Fic: Observations, Ch 221
How is it possible that one man can hold himself in such a vise-like grip?
Jim makes no mistakes. Even as he begins to eat more and ease his vicious exercise regimen, he is careful with his words. He makes no reference at all to the aliens. It is as though they never happened.
Perhaps Dr. McCoy was right. Perhaps I should have been more aggressive in confronting Jim about the matter. Every shift that passes, Jim becomes more like himself, but the silence, that obvious lacuna and his willful ignorance lends a surreal quality to his behavior. Terrans are not made for that kind of suppression. It leads to problems later on, serious consequences in the form of inexplicable actions and reactions. I know and understand this intellectually, I have read paper after paper, textbooks and encyclopedias concerning Terran psychology. But when it comes to applying that knowledge, I am at a loss. What can one do?
He will not break. That is not the concern at hand. By all appearances, when he is on duty, everything is absolutely normal. He is acting as though nothing has happened and in carrying out this drama, he is making it reality. The main body of the crew is only too glad to see that its captain is well and wholly accepts his behavior. They believe this production he is putting on will confirm it. Nothing has happened. It is what Jim wants to believe, it is how he has coped in the past.
When we are alone, when he is with his core crew, he cannot act. We know him. The play he puts on falls flat because we are not willing to suspend disbelief. We remind him of the reality and the show becomes gruesome. It becomes a mockery of the reality he tries to enact. However, though we will not buy into it, we are divided as to how to approach it. He was totally separated from us in the experience. Jim had no one.
What did the aliens tell him? Did they tell him we had abandoned him? Did they tell him nothing, only let the silence gnaw at him, the doubt choke him?
His silence gnaws at us, damns us.
“So the next mission, Areel said that the negotiations shouldn’t be too bad. And Number One managed to get a hot mission that the Admirals’ve been bickering over, trying to give it to the ships under their command.”
Jim tosses the datapad to the side.
“Did you know they compete against each other? Not officially, but they’re all counting the number of awards and shit. Weird.”
“I was aware of the competitive nature of the politics in the Admiralty.”
“Don’t they have better things to do? Like overhaul their bureaucracy or something?”
“It is a way to relieve the tension. One cannot be mired in work constantly, especially if that work is tedious, as bureaucratic reforms often are.”
“It’s more divisive and petty, I think. They could do better things if they wanted a distraction, instead of finding more ways to one up each other.”
“Nevertheless, it is part of the culture. When a crisis strikes, those differences are immediately put aside. It is an indication of the increasing stability, if the admirals are engaging in this game.”
“Increasing stability? You’re telling me that the Admiralty counting how many fucking awards their ships get is a sign of increasing Federation stability?”
“It is logical. If there existed more pressing concerns, then such games would quickly disappear and they would, as you say, ‘have better things to do.’”
“That’s just,” Jim throws up his hands. “Will you stop analyzing the fuck out of everything? For just one fucking minute in my life, can we have a normal conversation?”
“You brought up the subject matter, Jim, and asked specific questions.”
“They were fucking off hand. You take every single thing that comes out of my mouth so shitastically seriously and literally, and I didn’t mean any fucking thing about it.”
“It is my nature to analyze interesting ideas. I found your hypothesis interesting and sought to offer another perspective.”
“Yeah, fine, you know what? You want another perspective? Then I’ll give you another fucking perspective-fuck this. I’m not having another debate with you about the Admiralty just to listen to you defend those cocksuckers.”
“Jim, your reaction is disproportionate to the conversation we were having-”
“Shit fucking sodomize me with a stick don’t fucking tell me what to feel or that I’m ‘reacting disproportionately’-”
“Jim-”
“And no, I don’t think the fact that admirals can give blow jobs to each other is a sign that the Federation is getting stronger or recovering from that Romulan nutfuck-”
“Captain-”
“For once in this fucking thing people call a relationship can you stop taking everything apart and if I want to complain, just fucking let me complain instead of getting on my case about it!”
I was silent.
Jim’s eyes were blazing, face contorted in anger.
“I’m leaving.”
“Jim, I did not mean-”
“Yeah, I get it. I’m going to the gym. Don’t wait up for me.”
He left.
The silence damns us.
--
“What is it with you, Spock? Hmm? Your planet was just destroyed, your mother murdered, and you're not even upset.”
“If you are presuming that these experiences in any way impede my ability to command this ship, you are mistaken.”
“And yet you were the one who said fear was necessary for command. I mean, did you see his ship? Did you see what he did?”
“Yes, of course I did.”
“So are you afraid or aren't you?”
“I will not allow you to lecture me about the merits of emotion.”
“Then why don't you stop me.”
“Step away from me-”
“What is it like not to feel anger? Or heartbreak? Or the need to stop at nothing to avenge the woman who gave birth to you?”
“Back away from me.”
“You feel nothing! It must not even compute for you! You NEVER loved her!”
--
There must be an alternative. I refuse to rip him open as wildly and uncontrollably as he did me. Jim compromised me because there were greater concerns at hand and I would not listen to his suggestion. The needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few.
There is no crisis at hand. Despite the silence, that is no justification for me to emotionally manipulate him. Jim is resilient-if I were to do so, he would find ways to recover. It seems he has done so all his life. I will not use those tactics. They are intolerable. There must be an alternative.
Patience. Discipline. Time and distance have already helped. I will be patient. My promise to stand by him means nothing if I am, in fact, unable to do so in a time such as this. We will find a way.
Jim has always had a third option. It had not occurred to me that as t’hy’la, I must provide one when he has none to offer.