He felt the comfort of a kiss.
When Uhura saw the familiar form walking toward her in a long, deliberate gait, she swerved, putting herself directly in his path. He was absorbed by his PADD, his fine brows arched in concentration, his mouth pulled into an all too frequent frown, and he didn’t notice the small adjustment to her path. Not until he literally walked into her.
Spock looked up and his face shifted in apology. “Uhura, I didn’t see you. I apologize.”
“I noticed, and don’t worry about it.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m needed on deck fourteen for an observation.”
Uhura frowned. “In the lab?”
“Yes. We picked up a specimen on P-326 and it’s beginning to have reactions to certain stimulus.”
She arched her brow. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s something you need to observe tonight? I wasn’t aware that anything gathered from P-326 was classified as urgent.”
He stepped back slightly, resting the PADD against his stomach as he studied her. She crossed her arms and gazed back, hoping she looked bolder than she felt. Lately, when it came to Spock, she constantly felt off-center. Like she was somehow infringing on his space and time when she dared to question him.
“Do you not want me to go to deck fourteen?”
“We were going to have dinner in my quarters,” Uhura said softly. Either Spock had forgotten their date, or he had purposefully ignored it and tried to avoid her. She didn’t know which option was worse. Spock never forgot anything, and he wasn’t an inconsiderate jerk.
“Oh, Nyota…” He glanced down the PADD, studied it for a moment, and then said, “We were scheduled to eat at eighteen hundred hours. I will still be there.”
“You’re only going to spend twenty minutes in the lab? Really?”
“Have I ever missed an appointment?”
Uhura blinked. “An appointment? Is that how you view the time we spend together?” She shook her head. “Go. We’ll have dinner tomorrow night.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. I’m not really in a romantic mood tonight anyway.”
She didn’t give Spock a chance to respond for continuing on her way to her quarters. Snapping at him and marching away wasn’t a recommended problem solving technique. Having a relationship with Spock wasn’t always easy. Sometimes it felt like they were speaking two different languages, and for once, Uhura didn’t have the skills or the ability to learn the foreign tongue. The best way to deal with this difference was through direct communication, but even when she tried that, the logical, straightforward Vulcan could still be maddeningly obtuse.
Uhura paused at the lift, debating the deck. After a moment, she blurted a number, and the computer responded immediately, sending her to the floor below.
“Wait, stop. Deck seven.”
The lift came to a stop and reversed direction. At the sixth deck, she changed her mind again. “Four.”
Back down she went, her lip caught between her teeth, her fingers twisting into her skirt. If anybody stopped the lift to join her, she’d smile and make the appropriate amount of small talk, but silently prayed that nobody would. Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t as good as Spock at hiding her emotions. She had no doubt that her eyes would give her away. They always did. Especially the tears of frustration stinging the corners of her eyes. If anybody asked her what was wrong, she didn’t think she’d be able to answer them. Spock’s not having dinner with me was not a sufficient excuse for tears.
She reached her destination without running into another crewmember, but indecision seized her again, and she walked past the door without stopping. She made it to the end of the corridor, turned around, and passed the door a second time. By her third pass, she knew she looked like a crazy woman, but she didn’t care. Any other time, she would request entry and state her problem with a minimal amount of fuss, and certainly no butterflies in her stomach. But this was different. This wasn’t a ship problem. This was a personal problem. And Uhura had never felt the need to take her deeply personal problems to Captain Kirk before.
But if there really was a problem, she couldn’t keep her concerns to herself.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and buzzed the comm to request entrance. Kirk answered immediately. “Come.”
The door opened and Uhura stepped into the room like she owned the place, but she waited respectfully until the captain acknowledged her. He had his head down, his gaze locked on the PADD in front of him, a frown slashing his features. She had seen that frown before. It was identical to the one Spock had been wearing. He made a few marks with the stylus, then dropped it with a sigh.
“What can I do for you…” He finally looked up and a smile instantly replaced the frown. “Lieutenant Uhura?”
“I need to speak to you, sir. But it can wait if you’re busy.”
“Trust me, I’d rather be talking to you than dealing with this stuff. I guess it’s a good thing nobody mentioned all the paperwork, or I might not have accepted the commission.” He gestured at the chair across from him. “What’s up?”
“I…look, I normally wouldn’t bring something like this to you. But I think there might be a genuine problem and I don’t think I can talk to anybody else on the ship.”
