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Never, when you go on an away mission, do you expect it to go exactly as planned. Which is exactly why you never send the entire bridge crew together, that way there is always someone to get you out of trouble when you inevitably get into one.
That of course assumes one part of the bridge crew doesn’t get lost, the other trapped while searching for them and the third transported down directly from the bridge because of the second party who has gotten themselves mind controlled in the meantime.
Yes. This was just one of those days aboard the Enterprise.
“Spock,” Jim approached his first officer, closing the already small gap between them, “would you care for a dance?” He offered him his shoulder to grab a hold of.
All in all it was not his best concealed way of pulling Spock aside for a much needed conversation but with how title time he’s had to think, it would have to do.
Spock was looking around, quite obviously searching for an exit out of the enormous ballroom into which the crew had been enclosed about twenty minutes ago. “Captain, do you indeed think that to be the best way to spend our-”
Jim interrupted Spock quickly, putting on an overly pleasant smile. “Since our guests have prepared such an… exquisite evening for us, I think it would be rude of us to not engage in the activities they laid out.” He eyed one of the Rioans- a species of vaguely humanoid gaseous creatures totally unknown to the federation until the Enterprise stumbled upon them when exploring an allegedly uninhabited planet.
The creature seemed to be examining them in return, its ‘head’ turned towards the two of them while the rest of its body floated and swirled in tune with a rhythm of music that filled the space. If it got any suspicion that the starship’s captain was conspiring with his first officer, there would be very little stopping it from turning them into mindless drones just like the rest of the crew was. Most of them have already been affected, dancing or talking placidly with the Rioan inhabitants of the planet, their eyes glazed over by a milky shade of white and minds focusing on nothing but their respective dance partners.
”I believe you are correct, captain.” Spock noticed the creature slowly floating over and took Jim’s offered arm hastily. “Please, lead the way.”
Spock let Jim walk him towards a less populated area and assumed a formal dance position which is when Jim noticed a great design flaw in his amazing plan. He had no idea how to dance. Sure, he’s had a class or two back at the academy, but that was years ago. “I am afraid that I have very little idea as to what to do now, mister Spock.” Jim took a searching look at the Vulkan, hoping that he would be able to help out.
“Perhaps I might take the lead then?” Spock asked, opening his arms for Kirk to join him. Jim swallowed down his doubts and accepted the gesture, wrapping one arm over Spock’s wais, his hand landing just over where his heart must be. As he reached for Spock’s other hand to hold, he hesitated. Spock has never actually set up a boundary with Jim about holding hands but it was a taboo in their relationship both of them were acutely aware of.
As the music in the room, which had died down moments ago, picked back up, Spock grabbed hold of Jim’s wrist, solving the dilemma for him. Then, his ears perked up like a cat on a prowl, began to analyze the tune. “The current music suggests we engage in the earth dance of waltz.” He summarized. “Are you familiar?”
Jim’s face must have betrayed his feeling of unsure hesitation quite obviously because Spock didn’t even wait for a response before speaking up again.
“You begin by moving your left foot backwards,” he explained, even stepping closer to Jim and moving his right foot forward slightly to indicate where Jim needed to make space for him.
“Followed by moving your right foot to the back and to your right.” The sudden intimacy almost made Jim shiver as Spock’s words came from above him, ringing in his ears despite being only barely louder than a whisper.
Jim forced some calmness into him movements as he did what he was instructed to, moving backwards and finally letting Spock’s foot land in the empty space. When Spock then moved to the side, Jim followed and when Spock explained: “You finish the move by bringing both your feet together,” he complied as well. His eyes trailing slightly upwards, meeting Spock’s face. The Vulcan’s steady gaze brought him some little bit of comfort through the experience.
”That is practically it.” Spock announced, his own eyes aimed directly at Jim. “We then complete the square by mirroring the same movements, with you advancing towards me this time.” Jim took a quick glance around them, seeing some gassy eyes turned in their direction. He quickly moved his attention back to Spock, shuffling his right leg forward where Spock had already created free space for him.
Finishing the move, Spock gave a slight nod of what Jim assumed was approval. “Very well, captain. Might we try to follow the rhythm of the music?” He offered, a reassuring quality emanating from his eyes.
”Lead the way, mister Spock.” Jim managed a weak smile. He had to remind himself what he actually needed to do here.
With a gentle push Spock set a tempo to their movement and Jim was glad for the slow pace at which the music was currently being played. He tried to keep up. He did. But quite frankly he was only being whisked around the dance floor by Spock as the Vulcan saw necessary.
“I believe you wish to talk to me?” Spock lowered his voice again and moved his head closer, practically whispering into Jim’s ear. Jim forgot to move his foot and would have gotten kicked in the shin if Spock didn’t pivot at the last minute.
Remembering himself, Kirk made a series of corrective maneuvers, managing to get somewhat back on track. “Oh yeah.” He huffed.
”What do you plan on doing, captain?” Spock asked again, adjusting to Jim’s misstep with considerable grace.
“I plan on going along with this horrible sharade until we figure out a way to get my crew back.” Jim didn’t have the time to glance around at the moment, but could see Spock’s eyes doing it for him. He knew Lieutenant Uhura was somewhere off to their right. Last time Kirk saw her, she was dancing with one of the Rioan’s, her eyes were glossed over and her mind subdued to obedience.
