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The words ring in his ears “Help me not to be.” The words hit him deep in his soul. How Jim could know him so well and not at all. “I’m scared.” Jim had said, and Spock couldn’t lie to him that he wasn’t as well. The emotions he spent years controlling and labeling and compartmentalized had been broken free and he realized just how deep he truly did feel.
His throat constricted as his mind replayed the words over and over. Jim’s question, his plea as the radiation coursed through his body. “I’m scared, Spock.” Jim had said. His eyes lost focus as he blinked back tears. He wants to rip the door open, to hold Jim close to him and save him. Save himself from a life without Jim by his side. “Help me not to be.” He asks, and Spock is the one blinking back tears. Vulcan’s lacked the necessary evolution of crying. But Spock was half human, and at this time he felt far less a Vulcan and more human than he ever did before.
He would never admit it out loud to himself, never thought there would be a moment he was thankful for being human. And this was not the circumstance he would have chosen for himself.
Jim’s silent for a moment, his body slumping more against the cold glass separating them. “How.” he begins, his breathing labored as he tries to straighten himself up. Spock’s legs are cramping from crouching so low, but he can’t bring himself to care. No, not when Jim is so far away from him and he’s powerless to do anything. “How do you choose not to feel?” He asks and Spock never wanted to cry so much.
It’s not that he chooses not to feel. No, he feels so much that his emotions often get the best of him. He has to, lest he be anything less than a child of Vulcan in the eyes of the universe. But now, with his own personal sun dying in front of him, he can’t fathom or name the emotions that swirl inside of him at Jim’s question. So he replies in truth, “I do not know.” he confesses, he has no choice, Vulcan’s do not lie. And he cannot lie to Jim when he’s asking him such questions. His eyesight turns blurry and he can hear McCoy in the background. He can see the way Nyota clings to Scotty as tears fall from her face. “Right now I am failing.” he finishes, and no truer words have ever been spoken by his person and he feels the weight of them upon his shoulders. He understands now the pain Atlas suffers to hold up the world. He can’t even hold his sun.
Jim’s gaze lifts to look at him, his movements are sluggish and forced and for a moment Spock fears that he’s gone. But then his mouth moves and words leave his mouth that strike a chord deep inside of Spock’s Katra. “I want you to know why I couldn’t let you die.” he says, and he takes a labored breath and forces himself to look Spock in the eye. Spock’s mind is racing, Jim couldn’t let him die, but here Spock was. Unable to do anything for the man before him. For the man who somehow had stolen his heart, as illogical as it sounded. He understood now. He understood now how one could love someone so much they defied every law and rule and logic to race to a rescue where the odds were less than favorable. But Jim knew that, he always knew that. But still, he persisted. But still, he succeeded “Why I went back for you.” He had thought he’d perish inside of the volcano, closing his eyes and accepting that which he could not control. And as he closed his eyes he allowed himself peace. Only to open them onboard the Enterprise with Jim in front of him still dripping with sea water.
Spock knows emotions. Knows the name of every feeling, every chemical reaction that takes place to create the feeling of emotions. Serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins. Chemicals that can control the slightest bit of emotions but now there's a leak and he’s the one who will drown. All levels are now out of control as he fights to keep any sense of self control. Or to at least keep up the facade that he does. And he hates that he knows the answer, “Because you are my friend.” he says, and it’s the words that he repeats to himself that keep him sane. That keeps him from spiraling and forces himself to not let blind emotions dictate his life. But now, he can’t help but toss it all to the side.
And Jim laughs. It’s not the full belly laugh that Spock is accustomed to. Jim’s eyes are hollow, the magnificent shade of blue is now dulled and almost lifeless. His breathing is labored but he allows himself to laugh. And Spock can’t comprehend why his heart clenches in his side like it does. “Yes.” he says, “And no.” He confesses and Spock is confused. He doesn’t like to be confused, but this one time he will admit it to himself in the privacy of his own mind. Jim’s hand lifts up and makes contact with the glass that separates the two of them. His fingers move as they form the ta’al. “It’s…” he starts, his breathing is more labored and Spock leans forward more. His own hand lifting up as he covers Jim’s hand with his own. “Fuck.” Jim speaks. His eyes are squeezed shut. There's a single solitary tear the trails down his cheek. And Spock wants nothing more for the glass to disappear, only for a moment so he could wipe it away. “I love you, Spock.” Jim says. And Spock’s mind short circuits as his hands press harder against the glass. He doesn’t care now if it breaks, doesn’t care about anything but holding Jim in his arms.
