Enterprise High
being a high school AU of ST: XI
with many hijinks
and much angst
x
Chapter Twenty-One: Errand of Mercy
x
Bones knew something was wrong when he realized that Kirk wasn't flirting with the nurse who was applying salve to the burn on his chest. The woman was about twenty, blonde, ample-chested, dewy-eyed, and basically massaging lotion onto his pecs, and he wasn't flirting with her. Bones had a mental image of porcine figures winging their way over the Golden Gate Bridge.
"Is he okay?" Bones asked the nurse worriedly, hurrying up to the two of them. Kirk was perched on the edge of a doctor's table in a long, partitioned room filled with patients afflicted by non-severe injuries. Bones had been recruited by one of the paramedics (Beverly, in fact) to help with T'Ridu's burns and had just gotten to the hospital.
She gave him an incredulous look. "It's just a first degree," she said. "He's fine. He doesn't even need any pain meds. Why?"
Bones didn't know quite how to say, "Because he's not trying to motorboat your hooters," without sounding disrespectful, so he chose not to answer the question. Instead, he put his hand on Kirk's bare shoulder. "What is it?" Bones asked him. The nurse finished rubbing in the salve and moved off to tend to other patients.
"You don't know?" said Kirk, looking at him with hollow eyes. "Amanda died."
"Jesus Christ," Bones said, stepping back. "What? She did?"
"Yeah." Kirk looked haunted. "The ceiling fell in. She was the last one out."
"Shit," whispered Bones. "How's Spock?"
"Well, actually, he seems fine right now—he's with, uh, Vokos, I think his name is? The other Vulcan with burns. Sarek kind of pissed me off; he didn't look sad at all, and he didn't go comfort Spock." Kirk swallowed. "Spock had to tell him. Sarek hadn't seen."
"Shit," Bones repeated, running a trembling hand through his hair. "Can you imagine? God. Aren't you glad you don't have him as a father?"
Kirk gave him a look, and Bones realized what he had said.
"Jim—"
Kirk shook his head. "It's okay, Bones."
"I'm sorry—"
"It's fine."
Sulu and Chekov chose that moment to enter the room. Sulu was sporting a big white bandage on his arm and Chekov was watching him closely, as if he suspected Sulu were about to break.
"Hey," said Sulu shortly to Kirk and Bones. He heaved himself up onto Kirk's table. "How are you, Jim?"
"Good," said Kirk. "Just got a first degree burn. You?"
"Same. Stings a little." Sulu smiled flatly at him. "Listen, man, I'm sorry I've been so mean to you lately—" His eyes flicked to Chekov and back. "—but, as it turns out, you're a great guy." He held out his hand. "Friends?"
Kirk took it. "Absolutely," he said seriously. "You were damn brave, back there."
Sulu snorted. "As if," he said, stretching his arm. "I was convinced the house was gonna collapse at any second. I probably pissed my pants, but the heat was so intense the evidence evaporated."
Kirk laughed. He needed to laugh. Sulu leaned on him slightly, the thin warmth of his uninjured arm kind against Kirk's cold, bare back. They looked each other and smiled without smiling. If you run through a burning house with somebody, you can't help but come out knowing them a bit better.
There was a commotion at the entrance to the long ward and Spock strode through the door purposefully, closely followed by two angry-looking nurses. He was clearly trying to ignore them, but could not manage to do so for long; midway through the room, the shorter nurse, a stocky brown-haired man, swept in front of him and stood in his path. Spock looked down his nose at him.
"Move," he said, enunciating the word in much the same manner as Alan Rickman, rolling the sounds around his lips and pushing them into the air with scarily deliberate slowness.
"No," said the nurse shortly. "If you don't let us look at that burn, I'm going to have to get the restraints."
Spock glared at the man for a full minute, his nostrils flaring, before turning on his heel and stalking over to the bed beside Kirk and Sulu. He sat stiffly on it and bored a hole in the wall in front of him.
Kirk, Bones, Sulu, and Chekov, as one, leaned around the screen to stare at Spock. The sight would have been comical if Spock had a sense of humor at the moment.
"Jacket off," said the male nurse, snapping on latex gloves with no small amount of menace. The other nurse, a tall brunette, brought the male nurse a tube of the same stuff they had treated Kirk and Sulu's burns with.
Spock did not move.
"Jacket off," the male nurse repeated.
Kirk frowned at the jacket. Spock hadn't been wearing it earlier, he thought—or had he? It didn't look like it was his; it was stiff and formal and did not match his other clothing.
