Chapter 14
"Where should we go?" Jim murmured, staring at a map intently as he sat in Spock's temporary quarters at Starfleet headquarters. They were rooms that were provided for the crew when they were grounded for a shore leave or repairs. Jim appreciated them because they definitely beat heading back home to Iowa for an awkward visit with his mother. Jim almost shuddered at the mere thought.
Spock, who was sitting at the desk with a datapad in his hand, ignored him, probably deciding that it was a rhetorical question. Which it had been...kinda. Jim glanced up at him before shrugging and turning back to the map. He was probably just double checking things to make sure that Jim had done all the things that he was supposed to. He didn't blame Spock. Jim did have a habit of overlooking minor details...and sometimes major details.
To be fair, any details that may have escaped Jim's attention wasn't entirely his fault this time. The morning had been filled with a flurry of chaos as the crew members of the Enterprise scurried around, preparing for the shore leave. They had only been given a few hours to prepare and therefore, things were bound to get hectic. As such, it wasn't surprising that things would get lost or forgotten in the excitement.
Jim had spent most of his morning with Scotty, checking off last minute things and checking things with the engineer. As far as he could tell, Scotty had every intention of staying with the ship through the repairs and upgrades. He didn't trust the Starfleet personnel as far as he could throw them. Or something like that. Jim was pretty sure that the way that Scotty had said it had contained far more expletives. Either way, he knew better than to try to come between a man and his ship.
After making sure that everything was in running order on the Enterprise, he had quickly thrown his own things together and now here he was, poring over a map trying to find a suitable camping location. His first thought had been to head to a desert, seeing as the weather was turning colder, thus ruling out cooler areas like beaches or forests. Which pretty much left desert. Plus, he figured Spock might feel more comfortable in a desert environment as it was more likely to remind him of his home. Jim could only hope that this wouldn't backfire.
"We could go to Death Valley," Jim said, glancing up at Spock to see his reaction. He didn't really want to go to Death Valley, as the name was a bit daunting, but he was growing tired of the stifling silence that had grown between them.
Spock raised his eyebrow. "Pardon me, but I do not see the appeal in visiting a place with such a formidable name."
Jim chuckled slightly and turned his attention back to the map. He was starting to get slightly frustrated. Finding a decent place to camp was proving to be more work than Jim had originally thought. First off, Jim wasn't nearly as familiar with San Francisco as he thought he was. But he did know that there really weren't any decent places to camp in the immediate area. He hadn't really wanted to travel any extended distances, but now that he had invested so much time into this camping trip, he was determined to see it happen. Which meant he would drive to the end of earth and back, no matter how irrational it might be.
However, finding a place to go wasn't the only thing that he had to do. He had to find tents and camping things like sleeping bags and...stuff. Jim almost groaned at his own incompetence. He hadn't been camping since he had been eleven years old. He had no idea what one would need to survive in the wilderness. And he refused to ask Spock to look up information on camping. It would completely defeat the point of roughing it on their own if they had to read up on how to do it.
Jim sighed loudly, causing Spock to look up with a raised eyebrow. "I give up," Jim moaned, dragging a tired hand through his hair.
"Have you changed your mind about camping, Jim?" Spock asked, setting the datapad down on his desk. If Jim didn't know any better, he would have said that Spock sounded disappointed.
"No," he replied, setting the map down and closing his eyes. He could almost feel Spock's intense gaze as he began to twirl his finger through the air. Moments later, he brought it down on the map and opened his eyes expectantly to see where it had landed. He felt himself deflate slightly when he saw that he had inadvertently chosen Iowa. Jim sighed. Some higher power being in the universe must really hate him. Either that, or they had a cruel sense of humor. He closed his eyes again, letting his finger fall back to the map. New York. Nope, that wouldn't work. Well, the third time had to be the charm...Canada. Maybe not. Too damn cold. Jim almost groaned and threw the map, only the presence of his logical officer making him change his mind. He refused to be defeated by this shoddy map! He closed his eyes one last time, determined to accept wherever the map told him to go.
Arizona.
Jim sighed. No one likes Arizona, he thought bitterly, but decided that it was probably best to just settle. Plus, Arizona was all desert, for the most part. It shouldn't be too hard to find a place to camp.
"Jim?" Spock's questioning voice alerted Jim to his presence. Jim looked up and was suddenly struck by how irrational his previous actions must have seemed to his logical friend.
"It's a decision mechanism," Jim replied, shrugging slightly and standing up suddenly. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Now all they had to do was find tents and sleeping bags...and things for roasting marshmallows. Except Spock was a vegetarian. He couldn't eat marshmallows. Oh well, Spock could roast carrots or something. He smiled to himself. This was going to be easy.
