Love Means Living And Dying
Disclaimer: Do I HAVE to say it? FINE. I don't own them. (Apparently that whole wishing-on-a-star-makes-your-dreams-come-true thing is BULL. SHIT. Stupid stars…)
A/N: This is it, folks. Not the final chapter, but the end of the movie. After this we will be moving into a realm that was born when I put TOS and my brain into a blender and hit 'liquefy'. Be afraid…Be VERY afraid…
'K, I know this took, FOREVER, BUT. It is the longest chapter yet—thirty-five pages long-hand, seventeen typed.
As always, I must give credit where credit is due. My BFF, the one and only JJ (she and I did One together. Anyone read it? *hint, hint* 2nd chapter of Timing) gets her usual props for being the awesome rock and sounding board that I can't live without. (Love you!) Andalusia(who, by the way, is freakin' AMAZING!) beta-read this chapter, and kept kicking me to finish already, and I'm not sure anything would be here without her. jAnon doesn't even know me(I left one review, but considering the hundreds that pile in, odds are she doesn't know me) but I have been MAJORLY inspired by her work, namely Sviksu(which made me cry, continuously, for the sheer intensity of the emotion) and Observations, which is mega-long, but I'm already over half-way done, because it is JUST. THAT. GOOD. (Only problem is, I want to read it when I should be writing…don't hurt me?)
Got to get better at SHORT A/N's…sorry. Without further ado…
Chapter Five: That Which Survives
James T. Kirk was tired. Head-pounding, bone-achingly tired. There was nothing he wanted more than a nap, and that was pretty much the only thought that his muddled, fuzzy brain could process. He hadn't had any sleep since before the assembly. Being knocked out with drugs or martial arts was so not relaxing.
His eyelids fluttered. He struggled to open them again, and forced himself to straighten up in his Captain's chair.
He looked around blearily, trying to understand what he saw. The bridge was fairly quiet, a blessing on his aching head and worn nerves. Or perhaps a curse. Blaring alarms might pump some adrenaline into his system and help him stay awake. After all, he hadn't even realized he was tired until they were lurching back to Earth (at sub-light speed, since they had ejected the warp core). But then again, he was so tired. He might just surrender and let the Enterprise blow up. No. No, he couldn't let anything happen to his ship, tired or not.
He glanced around the room again. His crew was working quietly, and no one was talking much. Everyone appeared to be exhausted. Perhaps not as exhausted as he, but most were yawning and rubbing their eyes. They needed to sleep.
Trying to mask his exhaustion, he hit the comm on his chair and ordered for bridge reliefs in an undertone. Raising his voice, he addressed his bridge command crew.
"Listen." Every eye turned to him attentively. Dimly, he noted that the doubt that had been in their eyes before was gone. "You guys are the most amazing people I've ever met. But you're still human. Go get some sleep. Oh," he added. "Before you do, I want all of you to report to Sickbay and get checked out. That's an order."
There was a soft chorus of "Aye, sir,"s and they filtered out. In no time, the bridge was empty. Well, almost empty.
"Spock," Jim sighed.
"Yes, Captain?"
"What are you doing here?"
His eyebrow rose. "I am Science Officer. I am performing my duties—"
"No." Jim waved a hand tiredly. "I mean, why didn't you go down to Sickbay like I ordered?"
The other eyebrow joined its mate. "Your order was based on the observation of signs of fatigue that the majority of members of the crew were exhibiting, was it not?"
Jim turned that sentence over for a minute, before his sluggish mind deciphered it. "Yeah."
Spock stood and moved toward Jim. "As such, I determined that the order was not applicable to me."
Jim sighed again, and it morphed into a yawn. "Spock, you aren't—"
"Vulcans require much less sleep than humans, Captain," Spock interjected. "We also have a heightened awareness of our own bodily functions. I am not injured or ill, and I am sufficiently well-rested. Thus, I see no reason to leave my station at this time."
The doors slid open and the relief crew came in. "All right." A hint of a smile crossed his face. "Hard to argue with that logic."
Spock looked a tad surprised. In a blank, emotionless Vulcan way. He seemed about to say something, but stopped when Jim waved impatiently at something over his shoulder.
"No, no, Mr. Spock will be staying at his station. If you haven't already, go down to Sickbay, then go to sleep."
The ensign stuttered an 'aye, sir', blushing furiously, before slipping off the bridge.
Spock turned back to his acting captain, who favored him with a sincere, if weary, smile. "Thanks, Spock," he murmured.
A curious eyebrow ticked up. "For staying," Jim explained. "It's good to know there's someone I can count on around."
Spock inclined his head and returned to his post, still puzzled. Jim felt he could count on Spock?
This crew was a little fresher, and they had quiet conversations with their neighbors. Their unintelligible murmurs, combined with the almost unnoticeable vibration from the impulse engines, had a hypnotic effect. Things were quiet. And with Nero sucked into a black hole, it wasn't likely that they would be attacked, not this far from the Neutral Zones. Jim couldn't leave the bridge, just in case, but surely just resting his eyes would be acceptable.
His cheek was resting on his hand before he was aware of putting it there. His eyes slid closed, and he let them. He was too tired to care about keeping them open.
Jim was asleep.
Spock was not surprised: he had noticed Jim's increasingly desperate exhaustion since the signs had first appeared, after they had dropped out of the warp they had been thrown into by the core explosion. The captain's fatigue had been steadily growing ever since and Spock had considered suggesting that he retire to quarters. But the look in Jim's eyes had caused him to debate with himself.
In the bright blue eyes, there was an icy, almost manic determination, and loyalty. Jim was not going leave the bridge now, they had said. Sulu had suggested it, just as Spock had been weighing the pros and cons, and Jim had given the helmsman a look, then laughed and shook his head. The look was enough to firmly convince Spock that bringing it up again would be a fruitless endeavor.
Finally, after a longer stretch then Spock had anticipated (though it was James Kirk, so he supposed he should have learned by now that the man exceeded expectation, always), Jim had succumbed to his need for sleep.
Spock had been watching Jim out of the corner of his eye, waiting. He was almost positive that Jim had fallen asleep three point six minutes ago, his cheek on his hand.
In that time, he had flopped forward. His arm was stretched along the arm on his chair, cushioning the side of his face. The rest of him was curled awkwardly to make that possible without him falling from the chair.
His face was lax, his lips slightly parted. He looked much more peaceful in sleep than he ever did awake. Seeing him like this, one would never guess at his energy, sarcasm, and capacity for trouble-making.
The members of the relief crew were sneaking peeks at their dozing captain, wide-eyed. Spock decided that, as much as Jim needed rest, the bridge wasn't the best place for it.
He commed for reliefs for both of them and went back to the captain's chair. Hesitantly, he put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Captain." No response. He shook the blond gently. "Captain." Still, the man did not wake. The Vulcan crouched down and shook Jim a bit harder. "Jim," he said in a low but firm voice near Jim's ear.
Jim twitched and blinked his eyes open, looking around woozily. "Spock?" he mumbled, struggling to sit up with a small groan. "Just resting my eyes. What's up?"
"Captain." Spock stood straight, arching one eyebrow. "You were asleep. If I may, I believe it would be logical for you to retire to your own quarters to rest, after visiting Dr. McCoy."
Jim was already shaking his head. "No. I can't leave the bridge. What if something happens?"
