Chapter 8

"They're saying four days, maybe five," says Komack irritably. "We've only managed to get that much out of them in the past ten minutes."

It's an interesting experience, facing the wrath of Admiral Komack while not being its primary target. Kirk would be better placed to enjoy it, however, if he wasn't industriously biting back on his own impotent rage, because the target is currently Spock and that's actually worse.

He says, as equitably as he can, "They're clearly stalling, sir."

"Of course they're stalling!" snaps Komack. "And I'm damned if I know what their game is, but your orders still stand, Kirk. The Federation's not going to be held to ransom by a bunch of intellectuals with a bug up their ass. Commander Spock!"

If Spock is startled by the abrupt re-focusing of the Admiral's attention, he gives no sign. Only the set of his jaw reveals his diminishing patience, and Kirk is fairly certain that Komack will miss that entirely. "Yes, sir," he says.

"I want answers, Commander," says the Admiral. "These are your people. I want to know what the hell they're playing at."

"With respect, Admiral," says Spock levelly, "These are not my people. Our only commonality is that we are of the same homeworld."

"Don't give me semantics, Spock!" growls the Admiral. "You're a damn sight better placed to find out what's going on than anyone else aboard that ship. Why the hell do you think we sent the Enterprise?"

"Sir, if you were of the opinion that my presence aboard the Enterprise might add additional leverage in any negotiation with the VSA, then I regret to inform you…"

"I don't care what it takes, get it done!" snaps Komack, and Kirk feels his temper rise with break-neck force. Unseen beneath the desk, he digs his fingernails into his hands.

"Admiral," says Kirk and pauses to reflect on his tone. It is vitally important to strip it free of the tumbling fury coiling in his belly. "Sir, I have no intention of abandoning this mission because of a rebuff from the VSA. I have submitted a formal request for a meeting with the Vice-Chancellor in ShiKahr as soon as possible. However – it wouldn't hurt to have a little diplomatic pressure exerted from HQ. I'm not certain of our standing in Vulcan political circles at present."

"Damn it, Kirk, you're a representative of Starfleet! That's your standing." And if the tone of morally-affronted outrage is understandable, it's not exactly helpful.

"Yes, sir, but the VSA is not answerable to Starfleet," says Kirk.

Komack's eyes narrow. "Watch your tone, Captain," he says. "Your job is to get Professor Sorelan out of his office and onto your ship. You let me worry about what goes on behind the scenes."

"If I might make a suggestion?" says Spock. Two pairs of Human eyes converge on him, one openly hostile, the other startled.

"Go ahead," says Komack.

"The Veleth Hai mission is not time-sensitive," says Spock. "If Professor T'Pilak has indicated that Professor Sorelan might be available to depart in four days' time, perhaps it would be wise to take her at her word."

"You think she meant it?" says Kirk.

"It makes little difference whether she meant it or whether it was simply a diversionary tactic. The words have been uttered on record. She will find it difficult to retract them now."

Sixteen light-years away, Komack leans back on his chair and trains a sceptical gaze on the Enterprise's commanding officers. He says, "I'm not buying it, Spock. Maybe the High Command knew what she was going to do in advance and maybe they didn't, but they've closed down tight behind her now. If she retracts, they'll back her."

"With respect," says Spock, "I disagree."

And if the blaze in Kirk's belly was nuclear before, it's now the heart of a bright-burning, newborn star. It's as much as he can do not to turn a wide, open smile on his First for that staggering act of rebellion, and so he fixes his gaze on his desk for as long as it takes to steady his expression and re-collect his thoughts, and then lifts his eyes to meet Komack's.

"If Commander Spock feels that way, sir, then I'm bound to support him," he says. "His assessment of the situation…"

"His assessment of the situation is not what signs off on your orders, Kirk!" barks Komack.

"Acknowledged, sir, and I have no intention of disregarding orders. I am simply suggesting that there is merit to Commander Spock's appraisal of the situation."

