Chapter 16 - Need, Part 5

Kirk paced his dorm room, wished he'd gone for a run rather than to the dance club. The room felt cottony quiet and his body felt penned in by it. He wished instead for the laxity that followed heavy exercise.

The door chimed and opened. Spock led Zienn inside. Kirk felt a pang of guilt at himself for the situation. He should always be stronger than his circumstances.

"Leave us alone, Spock," Kirk said.

Spock stood straighter, looked to Zienn who nodded after a pause. Spock looked like he wanted to argue, but he went out, motions stiff.

Thirty seconds passed in silence. Zienn appeared serious and strong, unwavering. Kirk appreciated this, let himself be visually examined.

"Spock tells me you were injured, but he could not say in what way."

Kirk sat heavily on the bed, pressed his hands together in his lap. "I am, but it's the least of my problems at the moment."

"Does that make it logical to leave it unaddressed?"

"Your Standard has gotten really good."

Zienn nodded, waited.

"I hate doing this with you." Kirk tossed his hand. "I feel like I'm cheating on Spock."

"You realize Spock shares his mind with me nearly every session we have."

Kirk looked sideways at the reflections in the darkened window. "That doesn't seem the same."

"Despite it being exactly the same." Zienn lifted his head. "What befell you?"

"This has to remain secret. I was put in a machine that empties all thought. Or does so at low power. At higher power, some thought returns, as part of a fight for survival, enough awareness to long for anything to fill the void the machine creates." Kirk frowned. "I'm doing better. Spock is overreacting."

"You understand why he overreacts."

"Yes, of course." Kirk smiled painfully. "Of course I understand. But you have to understand how intimate what you intend feels to me. It's not the same if it's you and Spock melding since you are intended as a race to participate."

"Only with very close family. We do not treat it as casually as you suggest." Zienn stood looking at him without expression. "Your emotions and your logic are unusually tangled, for you."

Kirk looked away. "You doing this for Spock? Sacrificing like this with someone so illogical?"

"My preferences and motives are not up for consideration."

Kirk turned his head to the window, smiled wryly. "Go on, then, let's get this over with."

Zienn stepped forward and pressed his fingers to Kirk's right temple without preamble. Kirk felt his will become indistinct. He thought of the neutralizer, how each additional battle with it had caused him so much more pain, had only made him fight harder, bringing more pain. He sat passively, let his mind become another's, not so much with trust as with cynicism about his choices.

Zienn withdrew. Like the machine, Kirk had no sense of time passing. Zienn clasped his hands before him, looked down at Kirk for a while.

"Your thoughts are much darker than before. I cannot see evidence for the machine causing this directly, only indirectly."

"I didn't feel so lonely before. The machine opened an empty void in me. It's still there."

"That void is not new. You have only been made aware of it."

Kirk closed his eyes, held in a laugh. He raised his head and opened his eyes on a random spot on the wall. If that void had always been there then he'd do as he always did and live with it.

Zienn's measured tones cut through Kirk's bolstering himself. "I will take Spock to the temple. After a year, I expect, his dislike of melds will have eased, if not his aversion to bonding."

"Don't do that to him." Kirk felt his eyes burning. "Let him be." Kirk stood up, wanted to get more angry with Zienn, but couldn't manage it when faced with his generousness and his self-contained poise.

"May I suggest for you a human expert in untangling emotions?" Zienn said. "I agree with Spock that you are not yourself."

"I'll be out of Spock's way soon enough. He needs time away from me more than anything else. Give him some room to grow."

Kirk folded his things into his duffle bag, putting the items into a vertical row so he could see the edges of them.

Zienn said, "I will find Spock now and send him back to you. If there is nothing else you wish of me."

Kirk bit his lip, turned. "Thank you for trying. Spock insisted on fetching you despite my telling him to wait."

Zienn bowed. "I am at Spock's call."

Kirk felt molten and chilled. "I'm glad you of all people will be here. I trust you to take good care of him without limiting him."

"I will have to expose him to much he doesn't wish to be. Yes." Zienn stood before the door. "From Spock's description you are going to a place of violence."

Kirk looked down at his things in the duffle. "Yes."

