igrab
in
grabi_hands
With a Little Help from My Friends [In My Life]
[Masterpost]
Kirk woke up at an hour to sunrise. A lot of people at the Academy had assumed he was a night owl, given how late he almost always stayed up, but the truth was he was just as much of an early bird, if not more. He didn't like sleeping, didn't like laying around in bed when there was something he could be doing and definitely didn't like waking up after the sun was already up. The only reason Bones didn't sedate him on a daily basis (which isn't to say that he didn't, every now and then) was because, despite all odds, Jim Kirk really didn't need all that much sleep to function.
Everyone else was breathing quietly. Bones was a back-sleeper, one arm thrown up over his face, the other somewhere under the blankets. Uhura lay on her side, curled into the fetal position, with one hand tucked under the pillow and the other outstretched, as if reaching for something that wasn't there.
Jim was a belly-sleeper, arms and legs spread out to take up as much room as possible.
He noticed that none of the Vulcans were there, and while he assumed that Gaan and Dzharel had their own place to sleep, he wondered where Spock was off to. Meditating somewhere? Sleeping in the closet?
His footsteps were silent in the quiet, predawn light. Everything seemed muted - gray at the edges, and muffled, and when he entered the kitchen and saw Spock calmly preparing breakfast, he couldn't bring himself to be very surprised.
"Need some help?" he murmured, more mouth than sound, and Spock looked up quickly - nodded, once. Whatever he was making, it looked colorful and delicious.
"Do you always wake up early like this?" He found a knife and made himself useful, instinctively obeying Spock's subtle directions.
"It is expected, in a Vulcan household, for the guests to rise before the sun to prepare the morning meal." There was a touch of something in his eyes, a sadness, that Kirk knew to be an echo of the anguish he had felt after the destruction of Vulcan. He knew that pain, had felt it in the mind meld with Spock's alternate counterpart. It still wound into his dreams at times, throwing him awake in a cold sweat with tear tracks running down his face.
He didn't question his First Officer's dedication to Vulcan traditions. Didn't bring up how far away they were from home. He was willing to bend to his friend's judgment on this one; or at least, indulge his need for something familiar.
The dish they were making looked promising. Kirk was not a cook by any means but he could follow directions, and there was something peaceful and beautiful in the simplicity of an early morning, quietly preparing breakfast with Spock at his side.
He brushed the tips of his fingers over the back of Spock's hand - accidentally, on his way to picking something up, and the Vulcan froze for a split second, his eyes darting to the point of contact.
Kirk went right on with what he was doing.
Spock breathed in, closed his eyes, and let it out slowly. Humans do not know, he reminded himself. They do not understand.
Perhaps one day he would casually press his lips to the captain's own, just to see what his reaction would be, and then write it off as a cultural difference, with a slight smirk on his face. It would be retribution. But it would not be fair. He, unlike Jim Kirk, knew very well what humans considered to be intimacy. He wished the captain would take a little more time to learn about Vulcans. It would be to his benefit.
Slowly, people began to filter in. Gaan came in and sat up on the counter, peering at Jim with unabashed curiosity in his wide eyes. Uhura said a sleepy 'good morning', then wandered off to the bathroom. McCoy made a beeline for Kirk, his silver sensor pen whirling. He grumbled under his breath, but said nothing, which supposedly meant that he was all right.
Gaan watched, his toes curling. He saw the way that McCoy visibly refrained from clapping Spock on the back for making him coffee, he saw the way that Spock and Uhura carefully avoided eye contact. He saw the way that Jim leaned over to speak to Spock in an undertone, his lips close to that pointed ear, and he noticed just how comfortable Spock was with the contact. He saw Spock reach out, catch Kirk's wrist and pull him back, gesture at the meal they were making and murmur orders in a voice that had no room for argument. He saw Kirk's smile, like the bright light of a solar flare, in response.
Then Dzharel came in and the kitchen lit up in sound, as if someone had unmuted the entire scene.
"Is that coffee? Spock, you are brilliant..."
"Best damn drink in the galaxy, didn't I tell you that? None of that tea stuff-"
"You said 350 degrees, right? I can't read Orion numbers, what the hell is this..."
"I would question how you passed your Starfleet exams, but then I remember- you didn't."
"Dzharel, do you have a hairbrush? I'm a mess..."
Gaan smiled to himself, his head tilting. Even if the doctor-person was loud and rude and terrifying, on a whole, he liked Spock's new friends. They were fascinating.
•
"I gotta say, my personal history isn't exactly nice, up until I joined Starfleet." They were all relaxing in a private booth in a corner of the club, the music a low pulse that they could feel through the ground but did not impede conversation. Drinks and words were flowing liberally, as everyone jostled to trade stories of their early days. Kirk leaned back in his seat, one hand closed around his drink, the other resting casually along the back of the wide, cushioned seat. Spock was, presumably in response to this badly-concealed attempt at intimacy, leaning forward, back ramrod straight.
Dzharel was across from them, and while his posture was much more easygoing, he still had a deliberateness to his movements, and a certain inch-thick barrier of personal space. "Oh? Define 'not nice' for us, Jim, I'm sure it will manage to be an interesting story." His lips quirked in that savage smirk.
He rolled his eyes. "Not saying I'm proud of any of this, okay?" Another drink was called for, and then he lifted his arm off the seat, so he could lean forward. "I had something of a reputation, for getting into trouble."
"I find that difficult to believe," Spock murmured with a very wry sarcasm. He was grinning, with his eyes. Kirk shoved his shoulder, laughing.
"Yeah, but cheating on the Kobayashi Maru is one thing. Getting locked up in jail for a month because of assault on a police officer; that's a different story."
"You could have been kicked out of Starfleet. I see little difference."
"Having a Starfleet to get kicked out of; that's the difference." They were practically speaking to each other only, now, maybe even forgetting who had initially asked about his past. "The whole county knew my name, and my face, and my track record. I got called in for possession of illegal substances, assault, theft, the whole nine yards. I drove my dad's car off a cliff when I was ten."
Spock's eyebrows went up; all of this was news to him, though he was sure it would be in the Captain's personnel file. "That must have been quite dramatic. I am pleased you were able to survive."