"You're not the only Vulcan in Starfleet, Commander," says Komack. "I haven't sought your opinion on Professor T'Pilak's reputation or word of honor. I want you to do your damn job, and your job at this minute is to move one Professor of Morpholinguistics from Vulcana Regar to the Ilion system. Now, I don't much care if you have to beam him up naked from his bedroom to accomplish that, but you've got your job to do and I've got mine. Take your meeting in ShiKahr, Kirk, but don't tell me to pin any hopes on Professor T'Pilak's pinkie-swear that Sorelan's going to be good to go by the end of the week. She doesn't want him gone and by all accounts he doesn't want to be gone. I don't need to tell you that I'm not expecting you to take no for an answer, Kirk."

Kirk digs his fingers into his palms again. "No, sir."

"Good. Komack out."

The screen blanks so abruptly that Kirk is obliged to blink a couple of times to persuade his eyes that they haven't gone blind. He lets out a long breath.

"Jim," says Spock quietly, "That may have been unwise."

"I don't believe I said anything out of order," says Kirk, more lightly than he feels.

"I am not certain that agreeing with me was a tactical advantage."

"I doubt it was agreeing with you that got Komack all hot under the collar. It was the fact that agreeing with you contradicted him."

"Indeed," says Spock, with a heavy tone of that was kind of my point.

Joy – ridiculous, unbidden, and almost completely inappropriate – bubbles in the Captain's chest and floods his head with a kind of reckless energy. He turns a huge smile on his friend, the smile that he wanted to show him a moment earlier.

"Well, Mr. Spock," he says happily, "You started it."

-o-o-o-

If there is one thing that Vulcan authority figures understand really well, it is the psychological power of symbolism. Spock is privately certain that the Vice-Chancellor of the Vulcan Academy of Science does not typically conduct his business in a cavernous hall that sucks the rapid-fire clip of their footfall up to the distant ceiling as he and his Captain cross the wide expanse of floor to a forbidding wood-effect desk that sits in the shadows of the furthest wall. But there is a subtle but tangible advantage to be gained by making them walk the empty meters, while Solvis and his associates watch mildly from their privileged position and radiate an air of infinite patience that manages to imply that their guests could really move a little faster.

Spock is sure that the Captain's thoughts mirror his own, and, while the feeling is uncomfortably akin to being caught out in a species-wide lie, there is also a warm sense of satisfaction curling in his chest at the unruffled, pleasant smile of greeting fixed to Kirk's face as they approach the dais where the Elders wait. In his many years of living and working alongside Humans, it has been Spock's experience that their default position around Vulcans is either manifest impatience or intimidation. The Captain is the only man he has ever known who has taken Spock's people so calmly in his stride. It's his nature to assume that the world will simply orient itself around him, and the amazing thing is that it generally does. Perhaps if he spent more time worrying about cultural observance and niceties he would be more vulnerable to their ideological bite, but Kirk has always just preferred to think of the multiplicity of galactic life as different shades of the same essential brotherhood: he treats everyone with the respect he expects for himself and his crew, and that's actually a much more powerful technique than simpering political correctness. Spock fully expects that it will be as effective as a concrete enema against the grim tenacity of the leaders of the VSA, but, really, out of every Human on planet Earth and her combined colonies, Kirk is the only one with even half a chance of success here.

They draw to a halt in front of the long desk. Spock estimates that they have walked 100 meters from the door to the dais, and decides that this room must be used for formal functions, although he cannot imagine what kind. In tandem with his Captain, he raises his hand in the ta'al. Solvis alone returns the gesture.

"Live long and prosper, Captain Kirk," he says, and his voice is deeper than Spock had expected. The empty air catches his words and twists them into the shadowy heights. He is perhaps one hundred and fifty years old, elegantly slipping into middle age and wearing his authority like the ermines of an ancient Terran king. His eyes slide economically to the right and meet Spock's. "Commander Spock," he says, and the tone is cold.

Spock feels the Captain bristle and hopes he won't allow it to show.