Zienn nodded, gave a Vulcan greeting, which Kirk quietly returned. Then he was gone.

Spock returned half an hour later, brusque and bringing the scent of foggy outside air with him.

"Zienn informed me that there was little he could do for you."

Kirk turned, held his jaw taut against saying, I told you so. "I really should sleep."

Spock looked him over, at each of his eyes, at his face. He nodded. "May I remain and do my studies?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I will go if you prefer."

"I said, 'Yes, you can stay.'"

Kirk washed up, stripped, slipped into bed in a darkness punctuated by the light from Spock's padd. Unusually, light was leaking in a streak from the side of it. Kirk sat up in bed, watching him.

"What are you working on?"

"Readings in work flow architecture."

"You neglecting your other classes?"

Having failed to answer two questions properly in Propulsion, Spock had to answer, "Perhaps."

"Fundamentals are important too, Spock. Don't get ahead of yourself."

Spock put his hands around the padd's body, made it click. When he let go, it clicked again and the streak of light returned. It was his heavy, expensive padd.

"You take that apart one too many times?"

Spock let go and put his arms at his sides, hands on his thighs. "I am not one hundred percent certain what happened to it."

Kirk plotted the course of their conversation, could feel it inextricably continuing along the same canyon. He wondered if Loomis was what Zienn considered an expert in human emotion. Kirk would be far away soon and it wouldn't matter. But maybe leaving like this wasn't the best idea. Things got a hundred times harder to deal with at a distance.

The room was becoming easier to see in the darkness. There were still lights on in the rooms of the dorm across the street. Ships came in and out of orbit at all hours, disgorging and scooping up personnel. Spock sat fixed at the desk as if on duty, head bent to read the glowing type highlighting his face.

Kirk lay down on his side facing the wall. He wondered what was really eating at him. Maybe it was feeling he couldn't trust anything, but that wasn't a new problem. He mulled things over a long time without feeling any better, was sucked down into sleep without warning that it was happening.


Kirk saw Spock off in a breakfast-less rush to class in the morning. Loomis replied to Kirk's message an hour after he sent it, agreed to see him that evening. Kirk wanted to cancel, made himself go for a walk instead. He went outside, walked downhill, away from the Starfleet buildings, caught a tram for a long ride along the shore, just to sense movement and keep his mind at ease.

Once Kirk was deployed in Lohanna everything would be put aside, a justifiable absenteeism from ordinary problems. He'd seen others become addicted to that state of mind, unable later to bear to return to the emotional land of trivialities. In Kirk's experience, people that left too many unresolved things behind before found it hardest to return home fully and functionally. Kirk had never had a home he really wanted to return to, and had never worried quite this way about having to return with both body and soul.

The day was hot. Kirk walked slowly, turned his face into the brine coming off the bay. He looked around himself at the trees canopying the divided roadway, the ground cars, the ships going by in the haze blanketing the water. The crowds grew heavier around an old warehouse redone to hold small restaurants. Children were playing on insect shaped climbing toys deployed to let parents enjoy the outdoor cafes. Kirk watched them for a time, considered getting a pastry even though he'd barely earned one with his walking. He went to the railing by the water, listened to the waves slapping the underside of the pier.

This world, his world, already felt as alien as it was going to be in a few weeks when he had a stream of must-do tasks to attend to, when life or death required that he be intimate with one alien environment after another that he would never see again nor have time to enjoy.

Kirk bought a coffee and a donut, ate it as he watched the ships pass under the bridge. He was going to miss real donuts. He ate this one slowly, biting through the sugary carapace to the airy, flakey fat of it in as small bites as possible, but found the wrapper in his hand empty moments later.

A pair of young children ran up to the railing. The younger one, maybe four, pinned his face between the bars to look out, the girl, maybe six, stood with high decorum peering out as if at her personal domain. Both had Vulcan features, ears and brows, but pale brown hair, human softened foreheads, rounded cheeks. Kirk held his coffee in both hands, stared down at them as if he'd imagined them into existence somehow. He was glimpsing Spock, a younger Spock he ached to know, but could not.

