Work Text:
“I must congratulate you, S'chn T'gai Spock, on your present choice of company. I always knew that you would find peers worthy of your logical skills and ability to regulate your emotions,” a grey-haired Vulcan woman declared.
Jim felt Spock stiffen besides him. “Thank you, Elder T’Praia. I am gratified that you hold my achievements in such regards. Be assured that my regards for you are just as high.”
By this point, the Starfleet Captain was pretty certain that the two Vulcans he was standing with were, in fact, exchanging thinly-veiled insults rather than polite greetings. The remark about Spock’s chosen company was obviously not meant as a compliment – especially since Bones, now thankfully calmer and chaperoned by Uhura on the other side of the room, had caused the disapproving raise of more than one Vulcan eyebrows with a loud display of his usual grumpiness mere minutes earlier.
The Vulcan woman – T’Praia, Jim reminded himself, intent on committing her name to his memory – pinched her lips and turned towards him. “Captain Kirk,” she said with a curt nod. “I trust that Commander Spock does not fail to meet your human expectations. It is regrettable that you may never know the performances of a person with a full Vulcan heritage, as no such person serves in your organization.” She did not sound like she particularly regretted it. “Still, I suppose that the shortcomings your officer exhibited when he was younger are proving to be less of an issue in an environment better suited to his nature. The Federation’s current educational project could perhaps offer similar opportunities to a few of our underachieving students who struggle to meet true Vulcan standards.”
It took Jim a few seconds to fully process everything the old woman was implying, but when he did, he had to apply a great deal of restraint to remain polite. “I may be a mere human, but I know an insult when I hear one,” he said coldly. “And I will ask that you stop disparaging the performances of my First Officer immediately. Mr. Spock’s achievements are stellar, and if you fail to recognize this, the fault is entirely yours. He is the best First Officer and second in command I could wish for, and I would certainly not be more satisfied with someone else just because they have more Vulcan blood. As for the Federation’s current project, it is designed to benefit far more than just a few underachieving students, and it will hopefully contribute to shape a generation of young minds that actually embraces diversity, instead of preaching it in abstract while rejecting its living tenants. An attitude I believe you could learn from yourself, Elder T’Praia.”
She gave him a contemptuous look. “You appear angry. There is no need for such a display of emotionalism, Captain Kirk. I was merely stating facts. For the sake of diplomacy, I will ignore your attempt at antagonizing me and bid you goodbye.”
“My attempt at antagonizing her?” Jim repeated as she walked away, fighting an urge to strangle the woman.
But another Vulcan had already approached the Enterprise command team and started greeting Spock. At least this one sounded actually neutral rather than openly condescending. The human scowled at his own thought process – that was putting the bar very low. He hated the idea of his friend having endured this kind of scorn for most of his life.
Jim tried to focus on what the newcomer was saying, but it was pretty boring – the same kind of empty words they had been hearing all day. The Enterprise had been called on Vulcan to take part in a ceremony officializing the planet’s participation in a new Federation project – an ambitious student exchange program. The Captain had tried to question the assignment – a simple ceremony hardly seemed to warrant the presence of Starfleet’s flagship – but it soon became clear that there were more political stakes to this project than first met the eye. A non-negligible faction of the Vulcan High Council was apparently opposed to the idea of welcoming students from other races in any prestigious Vulcan institution, and getting them to sign in on the program had required endless rounds of negotiation. Jim still wasn’t certain he understood half of the conditions that actually went with the implementation of what had unimaginatively been called the Federation Interplanetary Student Exchange Program, or FISEP. But he wasn’t asked to understand – he was there to attract positive attention from the media. Exactly the type of missions he hated.
He tried not to let his relief show as the dull Vulcan who had been going on and on with platitudes about the importance of education finally left him alone with Spock for a minute. Keeping his voice low, Jim inquired, “Can sensitive Vulcan ears get what’s being said on the other end of this room?”
“Negative, Captain. There are too many people in attendance to decipher one specific conversation from such a distance.” Spock looked perfectly poised, as always, but Jim couldn’t help feeling he was tenser than usual.
“Good. So, who’s the old bitch?” the human asked conversationally.
An infinitesimal rise of Spock’s left eyebrow greeted the query, but to Jim’s surprise, his First Officer didn’t object to his choice of epithet. “Elder T’Praia was one of my teachers at the Vulcan Academy for Young Minds.” A beat, and then, “She never held me in high esteem.”
“No kidding,” Jim muttered. “Why, though? Me, I used to make pissing off authority figures into an art form, but you? I can’t really picture you as a rebellious teenager.”