"Peace and long life, Solvis osu," says Kirk with a tight smile. It's… adequate. Solvis probably doesn't notice, at least.

It would be inaccurate to say that Spock hasn't pondered this very moment for many years. He does not often revisit the circumstances of his departure from Vulcan, and less so now that there is an entente of sorts between himself and his father, but – lately in particular – he has occasionally found himself indulging in idle speculation about the path along which his decision has inexorably led him. There is another life, another Spock, hovering ephemerally on the horizon of his choices – a Spock who followed Sarek's wishes and applied himself to the Vulcan disciplines and sciences. A Spock who never joined Starfleet. A Spock who has never known Kirk. There are days when that knowledge prickles bullets of cold panic along his spine, the knowledge of how close he came to never finding the means to slot together the disparate pieces of his soul into one coherent whole, and even now, with unrequited emotion tugging a hole in his belly and rending his chest inch by inch, day by day, he knows he would not have had this other life, not for anything.

"Thank you for agreeing to see us," says Kirk. His voice is deceptively light. Spock has heard that tone before, and Solvis would be very foolish to mistake it for capitulation to the semantics of big rooms and impressive desks.

"I regret the circumstances," says Solvis smoothly, and Spock suppresses a sigh. Why no-one bothers to do their homework before meeting with James Kirk is a mystery to him, but he recognizes the universal language of underestimation in the Elder's tone, and things are likely to go downhill quickly from here. Spock waits. Solvis obliges:

"Nevertheless, I fail to see what assistance my colleagues and I can render."

"That's… disappointing," says Kirk. The smile has not moved, not even fractionally. "I understand that the VSA has always enjoyed an amicable relationship with Starfleet and the Federation as a whole."

"I see no reason for that state of affairs to cease," says Solvis.

"I'm sure you're right," says Kirk. "I wonder – what percentage of the Academy's annual income is derived from Federal grants these days?"

Solvis is not exactly lacking in the arts of cordial evisceration himself, and his eyes barely narrow. "The Academy's funding is a matter of public record," he says.

Kirk turns an open, artless smile upon his First Officer. "Mr. Spock?" he says.

"38.7 percent in the last academic year," says Spock.

Kirk raises his eyebrows and turns them back to the dais. "That's rather a lot of money," he says. "I'd imagine it would be quite difficult to make ends meet if that were to suddenly dry up."

Solvis folds his hands on top of the desk. "That funding is ring-fenced by the Vulcan High Command," he says calmly. "I would appreciate if you would refrain from idle threats, Captain."

"It was my understanding, though," says Kirk, "That the Vulcan High Command supported the Veleth Hai project." He allows the comment to hang in the dry air for a moment, then adds, "An agreement was made, Solvis osu. I'm here to collect Professor Sorelan."

"Professor Sorelan," says Solvis icily, "Is unavailable."

"So Professor T'Pilak informed me," says Kirk. "I'm simply not clear as to why Professor Sorelan might have been available two Terran days ago and suddenly unavailable when the Enterprise arrives at Vulcan."

"Circumstances change. There is no mystery, Captain Kirk."

"I respectfully disagree," says Kirk. "I remain in the dark."

"Neither Professor Sorelan nor the Vulcan Science Academy is obliged to account for his private affairs. Professor T'Pilak informs me that he is unavailable. He is, therefore, unavailable. If you imagine that the Vice-Chancellor of the Academy is in the habit of interrogating our most eminent scholars, then I regret to inform you that this is not the case."

"But he may suddenly become available again in four or five days' time."

There is a short silence. "From where have you determined this information?"

The Captain is far too practiced to share a triumphant look with his First Officer, but something warms in the air between them. He says, "Professor T'Pilak indicated as much in a discussion with Starfleet Command."

The folded hands are retracted and disappear beneath the desk. "Then Professor T'Pilak spoke out of turn," says Solvis.

"Her words are on record," says Spock now, and the look that the Vice-Chancellor turns upon him is dripping with animosity.