He’s unsure of what to say, Jim’s eyes drift away as the forced smile falls from his face. “Jim.” He says, his voice horace, the letters catching in his throat, as if not even his lips want to speak his name. He can hear his mother’s words in the back of his mind. How humans love so much that it can destroy them. He hears his father, one of the few times he’s spoken to Spock about love and affection. Vulcan’s love not in the way of humans, but so, so much stronger. Michaels words echo in his mind, to reach for the person farthest from him and hold that person tight.
Jim. Jim is the one who makes him feel emotions. Makes him reach and pull and pine from afar. It’s almost painful to admit but at this point he can’t bring himself to care. So he continues, Jim’s gaze returned to him and Spock wants to remember all the times before when their eyes met and a fire hotter than the plak tow rush through his blood stream and send his thoughts into a flurry. All because he fell in love with the man before him. “I love you, too.” He confesses. He doesn’t care about the audience, About the slight inhale of surprise from the doctor. Words he never knew how to speak before. Words he never wanted to speak into existence. Words that could ruin a friendship but now radiation was taking that job for him.
A smile crosses Jim’s face, only for a brief moment as their eyes lock for what Spock knows will be the last time. He wants to turn the clock back. He wants this all to be some awful nightmare. It is illogical and cruel for this to be their last time. There is still so much that has to be done. There’s still pages of books they haven’t finished.
It shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be the end of the story they had just begun. He wants more, however illogical it is to wish and yearn for one single solitary person. He wants a life filled with promises of tomorrow and the knowledge that Jim will fill his days. He doesn’t quite know how to even be someone now without Kirk by his side. And he wants to mourn, but he’s still in denial.
Jim is fine. He’s on the bridge. They’re on the bridge. And Jim has a twinkle in his eye as he makes a joke to Spock. And Spock doesn’t tell him that he thinks he’s beautiful. Doesn’t tell him that their nights of chess fill him with a happiness he doesn’t disclose to anyone but himself. How his meditations are interrupted by the way his mind drifts to stolen glances of Jim. So he yearns from afar; channeling his emotions into physical forms. Of sketches of Jim in the chair, of him looking through report files. Of the poetry he writes in Vulcan, the fear of someone finding it and discovering his true feelings involving Jim Kirk.
What will they find when I am ripped apart? "I love you, Captain" written on my heart. He hates how words he wrote have new meaning in his life. He can’t imagine a life without Jim, and he hates even thinking that Jim is gone. “Because he isn’t” the voice of denial sounds sickly sweet with baited promises that he is too naive to ignore. The words bounce around his mind, ripping it apart and making a home out of the rubble. And he can’t make denial leave because that leads to guilt. And Spock has already come to grips with the fact that this is his fault.
If he hadn’t submitted the report then Jim wouldn’t have lost the ship. Pike wouldn’t have died. Jim wouldn’t have been overcome with grief and anger to chase down Kahn. Or perhaps he would, Jim is brave and illogical like that. But even then, he knows that it should be him in there. Not Jim. And Jim had said “And this, this is what you would have done. It was only logical.” As if he too knew what the future holds. Or what the future held. Spock Prime told him everything was different, they were proof that time was not a structure set in stone.
And his hand falls, and Spock’s anger flares deep inside of him, uncontrollable and deadly. And he will get his revenge. “KHAN!” he yells, his mind running rampant as he rushes out of engineering to beam down.
The words ring in his ears. Nyota, begging and pleading with him as they fly through the air. “Khan is the only hope to save Kirk.” To save Jim. To save himself. He tells himself that it was logical to strike him repeatedly. It was logical that he felt the same pain as Jim did. It was logical. It was logical. At least, that’s what he told himself to keep him from going insane.
He doesn’t leave the hospital. Doesn’t want to leave Jim’s side, illogically fearing the worst to happen the moment he steps away. It’s only at McCoy’s insistence that he at least go to his apartment and shower. To eat something that’s not hospital replicated food. To change his clothes and clean himself of the dried blood.
He’s gone for one hour and 23 minutes each day. An hour and 23 minutes filled with a shower, change of clothes, and a meal. An hour and 23 minutes that he’s away from Jim. An hour and 23 minutes that filled him with worry and anxiety of the knowledge that anything could happen in that span of time. 83 minutes of his mind still thinking about Jim. But, if anything, he doesn’t allow himself to think the worst.
It’s days of this, days of returning to his apartment and coming back to Jim’s bedside. Of stolen kisses as he lets himself hold Jim’s hand, if only just for a moment. He tells himself that it’s only logical to engage in a human custom. He is half human and Jim is the most human of them all.
