It wasn't long before Spock was sitting in the consulting room of an eminent xeno-biology ophthalmologist, who confirmed what the Japanese doctor had told him. His optic nerves were healing at an astonishing rate and the flashes and coruscations were a symptom of that. There was nothing to be done but to wear dark glasses and rest his eyes as much as possible while the growth was under way.
'I've never seen nerve regrowth at this pace, Commander Spock,' the doctor admitted. 'Indications are that the nerves were almost completely atrophied, but at this rate you might have normal vision back in as little as two weeks.'
Spock contained his happiness until they were out of the doctor's office, his eyes covered by utilitarian dark glasses supplied by the hospital. Once they were in the skimmer he allowed himself to feel the joy rippling through him, but it wasn't until the vehicle was in motion that he physically relaxed.
'Two weeks, Spock,' Jim said in an ecstatic tone. 'Two weeks!'
'Yes,' Spock said quietly. He was not sure how to express his happiness without a completely unseemly display. He rested back into his seat, closing his eyes, feeling the unaccustomed strength of the emotion rushing through him. For a reason he couldn't fathom he had the urge to cry.
The skimmer accelerated, and Spock sat quietly, assuming that Jim was taking them back to the apartment, but when the vehicle descended and the door opened he could smell the scent of the sea.
'Jim?' he asked.
I thought you might like to get away from it all for a few hours,' Jim said, coming round to Spock's side of the skimmer and taking his arm to help him out. 'Rough ground. It's grass, a bit clumpy,' he said.
Spock extended his newly replaced cane and tapped it onto the ground. The glasses he wore were almost entirely opaque, and shaded ninety percent of the light from his eyes. The end of the cane caught in tangled grass, and he could hear the sound of waves surging off to his right. The sun was pleasantly hot on the top of his head, and there was very little wind. He followed Jim down an undulating slope and onto the sand.
'Place is deserted,' Jim murmured. 'It's perfect.'
Together they walked down to a place near the shushing waves and settled on the sand, which had soaked up the heat of the sun. Spock rested back onto the ground and let the heat push up into his bones from below and seep in from above, feeling supremely relaxed.
'I almost can't believe it,' Jim said, moving up so he was very close to the Vulcan on the sand.
'The nerve regeneration is a fact,' Spock said, 'but I, too, have difficulty in realising the reality of the situation.'
'Wait till we tell Bones,' Jim said gleefully. 'He'll be over the moon.'
'Since the good doctor is well outside of Earth's orbit he is already, quite literally, over the moon,' Spock pointed out.
Jim laughed, and the laugh rose with the wind, bell-like and clear, startling seagulls into taking off and crying aloud.
'Spock, you have the best poker face of anyone I've ever known,' he said.
Spock lay with his face to the sky, listening to the sounds crowding around him and imagining being able to see all those things that he could hear with his previous perfect clarity.
'Hey, Spock, the beach is deserted,' Jim said in a low, husky voice.
Spock extended his mental awareness, feeling out for other minds nearby. He could sense nothing but the low-level mass of animal life. There was nothing with the piercing intelligence of humanity, except perhaps something that seemed decidedly cetacean somewhere out beyond the waves.
'Yes, I believe we are alone,' he nodded.
'Have you ever tried skinny dipping?'
Spock lifted an eyebrow under the opaque glasses. 'Skinny dipping, Captain?' he repeated curiously.
'Swimming in your birthday suit, Spock. Nude,' Jim clarified.
Spock's eyebrow lifted even further.
'I don't believe I have,' he said.
'Well I think it's time to have a go,' Jim said with a wicked tone in his voice.
'Jim – ' Spock began. Only this morning he had been immersed up to his neck in a hot spring, and now Jim wanted to entice him into the Pacific ocean
'Come on, Spock,' Jim wheedled. 'You've had restrictions and restraints up to here recently. Come and be free for a bit.'
Spock sighed. 'You are sure we are alone?' he asked, even though he had already assured himself of that fact.
'I can't see a soul,' Jim replied. 'I deliberately took you somewhere isolated.'
'Almost as if you planned this,' Spock replied archly, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.
'Spock!' Jim said in a wounded voice. Then he said, 'Well, that session in the hot springs this morning did leave me a little – wanting, shall we say?'
