Title: Small Steps
Series: Star Trek (2009 Movie)
Spoilers: Post Film, with small mentions to events within Star Trek: The Original Series, understanding of which is not necessary for enjoyment.
Rating: PG
Summary: To have what they had, Jim Kirk realizes it will take baby steps.
vi.
The echoes grow stronger as his few remaining nights on Earth fade into each other. Jim could have done a lot of things in that time; go home, as Bones and several others urged him to do, or help Scotty out repairs to the Enterprise. She was his ship now, as he had seen in the briefest flashes of memories not related to what the elder Spock was telling him back on Delta Vega. Jim is proud of this accomplishment, but he feels far from the elated feeling that he thinks he should be having, in far exceeding all expectations that others had of him.
Too many people died for this to be an actual accomplishment.
Jim knows that such contexts are simply the ways in which these things happen. It does not make them any more palatable or even stay off the feeling of deep loss that accompanies him as he wanders the streets of San Francisco late at night – trying to forget.
To forget what, exactly, is still up for some debate.
vii.
Spock finds himself unnaturally distracted as he sits in his academy quarters and attempts to meditate. He is looking for an inner calm, one that he could relate to the feeling of peace that oh-so-briefly washed over him when James Kirk had found his way here to apologize for something that was clearly a logical action on his part. Spock wonders what has made the new captain of the Enterprise suddenly humble, and he slips even more into the realm of distracted consciousness.
This is not working, he thinks, unfolding himself from his meditative posture and standing on slightly stiff legs.
It is close to four o'clock in the morning according to the dim glow of his PADD, resting on the table beside his bed. No human would logically be awake at this hour, as they required far more sleep than a Vulcan did – and a walk out of doors would be a welcome reprieve from the poorly-functioning air-conditioning units of the academy. They had never worked well, but with the recent loss of students, maintenance had simply been tasked with the more pressing issue of helping the families of the fallen cadets in sorting through their possessions.
Spock cuts across the central green that divides academic buildings from residential and heads to where he can see the Golden Gate Bridge, standing broken from Nero's attack. He has always enjoyed the bridge and everything that it has long-symbolized for Terrans, his mother first showed him pictures of it long before he was old enough to comprehend where exactly the Earth was, in comparison to Vulcan.
He let his head drop ever so slightly at the thought of his mother. Carefully schooling his features in what could be considered merely an exercise in self-control as there was no one around, he tried not to think of the pain he felt at her loss.
Grief was a natural process, albeit an illogical one, if the elders of his kind were to be believed. It was not recommended that he bury the grief, but rather accept the fact that it would come, and cope with it in a logical and precise manner. Spock had been meditating on the subject for days and he is still no closer to coming to terms with the fact that every time he thinks of his mother it burns far worse than any pain Spock has ever experienced.
It takes time, logic dictates.
"Spock?" He almost jumps; the silence of his contemplation was so complete that he didn't realize that he had been approached. Regaining his composure in a fraction of the time it would take a human, he turns and peers into the darkness, squinting.
"Who is there?" He asks, not seeing the source of the voice.
A rustle, there, just off to his right. Spock waits tensely as a figure steps into a pool of light, and then he relaxes, only Kirk – out yet again to harass him.
"Awful late at night for a stroll," Kirk comments, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black jacket with an air of nonchalance that Spock has come to expect from him in the brief time they've known each other.
Spock raises an eyebrow, "One could say the same to you."
Kirk flashes him a grin that doesn't reach his eyes, and Spock finds himself wondering why he is not being genuine. "Just getting back," he gestures to the cotton shirt he was wearing under his jacket, "I was out on the town."
viii.
Jim knows that it is foolish to lie to Spock, but the words fall easily from his lips before he has a chance to consider to whom, exactly, he is speaking. He doesn't want Spock to know that he's been wandering around all night because he can't sleep – as he wouldn't put it past him to try to do something about Jim's sleeping habits. His brother once told him that Kirks don't sleep until they sleep, and then they sleep for days at a time. This statement, as far as Jim is concerned, is the complete truth. He will crash eventually, but that moment is not now.
Spock is silent, contemplative, and Jim realizes that he might have caught the Vulcan in the middle of a private moment that would do better without interruption. He tries to think of a way to bow out of the conversation that he'd so abruptly began gracefully, but the hour is late, and he has had a few to drink – despite his intention of simply wandering.
