Star Trek Fic: Emotional Compromise (2/2)
Part 1
~*~
By the time Kirk managed to get to sickbay, Spock was already in a healing trance. He stood above her, McCoy at his side, and watched her steady breathing as McCoy told him her injuries.
“Ribs are healed, but they’ll be sore for a while. All lacerations sealed, internal bleeding stopped, and I’m sure this voodoo trance of hers will sort out the rest.” He put a hand on Jim’s shoulder, heavy and warm. “She’ll be fine, Jim.”
He looked at her bruised skin, her peaceful face, and tried to believe it. That Spock would wake up and be her old self, not damaged by this ordeal. Kirk could already picture it, the way in which she’d pretend she is fine, how she’d pull up a mask of Vulcan calm. The thought of her suffering alone breaks his heart, and he vows to himself that he and Bones won’t let that happen.
~*~
It’s just as Kirk expected. Spock is out of sickbay three days after she was tortured, and back on the bridge one day after that. She nods at people’s well wishes, works just as productively as she ever did, but now there are deep circles under her eyes, and lines around her mouth which display how tense she is. Kirk even saw her flinch when someone reached for something next to her and she wasn’t expecting it.
But she won’t admit to needing help, doesn’t respond to any of his overtures, but it’s obvious she’s well on her way to falling apart. She won’t let him in, or Bones, and Kirk doesn’t know what to do.
~*~
Uhura cornered him the second day Spock was back on shift, her hand on his sleeve as she pulled him to a darkened corner. He opened his mouth to make an inappropriate comment, but was stopped by the look on her face. Her eyes were wide and worried, and her mouth pulled down into a frown. “She’s not sleeping.”
“I guessed,” Kirk replied. There is no need to ask who she is talking about. Uhura and Spock have known each other since the academy, and Spock has called her a friend more than once. Kirk had been hoping that she would turn to her, for help, for comfort, but the frustrated look on Uhura’s face tells him that isn’t so.
“She’s been working non-stop since she was released from sickbay, either on the bridge or in her lab, and whenever I’ve visited her in her room she’s been surrounded by PADDs. She looks awful, and I don’t know what to do.” Her voice broke on the last word, and Kirk raised one hand so it lay on her shoulder.
“Has she talked about...”
Uhura shook her head. “Beyond talking about the information she sent over? Nothing. I don’t know what happened to her, but I can tell it was bad. She’s not dealt with it at all, and she’s not been meditating... She’s falling apart, captain, and I don’t know how to help her.”
Her eyes were filled with tears now, and Kirk pulled her into a hug. “I’ll talk to her,” he said quietly into her ear, and Uhura slumped slightly in his grip. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to her.” He was cursing himself now, for letting himself be just as fooled as everyone else by Spock’s facade. For letting himself believe that if she needed something then she would come to him.
Uhura pulled away with a sniff. “Thank you,” she whispered, and then with one last brush of her hand against his she walked away.
~*~
That night finds him stood in front of her door, demanding entrance.
“There is no need to worry about me, captain,” she said in a clear dismissal, but he just shook his head.
“I’ll make it an order if I have to, Spock,” he said, and the door opened after a long moment. He stepped inside and was hit by the familiar heat and smell of incense. “Did I catch you meditating?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I was... unable to find my centre,” she admitted, and then sat down on her bed. Kirk moved to sit next to her, pleased when she didn’t move away.
“What’s bothering you, Spock?” he asked. “And don’t try and tell me nothing, because it doesn’t look that way. I’m your friend, and I want to help you. Please talk to me.” He is aware it sounds like he’s begging, but he doesn’t mind. He wants her to start healing, wants her to talk to him, so he can help her.
They sit in silence for a long moment, the scent in the room filling his head, making him almost woozy. She makes an abortive move with her hand, clenching her fist, and Kirk waits knowing she will speak soon.
“Jim, I...” she broke off, looked away. “I have been trained in surviving torture at the academy, but it is not quite the same.”
“No,” Kirk agreed, remembering his first experience of interrogation by the enemy. How knowing how you should handle the situation did nothing to ease the pain, the helplessness you felt. And for Spock it had been so much worse, a much more personal attack. He said nothing, just stayed silent and kept eye contact, and hoped that she knew he was willing to listen. Willing to wait until she was ready to speak.
