Shrinking the Gap

By Alone Dreaming

Rating: PG-13 for injuries, language, adventure, emotions.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. If I did, this would not be posted under fan fiction.

Warnings: Emotions, injuries, foul language, surrealist influences

Dedication: Again, to my roommate, and her obsession with Zachary Quinto and Leonard Nimoy

Author's Note: PLEASE READ. I find that capital letters often attract attention better than just "author's note." Of course, if you do not read this, it's your decision but I refuse to be held responsible for any disagreements you have with my portrayal of characters then.

I have difficulty believing that Spock and Kirk simply became friends and from my 1.2 percent knowledge of The Original Series, I can see that their relationship is particularly unique. This story, written from Spock's point of view, directly involves the development of said relationship and Spock's emotional issues just after the movie. I would consider this their second or third mission afterwards, set early in Spock and Kirk learning to work with each other. What I feel necessary to say here and now is that this story deals in Spock and emotions, and some people will not agree with how I portray him. I would ask you to take it as a grain of salt and understand this is merely my interpretation. Thank you.

And after that bit of explanation, which I feel silly for having to say at all, I say, as always, that this is self beta'd so all Star Trek Knowledge/Grammar/Spelling issues are of my own making. Overall, please just enjoy this for what it is and feel free to comment as you see fit.

Chapter One: Physical Matters

Spock checked his communicator again but found that it was still emitting spurts of static instead of connecting him to the Enterprise. He felt a speck of irritation but suppressed it, carefully compartmentalizing it away until it faded from existence. Emotions, at this point, would only make the situation he was in more difficult and prevent him from handling it in a reasonable and efficient manner. Kirk, who was jogging a short distance in front of him, would find annoyance in his cool exterior and Doctor McCoy would undoubtedly would call him emotionless but he was merely being logical. Unlike the humans he worked so closely with, he knew the importance of staying rational, especially when dealing with difficult problems. He respected feeling, enjoyed feeling and knew that it had a time and place. Sometimes he wondered how humans managed to acheive so much without understanding this.

"Anyone picking up?" Kirk panted, dropping back to stride next to his friend.

"I am still only receiving static," Spock told him.

Kirk stopped and stretched, forcing Spock to stop as well. Sweat dotted the Captain's forehead and wet his hair and shirt. His cheeks had a red hue and he had rolled up his sleeves. "Christ, it's hot out here."

Spock agreed silently. While his eyes did not suffer from the brightness of the sun, and Kirk's squinting belayed it was bothering him, he could feel the creeping heat weakening him. He was not sweating as badly as Kirk was, but his hair prickled with warmth and his limbs fought against it. The heat made the ground around them shimmer, creating visual illusions in the distance. It would be easier if they still had shade to retreat to, Spock decided, but foliage had retreated the further they'd traveled. Now, all they had around them was dry, dead plants and cracked dusty ground.

"I feel this is not the worst of our issues, Captain," Spock said, and it was true. While the heat was another difficulty, it was minimal compared to the major problem they were in the midst of.

Kirk licked his dry lips. "I don't know. Seems pretty bad to me. Your Vulcan brain figured out some sort of solution or something?"

"No, I merely feel that our lack of communication with the Enterprise and the fact that we are currently less than three centimeters tall to be more pressing matters," Spock answered.

Kirk squinted at the sky. He put a hand up to shield his eyes, his breath still coming out in uneven gasps. "Eh-- I dunno. I'd say if we don't solve the whole boiling blood issue, you're gonna be dragging my carcass the rest of the way."

"I was unaware we were going to any specific place and I can assure you if you were to die, I'd leave your body behind. There would be no purpose in wasting energy by taking it with me," Spock said, trying the communicator again. Clearly, the shrinking process had done something to the electronics and the broadcasting abilities of the item had been changed. Kirk thought, and Spock felt inclined to agree, that if they ended up closer to the Enterprise, directly under it, they might be able to contact them. The distance, Kirk had reasoned when they'd first found themselves like this, had been multiplied nearly by sixty. Their communicators were not meant to broadcast so far. And so now, they were playing a mad sort of guessing game. Luckily, the Enterprise was a large target but their chances of finding it at their size were infinitely tiny.

