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The distinctive sound of crockery landing on a tiled floor emanated from the kitchen. As Spock rose to check on the damage, he heard a resounding "Damn it all to hell." Proceeding with caution, he rounded the corner to find his bondmate of seven years kneeling over a broken teapot.
"I'm sorry-"
"It is of no consequence."
"Spock, it was your mother's."
As Jim gathered up a few of the larger pieces, he said, "We can put it back together." "Jim," Spock replied as he moved past him to get the sweeper, "Please do not concern yourself." He gathered up the remnants of the past and placed them in the bin.
Jim lay his hands on the counter and shook his head. "It must have been right on the edge of the shelf. I turned, and it was on the floor." Spock knew that the pot had rested precisely where he had put it when they first moved to the apartment six months ago, but he realized that saying so would only exacerbate the situation. Silently, he returned the sweeper to its place.
Jim had been irritable for the last two weeks. When Spock questioned him, he simply shrugged it off, complaining that the current supply chain disruption caused by a skirmish in the Orion sector had made his job increasingly difficult. After their final mission on the Enterprise, Starfleet had once again promoted James T. Kirk to Admiral and set him to work problem solving from behind a desk. They had appealed to Jim’s vanity, stating that he could make a real difference. So once again, he found himself in Operations, but was longing for the stars.
Spock glanced at Jim, who was staring out the window, looking lost. Before he could reassure him, Jim was grabbing his jacket and heading toward the door. "I'm going for a walk." Spock watched him leave. He padded to his room and sat down to meditate. An hour later, he found he was still obsessing over Jim.
Early on in their courtship, which began after their encounter with V'jer, Spock had expressed concerns that a romantic partnership between the two defied logic. While not the playboy of the galaxy rumored by many, Jim Kirk actively enjoyed romance and all that it entailed. Their bond, however, grew despite a lack of physical connection. Jim had said that mind-melding with Spock was all the sex he'd ever need, but it didn't take long before they both realized this was not the case. After long periods of celibacy, Jim would grow increasingly frustrated and irritated. Despite his best efforts, his behavior changed. He snapped, became moody, and often lashed out at his partner.
The first time Jim cheated on Spock, it stung, but Spock noticed that afterward, Jim immediately became the man he had come to admire. His confidence returned. He smiled easily. The universe was once again his to discover. Spock never said a word, and Jim didn't volunteer any information. Their unspoken policy of don't ask; don't tell worked while they were saving the galaxy on a weekly basis.
However, since they had returned to San Francisco, the patterns that had served them well for years were completely upended. In addition to adjusting to a more sedentary life and a desk job, Jim no longer had the opportunities for the brief but sexually charged liaisons he had while commanding the Enterprise. He was restless and bored, a rather dangerous combination for one Jim Kirk. Spock turned the problem over in his mind, calculating his options.
The front door opened and quietly closed. "Spock?" Jim called out. His former first officer rose to greet him. Jim looked at him abashed. "Look, I'm sorry…." Spock put up his hand.
"Explanations are not necessary."
"They never are for you, are they?"
"Did you enjoy your walk?"
"I'm tired. Really tired."
"Then let us retire."
"Sounds like a plan."
Jim slipped out of his jacket. Spock took it from him and hung it up in the front closet. As they got ready for bed, He watched his bondmate carefully. Jim moved more slowly and with less purpose. When they finally settled beneath the sheets, Jim laid his hand lightly on the Vulcan's shoulder. "I don't know what I would do without you." "It is my fervent wish, Jim, that neither of us will know what it is like to be without the other." As Jim turned off the light, Spock solidified his plan.