"Commander Spock," says Solvis, and there is a slight but discernable emphasis on Commander. "We are surprised that you would support an unwarranted intrusion into matters of Vulcan privacy."

"My orders come from Starfleet Command," says Spock. "They are the same as Captain Kirk's."

"Your priorities," says Solvis, "Are regrettable."

Well, that does it. "Commander Spock's priorities are loyalty to the oath he's sworn to Starfleet and a commitment to honor his word," snaps Kirk. His anger flares brightly in the dim room and agitates the torpid air. "I'd say that, of all the priorities on display in this room, his alone are admirable, Solvis osu."

Solvis locks down like a starship entering battle. His expression barely shifts, but the shadows freeze around him. He says, "I believe that concludes our meeting, Captain. If there is nothing further?"

"The VSA made a commitment to deliver Professor Sorelan to the Enterprise for transport to Ilion VII," says Kirk. "I expect that commitment to be honored, sir. If the VSA wants to retain any credibility within the United Federation of Planets, I'd advise you to think very carefully about the consequences of breaking your word. Enterprise will be in orbit for another two hours. I'll expect your communication before we depart." A tiny pause, but loaded with the sort of tension that could warp steel. "Thank you for your time."

He turns on his heel while Solvis is in the process of nodding a glacial goodbye and strides savagely into the indistinct depths of the hall. Spock raises his hand in the ta'al and derives a small measure of satisfaction from the distaste that flashes briefly in Solvis' eyes as he's obliged to return it.

"Live long and prosper," says Spock evenly.

"Peace and long life," mutters Solvis, and Spock turns to follow his Captain.

-o-o-o-

Alpha shift has just concluded and the corridors are filled with crewmen easing into leisure time, passing between their stations and their quarters or on their way to various off-duty pursuits. Even after four and a half years, the sight of the Captain among them is enough to temper the atmosphere with something that's a few parts respect, a few parts awe, and a few parts open admiration. It never ceases to fascinate Spock, the easy assumption of the mantle of responsibility that straightens Kirk's back and fixes a warm smile to his face no matter how difficult an interview with the VSA he's just passed. He cannot help but be drawn to it, and the brutal reminder of his relative place on the Enterprise versus the planet of his birth does not exactly moderate the rush of affection it elicits.

They do not speak until the turbolift doors cocoon them from listening ears, and then Kirk releases a weary puff of air and sags a little and says, "I think I'd better comm Admiral Komack and tell him we'll be here a little longer than planned."

Fatigue tugs at his shoulders and drains the color from his face. Spock says, "Jim, there will be time for that later. I believe you require rest."

"I'm fine, Spock," he says, but his eyes remain closed. "Given the circumstances, it seems like Space Central might take a little persuading to allow us to remain in orbit. I'd prefer to get the ball rolling now."

The doors open onto the residential deck, and McCoy abruptly halts in the act of stepping forward. "There you are," he says. "Was just on my way down to the transporter room. How'd it go with friend Solvis?"

He falls into step alongside them as they make their way along the corridor to the Captain's quarters, and Kirk says, "It could have gone better, Bones."

"You look like you're 'bout ready to fall over, Jim," says the Doctor. "Spock been remiss in his duties?"

That earns him a sharp glare from Kirk, and Spock quickly puts in, "My duties do not include harassing the Captain regarding his health, Doctor. I believe that falls under your remit."

"Yeah, well, my remit's telling me that you need a bite to eat and a sit-down, Jim," says Bones easily. "How 'bout I get your Yeoman to bring us dinner in your quarters?"

Kirk turns a wry smile on his friend. "How about I get my Yeoman to bring us dinner in my quarters?" he says.

Bones is unfazed. "Fixed your diet card again anyway," he says cheerfully. "Spock – you joining us?"

The question takes Spock by surprise, and he realizes that his routine with the Captain has become so entrenched into his personal worldview that it would never have occurred to him to that he wouldn't be included in the invitation. He says, "Thank you, Dr. McCoy. I believe my duties do include protecting the Captain from the over-zealous ministrations of the ship's Doctor. I shall be glad to join you for dinner."