Kirk snorted in laughter, at the almost-concern in Spock's voice. "I didn't have friends, I had followers, because the other kids thought I was cool, but they didn't know who I was, or why I was doing what I did."
"And why was that?" Spock looked as if he expected any number of answers, none of them serious.
"...I wanted someone to care." He shrugged, his mouth curled in a grin, like it was no big deal. "I didn't have a dad to look up to, and my mom was always off-planet. She didn't even have time to be angry at me. Or disappointed. She wasn't around, and maybe I thought if I fucked myself up enough, she'd come home and tell me it wasn't worth it."
Everyone was leaning close, now, and all had varying degrees of sympathy in their faces - except for Kirk, who was smiling like it was nothing, like it was in the past. Spock frowned. "You speak so candidly of things clearly close to your heart."
"Well, I found it, didn't I?" He smirked, his fingers tapping on his glass. "Someone picked me off my feet, and smacked me into shape, and told me - 'if you feel like there's more to life than this... join Starfleet.'" The realization of who Kirk must be talking about dawned in Spock's eyes.
"You were personally advised to join Starfleet by Captain Pike?" he murmured, eyebrows raised.
"Yeah," Jim smirked right back at him. Pike had been Spock's captain for longer than he had, but there wasn't any question of Spock's loyalty, now. There was something to be said about that. Pike had known, somehow. That this was the place for him. Starfleet. The Enterprise. All of it was due to that man's faith in him, and Jim wasn't going to let him down. Not now, not ever.
"I do not find that difficult to believe. He is a man of extremely high intuition. I also recall that it was due to his influence that you ended up my First Officer," Spock started.
"...And gave you a swift kick in the pants when you needed it. I remember." A warm, fond look passed between them, until they became suddenly aware that they had an audience.
Uhura smirked. "I think that's enough of that. I don't know about you, but I want to hear more about Spock."
His cheeks flushed, and before he could protest, Jim jumped right on the bandwagon. "Me too! So, were you guys all chummy after that day, or did it take more time than that?"
Dzharel laughed, flicking his hair over his shoulder. "Oh, it took more than that. I can't remember any details, but Spock never really admitted to warming up to us - he just sort of..."
"...Learned to tolerate your existence?" Spock finished primly.
"Ha! Yeah, that. But we kept coming back - "
"Following me home," Spock cut in, one eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, well. You never told us to go away. If you don't say no, the logical assumption is that the 'yes' is implied."
"Well yes, that would be the logical assumption, but - "
Kirk could tell Spock was getting too worked up about this, and without any sort of preamble, he touched his fingers to the small of Spock's back. The Vulcan stopped talking immediately, though he didn't show any other outward signs of distress. "Anyway. I think we get the picture."
"Amanda," Gaan said suddenly, and they all turned to look at him. "She was... wonderful."
Everyone sank into a muted contemplation for a moment.
"I will tell a story now," he murmured. "You will watch, and listen, and learn."
•
The young Vulcan quartet is thirteen, now; or fourteen in Sohar's case, and their meeting place at the school doors has become a part of daily life. Sohar is the tallest, and his hair is close to his shoulders; he ties it back with a broken elastic. Spock is next, his face rounder and prettier than most of the other boys. Gaan is still small. He has not been eating well, and it shows.
They are waiting for T'Lis, who is just starting to show signs of becoming a woman. For being the one most easily distrustful at the start, she is a close friend of Spock's now, and they always have much to talk about. Sohar and Gaan often feel left behind when the discussion turns to science, and they are pleased, that Spock feels able to speak so freely. He is not often so candid with them.
She is one of the last of the children to leave the school building, and her face shows distraction, annoyance perhaps, or the stirring of some other emotion that the others have difficulty naming. Her hair - still in a long braid reaching to the back of her thighs - is frazzled and loose, as if she had been running.
"T'Lis?" Sohar holds a hand out, and she brushes their fingertips together, in a quick gesture of affection. They are one of very few pairs to do so; many Vulcan children do not bother associating with their mates until it is time. Gaan is grateful that Sohar and T'Lis are so close, but he is also perhaps a little jealous. Not for either of them in particular. He is jealous of their connection.
"It is nothing." She neatly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and nods quickly. "I will elaborate later. Let us go, please?" She looks to Spock, and he nods, curtly.
Spock's house is the closest, most inviting, and, quite frankly, the safest. Sohar's family is not nearly as well-off, T'Lis has quite a few siblings that Spock had once commented as being 'aggravating', and Gaan has not spoken of his house or his family. That Sohar allows him this radio silence is enough for the others to keep from prying. Gaan is sure that they are curious, but they will have to remain so.
"Oh, there you are. I was about to start getting worried." Spock's mother is leaning in the doorway of their town house, a warm, loving smile on her lips. They are constantly amazed by her human expressions, but it has passed from something offensive to simply interesting. "I've made cookies, and tea."
Spock brushes by with a curt nod; she understands. He does not like expressing himself in front of others, even his friends who clearly do not have as much inhibition. Sohar smiles openly in response, even as he spares a distracted glance at T'Lis. Gaan touches Amanda's sleeve. She has told him that he may touch her, if he wants, and she doesn't mind telepathic communication if he does not wish to speak.
Gaan feels more comfortable in her presence than any other adult's. She feels like a pleasant, cool breeze - like a mist, which is all the precipitation that he's ever seen. She is very calming.
"Is something wrong?" Perceptive, too, the way she takes in T'Lis's disheveled appearance and Sohar's badly-concealed concern. She reaches out and absently pets some of Spock's hair into place, and he looks exasperated, but continues past to the teapot.
T'Lis took a seat at the table, sighing. "It is not a matter of great importance. Hurtful words are only worse for the spreading."
"Hurtful-" Sohar starts in his chair, turning to look at her. His young features smooth over quickly, but the concern is still there, in his eyes. "T'Lis, who is saying hurtful things about you?"
"Not about me," she replies earnestly, then realizes she might be saying too much. "...I will not speak of it any more. It is in the past."
"If it causes you distress, it is not past." Sohar raises an eyebrow at her. "Do not speak untruths, 'diwa." He is calmly logical, of course, but stubborn to the core and determined to get to the bottom of this.
Gaan wraps his hands around the cup containing warm Vulcan tea, and the corners of his mouth curl. "Persistent," he murmurs in Vulcan.