“Indeed, I was not.”
Jim waited, but his friend did not elaborate. “Why, then? It can’t have been your academic performances either, I mean, you’re brilliant, even by Vulcan standards. Why would a teacher dislike you?”
“I believe she found me lacking in other ways.” Yes, Spock was clearly tense.
“I can’t imagine why anyone would find you lacking,” Jim blurted. He immediately blushed upon realizing what he had just said. “Er, I mean…” Was it a trick of the light, or had Spock’s cheeks taken a faint green tinge, too? “So, what’s her problem?” he continued, trying – and most likely failing – to look composed.
“My emotional control was insufficient.”
Jim frowned. “But you were a child, or a teenager – isn’t that just normal? You told me once that mastering one’s emotions was something people had to learn, not something that would come naturally. That’s true even for Vulcans, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Spock admitted. “I did not fully understand it at the time, but I now believe that some of Elder T’Praia’s issues with me were related to my genes more than to my actions.”
“You mean she didn’t like you – still doesn’t, by the sound of it – because you’re part human,” Jim translated. “So, she’s not just an old bitch, she’s a racist old bitch. Isn’t bigotry supposed to be illogical?”
“Bigotry is illogical indeed,” Spock agreed. “However, Elder T’Praia never openly voiced any prejudice.”
The human’s frown deepened. “What? You heard how she was talking earlier! And you just admitted she didn’t like you because of who you are – isn’t that like, the definition of being prejudiced?”
“To my knowledge, she never enunciated any falsehood.”
Jim stared at his friend. “Don’t tell me you believe some of her crap. She might not directly enunciate things or whatever, but come on, her bit on ‘the performances of an officer with full Vulcan blood’? If that’s not bigoted, I don’t know what is! Also, I notice you didn’t object to me calling her an old bitch. Nor did you try to pretend you didn’t know who I was talking about.”
Definitely not a trick of the light, this time – Spock’s cheeks were distinctively taking a greener hue. “Vulcans do not pretend,” he said, to which Jim raised a skeptical eyebrow in a (hopefully) passable imitation of his First Officer.
Spock relented. “I must confess that the memories of my interactions with Professor T’Praia are not ones I regard with much fondness, and I may have allowed old impressions to influence our present conversation. Please accept my apologies.”
“Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that!” Jim protested. If he was honest with himself, he was starting to worry a little. Spock was reacting very strongly to that woman. Too strongly. He would probably refuse to admit it, but it was clear that the negative opinions voiced by that teacher had hurt the young half-Vulcan. And still had an impact, even today.
They were in the middle of a room full of Vulcans, though – a place where, even more than anywhere else, Spock would likely consider any expression of emotion on his part a shameful failure. Jim could not press the subject. But he silently promised himself to raise it again later, when it would be just the two of them.
Before that, Jim still had one thing to add. “Actually, I might be the one who owes you an apology.” He bit his lip. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you, earlier, with the way I reacted to her taunts. I’m sorry if I didn’t do the right thing, maybe there was a more, you know, logical course of action, but–”
“No apology is necessary,” Spock replied. “Your reaction was… something of a novel experience for me, but not an unpleasant one. Elder T’Praia has expressed similar opinions in the past; however, today marks the first time I heard someone voicing a disagreement.”
The human stared at him. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Vulcans do not joke.”
“Fucking hell, Spock… You mean no one ever defended you before? Not a friend, not another teacher? What about your parents?”
“I have never witnessed an interaction between Elder T’Praia and my parents, although I am aware that she and my father are well-acquainted. As for other teachers or students, I do not believe they ever had a logical reason to disagree with one of her assessments.”
The delivery was neutral, as always, and Spock seemed truly unperturbed by what he was saying. Jim had to fight very hard against an entirely inappropriate urge to draw his First Officer into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I wish you’d had someone to support you. You deserve to have people standing by your side.”
The declaration seemed to take the Vulcan entirely by surprise, for he had to clear his throat before replying, “Apologizing is illogical, Captain, for you had no part in this situation. But I thank you for your comment, and I wish to state that I am gratified to find myself standing side by side with you on various occasions.”
Jim was not entirely certain how literally his friend had taken the phrase “standing by your side,” and yet Spock’s declaration was still moving him far more than it should have. “Good,” he said gruffly. “Me too. Now let’s go mingle some more. The sooner we’ve spoken to enough people to appear polite, the sooner we can get back to the Enterprise.”
“Agreed.”
x-x-x
“Spock, may I have a word?” Jim asked.