"With Nero no longer a threat, the chances of being attacked are highly improbable. And I believe, if the need should arise, you can be contacted within seconds of the arrival of a potential threat. However, you do no good as a captain if you are too exhausted to make decisions."
"But I don't even have quarters," Jim protested. "I'm a stowaway, remember?"
But Spock had an answer for that too. "I admit, I had forgotten. However, as a solution, you may share my quarters until we arrive at Earth."
For once, Jim was speechless. His mouth fell open.
"Is this disagreeable to you?"
"W…Wait," Jim stuttered. "You're saying I can bunk with you until we get back to Earth?"
Spock inclined his head. "Is this arrangement disagreeable?"
"No…" Jim trailed off. He looked up at the Vulcan and grinned. "I just never would have pegged you for the 'roomy' type."
Eyebrow. "Indeed."
Jim chuckled. Then, abruptly, he frowned. "You're going to keep after me until I leave, aren't you?"
Another eyebrow. "Will that be necessary, Captain?" he asked curiously.
Jim sighed. "Guess not." With effort, he pushed himself up, biting back a moan, and stumbled, nearly falling. Spock steadied him with a hand on his elbow, and they walked in step to the turbolift. "Johnson, you have the conn. Comm me if you need me," Jim ordered as his relief passed him.
The captain leaned heavily against the wall, and Spock ordered the lift to take them down to Sickbay. Jim's eyes flew open again.
"Wha—? Spock, no!" he protested.
Spock stared back unfeelingly. "You have sustained multiple injuries over the duration of this mission. They must be seen to."
"No. I just need some sleep and I'll be fine!"
Spock's eyebrow twitched. "It is illogical to refuse necessary medical treatment," he reprimanded coolly.
Jim shook his head vehemently. "Not when McCoy is your best friend," he said firmly.
Spock's eyebrows flew up. "While his personality leaves something to be desired, I have found Dr. McCoy to be an extremely competent medical officer. You do not trust him?"
"No! Of course I trust him—to fix me if I'm hurt. I don't trust him to refrain from giving me hell for it, or from making it as painful as possible."
The Vulcan's brow furrowed. "Surely, as a medical officer, he would not cause you harm."
Jim sighed gustily. "Bones's idea seems to be that if the healing process is as painful as possible, I won't want to get hurt again. He's been at it for three years, but doesn't seem to be giving up."
"You speak as if this degree of injury is a frequent occurrence."
The human waved a hand tiredly. "Yeah, happens all the time."
Spock's eyebrows rose, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but Jim's eyes had slid closed again, and he closed his mouth without speaking.
The lift doors slid open and Spock paused to let Jim pass through first.
They walked into Sickbay side by side and Jim plopped down in the nearest chair, surveying the damages. Most of the biobeds were occupied, but the number was dwindling as they watched. An osteoregenerator beeped and a nurse moved it aside. The man who had been under it hopped up and ambled out of Sickbay, looking good as new.
Another nurse straightened up from where she had been bending over a young woman, a heavy-duty dermal regenerator in her hand. The young woman sat up slowly. A scar scored diagonally down the left side of her jaw, her neck, over her collarbone, to disappear just short of dead center under her uniform. "Come back tomorrow and we'll work on that scar," the nurse—wasn't her name Chapel?—told the woman gently.
The woman shook her head. "Ensign?" the nurse questioned.
A hint of a rueful smile touched the blond woman's marred features. "Thanks for the offer, Nurse Chapel, but no. I don't want to get rid of this scar."
Nurse Chapel looked bemused but nodded. "Very well."
The ensign climbed down and started to walk out.
"Ensign."
She turned back and Jim got to his feet. "Why keep it?" He gestured at the scar. "With a dermal regenerator, it could be gone in an hour."
"Well, sir, I got this the hard way." Jim chuckled, but looked confused yet.
"I guess," she continued carefully, "we all have scars after this. So, I suppose, I'll keep this one as a reminder."
"Reminder of what?"
"Well…of what we lost. People who died. How we made it through anyway. Of lots of things." She shrugged. "Of today."
Jim pondered that for a long moment, deep in thought. Finally, he nodded. "Thank you, Ensign. You can go. Wait," he added.
"Sir?"
"Your name."
"Aly Cooper, Captain." She stuck out a hand and he shook it. "Nice to meet you."
"Jim Kirk. Nice to meet you, too."
She trotted away and Jim turned to Spock, face serious. "That's a lot of wisdom for someone so young." She was at least five years younger than Jim himself.
Spock inclined his head thoughtfully. "I believe this ordeal has required all involved to gain a certain amount of maturity."
Jim laughed. "Oh, really?" he teased.
"It is logical, Captain."
Jim laughed again, and, as if summoned by the sound, McCoy popped up behind him. Jim yelped, jumping back in fright.
"God, Bones," he complained, but stopped short at the gleam in his friend's eye.
"Hullo, Jim. Nice ta see ya, glad ya stopped by," Bones said amiably. "Why didn't ya drop by earlier, ya get lost? Oh, wait," his voice went menacing as he advanced on Jim, who in turn backed away. "I forgot. You're a masochistic IDIOT!" he yelled. "Dammit, Jim, d'you have a death wish?!" He pushed the captain down onto a biobed and ran a tricorder over him. "Look at this! Cracked ribs, twisted ankle, severely bruised larynx, multiple lacerations, most infected, hairline fracture on the left eye socket, heavy concussion, swollen kidney, pretty much everything inside you is bruised, your hand is fractured again….Dammit! What'd you do on that ice box—jump off a cliff?!"
"Not exactly, but I did get into a fight with a hengrouggi, after it saved me from being eaten by a drakoulias," he responded conversationally.
"You got into it with a hengrouggi?" Bones demanded.
"I must confess to considerable curiosity as to how you managed to escape, as it has six legs, is considerably faster than a human, and also possesses a long tongue which it uses to secure its prey before consuming them."
Jim half-shrugged around the osteoregenerator Bones was putting over his chest. "Found a small cave," he said, avoiding the other half of that truth. "Anyway, it was chasing me and I looked over my shoulder for a half a second. Next thing I know I'm falling down a cliff. Which is probably where the cuts and bruises came from. The ankle is because it grabbed me with that tongue, but I fought it off. The ribs and kidney—probably because Nero has a helluva kick. Eye socket, again, Nero; throat, I got choked three times today; hand—coulda been anything…"
"Wait, hold on a minute," Bones interrupted. "You were choked three times?"
Jim nodded. "Spock, then Nero, then Nero's little sidekick."
"Godalmighty, no wonder your throat's a mess," Bones hissed. "How did you manage this long? There's no way you didn't feel this!"
"I just ignored it. I had more important things to worry about."
Bones snorted. "Some of those ribs were a hair away from snapping and piercing your lungs. With the way your insides are beat up, that could have been deadly."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Bones."
"Goddammit, Jim!" McCoy swore. "D'you even care?"
"Better me than someone else. These aren't that bad."
The doctor scowled and proceeded to thoroughly scold and curse Jim for his recklessness.
Spock watched silently as McCoy healed Jim's injuries one by one, all the while berating him for a fool. He wondered why Jim seemed to have so little regard for his own life. McCoy, at least, would be miserable without him. Despite the harsh words, the gentle way he handled Jim, and the worry and fear Spock had seen in his eyes, told the Vulcan how much the crotchety doctor cared for his friend. And Jim clearly loved Bones just as much. Spock couldn't imagine Jim hurting McCoy if he could avoid it. So why, then, was he so callous about his own demise?