T'Lis looks at him, then heaves a small, dramatic sigh. "You do not respect my privacy."
"I consider your well-being under my protection. I will not pressure you - " and here he snaps a look at Gaan, who ducks behind his mug to keep from grinning. " - but it would set my mind at ease to know what troubles you."
Spock is on the fringe of their conversation, listening, but unwilling to take an active part in it. He is concentrating on loading his schoolwork onto his PADD; he has much more to do than his friends, and is more conscientious about completing it. He gets his work ethic from his father, that's for sure, Amanda thinks, rather loudly. Gaan cannot help but overhear. But his stubbornness from me. Not that Sarek is much better, but... he pulls away, moving politely across the room, where he will not hear her thoughts.
T'Lis is giving in. She always does; Sohar's concern is touching to her, and his logic cannot often be faulted. "There are some girls in my learning unit that disapprove of my choice of friends." No names are named, but she flicks her eyes to the figure of Spock, quietly working, and everyone understands. "I will not repeat what was said. It was rude."
"That is understandably distressing," Sohar murmurs. It is not the first time T'Lis has had to deal with such kinds of trouble; but it has gotten worse since she moved up one learning unit. Almost all of her classmates are older than her now. "Did you react unfavorably?"
Her cheeks have a suspicious green flush to them. "It is not logical to respond emotionally to empty taunts."
"That is not what I asked." He raises an eyebrow, and T'Lis ducks her head away, giving all the answer anyone needs. "And, presumably, their insults worsened."
T'Lis nods slowly, and refuses to meet his eyes. Gaan wonders what she had said to provoke them to upset her so. His respect for T'Lis has grown over the years. She is stubborn and spirited, and very loyal.
"Who?" Sohar leans forward now, his brows knitting in a very unseemly display of emotion. "Please tell me who said these things, T'Lis."
"It is the usual group. T'Kera. T'Pring. Varis."
It is everyone's surprise when Spock looks up sharply - and Amanda does not look pleased with this news, either. "I apologize. Did you say T'Pring?"
T'Lis nods. "She is a new classmate of mine. I have not decided if I do not like her yet; she does not instigate periods of derogatory discussion, but her insights are sharp and somewhat cruel."
"You make this sound like a daily occurrence," Sohar mutters under his breath, his eyes dark and piercing.
She looks up at him, her face giving away nothing of what she feels. "...It is."
"T'Pring is my telsu," Spock says suddenly into the silence, and everyone goes, if possible, even quieter. "I have not seen her for three years, since we were bonded."
They stared. There is nothing quite like the ability of a Vulcan child to stare, their eyes unblinking in disbelief. Gaan notices that Amanda is also growing more distressed, her lips pressing into a thin line.
The tension is interrupted by the sound of a call coming in, and she quickly leaves to take it. Silence settles like a thick blanket.
"...You never told us you were bonded," Sohar points out, though he's well aware of the answer he will most likely receive.
"You did not ask," Spock says primly, and the rebuff is entirely expected.
"Spock?" Amanda peers into the dining room, her expression an emotion that the Vulcans are unfamiliar with. Apprehension. "Your father is calling, from Earth. Come and speak with him."
He nods and exits the kitchen, leaving his friends to glance silently at each other and wonder what was going on.
•
When Gaan returns home that night, the sun has already set, and the bright light from their sister planet throws everything into high relief. His eyes are nearly silver, glinting in the colorless light, as he steps through the door to the first chamber of his family dwelling.
"Gaan." The sharp voice cuts through his mind like a knife. "Where did you spend your afternoon recreation hours?"
His face is impassive as he replies. "I was in the library," he whispers. It has been a long time since he was able to answer his parents in a voice louder than this. He has perfected the art of the Vulcan untruth.
"Do not lie to me," she hisses, and he clenches his hands tighter, shifting backwards in the dimly lit room. "I called upon the library two hours and thirty-one minutes ago. I would appreciate the truth, now."
He stares up with empty eyes, at a loss for what to do. If he lied again, he would not be believed. She knows, he can see it in the tight line of her lips and the blank disgust in her eyes. So he says nothing.
"Do not think I have not been aware of your actions. Your lies are as transparent as your motives. You have been to the home of that half-breed kre'nath, associating with him and his qom'i mother. Do you deny it?"
He shook his head slowly, and, not for the first time in his life, wished he had never existed.
•
Gaan broke them out of the trance with a sharp gasp. Dzharel's hand was tight on his shoulder, concern in every line of his features. "Gaan. Gaan, look at me." He did so, swimmingly, as the others blinked away spots from the jarring return to reality. "It's all right. This is now, not then, and you are here, with me. With us."
Gaan looked unsteadily at Spock, who's eyes had widened just a little in his face. It must have been a strange sensation, watching these scenes from another's perspective and comparing them to his own memories. There was so much going on that he hadn't known.
Dzharel slid an arm protectively around Gaan's waist and pulled him close. "Let's talk about something else for a while," he said, a strange tone in his voice - the voice that Spock used when he really did care about something, too-stiff and tight in his throat.
Kirk leaned forward on the table, looking into Gaan's big eyes. "You know, you guys aren't the only ones who got picked on a lot - even at Starfleet Academy."
Spock's head jerked to look at him; this was clearly news. "Are you implying you were on the receiving end of trouble, rather than the giving?"
"Oh, shut it." He rolled his eyes. "Everyone gets hazed when they're a first-year. That's a fact." A soft huff of air from Spock suggested that that might not have actually been the case for one particular person, and Kirk didn't doubt it. He'd've given a lot to see a newly-enlisted Spock put those bitches in their place. "Word got around that I was George Kirk's son. You know, everyone's self-sacrificing hero." In light of what had happened to him, Jim should probably have felt more respect for his dad. He really didn't. He was certain that, in his dad's shoes, he'd've found a way to save everyone and survive. And blow Nero to hell. "There was one guy who wouldn't leave me alone. Made my life miserable, and Bones just bitched about how I deserved it..."
"Jesus, Jim, how many times do I have to apologize for that?"
