Archive of Our Own ^beta

Spock is of the belief that no mistake is worth making twice. If a mistake is made despite careful calculations, the parameters will have to be adjusted, new calculations will be made, and the outcome will be different than before.

He recalls, before Khan, before Nibiru, the Enterprise docking into orbit around Earth for repairs. All but the skeleton crew was seen off on shore leave, and even the Captain was going. Jim, tightly drawn and shoulders tense, was going back to Earth for reasons he didn’t disclose but cleared with Doctor McCoy, and so Spock nodded at the Captain when he stepped up to him.

“Take care of my ship,” he’d said. “I’ll be back before you know it. Try not to maroon me here even if the urge is overwhelming, alright?”

“Such a course of action would be highly illogical,” Spock had said, which had made Jim grin, probably for reasons Spock really did not want to know.

“Yeah, and we can’t have that, can we?”

“The modulation of your voice indicates a rhetorical question, and as such, I will not dignify it with an answer.”

Jim had laughed, which hadn’t been Spock’s ultimate goal, but he supposed it was not amiss to send the Captain off on a good note. The unhappy lilt around his mouth was enough.

“I’ll see you in four days,” Jim had said, smiling slightly. “Mr. Spock, you have the conn.”

And Spock remembers clearly that Jim left on his own, but returned not four but two point five six days later, accompanied by a black eye and Doctor McCoy, who was scowling even more than usual. Spock did not inquire as to why Jim returned early, because all factors indicated that Jim would not be forthcoming with answers. It would doubtlessly be futile to even attempt. Jim was scarce after that but emerged from his quarters when the rest of the crew beamed back on board, his black eye fading, and he dodged questions with a grin, and so the general consensus at the time indicated a bar fight and that Doctor McCoy had come to take care of him.

Spock remembers this as he watches Jim wake up in sickbay, disoriented with near-death and Khan’s blood, how he smiles when Spock calls him friend.

Doctor McCoy is making minute noises and typing away on a PADD. “Jim, I’m not sure how you manage this – you get superpowered blood and get more allergies in return. I’m pretty sure you got the short end of the stick here.”

Jim groans. “My fucking luck.”

“Your luck is better than most,” Spock says, even though he knows that luck is illogical, that there is no such thing as luck or miracles. The indisputable fact that Jim Kirk is alive and breathing is the result of Khan’s blood and Doctor McCoy’s efforts, however, to Spock it has a certain feel to it that he cannot specify. Perhaps it is indeed luck. A human concept. Jim does so delight in that fact.

“He’s got you there, Jim,” Doctor McCoy says, grinning although it is fragile. Spock was not there to see McCoy’s reaction to finding his friend irradiated to his death, but he can surmise the outcome accurately if Spock’s own reaction is to be accounted for. “But shitty luck or not, it wouldn’t surprise me if you turned out to be allergic to the entire fucking universe.”

“Lucky me,” Jim grumbles around a yawn. He is wearing out fast, his eyes are drooping and Spock does not doubt that McCoy has him sedated pretty heavily.

“Captain, you must rest,” Spock urges. The sight of Jim exhausted, vulnerable and still recovering is eliciting thoughts Spock does not want to dwell on. Jim waves at him, or rather, he flaps an increasingly uncoordinated hand and McCoy escorts Spock out of the room rather unceremoniously.

“He needs rest,” Doctor McCoy says unnecessarily and Spock would point that out but that would be a further waste of time.

*

Jim sleeps as much as fourteen point three hours in a row. Spock sits with him for the last three point one of them, sits by his bedside and keeps vigil.

“I want to court martial Bones,” Jim says, eyes bleary and voice heavy with sleep and continued exhaustion.

“That will prove difficult as I am Acting Captain for the time being,” Spock returns evenly, allows his lips to twitch. “And I believe you are emotionally compromised at the moment.”

“The irony," Jim says, then tilts his head to look out the window. He looks pale and pensive against the white sheets.

It is a logical inquiry, Spock reasons. “Will you be overseeing the repairs of the Enterprise when you are able?”

Jim frowns minutely and says, “I probably should, I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“No, no, no, a million times no, you need rest,” Doctor McCoy says, gruff and stubborn and jaw set to out-stubborn Jim Kirk, which is a feat. "That damn boat will wait until her Captain has finished his repairs.”

There is a huff of a laugh, it sounds well-worn and familiar, and the look Jim throws at Doctor McCoy does suggest it is a rehashed argument.

“Speak nicely of the one and only lady in my life,” Jim chides, still grinning, and Spock feels a bit like an interloper.

“I will take my leave, I trust you will rest, Captain,” Spock says and rises to his feet, stopping when Jim looks up at him and says, “You’re welcome to stay.”

“I think my presence is counterproductive to your continued rest.”

Jim actually rolls his eyes, though Spock thinks that it is a fond maneuver. He is never quite sure where he stands with Jim Kirk, friend or not.

“Yes,” Jim says, dryly, “because a little friendly strangulation and superpowered ego-trippers are everyday occurrences with you. Please stay for a bit, Bones will probably drive me crazy before he’ll let me out of here.”

“And whose fault is that? All my grey hairs? They’re on you, you damn trouble magnet, this is payback,” Doctor McCoy glares and waggles a hypo at Jim, then turns to Spock and his eyes narrow even further. “You, make sure he rests, he’s actually incapable of lying still unless he’s heavily sedated.”

Spock is always gratified to be confirmed in his belief of who he can trust with the Captain’s well-being. “I will endeavor to do so.”

Jim laughs. “I love you, too, Bones, light of my life!”

McCoy retaliates by jamming the most pain-free device in existence into Jim’s neck so it actually hurts. Spock suspects it is glee on McCoy’s face.

“And he wonders why I don’t like him,” Jim says and leans properly back when McCoy has left, even though it seems directly in contrast to what he said while McCoy was in the room. Spock is learning to hear what Humans actually say when they are talking, and more importantly, what they are saying when they are not talking. Jim Kirk has proven him wrong more than once, and maybe it is about time Spock learns from these mistakes.

Adjusts the parameters.

*

It was logical. Khan killed Jim Kirk and so Spock would kill Khan. That was probably one of the most logical conclusions Spock had ever drawn in his life. Additionally, he was not going to repeat the same mistake Jim had made – Spock adjusted the parameters, adjusted the variable of not knowing where Khan’s true intentions lay and to be substituted with the definite of Khan having caused Captain Kirk’s death. The sum of it all was that Spock would kill Khan. That was logic.

Even watching Jim recover in a biobed is not entirely satisfactory, but it will suffice. The itching rage beneath his skin will take time to cool.

“Spock,” Jim says, pleased, when he enters the room. “I didn’t know you’d stop by today.”

That alone had been a reason to come by. “You are not in charge of your social schedule at this moment, but Doctor McCoy assured me you were alone, and he also deduced that my present would be welcome.”

“My release forms?” Jim looks so hopeful that Spock feels his lips twitch.

“Chess,” he offers, holding up the bag he brought.

Jim blinks. Then smiles as he shrugs. “Eh, close enough.”

Spock is not sure how chess can even vaguely substitute release from hospitalization, but Jim Kirk is an illogical human being and Spock is learning to pick his battles. “I see,” he says, which only makes Jim laugh.

“No, you really don’t,” Jim says around a grin and scoots back on the bed to make space for the chess board and sets it up, white facing Spock. “But that’s okay.”

“I assure you, I do not need the advantage of starting the game,” Spock says, holding on to the board and attempting to turn it.

