Ch 4: Heart to Heart

The early morning sun shined brightly outside of Spock's window. He clenched his eyes tightly before letting them flutter open. Rays of sunlight momentarily blinded him as he blinked away the film of sleep. The sheets that covered him crinkled softly around him as he sat up straight in the bed. He winched from the sharp pain he felt in his head. The events of the day before were a bit of a blur to him and the headache he was now sporting was reminiscent of a migraine. He finally understood what it felt like to experience what humans called 'a hangover'. When he tried to remember what happened, his head buzzed like a beehive. He decided it was best to sort things out later and start the day.

Pulling the sheets off of him, he slowly climbed out of bed. Across from him was a dresser with a mirror connected to it. He rose out of bed and walked over to it. When he looked in the mirror, he saw green puffy eyes squinting back at him. His face was covered with splotches and his normally well kept hair was disheveled. Hardly an attractive sight.

Without warning, his heart pounded hard in his chest, a blur of different scenes blocking his eyesight. The world tilted around him and he had to grab the dresser to steady himself. The buzzing in his head grew stronger and stronger. A multitude of different voices cried in his ears and he saw hundreds of different landscapes, different faces, and different planets. He closed his eyes tightly and tried desperately to push the images out of his mind.

A warm hand grabbed his shoulder, bringing the whirlwind in his head to a stop instantly. Eyes wide open, he turned toward the owner of the warm hand and saw Prime standing over him. In the throes of agony, he had fallen to his knees onto the floor without realizing it. His chest heaved as he gasped for air.

Before Spock could inquire as to why the elderly Vulcan was in his room, Prime answered his unasked question. "You were screaming. I came as fast as I could. Are you alright?"

Still gasping for air, Spock brought his eyes into focus and looked at Prime. The three fuzzy versions of him gradually merged into one after many blinks. Uncertain of the strength of his voice, he simply nodded. He had no idea what had just happened to him and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Prime grabbed underneath Spock's arms and helped him back onto his feet. "What happened?" Prime asked. Spock swayed unsteadily on his feet, holding his head with his hand. "I am uncertain," he said. "I stared in the mirror and suddenly everything started to swirl around me. I saw a blur of images and heard what seemed like thousands of different voices and sounds. It all stopped when you came in and touched my shoulder."

Prime gave Spock a grave look, which didn't comfort him at all. "It seems as though you are experiencing sensory overload from the meld," he explained. "I had thought sleeping would help alleviate this, but I must have miscalculated the severity of the meld's effects. Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

Spock tried to concentrate on the events of the day before when he felt the swirling in his head again. He clutched his head and felt his legs go weak, but Prime held him up before he could collapse again. "Do not strain yourself. The meld transferred a great deal of information, far more than I should have shared with you. When I came in to check on you, you were crying. I attempted to comfort you as much as I could, for I understood far too well the pain you were feeling. You promptly fell asleep afterward and remained asleep until now. It is natural that your body would be as weak as your mind, and so it would be best if you took some more time to sleep."

Spock shook his head, which proved to be a big mistake. A sharp pain akin to having a lance through his skull caused him to wince. "No," he said, straining to speak. "I do not wish to spend my shore leave sleeping. There is still much I want to see of the colony…"

"Which you can see when you have rested," Prime persisted. "It will do you no good to try and force yourself to go through the day when your body is clearly in need of more time to recuperate. I am no longer suggesting that you return to your bed; I am forcing you to return to your bed. You will sleep."

Spock was too weak to argue, and the screaming pain in his head made it impossible to retaliate anyway. He allowed himself to be escorted back into his bed. When he lay down, the sheets were gently pulled over him and he was carefully tucked in. He looked up at Prime, who smiled softly. "Take as long as you need to rest. We will have plenty of time to converse later."

With a small nod, Spock closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep. Prime watched him a moment longer, then stood up and walked out the room. The door gently closed with a small click and the elder Vulcan left Spock alone to sleep.

The late afternoon sun made Prime's kitchen glow a bright yellow orange as he finished preparing the salad. He was pulling a plate out from the cabinet when he saw Spock shuffle into the kitchen. His eyes were no longer green and puffy, but his skin was still splotchy and his hair had reached a new level of dishevelment. Prime resisted the urge to laugh at his younger self and instead asked, "Would it be correct for me to assume that you are well enough to be out of bed?"

"Yes," Spock said in a very hoarse voice. He attempted to clear his throat, but the dryness of it caused him to cough. "Could I get some water?