"The rest of your life, Bones, the rest of your life." Kirk smirked at his CMO, and missed the flit of a deep expression pass over Spock's face. "Nearly got me kicked out a few times for fudging test schedules and snitching my classwork. I started loading everything at the comp labs, didn't trust my own room with any of my important files. He ruined my clothes, and my sheets, and I didn't really care all that much about those, because - they're just clothes - but I came back to my room one day, when Bones was out for the weekend, and he'd ripped up one of my books."
Everyone, including said roommate, was gaping at him now. Quite possibly because the concept of him liking books hadn't even touched their minds. "It was an old Oscar Wilde book. Now, before you all start on me, yes, I like books, yes, I like Victorian England, and if you get on my case about it I'll punch you in the eye."
Spock raised a careful eyebrow, his lips curling. "You assume incorrectly, about our intentions. We are, as we will always be, your friends. I for one find it most satisfying that you have a secret intellectual pursuit. It balances your character." He grinned in that charming way that meant he was being the worst kind of tease.
"I swear to god, Spock..." but Kirk broke off and laughed before he really got to the threat. Whatever it was, he wouldn't've meant it. "Anyway. I came home." His face sobered over again now. "And the book was everywhere... and I literally mean everywhere. Almost every single page and been torn, pieces scattered to every corner of the damn room." It was easy to see that, while he'd gotten over it, it had hurt a lot at the time.
Spock's teasing smile had melted to something more sinister. "What was his name?"
Kirk raised an eyebrow; he should've known Spock would ask, and he didn't think about why he was asking or he might not have responded. "Sean Finnegan."
Dark eyes flashed for a second, in an undeniable emotion. But Spock quickly recovered himself. "Finnegan? I find that difficult to believe. He was my student for a time. I recall his behavior to be exemplary."
"Yeah, you and the rest of fucking Starfleet. No, it couldn't be the god-damn golden boy. No one believes James T. Kirk, Starfleet playboy. Seriously." He rolled his eyes, and once again, he had the habit of divulging what appeared to be sensitive subjects without any apparent care. Spock was, in some internal place that he wasn't really thinking about at the moment, quite fascinated with Kirk's method of dealing with emotional trauma. While it was not the Vulcan way, and not logically effective, it seemed to have positive results. "So, yeah. He kept fucking me up, and he kept getting away with it."
Bones interrupted him then, leaning over the table. "Jim, why didn't you tell me any of this? I knew he was bothering you, but god damn, breaking into our room and destroying property? He could've gotten so much shit for that..."
Kirk rolled his eyes. "He was smart. He didn't leave any proof."
"Then how did you know it was Finnegan?" Spock raised an eyebrow at him.
"Because he told me! You guys, you are making this so much worse than it is. I talked to Captain Pike about it - I talked to him about everything - and he gave me the best advice on dealing with bullies." He shrugged, and spread his hands out expansively. "And it was just that. Deal with it."
Bones was still clearly trying to wrap his mind around the concept that his best friend had been picked on during all of his cadet years, which was frankly considerably longer than he'd been a captain, and he'd never known about it. Well, there were a lot of things Jim didn't tell him, and he was only just finding out about them now - and realizing that the reason he hadn't been told was because his reaction would've been predictable. Bitch bitch bitch.
Spock raised an eyebrow to counter Kirk's grin. "That is a very mature reaction. However, there comes a point where something must be done." The Vulcan's voice was clipped and tense - something about all this was agitating him, though Kirk didn't know what it was, but he was going to find out.
"I had no proof." They were glaring at each other now, and it was so familiar, like coming home. Kirk couldn't help grinning. He had to admit, he loved this - the thrill of friction, even in something as simple as telling a story of the Academy. But he was going to bust it all open in five seconds, and he couldn't stop himself. This was how the story ended, after all. "...He was assigned to the Constellation."
Everything was brought to a screeching halt, then. No one liked being reminded that hundreds upon hundreds of Starfleet cadets had perished - but the evidence was all around them. They shouldn't even be here. But they were the only ones left.
"Well, I can't say my methods for dealing with bullies were any better," Dzharel murmured into the silence, the softness of his voice proving that he understood what they were mourning, and wanted to change the subject. "I had - what is that old Earth phrase? 'Anger management problems'." He smiled, a grin full of knives. "I had a low tolerance for injustices against my friends."
You still do, Gaan whispered fondly in his mind.
Shhh. No one needs to know. But there was the affectionate glow of a mental smile, and Gaan grinned, despite himself.
Kirk was laughing. "I don't have trouble believing that one. So what happened? I've seen you guys riled up, it's something."
Spock smirked at him. "I do not take kindly to insults directed at my mother. You would do well to remember that."
"Oh, no worries, sir, I remember that." He rolled his eyes, his fingertips brushing the remembered shadows on his neck.
Bones snorted. "We all remember that, god, Jim, it's a miracle your throat wasn't permanently damaged. What is it with you and choking? A Vulcan and two Romulans in the course of twenty-four hours, jesus. If you hadn't been such a hero I'd've killed you myself."
Gaan frowned. "Illogical," he muttered, but what he meant was, 'That's mean.'
Bones heard, and noticed the look, and he probably understood the meaning, too, but he shook his head and groaned. "God, Vulcans. Can't ever take a joke."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I must agree, there is nothing funny about your constant threats to kill your captain. I should write you up for insubordination." But now Spock was the one who was trying to be funny, and Kirk thought he was, but Bones just rolled his eyes.
Gaan was having trouble understanding the dynamic between them. They were all friends - he could see that, as plain as day. But he did not understand how they could be so caustic and near-hurtful to each other - and yet, no one took offense to it.
Kirk was just smiling and laughing, and having kind of a moment because damn if he didn't love these people, even those new pointy-eared ones. He could tell, even if Spock would never admit it, he could tell that they'd made a big impact on his life. A good one. "So, you pulled out the big Vulcan guns and rained fire and brimstone on the heads of all who stood in your way?"
Uhura laughed, Bones grumbled and the three Vulcans just sort of gave him blank looks. "Never mind, never mind. But I want to hear more of this story."
"Well, the next part is mine," Dzharel said, unlocking his arm from Gaan to lean forward. "I don't have Gaan's finesse with memory projections, but..."
Gaan put a hand on his wrist, just short of something that would have been inappropriate in Vulcan culture. "I will help. Give me your memories, and I will let them see."