Of course, Kirk thought the plan would work. Spock still did not comprehend the human's ability to come with and then enact farfetched plans. What baffled him further was how they somehow worked every time-- not perfectly but the end result was almost always positive. What was more difficult to understand was Kirk's utter faith that everything would be fine. Spock could not remember a time where he'd seen Kirk view any situation pessimistically. Irrational, Spock knew, but he admired the quality even if it was foolish.

"Spock, you wound me," Kirk whined, and he sat down. "If you got killed, I'd totally bring your body back. You know-- lay you to rest properly and let Uhura grieve. Give her some comfort if she felt the need. But that's because I'm a good person." The cheeky smile on his face reminded Spock that he was merely teasing him. He opened his mouth to ask Kirk to give Nyota more respect but then stopped. Kirk did respect Nyota; Spock had seen it. He was just trying to, what had been the expression he'd used, 'talk guy talk.' Though Spock could not muster a response to this 'guy talk,' or any sort of expression, he decided that not giving a negative retaliation was enough.

"So, do you think this is that big highway we crossed earlier?" Kirk asked a few minutes later. His exposed arms had reddened in the sun to match the color of his cheeks and nose. Spock knew his own exposed skin was similarly burning and carefully slipped his hands into his sleeves. It felt awkward but it would save him some of the pain in the long run.

"I think that is a good assumption," he agreed. "We should keep moving, Captain. The more we move, the more likely it will become that we will pick up a signal. I also suggest you roll your sleeves down. You are burning."

Kirk muttered under his breath but did exactly that as he got to his feet. He staggered and Spock grasped his shoulder to keep him on his feet. For a moment, Kirk seemed completely disoriented. His eyes had a glassy look and he had a hand at his temple. Then he shook his head and shrugged off Spock's hand. With great intensity, Spock looked him over, making certain that nothing beyond the obvious was wrong with him. When he saw nothing, he asked as well, though he doubted he would get an honest answer.

"Just a head rush," Kirk said, brushing it off as though it was nothing. "It's the heat and sitting down. Come on-- like you said, better chance of getting rescued if we keep moving."

He was off at a steady pace and Spock followed a few paces behind, touching his communicator every twenty steps or so in hopes that someone would answer. If he'd been human, he was certain he would feel disheartened but being only half-human, he felt a twinge of displeasure instead. He channeled this into focus and soon was unaware of the blazing heat and the tiredness taxing his frame. The most important task at the moment was getting in contact with the ship. Other things could wait.

Time passed and he found his mind wavering. He had started sweating heavily and it was difficult to keep himself from thinking of other things. Now and again, he glanced up to look at Kirk. The back of the Captain's shirt had a stain on it from old sweat that had already dried. Kirk was not moving very quickly and he seemed to be stumbling with a fair amount of frequency. His head hung a bit lower, as though he could not hold it upright. This all made Spock wonder if they should have stayed where the accident had happened and searched for water instead of running off. They had no supplies to care for themselves with and the lab where the explosion had occurred had been full of useful items. But, in their haste to avoid being caught for experimentation, they'd fled without grabbing anything. All that they'd had left were their phasers and communicators, and only because those had been on their persons.

He noted, as he considered this, that there was something on the horizon. It looked like the ground foliage that grew on this planet, a coarse grass like substance, and he felt relief for the anxiety he did not realize he had felt. He sped up his pace, soon overtaking Kirk.

"Captain, I think we should take another break once we reach the other edge of the road," Spock said.

Kirk paused and clumsily rubbed at his eyes. "That sounds beautiful."

It took them much longer than Spock predicted to reach the first crispy pieces of grass. Most of it is Kirk's fault as he slowed down at a steady pace and by the time they were under the minimal shade, Kirk had been reduced to shuffling. Spock had similarly lost stamina though not to the same extent. Sweat dotted places on his shirt and he could feel it stinging the skin on his cheeks. His legs did not want to move but he could still lift them if he chose to and unlike Kirk, he did not collapse when they reached the haven. He leaned against the huge brown-grey roots, enjoying the shade. It was still too warm but the lack of direct sun relieved him.

"…S..ck….C…tn… here me?" crackled his communicator.

"I hear Uhura," Kirk muttered. He had his head in his hands. "Am I delirious?"

Spock didn't answer him. He focused on the communicator instead. "Lieutenant Uhura, this is Commander Spock. Can you hear me?"