Prime pulled a glass out of the cabinet and poured water from a pitcher into it. He handed the glass to Spock, who immediately drank the entire thing down. Prime raised an eyebrow at the young Vulcan's eagerness and refilled the glass. Though slower this time, Spock drank the entire glass of water again. Prime offered to refill it again, but Spock put up his hand and shook his head. "I am fine; I simply needed to moisten my throat."

"Rightfully so," Prime said, putting the pitcher down. "You have slept half the day away. Judging by the way your clothes cling to your body, you must have sweated a great deal while you slept. It is only natural that you would need to replenish your body of the water you have expelled." He motioned to the bowl of salad he had just finished making. "I have prepared a salad for our dinner. If you are hungry, I can serve you now. If you are not, you can always have some later on."

Spock walked up to the cabinet where Prime pulled out his plate and grabbed one of his own. Taking the salad tongs, he piled his plate high with salad. Prime looked on curiously as most of the salad disappeared from the bowl and appeared on Spock's plate. Spock then moved to the table and began eating the salad as if he hadn't eaten anything for months on end. Rather than showing irritation, Prime simply laughed and placed the remainder of the salad on the plate he held in his hand and sat across from Spock.

By the time Prime had seated himself, Spock had already eaten half of the salad and was slowing down. "A rather voracious appetite you have, Spock." Spock looked up, his mouth full of greenery. Wholly unaware of how ridiculous he looked, he chewed the mouthful of greens and swallowed. "It appears that spending the whole of the last 24 hours sleeping has emptied my stomach of its contents. I am merely replenishing the energy I have lost, perhaps with an excess of enthusiasm. You have my apologies."

"Don't be," Prime said. "I would rather eat less and be certain you had your fill than have an equal share and have you do without." Picking up his fork, he began eating his own salad. Spock's attention returned to his and the two ate in silence. No one spoke or even looked at the other until every leaf had been eaten.

Spock decided to speak first. "My dreams were filled with many bits and pieces of your life. I saw everything I saw during the meld, and more. Nothing was in order, it was all scattered, as if a stained glass window had shattered in my mind and I was looking at every individual piece at an accelerated rate. The more disturbing part of my dreams was the vast array of emotions I experienced. Or rather, the specific types of emotions I experienced were what disturbed me."

Prime nodded in acknowledgement, knowing exactly which types of emotions Spock referred to. The relationship that developed between him and Captain Kirk was an intense one to say the least. Interestingly enough, it wasn't something either of them had expected to develop. The two had actively pursued other women for years, but as time passed, there were small signs of something beyond friendship budding between the two of them. Prime began to realize his feelings when Kirk faked his death during Prime's pon farr, but it wasn't until V'ger had showed up that Prime really knew that he was in love. Prime took a moment to recall that faithful moment and the discussion he and Kirk had after V'ger disappeared.

Prime and Kirk stood together in the Vulcan's quarters. With his arms behind his back, Prime stood facing away from his captain towards a wall.

"Spock," Kirk spoke. "You asked me to come to your quarters, but now that I'm here, you won't say a word to me. If there's nothing you need from me, I need to report the events with V'ger in my captain's log." He stood in place, hoping that would motivate the Vulcan to at least say something, anything. No response. He sighed and moved to the door when Prime spoke.

"Jim," he said, his voice wavering. "I am in love with you."

Kirk stopped in place. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. He swallowed hard and turned back toward Prime, who had turned around and was facing him. Taking a deep breath, Kirk said, "I know."

Prime's eyebrow rose, a sign that he was surprised. Or confused, or amused. To anyone else, it would be hard to decipher what emotion Prime was portraying, but Kirk knew him well enough to know exactly what the eyebrow meant in this context. He walked up to Prime and put his hands on his arms. "I feel the same way."

The Vulcan shook his head. "Why did we not realize this sooner?" he asked genuinely. "We have spent so much time together, been through so much together, we have even melded our minds. Why is it only now that we learn of what we have always known in our sub consciousness?"

Instead of answering the question, Kirk kissed Prime tenderly, sweetly. Prime returned the kiss with the same tenderness. One of Kirk's hands move to his face and pulled him closer. What little space remained between the two men was promptly closed. They held each other so close that they could feel the other's heart beat against them. The kiss was broken only because neither had any air left in their lungs. They stood staring at each other with the love that had been submerged for far too long.

With a shaky voice, Prime said, "I love you Jim."

With a sweet smile on his face, Kirk replied, "I love you too Spock."