→ Yesterday
Kirk woke up at an hour to sunrise. A lot of people at the Academy had assumed he was a night owl, given how late he almost always stayed up, but the truth was he was just as much of an early bird, if not more. He didn't like sleeping, didn't like laying around in bed when there was something he could be doing and definitely didn't like waking up after the sun was already up. The only reason Bones didn't sedate him on a daily basis (which isn't to say that he didn't, every now and then) was because, despite all odds, Jim Kirk really didn't need all that much sleep to function.
Everyone else was breathing quietly. Bones was a back-sleeper, one arm thrown up over his face, the other somewhere under the blankets. Uhura lay on her side, curled into the fetal position, with one hand tucked under the pillow and the other outstretched, as if reaching for something that wasn't there.
Jim was a belly-sleeper, arms and legs spread out to take up as much room as possible.
He noticed that none of the Vulcans were there, and while he assumed that Gaan and Dzharel had their own place to sleep, he wondered where Spock was off to. Meditating somewhere? Sleeping in the closet?
His footsteps were silent in the quiet, predawn light. Everything seemed muted - gray at the edges, and muffled, and when he entered the kitchen and saw Spock calmly preparing breakfast, he couldn't bring himself to be very surprised.
"Need some help?" he murmured, more mouth than sound, and Spock looked up quickly - nodded, once. Whatever he was making, it looked colorful and delicious.
"Do you always wake up early like this?" He found a knife and made himself useful, instinctively obeying Spock's subtle directions.
"It is expected, in a Vulcan household, for the guests to rise before the sun to prepare the morning meal." There was a touch of something in his eyes, a sadness, that Kirk knew to be an echo of the anguish he had felt after the destruction of Vulcan. He knew that pain, had felt it in the mind meld with Spock's alternate counterpart. It still wound into his dreams at times, throwing him awake in a cold sweat with tear tracks running down his face.
He didn't question his First Officer's dedication to Vulcan traditions. Didn't bring up how far away they were from home. He was willing to bend to his friend's judgment on this one; or at least, indulge his need for something familiar.
The dish they were making looked promising. Kirk was not a cook by any means but he could follow directions, and there was something peaceful and beautiful in the simplicity of an early morning, quietly preparing breakfast with Spock at his side.
He brushed the tips of his fingers over the back of Spock's hand - accidentally, on his way to picking something up, and the Vulcan froze for a split second, his eyes darting to the point of contact.
Kirk went right on with what he was doing.
Spock breathed in, closed his eyes, and let it out slowly. Humans do not know, he reminded himself. They do not understand.
Perhaps one day he would casually press his lips to the captain's own, just to see what his reaction would be, and then write it off as a cultural difference, with a slight smirk on his face. It would be retribution. But it would not be fair. He, unlike Jim Kirk, knew very well what humans considered to be intimacy. He wished the captain would take a little more time to learn about Vulcans. It would be to his benefit.
Slowly, people began to filter in. Gaan came in and sat up on the counter, peering at Jim with unabashed curiosity in his wide eyes. Uhura said a sleepy 'good morning', then wandered off to the bathroom. McCoy made a beeline for Kirk, his silver sensor pen whirling. He grumbled under his breath, but said nothing, which supposedly meant that he was all right.
Gaan watched, his toes curling. He saw the way that McCoy visibly refrained from clapping Spock on the back for making him coffee, he saw the way that Spock and Uhura carefully avoided eye contact. He saw the way that Jim leaned over to speak to Spock in an undertone, his lips close to that pointed ear, and he noticed just how comfortable Spock was with the contact. He saw Spock reach out, catch Kirk's wrist and pull him back, gesture at the meal they were making and murmur orders in a voice that had no room for argument. He saw Kirk's smile, like the bright light of a solar flare, in response.
Then Dzharel came in and the kitchen lit up in sound, as if someone had unmuted the entire scene.
"Is that coffee? Spock, you are brilliant..."
"Best damn drink in the galaxy, didn't I tell you that? None of that tea stuff-"
"You said 350 degrees, right? I can't read Orion numbers, what the hell is this..."
"I would question how you passed your Starfleet exams, but then I remember- you didn't."
"Dzharel, do you have a hairbrush? I'm a mess..."
Gaan smiled to himself, his head tilting. Even if the doctor-person was loud and rude and terrifying, on a whole, he liked Spock's new friends. They were fascinating.
•
"I gotta say, my personal history isn't exactly nice, up until I joined Starfleet." They were all relaxing in a private booth in a corner of the club, the music a low pulse that they could feel through the ground but did not impede conversation. Drinks and words were flowing liberally, as everyone jostled to trade stories of their early days. Kirk leaned back in his seat, one hand closed around his drink, the other resting casually along the back of the wide, cushioned seat. Spock was, presumably in response to this badly-concealed attempt at intimacy, leaning forward, back ramrod straight.
Dzharel was across from them, and while his posture was much more easygoing, he still had a deliberateness to his movements, and a certain inch-thick barrier of personal space. "Oh? Define 'not nice' for us, Jim, I'm sure it will manage to be an interesting story." His lips quirked in that savage smirk.
He rolled his eyes. "Not saying I'm proud of any of this, okay?" Another drink was called for, and then he lifted his arm off the seat, so he could lean forward. "I had something of a reputation, for getting into trouble."
"I find that difficult to believe," Spock murmured with a very wry sarcasm. He was grinning, with his eyes. Kirk shoved his shoulder, laughing.
"Yeah, but cheating on the Kobayashi Maru is one thing. Getting locked up in jail for a month because of assault on a police officer; that's a different story."
"You could have been kicked out of Starfleet. I see little difference."
"Having a Starfleet to get kicked out of; that's the difference." They were practically speaking to each other only, now, maybe even forgetting who had initially asked about his past. "The whole county knew my name, and my face, and my track record. I got called in for possession of illegal substances, assault, theft, the whole nine yards. I drove my dad's car off a cliff when I was ten."
Spock's eyebrows went up; all of this was news to him, though he was sure it would be in the Captain's personnel file. "That must have been quite dramatic. I am pleased you were able to survive."
Kirk snorted in laughter, at the almost-concern in Spock's voice. "I didn't have friends, I had followers, because the other kids thought I was cool, but they didn't know who I was, or why I was doing what I did."
