FIC: Daylight Star
Title: Daylight Star
Author:
coprolite
Universe: STXI
Rating: G
Relationship status: Pre-slash
Word count: +/- 1,800
Genre: (subtle) h/c, mild drama
Trope: mind meld
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek.
Summary: Where Jim goes, Spock follows; because no matter what, Spock will not lose Jim.
NOTES: This fic was inspired by the song, Garden of Everything by Maaya Sakamoto and Steve Conte. It's a beautiful song, go listen to it. Perfect for Kirk/Spock pairing.
He stood afar, a slightly dark, lone figure in the midst of green, indigo and warmth, unaware that he was being observed.
Spock took a deep breath, relief flooding through his veins like the fresh air that filled his lungs. He had found him. At last, he found his Captain. As the loud, overly emotional doctor would have said, “It’s a miracle!” Being a logical individual, who had been inculcated with structured, organized order of matters in the universe since birth, Spock would have dismissed the doctor’s inclination to inexplicable phenomenon. However, now, he decided that such an actuality was quite plausible. Kirk had been missing for several days - fifteen days, eight hours, fifty-seven minutes and forty-nine seconds of standard ship time to be exact. To find him unharmed like this despite the odds, his Captain truly was… a wonder.
Spock took a step forward, another and another, gradually approaching the Captain. The grass beneath his boots crunches in every step as the gentle breeze blew.
He was two meters from him when the Captain suddenly spun around. Time appeared to stop as Spock halted, instantly frozen by Kirk’s too blue eyes and welcoming smile. There was no surprise in his features, as though Spock had been expected - that his Captain was waiting for him all along.
Deep azure, Kirk’s eyes were that of Earth viewed from space. Twin orbs, two planetoids in terminal immobility.
His mother had told him more than once that the eyes were the windows to one’s soul. An illogical human idiom. Or so he had believed. Only due to the years of his stay in Starfleet had taught him of the sense of the said vernacular.
Fancy meeting you here, the wind whispered so softly.
He searched for its source, but only to deduce that it came from Kirk.
Humans were complex creatures, Spock had long learned. They possessed the tendency to speak and express themselves in codes - like computer programs, with layers and layers of syntax of alpha-numeric and symbols cloaking their cores. Spock often pondered the reason for such characteristic. It was illogical. However, he had come to understand that it was either a form of propriety, consideration or defense. Or perhaps, a matter else.
Was that a... flaw?
No matter; humans were fascinating.
And Kirk was perfectly so. Like a sun’s offspring, Kirk was - it was as though he was made not to fade.
Inconceivable.
Over the course of one year, two months and three days of their five-year mission of space exploration, the Captain had had received several fatal injuries that could have ended his life. He had died on four occasions, but as Kirk appeared to defy every law in existence of the known universe, bending space and time to his advantage by sheer, strong will, he returned to them - alive, bruised and smiling.
Spock, somehow illogically, thought that his Captain believed that he could control everything and anything as he continued to win against improbability. As the Enterprise’s First Officer and his friend, Spock was not willing to take too many risks. Thus, he carried on doing whatever he could to keep Jim alive.
But with Jim smiling at him like this, Spock had an unfounded urge to grab his shoulders, shake him and yell at him all at once. Spock was feeling anger, frustration, irritation mixed with delight of seeing Jim whole and well.
Jim quietly remained looking at him with unchanged expression. He was speaking to him in silence. Spock knew this, but he could not understand. Jim’s emotions were present - that alone should have given him an idea, yet Spock still could not comprehend what his friend was expressing. Humanly sighing, he partially freed his mind of its wards.
Jim extended a hand to Spock,
Come. Come with me.
He reflexively raised an eyebrow at the gesture, and studied Jim. There was no mistake that Jim wanted to take him somewhere. And even though he preferred not to have such (intimate) physical contact, Spock believed they would be able to communicate more clearly if he did. Hesitantly, Spock places his hand over his friend’s palm. Jim smiled again, curling his fingers around Spock’s, before removing his eyes from him.
Their surroundings dissolved in a rippling wave, morphing into an entirely different scenery.
Spock followed Jim’s gaze and found himself staring on a glistening lake.
Jim then pointed to a small boat by the littoral, and drew him towards it; Spock allowed himself to be pulled, and joined Jim on the vessel, carefully stepping on it as it rocked under their weights.
After they were comfortably seated, the wooden boat floated slowly, heading forward - north perhaps. Spock lightly tugged his hand from Jim’s grasp, but his friend squeezed it so, shaking his head. When Spock lifted one brow, Jim chuckled, blue eyes twinkling under the rays of the sun.
As Spock waited for what was to come, he noted that Jim was not troubled at all. He appeared to be fully in control of his mental and emotional faculties. It was quite strange to see him like this - unworried and free of the reality of the outside world. Spock inquired as to where they were going, to which Jim only answered with another smile, but Spock heard the words unspoken:
To the Isle of Infinity.
