[fic] Where Sea Meets Sky (K/S, 4/4, PG)

[rynne]

Chapter Three


Chapter Four

Spock did not ask Jim immediately to enter Starfleet Academy. He was beginning to realize how much he wanted it, for Jim to remain with him, for Spock not to leave him behind when he graduated and went into service. But he knew that Jim was averse to the idea, and Spock could not ask until he determined that Jim wished to stay with Spock as much as Spock wanted him.

Spock had never known emotions like this before. He had never known that emotions could be like this. Previously, his strongest emotions had been his love for his mother, and even his father, and his anger at the classmates who taunted him and society that denigrated him. In many ways, they were the same emotion -- his love for his mother led to his anger at the casual way Vulcan dismissed her. Without the love, there would have been no anger.

Spock's feelings for Jim were also strong, and seemed to be getting stronger with every passing day. When Jim smiled, when Jim laughed, when Jim grew smug with victory as he defeated Spock at chess or pouted as he was defeated, when he made sincere efforts to find activities that Spock would enjoy -- all of those things and more made Spock's heart feel like it increased, like soon his body would be incapable of containing it. When he touched Spock, skin to skin, Spock felt Jim's own joy, and his entire body tingled in reaction. Nothing Spock had yet encountered could quiet his mind like one of Jim's kisses.

The emotions were buoying, in a way Spock had never before felt emotions to be. Behind the exultation of being with Jim, however, was fear. Fear that, in the future, he would be without Jim if Spock failed to convince him to join Starfleet. Jim was -- extraordinary. Spock had never met anyone like him. Now that he had felt it, he did not want to be without Jim's vibrant warmth.

Weeks passed, and Spock's resolve firmed. He would ask Jim. He was prepared for resistance, but if Jim felt for Spock anything like what Spock felt for Jim...Spock knew he would prevail.

He brought it up on another trip to the beach. Jim lay in human form in the sand, his jacket forming a pillow; he showed no signs of being cold. Spock, dressed once again in sweater, coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, sat cross-legged beside him, looking out at the ocean, listening to the crash of the waves and the cries of the gulls.



"Jim," Spock said, and Jim made an inquiring noise. "Jim, I--" He stopped. How should he word this important question?

Beside him, Jim shifted. Spock looked at him to see him propping himself up on one elbow. "Spock?" he asked.

Spock closed his eyes, then opened them again. He needed to see Jim for this. Maybe then the words would come.

"Jim," Spock said again, deciding to simply make his request outright. "I wish for you to join Starfleet with me."

Jim blinked, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, facing Spock. Sand sprinkled off his shirt and bare arms.

"Spock," he replied, looking regretful. "You know I don't like Starfleet."

Spock nodded. "I am aware," he said. "But I believe that if you gave it a chance--"

Jim shook his head, interrupting. "No. I don't need to give it a chance. It's not a good idea."

"It can be," Spock protested. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out, but Spock did not think that would yet be productive. "When we traveled to the moon, you enjoyed space."

Jim stared at him, then barked out a laugh. "Spock, that was a vacation. Who doesn't like going on vacation to new places? That doesn't mean I want to go live out in space! Besides, if you've forgotten, I'm a selkie. It's just not a good idea for me to leave the sea."

"It can be," Spock repeated. "You said that your mother enjoyed her time in Starfleet, and only circumstances--"

"Oh no you don't," Jim said furiously, rolling away from Spock and springing to his feet. "You don't get to bring my mother into this conversation, not on your side. You've never even met her."

"I do not think that relevant," Spock replied, remaining where he was, unthreatening. "Jim, you said that your mother did well away from the sea, until your father's death. You could as well."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. "Why are you asking me for this?" he demanded. "You know how I feel about it."

Spock looked down, to his hands in his lap and the sand beneath them. He swallowed, then replied, "Because I am in Starfleet, and I will not always be on Earth." He paused for a moment, then forced himself to continue, "And I do not wish to be without you."

Jim blinked at him, then shook his head, slowly. "Are you serious?" he asked, his hands dropping to his side. "No, of course you are. Spock, don't you think you're moving kind of fast?"

Spock almost frowned. "How so?"

Jim snorted. "We've only known each other for about six months, and have only been dating for three of those. You're talking like you want to spend your life with me."

"I would," Spock replied, knowing it for truth. Now he stood, but he did not take a step forward. "I have never felt this way for anyone. I do not need to know you longer to know I wish to stay with you, to have you with me always."

