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Spock stood quietly in the halls, trying to find some kind of composure in himself. Chapel had helped soothe his anger, but now that she was gone along with his rage, all that was left was a large, empty sadness that he couldn’t shake.
Everyone knew that Spock and Hemmer were close, but he doubted anyone save for perhaps Pike knew just how close. They had formed a bond, a link between their minds, and Spock found an immense comfort in the Andorian’s presence on days that he felt too… alien.
But now he was gone. He was gone, and Spock didn’t know what to do - he had no anchor, his mind drifting away in the most frightening way. He couldn’t latch onto Pike, being too human for him to feel comfort in at the moment, and T’Pring was too far away for their bond to be more than just a mild presence in the back of his mind. For the first time in years, Spock felt as if he were in a void, slowly closing in on him.
He should meditate. He should–
“Spock!”
Spock stiffened at the sound of Sam yelling, not trusting himself to turn around and speak.
He heard Sam approach.
“What the hell, leaving in the middle of the fucking funeral? What the hell is wrong with you?”
He was still angry. Spock didn’t blame him.
“Nothing to say? As usual? You’ve got a 404 error up there?” He snarled and Spock felt himself want to curl up.
He knew Sam was grieving. He knew that humans often lashed out when suffering, that it was a logical part of their process. Normally, it would not affect Spock in such a way, but he didn’t have an anchor, not anymore.
“Wasn’t Hemmer your friend? Can’t spare a word for him?”
Words could not describe how much Hemmer meant to him. They were family, brothers. Spock wanted to say something, anything, just to get Sam to stop, but he couldn’t. All his mind could focus on was the gaping wound that Hemmer left. Something so wide that he couldn’t hope to refill it. He needed to focus, needed to be alone.
“Fucking say something!” Sam yelled, and Spock could tell the man was on the verge of tears.
He needed to leave.
“Did he mean nothing to you?”
It was all becoming too much, and Spock hunched in on himself, feeling violently ill.
“Do we all mean nothing to you?! You just–”
Sam was cut off as Spock let out a loud sob, unable to contain himself anymore, collapsing onto the ground. He heard footsteps rushing over to him and curled up as tightly against the wall as he could, feeling cold and trapped, his breathing coming out in short bursts.
“Shit, hey, Spock! I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”
Spock saw Sam reach for him out of the corner of his eye and couldn’t stop himself from jolting away, startling the other man.
“Stop!” Spock sobbed out, his mind going haywire. He didn’t know what was happening, what to do - he just wanted everything to stop .
Hemmer was gone.
Hemmer was gone.
Spock should’ve done something, should have figured out how to get him an antidote, or something, anything . Instead he just stood there while his best friend on the ship…
He didn’t do anything.
He didn’t emote, didn’t react, nothing.
Was Sam right?
“Spock, please, you’re scaring me–”
“What the hell is going on!” Pike’s voice rang out through the hallway, heavy footsteps approaching them.
Spock curled up tighter, desperately trying to find some kind of balance in his mind but only finding static.
“Captain! I’m sorry, I just– I was upset, and I–” Sam stumbled out before Pike cut him off.
“I don’t care - we’ll talk later. Get back to your station, I’ll take care of Spock. Go. ” He ordered, presumably when Sam didn’t move at first.
Sam left and Pike knelt down next to Spock, muttering soft, soothing words, but he couldn’t hear them, his mind rebelling against him so aggressively his vision began to black out at the edges. Pike’s words became more urgent, and Spock tried to respond, but found he didn’t have the breath, and before he realised it, his mind shut down entirely, sending him into blessed darkness and silence.
Spock whimpered softly as he felt himself wake up. He felt marginally better, but the hole in his mind was still there, so very present. He blinked a bit and looked around, finding that he was in sickbay under several blankets, the biobed monitoring his status.
What surprised him, however, was that Sam was sitting by his bedside, looking anxious. He looked up when he noticed Spock was awake and smiled softly.
“Hey there. You had a pretty bad panic attack - the Captain was practically in pieces trying to get you comfortable.”
Spock didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent. Sam shifted uncomfortably.
“I uh, I wanted to apologise. For what I said.”
Spock frowned a little. “There is nothing to apologise for. You were… grieving.” and it was true - he was. Spock had made sure to learn as much as he could about how humans grieved.
“I mean, yes, but still. It wasn’t fair of me to put that on you, to say those things. None of them were true. I think,” Sam ran a hand through his hair, “I was just, coming at you, because you were… there.”
Spock didn’t speak, and Sam continued.
“I’m not apologising because Pike told me to or anything, I just… I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have.” Sam looked at him, looking far more tired and aged than Spock had ever remembered, and he shifted in his bed.
“You’re a good man, Spock. You’re kind, and generous, and I know how much Hemmer meant to you. It wasn’t fair of me to tell you how you should grieve. I’m gonna be better about things in the future, I promise.”
Spock felt his eyes mist up a bit and swallowed. “You… I forgive you.” he replied softly.
Sam nodded and sighed. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about Hemmer. I know how much you two were in each other’s heads. I can’t imagine what losing that must be like, but if there’s anything I can do, that we can do, let us know. The crew loves you, you know.”
They were common platitudes offered during a grieving process, but the words made Spock feel a spark of warmth anyways, and he relished in it.
“Thank you, Sam. For what it is worth, I appreciate your words of kindness.”
Sam smiled softly and reached over to gently pat Spock on the shoulder. The gesture this time felt welcome, and warm.
“M’Benga wants you to stay for the night shift to make sure everything is alright, but I’m sure you’ll be bored out of your mind. I’ve brought my chess stuff though, if you want to play…?” he trailed off, and Spock nodded.
“That… would be most welcome.” He said softly.
As the two played well into the night, the wound in his mind didn’t feel quite so gaping.
He would be alright.