Kirk crouched beside the boy who had looked up to puzzle him out. "Hello," Kirk said in Vulcan.

Kirk proceeded to learn a lot of new vocabulary as the boy pointed out things as they appeared on the water, birds, boats, cars on the bridge. Kirk asked him simple questions which were answered eagerly, rambling and distracted and unabashed. The little girl stood behind her brother in her miniature version of formal robes, hands at her sides, watching Kirk with unblinking reservation.

The parents approached, a gangly human male with a weak chin and a frequent squint, the vulcan woman, dark, olive complected. Her gaze fixed on Kirk's uniform.

Rule one of basic Vulcan family etiquette: address the adults first. Exchange proper introductions, maybe get introduced to the children if the interaction level deems it.

Kirk turned back to the boy, asked him if he saw the sea gulls bobbing on the waves nearby, hoping for something to be tossed from the railing by the cafe. The boy nodded, said he did not know the Vulcan word for them. Kirk asked if the gulls might have personal names they called themselves. The boy's brow furrowed. This was pushing into fantasy, which may be entirely new to him. There was no logical reason for gulls to have individual names. The boy gave him a name, something like "water dove" but seemed unwilling to give out more names, even when prompted with ideas. Kirk continued to ignore the parents, felt much younger doing so, back before Tarsus, back when obnoxious rebellion was a luxury he could afford.

"We have not been introduced," the woman said in Vulcan.

Kirk looked up at her. Smiled. Sighed silently. He had a uniform to represent. He stood, greeted them and introduced himself with a Vulcan salute, tried to keep the temple honorifics to a minimum.

"You have quite an interest in our son, Serran," she indicated the boy.

Kirk felt himself blushing, hoped it was lost in any color he had from the wind and sun. "He reminds me of my boyfriend, Spock."

"Spock?" the man said. "The . . ." He seemed to struggle for words. "The ambassador's son?"

Kirk imagined that anyone having hybrid Vulcan-human children was probably aware of the handful of other Vulcan-human hybrids.

The woman stated properly, "Spock, son of Sarek of Shikahr, of T'Pau of Shikahr?"

Kirk nodded formally. "Yes."

"You're his boyfriend?" The man asked.

"Thank you for not watching the feeds too much," Kirk said. "Yes."

"That's why you're name's familiar."

"I'm a perennial source of scandal," Kirk happily said.

"That must be. Interesting. In that family."

Kirk smiled more. "I'm breaking them into it." He waited to see if this generated more than uncomfortable silence. It didn't.

He turned back to the boy. "I missed seeing Spock when he was young like this." Then thought, young like this and struggling with his brother's abuse and struggling with the Healers' abuse. Kirk's chest tightened. He needed to fix things and had only a few days to do it. Fix himself.

Kirk crouched again, was given a solemn list of names for the other seagulls. He wanted to touch the boy, but knew better. "Been really nice talking to you," Kirk said. He looked to the girl, still standing watch behind her brother. "And you too. I could have used a sister like you."

Kirk bought another donut and washed it down with the remains of his coffee, which he knew, even lukewarm, was going to seem like a distant dream of magical elixir in a few weeks time.


"I really hate talking to you."

Loomis's face relaxed into a smile after a pause as if remembering expressions were allowed now. "Can't say I don't like honesty. You've got me there."

Kirk adjusted his back on the reclined chair. "I keep taking advantage of you. Another late evening because I didn't give you any warning."

"I could have scheduled you for another day, but it still would have been an evening." Loomis crossed his lean legs. His unusually thick uniform pants made scrunching noises as he moved. He lowered his voice. "Given how my days sometimes go, seeing someone who has ordinary problems helps me reset my understanding for what is normal."

Loomis went on, "I realize it's part of your nature to concern yourself with others, but I want you to feel you can set that aside. Think about yourself for a bit."

Kirk put his hands behind his head, stared at the curved edge of the wall where it met the ceiling.

"Something happened in the last few days, I assume?" Loomis asked.

Kirk looked over sideways. "You look at my file?"

"I did not. I trust you to tell me and it gives me a chance to listen."

