Well this always happens to me, I said this was gonna be a crack fic and then I write a chapter and it comes out totally serious and kinda feelsy. Still, here t'is.

(If you possibly can, listen to Beethoven's "Appassionata" and read this at the same time, it's not completely necessary but may enhance the read!)

The Music Room #1.

It begins quietly enough, an uneventful night that sees most of the alpha shift kicking back, having some drinks and talking or playing cards in the rec room on deck three.

It begins with three soft notes, gentle chords drifting softly from the music room across the hall, a slow innocuous suggestion of tune that creeps through the closed door of the music room and across this part of the ship. Slow but struggling with tension, darker and darker notes creeping, none too gradually in until the listeners feel on edge from it, until you can tell that the player is tensely balanced on a tightrope of technical perfection and broiling anger. Barely a minute of this before the music comes crashing in in short tense staccato bursts, alternately lulling the listener into edgy moments of false security and jagged bursts of angry slamming upon the keys of the piano.

Even before the tune begins to slide in through the chords most of the rec room has paused in what they are doing to listen, wondering as they do who on the ship can play like that, how angry they have to be to play like that and what can have made them angry enough to play like that. Several of them marvel in the knowledge that they would probably never be able to plumb a depth of emotion to play so furiously or indeed ever have that inside them.

When the tune fully slides in it is a relief to all, you can hear it in the player as he surely sways very slightly to its dancing beat, hear the pauses and the trembling between the violently dancing fingers. But it increases, it comes on in waves, surely the player is in a trance with it, eyes closed, head floating on that space of music that carries you like the sea, weathering a year's worth of storms and stills in the space of these few minutes.

But each new crash and cascade of notes as the music rises can only remind the player how angry they are, how their own internal sea storms and heaves and trembles in teetering carefully controlled rushes of note that sound terribly like threats. Then the tune is back and it is angry, that calming influence, all that carefully controlled sound at war with the crashing chords and surely the war must rage from the heart that plays. You cannot play this with your fingers, it only can come from the heart. And yet for all of the rage in the music you could not be ruled in this by heart alone; you must force it down so that the brain can remember, order, tension, balance, control, the heart surges but it must be put down enough to play the melody right. And the melody is right, not a note is dropped or missed.

But there is bitterness here, yes and seething rage and all must be both concealed and revealed to create the perfect harmony, they must play alongside until the storm abates and these beautiful moments of crystal clarity can shine through and surely – you come to think – one person alone cannot be playing this to get it perfectly – you would need two, one to be the mind and one to be the heart for surely both cannot exist in such extremes within one vessel.

It calms. Then is begins again. Rise and fall, rise and fall. And rise and rise in an ecstasy of catharsis as the first movement rushes to its close in a scream of sound and fury like a warrior reaching breaking point and hurling themselves berserk into battle seconds before the battle ends.

Everyone in the rec room seems to heave a collective sigh as the piece enters its second movement, a movement like still upon the sea, gentle ripples of waves and the sun coming out across the surface, covering up those frightening depths.

"Wouldn't want to get on their bad side" murmurs Dr McCoy as he returns to his brandy, feeling after that like having sailed a violent sea, and feeling rather queasy from it. He puts his finished drink down on the table, bids his crew mates a courteous goodnight and steps out into the corridor.

"Jim?" he exclaims – "What the devil are you doing down there?"

The Captain is sat on the floor, the very picture of a washed out and discarded toy, leaning his forehead against the cool smoothness of the wall just beside the music room door.

"If I was a different person – and I didn't know Spock – I'd say he was doing it on purpose to make me feel like shit" he sighs, turning to look at the doctor, smiling so weakly McCoy knows he really is upset. Kirk squeezes his eyes shut tight for several seconds because they seem to be prickling. McCoy frowns –

"That's Spock?" he boggles.

Kirk raises an eyebrow in silent affirmation –

"Well who else on this ship can pull of a perfect Appasionata? Oh for fuck's sake –" he groans as the calming lull of the second movement comes to a close and the last movement springs straight in upon its heels like an angry dog that doesn't want to give up and this time it's a no – hold's – barred flurry of savage playing, the definitive musical fuck this shit and fuck you all Kirk thinks aware that his interior monologue is a whole lot less eloquent than the outer one that Spock is delivering.

"You know you could just go in there and say you're sorry" suggests McCoy.

"Three minutes into the third movement - are you shitting me? He'd tear me a new one."

McCoy pats him on the shoulder –

"Y'know sometimes I think you and I know two different Spocks". Kirk looks at him incredulously and rolls his eyes at the doctor's slowness. As if after all this time he has not noticed that there are two different Spocks at war behind that calm façade.

"I'll be fine Bones" Kirk adds with a sigh – "I'll give it five minutes – then it'll be safe to go in."

"You take care Jim" McCoy pats him again as he heads off down the corridor – "Goodnight".

"'night Bones" Kirk floats the words out after him absently, getting to his feet as his friend departs, taking advantage of a brief lull in the music to rise steadily. It hurts, every angry rush of notes that dash their way to the close is like Spock is shouting at him. He rather wishes Spock would just shout at him. The annoyance expresses so much more hurt than words. The music rushes faster and faster, that curious balance of passionate rage and technical perfection – complete musical harmony. Kirk is surprised that whatever is being released in this outpouring could not take on a life of its own and start stalking the halls of the ship.

Well the way things go around here it possibly could.

When the last chords come crashing down Kirk gives it the several moments that he knows he would need if he had just made that musical outpouring. Then he gives it the time he can feel it taking for Spock, reaching out just tentatively enough to hear a not quite worded affirmative in Spock's head that yes, it's alright for him to enter now.

When he goes in Spock is just closing the piano lid calmly, turning around on the stool to look up at him expectantly. He knows what he is going to say, has been able to hear him saying it ever since they stormed off in opposite directions earlier that evening.

"Spock I'm sorry" Kirk says, simply.

Spock nods and though his face never changes Kirk can feel him smile gently. Can feel too that now, finally the calm exterior extends all the way into him, washed clean by music.

"Yes Jim" he says and there is a warm calm to the tone of it that is all the forgiveness Kirk could need – "I know."

_x_

So this took root in an idea given me by WeirdLittleStories (Thank you!) and then kinda grew into its own beast! One of my favourite things about Spock is his musicality and I got really hooked on the idea of him doing something as majorly emotional as Beethoven's Appassionata. If this chapter seems kinda rushed it's because I basically wrote it with the piece playing at the same time, with a few pauses and minimal redrafting to try and make a written equivalent of the sonata. I hope it works! If it does I may revisit this room in a later chapter (I very nearly had him do Rachmaninov's 3rd in D Minor but that just seemed too hard core!)

Before I lose everyone in the wake of my classical music nerdery however I will probably stick to your regularly scheduled crack in the next chapter for I believe we have a swimming pool to visit….! :-)

Thank you all and good night!