Chapter 11

Trying to take care of Spock was like taking care of an emotionally stunted, stoic puppy. He wanted to do what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it, injuries be damned. Most of the time, he just wanted to be left alone to do things on his own, even though it was illogical. There simply wasn't a lot that Spock could do without his vision, although to be fair, he was a lot more competent than most humans would be if suddenly blinded. Either way, Jim found that being around a semi-helpless, but ridiculously stubborn half-Vulcan was just another form of personal hell.

And there was nothing he could do about it because he had promised. Well, he had learned his lesson. There was a reason that Bones had given in to Jim's request. He knew. He knew what it was like to have Spock as a medical patient. He knew that it was almost impossible to get him to comply with reasonable requests when he was incapacitated with injuries. He knew that Jim would hate being forced to cajole, beg, and threaten Spock to get him to do what was best for his health. It had all been part of his sick, sadistic plan.

All that Jim knew was that if Spock didn't stop being an infant (damn, did he just quote Bones?), someone was going to end up dead, and it was probably going to be McCoy for agreeing with this plan to begin with.

Jim sighed for what had to have been the millionth time that day. It had been four days since they had left Organia and Spock had been temporarily blinded. The upside was that he finally was able to use his hands again, although that just seemed to give him more determination to be completely independent. Jim admired Spock for his determination, he really did, he just didn't understand how in the world the logical man managed to justify it to himself. It was simply illogical to insist upon doing things on his own knowing full well that it would probably lead to an increased chance of injury and a decreased likelihood of success.

Jim had spent a decent portion of the past few days arguing with Spock, which essentially amounted to him yelling about how stupid he was being and Spock calmly trying to back up his lunatic desires. Jim almost turned around to head back to the bridge just thinking about it instead of continuing to Spock's room.

Spock, let me help you type that up. Spock, are you sure you don't need help setting up the chess board. Spock, you can't read that on your own, you're blind. Spock, I'm not incapable of using a replicator, what do you want - no, I know Vulcans don't want things - but what do you want to eat? Spock, you need to take your pain medications, I don't care about your damned Vulcan control. Spock, if you run into one more wall, Bones is gonna kill me.

Yep, every conversation, without fail, disintegrated into something of that nature. He could only hope that Bones had this kind of trouble when he checked up on him. Although Jim had a distinct feeling that Spock was especially troublesome just for him. Damned emotionless Vulcan.

Oh...wait, sorry. Spock had emotions, he just repressed the shit out of them.

Jim sighed and punched in the entry code to Spock's room, waiting for it to slide open. When he entered, he found that Spock was sitting on the floor, appearing to be in meditation. A twinge of guilt made Jim pause and he considered backing out of the room. But he knew that it was useless. Any sound - any at all- would have already disturbed him. They had already covered this on the first day. Jim had accidentally walked in on Spock meditating and instead of doing his best to remain quiet, he had gone about business per usual. Needless to say, Spock hadn't been very happy with him.

"Spock," Jim said softly, noting that he seemed to already be regaining consciousness. He walked over to his bed and sat down, watching the other man carefully. He had spent a lot of time meditating and more often than not Jim seemed to interrupt him. Not that it was his fault and not that he usually enjoyed it, it was just how things had to be until he regained his eyesight.

"Captain," Spock said softly, tilting his head slightly as if trying to find Jim based on any sound he might make. Jim knew it was kind of cruel, but it had became a kind of game with him. He would do his absolute best to make no sounds, breathing as shallowly as possible and sitting stock still. He almost never won, but sometimes it would take Spock a few minutes to find him. There had been one time when he had been able to convince him that he wasn't in the room and he had jumped out at him, making all kinds of loud noises. The reaction had been hilarious: Spock had jumped and took a rapid step backward running into his desk and causing things on his desk to fall to the floor. The guilt that had followed was not so great: Spock looked at Jim, an almost hurt expression dancing across his face and his posture quickly regained its stiff composure. That had been a very tense day.

