A/N: About French – I do not speak it, but this is centuries in the future so I assume that languages would have migrated and shifted. I picked French because of the amazing fic Atlas. (If you haven't read it already, I highly recommend doing so; it's one of my all time favourite fics! Angel Baby1 is an outstanding writer!)

"Cap-Jim."

Jim – that was getting easier to remember and integrate now – smiled at him as he had all of the previous times Spock had slipped and corrected himself. He clearly appreciated the effort. "Yes, Spock?"

"What was it that got you interested in language, culture, and communication?"

Spock was fully prepared for the eventuality that Jim might be reticent or hesitant to let him know, but was instead pleasantly surprised when Jim leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. "Sure. I can tell you that. Anything you get interested in, just ask me about it. I'll never lie to you or brush you off, unless I can't talk about what you are asking me just yet, in which case when I can, I will tell you."

He blinked before almost-smiling. That was a most pleasant discovery indeed, although it did make him a bit suspicious – he doubted the Captain was so open with anyone else. Then again, Spock was Jim's First Officer – they had to have a deeper level of trust, so it probably wasn't anything to be suspicious of, really. "Thank you, Jim. That is quite agreeable to find out."

Jim smiled at him again before clearing his throat and flushing a bit. "It's not a great start. I very first wanted to learn another language in order to be able to tell my mother that I hated her in a way that wouldn't make her cry. She doesn't love me – probably hasn't since I became a toddler – but telling her I hated her always made her cry, which made me feel guilty, and I hated feeling guilty for hurting her when she didn't even give a shit about me. Fucking stupid. Anyway, when I went to my friend who was the daughter of French immigrants, she told me that she would either teach me all of French or none of it, because I should never learn a language just to be vile.

"Well, I was a bored, intelligent kid who could not resist a challenge and who really got interested in her response. She knew the situation and agreed that I did not have to love my mother, so it was very confusing – until I actually began learning French. It is a very romantic and passionate language with a lot of focus on emotional satisfaction, whether those emotions being satisfied are negative or positive. It was then that I realised why she had really insisted so much – if I was going to emotionally express myself, I could not only do it in a negative way. I still talk to Giselle to this day, she's the only friend from my childhood that didn't abandon me when I finally got sick of Frank – that's my stepfather – beating me and told my mother to send me to live anywhere but with her."

Spock just knew there was a very important story about when he went away, but didn't know whether he should ask or not – he didn't know what kind of important it was.

Then again, Jim could always say no for now. He could easily tell him in his own time. "Where did she send you, if you do not mind me asking?"

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Jim paled a bit, but put his hand up before Spock could ask him to wait on informing him of what had happened. "No. You'll find out eventually – might as well make it now so we can talk about this when we need to instead of avoiding it every time it comes up."

Jim swallowed and let out a shaky sigh, worrying Spock. This could not possibly be good. In fact, he would go so far as to say that the incident had been horrifically traumatic if just telling him the name would do that to Jim. "Tarsus IV. You've probably found out the truth about what happened there, if not then I'll explain some other time. Just so you know, I was not on the list of people considered worthy enough to keep alive. I was on the "kill" list, as were all of my family and friends there. I… I'm J.T."

This time the intake of breath came from Spock and he felt his eyes widening. Jim had survived that massacre?! Spock only knew the truth about it because of an incautious Admiral and his own searching after the fact – the events on Tarsus IV were classified, and with good reason, and the nebulous identity of the leader of the Tarsus Nine was finally properly identified. He wasn't surprised that it was Jim. Even with that though… How in the name of Surak was Jim even remotely capable of what he was? That was highly improbable! "I am at a loss for words."

Jim gave him a tentative smile and moved his chess piece. Spock took the hint and resolved to think on this and respond in an appropriate manner before the evening ended.

After twelve point four minutes, he finally thought of something. "Would you take it amiss if I were to congratulate you for the courage it took to get where you are now from there?"

Jim looked up, clearly startled and pleased, and this time his smile was bright and lovely as he said, "Thank you, Spock. For not pitying me, belittling the loss, or acting like it obviously could not have affected me so seriously just because I managed to bounce back. I haven't told anyone about this since I told Bones a few years ago, and not many people before him. Mostly just counsellors and therapists, who usually either pitied me, belittled me, or acted like it was no big deal. Only one understood, but I didn't get to her until it was almost too late."

That simply confused Spock; were they not supposed to be professionals? "That seems very wrong of them. I do not understand why they would react in such a manner."

He let out a bitter laugh that Spock immediately hated – Jim should never laugh like that, so disillusioned and despising. "That's because my mother would not allow Starfleet to treat me like they wanted. She insisted on civilians who could not possibly understand something like a planet-wide massacre. She didn't really want me to be helped, if I can be honest with you about that. I know your mother was a wonderful woman, but mine… not so much. She is a highly respected Starfleet Officer, but she didn't love either of her sons, neither Sam nor myself. She especially hated me. Sam mostly looks like our mother, but I look just like my father – spitting image, I could be his twin. I know she was likely just hurting, but I cannot have any positive feelings for someone who takes anything out on a child in any way whatsoever."

Spock felt exactly the same. Children were cherished and protected on Vulcan, they were precious. Never, under any circumstance, mistreated. Well – sometimes it did happen but always unintentionally, a parent being too strict or something to that extent, like his own father, Sarek. Of course, children would be children and they often abused each other. "I will be completely honest, I feel that your mother – and your stepfather – is a despicable person. Nobody should ever mistreat children in any way, shape, or form, much less not caring for them properly and allowing someone into their life who will physically harm them. Similarly, physical harm to a child is something completely not tolerated or acceptable in any way in Vulcan culture."

Jim laughed – this time a soft chuckle – and said, "It seems that despite our disparate backgrounds, we sure do have a lot in common, Spock. But, I do feel the utterly obnoxious need to point out that I already knew that, as I dated a v'tosh ka'tur for a year, she was a transfer student in high school, the first Vulcan I ever met."

He laughed again when Spock raised his eyebrow, this time bright and lively, his blue eyes sparkling like sunlight on the sea. "I know, what an introduction, right? But she grew up being a proper Vulcan, and though her parents weren't exactly pleased with her decision to cease her emotional suppression, they recognised that it was ultimately her decision and they did not have the right to force her to fit the mould they wanted her to fit. I learned so much that year and a half. That was why I was careful when I touched you – dating a touch-telepath was one thing, but you and I aren't dating, we're learning to be good friends and letting it take us where it takes us. I can't touch your fingers or the underside of your hand, although if I need to project something to you, the top of the hand or your wrist is more acceptable. I have to control my emotions whenever I touch you so you don't get unwanted leakages – for instance, no letting stress or anxiety leak over, you don't need that at all."

Spock was speechless – again – and marvelled at how amazing it would be to have a close friend who actually understood this. Even Nyota had not completely comprehended, and had freely let her emotions play over her skin when she touched him. He inhaled slowly and let his thankfulness show in his eyes as he softly said, "Thank you, Jim. I do believe that this friendship is something that will benefit the both of us."

Jim gave Spock a soft, understanding smile as he went back to the game. Oh yes, he knew everything he could and could not do, and knew he had to carefully repress his constantly growing attraction whenever he touched Spock. Jim was going to be exquisitely careful about wooing the Vulcan. He had the feeling that Spock had never really had a friend who truly understood him before, and being Spock's friend was more important than anything else he could do interpersonally. Spock needed him. Just as Jim needed Spock.