They follow Kirk into his quarters, and the Captain busies himself in dragging an extra chair from the sleeping area and arranging it in front of the desk. McCoy sits, and Spock, after a moment's hesitation, follows suit. "Been up to the bridge yet?" says the Doctor as Kirk lowers himself into his seat and sets about tapping a meal order into the terminal.

"No," says the Captain absently. "We've only just beamed back aboard. Why?"

"Uhura took a surface-to-ship message while you were gone," says Bones. There is a glint in his eye. "For Spock."

Kirk looks up, meets Spock's gaze and raises his eyebrows. "For Spock?"

"Yup," says McCoy happily. "From the Lady Amanda." He glances sideways at the First Officer with a mischievous grin. "Don't look so panicked, Spock, it was recorded. It wasn't live."

"I do not look panicked, Dr. McCoy," says Spock, but he sounds stiff even to himself.

A slow smile spreads across Kirk's face. "I believe I told you you wouldn't be able to avoid your mother while we were docked," he says.

"I assure you, Captain, I am not seeking to avoid Amanda," says Spock, and Kirk shrugs and turns his grin back towards the terminal screen.

"Call your mom, Spock," he says amiably.

"Captain, the political sensitivities of our current mission may not permit…"

"Spock," says Kirk, "I bow to your superior knowledge of how to handle Sarek. But just… trust me on this. Amanda is expecting your call." He holds up a hand to obviate Spock's token protest that he does not handle his father. "I'm sure she knows you're busy. I have no doubt she has endless respect for your duties and obligations to Starfleet, Spock. But she's Human, and she's your mother. Trust me – you'll save yourself a world of grief if you take five minutes out of your evening to let her know you're alive and well and thinking about her. The food'll be a little while. Go and do it now."

Spock folds his hands in his lap to give himself a moment's grace. He says, "The time in ShiKahr is approaching the evening meal. It is considered a serious breach of decorum to intrude upon mealtimes. I will make the communication later tonight."

The Captain's eyes sparkle. "You'd better," he says. "I'll be checking the communications log. Now, Bones – brandy or bourbon?"

-o-o-o-

It doesn't matter how hard she tries – and she does try, he knows that – Amanda is never able to strip the warmth from her voice or her eyes when she addresses her family. It's something her husband has learned to live with over the years, and something that her son has slowly learned to cherish. She doesn't often send him a private communication because she knows that her tendency towards demonstrative affection makes him uncomfortable, so when she does she's inclined to allow herself a little emotional wriggle-room. As her face fills his terminal screen, the first thing he sees is the tenderness of her smile and its untroubled baptism of contentment and love. Her skin is a little paler, a little more lined in the cheek and creased around the eyes than he remembers, but her voice is unchanged.

She says, "Spock, by the time you get this, you'll be in orbit around Vulcan. Welcome home, dear. I hope you'll have a chance to spend a little time planetside, but of course duty comes first. I had hoped so much that I'd get a chance to see you before you leave, but, sadly, that won't be possible. Know that you're never far from my thoughts. I won't say the words and embarrass you, but I know you already know what's in my heart. Stay safe, dear."

The screen blanks and an insipid line of white text asks if he'd like to replay the message.

Spock is not sure.

Regardless of McCoy's needling or the Captain's declamations on the expectations of the Human matriarch, Spock knows his mother well enough to know that, in the first place, she has made her peace with Vulcan priorities and will not seek to interfere in matters of duty, and in the second place, she will actually want to see her son while he is within beaming distance of her. At the very least, he'd expected some sort of open invitation, qualified with the understanding that it was unlikely to be fulfilled.

He stares at the blinking text for a moment, then flicks open his comm port. "Spock to Communications."

"Communications, sir. Palmer here."

"Lieutenant Palmer," he says, "Earlier today Lieutenant Uhura received a personal message addressed to me from a private residence in ShiKahr." He hesitates. "I would like to return the message."

