A/N: Here's a short multi-chap to announce my entrance into Star Trek! It's my first fic for this fandom, so if the characterizations/terminology are slightly off then that's why!
I'm looking to do more stories in this style in the future, so look out for that! Anyways yes this follows Kirk after 'City on the Edge of Forever', but you don't have to have seen it for it to make sense! Just know they went back in time and Kirk fell in love, only to find that the woman had to die for time to remain normal (she dies lmao)
Kirk and Spock centric, but plenty of McCoy too! It's meant as friendship but if you want to read it as ship then go right ahead!
'I'm still haunted by those open wounds
I won't express them truly to you'
When the landing party at last returned to the ship, accompanied by the previously missing McCoy and the two harried looking commanding officers, it wasn't immediately apparent that there was something amiss. Scotty grinned in relief, having spent a past few hours desperately clinging to the hope that they would return intact. His plea had been answered, and his fingers flew over the controls as he finished beaming them up (for he had returned early to assist with the others).
"I told you that you dinnae worry, Captain," he said, relieved partly in the consolation of them surviving, "Ye made it out fine!"
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Spock replied, before Kirk said anything, "But a visit to the sickbay will be necessary, due to the exertion I believe both the Captain and doctor have endured."
"Aye, I'll send a message down. And yourself?"
"I have suffered no immediate nor lasting damage, but I will escort them. I am relieving the Captain of his shift for the time present, and in accompanying him I will not be able to take charge. Message the bridge and explain that while we are absent, we expect them to function fully in order to return to base."
Scotty had never wished more for a notebook. He nodded his head and mentally noted the sudden influx of instructions. He narrowed his eyes at the crew. Spock followed his gaze,
"They will be debriefed later. They may be dismissed."
"Aye, I'll see to it. Need any help getting them there?" Scotty asked, moving to hold the Captain, who's eyes were glazed over, "Are they unwell, or is it just -"
"Thank you, but I'll manage. They need treatment and I know they will recover fully soon enough."
Scotty's eyes remained on the Captain, however. It was rare that he showed any form of weakness, and even now he was still standing. But there was an evident tremble in his hands, a distant look on his face.
"Good luck then," Scotty answered, followed by a nod to McCoy: "Bones. Glad you're okay."
It wasn't his place to mention the fact that neither of the three looked remotely well. Physically they seemed fine, at least to his untrained eye. But the shaking of the Captain, the unusually quiet nature of Bones, even Spock's manner: something was wrong. He didn't know what had happened while they were planetside. If it had impacted the Captain in this manner it must have been larger than what they were told.
But, again, it wasn't his place to mention. Though, whatever it had been, the Captain was taking it harshly. Scotty frowned, watching the retreating backs. Already he was logging on to his PADD to catalogue the absences, a resolve forming in his mind. If they were hiding something, as he was definite they were, he was sure as hell going to keep them under as little scrutiny as he could. His finger brushed over the 'emotionally compromised' option they all dreaded so much, instead selecting 'illness'.
If they didn't want questions, they'd get none.
Spock sat silently, eyes watching contemplatively as McCoy hovered over the Captain. They were the only ones present, situated in the corner of the room that had come to be known as the 'Commanders' suite', based on the almost constant presence of either Spock or Kirk, often both. Standing in the shadows, the Vulcan waited, observing the train-wreck of an interaction in front of him that was bound to crash in a matter of minutes.
"- please, Jim, I asked already, let me check -"
"I'm fine, I told you -" Kirk interrupted.
"You're tired, and you haven't eaten -"
"Neither have you. Nor Spock, but of course you're not hassling him -"
"Dammit Jim!" McCoy snapped, silencing Kirk, "Stop fighting me! I'm trying to help. You need to get something to eat, get some rest, then we can see about other things."
"I can do that in my quarters."
"You can do it here."
"I don't want to talk right now," Kirk said harshly. McCoy raised a threatening finger.
"I am not going to let you be alone. You need -"
"Let me go. That is an order, Commander."