Something bloomed inside Spock. Examining the tiny blossom, Spock identified it as a mild concern. He quickly snuffed it out. But…That level of disregard for one's own safety pointed to neglect, or psychological trauma or abuse. It was somewhat disturbing…
McCoy's gruff voice broke through his reverie. "All right, Jim, you can go, but you need sleep. You wanna borrow my bed? I was gonna crash on the couch in my office anyway."
"Thanks Bones," Jim replied, smiling and rolling his shoulder. "But Spock already offered to let me bunk with him. It's up to him."
McCoy's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he whipped his head around to stare at Spock so fast that he cricked his neck. Scowling and rubbing his neck, he demanded, "You did?" Spock nodded once. "Want me to take him off your hands? He's a pain in the ass."
Spock put his hands behind his back. "Your offer is kind, however I believe my quarters are more suitable for such an arrangement; as First Officer, my accommodations are substantially larger than yours."
McCoy thought that over, still scowling heavily. "Fine. But," he turned on Jim. "You come see me every day, before you go on duty and after you get off. No strenuous activity. No wrestling, no sparring, no exercise beyond walking. No junk food. Make sure to drink milk at every meal, a full glass, and eat lots of green vegetables."
"Yes, Mom," Jim said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed Spock by the elbow and started to steer him out of Med Bay. "Quick, before he decides to chain me to a biobed," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Spock's brow creased slightly. "Surely he would not—?" he broke off when he saw the twinkle in Jim's eyes. A joke.
"Spock!" McCoy shouted after them. "You make sure he doesn't overdo it! Make him eat healthy! Tell me if he doesn't!"
"Yes, Doctor."
"Killjoy," Jim muttered under his breath. His eyelids were fluttering—he was nearly asleep as he walked.
They reached Spock's quarters in short order and Jim collapsed onto the bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow, oblivious to the heat of the rooms.
Spock regarded him curiously for a moment, then turned down the temperature, before noiselessly leaving the room.
It took three more uneventful days to get back to Earth. Spock and Jim worked alternate shifts so that one could sleep while the other worked. They rarely saw each other, aside from passing in the halls. Jim hardly slept at all, using his off-duty time to walk around the ship, checking progress and helping with repairs.
Finally, four days and ten hours after the Narada was sucked into a black hole, the Enterprise puttered into spacedock, to the relief of all aboard. The entire command crew from the incident was on the bridge as they connected to the dock. Jim flashed Spock a smile, and Spock nodded in return. Everyone else was smiling too.
"This is Enterprise, requesting permission to complete docking maneuver," Jim said.
"Permission granted. Preparing to lock on. Welcome home, Enterprise," the technician added warmly.
They were docked in less than five minutes, and the entire crew was in shuttles on their way to Earth in less than ten.
Jim ended up in the last shuttle, McCoy next to him, the rest of his command crew in the seats around them.
He felt weirdly boneless. Looking around, he saw that the others appeared as mushy and exhausted as he. McCoy's head was tipped back, a light snore rumbling from his throat. Scotty was in much the same position, sprawled across the empty seat next to him. Chekov was curled in his chair like a cat, forehead resting against the window. Beside him, Sulu had his legs stretched into the aisle, head lolling. Even Spock seemed marginally more relaxed than usual, though he still sat perfectly straight, hands folded in his lap. Uhura's head was resting on his shoulder. Jim still thought that was just weird. Spock and Uhura? They just didn't seem compatible. But hey, Jim shrugged. At least they're happy. Well, I think Spock is happy, anyway.
Jim's gaze was pulled, as it always was, to the infinite darkness sprinkled with thousands of pinpoints of light, distant galaxies, waiting to be explored. The vast, incomparable, eternal mystery that was space. Space had always called to Jim, like a siren's song. Even if a person lived forever, they could never explore every corner of the universe. There were always possibilities, always discoveries, always, always, something new…
Jim found himself waking at the gentle roll as the shuttle set down. Peering out of the window, Jim ascertained that it was just after sunrise. He was slightly surprised to see that the shuttlecraft had set down right in front of Starfleet Academy. He was the last to stumble down the ramp, and stopped, in the middle of his command crew, blinking bemusedly at the sight before him.
In front of them, on the lawn of the Academy, stood a mass of people. At the forefront of the crowd was the crew of the Enterprise. With them, every cadet still alive and recovered enough to be there. Even some of the instructors were present. And they were all clapping and cheering and smiling, and shouting congratulations or thanks.
Jim looked to either side of him. The seven of them stood in a line, with him at center. On his left, Scotty stood on the outside, slack-jawed, next to a wide Uhura. On the right, Chekov was at the end, eyes as big as saucers, and Sulu stood beside him, blinking incredulously.
And on either side of him stood McCoy, on his right, mouth slightly open, and on his left, Spock, stiff as a board, eyes barely widened.
He turned his eyes back to the hundreds of people who were still cheering for them—for him.
It took them some time, but they managed to get through the mass of people, and eventually, everyone made it back to their dorms (Scotty ended up crashing with Sulu and Chekov), and immediately collapsed onto their beds. It was quite some time before any of them woke.
Jim came awake slowly, and became aware, bit by bit, of how sore he was. Rolling over, he stifled a groan. Stiff, too. How long was I out? he wondered.
As if on cue, McCoy strode into the room. "You're awake. Good. You've been sleeping for nearly two and a half days."
"Mm-mhy?" Jim tried to say 'Really?' and was quickly made aware of how fuzzy his mouth tasted and how his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.
McCoy nodded briskly. "Get up and get decent. You need to eat."
Jim managed to heave himself out of bed and hobble to the bathroom. He dragged himself into the shower and let the hot water soothe his aching muscles. God, he felt like one giant bruise. He scrubbed all over, thoroughly, because he hadn't had a nice long shower since before Nero showed up. When he was done, he toweled off, yanked a brush through his short hair, and brushed his teeth for ten minutes straight.
Feeling a little more alive, he pulled on his cadet red, glad to be able to wear clothes not dirty or torn.
His whole body was covered in fading green and yellow bruises. A lovely green-brown mottling across his left eyebrow and cheekbone topped it off. He shrugged and grinned, deciding that the girls would probably coo and fuss over his 'battle wounds', and be otherwise impressed by his heroism.
He left the bathroom and McCoy dragged him down to the mess hall. When they walked through the door (flanked by Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov, who had conveniently caught up as they turned toward the mess) everyone in the hall jumped to attention. The five stopped dead, taken aback, and there was a moment of awed silence. Then the cadets relaxed and one of them brought his hands together, which quickly turned into tumultuous applause. Another, in a moment of courage, yelled "Three cheers for Captain Kirk!"
A thunderous roar went through the mass, followed by another, and another. They kept on until they had long surpassed three.
Jim blinked. They were still calling him Captain…? But what surprised him most was when he turned to his friends (you really couldn't go through something like that without becoming friends with the men who stuck it out with you. Unless that man was Spock.), his eyes wide, mouth open to ask them what this was about, and found that they too, even gruff McCoy, were smiling, clapping, and cheering. For him.
This is just so weird, Jim though fervently. His mouth snapped closed and he shook his head back and forth. "Stop," he called. "STOP!" No one could hear him over the uproar of his new fans, but they saw him trying to say something and fell silent, the ones in front nudging the people behind and whispering "Shh, Captain Kirk's talking!"
