Fic: Companion, Chapter 36: Spock (9)

[elliewood]

 

I hear his steps in the hallway, a slow but determined gait that pauses for a moment

Shit I don't have a key chip

and resumes as I too head for the door, to open it for him.

He pushes past me without a word, dropping the admiral's cane to one side and pulling off his jacket as he moves past the bed toward the window opposite.  I close the door behind him and follow.

"Captain, where have you--"

He whirls unsteadily around to face me, his face contorted with emotions I cannot begin to decode.  I come to a halt directly in front of him, unsure as to how to respond.

"Don't.  Just don't.  I don't have to tell you anything."  

His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright as he glares at me for a moment before suddenly seizing my hand and pulling it to his face, forcing my fingers onto his meld points. 

"Do it," he hisses, and I feel the black waves of his anger, some of which is directed at me, some not.

I try to tear my hand away, wary of the intrusion, but his strength is that of Khan, his grip on my hand cold iron.

"Do it," he says again, quieter this time, with despair more frightening than his anger before, but his grasp does not waver, and I cannot withdraw from him.  And then, I have no wish to.  For I am back in that space I have missed so dearly, amid the lightning of his thoughts, the myriad passions that govern him, returning once again to the brilliance of the mind that I have thirsted for these past weeks and feared I would never experience again.

My joy is too great; I sway on my feet, delirious with elation.  But his hand only tightens, painfully, on mine, and his tone is grim as he tells me

There's more  

and leads me down, from the bright landscape on the surface down into the dark places below.

I have not been here before; these spaces are new to me, these are things I have never seen, things I know he does not open but rarely, even to himself, and I wonder at his ability to conceal them from me before, at the uncommon strength of his mind.  We observe them together, now, my gaze fixed on his eyes, bitter blue pools that fill as I watch and overflow onto his cheeks.

Here is Jim using Gaila to obtain the Kobayashi Maru code in order to alter it, cheat it, cheat death

cheat her

enticing her with his body as a means to an end, as it has always been for him.  And here is his furious embarrassment at being called out, the lingering shame over what I must think of him for his end run around death, for his unwillingness to look it in the face, for his 

cowardice

And we go lower to find his guardian Frank holding a furry, squirming creature, a pet he told the boys they could have but is now taking away because they cry too much, whine too much, just like the pup now cries and whines as it struggles to reach its young friends, their faces streaked with tears of rage and grief.   And here is Jim's anger at the unjust cruelty but also his guilt and shame that Frank is right, that it is his fault, that his deficiencies have caused this loss, and he swears to himself that he will 

never show anyone, ever again

And here is Sam, the only person in the world Jim has fully revealed himself to, leaving home, leaving him behind, and Jim knows that it is his fault, that he and not Frank drove Sam away, he leaned on him too much, needed too much from him until he fled the suffocation of his 

stupid kid brother, stupid crybaby

And here is Jim and the automobile, his father's car that he will never let Frank have, that he will sooner destroy than give up, and as it plunges over the edge of the quarry, the exultation of victory is there, yes, but so is the grief at the destruction of the last thing that connects him to the legend of George Kirk and the guilt that he could not hold on to it, he could not withstand the torment of 

seeing that asshole drive around in it like he owned it, like he had any right to it, any right to anything that was dad's

hating his own fragility, hating himself, hating everyone...

And here we are, on the transporter pad, preparing for the rescue of Captain Pike from the Narada, and he watches me holding Nyota and wishes it were him instead, the shock when he realizes that it is my embrace he craves, my lips on his mouth, my hands on his back, not hers as he first supposed, the comprehension causing him to reel with its force, his mind staggering under its newfound awareness...

that's crazy fucking crazy what the hell is wrong with you you fucking idiot

And we go lower, into the cloudy, fragmented memory of a night several weeks ago, the celebration after having cheated the volcano on Nibiru, Jim and Scott and Sulu and Leonard and Nyota, in the captain's quarters, and the bourbon and the wine and the scotch are flowing, and the friends are all inebriated and laughing and telling stories, and she remains, while the others stumble out, to help him clean up the mess they have made of his cabin, and he reaches around her to pick up a shot glass, and she turns toward him, cold and lonely because of my neglect, and kisses him, wraps herself around him, pushes him backwards onto his bunk, and he falls clumsily

wait what

as she tears first his trousers, then his briefs, down to his knees, alarmed but not enough to twist away as she readies him roughly with her mouth,

the hell

not enough to protest when she climbs on top of him, 

crazy oh shit

not wanting but wanting her, tasting her with lips anesthetized by alcohol, uncoordinated hands batting ineffectually at her arms and breasts as she pants above him,

spinning helpless

and groaning with numbed pleasure as he releases inside her.  And their waking together, hours later, each half naked and fearful of the truth, wanting to believe it means nothing but knowing...

oh God

And lower still, to the thoughts he has kept entombed for months, the desire for me, the anticipation of my footfalls, my voice, the ache for my touch, yes, but more as well, for my eyebrow raised in astonishment, my mouth quirking in amusement, my eyes dropping in submission and raising again in challenge, my heart quickening with admiration and respect, my face softening in love.  And the physical want is there as well, every gentle, tender gesture he has ever hoped to bestow and receive in return as well as every debauched act he can think of that leads to our shocked intakes of breath, our ragged moans and screams of ecstasy, our exhausted embraces as we tumble together toward sleep...

And lower to the very bottom at last, to the gaping need, the void that he believes will never be filled, the want of a true companion who will see all this, know all this, and love him anyway despite his belief that he is unlovable, stay with him through the fear of his own inconstancy, devote a lifetime to him when

I don't deserve it

"You sure you still want that bond?"

His voice is at once defiant and hopeless, a warrior with the sword at his throat, awaiting the stroke but refusing to kneel.

In the end, it will make no difference

I may not have him because he will never be mine to take

I pull my hand away at last, my fingers wet with his furious tears.

Oh James

Oh my dear one

My voice is unsteady, low-pitched and breaking on the words as my own heart breaks for him.  

"How could you think there is any darkness within you that is not within myself as well?"

He is rigid, disbelieving. 

I take his hand and place my two fingers into his palm, folding it around them, inviting him to cling to me.

This is what is real

You are not alone

I never leave you

I raise my other hand to the side of his head, to the fine golden curls clustering around his ear, and draw his fingers up to my mouth, brushing the first two with my lips, so that he will understand.

 

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