"Jim's waking up," Chekov says to Spock while he is trying to meditate.
Trying is the right word, because he finds it extremely difficult these last few days, and the news doesn't make it easier. Spock feels contradictory emotions upon hearing these three words. Relief. Fear. Anger. Joy. There is also something else, but he cannot identify it at the moment. He's too busy rushing to Jim as quickly as he can, which is easier said than done. In just a few steps, he's out of breath. He has not returned to his usual state of health, even though he scrupulously follows the diet McCoy prescribed to him. Being half Vulcan, he should have recovered.
He didn't. The problem is only partially physical.
Another thought he doesn't dwell on. There are more important, more urgent matters.
Jim. Jim's waking up.
There are many people in the captain's alcove. Nurses, doctors, and many visitors. It looks like half the ship rushed in there to see by themselves. The nurse who told everyone is going to be in deep trouble and Spock won't help them. How could they? Chekov squeezes through the crowd, but Spock cannot. Too many people. He's shaking again.
He wants to be here; he has to be here, on the captain's side, on Jim's side. He cannot.
He cannot.
McCoy resolves the situation by shouting at the crowd.
"Good gods, are you people insane? Are you forgetting my patient needs to breathe? I'm pretty sure we didn't heal him so you could suffocate him. Everyone gets out of my infirmary. Now!"
Mouths open in a chorus of protests. McCoy takes a deep breath and points to two nurses and a doctor.
"You, you, and you, stay. Everyone else, find something to do elsewhere. I'm sure there are bandages to organize and bolts to screw somewhere in this ship. There will be reports on Jim's health soon, and we'll establish a list of visit requests for when he's ready to see you all. Spock, Fial, Chekov, and Uhura, you can take a seat. I can't make you leave, but I won't have you fainting in front of Jim."
Nobody protests this time. The crowds part and leave the infirmary, giving Spock more space to breathe. He does not sit immediately. Instead, he carefully approaches his captain. The man doesn't look like he's about to wake up. Spock finds his features more gaunt than ever. Jim's face is almost yellow, his skin so tight it seems ready to crack, every vein visible on his too-thin hands. Spock's hand shivers when he sees that. He hides it behind his back.
On the bed, Jim sights in his sleep. His eyelids flutter, but he's not opening his eyes. His left-hand tenses, then relaxes. One time, two times. Spock thinks someone will touch it to comfort him, maybe Nyota, but no. Should Spock take his hand? Probably not. He is not mentally stable enough to indulge in such a gesture. He looks up. Nyota's crying, and Chekov too. McCoy's eyes water. Everyone smiles. Easy to understand why.
Jim's dreaming.
For a moment, a smile appears on the corner of his lips, then disappears. The dream's turning into a memory, and not a happy one. Both of Jim's hands tighten on his sheets, and, without warning, he opens his eyes. Except for Spock, everyone sighs in relief. He cannot, not until Jim's eyes meet his own for a second.
Only then can he finally breathe.
"Welcome back to the living, Jim," the doctor grumbles in the gruff voice he reserves for when Jim comes too close to death again. So, too often for everyone's peace of mind.
Jim's gaze shifts to McCoy. His eyes focus progressively on him.
"I'm pretty sure I wasn't dead. This time."
"Still too close for my taste."
Jim doesn't respond and closes his eyes, feigning to fall asleep once more. Unusual for him. Worrying, even. Jim, their captain, always reacts according to the same pattern after these near-death experiences. He wakes up, listens to McCoy's admonitions, makes a joke, and asks how the crew's doing and when he may go back to his duties. Watching him faking sleep is painful for everyone present, but soon Jim's chest is slowly rising and falling, his sleep no longer simulated. Around him, no one doubts he needs it. In silent agreement, everyone slips away, careful not to make a noise. Nyota wraps her arms around Chekov and guides him to his bed. Spock can see the tears on their cheeks.
He hesitates to go with them. Logically, his presence, as a friend and companion in misfortune, should help them. However, he knows that in his present state, it would be a bad idea. He goes back to his alcove, closes the curtains, and collapses more than he sits on his bed, shaking from head to toe.
For a long time, he tries to meditate, but to no avail. To his great dismay, unwanted voices, images, or smells insert themselves into his thoughts. First, it is a child wailing, then the sound of phasers and frantic running, and a foul odor that he fears he can identify.