The day had been long, but they were finally back on their beloved ship, and ready to get some rest.
“Of course, Captain.”
“We’re off-duty. It’s Jim. And the subject I wanted to discuss is somewhat… personal.”
Spock raised an eyebrow at that, but invited him to step in his quarters nonetheless.
“This former teacher of yours. The racist one. She hurt you, didn’t she?”
Well that’s not blunt at all. Way to go, Jim. What happened to the carefully-crafted introduction to the subject you were rehearsing earlier? He’s going to clam up completely, deny everything, and you probably won’t ever get another chance to ask about that. Stupid.
And indeed, the Vulcan’s face immediately became entirely blank. “Professor T’Praia never caused me any sort of lasting physical injury,” he said stiffly.
Jim’s eyes widened. This declaration was not the denial he was half-expecting. “That’s… that’s a pretty low bar, Spock. And I’m aware that you Vulcans like to pretend you don’t feel much, but I think we both know there’s more than one way to hurt someone.”
“As I have previously stated, the memories of my interactions with Professor T’Praia are not ones that I care to revisit. Now, if that was all, Captain, I would like to meditate.”
“That’s not all. I was concerned about you, and I still am. As a friend, I don’t want to push, or to cross a boundary or anything, but I’m not so sure that this is only a personal matter anymore. So tell me frankly, Spock: was she abusive? As a Starfleet Captain, I must ask – T’Praia is one of the supervisors of the project the Federation is developing on Vulcan. A project that involves teaching young and potentially vulnerable students. If she is unfit for her role, I have a duty to act accordingly.”
“Her scientific knowledge and professional abilities are undisputed,” Spock declared. The non-answer only reinforced Jim’s worry.
“Knowledgeable and abusive aren’t mutually exclusive,” he retorted. The half-Vulcan remained silent. “Tell me, Spock – if you had a child, would you be comfortable with T’Praia being their teacher? Or if you knew a young hybrid taking part in the Federation’s new exchange project – would you be confident that she would treat them fairly? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t be concerned in either of those cases?”
But Spock did not meet his friend’s eyes. “I find that I cannot,” he finally admitted in a low voice. “However,” he added louder, his tone back to its usual firmness, “there is nothing in our current situation that would necessitate the intervention of a Starfleet Captain. Profes– Elder T’Praia is not a teacher anymore, and has no cause to interact directly with any of the students involved in the exchange program.”
“She could still influence it,” Jim protested, frustrated.
“Indeed, as is within her rights as an Elder, but it is hardly Starfleet’s business.” And hardly your business, either, was left unsaid, but Jim heard it clearly.
“I don’t like the idea of someone so clearly prejudiced having a say in a program that’s supposed to promote diversity and tolerance,” he said sourly. “Even just earlier – she was awful to you! People who look down on you for being half-human shouldn’t be allowed to give an opinion on important matters.”
Spock arched an eyebrow. “If every person who views my human heritage as a hindrance were to be removed from positions of power on Vulcan, I believe that there would not be many people left in our governmental instances. Elder T’Praia’s antagonism is of no consequence, Jim. Do not concern yourself with it.”
It was truly heart-breaking to hear his friend speaking with such detachment of the hostility and prejudice he had been facing for all of his life. And the quiet resignation in his tone – as if Spock simply didn’t believe things could be any different, as if Jim was illogical for suggesting it should be… the human felt a powerful urge to scream at more than a few self-righteous Vulcan bastards. “It had consequences for you!” he objected. “She hurt you, when she was your teacher, didn’t she? I asked if she’d been abusive, and you didn’t deny it.”
The half-Vulcan remained silent for several seconds. “In hindsight,” he finally said, “I suppose that one might find the contents of the private lessons she gave me to be somewhat… objectionable.”
Jim stared at him, a truly horrifying idea worming its way through his brain. “Private lessons?” he repeated, his voice suddenly too high. “That’s not standard on Vulcan, is it? Hell, Spock, did she… were you… did she sexually abuse you?”
The question was met with another arching of his friend’s eyebrow. “Certainly not,” he replied. “It would be entirely illogical for a Vulcan adult to seek sexual gratification with someone who has not yet reached a full sexual maturity.”
“Okay. Illogical. Right. Good,” Jim muttered awkwardly. “I’m not sure sexual predators are usually driven by logic, but I’m really glad she didn’t… you know, do that kind of things to you.” Spock looked utterly perplexed by Jim’s reaction. Were instances of sexual abuse so rare on Vulcan that he couldn’t understood the human’s relief at all? Jim elected not to ask, and did not try to explain his thought process. “So, what was the content of those private lessons, then?” he inquired instead.