“On that front I might have a hypothesis to offer you.” Spock gently guided Kirk to rotate, “you might be aware that Vulkans are touch telepaths.” Jim nodded, noticing Spock’s lanky fingers holding his wrist tightly as did so. “We are therefore able to recognize other forms of telepathy and telepathic beings much more easily than humans. I noticed there had been something odd about the Rioans, however as it wasn’t anything apart from a fleeting impression I paid it little attention.” The music around them seemed to have picked up in intensity at some point because him and Spock were now dancing considerably quicker. But for some reason Jim could not remember when that shift happened.
From the corner of his eyes Jim spotted Sulu, his posture just as resigned as Uhura’s. In his arms lay Chekov, practically glued to his dance partner, though his facial expression at least managed to retain some of its delighted confusion from when Sulu locked him into the dance pose.
“I first assumed,” continued Spock, “that it was the food and drink offered by our hosts that affected the crew.” He continued to guide the both of them away from earshot of the Rioans. “However as the doctor hasn’t consumed anything since beaming down to the planet and yet he is under the same effect as the rest of the crew, that is no longer a viable theory.”
Well, that was all of them then. Everyone who Jim knew beamed down onto the planet’s surface- either to search for him, Spock and the two security officers they took with them or was later beamed down by Sulu, who was in charge of the search operation- was now under the control of the planet’s inhabitants. Jim sighed inwardly but didn’t dare show the disappointment on his face. “So you think they’re telepaths?”
”Affirmative.” Spock gave a small nod, something in his posture shifted for a second before he corrected himself, stepping aside to mirror Jim’s own movements. “I believe it is the Rioan’s own telepathic abilities that are affecting our minds.”
”Our?” Jim held Spock’s eyes, seeking an explanation in his beautifully deep dark pupils. “You mean to tell me we’re being affected as well?”
“Indeed.” Spock agreed, the revelation made Jim straighten up as if assuming a battle stance instead of a dance figure. ”While we have both clearly retained our sanity for now, I believe it may be only a matter of time before the Rioan influence takes over us as well.”
Somehow, this information didn’t sound as terrifying as it should be. And frankly, that realization alone should have set a series of red alerts through Jim’s mind. Instead, he quite calmly scanned the room, seeing that almost all of the inquisitorial looks from the aliens have now receded. They all seemed to be minding their own dance partners, lightly floating through the air. “Well, we better get out of here then.” He said, more so as a reflex then out of consideration of the situation. “I haven’t noticed any doors to the room. The windows seem to be just for decoration.”
He returned his eyes back to Spock the moment his scanning was complete. For some reason (this was not the time to dissect the why) seeing Spock, watching his mind work through the complex problem, filled him with ease.
“I have observed much the same.” Spock agreed, squeezing Jim’s wrist even tighter, making Jim’s pulse spike. He must have noticed it however, as he released him from the grip instantly. “Additionally, our phasers are ineffective against their gaseous form nor I do find it very likely the Rioans will allow us to use our communicators to contact the ship.”
Jim imagined how that situation would go down. Best case scenario, their communicators would be taken and destroyed. Worst case scenario, Jim and Spock would be manipulated into calling even more people down here. “I still don’t know what they even want from us.” Jim found himself pressing closer against Spock’s chest. He convinced himself that it was only because he wanted more privacy between them, nothing more.
By now, he barely registered his feet moving in the predefined steps, letting Spock lead him through the music. The Vulcan performed his duty diligently, allowing Jim to slot himself to the open space between his legs.
The music picked up around them again, both in tempo and volume and Jim had to lean in closer to hear Spock respond with a noncommittal “given our inability to establish a proper form of communication, I do not believe such information is obtainable at the moment.”
Somehow with each new step that Jim took in tandem with Spock, he found himself caring less and less about what the gaseous inhabitants of the planet wanted from them. Instead he found his arm shifting lower in Spock’s hand, taking advantage of the weak grip his first officer held him in.
As the tips of his fingers reached the very start of Spock’s palm, Jim felt a slight yet sudden increase in the rhythm of Spock’s heart beating against his side where Jim’s other hand rested. And, this wasn’t the time to focus on this but, oh did it make Jim’s lips curl into an involuntary smile.
Though Spock’s grasp of Jim’s hand tightened a slight bit, it posed no challenge for Jim, were he to move closer up. Kirk should probably focus on the problem at hand, should probably be thinking of a way to get his crew off of the planet but with the music in his ear and Spock’s gentle breath inches away from his cheek, it would be so easy to relish in the moment even if just for a second longer. After all, wasn’t Jim the one to say that he intended to do exactly what was expected of them until he found a way to save his people?
“Captain?” Spock brought him out of the trance with a somewhat worried tone to his voice.
“Sorry.” Jim shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and get the music out of his ears. “I got a little distracted.” With every few complete squares of the dance that Spock led them through, they now made a step at an angle, making a deliberately leisurely rotation. Taking notice of the way Spock’s legs moved along the dance floor, begun to be easier than listening to what he was saying.
Jim felt Spock’s steps open up for him one moment before tenderly pushing Jim aside the next. “Well it's really hard fighting something when we don't even know its motivation.” To say his comment was adding anything to the conversation would be completely and utterly untrue. But if Kirk were to hold onto it at all, he needed to say at least something.