Spock said something very quietly.
Frowning, the male nurse leaned forward. "What?"
"I cannot remove it," snapped Spock, pinching his ear in frustration. "I would have to—to shift my shoulder blades in a direction that would do much more harm than good."
The male nurse's eyes widened. He snatched a pair of scissors from a drawer and delicately cut the jacket off, slicing the coat down the center seam. His eyes widened when he saw what lay underneath.
"Second or third degree," he snapped to the female nurse. "Get me the dermal regenerator and an MD; I'm not qualified for this. Lay down," he added to Spock. "You're going to have severe scarring from this! You should have gotten it treated immediately."
Spock did not reply. He was busy trying to lower himself onto his stomach without bending his back. The nurses, realizing his predicament, helped him, their hands kind despite the disapproval on their faces.
Kirk and the others finally saw the severity of the burn. The entire left side of Spock's back was a deep, shining viridian. The flesh visible was charred dermis, the second layer of skin, glistening and weeping. His individual ribs showed pale white through his thin flesh, and a third of the way down his back, the pulse of his heart was clearly visible.
The nurse plunged a hypospray into Spock's neck. Spock did not show any sign of being in pain. He removed his glasses and pressed his face into the table, allowing the nurses to work. A doctor rushed over, blinking at the severity of the injury and ordering the nurses to fetch various medicines and machines.
Kirk felt sick. When had Spock gotten the burn? Why had he not mentioned it to anybody? Was it just because he was unable to show it to anyone? He saw Chekov staring at the floor, and Sulu focusing on the doctor, rather than what the doctor was working on. Bones, of course, looked mesmerized.
Spock closed his eyes as the doctor ran the warm dermal regenerator over his back. His reason for keeping silent about the injury was simple: he wanted the pain of it to last as long as possible. He deserved it.
x
Uhura's communicator beeped and she swiped it immediately off of the table. It had been an hour and a half since Spock and the others had left and she was extremely worried.
"Hello?" she said.
"Nyota? It's Hikaru."
"Oh, finally. What—?"
"There was a fire," said Sulu quickly, cutting her off. "We're at the hospital."
"The hospital? Is everyone okay?" Is Spock okay? was her unspoken question.
"Uh, no, actually. Nyota—" Nausea. What was he going to say? God, what if Spock was hurt, or dead… I didn't know what I would do. "—it's Amanda. She's dead."
A quick wave of relief swept through her, followed shortly by shame, then a terrible sadness. "Oh, God."
"The ceiling fell in. Two others died. Spock's not exactly okay; he has a pretty bad burn on his back. He'll be fine, physically, but—you should really come up here."
"Okay—okay, yes, absolutely. Of course." Uhura stood, staring around blindly for her purse and keys. "I'll be right there."
"Get Scotty to take you. And hey, tell Christine I love her, okay?"
"Okay," said Uhura, not really listening. "See you."
Uhura found her purse and grabbed the back of Scotty's shirt, dragging him rudely away from Gaila. "Wha—?" he protested until he saw her expression. "What happened?" he asked instead.
"Amanda died," said Uhura thickly, trying not to burst into tears. She bit her lip.
Chapel's communicator went off and she picked it up. It was Sulu again, asking Chapel very nicely if she would have mercy on him: did she mind roping the partiers at his house into cleaning it up a bit and then getting out, since his parents were coming home from visiting his sister Miko in Seattle because the hospital had notified them that their insurance was being used. Uhura remembered what he'd said at the end of their conversation and mentioned that to Chapel, who agreed that she could manage everybody and smiled a little at Sulu's declaration of love. Gaila started the process by physically removing everybody who was too drunk to be productive. She was very persuasive.
Scotty and Uhura drove to the hospital.
"This is weird," Uhura muttered thickly. She wasn't actively crying, but there were salty tears running down her face, and she'd destroyed a couple of Kleenexes. "She shouldn't be dead. She was just talking to me, hours ago."
Scotty quoted a passage from one of their favorite books. "'She had a silly impulse t' add, But she was alive an hour ago! And she stopped herself, because death is like that: people are alive until they die.' Everyone feels like tha', Nyota."
"'People are alive until they die…' I can't imagine being alive when I die. What must it be like? Do you know what's coming?"
"I dunno, lass. Best not dwell on it. Ah never do; your mind gets t' hurtin' if you stare so hard at somethin' you cannae see."
By the time Uhura and Scotty reached the long ward, Spock's doctors had finished with him and set a large dermal regenerator over his back to run for a couple of hours. Kirk was fast asleep, curled up in Bones's lap, and Chekov was supporting a very tired Sulu, who would have liked to go to sleep, but was too busy dreading his parents' arrival.
