Chapter Text
Chapter Eleven
Jim stared intently at the sleeping form of his second in command, his eyes scanning and cateloguing every blemish, every hurt the cold had cruely inflicted on his friend. He wished he could just banish them all with a simple command but that's not how things worked in real life, instead he would have to rely on the considerable skills of one currently pissed off Southern Doctor and the half Vulcan's own healing abilities. He knew Spock was in the best place possible, Bones and his medical staff were the finest Star fleet had to offer but even knowing all this, he couldn't help the knot of worry that had slowly formed in his gut.
His friend was just so...still, not that anyone would ever accuse Spock of being overly animated but this was different, if it weren't for the steady rythmic rise and fall of his chest, Jim would have thought him dead, a thoroughly chilling prospect especially when he knew how close to death Spock had been on Setar VI and if Bones' cagey medical report was anything to go on, he suspected the Vulcan had been on the wrong side of critical when they were finally rescued.
He couldn't help shake his head a little in disbelief at how close they had come this time, sure they'd been on the precipice before, they had already battled annihilation and obliteration once too often for Jim's liking, they had looked death square in the face and yelled a defiant 'Screw you!'
But this time it was different, there had been no imminent core breech threatening to blast their atoms across several sectors, no gigantic space annomoly ready to swallow them whole, no unidentified enemy craft bearing down on them hell bent on blowing them to pieces, there was no going down in a blaze of glory, instead they had almost been beaten by the cold, just silently slipping away into oblivion and he found it all rather humbling.
His eyes noted the discolouration of the long interlocking fingers resting across the Vulcan's chest and the frown gracing his forehead deepened ever so slightly. Bones had said they were healing but the dark swollen digits just looked so out of place as did the some what distorted ear tips, both lacking their usual elegance. He knew he shouldn't but still he couldn't help but reachout and touch the sleeping Vulcan, some how the physical contact, the tactile sensations reassured him that his friend was indeed alive and on the mend. His fingers tightened their grip around his friend's forearm of their own volition, the extra pressure allowed him to feel the warmth radiating from Spock's skin as well as the steady rapid pulse throbbing within. His own shoulders visibly relaxed with every passing second of stolen contact as his conscience was gradually eased and comforted...Spock was warm and no longer in any danger, for now thats all that mattered. He was content to just keep vigil over his friend while he slept.
Spock's consciousness drifted in a sea of soothing calm, the disorder and disjointedness that plagued his mind on Setar VI had finally been banished, ruthlessly replaced by logic, order and unity. And while his mind continued to heal his thought processes, his body worked diligently at healing the countless damaged cells and neural pathways.
The Vulcan healing trance would finish the work graciously begun by the good Doctor.
It was during this deep trance that he suddenly felt an overwhelming intensity of human emotion brush against his mental shields. He did not however, physically flinch away nor did he mentally retreat further into his rational mind. He could detect nothing malacious about the invading emotions, infact there was a strange familiarity about the whole experience and so he simply allowed the wave of emotions to wash over him. His mind automatically catelogued feelings of concern intertwined with happiness and guilt mingled with relief, the positive and negative all bundled into one chaotic stream...a stream that seemed to produce it's own melody and this too seemed achingly familiar, until finally the melody coalesced into a persona and that persona had a name...Jim.
His Captain, like so many times in the past, had initiated physical contact between them only this time the touch was not a fleeting brush of skin or a teasing slap on the back but a prolonged connection that allowed Spock to telepathically link with the man's mind.
He knew Kirk would be unaware of the connection he'd initiated, he also doubted man would be bothered by the breech in privacy, James T. Kirk was afterall a human that wore his heart on his sleeve so to speak. Emotions were freely displayed for all to see through a mixed medium of expressive features, voice cadence and animated gestures and Spock had become very adept at reading all his Captain's obvious and not so obvious tells.
Still he thought it best to end the bond between them, for a Vulcan privacy of ones thoughts and feelings was paramont, something only to be shared between consenting parties and his friend's lack of complete awareness of the situation did not sit well with Spock. So he re-directed his energy and focused his thoughts on waking up.