No need to meditate to know these are not his memories, but Jim's memories he accidentally picked up during the last two years they spent fighting and exploring the galaxy side by side. Spock always respected Jim's privacy and never asked unwanted questions. More often than not, his training helped him ignore he was even picking something.
Only now, it is different. These fragments of memories have meaning and Spock cannot keep them away. Violent impulses try to come out. He hadn't felt that way since Vulcan's destruction. Without realizing it, the bedpost he's holding twists in his hand.
Nyota chooses that moment to visit him. Her instincts are always impressively accurate, and he's glad of the distraction. They look at each other. He cannot say what she sees on his face, but her eyes are red and she looks tired. Still, there's a new resolve on her face which was lacking these last few days. She offers Spock a small tired smile and sits next to him, close enough to show her support but far enough not to invade his space when he has not reestablished his mental shields.
"The captain will recover."
There is a question in this sentence. She comes looking for comfort as much as to help, but he doesn't know the right answer. Spock must confess he worries too.
"The captain has proven time and time again his ability to get out of any situation," he says.
"I know, but... Even Khan didn't hurt him like that. I don't think... His body wasn't the only thing that was hurt down there."
Spock agrees. His hand squeezes the bedpost again, and he struggles to let it go. Nyota doesn't notice. She closes her eyes and fights back tears. He wants to touch her, maybe put his hand on her knee like she does when she wants to show support and affection, but he cannot. The gesture seems too intimate now that their relationship is over and he does not want her to notice the shaking of his hands.
All they can do is to sit together in silence. It surprises Spock to see that it helps. Nyota's presence brings him closer to achieving the mental balance he couldn't achieve for days. He isn't there yet, but it is still a victory and he uses the quiet in his head to rebuild some of his barriers, until Nyota breaks the silence.
"I've been thinking. Don't you think we should contact the other Spock?"
These few words destroy all the work that Spock has just accomplished, maybe even days of effort. He doesn't blame her though, because he agrees with her.
"You're implying we should do so without telling the captain."
"Yes. That's what I do. I'm sure we both have the same ideas. I know I couldn't think of anything else since I woke up."
"Probably. He will not be pleased if he ever finds out."
"All the more reason to do it now, before he sees what we want to do. We must be quick, and we should be discreet. But what excuse can we use?"
"We will find something. The first step is to convince Doctor McCoy to let us contact New Vulcan immediately."
The commiserating looks of McCoy, when Spock relays their request, do not surprise him. He doesn't even need an excuse, for the doctor takes it upon himself to imagine reasons for the call. At least Spock stopped shaking all the time.
"Sure," the doctor says after a moment of thought. "If it helps, I won't stop you. You know what? I even think it could be the best thing to do right now. Talking to yourself is an unusual therapy method, but it's Starfleet kind of craziness."
"For security reason, I would ask that the communication be encrypted. I also request for Uhura, Chekov and Fial's presence."
"Sure, why not? I'll get them and lend you my office. I'll watch over Jim while you talk with Old Man Spock."
Spock feels uneasy. He is misleading McCoy to think they want to know if last month's events happened in the other timeline and that they seek reassurance they will heal. They're not. McCoy doesn't know about Tarsus IV, he is certain of it, because if he was, he would forbid that conversation to happen. Spock still let him make his own conclusions. He isn't lying, after all. But the difference is unclear even to him.
A few minutes later, the four survivors, cramped in McCoy's office, wait for contact to be made with New Vulcan. It is a relief for everyone to see the other Spock's wrinkled face appear on the screen. The older Vulcan raises his hand in greeting, concern visible on his face.
"Live long and prosper. May I know how I can be of help? I heard some rumors and my contacts within Starfleet spoke of a hostage situation."
"We lose some people, but no one you knew before," Uhura reassures him.
"That is good to hear. How is Jim?"
They look at each other. Spock is the only one with enough strength, or is it anger, to answer the question.
"Do the words 'Tarsus' and 'Kodos' mean anything to you?"
While they waited, they all agreed to say that if the answer was negative, they would end the conversation. They promised to each other to safeguard Jim's secrets. But when the other Spock's face stills, Spock understands some things are a constant between universes. The thought makes him want to break something.
"It does," his counterpart says. "But we should compare our versions. Tell me anything you know about it."
It takes about ten minutes for the four survivors to update the old Vulcan.
He remains mostly silent, through the terrible tell, only asking for a few details. It's easy to guess that he's already heard most of this story.
