FIC: The Things You See and The Way You See Them (STXI, PG13)
I haven't written anything in over a year, and didn't expect to write a "five times" story when I finally re-found my inspiration. Oh well.
Title: The Things You See and The Way You See Them
Author: Danahid (danahid)
Fandom/Spoilers: STXI/Reboot
Summary: The art of observation
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gen or Kirk/Spock (depends on which goggles you prefer)
Wordcount: 5,994
Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by many people who are not me. No profit being made. No infringement intended.
Archive/Distribution: Please ask.
Date: July 23, 2009 (small edits 9.2.09)
Author's Note #1: Heartfelt thanks to dreamlittleyo, who kindly allowed me to run with these snippets inspired by her wise and beautiful stories, All That We Can Be, Not Just What We Are and Who Am I To Say?.
Author's Note #2: Written for the ST FlashFic Five Things Challenge, Five Times You Wrote For ST Flashfic -- The Five Things Challenge. (Unfortunately I don’t have a Dreamwidth account, so I can’t post there.) [UPDATE: Now I do, thanks to argentdragon -- Thanks again!]
The Things You See and The Way You See Them
THE THINGS YOU SEE
Five Times Someone Observed the Bond Between the Captain and his First Officer
The art of observation [is] about finding something interesting in an ordinary place... I've found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.
- Elliott Erwitt
1.
Ahlee is new to the bridge, and she is not sure if this is unusual behavior for her commanding officer. Something about him is off, there is no other word for it. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, observing that once again Commander Spock's attention has wandered. His fingers are still against his console while his eyes scan the bridge restlessly, looking for something or someone who is not there.
Because Ahlee is new to the bridge, she cannot tell if her colleagues have also noticed Spock's disquiet. She finds herself distracted by his distraction, which she cannot understand and which does not match her expectations of a senior Starfleet officer, let alone a Vulcan senior officer. Ahlee wonders if she should ask Lieutenant Uhura, who seems friendly and who is (according to Lieutenant Hannity, the operations officer whom Ahlee recently relieved) the Commander's oldest friend on-board.
Ahlee has almost decided to say something when the Commander stands abruptly, sending his datapad crashing to the deck. He is clutching his left forearm with his right hand, his knuckles white, and Ahlee catches her breath at the expression on his face. His features are still Vulcan, still impassive, but his eyes are dark with surprise and some emotion that Ahlee cannot identify.
"Spock," says Lieutenant Uhura as she rises from the communications console. "Are you alright?"
Immediately Spock's expression clears. He drops his hands to his sides, curling his fingers into fists. He nods once, tersely, then resumes his seat. Uhura returns to her station as well, and the bridge falls silent except for the soft tap of fingertips on consoles.
Ahlee is still staring at the pieces of Spock's shattered datapad when she hears the report from the Transporter Room. The Away Team has returned, and there are casualties. Ahlee is a new bridge officer, but she knows already that there are always casualties.
(Later, Ahlee overhears Lieutenant Sulu describing the Captain's injuries to Ensign Chekov. "They gave him something that was messing him up," Sulu is saying. "He could barely stand by the time we got back to the shuttle, and it was a rough trip just getting there. The terrain was brutal, these plants kept grabbing at us, and his arm was bent the wrong way the whole time. It must've hurt like hell. I'm not kidding, I could actually see the shiny white bone sticking out of his skin." The pilot shakes his head in disbelief. "Hell, I didn't even know bones could be shiny.")
2.
Mouse was the youngest person on the Enterprise before Chekov joined the crew. There weren't many weeks between his settling into his berth and Chekov's arrival, but he hated every minute of them. He hated being the baby on-board, and he's glad he's been able to put those miserable few weeks behind him. Or at least mostly behind him. Unfortunately they're not completely behind him. It seems his crewmates have trouble taking him seriously when he still answers to his childhood nickname, which is apparently stickier than peanut butter--
It's a stupid simile, and Mouse knows it, but all he can think is: God, what I wouldn't give for a peanut butter sandwich right now. He looks mournfully at the food dispensers, thinking about how the Captain is allergic to peanuts, which isn't surprising since he seems to be allergic to just about everything as far as Mouse can tell. Mouse heaves a heartfelt sigh and transfers his gaze to the corner table where the Captain and the First Officer are playing three-dimensional chess. Mouse is pretty sure that the ship's Chief Medical Officer has removed all peanut products from the ship's menus and stores, along with every other food that tastes like home, just on the off chance the Captain is allergic to them too. Mouse wraps his arms around his knees and spends an enjoyable couple of minutes tucked in his corner of the Observation Deck, musing bitterly on the unfairness of over-protective CMOs and captains with nut allergies, until his musings are interrupted by the First Officer's calm declaration of "Checkmate, Captain."
Mouse has been watching their chess games quietly from his corner for weeks now, and he's observed that the Captain loses more often than not but doesn't seem to mind. Mouse thinks the Captain has rationalized his losing record as only to be expected; he's playing a game of logic against a brilliant logician after all: it's only logical.
"How many is that now, Jim?" Dr McCoy asks, managing to sound both gruff and jovial at the same time, and Mouse sits back into his corner, blinking a little in surprise because he hadn't realized the doctor was watching tonight's chess game, and then he ducks his head to hide his smile, even though he knows that no one is looking his way. Mouse can't help smiling: The doctor is leaning over the chess game, grinning wildly, practically rubbing his hands with glee.
"I've lost count," the Captain shrugs as he gathers together the white chess pieces and begins carefully wrapping and putting them away.
"Lost count, my ass," the doctor snorts. "How many is it, Spock?"
"Two hundred and thirty-two, Doctor," the First Officer says immediately, handing the Captain one of the white pawns he missed. "Not counting the match that was suspended because of the Aleutian attack on Beren II, or the match that was inconclusively terminated after the radiation leak on Level 24 was discovered by Ensign Ogoorithinatu 47 days ago." Although Spock's tone is as precise and formal as always and he appears to be attentively focused on wrapping and putting away the black chess pieces, Mouse thinks he can actually see a teasing glint in the First Officer's eye.
"Two hundred and thirty-two, Jim!" crows the doctor.
"Well ... not all in a row," the Captain protests. He sounds a little defensive, but Mouse can see that there's an easy smile on his face and the line of his shoulders is still relaxed, and Mouse is sure then and there that the Captain definitely doesn't care about his running tally of chess defeats.
"And anyway," the Captain continues, gently closing the lid of the chess set and leaning back in his chair. "I let him win. Keeps him on his toes."
The doctor scoffs. "You are such an infant, Jim. You don't keep Spock on his toes. He keeps you on yours. He probably lets you win."
"Thanks for the support, Bones," the Captain mutters. He glares up at the doctor and rolls his eyes, and then grins to take the sting out of the gesture before sharing a quiet look of amusement with his First Officer, and not for the first time Mouse envies them their camaraderie, all three of them. Mouse wraps his arms around his knees once more and leans back into his corner, happily settling in to listen to their usual banter for the rest of the evening. And for a couple of minutes, it's exactly the way it always is, but then Commander Spock says something that is completely different from the way it is always is.
"Are you in pain, Captain?" he asks quietly.
The Captain looks up, clearly startled. Mouse watches him rub his hand over his heavily bandaged forearm before giving his First Officer an assessing, speculative look.
"I'm fine, Spock."
"'Fine' has variable definitions, Captain."
Spock's dry comment earns a short bark of laughter from the Captain, then he narrows his eyes and that assessing look comes back full-force. "How did you...?"