"I'm not supposed to speak of it in detail, but your clearance is way better than anyone in my command line. On Tantalus Colony I got exposed to a neural neutralizer, a machine that empties your mind out to the point of longing for your tormentor to keep talking to keep you company. And with no effort, he used that machine to program into me an undying love for someone I'd just met."

Loomis fell unnaturally still.

Kirk smiled. "Wishing you had the big slate now? I'll wait if you want to fetch it." Kirk looked at the ceiling again. "I got cleared on it officially. Commander was adamant I be examined right away for my own professional good." Kirk took a deep breath. "That's not the problem anyway. It just made me realize there are other problems I'd been ignoring. Those are my problem now."

"What makes you think there's another problem?"

Kirk unhooked one of his arms from behind his head, examined his fingers. "I've been lashing out at Spock. Being relentlessly critical." Kirk shook his head and frowned painfully. "Poor kid's just doing his thing. Doing the best he can to juggle his classes. Trying out new disciplines he's learning from the high priest. And I can't. Not. Hit out at him."

"Why do you think you're doing that?"

Kirk ached deep in his chest. "Because I'm leaving? I don't know. I want a meld from him, but melds hurt him."

"You want a meld because of the emptiness you experienced?"

Kirk nodded. "I badly want a meld."

Loomis paused. "You haven't asked him for one?

"No. Melding with Spock would reverse the pain of the experience for me, but at the expense of my independence and his psychic self-determination. Which are important. He suffered two miserable betrothals, too many melds from Healers he couldn't refuse. I can't ask for that from him."

Loomis sat straighter. "I don't see anything unusual in this effort of yours to sacrifice for him. Can you tell me more about what you see as the problem?"

Kirk gave him a pained expression. "I don't like being like this. Taking things out on him. It's not me."

"You're hurting. That makes people poorly behaved. Most people. Ordinary people. Of which you are apparently one. At times."

Kirk pointed his toes, felt his boots resist it. "So, what do I do?"

"You act like there's a switch you can throw."

"There better be. I only have a few days to straighten this out."

"Communication is universally the best answer. And if you can't communicate, honestly tracing out why often leads to the root of the problem. I don't see why that doesn't apply. But you don't want to ask Spock for a meld because he might say yes. Or because he might say no. Which one?"

Kirk let go of a breath. "He'll say yes."

"And you'll get your meld. But that's not actually the problem. So what is?"

Kirk said, "I don't want to hurt him. But I'm doing so. And can't stop. And my God, love is something you can just manufacture out of thin area. What's it mean anyway?"

"You don't want Spock to see this doubt you harbor about your emotions?"

That didn't seem like the whole answer to Kirk. Kirk shook his head. "Do you know what a meld is like? Have you had one?"

Loomis swallowed hard. "No, I have not, I admit."

"It's far more intimate than sex."

"I'd believe that." Loomis clasped his hands over his crossed knee. "You have sex with Spock regularly, however. So this is not about avoiding intimacy. And it's not about hiding your doubts about love. After all, he's a Vulcan and likely doesn't attest to love anyway."

Kirk pinched his bottom lip in his fingers, worked at his lip with his thumb.

Loomis said, "I can see something is there. What are you feeling?"

Kirk didn't answer right away. He was feeling tense in the center of his chest, physically unwell.

"I don't have you wired up," Loomis said. "But I've seen enough people who were that I'm going to estimate that you're scared of something."

"I'd walk into Klingon high command with just a hand phaser if need be."

Loomis sounded amused. "I'm quite certain that I didn't question your courage. Why are you defending it?"

Kirk looked right at Loomis. "I hate talking to you."

Loomis still sounded amused. "I'm glad, honestly, to see there is a normal person inside of the legendary James Kirk."

Kirk expected to snap out a rebuttal to this. But his anger was gone. His will to lash out drained away. Loomis waited, studying him.

"Let's try an exercise. Okay?" Loomis's voice was gentle.

Kirk nodded, rested back and stared at the ceiling again. He felt defeated and empty.

"I'm going to put the programmed love issue aside," Loomis said. "It's not important."

Kirk nodded, found he didn't care, wondered at that. He'd worried over it, felt guilty over it, but it didn't seem that important.