"Spock," whispered Uhura, walking over to him. He was lying on his stomach, the dermal regenerator humming softly over him, facing away from her. Hesitantly, she brushed his flat hair with the tips of her fingers. His hands clenched on the bed and she walked around to see his face.
He looked up at her. She wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes, but it scared her.
She knelt down in front of him, bringing her head level to his. She kissed him lightly on the forehead and twined her fingers around his.
"I'm so sorry," she said quietly.
He swallowed, and nodded stiffly. The stiffness came from how little he had been moving, not from any (more) reservation (than usual) on his account.
"Thank you for coming to see me," he said slowly. "I do not feel—quite—correct, right now. I am not… fine."
"I know," she said. "It's empty, isn't it? That's how I felt when my mother died."
Spock hadn't known that her mother was dead. He squeezed her hand.
"They're going to transfer me to a room, soon," he said. "James and Hikaru are coming with me. They're not discharging any of us until the morning, since they're worried about the affects of smoke inhalation." He paused. "You don't have to stay."
"Of course I'm staying," she said gently. "Leo and I will keep you company." She hadn't asked Bones if he was staying, but judging by the expression on his face as he looked down at Kirk, drooling on his lap, he might never leave Kirk's side again.
Chekov nudged Sulu. "Hikaru?" he said apologetically. "I am wery sorry, but I must go soon."
Hikaru struggled to sit up. "What? Why?"
"My parents expected me home at one thirty," said Chekov. "I have missed exactly forty-six calls from them."
"But—you've been here for like, an hour, with me—why haven't you called them back?"
Chekov blinked at him. "You needed me," he said simply. "I could not go."
Sulu didn't know what to say to that, so he hugged Chekov tightly. Chekov hugged him back, burying his face in Sulu's neck.
"I was afraid you would not come out," he said, his voice muffled. "I am glad you did." He kissed Sulu on the cheek and Sulu was forcibly reminded of last weekend, after the hovercar race, when Chekov had done the same thing. "I must go," Chekov said. He hugged Sulu again. "I will come see you tomorrow, yes?"
"Yes," breathed Sulu. "Please do."
Chekov smiled at him and left.
The nurses moved Kirk, Spock, and Sulu into a large, private room with plenty of space for Bones and Uhura to spread out. Kirk wasn't badly injured, so Bones climbed into bed with him, figuring the nurses wouldn't mind. Uhura couldn't fit on Spock's bed—the dermal regenerator was too large, so she fell asleep in a chair she pulled up next to him, her face leaning next to his. They each breathed the other's air.
x
Chapel and Chekov hugged each other tightly. They had just finished cleaning Sulu's house and were about to leave when they heard a car in the drive. Everyone else had left fifteen minutes ago, having finished with the cleanup, but Chapel had noticed a stain on one of the couches and Chekov had stayed to help her with it. (He had come back to Sulu's for his keys and wallet, having called his parents and gotten an extension on his curfew with an explaination of the situation.) Eventually they just flipped the cushion over; neither of them were geniuses at getting out stains. Chapel had been hard-pressed just to know how to use Chlorox wipes on the counters and Chekov couldn't even pronounce "Chlorox."
They heard the door open, and footsteps. A tall Japanese woman stuck her head around the frame and saw Chapel and Chekov standing awkwardly next to the kitchen counter. Her eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply. She was clearly not Sulu's mother; she was much too young.
"Hikaru invited us over, earlier," Chapel said, standing up straighter and sticking out her lip stubbornly. "You can ask him. We were about to leave. He just called us from the hospital to let us know what was going on."
"You're friends of his?" She surveyed them critically. "Well. You must be Pavel," she said to Chekov. "And you're—Christine?"
Chekov and Chapel stared at her.
"I'm his sister, Miko. Nice to meet you. You did a good job cleaning up. I take it he had a wild party after homecoming?"
No reply. Miko smiled at them—it might have been a smile. The expression was rather feral.
"I taught him that. Me and Inoue used to trash the house when the 'rents were out of town. You don't have to jump like mice, you know. I'm not going to bite you. That's mom and dad, and they're over at the hospital, probably yelling at Ru for being heroic. I dropped by to get him a change of clothes and the necessities. You are Pavel and Christine, right?"
"Y-yeah, I'm Christine," Chapel managed. Miko was like a whirlwind. She was brisk, self-assured, and incredibly beautiful. "And this is Pavel."