Jim’s grin is slightly dangerous as he stops Spock from moving the board. “Neither do I.”

Spock has remained undefeated in chess for more than eight years although he is quite sure Jim is aware of that fact. “It is no shame admitting to wanting or needing aid.”

To Spock’s surprise, Jim narrows his eyes, smirks and says, “I’m glad you see my point. You should start. Please.”

Spock tells himself he is not surprised that the word please actually exists in Jim Kirk’s vocabulary, but then again, Spock should really not be surprised by anything Jim Kirk says or does. The only predictable characteristic about Jim is that he is always unpredictable. Spock wonders when he will learn that particular lesson, will learn to check the variables as to not make that mistake again.

He moves a pawn, and in the next forty-two point one minutes, Jim demolishes him. Spock did not see it coming.

*

Spock comes back the next day and stops himself from entering when he hears Jim speaking. He admits to a certain kind of masochism to wanting another game of chess, but maybe given the opportunity to observe Jim’s highly unorthodox strategy of seemingly having none at all, Spock would be able to best him. Admittedly, he is not hoping for much.

“ – okay,” Jim is saying. “Bones. Bones.”

“I don’t like it and I damn well don’t have to, either,” Doctor McCoy says. “I’m just saying that there aren’t that many choices right now.”

“I can’t do it,” Jim says, and he sounds so tired despite the fact that Doctor McCoy has reassured Spock that Jim is resting. “I can’t do it. I might as well just throw myself off a cliff if I have to bring them with me.”

Alarmed, Spock knocks on the door. “Hello,” he says, because that is what Humans do.

Jim looks as tired as he sounds. “Hi,” and then he grins. “Ready for a rematch?”

“Indeed,” Spock agrees and looks at Doctor McCoy, who looks about two inches from homicide. Whether or not it would be Jim, Spock is not sure. Measures will have to be implemented if that is the case.

“Fine,” Doctor McCoy huffs, throwing his hands up. “Fine, have it your way. At least tell your First Officer of your glorious plans of avoiding consequences.”

Jim glares right back. “Fine.”

“Fine!”

As McCoy leaves, Jim exhales. “Sorry about getting you caught in the crossfire. God, sometimes I feel like we have all the domestic issues without the perks of fantastic sex. Oh sorry, too much?”

Spock tries to filter that, because he had not been privy to that before. “You and Doctor McCoy are in a relationship without sexual intimacy?”

Jim winces. “No, sorry, that would be – ew, no. No offense to Bones, but, ew. Not happening. He’s. Well. He’s Bones.”

Spock decides to leave it at that. “May I inquire to the nature of your so-called domestic issues?”

Jim visibly hesitates and Spock tries his best to tell himself that he is not hurt by that. He is aware he is not Jim's closest confidante.

Jim shrugs then, smiles a little. “I’m almost ready to be discharged, but Bones doesn’t want me on my own and there’s no room for two people in my apartment, and I will actually kill someone if I have to stay here. And I can’t stay with Bones because he deserves a little bit of peace and quiet after the entire debacle of reviving me and apparently not sleeping at all.”

“To be fair to Doctor McCoy, I do not think he considers it a terrible hardship to give you lodgings,” Spock reasons as he sets up the chess board, watching Jim’s eager eyes. This time, he decides there really is no shame in admitting to needing aid. He picks white and sees Jim's subsequent smile. “I am certain he would sacrifice his sleep if he could be assured of your continued good health.”

“No, I know,” Jim admits, hesitant. “But I don’t want to impose more on him than I have already, plus I know he’s dying to get back to Georgia and see Jo. It’s a bit of a problem.”

“Why not your own home?” He moves a pawn.

Jim shrugs. “Bones seems to be thinking that I can’t be trusted to be left to my own devices. Something about attracting trouble even when I’m dead. Besides, I’m not just saying this, my apartment really is about two times too small for two people, it’s basically a glorified shoebox.”

Spock cannot exactly fault Doctor McCoy for that impression. He watches Jim make his move. “So he stipulates that you need company.”

They play in silence for a while; Spock waits for Jim.

“No, not exactly company, although I think he probably also wants that,” Jim corrects finally, thoughtfully.  “He wants me to go everywhere with a security detail. There’s no way I’m getting any rest and recuperation done with security detail looking over my shoulder every time I as much as think about breathing in the wrong direction. Even one as charming as Cupcake.”

“Perhaps it is counterproductive to insist on addressing Lieutenant Hendorff by Cupcake, as in if you addressed him by rank and name you would enjoy the benefits of a slightly healthier working environment, as well as not minding having him with you outside of work related situations.”

“I somehow really doubt that,” Jim says, shrugging, and moves his rook. “Check. Besides, our working relationship is just fine.”

Spock knows that. Jim is perfectly capable of tending to his working relations in reasonable and constructive ways, and Spock is aware of Lieutenant Hendorff not minding the nickname the slightest besides the token protest. Spock moves a knight to protect his threatened king. He is losing pieces at an alarming rate. “Your moves are illogical.”

“That’s why I’m winning,” Jim reasons serenely and takes a bishop. “Check. So, I think the only option available for me is going to Iowa and stay for a bit, I think that’s the furthest away from San Francisco Bones will allow me to go if I’m not going with him. I’m just really not looking forward to security on my heels. I hate it.”

Spock looks at the chess board with something that would be despair if he admitted he could feel that in relation to chess. He moves his king, knowing it is futile. “I would accompany you if you desired, Captain,” he says. “That would free you from your most obvious security detail, as well as still having protection with you, and I would like to consider myself adequate company for you.”

Jim chokes. “Uh,” he manages, then laughs and corners Spock’s king. “Checkmate. You don’t have to babysit me, Spock, I’m sure you have much, much better things to do than watching me crash in Iowa.”

“Negative,” Spock says as he considers the board. The defeat is no less excruciating than yesterday, though slightly less mortifying because he expected it. Revised calculation: James Kirk plays chess like he does everything else – by being completely unable (or refusing) to conform to people’s expectations. Perhaps it is a Kirkian trait. “On the contrary, I would benefit from doing my job of protecting my Captain.”

Jim frowns at him. “Really.”

“You are my friend.”

Jim narrows his eyes. “Cheap shot.”

Spock concedes the point. He is not above fighting dirty, something Jim taught him, and he really would beneficiate from knowing that Jim was under protection while he was recuperating. Besides, Spock has always known that if he needed something done correctly and as efficiently as possible, he should do it himself. It is a perfectly logical solution.

“It would also allow Doctor McCoy some peace of mind if he were aware of you not being alone. The Enterprise has already mourned her Captain once. It is more than enough.”

That, perhaps, is not the most tactful sentence he has ever spoken to his Captain, but it is true nevertheless, and Jim looks stricken for a moment. Spock irrationally wishes he could take it back – hindsight, new calculations, new parameters. Regret is illogical, however that does not make the wish less urgent.

“Jim, I’m back because it’s your favorite time of the day,” Doctor McCoy says as he raps the door once – why he bothers will continue to mystify Spock for a long time to come, he surmises. Doctor McCoy is rarely bothered by his presence not being entirely wanted when his hands are full of hypos. He nods to Spock. “Commander. Oh, are you kicking his ass?”

Spock frowns. “Negative, Captain Kirk set me checkmate.”

“I was awesome, you missed it,” Jim says, still quiet from Spock’s miscalculation.