"H… where… you?" Uhura's voice demanded through the static. Spock felt the corners of his mouth twitch and felt a sudden longing to see her. Frowning at this reaction, he tried to compartmentalize only to find that he couldn't. He had not seen her outside the bridge for weeks. The most he had touched her was a passing hand squeeze. The urge to kiss her which he had pushed away for days suddenly seemed overwhelming; had she been there, he would've done it. Instead, he wrestled the urge into the back of his mind.

"We are on the main highway of the planet," he told her, trying to keep his voice under control. He felt he did not do it very well.

"Can…hear…speak…again…" came the broken response.

"We are on the main highway of the planet," he repeated.

"Broken…where?"

Kirk grabbed his leg, startling him. He glanced down and Kirk motioned for him to hand over the communicator. Spock hesitated, wondering where Kirk's had gone to, but slowly handed it over. Kirk was the Captain, after all, and while Spock did not always agree with him, it was his duty to obey. Kirk fumbled with the communicator for a moment as though he could not quite remember how to use it. Spock watched his uncoordinated efforts and wondered how much longer they would last out here. The sun appeared to be no closer to setting than when they arrived. It had not gotten much hotter but even so, the current temperature could easily kill them both.

"Planet side, Uhura," Kirk said shortly. "Beam us up?"

"Spock?" came her reply.

"Fine, fine, fine," he answered. "Short sentences. I'm better."

"…see."

"Beam us up?" he repeated and said to Spock, "She loves me."

This time, Scotty spoke. "Cannae… signal… fix."

"Well, that sucks," Kirk mumbled to no one. And then to Spock, "You think it's our size?"

Spock nodded. "That seems like a logical conclusion, Captain."

"I love how you can praise me and yet be condescending all at the same time," Kirk grunted. "Scotty?"

"C…?"

"Send someone down here. I repeat, send someone down here."

"..s…C..n"

Kirk put the communicator down with a sigh and rubbed his eyes. A second or so later, he said, "What? Not in the mood to translate your different eyebrow twitches."

Spock continued to pin him with his eyes, trying to see if he was ill enough to be considered unfit to give orders. Asking for assistance was necessary but they both knew that the inhabitants of this planet had proved themselves to be both untrustworthy and dangerous. Merely meeting their scientists had resulted in this disaster and the following reactions to their condition-- not an offer to reverse it but instead, the interest in using them as test subjects-- showed that these people were sadistic and cruel. They had little regard for those around them; Spock first decided this when he saw how they still used slavery. With their technology so prone to failure-- they had an infinitely cleaner way of producing energy but had suffered seven different blackouts in the few hours he and the Captain had been there-- and their general lack of moral compass, Spock surmised they would be poor allies. He almost managed to tell the Captain that right when the lab had combusted.

It could not be clearer that no one else should come to the planet and yet, Kirk had just asked for assistance. What good would it do them to have other crew members wandering blindly? Even those used to world travel and up to date on protocol-- such as Sulu-- would be going into an unknown situation. And they would never find the two of them; with their signatures muddled and the fact that they were so tiny, they could easily be considered invisible.

"Captain," he began, his tone even. "I fail to see how they can help us if they are here."

Kirk had removed his shirt and was swinging it in circles in front of him. "Spock, we need a faster form of transportation if we even hope to sort out this situation. They can't beam us up and the communicators are near useless. Our best course of action is getting them down here so they can find us."

"How do you expect them to do that?" Spock querried, frustrated and having a hard time stopping the frustration.

"With a fuckin' magnify glass and a pair of tweezers if they have to," Kirk snapped in reply. "Or maybe they'll be able to talk to us better once they are down here with separate communicators."

They fell into silence, Kirk fanning himself while Spock stared out towards the road. The air around them was oppressive and equally quiet. There was no wind, no sound; Spock found this to be strange and unusual. He concluded it had to do with the lack of life on this world. The inhabitants had destroyed nearly everything this planet had to give. The sparse grass and a few stubby trees appeared to be the only surviving foliage and animal life had been reduced to stock animals for food. Children of this race were few and far between and natural resources such as water had all but vanished. This was a failing society and he would be glad to be rid of it.

"Guess we should be glad they don't have ants," Kirk said, pausing in the movement with his shirt.