"Yes, sir," she says. "It'll take me a moment to retrieve the conduit, sir. Please stand by."

"Acknowledged," he says. He leans back in his chair and folds his hands across his chest.

Amanda has never pressed him to respond in kind to her emotional advances, nor has she ever expected any particularly Human display of filial devotion. But she will have wanted to see him, he is certain of that. She would never expect him to prioritize her over the multiplicity of conflicting demands on his time, but the fact that she has essentially precluded any possibility of a visit is… troubling.

"Communications to Commander Spock," says Palmer suddenly, shattering his thoughts. "The conduit is open, sir. I have a gentleman by the name of Taaval standing by."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he says. A subtle sonic shift indicates the transfer, and then his screen lights up with the impassive features of his father's assistant. Spock nods a greeting. "Taaval – nash-Spock se."

"Greetings," says Taaval mildly. Terran Standard is the lingua franca of Sarek's household, whether it finds itself on Earth or Vulcan.

Spock hesitates. "I had hoped to speak with the Lady Amanda."

There is a short pause, mirror of Spock's own. Then Taaval says, "I regret that the Lady Amanda is… unavailable."

If Spock were Human, he might be inclined to wonder if all of Vulcan had collectively disappeared on an impromptu vacation without leaving a forwarding address. Since he is not, he contents himself with a brief reflection on his new least favorite word in Standard.

"Then perhaps I might speak with Ambassador Sarek."

"The Ambassador is…" – and here the pause is too pronounced, too tortured, to mistake the discomfort behind it – "…also unavailable."

"That is unexpected," says Spock slowly. Taaval does not reply, but simply regards him dispassionately. It is not unusual for Sarek to be abruptly called offworld, and, wherever possible, Amanda will accompany him, but if this were the case, then Taaval would have said as much. Spock feels the first pricklings of unease. He says, "Might I ask when the Ambassador and his wife are expected to return?"

"They are not absent," says Taaval, "Merely… unavailable."

"And when might they be available once more?"

There is the tiniest, faintest intake of breath, but the momentary dip of the eyes and tightening of the shoulders that it accompanies are reminiscent of a teacher losing patience with a particularly obtuse student. Nevertheless, when Taaval speaks, his voice is level. He says, "I estimate perhaps 1.3 days." There is a short pause, during which his gaze quite deliberately locks onto Spock's and fixes him with a meaningful stare. "It is 2.87 days since both the Ambassador and his wife became unavailable."

"I see," says Spock.

And then he does see.

And a moment later, something else clicks as well.

-o-o-o-

It's not particularly late, but it's been a trying day and there's no work outstanding – or, at least, nothing that's going to be fixed tonight – so Kirk has decided to try for an early night. His brain is firing haphazardly in a way that suggests that sleep will be elusive, but he lacks the energy to run it off in the gym and so he's sought out his battered old Melville and tossed it on the bed, and is preparing for a warm shower to try and soothe some of the restlessness away. The buzz at his door is, therefore, neither wholly welcome, nor wholly disagreeable.

Not that it matters. Part of being the Captain is that you don't get to decide when you want to actually be Captain. "Enter," he calls, and disappears into his sleeping area to pull on a robe as the door slides open.

He knows it's Spock before he turns, before his First Officer speaks. There's just something about the way he carries himself into a room, something about the way the air shifts around him. But it's still a pleasure to step into the living area and have it confirmed. He smiles. "Spock. What can I do for you?"

"Captain," says Spock, and folds his hands behind his back. Kirk waits. Then he waits a little bit more, and finally he quirks an eyebrow.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" he prompts.

"I believe…" Spock is scouring the ceiling with his eyes, as though the words he's looking for might be scrawled on the bulkhead. He radiates discomfort, and Kirk is obliged to restrain the urge to lay a placatory hand on his friend's arm. "I believe," says Spock again, with a valiant resolve, "That I may have acquired an insight into Professor Sorelan's sudden absence."

"Oh?" says Kirk. "I thought you already had a theory – you just didn't want to share it before you had the evidence to back it up?"

