Finding Solace
The night had not been easy. Pike had returned to his quarters with Spock after his training with Jim, only to find that a peaceful, rare night of sleep was not in order. They had fought, him and Spock, which had sent him from the room lest he harm Spock further. It was the first time he could remember not finding solace in the bond, a constant source of warmth, comfort, and strength. Instead, he found himself barring against it. How long either of them could last like this was becoming an issue.
He had found stillness in the Observation Deck, enough to pen a log reminiscent of those he had kept on his ship. The rest of the night had passed in silence, his eyes tracking still, unfamiliar stars with the purplish glow of the planet below. There had been mention that people were free to go down to the planet’s surface, and it seemed a possible idea on focusing his mind elsewhere at least temporarily.
The issue became worse, as he had no real desire to leave Spock, in the temporary or long term sense. Pike was a man of action, and having the feeling of being absolutely helpless was one that he could find nothing worse. Spock was pulling away from him as he never had before, even in their earliest days when Pike thought Spock would be an intriguing experiment in control. Spock had craved his touch like a man for water in the desert, and that had been a theme in their relationship throughout the years. They had depended on each other and no other.
Now Spock had found others to speak with, that woman who dared to touch Spock in such an intimate matter. Pike thought of Spock’s words, speaking of jealousy, and knew that while the accusation was true, it was deserved. Spock had been no better of the child-Spock. There was little doubt that she was a threat, a threat to the foundation that he and Spock had stood upon since the day the brand had been sealed into Spock’s flesh.
Pike leaned back in the chair that he had settled into the previous night, closing his eyes as he listened to the silence of the room and the volume of his thoughts. Speaking to Spock about their options was a requirement. They had to come to an agreement about what to do. He would speak with Spock about that woman. He would allow no more intimate touching, but he would not stop Spock from speaking with her. Would Spock agree to such terms? Would that women agree to them? He had no desire to speak with her face to face, knowing deep inside it would not end well if he did.
Carefully he stood, feeling aches in his body that came from remaining still for so long, and called out for the computer to unlock the door. He was not a young man anymore, and his constant inactivity on the ship was letting his body backslide on all of the work he had placed into it. Each morning would have to begin with exercises as he normally did, instead of letting himself go lax.
The time was an unknown to him, but it must have been during shift. The hallways were quiet and mostly empty, and no man or woman looked at him twice despite his rumpled clothing, hair, and lack of shoes. Pike made a mental list of topics he needed to speak with Spock about as he reached their quarters.
Perhaps, on further reflection, the emptiness of the room should not have been a large surprise. Pike noticed the unmade bed, the missing pillow, clothing, and other small objects such as several padds that were gone. Spock had deserted their quarters after their disagreement the night previous.
Pike would not allow himself to get emotional on the subject. He nodded once, turning and undressing himself. A quick shower, a clean uniform, and he left the room again with two padds. It seemed that a choice would be made for him. Something Jim had said to him played through his mind like a recording, and his response. Could he return only briefly to his universe, enough to set his ship to another Captain? The concept of allowing another to Captain his ship sent a reverberation throughout him, displeasure and anger. Could, instead, he find a way to bring his ship to this universe? His crew would not be capable of living in this universe, and he questioned his own ability to do the same.
As he walked towards the nearest mess hall, he contemplated further ideas. Could he deal with this universe’s version of Starfleet, find a way to become Captain again? That was a difficult choice to make. It would mean Starfleet would have the knowledge that he desired a ship and if he could not agree with them, would turn against them. The knowledge he carried of a possible future, as well as the designs of ships, weaponry, and technology of the species that this universe had declared war or truce against would be a prized bargaining chip to achieve what he desired should he chose this path.
The meal he took from the mess hall was simple but filling, and with only a single comment a young woman wrapped the meal up so he could take it with him. Pike returned to the observation deck with the meal and the two padds tucked up under his arm. He spread the meal out on a table and leaned over the table as he began to write again. This time, each choice was plotted out, lists of patterns and possibilities. He would find the best possible choice for their actions, whether separated or together.
He had found stillness in the Observation Deck, enough to pen a log reminiscent of those he had kept on his ship. The rest of the night had passed in silence, his eyes tracking still, unfamiliar stars with the purplish glow of the planet below. There had been mention that people were free to go down to the planet’s surface, and it seemed a possible idea on focusing his mind elsewhere at least temporarily.
The issue became worse, as he had no real desire to leave Spock, in the temporary or long term sense. Pike was a man of action, and having the feeling of being absolutely helpless was one that he could find nothing worse. Spock was pulling away from him as he never had before, even in their earliest days when Pike thought Spock would be an intriguing experiment in control. Spock had craved his touch like a man for water in the desert, and that had been a theme in their relationship throughout the years. They had depended on each other and no other.
Now Spock had found others to speak with, that woman who dared to touch Spock in such an intimate matter. Pike thought of Spock’s words, speaking of jealousy, and knew that while the accusation was true, it was deserved. Spock had been no better of the child-Spock. There was little doubt that she was a threat, a threat to the foundation that he and Spock had stood upon since the day the brand had been sealed into Spock’s flesh.
Pike leaned back in the chair that he had settled into the previous night, closing his eyes as he listened to the silence of the room and the volume of his thoughts. Speaking to Spock about their options was a requirement. They had to come to an agreement about what to do. He would speak with Spock about that woman. He would allow no more intimate touching, but he would not stop Spock from speaking with her. Would Spock agree to such terms? Would that women agree to them? He had no desire to speak with her face to face, knowing deep inside it would not end well if he did.
Carefully he stood, feeling aches in his body that came from remaining still for so long, and called out for the computer to unlock the door. He was not a young man anymore, and his constant inactivity on the ship was letting his body backslide on all of the work he had placed into it. Each morning would have to begin with exercises as he normally did, instead of letting himself go lax.
The time was an unknown to him, but it must have been during shift. The hallways were quiet and mostly empty, and no man or woman looked at him twice despite his rumpled clothing, hair, and lack of shoes. Pike made a mental list of topics he needed to speak with Spock about as he reached their quarters.
Perhaps, on further reflection, the emptiness of the room should not have been a large surprise. Pike noticed the unmade bed, the missing pillow, clothing, and other small objects such as several padds that were gone. Spock had deserted their quarters after their disagreement the night previous.
Pike would not allow himself to get emotional on the subject. He nodded once, turning and undressing himself. A quick shower, a clean uniform, and he left the room again with two padds. It seemed that a choice would be made for him. Something Jim had said to him played through his mind like a recording, and his response. Could he return only briefly to his universe, enough to set his ship to another Captain? The concept of allowing another to Captain his ship sent a reverberation throughout him, displeasure and anger. Could, instead, he find a way to bring his ship to this universe? His crew would not be capable of living in this universe, and he questioned his own ability to do the same.
As he walked towards the nearest mess hall, he contemplated further ideas. Could he deal with this universe’s version of Starfleet, find a way to become Captain again? That was a difficult choice to make. It would mean Starfleet would have the knowledge that he desired a ship and if he could not agree with them, would turn against them. The knowledge he carried of a possible future, as well as the designs of ships, weaponry, and technology of the species that this universe had declared war or truce against would be a prized bargaining chip to achieve what he desired should he chose this path.
The meal he took from the mess hall was simple but filling, and with only a single comment a young woman wrapped the meal up so he could take it with him. Pike returned to the observation deck with the meal and the two padds tucked up under his arm. He spread the meal out on a table and leaned over the table as he began to write again. This time, each choice was plotted out, lists of patterns and possibilities. He would find the best possible choice for their actions, whether separated or together.