"That would be most unfortunate," Spock agreed, accepting the unspoken truce. Their relationship, if it was that, had been built upon unspoken words. They had nothing to say to each other, Spock reasoned. Neither apologized often and rarely did either admit they were wrong about anything. The most they had in common was the ship. He admitted that, since Kirk had appointed him First Mate, the human had attempted to form some sort of connection. He'd mitigated the worst of his comments and been patient with Spock's lack of emotions. What had driven this behavior, Spock was uncertain, but when he met the Captain's eyes, he found a fondness he had not seen before. Something had changed for Kirk but had not changed for Spock. The side of him that begged for knowledge often pondered what this could possibly be but drew up blank. Someday, when he was more comfortable, he convinced himself he would ask.

"Captain?" the communicator crackled.

Kirk grinned broadly. "Speaking, Sulu. Who alls with you?"

"It's Doctor McCoy and me, sir," Sulu replied. "Where are you?"

Kirk glanced at Spock and then down at the communicator. "On their main highway that goes towards the town. Just… uh… walk towards the town but don't-- whatever you do-- step on the grass, okay?"

"Okay," Sulu sounded confused. "Are you and Commander Spock okay?"

"Relatively-- we'll talk more when--"

The ground suddenly shook violently, tossing Kirk forward and Spock to the ground. The communicator flew from Kirk's hand and rolled towards the road. The dirt around them twisted and shook in a repetitive steady manner, keeping them both lying flat and skirting across it. Spock attempted to get to his feet but found it impossible. Every time he got his hands under him the world tossed to the side again and he lost his balance. He did not recall there being quakes here when they had originally come but it was possible they merely came in infrequent intervals. A particularly violent tremor had him lying flat on his back, staring up at the shady covering of the grass and a sickening realization hit him.

These were not earthquakes; this was someone or something moving. He needed to warn Kirk and, with renewed vigor, flipped himself over. Orienting himself, he started to crawl, hoping to find the Captain amongst the rising dust but coming up short. Kirk was not lying near where he'd been before the rumbling had started. He'd moved towards the road again, belly crawling towards the lost communicator. Spock raised his voice and called to him, trying to give warning but knowing he was not heard over the ruckus. Redoubling his efforts, he tried to reach Kirk, who's hands had just clasped over the communicator, and was further thwarted.

Then the movement stopped. Whoever or whatever was moving had paused in it's motion and given them a second of peace. Spock swept to his feet and jogged over to where Kirk was curled on the ground. He grasped the Captain's shoulder and looked him over, seeing the red-grey cuts on his chest and back and wondering where his shirt had gone to. Undoubtedly it had been dropped with the fiasco had started but he could no longer see the yellow material. The dust had covered it, just like it had covered Kirk and Spock himself. All that was really visible on Kirk beyond the thin lines of blood were his blue eyes which were squinting at Spock.

"What the hell?" he coughed and then spat some mud.

Spock replied quietly, though he was certain whatever it was would not hear him. "Something approaches."

Kirk lowered his voice. "You mean all of that was just someone walking. Shit." He looked down at the communicator. "Double shit."

"What tr--" Spock began but was interrupted when Kirk shoved the communicator into his hands. The wires hung out of it and the speaker appeared to be beyond repair. Spock pressed his lips together, looked at Kirk, looked at the communicator and then at the open road.

"How do we get into these situations, Spock? I mean, before I met you, I had a few laughs but my life was disgustingly normal," Kirk muttered. He was inching towards the edge of the grass, peering upwards. "The worst thing that ever happened to me--"

The world suddenly turned itself on its side. Spock could not comprehend how it happened. One minute, he was standing, listening to Kirk grumble and the next, he was sliding down a bottomless chasm. Dirt and rocks and alien grass fell around him, buffeting him and knocking the little bit of air he had out of him. He closed his eyes against the worst of it, trying to focus and orient himself only to hit the ground hard and feel a sharp pain in his side. Everything faded then came back and he found that he was partially buried under a conglomeration of things. He started to sit up, feeling gravel and dirt roll off of him. The pain in his side floored him seconds later and he noticed copious amounts of green flooding out onto the sand.

"Spock?" he heard Kirk call. "Are you hurt?"

Spock swallowed and deftly pushed some of his shirt away from the injury, wincing as it flared. From what he could tell, he had a serious gash at the bottom of his ribs which, according to Doctor McCoy and his own medical knowledge, would definitely fall under the category of hurt.

"I'm afraid so, Captain," he murmured faintly.

And, quite against his will, he fell unconscious.

I will have the next chapter up by Saturday.