"Strange," he finally says, "how much the universe seems to put the same obstacles in your way. Khan. Kodos."
"So it happened in the other timeline," Nyota says. "Was it the same?"
"There are some slight differences, for better or worse, no one can say. Still, the similarities remain astonishing."
"Did you know Tarsus happened in this universe?"
"I was aware, but I stopped myself from looking to see if Jim was there and I knew I would probably find nothing if I did. Considering the fame Jim had already achieved due to his father's actions, it is logical to assume that the Federation would have erased all mentions of his name from public records, especially since he was a minor when it happened.
"The captain Kirk of your temporal line," Spock interrupts. "On which list was his name appearing?"
"On the first one, the one with the name of people who should have survived until help arrived," the other Spock sights. "From what he was willing to tell, Kodos was interested in gifted children and spared some of them, while his policy was essentially to execute those he deemed useless, like children and the elderly. Jim ran away, saving two condemned children. One of them was Kevin Riley, who you seem to know. He helped others afterward. I cannot say much more, for my Jim did not like to linger on these events. It is plausible the circumstances made your Jim more talkative."
No one talks for a long time, before the other Spocks frown.
"I suspect he always felt guilty his name was not on the chosen victim's list. I also suspect your Jim, like mine, felt guilty for not having done enough to help those in need."
Spock restrains himself from smashing the wall with his fist. He cannot bear the idea that Khan or Tarsus IV was inevitable, like Jim was made to endure the same trials time after time. To his great relief, it is Chekov who asks the question that is bothering them all, the real reason they contacted the other Spock.
"Is Kodos alive?"
"He was, in my timeline, years after the fact. We met him."
"And?"
"Would you care to develop your question?"
"Where was he hiding?"
All of them could see the disapproval on the older Spock's face.
"May I know why are you asking me that?"
"This... monster must pay," Nyota spits.
"You think you should be the ones making him pay? Do not count on me to encourage you on this path."
"So you would let him continue to live in peace when so many people died because of him?"
"I would. I do not think he lives in peace, but it is only part of the reason I will not help you. You are not seeking justice, but revenge, in the name of a good man who did not ask you to do this. Or am I wrong to suppose Jim isn't aware of this call? Your silence betrays you. You have not spoken to him, but think it is normal to start a crusade in his name without his permission. What logic and friendship should have dictated to you would have been to talk to him, because nothing in your telling suggests that Jim Kirk would want revenge or for you to take risks in apprehending that man."
Nyota leans forward toward the screen.
"You're his friend. Didn't you feel hatred for Kodos when you learned? Didn't you want to hurt him?"
"The circumstances were not the same, and we were older when the meeting took place. Wiser, perhaps."
It is not an answer. Spock can see it, but his words hit his companion hard. The admonition makes Chekov turn pale. Nyota searches for words and Fial looks away.
"I conjure you to renounce your plans," the old Vulcan says to put an end to the conversation. "Pursuing them would do good to no one."
Blood rushes to Spock's temples. He hasn't said a word in five minutes, not trusting himself. Refusing to meet the others' eyes, he stands up, gripping the table so strongly it cracks. Ignoring it, he leaves the room and the infirmary, ignoring Nyota and McCoy's calls. He no longer sees or hears anything other than the anger that pulses within him. He needs to get out before he hurts anyone.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. -.-.-.-.-.
When he regains awareness of his surroundings, Spock is in his room. He destroyed part of the furniture in the last...
"Computer. What time is it and how much time has passed since I arrived?"
His voice is hoarse.
"It is 5:32 p.m. ship time. You have been here for five hours"
So he left the infirmary a little over five hours ago. He must have come directly to his room, Spock notes with relief. Chances he hurt someone are low, and he had the reflex to lock his door behind him.
"Computer, unlock the door."
"Your constants have returned to normal, says the computer after a few seconds. I can open the door, according to your previous directives."
He can hear the click of the door. Almost immediately, someone knocks.
"Spock? It's Uhura. Can I come?"
The presence of his friend surprises Spock even if it is logical, considering Uhura's empathy and how he behaves when leaving the infirmary. It is worrying he didn't anticipate her reaction. He's forced to accept he cannot think correctly and sense anomalies in his behavior. That is something he should meditate on, but don't even try. He should make it his first objective before interacting with anyone aboard the Enterprise, but the very idea of meditating makes him shake with rage and anguish.