When they disembarked, Jim still hadn’t let him go, continuing to lead him forward. They stopped when they reached a barren area where a single tree, filled with brilliant crystalline leaves, shimmering in the light as it stood tall and proud. A fascinating sight, Spock said to himself. Jim, again, smiled, eyes crinkling concavely as though he had heard his thoughts.
Perhaps he had.
Even with his mental barrier partially down, Spock was uncertain of how to categorize what he was feeling through their linked hands. Doubtlessly, there was acceptance, joy and perhaps affection. But Spock would not dare assume that these sensations flowing to him from Jim was anything but love and adoration. He was aware of such feeling; he had experience with it. His mother loved him as he had loved her. His father, though not spoken, loved him as well, and he him.
Nyota had told him several times that she loved him, and Spock fully knew that it was a different type of love from his parents. This, with Jim, was…
It made him wonder though, why humans had labeled such emotion in various levels. Specious, however understandable. Perhaps it was not only humans who had done so. Perhaps, every sentient being in the known and unknown universe was the same.
Perhaps.
Jim slowly released him, drawing Spock out of his thoughts. He looked at his friend, puzzled as Jim moved his arms repeatedly towards him - up and down, up and down - in an obvious hesitation. Jim clenched and unclenched his fists, took a deep breath then, before he gently cupped Spock’s cheeks in his warm palms. Spock himself remained immobile, and Jim exhaled a shaky breath as though he had expected to be throttled painfully. This, made Spock elevate an eyebrow.
Jim gave him a mute laugh, and tenderly pressed his forehead against his, eyes closing in content.
Stay, Jim conveyed, as soft as the winds.
Spock unsoundly wished to. It was peaceful here. There were no enemies, no worries and no pain. But it was his duty as First Officer and more importantly, as a friend, to return Jim to the outside world. They could not stay here. Both of them could not, no matter how much Jim wanted to.
So Spock shook his head, placing both hands over Jim’s. We cannot, he told him, To remain here means certain death.
Immediately, Jim tore away from him, but Spock did not allow him to go far. Even as Jim’s blue eyes, now tinge with silver, glare at him, Spock did not relent. We cannot, Spock declared tersely. Anger flared from his friend as Jim turned and ran.
Spock dashed after him.
He caught up soon, blocking Jim’s way. There was still anger emitting from him, but Spock refused to care. He had just found his friend and Spock had no plans of losing him again. Fully aware of himself, Spock offered a hand for Jim to take.
Jim looked at it, then met his gaze. In blatant refusal, Jim walked passed Spock.
Left with little choice, Spock grabbed his arm, hauling Jim to a stop. Please, he beseeched his friend. Jim did not look at him. You are dying, Spock continued, We need you in the Enterprise. Still, Jim did not listen, struggling from his hold. Spock closed his eyes for three seconds. “I need you, Captain,” he said out loud.
Those words made Jim meet his eyes at last, blinking twice before inclining his head in apparent doubt.
“I need you,” Spock repeated. “Jim, please.”
Jim exhaled tiredly as he casted his eyes down. Several moments passed, Spock’s impatience grew, but Jim then closed their distance, placing his forehead against him once again. With eyes closed, Jim nodded, Okay. Breath. Okay, because I need you too.
The last thing Spock saw as their surroundings shattered into thousands of shards was Jim’s resignation, before darkness swallowed them whole.
When he opened his eyes, Spock was staring at the alloyed ceiling of Enterprise’s Medical Bay.
“That was some stunt you pulled,” came a gruff voice.
Spock ignored the doctor as he sat up on the biobed, preparing to leave the facility. “The Captain’s condition?”
A tired sigh, “Alive. He’s still asleep, but he’s far from danger. He’ll wake in six hours or so, and then he’ll be whining for an immediate release.”
There was a companionable silence as Spock put his science blue uniform and arranged his self. It was both a rarity and an oddity that the doctor did not question him, or even berate him for his supposedly ludicrous acts. Spock found that he was perturbed by McCoy’s inaction. “Will you be inquiring as to what has occurred during the mind meld, Doctor?”
Doctor McCoy snorted, “If I did, would you give me the answer I’m looking for?”
“No.”
“Then let’s leave it at that.” He removed himself from the side of the door and grabbed a PADD by the bed. He gave it to Spock. “Sign this and you’re done. You’re off duty until the next Gamma shift.”
Spock did not argue as he signed the release form. He returned it to the doctor and moved towards the exit.
As the door slid open for him, Doctor McCoy quietly called, “Thanks for bringing him back.”
Spock stopped for two seconds, and walked out without sparing an answer or a glance. Meditation and rest were in order.