Spock shook his head, but he dutifully began to remove his clothes, although he left the dark glasses on in deference to his sensitive sight.
'Oh, dear god, Spock,' Jim murmured as the Vulcan dropped his trousers and began to push down his underpants.
'This does not quite seem fair,' Spock said. He had nothing to view as Jim had, but he could hear the human swiftly disrobing. For just a moment he raised the dark glasses and squinted in the sudden light, turning his head until he caught a glimpse of Jim's bronzed chest, his muscular arm, and then down to the red-brown curls between his legs and the soft human-pink penis there.
'Spock, put those back on!' Jim said immediately, his concern for Spock's eyesight overriding everything else. 'You can't take the risk!'
'I believe it was worth it,' Spock replied. He felt a warm sense of satisfaction at seeing what he had been missing for so long, and a sudden urge to be in the water where his and Jim's bodies would be somewhat concealed from any unexpected eyes. 'Jim,' he said, holding out his hand.
Jim's cool fingers slipped into his and he followed his lover's pull over the hot sand towards the sound of the curling waves. When the water touched his feet he almost cried out. It was a good deal colder than the Japanese spring – but conversely the air was a lot warmer. A wave foamed over his feet and up his shins, and Jim tugged him further into the sea. The water crept up his legs, then another wave slapped across his pelvis in a chill surprise, and he gasped aloud.
Jim stopped to put his hands on both of Spock's arms, and kiss him. 'Not too cold?' he asked anxiously.
'It is tolerable,' Spock said. The thought of being alone and naked with Jim in the water was enough to warm him.
He followed Jim further in, the soft sand slipping between his toes and the water rising ever higher until it sucked forward and fell back about his chest. Then Jim stopped and stepped close to him, taking him in his arms and kissing him with a passion that pushed away all the chill of the water. He could feel Jim's erection pressing against his leg, long and hard, and his own was rising to match it. Another wave surged in and splashed them, and Jim broke away from the kiss, laughing and gasping.
'God, Spock, it is a bit cold, isn't it?' he admitted.
'No,' Spock said in a husky voice, pulling Jim into a kiss again. His lips pressed hot against Jim's and the human's mouth opened to his searching tongue. He felt Jim's teeth, pearl-like and smooth. He tasted the sweet alien saliva and breathed in his breath. Need overcame him, and he growled. He wanted Jim now and there was no proper way of having him here in the surging tide. He slipped his arms more tightly around Jim's back, feeling the smooth skin and the firm muscles beneath, the beads of his spine and the lines of his ribs.
'Mine,' he murmured, his hand slipping down between Jim's legs, fingers entwining in the water-buoyed hair and then closing around the firm stem of his erection. 'Yes, you are mine.'
'God,' Jim ground out as Spock pumped with his fist. 'God, Spock, yes, I'm yours. I'm yours...'
Spock's other hand cupped the tight, chill scrotum, his fingers searched behind to stroke the perineum, to press into the puckered opening beyond. Jim moaned aloud and Spock pumped his hand more firmly on the rock-hard erection, his own rigid organ yearning for the same release. He kissed Jim again, stroking his fist harder and faster, feeling the tight opening clench about the fingers of his other hand. And then Jim cried out and the rod of flesh jerked in his grip, sending his seed flowing into the waters of the ocean. After a moment Spock withdrew his hands and Jim went slack against him, panting and moaning lightly.
'Not enough,' Spock murmured. 'It is not enough.'
Blindly he waded through the water back towards the sound of the breaking waves, pulling Jim with him, until the water was no more than ankle deep. His erection yearned for release in a need that ached through his loins.
'Down, there,' Spock growled, feeling incapable of sophisticated utterances.
He pushed Jim down onto the sand in the softly breaking surf, his head just above the level of the waves, and kissed him again, running fingers through sandy hair, and then searching back for that tight opening between his legs. Jim's thighs fell open, and Spock lay over him, slipping his erection home into the hot, tight channel as his fingertips caressed Jim's face and caught the sparking thoughts in his mind. Jim's arousal met his own, tightening around it, together becoming two flames that burnt stronger and harder as Spock pushed forward into Jim's body, withdrew, pushed again. He caught Jim's dizzying pleasure as the soft-hard tip of his erection pressed over Jim's prostate, he caught the longing as he withdrew and the sense of joy as he came back home. Together their arousal grew until Spock was conscious of nothing but the shared pleasure, and it exploded like fireworks in his mind.