“Shame it happens so rarely,” Doctor McCoy says dryly and reads Jim’s charts for a moment. “I know I keep saying this, but I really don’t get how you get more and more allergies as time goes by, you know how many children seem to grow out of their allergies?”

“If you’re suggesting I’m in my second childhood,” Jim says and rolls his eyes, “I’ll just tell you I never left my first.”

"Color me shocked," Doctor McCoy says wryly. "Now, will you approve of the security detail or do I have to make it an order?"

Jim is tense on the bed and Spock is sure he is going to be witnessing another of Jim's so-called domestics unless he intervenes.

"Doctor, if I may," he starts. "I have a suggestion."

*

Jim does not sleep through the night.

In hindsight, this should probably not surprise Spock, but after the very long stretches of sleep and sedation in the medical ward, it appears that Jim is restless. He says goodnight on the first night in the farmhouse in Iowa, but Spock hears him leave his room and wander downstairs mere two point six eight hours later.

Spock is very aware that he does not know the exact protocols for this situation. He had settled on his mat, preparing for meditation, but he finds that it can be postponed.

Downstairs, Jim is holding a cup of coffee, and he looks up when Spock enters the kitchen. Spock does not know what to make of the house: he knows that Jim grew up here, but it does not hold any of the emotions he has come to associate with Jim, and Jim himself does not seem entirely at ease.

"Sorry," Jim rasps, knuckles white around the mug. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Apologies are unnecessary," Spock returns. "I was not asleep."

Jim's smile is tight and thin. He looks down at his mug then up again. "I'm not actually allowed to drink coffee yet."

"I am aware," Spock says but makes no move to remove it as Jim seems disinclined to drink it. To him, it is illogical, but he is well acquainted with humans and their need of stating the obvious. "Are you unable to sleep, Captain? If you cannot find rest, Doctor McCoy has entrusted me with sleeping aid,” Spock informs him quietly and Jim shifts minutely.

It is probably testament to how fatigued Jim is that he is not corrected on the use of his rank and not his name. "Falling asleep isn't the problem," Jim admits.

Not unexpected given the circumstances. "If you will permit it, I will keep you company."

Jim seems relieved and grateful.

*

"Bones thinks I need a hobby," Jim opens with eight point six hours later. He is sprawled on the couch in the living room, knees pulled up and a book balancing on his knees. It is that book which Spock cannot keep his eyes off. Jim blinks. "Oh," he says and holds up the book. "Mom liked the classics?"

Spock has not seen earthbound books since he left Vulcan. "Fascinating," he says even as his fingers twitch to hold it.

"Knock yourself out," Jim says and gestures vaguely to his left, and Spock follows the direction and sees the entire shelving systems filled with books he had only noted briefly when they had arrived. "Some of them are really shitty, fair warning. I think mom went through a phase. Maybe ask me first if it's a good book?"

Spock's lips curl without his consent. "You would know the quality?"

Jim shrugs, entirely unashamed and unapologetic, with a grin hiding behind his hand. "I read them? I had a lot of time and got bored easily. There's literary pornography from the early second millenium. It's wild."

Spock never really feels on equal footing with Jim. "You mean to indicate they are boring."

"Oh, I'll bore you hard," Jim says with a raised eyebrow. He smiles. "Stay away from any and all titles that sound skeevy."

Spock does not ask him to clarify. He thinks he can extrapolate from the first set of spines he sees that is, apparently, a trilogy titled, The Cowboy Princess, The Cowboy Princess Rides Again and the last one (that makes Jim howl with laughter when Spock reads it out loud for him) Stable Boys and Studs Under Open Skies.

"That one is a masterpiece," Jim says with a valiant attempt at not laughing. "Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

Despite Jim's promise to bore him hard, Spock is reasonably certain that he will not be bored in Iowa.

*

Spock is answering correspondences when Jim comes to a stop beside him and looks like he wants to squeeze Spock's shoulder. Spock has not yet worked out the pattern in which Jim will or will not touch him.

Additionally, Jim appears to want to say something, but he seems to change his mind and then simply says, "I want to go for a little walk."

"Do you desire company?"

Jim's lips twitch. "Not really," he says honestly, “but if I go alone, it sort of defeats the purpose of having security with me, yeah?"

Spock concedes the point, not offended. He is intimately acquainted with the need to be alone. He is solitary by nature, even for a Vulcan, and he knows Jim has had scant time for himself since he awoke in hospital. He does not begrudge Jim this, however Jim makes a valid point.

"I will endeavor to make myself, as you would say, scarce."

Jim chuckles. "That's not necessary, but thank you, Mr. Spock."

The fields around the farm are vast and Jim seems content to walk in silence. Spock had attempted to keep a few steps distance at first, but Jim had kept pausing and waiting for him to fall in step, so now Spock keeps walking right beside him. He glances over at Jim, who appears pensive, hands jammed into his pockets, and he does not seem to have any particular direction in mind. The sun is high and there is a slight sheen of sweat on Jim's skin.

"I'm sorry," Jim offers.

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Clarify."

Jim is silent for such a long time that Spock is not sure he will get an answer. Finally, he says, "It feels like there's always a lot of things I need to apologize for. You can just start somewhere, pick something."

"You are grieving," Spock says. He remembers Christopher Pike and Jim's tears and cries of anguish. "Nothing that happened is your guilt to carry."

"That's," Jim begins, "probably not as reassuring as you thought it was. But thanks. Look, I made a ton of miserable, really, really bad decisions, and Pike died for it and so did too many of my crew. That's one thing I have to be sorry for."

"You are being needlessly illogical," Spock says without preamble. "As you were not the catalyst for Khan's actions, I fail to see how you are the sole reason for the clusterfuck that happened."

Jim blinks, laughs, stops short. "Did you just say clusterfuck?"

Spock allows himself the ghost of a smile. "I am attempting to implement vernacular you are familiar with." It is always worth it to stop Jim's thought process.

Jim laughs again, surprised. There has not been enough laughter from Jim in far too long. "Clusterfuck or not," Jim says then, his smile waning. "I still feel guilty."

Spock glances over at him and Jim glances back. He shrugs. "I'm an illogical human, Spock. Deal with it."

"I believe I am, as you say, dealing with it. I am attempting to, at the very least, to the best of my ability."

Jim deflates. "I'm sorry."

"Apologies are-"

"Unnecessary, yes, I know," Jim cuts in, mouth twisted sour. Jim's moods are as mercurial as ever, even more so now.

Spock waits, but when Jim does not offer more, he says instead; "Jim. You are the captain of the Enterprise. We will follow you wherever you go."

Spock does not understand the way Jim's face appears to crumble, nor does he understand the way Jim turns away, but he respects Jim's need for privacy and averts his eyes. He is trying his best to understand these humans he serves with and he illogically wishes that he could understand Jim's emotional needs better. He remembers his mother's gentle touch when was young and he considers the merits of what Jim would undoubtedly call a gamble. He walks up to Jim and places a hand on his shoulder, not surprised when Jim tenses – and somehow not surprised when Jim's hand comes up to grip his own.

"Captain. Jim."

"Don't say anything," Jim pleads, voice tight.

They stand there on a dusty road, and Spock does not speak a word.

*

"I'm thinking about taking up crocheting," Jim says.

Spock looks up from his PADD – the equations can wait. "Crocheting, Captain?"

"I can already sow and I’m a champion at knitting, so crocheting seems to be the next thing," Jim shrugs. "And stand down, I'm still on medical leave. Did your mom know how to knit?"

