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The corridors were dim and quiet as Kirk made his way to Spock’s cabin.
“Captain,” Spock said softly, “come in.”
His first officer must be surprised to see him at this late hour, but his face didn’t show it. Jim was relieved to see that he was still in his uniform. He slipped into the familiar red glow and Spock offered him one of his desk chairs while he remained standing. He waited for his captain to start the conversation.
“You weren’t sleeping?” Jim asked.
“No.”
“Meditating?”
“No,” but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
Two crewmen had lost their lives today on a disastrous shuttlecraft mission, a mission commanded by Spock. The captain had been formally debriefed, but perhaps he was here for a more thorough and discreet accounting of events.
“Spock,” Jim began, “I’m sorry I put you in that position.”
“Command?”
“No.” Jim looked bewildered, then his brow furrowed. “I shouldn’t have sent you out there without a decent cushion of time in which to mount a rescue if something went wrong. Commissioner Ferris was right about that; it was poor judgment.”
Spock had expected his poor judgment to be the topic of discussion. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow which the captain mistook for agreement.
“I just finished the official letters to the families of Gaetano, Latimer, and O’Neill,” Kirk said, “and I talked to Dr. M’Benga on the way over here; Immamura’s lacerations are healing and Kelowitz has been released from Sickbay already.”
Spock nodded. “I scheduled services for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you.”
Jim looked at his executive officer with appreciation. Spock had resumed his administrative duties minutes after his rescue. And a few hours after that, we were all teasing him, Jim thought. The ribbing had felt good, familiar and comforting. Spock was safe… and stubbornly refusing to admit that jettisoning the Galileo’s fuel supply and igniting it had been an emotional act of desperation.
The bridge crew all had a good laugh at Spock’s expense. Jim even joked that he should dock his pay for burning up a shuttlecraft. Then, Scotty told him privately how antagonistic and disrespectful Mr. Boma had been to Spock, something his first officer had left out of the mission debriefing.
“Scotty told me Mr. Boma crossed the line,” Jim said. “He’s on report for insubordination.”
Spock stiffened.
“Do you want to tell me more about what happened?” Jim asked gently. “Sit down.”
Spock slowly took a chair beside Kirk. He hadn’t meant to tell a lie of omission during the debrief, but it was a source of shame for him that he couldn’t command the same respect the crew gave the captain. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it.
“At every juncture I made logical decisions based on the facts available,” Spock began, “yet two men died and I incurred the resentment of the crew.”
“Things got heated with Boma?”
“Yes… and Dr. McCoy,” Spock reluctantly added for truth’s sake.
A flash of anger crossed Kirk’s face. Damn it, Bones. The doctor could harangue Spock at the most inopportune times.
“I’m sorry Bones didn’t support you,” Jim offered as though the doctor’s behavior were his personal responsibility. “Tempers must have been running pretty hot after Latimer took that spear,” Kirk guessed.
“Indeed,” Spock confirmed.
“I hope you didn’t feel pressured to do anything against your better judgment.” Jim wasn’t sure how to interpret Spock’s expression.
“I let them persuade me to bury Gaetano and Latimer. That was unwise given the circumstances.”
“Then why did you agree to it?”
Why had he done it? To prove his compassion? To quell the crew’s rising anger? Or because Boma’s hostility had made him feel like a bullied five-year-old?
“I judged that we had a window of ten minutes to safely accomplish the burials. They took fifteen. We were attacked and barely made it back inside the shuttlecraft.”
“That’s when you hurt your leg?”
Spock didn’t think Jim had noticed the slight limp. He nodded. “The creatures tossed large boulders like they were pebbles. One of them hit me.”
“Go see Dr. McCoy about it in the morning.”
“Yes, Sir,” Spock replied automatically. It was too late at night for arguments. The day had been an awful one and Spock’s mind was heavy with the weight of his unalterable choices. Obeying Jim’s commands was comfortable; giving his own commands had been disastrous.
Spock was having trouble meeting his eyes and Jim didn’t like it. He was beginning to regret the playful teasing on the bridge.
He reached forward and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “You saved five people today… three of whom are very important to me personally.”
Spock looked up to see one of Jim’s warm, approving smiles. He didn’t deserve it. How he wanted to blurt out a plea that Jim never again put him in command of a landing party.
He’d never sought command and now, despite what he’d told McCoy about not being frightened of it, he knew it was definitely not for him. He lacked the emotional intelligence that made Jim the leader he was. He had discounted the feelings of his human crew, convinced that he could lead with logic alone. The results had been tragic.
“Logic wasn’t enough,” Spock said.
“It seldom is,” Kirk chuckled. “Your wild gamble sure paid off, though.” Jim shook his head in wonder. “Igniting a stream of dumped fuel…. That was inspired.”
Jim continued to gaze at him and Spock wondered why his friend would be impressed by a poorly-considered, impulse-driven decision. Kirk saw the confusion in his dark eyes.
“It isn’t like you to act rashly. It paid off, but I hope the others didn’t push you into that act of desperation.”
“The idea was mine, and it was not an act of desperation, Captain.”
Kirk raised incredulous eyebrows. “Oh?”
“It was an act of faith… faith in you,” Spock said. He hadn’t wanted to say that in front of the others on the bridge earlier, but it was the truth.
Jim’s heart clenched. Spock gambled on me being there. Gambled his life. Guilt rose in his throat. “I was leaving, Spock. I… I was leaving.”