“The simple physical attacks I have dealt with,” she admits softly. “I do not dwell on those injuries. But the other...” she trailed off and Kirk tried to offer her comfort with just his gaze. “I had never...” she paused and swallowed loudly. “That was my first sexual experience.” Her voice was quiet and broken, and Kirk felt something within him break as well as the true enormity of the torture became obvious.
“Oh, Spock,” he whispered, and put one hand on the side of her face. There was nothing else he could say, nothing he could do except try and send through his sorrow at her pain, his affection for her through the touch of his skin against hers. Her dark eyes filled with tears then, finally allowing herself to feel the emotions. Kirk gathered her into his arms and she went willingly, her head on his shoulder and her breaths hitching.
Keeping one hand around her, he pulled his communicator from his pocket. “Bones,” he whispered into it, and he replied almost immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Come to Spock’s quarters as soon as you can,” he said quietly, and ran his fingers through her hair as she started to pull away from him. He closed the communicator without waiting for a reply, and then dropped it on the floor. “It’s ok,” he whispered into Spock’s dark hair, against the shell of her pointed ear. He moved them gently along the bed so that he was leant against the wall with her wrapped around him. “You’ll be ok.”
~*~
When Spock’s door chimed, Kirk was pulled from an almost meditative state, his hands running through Spock’s hair, trying to soothe her, letting her breathe steadily against his neck. “It’s open,” he called out, voice loud in the dark room, and it swished open to reveal McCoy, silhouetted by the light from the corridor. He must have come right from his shift, still had his serious Doctor face on, although it relaxed when he saw them on the bed. He walked towards them and then sat on the bed next to Kirk, legs out in front of him, one hand hovering over Spock’s hair.
“How is she?” he whispered, and Kirk tried to shrug without disturbing her.
“Not great,” he replied, even as Spock replied.
“I am... well, Doctor,” she said, voice almost drowsy.
“Bullshit,” Kirk said, and stopped her from moving, from sitting up. “You’re not fine and you’re not well. You need to sleep and you need to talk about what happened or meditate or something, because you can’t carry on like this.”
“I am working at optimal efficiency,” she countered, and Kirk rolled his eyes at Bones.
“Yeah, until you collapse thanks to lack of sleep, or your emotions overwhelm you again. Even computers need some down time,” McCoy shot back. “You need to deal with this.”
“I... I cannot.” She sat up quickly, and pressed herself against the head of her bed. “I cannot begin to unravel the emotions within me, cannot understand how I can move past this... this feeling in my chest which is pressing down and heavy and...” she began to hyperventilate and Kirk reached for her, gripped her hands between his own. McCoy moved as well, one long-fingered hand reaching around the back of her neck, making her stop, making her look at them.
“You should sleep,” Kirk said softly as he rubbed at her knuckles, enjoying the feel of her skin against his. “Sleep, and then tomorrow we’ll help you.” He watched McCoy’s thumb dig into the skin behind her ear as she took a deep centring breath and then nodded.
“I shall endeavour to do so,” she said quietly. “Thank you for helping me, I will find you tomorrow to discuss this further.”
Kirk laughed. “We aren’t going anywhere, Spock.”
She looked at him, confused, and watched with a frown as he lay down along her bed and pulled her down next to him. He felt McCoy settle down behind her, pressing close against her back, one hand slung across her waist so it landed on Kirk’s hip. “Sleep,” he whispered, and smiled at her, trying to reassure her. Her head was heavy on his shoulder but he didn’t care. He just looked down into her dark eyes and saw something like relief and thanks in her eyes, before she closed them and let her breathing deepen.
He placed a kiss onto her forehead, soft and lingering, and felt McCoy do the same against the back of her neck. Her eyes flickered open for a moment, and surprise flitted across them, no doubt thanks to the emotion laden in each of their kisses, but at his reassuring smile she just closed her eyes again and let herself drop into sleep. Let herself be protected by them.
Kirk looked at McCoy and read the relief in his face. Could feel it on his own. “She’ll be fine,” he whispered across her silent body, and McCoy nodded before moving his own head onto the pillow, let himself rest so that they would be ready in the morning, to offer anything she needed from them.