Spock found a parking spot for the flivver without a problem, an unusual occurrence anywhere in San Francisco and a near impossibility in this upscale neighborhood. He quickly located the correct building, and as he walked up the stairs, he reflected on the wisdom of arriving unannounced. Nonetheless, he pressed the signal without hesitation. The door opened, and he entered a smoke-filled apartment. Darina Micore, the youngest Admiral in Star Fleet, stood over the sink with what appeared to be a failed attempt at dinner. She glared at Spock. "Don't just stand there; open a window." He complied immediately, also opening the patio door for good measure. Darina pressed a series of keys on the wall near the stove. The smoke quickly dissipated. She glanced up at Spock, rapidly assessing the situation. "Well, I'm assuming this isn't business, but I'll bet it isn't pleasure either." She limped to the living room, favoring her left leg as she sat. She tucked a loose strand of blonde curls behind her ear and looked at Spock expectantly. He joined her. "It's about Jim Kirk, isn't it?" Spock nodded, "As always, Admiral, you are perceptive."
"I can't believe you're using my title considering the conversation we're about to have."
"How can you possibly know what I am about to say? I did not believe you capable of telepathy."
"It doesn't take a telepath to figure this one out. Jim's wound up so tight you're worried he might explode.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. Darina smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Attractive with a wry sense of humor, Spock calculated that the success of his current mission would depend on his ability to appeal to the Admiral's sense of adventure. She and Jim were alike in many ways. In addition to being walking disasters in the kitchen, both craved novelty and enjoyed taking risks. Jim had gotten to know Darina Micore when she served on the Enterprise during a joint mission. It was shortly after Jim had been demoted to Captain. Equal in rank, although not in age, the two had an obvious chemistry that Spock had worked hard to ignore. He was unsettled when he learned that she would return to Star Fleet Operations here on earth as Head of Security. Her recent injuries during an away mission precluded an assignment on a starship. Now, however, Spock appreciated the circumstances that brought her back into his Jim's world. He turned to the Admiral and asked, "You have noticed a lapse in his work?"
"No, he's just eating ensigns for lunch and scaring the bejesus out of every lieutenant that crosses his path."
"How did you surmise that his difficulties are personal?"
"I've known Jim Kirk a long time Spock. Things are quiet right now. Oh, sure there's a few hiccups in the Orion sector, but he can handle the trouble with his eyes closed."
Spock shifted in his seat. "I have come to ask…." Spock hesitated. Darina waited. He began again. "I do not wish to be impertinent…." Darina laughed. "Spock the very fact you're here defines impertinent. Hell, showing up at my door takes balls of steel."
Spock schooled his expression and continued; I have noticed a certain… attraction between you." Darina stood, smoothing her pants as she rose and crossed to the bar by the window. The view of the city sparkled in the night sky behind her. Spock had to concede that for a human female, she was attractive and certainly Jim's type. "Can I get you anything?" Spock nodded his assent and joined her. "Brandy." She lifted the lid off a decanter, poured the amber liquid into two glasses, and handed one to Spock. "Here's to mud in your eye." She drank it down. Spock took a sip and placed the glass on the table beside him. "Darina," it came out as barely a whisper. "I can't help him." She softened and asked, "Did you know, all those years ago?" Spock nodded. "God, Spock, I'm sorry. I knew you were close, but at the time, I didn't realize you were together… I assume I wasn't the first or the last." Darina motioned to the sofa; they sat together.
Spock decided it was time to ‘lay his cards on the table.’ "I have always known that I couldn't meet Jim's physical needs. Despite his claims that sex is not a need, simply a desire, he struggles. Over the course of our relationship, I found it necessary to 'turn a blind eye.' Spock stared off into the distance as he spoke. “I am not jealous by nature, and it is important to me Jim Kirk live his best life. No partner can be everything to the other. I have come here to offer an assurance. Should you wish to pursue a physical relationship with the Captain, I would not object. In fact, I would be gratified." Darina looked at him warily. "Spock, he's not a captain anymore." Spock repressed a smile. "He will always be my Captain."
"Wouldn't it be more… logical, if you talked this out?"
"I have made attempts in the past. I calculate the odds of failure for such a discussion at 93.64%."