Jim leaned forward, his affable smile gone. For a moment, he looked exactly how a captain of a starship should look. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Spock.”
His frown returned. “There’s something wrong with Spock? McCoy’s latest report didn’t indicate anything.”
“You haven’t noticed that he’s been a little…off?”
“He seems normal to me, Lieutenant. I haven’t noticed any difference in his behavior on the Bridge.”
“That’s not exactly what I mean. When it comes to his duties, his performance is always exemplary. I’m speaking of how he behaves outside of that scope.”
“You’re talking about his personal life?”
“Yes.”
Jim shook his head. “I’m not a relationship counselor, Uhura.”
“I’m aware of that, Captain.” A hint of irritation snuck into the last word, and she quickly tried to quell it. She wanted Kirk’s help. That meant she couldn’t antagonize him. Even if he was bound and determined to make her snap at him. “I wanted to speak to you as his friend, not as his commanding officer.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I know. And yeah, I’ve noticed. He seems…distracted.”
She sat forward a little. “You know what next week is.”
“Yes, and if that’s the problem, then I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it except wait it out.”
“No, I don’t like that answer.”
“You don’t have to like it, Nyota. Spock…he’s Spock. He’s going to grieve in his own way, at his own pace.”
“I think…” She took a deep breath. “You’re not going to tell him we had this conversation, are you?”
“I can’t imagine any reason why I would.”
Spock would never show it, but she knew he’d be angry if he found out they discussed him this way. Even if they were doing it with the best of intentions. He simply refused to speak about his mother, or the loss of Vulcan, and there was an implicit expectation that everybody else would avoid the subjects as well. Out of respect for Spock’s loss and his privacy. More than once over the past year, Uhura had hinted at discussing it, but Spock always immediately shut the conversation down.
“I think the problem is that he’s not grieving.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“He never went to his mother’s funeral. There were ceremonies and services held on New Vulcan for the ones who were lost, but he never attended those, either. Even after Sarek requested it of him. He never talks about his mother or what happened. He won’t let anybody else talk about it.”
“I think that’s just what you should expect from a Vulcan,” Jim said gently.
“Spock is half-human, too. All of the rage and pain he felt…I think it’s still there. He hasn’t dealt with it.”
“That might be the case, Nyota, but I still don’t know what you want me to do about it. I can order that he reports to sickbay to see a counselor, but I don’t think that’ll do any good.”
“I know, but we’ve got to try something. He’s been…forgetting things. He’s been avoiding me.”
“He’s been avoiding me, too.”
Uhura drummed her nails against the desk. She was relieved that Jim had noticed Spock’s behavior, too, but a part of her wished that he hadn’t. Now her vague suspicions were beginning to point to an actual problem, and she didn’t think she could help him. Not if he continued to shut her out. But at that point, she didn’t even care about how he treated her personally. She needed to help him because she sensed he was still in great pain, but he wouldn’t even let her close enough to touch him most of the time.
“Did he tell you…” Jim paused, his lips thinning for a moment. “Did he tell you what happened to him in the temporal nexus? Did he tell you why I left him there?”
Uhura shook her head. In the four months since the two men returned from Veridian III, neither had brought up the experience once. Q had returned them to the point they left the timeline, so Starfleet had no idea that anything happened at all. A cover story was quickly created for the older Captain Kirk, and any questions the crew might have had about where they were or what had happened to them were quickly deflected. Uhura had been more than a little hurt by Spock’s reticence. She didn’t need every detail, but she had been stunned that Spock refused to give her any at all.
“The nexus created a sort of paradise. I don’t really know how it all works, but it could detect a person’s needs and desires. It ended up sending me right to the other Kirk, but Spock…he got to create his own world.”
Uhura’s eyes widened. “His mother was still alive, wasn’t she?”
Jim nodded. “I think he was reliving a few points in his life, including his sixteenth birthday. They had dinner together.”
“That’s why you couldn’t make him leave,” Uhura murmured. “You didn’t want to take her away from him again. Even though you would have lost your first officer and your friend?”
“It seemed like the right decision at the time. Anyway, that experience might have set Spock back a bit. Might have made things worse.”
Uhura frowned. “Why wouldn’t he have told me?”
“He might not have thought you needed to know.”