The world around the two of them began to swirl into the rhythm of the music making Jim almost motion sick. He didn’t want to stop. Instead, he opted to ignore the world around him, focus on his dance partner, notice his partially open lips, the way his shoulders heaved up and down with each breath. How despite the length of time that they have been dancing for, Spock looked completely unphased by the exercise.
Jim’s own legs were beginning to speak up in protest against the movement, he only now noticed that, but he was in Spock’s arms, held upright by his strength and moved through the space by his will. He did not want to stop.
Spock was speaking up again, something about the alien’s gaseous form, but Jim could hear nothing more but the sound of his voice. It mingled with the everencompassing music and became one as it entered Jim’s ears. Or maybe the music stopped by now and it was just the sound of Spock’s voice that was carrying them around the ballroom, setting the beat to which they both moved.
Reality receded to the background in favor of the sensation of Spock’s hand around his waist and Jim wagered another attempt at moving his other hand closer towards Spock’s palms. He snaked his way up the bare skin, enjoying the slight unevenness that it elicited in the Vulcan’s breath. Spock’s lips trembled as he spoke the captain’s name in a question but he didn’t stop Jim’s advance.
Emboldened by the response, Jim tightened his hold around his dance partner’s waist, feeling his alien heart beat. At this moment, the rapidly repeating thump, thump thump- thump, thump thump sounded like the most familiar music to Jim’s ears, there could be no rhythm Jim could know more intimately than this. And it was to the beat of Spock’s heart that he moved his feet, made his moves.
This time it was Spock who let go of Jim’s wrist, closing the last few millimeters between his and Jim’s fingertips. Jim curled his own fingers around Spock’s instinctively, reveling in the warmth that spread through his entire body like fire. Only it didn’t scorch, though it had enough intensity to do so. Instead, it melted away any last bits of tension built deep into Jim’s mask of the starship captain.
Like liquid jello Jim poured himself onto Spock, still moving only because Spock was there to hold them both together. Finding it in himself to tilt his head up, Jim was met with Spock’s eyes and saw the infinite depth of space within them. His dark pupils (Jim only offhandedly noticed they were now glazed over with a milky haze) pulled him in, offered the entire universe if he were to just lose himself in the sight.
Neither of them were touching the ground anymore, or at least Jim couldn’t feel it under his feet though he found it impossible to look away to verify the feeling. Instead he focussed inwards, somehow finding Spock where his own mind should be. Serenity bubbled up from inside of him, flowing like a current of refreshingly cold water through the channels that the previous heat hollowed out.
They were no longer two individuals moving in tandem with one another, but two halves of the same being, unfairly cut up into two and only now allowed to re-join, stuff themselves into one mold and come out on the other side united.
And then the music stops, and Jim realizes that they are in fact floating. Or at least were, but before he can notice that he's falling, he’s hit the floor, cruelly and abruptly separated from Spock who's lying on the ground opposite of him, just as dazed as Jim is.
It takes a second to notice the sudden draft that’s pumping fresh air into the room, though once Jim does noticed it, its already suspicious strength only picks up.
Kirk looks around the room, seeing the rest of his crew also lying or sitting on the ground clearly also lifted and now thrown against the floor much the same as Jim and Spock were. When his eyes return to Spock however, his first officer is already on his feet, making his way to what Jim suspects to be the source of the draft.
Then, to make matters even more confusing, Scotty emerges through a door that was not there five seconds ago. “Captain, are you alright?” He asks, his voice breathy as if he just ran a mile.
Kirk suppressed the urge to shake his head, settling for a ”what happened?” His eyes most definitely betraying more confusion than he’d wish as he stands up, straightening his uniform. Only now that Jim could see him, did it occur to him, that Scotty was not among the unwilling attendants of the ball, despite beaming down onto the planet with the first rescue operations team.
“I turned on the AC, sir.” Scotty reaches Kirk with some pride in his words.
”What?” Jim tries not to sigh, instead taking a quick glance over at where Spock was. His first officer was standing in a corner of the room, staring up at the ceiling at nothing Jim could see from this angle.
”I managed to sneak off before we were all captured.” Scott finally decided to start explaining. However before he could manage to say anything else Spock called out to the two of them. “Captain?”
Kirk motioned the engineer to follow, as he made his way to where Spock stood, still eyeing the ceiling. ”What is it, Spock?”
”I believe I have found the sources of the sudden change in the wind intensity.” Spock pointed up, prompting Jim to focus on the same spot. There seemed to be a slight distortion to the space there, that Kirk would have never spotted it himself. “If you notice the spatial disturbance captain,” Spock moved away just slightly when Jim leaned in closer towards him, “I believe it hides the air vents that are responsible for proper air circulation in this room.”
”Well someone seemed to have cranked them up to an eleven then.” Jim squinted at the anomaly, slowly noticing a gray metal outline of something.
”I thought that it might disperse the ghosts, captain.” Scotty inserted himself back into the conversation.
”Good thinking mister Scott.” Spock finally stopped staring into the ceiling, now properly engaging the engineer. “Though our captors were not ghosts.”
”Ai sir. Aliens or ghosts, they were just a bunch of gas fumes.”
Spock took another discrete step away from Jim. ”And seeing as the rest of the planet does not have a breathable atmosphere, you assumed that the Rioans must have had some form of artificial airflow generator to keep us alive.”
Jim’s mind managed to follow the conversation only partially, much more concerned about the sort of spell that the aliens seemed to have imposed on him. He’s never experienced anything like it, he’s never felt this… at home. Suddenly the small space between him and Spock felt like an unbridgeable gap.