The Commander raises one eyebrow. "You seemed to be favoring it during play."
The Captain stares down at his bandaged arm and frowns, and Mouse frowns too because the Captain wasn't favoring it all (Mouse knows because he was watching), and Mouse can actually see the Captain's brain working through this new information. Mouse can tell when he comes to some decision because he smiles, his eyes gleaming when he looks at his First Officer. "Thank you for the game, Mr Spock."
"You are welcome, Captain." Spock tilts his head slightly, and the corner of his mouth lifts, and Mouse figures that's probably how a Vulcan smiles back.
Mouse snickers when the doctor scowls and grumbles, "What the hell are you--?"
"How about a drink, Bones?" the Captain interrupts, bouncing up from his chair. He claps the doctor on the shoulder. "I'm tired of getting my ass handed to me. I need a break." He turns back to his chess partner. "Spock?"
"No, thank you, Captain. I will retire for the evening."
Kirk nods, gives his First Officer another brilliant smile, and leads the way to the mess.
After a minute, Mouse gets up to follow. It occurs to him that he could try asking someone if they know of a peanut-butter-like substitute he could try in a sandwich. Maybe Chief Engineer Scott will know, he thinks; apparently Scotty has a thing for sandwiches.
3.
Scotty has been witness to many arguments between the Captain and his First Officer. Not many have been as explosive as that first one, when Kirk goaded Spock into a rage, and Spock flung Kirk across the bridge before attempting to throttle the laddie half-to-death. Most since then have been spirited disagreements about regulations, plans, protocols, strategies, and tactics -- two strong lads butting heads, each constantly and positively certain that he was right. Scotty is grateful from the bottom of his heart that he’s been able to hide away in Engineering for most of it. To Scotty's ken, the lads need each other, and the decisions they come up with together are better because of their differences. Scotty has no doubt that Kirk and Spock together can accomplish things neither can do alone. He's seen it with his own eyes.
If Scotty thinks at all about the interaction between his commanding officers, it's usually along these lines, and he sees no reason to re-examine his assumptions until the hell-cursed day a freak accident in a Jefferies tube incapacitates him.
There are slowly regenerating plasma burns across both his hands and strong sedatives slowing his thinking, and he's grateful to the fine doctor for fixing him up, but of course, of course, that's when something goes wrong with the warp core. Scotty's doped up and loopy and only half-able to process the hazy panic he feels when he hears the calm, beautiful voice of his ship repeating through the chaos: "Warp core breach in ... five minutes."
It's gamma shift, and his head is whirling a wee bit, so naturally he thinks of the only other person on-board who loves his lady as much as he does. "Comm the Capt'n," he tells Keenser. "He c'n figure out how ta fix this."
Kirk arrives out of breath and frantic, short hair sticking straight up, wearing a ragged grey t-shirt and loose sweat pants, and Scotty puts two and two together (he's an engineer after all, first and foremost, and math is easy by the way) and figures the lad rolled right out of bed. And he feels a wee bit guilty about that, really, but he also knows that the lad loves his ship as every good captain does, and he wouldn't want it any other way.
Scotty's head is still spinning from the fine doctor's very fine painkillers, so he points vaguely towards the warp core and allows himself to slide down to a sitting position on his beautiful lady's deck, not able to do anything more than watch as Kirk skids to a stop in front of the main engineering terminal. Before diving in, the lad takes a breath to assess the situation, and Scotty is surprised by how he settles and focuses, as if he's channeling his Vulcan First Officer.
"Tell me what you know, Mr Scott," Kirk orders without looking up from the console, and Scotty thinks woozily that he even sounds like Spock.
Scotty tells him what he can remember, although his brain is bloody fuzzy, and all he can do is watch through bleary eyes as Kirk scans through lines of code, and all he can think about is how he wishes that his legs weren't weak as two strings of sheep's intestines so he could help because good as the Captain might be, and Scotty won't be convinced of anything until he sees it with his own eyes, he still doesn't know Scotty's beautiful ship as well as Scotty does. But Scotty's brain is too wool-stuffed, and his fingers are bandaged to hell, so all he can do is watch as Kirk's unbandaged fingers dance across the console and he mutters to himself about how "fascinating" everything is.
Scotty tips his head back and thinks he might just as well be taking a quick kip then since his work here is done, and he's actually beginning to nod off a wee little bit when he remembers why he can't take a nap, he can't because his lady's hurting and she needs him, the Enterprise needs him, she does. Horrified that he almost abandoned his beautiful lady at a time like this, Scotty slaps himself in the face to wake himself up.
"Still with me, Scotty?" Kirk asks cheekily (cheeky bastard, Scotty thinks) without looking up from his work. He's staring intensely at the engineering console, fingers moving furiously, so rapidly that they actually seem to be blurring, though that's probably just the damned painkillers' fault. The lad's surprisingly good, Scotty thinks, as Kirk types in new commands. Scotty's an engineer first and foremost, and he can see with his own eyes that Kirk's a natural tinkerer, except he combines his innate aptitude with a pretty clear grasp of warp propulsion physics, command-level problem-solving skills, and a willingness to make intuitive leaps of logic. It's a way more complicated observation than Scotty thought his wooly brain could string together, and that's probably why his head is actually hurting when it wasn't before, so Scotty lets his head fall back again with a thud and a final, relieved thought that his lady is in good hands.
It must only be a minute later but Scotty can't tell because his head's buzzing and he's completely lost track of time since the Captain turned off the ship's audible warning system. Kirk types in a final command and announces that he's done, and he sounds so relieved he's practically giddy, and Scotty suddenly remembers why he shouldn't be surprised Kirk knows his way around an engine room -- he's a Kirk, and his mother is one the greatest engineers Starfleet has ever seen.
Scotty is mumbling to himself about Winona Kirk's last published paper, trying to remember her surprising equations about something that he can't remember except that it was all very surprising by the way, when he realizes the Captain is listening to his delirious ramblings, a wide smile on his face, one eyebrow quirked up to his hairline. The lad's hands are clasped behind his back, and he almost looks like Spock, Scotty thinks, although Kirk's a fair bit shorter and, well, fairer and not Vulcan, for that matter. Scotty's brain gets stuck on the resemblance so he jumps a little when he hears the actual Spock's voice over the comm.
"Bridge to Engineering. Captain. I assume because we have not experienced further irregularities in warp core functionality that all is well?"
"Yeah, Spock," Kirk laughs as he bends down to help Scotty to his feet. "We're not gonna blow up today." He drapes an arm over Scotty's shoulders. "I'm going to take Scotty to Sickbay, though, so he can have a little nap. He's a little out of it. Tell Bones to get a bed ready." He laughs again, relief and the adrenaline come-down still clear in his voice. "And then I'm going back to bed. Don't break my ship, Spock."
"That would be illogical, Captain," Spock replies over the comm, and Scotty thinks McCoy's painkillers must be better than the finest Highland Scotch because he actually hears amusement and shared relief threading underneath Spock's unemotional words.
Scotty is an engineer first and foremost, and he only believes what he can see with his own eyes and also what he can hear with his own ears. As they stumble towards Sickbay, Scotty leaning heavily on Kirk the whole way, Scotty wonders if the Captain and his First Officer still argue the same way they've always done, or if that's changed too.
4.
