him further – but he remembered once that Kirk had told him that everyone had secrets, had things they did not wish to talk about. This must be one of Jim's secrets, he decided. And Jim had allowed him to keep his own secrets, had not pressured him into speaking of unpleasant things, had trusted him to tell him when he was ready to – so he would show Jim the same courtesy, the same trust. He bowed his head in acquiescence.

Kirk paused in front of the door to the bridge and, looking back at Spock with an unreadable expression, said softly, "Don't tell anyone about this, please."

"...I will speak of it to no one," Spock replied gently, sincerely, and he stepped forward to join the Captain as they walked back onto the bridge.


They had planned to play chess that evening, but when Spock entered Jim's quarters after he had meditated, the chess board was nowhere in sight and the blond man was standing over his desk, looking down at a PADD with a pained expression.

"Are you well?" Spock asked uneasily and Jim jerked his head up to look at him, startled, as if he had not realized he was there.

"Oh, I – um, yeah, sorry. I'm okay, just... just got a bit distracted there. Sorry." He gave a halfhearted, fleeting smile, then hastily put the PADD away. "You know, I, um, I'm not really feeling like playing chess tonight. That okay with you?" Spock suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow – Jim had never turned down one of their chess games before. His behavior had been highly unusual after their conversation with Admiral Pike, and Spock was growing concerned.

"That is acceptable to me," he replied carefully. They stood, looking awkwardly at each other for twelve seconds, then Spock ventured, "Have I done something to displease you?"

"What?" Jim spluttered, obviously surprised. "No, no, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"You have been behaving in a most peculiar fashion in the past several hours," Spock explained, feeling slightly relieved that he had not unknowingly caused some sort of offense. "To be honest, I am slightly concerned."

"Oh – oh, that," Jim said sheepishly with a grimace. He pursed his lips. "Look, I... I'm not sure how to put this." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "This mission has me a little stressed out, is all."

"Which is highly unusual behavior for you," Spock pointed out.

"It's just... It could be dangerous. Starvation can do some scary things to people, you know?"

"Just yesterday morning you were expressing your displeasure at our lack of so-called 'exciting' missions which generally have an element of danger to them, though." Jim frowned and looked away.

"This is different, though," he murmured. "It's okay if it's just dangerous for me, or even the crew, they know what they're getting into. But these are innocent people. Children. I just... I really don't want to talk about it, okay, Spock?"

"I apologize," he relented, knowing he would get no further. "It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay," Jim sighed, and he took a step closer to Spock. "Hey, come here." Spock joined him in the middle of the room and Jim hugged him, burying his face in the crook of his neck like a small child, and Spock rubbed soft, small circles into his back in a way he had learned was comforting for Humans. After one minute and seventeen seconds Jim lifted his head and kissed along Spock's jaw, and he tilted his head forward so that their lips met. He did not think he would ever understand this Human desire for physical contact as a form of stress relief – but neither did he think he would ever complain of it.

Slowly their soft, gentle kiss became more demanding, their movements becoming more forceful, their breath quickening, their tongues meeting, and when Jim pushed against him he allowed himself to be guided across the room.

It was not until Jim had pushed him onto the bed that he fully grasped the situation and he pulled away quickly.

"Jim, please," he breathed, and slowly Jim relented. He stood guiltily for a moment, catching his breath and running a hand over his face and finally he mumbled,

"Sorry, I.. I just – wasn't thinking. Sorry." Carefully Spock stood.

"I apologize, as well, that I cannot accommodate for your wishes," he murmured faintly, forcing his heartbeat to slow to a normal rate. "It is not as bad as it used to be, perhaps soon..." He trailed off, sounding foolish to his own ears, and Jim's expression did not change.

"No, no, it's my fault," he sighed. "I'm pushing you too hard and I should be more considerate. Sorry."

There was an awkward silence that Jim finally broke by saying sheepishly,

"I, uh, I haven't eaten dinner yet."

"It would be wise of you to eat soon."

"Yeah, I know – you've probably already eaten and meditated and stuff already, huh?"

"I have."

