A/N: I must request a thousand thousand pardons for the delay in (finally) posting this chapter. It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I have the attention span of a gnat on crack. Or wait - maybe it does. I will try to post the next chapter with alacrity but I'm not foolish enough to make promises I may not be able to keep.
Thanks for your patience!
A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence. ~Leopold Stokowski
Spock barely recognized the person looking back at him from the mirror. Of course he knew the eyes, the ears, the faint green hue to the skin. But everything else seemed strange, surreal even. The image in the mirror wore a tuxedo, wore it as though he was born to it. Most of that was due to the expert tailoring but the rest…. Jim had been putting on his own tuxedo and told Spock that very few people could wear one with the ease and grace that Spock did. And looking objectively at his reflection in the mirror, Spock found no logical reason to disagree with Jim's assessment.
His contemplation was short-circuited when Jim returned, smiling at him in the mirror. "Here," Jim said, turning him with a gentle hand to his shoulder. "Took me forever to learn to tie them too." With quick efficiency and effortless grace, Jim had Spock's bowtie in a perfect knot, the ends even, the bow more symmetrical than Spock could have imagined possible. Except Jim's was just as well tied. "Lots of practice," Jim said in answer to Spock's unasked question.
"Thank you," Spock said softly. Jim nodded, brushing invisible lint from the front of Spock's immaculate black jacket. "What will you do with it afterward?"
"Afterward?" Jim asked, a frown of confusion showing up on his face.
"I have no use for this tuxedo," Spock explained.
Jim bit his lower lip, shaking his head. "I…. we d-d-don't need to think about that right now."
"All right," Spock agreed automatically, wanting to erase the frown lines marring Jim's face. He regretted being responsible for them. "In case I forgot to tell you, I had a great time tonight," Spock said, not caring that his statement was illogical or that he sounded far more Human than Vulcan as he said the words.
"I did too," Jim said, blue eyes meeting brown and saying even more than their words did. "Are you ready to go impress Chris, Phil, and every patron in the restaurant?"
"I am."
"Good," Jim said, putting his phone and the room key in his pocket before leaving the suite, Spock following right behind. They went down in the elevator without speaking, too much to be said to say any of it.
"We need to make a momentary detour," Spock said, leading the way to the office behind the front counter.
"Why?" Jim asked, not protesting, just curious.
"I made a promise," Spock explained, knocking and waiting as Ms Uhura opened the door.
"Oh my." Her gasp was quiet, her beautiful eyes wide. "Oh my goodness."
"I take it you approve," Jim laughed.
She barely nodded, making a spinning motion with her right hand. They complied, giving her the entire view. "Oh yes. You will most definitely do."
"Thank you again for your assistance," Spock said with a nod.
"My pleasure," she said warmly. She barely touched the satin on the lapel of Jim's jacket, soothing it unnecessarily. "Enjoy your evening."
"You can be certain that we will," Spock agreed, turning with a last thank you before going with Jim to the front of the hotel.
When they arrived outside, the valet was just stopping the Ferrari next to the curb. Spock went to the driver's side as Jim slid into the passenger seat, glancing over at Spock. "You know how to get there?"
"I do," Spock said, ignoring Jim's laugh. "Google maps are both efficient and accurate."
"I take your word for it," Jim said, looking out the windshield as Spock drove down toward the street. "Did you research the opera too?"
"I looked for the plot. As it is sung in Vulcan, I will understand what they are saying."
"True," Jim agreed. "They also use translation supertitles."
"That is helpful," Spock said.
"Why did Uhura want to see you in your tuxedo?" Jim asked with a smile. He was not fooled when Spock shrugged. "Were you talking to her earlier?"
"I was," Spock agreed, feeling no particular need to explain the content of their discussion. Jim wasn't asking so he wasn't volunteering. He pretended to ignore Jim as he laughed, the sound warm and comforting.
They had little else to say as Spock drove the relatively short distance to 43 Oceanview. The valet accepted the keys from Spock and entered the car. But not before Spock saw a gleam of admiration in the young man's eyes, one that was not put there by the Ferrari. Jim caught the look as well, smiling at Spock as they entered the restaurant through heavy oak doors with a high shine on the wood.
"Gentlemen," the elegant hostess said in greeting. She wore a black dress, cut too low on the top and too high on the hem. Spock saw Jim looking at her with a slightly disapproving expression, one he would have echoed if he hadn't been too busy watching Jim.
"We are meeting Chris Pike and Phil Boyce," Jim informed her with a forced smile.