It didn't take long for Spock to find him and he turned to face the bed, still sitting on the floor. They both sat in silence for a moment before Jim's growling stomach decided to make itself known.

"Are you hungry, Spock?" Jim asked, moving over to the replicator and going through some of the selections.

Spock paused for a moment and then nodded. "I do require sustenance at this time," he said, pulling himself to his feet and began to walk slowly towards where the replicator was.

"No, Spock," Jim said firmly as Spock reached him. He gently gave the man a push towards the table. "I've got this. Go sit down and I'll bring it over."

"Captain, I am more than capable of working a replicator. I am blind, not an invalid."

Jim ground his teeth and bit back a sarcastic response. It had been too long a day for him to want to argue with Spock tonight. Although they were just transporting goods, it required a lot more supervision than he had originally anticipated. Jim had to make sure that the goods were in fine order, brush up on various cultures so as to not cause an intergalactic scandal, and make sure that his crew was doing what they were supposed to be doing. All the while checking in on Spock once an hour.

"Just go sit, Spock," Jim snapped. Surprisingly, Spock complied, albeit reluctantly. It only took a moment for the food to be prepared and he carried it over to the table, sitting down across from Spock. This had become their nightly occurrence, and Jim found that, despite everything, he would miss it once Spock regained his sight. Although, he could easily say that this was the one of the only things he'd miss.

As they ate, Jim explained what was happening on the bridge, keeping Spock up to speed. Yes, they were still a few days away from their destination. No, they weren't behind schedule. Yes, everything was ready and prepared, they just had to get there. Of course Jim knew the proper way to greet them. No, the Enterprise hadn't spiraled out of control in Spock's absence.

That was the progression of their conversation and it didn't take them long to finish their meal. Immediately, Jim began to clean up, knowing that if he didn't, Spock would attempt to and then he would probably either make a mess or somehow break something and cut himself. Either way, it was simply easier for him take responsibility for it.

As he cleaned, Spock had resumed his position on the floor, taking his meditative stance. Jim knew that the second he left, Spock would fall into a deep meditative trance. It almost made Jim want to leave him in peace. But then, that would be drastically out of character for him. Instead he smiled and thought of something that he had once learned when he was a child. Palm reading. It would definitely be something to entertain both of them, even if Spock would probably be uncomfortable and Jim didn't believe in anything involving anything psychics. Regardless, it would be something to do that didn't involve Jim having to guide, commentate, or argue with Spock.

"Give me your hand," Jim said suddenly, sitting down in front of Spock on the floor. He looked in the direction of Jim's voice and raised one of his eyebrows. It was a rather odd request, in hindsight, but Jim didn't care.

"For what point or purpose?" he asked, and Jim thought that he became even more withdrawn, if possible. There had been a definite stiffening, though.

"Just because," Jim responded and reached out and grabbed his left wrist, knowing that he wouldn't be able to anticipate the move. For a moment he felt bad for taking advantage of Spock's blindness, but he decided that he wasn't really doing anything bad. He was just bored and he figured that this was as good a way as any to kill time.

Spock's pulse beneath Jim's fingers seemed unusually fast and for a second, he was worried that something was wrong with him. Then he remembered that a Vulcan's heart rate was faster than a human's. Turning his attention to his hand, he flipped it over revealing his recently healed palm. There were small scars, but they were already faded, and Jim momentarily wondered just what the Klingons had done to his first officer. Something flashed across Spock's face, reminding Jim that he was a touch telepath so he decided to focus on something else.

Instead, he began to analyze his hand. Spock was statuesque in his stiffness and Jim figured that he was fighting every instinct to not pull away. He smiled slightly, noting the various lines that he knew had some kind of psychic worth. At one point in time, Jim had known what they had meant, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could probably still remember. His mom had gone through a stage where she had spent a lot of time studying the supernatural and Jim had somehow gotten roped into it as well. It was quite possible that this was where his hatred for all things regarding knowledge of the future came from.