Spock blinks. "I confess I do not know. Perhaps my father would know."

Jim's lips tug into a grin. "You would call your dad just to ask if your mom could knit? Oh man, please do, Bones will never believe me."

"Perhaps not right this instant," Spock admits. "However, in our next correspondence, I might inquire."

Jim sprawls on the couch, lean and relaxed. He folds his hands behind his head and scoots further down the pillows, stretching as he goes. "So what do you think?"

"About?"

"Crocheting."

"Ah," Spock says, then thinks about Jim crocheting. The image is slightly disconcerting. "My knowledge of crocheting is unfortunately lacking; therefore, I cannot possibly pass judgment."

"I bet I could make you some slippers. Bones might have an aneurysm. It's going to be awesome."

"I somehow doubt Doctor McCoy will feel the same. How did you learn how to knit?"

Jim shrugs, flicks a hand in Spock's general direction, or perhaps it‘s intended to somehow encompass the galaxy. "I get bored easily."

Spock glances at the shelving systems and thinks with an internal wince of Stable Boys and Studs Under Open Skies. Jim's lips are twitching as if he knows exactly what Spock is thinking of.

"If you ask nicely, I'll do a really inspired dramatic reading of it," Jim offers magnanimously. "Provided I can have a few shots or ten first."

"I must decline, Captain," Spock says, because if Jim is not cleared by Doctor McCoy to drink coffee, any alcohol will not be tolerated either, and Spock has no desire to be deserving of McCoy's ire. "Regretfully."

Jim laughs.

*

In the next days, Jim does indeed take up crocheting. After a rather disastrous attempt he made Spock swear never to mention, he manages in a very small amount of time to produce two very colorful potholders and he announces cheerfully that a pair of slippers are coming up next, oh wait, no, after he makes a hat for Bones. Spock will look forward to the particular shade of purple Doctor McCoy's face will turn. Spock finds books to read after searching the shelves and avoiding the so-called skeevy titles, and Jim's eyes gentle and turn a touch sad when Spock sits down with A Tale Of Two Cities.

He does not ask.

So Spock reads and Jim crochets and does Millennium Prize Problems on a napkin when he claims his fingers are sore. As Jim is on medical leave, all communication from Starfleet goes through Spock – Spock forwards all messages to Jim, who answers the admiralty and signs orders off, and the ones he does not want to deal with, he sends right back for Spock to deal with, citing that Spock is Acting Captain. Spock does not mind; it is the very least he can do.

It is late afternoon when Jim is cooking dinner, stating that he will absolutely die if his dinner is replicated again. Spock offers cooking, even knowing that it is very likely that Vulcan dishes are not appealing to Jim's palate, but Jim simply waves him off and says he hopes Spock can deal with Terran food.

Spock will endure more than Terran dishes for James Kirk, but he does not say it.

"You can set the table," Jim says and takes a pot off the heat.

Spock acquiesces and is in the process of setting plates down when the doorbell rings. He looks to Jim, who nods in direction of the door. "Get that, will you?"

The man on the other side of the door is greying and Spock does not know him. "Can I help you?"

"Hell," the man says and narrows his eyes. "Fucking Vulcans. Jimmy around? He' hiding in there?"

Among other things, Spock has learned this from Jim: trust his instincts.  "Captain Kirk is not available at the moment." Which is true to a certain degree. "Whom may I tell him asked for him?"

"Captain," the man repeats dumbly. "Captain Kirk. Captain Kirk. Hell." He spits on the ground and Spock raises an eyebrow.

"That is unsanitary."

"Fucking Vulcans," the man mutters again and raises his voice into the house, "Jimmy, I know you're there! Come out!"

There is a sigh and footsteps behind him so Spock turns slightly and feels more than sees Jim walk up to him. Jim's entire demeanor is exhausted. "Frank."

"Jimmy boy," the man says and smiles, but Spock does not believe it is honest. He angles his body between Jim and this Frank. "What a welcome, Captain Kirk. High and mighty. Your bodyguard won’t let me in. Too good for us now?"

"Frank," Jim says again and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"Do I need a reason to greet the hero of the Federation? Jimmy, your hospitality has seen better days."

"Frank," Jim says for the third time, and then, "Just... Fuck off."

"Just like your mother," Frank says, shaking his head and Jim does not seem surprised.

"If that's supposed to offend me, you've lost your touch, at this point being compared to mom has stopped being an insult," Jim says and then looks at Spock. "This is probably half the reason Bones wanted a security detail on my ass. If you would kindly - " he sways back just in time as one of Frank's fists goes flying, and Spock sees no reason not to incapacitate him.

"You've got to teach me that," Jim says. "Real handy."

"It is called a Vulcan nervepinch for a reason," Spock replies and carries Jim's stepfather over his shoulder to the road, while Jim follows him. "It is attempted assault on a Starfleet Captain."

"Bullshit," Jim returns and only watches from a crouch while Spock sets the man down. "I know you're bullshitting me, I've seen Uhura do it. And I know, but jail won't fix things. Fuck knows it didn't fix me."

"Lieutenant Uhura is a woman of many talents," Spock allows and Jim nods his agreement. "I am unsure if you will permit me an inquiry."

Jim shrugs in a detached manner. "You've had to deal with this mess, it's only fair you get to ask questions."

Spock is not sure how that is fair.  Jim appears both younger and older than Spock knows he is, and he knows that Jim desperately does not want to talk about this even if he has given explicit permission to ask. This makes him reluctant, despite his curiosity.

"You can ask, Spock, it's okay."

"This is your stepfather," he clarifies somewhat unnecessarily. He believes he is buying time, a maneuver Jim is fond of, and judging by the incredulous look on Jim's face, Jim knows it, too. "You indicated he is the reason Doctor McCoy wanted you to bring security with you."

Jim nods, his countenance wary and tired. As Spock still has not asked a question, there is nothing for Jim to say. Logical. Spock considers his approach. "Last time you went on shore leave on Earth, you returned with injuries. Was your stepfather the reason?"

For a long moment, Jim does not answer, but then he does, as he rises from his crouch beside Frank. "Frank's an asshole. Before Sam left I was terrified of doing the wrong thing, but then it turned out that the only thing I needed to be afraid of was how far I was willing to go to piss Frank off. Turns out it was pretty damn far."

Spock is almost fearful of asking. "How far was that?"

"I drove his car off a cliff, is that far enough for you?"

"You-" that seems on par for the course with Jim Kirk. "You drove a car off a cliff. On purpose."

Jim shrugs and seems content to leave Frank on the road. "Leave him," he confirms prompted by Spock’s look. "It's not a new situation for him, he should be used to waking up in strange places."

"Are you certain?”

Jim rolls his eyes and turns back to the house and starts walking. Spock lengthens his pace to catch up with him, and he asks, "Is your stepfather the reason you dislike Riverside?"

Jim's frame is wrought with tension, but he nods. "Well," he amends. "One of the reasons. No one likes me here. The feeling is mutual."

"You are bigger than this town," Spock says, helpless to his honesty. There are bigger things at work than Jim Kirk's miraculous return to life, and he suspects that he is in deeper than he had thought.

Jim's smile is quick and gone. "Thanks, Spock. My rap sheet disagrees with you."

"I believe your criminal record was cleared when you rose to captaincy," Spock corrects him. "However, I fail to see how that is reason to dislike you."

"I was a menace. A repeat offender. I set things on fire because it was fun."