In half a moment, there was utter silence, and more than one hundred and fifty people were watching him expectantly.
"Look," he began, not sure what to say. A thought entered his mind and a cocky smirk spread across his face. "Not that I'm not enjoying all the love—cause I am. Really, I'm just basking in it, especially since it's so long in coming." There was a collective eyeroll as chuckles swept through the crowd. "But if you guys are gonna give me a standing ovation every time I walk into a room, we'll never get anything done, will we?" There were a few reluctant nods. He continued. "If you want to come up and say hi, give me a pat on the back, whatever, fine, like I said, I love the love. Just do it one at a time. Don't form lines, don't jump to attention. As cool as that is, I think it would be a little hard to finish anything. And with everything that's happened lately, we have a lot to do, and too few people to do it." Everyone exchanged grim looks. Jim's cocky grin broke out again. "Thanks though. I know I'm awesome." He bowed to the chuckling audience and led his friends over to a table. Chekov's eyes were wide, Sulu looked surprised, and Scotty's mouth was hanging open. McCoy just huffed and rolled his eyes as he sat down heavily.
"You are such an attention whore," he informed Jim.
"Hey!" Jim protested. "I am not."
"Ah think ya are, Jim," Scotty agreed, lips twitching.
"I am not!"
Sulu had a fiendish smirk. "Yes, you are."
"Am not!"
"Are too," Chekov shot back, smiling.
Jim was outnumbered. He did the only thing he could he could do. He flipped them off and began to eat, ignoring his tablemates. They only laughed and dug in.
The meal was a fun one, full of good-natured ribbing, shoving, food-stealing, and jokes. They were interrupted a total of eighteen times by the braver people who had taken Jim's invite to come and greet him to heart. Jim got most of the attention, but the others soon found out that they were almost as famous as their captain. Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov were delighted, gracious and embarrassed about that, respectively. Poor Chekov was so mortified that his face flushed bright red whenever someone addressed him. One girl, equally red, came up and kissed him on the cheek before fleeing, and his ears glowed for a good ten minutes afterward, much to the glee of his friends.
Finally Jim, feeling better than he had since the Kobyashi Maru, loaded his silverware onto his tray and stood. "Well, gents, as fun as this is, I've important business to attend to elsewhere. See you guys for dinner, around six?"
They nodded and called goodbyes. Jim had a smile on his face, but his tone was serious when he spoke of important business. McCoy eyed his friend with a typical scowl and abruptly stood.
"Back in a sec," he muttered to the others, before catching up as Jim dumped his tray.
"What's up, Bones?" Jim asked pleasantly.
"Jim," McCoy began in an undertone. "What are you gonna do?"
"I need to talk to Spock," Jim replied, voice equally low. The doctor's face darkened—he was still sore over Jim being marooned on an ice planet—but Jim continued before he could interrupt. "It's important Bones. Don't try to talk me out of it."
Bones glared, and gave a grudging nod.
Jim patted his shoulder and walked out of the mess. He strode across the verdant campus, heading for the teachers' quarters. Word about his 'say hi' offer seemed to have spread; he was stopped more than twenty times by awed cadets. Twice, it was a professor who called to him and gave him a word of congratulations. It was a rather surreal experience. Jim had never really been popular before, except as a bed partner, and he had never been like by the higher-ups. Jim+authority=minor atomic explosion. He enjoyed all the attention, and was surprised to find that he had been absolutely right in his comment about not getting things done. It took him nearly half an hour to get halfway across campus to the teacher dorms because he had to keep stopping to make small talk.
Finally managing to shake off a particularly eager young woman named Marlena Moreau, he ducked around a science building and found himself facing a side entrance to the very building he had been looking for. He slipped inside and quickly shut the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief. Most doors to the instructors' building are locked, he thought, looking around cautiously. He decided that his wasn't because it was hard to find and the rooms each had their own locks anyway.
He crept along the hall, reading the names engraved on the plates made of a silver metal compound. When he reached the front of the hallway, he still hadn't seen Spock's name, so he started up the stairs. He had to search two more floors before he finally found a plaque that read simply 'Spock' at the very back of the fourth floor.
Feeling rather anxious, Jim rang the bell. There was a moment's pause and then the door slid open.
Spock's eyebrows shot up. "How did you gain access to this building?"
Jim smiled and shrugged, pointing to himself. "Jim Kirk?" he said, raising his brows as if that answered everything. Which it sorta did.
Spock's right eyebrow moved above his left, but he didn't comment. "What is your purpose here?
"Uh—can I come in?" Jim asked, a little nervous. "It won't take long, promise."
Spock measured him up for a moment before stepping back. "Very well, Jim."
Jim stepped past the Vulcan and gave an appreciative whistle.
"I do not understand this expression," Spock informed him, brow creased.
"Dude, this place is clean!" Jim exclaimed. "I mean, I know you're a Vulcan and a mess would be illogical, but damn. This looks like one of those house-keeping magazines."
"Jim, you implied that you had something of importance to discuss with me," Spock reminded him.
The awed look was gone, replaced with a slight discomfort. "Yeah, I do. Well, see…I…don't really know how to start…" he trailed off.
Spock regarded him for a moment. "Please sit down," he invited unexpectedly, inclining his head toward the immaculate black sofa. Jim obeyed. Spock, surprisingly, went into the connected kitchen instead. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"
"Uh, sure."
"Do you have a preference as to what kind?" Spock asked.
"Whatever you're having is fine."
There was silence except for the clank of cups and drawers. Jim was surprised when Spock pulled out a real, ancient teapot and put it over an old-fashioned burner, which must have been there for precisely that purpose.
When it whistled, Spock poured the tea and set one down on a coaster in front of Jim, keeping the other for himself. Jim sipped, and found the subtle array of spices absolutely delicious, so he sipped again. "This is great."
Spock nodded once, graciously. He set his cup aside and folded his hands in his lap. Jim copied him, fidgeting. Spock regarded Jim evenly. Clearly, he's not gonna help things along, Jim thought anxiously.
"Okay, Spock," he began. Well, best to dive in headfirst, I guess. "I'm sorry."
The Vulcan's brow furrowed slightly, betraying his confusion.
"Please elaborate," he requested.
Jim took a deep breath. "Because what I said about you and your mother was cruel." Spock stiffened and Jim continued, feeling a little desperate to get it all out. His eyes were hard, determined. Sincere. "You didn't deserve it, and I didn't mean any of it, and it wasn't true. I deserved every single punch you threw at me, and more, and I felt horrible saying it, and I'm really sorry. I know that's not really enough, but…"
Spock leaned forward. "You are correct," he said seriously. "Words of apology neither cancel nor erase words of cruelty." Jim nodded, shamefaced. "However," Spock continued. Jim looked up, surprised. "Your actions, both preceding and following that incident, proved that such spite is not in your nature without far more cause than I had given you. You were able to speak rationally to Nero, who was responsible for the murder of your father and all subsequent hardships you must have endured. You were able to logically offer him mercy when I, a being far more grounded in logic than yourself, would not have been."
"Well, yeah, but, I never knew my father. You watched your mom die, along with your entire home planet," Jim protested.
"That is true," Spock agreed. "But, as a Vulcan, I should have been able to put that aside and make the logical decision. You were affected by the loss of Vulcan as well, and you are driven by emotion. You proved that you are able to remain calm in the face of crisis, and think quickly and innovatively, as well as compassionately."