However, he still could remember some things that his mother had taught him. His eyes raked over the lines on his first officer's hands and wondered if it was the same for Vulcans. Not that he put a lot of faith in it to begin with, but if he was going to partake in palm reading, he might as well do it right. Glancing up at Spock's tense face, he could tell that he was confused.

Gently, he ran his finger up the length of Spock's middle finger. A tremor went through the half-Vulcan's body and he weakly attempted to pull his hand away. Jim kept a tight hold in it though, marveling over how soft the man's hands were. It was probably because they'd spent the last few days wrapped in bandages. He then returned his attention to his palm, ghosting the tip of his finger over the lines. They had names, but he all he could remember was the life line and the fate line. Luckily for Spock, he still had a fairly good grasp about what they meant.

"Okay, so your life line is telling me that you don't jump into relationships," Jim began, keeping his voice low so as to not startle Spock. "You like to be cautious and take things extremely slow."

"I do not understand, Jim," Spock said, his voice equally quiet. There was a slight waver to his voice, but Jim was willing to dismiss that as a figment of his imagination.

"It's palm reading," Jim explained, tracing another line in his hand and smiling when he noticed Spock shiver. "It's supposed to reveal your true personality and shit."

"That is illogical. If you want to know something, it would be wiser and more accurate to simply ask."

Jim laughed slightly. "I do ask, and you never answer. Sometimes a person has to take drastic measures to find out what he wants." He looked back down at the palm in his grasp and attempted to recall what the fate line was supposed to say about a person, other than the obvious. "Your fate line is telling me that you have created your own destiny and that any success that you have now was obtained by your own means." Jim nodded, satisfied with his interpretation of his first officer's hand. All in all, it seemed fairly accurate. He knew that there were other things to read, but he couldn't really remember anything else.

"This is true," Spock agreed, inclining his head in some form of defeat. He clearly hadn't been expecting any accuracy at all. "However, it is quite probable that you already knew this, judging both from my file and your personal experiences with me."

It was true. Palm reading hadn't really revealed anything new or exciting about Spock. Most of it was really self-explanatory. Damn he wished he could remember what the other lines meant. Maybe they held deep secrets that his first officer would never reveal on his own. Probably not, but the small chance made him wish that he had focused more on his mother's random phases. Jim thought about it, wracking his mind for a memory that was most likely unrecoverable. There was something about...a heart line? It came rushing back in a moment of clarity. That had been his mother's favorite line and she had pointed it out to Jim several times, laughing as she did so.

"Oh, Jimmy," she chuckled, running her finger over the lines on his palm. A nine year old Jim looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him what was so amusing. "Your heart line says that you will have a string of meaningless relationships and will have trouble with commitment."

"What does that mean?" Jim asked, confusion evident on his young face. His mom leant down and kissed him on the forehead, causing him to outwardly protest her affection while inwardly absorbing it.

"It means that I'll get to keep your heart that much longer," she responded fondly before closing her book and standing up to leave and fix dinner. Jim glanced down at his hand, wanting to see what she saw. All he could see were lines, etched every which way in his skin, making no sense. She saw his heart and somehow knew what lay in its future, even if they both knew who it belonged to in their present.

Jim smiled almost sadly at the memory before he returned his gaze back to Spock. He seemed to realize that there was a change in the air around them and Jim felt guilty about that. It was supposed to be a carefree event between the two of them, not an emotional outpouring from ancient memories. Spock carefully pulled his hand away from Jim, who let it fall from his grasp easily.

"What do your hands say about your personality?" Spock asked, trying to clear the awkwardness from the air. Jim glanced up at him and felt a rush of affection for the man. At least he seemed to be trying again, and it was encouraging.

"I don't know," Jim responded honestly. "You're not supposed to analyze your own hand. It ruins the validity or something."

Not that there was any particular validity to begin with, but Jim didn't really want to admit that Spock would probably be disappointed by what he found out about Jim.

"As I am currently incapable of observing your hands, I think it would be preferable for you to analyze them yourself."

