Wish upon a Star
The Enterprise raced through space at top speed. But news of the captain's disappearance had traveled even faster aboard. Of course, Spock had made a shipwide announcement explaining the situation to the crew. That hadn't stopped the rumor mill, though. Everyone seemed to have their own idea of what might have really happened to the captain. Some of the gossip even went as far as claiming that Kirk was already dead, killed in a transporter malfunction, and now they were heading back into the unknown, risking their necks to charge after a ghost, just because the command level – in other words Commander Spock – was unwilling to admit that he was lost. It pained Spock to hear these theories which, he had to admit, might in fact hold a sense of truth to them. Indeed, he had no evidence to prove Jim was alive. The transporter log stated he'd arrived at the planet's surface safely, but who could tell what had happened after that?
What hurt even more, though, was the rumor that he himself had maroon Jim on that planet in an act of mutiny. The story said he had been holding a grudge against the captain ever since he had lost his command over the Enterprise to him back in the Narada incident. After all, back then, he had already unsuccessfully tried to get rid of him, marooning him on Delta Vega. Spock still felt guilty about that anyway. He didn't need those silly gossip mongers to remind him. This episode would be a sore point in their relationship forever, although Jim had assured him that he didn't hold it against him, considering the state he had been in at the time.
In Jim's absence, Spock was captain. And as such, he had to preserve normalcy and order. He mustn't allow any unease to spread among the crew in the face of their current situation. So he followed his usual routine. As always, he had dinner at the mess hall with Nyota and Doctor McCoy. But without Jim the mood between them was chastened. All of Uhura's attempts to strike up a conversation fell on deaf ears. Neither Spock nor McCoy felt like talking. They were each lost in their own broodings.
Spock could feel the eyes of the lower crew members resting on his back. The others didn't seem to hear it, but with his advanced aural sense Spock could hear the various rumors about the recent events being shared in the groups that had gathered around the tables. He only picked at his food listlessly before dumping it in the replicator nearly untouched. He excused himself and left for his quarters.
Even in the halls he could feel the eyes following him. He was glad when the bulkheads closed behind him, and he stood alone in the comforting warmth of his quarters. Spock felt exhausted. He lit some incense and tried to meditate. But his mind found no rest. It kept wandering back to the unknown planet, painting the dangers Jim might be surrounded by. He should be there with him, like he always was, right by his side to protect him. He felt helpless, and as illogical as he knew it was, even a little guilty for what had happened. If only there was anything he could do, but they were still hundreds of light years away from the planet, from Jim...
He broke his meditation and called the engine room. Not for the first time today, he demanded more speed. And like every time before, Scotty's tired sounding answer was, "I'm already givin' er all she's got, sir… but I'll see what I can do." Unsatisfied, but reasonable enough not to push the poor engineer any further, he let the matter pass.
Restlessly, he paced the room. He felt trapped in here, trapped in his own skin. As long as his mind didn't stop running in circles, he couldn't calm down. He turned up the environmental control to its maximum, hoping that the scorching heat would help him to relax, but to no avail.
Finally, he left his own quarters and snuck through the hall to the captain's, using his override code to open the door. Rank sure had its privileges. The Vulcan shuddered in the sudden cold. Still, he relaxed minutely. Being on his own, he noticed for the first time how sparsely the captain's quarters were furnished compared to his own. An outsider might actually wonder which one of them was the pragmatic Vulcan, judging from the furnishings. Yet, with Jim around the room had always felt so warm and comfortable.
He sat down on the bed, still rumpled from their night together, and smoothed the wrinkles out of the bed sheets. He could almost imagine their body heat still lingering in the sheets. Spock lay down and buried his head in the pillow, inhaling the musky scent. The scent enwrapped him, bringing with it the memories of the previous night. Spock allowed them to wash over him and take him back there. Lost in the memories, his mind eventually found some peace, and he fell into a light slumber.
It didn't last long, though. An hour later he was up again, his mind restless as before. He decided to distract himself and sat at Jim's terminal, busying himself with the paperwork the captain was thankfully always hopelessly behind on. By the time he was done, the increased illumination indicated dawn. Alpha shift was about to begin. Spock took a quick sonic shower and headed to the bridge, foregoing breakfast entirely.
He spent the entire day calibrating sensors und running system check-ups. None of that needed to be done, but it pleasantly kept his mind occupied, preventing his thoughts from wandering again. At noon, Nyota invited him to join her for lunch. He excused himself, claiming he was too busy.