Jim blinked. "Thanks. That's a major compliment, coming from you."
"I do not 'compliment.' I merely state the facts."
Jim rolled his eyes with a half smile. "Yeah, but it feels like a compliment." Spock opened his mouth, presumably to argue, but Jim held up a hand. "I know, I know. But anyway. I really am sorry."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I know." There was a hint of a smile in his eyes.
Jim shook his head, disbelieving, and held out a fist. "Are we cool?"
Spock stared at his fist, then looked back to his face, uncomprehending. "'Cool?'" he repeated.
"Yeah, are we cool?" Jim said. "Oh for the love of—Seriously, Spock?" he demanded, exasperated. "Are we cool, as in, are we okay?"
"I believe we are both in acceptable mental and physical condition," Spock hedged, though his expression said that he was rapidly reevaluating that opinion of Jim's mental facilities.
"No. I mean like, ugh, it sounds lame…it kinda means, do you forgive me?"
"Oh." Spock blinked, then inclined his head. "Affirmative." Jim held his fist out again, and again Spock stared at it.
"Geez, Spock. Okay, extend your fist."
Doubtfully, Spock held out his fist, mirroring Jim. "Now, we touch our fists together, like this." He bumped his knuckles against Spock's. Spock had that 'I think you are severely unstable' look again.
"Does that bother you?" Jim questioned, and an expression of acute horror dawned on his face. "I just remembered how sensitive Vulcan hands are."
"It was not uncomfortable. The extra nerve endings in our hands are clustered in our palms and the insides of our fingers." He indicated the areas he talked about. "The backs of our hands and fingers have a sensitivity that is comparable to humans."
"Really? I didn't know that."
"Few humans do."
"Well, if that's true, then try again." Once more, he extended a fist. "Harder this time. We slam our fists together."
Spock raised an eyebrow as he brought he fist to meet Jim's. Jim grinned broadly. "And that…is a fist bump."
Spock walked through the cargo bay, taking mental notes. He was working. Of course he was. It was not logical to idle when there was work to be done, and one was capable of assisting.
Something caught his eye, and he turned. An elderly Vulcan in traditional black Vulcan robes was ambling along, his hands behind his back. He was familiar. There was only person it could be.
"Father," Spock called.
The man paused and turned slowly. Spock was…confused. The man was not his father. But he was extremely, intimately familiar. Spock was sure he had never seen this man before. How could he be familiar?
"I am not our father," the old man said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Spock digested this sentence and all it meant, mind rapidly connecting half-formed clues and pieces that hadn't made sense, and everything was thrown into new clarity. "With so few Vulcans left," the elder continued, closing the distance between them, "We cannot afford to ignore each other."
Spock stepped toward his older self. "Then why did you send Kirk aboard when you alone could have explained the truth?"
"Because you needed each other," the other said simply, but with conviction.
The younger Spock was confused, to say the least. He and Kirk, needed each other? It was a very strange thought.
"I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together. Of a friendship, that will define you both, in ways you could not yet realize."
Something was baffling. "How did you persuade him to keep your secret?" Spock wanted to know.
"He inferred that universe-ending paradoxes would ensue, should he break his promise."
"You lied."
"Aww," the elder said, as though this weren't fair. "I…I implied."
"A gamble," the younger man realized incredulously.
"An act of faith," his older self corrected, eyes twinkling. "One I hope that you will repeat in the future in Starfleet."
"In the face of extinction it is only logical that I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuild our race," the younger said quickly.
"And yet you can be in two places at once," elder Spock replied gravely. "I urge you to remain in Starfleet. I have already located a suitable planet on which to establish a Vulcan colony. Spock," he said, stepping closer, "In this case, do yourself a favor: put aside logic. Do what feels right."
Spock Prime turned and began to walk away. He paused and faced himself. "Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving," he said with a hint of amusement, lifting a hand in the Vulcan salute, which the younger Spock copied, rather dazedly, "I shall simply say, 'Good luck.'"
Jim hurried toward the auditorium, McCoy, Scotty, Sulu and Chekov on his heels. McCoy reached out and tugged at Jim's collar.
"Bones!" Jim snapped. "Knock it off!"
"Why do you zink zat zey hawe inwited us to zis assembly so formally?" Chekov panted, straightening his shirt nervously. "Ve would hawe been zere anyway."
"No idea," Sulu replied, brushing lint off his young friend's shoulder.
"They probably want to punish me publicly for stowing onboard the Enterprise and committing mutiny," Jim said darkly.
"Ah hope not, laddie," Scotty gasped. "That'd be a pretty thanks for saving all our arses."
"Yeah, well, they aren't exactly Jim's biggest fans." McCoy growled, pulling at his friend's collar again.
"Scotty's right though," Sulu pointed out. "Jim saved the entire planet. Probably every planet in the Federation. It'd pretty petty to punish the guy who saved civilization as we know it for something so inconsequential in comparison."
"Let's hope they see it that way," McCoy hissed as they entered the auditorium and made their way to the front row. Jim's whole body was tense. His hands were clenched in his lap.
The admirals, minus Pike and Barnett, were sitting behind their table. Barnett stood behind his center chair, eyes sweeping over the cadets. His impassive gaze fell on Jim.
After about ten more minutes, cadets stopped trickling in and Barnett cleared his throat.
"Once again, I must announce that James T. Kirk is the subject of this assembly." His lips twitched.
"As you know, we recently came very close to utter disaster. Most of our graduating cadets were killed during the Romulan Nero's attack on our fleet. Captain Pike, who has recently been promoted to the rank of Admiral—" a massive cheer went up as Pike, in a gray-blue and cream white jumpsuit was wheeled out. He was confined to a wheelchair until his spine healed. "Admiral Pike has told us that if it were not for Mr. Kirk, the Enterprise would have met the same fate. He stowed onboard the ship, recognized the signs that indicated that the same force which destroyed the Kelvin was also behind this occurrence, and warned Captain Pike that Romulans were attacking Vulcan." Barnett looked at Kirk. "He and two others, including the helmsman Mr. Hikaru Sulu, spacejumped onto the drill the Romulans had lowered into the atmosphere. Distressingly, they did not deactivate it in time to prevent the Romulans from launching red matter into the center of the planet, which created a singularity that consumed the planet." Surprised murmurs swept through the cadets. They didn't know that.
Barnett went on to summarize the rest of the adventure. When he was done, he met Jim's eyes.
"In light of his actions, all charges have been dropped. Mr. Kirk will be receiving a commendation for original thinking in the Kobyashi Maru scenario."
Jim's jaw dropped, and the cadets jumped to their feet, clapping.
A distinctly Scottish voice called out, "Ah tol' ya, lad!" and Jim grinned.
Barnett came down to stand in the center of the floor. "In addition," he began, and the cadets clammed up instantly. "Starfleet strongly believes that innate talent should never be wasted. Therefore, we have decided that Mr. Kirk is to be placed in a position where he can best exercise his gifts for the good of all."
Jim's eyes widened. At first, all he felt was shock. Then a blazing, triumphant warmth flooded him. What would they do? Make him a lieutenant, maybe, and maybe a First Officer. It didn't matter, as long as he was on his way to command.
"We have agreed that he be placed on the Enterprise, as the new captain."
Jim's head reeled. They're giving me the Enterprise? No. Freaking. Way.
