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Spock lay on the threadbare bed in the little 20th century flop. He looked across the small space to Jim's bed. Jim's back was to him. Spock focused on the rise and fall of his form as he breathed, hoping it would ease him to sleep.
Spock, I believe I'm in love with Edith Keeler...
Spock closed his eyes and looked away from his captain. His friend. He could not know he was anything more. Spock replayed the memory of a week ago, when Jim had walked into his cabin, sat down across from him, and let him into his mind.
Jim was his t'hy'la. He was sure he felt it. The way they fit so seamlessly together was a sense of home like Spock had never known. And it terrified him. Vulcan emotions without the discipline of logic were passionate. What Spock felt when he looked at Jim was the most passionate thing he'd ever felt. Especially since he'd been in Jim's mind. Knowing him so completely had just made Spock love him more. Love. The word had never applied to any relationship Spock had ever had before. But Spock couldn't deny anymore that that was what he felt. By the way Jim's mind reacted to his, it seemed like he was falling in love too. But Jim was his captain, and if Spock wanted him to remain so, regulations stipulated that they could not get involved. Not to mention his duty to T'Pring and both their families.
But as he looked back over at his captain, and Jim rolled in bed facing him, his soft lashes lowered in an uncomfortable sleep, Spock felt the pull of his heart and knew that he had a monumental battle ahead of him in resisting these temptations.
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After they set the timeline right and returned to the Enterprise, the mood was tense. Jim and Dr. McCoy wouldn't even look at each other. This made things awkward when they and Spock boarded the turbolift at the same time.
Spock's gaze flitted between Jim and the man he called Bones. They both stared straight ahead until the lift opened and Dr. McCoy walked out. For a moment, he stopped and it looked like he was going to turn back and say something, but then he continued walking toward sickbay without turning back.
When the lift doors closed again and started toward the bridge, Jim turned to Spock. "If Bones could understand why we had to let her die... No it wouldn't make it any easier. He wouldn't want an explanation from me right now anyway. I'm responsible for her death."
Spock looked at the way his captain's emotions creased his brow and it pained him.
"Will you talk to him?" Jim asked.
At first Spock wasn't sure he'd heard Jim correctly. The question was illogical, considering Dr. McCoy's evident distaste for his company. "Captain, however displeased Dr. McCoy is with your actions, I still believe he would take the information better from you than me."
Jim smiled lightly, though his sadness shown through. "He likes you, really," he said. "He's all guff."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I would not belabor the point," said Spock, "but it is most illogical to talk to someone you like the way he talks to me."
The lift doors opened and Jim clapped Spock on the shoulder. Spock's heart jumped at the contact. "Mr. Spock," said Jim, "When dealing with Bones, you just have to keep in mind that he's probably the most illogical human you'll ever meet."
"Indeed," said Spock in complete agreement.
Before the lift doors closed, Jim smiled at him and said, "Just take everything he says with a grain of salt."
The doors closed, leaving Spock in the lift, headed back down to sickbay. "Salt?" Spock muttered to himself.
Nurse Chapel said that Dr. McCoy had returned to his quarters after she'd medically cleared him.
"Come," said McCoy when Spock rang the bell.
When the door opened, Spock saw McCoy lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. "Doctor McCoy. How are you feeling?"
McCoy's eyes landed on Spock and he wasn't sure what he saw there. It was a new look and whatever it was brought a depressing darkness to those piercing blue eyes. "What do you want, Spock?"
"An answer to the question will suffice," said Spock.
McCoy huffed. "How am I feeling?" he muttered to himself. Then he sat up on the bed and twisted to sit on the edge. "Well, I went mad and I got a good woman killed."
Spock stepped into the room and approached Dr. McCoy. "Incorrect, Doctor. You were not 'mad' as in the ancient clinical definition of the term. You were under the influence of a drug administered through no fault of your own. And you did not get Edith Keeler killed."
McCoy stood suddenly and was right in front of Spock, his breath hot on Spock's face as he shouted. "The hell I didn't! She was two inches away from my reach when she stepped off the curb! I could have saved her if Jim hadn't held me back!"
Spock, keeping his composure, asked, "Do you understand why he did it?"
McCoy sighed, deflated. "I'm sure you're gonna tell me it has something to do with the timeline."
"Correct," said Spock.
"But she saved me," said McCoy. "I would've be been dead in the street if it weren't for that angel."
"It was her angelic nature that would have allowed one of histories greatest devils to rise."
"And that's why it was logical for her do die?" McCoy asked venomously.
Spock shook his head. "No," he said truthfully. "It was cruel in the extreme. But the future we know would have disappeared if she had lived, and us along with it. What we did was for the preservation of our reality, but that does not make it logical. Just necessary. And very regrettable."
The corner of McCoy's mouth lifted up. "Careful Spock, you almost sound like you're having an emotion."
Taking a breath, Spock decided to be bold and say something honest. "I think you underestimate me, Doctor," he said with the heavy implication of emotion.
McCoy's eyes widened and the depression in them lifted leaving that clear blue that always made Spock so uneasy. How did they look like they were looking right through him and yet stay blind to all he really was inside?
McCoy sighed and sat back down. They were both silent for a moment, then McCoy said. "Jim was in love with her, wasn't he?"
The question was like an arrow in Spock's heart. "Yes," he answered. "It seems to happen to him frequently."
McCoy chuckled. "Yeah, he's always been like that. He's an old romantic. Trouble is, he always needs to be on the move. What he really needs is someone who can travel the stars with him. God knows he'll never settle down otherwise."
The twinge of unrealistic hope that rose in Spock's chest at the prospect of being that person was downright shameful to him.
"At least he'll always have us, right?" said McCoy, smiling at Spock, oblivious to his feelings.
"Yes," said Spock, with a dry swallow. "He has us. Always."
~ END ~