And he returns to Jim’s bedside on the day he wakes up. Spock doesn’t know it yet, but every day is filled with the hope that today. Today will be the day. If not today, then tomorrow. He repeats it to himself like a promise, even though he knows such things are illogical.
Jim’s arms above the blankets and the steady beep of the vital monitors are a strange comfort. There’s a drip of a low solution of morphine and saline. And the temporary tube they placed into his stomach for some form of substance is whirring away. Spock wants to reach out, to hold his hand tight in his own, and he wonders briefly if Jim would even allow that under normal circumstances. Jim has always been one for displays of such acts, surely he would allow this? He wants to reach into his mind, to speak with some part of him even if he’s unconscious. He wonders what he would want to talk about. His mind looks for logic and scientific reasonings. And he finds one. The numerous studies of how comatose patients can still feel and hear what’s going on around them. McCoy spoke to Jim like he could respond. Making jabs at him for his model behavior and a humorous attempt as he tells Jim this is the longest he’s gone without running his mouth.
So, Spock decides to apply research and engage. “We still have our last chess game to finish, Captain.” he speaks, the words hanging in the open, almost as daunting and heavy as the heat on his home planet. He’s not sure how to proceed, so he speaks his mind. That counts, doesn’t it? “I have taken the liberty of setting up the board in the configuration as we last left it on the Enterprise. I will let you know that in three more moves you would have beaten me. Your strategy is illogical but yet you still receive favorable results.”
The lack of response is jarring and Spock can’t help but agree with the good doctor. He misses the retorts that Jim would make during a match, teasing and arguing with him about their vastly different play styles. “I will admit it is a strange sensation speaking to you and not receiving a response.” He says. Drifting off as the machine beeps, “I find that I have quite missed the sound of your voice.”
He thinks back, the way Jim spoke, the way he smiled at him when he entered the bridge. The words spoken softly with only distant stars as witnesses to the privacy of their chess games. “I meant what I said.” Spock finds himself speaking. This time allowing his hand to reach out and cover Jim’s. Soft background emotional transference making itself known. It’s almost calming, Spock notes, “Emotions of this nature have never been a strong suit for me, Jim.” he speaks, he takes a deep breath, trying to steady the pounding in his side and the traces of anxiety that had made a home inside of him. “I love you, Jim.” He confesses once more. He wants to say more, wants to tell Jim everything, every emotion that he made him feel. “I need…” he drifts off, the sound of soft footsteps behind him but he knows it’s no threat to him, no threat to Jim. So he continues, not caring if the world finds out at this point. “I need you to come back to me.” Spock confesses, the words catching in his throat as he squeezes Jim’s hand. “Please.” he can’t help but add on. It’s logical to miss the sun.
He wonders how much longer the figure behind him will allow him to continue; he finds that he doesn’t quite care as long as he can stay next to Jim. He wants to speak more, to find solace in words that won’t receive a reply, but there must be work to be done. So instead, he speaks to the person behind him. “You do not need to hover, Doctor McCoy.” Spock says, his hand retreating from the warmth of Jim’s flesh.
The doctor steps forward, awkwardly standing next to Spock as silence fills the room. “I had no idea, Spock.” He says, and Spock doesn’t need to ask him to elaborate but McCoy does anyways. “I knew he liked you, but he was convinced you didn’t feel the same.” he tells him. “I heard what he said to you.” The conversation is awkward and feels almost forced.
“He was incorrect in his assumptions.” Spock replies, his hands clasping behind his back, his gaze never leaving Jim’s. Looking for any sign of alertness, any possible movement that would ease Spock’s troubled mind. “I care for him very deeply.” He does not care much for idle conversation.
So, McCoy doesn’t respond, instead moving closer to Jim and running the scanner over him and observing the readouts. “He’s got a spike in brain activity.” McCoy says, looking up at Spock with a soft smile, “That’s good, Spock.” he tells him, and Spock finds that his relief is monumental.
McCoy continues, his attention turning back to Jim, “Why don’t you step out for a moment.” he suggests, it's not a question but more of a simple commanded request. And Spock hesitates. “He’ll be fine. I have to do some things.” McCoy continues and it clicks in the back of Spock’s mind that it’s not in malice but in patient privacy regulations.
“Of course.” Spock responds, standing up and looking at Jim one last time. McCoy takes the hint and turns his attention away from him, staring instead at the bio readout on the machine next to him. Spock takes a moment, his hand reaching out and softly trailing his touch down the side of Jim’s cheek. He can’t help but feel relief flood through him when the soft waves of Jim’s mind brushes against his. His hand retreats and he takes another moment to drink in the sight of how peaceful Jim looks against the white of the sheets. And he allows himself to turn around and walk towards the door.