"And why was that?" Spock looked as if he expected any number of answers, none of them serious.
"...I wanted someone to care." He shrugged, his mouth curled in a grin, like it was no big deal. "I didn't have a dad to look up to, and my mom was always off-planet. She didn't even have time to be angry at me. Or disappointed. She wasn't around, and maybe I thought if I fucked myself up enough, she'd come home and tell me it wasn't worth it."
Everyone was leaning close, now, and all had varying degrees of sympathy in their faces - except for Kirk, who was smiling like it was nothing, like it was in the past. Spock frowned. "You speak so candidly of things clearly close to your heart."
"Well, I found it, didn't I?" He smirked, his fingers tapping on his glass. "Someone picked me off my feet, and smacked me into shape, and told me - 'if you feel like there's more to life than this... join Starfleet.'" The realization of who Kirk must be talking about dawned in Spock's eyes.
"You were personally advised to join Starfleet by Captain Pike?" he murmured, eyebrows raised.
"Yeah," Jim smirked right back at him. Pike had been Spock's captain for longer than he had, but there wasn't any question of Spock's loyalty, now. There was something to be said about that. Pike had known, somehow. That this was the place for him. Starfleet. The Enterprise. All of it was due to that man's faith in him, and Jim wasn't going to let him down. Not now, not ever.
"I do not find that difficult to believe. He is a man of extremely high intuition. I also recall that it was due to his influence that you ended up my First Officer," Spock started.
"...And gave you a swift kick in the pants when you needed it. I remember." A warm, fond look passed between them, until they became suddenly aware that they had an audience.
Uhura smirked. "I think that's enough of that. I don't know about you, but I want to hear more about Spock."
His cheeks flushed, and before he could protest, Jim jumped right on the bandwagon. "Me too! So, were you guys all chummy after that day, or did it take more time than that?"
Dzharel laughed, flicking his hair over his shoulder. "Oh, it took more than that. I can't remember any details, but Spock never really admitted to warming up to us - he just sort of..."
"...Learned to tolerate your existence?" Spock finished primly.
"Ha! Yeah, that. But we kept coming back - "
"Following me home," Spock cut in, one eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, well. You never told us to go away. If you don't say no, the logical assumption is that the 'yes' is implied."
"Well yes, that would be the logical assumption, but - "
Kirk could tell Spock was getting too worked up about this, and without any sort of preamble, he touched his fingers to the small of Spock's back. The Vulcan stopped talking immediately, though he didn't show any other outward signs of distress. "Anyway. I think we get the picture."
"Amanda," Gaan said suddenly, and they all turned to look at him. "She was... wonderful."
Everyone sank into a muted contemplation for a moment.
"I will tell a story now," he murmured. "You will watch, and listen, and learn."
•
The young Vulcan quartet is thirteen, now; or fourteen in Sohar's case, and their meeting place at the school doors has become a part of daily life. Sohar is the tallest, and his hair is close to his shoulders; he ties it back with a broken elastic. Spock is next, his face rounder and prettier than most of the other boys. Gaan is still small. He has not been eating well, and it shows.
They are waiting for T'Lis, who is just starting to show signs of becoming a woman. For being the one most easily distrustful at the start, she is a close friend of Spock's now, and they always have much to talk about. Sohar and Gaan often feel left behind when the discussion turns to science, and they are pleased, that Spock feels able to speak so freely. He is not often so candid with them.
She is one of the last of the children to leave the school building, and her face shows distraction, annoyance perhaps, or the stirring of some other emotion that the others have difficulty naming. Her hair - still in a long braid reaching to the back of her thighs - is frazzled and loose, as if she had been running.
"T'Lis?" Sohar holds a hand out, and she brushes their fingertips together, in a quick gesture of affection. They are one of very few pairs to do so; many Vulcan children do not bother associating with their mates until it is time. Gaan is grateful that Sohar and T'Lis are so close, but he is also perhaps a little jealous. Not for either of them in particular. He is jealous of their connection.
"It is nothing." She neatly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and nods quickly. "I will elaborate later. Let us go, please?" She looks to Spock, and he nods, curtly.
Spock's house is the closest, most inviting, and, quite frankly, the safest. Sohar's family is not nearly as well-off, T'Lis has quite a few siblings that Spock had once commented as being 'aggravating', and Gaan has not spoken of his house or his family. That Sohar allows him this radio silence is enough for the others to keep from prying. Gaan is sure that they are curious, but they will have to remain so.
"Oh, there you are. I was about to start getting worried." Spock's mother is leaning in the doorway of their town house, a warm, loving smile on her lips. They are constantly amazed by her human expressions, but it has passed from something offensive to simply interesting. "I've made cookies, and tea."
Spock brushes by with a curt nod; she understands. He does not like expressing himself in front of others, even his friends who clearly do not have as much inhibition. Sohar smiles openly in response, even as he spares a distracted glance at T'Lis. Gaan touches Amanda's sleeve. She has told him that he may touch her, if he wants, and she doesn't mind telepathic communication if he does not wish to speak.
Gaan feels more comfortable in her presence than any other adult's. She feels like a pleasant, cool breeze - like a mist, which is all the precipitation that he's ever seen. She is very calming.
"Is something wrong?" Perceptive, too, the way she takes in T'Lis's disheveled appearance and Sohar's badly-concealed concern. She reaches out and absently pets some of Spock's hair into place, and he looks exasperated, but continues past to the teapot.
T'Lis took a seat at the table, sighing. "It is not a matter of great importance. Hurtful words are only worse for the spreading."
"Hurtful-" Sohar starts in his chair, turning to look at her. His young features smooth over quickly, but the concern is still there, in his eyes. "T'Lis, who is saying hurtful things about you?"
"Not about me," she replies earnestly, then realizes she might be saying too much. "...I will not speak of it any more. It is in the past."
"If it causes you distress, it is not past." Sohar raises an eyebrow at her. "Do not speak untruths, 'diwa." He is calmly logical, of course, but stubborn to the core and determined to get to the bottom of this.
Gaan wraps his hands around the cup containing warm Vulcan tea, and the corners of his mouth curl. "Persistent," he murmurs in Vulcan.
