| ST: TOS S2 Fic, Part 4/5: "Ship and Star" - Kirk/Spock - PG13 |
[Jun. 25th, 2009|02:20 pm] |
Title: Ship and Star
Fandom: Star Trek: TOS (S2)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG-13 (previous was NC-17, for anyone who missed it)
Notes: This will be the fourth piece out of five in my S2 fic arc, which itself follows from my five-story S1 arc (which begins here - I strongly recommend reading those first; meanwhile, Part 1 of this arc is here, Part II is here, and Part III is here). This piece contains references to/spoilers for "The Ultimate Computer." As with the first sequence, there's music holding all of this together. The song in question is "This Is Me," by Girlyman. I find that they're very little-known outside the Northeast U.S., so I suppose I'm imagining a future where they're still haunting the airwaves.
Summary: There's more to poetry than simple metaphor.
[Part 3/5, Split Vision, can be found here.]
A little star of brilliant hope in skies of black we are,
and Danish blue is the color of your eyes in June.
For many days, I've woken with head pains, my eyes ablaze—
you never knew, because I never told you.
—This Is Me, Terran 21st-century
*
What good was the promise he'd never lose the Enterprise if he'd nearly broken it?
Agreeing to participate in the testing of M5 had been Jim's first mistake. Even though the request had come through Starfleet with full marks of approval, he still should have known better. There were men and there were machines, and he'd always been more inclined to trust the former over the latter. Daystrom had been the deal-breaker, he supposed. How could Starfleet say no to the man whose technology made the very foundations of its mission possible? No, Jim couldn't blame them for that.
It was far easier to blame himself for not having had the foresight to reconsider, to suggest an alternative to his superiors—anything to have averted the catastrophe they were left with, the cost of so many unsuspecting lives. He and Spock were lucky to have gotten out of the situation without so much as a mild reprimand, that was for certain. And as for his First Officer, well—Jim could not have expected objection. As it was in his nature to lead, it was in Spock's nature to follow orders.
Long fingers splayed at his temples, pinpoints of warmth. In spite of Spock's careful deliberation, there was teasing in the gesture. This was not a meld.
"I find it difficult to rest when you cling to such determined wakefulness."
Jim rolled onto his back, flinging one arm up above his head. Spock shifted to accommodate him, withdrawing his hand as quickly as he had offered it. The four-hour debriefing session had left them both drained, and Bones had done his best impression of suffering an aneurysm when Jim had refused to come in for stress monitoring. He hadn't even tried to convince Spock to do the same.
"I'm sorry," Jim sighed. "I can't get this M5 business out of my head. And Daystrom, good God. What'll they do to him? Make a lab-rat of him just like he did to himself?"
"He has been assigned to a facility of highest repute," Spock murmured, his fingers already finding new purpose along Jim's collarbone. "I have no doubt that he will receive the finest treatment possible. However, the experience will not be entirely...pleasant. I, too, regret this state of affairs. Daystrom is a significant loss."
To humanity or technology? Jim wanted to ask, but he swiftly suppressed the irreverent thought. There was no need to doubt Spock's motivations, not anymore. His public profession of loyalty had been more than sufficient by way of demonstration.
To Starfleet, replied Spock, with no trace of bitterness. His index finger sought briefly after Jim's pulse, monitored it for a few seconds before, seemingly content, drifting to curl at the hollow of his throat with the lightest scratch of closely-clipped nail.
"Bones could've left off teasing," Jim said, catching Spock's hand and pressing it there. "It didn't help matters. I'm amazed you put up with him at times like that."
"The Doctor has his own methods for coping with tense situations," said Spock, mildly. "Who am I to interfere with the mental discipline of another, as illogical as it may seem?" Jim turned his head just in time to catch Spock's smile as it receded.
"I'll catch you one of these days," Jim said, jabbing a finger at the corner of Spock's mouth. "Just you wait. I've got your number, mister."
Spock tilted his chin slightly, propped up on one elbow. His expression was feigned, no doubt of it: affectionate satisfaction masquerading as irritated inquiry.
"Indeed, Captain. Every last digit, and, no doubt, by heart."
"It's easy to tell when you're proud of yourself, you know that?"
"For you, perhaps, and even for Leonard," Spock said, bending to brush the briefest of kisses against Jim's lips. "Otherwise, I should hope that my secret is safe."
"Of course," Jim said, reaching up to muss Spock's infuriatingly perfect hair. "I couldn't possibly allow the crew to go around secure in the knowledge you're every bit as passionate as the next guy. They'd never take you seriously again."
"If by the 'next' individual fitting such a description, you mean yourself—"
Incandescent, the knowledge that Spock had dredged his mind out of that endless quagmire of Daystrom's creation without the benefit of a meld. How had he ever steered himself aright before he'd known this bright, strange soul? Surely he'd never truly known himself, either, or the full extent of his command capabilities. With Spock never more than a breath or a step behind him, how could he be anything but confident? Still, there was loss, the sadness that always came haunting...
What does this profit you, t'hy'la, when we have lived another day?
Jim returned the kiss, blindly seeking Spock's fingers, which cradled his face in earnest now, the warmth already flaring through every part of him.
It profits me to remember that I'm human. Never to fall so far.
Spock paused, breathing harshly against Jim's neck. So far?
As Daystrom. As Karidian. As Khan.
Spock's breath gentled, and the meld ebbed to nothing. You are not those men.
Jim nodded, almost hesitantly. "No, but I'm still a man."
"As am I, although you would forget it."
"No more talking. I'm tired," Jim sighed, pressing their foreheads together. He let his eyes drift shut, comforted to know only this, simply to be.
Spock was smiling again, Jim was sure, but he'd give him the benefit of the doubt.
"As am I, t'hy'la." Of course he'd speak it, just to be contrary.
"You sure took a while to make your point."
"On the contrary, I began by stating it."
Jim huffed and held him closer. Of course I would have you otherwise: I'd have had you any way you came to my ship, you stubborn, wonderful star.
- Continue: Revolving Doors - |
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