Spock did not appear to have heard him. He was staring at a point in the middle distance, and there was something very much resembling shock on his face. “I have refused to think about those events for years,” he said slowly. “I believed that my difficulties in processing those memories were due to my human heritage, and proof of my deficiency in the Vulcan meditative arts.”
“That’s bullshit,” Jim replied angrily.
“I now realize that I was missing an important element in my analysis.”
“Oh?”
“Her private lessons involved the use of a neural simulator. I believe you know of these objects. They can have several uses, and are sometimes part of Vulcan educational programs.”
“Really? That seems a bit extreme,” Jim said, trying not to sound too judgmental. He had only ever heard of neural simulators being used in a military context – it was a powerful tool, designed to make the person who was hooked to it feel as if they were in a completely different environment. Held by someone ill-intentioned, it could be extremely dangerous. The device had originally been created as a training implement for people in dangerous professions, but the few cases Jim had heard of were ones of torture – prisoner of the simulation, the victim would feel pain over and over again, their nervous receptors on fire despite their actual body remaining entirely unharmed.
“You are likely picturing full-range neural simulators,” Spock declared, interrupting his Captain’s thoughts. “However, the ones used in Vulcan schools are not wired to cause pain – in fact, the students are closely monitored to ensure that a simulation ends at the first sign of distress. The purpose of these tools is to allow us to discover environments that are not naturally present on our home planet. They can also sometimes be used to safely test our reactions to potentially dangerous circumstances.”
“Okay, that does sound better,” Jim admitted. “But– wait. You said that T’Praia–”
“I believe she disregarded the proper use of this instrument during our private lessons, yes.”
Jim stared. “You mean she didn’t stop ‘at the first sign of distress’, right?”
“She did not,” Spock admitted. “I had little knowledge of the functioning of such an apparel at the time, but I now realize she must have been using a simulator at full-range.”
Swearing was not something his Vulcan friend usually approved of, but Jim was entirely unable to restrain the impulse. Then, before Spock could comment on his language, he added, “That can’t be legal, right? Please tell me that’s not legal.”
“I cannot say for certain, as I have no knowledge of a precedent for such an action,” the half-Vulcan replied.
“But you must have laws against child abuse, don’t you?”
“Indeed.”
“Then what she did would fall under that category. Okay. So, what’s the plan?”
“The plan?” Spock repeated.
“To expose her, obviously. We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”
“Quite the contrary, Captain, we very much can, for there is nothing to be done. Even if some of Elder T’Praia’s past actions could be considered a form of child endangerment, there is no concrete element to prove any allegation of misconduct. Moreover, the events we were discussing have taken place more than 22.6 years ago and bear no influence on the present. It would be illogical to do anything about it.”
“What? Spock, you can’t be serious. She used a torture device on you, when you were a child! Tell me, if I confided in you about someone hurting me when I was younger, would your reaction also be, ‘meh, that was a long time ago, so that’s okay’?”
“Certainly not, and you are twisting my words, Captain. I do not deny that Elder T’Praia’s actions were reprehensible. However, the fault is partly mine, for I should have recognized at the time that something was amiss, and acted accordingly. Now, having failed to act when it would have been relevant, I must simply accept that the past cannot be changed. Kaiidth, we say in Vulcan. What is, is.”
“Can you even hear yourself? ‘The fault is partly mine’? No, it’s not! You were a fucking child!”
“I was 13.6 Terran years-old when I started my lessons with then-Professor T’Praia. I believe the correct terminology, in Standard, is ‘teenager’.”
“And you think that makes everything better?”
“Perhaps not. But, Captain – Jim – I believe you are unnecessarily agitated by this. I appreciate your willingness to defend me, and I am grateful for it, but I do not need to be defended. While it is true that Elder T’Praia’s private lessons were hardly pleasant, they do not qualify as torture. Your current indignation is likely caused by your vivid imagination, which would have you picturing something far more extreme than what actually took place. The amount of pain she inflicted was minimal.”
Jim clenched his jaw and told himself that Spock had probably not meant to be insulting. It did little to quell his anger, though. “My imagination? Fine! What exactly did she do to you, then?” he asked aggressively. The words were barely out of his mouth that he knew it was entirely the wrong thing to do – forcefully demanding a detailed account of potentially traumatic events was tactless at best, and harmful in basically every other case.
“She put me through various simulations designed to test my emotional control,” the half-Vulcan replied tersely.
“That’s not all. That can’t be all – what made you realize she was using the simulator at full-range?”