T'Lis looks at him, then heaves a small, dramatic sigh. "You do not respect my privacy."
"I consider your well-being under my protection. I will not pressure you - " and here he snaps a look at Gaan, who ducks behind his mug to keep from grinning. " - but it would set my mind at ease to know what troubles you."
Spock is on the fringe of their conversation, listening, but unwilling to take an active part in it. He is concentrating on loading his schoolwork onto his PADD; he has much more to do than his friends, and is more conscientious about completing it. He gets his work ethic from his father, that's for sure, Amanda thinks, rather loudly. Gaan cannot help but overhear. But his stubbornness from me. Not that Sarek is much better, but... he pulls away, moving politely across the room, where he will not hear her thoughts.
T'Lis is giving in. She always does; Sohar's concern is touching to her, and his logic cannot often be faulted. "There are some girls in my learning unit that disapprove of my choice of friends." No names are named, but she flicks her eyes to the figure of Spock, quietly working, and everyone understands. "I will not repeat what was said. It was rude."
"That is understandably distressing," Sohar murmurs. It is not the first time T'Lis has had to deal with such kinds of trouble; but it has gotten worse since she moved up one learning unit. Almost all of her classmates are older than her now. "Did you react unfavorably?"
Her cheeks have a suspicious green flush to them. "It is not logical to respond emotionally to empty taunts."
"That is not what I asked." He raises an eyebrow, and T'Lis ducks her head away, giving all the answer anyone needs. "And, presumably, their insults worsened."
T'Lis nods slowly, and refuses to meet his eyes. Gaan wonders what she had said to provoke them to upset her so. His respect for T'Lis has grown over the years. She is stubborn and spirited, and very loyal.
"Who?" Sohar leans forward now, his brows knitting in a very unseemly display of emotion. "Please tell me who said these things, T'Lis."
"It is the usual group. T'Kera. T'Pring. Varis."
It is everyone's surprise when Spock looks up sharply - and Amanda does not look pleased with this news, either. "I apologize. Did you say T'Pring?"
T'Lis nods. "She is a new classmate of mine. I have not decided if I do not like her yet; she does not instigate periods of derogatory discussion, but her insights are sharp and somewhat cruel."
"You make this sound like a daily occurrence," Sohar mutters under his breath, his eyes dark and piercing.
She looks up at him, her face giving away nothing of what she feels. "...It is."
"T'Pring is my telsu," Spock says suddenly into the silence, and everyone goes, if possible, even quieter. "I have not seen her for three years, since we were bonded."
They stared. There is nothing quite like the ability of a Vulcan child to stare, their eyes unblinking in disbelief. Gaan notices that Amanda is also growing more distressed, her lips pressing into a thin line.
The tension is interrupted by the sound of a call coming in, and she quickly leaves to take it. Silence settles like a thick blanket.
"...You never told us you were bonded," Sohar points out, though he's well aware of the answer he will most likely receive.
"You did not ask," Spock says primly, and the rebuff is entirely expected.
"Spock?" Amanda peers into the dining room, her expression an emotion that the Vulcans are unfamiliar with. Apprehension. "Your father is calling, from Earth. Come and speak with him."
He nods and exits the kitchen, leaving his friends to glance silently at each other and wonder what was going on.
•
When Gaan returns home that night, the sun has already set, and the bright light from their sister planet throws everything into high relief. His eyes are nearly silver, glinting in the colorless light, as he steps through the door to the first chamber of his family dwelling.
"Gaan." The sharp voice cuts through his mind like a knife. "Where did you spend your afternoon recreation hours?"
His face is impassive as he replies. "I was in the library," he whispers. It has been a long time since he was able to answer his parents in a voice louder than this. He has perfected the art of the Vulcan untruth.
"Do not lie to me," she hisses, and he clenches his hands tighter, shifting backwards in the dimly lit room. "I called upon the library two hours and thirty-one minutes ago. I would appreciate the truth, now."
He stares up with empty eyes, at a loss for what to do. If he lied again, he would not be believed. She knows, he can see it in the tight line of her lips and the blank disgust in her eyes. So he says nothing.
"Do not think I have not been aware of your actions. Your lies are as transparent as your motives. You have been to the home of that half-breed kre'nath, associating with him and his qom'i mother. Do you deny it?"
He shook his head slowly, and, not for the first time in his life, wished he had never existed.
•
Gaan broke them out of the trance with a sharp gasp. Dzharel's hand was tight on his shoulder, concern in every line of his features. "Gaan. Gaan, look at me." He did so, swimmingly, as the others blinked away spots from the jarring return to reality. "It's all right. This is now, not then, and you are here, with me. With us."
Gaan looked unsteadily at Spock, who's eyes had widened just a little in his face. It must have been a strange sensation, watching these scenes from another's perspective and comparing them to his own memories. There was so much going on that he hadn't known.
Dzharel slid an arm protectively around Gaan's waist and pulled him close. "Let's talk about something else for a while," he said, a strange tone in his voice - the voice that Spock used when he really did care about something, too-stiff and tight in his throat.
Kirk leaned forward on the table, looking into Gaan's big eyes. "You know, you guys aren't the only ones who got picked on a lot - even at Starfleet Academy."
Spock's head jerked to look at him; this was clearly news. "Are you implying you were on the receiving end of trouble, rather than the giving?"
"Oh, shut it." He rolled his eyes. "Everyone gets hazed when they're a first-year. That's a fact." A soft huff of air from Spock suggested that that might not have actually been the case for one particular person, and Kirk didn't doubt it. He'd've given a lot to see a newly-enlisted Spock put those bitches in their place. "Word got around that I was George Kirk's son. You know, everyone's self-sacrificing hero." In light of what had happened to him, Jim should probably have felt more respect for his dad. He really didn't. He was certain that, in his dad's shoes, he'd've found a way to save everyone and survive. And blow Nero to hell. "There was one guy who wouldn't leave me alone. Made my life miserable, and Bones just bitched about how I deserved it..."
"Jesus, Jim, how many times do I have to apologize for that?"