Matthews doesn't like Kirk. He hasn't liked him from the moment they met, he didn't like him when he learned the Captain had requested him specifically for the flagship's security team, and he liked him even less, if possible, on his first day aboard the re-commissioned ship. (There was Kirk, standing like the arrogant asshole he was, welcoming each member of his crew with a handshake and a shit-eating grin. When it was Matthews' turn for a handshake, Kirk patted him on the cheek instead, just like he'd done in that Riverside bar four years ago. Then he smirked -- and god, Matthews hated that smirk -- and said: "You know, I like you, Cupcake. I like your sense of humor.") Matthews doesn't like Kirk, and it isn't just because he gave him that stupid nickname.
So, yeah, Matthews doesn't like Kirk, he doesn't. But he would die for Kirk, no questions asked. Ask anyone on the security team, and they would say the same thing. Kirk is a crazy fuck, everyone knows it. But everyone -- every single crewmember on-board the Enterprise -- knows that Kirk would die for his crew. Everyone knows that he will do everything he can think of, pulling tricks and solutions out of thin air, strategies and tactics out of his ass, coming up with batshit crazy ideas he somehow convinces the First Officer will work, to get them out of the insane situations the Enterprise and her crew frequently find themselves in. Everyone knows Kirk's some kind of a genius, that he finished command track a full year ahead of schedule, that he doesn't believe in no-win scenarios (everyone's heard the story about how he hacked the Kobayashi Maru), how he saved Earth and the entire Federation because he was too much of a stubborn fuck to give up. Lots of people would follow him for those reasons alone. Lots of other people would follow him because he knows every single crewman's name, and for them, that's proof that he's one of the good guys, a leader, commander, whatever to follow. Matthews follows him, even though he doesn't like him, because Matthews is good at following orders, and he's learned the hard way that it's a hell of a lot easier to follow good orders. Kirk's a good commander, he does his homework, and he gives good orders. After most of a year and over a dozen missions under Kirk's command, Matthews knows that he would follow Kirk anywhere.
That doesn't change how he feels, though. Matthews doesn't like Kirk, he hasn't liked him for four-plus years, and he isn't about to start liking him now, even if he feels like an ass for holding on to his dislike of the man when the man himself has been missing for three days.
The Captain was kidnapped on Puvrin Beta by a terrorist cell trying to destabilize the Puvrinese government. The First Officer and Ship's Doctor are leading the rescue team, which strikes Matthews as all kinds of stupid, but he doesn't criticize. He can appreciate that they want to get the Captain back. Everyone wants to get the Captain back.
What surprises Matthews is that this rescue mission isn't all that different from one that Kirk would have led. Commander Spock's orders even sound like the Captain's. Twice Matthews had to turn around to check that it really was the First Officer issuing the brilliant, instinctive, illogical commands. The one time Matthews slipped enough to show his surprise, Spock gave him a look that would have been at home on Kirk's face, a look that was all urgency and determination, a look that also said pretty clearly 'don't fuck with me,' although that part is something Matthews has always been able to read on Spock's face. But that first part... Matthews still hasn't gotten over the shock of seeing actual emotion on the First Officer's face.
So, yeah, Matthews has been keeping his head down since then.
When the rescue team thinks they're close to the place Kirk's probably being held, they stop to verify coordinates and report back to the ship in orbit above them. They've just ended the confab to ensure that every member of the team knows the details of the extraction plan, and that's when Matthews overhears the doctor and the First Officer. He can't hear everything they're saying, but what he can hear is so strange, so outside the norm of any conversation he's ever heard them have, that he honestly can't figure out what the fuck they're talking about in the beginning.
McCoy is saying something Matthews can't hear, then he asks, "Are you getting anything from him?" and the doctor sounds pretty normal, mostly like himself, gruff and impatient and two tiny space anomalies away from blowing a gasket, but Matthews can't figure out the who's and what's that would make the doctor's question make sense.
"I do not know what you mean, Doctor," Spock says, as if he doesn't understand what the doctor is getting at either, but Matthews is suddenly pretty sure he does because this is Spock after all, and also because Spock is using the same cool tone of voice that he always uses, except it's also not.
That weird edge in Spock's voice is why Matthews looks up from the pack he's digging through. He can't really see the doctor from where he's standing, but he can see the First Officer. Spock is standing rigidly, hands clasped behind his back, almost at-rest, but Matthews thinks there is something different about the line of his shoulders, something uneasy. Matthews can't figure it out, and before he has a chance to, the doctor is speaking again.
"You know what I mean, damn it," McCoy growls. "Is Jim okay?"
Matthews frowns and thinks this is easily the most confusing conversation he's ever heard, because not only can he not figure out what's different about Spock, he also can't figure out why the fuck the doctor thinks Spock would know the Captain's condition. They haven't retrieved Kirk yet, and as far as Matthews knows, Vulcans aren't able to see into the future. Matthews thinks the stress must be getting to the doctor, which he can sort of understand, even if he doesn't like Kirk. Everyone knows McCoy and Kirk go way back.
Matthews turns back to his pack, decides that he needs to give up on finding his replacement scope, and starts shoving things randomly back into the bag. He's so focused on what he's doing that he's only half-listening to the conversations around him, and he almost misses it when Spock finally answers McCoy.
"His situation is ... tolerable," Spock says quietly, and Matthews looks up sharply because that combination of words confuses the hell out of him, and yeah, he was confused before, but now he can't figure out what the fuck is going on at all.
"Toler-- What the hell does that mean?" explodes McCoy, looking like he's about to burst a blood vessel and also like he agrees with Matthews about how confusing everything is.
"It means, Doctor," says Spock just as quietly as before, "that we must hurry." Every bit of that intense urgency Matthews noticed before is tightening Spock's features, and Matthews looks down again because it just seems wrong all of a sudden, like he shouldn't be seeing that look on his commanding officer's face, and he's pissed off when he realizes that his hands are actually fucking shaking when he tries to fasten the loops on his pack.
Matthews is swinging his pack on to his back when he hears the doctor again, and he fucking refuses to look at his commanding officers, but he can hear them clear as anything.
"How are you holding up, Spock?" McCoy asks, and his voice sounds softer, almost sympathetic, and hearing the doctor sound like that actually sort of freaks Matthews out.
Matthews tells himself not to look at them, really he does, but he can’t help himself. So, yeah, that's why he ends up staring openly at McCoy and Spock, not even pretending anymore.
Spock doesn't say anything. He simply raises an eyebrow, and there is something besides urgency on his face now, some expression that Matthews can't decipher at all.
Matthews nearly falls over when he sees the doctor place his hand on Spock's arm as if to comfort him. Then Matthews shakes his head and tries not to think about it anymore because he really has no idea what the fuck is going on. Really. What. The. Fuck.
And he still doesn't later when they find Kirk, and he's been beaten so badly that he's barely conscious, and Spock unties Kirk's hands with gentle fingers, and Spock and Kirk just look at each other for a minute, and Spock nods once, and Kirk closes his eyes, and McCoy huffs in irritation and relief and looks away.
5.
Sulu has been on-shift for eleven hours; they all have. They're all tired. It's been a rough shift, hell, it's been a rough week, with Kirk still recovering and not himself, and the bridge more tense than usual as a result. The end of duty shift can't come soon enough as far as Sulu's concerned, and he's drifting, he's so ready to be off-duty, but then suddenly they're in dead space not far from the Neutral Zone, and on the viewscreen in front of them is a dead ship, listing on its side, spinning slowly through space. Sulu flexes his fingers over his console and tries not to think about the fate of that lifeless ship, tries not to think what he knows everyone on the bridge is thinking, that if something goes wrong, if one of them makes the wrong kind of mistake, the dead ship's fate could be their fate too.