She didn't exactly buy it, still, she knew him too well as to probe him just yet. During their relationship she had learned to read the subtle changes in his behavior and she knew when to leave him alone. She had seen this withdrawn expression before, especially while he was dealing with the aftermath of the Narada incident, and knew he needed room to sort things out on his own. When she returned, she simply handed him a cup of steaming soup. He held it in his hands, absorbing the delicious warmth, then discarded it untouched.
Internally, his emotions might be in uproar, on the outside, though, he had once more built the unbreakable walls of Vulcan control. His expression was completely blank, not even his eyes gave away any of his inner turmoil. He was as unapproachable as he had been when he first set foot onto the Enterprise, before Jim had torn these walls down brick by brick over the past months. Everyone seemed to sense the change in him and they kept their distance. Still, his friends kept a worried eye on him.
When there was nothing left for him to do on the bridge, he returned to Jim's quarters, not even considering to spend the night at his own. There he wouldn't find rest anyway. Here he could at least bath in Jim's lingering presence. It was already way into gamma shift. The clock told him that, under normal circumstances, he and Jim would be playing the usual game of chess by now.
Maybe it also worked diametrical and a game of chess would give him a sense of normalcy? He sat down at the table and started the chess program. Fortunately, he had programmed some of their games into the computer as a training program. It wasn't the real deal, but it had to do for now. And indeed, the strategic planning had a soothing effect on his nerves.
He continued this routine for the next three days: he arrived early for alpha shift and stayed way into gamma. The other bridge crew members had already started wondering whether he left the bridge at all. Uhura's worried looks constantly rested on him. Yet, she left him his privacy – at least for now. He spent all day reading intelligence reports, science reports, whatever came in, though he barely registered any of the data. It served merely as an occupational therapy to distract him. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep and he hardly talked to anyone outside the necessary orders. At night he hid away in Jim's quarters.
Spock was well aware that his behavior was ridiculous and disgraceful of a Vulcan. But he just couldn't help himself. The entire situation was just too bizarre. Of course, Jim had this unfathomable talent to get himself into trouble. That was nothing new. Yet, usually Spock was with him to protect him. Not that Jim Kirk actually needed anyone to protect him. He could well take care of himself. But the human body was so fragile. Jim often enough returned with injuries even when Spock was there to protect him. And even if he didn't accompany him on a mission, he could at least monitor him from the ship. For the first time since they served together, their connection had been severed entirely. He could be dying all alone, without Spock knowing it. Maybe that's what made him so restless? Or maybe it was the change in their relationship? He really shouldn't think about that, if he wanted to keep the last of his sanity.
McCoy entered the bridge, exchanging looks with Uhura as he passed her. So she had finally called him. Spock had already been wondering how long it would take until her worries got the better of her.
"Commander, on a word," the doctor approached him.
Spock sighed exasperated, yet he couldn't hold it against Nyota. She had only meant well. "Doctor, whatever it is, I believe it can wait," Spock feigned ignorance.
But McCoy didn't relent. "You know damn well what this is about and no, it can't wait!" He raised an annoyed eyebrow at him.
Spock mirrored the expression, but then complied. He might as well get it over with.
Together they left the bridge for the adjacent conference room, followed by the eyes of the entire bridge crew.
The moment the bulkheads closed behind them, the CMO cut right to the point, "Spock, what do you think you're doing?"
"What exactly are you referring to, doctor?"
"You know damn well 'what I'm referring to'! Did you sleep lately? Eat? Did you leave the bridge at all?" he snarled, waving the tricorder in front of Spock.
"In absence of the Captain, I am in command of this vessel. And, as even you should know, that requires my presence on the bridge," Spock deadpanned.
"Yeah, you're right. The ship does need a captain. But that doesn't mean you have to spend the entire time on the bridge. This is not an emergency situation. Sulu can handle it damn well without you for a couple of hours. You're only wearing yourself out and you'll be of no use when you collapse on us," McCoy tried to talk some sense into him.
Anger flared up in Spock as he heard that this was not an emergency. 'Of course it is,' he wanted to scream, but caught himself. He was still Vulcan after all and Vulcans don't scream. "You seem to have forgotten, doctor, that I am still Vulcan. Vulcan physiology is considerably stronger than its human counterpart. I require neither sleep nor sustenance. I am in perfect physical condition to perform my duties."
"Perfect, my ass!" the doctor chided, then relented, "Look, man, I know you're worried about Jim. We all are. But it's no use to close yourself off like that. Talk to us."
"Doctor, I do not see the need to insult me by transferring your own mental weaknesses onto me." Spock had enough of this conversation.