Instead, he moves a chair near the door and walks back to sit on his bed, as far from the door as he can. He places his hand on his knees and thinks. The chair is between him and the door. If he becomes violent again, Nyota will be able to flee before he reaches her or the door.
"Enter."
His voice barely shakes, to his great surprise. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on his breathing. A rustling of fabric indicate Nyota's entering cautiously. He opens his eyes and lets her notice the devastation of his room. Nyota lets the door close behind her like she isn't taking a significant risk and lets herself fall on the chair. These four or five steps were enough to exhaust her. It would be weeks before her strength came back.
She looks lost. She has been for the last few days, looking for her words when she can talk over fifty languages.
In the end, Spock is the one who talks first.
"I am emotionally compromised."
His teeth hurt saying that unwanted truth. Nyota's face twists into an expression of absolute sadness.
"Oh, Spock," she whispers. "We all are."
She doesn't understand. It is not surprising. After all, he is not sure he does, which is illogical. The truth, as much as Spock can discern it when he cannot meditate on it, is that something has irreparably changed. Spock theorizes that his mind consciously blocks him from realizing what changed to protect him. There is too much hatred and anger in his mind for him to deal with that change.
The problem is, he cannot meditate until the blockage is gone, and the blockage prevents him from meditating. He cannot help but wonder how much of this is his human ancestry at fault, but it may be a Vulcan problem after all. The doctor M'Benga contacted all Vulcan therapists still alive, and neither of them could help. A few similar cases happened after Vulcan's destruction. The therapists, both Vulcans and not Vulcans, tried everything to help them, to no avail. He prefers not to think about their fate. They need to find a solution, and soon. Spock is getting worse. The need to meditate is getting stronger, so compelling it has physical repercussions, like the sweat on his forehead and his back or the shaking in his left hand.
Nyota looks at him with a concerned look. It is a relief to see no pity in her eyes. But if he cannot meditate, he can speak, which the other Vulcans could not. Opening up to someone, even a therapist, is difficult for Vulcans, even telepathically, even to someone important.
His hand shakes more violently at this thought.
"When Vulcan disappeared, I felt this immense emptiness."
"The loss of T'Pring?"
He nods. He did not hide T'Pring existence from Nyota, or anything else. It has always been easy talking to her, or at least easy for a Vulcan.
"Among other things. Today is not very different, but I shouldn't feel like that."
"Because you lost so much less? Because last time it was your mother and your entire planet, when this time it was only another near-death experience for our captain, and the death of a dozen crewmembers doing their duty?"
"Yes."
Nyota gets up and comes to sit on the bed. She touches his hand. It doesn't help. It doesn't hurt.
"Spock, pain doesn't work that way. Each loss is and will be as painful as the last. The human mind works like that. Vulcan's mind, too. What Jim told us... Of course, it hurts. I blame myself for not having been there for him, but what could I have done? I even blame myself for not having been there in his place."
"It is... irrational."
"Exactly, but it doesn't stop me from thinking so and I cannot get that through of my head. We humans call it survivor's guilt. I am trained to recognize it. You were trained to recognize it. Does it stop us from feeling that way? No."
Spocks thinks in silence for the next ten minutes. He understands the wisdom in Nyota's words, but they do not please him.
"I am incapable of meditating and understanding what I am feeling since it happened, but what you are telling me... I do not think it explains what's stopping me from functioning normally. There is something else."
Nyota's breathing becomes noticeably slower, a sign of anxiety for her.
She knows enough about Vulcans to understand how serious the situation is.
"What are you going to do, then?"
Spock cannot meditate and force the anger to disappear, but he can still think and act logically if he forces himself. He was conscious enough to come to lock himself in his room rather than risk hurting someone or being sedated, which would only have delayed the inevitable explosion. Vulcans can be dangerous when they are furious.
What he cannot silence, he must master.
"I am not going back to the infirmary. My continued presence there since our return has done nothing to improve my mental state. It makes sense to question whether a more familiar environment will be more effective. I will not return to my full duties until Dr. McCoy has judged my condition sufficiently improved and I will report regularly to the infirmary. But logically, forcing my mind to focus on something else can only be more beneficial than sitting on a bed. I will try working remotely from the deck. Lieutenant Sulu had been acting captain for too long. Humans need to rest and my help with whatever he deems necessary should be a relief for him."