"No systems, no life signs, Keptin," Pavel reports, confirming what everyone already suspects. Sulu knows he should have expected it -- tactical assessment is Pavel's job, after all -- but he still starts a little at the loudness of his friend's voice on the silent bridge.
Sulu smiles briefly at Pavel in apology, then focuses on his own console, searching for any navigational anomalies. There aren't any. According to his sensors, it's just a dead ship in dead space.
He makes his report and watches idly as Kirk swivels his chair around to the communications station. "Lieutenant Uhura?"
"Still searching, sir," she says, fingers flying smoothly and efficiently across her console.
Kirk nods and swivels back to face the viewscreen. He catches Sulu's eye, as he often does when they share a shift, and they exchange a look of complete understanding. There, but for the grace of--
"No, this can't be right," Uhura mutters.
Kirk swivels back to her, an interested gleam in his eyes. "What can't be right, Lieutenant?"
"This can't be right," Uhura says again, and Sulu is surprised by the uneasiness in her voice, the agitated tapping of her fingertips on her console. "Captain, the only record I have been able to locate is the ship's passenger manifest. It dates back 17 years." She flicks a glance at the dead ship spinning slowly across the viewscreen, then meets Kirk's gaze directly. "According to the manifest, the ship was registered on Tarsus IV."
Sulu's eyes widen. He snaps his head back to stare at the dead ship, only half-hearing the stunned murmurs -- the whispers of disbelief and dismay and intensified interest -- that ripple across the bridge behind him. Tarsus IV, Sulu remembers from his first year history class, is the fourth planet of the Tarsus system, a failed Federation colony, a disaster of crop failure, madness, and genocide, a tragic example of the monstrosity that can lurk in the hearts of men--
His old history professor's words ring through his mind as Sulu shoots a look of amazement with Pavel that any ship from Tarsus IV could have survived in any kind of salvageable shape after so many years in the emptiness of deep space. Then he twists his chair around to catch the Captain's eye again, expecting to share the same look of amazement with Kirk.
The look on Kirk's face isn't anything remotely like amazement.
Sulu doesn't know if it's because Kirk hasn't fully recovered from their last mission, or if it's because he was more injured than anyone has admitted (Sulu thinks this is actually pretty likely -- this is Kirk we're talking about here, after all), but Sulu's sure he's never seen such a shattered look on anyone's face before.
Kirk is staring at the viewscreen, stiff and pale in his beloved command chair, and his eyes, which are usually bright and sharp and full of life, are dull blue and terrifyingly blank. Sulu's chest aches with the need to say something, anything, to snap Kirk out of whatever this is, but his brain is frozen, and his mouth is hanging open, and he can't think of any words that will make this better, whatever it is, so he's actually sort of grateful when Spock beats him to it.
"Captain," Spock murmurs, and Sulu is even more grateful when he recognizes the palpable concern in Spock's voice.
It takes a minute and another soft murmur from the First Officer before Kirk tears his eyes away from the viewscreen. Kirk swivels around to look at Spock, and there is a long moment of silent communication between them, and then Spock nods slowly and Kirk squinches his eyes shut. Sulu doesn’t understand the silent messages passing between them, and he's still caught up in the idea that this wouldn't be happening if Kirk was back to his usual cocky self, so it takes him a split-second longer than usual to realize what he should've realized before: that all of Kirk's formidable will and energy are going into just holding himself together, and that's when Sulu’s brain stutters to a stop because this is Kirk and he is never afraid of anything ever.
In the end, the whole thing takes no more than two minutes, tops, and the whole time all Sulu can think is that the Captain must've been way more injured than McCoy let on. He isn't sure what to think beyond that as he watches Kirk take a long, shuddering breath, push himself up from the command chair, and visibly pull himself together. Kirk tugs down the front of his gold shirt and gives the bridge a faint, brittle smile, and Sulu thinks that it's actually a pretty good approximation of Captain James T. Kirk, youngest captain in Starfleet history.
"Mr Spock," Kirk says, and Sulu can tell he's got his mask firmly back in place, even if his voice sounds hoarse and painful and he's not really looking at anyone. "You have the conn."
As soon as the door hisses closed behind Kirk, Sulu exchanges a confused, worried look with Pavel, and then with Uhura, who's taken two steps away from her station as if she's considering following the Captain off the bridge. That startles Sulu; she hasn't followed anyone off the bridge since she and Spock broke up six months ago. Without thinking, he shakes his head at her. She hesitates, looks pointedly at the door, then nods grimly and retakes her seat.
After that, Sulu stares down at his console with unseeing eyes. Then he blinks, and he's so focused on those safe, familiar equations and angles, the easy responsiveness of the helm under his fingers, that he doesn't notice when Spock assumes Kirk's place in the command chair. He's only half-listening when Spock flips the chair's comm to contact Sickbay. "Doctor, I assume you have been tracking events on the bridge?"
"Yeah, I got all that," McCoy says brusquely, and then there's a pause, and Sulu has no problem at all envisioning the frustrated, pained look on the doctor's face.
"Spock," the doctor begins then stops, and there's another pause. They hear the doctor clear his throat, and then he says simply: "He was there."
Who was where? wonders Sulu before it hits him, and he thinks, No, that can't be right, because if it's right, that would mean that...
"The Captain was on Tarsus IV?" Spock clarifies, and Sulu is shocked to hear the crack in the Commander's voice.
"He was there when he was a kid," McCoy confirms bleakly. "I know 'cause it's in his medical history, not 'cause he ever talks about it."
A horrified silence falls across the bridge. Sulu's sure he's thinking what everyone on the bridge is thinking -- that none of them knew this about their Captain, that none of them could've guessed what was behind that brash fearlessness, that there might be other things there too, and how would anyone of them ever know--
Instinctively, not even sure why he does it, Sulu glances back at Spock. The First Officer's attention is focused intently inward. Sulu doesn't know what to think as Spock bows his head and closes his eyes.
The awful silence lingers on the bridge, even after they leave the dead ship far behind them. Shift change occurs with all its usual hustle and bustle, but Sulu can't shake the feeling that everything around them is different now. Maybe it wouldn't have been such a big deal on any other shift, any other day, any other bad week, Sulu doesn't know.
THE WAY YOU SEE THEM
One Time Someone Understood the Bond Between the Captain and his First Officer
1.
Nyota is exhausted, physically and emotionally. She was hoping to have the Observation Deck to herself, but it is already occupied. She stops just inside the door when she recognizes the room's occupants. She doesn't want to disturb them, not after today.
The room is shadowed and still, but there is enough light from the stars to see clearly what she's suspected for a while. She watches Spock shift closer to the Captain, watches him lean close and murmur something in Kirk's ear. She can't hear what Spock is saying, but she doesn't need to hear his words to understand what she's seeing. Nyota is an expert in most of the Federation's languages, and like all xenolinguists she started her education by studying the ancient forms of language that transcend words. She knows what she's seeing as she watches Kirk lean into Spock, bone-deep exhaustion in every line of his body, something more intense than emotion in his eyes, a fierce question on his face. She knows what she's seeing as Spock leans back into Kirk, fingers curling around Kirk's in response, his human eyes alive with exasperation and affection and something deeper than love.
Nyota realizes that she knows them both so well, but she doesn't know them at all. She is only beginning to understand what this thing is that's between them, this fragile, living, real thing that binds them together.