Afterwards, he lay over Jim's body, the foam of the waves surging up over his legs in tickling caresses, his heart beating against Jim's chest, Jim's arms around his slick wet back, holding him tight.
'I love you, I love you,' Jim murmured.
'T'hy'la,' Spock whispered in response. There was a curious urge in him to cry again, and he held it tightly back as Jim's hand stroked over his dripping hair. The sun shone down hotly on his shoulders, pushing warmth back into his blood, and he lay still with the sunglasses cutting out the light and sight from his eyes, and he felt overwhelmed
'It's going to happen, Spock,' Jim whispered, catching his feelings through the touch. 'It is going to happen. You're going to see.'
Spock did not reply verbally, but Jim sensed his acknowledgement.
'Come on,' Jim said eventually. 'You'll get cold. Let's move back up the beach and dry off in the sun. I neglected to bring towels.'
'An oversight indeed,' Spock murmured, standing up and feeling an immediate increase in warmth as he stepped away from the waves. The heat rose up from the sand and the sun beat down and began to dry the water from his body. He extended his awareness again to be sure that he and Jim were still alone, and again sensed no minds but those of wildlife. When he sat back down on the sand where they had left their clothes he had processed and moved aside the strange urge to cry, and felt content.
'You know, I think it's time to say goodbye to San Francisco and go visit mom again,' Jim said as he sat beside Spock on the sand. 'You don't need to be on the rehabilitation programme any more, and my job here is certainly over. The ship's due back past Earth in two weeks. I don't think there'll be any problem with us rejoining from there. I have plenty of leave stacked up for the intervening time and, god willing, by the time the ship gets here you'll be able to see.'
''God' plays no part,' Spock corrected his partner gently, 'but if my natural healing processes allow then – then, yes, I will be able to see,' he said, as if he could not quite believe it himself. He had almost given up on the idea in order to be able to accept his blindness and now it seemed it was hard to convince himself of the reality of his healing.
Jim slipped an arm around his shoulders, and Spock leant closer to him. The waves whispered softly on the sand and seagulls called above him, and he imagined the sight of all of that around him, the sight he would be able to glimpse at if he just removed the thick glasses. He ached to see that almost as much as he had ached for Jim a few tens of minutes ago. He had the self discipline to stop himself, but he wanted to so much...
'It's not so much to see,' Jim assured him quietly. 'Sea, sand, sky. Nothing else.'
'Birds,' Spock added.
'I can't see the birds,' Jim said in a tone of challenge. 'I can hear them, but they must be behind us right now. Tell me what you can sense, Spock. I bet it's more than sea, sand, sky.'
Spock closed his eyes and relaxed against Jim. 'The birds,' he said first. 'California gull, Western gull, Heerman's gull. American crow. Various smaller birds in the vegetation behind us. Shall I name the ones I recognise?'
'Spock, I never expected you to be so familiar with the native birds of California,' Jim said in astonishment.
'You forget I was at the Academy here,' Spock reminded him. He remembered long days and evenings of solitary walks along the beaches and through the hills. It was not in him to see or hear a bird, see a flower or plant, catch sight of an interesting geological feature, and not want to find out all he could about it, so he had generally carried a padd connected to the world-net.
'And that's why you're the best science officer the ship's ever had,' Jim said with a kind of joyful pride in his voice. 'Okay, Spock. What else?'
Spock dampened his awareness of Jim's mind and extended it to the minds around them.
'The minds of numerous animals,' he said. 'Minuscule sparks from crustaceans and smaller fish. Birds. Small mammals. I think there are deer in the hills. And cetaceans. They may be dolphins. And – ' He concentrated harder, focussing in on what he sensed. 'A whale, Jim. It's impossible to tell what type but the mind is unmistakable. Great intelligence and age. It is a whale.'
'What would it be like to touch a whale's mind?' Jim murmured, caught by the idea. Jim's wondering imagination was one of the things that Spock loved about him.
'It is fascinating,' Spock replied.