He can hear McCoy mumbling, talking to Jim just as he was. The minutes tick by feeling like a lifetime to Spock until McCoy opens the door. “He’s waking up.” he announces, and Spock rushes past him to return to the seat next to Jim. McCoy follows, continuing with his scans. Jim’s hair is clean and a new gown adorns his body. And Spock understands in the back of his mind why McCoy asked him to leave.
Spock can’t seem to step closer, observing from afar the way Jim’s eyes are twitching. And he pleads to the stars to let him see that dazzling blue once more. He wants to close the distance between them, to lay his hands upon Jim’s face and dive into his mind and rescue him from the tangle of unconsciousness. He wants some tangible proof that’s not just pixels on the screen showing him the Jim is well. He wants to see it physically.
And he gets his wish, Jim’s eyes open all of a sudden, blinking rapidly under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital room. And Spock has never felt, or even allowed, his brain to feel this overwhelming amount of happiness that he feels in this moment. The relief seizing his body from the tension he had not known had occupied his mind and body.
“Don’t be so melodramatic.” McCoy spoke with a raised eyebrow and a growl in his voice as he leaned over to look at Jim, “You were barely dead.” There's a pause as McCoy let’s him process. The effects of Khan’s blood were unknown and McCoy would be damned if he let himself overlook any detail of Jim’s mental and physical health just because the patient was his best friend. He took another second, watching the readouts and then continued, “The transfusion really took its toll. You were out cold for two weeks.”
Jim squinted, “Transfusion?” He spoke, his voice rough from weeks of disuse, but to Spock it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He watched as McCoy continued to talk. Discussing with Jim the events that had unfolded and how they used Khan’s blood to save him.
“Your cells were heavily irradiated. We had no choice.” Bones replied. That’s right, he was in the radiation chamber. He died. Right? Thoughts and words are still like the static of an ion storm running rampant in his mind. Incapable of anything until it passes.
“Khan?” Jim asked, despite already knowing the answer. His mind is still fuzzy, still trying to piece together the events leading up after he realigned the core. Spock, sitting on the ground with him as they spoke. And Jim told him he loved him. He heard Spock’s voice, it felt so far away. Straining his ears to listen. “I love you.” Spock had responded, and then the world went black. He remembers the moment of happiness he felt before nothing. He had lived out a lifetime in those few seconds. Seconds where, maybe, just maybe, they were happy. And they were together.
“Once we caught him, I synthesized a serum from his super blood. Tell me, are you feeling, uh…homicidal, power-mad, despotic?” Bones asked and Jim couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips.
“No more than usual” Jim replied, his breathing finally evening out as the monitors adjusted accordingly. Spock glanced over the numbers, storing the data to add to his ever increasing history of vital statistics from Jim. His blood pressure was slightly hypertensive but it did not seem to be of the doctors current focus at the moment.
“How did you catch him?” Jim asked, his eyes drooping slightly, his words still slurring together. There was now a pounding headache, rattling his skull and liquefying his brain.
“I didn’t.” McCoy replied, moving out of the way to reveal Spock standing behind him. He allowed himself to approach, forcing his legs to close the distance between their bodies once more.
“You saved my life?” Jim asked, his features soft as he gazed at Spock. He honestly thought he would never get to see Spock again. And in that moment it felt like time itself had stopped as he allowed himself to bask in knowledge that Spock was here. Of all the places he could be at this time, he chose to be here. Here when he woke up. And the romantic part of himself couldn’t help but fall further in love with the Vulcan.
“Well, Uhura and I had something to do with it too, ya know.” McCoy replied with a grin. Jim rolled his eyes and Spock didn’t realize he missed that emotional response from the captain. He steeled his nerves, swallowing down the lump that had formed in his throat since Jim first opened his eyes.
“You saved my life, Captain.” he replied, and he hoped his voice wasn't as unsteady as he was. That his lips didn’t tremble like his legs. “And the lives of countless others-”
“Spock.” Jim cut him off, and there had never been a moment where Spock didn’t secretly love those rude interruptions. “Thank you.” he continued, his voice softer and Spock couldn’t help but let the small smile grace his lips, only for Jim to bear witness to.
“You are welcome, Jim.” He replied, the two looking at each other, not quite sure as to how to continue. The noise of various machines filling the silence that surrounded them.
“I gotta head on to the next patient,” McCoy replied, pocketing his equipment before placing a hand on Jim’s shoulder, “I’ll swing by in about an hour.” He promised. Waiting for Jim to nod his head before the doctor made his escape.