"Of course. They indicated that you were coming, Dr. Kirk," she said with a nod. She and her platform shoes crossed the polished oak floor, only stopping when she reached the discreet table with the spectacular ocean view. Chris and Phil stood as Jim and Spock approached, the older men smiling in welcome. They also wore tuxedos, both of them looking elegant and at home in their formal wear.
"Jim, Spock," Chris said, waiting as a silent waiter pulled out the chairs for the newcomers. Jim and Spock settled in their seats, waiting as Chris and Phil did the same.
"Thank you for inviting us," Jim said with a smile.
"We're pleased you could join us," Phil said. "I've heard wonderful things about Peaceful Haven. From those who were lucky to preview it."
"As have I," Jim said with a nod. "It's apparently her best work."
"That's what we've been told," Chris said, looking up at the waiter when he returned. "Brian."
"Dr. Pike," he responded with a nod. "May I inform you of the specials?"
"Please," Chris agreed.
Brian listed those items they were serving, several of them vegetarian. When he was finished, he looked at each of the guests, asking if they had any additional questions.
"Do you have Vulcan mollusks?" Spock asked, looking up at the waiter.
"We do. They are sautéed in Rhombolian butter," Brian said. "Should I provide you a moment to decide?"
"That would be helpful. I guess I know what you are having," Chris said to Spock with a nod.
"They are a delicacy," Spock said, trying to sound as Vulcan and non-committal as possible. He could tell by Jim's barely disguised smirk that he did not sound nearly as disinterested as he wanted to believe.
"I don't care of seafood," Phil said. "But Chris seems to crave it all of the time."
"Because you won't cook it for me," Chris complained with a smile that spoiled his efforts to sound annoyed.
"You know where our kitchen is," Phil reminded him with an affectionate tone to his voice.
"Yeah," Chris shrugged, turning his focus on Jim. "What are you having?"
"The veal sounds really good," Jim said to Chris' nod.
"Some of the best," Chris said, looking up at Brian when he returned with a pitcher of water, filling their glasses with silent efficiency. "I believe we've decided."
"Very good, sir," the waiter agreed, handing the silver pitcher to the assistant who silently appeared at his left shoulder. "Sir?" Brian said to Jim.
"I'd like the veal osso buco with steamed asparagus," Jim requested.
Spock ordered the mollusks, also requesting the asparagus as his side. Chris ordered the filet mignon with the king crab legs while Phil requested the Australian rack of lamb. Brian nodded when they had completed their orders, Chris adding a bottle of rosé Dom Perignon.
As they waited for their dinners to be delivered, Jim ended up telling the other two men about their adventures at Disneyland. They were laughing at Jim's retelling of Spock's reaction to the soaking he received from being in the front of the log flume.
"As you had to purchase me a new tee shirt as well as a sweatshirt, I am the one who came away on top," Spock reminded Jim, making the others laugh. Jim just smiled at him, no words needed to express his willingness to buy Spock as many shirts as he could possibly want.
"I'll have to send you a copy of the photo," Jim told them conspiratorially, winking at Spock. "The look on his face is pure, unadulterated Vulcan horror."
"Horror?" Spock repeated in a careful monotone. "That is entirely a gross exaggeration."
"Not from where I'm sitting," Jim laughed.
"As you were sitting behind me, you were shielded from the worst of the…humiliation."
"Humiliation?" Jim laughed. "You didn't look humiliated. You looked…pissed."
"Vulcans are not ever pissed," Spock intoned, making the others laugh with Jim. Spock watched them impassively, very secretly amused by their laughter.
"Right. You keep telling yourself that," Jim said, his right hand covering Spock's left. Spock made no effort to break the contact, instead craving more which was apparently conveyed to Jim who scooted his chair just that much closer to Spock.
It wasn't much longer until Brian returned followed by an assistant carrying the huge silver tray. Brian took each item, placing them with perfection before each of the guests. He added a pair of silver seafood tongs next to Spock's plate, Spock wondering why he hadn't checked with Uhura about the proper way to eat the mollusks. He should have realized they would be served in the shell, meaning just a fork was not adequate. Well, it was too late for those thoughts.
Once everyone had their plates set before them, they waited in silent agreement until Chris took a bit, freeing the rest to follow his example.
Spock sampled the asparagus finding it as perfectly cooked as he could have imagined, the look on Jim's face reflecting his enjoyment as well.