Jim's arms hung loose at his side, like he didn't know what to do with them. He had a strange look on his face, his eyes dark and wild, his mouth pulled back, slightly twisted. "Spock," he said. "You don't know what you're feeling. We're both young, and you're a Vulcan. This, this is infatuation or something, and, and it'll end, and it'll have been nice, but it's your first romantic relationship and it'll end."

"It does not have to," Spock replied, though anxiety roiled in his stomach. "Unless you wish it?" he added. Asked.

"No," Jim replied quickly. "I don't want it to end, but Spock, we're young. The odds just aren't good that a long-term relationship will work out."

Spock tilted his head. "What odds?" he asked. "Vulcans are routinely betrothed in childhood, as I would have been had my intended not refused to bond with a half-breed. I do not see what relevance our youth has in determining the success of a long-term relationship."

"You can't know if what you feel now will last," Jim told him tiredly. "This is your first experience with that kind of feeling. You can't know that it will last."

"You judge on a human standard," Spock informed him. "Vulcan emotions work differently." Spock could know his feelings would last the test of time. He did know. He felt the resonance of them, and knew that if he let himself embrace them fully, they would become a part of him, never to be severed.

Then he froze. "Unless -- you do not think your feelings for me will last?" he asked, voice monotone with control.

Jim's eyes were sad, and he turned away to face the sea. "Everything ends, Spock," he said quietly. "Whether you want it to or not. The only thing that matters is how it ends. We live in two different worlds, Spock. They touch, they overlap a bit, but I can't live in yours any more than you can live in mine."

"I have more than one world," Spock said, for the first time in his life grateful for that fact. "I have had difficulty living in both of them, but they are mine. You have more than one world as well, Jim, or why do you spend so much time on land?"

Jim was shaking his head. "Don't, Spock," he said. "Don't. I can't."

"Jim--"

But Jim turned away, as if he did not hear Spock. He started walking, and Spock let him go.

--

Spock called his mother.

"Spock, honey, what's wrong?" she asked immediately upon seeing him, and as always, Spock felt a disconcerting mix of disturbed and relieved at her ability to so easily discern his emotions. At the moment, however, the balance was weighted greater in favor of relief at her insight.

"I do not know what to do," he confessed, and then it seemed as if the words spilled from him. He told Amanda the entire story, from confronting Jim about being a selkie to becoming involved in a romantic relationship with Jim to recognizing his desire for that relationship to last beyond his tenure at Starfleet Academy. Then he told her about asking Jim to join Starfleet.

"Oh, honey," Amanda sighed when he had finished. "Well, that's a pretty problem, isn't it?"

Spock, used to his mother's tendency to ask hypothetical questions and apply strange adjectives to unrelated nouns even if he did not understand it, did not comment on her statement. Instead, he repeated, "I do not know what to do."

"There might not be anything you can do," she told him with audible reluctance. "You know why he feels the way he does."

Since meeting Jim, Spock's heart seemed to have learned many varieties of wild acrobatics. Now it discovered a new one, and twisted on itself until he felt as if it grasped his insides and strangled them. "So you believe I should accept his decision?"

He should never have gotten involved with Jim. If he had left his acquaintance with Jim at their strange first encounter, then he would never have known such a wild flurry of emotions. He would never have known the highs of sincere happiness, but he would also never have known the deep lows of that happiness taken away.

He should never have tried to explore his human side. His father had been correct. Vulcan emotions were too strong to experiment with. It was far better not to feel them.

"Spock," his mother said firmly. "I know that face. Don't tell me you're regretting your relationship."

"Regret is an emotion," Spock said automatically.

"Yes, it is, and you are fully capable of feeling it. Don't forget, Spock, I saw all those times you tried making friends and were rebuffed. I saw your hurt. I was so happy that you seemed happy on Earth, that you finally found a friend. That you finally found someone to show you that emotion doesn't have to be the bane of your existence."

"But it still hurts," Spock replied quietly. While Amanda was sometimes willing to let him have his facade of emotionlessness in the face of pain, he knew that she saw through it every time. He did not feel the pretense worth the effort at the moment.

"Oh, honey, I know it does," she said, lifting her hand slightly in what might be an aborted gesture to reach for him. "But as much as it hurts, pain is part of what makes life worth living. The bitter is what makes us appreciate the sweet."

Spock actually had a greater preference for bitter over sweet, but he thought he understood Amanda's point. He just did not know if he agreed. "What if there is no sweet?" he asked, continuing her metaphor. "What if there is only the bitter?"