Darina rose and poured another drink. "There's something you've failed to calculate, Spock. You're giving me permission, as it were, to have a physical relationship with your bondmate. What about an emotional one? What if I fall in love with James T. Kirk, or more to the point, what if he falls for me? Where does that leave your equation?
In fact, Spock had thought about it, laid out the possibilities, and considered every angle. Darina Micore was attractive and curvaceous, but she lacked an essential quality that moved Jim from sexual attraction to love. Spock thought back over the years. He remembered the beautiful Rayna, a creation of Flint's, whose sense of wonder and delight had been irresistible. Miramanee, the Chieftain's daughter from Amarind whose devotion to her new husband had cost her her life. Edith Keeler, intelligent, brave, a visionary, had captured Jim's heart as no other. Each of these women possessed a vulnerability that had entranced his Captain and brought out a devotion and protectiveness that had led to a sense of devastating loss when they died.
Oddly enough, it was Rayna's death that had caused Spock the most turmoil. Regrets were illogical, but grief was necessary. Rayna's death was particularly senseless. Now, Spock had to ask himself if he was playing the same dangerous game as Flint, the man who had been Brahms, DaVinci, and Galileo. It was McCoy who had told Flint that "all emotions are in play." Spock knew he was playing with fire by arranging a liaison between Jim and an old flame. After Rayna's death, Spock violated his own ethical code to assuage his Captain's pain. Without Jim’s permission, he removed the memory of Rayna from his mind in the hopes of bringing him peace. But Spock was so appalled by his own transgression that at the end of their five-year mission, he left for Vulcan without a word to his friend. Intent on purging the turbulent emotions that had led him to such a violation of Jim’s privacy, he undertook the Kolinahr. He wondered if, all these years later, he was making a similar mistake as he did that night in Jim Kirk's quarters.
Darina's voice broke his reverie.
"Where did you go, Mr. Spock?"
"Into the past, Admiral."
"Don't make it a habit."
Spock nodded. "I found your questions provocative. May I ask, are you in danger of falling in love with James Kirk?" Darina walked to the patio that looked out across the bay. Her back was to him, but he could see her features reflected in the glass doors.
"No, Spock. I'm not in love with him. I care about him. He's charming, charismatic, interesting and too smart for his own good, but there's something just a little selfish about your husband that prevents me from giving my heart. Good thing for you."
Spock saw no need to correct the appellation, so he simply murmured, "Indeed."
"I'm not promising you anything, Spock."
"I would not extract such a commitment from you. I would simply propose that should an opportunity for mutual fulfillment arise that you do not abstain on my account."
"Are you always so noble?”
"I am not. Merely practical."
"Right. Well, Spock its late, and if you don't mind, I'm going to forgo dinner and go to bed."
"I will take my leave of you." And without another word, Spock left her apartment.
As Darina watched him go, she wondered, not for the first time, how James T. Kirk had managed to inspire such devotion in a Vulcan.
A week passed. Then two. Spock noted no improvement in Jim's demeanor. Then, 17.5 days after his visit to the Admiral, Spock entered the apartment to find Jim in the kitchen. He was singing off-key and cooking. Spock observed the scene. Every pot, pan, and utensil had been employed in the endeavor.
"Hey, you're home. Come open the wine." Spock complied. He noted that the table was set with all its finery. Spock couldn't help but ask, "are you expecting company?" Jim smiled at him. It was a smile that he reserved only for his bondmate. "Yes, you." He removed the kreyla from the oven. Spock noted there were several Vulcan dishes on the stove. "You have gone to a great deal of trouble." Jim took off his apron, slid back a chair, and motioned for Spock to sit. "It’s little enough to say I'm sorry for being such a dick."
"You have not been…."
"Don't even try. We both know I've been… testy lately, and I'm sorry I took it out on you."
Jim brought dinner to the table. He handed Spock a wrapped box.
"Surely, your behavior has not been sufficiently wayward to warrant a gift."
"Just open it, Spock."