Barnett motioned discreetly to someone standing off to one side, who came up to them, holding a black velvet box. The kind that medals were placed in. Jim stepped forward as Barnett continued. "This assembly calls Captain James Tiberius Kirk. Your inspirational valor and supreme dedication to your comrades is in keeping with the highest traditions of service, and a reflect of utmost credit to yourself, your crew, and the Federation. It is my honor to award you with this commendation." He took the medal and pinned to Jim's chest. Jim couldn't entirely hold back a smile. "By Starfleet order two eight four five five, you are hereby directed to report to Admiral Pike, USS Enterprise, for duty, as his relief."
Jim was shell-shocked. But only for a moment, before a fierce joy, greater than any he had ever known, surged through him, consuming. He could not entirely hide the smile that broke out on his face. His happiness refused to be contained. They were giving him the Enterprise. They were making him a captain. They were making him a captain, and giving him theEnterprise.
He shook Barnett's hand tightly.
Then, still grinning, he turned and walked over to Admiral Pike, who was wheeled forward slightly to meet him. "I relieve you, sir," he said quietly, eyes blazing.
"I am relieved," he said, somewhat sardonically.
"Thank you, sir." For everything.
"Congratulations, Captain." He reached out and clasped Jim's hand warmly. "Your father would be proud."
He looked down at his mentor, silently thanking him for everything he had done for Jim over the past three years. Pike was looking back with a slight smile, eyes warm. And in that moment, something passed between them. Jim knew that Pike knew what the younger man was trying to say without speaking, and Jim understood what Pike was trying to communicate in response. Pike was saying, 'I'm proud of you,' 'I knew you would do it even before you did,' and also, 'and so the student has surpassed the teacher. Well done, son.' All this was communicated in less than a breath.
The cadets clapped and cheered loudly as Jim turned back to them, a smile on his face. His eyes swept across the rows of red, looking for someone dressed impeccably in instructor blacks. He felt a slight twinge of disappointment that Spock wasn't there at this most important moment, but it was eclipsed by the overwhelming euphoria that was clouding his brain.
High above the cheering cadets, on a balcony over the auditorium, stood a lone man in strange, elegant dress.
Despite the joyous occasion taking place below, had anyone looked upon his face, they would have seen, showing slightly behind his neutral expression, a deep and fathomless sorrow.
There is happiness in this occasion, he reflected. Jim has received his captaincy much earlier than he did in my own timeline. However, I cannot help but remember my own captain's commission ceremony…Jim… his eyes glazed over with familiar tears. Even after so many years, he still felt a deep, pulsing ache in his chest when he thought of his Jim. He blinked away the tears, and looked down again, at this new timeline. Things were already far different here from his home. But the basic elements remained.
Now, seeing that the entire command crew of the Enterprise had come together again, under a completely different set of circumstances, even he could not deny that there was a greater force, a destiny at work. They would all be together, as they were meant to be.
And he wished, as he so often had before, that he had not had to outlive his friends…my family.
There was a hope though. Perhaps this new universe's crew, younger than his own had been, would realize certain things about themselves earlier.
After all, they were about to embark on a journey that would change and define who they were in their very souls. And the universe was full of infinite possibilities.
"Thrusters on full," he whispered heavily.
He turned and walked slowly away from the ceremony. Perhaps…my counterpart will have gained something through this experience. Perhaps he will be wiser than I was…
Jim reclined on his bed, tossing a small rubber ball up to the ceiling. He had already asked the admirals to give him the crew that had been with him during the Narada Incident, with emphasis on regaining the command crew. They had instantly agreed, with just one exception.
Spock was considering resigning his commission.
Jim was sure he knew why, too. Spock wanted to be all noble and logical and shit, and resign so he could help his people. Which was bullshit. Jim knew that Spock wanted to stay in Starfleet. There was no way that it wouldn't bother him to give it up. And he was definitely in his element standing on the bridge of a starship in crisis, giving logical advice and assistance.
Sure, what Jim had in mind could probably cause some tension between the two of them, being a complete role reversal. But he couldn't picture it any other way, no matter how hard he tried. Besides, he was pretty sure they had come to an understanding.
Jim vaulted off his bed, the ball plunking on the mattress, forgotten. Purposefully, he strode out the door. He had to try.
There was no one else Jim wanted as his First Officer.
Spock lay on his bed, hands folded over his chest, thinking hard. The words of his older self echoed in his head.
You needed each other… Illogical. Why would he need Jim Kirk, or vice versa? They had worked well together, it was true, but their personalities were conflicting to the core.
His elder self had seemed far too free with emotions to be a disciplined Vulcan of such advanced age. What had caused him to be so callous about Vulcan principles? Did he not respect the Vulcan ways any longer? It was clearly Spock, greatly aged, but Spock could not imagine becoming so relaxed.
His mind turned over something else the elder Vulcan had said. I could not deprive you of a chance to discover all that you could accomplish together, of a friendship that will define you both, in ways you cannot yet realize.
Spock ran over the words in his memory. Yes, that was exactly what he said.
Interesting, Spock thought. Spock the elder had said 'all you could accomplish' and 'a friendship that will define you both.' He hadn't appeared to realize it at the time. But, at least in his subconscious, the fact of their friendship, and how it would affect them, was exactly that: fact. While their accomplishments were still in question, their friendship was, in elder Spock's mind, set in stone.
The doorbell chimed, startling Spock from his reflections. When he answered, his eyebrows flew up at the sight of Jim Kirk, yet again, in his doorway.
"Hey, Spock," he said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for him to be there.
"I hope you do not intend to make a habit of this, Mr. Kirk," Spock replied, stepping back to allow Jim entry.
Jim grinned and turned to face Spock, a resolute look in his eye. "Got any plans tonight?" he asked bluntly.
"I have no prior engagements this evening," Spock acknowledged cautiously.
"You do now. Go put on some civvies."
Spock gave him a look. "Okay, Spock, you are way too smart not to be able to deduce what 'civvies' means. Just go put on some normal, non-military clothes." He emphasized his demand by giving Spock a little shove toward his bedroom.
"May I inquire as to the reason behind your demand?" Spock wanted to know.
"We're going out for dinner. I need to talk to you," Jim replied shortly. "Now, go change!"
"I see no logical reason not to comply with your request," Spock conceded reluctantly, disappearing into the bedroom.
It was less than five minutes later that Spock slipped back into the living room. The door slid shut with a quiet rush of air, and Jim, who had been admiring the view, turned. His eyes widened for a brief instant, and then a smile tugged at his mouth.
"Is there something inappropriate about my apparel?" Spock asked.
"No, no." Jim shook his head, still smiling. "Just—" His eyes met Spock's and they were smiling too, a bit surprised. "You look great. Who knew?"
He was dressed simply, in well-worn black slacks and a soft black t-shirt that fit his form perfectly.
He inclined his head, ignoring the small joke. "As do you."
Jim looked down at himself, seeming surprised by the return. "Thanks." He sported faded, old blue jeans and a sky blue muscle shirt. Both of them were dressed simply, the attire not chosen to attract attention, but it complimented their respective physiques perfectly.
Wordlessly, they walked in tandem out the door and across the campus. They kept a steady stream of quiet, idle conversation, mainly about their individual efforts in the repairs. Jim updated Spock on how the Enterprise was coming along, and Spock told Jim about the more general repairs he oversaw. Each of them were hailed by various fans and friends, and they returned all greetings, occasionally drifting away slightly to chat with someone, but somehow, they always stayed within talking distance of each other, and always gravitated back to one another. They were like night and day, yet it was clear they were walking together, smiling, relaxed Jim, and blank, straight-backed Spock, and it seemed natural, as if, instead of setting them at odds, they were a perfect contrast, complementing each other.