END
Can I count this as "hallucination" in the hc_bingo card? Is it even h/c? @_@
Author:
coprolite
Universe: STXI
Rating: G
Relationship status: Pre-slash
Word count: +/- 1,800
Genre: (subtle) h/c, mild drama
Trope: mind meld
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek.
Summary: Where Jim goes, Spock follows; because no matter what, Spock will not lose Jim.
NOTES: This fic was inspired by the song, Garden of Everything by Maaya Sakamoto and Steve Conte. It's a beautiful song, go listen to it. Perfect for Kirk/Spock pairing.
He stood afar, a slightly dark, lone figure in the midst of green, indigo and warmth, unaware that he was being observed.
Spock took a deep breath, relief flooding through his veins like the fresh air that filled his lungs. He had found him. At last, he found his Captain. As the loud, overly emotional doctor would have said, “It’s a miracle!” Being a logical individual, who had been inculcated with structured, organized order of matters in the universe since birth, Spock would have dismissed the doctor’s inclination to inexplicable phenomenon. However, now, he decided that such an actuality was quite plausible. Kirk had been missing for several days - fifteen days, eight hours, fifty-seven minutes and forty-nine seconds of standard ship time to be exact. To find him unharmed like this despite the odds, his Captain truly was… a wonder.
Spock took a step forward, another and another, gradually approaching the Captain. The grass beneath his boots crunches in every step as the gentle breeze blew.
He was two meters from him when the Captain suddenly spun around. Time appeared to stop as Spock halted, instantly frozen by Kirk’s too blue eyes and welcoming smile. There was no surprise in his features, as though Spock had been expected - that his Captain was waiting for him all along.
Deep azure, Kirk’s eyes were that of Earth viewed from space. Twin orbs, two planetoids in terminal immobility.
His mother had told him more than once that the eyes were the windows to one’s soul. An illogical human idiom. Or so he had believed. Only due to the years of his stay in Starfleet had taught him of the sense of the said vernacular.
Fancy meeting you here, the wind whispered so softly.
He searched for its source, but only to deduce that it came from Kirk.
Humans were complex creatures, Spock had long learned. They possessed the tendency to speak and express themselves in codes - like computer programs, with layers and layers of syntax of alpha-numeric and symbols cloaking their cores. Spock often pondered the reason for such characteristic. It was illogical. However, he had come to understand that it was either a form of propriety, consideration or defense. Or perhaps, a matter else.
Was that a... flaw?
No matter; humans were fascinating.
And Kirk was perfectly so. Like a sun’s offspring, Kirk was - it was as though he was made not to fade.
Inconceivable.
Over the course of one year, two months and three days of their five-year mission of space exploration, the Captain had had received several fatal injuries that could have ended his life. He had died on four occasions, but as Kirk appeared to defy every law in existence of the known universe, bending space and time to his advantage by sheer, strong will, he returned to them - alive, bruised and smiling.
Spock, somehow illogically, thought that his Captain believed that he could control everything and anything as he continued to win against improbability. As the Enterprise’s First Officer and his friend, Spock was not willing to take too many risks. Thus, he carried on doing whatever he could to keep Jim alive.
But with Jim smiling at him like this, Spock had an unfounded urge to grab his shoulders, shake him and yell at him all at once. Spock was feeling anger, frustration, irritation mixed with delight of seeing Jim whole and well.
Jim quietly remained looking at him with unchanged expression. He was speaking to him in silence. Spock knew this, but he could not understand. Jim’s emotions were present - that alone should have given him an idea, yet Spock still could not comprehend what his friend was expressing. Humanly sighing, he partially freed his mind of its wards.
Jim extended a hand to Spock,
Come. Come with me.
He reflexively raised an eyebrow at the gesture, and studied Jim. There was no mistake that Jim wanted to take him somewhere. And even though he preferred not to have such (intimate) physical contact, Spock believed they would be able to communicate more clearly if he did. Hesitantly, Spock places his hand over his friend’s palm. Jim smiled again, curling his fingers around Spock’s, before removing his eyes from him.
Their surroundings dissolved in a rippling wave, morphing into an entirely different scenery.
Spock followed Jim’s gaze and found himself staring on a glistening lake.
Jim then pointed to a small boat by the littoral, and drew him towards it; Spock allowed himself to be pulled, and joined Jim on the vessel, carefully stepping on it as it rocked under their weights.
After they were comfortably seated, the wooden boat floated slowly, heading forward - north perhaps. Spock lightly tugged his hand from Jim’s grasp, but his friend squeezed it so, shaking his head. When Spock lifted one brow, Jim chuckled, blue eyes twinkling under the rays of the sun.
As Spock waited for what was to come, he noted that Jim was not troubled at all. He appeared to be fully in control of his mental and emotional faculties. It was quite strange to see him like this - unworried and free of the reality of the outside world. Spock inquired as to where they were going, to which Jim only answered with another smile, but Spock heard the words unspoken:
To the Isle of Infinity.