She looked down, biting her bottom lip until the pain focused her thoughts. She knew what people thought of the two of them. The first six months of the relationship had been a complete secret, since he was still technically her instructor. After that, it hadn’t technically been a secret, but it wasn’t anything she mentioned. Not even to her closest friends. When said friends began to figure it out, they had been a combination of stunned, intrigued, and disbelieving. But none of them had known Spock. Not really. They hadn’t known how dedicated he could be, how sweet he could be, how thoughtful and attentive he was in his own way. They didn’t know he was funny. They couldn’t even begin to understand how truly intelligent he was. It had been far too easy to fall in love with him, and she was certain that a year ago, he wouldn’t have kept this kind of secret from her.
“I guess not. I received a transmission for you today before my shift ended. I had it forwarded here. It’s from Sarek.”
“Is he worried about Spock, too?”
“He wants to know why you refused to grant Spock leave so he can attend Amanda’s memorial service next week.”
“What? Spock never requested any leave for a memorial service.” Jim’s eyes widened. “He lied to his father and used me as his cover? Where is he?”
“In the laboratory on deck fourteen.”
Jim flicked the switch and dialed in the appropriate number. “Spock?”
“Spock, here, Captain.”
“I want to see you in my quarters. Now.”
“Understood.”
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lieutenant. You’re excused.”
She promptly stood and inclined her head. “Thank you, Captain.”
“Any time.”
Uhura didn’t return to her own quarters once she left Kirk’s. Instead, she went to deck twenty and found a sparring partner. She didn’t know how much it would help, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to work out the frustrations have been piling on for the past four months.
#
Jim stared at the monitor in disbelief. His brain refused to accept that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate joke. The type of joke that somebody who lacked a sense of humor would find hilarious. The implications fell into place one at a time, and he realized the depth of the problem before he even heard the whole thing. Sarek expressed his disappointment in a very measured, Vulcan way. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t accuse Jim of being a poor captain. He didn’t castigate him. The message itself was only about ninety seconds long, but by the third viewing, Jim felt thoroughly chastised. And he hadn’t even done anything wrong. Spock had more than enough leave accumulated. If Spock had requested it, Jim would have granted it.
Whether or not Spock went to Amanda’s memorial service was none of Jim’s business, and he wouldn’t have said a word about it to Spock under other circumstances. Even if he agreed with everything Nyota said. Spock had clearly been distracted, and that distraction only grew worse with each passing day. At first, Jim had assumed that Spock wasn’t quite himself for the same reason Jim hadn’t been quite himself for the past four months, but now he wasn’t so sure. There hadn’t been a funeral for Amanda, and to Jim’s knowledge, Spock hadn’t participated in any grieving rituals, Vulcan or otherwise. Jim hadn’t mentioned it because he didn’t want to invade Spock’s privacy, but as far as he was concerned, it was his business now. And he was going to speak his mind on the topic. At length. Until Spock learned a lesson about using his captain as a scapegoat.
Jim flicked off the monitor and Sarek’s disapproving visage faded to black. It’d be easier to talk to Spock if he didn’t have Sarek staring him down. Though that wasn’t entirely accurate. Nothing would make this conversation easier. His heart had dropped in his chest when he understood what Uhura wanted to talk about. He was glad she didn’t specifically ask him for advice on her relationship with Spock, because he sure as hell wasn’t a disinterested, objective party. And despite his growing friendship with Uhura, he simply didn’t think he had it in himself to fix her problems with Spock. Even if she wasn’t the obstacle between him and Spock.
Spock was the obstacle between him and Spock.
He dreamt about Spock every single night. Sometimes, he just relived the memories of Veridian III. The good ones and the not so good ones. Sometimes, his dreams took on completely new shapes and scenarios. He was growing fond of the recurring one of the two of them in his chair on the Bridge. One night, he dreamt that they had ran into each other in their shared bathroom, and the images had been so vivid that it gave him his first wet dream in six years. The day after that one, Jim hadn’t even been able to meet Spock’s eyes.
He wasn’t just tormented by sexual desires, either, though they were more than enough to keep him suffering nearly non-stop for four months. Something inside of him came alive when Spock entered the room. Like he only needed to know that Spock existed to be happy. His heart always beat a little bit quicker, his senses seemed a little bit sharper, and his mood improved. He could be having the shittiest day in history, and he would still smile when Spock stepped onto the Bridge. It was all rather unbecoming. And he was pretty sure that Spock had noticed every single instance. Not that he had ever said anything, of course.