"—Scotty and I are working on the new warp core, and it should be fixed in a day or so, but we might have to extend that, because installing it is such a delicate process, and we don't really want to let anyone else handle it, in case something goes wrong," Jim said, as they walked through the Academy gates.
"I had heard that Mr. Scott personally approved every engineer assigned to work on the Enterprise," Spock commented.
Jim shot him a surprised glance. "Yeah, he did."
"And yet, he does not trust them?" This was more of a question.
"Well," Jim hesitated, and rubbed his head. "It's not exactly that… It's more that they all have their specialties, and only a handful are qualified to work on the warp core, and they are the only ones qualified to replace Scotty. It's a major risk, working with the warp core, you know? On little slip-up, and boom! So, it's better that it's just us. That way, if something goes wrong, no one else gets hurt. See?"
Spock nodded thoughtfully, eyes betraying a hint of surprise. "That is logical. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few. However, I must insist that both of you exercise extreme caution in this endeavor. I do not believe it is possible for Starfleet to replace either of you."
Jim blinked, taken aback. Then he flashed a dazzling grin. "Thanks."
"I too find that the projects I am overseeing are progressing well. I am supervising and assisting a team charged with designing four starships, modified versions of the fleet we lost to Nero's attack. The first is under construction at the shipyard on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona. The remaining three are close to completion in design. However, we are having difficulty with one aspect of the modifications of the design of the Farragut."
"What kind of problem?" Jim inquired.
"The engine chambers were originally designed in such a way that movement was inconvenient as well as inefficient. Making adjustments during a hostile situation was too difficult to truly be called useful." He continued outlining the problem to a completely absorbed Jim, who even had a few suggestions.
"Well, have you considered changing the layout of the compression chambers to a lateral design, and then moving them at an angle…"
They continued to discuss the problem, and came up with a solution that was 'theoretically sound' according to Spock. The discussion moved onto to other aspects of their Starfleet training. By the time they reached their destination, Spock was more than a bit surprised by the depth of Jim's knowledge on subjects ranging from warp core engineering to theoretical particle physics.
They had just fallen into silence when Jim paused before a nice-looking restaurant. He opened the door with a sarcastic half-bow, a smirk on his face. Spock raised an unimpressed eyebrow and waited for Jim to enter first. He did, rolling his eyes, and the hostess led them to a table. They were uncomfortably aware of the stares they drew as they were taken to a booth in a corner. However, since neither of them were approached, they amounted it to the other's appearance (each knew that the other was considered attractive) and promptly forgot it. They sat, and ordered quickly, a lasagna for Jim, and a salad for Spock. For drinks, Jim requested a root beer, Spock water.
When their drinks arrived, Spock eyed Jim's brown soda curiously.
"Something wrong with my root beer?" Jim asked, peering at the cup as he dropped in a straw.
"I admit I am unfamiliar with this drink," Spock confessed. "Is it similar to the alcoholic beverage?"
Jim laughed. "No. It's a soda, Spock. Carbonation, sugar, and flavor. No alcohol. No fermented grain."
Spock nodded. "I see." He glanced at the glass again.
"You wanna taste it?" Jim offered, eyes dancing.
Spock looked up at him. "I am satisfied with my own drink, thank you," he answered primly.
Rolling his eyes, Jim pushed the cup of dark liquid across the table. "Vulcans. You're curious right? It's natural for a scientist to be curious. Go ahead, take a sip."
"It is not hygienic."
"That's why you're taking the first sip. I don't mind drinking after you. Here, you use the straw and I'll just drink straight from the cup."
Seeing that Jim was now entirely fixed on the idea, and already knowing that Jim was inordinately stubborn, even for a human, Spock decided it wasn't important enough to argue about, and drew the cup to him. Jim's smile widened, and Spock had a sudden, intense urge to roll his eyes. He put his lips to the straw and took a tentative sip. His right eyebrow shot up, and his eyes widened slightly. He blinked twice.
Jim sat back and started to laugh. Spock's other eyebrow rose, and he looked down his nose at the human, disapproving.
"Sorry, Spock," Jim chuckled, not sounding sorry in the least. "The face you made… it was very 'whooaa, this tastes weeeeird.' Like a little kid. Except Vulcan, so really, really subtle."
Spock continued to look at Jim disdainfully, until the blond quieted and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I said I was sorry—it's not my fault that tasting root beer gave you a really funny look on your face. So, did you like it?"
"It was…not disagreeable," he said carefully.
"Yeah, but did you like it?" Jim persisted.
Spock exhaled, almost a sigh, and immediately reprimanded himself. Vulcans did not sigh. "I would not be averse to repeating the experience."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Jim," Spock said suddenly, with new intent.
"Yeah?" Jim gulped his root beer.
"When you encountered my alternate self, did he insinuate that a friendship between you and I was an imperative?"
Jim couldn't answer; he was too busy choking on his soda. Eyes watering, root beer dribbling form the corner of his mouth, he caught his breath, gasping. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, glaring at Spock. "How the hell—?" His eyes narrowed. "That bastard," he muttered. He looked up at Spock accusingly. "He told me the universe would explode if you knew."
Spock cocked an eyebrow. "Did he articulate that result directly?"
"Yeah—" Jim stopped, and thought. "No. He just implied it. Bastard."
There was a pause. Jim's gaze turned to Spock again. "Sorry, what was your question?"
Spock related his encounter with his alternate self, and repeated the inquiry. "Yeah, actually," Jim replied. "It was pretty much the first thing he said."
They eyed each other uncomfortably. Their new agreement barely qualified as acquaintanceship, a shaky foundation to a possible casual camaraderie.
"Anyway," Jim said, briskly changing the subject. "I actually did have a reason for dragging you out here tonight." The waiter set their food in front of them.
"You weren't at the assembly," Jim stated. Spock lifted his eyebrows slightly. If he were a teenage human, he might have just said 'Duh.' "Well, I thought you should know… I've been made Captain of the Enterprise." Spock froze, and his eyes lifted from his salad to fix an impenetrable gaze on the blond. His tan face was slightly apprehensive, but there was determination in the firm line of his jaw and his intense blue eyes.
"I believe the appropriate sentiment is 'congratulations,'" Spock responded evenly, searching Jim's face. There is more, he knew.
"Thanks. I spoke to the admirals about my crew." He was getting closer to the true subject. Jim leaned across the table, eyes sharp. "They told me that you're considering resigning commission."
Ah, Spock thought. "Indeed."
"Don't." Spock kept gazing at him calmly. "Look. You're smart. You have the regs committed to memory. You have the curiosity, the thirst for knowledge, and the drive that make for a fantastic scientist. You have the cool head and ability to make rapid, logical decisions that makes you an invaluable officer. Leaving Starfleet would be a massive waste of talent. And I know you say you don't have feelings, but you would not be happy or satisfied if you quit now." Spock still said nothing. Drawing a deep breath, Jim took the metaphorical plunge. "I want you to be my First Officer."
Spock's eyes widened ever so slightly. For a long moment he seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, he said slowly, "It is not logical for me to remain in Starfleet when my intelligence could be put to use aiding in the preservation of Vulcan culture."
