Title: Small Steps
Series: Star Trek (2009 Movie)
Spoilers: Post Film, with small mentions to events within Star Trek: The Original Series, understanding of which is not necessary for enjoyment.
Rating: PG
Summary: To have what they had, Jim Kirk realizes it will take baby steps.
xiii.
Spock has no idea what he is doing. He has read of this technique, he knows what he must do in order to find whatever is wrong with James Kirk but there is something about this situation that unsettles him – like it is too soon for him to being doing this – that it is not his place to touch the mind of his captain. That he does not want to see whatever it is that is bothering Kirk so much.
He shakes his head slightly, trying to dislodge that thought, his face forced into a perfectly blank expression. There are times when he wishes to reject his people, in favor of the emotional monsters that his mother's heritage constantly threatens to turn him into. And yet this mask is perfect for situations like this, when too long a look can give anything away and his emotions are probably more apparent than ever.
He feels foolish, standing here in one of the few things he has that his mother has given him other than his human emotions (which are running high at the moment, thank you very much) and reaching out to touch James Kirk's mind. He's afraid that he'll do it wrong and ruin this brilliant mind before it can ever reach the potential that the ambassador alluded to. Still, the chances that he could accidentally misstep in Kirk's mind were enough to make him draw in another calming breath.
"Don't look too hard, I… have a lot of private thoughts," Kirk says, his eyes slightly crossed as Spock's fingers move ever closer to his face.
Spock raises an eyebrow, a warning tone the only betrayal of the emotions that are running, just barely unchecked, beneath the blank mask of his face. "Do not push back against this link, my thoughts are also private."
xiv.
Jim is trying to relax. To breathe in and out like they taught him back when he was still in school and was not as weary of the world as he is now. So many people died then, and he could not stop it. The guilt plagues him with every step he takes through the academy. He hopes that Spock will not look into his mind below what is actually bothering him – but he knows that he can no sooner ask that than ask Spock to stop breathing – if that indeed was what Vulcans did.
He hates the fact that he knows this, because it just makes it worse for him. The anticipation and the fear – because this will not be like what the ambassador did to him. That had been lovely, wonderful, and gentle. He knows that this Spock, his Spock does not possess the skill at this point of time and he hates it. Hates that he knows it and hates that he can't experience something like that again. This whole situation feels like a violation, but he can't help but think that he actively is asking for it.
It is like a high, a drug, the ultimate fix.
He nods his agreement to Spock, because he does not want to know the other man's thoughts. Because he doesn't think he can handle the mental anguish of it being different in any way from what the ambassador had showed him. Their history is not like that Jim and that Spock's history – they hate each other. Passionately – but with grudging respect that has Jim standing here about to let a complete novice at mind-melding poke around in his brain.
Spock's fingers are making him cross-eyed they are so close to his face. His eyes are watering as he tries not to blink – meeting that intense black-eyed stare with best he can muster. Jim bites back a cutting remark and grinds out, "Do it."
Suddenly the fingers are on his face and he's seeing things like what had happened before – only this time it did not feel familiar and gentle. The memories are ripped from his mind and examined one by one with the practiced air of a scientist inspecting a particularly interesting specimen.
Typical. Jim thinks ruefully through the pain.
xv.
At first he doesn't know what he's seeing. It looks like nothing, just a collection of memories that no young man should possess and yet James Kirk does. He clings to them as though they make up the very fiber of his being – which is certainly unhealthy and yet oddly honorable. Spock pokes the knot, listening to the hiss of Kirk's breath as he does so. This is an act of violation and Spock knows that he should not be doing this. Only cowards attack their enemies in such a way.
They aren't enemies any more – they are friends, they're trying to be friends.
Spock thinks that this is hardly professional, but Kirk befriends everyone (except those he won't) in an effort to be the great equalizer in their circle. It is an admirable skill – one that Spock does not himself have. A flaw, as tragic as his mother's humanity, that cuts through him like a knife as he unfolds the alien emotions and lays them bare.
There are two men, so similar to themselves, the same and yet starkly different. They are close, the best of friends, probably more. Spock's brow furrowed, it was not uncommon for men such as themselves to seek companionship in each other, but it was frowned upon by the general public. And yet these men, so much in love and so obviously closely connected to each other and to Kirk and to Spock.
His free hand clenches into a fist as he sees what the ambassador had done to Kirk – to Jim. The thought comes unbidden and Spock pushes harder against Kirk's mind, trying to see if there's a way that he can remove the memories and make the other man whole once again, without the press of someone else's emotions and desperate longing against his consciousness.
There, at the base of the knot is an obviously Vulcan constructed meld, joining the cluster to Kirk's own mind. Spock knows he can break it, as he probably made it in the first place. He probes it with his mind, pressing with interest to see what would happen. Kirk let out a low hiss of breath and Spock knew that he could take this away and make everything right again.