"Yeah, it's late. I'll, uh, go do that, I guess. You don't have to stay." He moved for the door and Spock suppressed a frown.

"I will remain here tonight, if you have no objections," he said quickly. Jim smiled feebly, his expression inexplicably pained.

"Sure," he replied softly. "That's fine." He left quickly, leaving Spock to sit down slowly on the edge of the bed.

Whatever was troubling the Captain was beginning to trouble Spock as well. He very much desired to go to Jim's desk and find the PADD he had been so intently observing when he had entered – but he would not. Jim had respected his privacy, and so Spock would do the same for him. He would show him that same courtesy, and he would not betray the trust he was so grateful to have.

He settled himself onto Jim's bed, burying his face in the pillows. He breathed in deeply, reveling in the familiar smell of cotton and the coconut- and sandalwood-scented shampoo that Jim favored. The comforting scent eased his worry, and for a moment it did not matter to him that he was wrinkling his uniform and likely dirtying the sheets with his boots, and everything else seemed to fade away.


Spock woke to the sound of Jim shifting restlessly beside him. It was 0432 and he sat up quickly, uncertain. Jim's eyes were closed, his eyelids fluttering in the telltale signs of REM sleep, his face glistening with perspiration and brows furrowed in distress.

"Jim," Spock said, reaching over to shake him gently by his shoulders – a faint tremor of complete and utter fear trickled through the contact in spite of his shields. "Jim, wake up." The younger man only whimpered slightly in response and Spock hesitantly shook him a little harder. "You must wake up."

The extra jolt seemed to be enough and Jim's eyes burst open, red-rimmed and glistening and he sat up quickly with a strangled gasp.

"You were dreaming," Spock murmured as Jim sat there heaving in frantic, unsteady breaths. "You are safe, you were simply dreaming."

"I know," Jim replied faintly, running a hand down his face. "I... I know." He sucked in a deep breath and held it, forcing his heart to stop hammering frantically in his chest. Slowly he leaned back onto his pillows, Spock staring at him blankly.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" the Vulcan asked carefully, remembering the phrase that Jim had often used when he had had nightmares.

"No," Jim replied quietly, shaking his head, and after a moment Spock lay back down, and after a moment longer Jim followed, curling up against the warm Vulcan body with a shaky sigh. They remained this way for one minute and twenty-one seconds.

"You love me, right?" Jim whispered faintly against his skin. The question took Spock by surprise but he replied gently,

"Yes. Do not doubt it, if that is what troubles you."

"Even if I am just some stupid screw-up from a backwater town in the hicks?" he murmured, disbelief evident in his tone. "Even if I'm worse than that?" Spock frowned and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

"I do not know why you are suddenly thinking about such things, but I assure you that they are not true," Spock said, and Jim pressed his face into the Vulcan's shoulder.

"Maybe they are," Jim mumbled. "Maybe it's true and you just don't know any better." There was a pause, then Spock said,

"I believe that is a thinly veiled insult to my intelligence." He felt Jim smile against his neck and his worry began to dissipate.

"Sorry," Jim murmured faintly. "I'll go back to sleep now before I insult you any more." Spock pressed a kiss to his forehead as he closed his eyes and cuddled closer, breathing easy and deep as slumber slowly reclaimed him.


The official mission was already in at the start of Alpha shift the next morning. Kirk pretended to look interested as Uhura read off the description, then bit his lip and said,

"Chekov, plot a course to Gabrilis, effective immediately. Uhura, forward the mission summary to the rest of the crew. Schedule a debriefing with the senior officers and department heads this afternoon."

"Aye, sir," came the replies. He leaned back in his chair with a barely-stifled sigh and Spock studied him quickly. Perhaps it was simply because he was looking for it, but the captain's distress seemed obvious and Spock wondered if the rest of the bridge crew had noticed – Human body language was difficult for him to read, but if he had picked up on it then surely it was readily noticeable to the other Humans. They did not behave as such, however, which was to be expected. Spock looked away and turned his attention back to his station.