”Precisely.” Scotty answered. “I managed to find the computer operating it and make them scatter to the wind.”
Jim wanted to press himself back against Spock’s chest, place his hand back on his beating heart and listen to the rhythm of his life. His eyes trailed towards Spock just in time to see him return the contact.
“Then, seeing as there is indeed no wind apart from the artificial air flow, we better leave the planet before our captors manage to reform themselves.” He said, his voice professional as ever.
If the sheer intensity of the situation didn’t still hammer against the inside of Jim’s skull like a clapper inside of a bell, he might have been convinced by Spock’s poker face that none of this ever happened.
But it did. And he remembered it. And the way Spock’s eyes managed to stay focused on him without trailing away or betraying a single emotion made Jim feel much more terrible than it had any right to.
”You are correct, mister Spock.” Jim unclipped his communicator from the belt of his pants, grateful to have something else to focus his attention on.
“Captain Kirk to the Enterprise.” He spoke into the device, getting back only static for quite a while. Then, finally, a young voice of an ensign responded. “Uhm, bridge here, Captain.”
”Notify the transporter room, all seven to beam up.”
”Uh, ah- ai sir. May I just… ask. Where… where is everyone?” There was fear in the ensign’s voice as he asked.
“Excuse me?” The realization came to him the moment he asked. Of course… the last of the bridge crew were suddenly and without warning beamed onto the planet surface, leaving no one on the bridge itself.
Even more fear bubbled up in his voice as the ensign responded. “I’m sorry sir. There was… there is no one on the bridge. Or- there wasn’t before I… showed up to deliver you the reports from yesterday- and notified the gamma shift.”
Jim closed his eyes, countless images of the Enterprise burning up in the atmosphere or crash landing onto the planet’s surface sprung up in his head. “Good work ensign.” Was the best he could do at the moment. “Get someone to beam us up and meet me in the transporter room with whoever's currently in charge. Kirk out.” He flipped the communicator closed, re-attaching it to his belt, the horror of the nearly prevented situation still creeping up on him.
During the conversation Sulu, McCoy, Uhura and Chekov gathered around the rest of the party, the spell under which they were placed dispersing.
Kirk’s communicator beeped at him. “Transporter room ready, sir. Stand by for transport.” A voice came through just as a beam of light engulfed each one of them, breaking them apart into pure energy before recreating them perfectly back aboard the ship.
It felt good to be back. At least for the few seconds of total quiet as everyone regained their bearings. But the moment passed and Jim was, all too quickly, engulfed in questions about what happened by mister Uxio, who had an ensign practically hiding behind him.
Jim wanted to do absolutely no explaining of what went down on the planet's surface, nor did the fact that he will have to write an extensive incident report about it make it any better. But he did anyway, making sure to include the ensign in the conversation and commending him on his actions as well as reassuring him that he can and should in fact log the incident.
Oh he was going to get yelled at by so many people for this.
The rest of the day, however hectic, managed to go by without any other complications. Spock disappeared off to… somewhere, Jim had enough metaphorical fires to extinguish to even think about what happened and the rest of the bridge crew worked through their medical evaluations to be cleared back for duty.
And yet, even as the artificial night fell onto the corridors of the ship, Jim was still not done, needing to write that damned incident report. He really hoped he could team up with Spock on it, given the effect the aliens had on him, a second mind with which to cross validate his own recollection of the events would be necessary. But Spock was still nowhere to be found.
Finally, Jim decided to simply check his quarters, ringing the door. “Enter!” Spock’s voice came from the other side. Kirk did as he was told.
“Ah Spock, there you are.” Jim tried to sound nonchalant, as if memories of their dance didn’t come flooding back the moment he saw him.
“Good evening captain.” Spock sat at his table though he had his meditation robes on instead of the usual uniform.
“Am I disturbing you?” Jim tried not to think about how the dark flowy fabric no doubt flutters in the air when Spock moves.
”Not at all, captain, I had just finished my meditations.” Jim decided not to comment on the fact that Spock usually mediated much later in the evening. Was something bothering him?
Jim shook his head, trying to clear it. “I was just about to get started on a report of the mission, I wanted to ask if you’d like to coordinate them. Maybe we can help each other in figuring out what actually happened down there.”
”That would be appreciated.” Spock nodded, moving his chair so Jim could pull up his own next to him.
The idea of the mission log was quite straightforward: go down to the planet's surface, take some readings, get back, report to science staff, have them work their magic. This premise was also quite easy, though tediously time consuming, to write down. So as a result Jim and Spock slowly fell into a comfortable silence as they worked, tapping away at their PADDs.
Spock was, Jim noted, sitting quite a bit further away from him than usual and he hasn’t yet offered to replicate Kirk and himself a cup of tea while they worked, but despite those oddities, an air of normality began to settle over them.
Jim explained how the initial landing party got lost in a sudden thick fog which eventually led them to an old seemingly abandoned building complex. He detailed their first meeting with the Rioans and how they subsequently captured the exploration team, bringing them to the illusionary ballroom where he was met with the rest of his bridge crew, already succumbing to the aliens’ telepathic powers.
But just as Jim began to relax, his report hit the roadblock of the ballroom dance itself. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go into too much detail but as the Rioans were a completely unknown alien species with potentially dangerous powers, it was expected of him to give a description of his own experience when under their control.