Spock stepped into the light. McCoy looked one step too close to physically tying Kirk down, and Kirk too close to leaping up.
"Dr. McCoy is correct. Humans only possess an ability to process traumatic events to a lesser extent than most, they become prone to rash action. You are potentially at risk of depressive thoughts, self-harm -"
"Don't stress him out more, Spock!" McCoy said. Kirk had leaned back, avoiding eye contact, his head pressed to the pillow.
"I order you to discharge me. I have evidence of little injury to support my case, should I need to make one," he said cooly. McCoy grimaced.
"Jim, please, I will chain you the the wall if -"
"Stand down," Spock said sharply, and suddenly; stopping McCoy's raising voice.
He looked down at Kirk. The Captain refused to look at him, so Spock turned back to the doctor.
"Discharge him. He can return to his quarters."
He heard the shuffle of fabric behind him, and knew that he was being looked at suspiciously.
"But - But, Spock, he -"
"Do it." He said simply. He was teetering dangerously close to being on the wrong side of McCoy, but the order was clear. Reluctantly, gritting his teeth against the effort it took, McCoy nodded.
"Fine. You're free to go, Captain," he stated, the title dripping with icy contempt. Kirk glared at him. Then he stood, storming out, in a manner so unlike his usual confident walk.
McCoy waited. Then, anger boiling over, went to stand in Spock's face.
"Are you crazy? He's not in his right mind, he'll be killing himself this time tomorrow because you -"
"I assure you, I have at least a limited knowledge on the intricacy of human sadness. I have no intention of leaving the Captain. You forget he gave me the override codes for his door lock."
"Great. So you can do what? Validate his emotions? I hate to break it to you, but you aren't the best at -"
"So I can watch him," Spock replied. There was a silence between them. McCoy crumpled.
"Fine. But make sure he eats. And rests. If he tries to leave, return to work, don't let him. At least not for now."
"Thank you. I will retrieve some food before attempting to request access to his rooms."
"Spock?" McCoy asked slowly, just as Spock neared leaving. Then he paused. "Are you - You're coping well?"
"Entirely. My emotions are restrained, and I believe even if fully revealed they would not be of consequence. My connection to the woman was… lesser, in terms of the Captain."
"Yeah, I thought so," the doctor answered, "I'm alright too. Just… it was weird being there... but I'll cope. Go see if Jim is okay."
Spock nodded curtly, watching as McCoy sat down on the bed where Kirk had been moments before. He indeed looked shaky, but not distraught, as far as Spock could tell. So he left, judging that it was safe enough.
Twenty minutes later, he stood outside the Captain's quarters, tray in hand. He'd tried to garner as much of the Captain's favourite foods (or what he judged them to be based on how often he ate them) as he could, and was attempting to balance them so he could knock. He was not thankful, however, for the hour. Just after dinner, the corridor was packed; it was like being trapped in a shoal of fish. Buffeted about, he believed that it was highly likely he would drop the tray if he let go. Logically, the easiest solution would be to enter without knocking, but he still held some respect for the Captain's privacy. He only needed -
"Can I help you with that?"
Spock turned, raising his eyebrows,
"Ah, Mr. Sulu. Certainly. Hold this."
Sulu carefully took the tray, brows furrowing at the weight,
"Wow. That's a lot of food."
Spock just glanced back at him and then, with hands free, knocked on the door promptly. No answer. Trying again, he waited. Nothing.
"Are you sure he's in there?" Sulu asked. Spock nodded.
"Captain?"
Keeping his facial expression schooled, he found himself perilously close to letting out a sigh of frustration.
"Captain Kirk?"
"Go away," came the muffled voice from inside. Sulu in turn raised his own eyebrows. Spock would have winced, had he possessed the emotional reactions of others, at the regret he knew Kirk would feel if he realized that he was publicly making a fool of himself. No doubt word of this particular incident would reach the bridge. Instead, Spock directed a glare towards the young helmsman, hoping to infuse some terror at the consequence he would face if word got out.