"You can never know for sure there won't be any sweet, Spock. That's why you take risks. They might turn out badly, but they might turn out well instead. You can't go through life avoiding the sweet because you're afraid of the bitter."

His mother had tried to explain the benefits of emotion to him before, but now it seemed to strike a deeper chord. One of Surak's first principles was that one should cast out fear. One could never act in full logic when influenced by fear.

But how should Spock respond? The Vulcan creed dictated that he should act out of logic only, unmotivated either by fear or by desire. Only through logic could one find peace and fulfillment.

Yet Spock had felt both with Jim. He had not needed to suppress his emotions to find satisfaction with his life. Logic was merely a means to an end, and not an end it itself. If he could find a satisfactory path through emotion, and yet remain in control of himself...was there any harm to such a life?

Perhaps not, if he could find such a path. However, that would require Jim. Spock briefly considered staying on Earth, should Jim continue to refuse Starfleet. There were scientific opportunities in San Francisco he could pursue.

But it would be like Vulcan again, which had scientific opportunities of its own. He had initially chosen Starfleet because he wished to explore the galaxy and understand the unknown. He still wished that. It was selfish, perhaps, but he did not wish to choose between his most promising career path and Jim.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Spock," Amanda said, her tone a coax rather than a demand.

"I do not wish to be afraid," Spock replied, after a moment's consideration. "But what should I say to Jim? I do not wish to be without him, but you said I must accept his decision."

"Whatever he ends up deciding, of course you must accept," Amanda agreed. "But that doesn't mean you can't still talk to him. I think he's afraid too, Spock. If you want him to join Starfleet and stay with you, you're going to have to get him to give up that fear."

Yes. Jim being afraid fit the available facts. Jim seemed so brave to Spock, throwing himself out into a world where he was not entirely comfortable and making a place for himself. That did not mean he could not still fear removing himself further from his comfort zone.

Spock, however, was experienced in going beyond comfort. He would speak to Jim again, and hopefully, Jim would be willing to listen.

--

Spock did not know the Terran protocol for attempting reconciliation after an argument, but eventually decided to call Jim and ask to meet and discuss things in person.

"Spock?" Jim looked startled when the call connected. Startled, but not angry or reluctant.

"Good morning, Jim," Spock replied. "I wished to determine if you would be willing to...go out."

As always, in a promising sign, Spock's attempted use of colloquialism made Jim's lips quirk in a slight smile. "Sure," he said, then paused. "You're not angry?"

Spock tilted his head. "I am not," he confirmed. Then, with a trace of humor he knew Jim would see, he added, "Considering it was my request, it would be illogical to be angry at your acceptance."

Jim snorted, then shook his head, the smile slightly wider. "You know what I meant," he said. "But I guess it would be illogical to be angry anyway, wouldn't it?"

"Indeed," Spock agreed. "I thought we might...have a picnic." Spock was not particularly fond of eating meals out of doors and on uneven surfaces such as rocks and ground, but Jim enjoyed them, and Spock wished to put Jim at ease.

Jim blinked at him, and his face softened minutely. "At the beach?" he asked.

The beach would be cold and windy, and sand was an even more unpleasant surface on which to set out a meal than grass...but Jim was comfortable there. "At the beach," Spock replied, nodding. "I will prepare our meal and meet you there at noon, if that is acceptable."

"Sounds great," Jim said, smiling at him. It was a soft smile, hesitant but genuine, and Spock's heart filled to see it directed at him.

He would persuade Jim. He must.

But he did not introduce the subject immediately upon his reunion with Jim. He set out the meal, shifting the sand beneath the cloth to balance the food and drink. Their conversation began awkwardly, as if Jim did not know what to say to him, but when Spock still did not bring up their argument, instead discussing a recent article he read in the Intergalactic Journal of Astrophysics, Jim started to relax. He relaxed enough to argue with Spock good-naturedly about the potential impacts of a newly-discovered pulsar on the asteroid belt near it, until finally he lay in the sand, just as he had before Spock had made his request.

Looking at him then, Spock almost let the subject go. He did not wish to disturb his friend, did not wish to break apart the comfortable aura that currently surrounded them. Jim so rarely seemed as comfortable as he was on the beach, in the intertidal zone -- land that was regularly covered by water. There were so few places on this planet that Jim seemed fully relaxed and content, and Spock was reluctant to disturb that once again.

But Jim had been comfortable in space. Spock had seen it, even if Jim dismissed it.