Spock saw the same memory Prime recalled and his own heart fluttered as he imagined the same kind of scene with him and his Kirk. "I understand how you came to love the Kirk of your time," he continued, "but I am having great difficulty picturing the same occurring to me and my Kirk."

"I would not expect you to feel that way right now," said Prime. "I did not feel that way at your age, and it would be logical that you would not as well. However, as Jim matured and settled in to his position as a Starfleet captain, many things I never expected of him began to come to light, and I found myself becoming more and more intrigued by him. Before I could stop it, I had fallen in love with him. But I fought it. Told myself it was wrong. Told myself it was not natural. Told myself I was a fool."

"The important thing to remember about love is that it is the most illogical thing in existence. It can happen at any time to any one, and can be directed at the seemingly least compatible person you know. But when it strikes, its hold cannot be broken easily. It is stronger than any alloy or substance in the entire universe and can make even the most hopeless situation survivable. Love gives birth to many other noble traits and emotions and combats all negative emotions. To not love is to not live."

He rose from his chair and walked over to his younger self, placing a hand on his shoulder. Spock looked up at Prime, a lost look in his eyes. "You need not understand these things right now. You need only to realize your feelings and be true to yourself. Whether you chose to fall in love with Jim or not is your decision and your decision alone. Live only in a way that pleases you, and you will have no regrets."

Spock nodded, and the elder Vulcan began walking away. Before he left the room, he said, "If you would clean up the kitchen, there is more that I wish to speak to you about. I shall await you in the living room." And with that he disappeared from the room.

A mix of worry and fear suddenly gripped Spock's heart. Though Prime alluded to nothing, he had a foreboding feeling that there was nothing good about it. He pushed back his chair and gathered the plates and cups still on the table. Taking great care with the dishes, he ran the water over them and cleaned them. He also grabbed the bowl that the salad was made in and cleaned it too. With all the dishes now clean, Spock left them to dry in the sink and stepped into the living room.

He had expected to see Prime sitting in a chair when he entered the room, but instead he stood in front of his fireplace, staring into a freshly drawn fire. The setting sun cast many shadows throughout the room, and the fire in front of Prime created a mysterious silhouette that concreted the foreboding feeling in the pit of Spock's stomach. He came closer, but stopped a few feet away.

"You said you have something else you wish to talk to me about?" he asked tentatively. Still facing the fire, Prime responded, "Yes, something of a terrible importance." He turned to face Spock, the shadows on his face creating a rather haunting image. "It is about the warring personalities inside of you."

Spock gave Prime a look of confusion. Prime continued, "Deep inside of you, whether you are aware of it or not, are two different sides of you: The Vulcan, who embraces logic and control, and the human, who embraces spontaneity and emotion. These two sides reside inside of me as well, but when we melded our minds together, I saw something else, something more complex and disturbing than I saw inside myself at your age. Be it the result of the recent traumatic events, or simply a more subdued difference in your timeline's version of me, your emotions are as divided in two as your heritage is. One side represents the innocence in you, while the other represents the darker, more primal side of you. This makes balancing the two simultaneously more important and more difficult."

Prime walked closer to Spock, who stood firmly in place, horrified by what he was hearing. "Spock," Prime said, "If you do not find a way to merge these separate parts of you, it is likely that you will soon lose all control of yourself. Should you reach that point, there may be no way to reverse its effects. You could go completely insane."

Spock's eyes were not unlike a frightened child's. He began to hyperventilate. "What should I do?"

The warm hands of his older self rested on his shoulders. "I will take the time you stay here to train you in a more in depth form of meditation," he said. "The techniques I teach you should assist you with merging these two sides into one whole person. It will be very challenging, but if you have the dedication for it, it is possible we can prevent the worst case scenario."

Spock nodded, willing to do anything to avoid insanity. Of course, he wasn't sure how he could handle his relationships with those around him when he had so much to focus on internally, but he had to try. Prime smiled at Spock and said, "We will focus on meditation tomorrow. Tonight, let us simply relax indoors. While meditation is the best way to center oneself, I find reading to be an enjoyable way to eliminate stress.

Prime sat down in his favorite chair in front of the fire and picked up his book. Spock roamed over to one of the many bookcases and browsed the books that were lined up. Prime's books were of varying lengths and subjects, but one particular book caught his eye. It was a collection of poetry written by ancient human poets in a style that was called Romanticism. He pulled the book off the shelf and examined it as he walked over to the chair he sat in just days ago. He sat down and began to read incredible poems that dripped with emotion. He found himself envying the authors that could so freely express themselves and continued to read, silently hoping that perhaps one day he could be as free to express himself as these poets had been.