He placed his PADD down onto the table with a hopefully quiet sigh, eying Spock who was just finishing up his recollection of how the abandoned building looked like. He noticed Jim’s attention on him at once, abandoning his work and returning the gaze.
”So-” Jim started, suddenly unsure of himself. “What actually happened to us?”
His friend shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I do not know when exactly you stopped listening to me.” Jim opened his mouth to argue but Spock didn’t sound like he meant to fight on that specific point. “However as I explained down on the planet’s surface, our captors- the Rioans, seemed to possess some innate telepathic properties.”
“Yeah I still heard that one.” Kirk spoke up, his voice more annoyed than he’d intended it to be. “You said,” he softened a little, “that they seemed to be affecting our minds in some way.”
“They obviously intended for us to stay. It is possible they needed us for something.”
“And the best way to ensure that, was to make us want to stay.” Jim concluded for him.
“Indeed.” Spock continued to sit perfectly still, keeping his composure to himself.
“But why the ballroom? Why all the dancing? I’m sure there’s plenty of other ways to make us stay.” The shared moments with Spock resurfaced in his mind. Was that it? Did the Rioans know that would prevent him from running away long enough for the telepathy to take effect? Was that their way to stop Jim from proper thinking for a while?
“That, I do not know.”
“Yeah, okay sure. So let’s figure it out.” Jim pressed on, there had to be a better explanation for this. Something better than mind reading and forced proximity. “They lock us in a room, pair us up and make us dance to the rhythm of their music. Could that have something to do with it?”
“Possibly.” Spock took his PADD into his hands again, looking through his report. If Jim wasn’t too busy chasing the music out of his ears- a faint remnant of the planet still stuck in his mind- he might have noticed that Spock was trying to deflect the conversation topic.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed the same, but I think it continued to pick up in volume as we continued to dance. Maybe to overwhelm us?”
Spock, who was intently staring a hole into his PADD had no time to react when Jim reached for the device in his hand with an eager “can I see your report for a second?” Their fingered brushed, bare skin on bare skin and it was as if an electric spark jumped between them at that moment, zapping Spock into flinching away.
He let go of the PADD which fell into Jim’s palm abruptly, nearly slipping out and landing on the table. The Vulcan’s own hand fell off of the table entirely, hiding under the desk.
“Oh!” Jim exclaimed loudly. “Sorry!” He too drew back, putting the PADD away. He didn’t realize it until now, but he had been losing himself again in the music as he discussed it. Only now did the full force of reality hit him. Spock’s face betrayed startled fear for a millisecond before schooling his features back to a neutral expression. But the time was enough for Jim to notice it.
“Did I-“ He drew back further, almost pressing himself into the back of the chair. It would be so easy to run away from this conversation- to stay silent, apologize noncommittally and go back to writing this damn report and pretending like their dance never happened. Spock seemed to have resigned to do exactly this until Jim accidentally thwarted his plans with this very conversation. But the dance did happen and they were too far down this rabbit hole to back away now. “Did I do something wrong?”
Even as Spock settled back into his stone faced expression, giving Jim enough time to abandon the conversation, he continued. “At… at the ball? Or at some point after that? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me ever since we got back to the ship. And I- I know that something happened between us down on that planet…”
Words seemed to be tumbling out of his mouth now, unstoppable. “And I can now see that you clearly don't want to talk about this and if you tell me to just stop talking, I will-” Jim inched closer towards Spock, extending his hand to lay just at the edge of Spock’s personal space on the table. This time he didn’t cross the line.
“But I’d really like to understand what you think about this whole thing. Because at least for me it felt… ” Finally Jim paused, only aware of his previous words as they left his lips, he now took the time to actually articulate his feelings as he finished with “special.”
His eyes met Spock’s for the first time in a while as he studied the Vulkan’s expression. Something hid behind that perfect mask of his. Peeking out from around the corner of his eyes. Profound, but muted by the rest of his stoic face.
It didn’t manage to fight its way out even when Spock spoke up. “I was fearful that you would wish to have this conversation.” He spoke with an even voice, his breathing leveled, though maybe too perfectly casual.
Jim waited for him to continue. Now was the time to give Spock enough space to back out if he needed to. But despite Jim’s expectations, he continued on.
”Though I did hope for it to happen after I’ve had more time understanding the situation myself, I do not see any point in pushing it further away.” He exhaled, seemingly reassuring himself of his next actions. “I do have one thing to request of you, Jim.”
”Of course. Anything.”
”Perhaps a mind meld might be more effective in expressing what my words seem to be lacking?” Spock sounded almost nervous at the request, though his expression didn’t change at all.
Jim blinked at him blankly, his brain still catching up with everything that was happening as he turned to the side, facing Spock. The Vulcan’s lanky fingers met him halfway, Jim registered that they were still trembling the slightest bit when they made contact with the skin at the side of his face.
The world fell away in an instant, the last thing Jim registered with his proprioceptive senses was when he closed his eyes. For a moment, a vast empty nothing surrounded his consciousness. Then, something distinctly not his, tucked at his senses.
Jim felt himself reaching out for it but the moment he got close, it pulled at him instead, swallowing him into a sudden whirlpool of flashing colors and lights.