Spock carefully pulled off the ribbon and peered inside. He was astonished at the contents. He carefully reached in and removed his mother's teapot. The cracks were lined with gold. Kintsugi, a Japanese art form, had transformed a simple pot to a work of art.
Jim smiled. "I got it out of the bin and had it repaired. There are a few places where there's more gold than porcelain. Spock, I…"
"Jim, this is very thoughtful. The work is aesthetically pleasing and has rescued the original by transforming it. Jim gazed at him, understanding dawning in his eyes. He swallowed and hoped they could repair the damage he had done to their relationship.
"Spock-
"The kreyla is excellent. You have improved the recipe." Jim decided it wise to follow the change in subject and replied, "Wait till you taste the plomeek soup." Spock raised a spoonful to his lips. He found it palatable. "I fail to understand how you can season it as you find the taste offensive," Spock quipped. Jim feigned dismay, replying, "Offensive is an exaggeration, don’t you think?”
Later that evening, Jim led Spock to the sofa; they sat side by side. Jim turned to him and raised two fingers in the ozh'esta. Spock returned the gesture. "Spock," he whispered, "Meld with me." Without hesitation, the Vulcan moved his hand to his beloved's face. Jim heard him murmur, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts." Their minds joined, tumbling together, two becoming one. Jim opened his heart, allowing Spock to experience his distress over becoming desk-bound, aging, and losing a life of adventure that had been his for so long.
Spock revealed his concern that he, too, was facing loss as his bondmate grew distant because of his own inadequacies. As they came out from the meld, Jim spoke.
"Spock, I never meant to make you feel less than perfect. You are perfect, just as you are."
"I cannot provide you-"
"I've never asked, Spock, and I never will. That's not part of what we are. This," he touched Spock's cheek, "is more than enough."
Spock looked into Jim’s eyes and decided to live with the lie between them. For once, the truth seemed utterly unnecessary. If it took a dalliance with Darina Micore to bring Jim back to him, then so be it. However, even without the meld, Jim was able to read his mind.
"I didn't sleep with her, Spock." Jim was rewarded when two eyebrows shot toward the heavens.
"I do not understand your reference." Spock rejoined quickly. "Liar," Jim smiled as he leaned back into the sofa. "I would have given a year's worth of credits to have been a fly on the wall when you propositioned her." Spock bristled visibly. "In no way did I ‘proposition’ the Admiral. It is difficult to believe she would perpetrate such a blatant falsehood." Jim brushed off his retort. "Oh, she didn’t say a word about whatever deal the two of you made. But she made it pretty clear that she was available, no strings attached. I've known Darina too long to think she would ever make that kind of move if she thought you wouldn't approve. She's not that kind of woman. Therefore, the only logical deduction is you spoke with her.
Spock looked at his former Captain with astonishment. "I see I am – to use the colloquial expression -- rubbing off on you. And yet, you turned her down." Jim laughed at Spock's incredulous expression. "Yes, I turned her down. Although, I do appreciate the effort. It's not everyone who has a Vulcan emissary attempting to solicit an admiral on his behalf. What are the odds?"
Spock didn't hesitate when he replied, "I am troubled to say I am not able to provide an estimate." Jim stood and offered Spock his hands. He took them and rose from the sofa. Jim grasped his shoulders. "Well, now, that's a first. Come on. It's getting late."
They got ready for bed. Always more meticulous in his nightly rituals, Spock found Jim waiting for him under the covers. Spock slipped into bed and turned to Jim, saying, "I am at a loss. You did not receive what you needed from the admiral, yet you seem very much like "your old self." Jim smiled at him and brushed back the Vulcan’s bangs, letting his hand fall to his partner's shoulder. "Oh, now that's where you're wrong. I received exactly what I needed. I was reminded how much I am cherished by a certain stalwart, loyal Vulcan. I don't deserve you, Spock, but I am grateful you're in my life." Jim kissed him gently on the cheek and turned out the light.