"The rest of your life, Bones, the rest of your life." Kirk smirked at his CMO, and missed the flit of a deep expression pass over Spock's face. "Nearly got me kicked out a few times for fudging test schedules and snitching my classwork. I started loading everything at the comp labs, didn't trust my own room with any of my important files. He ruined my clothes, and my sheets, and I didn't really care all that much about those, because - they're just clothes - but I came back to my room one day, when Bones was out for the weekend, and he'd ripped up one of my books."
Everyone, including said roommate, was gaping at him now. Quite possibly because the concept of him liking books hadn't even touched their minds. "It was an old Oscar Wilde book. Now, before you all start on me, yes, I like books, yes, I like Victorian England, and if you get on my case about it I'll punch you in the eye."
Spock raised a careful eyebrow, his lips curling. "You assume incorrectly, about our intentions. We are, as we will always be, your friends. I for one find it most satisfying that you have a secret intellectual pursuit. It balances your character." He grinned in that charming way that meant he was being the worst kind of tease.
"I swear to god, Spock..." but Kirk broke off and laughed before he really got to the threat. Whatever it was, he wouldn't've meant it. "Anyway. I came home." His face sobered over again now. "And the book was everywhere... and I literally mean everywhere. Almost every single page and been torn, pieces scattered to every corner of the damn room." It was easy to see that, while he'd gotten over it, it had hurt a lot at the time.
Spock's teasing smile had melted to something more sinister. "What was his name?"
Kirk raised an eyebrow; he should've known Spock would ask, and he didn't think about why he was asking or he might not have responded. "Sean Finnegan."
Dark eyes flashed for a second, in an undeniable emotion. But Spock quickly recovered himself. "Finnegan? I find that difficult to believe. He was my student for a time. I recall his behavior to be exemplary."
"Yeah, you and the rest of fucking Starfleet. No, it couldn't be the god-damn golden boy. No one believes James T. Kirk, Starfleet playboy. Seriously." He rolled his eyes, and once again, he had the habit of divulging what appeared to be sensitive subjects without any apparent care. Spock was, in some internal place that he wasn't really thinking about at the moment, quite fascinated with Kirk's method of dealing with emotional trauma. While it was not the Vulcan way, and not logically effective, it seemed to have positive results. "So, yeah. He kept fucking me up, and he kept getting away with it."
Bones interrupted him then, leaning over the table. "Jim, why didn't you tell me any of this? I knew he was bothering you, but god damn, breaking into our room and destroying property? He could've gotten so much shit for that..."
Kirk rolled his eyes. "He was smart. He didn't leave any proof."
"Then how did you know it was Finnegan?" Spock raised an eyebrow at him.
"Because he told me! You guys, you are making this so much worse than it is. I talked to Captain Pike about it - I talked to him about everything - and he gave me the best advice on dealing with bullies." He shrugged, and spread his hands out expansively. "And it was just that. Deal with it."
Bones was still clearly trying to wrap his mind around the concept that his best friend had been picked on during all of his cadet years, which was frankly considerably longer than he'd been a captain, and he'd never known about it. Well, there were a lot of things Jim didn't tell him, and he was only just finding out about them now - and realizing that the reason he hadn't been told was because his reaction would've been predictable. Bitch bitch bitch.
Spock raised an eyebrow to counter Kirk's grin. "That is a very mature reaction. However, there comes a point where something must be done." The Vulcan's voice was clipped and tense - something about all this was agitating him, though Kirk didn't know what it was, but he was going to find out.
"I had no proof." They were glaring at each other now, and it was so familiar, like coming home. Kirk couldn't help grinning. He had to admit, he loved this - the thrill of friction, even in something as simple as telling a story of the Academy. But he was going to bust it all open in five seconds, and he couldn't stop himself. This was how the story ended, after all. "...He was assigned to the Constellation."
Everything was brought to a screeching halt, then. No one liked being reminded that hundreds upon hundreds of Starfleet cadets had perished - but the evidence was all around them. They shouldn't even be here. But they were the only ones left.
"Well, I can't say my methods for dealing with bullies were any better," Dzharel murmured into the silence, the softness of his voice proving that he understood what they were mourning, and wanted to change the subject. "I had - what is that old Earth phrase? 'Anger management problems'." He smiled, a grin full of knives. "I had a low tolerance for injustices against my friends."
You still do, Gaan whispered fondly in his mind.
Shhh. No one needs to know. But there was the affectionate glow of a mental smile, and Gaan grinned, despite himself.
Kirk was laughing. "I don't have trouble believing that one. So what happened? I've seen you guys riled up, it's something."
Spock smirked at him. "I do not take kindly to insults directed at my mother. You would do well to remember that."
"Oh, no worries, sir, I remember that." He rolled his eyes, his fingertips brushing the remembered shadows on his neck.
Bones snorted. "We all remember that, god, Jim, it's a miracle your throat wasn't permanently damaged. What is it with you and choking? A Vulcan and two Romulans in the course of twenty-four hours, jesus. If you hadn't been such a hero I'd've killed you myself."
Gaan frowned. "Illogical," he muttered, but what he meant was, 'That's mean.'
Bones heard, and noticed the look, and he probably understood the meaning, too, but he shook his head and groaned. "God, Vulcans. Can't ever take a joke."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I must agree, there is nothing funny about your constant threats to kill your captain. I should write you up for insubordination." But now Spock was the one who was trying to be funny, and Kirk thought he was, but Bones just rolled his eyes.
Gaan was having trouble understanding the dynamic between them. They were all friends - he could see that, as plain as day. But he did not understand how they could be so caustic and near-hurtful to each other - and yet, no one took offense to it.
Kirk was just smiling and laughing, and having kind of a moment because damn if he didn't love these people, even those new pointy-eared ones. He could tell, even if Spock would never admit it, he could tell that they'd made a big impact on his life. A good one. "So, you pulled out the big Vulcan guns and rained fire and brimstone on the heads of all who stood in your way?"
Uhura laughed, Bones grumbled and the three Vulcans just sort of gave him blank looks. "Never mind, never mind. But I want to hear more of this story."
"Well, the next part is mine," Dzharel said, unlocking his arm from Gaan to lean forward. "I don't have Gaan's finesse with memory projections, but..."
Gaan put a hand on his wrist, just short of something that would have been inappropriate in Vulcan culture. "I will help. Give me your memories, and I will let them see."
→ Yesterday