That was the problem. Spock hadn’t said one word about what they had shared—what they still shared as far as Jim was concerned—and he didn’t seem inclined to change the status quo. Which meant that for the first time in years, Jim was positively besotted with somebody who couldn’t be bothered to give him the time of day in return. Jim had once attempted to discuss it, but Spock dismissed him and his feelings out of hand, repeating his claim that they were nothing more than the remnants of what Q had planted in his head. Spock had insisted it was better this way for their friendship and for their working relationship, but in Jim’s estimation, both had suffered. Perhaps irreparably.
His comm chimed, alerting him to Spock’s presence. Spock didn’t need to wait for an invitation, but he always did now, blatantly ignoring Jim’s open-door policy. “Come in.”
Spock passed through the doorway with his hands behind his back. “You wanted to see me, Captain.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there is. A big one.” He spun the monitor around and turned it on again. Sarek’s voice filled the room.
“Captain Kirk, I am sure that I don’t need to remind you of the significance of the date a week hence. As a result, I am at a loss to explain your refusal to grant Spock leave for his mother’s memorial service. I have checked with Starfleet, and Admiral Pike has confirmed that the Enterprise is not on a critical mission, and there is no other logical reason to deny the request. I hope to speak with you about this matter at your earliest convenience.”
Jim studied Spock’s face as Sarek’s message played, but it remained a completely impassive mask. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look ashamed. He didn’t even look that interested. For some reason that fact annoyed Jim more than anything else.
“Why am I receiving this message? And why is the first I’ve heard of any request or memorial service?”
“Captain--.”
“Did you lie to Sarek to cover your own tracks?”
“I implied that I would not be attending the memorial service due to my inability to abandon my obligations on the ship.”
“What’s the real reason you won’t be attending?”
Spock’s gaze rested just above Jim’s shoulder. He didn’t answer, and his eyes didn’t flicker to Jim’s face.
“I asked you a question, Commander. Why aren’t you attending the memorial service?”
“It’s a private matter, Captain. And a private decision.”
“It was a private decision. Now that I’m involved, it’s my decision.”
That caught Spock’s attention. His gaze flew to Jim’s face and for a moment—for a single, brief second—the shields were down. “Captain, I do not understand why you’re involvement is necessary.”
“Because you involved me, Spock! Sarek went over my head to Admiral Pike. How do you think that looks for me? I fully expect the next transmission to be from Starfleet, and if they think they have to order me to let my Vulcan first officer attend the memorial service of dead mother on the anniversary of his planet’s destruction, it’s not going to end well for me. Especially since the Enterprise is supposed to return to Earth for the service in San Francisco.” Jim spit out each word, unmindful of Spock’s feelings. He was tired of avoiding the topic. “I could send a transmission to Sarek right now and inform him of my ignorance of the request and of the stated reason, letting him know that his own son lied to him about attending the memorial service for his wife. Or I can send my immediate apologies and cover your tracks. Which do you prefer?”
Once again, Spock’s only response was silence. Jim’s fists curled in frustration. Why did Spock think he could do that? What made him think he could avoid answering direct questions?
“Which do you prefer?” Jim ground out slowly.
“The latter, sir.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll let Sarek know that I’m attending as well in order to pay my respects. Where are we going?”
“New Chicago.”
“Is that where she was from?”
“Yes. Her family has been there for several generations, and she was teaching school there when she met Sarek.”
Her family. Not my family. Jim supposed it was possible—even likely—that Spock did not feel any kinship with the human side of his family. But he didn’t know that could be, given how close Spock had been to his mother. Perhaps she had been estranged from due to distance.
“Make all the necessary arrangements for the shuttle to leave as soon as the Enterprise enters Earth’s orbit.”
“Very well, Captain. Is that all?”
“Yes.” He waited until Spock reached the door before speaking again. “Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you want to go, Spock? I know it’s not because you don’t care. And we both know that you can be spared from the ship for a few days while it’s in space dock. What’s going on?” Please talk to me. Just give me something to work with here.
“It’s private, Captain.”
“Remember when you used to call me Jim?”
Spock’s eyes hardened to chips of obsidian, and he exited the room without waiting for Kirk to excuse him. He had probably just given Spock another reason to hate him. He almost wished he could return the sentiment, instead of being stuck with the bewildering heaviness in his chest. Spock’s distance and abrupt departure actually hurt, like the Vulcan had punched him in the solar plexus.