"Bullshit," Jim retorted simply. "Your older self can help as well as you can. Better, even, since he's had all the adventures and gotten it out of his system a bit."
"Both my counterpart and I would be an asset in rebuilding our race."
"Spock. You were made for space. Oh, don't give me that look, you know what I mean. Your skills and personality make you a perfect officer. We've lost most of the graduating cadets. Starfleet can't afford to lose someone like you."
"These talents you speak of could also be put to invaluable use on the new Vulcan planet," Spock argued. But it was clear he was trying to convince himself as much as Jim.
Jim took a deep breath. "Yeah, but they don't really need more than one of you. The other you can handle it. I didn't want to have to resort to this, but you're being stubborn." He put his elbows on the table and looked the Vulcan straight in the eye. "Spock. I need you as my First Officer. McCoy says it all the time: I'm too reckless. You're logical. If you're my First Officer, you can stop me from doing anything too stupid."
Needless to say, Spock was surprised by this angle. He thought about it. It is true, he admitted to himself. He is reckless to the point of near-suicidal inclinations. As his First Officer, I would be within my rights to question his orders, and provide logical alternatives.
"I am Vulcan," he said quietly. "As such, my first duty is to my race."
Jim shook his head, exasperated. "You're half human, too. Spock, you don't owe them anything. They never did anything for you. You don't have a duty to them. You do have a duty to you. And you can deny it all you want, you do have emotions. They matter. You can make yourself happy without betraying anybody. And the work you can do in space in just as important as anything you could do on a planet."
Spock was silent.
Jim sighed and leaned forward, locking Spock's gaze. His eyes were soft but brimming with purpose. "I've given you all the arguments I can come up with. I guess all that's left is to wait for your decision. I'll let you know when we launch, and if you're not onboard by the time we leave spacedock, I'll assume you decided to stay with the Vulcans." He stood up. "I can't force you, and I'm not gonna try. But one thing is definitely weighted in my favor." Spock looked up at him. Jim smiled slightly. "It goes without saying that we need you more."
With that, he turned on his heel and left the restaurant without a backward glance. Spock stared after him for a long time, mind comparing pros and cons and factors rapidly.
"Illogical," he murmured.
Four weeks later, Spock opened his door to what was rapidly becoming a familiar sight. Wordlessly, he let Jim in and turned to make tea.
He handed Jim a mug and sat opposite him, watching his face carefully. Jim drank, and they sat in silence. Eventually, Jim set down a half-empty cup.
"The Enterprise launches in two weeks," he said without preamble. "A couple of planetary surveys and probably some Neutral Zone time."
"Indeed? Have you come here to tell me this?"
"Yeah. I still want you as my First Officer. Fourteen days, launch at twelve hundred. Have you…decided what you'll do?" he asked hesitantly.
Spock shook his head thoughtfully. "I have not yet come to a decision," he answered. "However, I assure you, I am giving the matter due consideration."
"Thanks." Jim stood and Spock copied him. Smirking, Jim held out a fist.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "That action is illogical."
"It's just a thing friends do."
"Nonetheless, it has no meaning that I can decipher."
"It means a lot of things. Goodbye, hello, thanks, good one…"
Holding up a hand, Spock cut him off. "I believe the phrase is, I 'get the point.'"
Jim snorted. He kept his hand held out, though, and Spock, who was quickly coming to understand that he'd have to 'pick his battles' when it came to Jim, met it with an internal sigh. Truthfully, he didn't mind the gesture. It was illogical, but then, there was no logical reason not to do it, either.
Jim grinned. "See ya," he said cheerfully, and bounced out of the room.
Spock stared after him for a long moment. Will I ever come to understand him? He wondered.
Jim was excited. Today was the day. The Enterprise would launch in less than fifteen minutes. He was so full of anticipation that he fairly skipped through the decks, checking everything over one last time.
One thought slowed his steps and a frown came to his face. Spock had not contacted him with an answer, and Jim hadn't seen him on board or on the dock. Is he coming? He wondered.
Shaking his head, he tried to shrug it off. If he comes, he comes. At this point, it's only logical to assume that he's not coming. That's that. Who else is good for First Officer? Maybe Sulu…he's competent and down to earth. Or Uhura…she's got the spirit for it…
He strode onto the bridge.
"Maneuvering thrusters and impulse engines at your command, sir," Sulu reported.
"Weapons systems and shields on standby," Chekov added.
"Dock controls report ready, Captain," Uhura finished. There was a warmth and respect in her voice, especially as she enunciated the final word, that had never been there before.
He looked around, savoring the fact that this was his. He caught sight of his best friend, and a fiendish smirk tugged at his mouth. "Bones," he said loudly. He strode over and clapped the other man on the shoulder. "Buckle up."
McCoy rolled his eyes as Jim passed him and sat in the Captain's chair.
"Scotty. How we doing?"
"Dilithium crystals at maximum, Captain," the Scot relayed. Then, "Git down!" The captain grinned, knowing that Keenser must be climbing on the engines again.
"Mr. Sulu. Prepare to engage thrusters."
Sulu tapped a few buttons, ready to blast into space, when the turbolift doors swished open. Jim turned, and could not entirely contain his grin.
"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" Spock asked, stepping out of the turbolift.
"Permission granted." Jim felt as though his face might break in half with the effort of trying not to smile.
Spock seemed to be smiling too, but in only his eyes, as he moved toward the Captain's chair. Jim rose to stand face to face with him. "As you have yet to select a First Officer, respectfully, I would like to submit my candidacy. Should you desire, I can provide character references."
Yes, humor definitely glinted in his eyes. "It would be my honor, Commander," Jim responded.
Spock inclined his head, still smiling without really smiling. Jim wanted to whoop for joy.
Spock took his place at the science station and Jim returned to his chair, that unbridled grin wide on his face. "Maneuvering thrusters, Mr. Sulu."
"Thrusters on standby."
"Take us out."
"Aye-aye, Captain."
The ship thrummed with power. With a surge, they leaped into warp. Jim continued to grin as they sped across the galaxy, faster than light.
This was how it was supposed to be. Montgomery 'Scotty' Scott, crooning to the engines. Nyota Uhura, flipping through sub-space frequencies. Pavel Chekov, adjusting their course. Hikaru Sulu, steering them through the vastness of space. Dr. Leonard 'Bones' McCoy, scowling at anyone who entered his domain in Sickbay. And Spock at his right hand.
He didn't know yet what they would do together, or even if they could all become the tight-knit friends that the elder Spock had cherished in his own time. But he knew that they were stronger together. And when they got to know each other, they would become the strongest command crew in the Federation. Together, these seven could rise to any challenge they encountered.
A/N: Show of hands. Who DIDN'T take the 'as my First Officer' part off of Jim's sentences? *crickets* Yeah. That's what I thought. Me too. But not quite yet, my dears.
Well…there you have it. We've reached the end of the movie. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated, and I'll try to reply. To those who reviewed but don't have accounts, get accounts so I can reply to you! I feel so bad, with all your amazing support, and not being reply personally! And mou, did you read the A/N's? cause I DID explain that. MULTIPLE TIMES. But you're about to get your wish.
Thanks a million to everyone who reads, reviews, alerts, favs…. To those who like it, but are silent, come on out and tell me what you think! I love to hear from you!
EDIT 5/25/13: I went back and altered some stuff to fit with the Into Darkness canon, because I've decided to rework that movie too (Gods help you all).