As she slips out of the room, Nyota hears an exhalation, a breath of a name, a world of meaning and emotion in one syllable--
Jim.
END
Title: The Things You See and The Way You See Them
Author: Danahid (danahid)
Fandom/Spoilers: STXI/Reboot
Summary: The art of observation
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gen or Kirk/Spock (depends on which goggles you prefer)
Wordcount: 5,994
Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by many people who are not me. No profit being made. No infringement intended.
Archive/Distribution: Please ask.
Date: July 23, 2009 (small edits 9.2.09)
Author's Note #1: Heartfelt thanks to dreamlittleyo, who kindly allowed me to run with these snippets inspired by her wise and beautiful stories, All That We Can Be, Not Just What We Are and Who Am I To Say?.
Author's Note #2: Written for the ST FlashFic Five Things Challenge, Five Times You Wrote For ST Flashfic -- The Five Things Challenge. (Unfortunately I don’t have a Dreamwidth account, so I can’t post there.) [UPDATE: Now I do, thanks to argentdragon -- Thanks again!]
The Things You See and The Way You See Them
THE THINGS YOU SEE
Five Times Someone Observed the Bond Between the Captain and his First Officer
The art of observation [is] about finding something interesting in an ordinary place... I've found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.
- Elliott Erwitt
1.
Ahlee is new to the bridge, and she is not sure if this is unusual behavior for her commanding officer. Something about him is off, there is no other word for it. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, observing that once again Commander Spock's attention has wandered. His fingers are still against his console while his eyes scan the bridge restlessly, looking for something or someone who is not there.
Because Ahlee is new to the bridge, she cannot tell if her colleagues have also noticed Spock's disquiet. She finds herself distracted by his distraction, which she cannot understand and which does not match her expectations of a senior Starfleet officer, let alone a Vulcan senior officer. Ahlee wonders if she should ask Lieutenant Uhura, who seems friendly and who is (according to Lieutenant Hannity, the operations officer whom Ahlee recently relieved) the Commander's oldest friend on-board.
Ahlee has almost decided to say something when the Commander stands abruptly, sending his datapad crashing to the deck. He is clutching his left forearm with his right hand, his knuckles white, and Ahlee catches her breath at the expression on his face. His features are still Vulcan, still impassive, but his eyes are dark with surprise and some emotion that Ahlee cannot identify.
"Spock," says Lieutenant Uhura as she rises from the communications console. "Are you alright?"
Immediately Spock's expression clears. He drops his hands to his sides, curling his fingers into fists. He nods once, tersely, then resumes his seat. Uhura returns to her station as well, and the bridge falls silent except for the soft tap of fingertips on consoles.
Ahlee is still staring at the pieces of Spock's shattered datapad when she hears the report from the Transporter Room. The Away Team has returned, and there are casualties. Ahlee is a new bridge officer, but she knows already that there are always casualties.
(Later, Ahlee overhears Lieutenant Sulu describing the Captain's injuries to Ensign Chekov. "They gave him something that was messing him up," Sulu is saying. "He could barely stand by the time we got back to the shuttle, and it was a rough trip just getting there. The terrain was brutal, these plants kept grabbing at us, and his arm was bent the wrong way the whole time. It must've hurt like hell. I'm not kidding, I could actually see the shiny white bone sticking out of his skin." The pilot shakes his head in disbelief. "Hell, I didn't even know bones could be shiny.")
2.
Mouse was the youngest person on the Enterprise before Chekov joined the crew. There weren't many weeks between his settling into his berth and Chekov's arrival, but he hated every minute of them. He hated being the baby on-board, and he's glad he's been able to put those miserable few weeks behind him. Or at least mostly behind him. Unfortunately they're not completely behind him. It seems his crewmates have trouble taking him seriously when he still answers to his childhood nickname, which is apparently stickier than peanut butter--
It's a stupid simile, and Mouse knows it, but all he can think is: God, what I wouldn't give for a peanut butter sandwich right now. He looks mournfully at the food dispensers, thinking about how the Captain is allergic to peanuts, which isn't surprising since he seems to be allergic to just about everything as far as Mouse can tell. Mouse heaves a heartfelt sigh and transfers his gaze to the corner table where the Captain and the First Officer are playing three-dimensional chess. Mouse is pretty sure that the ship's Chief Medical Officer has removed all peanut products from the ship's menus and stores, along with every other food that tastes like home, just on the off chance the Captain is allergic to them too. Mouse wraps his arms around his knees and spends an enjoyable couple of minutes tucked in his corner of the Observation Deck, musing bitterly on the unfairness of over-protective CMOs and captains with nut allergies, until his musings are interrupted by the First Officer's calm declaration of "Checkmate, Captain."
Mouse has been watching their chess games quietly from his corner for weeks now, and he's observed that the Captain loses more often than not but doesn't seem to mind. Mouse thinks the Captain has rationalized his losing record as only to be expected; he's playing a game of logic against a brilliant logician after all: it's only logical.
"How many is that now, Jim?" Dr McCoy asks, managing to sound both gruff and jovial at the same time, and Mouse sits back into his corner, blinking a little in surprise because he hadn't realized the doctor was watching tonight's chess game, and then he ducks his head to hide his smile, even though he knows that no one is looking his way. Mouse can't help smiling: The doctor is leaning over the chess game, grinning wildly, practically rubbing his hands with glee.
"I've lost count," the Captain shrugs as he gathers together the white chess pieces and begins carefully wrapping and putting them away.
"Lost count, my ass," the doctor snorts. "How many is it, Spock?"
"Two hundred and thirty-two, Doctor," the First Officer says immediately, handing the Captain one of the white pawns he missed. "Not counting the match that was suspended because of the Aleutian attack on Beren II, or the match that was inconclusively terminated after the radiation leak on Level 24 was discovered by Ensign Ogoorithinatu 47 days ago." Although Spock's tone is as precise and formal as always and he appears to be attentively focused on wrapping and putting away the black chess pieces, Mouse thinks he can actually see a teasing glint in the First Officer's eye.
"Two hundred and thirty-two, Jim!" crows the doctor.
"Well ... not all in a row," the Captain protests. He sounds a little defensive, but Mouse can see that there's an easy smile on his face and the line of his shoulders is still relaxed, and Mouse is sure then and there that the Captain definitely doesn't care about his running tally of chess defeats.
"And anyway," the Captain continues, gently closing the lid of the chess set and leaning back in his chair. "I let him win. Keeps him on his toes."
The doctor scoffs. "You are such an infant, Jim. You don't keep Spock on his toes. He keeps you on yours. He probably lets you win."
"Thanks for the support, Bones," the Captain mutters. He glares up at the doctor and rolls his eyes, and then grins to take the sting out of the gesture before sharing a quiet look of amusement with his First Officer, and not for the first time Mouse envies them their camaraderie, all three of them. Mouse wraps his arms around his knees once more and leans back into his corner, happily settling in to listen to their usual banter for the rest of the evening. And for a couple of minutes, it's exactly the way it always is, but then Commander Spock says something that is completely different from the way it is always is.
"Are you in pain, Captain?" he asks quietly.
The Captain looks up, clearly startled. Mouse watches him rub his hand over his heavily bandaged forearm before giving his First Officer an assessing, speculative look.
"I'm fine, Spock."
"'Fine' has variable definitions, Captain."
Spock's dry comment earns a short bark of laughter from the Captain, then he narrows his eyes and that assessing look comes back full-force. "How did you...?"
The Commander raises one eyebrow. "You seemed to be favoring it during play."