Then. Nothing. Spock’s instinctual attempt at shutting his emotions off kicked in. Silence- full, ever present and oppressive silence, as if the infinite world in which Jim found himself began to press against him with the gravity of all its endless space. The silence, it remained unopposed still, filled the air with its ever presence and refused to let go. Jim could hear a quiet rumbling in his ears, no doubt the side effect of there being nothing to overpower the sound of the blood flowing through his body. Only, Jim didn’t have a body anymore. He looked around, felt the silence with his mind alone. But the humming continued, growing in strength, growing, growing, fighting back against the instinctive protective silence Spock’s naturally secretive mind threw up to keep Jim out.
And this rumbling, it wasn’t coming from within Jim’s body- whatever could be considered a body in his current disembodied state- it came from without, from beyond the silence, now fighting its way in until it practically hammered against the nonexistent walls of the silence. The walls tried to hold on with all their strength, but the noise was unrelenting, now determined to let itself be known until finally, the silence shattered, breaking into million inaudible pieces, taking the quiet space with it and replacing it with something else entirely.
In front of him, all around his peripheral vision, stretching into infinity, there was a great landmass, its surface ever shifting, ever changing, ever flowing in invisible currents as if made from smoke and ash. As if the entire planet in front of him got hit by a raging sandstorm or fought off an angry ion cloud.
The rumbling originated from here, screaming out from deep within the ongoing hurricane. Jim was now so close to it he could feel the sound reverberate inside of his very being (whatever that even meant given that he was currently incorporeal). Whatever it was that Spock’s instincts were trying to protect, must be hidden within the storm.
Jim took a “step” forward, willing his mind to stay calm as the shifting gray granules of sand and dust enveloped him. But the moment he came into contact with it, his consciousness was suddenly bombarded with yet another series of flashes- images this time, flooded Jim’s mind, rushing past quicker than he could process all of them.
The first one he caught onto was a snapshot from the bridge. The sudden silence came as a surprise amidst the previous mix of voices, sounds, cries, and hums of distant things. Spock sitting by the science station off to the side from where Jim saw himself in the captain’s chair shouting inaudible commands. Then, without any warning the bridge explodes, the ruptures in the ship’s hull returning a jumble of sounds to the scene, Jim sees himself flying off to the side hitting the floor hard. Spock jumps up from his seat, and the image fills with pain, fear, stunned helplessness, before disappearing.
Jim instinctively reached out, offering impossible help. Instead, another image catches onto him- a familiar face of a woman Jim soon remembered as Edith Keeler. Then another, this one Jim also recognized though he seemed incapable of placing a name to the face. Then another, and another, all women from Jim’s long and complicated history of seducing people on away missions to get what he needs from them. He played his part well. Too well most of the time, finding himself enamored by the people he knew he could never have or even really want. Each new face as if stabbing a dagger of doubt and incompatibility, into where Jim’s side would be.
A shut door laced with rejection, an overturned chessboard and claustrophobically encompassing worry ran by, Jim could feel himself fall through the cracks in between some connective tissue of this space, composed of pure logic. Until he fell and there was nothing more to fall through. The noisy buzz from before changing again, a hint of some hidden pattern emerging from within the confusion. Jim was no longer falling, he realized. Now instead floating through the lack of anything around him.
This place- a harsh contrast to the overcrowded ash filled space from before, was devoid of everything. Even common sense and all of logic couldn’t reach here. The sound cleared up the further away from the surface Jim got, now the pattern could be heard quite clearly, three evenly spaced beats, followed by the smallest notion of a pause before following up with another triplet. This repeated, grew in strength, began to resemble something akin to a melody.
Jim wasn’t entirely sure if he was moving through the nothingness on his own or pulled through it by a gravity like force, but either way the planet drew him closer to its core. And then Jim saw it, a large nucleus of molten lava with immense heat radiating off of it. A sense of deja vu washed over him, the melody finally clicking into place, both of the stimuli mirroring Jim’s own memory of the ballroom dance. When their hands touched. Only now there was no protective barrier between them, Jim stood exposed to the full force of the scorching burn, threatening to consume them both.
Oh and it felt good. It felt like home and it felt like want and it felt like the red desert sand glimmering in Vulcan’s summer sun. It felt like that and it felt like so many other things. And it felt like the entire world would collapse if this living rock grew any bigger, would instead implode if it was extinguished.
And there was something, something so weak and powerless pulling at Jim- fighting a losing battle in trying to pull him away, to return him back to the safe and cold nothingness of outer space. But the gravitational pull of the core was too strong, the need to finally be understood- heard, reciprocated- too powerful to be taken away by doubt.
The heat remained, the music remained, the molten core of emotion remained and Jim remained with it. But it was too much. He didn’t want it to stop. He needed to get away. He wanted to revel in the warmth of the flames for eternity. He reached out closer. He should recede instead. It felt like joy and bliss and want and need and doubt and fear and pain and worry and want and want and want and-
And then the world returned. The actual world. The quarters of Spock’s too-hot-for-comfort room greeted him. Despite the lights being on full hundred percent, compared to the infinite glow of a few seconds past, the room could have just as easily been completely dark. Jim blinked. Turned his head to the side and saw Spock, face perfectly blank, his hand millimeters away from the side of Jim’s head, shaking.
And Jim should say something, and he should at least try to show some signs of regaining control of his body, and he should most definitely respond, or react or reassure. But he can’t open his mouth. Or, more accurately, he can’t close it, as it is already hanging agape.