"You had no one to support you-"

"-and I was basically an alcoholic when I turned sixteen-"

"You were a child."

Jim snaps his mouth shut and stops in the doorway. He looks over his shoulder at Frank's unconscious form, and Spock looks at Jim. Jim's jaw is clenched and he takes several deep breaths before he looks at Spock.

"Frank broke my fingers when I was eight and my arm when I was thirteen."

Spock tightens his fists.

"The first time, that is," Jim adds. "And then he gave me a black eye, a broken collarbone and bruised ribs to the collection when I drove his car off the cliff.  I was fourteen. I didn't know if I was going to jump out."

"You were a child," Spock repeats and allows himself the privilege of touching Jim's shoulder. "A child without guidance and support."

"Frank's an asshole," Jim says with feeling. "My mom married him and left us with him when she fucked off into space. I sure as hell don't want to clean up after her."

Spock understands McCoy's obsessive need for Jim to not be without security in Riverside, and he is suddenly desperately grateful that Jim is not alone. Spock adjusts the parameters. Captain Kirk is stronger than anticipated, forged in fire, and Spock suddenly realizes that there were multitudes of instances where the Enterprise could have lost Jim Kirk before he ever became captain.

"Fuck, this is a mess," Jim says with a sort of weariness that Spock does not particularly care for, and he leans tiredly against the doorframe. "And I think the pasta is cold now."

"Jim, this place is too small for you," Spock says. "The sum of the galaxies is too small for you. Your stepfather is in your past -"

"-and unconscious on the street."

"Yes, he is on the street, however, that is all. The Enterprise is waiting for you and we will follow you infinitely."

"Infinitely," Jim repeats, voice hoarse. "That is illogical."

"Perhaps," Spock gives. "However it is the truth. You cannot fault the people here for not being able to contain you."

"Man, your pep talks are awesome," Jim says. "But I still kind of want to set fire to the entire thing."

"Illogical," Spock says. "However, I believe it would be satisfactory."

Jim's eyes widen in disbelief. "You? You would set fire to Riverside because I was a shitty kid?"

"That is inaccurate as I believe I have just reasoned why you did not fit in with your peers, but I can understand the need to purge the memories."

Spock remembers cruel children and fist fights and a resolution to be Vulcan no matter what, and later, the resolution to embrace his mother's heritage in her honor. This is just one of many facets he will appreciate, and not just for her, but for his Captain, who is very Human with all it entails.

All Jim looks is tired. "Let's not," he says. "I'm a decorated hero of the Federation, you heard the man. I'm not sure my criminal record would look that awesome if I burnt down Riverside while cackling and dancing."

"I assure you, there would be no cackling or dancing on either of our parts, as we would not be found on the scene of the crime," Spock allows as he gently steers Jim inside the house and closes the door behind them.

Jim's surprised, disbelieving laugh is unexpected and therefore more rewarding, but Spock can admit that he had hoped for it.

*

Jim bids goodnight and assures Spock that he will make an effort to sleep.

Spock believes him, because Jim has no reason to lie to him.

Spock sits by the window and keeps watch over Jim's stepfather, who rolled onto his back and stayed down for thirty-six minutes, until he finally staggers to his feet and glares up at the house as if the very existence of it offends him. Spock will not permit him to come closer to the house – keeping Jim safe is paramount. Spock watches the man as he takes two more uncertain steps towards the house, then stops and turns around and leaves.

Spock watches until he has disappeared into the night. His fists unclench.

*

In the morning, Spock checks Jim's room and finds the bed unmade and empty. He feels certain that Jim would not leave without informing him, and he walks into the living room to find Jim conversing with Doctor McCoy.

"Yeah, it's- " Jim is saying, his back to Spock, his legs drawn up and his arms around his knees. Spock wonders if Jim realizes he seems younger. "It's alright."

"You'll tell me," Doctor McCoy says and draws himself closer to the screen. "How's Spock liking Riverside?"

Jim chuckles. "He's reading. I'm sure he'd have been out of here if he didn't want to be here."

Doctor McCoy narrows his eyes. "Really."

Jim shrugs. "He's not shy about saying what he doesn't like. Just saying."

"You're an idiot," McCoy says but looks fond as he says it, and Spock decides that given he is the subject of the conversation, he ought to make himself known. Spock does not particularly care for eavesdropping, especially since his mother had told him that eavesdroppers rarely heard good of themselves. However angry Jim has been with him in the past, Spock is certain that Jim would rather raise the issue with him than skirt around it.

"Captain, Doctor," he greets and steps closer. Jim cranes around in his seat, smiles and then turns back to McCoy.

"Commander," McCoy says and looks at Jim. "You're so full of shit. How old are you? Twelve?"

"I'm hurt, Bones," Jim says, pressing a hand over his heart. "And here I was going to make a hat for you."

"A hat?"

"The Captain has taken up crocheting," Spock offers and the grin Jim shoots him is worth it. "He is quite adept."

"See? I'm awesome."

"Crocheting, Jim?"

"You said I needed a hobby!"

*

Jim spends the day thinking.

That is what he says when Spock inquires, but Jim is not further forthcoming, and so Spock leaves him be. He recognizes the need in Jim from himself when the need for meditation is greater than others, and he does not begrudge Jim the silence. Jim is in perpetual motion: in the captain’s chair on the bridge, he fidgets and converses, taps his fingers against the armrests or his thighs.

If Jim needs the silence and the stillness, it is a break from his usual routine, and Spock is in the position to grant it, so he will.

Spock finishes A Tale of Two Cities.

“Did you like it?” Jim asks and Spock startles. He had not been aware Jim was watching him.

“I must confess,” Spock admits, “that I am not sure.”

The smile on Jim’s face comes like it hurts. “I know. That’s how I feel about it, too. It’s my favorite.”

“Indeed?”

Jim appears to fight to keep his smile and in the end, he looks away and outside into the darkening sky. He is pensive, a prolonging of the silence he has kept throughout the day. “Did you know,” he starts, “that when I woke up, I didn’t know I’d been dead?”

Spock’s mouth goes inexplicably dry as he sets the book down on the table and flattens his palms on his thighs. He had not been present when Doctor McCoy imparted that particular piece of information on Jim, but; “I was aware.”

Jim nods slowly. “I thought maybe I’d just been unconscious, because the last thing I remember is looking at you and then nothing. And now when I sleep, I dream I’m alive, but you look at me through the glass as if I’m dead, and I’m moved to sickbay in the bag and no one can see I’m still alive. And I can’t move, I can only blink and try to talk, but I can’t, and none of you realize I’m not dead. I’m right there, but none of you see me or hear me. I’m just… dead.”

At the end of this Jim is trembling minutely, and, unsure, Spock stands and steps up to him. “We would know,” Spock tries. He knows that there is no sense to this and he does not know how dreams work as he himself does not dream. “If you were indeed alive, we would know, and if there were the faintest possibility of your survival, we would not stop. We did not.”

“I shouldn’t be alive, I really shouldn’t be, there’s no reason I am,” Jim says hoarsely. “You know that, too. I’m a dead man walking.”

James T. Kirk being alive is a medical impossibility, this Spock does know. He spoke briefly with Doctor McCoy about the certainty of Jim suffering survivor’s guilt, and Doctor McCoy seemed especially concerned about the issue although he did not disclose the reason for his concerns, however it seems that the doctor was correct in his assessment.