Spock stood after a moment as well, grabbing his own bag and holding stiffly. Jim smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease before leaving the room without a word, Spock following closely behind him.
In the end, it hadn't been hard to find the things they needed, including a car so they wouldn't have to deal with the transportation system. It wasn't long before they were on the road, Jim driving and Spock navigating. It was the best setup as Jim lacked a navigational compass and Spock technically didn't know how to drive. Of course, Jim knew that it would probably take the Vulcan all of two seconds before he was able to drive better than Jim himself, but it was still better this way.
"How long do you think it'll take us to get there?" Jim asked after about an hour of driving in near silence. He could probably estimate the time himself, but at that point in time he was desperate for a breach in the quiet.
Spock took a second to calculate the time down to the millisecond before saying, "It will take us approximately eight hours, thirty four point ten minutes until we reach our destination if we continue at this speed."
That had been a mistake. Although it certainly hadn't been intended that way, Jim decided to take it as a challenge. He'd get them there in 6 hours or his name wasn't James T. Kirk. As such, he sped up from kinda above an almost legal speed to a if-we-get-caught-we'll-be-thrown-in-jail-so-fast-it-won't-even-be-funny speed. He glanced at Spock out of the corner of his eye and had to suppress a laugh when he noticed that he seemed to be a tad bit greener than usual.
But Jim lived for these moments when he could overlook the line between sane and not and laugh in its face. He thrived on the adrenaline, on the slight fear that he might really not survive this time if something went wrong. He was at his most confident at such moments because he knew how to handle them.
Therefore, it wasn't surprising that he managed to get them to the middle of godforesaken nowhere Arizona before the sun had set and two hours before their expected arrival. Which was impressive, even to Jim, seeing as they had stopped a couple of times for food and other needs. Either way, Jim was fairly certain that Spock had learned his lesson: never say anything that the foolhardy young man could misconstrue as a potentially fatal challenge.
After driving around for a while, Jim found a suitable place for them to set up camp, away from civilization. They had both agreed that staying in a campground defeated the purpose of camping. At least in the real, rugged, manly sense that Jim had built up in his mind.
It took them a little over an hour to get everything settled, which was a little pathetic seeing as they had also agreed that it would be best to forgo a tent. Jim would later blame it on the campfire, but Spock would forever claim that Jim merely lacked a functioning attention span.
Finally they were both ready to settle down and eat a poorly prepared meal. Jim was really just looking forward to roasting marshmallows. True to his word, though, he had gotten Spock a pack of carrots and other miscellaneous vegetables. While he wasn't sure how roasted veggies tasted, he was pretty sure that Spock would prefer gross vegetables to ground up animal parts.
For a while, the two men sat around the fire in a comfortable silence, alternating between eating and roasting something over their massive fire, each mulling over their own thoughts. Jim in particular was especially lost in thought as he stared at the burning embers, not really taking in his surroundings.
"May I inquire as to your thoughts, Jim?" Spock asked, startling Jim, who looked up to meet Spock's questioning gaze.
He shrugged slightly. "It's nothing, really," Jim replied, turning his gaze to stare at the stars to avoid meeting Spock's probing gaze. "Everything looks so much different down here," Jim said, unmasked awe slipping into his voice. Spock glanced at him and turned his eyes back up to the sky. Jim knew that Spock didn't see the same thing he did, and maybe he simply couldn't, but everyone deserved the chance to see the sheer beauty of the night sky. Even logical half-Vulcans. "It seems so much larger, so much more...unattainable." He chuckled softly. "Right now, it seems crazy to think that we'll be back up there in a couple weeks."
Spock looked at him again, the same indecipherable expression on his face. "Do you regret it?" he asked and Jim was surprised by the very human question. It also took Jim a second to realize that Spock was talking about his decision to join Starfleet. At least, that's what he thought Spock was asking about.
"No, not for a minute," Jim responded after a burning-marshmallow induced pause. "There are just certain things that I miss."
Spock raised an eyebrow but Jim knew that he had to have some idea as to what he was alluding to. Even though you would think that a Vulcan couldn't get attached to a place, he knew better. Spock had loved Vulcan immensely and it was more than evident in the aftermath of its destruction. Therefore, it was only logical to assume that Jim would feel something for his home planet as well, despite the overwhelmingly bad memories associated with it.
But for Jim, it was really more about perception.
"I guess I just miss feeling small," Jim started uncertainly, not knowing how to describe the feeling. "I get tired of being a part of something sometimes, to be something so big, to know that I can make a difference. I just want to feel small again. There are just some things that people aren't meant to be bigger than, the universe being one of them."