And Spock knew his mother had been right -- Jim was afraid. He feared leaving one of the few comfortable places he had.

Spock could understand that, could empathize with it. He himself had no comfortable places, only comfortable people -- his mother, and Jim. He too was afraid of leaving them behind. But he had only found Jim after leaving his mother, and there was no telling where he might find himself content in the future. He simply knew that he could not be afraid to find out.

So he murmured, "Jim?" and when Jim made a noise and turned in his direction, continued, "I do not wish to make you angry again."

Frowning, Jim propped himself up on one elbow. "Why would you...oh, come on." He thrust himself up until he sat cross-legged in the sand. "You're not going to bring up Starfleet again, are you?"

"I think you could be happy there, if you would give it a chance," Spock said. The words were quiet against the sound of the waves, but he knew Jim could hear him. "You do not seem happy here."

For all Jim's energy and enthusiasm, Spock did not feel he was happy.

Jim shook his head. "Spock--"

Spock did not customarily interrupt others, but he wanted to be sure Jim listened to him. "You were meant for more than drifting, Jim. Starfleet has as much to offer you as you have to offer it."

"Hey, I'm not drifting, I got to school--"

Spock shook his head. "But for what purpose?" he asked pointedly, and Jim closed his mouth. "Do you know what you want, Jim?"

Jim did not answer. Spock was not surprised.

Spock watched his friend, but Jim kept his face blank, his eyes veiled and dark. He had words he thought might be efficacious, but debated speaking them. Even now, he found it difficult to expose himself.

Finally, he said, "I was afraid, when I left Vulcan." Jim's eyes widened at the admission, and Spock was gratified to feel him listening. "Vulcan was my home, and despite the difficulties I had there, I...loved it. However, I knew it could not offer me what I needed."

For a long moment, Jim did not reply. He looked down at the sand, tracing whorls and other strange patterns in the sand with one finger. Spock waited patiently. Every moment that Jim did not stand up and walk away was a reason for hope.

Then he muttered, his voice low enough that even Spock had to strain to hear him, "I'll think about it."

Spock moved closer, and Jim looked up at him. His face was no longer blank: his mouth was slightly tight, his forehead furrowed. His eyes widened as Spock moved in, picking up one hand and holding it loosely.

Slowly, carefully, giving Jim time to move away if he wished, Spock leaned in to press his mouth against Jim's. Jim's lips were chapped but wet, as if he had been licking at them, and they were warm. Spock closed his eyes and lingered there, giving only gentle pressure. Jim pressed back, just as gently, and Spock took in a deep breath and moved away.

"Thank you," he said, then drew back further and began to pack away the picnic materials.



--

Spock did not contact Jim after their picnic, deciding to let Jim contact him when he was ready to see Spock again. A call came a week after their last meeting, but Jim only asked Spock to come to the beach, and ended the conversation soon after the request.

However, when he arrived at the beach, it was not Jim who leaned against the rock, waiting for him. A woman leaned one shoulder against the rock, her arms crossed. She wore a beige skirt that was wet around the hems, a white blouse, and no shoes. Wavy blonde hair whipped around her face with the breeze, but she ignored it.

Spock had only seen her picture once, but he thought he would have recognized her anyway. "Mrs. Kirk," he greeted, coming to a stop a meter away.

"Spock," she returned, and smiled at him. Jim's smile. "Call me Winona. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well," Spock replied, and held out his hand in the ta'al. She returned the gesture.

"I've been worried about my Jim," she said, as Spock shifted to distribute his weight more evenly and tucked his hands behind his back. "I always knew that he was meant for more than this, but he always refused to listen to me. Maybe I didn't set the best example."

Spock did not know how to reply to that. "From what I have read, it was not only your example that influenced him," he tried, carefully.

She nodded in acknowledgment. "Our people do keep a lot of stories, even though it's been centuries since the last time a human kept a selkie against her will. We just never could break the habit of hiding, I suppose. We're more integrated now with the humans than we ever have been, and some among us still argue that it's too much."

"There are always voices urging caution," Spock agreed. A large percentage of Vulcan still remained dubious about membership in the Federation.

Winona sat down in the sand, her back pressed against the rocks, and stared at Spock until he likewise moved to be seated. His life had involved a lot more sitting on the ground since meeting Jim.

"When Jim was just a boy, he was always getting into everything," Winona continued once Spock had settled. "I can't count the number of times he's disappeared on me and I found him gone 'exploring.' Land or sea, it didn't matter. I could never hold him back. Only he could do that."