Spock places his hand on Jim’s shoulder and he is unsurprised that Jim tenses before his hands find purchase in Spock’s tunic. “Spock, I – “

“There is no reason for you to bear this guilt,” Spock says calmly. “Khan bears the sole responsibility for the horrors that transpired.”

“But so many people died,” Jim’s fingers tighten in Spock’s tunic as he says this, and Spock steps closer so that he cannot get physically closer while standing. “And I survived. It’s not fair.”

“We did not know if the serum we devised for you would work,” Spock says. “Even with this, we could not attempt resurrecting all who perished. You are well aware that the action in and of itself is illegal.”

“But you did it, anyway.”

“The risk was one I was willing to take. We were all well aware of the repercussions.”

Jim says nothing to this, only lowers his face and he is still trembling, so Spock tightens his grip on Jim’s shoulder ever so slightly. Jim tilts slightly sideways and ends up leaning wholly against Spock, but Spock does not mind. He was willing to kill Khan for the death of his Captain, he will permit Jim all the comfort he needs. He knows that Jim will still feel the guilt despite Spock’s attempts at reassurance, because that is how Jim functions, and Spock fully believes that he would not make as exceptional a captain if he did not feel as strongly as he does and if he did not possess the empathy that allows him to feel. Jim is intimately acquainted with pain and very finely attuned to the sorrow of others.

It makes him a brilliant captain and prone to suffering.

“Captain – “

“Don’t – don’t, don’t say that,” Jim says haltingly and looks up at Spock. “I’m not – not right now, I’m not your captain right now, Spock.”

For a given sense, that is certainly true, but Spock knows that despite his function of Acting Captain, he is not the captain of the ship and he never will be. He does not desire command the same way Jim does, he does not wield it with the same ease as Jim does, and he certainly does not possess the want of commanding his own ship. The moment Doctor McCoy declares Jim fit for duty, Spock will be ceding his responsibilities, because however Jim does not hold the active title, he will always be Spock’s captain.

“Jim,” Spock amends despite this, because upsetting Jim will not be helpful or conducive to his recovery. “You retain your command.”

Jim swallows. “Pike made me First Officer.”

“If you will permit me to say so, you would make a terrible First Officer.”

Jim blinks. Then his mouth drops open in surprise and he huffs the breath of a laugh. “I would, wouldn’t I?”

“Until you resign your commission or are forcefully removed from your position, you are our Captain.”

Jim’s eyes are wet, but it is curious how Jim at times stubbornly refuses to be seen as weak, yet he does not avert his eyes from Spock, allowing him full access to his grief. Humans are such curious creatures.

“I grieve with thee,” Spock says simply and moves his hand from Jim’s shoulder to the top of Jim’s head.

Jim keeps looking at him, until he does not, and then when he closes his eyes, tears fall down. “Thank you, Spock.”

Spock inclines his head.

Jim lets go of Spock’s tunic and wipes his eyes absently. He truly does not seem to mind Spock seeing his tears. Jim laughs softly, as if in disbelief, and shakes his head. His eyes fall on the book Spock had left on the table by the couch.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever read it again,” Jim says slowly and raises his eyes to meet Spock’s.

Spock thinks of Carton delivering himself to the guillotine for the ultimate sacrifice, and Spock quite suddenly decides that although the book is well-written and interesting, he will not read it again either.

*

In the morning light, Spock finds Jim asleep on the couch in the living room. It does not look comfortable, and Spock is certain he will hear Jim’s complaints of sore limbs and a crick in his neck later, but he does not wish to wake him. Jim still does not sleep much.

He logs this to McCoy, although he knows that Jim is dutifully keeping the doctor apprised of his situation. He is aware that Jim feels guilty for the strain his temporary death put on McCoy although McCoy has reassured Jim on several occasions that he does not need feeling so, but Spock finds that Jim has an until now unprecedented capacity for putting guilt on himself. To this, Spock is not altogether convinced that Iowa is the best place for Jim to recuperate in, as Jim seems bound by the horrors of his childhood. This fact only seems to acerbate his guilt. He finds that he agrees with Jim’s initial reluctance to come here.

He picks up A Tale Of Two Cities again, from where he left it the night before. The spine is worn and the cover ragged; it proves Jim’s claim that it is his favorite, and Spock wonders how James Kirk as a child found attachment to this particular book.

He looks over at Jim.

Jim, who has curled up and his eyes are moving beneath his eyelids. His expression is slightly pinched, tension across his brows and Spock frowns. Despite Jim’s perpetual state of motion, his dreams and nightmares are mostly conducted in silence, in privacy, and Spock wants to wake him, but Jim does not seem distressed. Yet. Spock will monitor him.

*

Doctor McCoy looks well-rested despite the frown that seems perpetually set on his face. “I’d really hoped he’d be showing signs of regular sleeping habits by now, but I guess I’m not expecting any more miracles from him at this point. He’s still asleep?”

Despite the nightmares Spock thinks he observed Jim experiencing, he nods. “He is asleep on the couch at present,” Spock confirms. “He has slept without interruption for five point eight six hours.” He pauses, unsure if he will be breaching Jim’s privacy, and he remains silent.

McCoy frowns and rubs both hands over his face. “Spock, what’s eating you?”

Used to curious Terran vernacular, he ignores it when Jim is not present to mediate. It is, as Jim would say, not worth it. “I do not know if the Captain has made a mention of this to you, but his stepfather has been here.”

McCoy sighs deeply and moves his hands. “I know,” he says. “I thought maybe he would stay away, but seems I was wrong, it was just too tempting for him. He’s such an asshole.”

“Jim expressed the exact same sentiment several times and I find I cannot disagree. However, I also find I cannot endorse Jim recuperating in this environment. I strongly suggest relocating.”

“Spock,” McCoy begins. “With all due respect: shut up. You know how bad things are here, he absolutely doesn’t need that on top of everything else, and you know Jim, he will find a way to feel obligated to do something about it.”
                                                                                                                
McCoy is correct, however much Spock may not want to admit it. The damages dealt to San Francisco by Khan and Admiral Marcus’ hand, in the aftermath of not having been fully rebuilt from Nero’s attack nearly a year earlier, are comprehensive, and Spock had found on reflection, that while the windows in the hospital room Jim had been recuperating in had been largely kept shut, Jim’s apartment would not have been. Faced with the evidence and reminder every day, Jim would surely have found even more ways to feel guilty about the destruction than Spock has come to be aware of, and he finds McCoy’s assessment correct in that regard. However, he is not correct in other matters, this Spock firmly believes.

“I agree,” he says, “but surely, his recovery has not been sped up by this environment. You have not seen him here. For lack of a better word, this house haunts him.”

Doctor McCoy’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “Haunts? Commander, I daresay an emotional human has been rubbing off on you. I can’t say I’m surprised, though, Jim has that effect on people.”

Spock is not amused. “Doctor, I firmly believe that another place may prove to be more conducive to Jim’s recovery than Riverside will. If not detrimental, then at the very least it is not actively improving his condition.”

“Spock,” McCoy says and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I have Jim’s best interest at heart, you know I do, and I know you think I’m being deliberately cruel to him right now, but have you even thought of how he’s going to pass his psychological evaluations if he can’t come to terms with this?” McCoy waves his hand as if to indicate everything Jim.  “And for the record, I don’t like Jim being in Riverside or anywhere near it, actually, but I really believe it’s the best place for him right now, because for better or for worse, it’s his home. I don’t expect you to believe me on this or even understand, really, I don’t, but I just want him to get better, okay? Spock, he’s a mess.”