As Jim observed his sleeping First officer, he noticed more exaggeration in the rise and fall of his chest whilst pupils darted rapidly under closed lids. A quick glance at the vast display of read outs also showed an increase in heart rate. Jim inhaled sharply, Spock was waking up again.
His fingers contracted giving a reassuring squeeze of encouragement and he was promptly rewarded by the fluttering of eyelids. For a moment the Vulcan's eyes focused briefly on the dimmed ceiling lights over head but then he turned his head and looked directly at his Captain.
Suddenly aware he was still gripping his friend's arm, Kirk some what embarassed, smiled sheepishly and released his hold.
“Hey,” he stated softly.
That one simple word seemed to cram in a whole catelogue of emotions and unasked questions. Concern, relief and worry chiefly amongst them.
“Captain.” The aknowledgement is faint and raspy. Spock's voice although scratchy is a lot stronger than it was on Setar IV.
Jim quickly reaches for the beaker of water by Spock's bedside and holds it up for his friend, who wordlessly accepts the offering and takes a few short sips through the straw instantly easing his parched mouth.
“Thank you,” he adds while returning the half empty beaker to his smiling Captain. Jim is pleased to hear more of Spock's usual baritone.
“Soooo...we made it,” Jim points out unnecessarily.
“It would appear so,” Spock agrees, for once willing to indulge his Captain's need to state the obvious.
“How's the ears?” he enquires, gesturing at them.
The First Officer can't help but tentatively reach up and touch the aforementioned ears once more and while his fingers are still not operating at their tactile best, he can feel the shape and outline of his distinct helix much better this time and even more encouraging, the sensitive new skin. They would require further regeneration treatment and time to fully heal but much to his hidden relief the prognosis was indeed promising.
“I believe Dr. McCoy has performed adequately in order to ensure a full recovery,” Spock informed his friend.
Jim nods his head.
“That's good Spock...that's good,” he repiles slightly stilted.
Spock is pretty sure what is happening. His Captain is engaging in the human pratice of 'small talk' he recognises it for what it is, it has many purposes, one of which is to perhaps avoid talking about more serious, more personal or uncomfortable matters.
He's been around the man long enough to know that he is most likely still harbouring some missed placed guilt about the outcome of the mission and his words pertaining to Spock's Mother, despite the fact that he had already apologised while they were stranded on Setar VI. In fact his Captain's words had helped Spock to realise that his Mother was undoubtedly aware of his love for her. He decides to 'break the ice' so to speak and reassure his friend that his guilt is unwarranted and that he still has the upmost respect for and confidence in his Captain.
“Captain I...” he begins.
“Jim, Spock, it's Jim...remember? Noone can accuse us of being on duty now!” he interrupts, gesturing around Sick Bay as if to prove his point.
“Jim,” the half Vulcan nods in acquiescence.
“There you go! That wasn't so bad now was it?” the man butts in again.
One elegantly arched eyebrow raises in response.
Spock patiently inhales and tries once more, it's of no suprise when his words are cut off again this time by his Captain's hands gesturing wildly as if in surrender.
“Okay Spock look...dammit ! There's something I need to say...I want to tell you again that I'm so sorry for what I said about your Mother, it was unspeakably cruel, not to mention completely untrue and I apologise for being such a pig headed coward and for leaving it so long to do so.”
Jim's words came gushing out now that he'd finally gathered up the nerve to say what was actually on his mind. He knew Spock often gave the appearance of being aloof, disinterested...unfeeling but thanks to the impromptu meld with Spock Prime he knew this was untrue. All that stiffness, formality and impassiveness was merely a well placed mask.
A thin veneer of control suppressing a torrent of emotions bubbling like lava beneath the surface. He had seen that mask slip, hell he had caused it to, practically ripped it off and his body bore the brunt of the erruption that followed.
Necessary though his actions may have been at the time, the manner in which he'd exposed the level to which Spock had been emotionally compromised had been brutal.
