Fic: Observations, Ch 240
He’s asleep beside me.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him sleeping-Vulcans don’t sleep, not really. They meditate, and it does the same thing for them. Even after sex, he never sleeps. He just lies there next to me, probably doing the same thing I’m doing right now. He makes a point to be there when I wake up, after that first misunderstanding. I open my eyes and he’s there at my side, dark eyes and sharp angles and soft kisses. He lets himself be intimate here, after passion is spent and it’s just the two of us. It’s the best part of my day.
He’s asleep beside me for the first time. Bones released him from Sickbay, his expression hard and haggard. I don’t even bother to ask for diagnosis. Anyone with two eyes and half a brain can see Spock’s in no condition to be standing. But there’s no way he’s staying there. Not after what he’s been through. I can’t carry him-can’t count the number of times he’s carried me-but he leans against me. It’s like he weighs nothing. Bones doesn’t say anything about the wheelchair. Spock just loops his arm around and buries his face in the crook of my neck as we walk to my quarters. Our quarters. He doesn’t say a word.
I gently help him down on our bed. Arranging the covers around him, he looks at my face, eyes gleaming in the darkness. His hand comes up and he trails his fingers along the arch of my eyebrow, down my cheek, across my lips. I kiss his fingers. They go up along the side of my nose and I close my eyes as his touch ghosts across my eyelids, then down the bridge of my nose. His hand is still. I take it in mine, and lean down and kiss the line of his eyebrow, then his closed eyes, then the corner of his lips. He shivers, and I realize he must be freezing. I get up-he makes a sound-I promise him I’ll be back, and raise the temperature. I take his hand in mine, but he’s already asleep. I can see the weariness in the lines of his body. I lie down beside him.
There’ve been times when I wished that I could do this, watch him sleep. Now, I would give anything for this to have never happened. He shudders and his jaws clench-a nightmare. I wrap my arms around him to make whatever demons he’s facing go away, wishing for the billionth time that I could somehow make him forget all the hell he’s been through. But I can’t. So I make do with what I have, afraid that it’s still not enough.
The shivering stops. His breathing evens out. I adjust my position carefully, bringing him closer. The nearness makes me excruciatingly aware of the effects of the torture, all the places they bruised and broke him. Just the thought of it makes me so fucking angry, but I immediately block those emotions when Spock whimpers. The sound is like a knife straight into my heart. Rage can wait. I softly kiss his temple. I’m here. You’re safe.
I concentrate on his slow, quiet breathing and the steady beat of his heart. I try not to, but again in the darkness, I can’t help but feel the ten thousand ways they violated him. Can’t breathe. I can’t even name the emotions that wash over me, threatening me to drag me under. Then push it aside again. Grief can wait too. Spock’s here in my arms, and that’s enough to drive away any sorrow. For now.
He nestles closer to my body and I am undone. Right then and there I know I’ll do anything for him. Anything. Just name the price and I’ll pay it-Spock’s worth all that and more. I’ll blow up a planet, fly to the ends of the galaxy, give up my ship, leave any paradise the universe has to offer to have him at my side. I’ve known for a long time, but this adds another dimension to everything I feel. Everything I’ve been feeling for the past months, years.
I don’t usually think about stuff. It’s not who I am-Spock’s the one who makes me stop and actually think twice about what I’m planning. Starfleet psychologists would tell you that’s why we make such a good team, something about opposites and balance. If you told me right at the beginning that this is what we’d become, that I wouldn’t be able to imagine life without him, I’d laugh and give you one of my shit eating smiles. Sure man, whatever you say.
To be honest, I don’t really know how this happened. One minute, I’m arguing with Spock about Starfleet protocols, the next we’re playing chess, the next, we’re kissing and I want him in my bed. Then best of all, he’s actually in my bed, naked, his skin flushed green. I kept telling myself that it couldn’t be love. I’m usually pretty good at lying to myself. Didn’t work here. Never in a million years did I even think that he might reciprocate. That he does, that he compromised himself for me, still makes my heart stop.
Then I almost lost it all. While we were searching for him, I didn’t tell the crew how close we came to losing him. They saw for themselves when we finally found him, after I sprinted through dark corridors guided by nothing but fear, the dark terror of feeling. Sulu and the team with me, getting directions from Chekov while I took point. I don’t remember anything they said, any of the orders I gave. There’s only the burning focus, thud of adrenaline to move forward, closer, find him.
I’m never going to forget. Those beige corridors. I’m never going to forget.
It doesn’t matter. It’s over. Spock’s not fighting to find reasons to hang on-he’s alive. He’s with me. He’s on the Enterprise. We’ve got our crew.
That’s all that matters.