The Captain stares down at his bandaged arm and frowns, and Mouse frowns too because the Captain wasn't favoring it all (Mouse knows because he was watching), and Mouse can actually see the Captain's brain working through this new information. Mouse can tell when he comes to some decision because he smiles, his eyes gleaming when he looks at his First Officer. "Thank you for the game, Mr Spock."
"You are welcome, Captain." Spock tilts his head slightly, and the corner of his mouth lifts, and Mouse figures that's probably how a Vulcan smiles back.
Mouse snickers when the doctor scowls and grumbles, "What the hell are you--?"
"How about a drink, Bones?" the Captain interrupts, bouncing up from his chair. He claps the doctor on the shoulder. "I'm tired of getting my ass handed to me. I need a break." He turns back to his chess partner. "Spock?"
"No, thank you, Captain. I will retire for the evening."
Kirk nods, gives his First Officer another brilliant smile, and leads the way to the mess.
After a minute, Mouse gets up to follow. It occurs to him that he could try asking someone if they know of a peanut-butter-like substitute he could try in a sandwich. Maybe Chief Engineer Scott will know, he thinks; apparently Scotty has a thing for sandwiches.
3.
Scotty has been witness to many arguments between the Captain and his First Officer. Not many have been as explosive as that first one, when Kirk goaded Spock into a rage, and Spock flung Kirk across the bridge before attempting to throttle the laddie half-to-death. Most since then have been spirited disagreements about regulations, plans, protocols, strategies, and tactics -- two strong lads butting heads, each constantly and positively certain that he was right. Scotty is grateful from the bottom of his heart that he’s been able to hide away in Engineering for most of it. To Scotty's ken, the lads need each other, and the decisions they come up with together are better because of their differences. Scotty has no doubt that Kirk and Spock together can accomplish things neither can do alone. He's seen it with his own eyes.
If Scotty thinks at all about the interaction between his commanding officers, it's usually along these lines, and he sees no reason to re-examine his assumptions until the hell-cursed day a freak accident in a Jefferies tube incapacitates him.
There are slowly regenerating plasma burns across both his hands and strong sedatives slowing his thinking, and he's grateful to the fine doctor for fixing him up, but of course, of course, that's when something goes wrong with the warp core. Scotty's doped up and loopy and only half-able to process the hazy panic he feels when he hears the calm, beautiful voice of his ship repeating through the chaos: "Warp core breach in ... five minutes."
It's gamma shift, and his head is whirling a wee bit, so naturally he thinks of the only other person on-board who loves his lady as much as he does. "Comm the Capt'n," he tells Keenser. "He c'n figure out how ta fix this."
Kirk arrives out of breath and frantic, short hair sticking straight up, wearing a ragged grey t-shirt and loose sweat pants, and Scotty puts two and two together (he's an engineer after all, first and foremost, and math is easy by the way) and figures the lad rolled right out of bed. And he feels a wee bit guilty about that, really, but he also knows that the lad loves his ship as every good captain does, and he wouldn't want it any other way.
Scotty's head is still spinning from the fine doctor's very fine painkillers, so he points vaguely towards the warp core and allows himself to slide down to a sitting position on his beautiful lady's deck, not able to do anything more than watch as Kirk skids to a stop in front of the main engineering terminal. Before diving in, the lad takes a breath to assess the situation, and Scotty is surprised by how he settles and focuses, as if he's channeling his Vulcan First Officer.
"Tell me what you know, Mr Scott," Kirk orders without looking up from the console, and Scotty thinks woozily that he even sounds like Spock.
Scotty tells him what he can remember, although his brain is bloody fuzzy, and all he can do is watch through bleary eyes as Kirk scans through lines of code, and all he can think about is how he wishes that his legs weren't weak as two strings of sheep's intestines so he could help because good as the Captain might be, and Scotty won't be convinced of anything until he sees it with his own eyes, he still doesn't know Scotty's beautiful ship as well as Scotty does. But Scotty's brain is too wool-stuffed, and his fingers are bandaged to hell, so all he can do is watch as Kirk's unbandaged fingers dance across the console and he mutters to himself about how "fascinating" everything is.
Scotty tips his head back and thinks he might just as well be taking a quick kip then since his work here is done, and he's actually beginning to nod off a wee little bit when he remembers why he can't take a nap, he can't because his lady's hurting and she needs him, the Enterprise needs him, she does. Horrified that he almost abandoned his beautiful lady at a time like this, Scotty slaps himself in the face to wake himself up.
"Still with me, Scotty?" Kirk asks cheekily (cheeky bastard, Scotty thinks) without looking up from his work. He's staring intensely at the engineering console, fingers moving furiously, so rapidly that they actually seem to be blurring, though that's probably just the damned painkillers' fault. The lad's surprisingly good, Scotty thinks, as Kirk types in new commands. Scotty's an engineer first and foremost, and he can see with his own eyes that Kirk's a natural tinkerer, except he combines his innate aptitude with a pretty clear grasp of warp propulsion physics, command-level problem-solving skills, and a willingness to make intuitive leaps of logic. It's a way more complicated observation than Scotty thought his wooly brain could string together, and that's probably why his head is actually hurting when it wasn't before, so Scotty lets his head fall back again with a thud and a final, relieved thought that his lady is in good hands.
It must only be a minute later but Scotty can't tell because his head's buzzing and he's completely lost track of time since the Captain turned off the ship's audible warning system. Kirk types in a final command and announces that he's done, and he sounds so relieved he's practically giddy, and Scotty suddenly remembers why he shouldn't be surprised Kirk knows his way around an engine room -- he's a Kirk, and his mother is one the greatest engineers Starfleet has ever seen.
Scotty is mumbling to himself about Winona Kirk's last published paper, trying to remember her surprising equations about something that he can't remember except that it was all very surprising by the way, when he realizes the Captain is listening to his delirious ramblings, a wide smile on his face, one eyebrow quirked up to his hairline. The lad's hands are clasped behind his back, and he almost looks like Spock, Scotty thinks, although Kirk's a fair bit shorter and, well, fairer and not Vulcan, for that matter. Scotty's brain gets stuck on the resemblance so he jumps a little when he hears the actual Spock's voice over the comm.
"Bridge to Engineering. Captain. I assume because we have not experienced further irregularities in warp core functionality that all is well?"
"Yeah, Spock," Kirk laughs as he bends down to help Scotty to his feet. "We're not gonna blow up today." He drapes an arm over Scotty's shoulders. "I'm going to take Scotty to Sickbay, though, so he can have a little nap. He's a little out of it. Tell Bones to get a bed ready." He laughs again, relief and the adrenaline come-down still clear in his voice. "And then I'm going back to bed. Don't break my ship, Spock."
"That would be illogical, Captain," Spock replies over the comm, and Scotty thinks McCoy's painkillers must be better than the finest Highland Scotch because he actually hears amusement and shared relief threading underneath Spock's unemotional words.
Scotty is an engineer first and foremost, and he only believes what he can see with his own eyes and also what he can hear with his own ears. As they stumble towards Sickbay, Scotty leaning heavily on Kirk the whole way, Scotty wonders if the Captain and his First Officer still argue the same way they've always done, or if that's changed too.
4.