Nyota smiles and gently presses her hand on his arm.
"Spock, I think it is an excellent idea," she says with that little smile she puts on when he amuses her. "I'll go back to the sickbay and stop the doctor from coming to get you, and I'll warn Lieutenant Sulu of your eagerness to help him with the paperwork that Starfleet continually dumps on him. I'm sure he'll be relieved."
When she smiles like that, Spock can trust she will be all right. He smiles back, not wanting to destroy her renewed energy, but when the door closes behind her, his false confidence disappears. He is still firmly determined to meditate as soon as he can and to regain his mental balance and work probably is the best way to achieve that goal. However, he highly doubts he will succeed. He'll need to...
Then the need for sleep catches up with him, and he ceases to think.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. -.-.-.-.-.
Spock wakes up six hours and thirty-five minutes later and feels more refreshed than he was before the first bombs fell. He wonders for a few moments what changed and allowed him to sleep so easily before the answer comes to his mind. It is obvious, in retrospect. Jim Kirk woke up and his brain has finally caught up on that fact.
A part of him longs to go to the infirmary and see for himself how each survivor is today. However, this desire is neither logical nor conducive to his recovery and it could undo what the long rest did to him. Instead, he makes himself presentable and heads toward the bridge, deciding he is unlikely to have another crisis for now.
When he gets there, everything goes quiet. Everyone stares at him, which is more than unpleasant. Spock is about to turn around when the captain's chair turns toward him. Irrationally, he thinks Jim Kirk is going to get up with a smile on his lips, but it is only Hiraku Sulu. The lieutenant gives him a tired look and stands up with some difficulty to welcome him.
"Good to have you back, commander," he greets him. "Sorry I didn't come to see you when you woke up, but..."
"No need to make excuses. I have received information about Starfleet continuously demanding reports on the status of the Enterprise, justifications for your behavior, and the actions you take while in command."
Sulu's shoulders slump. Spock can see dark circles under his eyes. The man looks ten years older. He must have only slept a few hours in the last few weeks, only moderately more than those trapped on Cykax's surface.
"Starfleet is onto us all and looking for blood," Sulu confesses. "Attempts to negotiate with both governments on Cykax almost turned into a fight. Everyone is on edge and looking for scapegoats. We make a suitable target. It is not the first time, and probably not the last."
Spock cannot claim to be surprised. When they panic, humans react like that. Things will settle down when the Federation gets a formal apology and Starfleet will "get out of their backs", as the captain would say. Until then, Spock can do his best to support the lieutenant. He has the seniority and authority to do that.
"I am still on bed rest until the doctor says I can go back to my duties, but tell me how can I help."
Sulu sighs in relief.
"Thank you, commander. Come with me, please."
They sit in one of the meeting rooms next to the bridge. Sitting on either side of the table, they can barely look at each other with all the documents and padds between them.
"Federation wants an exhaustive report as quickly as possible. Both factions on Cykax deny everything, blame each other, and lie about what happened between your landing on the planet and the rescue. The Federation faces accusations of armed intervention on a foreign planet. I need and denial of autonomy. Excuse me to say so, but it could be worse for their image than Vulcan's destruction, where at least we were on the right side. Cykax accusations will convince someone if we don't do something. I need testimonies to support the Federation's accusation of hostage-taking and the crew's defense."
Spock should have expected it. He is most certainly not ready to talk to strangers about what happened, but he has no other choice, or Sulu will have to interview the others and they are even less ready than him. Sulu should have done it sooner but must be conscious of their mental state, or the doctor forbade him. Since he is here and calmer than the day before, Spock spends the next two hours sitting across from Sulu recording his testimony. The lieutenant is extremely professional during the interview. He only interrupts Spock to ask for a relevant detail or to precise his interpretation of events. Spock omits nothing, except for Jim's revelations.
It helps to talk, even if it is not very rational. Knowing that the Federation's law and justice will make Cykax governments pay is quite satisfying. Still, the anger of knowing the man who would have Jim executed is alive and free continues to burn his insides.
When they finish, they both stay quiet for a long time, until Sulu finally stops the recording. He leans back in his chair. There is something harsh in his eyes.
"We should have acted sooner."
It is good Spock listened attentively when Dr. McCoy told what happened to the others.
"Maybe. You chose the safer option by letting Lieutenant Scott confirm his equations before risking our crewmember's life. It was a logical and thoughtful decision."