Unknown to Jim at the time, he had used the one thing guaranteed to cause his First Officer to lose control...his profound feelings for his Mother, a Mother who's death he had just witnessed mere hours ago.
Jim looked up from studying his hands and tentatively made eye contact with his friend. Spock's face remained unscrutable and his dark eyes gave away nothing still Jim knew when he was being analysed and for once he sat passively and waited for the half Vulcan to speak. After a moment.
“Jim if I may?,” Spock enquired, hoping that his Captain was finally ready to listen.
Kirk raised a hand in a placating gesture, encouraging his First Officer on.
“While some of the events that occured during our time on Setar VI remain somewhat elusive to me still, I do however quite clearly recall that you have already apologised and though your apology is both unnecessary and illogical, I understand the human need to do so.”
Spock could see his Captain's struggle to withhold his protest so he carried on.
“May I remind you that your words on Setar VI have helped me to find some...peace and closure with regards to my Mother, I believe you were right when you said she was aware of my...feelings for her and I am thankful for that,” he explained softly.
Jim couldn't believe his own ears nor could he hold back the emormous smile from brightening his face. Spock never ceased to amaze him.
“Besides, it would be illogical for me to condemn your actions, you were after all only following my own sound advice,” Spock added, eyebrow raised almost whimsically.
Jim recoiled back in mock disbelief shaking his head.
“Did you...nooo...did you just make a joke Spock!?” he demanded lightly.
The barest ghost of a smile, his only reply.
While they rest together in comfortable silence Jim detects a blur of blue in the periphery of his vision. A quick glance over his shoulder reveals his
C.M.O peeking from the doorway to his office.
“Quit lurking and get over here,” he demands teasingly.
“I do not lurk!” McCoy replies with feigned indignation “I merely observe descretely,” he clarifies chin raised.
Regardless of the jibe, the Doctor heads straight for his two most challanging patients. His demeanor all business as he pauses beside Spock's bed and spends a brief moment viewing the bevy of information on the display panel. He seems reasonably satisfied with the results of his search.
“How you feeling now Spock? Your readings appear normal or as normal as they can be for you, its not like we have a huge amount of baseline references to compare with, no doubt that'll change if you keep letting this reckless farm boy drag you along on perilous missions, another hour on that surface and...”
Spock caught the look of self-recrimination on his Captain's face.
“Doctor,” the half Vulcan tactfully interupted the man's rant before it gathered full momentum, “I am doing much better thank you and were it not for the Captain I would have perished hours ago, his efforts were instrumental in keeping me alive. I am grateful to you both.”
McCoy looked on in stunned silence at the unexpected gratitude, the wind momentarily knocked out of his sails.
Meanwhile Spock turned his steady gaze to his Captain silently scrutinising him.
The man smiled back at him beyond appreciative and instinctivly reached out to grip his friend's arm once more.
Once again his mental shields were hit with a wave of rolling emotions only this time Spock was relieved to decipher only positive feelings and his gaze warmed.
The Doctor watched the scene unfold before him in somewhat disbelief, those two idiots would be the death of him someday until then he would just have to make their lives a misery, his weapons of choice...barbs and insults, with that in mind he leaned into the Vulcan's personl space knowing the unsettling effect it would have.
“Don't worry Spock,” Bones smiled and winked conspiratorily, “your secret is safe with me.”
Momentarily perplexed, Spock inquired, “Secret, Doctor?”
“Spock my friend you're like a crusty old cow pat left lying out in the warm Georgia sun...dry, hard and brittle on the outside but put pressure on it and it cracks and hell if it ain't all soft, squishy and full of shit on the inside!” he laughed as he walked away.
The Vulcan paused a moment, one eyebrow raised in slight affrontment, “Captain, did the Doctor just compare me to bouvine excrement?”
“Yes Spock,” Jim beamed as he patted his friend lightly on the arm, “he did...but in the nicest possible way!”
~~ooOoo~~