“What she did is inconsequential,” Spock replied coldly, “and I see no benefit in continuing this conversation.”
Jim shook his head, angry at himself. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know it was wrong of me to push, and obviously you don’t have to disclose details or anything, but… I’m worried about you. And I don’t care how long it’s been, I still hate that this bitch dared to hurt you.”
Something softened in the Vulcan’s eyes. “Your concern is noted and appreciated, but it is unwarranted.”
Silence stretched for a few seconds. Words were twirling in Jim’s head – this isn’t right, Spock, she can’t just get away with what she did to you – this isn’t right! He wanted to protest, to make Spock see that T’Praia’s actions were inexcusable, but he was starting to realize how uncomfortable – how vulnerable, perhaps – his friend was feeling. The Captain’s anger, no matter how justified, would not help.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly.
“Negative,” his First Officer replied, and despite having expected that response, Jim couldn’t help feeling a sting of disappointment. And possibly a slight spike of apprehension. He felt a mighty need to do something, to make things right; part of him was aware of the naïve character of this impulse, but in the absence of a way to magically make all of Spock’s past hurt disappear, he knew he would gladly settle for an opportunity to comfort his friend. And yet the Vulcan’s dismissal sounded frighteningly like a rejection; Jim knew he might have no more than mere seconds to say something before Spock requested to be left alone and retreated behind his usual barriers. The alien wasn’t one for easily accepting someone else’s support, and Jim himself did not really know how to offer it.
“Would you care for some company, then?” he tried.
Hesitation could be read in Spock’s eyes. But his tone was firm when he answered, “I do not believe that would be wise. My mental shields are presently not as strong as they should be.”
“Right. And you need to meditate.”
Spock nodded. Still, Jim lingered. “Am I really the first person you’ve ever told about that?” he blurted.
The half-Vulcan tensed. “Affirmative,” he said curtly.
Part of Jim wanted to ask why he had never spoken out before, but he knew better. “I am honored by your trust,” he declared simply instead.
A pointed eyebrow arched in reply. “You were instrumental to my remembering of these events.”
The statement was ambiguous, perhaps deliberately so – Jim had an inkling Spock was not particularly grateful that those memories had surfaced. There was something else in that statement, though, something Jim was not sure he understood. "So you had just... forgotten about it? Until now? How does that work?"
"I noticed that remembering my interactions with then- Professor T’Praia was causing me increasing difficulties, and I therefore elected to dispose of the memories. However, when you interrogated me earlier, I thought back of those events I had attempted to rid myself of."
"You elected to... wow. You mean you forgot on purpose? Deliberately? I didn't even know that was possible."
“To my knowledge, human beings do not possess the ability to do such a thing. Vulcans can, but it is ill-advised. The proper course of action would have been to meditate upon those memories in order to properly integrate them.”
"The proper course of action would have been for her not to torture you," Jim replied angrily.
"She did not torture me."
"Close enough. I mean, you’ve had to make yourself forget what she was doing to you, just in order to keep functioning! You realize that’s basically traumatic amnesia, right? She hurt you, Spock! Badly! Stop downplaying it!”
“Your insistence on this matter is illogical, Captain. As I was explaining earlier, those events are long past and cannot be changed. Please remove yourself from my quarters now. I am in need of rest.”
Jim nodded and reluctantly walked away. Spock might think that there was nothing to be done, but his Captain disagreed. The racist old bitch would pay.
x-x-x
The next day brought yet another set of conferences and speeches that seemed to have little purpose but to exaggeratedly extol the qualities of the new exchange program. Jim was bored out of his mind.
The official dinner that followed was not offering much more in terms of entertainment – it was a very formal affair, including ambassadors from several parts of the Federation and members of the Vulcan High Council. Jim and Spock were the only Starfleet representatives in attendance. T’Praia was present, although thankfully separated from them by several other guests. As could be expected, Spock’s parents had also been invited – Ambassador Sarek and his wife were seated almost directly across T’Praia.
All traces of boredom left Jim when he realized he would likely never find a better opportunity to expose her.
He waited for a blank in the conversations around him and spoke loudly. “If I may ask, Advisers, do you intend to include the use of full-range neural simulators in your new training programs?”
“Full-range neural simulators? Evidently not,” Elder Sterik replied, the line of his mouth thinning almost imperceptibly in what Jim was pretty certain was an expression of offense and distaste. “Is it customary among humans to use such a device on children?”
“It is not,” Jim replied, “but I was given cause to assume that it was standard practice in Vulcan schools.”