“At space normal speed. With all sensors turned aft.”
“Still…”
Jim imagined Spock’s ‘flare’ streaking across Taurus II’s atmosphere five minutes later with no one around to see it. He could smell the heat inside the Galileo as it fried its occupants on reentry. He saw Spock trying to die with dignity and not cry out, his last thought being, Jim left me.
“Your faith in me was almost unwarranted,” he told Spock. “I was giving in to Commissioner Ferris’ demands, recalling the Columbus, calling off the search. He had the authority to force me to abandon you and I… I was going to. I was…”
“You were following orders. I knew the odds were slim that the Enterprise would still be in the area.”
“How slim?”
His split-second calculations came back to him. “I estimated 1 in 183.6 with a typical starship captain in command. 1 in 4.5 with you.”
Jim couldn’t help but smile. “Hm, those are pretty good odds.” He looked at his friend and tried to imagine what factors might have gone into Spock’s calculations. His history of bending the rules? His skill with stall tactics? His disdain for pompous bureaucrats? His loyalty? Their friendship?
Spock held Jim’s warm gaze, then Kirk blinked and looked down. “I was leaving, Spock,” he said in a guilty whisper.
“Jim…”
“I was going to deliver Ferris and the medicine to Mockus, borrow two additional shuttlecraft, and hightail it back to Murasaki for an intensive search….”
Kirk imagined finding five charred bodies in a mangled hulk and two graves beside the offloaded equipment from the Galileo. What would he have made of it? Could he have pieced together the story of what happened without any computer records or witnesses?
Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I almost lost you all.”
“You didn’t,” Spock said, gently gripping his upper arm.
Jim smiled. “Thanks to you and your good gamble. Now that you’ve explained to me how calculated and logical it was, I feel a bit bad for teasing you on the bridge.”
A quick wink made it clear to Spock that he was still being teased.
“You know we always mean it kindly, Spock.”
“Then, you won’t be ‘docking my pay’ for the destruction of the Galileo?”
Jim chuckled, as Spock intended. “No.”
“It does seem to fascinate everyone when I act out of passion instead of logic,” Spock mused.
“Are you admitting that you…”
“No, Sir.”
Jim laughed. “It’s human nature to poke fun at someone for the things that bother them the most, even friends. Especially friends. They all love you, Spock. You do know that, don’t you?”
Spock looked perplexed, and it was Jim’s turn to squeeze his arm.
“When you show your human side, we feel closer to you. You don’t have to keep it under wraps so much of the time.”
Spock frowned. “It can overwhelm me, jeopardize my discipline.”
“I know you struggle,” Jim offered. He thought of Boma and how Spock had not known how to handle him. His brilliant first officer who excelled at everything but social skills. Jim looked at him. The pressure his friend had endured today showed on his face. I love you, Spock, Jim thought with a sudden urge to embrace him. But that wouldn’t do. He would no more understand that than he understood Boma’s animosity.
Or would he?
He touched Spock’s hand tentatively. “Spock, friends sometimes hug when they need comfort.”
“Do you need comfort, Captain?”
Hearing those words coming out of Spock’s mouth forced a weary little chuckle out of Jim, but he answered honestly. “Well, yes actually. You almost died today and I…”
Jim’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears and he stood up blinking, embarrassed and wanting to flee. But before he could, Spock sprang up and gathered him into his arms, holding him tightly. It felt better than Jim could have imagined, and he melted into Spock’s chest. Blue velour soaked up his tears and heat bled into his muscles. Spock’s encircling arms were tender and protective, like Jim thought they would be, and a contented sigh escaped his lips. After several seconds, the Vulcan showed no signs of wanting to end the hug, so Jim started sliding his hands up and down Spock’s back and his friend did the same.
After a minute or two, their hands stilled and they just stood in the silence and the red glow of Spock’s quarters, listening to each other breathe. Spock kept Jim pressed tightly to his chest as Jim tried to match his strength. I love you, Captain, Spock allowed himself to think. In the privacy of his own mind, he acknowledged how profoundly comforting it was to be in Jim’s embrace. Oh, to be in his mind as well…. No, he wouldn’t let himself long for something that couldn’t be.
Eventually, Jim sniffled and released him to wipe at his eyes and nose. “You think having a human half is hard, try having two,” Kirk joked as an explanation for the tears.
Spock rewarded his humor with an almost-smile. He knew his captain also possessed a tender heart that could overwhelm him as well if not kept in check. It was late and they both needed rest.
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Jim said as he backed away toward the door. “You see Bones about that leg in the morning… then meet me for breakfast?” Jim raised his eyebrows in that endearing way he had.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Goodnight, Spock,” Jim said fondly and slipped out.
Spock stood still, touching the damp spot near his collar and staring at the door. He wondered if he’d provided the comfort his captain sought. He knew he was terrible at it. That was Dr. McCoy’s area.
He and Jim had never embraced like that before. The captain was a physical person and Spock had grown accustomed to his touch: a slap on the back, a shoulder-nudge, a gentle elbow squeeze of concern, or an arm draped around him in moments of camaraderie… but never in the course of their friendship had Jim held him tightly to his chest and stroked his back.
As he dressed for bed, Spock’s Vulcan mind wanted to analyze every factor that had made the hug so soothing, examine each element to understand how it had calmed his nervous system so completely, but his human side just wanted to lie in the dark and remember how it felt.
As he drifted off to sleep, his human side was winning.
~ the end