Spock finds that he has difficulty swallowing the saliva in his throat. “Jim has expressed the exact same sentiment.”

“Good,” McCoy remarks firmly. “He needs to do this.”

“You can at least pretend to keep your voices down if you’re going to talk about me.”

To feel guilt would be illogical, nevertheless, but as Jim’s hand comes to rest briefly on Spock’s shoulder, it does not ease his remorse. “It’s fine, Spock,” Jim says lowly. “Bones.”

“Captain,” Doctor McCoy says dryly. “Anything you’d like to add?”

Jim looks only half-awake, his hair in disarray, and he looks slightly disoriented.  Spock resolves to be alert to this. “I really want to pass my psych eval. And I need to finish your hat. I’ll work on your hat first and then on passing my tests. How does that sound?”

“Your priorities are top notch,” McCoy says and then he turns back to Spock. “Make sure he sleeps. And eats.”

“Yes, mom,” Jim says and rolls his eyes, but his tone is sufficiently fond in that manner he only speaks to McCoy.

With the monitor blank, Jim looks up at Spock, and he appears fatigued despite the rest he has received.

“I know,” Jim says with a wry smile. “I look dead.” Then he winces. “Sorry.”

Spock inclines his head. He appreciates the apology and he understands what Jim means, however that does not mean he welcomes the reminder of what transpired. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Jim will in all likelihood continue to apologize for matters that he does not need to, but Spock will not demand from him that he stops, because it is such an ingrained trait that Spock feels reasonably sure that he cannot change even if he tried. For all that they argued before Khan, Jim does not make demands of Spock that he cannot meet.

“If you do not have plans for today,” Spock begins, “I thought perhaps we could go oversee the repairs on the ship.”

Despite the bruised skin beneath Jim’s eyes, Jim illogically looks younger when he smiles. “That sounds amazing.”

*

“He said I needed a haircut.”

“I concur, Captain, your hair is not to regulation at this moment.”

“He could have said, ‘Good to see ye alive, Captain!’ or ‘I’ll have ye lady ready in no time, Captain!’ but no, ‘Ye in need of a haircut, Jimmy!’ is what he says!”

“Captain, your attempt at a Scottish accent is… about passable.”

“Really, Spock?”

*

By the table in the middle of the night, Spock attempts to replicate a cup of tea for Jim, but Jim gestures for him to sit down and takes over. He is currently setting water in a kettle to boil on the stove, and he sets it down with a thump.

“Which kind do you want? No, wait, sorry. I think I only have something with ginger. That okay?”

Spock nods and Jim continues, and Spock does not comment on his shaking hands.

“My grandma always said that ginger cures all ills,” Jim muses with his back to Spock. “Do you think she was on to something?”

Aware that sometimes humans will talk about something entirely else than what their words are saying and that this is most likely one of those times, Spock takes his time. “Jim, there is nothing about you that needs to be cured.”

Jim is tense and he turns to face Spock. “I feel like something’s wrong, that there’s something under my skin.” He looks guilty, but of what, Spock does not know, at least until Jim somewhat hesitantly pushes up a sleeve and reveals slightly reddened skin. “I scratch in my sleep,” he says.

Ah.

The sight of Jim on the floor of his room, trashing and tangled in his sheets, is not one Spock is eager for a repeat of. “Jim, I recommend that you make use of the sleeping aid Doctor McCoy provided for you.”

Jim clenches his jaw but nods. “I don’t want to dream anymore.”

Before Spock can respond, the kettle whistles sharply. Jim pours two cups and finally sits down after placing one of them in front of Spock. His skin is pale and somewhat sunken, and Spock makes a note to monitor Jim’s food intake closer. “You will need regular sleep before you can start improving your physical condition.”

Jim does not respond.

“Jim.”

He looks up.

“Jim, objectively there is nothing wrong with you. Khan is not in you.”

“I know,” Jim insists and runs his fingers through his hair. “I know that. My brain knows it. When I’m awake, at least.”

“I would like to ease your distress,” Spock says, feeling helpless and similarly not liking that feeling. “If there is a way, I would ask that you let me know it.”

“A different life,” Jim says tiredly. “Can you give me that? Something that isn’t here, not this life.”

Despite everything, Spock finds himself stunned. “You do not mean that,” he says. “You cannot mean that.”

For a single suspended moment, Jim looks back at him with something Spock recognizes as defiance before he deflates. “No,” he admits, “no, of course not. I- I’m so tired, Spock. Do you understand that?”

Spock hesitates. “There is – I theorize that a highly superficial meld would be able to settle your errant thoughts and your nightmares and grant you a full night’s sleep. I realize it is a breach of the sanctity of your mind, but-”

“Spock,” Jim interrupts, “It’s not that, okay? It’s not, you should know by now that I trust you, and it wouldn’t be a breach, but, can we keep that as a last resort? And it’s not-” he holds a hand up, “something against you, you know that, right? I just – I’d like to pretend that I have some kind of handle on all of this crap first, can we do that? Just for a little while longer?”

As there is no time limit as to how long Jim is on medical leave, Spock would readily let Jim pretend if he thought it would help, however, he firmly believes it could even be detrimental. “Jim, I fear I cannot let you pretend. I will concur and agree a meld will be the last resort, but as Doctor McCoy has assured me is common practice for Humans, it is not wise to be in denial.”

Jim, inexplicably, smiles. It’s tired and fragile, but it is honest for its smallness. “I can always count on you to say it like it is, can’t I?”

“I’m not in the habit of deluding you, Captain, and I do not think you would prefer I did.”

“I’m counting on you, Spock,” Jim says and once again, Spock gets the feeling that Jim is talking about something entirely else. It is curious – his mother very rarely implemented this as she married into a race that feels little logic in saying something that is not the main point. Spock understands this mentality, he adheres to logic as is the way of his people, but he finds that the longer he spends with humans, the more he understands what they mean and he understands the use of it. It grants Jim the relief of not stating outright that he feels weak and not himself.

Spock would never think of James Kirk as weak, but he has no way of showing this that Jim would want, so he grants Jim this in a world where Jim asks of very little.

He locates the sleeping aid and holds the hypo out for Jim to see, and Jim just nods. “Will you wake me if – ?”

“Yes,” Spock promises. He administers the hypo and helps Jim to settle on the couch.

*

The next morning, Spock implements the beginnings of the new workout regime for Jim – he is not yet at the optimum weight and certainly not rested enough, but Spock hypothesizes that a sense of normalcy and routine will help Jim get settled enough to sleep without the need of aid.

Jim has never been this appreciative of running before, Spock is quite sure of that.

“It’s great,” Jim pants at him. His skin is flushed and his breath is quick, but the tension he has been carrying in the line of his shoulders has eased. “Do you think Bones will let me spar with you?”

“That seems unlikely,” Spock returns calmly, “which is somewhat secondary to the fact that I will not let you spar with me.”

Jim sticks out his tongue, to which Spock raises an eyebrow, and for the remainder of their run back to the house, they are quiet save for their breaths. The Iowan sun is nothing like the sun had been on Vulcan, but with the stark gravel beneath his feet and Jim’s exertion beside him, Spock has never thought of Earth more as his planet as he does now. Illogical, but nothing about Jim has ever been logical.