"I have heard so much about you," Miko said to Pavel, giving him another alarming smile. She set her gigantic purse down on the kitchen island and pulled up a stool. "How old are you, though, like twelve?"
"I am sixteen," said Pavel indignantly, sweeping his curls out of his eyes.
"Uh-huh," said Miko skeptically. "Hikaru's nineteen. Keep that in mind." Her eyes focused on something to Chapel's right, on the counter, almost hidden behind a flour canister. "Wow," she said, getting up and crossing over to it. She picked it up carefully. "Is this a dime bag?" She opened up the baggie and sniffed it carefully. It had a small quantity of white powder in it, barely a fourth of a gram. "This is a dime bag. Huh. Is it either of yours?"
Chekov and Chapel both looked confused. "What is it?" Chapel asked. "It's not mine."
"It's cocaine," said Miko, staring at the substance. Chekov's jaw dropped. "I didn't know Hikaru was into the hard stuff. Radical." She retied the bag and put it in her pocket. "You two aren't druggies, then?"
Chapel pulled herself up. "I've never taken an illegal substance in my life," she said tightly.
"Don't get all high and mighty on me. And definitely don't dis until you've tried it. Still, cocaine—kind of intense. Don't worry about it, you two. I'll deal with him." The smile was back. Chekov felt like hiding. "I've got to get those clothes and head up to the hospital. Thanks for cleaning up in here. The place looks great. You two must be good friends." She waved them towards the entrance. "I'll see you later. Nice to meet you. Bye."
Outside, Chapel took a few steps towards her car and stopped. She turned to Chekov. "Did you know about that?" she said sharply, referring to the cocaine.
Chekov shook his head energetically. "I did not," he said. "Do you think it is his?"
"Well, I don't know. It makes sense that it is, but there were all kinds of people there tonight. He does do a lot of pot, and everybody knows it's a gateway drug…" She trailed off. "I just—it seems a little uncharacteristic."
"It does," Chekov agreed. "If it was not his, zen whose was it?"
Chapel shrugged. "Inquiring minds really want to know." She paused, her hands in her pockets. "Miko was kind of scary, wasn't she?"
"Kind of—dear Lord," said Chekov faintly. "Her eyeliner looked like it wanted to eat me."
Chapel laughed. "Hikaru had mentioned that she was a bit… sharp, but I had no idea." She glanced at her PADD. "I really should go home." She waved to Chekov as she got in her car. "I'll see you Monday."
"You too," Chekov called back. He set off to find his bike, happy that he didn't live very far away. He was not worried about Sulu. Chekov knew that the drug wasn't his. How, he wasn't sure, but Sulu simply did not, as Chapel had said, seem like the type.
x
The male nurse from before came into the room, looking puzzled. Sulu had just woken up because his PADD had buzzed (a text from Inoue, making sure he was okay) and saw the man standing framed in the doorway. Sulu's eyes adjusted, and when he could see the nurse's expression properly, he realized that his parents were here.
"Hikaru Sulu?" the nurse whispered to him, crossing to his bed. "Your guardians are outside—I think they want to talk to you." He sounded hesitant. Sulu wondered what they had said to the nurse.
He heaved himself out of bed. His brain was beating a sophisticated yet raucous symphony on the interior of his cranium, his arm felt like death itself, and his lungs were still burning from the smoke. He really didn't feel like dealing with them right now.
"What time is it?" he groaned to the nurse.
"You don't want to know," said the nurse wisely.
"Crappy shift," Sulu commented sympathetically.
"Lost a bet. I'm generally here weekdays only. Need any help?"
"Got it. Thanks, though."
The nurse led him outside, and sure enough, there were good ol' mom and dad. They didn't look much like Hikaru—he was taller than either of them, and they both had silvering hair. Their features were different, too: where Hikaru had thick eyebrows and a wide forehead, their faces were small and rather pinched, less open than his.
"Hikaru, we heard that you purposefully entered a burning building," Mr. Sulu began right off. He didn't even wait for the nurse to walk away (the nurse did so quickly, shooting Hikaru a "good luck, man" look). "You have always been impulsive and rash, but we did not expect your actions to become—suicidal."
"We are starting you in counseling on Monday," Ms. Sulu said briskly. "Now, we also heard that you burned your arm. How irresponsible! I suppose the wonderful Medicare program took care of it." She and Mr. Sulu exchanged black glances. "How the Federation expects to minister to every scummer and drug addict who come crawling into their flea-ridden public hospitals is beyond me… You should have insisted on being taken to Barrow, rather than—here." Barrow Wellness Center was a private hospital staffed by the best and stuffiest doctors money could buy. Hikaru hated the place. "Galactic peace is one thing, but galactic healthcare is another entirely."