"I'm going to put the intimacy issue aside. It's not important either."

"It's a little important." Kirk's voice sounded small to his ears.

"How so?"

"It's how I connect to him." Kirk blushed faintly. "I mean, really connect. Not just be together."

"And just being together isn't enough?"

Kirk looked at his nails again. "Doesn't seem to be."

"What do you talk about when you are just being together?"

"What he needs to do." Kirk thought over his recent conversations with Spock. "I tell him what to do too much. I can't seem to stop doing that."

"You are far more experienced with Starfleet and the duties he's training for."

Kirk felt a wave of uneasiness again.

"I could detect that without any sensors," Loomis said.

"You normally operate this way. Giving everything away to your patient?" Kirk asked.

"Only with you. Manipulating you backfires, as I discovered." Loomis sat back. "That was fear you were feeling just now. What were you thinking about?"

"Trying to guide Spock." Kirk's eyes felt hot for no reason. "Spock is so damn important." Kirk banked his sudden forcefulness, breathed in, rested his head back on his arm and looked up at the featureless ceiling.

Loomis didn't speak.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Kirk said. "I'm an idiot lieutenant commander with an over-reliance on luck and wishful thinking. Spock is the first of a new race." Kirk patted his own chest. "What do I think I'm doing?"

Loomis uncrossed his legs, leaned forward over his clasped hands. "His father seems to think you are doing fine. Do you not respect his view?"

"He does think that. But he also badly underestimates Spock's future. He has very little faith in him. Spock has the potential to change everything he touches. To be a bridge between the two most important worlds of the Federation. If he can bring Vulcan into Starfleet we can do so much more. Things we never imagined before."

"Do you think Spock is fragile?"

"No. I don't know. Yes and no."

"Imagine I have Spock here instead of you, and I ask him what he gets out of his relationship with you. What would he say?"

Kirk pictured that, had to imagine Spock opening up to a stranger, which was a stretch. "Acceptance. Belief in him." Kirk imagined Spock as he'd last seen him, insisting on staying the night. "Companionship."

"Those sound relatively easy to deliver."

Kirk looked up at him, pleading. "If anyone could mess up his future it would be me."

Loomis considered him. "You are departing when, exactly?"

"Sometime between three and five days."

"This will be easy enough to follow then. This is what I want you to do. I want you to go back to Spock and simply appreciate him. That's all. Until your transport. Got it?"

"That's all? No advice about classes or his instructors or assignments?"

"What did you just list for me as important to him?"

Kirk rubbed his eye. "I didn't list advice. Did I?"

"I didn't hear it. So. You, James Kirk, are going to the Lohanna Sector?"

"I'm getting a pair of light strike teams to command."

"Lots of fierce fighting still going on there. But I don't sense any uncertainty about that. No fear."

Kirk shook his head.

"I want to be sure I have this straight. Going back for a few days to adore your boyfriend who adores you in return scares you but an active war zone does not?"

"When you put it that way . . ."

"Spock needs from you what you are currently withholding by worrying you cannot be everything for him and that you might make a mistake."

Kirk closed his eyes.

"Got it?" Loomis said.

Kirk held in a breath. "That hurts."

"Doesn't have to. Be what he needs. Nothing else. For the next few days, religiously. Trust me, you will arrive at your mission in far better emotional shape if you do this."

Kirk knitted his fingers together. "I feel kind of stupid now."

"That's progress."

Kirk pulled himself to sit up. His knees were too close to his face. He held onto the backs of his legs. "I got caught up in feeling guilty, I guess. It just kept getting worse."

"One last thing. Consider, just consider, that asking Spock for a meld might be the ultimate expression of appreciating him. It would, for certain, be an expression of trust in his ability to make his own decisions."

Kirk let go of his legs, held himself curled forward, rubbed his face as he tried to imagine that. "I might not do that."

"Two months from now when you are out on some mission in a cold alien night and it's quiet and you are waiting for an attack that might not come tonight or ever, what are you going to wish you'd done with regard to Spock and this need for a meld?"

Kirk froze with his hands over his face. Dropped them.

"I really hate talking to you."