"The course is laid in. We will be there in approximately two days and seventeen hours, sir," Chekov announced, and Kirk nodded once in acknowledgment. He hated sitting around waiting, but he knew that that was exactly what they were going to be doing.

Jim was unusually quiet for the next two days, and no matter how much Spock tried to push it away, his concern for the captain only increased as his uneasy, terse silence continued.

He did the only thing he could do – he was with Jim as often as possible. He sat next to him during mealtimes, spent his off hours in the captain's quarters, held him close as they drifted off to sleep. His efforts proved fruitless, though – Jim remained just as pensive and Spock remained just as worried.

Even more worrisome was that Jim continued to wake in the middle of the night in distress. He always declined Spock's offer to discuss the dreams that troubled him, and Spock did his best not to be, as Humans called it, "pushy". He found having to wake Jim from his nightmares and attempt to comfort him to be highly unpleasant as well – he admitted he had no idea how Jim had managed to deal with him in the first weeks of his return. Jim had only chuckled dryly in response, lips pulled up in a haggard smile and eyes clouded in thought.

The day they were scheduled to arrive at Gabrilis, Jim did not eat breakfast. He sat down beside Spock in the mess hall that morning with only a glass of water, eliciting a furrowing of the Vulcan's brows.

"You are not eating," he commented carefully as Uhura and Sulu chatted amicably across from them. Jim only shrugged, eyes downcast.

"I'm not that hungry, I guess."

"You have been eating considerably less than you normally consume in the past twenty-four hours," Spock said. Jim shrugged again, expression sullen. Spock fought down the urge to frown – this was becoming far too ridiculous for his liking.

When he finished his meal, Spock stood and said briskly, "A word, Captain?" Jim shot him an uncertain glance – Sulu and Uhura looked curiously at him as well – but he kept his expression carefully neutral and slowly Jim replied,

"All right, Mr. Spock." The Vulcan led the way out of the mess hall and a few steps down the corridor, then into an empty briefing room. When the doors slid shut behind them, Spock rounded on Jim and demanded,

"Jim, what is going on?"

"Nothing," the younger man snapped defensively.

"That is the same answer you have given to each of my previous inquiries. I attempted to be satisfied with it but it is no longer an acceptable answer," he replied stonily. "Your behavior has been highly uncharacteristic. I have been only concerned for your sake but your refusal to even acknowledge an issue has, to be quite frank, put a strain on our relationship. If I am to endure this any longer, I believe I deserve to know why you are acting in such an immature fashion."

Jim's expression had gone from angry to resentful to subdued throughout Spock's tirade, and he now looked guiltily down at his feet. Spock exhaled heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring, then closed his eyes against the anger that still stewed and struggled to be unleashed – but he would not grow angry, he forced it away, and when he composed himself once more and opened his eyes Jim was looking hesitantly at him, his expression tensely and forcedly neutral.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly, his voice faint. "I just... It's not something I can talk about, okay? You can understand that, can't you, Spock? It's not... It's not that simple." He sighed, looking away. "It's just this mission. I don't know how else to say it. But once this mission is over everything will go back to normal, I promise. Can you just... trust me on this?" He cast an uncertain, almost fearful glance at Spock.

"...I trust you," Spock replied carefully after a slight pause. "I apologize."

"I'm sorry too," Jim muttered. "I know I've been acting like an ass and you don't deserve it. I'd be mad too."

"I am not mad," Spock said, although he knew that was not true and from the look Jim was giving him, he knew it too. "I was merely concerned with your well-being. Your unease has been exceedingly obvious... and rather infectious as well."

"Sorry," the captain mumbled. "We'll get this sorted out. This goddamn mission has me so stressed, that's all..." And, much to Spock's surprise, he stepped forward and leaned into Spock's torso, his head burrowing into the hollow of his neck. Hesitantly Spock wrapped his arms around the smaller man, worry still festering in his chest. "I'm really sorry, Spock. It would be easier... You'd understand if I weren't too chickenshit to talk about it."

"...I am sure you are no such thing," Spock said softly, mulling over the possible meaning of his words. "...We are, however, going to be late for Alpha shift." Jim sighed and slowly pulled away.