Mr. Sulu started up again. "Hikaru, if you continue to pull stunts like this, people will not want to hire you as a pilot. And if you are still insisting that you would like to enter Starfleet" (He said the name like a curse word.) "as a pilot, then keep in mind that they do not look kindly on reckless actions. In fact, both your mother and I would go so far as to say that this indicates that you would make a terrible pilot. Being impetuous is not a positive trait for—"
"Why would either of you have any idea if I'm a good pilot or not?" Hikaru interrupted poisonously. "For your information, I'm amazing. You know I'm teaching classes at the airport, right? You stuck your noses into my life long enough to notice that I was making my own money and buying my own food, right? I'm sure that's all you noticed, though."
"We were aware of your—job," snapped Ms. Sulu. "Not that we think it is appropriate for a mere eighteen year-old to be teaching people how to fly. You realize that what you say or don't say could get somebody killed, don't you?"
Hikaru was quiet for a moment, staring at them, nostrils flared in anger.
"You just came so that you could say to your friends you checked up on me, didn't you? You don't actually care how I am."
"Miko told us we had no choice but to come with her," Mr. Sulu said coldly. They had been visiting her in Seattle. "We took the first flight down. It was unnecessarily expensive."
"Fine," snarled Hikaru, beyond furious. He stalked back to the door to his room, then stopped, whirling around. "Do you even know what the seventh was?" he said, referring to last Wednesday's date. His parents were clearly confused. "Of course not," he spat. "I'm nineteen, now. It was my birthday."
They didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. Disgusted, he went back into the room.
Miko showed up a half an hour later. Hikaru hadn't gone back to sleep yet; he was still raging internally. She beckoned him into the hallway after assuring him that they were gone.
"They went back to the house," she said. "Guess they figured they did their duty." She hugged him tightly. "I'm glad you're okay," she said sincerely. "You're my favorite brother, you know that? I would have had to go beat that fire up if it had killed you, and it probably would have hurt me, and we can't have that, can we?"
He smiled at her, feeling much better. "I'm your only brother, dummy. And no fire could hurt you."
"Psh. You've never seen me around a stove. Scars, Ru, scars. Remind me to show you my lower back some time. Acrobatic sex in the kitchen, a la Lust, Caution? Not a good idea, however awesome Ang Lee is."
"Wow, I seriously did not need to know that."
"Sorry. Occasionally I over-share. I heard you saved some lives, to restore the subject. My little hero!"
"I—I helped get people out, yeah." Sulu paused. He had wanted to talk to somebody about this for a while. "My friend Spock—it was his house that burned down. His mom died, and so did two other people, so the rescue—it wasn't a complete success." Hikaru swallowed. "I actually watched her die, Ko. She was trying to climb through a window and the ceiling fell in on her. Right in front of Spock."
"My God," said Miko, hugging Hikaru close again. "You poor boy. That poor boy. He's the Vulcan with the dermal regenerator over his back, isn't he? With the beautiful black girl curled up next to him?"
"Yeah," Hikaru nodded. He felt like a little of the weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He thought of Inoue, suddenly, who had texted him earlier. "Inoue said she was leaving early with Sh'ragh, just to come see me," he said. "That's so like her. Did you tell her about the fire?"
"I did. I knew mom and dad wouldn't. She was going to come straight here, but I convinced her not to—she really has to finish up the semester before she and Sh'ragh come back for the wedding."
Hikaru smiled. "I can't say I'm used to the idea of her getting married, much less to a Klingon, but she always was the wild one, wasn't she?"
"Yeah, actually, can I ask you about that?" Miko got a serious look on her face as she fished around in her purse for something. She held up the cocaine. "Is this yours?"
"What is—oh, wow. No, it's not. Why did you think it was mine?"
"It was on the kitchen counter at home," Miko said, watching Hikaru's face closely. "I dropped by to grab you some clothes." She passed him a bag, which he took distractedly. "Nobody you know does coke?"
"Well, yeah, I know some people, but I seriously doubt they were at the party. They're not really homecoming types, you know? Also, should you have that out at a hospital?"
Miko shrugged and put the baggie back in her pocket. "It's oh my god in the morning and the nurses around here have probably seen worse," she said carelessly. "You're sure it's not yours?"
"Positive," said Hikaru fervently. "I'm not insane."