"Yes, Captain," says Spock. "I had considered the possibility that the Professor may have been laboring under some form of professional embarrassment. It seemed likely that he and Professor T'Pilak had come to the conclusion that the Veleth Hai project was outside of Sorelan's field of expertise, and were unwilling to subject Vulcan pride to any further humiliation."

"But – you no longer believe this is the case?"

"It may be," says Spock. "However… another possibility has presented itself."

Kirk waits, but finds he's disinclined to let the hiatus linger this time. "Spock, you're going to have to tell me," he says.

Spock tilts his head back. The height differential means that he's really very good at avoiding the Captain's eye when he wants to. He says, "The symptoms of pon farr typically require four to five days to fully resolve."

"Oh," says Kirk. There is a moment of silence. And then a small laugh escapes him, bordering on the hysterical. "Oh!"

Spock says nothing. Kirk finds, horrifyingly, that he wants to giggle. He buries the urge with pacing. When he thinks he can trust himself, he says, carefully, "That would… seem to make sense, Mr. Spock."

"I believe so," says Spock stiffly.

"This flash of inspiration," says the Captain. "You're not… yourself…?"

It takes his First a moment to work out what he's talking about and then his eyes abruptly widen. "No, Captain!" he says.

"Good…" says Kirk absently. "I mean, I know it hasn't been seven years, but… you know… Perhaps space travel…"

"No, Captain," says Spock firmly.

"Good," says Kirk again. And then, "Excellent." He completes another circuit of the room and then says, "I'm going to have to pass this on to Admiral Komack, you know."

"Yes, Captain," says Spock.

"I just… In case you were uncomfortable… you know."

"I had anticipated the necessity."

The Captain hesitates by his desk, lifts a stylus, stares at it for a moment. He says, "Is everything all right, Spock?"

He's not looking at his First, so it's a feeling rather than an observation that alerts him to the subtle shift behind him. Kirk looks over his shoulder. Nothing about Spock's expression has visibly changed, but there is a palpable aura of distress that is quite separate from the discomfort of his revelation. Spock says, "I have nothing further to report, Captain."

"Come on, Spock," says Kirk. "I know that tone."

"It is…" says Spock, and in the fractional hesitation Kirk revises his initial assessment: this is not distress, it is closer to misery. Without thinking, he takes a step forward. "…a personal matter," finishes his First.

And the Captain wouldn't be the Captain if he didn't step forward now and close his fingers around his friend's arm, and he expects Spock to gently extricate himself and move away. It's not just a surprise when he doesn't, it's actually astounding.

"All right," he says gently. "Perhaps we'd both better get some sleep. It's been a long day."

"Yes, Captain," says Spock, and his eyes, which have been cast resolutely downwards, flicker upwards to meet Kirk's. The glance lasts a second, no longer, but it pins Kirk to the spot and freezes every muscle in his body.

There it is. There. Something… more.

Still Spock makes no effort to pull away and Kirk realizes he's holding his breath, but he can't release it now, not without calling attention to the sudden suspension of everything familiar. Something twists in the Captain's belly, long-suppressed and all but disregarded, and he's certain – he'd swear – that he just saw it mirrored in Spock's eyes.

"Thank you, Jim," says Spock quietly, and gently steps away, out of Kirk's circle of personal space. Air rushes in to fill the vacuum, cold and colorless, and the Captain lets himself breathe again. "I believe a period of meditation would be of benefit this evening."

'Whatever you need," says Kirk, and then realizes, abruptly, how that sounds. He amends it quickly: "It's been a difficult day for you, Spock. I'm sorry."

He's at the door now, eyes still hooded, and he nods once. "Goodnight, Jim," he says. The door opens and Spock looks up, once, briefly, but for the power in that tiny glance it might be the eye of a telescope, pointed into infinity. Then he's gone, and Kirk is left in the sudden silence, standing motionless by his desk.

-o-o-o-

Translations:

osu is an honorific - here, it broadly means "sir".