The mollusks on Spock's plate had an extremely evocative aroma to them, making Spock want to pick them up and eat them, shell and all. Which was impossible but it did not stop his imagination from conjuring up that scenario. With some minor trepidation, Spock reached for the seafood tongs, studying them critically before using them to grasp one of the buttery, hot mollusks shells. To his dismay, the tongs acted like a catapult, hurdling the tiny golden cannonball toward the next table. Spock watched the flight of his food, nearly laughing in relief when Brian reached out and snatched it from the air.
"Slippery little devils," Brain said before placing the offending projectile on the tray of a passing busboy.
Spock chanced a glance at the others at the table, Jim laughing openly at him with a sparkle in his eyes that meant there was no way Spock could mind. Chris and Phil were doing a valiant job to stifling their laughter, hiding their amusement behind their wine glasses.
"You aren't the first to send a shell flying," Jim promised Spock warmly.
"That is reassuring," Spock said, examining the remaining mollusks on his plate, really wanting to eat them but fearful of a repeat performance.
"Go ahead," Jim said in encouragement. "Leave it on your plate. Use your fork to remove the mussel."
Spock nodded, following Jim's instructions and meeting with much greater success. No more low flying objects were launched, much to his relief. "I apologize," Spock felt obligated to say.
"Absolutely not necessary," Chris assured him. "No harm no foul. And like Jim said, you aren't the first to send one flying. I dare say you won't be the last."
With those kind words of reassurance, Spock was able to relax. And the rest of dinner went by without incidence, the food delicious, the wine extraordinary, the conversation lively and engaging.
"We need to leave for the Concert Hall," Phil told Chris quietly.
"Right you are," Chris confirmed, standing and placing his napkin in his chair as the others followed his example.
"He is not paying?" Spock whispered to Jim as they followed the older men out.
"He has an account," Jim responded with a quiet laugh. "It's all taken care of."
"Indeed," Spock said with a nod, stopping at the curb with Jim.
"Come with us," Chris insisted as his Jaguar appeared with the valet behind the wheel. "We'll drop you back."
Jim automatically agreed, sliding into the back seat with Spock, Phil entering the front next to Chris.
"Thank you for dinner," Spock said to Chris and Phil. "The restaurant is everything I had heard."
"It is special," Phil said. "Although I still contend it is way overpriced."
"Only to you, old man," Chris said.
"Hrmph," Phil responded, turning to look back at Jim. "The rumor is that T'Pral herself will be in the audience."
"I wasn't aware that she was on Earth," Jim said, glancing over at Spock. "Did you know?"
"I did not," Spock said. "She rarely leaves Vulcan."
"I guess she's here because it's the Universe premier," Chris speculated.
"Why isn't it premiering on Vulcan, do you suppose?" Phil asked, addressing his question to no one in particular.
"I had heard that the elders objected to her decision to have one of the primary characters be Human," Spock said.
"That's unfortunate," Chris said. "But as the opera is about building bridges instead of burning the one you are standing on, they couldn't be all that surprised."
"The elders are often narrow in their thinking," Spock said quietly, certain that this was not news to the others.
"It's a wonder they left us to develop naturally," Phil mused. "I'm not so sure Humans would have had such a 'hands-off' attitude."
"They should provide us with the information to make our own interstellar flight possible," Jim said. It sounded like an old argument, one that he had made frequently and with no more success.
"That's only because you want Enterprise Industries to be the first to commercialize the technology needed to ignore the laws of physics," Chris laughed. Jim just shrugged, looking innocent which fooled no one.
"The Vulcans already have. Why shouldn't they give us that knowledge?" Jim asked.
"There is the belief that it is important for each civilization to develop at its own natural rate," Spock reminded them.
"True," Chris said with a nod. "Non-interference. It needs to be ultimate or the consequences could be severe."
"I suppose," Jim said, not sounding convinced. "Did I tell you that Scotty is moving back to Virginia?"
"This has to do with Brandenburg Consortium?" Phil asked.
"It does," Jim agreed.
"And nothing to do with his Ferrari," Chris laughed.
"Maybe," Jim said, winking at Spock who raised one eyebrow but said nothing in response.
With that, they arrived at the Opera House, Chris pulling up to the valet parking stand, handing over his keys as the others left the car. Making sure they were all accounted for, Chris led them up the impressive set of marble steps, far enough away from the 'red carpet' area that the press would not descend on them. They weren't particularly worried at any rate as the star power of some of the guests made their presence an afterthought.
"We'll go in this door," Chris said, indicating the season-ticket holder entrance. After presenting their credentials to the attendant, they were taken up in the private elevator to the level with the boxes. The one Chris directed them to was second from the stage, an impressive view of the entire Opera House from their vantage point.
