Work Text:
Crack!
The screen sparked and winked out of existence, a deep gorge punctured the surface from one corner to another. Spock lifted his closed fist from the data pad, absently feeling pain where the screen had cracked his knuckles wide open. It was no less than he deserved for initiating combat.
He tried to release a steadying breath but peace eluded him; he found his throat dry and scratchy from continued heavy breathing. He had no control.
His quarters were not as silent as they usually were, not with the way his teeth were grinding together, nor with the deep panting breaths he was forced to take. Spock found it impossible to concentrate on peaceful thoughts but the images were overrun too quickly by violence. This rage was tearing him apart.
'I understand that Vulcans have a strong, hidden primal nature. I bet you're a tempest when you're angry.'
Christine truly had no idea, none of them did.
Spock felt something wet trickle between his clenched fists; he lifted the appendage up to inspect the damage - the low light of his quarters doing little to illuminate anything. He needn't have looked, he could smell the blood now. Bright emerald droplets slipped through his fingers and cascaded to the floor, splashing like rain.
'It's good to get mad sometimes.'
Like this Christine? Is this mad enough?
He clasped his other hand to the blood and stalked angrily into the bathroom, rummaging through his storage until he found the dermal regenerator. He left the sink in as much of a mess as the rest of his quarters, he could not find the will to care about his smashed and ruined personal possessions. They had served a purpose - they had allowed him just a moment of release.
'Do not follow me.'
He felt like he was bursting from the insides - like a dying sun waiting to engulf the world in flames.
'I'm warning you back off!'
Christine hadn't listened to him and he had snapped - crushing her fragile human arm beneath his rage. He had just managed to stop his fingers from closing further, exerting more pressure until she caved just like the wall had. Why had she chased after him? He could have seriously hurt her, he still could.
'It doesn't make you weak Spock, it makes you human.'
Spock squeezed his eyes shut, held his hands to his head and bellowed a roar. His mind was tearing itself in two, Vulcan and Human clawing each other to death.
He remembered the feeling of her hands on his face, that calm determination to ease his burden - those brilliant blue held no fear. Spock fell back on that moment, the comfort of her arms going around his neck. Christine had been unwittingly projecting calming thoughts, and he had latched onto them through their touched limbs like a drowning man. He was drowning now, the memory of her scent, the warmth of her embrace the only lifeline that was keeping him afloat.
A chirp.
Spock brought himself out of the memory, his heart continued to gallop faster than he could sustain but his muscles were no longer trembling. The Vulcan headed over to the terminal on his desk, glass and fragments of broken belongings crunched beneath his feet. He paid them no mind.
He was fully intending to turn the machine off - he was not in the right head-space for any contact - but the name of the caller halted his action. Spock's eyebrows drew together and he reread the data to ensure his eyes were not tricking him, but no, he had read right the first time.
He was receiving a message from beyond the grave - from Hemmer.
It was a standard procedure, to set up a prerecorded message and have it sent out if death occurred - Number One must have updated the ship's record.
Spock eyed the blinking light for a moment. He shouldn't listen to the message now, not with his mind being so out of control. The logical thing to do would be to delay until a further date but Spock was not feeling very logical. Curiosity urged him onwards, so he played the recording.
It was audio-only.
"If you are receiving this message then it is because I have met my end. Or the automatic protocol has broken, in which case remind me to fix it immediately."
The warm sound of Hemmer's laughter echoed around the ruined quarters, Spock's lips twitched towards a smile - this time he let them.
"In any case, the former is most likely to be the case which is unfortunate for both our sakes. My promising career in engineering will be at an end, and you will have lost a friend. For that, I am sorry. You and I have shared the same struggle - connecting with others amongst this mostly human crew. Only the persistent and brave have managed to enter our orbits - or perhaps we should call them foolish."
Another chuckle, this one just as gruff as the first.
"I will admit that one or two have surprised me, sneaking under my guard without my noticing. I am sure you have experienced the same. They can be so pesky, can't they? One day you're feared and left alone and the next there's someone at your station waiting to drag you to lunch."
Christine.
Spock knew Hemmer was discussing his unlikely connection to Cadet Uhura but the parallels were uncanny.
"Forgive me, I am rambling which is not a good use of either of our time." A deep sigh vibrated through the speakers, wistful but also admiring. "Time, what a fickle beast. Here I have endless amounts but there with you, it has run dry."
Spock clasped his hands behind his back, needing something to do with them in case his emotions took control. This hadn't been a good idea, after all, Hemmer's words were affecting him greatly.
"It may sound illogical to you, Spock, seeing as I am not yet dead, but I can honestly state that I am at peace with my demise. I have faith that before my end, I will have fulfilled my purpose. I do not fear my death, I say that with all my being."
Spock's gaze dropped to the floor, his limbs suddenly feeling too heavy for him - ridiculous yet it was happening all the same.
"I will admit that my belief makes this recording rather difficult. Death will not take me by surprise so therefore I will say everything I wish to say before I go. I'm sorry to say I have no wisdom to impart, and no groundbreaking theories that I haven't already bored you with in person."
The recording was interrupted by murmuring voices and various beeps and clicks of a monitor being used, Spock realised this was background noise and that Hemmer had most likely recorded this in engineering.
"Duty calls. I cannot leave the engines alone for five minutes without someone misdirecting power, I really should have a word with the academy instructors one of these days."
Spock could hear the grin in his friend's voice - he found that he was also smiling at the engineer's complaints. He would have enjoyed being a fly on the wall in such a conversation, Hemmer did not mince words.
"Farewell, Spock."
The smile dropped; his chest hitched.
"Live long and prosper, my friend."
Green blood trickled from his wrists, where his nails had punctured the skin. It tumbled to the floor, landing with a violent splat.
Drip.
Spock's vision grew blurry; his shoulders dropped.
Drip.
His lungs were cold, icy air circulated through his airways. Spock gasped - breath would not come.
Drip.