Spock watches him, his eyes cold, detached, waiting but not expecting an answer. Jim tries to speak up again, but instead of his voice, another sound pierces the silence.
The wall mounted communicator woke up suddenly, announcing its presence with a loud continuous beeping. Spock sat in his chair for all of five seconds, unmoving, before seemingly remembering himself and standing up to respond to the call.
“Spock here.” His voice was awfully uneven.
”There you are, mister regulations-don’t-apply-to-me-because-I’m-better-than-everyone.” McCoy’s voice came from the other side of the device. “You still haven’t been cleared for duty.”
”Doctor, I assure you, that as the rest of the crew was found to be perfectly fine, I see no point in dragging me all the way to sickbay to prove that the same applies to me.” Spock faced the wall, leaving Jim to sit at the table, still processing what just happened.
”Spock, you will be the death of me.” McCoy sighed. “I need to clear you for duty nonetheless, and I assure you that I’d like to go get some sleep tonight. So either you get to sickbay right about now, or I’ll march into your quarters and drag you here myself.”
Spock wanted to argue but the communicator line closed, McCoy’s tired voice no longer ringing through the room. Jim watched as Spock took a step back away from the wall and turned towards the door without making eye contact with Jim. “If you will excuse me, captain.” He walked out, not waiting for a response.
Jim managed to get some words out of him only after the door swooshed shut, leaving him the only person in the room. Even then, calling his barely audible exclamation of protest “words” would be an overstatement by a long shot. So instead Jim sat alone in Spock’s room, processing the mirriad of visuo-emotional stimuli he just received.
“There you are. Finally.” Bones turned around from a screen he was recording some measurements from. “Couldn't care to show up any time sooner could you?” Even without his comment, it was quite obvious the doctor was not in a good mood.
Well, neither was Spock. “Doctor-“ Holding his hands clasped in front of his body, he spoke up, his mind whirring to find a possible excuse from the examination.
“Sit down, will you? Can’t run tests on you if you’re just standing there like a stake in a fence.” Bones reached out to Spock, trying to guide him over to one of the medical pods and Spock, in a desperate attempt to not have any more hands anywhere near his body was forced to comply with the notion.
Though the moment he sat down and the screen above him wirelessly read his vitals, he didn’t need to see them to understand they were all over the place. McCoy grabbed a tricorder, his face suddenly grim.
“Spock, are you feeling alright? Your heartbeat is almost twice your usual.” Leonard grabbed the medical tricorder with his other hand, the free one reaching towards Spock’s neck, to measure his pulse manually.
Spock flinched away instinctively, his voice bordering on uneven when he spoke. “I would strongly prefer you do not do that.” He wanted to hide somewhere, fall through the medbay floor and keep phasing through matter until all that was around him was the cold and empty vacuum of space. He was still in his meditation robes, a fact that did little to stop him from feeling too exposed to the world around him.
To his credit, the doctor did retract his hand, even taking a step back away from the bed. “What’s wrong, Spock?” He asked, genuine fear creeping up into his face.
Spock didn’t even have the luxury of being human so he could say he felt atrocious, so instead he worked on keeping his blood pressure under control. “As… you can see.” He rasped. “I was in the middle of my meditations when you called me.” It wasn’t fully a lie and more importantly it was the best Spock could come up with in the moment. “Turns out, that having my autonomy taken away from me by an alien species and being forced to maintain prolonged skin to skin contact with another person-“ even thinking of the captain might prove to be too much for Spock at the current moment, not with the molten core of confusing emotions still burning inside of him- uncovered, unregulated. “-proved to be quite challenging.”
Spock spit the last word out as if it hurt him, though it didn’t do that any more than any of the other words he was forced to confess.
McCoy stood still, the tricorder in his hand though it was left dormant. Silence, tense but graciously quiet, spread between them. Then of course, the doctor spoke up. “I know you don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff but. If you want to. With me. Or Jim or anyone else.”
Spock barely controlled himself to not flinch at hearing Jim’s name. “Indeed I would not.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Leonard tried again.
“A moment of quiet would be appreciated.” The words came out way sharper than Spock intended for them to, but they did fulfill their purpose. McCoy mouthed a silent ‘right’ and, taking one more concerned look at Spock, backed away.
Minutes passed in this way, Spock’s eyes closed, his heart beat racing and his mind playing catch-up. Now, that he actually had a moment to think, the situation was thusly: First, Spock needed to regain control of his own bodily functions, it was both unbecoming and uncontrollable for a Vulcan to be sitting, in his meditation robes in sickbay, having his spiking heartbeat on display for everyone to see. Once he manages that, he can start to think about the captain and the situation that Spock put the two of them into.
Focusing inwards, feeling his own blood coursing through his body, Spock made a point of slowing it down by expanding the diameter of his veins, lowering his blood pressure. With his eyes closed and his hands in his lap, hidden inside of his long dark sleeves, he could think of himself and himself only, having had minimized the external stimuli he took in. Slowly his breathing leveled out as the monitor behind him most definitely reflected.
Spock felt his heartbeat slow down to manageable levels, his mind quiet enough to no longer project a numb humming from his imagination into his ears- only now that it stopped did Spock realize that it was ever there.
After a few moments longer, Spock opened his eyes, blinking into the awfully bright medbay lights. “Now, doctor.” Spock assured himself that he was capable of controlled speech again. “I believe you want to talk to me.”