When they disembarked, Jim still hadn’t let him go, continuing to lead him forward. They stopped when they reached a barren area where a single tree, filled with brilliant crystalline leaves, shimmering in the light as it stood tall and proud. A fascinating sight, Spock said to himself. Jim, again, smiled, eyes crinkling concavely as though he had heard his thoughts.
Perhaps he had.
Even with his mental barrier partially down, Spock was uncertain of how to categorize what he was feeling through their linked hands. Doubtlessly, there was acceptance, joy and perhaps affection. But Spock would not dare assume that these sensations flowing to him from Jim was anything but love and adoration. He was aware of such feeling; he had experience with it. His mother loved him as he had loved her. His father, though not spoken, loved him as well, and he him.
Nyota had told him several times that she loved him, and Spock fully knew that it was a different type of love from his parents. This, with Jim, was…
It made him wonder though, why humans had labeled such emotion in various levels. Specious, however understandable. Perhaps it was not only humans who had done so. Perhaps, every sentient being in the known and unknown universe was the same.
Perhaps.
Jim slowly released him, drawing Spock out of his thoughts. He looked at his friend, puzzled as Jim moved his arms repeatedly towards him - up and down, up and down - in an obvious hesitation. Jim clenched and unclenched his fists, took a deep breath then, before he gently cupped Spock’s cheeks in his warm palms. Spock himself remained immobile, and Jim exhaled a shaky breath as though he had expected to be throttled painfully. This, made Spock elevate an eyebrow.
Jim gave him a mute laugh, and tenderly pressed his forehead against his, eyes closing in content.
Stay, Jim conveyed, as soft as the winds.
Spock unsoundly wished to. It was peaceful here. There were no enemies, no worries and no pain. But it was his duty as First Officer and more importantly, as a friend, to return Jim to the outside world. They could not stay here. Both of them could not, no matter how much Jim wanted to.
So Spock shook his head, placing both hands over Jim’s. We cannot, he told him, To remain here means certain death.
Immediately, Jim tore away from him, but Spock did not allow him to go far. Even as Jim’s blue eyes, now tinge with silver, glare at him, Spock did not relent. We cannot, Spock declared tersely. Anger flared from his friend as Jim turned and ran.
Spock dashed after him.
He caught up soon, blocking Jim’s way. There was still anger emitting from him, but Spock refused to care. He had just found his friend and Spock had no plans of losing him again. Fully aware of himself, Spock offered a hand for Jim to take.
Jim looked at it, then met his gaze. In blatant refusal, Jim walked passed Spock.
Left with little choice, Spock grabbed his arm, hauling Jim to a stop. Please, he beseeched his friend. Jim did not look at him. You are dying, Spock continued, We need you in the Enterprise. Still, Jim did not listen, struggling from his hold. Spock closed his eyes for three seconds. “I need you, Captain,” he said out loud.
Those words made Jim meet his eyes at last, blinking twice before inclining his head in apparent doubt.
“I need you,” Spock repeated. “Jim, please.”
Jim exhaled tiredly as he casted his eyes down. Several moments passed, Spock’s impatience grew, but Jim then closed their distance, placing his forehead against him once again. With eyes closed, Jim nodded, Okay. Breath. Okay, because I need you too.
The last thing Spock saw as their surroundings shattered into thousands of shards was Jim’s resignation, before darkness swallowed them whole.
When he opened his eyes, Spock was staring at the alloyed ceiling of Enterprise’s Medical Bay.
“That was some stunt you pulled,” came a gruff voice.
Spock ignored the doctor as he sat up on the biobed, preparing to leave the facility. “The Captain’s condition?”
A tired sigh, “Alive. He’s still asleep, but he’s far from danger. He’ll wake in six hours or so, and then he’ll be whining for an immediate release.”
There was a companionable silence as Spock put his science blue uniform and arranged his self. It was both a rarity and an oddity that the doctor did not question him, or even berate him for his supposedly ludicrous acts. Spock found that he was perturbed by McCoy’s inaction. “Will you be inquiring as to what has occurred during the mind meld, Doctor?”
Doctor McCoy snorted, “If I did, would you give me the answer I’m looking for?”
“No.”
“Then let’s leave it at that.” He removed himself from the side of the door and grabbed a PADD by the bed. He gave it to Spock. “Sign this and you’re done. You’re off duty until the next Gamma shift.”
Spock did not argue as he signed the release form. He returned it to the doctor and moved towards the exit.
As the door slid open for him, Doctor McCoy quietly called, “Thanks for bringing him back.”
Spock stopped for two seconds, and walked out without sparing an answer or a glance. Meditation and rest were in order.
END
Can I count this as "hallucination" in the hc_bingo card? Is it even h/c? @_@