"And you don't know who is? Because if you do, you should talk to him or her."
If he were honest with himself, Hikaru knew who it was, but he was in no position to do anything about it at the moment. "I don't know who it could be," he said firmly. "But I'll keep an eye out." He yawned. "Mind if I try to sleep?"
"Go ahead. I'm going to go back to the house, too. Call me when you wake up, okay? I'll pick you up."
They hugged. "Thanks for coming," he said.
"Anytime, little bro," said Miko. "Missed ya." She twinged his nose and left.
He had an easy time falling asleep after that, and thankfully, he didn't dream.
x
Early in the morning, Sarek came to see Spock.
It was seven AM. The nurses had taken the dermal regenerator off about thirty minutes ago so that he could walk around and stretch some. It would need to be left on for another few hours. As soon as Kirk and Sulu woke up, they could be discharged, but they were both heavily asleep on their beds. Kirk and Bones were wrapped entirely around each other in a way that made Spock's heart hurt when he saw them. Uhura was asleep, too. He wanted to stroke her hair, but he did not wish to wake her. There were deep circles under her eyes. Even in her sleep, she looked worried.
Sarek stood in the doorway, a still apparition in the nurses' energetic wake. Spock stood stiffly and walked over to him, wrapping a paper robe around himself—he was wearing only his pants from last night; his shirt had been half-burned off of him and the jacket, of course, had been destroyed. His pants were singed, but they smelled like home, even though smoke curled from them—an apt scent metaphor, if such things existed. He couldn't possibly trade them for more sanitary paper leggings.
Sarek had found new clothes somewhere. "T'Zura brought them," he said, holding a package out to Spock. There were clothes for him, too; light cotton pants and a loose shirt. Spock placed them on the chair next to the door.
"How are Vokos and T'Ridu?" Spock asked.
"They are recovering successfully," said Sarek. They had moved into the hallway and were standing against the wall near the door, out of the way of the continuous stream of traffic. "T'Ridu will be discharged in a few days. She has not yet been informed of her father's death. She is still under heavy sedation. Issika will tell her, when it is time." Issika was T'Ridu's mother. "Vokos will be discharged tonight or tomorrow. The doctors are not interested in accuracy." Sarek sniffed, and Spock could tell what he thought about human doctors and their imprecise, bloody caretaking. Spock liked human doctors more than Vulcan ones, since the worst times of his life had been spent in a Vulcan hospital. He preferred the cool but personal hands of human doctors, not the uncomfortably hot and detached touches of Vulcan physicians.
"The house is gone," said Sarek.
Spock fixed his eyes at a point slightly past Sarek's shoulder.
"There was no body to recover. Ashes were collected after a DNA sample," Sarek said.
There was an urn, somewhere, filled with black char, filled with her. It seemed so wrong.
"It was arson," Sarek said.
Spock had been trying to keep that thought out of his head. "Really." Of course it was. He had seen the same thing Kirk had—two fires spreading from two different directions.
"Yes," Sarek said. "The fire was set at the back corners of our house. The investigators are not sure who set it, why, and how, but it was set."
Spock did not say anything. He was not sure he could. He wanted to go scream somewhere, or better yet, rip someone into very small, very bloody pieces.
"I have already been discharged," Sarek said.
Spock felt a moment of irrational anger towards his father. Sarek said, Sarek said. Sarek did not scream, or yell, or sob, like Spock wanted to. Did Sarek even want to do those things? What was he thinking? Did he give a damn about his dead wife?
"When you are discharged, we will go to T'Pau's residence," Sarek said. "She has readied two rooms for us. We are to live with her until our house is rebuilt."
Spock nodded shortly. He had expected that.
Sarek's communicator beeped. He said a short goodbye to Spock and moved down the hallway to take the call.
Spock marched back into the room. Uhura was still asleep, halfway on his bed. He stood feet away from the bed, staring at her, thoughts whipping around his head like a whirlwind. Who did she think she was, to stride in and tell him he knew how he felt? And Kirk and Bones—he glared them. They were entangled in each other disgustingly. Didn't they have any regard for decency? He couldn't think of anything to hate Sulu for, so, quite illogically, he hated him simply for that.
He sat heavily on his bed, not caring if he woke Uhura. She shifted and yawned, sitting up, her hand scrabbling around on the bed until it found his. She turned to him sleepily, a lazy smile on her face. He glared at her.
She blinked, clearly taken aback. Then, her face softened, and she rubbed his hand. He immediately felt bad, not to mention inappropriately aroused because of the nearly obscene contact. She evidently understood him completely and was already willing to forgive his bad mood.