It is out of courtesy of him that Jim does not ask, for which Spock is grateful even though it is unnecessary. They have not spoken of Jim’s final moments in the radiation chamber or why Lieutenant Commander Scott asked for Spock and not McCoy to come, and neither Scott nor Nyota have said anything to Jim about the subject, either. Jim did not know he had died, but he remembers Spock there, and he has not asked any of the questions it would be logical to ask.

Jim steadily refuses and is unable to conform to expectations.

Spock believes that with all that has passed between them for the past year, Jim should know better.

“Lieutenant Uhura sends her regards,” he informs Jim over a late lunch that Jim seems disinterested in. He eats because Spock places it in front of him, which is another trick Spock notes for later use. “I understand that you have not been in contact with your command crew.”

Jim clenches his jaw and he nods, sharply. “It’s been weird.”

Spock understands. Going over the repairs with Lieutenant Commander Scott had been necessary and Jim had had no choice but do it, but Spock understands that with Scott and Nyota in particular, Jim has been hesitant to meet them. Both of them saw both Jim dying and the aftermath of it, and Jim seems very content to pretend, as he had said.

“In any case, when you are ready, they will all be happy to see for themselves that you are alive and well.”

It is not meant as a rebuke but as a statement of fact, but Jim flinches nevertheless.

“Jim,” he attempts to make amends, but Jim pushes away from the table and says, “Spock, I’m invoking my right to be an illogical human and flee the fuck away from here right now, okay? Okay. Don’t follow me, I’m not going far.”

Left to clean up the remains of their lunch, Spock does just that.

*

Jim keeps his promise to not go far, as Spock can locate him easily outside the house when he looks out. Jim has sat down against the walls of the barn and Spock leaves him be.

It is a strange concept, living after dying, and Spock is forced to admit that Jim is in all likelihood dealing rather admirably. There are no documents to refer to or past cases to draw upon, and Spock is left rather overwhelmed by the daunting prospect of feeling out the right way to help Jim’s recovery.

It stands as a fact: Jim Kirk died to save his ship and his crew.

Left on Nibiru, the concept of death had been straightforward – Spock is not afraid of dying in the line of duty, however much he would prefer not to. Jim had said he was scared as he lay on the brink of death, but Spock suspects that it was not a fear of dying, but the consequences of it for the rest of them, for the ones Jim desperately does not want to leave behind. Now knowing more of Jim’s childhood and adolescence, Spock understands the fear as Jim feels that he has so much to lose.

Jim had said that he would miss Spock, but it had been about much more than that, Spock realizes. Spock had been the materialization of what Jim had stood to lose, the representative of the ship and the crew that would follow Jim through the dark, vastness of space, and Spock… Spock had not understood at the time. Jim had beyond reasonable doubt known that going into the core would kill him, and as his last goodbye he offered his friendship to Spock, who stood as the glowing embodiment of everything the Enterprise was.

It also stands as a fact: Jim Kirk will die again to save his ship and his crew if necessary.

As Spock watches Jim sit on the ground by the barn, he promises to do his utmost so that it will never be necessary.

*

When night approaches and Jim has yet to return, Spock goes out.

“You must be cold, Jim,” he says and unfolds the blanket he had taken from the living room. “That is to be avoided.”

Jim looks up. “I thought I said to not follow me.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “You have also heavily emphasized that you are not functioning Captain right now, so I did not take it for an order. Was I in error?”

Jim narrows his eyes but takes the blanket after a moment. “Touché,” he says at length and shrugs under the blanket. He pointedly looks at the ground beside him, which Spock takes as a clear invitation. The social cues of humans will continue to intrigue him, he is sure.

“I’m always cold now,” Jim says and makes it sound like an admission when Spock sits down. “Feels like it, anyway. I’m probably fine. Bones says it’s a shitty version of phantom pain, but, I don’t know, I’m not even surprised anymore.”

Uncertain if Jim needs, or expects, a reply, Spock simply waits.

“I’m done with feeling like this,” Jim says. “Not sure what I have to do, but I’m done. So done. Spock, I’m so tired.”

Jim is a tactile creature – Spock is not. He moves close enough so that their shoulders are brushing, and Jim looks at him briefly, and stays. A tacit permission.

Jim requires –

Spock does not know what Jim requires. It is not a comfortable thought. Spock is used to doing things for himself; he has long since known that he is responsible for his own life and the way his career will be shaped; he has been schooled his entire life to live by logic and abide by its lines of living, and emotions are not inexistent but private to the point of suppression.

Jim, above all, feels. He loves fiercely: The Enterprise, his crew, his command. His friends and his family, whom Spock suspects are one and the same. He loves and he laughs and he hates with honesty that is baffling and surprising and awe-inspiring. Doctor McCoy had said once that Jim was a simple man in his desires – he chose difficult things to desire but was very straightforward in his wants. Spock agrees to a certain extent, because Jim never wants things the easy way. He will work for it and he will not stop until he has it, and if all he is reduced to is the primal fear of survival for himself, and if not for himself then his family, he will fight until his last breath.

What can Spock offer to this man, who wants but does not ask, who is very human in his fragility but refuses to break?

“Jim,” he tries, because for Jim, he will try. “You are the bravest man I have ever known and your capacity for kindness is unparalleled to anything I have ever seen and I aspire to have even a fraction of it. I am honored to serve under you, Captain, it is my privilege and pride.”

Jim blinks several times in quick succession and he does not look up at him. “Hell, Spock,” he says hoarsely. “That’s… your pep talks, man. Damn.”

Spock however, is not, as Jim would say it, done. “I was seconds away from taking a life for you, Jim. In your name, for you, to avenge what had been taken from me and from us, I would have. You cannot believe any of us would have stood idly by while he lived. I could not.”

Jim looks back at him, his eyes such a curious shade of blue, wide and wondering and unhappy. “Spock, that’s – I’m so sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry about all of it, I didn’t think – ”

“I do not regret,” Spock interrupts him calmly. “I cannot be swayed from this, so do not attempt to. It was the only way after you had gifted me with your friendship, so it is only logical that I would fight for you to honor that gift. You cannot decide which paths we tread and the choices we make in order to make you believe that you are the captain we desire. We will fight for you to keep you.”

Averting his eyes, Jim pulls his legs up and for a long moment, he rests his head on his knees and breathes deeply. Then he very visibly slackens, as if he has been tense for all this time. He looks at Spock again, this startled, electric blue, and he does not look happy, yet…

“Spock,” he says, “I have no idea how to feel.”

As it happens, Spock is swiftly becoming something of an expert on feeling entirely unsettled by emotions. Looking back at Jim he realizes that he does not need to say this, as Jim has most likely been aware of this for a long time. It is somehow unsettling but not wholly unpleasant, realizing that having a friend in Jim is a strength he had not been aware of.

“I could dull your memories,” Spock offers quietly, “and allow you to sift through your emotions more precisely.”

“I don’t want to forget, not any of it. If I forgot or even had everything sort of pulled out of focus, it’d feel like… I don’t want to forget how many people died,” Jim admits. “And… Spock, I’m glad it was you. In the end.”

Spock lowers his head. It was the least he could have done to make sure Jim knew he would not be facing certain death on his own.

Jim clears his throat. “I need to do this.”

“Jim,” Spock murmurs, his hand finding Jim’s wrist, fingers touching the pulse point briefly. “You are not alone.”

Jim’s lips twitches into a small, private smile and it is a start. Jim will not be himself tomorrow or the day after, it is a long process, but it has, at last, truly begun.

It occurs to Spock that Jim’s smile has never felt more honest.

“Thank you, Mr. Spock.”

*