Matthews doesn't like Kirk. He hasn't liked him from the moment they met, he didn't like him when he learned the Captain had requested him specifically for the flagship's security team, and he liked him even less, if possible, on his first day aboard the re-commissioned ship. (There was Kirk, standing like the arrogant asshole he was, welcoming each member of his crew with a handshake and a shit-eating grin. When it was Matthews' turn for a handshake, Kirk patted him on the cheek instead, just like he'd done in that Riverside bar four years ago. Then he smirked -- and god, Matthews hated that smirk -- and said: "You know, I like you, Cupcake. I like your sense of humor.") Matthews doesn't like Kirk, and it isn't just because he gave him that stupid nickname.
So, yeah, Matthews doesn't like Kirk, he doesn't. But he would die for Kirk, no questions asked. Ask anyone on the security team, and they would say the same thing. Kirk is a crazy fuck, everyone knows it. But everyone -- every single crewmember on-board the Enterprise -- knows that Kirk would die for his crew. Everyone knows that he will do everything he can think of, pulling tricks and solutions out of thin air, strategies and tactics out of his ass, coming up with batshit crazy ideas he somehow convinces the First Officer will work, to get them out of the insane situations the Enterprise and her crew frequently find themselves in. Everyone knows Kirk's some kind of a genius, that he finished command track a full year ahead of schedule, that he doesn't believe in no-win scenarios (everyone's heard the story about how he hacked the Kobayashi Maru), how he saved Earth and the entire Federation because he was too much of a stubborn fuck to give up. Lots of people would follow him for those reasons alone. Lots of other people would follow him because he knows every single crewman's name, and for them, that's proof that he's one of the good guys, a leader, commander, whatever to follow. Matthews follows him, even though he doesn't like him, because Matthews is good at following orders, and he's learned the hard way that it's a hell of a lot easier to follow good orders. Kirk's a good commander, he does his homework, and he gives good orders. After most of a year and over a dozen missions under Kirk's command, Matthews knows that he would follow Kirk anywhere.
That doesn't change how he feels, though. Matthews doesn't like Kirk, he hasn't liked him for four-plus years, and he isn't about to start liking him now, even if he feels like an ass for holding on to his dislike of the man when the man himself has been missing for three days.
The Captain was kidnapped on Puvrin Beta by a terrorist cell trying to destabilize the Puvrinese government. The First Officer and Ship's Doctor are leading the rescue team, which strikes Matthews as all kinds of stupid, but he doesn't criticize. He can appreciate that they want to get the Captain back. Everyone wants to get the Captain back.
What surprises Matthews is that this rescue mission isn't all that different from one that Kirk would have led. Commander Spock's orders even sound like the Captain's. Twice Matthews had to turn around to check that it really was the First Officer issuing the brilliant, instinctive, illogical commands. The one time Matthews slipped enough to show his surprise, Spock gave him a look that would have been at home on Kirk's face, a look that was all urgency and determination, a look that also said pretty clearly 'don't fuck with me,' although that part is something Matthews has always been able to read on Spock's face. But that first part... Matthews still hasn't gotten over the shock of seeing actual emotion on the First Officer's face.
So, yeah, Matthews has been keeping his head down since then.
When the rescue team thinks they're close to the place Kirk's probably being held, they stop to verify coordinates and report back to the ship in orbit above them. They've just ended the confab to ensure that every member of the team knows the details of the extraction plan, and that's when Matthews overhears the doctor and the First Officer. He can't hear everything they're saying, but what he can hear is so strange, so outside the norm of any conversation he's ever heard them have, that he honestly can't figure out what the fuck they're talking about in the beginning.
McCoy is saying something Matthews can't hear, then he asks, "Are you getting anything from him?" and the doctor sounds pretty normal, mostly like himself, gruff and impatient and two tiny space anomalies away from blowing a gasket, but Matthews can't figure out the who's and what's that would make the doctor's question make sense.
"I do not know what you mean, Doctor," Spock says, as if he doesn't understand what the doctor is getting at either, but Matthews is suddenly pretty sure he does because this is Spock after all, and also because Spock is using the same cool tone of voice that he always uses, except it's also not.
That weird edge in Spock's voice is why Matthews looks up from the pack he's digging through. He can't really see the doctor from where he's standing, but he can see the First Officer. Spock is standing rigidly, hands clasped behind his back, almost at-rest, but Matthews thinks there is something different about the line of his shoulders, something uneasy. Matthews can't figure it out, and before he has a chance to, the doctor is speaking again.
"You know what I mean, damn it," McCoy growls. "Is Jim okay?"
Matthews frowns and thinks this is easily the most confusing conversation he's ever heard, because not only can he not figure out what's different about Spock, he also can't figure out why the fuck the doctor thinks Spock would know the Captain's condition. They haven't retrieved Kirk yet, and as far as Matthews knows, Vulcans aren't able to see into the future. Matthews thinks the stress must be getting to the doctor, which he can sort of understand, even if he doesn't like Kirk. Everyone knows McCoy and Kirk go way back.
Matthews turns back to his pack, decides that he needs to give up on finding his replacement scope, and starts shoving things randomly back into the bag. He's so focused on what he's doing that he's only half-listening to the conversations around him, and he almost misses it when Spock finally answers McCoy.
"His situation is ... tolerable," Spock says quietly, and Matthews looks up sharply because that combination of words confuses the hell out of him, and yeah, he was confused before, but now he can't figure out what the fuck is going on at all.
"Toler-- What the hell does that mean?" explodes McCoy, looking like he's about to burst a blood vessel and also like he agrees with Matthews about how confusing everything is.
"It means, Doctor," says Spock just as quietly as before, "that we must hurry." Every bit of that intense urgency Matthews noticed before is tightening Spock's features, and Matthews looks down again because it just seems wrong all of a sudden, like he shouldn't be seeing that look on his commanding officer's face, and he's pissed off when he realizes that his hands are actually fucking shaking when he tries to fasten the loops on his pack.
Matthews is swinging his pack on to his back when he hears the doctor again, and he fucking refuses to look at his commanding officers, but he can hear them clear as anything.
"How are you holding up, Spock?" McCoy asks, and his voice sounds softer, almost sympathetic, and hearing the doctor sound like that actually sort of freaks Matthews out.
Matthews tells himself not to look at them, really he does, but he can’t help himself. So, yeah, that's why he ends up staring openly at McCoy and Spock, not even pretending anymore.
Spock doesn't say anything. He simply raises an eyebrow, and there is something besides urgency on his face now, some expression that Matthews can't decipher at all.
Matthews nearly falls over when he sees the doctor place his hand on Spock's arm as if to comfort him. Then Matthews shakes his head and tries not to think about it anymore because he really has no idea what the fuck is going on. Really. What. The. Fuck.
And he still doesn't later when they find Kirk, and he's been beaten so badly that he's barely conscious, and Spock unties Kirk's hands with gentle fingers, and Spock and Kirk just look at each other for a minute, and Spock nods once, and Kirk closes his eyes, and McCoy huffs in irritation and relief and looks away.
5.
Sulu has been on-shift for eleven hours; they all have. They're all tired. It's been a rough shift, hell, it's been a rough week, with Kirk still recovering and not himself, and the bridge more tense than usual as a result. The end of duty shift can't come soon enough as far as Sulu's concerned, and he's drifting, he's so ready to be off-duty, but then suddenly they're in dead space not far from the Neutral Zone, and on the viewscreen in front of them is a dead ship, listing on its side, spinning slowly through space. Sulu flexes his fingers over his console and tries not to think about the fate of that lifeless ship, tries not to think what he knows everyone on the bridge is thinking, that if something goes wrong, if one of them makes the wrong kind of mistake, the dead ship's fate could be their fate too.