Every eye turned towards him with varying degrees of shock and anger - or as much shock and anger as Vulcan facial expressions would allow. Lady Amanda was openly frowning, and although Ambassador Sarek was managing to keep a blank face, it was too similar to the look Spock had when trying to hide his wariness for Jim not to recognize it.
“I do not know where you got your information from, Captain Kirk, but I must assure you that this assumption of yours it is entirely erroneous,” Sterik declared haughtily. “The only neural simulators we use are pedagogical ones.”
Jim feigned a light surprise. “Full-range simulations are not standard, then?”
“Captain,” Spock tried to intervene, “I do not believe that this conversation–”
“You see,” Jim continued, refusing to acknowledge his friend’s interruption, “in order to prepare for our current assignment, I read reports on the project and sought additional information on Vulcan schools from our ship’s computers. Having on board of the Enterprise someone who had observed first-hand your educational system, I also decided to diversify my sources by asking my First Officer for a report about his experiences as a schoolboy.”
“Captain, I must insist–”
“Commander, please allow me to continue,” the Starfleet Captain replied in his most forceful voice. “I must admit, Elder Sterik, that I was quite shocked by Mr. Spock’s account of the private lessons Elder T’Praia decided to give him. Repeated use of a neural simulator, at full-range, could be cause for concern already on a fully-formed adult, but on a younger mind, it seems to me that the risks far outweigh any potential benefits. And that’s not even taking into account the ethical aspects of that practice. I wish to be certain that no such exercise is planned in the course of the Federation’s new educational project.”
Several Vulcans actually stood up at that.
“This is insulting–”
“Does Starfleet believe that such disrespectful slander can be allowed? What could–”
“I must excuse myself and retire immediately, those accusations against an Elder–”
Several Vulcans were also speaking at once, which was certainly the least disciplined thing Jim had ever witnessed from members of that ever-logical species.
“I request that everyone stop talking immediately.”
Ambassador Sarek had a deep, commanding voice, and Vulcans were too used to act in a controlled fashion to disobey his order.
“A grave accusation has been issued. I will first reassure the Starfleet representatives in attendance concerning the use of a full-range neural simulator. Until this very moment, I was firmly convinced that no self-respecting Vulcan would ever use such a device on a child. Neural simulators may be of educational value, under certain circumstances, which include careful monitoring and entirely painless settings. However, their use at full-range would be entirely unacceptable on a young and developing mind. If such a thing has occurred, I will personally ensure that it never happens again.”
“I am gratified to hear that, Ambassador,” Jim replied.
“Commander Spock,” Sarek continued, “do you confirm Captain Kirk’s words? Did Elder T’Praia, or anyone, ever submit you to the use of a full-range neural simulator during your formative years?” Nothing in his tone betrayed any emotion, and yet Jim would have sworn, from the tension in the Vulcan’s shoulders and the intensity of his gaze, that he dreaded the answers to his questions.
“Yes and yes,” Spock replied, looking his father straight in the eye. “To this day, I believed that you were aware of that fact. I now see that I was in error. Elder T’Praia told me that you had personally requested that she took a special interest in my education. From this I inferred, incorrectly, it would seem, that her methods had your approval.”
“They did not,” Sarek stated. Jim thought he could see pain and regret in the older Vulcan’s eyes. He wondered if Spock saw it, too.
“Commander Spock is only half-Vulcan,” T’Praia intervened. Her voice and her whole demeanor were dripping with contempt. “He is perfectly capable of lying. And he tried twice to prevent his captain from speaking on this issue – one could easily conclude that he lied to the human earlier and was trying to maintain his deception.”
“I did not lie,” Spock said, and there was true anger in his eyes. “I do not lie, and I would never attempt to deceive my captain. But please, do continue your reasoning, Elder T’Praia. What is your next argument? What benefit do you imagine I could gain from such an egregious lie? Or have you not planned as far, secure in your belief that, as you stated many times in my youth, it would be illogical for me to speak about what you were doing to me, given that no Vulcan would ever listen to any complaint that someone like me could voice against you?”
The silence that followed was so tense Jim felt it like a physical weight on his chest.
It only lasted for a few seconds, though, because before anyone realized it, Spock’s mother had walked to T’Praia and slapped her in the face. “You dirty old bitch,” she growled. “How dare you– you hurt my son! My son!”
“I gave him an education, human,” T’Praia replied haughtily. “I made him strong enough to achieve a relatively successful career in spite of his deficient genes. Something one such as you could never do.”