"You go on," he said faintly. "They're used to me being late every once in a while. You go, I – I need a minute."

"...All right," Spock relented, then quickly reached over and pressed their fingertips together. "I cherish thee. Do not forget this." Jim smiled weakly, fleetingly, then Spock turned and walked out of the room, his pace characteristically unhurried and calculated, leaving Jim to himself in the empty briefing room.

He took in an unsteady breath and pressed a hand to his temple. He just had to get through the negotiations, he told himself for what felt like the millionth time, that was all he had to do and then he could forget this had ever happened. It was just a stupid mission, it wasn't Tarsus. It wasn't Tarsus.

With a sigh, he straightened up, steeled his features into the picture of captaincy, and strode purposefully out into the hallway.


"Well," Sulu said slowly after the duo had left the table. "That was, uh. Weird."

"Yeah," Uhura replied slowly, keeping her gaze carefully on her breakfast.

They were now the only ones at what had long since become the command crew table. Chekov and Scotty were both down in the bowels of the ship, testing out one of the head engineer's many additions to the engines that he had, for one reason or another, needed the young Russian's expertise for, and so it had just been the four of them at breakfast – until Kirk and Spock had suddenly and peculiarly left. Sulu looked at Uhura appraisingly, then stated confidently,

"You know what's going on, don't you?"

"What?" She shot him a bewildered look. "I have no idea what's going on with them. Kirk's been acting weird for days."

"Oh, come on," he pressed. "You're not fooling me, Lieutenant Queen-of-Gossip."

"I really don't know what their problem is," she insisted, scowling. "Really. I'd certainly like to know."

"So you'd tell me if you knew?"

"What? No!"

"Then how do I know you really don't know?" he retorted with a triumphant grin. "Tell me! Did they have a lover's quarrel? Are we witnessing the aftermath of something juicy? Nyota, if you don't tell me, I'm going to make something up."

"Oh my god. Hikaru, I really don't know. You're being stupid," Uhura retorted, tone dripping with exasperation.

"But they are doing the nasty, right? Can you at least tell me that?" he asked, undeterred. Uhura snorted into her apple juice.

"Hikaru, you have a serious problem. I can't even believe you're thinking about this. Why am I even friends with you?" She shot an unimpressed look at the smirk adorning his features. "One; why would I know that? Two – stop looking at me like that! You may think I know about everyone's personal life, but that doesn't mean I actually do, you idiot."

"Damn," Sulu laughed, finally appearing to give up. "I was hoping for a gossippy breakfast. You're losing your touch, Nyota."

"I can't believe you," she said, suppressing a laugh. "If you want to know that bad, why don't you go ask them yourself, you big wimp?"

"Hey," he retorted with an air of mock seriousness. "Just because I want to stay alive doesn't mean I'm a wimp. I don't think I like you anymore."

"Good, because you are revolting to me," Uhura replied with a grin. Her breakfast finished, she stood to put her tray away and he got up to follow her. They walked together up to the bridge, conversing quietly and continuing to trade friendly insults.

They arrived on the bridge together and Sulu shot her a brief grin as he headed down the steps to his post at the helm. She smiled, then glanced over to the Science station, where Spock was settling into his seat. She detoured over to him, leaning in a bit so he was aware of her presence, then she said in a voice faint enough that only his Vulcan ears would be able to pick it up,

"Just so you know, you guys are getting really obvious."

For a moment Spock was perfectly still, then he turned to look at her with an upraised brow.

"I do not believe I understand your meaning," he replied quizzically – but she only grinned at him and walked away, taking her seat at the Communications console. He watched her leave, then slowly turned back to his own controls. It was then that Kirk arrived on the bridge, stepping out of the turbolift with a faintly grim expression. He met Spock's eyes and his gaze softened marginally, and as he took his seat at the command chair he said with as much cheerfulness as he could muster,

"Good morning, everyone."

He settled into his seat and took a steadying breath amidst the answering murmurs. By the end of the day, he hoped, everything would be better. For now, he only had to wait.