“I feel as if I should take my leave as well, Captain.” Spock spoke, “I’m sure you wish to rest and-” Jim cut him off once more, his hand rushing out to tug on the fabric of Spock’s shirt.
“Don’t.” Jim spoke, his eyes shining once more. “Please.” he requested, his gaze drifting to the empty chair that Spock had practically lived in for the last two weeks. And so Spock sat, Jim’s grip releasing from Spock’s shirt but still, the Vulcan felt the pull to be closer to him. He wanted to reach out, reach out like he had done in all the prior days. He wanted to reach out and hold Jim’s hand in a manner that was only selfish to himself. But he restrained.
Jim continued, looking up at the ceiling as he spoke, “What I said. What you said.” He tried, his words forming and bleeding into each other as he struggled to straighten the mess of his mind. “I.” he paused, his mouth gone dry and he struggled to swallow down what little saliva he had.
“Here.” Spock spoke, reaching for his own cup that he had been using that day. Despite the caution of germs and contaminations that might be present, Spock found he didn’t quite care as he held it out to Jim. Two fingers holding the straw still and he struggled to remember how to breathe when Jim’s lips wrapped around the metal straw.
“Thanks.” Jim replied, watching Spock return the cup to its original home. They were quiet until Jim continued, “I mean it.” he spoke, his voice firm, his head nodding as if he had to convince himself of the fact. “What I said.” Jim’s brain still feels fuzzy, but he knows if he doesn’t acknowledge it now, he may never. “I just. I wanted you to know... “ his words drifting off and his pulse spiking slightly. His own body betraying him as he attempted to act like Spock’s response wasn’t crucial to his very existence.
“And I as well.” Spock replied, Kaadith. He told himself, before reaching over and softly grabbing Jim’s hand. The human looking at him awe struck and then down to their joined hands. “I have had much time to reflect upon the words spoken at our last conversation.” He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘before his death’. So he had labeled it their last conversation, somehow both better and far worse.
“Spock, you don't…” Jim spoke, unshed tears that he held back and it was Spock’s turn to interrupt him.
“It was those moments that solidified the knowledge of my affections towards you. When I felt friendship in the past for you, I was ashamed to think of the word with the knowledge that what I wanted was far more intimate than simply companionship. And it was an epiphany to my person when I realized that to lose you would be equivalent to losing a piece of my soul.” He let the words hang in the open, unsure of how they would play out. He spoke four simple words as if to sum up every emotion inside of him. To condense and compact every part of himself to something that Jim would accept at face value.
“I love you, Jim.” He spoke, and he could cry at the way Jim smiled up at him. His other hand reaching up and gripping once more into the fabric of Spock’s shit. He tugged down and Spock was powerless to deny Jim anything.
“I love you.” Jim replied, his lips parting slightly, his gaze searching for any hint of remorse in Spock’s face. “Will you…that is.” Jim began, stuttering and falling around the words he had no way to interpert. “I mean. Can I... “ he tried again but was cut off by Spock closing the distance of his lips and kissing him softly. Their minds erupt in an explosion of color as Spock’s fingers found Jim’s psi points. Pouring every ounce of love and happiness and relief into the open ocean of their mind. Intent on showing Jim just how much he truly did love him.
Jim pulled him closer and Spock was powerless to stop himself as he all but climbed into the bed with Jim. Jim’s fingers were tangled in Spock’s inky hair as he smiled wider into the kiss. Spock was gentle, so gentle, positioning himself around Jim so that he would not tug on any wayward IV tubing. Jim pulled away, his breathing ragged as he rested his forehead against Spock’’s.
“Say it again.” Jim pleaded, eyes fluttering close as Spock kissed him once more. Lips trailing across his cheek to his ear. Spock’s breath was hot and heavy as their hands joined together once more.
“I love you.” Spock repeated and he could feel the way Jim’s cheeks puffed out when he smiled. He could feel Jim’s pulse beneath his lip as he trailed kisses down his neck. “I love you.” his words echoing, repeating with each kiss along the expanse of his neck. “I love you.”
Jim’s hands cupped Spock’s face, pulling him up so that dazzling blue could meet tranquil brown, gazes soft with tender touches as Jim replied. “I love you, too.” He replied, leaning forward to kiss Spock once more.
There was no rush, no need to be anywhere other than in the embrace of the other. And if McCoy came back and found them asleep, then he would just deny that he was the one who took a photo of the two of them and sent it to the group chat with only the caption of “fucking finally.”
Spock was at peace for the first time in quite some time. For once he didn’t have to wrestle with logic and emotions, he could have both. Because it was quite logical to love Jim Kirk. And it was quite logical to be loved by Jim Kirk.
And it was logical that they were in love.