The ambassador’s wife raised a hand to slap T’Praia again, but the Vulcan caught her wrist. “Aggression is illogical,” she said, her tone superior.
“I’ll show you just how illogical I can be, you absolute–”
“Amanda–” Sarek interjected.
She took a step back and turned towards him. T’Praia released her wrist, looking almost smug.
“She hurt our son, Sarek. If you try to make excuses for her now, I will never forgive you.” The look she gave her husband would have turned lava to ice. “I’ll let you deal with the diplomatic consequences of all this, but believe me, you and I are having a very thorough conversation as soon as you get back.”
Lady Amanda left the room without waiting for an answer.
“I suppose that you see now, Sarek, how misguided you were in your choice of mate?” T’Praia asked, and Jim noted with some surprise her decision to forego the ambassador’s title.
“On the contrary,” Spock’s father replied. There was a thinly-veiled fury in his voice. “I have rarely been so relieved that meeting Amanda prevented me from entering a marital bond with someone as undeserving as you.”
The statement seemed to hurt the old Vulcan woman far more than the slap had, although her expression quickly morphed back into one of contempt. “Ever since you’ve met her, you have been blind to logic,” she declared. “I should not have expected that to change.”
“It seems to me,” Jim intervened, “that Ambassador Sarek is not the one who has been blinded by his emotions, Elder T’Praia. Where’s the logic in hurting a child because you’re jealous of his mother?”
“I do not experience jealousy,” T’Praia furiously replied, “and my actions were entirely logical. S'chn T'gai Spock was lacking in several areas, but my intervention gave him an opportunity to progress.”
“It did not,” Spock stated. “Besides, if your actions were logical, why did you keep them secret?”
“I do not expect you to understand,” she answered haughtily. “I did what was right.”
“Enough!”
Sarek’s forceful voice brought every eye back on him. “I demand that an investigation be opened on Elder T’Praia’s prejudices against my son,” he declared. “And I intend to file an official complaint.”
“That is within your right,” one of the Elders approved. “In the meantime, I believe that this dinner should be adjourned.”
x-x-x
Getting back to the Enterprise was a short and entirely silent affair. Only once they were alone did Spock speak.
"You acted against my explicit wishes, Captain."
Jim tensed. Spock's tone and expression were perfectly blank, giving nothing away. "Yes, I did," the human admitted. "T’Praia deserves to face retribution for what she did to you."
"The decision was not yours to make."
"Wasn't it? If I learn of someone committing a crime, I'm allowed to report it – I have a duty to report it, actually."
"She did not commit a crime." The half-Vulcan was starting to look as angry as his upbringing would allow.
"Yes, she did! Why do you keep downplaying it? You've seen how everyone reacted back there - can't you admit that she hurt you?"
"Perhaps, but you had no right to get involved." Spock's voice was icy.
"Are you seriously mad at me for this?"
"I am in full possession of my mental faculties, Captain."
Jim groaned. "You know exactly what I meant. You're angry with me, or – or resent me or whatever. Actually, no, I'm sticking to my original phrasing - you can't try to tell me that Vulcans don't get angry now, can you? We both know it's a lie. Seems to me that Vulcans are actually pretty good at holding a grudge."
“Yes, I suppose some are. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an experiment to check in the labs.”
Spock turned away and left without waiting for an answer.
x-x-x
The next few days were awkward. Spock was being perfectly professional, of course, but his behavior was just as cold as it had been on the very first days of their acquaintance – perhaps worse.
And Jim was making no effort to lighten the atmosphere. He was angry, too. He had done the right thing – why couldn’t Spock see that? And everything had turned out so well! T’Praia was no longer an Elder in the High Council, and new policies against child abuse were being discussed on Vulcan. Resenting Jim for such a positive outcome was clearly illogical, the human thought, but his attempt at showing as much to Spock had been a complete failure.
He had gone down to sick bay, hoping Bones would be interested in sharing a good bottle of brandy to distract him from his morose thoughts, but the doctor was clearly in a bad mood.
“You need to do something.” Bones had taken an unusually serious tone.
“If this is about my red meat consumption again,” Jim started, half-hoping to deflect whatever was coming into a safe, well-rehearsed argument, “I am doing something. Which is eating it.”
“And your diet’s gonna run you into an early grave, but that’s not what I’m talking about, Jim. You need to do something about Spock.”
The Captain tensed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you? Ever since we’ve come back from Vulcan, the two of you are constantly at each other’s throats.”
“It’s not that bad,” Jim protested feebly.
“It is, and it’s putting everyone on edge.”