"I'm afraid, Captain, that it would be counterproductive for me to leave." He stated.
"That is an order Mr. Spock. I expect you to carry it out fully."
"Captain, if you do not open the door I will open it myself," Spock answered. There was an indistinguishable mutter. Spock looked to Sulu with something that he could almost describe as dry amusement, but Sulu doubted it was intentional. Though you couldn't really tell sometimes…
"Well then," Spock said, "if you feel that way. Access code forty-nine, door lock override -"
"Mr. Spock," Kirk snapped, flinging open the door, "you are breaching my personal… oh," he said, noticing the other person present. He grew flustered, "Lieutenant Sulu, how are you holding up?"
"... fine, thanks, Captain," Sulu replied after a pause. His eyes darted between the two men, taking in the tension that was almost visibly sparking around them, until the professional side of his brain forced him to stop, "uh, Mr. Spock brought you some food."
He offered the tray and Kirk took it, smiling gratefully, if a little strained.
"Thank you, Sulu," he said, "you are dismissed, and make sure you get some rest after today."
"Thank you, sir. And yourself."
From the look of Spock, Sulu had no doubt that the last bit would be seen to by the Vulcan personally. Turning his back, he merged with the crowd. He wanted to stay to listen to them, as nosey as it sounds, but there was no reasonable way to attempt so. Following the flow of the crowd, he caught a last few words:
"- flavour of the soup?"
"Borchst. Originates from Ukraine, Terra, common in the middle of the eighteenth centu -"
"That red one that I have?"
"I presumed you liked it, based on the fact you choose it twice a week. It is also one of the few healthy foods you actually eat -"
"Harsh."
"But, of course, if you don't like it then we could attend dinner in the mess hall. Eating out here would be unwise -"
"Fine! You can come in!" Kirk replied, a hint of exasperation in his voice, "but only because of the soup."
Sulu grinned. Whoever said that Vulcans didn't have feelings was crazy, because he could definitely hear the triumph in Spock's voice as he said, "Thank you, Captain. I was growing concerned that you would be unable to successfully command tomorrow."
Sure, Sulu thought, 'concerned about his ability to command' my ass. You care for him.
He sped into a jog. Spock's impending fury or not, Uhuru would definitely hear about this later.
Kirk placed the tray on his desk, rather harder than necessary, Spock noted. He then sat on his chair, perched upright attentively. Spock, clutching at the one success of entering the room, waited for him to act, deeming that the Captain should make the first move.
"So, what, you're going to watch me eat now?" Kirk said, infusing more humour than needed into his voice. Spock raised a brow.
"Healthy consumption of sustenance is needed to function fully, Captain. McCoy suggested -"
"Ah, so McCoy sent you down? I knew he wouldn't discharge me without -"
"It is required that you gain composure by the time we return to starbase. We have approximately twelve hours and thirty-two minutes until we are likely to be sent out for another assignment. The whole night. It is imperative that you sleep and -"
"I am functioning perfectly, thank you. Your concern is admirable, Mr. Spock."
"Concern is an emotion. I am merely hoping to avoid conflict tomorrow. It is best for the ordeal to be done now, instead of tomorrow," he said simply.
Kirk raised his eyebrows.
"Ordeal?" He asked. Spock, forcing his blunt nature aside, knowing it would cause greater harm than good, chose his next words carefully.
"I fear the matter of Keeler's death will -"
"Don't," Kirk lashed out. He stood, almost knocking the table away, along with the food. He glared at Spock, who stared back.
Maybe his judgement of words had not been entirely correct.
As if his legs had given out, Kirk collapsed back into the chair. "Don't say that she's -"
"But, Captain, can't you see? This is what I mean. If you fall to pieces the moment you return to the bridge, you could face a loss of command -"
"A loss of command? Command? Why is command always the first thing on your mind? Loss of command is the least on my head right now," Kirk snapped.
"You are forgetting your priorities," Spock replied, pushing forward, "it was her life or millions, perhaps billions, of others."