"Would you gentlemen care for any refreshment?" the formally attired usher asked politely. Chris and Phil requested scotch, Jim and Spock declining.
Spock looked around, the venue as grand and beautiful as he had heard. The huge orchestra below them was renowned for its impressive abilities and he was very much looking forward to hearing them. Even their tuning was melodic.
Spock glanced over at Jim who was peering through a set of opera glasses, the same ones available to each person sitting in the box. Spock took out the ones directly in front of his seat, trying to hold them in the same manner as was Jim. His, however, would not arrange themselves in the position necessary to look through them. He felt Jim glance over at him as he leaned forward to return them to their place.
"They are broken," Spock said quietly, fully prepared to enjoy the opera without them. Instead, Jim handed Spock the pair he had been using, taking out the ones in front of Spock and turning the handle 180 degrees so that the glasses remained parallel to the floor. "Oh," Spock said, feeling foolish at his failure to realize he was holding them upside down.
Jim smiled and shrugged, looking through the second pair as casually as he had been the first.
"Thank you," Spock whispered as he leaned closer.
"I did the same thing my first time," Jim told him.
"Really?" Spock asked, one eyebrow elevated in doubt.
"Yes. I was…well, I hadn't been to an opera before."
"Who took you? To your first opera?"
"Mom. She got tickets for us to see The Magic Flute. I was enthralled. She wanted to know how we would respond. She said people's reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic; they either love it or they hate it. If they love it, they will always love it. If they don't, they may learn to appreciate it, but it will never become part of their soul."
"Is it?" Spock asked, looking at Jim in appreciation. "Part of your soul?"
Jim did not respond, glancing down at the program in his hands. Spock was unsure about his silence but did not pursue it. If Jim wanted to keep his secrets, Spock was not going to insist. That was not his place.
He glanced over at the section of the box across the small aisle, an elderly couple taking two of those seats. Spock would have thought the Doctors had the entire box but apparently only the side they occupied was reserved for them.
There was no further time to consider the occupants of the box, the ones he knew and the ones he did not, as the lights dimmed and the opera began.
Spock was mesmerized. He had listened to T'Pral's music his entire life and had seen her operas on television. None of that could have prepared him for the majesty and enormity of seeing the opera in person. The music swelled and swirled around him, captivating him and drawing him in. He was a part of the story, a player in the drama unfolding around him. He was alive in a way he had rarely experienced. And he could not believe it was possible that a musical performance could have the effect on him that it did.
When the last note faded away, when the thunderous applause died down, when the lights were at full brightness, he remained motionless where he stood before his seat. How could it be over? He wanted it to begin again, wanted to return to the magically space the music had provided to him.
"Spock?" Jim's gentle hand on his arm and gentler voice in his ear brought him out of his musically induced trance. "You okay?"
"I am," Spock whispered, focusing on the mesmerizing blue eyes studying him with such intensity. "It was magnificent."
Jim smiled tenderly and nodded. "You ready?"
Spock managed to nod in return, wondering if there was any way they could return the next night. Or to rehearsal. Or if he could get a job with the opera house. Perhaps as an usher. There was not much he would refuse to do in order to be privileged to witness such artistry every day.
He shook his head to clear the gossamer cobwebs, focusing on the elderly woman waiting her turn to ascend the three steps to exit the box.
"Did you enjoy it, dear?" she asked Spock with a knowing smile.
"It renders all other operas irrelevant," he said quietly.
"Pardon?" she said, looking up at him with a frown.
"He said it's the best opera since La Traviata," Jim interjected.
She nodded happily at that, accepting Jim's offered arm to assist her up the steps.
Once they were out on the walk, awaiting the arrival of Chris' car, Spock edged closer to Jim. "Why did you lie to the woman about what I said?"
Jim turned to study Spock, a warmth in his expression that Spock wanted very much to ignore. "Because I didn't want her to tell you that you were being too Vulcan in your assessment. She's one of the founding patrons of this opera house. And she can be fairly outspoken about allowing only Earth operas being performed."
"I see," Spock said, considering it. "I spoke out of turn."
"Not at all. You were right. Peaceful Haven has set a new standard for all operas to come. There is a reason T'Pral is referred to as the modern day Mozart."
"Yet she is not Human," Spock acknowledged.
"She is not," Jim agreed, indicating Chris' car when it arrived, sliding in after Spock.
Spock had to admit to himself that he was saddened by the woman's outlook. How could her prejudice continue unabated after they had all shared such a magnificent work extolling the necessity of equality and universality of brotherhood? She had missed the point entirely and he could not help but to feel a measure of pity for her.