“Well if he’d just stop acting like a child and admit I was right, there wouldn’t be a problem,” the blonde replied sullenly.
“Uh uh.” Bones looked distinctively unimpressed. “Are you sure he’s the one acting like a child? What exactly do you think you were so right about?”
“Well, I… it’s kind of private. I’m not sure he’d like knowing I told you about it.”
The doctor stared. “Oh God. Have you two… have you finally realized?”
“Realized what?”
“No, of course not. Nothing, nothing,” Bones muttered. “Blind idiots, the pair of you.”
But Jim wasn’t listening anymore. It’s kind of private, he had said. Yes, their argument concerned something Spock would probably not like Bones to know about. Something vulnerable; painful memories the half-Vulcan had shared with his friend with some difficulties. And what had Jim done with this private display of trust? Gone off and created one of the most public scandals Vulcan had known in years.
“Bones, I’m an idiot.”
“Yup, definitely,” his friend confirmed mercilessly. “So, what have you done this time?”
Jim was already halfway through the door. If the right thing to do involved betraying his friend’s trust… perhaps it was not so right after all.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“To see Spock!”
x-x-x
Requesting entrance into the First Officer’s quarters was not usually a nerve-racking endeavor for the Captain. But it also didn’t usually involve having to apologize to a very dear friend for something he had spent days claiming was the best possible course of action.
“Mr. Spock, can I come in?”
“These are my personal quarters, Captain. If you wish to discuss the ship’s business, I believe one of the conference rooms would be a more appropriate choice.”
Jim steeled himself. “I know. But it’s not about the ship. Spock, I… I believe I owe you an apology.”
The Vulcan arched an eyebrow and gestured to invite Jim in.
“I didn’t think things through, back on Vulcan,” the Captain admitted. “And the results are not as great as I was trying to pretend. Sure, I’m happy about the political changes they’re trying to make, but… I’ve hurt you. And that matters to me. A lot. I thought T’Praia was unforgivable for causing you harm, so… how could I allow myself to do the same thing?”
Jim took a deep breath. “I care about your friendship more than I care about being right. And… I’m not so sure I really was right anymore. I got so obsessed with my ideas of what was fair that I failed to consider what was just in front of me. You… this whole mess with T’Praia, you didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t want anyone to know about it, but you still told me when I asked. You trusted me enough to tell me. I should have realized what it mean for you, but I didn’t, and I… I broke your trust. I hurt you. So I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
Spock was staring at him, his gaze unreadable. The human fought an urge to squirm, or to grab something with which he could fan himself – the temperature in the Vulcan’s personal quarters was, as always, far too hot for Jim’s comfort.
“I accept your apology,” the alien finally said.
“Thank you,” Jim replied softly, feeling as if a huge weight had suddenly been lifted off of his shoulders. “Then, would you, maybe… would you like a game of chess?”
“I would be amenable.”
Jim grinned, and they moved to set the board.
“I’ve missed that,” he admitted after a few minutes of silent playing.
Spock gifted him one of his almost-smiles. “I am also finding satisfaction in the return of this habit,” the half-Vulcan declared, making something warm flutter uncontrollably in his friend’s chest.
“You know, I think one of the reasons I got so invested when you told me about this thing with T’Praia is that I really wanted to show you that I… that I care.” That I care about you, Jim thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the last words out loud. “And, well, clearly that was a miss, but I just… I’d like to be sure you know it.”
A faint blush colored the half-Vulcan’s cheeks. “I am grateful to hear that,” he replied. A few seconds of silence followed. Spock seemed to brace himself. “I have discovered,” he finally continued, “that I also care a great deal about you. Perhaps more than would be entirely appropriate.”
His heart suddenly beating too fast, Jim replied, “I really wouldn’t mind you being inappropriate with me sometimes, Spock.” Slowly, hesitantly, he extended a hand towards his friend’s face, brushing his cheek with his fingers. “Is that okay?” he murmured.
“More than okay, Jim,” Spock whispered. Reverently, the half-Vulcan raised one of his hands to meet Jim’s. When their fingers came in contact, the sensation was almost an electric shock – but an utterly pleasant one.
“Wow,” the human said. “That’s amazing.” This, he felt, was beyond any shadow of doubt the right thing to do. Not an action born out of a questionable notion of moral superiority, but an expression of spontaneity and mutual desire. Of affection. Of… love?
“Indeed.”
The idea that anyone could ever have attempted to hurt the wonderful being in front of Jim was maddening. But, he silently swore to himself, the half-Vulcan would never have to face a threat alone again. From this moment onward, Jim and Spock would stand together.