Jim nodded to himself. It wasn't entirely fair for him to insist upon reading Spock's palms and then not do so himself in return. So he sighed and brought his own palm up to his face, running his finger over the lines that somehow held a deeper meaning. Jim rolled his eyes in frustration. Whoever came up with this must have been the best scam artist of their time. Possibly the best con artist of all time.

"Well," he began, glaring slightly at his palm for what it was trying to tell him. "My life line insists that I have a lot of energy, I think. It's kind of boring in comparison actually." Spock said nothing, but Jim could tell from his shift in posture that he disagreed. "My fate line says that I have my family's support. Well, I guess that's true. The last time I checked, my mom still supported me. I haven't talked to my brother in a while though."

Jim sighed softly. It had been a while since he had talked to either his mom or his brother, Sam. After he had enlisted in Starfleet, it had just been difficult for him to keep in constant contact with them. Not to mention the years hadn't done much for their relationship as a happy family. Between their step-father, the divorce, the string of men, and Jim's less than stellar track record, the Kirk family had become the epitome of dysfunction.

"What does the heart line say?" Spock asked, breaking into Jim's regretful thoughts. Jim was almost surprised at how invested Spock seemed to be in this conversation.

Jim started and looked over at his friend before glancing back down on his hand, expecting to see the same thing that he'd seen all those years ago after his first palm reading with his mom. Instead, the line had changed, forming into a longer, curvy line. He hadn't thought that it was actually possible for the lines on a person's hand to change, but here was the proof, etched into his own hand. "I suppose it means that I am free in my emotional expressions and do so in mass amounts. Crazy."

Spock raised his eyebrow. "Why is this 'crazy'?"

Jim chuckled slightly. "It didn't use to say that. It's just weird to me I guess." Spock looked at him for a minute as if expecting more, but Jim wasn't particularly in the mood to supply anymore information. So Spock carefully pulled himself to his feet and stood there, waiting for Jim to join him. Next time, they would just play chess. Even if Jim would have to narrate the entire game, it was still better than delving into the home life that he had left behind.

The door opened suddenly and Jim turned around to see Bones carrying a tricorder. He nodded at him before moving over to Spock, quickly scanning the man.

"Anything changed today?" Bones asked, reading the findings on the tricorder, already knowing the answer. He knew that if anything had changed, Jim would have instantly called him.

"Negative, Doctor," Spock replied, feeling around for his bed to sit down.

"Have you eaten, yet?" he asked, shooting a disgruntled look at Jim. He knew that Bones didn't trust his eating habit and of course expected Jim to corrupt Spock's as well. Jim knew that this was crazy. There wasn't a force in the universe that could corrupt Spock, not even one as stubborn and charming as Jim.

"Of course, Doctor."

Bones sighed and seemed to give up, turning to the door. He was exhausted, it was written all over his face.

"Are you gonna be alright for the rest of the evening?" Jim asked, walking backward as he followed Bones.

"While I do not know how I could manage without you, I believe I will be fine. I think I will retire," Spock replied dryly. Jim chuckled at his attempt at humor and followed his friend out the door.

Once the door closed, Jim leaned against it, feeling incredibly drained. He couldn't wait until Spock had his vision back. Then they would be able to hang out like usual without both trying to establish some kind of dominance over each other.

"So how much longer until he can see again?" Jim asked, even sounding exhausted.

"Maybe three days," Bones responded, a small smile lighting up his face.

Damn. That was definitely three days too long.

A.N.
Okay, so I have some questions for my Star Trek TOS fans. I know that Spock has a half-brother and I was curious about their relationship. Were they close...or as close as Vulcans can be? Also, what was their father's relationship with them both? It doesn't have anything to do with the story, but I am curious. Also, is there an episode or movie or something that has a vampire-like species?

Anyway, I appreciate answers and your continued support. Sorry that this took a while to get out. I'm trying to decide if I want to give them another mission or if I want to put them on shore leave. Either way, the next chapter shouldn't take as long. Anyway, thanks for the continued reviews! As always, feel free to complain and tell me when I'm doing horrible things.