"These emotions," He doesn't know if he's thinking or speaking now, their minds are one. "They are alien to you. I can remove them if that is what you desire."
There is a hesitation in Kirk's very being, as though he's extremely conflicted about what's happened to him. Spock is filled with a sense of wrong in even asking the question. This is Kirk's emotion, this fear of rejection and tentative thought – as though he had not had the time to think if he wanted Spock to take them away, just to see if something was the matter with his brain.
Foolish, rash… Spock thinks moodily behind his own carefully constructed mental shield – away from the constant and confused press of Kirk's thoughts.
He opens his eyes to see the intense stare of Kirk. The other man wets his lips nervously on his tongue and opens his mouth to say something foolish and irrational, Spock braces himself. "No, leave them."
Idiot. Spock meets that intense stare evenly and regards Kirk with what he hopes his his most professional and doctorlike air. He doesn't know many doctors that aren't somehow like McCoy in their brash and rude natures; his is far more analytical and certainly not as crass. "Are you certain?"
He detangles himself from Kirk's mind as carefully as he can with the question, his mind lingering ever so slightly on that knot of memory. The emotion, the love, that he can feel there is overwhelming.
Will someone ever look at him that way?
James Kirk smiles sheepishly at him, bringing his hand up to rest of Spock's shoulder. "Yes," He says brightly, squeezing it with an oddly affectionate note in his voice that Spock cannot rationalize away without considerable meditation time to figure out just why it warms him to his toes when Kirk smiles like that at him.
Spock opens his mouth to speak, but Kirk shakes his head, "They are a gift from an… old friend," he says. "I'd like to honor that memory for him."
His fingers are hidden under too long sleeves, hanging limply at his sides, but Spock cannot keep them from clenching into fists. "Do what you will." He says, and turns to walk away.
He's taken three steps when he hears Kirk quietly say, "Thank you."
"It is nothing," Spock returns, looking over his shoulder. "It is heartening to see that there is nothing seriously wrong with your brain. I had my doubts."
It's the middle of the night, and Kirk's flabbergasted look at that comment is enough to send Spock on his way, a smile not quite hidden on his lips.
Post –
The New Vulcan Colony was set up as soon as a suitable planet could be found. The process took almost two years, with various Federation planets putting up the refugees in suitable environments within their homeworlds. When the news came that a planet had been found near to the Federation outpost of Deep Space 8, James Kirk called up the highest-ranking Starfleet Admiral he knew and offered the Enterprise to help to ferry the Vulcan refugees to their new-found planet. Given his previous involvement with Vulcan's untimely demise, it was considered to be a noble gesture on all counts, and his request was granted.
Two years was a long time, James Kirk mused as he paced the upper observation decks of the Enterprise. So much had changed in that time; he'd grown so accustomed to his command gold – to his responsibility and duty to his crew. He took solace here. Musing among the stars – so different from the ones he remembered from home – and yet so similar.
"Forgive my intrusion," A voice cut through his reverie, quiet and polite. "I did not expect there to be anyone here."
Jim's eyes rose and he came face to face with the aged man he had first encountered on the snow-covered world of Delta Vega, what seemed like so long ago. He chose his words carefully, with a sly smile that he knew would not go unmissed by the older man. The cluster of emotions that Spock had found back then had served him well, and Jim knew that the compassion and humility that they demonstrated to him, having felt what the Vulcans had felt through collective consciousness, was vital to his success as a captain. "You are welcome to be here, old friend."
Had the older man been anyone other than Spock, he would have given a half-smile in acknowledgement of their first meeting, but Spock merely raised a knowing eyebrow and nodded as he stepped towards Jim. "I would like to apologize." He said, drawing out his words carefully.
Jim turned to lean on the railing of the observation deck, he knew what was coming – it was as his Spock had told him back then, when he had nearly ordered the Vulcan to fix whatever it was that was wrong with his brain. "It is unnecessary." He felt very Vulcan himself saying that and a small smile played across his lips as he watched the long trails of stars as they moved past them at speeds he could barely imagine, let alone calculate. "I kinda like what you did."
The elderly Vulcan moved to stand next to him. "There are too many…" he trailed off as if searching for the correct word. "Private thoughts in what I did. You do not deserve have the intimate nature of that time and that friendship supplanting your own burgeoning relationship with myself."
Jim turned to his companion and smiled broadly. "I like to think of it as a road map. What to do and what not to do."
"If that is what you wish, Jim. I will not stop you." The smile on the elderly Vulcan's face was so alien it almost looked human. Jim knew that he was being granted a privilege that no one had seen in years, and in his heart, he treasured it.
"You never could, Old Friend."
FIN