Spock tilted his head, about to speak, but Winona shook her head. "I wanted to meet you," she said, "to thank you. I think he finally is willing to make a choice about his life. You showed him that he could."

"Will he choose Starfleet?" Spock dared to ask.

"That's for him to say," she said, but she smiled. "Most of us are born on the shore, but Jim was born in space. He has a greater connection to it."

"A connection?"

"It's not unknown," Winona replied. "Salmon always go back to their own birthplace to spawn. Part of the selkie connection to the sea and to the land starts from our birth on the shore. I always suspected Jim might have a different anchor."

The 'connection' sounded nebulous and unscientific to Spock, but he did not dismiss it. His own people had something similar -- drawn to return to the sands of their home every seven years. Vulcans, too, did not well understand it, even after millennia.

"The question," Winona went on, "was always if he would let himself feel it. I think you made the difference." Her smile turned sad, her gaze drawing inward. "Be careful with him, please, Spock. He's so young, and I never dreamed he'd find love this soon. A selkie's heart is steadfast when given away, but he's going to be dealing with so many changes."

"I will help him," Spock pledged. "Vulcans are no more fickle than your people. If Jim should choose to come with me, I will stand beside him."

"Thank you," Winona said. She stood smoothly, sand clinging to her wet skirt. As Spock stood as well, with marginal less grace, Winona moved forward until she stopped just in front of him. She stood on her toes, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. He closed his eyes and allowed it, and felt her gratitude, and her hope for Jim's future.

Then she pulled away, and he opened his eyes to watch her step back. "Stick around," she told him. "I'll send Jim along." Then she pulled something out from a crevice in the rocks -- her sealskin, light-colored like Jim's and patterned with dark spots. Spock politely turned away, and a few minutes later heard a splash, like someone diving into the ocean.

Spock waited, and felt the breeze move across his uncovered face, and listened to the crash of the waves.

Eleven minutes later, he heard a sharp bark, and turned to see Jim in seal form waddling up the beach towards him. Spock walked forward to meet him, kneeling in the sand when Jim butted his head gently against Spock's knee. Then Jim laid his head on Spock's thigh, looking up at him through big, dark eyes. Hesitantly, Spock put his bare hand on Jim's head, and when Jim just shifted closer to Spock's body, Spock started stroking the short fur.

Jim was warm, though heavy, and Spock found the rhythmic petting soothing, perhaps even enough to facilitate a light meditative trance. However, eventually he said, "I can speak to you like this, Jim, but you cannot respond."

Jim's eyes rolled up to meet Spock's, somehow managing to convey being deeply unimpressed. He yawned, perhaps to emphasize the point, but he rolled off Spock's legs and started waddling around the rocks. Spock stood and moved around to the other side himself, then waited until he could hear footsteps on the sand.

"It was easier to think," Jim said softly, words carried on the wind. Spock turned around to see that Jim's face was calm, his body held loosely. "Easier to focus."

"Have you come to a decision?" Spock asked, his tone just as soft.

Jim sighed, then his mouth quirked up in a shadow of a smirk. "I know what my mom has decided. Even Sam thinks it's a good idea, and Sam barely thinks coming up on land is a good idea."

Spock shook his head. "I am gratified your mother and brother support you, but it can only be your decision, Jim."

"And if I decide against Starfleet?" Jim asked, tilting his head. "Because wanting to explore the galaxy is all well and good, but there's a lot more to Starfleet than that."

"I am aware," Spock replied. He himself had struggled with Starfleet's military aspects, but it would be illogical to deny that force was sometimes necessary -- Vulcans would never have developed the art of tal-shaya otherwise -- and he had come to terms with what would be required of him as a Starfleet officer.

Jim nodded, slowly. He stepped forward, walking past Spock until his feet sank into the damp sand, gentle waves washing around his bare ankles and feet. He stood there, watching the ocean for a long, silent moment, and Spock let him be.

Finally he turned and smiled at Spock. It was a small smile, but still genuine. He reached out a hand, tangling his fingers with Spock's when Spock met him halfway. "My credits at Stanford will transfer pretty easily," he said. "You'll probably still be done before I will, but I can definitely do it faster than the full four year program.

Spock closed his eyes, his fingers tightening on Jim's. For the first time, he loosened his telepathic controls and felt Jim's tremulous excitement, drowning out fear.

He kept their fingers tangled even as he pulled Jim forward for a kiss.