Spock would have done the same. Probably. Jim wouldn't have, and that is a certainty.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Spock, but when I see what happened, it's not very comforting."
"Perhaps this will help, then. Thanks to your logic, your sanction should be small. In your final report, I would advise that you present the events as they happened. You tried to achieve both objectives simultaneously, saving crewmembers condemned to a gruesome death, and stopping a foreign government from using the same crewmember as a means of pressure. No one can blame you for anything, except having done so without Starfleet's command avail. I can promise you the captain will be grateful for having saved us while keeping the crew safe. We both know he would have done the same."
He would have acted sooner, but there is no need to say it aloud, and they both know it.
"Thank you," Sulu says with relief mixed with pride. "Let's hope Starfleet admires logic like you do. I nearly lost their flagship and the hope of salvaging the situation is thin."
"It was insolvable the minute they started shooting. I will write my report now. If you could send me yours, I will give you some advice on how to present the case. For now, I have only had access to McCoy's oral report."
"Of course. Mine and Scotty's will be on your computer in the next few hours.
Sulu pretends to look at his padd. Spock tenses as if in anticipation of a physical blow, guessing the next question. After 35 seconds of absolute silence, Sulu looks up and stares at him.
"Just between you and me, Commander, that's not all of it, is it? Off the record, of course."
Sometimes it is unfortunate that Starfleet counts so many people who are too smart for their own good, Spock laments. He forces back the instinct to hit Sulu.
"If I may, lieutenant, this would not concern you in the slightest."
"I am afraid it is. You see, I'm the acting captain, which means I have access to Dr. McCoy's reports. I see what he didn't because he's too concerned about Kirk's health. You're all trying to protect the captain from something. I don't know what it is, but I'm willing to bet it has something to do with why you contacted New Vulcan. I don't know what it is, but it's something big, right? So, I wanted to say, I'm in."
"I do not see what you mean.
"We're a team. The Enterprise is yours and Kirk's, of course, but we, meaning Uhura, Chekov, Scott, and I, are always here to have you back. I'm not the enemy here. I'm your friend. So, whatever it is, if you need to protect the captain from something, I'm in. And if you refuse to tell me, I will get the truth from Pavel."
"Usually you would be right, but maybe not this time."
"We'll see. Remember that I'm here to help, that's all I ask. And now, I think I've kept you busy for long enough, Commander. You're still recovering, and even if I'm glad for the help, I suppose you want nothing more than to see the captain now. Please say hello to him for me, tell him his ship is ok and I'll send Scott soon, if he has not been there already. I'll come when I can, but not before I've sent my report to Starfleet. I fear I would be much less objective if I did."
"It is to your credit."
Spock stands. Before he leaves, a question imposes itself on his mind and he turns back.
"You said that Uhura, Chekov, Scott and you have our backs. Why didn't you mention Dr. McCoy?"
"Because he's here to stop us all when we go too far. He's our conscience and I think that's precisely why you're all reticent to talk to him for now. Am I wrong?"
Spock has no answer and it telling enough. He fears the doctor's view on things. McCoy will share the other Spock's opinion and refuse to hear it. Illogical. It is always better to hear a contrary opinion to shatter or reinforce your decisions. But today, Spock does not like this logic.
He should go straight to the medbay. Usually, he would, but instead, he walks the long way around, trying to repress his anger. He no longer feels tense to the point of hurting someone and he shows no signs of irrepressible shaking today, but he is conscious he could crumble at any moment. The emotions are still here. He should meditate.
However, when he is face to face with his closed door, he turns around and goes to the infirmary.
The place is almost deserted. Spock can see Chekov and Nyota's silhouettes behind a curtain and two nurses leaning over a patient. For the first time in days, the Enterprise sickbay is operating with reduced staff. Things are getting back to normal, at last. Spock nods to the nurse and walks toward Jim's alcove. He can see his face, the hollow features, the muted eyes. The captain does not see him. He's speaking to Dr. McCoy, who sits next to him, his head resting on his hands in a gesture of distress, his elbows resting on the bed. He's the one shaking now. Spock stops and cannot help but listen to the conversation.
"We were so hungry," Jim says in that hoarse voice he had on Cykax, "but it was not the worst, no the worst was everything else, the fear of being discovered, the certainty of death, that nothing and no one would or could save us, that we could only count on ourselves and it wouldn't be enough. There was this little girl..."