"You believe that you are of a larger size than the universe?" Spock asked, his incredulity trickling into his tone. Jim knew that Spock wouldn't understand. And it was okay, because it didn't really make any sense, not even to Jim.
"Perceptually, yes," Jim said. "It's part of the no-win scenario thing. I don't believe in no-win scenarios, easy as that. But every once in a while, I wish I did."
"That is illogical," Spock said, blowing on his burning carrot, and he seemed to be mentally preparing a list to outline just why it was so illogical. Jim decided he wanted to skip that part.
"It's easier that way. To be able to give up and blame a higher power or the universe or whatever. If there's absolutely nothing within my power to change a situation, then why bother trying?" Jim was on a roll, talking just to fill the oppressive silence that would undoubtedly fall between the two men if he stopped. "But I don't think that way. And therefore, in a sense, I am bigger than the universe because it can't control me. I have the power to change anything in my life. There's no such thing as fate or destiny. People are responsible for their own outcomes, and if they chose to accept something as inevitable, then so be it."
"Essentially, a person is to be blamed for their own hardships?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow in contemplation. "Then, according to your own thoughts, you believe that Vulcan people could have changed their own fate? That my mother could have survived if she had not accepted her inevitable fate?" For a second, Jim was afraid that he'd accidently struck a nerve. But there wasn't an edge behind Spock's words, merely the intensity of someone who was invested in something that had somehow become a serious philosophical debate. Indeed, Spock seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself.
Jim hesitated, not really knowing how Spock had gotten the unseen upper hand in their exchange. "No," he said slowly, "that was out of their control." A lull fell in the conversation as Jim tried to find a loophole in Spock's point. After a second, he decided that there were exceptions to every rule. Not that he was going to tell Spock that, but he was pretty sure that Spock already knew that he had come to that conclusion.
"So it was," Spock agreed after a moment, nodding shortly in Jim's direction. Jim decided to take it as approval. "Indeed," Spock continued, "I find it fascinating that you could hold such beliefs in spite of your father's own sacrifice. One could easily argue that the incident with the Kelvin was a no-win scenario."
Jim winced slightly, but he knew that Spock hadn't meant it maliciously even as he was reminded of their first meeting. It was a mere fact, and, if Jim hadn't been James T. Kirk, he would have readily agreed. However, Jim knew better. "But he did win," Jim argued. Spock raised his eyebrow and, had the topic not taken an even more serious turn, Jim might have laughed at the predictability of his friend. "Not in the obvious sense," he conceded, "but he saved 800 lives that day." Jim shrugged, almost smiling as Christopher Pike's words replayed through his mind for possibly the millionth time. He returned his gaze to the dwindling fire. "If that's not a victory, I don't know what is."
"Fascinating," Spock murmured, intently staring at Jim, who was starting to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "It is an unusual manner to view such an event. Most merely focus on the grief that comes from death. Yet you are capable of seeing the good in such an event, despite the loss of a loved one."
"I didn't know my dad, Spock," Jim reminded him gently, though he knew that he didn't need the reminder. "You can't love someone you never knew." Jim shook his head slightly. No, that wasn't entirely true. "I respect him, though," he amended, "and a part of me even misses him."
Although he wasn't sure how it was possible to miss someone who existed merely as a memory. He supposed it was probably the idea of him. After all, George Kirk was a great man, undoubtedly. He probably would have been a kickass dad, as well.
Jim sighed as he was reminded of the alternate reality yet again. Well, he supposed that this was the alternate reality, but he didn't see how it mattered. That Jim Kirk had known his father and had probably had a great relationship with him that involved pep talks, love and support, and good old fashioned games of catch. George Kirk had to have been a great dad, no 'probably' about it.
But Jim couldn't focus on these thoughts as he knew that they were really rather useless and more self-destructive than anything. But he would give almost anything to un-ask that question of Spock Prime: "Did I know my father?".
But regrets were for people who had too much time. And Jim would rather live in the present than the past, simply because the now held a promise of tomorrow while yesterday held only ghosts.
"Jim?" Spock asked, the sound of his voice sending a small tendril of something down Jim's spine. He looked up at the Vulcan to see him staring at him with something not unlike concern etched in his eyes. "I apologize, I did not mean to pry into your personal affairs, Jim."
Another shiver went through Jim. And suddenly he understood why it was so important for Spock to say his name. It sounded right coming from him, in his deep, monotonous tones. His name made sense coming from Spock's mouth in a way that it never had coming from anyone else. It was comforting.