"She didn't have to die! We could have solved it!" Kirk said angrily, he was standing again, leaning over the table towards Spock, "we could have changed it. What if we have changed things? What if she didn't die when she was hit?"
"We would know, Jim," Spock said, voice uncharacteristically low. "We would know."
Kirk moved past the desk, standing a ways in front of Spock. Slightly shorter, he didn't reach Spock's height, but even so, the closer proximity boded for the rising stress level.
"Would we? Are we definite that she died? Did we check? Did you, Mr. Spock, check?"
Spock looked down at him, a strange tingling in his gut. Somehow he found that pity was worming its way through his barriers. He quickly quenched it. He needed a clear head for this.
"No," he said. Maybe bluntness would be the way to approach Kirk in this state, "But it was a head on collision. The car was travelling at a minimum of twenty miles an hour. She died."
"No. Maybe she didn't. Maybe if we go back we could -"
"We can't go back, Jim," Spock said, "we can't. We have already set course for the -"
"Well, unset it! If she survived we can go get her, make sure she's well!"
"And when you realize that I am right, and she is dead? What do you want to do then, Captain?" Spock enquired calmly.
"She's not! She's not dead! We haven't -"
"Please, eat something. The soup grows cold -"
"- she can't be. She can't be dead Spock, I -"
With a choked noise, Kirk tailed off. He leant back, clinging onto the edge of the doorframe like it was a lifeline.
"Spock, I -"
"Eat. Dr. McCoy will, as the saying goes, 'come for my blood', if you do not, though I'm not sure why he would be interested in just my blood above any other bodily -"
"Stop. Please," Kirk said, voice barely above a whisper, "I don't think now is the time for me to listen to you unpick human sayings."
"Apologies, Captain. I believe you are correct. Now, about the food?"
"Pass it here," Kirk said, voice breathy, as if he had spent the past day running. Sliding to the floor, he nearly gave-way. Spock darted forward, reflexes quick and able, and caught him, lessening the fall. Kneeling beside him, he scanned for injury.
"Captain, you are now on the floor," he observed unnecessarily.
"Thank you, Spock. I couldn't tell."
"Not only would it be unsanitary to eat here, but detrimental to -"
"Just pass the damn soup."
Standing up, Spock retrieved the soup. He passed it down to Kirk, who took it without a word. Then, the Vulcan waited. After a few minutes, he realized that he was not winning the situation so easily.
"Captain, I inform you that you are still only staring at the soup, displaying the emotion of sadness."
"Thank you again, Spock. I enjoy staring mournfully at my food sometimes."
"The sarcasm in your voice suggests otherwise. I believe your thought dwells still on Keeler -"
"And you want me to do what? Forget that she's dead? Forget that I killed an innocent woman -"
"Incorrect. I expect you to eat, while I ponder different methods on overcoming the emotion of grief."
"Oh, so you're my therapist for the day?"
"Incorrect again. I am unqualified for -"
"Spock, of all the people on the Enterprise that I would need to talk to about this, you are the one I would not pick."
"But I'm the only one who knows. So, Captain, you're stuck with me, unless you wish to detail the events to someone else -"
"No, I'd rather not," Kirk butted in hurriedly.
"Then we now have approximately twelve hours and ten minutes until our scheduled arrival and next mission briefing. By which time you must be in full working order, unless you wish to be deposited at the nearest planetside hospital for emotional -"
"I am in full working order, thank you," Kirk said indignantly. Spock raised a brow again, gesturing to where Kirk was still slumped against the wall, holding the soup to his chest.
"Eat the soup and you will have a chance to prove me wrong, Captain."
"Well, one cannot deny such a bribe," Kirk said, a small, sad chuckle forcing through his mouth, "to prove the great Vulcan himself wrong."
He took a mouthful. Spock, satisfied, nodded,
"McCoy can rest without our blood tonight -"
"Spock, I swear, if you unpick that phrase one more time -"
A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I've actually finished this, so updates should take place weekly maybe? Or a bit less.
Feel free to review if you have any feedback!