But—he didn't feel anything emotionally when she touched him. He felt, more than he ever had, scorn for her blind, illogical interest in him, her slavering devotion. For a second, he did not know why he was with her in the first place.
No! He pulled away from her. His emotions were going all over the place. He couldn't—shouldn't—do anything drastic in such a state. She looked confused, and he just shook his head at her. She shrugged, stroked his hand again (he shuddered involuntarily), and curled back up to go to sleep.
He watched her, but something slight had shifted in the past few minutes. He did not want to brush his fingertips over her hair. He did not want to kiss her and touch her and curl up next to her. He wanted to run very far away from her and hide behind something so that he would never have to look at the way she looked at him again.
x
Winona accidentally woke everybody up when she came to get Kirk later that morning. She had always been klutzy, and she had passed some of that on to Kirk, but she had kept quite a lot for herself. She tripped immaculately over a taped-down electrical cord near the entrance and brought a case of hyposprays down with her. She was uninjured, but Spock's sensitive ears were ringing for minutes afterwards.
All five of them sat up hurriedly, quite awake. Kirk leapt out of bed to help her up, but Winona was already on her feet, brushing herself off busily and acting like nothing had happened. Bones tried to hide a snort of laughter but couldn't quite manage. She shot him a slit-eyed glare. Uhura and Sulu made faces at each other until their giggles had passed. Spock, of course, did not understand what was so funny.
"I'm here for Jim," said Winona stiffly. "You guys can go back to sleep now." And then she caught sight of Spock and walked straight over to him and hugged him, very tightly, without seeming to move at all. It was as if she were in the center of the room at one moment and suffocating him the next. He made a slightly deflated noise and tried to extract himself from her freakishly strong grip, but she took that as an attempt to hug her back and hugged him even harder, and Sulu was dying of asphyxiation from not laughing not laughing.
Finally, Winona backed off, and everybody was relieved to see that Spock merely looked discomfited, not pissed, and had actually understood what she was trying to tell him with her physical gesture. For a split second, when he saw how (comparatively) mild Spock's expression was, Kirk thought he might like Spock just a little, but it passed as soon as Bones's hand touched his thigh.
"Mind if I get a ride home with you?" Bones asked gruffly. His hair was sticking up like thatch. "Dad picked my car up from Hikaru's and was goin' to come get me, but I think I'd rather not interrupt his Saturday off."
"I'd love to drive you," said Winona, smiling brilliantly. "Hikaru? Nyota? Do you need rides?"
Sulu shook his head. "My sister Miko's on her way," he said, holding up his PADD.
Spock and Uhura were conferring. Their conversation has gone like this:
"Nyota, my father has informed me that I will be staying at the residence of T'Pau, a Vulcan currently living on this planet. We will be leaving the hospital after the dermal regenerator has finished its course. There is no need for you to stay with me."
Uhura frowned. "I'd like to stay, Spock," she said.
"But I would be more comfortable if you were to return to your home." He played an unfair card. "You are tired, Nyota. You should sleep."
"Spock, I can't leave you—"
I wish you would. "You can. You must. Thank you for staying the night. I will call you later today."
She relented. "Okay, fine. I love you, Spock." She kissed him, hesitating when he did not kiss her back.
"Goodbye, Nyota."
He did not know how cold his eyes were.
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Awkwaaard, hummed Kirk to himself. He was in the passenger seat of his mom's car with Bones and Uhura in the back, and he was pretty sure Uhura was upset.
Winona was on the communicator with Sam. Kirk glanced in the rear view mirror. Uhura was biting her lip and staring blindly out of the window. Oh, crap, thought Kirk sympathetically. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She was utterly silent, and Bones, who was only observant when he wanted to be, had no idea what was going down in the seat next to him.
Kirk whipped out his PADD. He was a man of action.
Dear Nyota: he texted, I have noticed that you are unhappy. Would you like to go to my house and Talk About It (whatever It is)? I can be cogently adviceful (though not grammatically accurate), and possibly even nice. All fun aside, though, are you okay?
Uhura jumped when her PADD buzzed. She stared at it while Kirk watched her in the rear view mirror. She looked straight at him when she was done reading and nodded tearily.
Winona was taking Bones home first anyway, so it was a simple matter of asking Winona not to drop by Uhura's. Kirk had never really spent alone time with Uhura before, but they'd talked a little in class and he was definitely interested in her looks (the girl could work it). Still, this was not the time for play-flirting. He escorted her inside, silently, under Winona's suspicious eye (he texted Bones to explain what was going on so that if Winona went all ageswap Atonement on his ass and misrepresented the situation to his boyfriend at a later date, there would be no tragic consequences), and took her straight to his room.