"You know someone loves you when the way they say your name sounds different. It leaves a smile on your face and you just know that it's safe in their mouth."
Jim blinked. He had never expected his mom's love advice to come in handy.
Wait...love?
Jim stumbled over this revelation in the form of a Freudian slip. He looked up at his first officer, almost expecting to see him in a totally different light. But he didn't. Spock still sat stiffly, his posture bordering on rigid. He still wore an emotionless mask, and his damned eyebrow was still raised. His skin was still tinged green and his ears were still pointed. Nothing had changed.
Except now the posture wasn't just rigid - it was a relaxed rigid that only existed when he was around Jim. And his mask wasn't so much emotionless because Jim could see the burning emotions attempting to hide in his dark eyes. And, for the first time, there was a certain allure to the pointed ears and green tinged skin.
But nothing had changed. Not really. So Jim ignored it, hoping that it was the sleep and sex deprivation talking. Instead, he waved away Spock's apology, mumbling something about how he himself was shamelessly nosy and that he had nothing to be sorry for. Except for being so damn hot.
Wait...what? So damn hot?
Jim almost groaned. But that would have been acknowledging that there was a problem, and Jim was doing his best to ignore the last few seconds of mental discovery. So instead, he smiled at Spock.
"So, next campfire tradition," Jim said, rubbing his hands together briefly to attempt to warm them up. The fire, by now, was next to useless. He supposed he could try to get it going again, but that would take energy and they would probably go to bed soon anyway. Again, he found the need to slap himself in the face and groan undeniable. "We can sing campfire songs!"
Spock's face maintained it's emotionless facade, but Jim would have bet good money that he saw worry and amusement flash across his face. Oh yes. Spock had many good reasons to be worried.
"Michael row the boat ashore hallelujah," Jim started singing at the top of his tone deaf lungs, "Michael row the boat ashore hallelujah."
He paused, realizing that he didn't know the rest of the song. His mom used to sing it when she cleaned around the house, but since she didn't know past the first verse, Jim had never had the opportunity to pick up the rest of the song. Which, judging by the pained expression on Spock's eyebrow, was probably a good thing.
However, Spock's next words weren't a sarcastic criticism or even outright musical rejection. And if Jim would admit to such things, he would have said that his jaw nearly fell to the floor in astonishment. But Jim didn't react that way to anything, so he was merely mildly surprised when Spock continued the song.
"Jordan's river is chilly and cold hallelujah. Chills the body but not the soul hallelujah."
It was odd, because the words shouldn't have sounded right coming from the half-Vulcan's mouth, as emotional as they were. But they did, and in light of recent events, they might have even made sense. But how could Spock have possibly known the song? And, even more baffling, where the hell did he learn how to sing?
"My mother would sing the song," Spock explained after a moment, glancing down to stare at his hands. "I believe that it was comforting for her, as she was far from her home planet. It was as if she had a piece of her former life in the form of a song." Spock paused and turned his gaze back to Jim's. "I hadn't understood then, but now I think I can comprehend the sentiment."
Silence fell between the two men, the weight of a now dead planet hanging between them, building a sturdy wall. Strong, but not impenetrable. And Jim reached through it, gently resting his hand on the other man's knee in a comforting gesture.
"Chills the body, but not the soul..." Jim repeated softly, hoping to get the message through Spock's thick, stubborn skull. Spock looked up to meet his eyes, and he was relieved to see a new spark of life, a determination of sorts.
Spock would be alright. It took a lot to kill a person's spirit. It took even more to destroy their soul. And though it might take a while and it might be a struggle, Spock would be alright.
And, in the name of progress (because if Spock could do it, so could Jim), Jim did something that he hadn't done since he was a small child.
He stopped lying to himself.
Captain James T. Kirk admitted that he was completely and irrevocably infatuated with First Officer Spock.
A.N.
Thanks for reading guys. So I was reading up on the Prime Directive and it doesn't make much sense. I mean it does, but it kinda just made me mad. I can't see it doing any good. If anything, it just leads to the destruction and repression of certain civilizations. If you have the ability to help someone who isn't as well off as you, shouldn't you? Although, I agree with non-interference in terms of culture and such. And giving Starfleet officials the power to annihilate a civilization because it poses a threat to the Federation? That's just a giving them the power of genocide. Ridiculous. Am I reading this wrong?
Haha, anyway, sorry about the rant. It just doesn't paint Starfleet in a good light, which made me sadder than it should have. Although, I noticed that Jim Kirk likes going against the Prime Directive often. It made me chuckle. Thanks for reading and for the reviews and support. You guys are awesome.