"Fine! Suit yourself!" McCoy raised his hands in defeat. "But I don't want to see you on the bridge today. You will get some rest." And with that he pressed a hypo to Spock's neck. "Sweet dreams," he murmured.
Grumbling something along the lines of "Damn hobgoblin!" he left the room.
Spock already felt the sedative the doctor had administered pulling at his extremities. For the moment, he could do nothing but comply. Maybe the doctor was right about his condition not being the best, considering he hadn't even seen the hypo coming.
He scuffed to Jim's quarters tiredly and collapsed on the bed. His body felt leaden, though sleep didn't come. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, almost unable to move.
The door bell chimed, announcing a visitor. Spock grunted wearily. He closed his eyes, hoping the visitor would leave again. 'Why does anyone come here anyway?' he wondered belatedly. These were the captain's quarters. Had anyone seen him go in here?
He got his answers when the door suddenly opened and Nyota stepped in. Spock didn't even want to know where she got the override codes to open the door. She always had her means to find out things she wasn't supposed to know.
She tiptoed to the bed as to not stir him and sat on the edge carefully. "Spock," she whispered, caressing his hair tenderly, half hoping he wouldn't answer. The doctor had told her he had administered a sedative, and she only wanted to make sure Spock was actually sleeping.
Her hopes were betrayed, though, when he opened his eyes and his dark gaze rested upon her. "Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping," she scolded him softly.
"As I already told the doctor, I do not require sleep," he returned, drawling the words ever so slightly.
Uhura looked him over and smiled, "You sure look like you do though."
"Thanks to the doctor and his never-ceasing hypos," Spock grumbled and tried to sit up. The world around him tilted. Nyota noticed it and steadied him, helping him into a sitting position.
Her eyes still rested on him and her brows furrowed. "Spock, talk to me. What's wrong with you?" she inquired tenderly. And before Spock could so much as open his mouth to reassure her he was fine, her tone sharpened, "And don't give me your usual 'I'm perfectly fine' speech. I know you're not!"
She scooted closer and took his hand. "You're worried about the Captain. That's all right. We all are… but there's more to it, isn't there?"
For a moment, Spock debated internally whether to tell her or not. But she had known about his feelings for the captain all along. Actually, they had been part of the reason they had broken off their relationship. She didn't hold it against him, though. After that, a deep friendship had developed between them, and she had always supported him. She deserved to know the truth. And her probing dark eyes told him she wouldn't let him off the hook before he told her anyway. He knew when he'd lost a battle.
But even before he could say anything, she had already read it in his eyes. "No way! You and the Captain? When? Why didn't you tell me?" she beamed, cuffing him lightly into the still mostly numb arm.
So he related to her the events of that night, though, of course, he left out the juicy details, no matter how she pleaded with him to tell her or threatened him to grill it out of him. She may have been his closest friend, but there were things he couldn't discuss even with her. Even in the dark she could see a green blush spread on his ghastly pale face, while he reveled in the sweet memories. But then he remembered the transporter accident, and sadness clouded his expression again.
She wrapped him in her arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "We'll find him," she whispered determined. Spock melted into her arms. He had almost forgotten how soothing her embrace could be. A new wave of tiredness rolled over him.
Uhura noticed it and drew his head into her lap. With skilled fingers, she massaged his temples, rubbing carefully over his psi-points. She projected every ounce of love and hope she could muster into the touch. Spock relaxed immediately, and after a few minutes he was fast asleep.
The next morning, Spock woke up, feeling relaxed, rested and more like himself. Still nothing had been solved, but the situation for some reason didn't feel as gloomy as before. Maybe he should have relied on his friends sooner, instead of cloistering himself. The worry was still present, but now it was subdued and his mind was clearer, more in order.
McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov and Scotty were sitting at their usual table over breakfast, when Spock entered the mess. The doctor nearly choked on his coffee.
"You sure are a miracle worker, Lieutenant," he whispered to her, while Spock ordered his breakfast from the replicator and came toward them. She just smiled knowingly.
"You sure look better this morning," McCoy greeted him, as Spock joined them at the table.
"Don't claim credit for that, doctor, this is not thanks to you and your meddling," Spock stymied him.
"Hey, I'm a doctor. Meddling's my prerogative," McCoy poked his fork at him, grinning. The two were back to their usual bantering. The entire table broke into laughter, a sound they hadn't heard in days. And for a moment, everything seemed to be back to normal.
When Spock had left the table, McCoy leaned into Uhura again, "Do I even want to know how you did that?"
"I'll tell you later," she winked, patting his cheek.