"I fail to see the reason behind your deceptiveness," Spock eventually voices, folding his hands behind his obviously Vulcan-made shirt. The high, stiff collar makes it as uncomfortable-looking as the conversation is quickly becoming, and Jim wonders how Spock can wear clothes like that in the first place. He then finds himself wondering why he's thinking about Spock's clothes when he should be thinking of an appropriate response to Spock calling him a liar.
Jim looks down and then up again, fixing his gaze out over the bay and at the bridge, avoiding Spock's even gaze.
Well this is awkward.
"It's too quiet here," he says, keeping his tone even. "I've had a lot on my mind ever since we got back. I went on a walk to process it and got sidetracked."
Spock seems to accept this answer as truthful, and Jim is grateful for that. He has a question, the one that he has been pondering for what seems to be an eternity, but is really only the duration of their leave, thus far. Spock is qualified to answer it, but Jim doesn't know what sort of barriers he's violating by even considering broaching the topic with the Vulcan.
It might be prudent to bite his tongue just this once, and save the question-asking for a time when they are perhaps more open with things like feelings and what exactly the nature of their uneasy companionship is, at this present moment.
Then again, prudence has never been Jim's strongest suit. "Spock?" He asks, and the Vulcan turns, looking at him carefully once more.
Jim feels his hands go cold and clammy under the expectant gaze and he tries to meet the gaze as evenly as he can. He knows that he must not waver if he wants his answer.
ix.
James Kirk is standing in a pool light cast by a lone street-lamp now, a question poised on his lips. Spock wonders if he even knows what he intends to ask, or if the question is simply a whim – as so many things are with James Kirk. The next things out of his mouth are bound to be either rude or insensitive, or maybe, if Spock is particularly lucky today, downright stupid. Probability dictates that Kirk will say something crass next, and Spock mentally steels his conscious for what is bound to bring an emotional response out of him.
"Spock, what happens when a Vulcan touches another being's mind?"
Spock is poised to react; to say that Kirk was asking inappropriate questions, to say that he was out of line – but this was… unexpected. This line of inquiry was unprecedented, for as far as he was aware Kirk had no frame of reference for such a question. While it was not outside the realm of possibility for James Kirk to merely be curious, Spock knew for him to have stumbled across such information, even given their brief period of working in tandem, would be very difficult. The mental powers of Vulcans were no secret, but his wasn't the most common of gifts and Spock had never broadcast his own abilities to anyone on board the Enterprise.
The only logical conclusion was that there wasn't one. Kirk was just asking questions for the sake of asking them. By chance, they'd encountered each other at a late hour and now Kirk was choosing to harass him about things that really had no relevancy and to which he had only passing knowledge.
"I fail to see how this is relevant." Spock keeps his tone mild and uninterested in the subject matter. It's best not to feed into the game, he knows. This is all a game to James Kirk.
To his credit, Kirk looks rather put out by Spock's pronouncement, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. It's as though he has something more that he wants to say, but is still searching for the words with which to say it. He opens his mouth, and then closes it once more, glancing down at the ground before raising his gaze to meet Spock's own blank (but rather annoyed) stare.
"When I first met the ambassador," Kirk begins and suddenly things start to move in Spock's brain. Pieces of half-heard conversation, little stems of knowledge and logic push themselves together, and Spock is ninety-eight percent certain he knows what Kirk is going to say just as the words finally emerge from his mouth. "he had to explain a lot of information in a very short period of time, and he did it though what he later called a 'mind meld' – two minds as one, he said."
Spock jerks his head up and down once, to at least acknowledge the information that he is now processing at a rapid rate. He cannot fathom why the ambassador would do something so, so intimate with James Kirk of all people. Surely his vocal capabilities were not hindered by the cold of the ice world of Delta Vega, as he'd been able to talk to both Engineer Scott and Kirk himself and explain complicated equations of inter-space beam-travel. It seemed only natural that he would have used his communication skills to convey other, vital information.
At least, that was the course of action that Spock would have taken, he didn't know about the ambassador.
"Why do you ask?" Spock asks at length, for it seemed to be the next step in the conversation. He has to know the why in order to figure out what exactly Kirk wanted to know.
James Kirk does not meet his eye, chewing on his lip as though he doesn't want to actually come out and say what has been asked of him. Spock wonders if it's one of those strange instances of male pride that humans seem so fixated on. His mother would never explain the concept to him adequately enough for his liking, and Spock had long-since given up attempting to comprehend what exactly he was meant to understand.
"Ever since then, I've been feeling echoes of the memories and events the ambassador told me about." He shrugs, "I was just wondering if that was normal."
Normal, however, is the last word that Spock would use to describe such a situation.