He is not talking about Cykax, but Tarsus. He tells the Doctor things he didn't tell Spock and the others. There is more than what Spock heard. The very idea there are more ignominious things to reveal about what happened to him on Tarsus makes Spock's hands shake once more. The Doctor raises his head. Their eyes meet above Jim's head. Jim's eyes are closed. He doesn't see them exchange that look. The doctor's gaze is hard to bear. Jim's hollow voice is even more so.
"Could I have done more? Should I have done more? I don't know, Bones, and it kills me. Done there, in the trench, I couldn't act, I couldn't think. I should have tried something to get us out sooner, before more died, but all I could was to think I didn't want to die like that. Not again."
Spock turns away. What a coward he is.
He doesn't stop until he finds some deserted gym. He goes to the punching bags favored by the ship's boxing enthusiasts. Usually, he is not one of them, even if he practices sometimes with the captain. Without putting on gloves, he begins to strike the bag, methodically and violently. Each time his fist hits, he sees things more clearly. His thoughts keep taking him back to the first time he met Jim Kirk, the Kobayashi Maru test.
Spock remembers Jim's mocking look when he said he won, and his anger and disdain when the jury convicted him of cheating. The test is quickly becoming a legend at the Academy. Spock has no doubt that Jim Kirk's behavior during the test will sooner or later be analyzed and used in class to form better officers. Likewise, the test comes up frequently in conversations on the Enterprise. As the ship's commander, Spock knows full well that people make illegal bets. The captain lets it happen under the pretext that it is beneficial to the mental health of the crew, and takes part from time to time. One of these bets is to guess how many times Jim Kirk will beat Kobayashi Maru-like scenarios in their five-year mission. Every time someone mentions that bet, the captain smiles.
On this day, the captain still boasts of it as his first victory. Spock thought it was to not make Vulcan's greatest tragedy his first win, but now he wonders. Jim Kirk doesn't believe in no-win scenarios and makes it known to anyone who will listen. His history, particularly his experience with a real-life Kobayashi Maru, influences Jim's refusal to believe in no-win scenarios. Nobody won on Tarsus IV, neither Kodos, nor Starfleet, nor the people spared by Kodos nor those who survived despite their names being on a list. Only the destruction of Vulcan surpasses Tarsus IV in numbers in recent history. In horror, Spock is not so sure. On both planets, the chances of survival were infinitesimal and Starfleet was powerless to react. At least on Vulcan, it was not a slow death. But even Tarsus and Vulcan did not stop Jim from believing he could save the Earth and turned total defeat into a kind of victory with billions of lives saved. Or rather, Jim won not because he hoped for victory but because he refused to lose.
It was not idealism, but a violent, absolute denial he would ever live again through something as hopeless as Tarsus IV.
For Jim, the Kobayashi Maru is an insult and a challenge, something he could never accept.
Spock understands him better. It is unpleasant to discover the man he is this way and to see how what remained unsaid. Now, things are unbalanced. Jim saw Spock at his lowest, confronted him, and worked hard to be accepted and respected, to build friendship between them. He also knows the man Spock could become, as his double showed him. In comparison, Spock knows so few things about Jim. He accepted the outstretched hand and his offer of friendship but never sought to know him better, only wondered.
This cannot ever be enough for Spock anymore. He wants, he needs to understand Jim Kirk better, to support him, to be that invincible team that the other Spock speaks with emotion. This revelation is so strong that Spock stops hitting the sandbag. His shaking has stopped. Even if the rage is still there – and determined to stay there – it gives way to other feelings. Disbelief, relief, anticipation, joy, sorrow. Above all, Spock feels at peace. He can breathe at last. His mind is clear, his body at peace. If he tries to meditate, he will be able to do know. He should do it right away, but instead retraces his steps to the sickbay.
The room is even more empty than before. McCoy and the nurses are nowhere to be seen. Spock sneaks into Jim's alcove. The captain rests, his eyes closed. His chest rises and falls gently as if he were asleep. Slowly, Spock closes the alcove curtain, sits down in the chair closest to the captain's bedside, and looks for any trace of an improvement on his face. Jim's features are still gaunt, but he has regained some color on his cheeks. After seventy-nine seconds of silent contemplation, the captain opens his eyes and notices him. He doesn't move, but his eyes suddenly shine and Spock offers him a thin attempt at a smile.
"Hello, Jim."