Leonard, who stood a respectable distance away from Spock, eyes practically glued to his vital signs, nearly jumped when Spock spoke at him. But he did walk back to stand next to his bed, if maybe a couple of steps further than usual.
“I can’t clear you for duty like this.” His voice remained worried, he slowly, carefully, opened his tricorder and very obviously, as if trying to show Spock exactly what he was doing, turned it on. The black box began to whirl its normal repetitive tune and when Spock didn’t give any indication of not wanting McCoy to proceed, the doctor began waving it around his patient.
“I do not expect you to, doctor.” Spock followed the device with his eyes. “However it would be much appreciated were I allowed to spend the night in my quarters and make another appointment with you tomorrow morning.” Spock swallowed, the admission that he needed to have allowances made for him not sitting quite right with him despite the lack of better alternatives. “As I am assigned to the beta shift, that gives you plenty of time to clear me without forcing you to wake up early before your shift begins.”
McCoy turned the medical tricorder off and placed it aside with a defeated nod. “How do I know that this isn’t the Rioan’s telepathic influence on you?” He asked anyways.
“I can attempt to convince you, for example my pupils are not glazed over as was the case with those who were affected. I am not… floating, nor have I done anything noteworthy to disrupt the ship or otherwise impede its operations. However, given that I am the one attempting to convince you, you might take everything I say as an attempt to cover up my possible influence by telepathy.”
“What do you suggest then?”
Spock did not attempt to argue against the illogic of asking for guidance from a person you believe to be under mental control of your enemy, because it made the conversation easier for him. “If you allow me to return to my quarters, I will do so at once and remain there until the start of tomorrow’s alpha shift. You may… escort me out of there tomorrow if you so wish.” It sounds absurd but the doctor has been quite cooperative throughout this entire ordeal and Spock felt he should return the gesture, if only to end this conversation as soon as possible.
“Alright, Spock.” Leonard sighed again, rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb and middle finger and motioned for the Vulcan to get up.
“Thank you, doctor.” Spock did so, letting the dark silky fabric of his clothes fall and walked out of the sickbay.
The corridors, to Spock’s satisfaction, were empty, barring one ensin with a stack of PADDs in their hands who was too polite to ask why Spock was roaming the halls with his meditation robes on.
Spock’s mind naturally drifted back towards Jim. At least one thing was for certain, judging by his utterly ridiculed expression upon being freed from the mind meld, it was highly improbable, if not outright impossible, that he would be waiting for Spock to return.
If Spock was lucky, he would find his quarters deserted, devoid of any sign that the captain was ever there. Tomorrow morning, he might then find their shared bathroom area emptied out too and Jim’s entire life relocated to a different room.
If Spock was lucky, he would be allowed to keep his position and stay on the ship, occasionally share an alpha shift with his captain, their relationship purely professional.
If Spock was lucky, this entire situation will be left behind, unspoken and left to fester inside of Spock’s compartmentalized mind.
Truth be told, Spock did not feel particularly lucky today.
The door to Spock’s quarters opened out of nowhere, bright light from the inside of the room spilling into the darkened corridor. Jim jumped up in his seat, his head turning even before anyone had the time to enter.
“Captain?” Spock stopped dead in his movement, staring at the figure still sitting behind his table.
“I hope I’m not… intruding.” Jim returned the gaze tentatively.
“You… remained here. While I was in sickbay?” Spock asked instead of answering, his face showing a puzzled expression.
“If… if you want me to go-“
Jim began to stand up when Spock cut him off. “There is no need.” He raised one of his hands, motioning Jim to remain seated. “I understand you wish to discuss my previous…” His eyes fell towards the ground, ashamed. “Emotional outburst. Of course I understand if-“
“Spock.” Jim exhaled before the Vulcan’s devastation grew any further.
Spock stopped speaking the moment he heard his own name, his ears perked up though his eyes remained fixated on the floor. Jim stood up from the chair, left his long discarded PADD on the table and made his way to Spock as gently as he could.
“Would you please look at me?” Jim asked, voice soft and calm- an emotion he tried to convey in his face as well when Spock’s dark eyes slowly glided upwards, meeting Jim’s.
“I do not understand.” Spock whispered, and his confused face agreed with his statement. “You are not… disgusted with what you saw?”
“Disgusted?” Jim could barely believe what he was hearing. “Why? Spock, why would I be disgusted?”
“When I was forced to leave the room, you did not attempt to stop me. I therefore assumed I had disturbed and overwhelmed you with my… with the extent of my feelings. Disgust was the logical reason for such a reaction.”
“No. You misunderstood.” Jim protested immediately, his hands reaching for Spock’s in an attempt to soothe him before he even realized the consequences of his action. To his surprise, Spock didn’t pull away. “I was overwhelmed, yes. But not in a bad way. I just needed a moment to process it but…” Jim squeezed Spock’s hands lightly, feeling skin against skin and seeing Spock’s green blood quickly flow into his face and the tips of his ears, coloring them the same green hue.
“Jim.” Spock tried weakly. A failed attempt at pointing out what Kirk was doing.
“Spock, I already told you. What happened to us down on that planet was really special to me.” Jim didn’t let himself be distracted, however, pressing the topic on. “ You are special. And I saw that you have doubts about this. I mean I have doubts about this. Heck, I don’t even know how we would even do this. But, I’ve wanted to be with you for quite some time now, and… if… if you want to-“
“I would love to, Jim.”