"No systems, no life signs, Keptin," Pavel reports, confirming what everyone already suspects. Sulu knows he should have expected it -- tactical assessment is Pavel's job, after all -- but he still starts a little at the loudness of his friend's voice on the silent bridge.
Sulu smiles briefly at Pavel in apology, then focuses on his own console, searching for any navigational anomalies. There aren't any. According to his sensors, it's just a dead ship in dead space.
He makes his report and watches idly as Kirk swivels his chair around to the communications station. "Lieutenant Uhura?"
"Still searching, sir," she says, fingers flying smoothly and efficiently across her console.
Kirk nods and swivels back to face the viewscreen. He catches Sulu's eye, as he often does when they share a shift, and they exchange a look of complete understanding. There, but for the grace of--
"No, this can't be right," Uhura mutters.
Kirk swivels back to her, an interested gleam in his eyes. "What can't be right, Lieutenant?"
"This can't be right," Uhura says again, and Sulu is surprised by the uneasiness in her voice, the agitated tapping of her fingertips on her console. "Captain, the only record I have been able to locate is the ship's passenger manifest. It dates back 17 years." She flicks a glance at the dead ship spinning slowly across the viewscreen, then meets Kirk's gaze directly. "According to the manifest, the ship was registered on Tarsus IV."
Sulu's eyes widen. He snaps his head back to stare at the dead ship, only half-hearing the stunned murmurs -- the whispers of disbelief and dismay and intensified interest -- that ripple across the bridge behind him. Tarsus IV, Sulu remembers from his first year history class, is the fourth planet of the Tarsus system, a failed Federation colony, a disaster of crop failure, madness, and genocide, a tragic example of the monstrosity that can lurk in the hearts of men--
His old history professor's words ring through his mind as Sulu shoots a look of amazement with Pavel that any ship from Tarsus IV could have survived in any kind of salvageable shape after so many years in the emptiness of deep space. Then he twists his chair around to catch the Captain's eye again, expecting to share the same look of amazement with Kirk.
The look on Kirk's face isn't anything remotely like amazement.
Sulu doesn't know if it's because Kirk hasn't fully recovered from their last mission, or if it's because he was more injured than anyone has admitted (Sulu thinks this is actually pretty likely -- this is Kirk we're talking about here, after all), but Sulu's sure he's never seen such a shattered look on anyone's face before.
Kirk is staring at the viewscreen, stiff and pale in his beloved command chair, and his eyes, which are usually bright and sharp and full of life, are dull blue and terrifyingly blank. Sulu's chest aches with the need to say something, anything, to snap Kirk out of whatever this is, but his brain is frozen, and his mouth is hanging open, and he can't think of any words that will make this better, whatever it is, so he's actually sort of grateful when Spock beats him to it.
"Captain," Spock murmurs, and Sulu is even more grateful when he recognizes the palpable concern in Spock's voice.
It takes a minute and another soft murmur from the First Officer before Kirk tears his eyes away from the viewscreen. Kirk swivels around to look at Spock, and there is a long moment of silent communication between them, and then Spock nods slowly and Kirk squinches his eyes shut. Sulu doesn’t understand the silent messages passing between them, and he's still caught up in the idea that this wouldn't be happening if Kirk was back to his usual cocky self, so it takes him a split-second longer than usual to realize what he should've realized before: that all of Kirk's formidable will and energy are going into just holding himself together, and that's when Sulu’s brain stutters to a stop because this is Kirk and he is never afraid of anything ever.
In the end, the whole thing takes no more than two minutes, tops, and the whole time all Sulu can think is that the Captain must've been way more injured than McCoy let on. He isn't sure what to think beyond that as he watches Kirk take a long, shuddering breath, push himself up from the command chair, and visibly pull himself together. Kirk tugs down the front of his gold shirt and gives the bridge a faint, brittle smile, and Sulu thinks that it's actually a pretty good approximation of Captain James T. Kirk, youngest captain in Starfleet history.
"Mr Spock," Kirk says, and Sulu can tell he's got his mask firmly back in place, even if his voice sounds hoarse and painful and he's not really looking at anyone. "You have the conn."
As soon as the door hisses closed behind Kirk, Sulu exchanges a confused, worried look with Pavel, and then with Uhura, who's taken two steps away from her station as if she's considering following the Captain off the bridge. That startles Sulu; she hasn't followed anyone off the bridge since she and Spock broke up six months ago. Without thinking, he shakes his head at her. She hesitates, looks pointedly at the door, then nods grimly and retakes her seat.
After that, Sulu stares down at his console with unseeing eyes. Then he blinks, and he's so focused on those safe, familiar equations and angles, the easy responsiveness of the helm under his fingers, that he doesn't notice when Spock assumes Kirk's place in the command chair. He's only half-listening when Spock flips the chair's comm to contact Sickbay. "Doctor, I assume you have been tracking events on the bridge?"
"Yeah, I got all that," McCoy says brusquely, and then there's a pause, and Sulu has no problem at all envisioning the frustrated, pained look on the doctor's face.
"Spock," the doctor begins then stops, and there's another pause. They hear the doctor clear his throat, and then he says simply: "He was there."
Who was where? wonders Sulu before it hits him, and he thinks, No, that can't be right, because if it's right, that would mean that...
"The Captain was on Tarsus IV?" Spock clarifies, and Sulu is shocked to hear the crack in the Commander's voice.
"He was there when he was a kid," McCoy confirms bleakly. "I know 'cause it's in his medical history, not 'cause he ever talks about it."
A horrified silence falls across the bridge. Sulu's sure he's thinking what everyone on the bridge is thinking -- that none of them knew this about their Captain, that none of them could've guessed what was behind that brash fearlessness, that there might be other things there too, and how would anyone of them ever know--
Instinctively, not even sure why he does it, Sulu glances back at Spock. The First Officer's attention is focused intently inward. Sulu doesn't know what to think as Spock bows his head and closes his eyes.
The awful silence lingers on the bridge, even after they leave the dead ship far behind them. Shift change occurs with all its usual hustle and bustle, but Sulu can't shake the feeling that everything around them is different now. Maybe it wouldn't have been such a big deal on any other shift, any other day, any other bad week, Sulu doesn't know.
THE WAY YOU SEE THEM
One Time Someone Understood the Bond Between the Captain and his First Officer
1.
Nyota is exhausted, physically and emotionally. She was hoping to have the Observation Deck to herself, but it is already occupied. She stops just inside the door when she recognizes the room's occupants. She doesn't want to disturb them, not after today.
The room is shadowed and still, but there is enough light from the stars to see clearly what she's suspected for a while. She watches Spock shift closer to the Captain, watches him lean close and murmur something in Kirk's ear. She can't hear what Spock is saying, but she doesn't need to hear his words to understand what she's seeing. Nyota is an expert in most of the Federation's languages, and like all xenolinguists she started her education by studying the ancient forms of language that transcend words. She knows what she's seeing as she watches Kirk lean into Spock, bone-deep exhaustion in every line of his body, something more intense than emotion in his eyes, a fierce question on his face. She knows what she's seeing as Spock leans back into Kirk, fingers curling around Kirk's in response, his human eyes alive with exasperation and affection and something deeper than love.
Nyota realizes that she knows them both so well, but she doesn't know them at all. She is only beginning to understand what this thing is that's between them, this fragile, living, real thing that binds them together.
As she slips out of the room, Nyota hears an exhalation, a breath of a name, a world of meaning and emotion in one syllable--
Jim.
END