He touched his fingertips to Jim's face, and remembered. A hot summer day not far outside of San Francisco. The beach was crowded with people engaging in all kinds of activities that were far from attractive to the Vulcan at that time – lying in the sun attempting to brown their skin, kissing and canoodling with lovers, searing animal flesh on open fires. Spock walked with long strides far away from these gratuitous human beings, clambering over rocks slippery with seaweed and studded with limpets, past rock pools alive with creatures, until he reached a bay that was almost deserted. There was only one woman there, seated with what looked like an artist's easel. She was easy enough to ignore, so he stripped down to his underwear and left his clothes and towel carefully folded about his padd, and went down to the sea.
The water was chill, colder than it had been in this present with Jim. He stood for a moment to let his body acclimatise, then struck out into the waves. He had not left Vulcan as a confident swimmer. Swimming was hardly a useful skill on the largely arid planet. But he had promised his mother that on a planet that was seventy-one percent water covered he would make efforts to become a strong swimmer. He swam further out into the water, aware of the myriad minds around him of fish and other ocean life. When he stopped and trod water he felt the curious mouths of fish touching his skin.
And then he caught it. The immense pull of a mind far above any of the others in the vicinity, eclipsing even the bright sparking thoughts from the woman back on the shore. At the same time he saw a great body rising up, breaking the surface of the ocean, releasing a plume of water in a great hissing spray. A whale! Probably a blue whale, he judged, due to the point in the season. It rose up and lay there, slick with water, barnacle encrusted like a boat left wrecked for years.
He had felt a healthy degree of caution. These creatures were huge, and as unpredictable as any intelligent creature that did not have absolute control of its emotions. But he felt no fear or antipathy from the animal, so he had swum closer. The animal stayed still, hanging in the water, unafraid of this small spindly-limbed thing that was approaching it. There was a curiosity in its mind. Spock could feel that without even touching it. He was fascinated by the whale, and the whale was fascinated by him.
So he had swum close enough to touch its looming body, tracing his fingers over the slick skin and the rough adhering barnacles. He had come up to its head and seen its tiny eye, gazed into the depths as the whale looked back at him. The creature had blown water up again from its blow hole, showering Spock's head and shoulders with a cool rain. Suddenly, Spock had caught a sense of laughter. He had felt astonished. The whale was delighting in teasing him with its actions. Perhaps somehow it sensed his slight uneasiness with the situation and wanted to push his boundaries. Perhaps it just understood that such an action was whimsical and fun. Either way, the whale had deliberately showered him, and was gaining pleasure from his reaction.
He touched his fingertips to the whale's massive head, just behind its eye. He had never melded with a creature on earth, human or otherwise. Previously his only experience with meld had been Vulcan to Vulcan, during his years of school. They had always impressed upon him the seriousness of the act. But if there was risk to anyone in such a link, it was to him, not the whale.
So he let his mind extend, reaching out tentatively, ready to withdraw at the first sign of alarm. There was no alarm. The whale accepted him with a wondering curiosity, and suddenly he found himself in the creature's mind, seeing through its – through her – eyes. He felt the massive length of her body buoyed up by the water, felt the cool of the ocean drifting around her. He felt her curiosity and her sense of self and her wandering thoughts of loneliness and security in her aloneness, of her growing-up calf who was somewhere in the waters below, learning to be independent, her sense of fascination at this being who was managing to share her thoughts, to finally communicate after her years of wondering about these small pink creatures that ventured so tentatively into the water.
And then he withdrew. It wasn't safe to continue any longer. He was losing his sense of self, losing his sense of above and below the water, of the danger to his Vulcan body of the cold all around him. He felt a wrench of loss as he slipped his mind away from the whale, and wasn't sure if it was on his part or the creature's. But he felt loss.
He came back to the present, his fingers on Jim's face and the heat of the sun pushing away the memory of the cold. He had become almost dangerously cold during that swim with the whale and had been forced to drag himself back to shore and buff life back into his limbs with his towel. It had been a fascinating experience, but he was aware that sometimes he let his scientific curiosity get the better of him. Perhaps he was no different now to how he had been then, a nineteen year old living alone on Earth for the first time.
'Let's go home, Spock,' Jim whispered. 'I think it's time.'