She collapsed onto his shoulder, sobbing. He was less taken aback than he expected to be. He'd dealt with crying people before (generally overemotional boyfriends—true fact, boys were more crazy than girls in relationships) and had never quite known what to do with them. But with Uhura, physical comforting felt natural. He pulled her to him, just holding her. After a while, he maneuvered them awkwardly to his bed and fetched a Kleenex for her. She blew her nose noisily.
"I'm sorry," she sniffed. Her voice was at his ear, warm and wet. He shoved down his feelings of arousal—Spock's girlfriend, not cool (it didn't really occur to him to use Bones as a reason not do anything with her)—and rubbed her back. She shivered a little more and detached herself, falling heavily onto his bed.
"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting beside her carefully. He could feel the give in the springs of his mattress, and the thought warmed him, as it always did, that there was someone else in his bed.
"I d-don't know," she muttered, dabbing at her eyes. "Spock was j-just weird, when I was leaving—did you s-see him? He looked s-so angry, and I—" She hiccupped a little. "God, I'm such an idiot. His mom just died. I c-can't possibly hold him responsible for any of this. And nothing has happened, I'm j-just crazy, there's nothing to even hold him responsible for." For a moment, she looked like the old, kickass Uhura, flaming angry and irritated. But then she dissolved straight back into tears.
[apologies for the gibberish. evidently this cannot be fixed.]
\﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽I can be emotionally crousal— warm and wet. own what do wo with them, but s were morv
Kirk was starting to get freaked out. God, was she asking relationship advice from him? About Spock? Who he hated?
"Um," he said. "So, he isn't generally… weird?"
"Yes, Jim, he's always weird," she snapped, but her sarcasm had no real heat behind it. She sighed. "He's really very sweet. And damn good in bed, despite being very much a virgin."
Wow, thought Kirk. I am officially in over my head. "That's… interesting?"
"He's half Vulcan. It makes sense. They are so focused on learning. You know, I don't think he loves me."
What? Really? "Why do you say that?" Kirk was oddly curious.
"Well, he hasn't said he loves me. And I've said I loved him."
Kirk saw a pretty obvious flaw, here. "Haven't you two only been dating for two months?" he said hesitantly.
She looked like she wanted to glare at him but couldn't quite manage. "Yeah," she said. "I know, I'm so dumb, but—I do love him. I mean, look at him. I don't see how you can not love him. He knows everything, but not anything useful—anything really useful, to social relationships, I mean. He's so adorably ignorant about that stuff. And he's just so competent with everything else, like his equations could sweep you off your feet, and his essays could carry you away. Have you read his writing? It seems dry, at first, and then you get into the rhythm of it, and you see what he's doing, and he just wraps you around his pinky and calmly gets you to agree with every single point he makes. Strunk and White would faint with joy, reading him." She paused. "Jim?"
Kirk realized that he had been staring off into space, imaging Spock writing equations in the sky. He blinked at her. "Sorry. I haven't read his writing." He smiled. "But I know what you mean about the rest of it." Wow, did he. How had he never noticed those things about Spock before? Uhura was completely right. It was incredible, really, how Spock always seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and manage to look so—how did Uhura describe it?—competent. He would go so far as to call it sexy, actually. That was a strange thought: Spock, sexy? Okay, the man was attractive as all get out, sure, but he wasn't exactly Kirk's type, and oh, right, Uhura was here, and he should be talking to her.
She was looking at him strangely. "Do you like Spock?" she asked.
Kirk frowned. "No," he said slowly. "But… maybe?"
She wasn't angry. "He has that affect on you," she said. "I didn't see it at all, for ages. Christine was completely in love with him last year, and I was like, 'Seriously? Spock? Do you know who you're talking about?' And then after a while, it hits you—he's pretty great."
"I still don't see why you've fallen in love with him, though. So fast—you loved him before you started dating, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. There's not much I can do to help it—we don't choose to fall in love. Or, we don't entirely choose to fall in love. We put ourselves in the situation, sometimes, but our body chemistry has to do some of the work. I don't really care about why I love him. I just know I love him. And I know that he doesn't love me back, and I have to do something about that, but I don't know what."
Kirk was at a loss for words, so he just scooted closer and plucked another Kleenex out of the box for her. Poor girl, he thought. How much would it suck to be in love with Spock?
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