Star Trek: We Reach Our Apogee Slowly (Part 8), eventual Kirk/Spock, Spock/Uhura, R
Title: We Reach Our Apogee Slowly (Part 8)
Author: kowaiyoukai
Rating: R
Pairing: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)
Warning(s): Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody
Spoilers: Star Trek XI (2009) (a.k.a. Star Trek XI, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek Reboot, New Trek, and can we please just pick one name for this fandom people?!)
Word Count: 7,100
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.
Beta Acknowledgment: None! I know there are errors, so please let me know if you see any! Thanks!
Summary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise.
A/N: This was a very strange part to write, I think. Some info that needed to get out there, and a few scenes that had me pondering what the heck was going on in my mind. *headdesk*
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Othersides 1 | Part 6a | Part 6b | Part 6c | Part 7
As people went, Jim thought he was about average. Maybe even a little below. Nothing in particular stood out as being exceptional or horrific about him. He was smart, sure, but lots of people got good grades and knew a lot of random facts. It was practically a requirement to graduate from Starfleet Academy. And yeah, he knew he had been the top of his class, but that didn't make him feel any more intelligent than other people he knew. Everyone had their own field of expertise. Spock was the best scientist, McCoy the best doctor, and Scotty the best engineer. Jim couldn't compete with any of them in those areas. He had a large field of knowledge that covered almost every area, but he lacked the minutiae. All the details that people who had studied in those areas had learned were beyond him. He could make snap judgment calls and decide instantly how to react to any given situation-but that didn't mean his decisions were flawless. He knew he made mistakes. He tried to limit them, but they still happened.
People also said he was charming and extremely sociable. Well, maybe they had a point and maybe they didn't. Being friendly and willing to make conversation seemed like poor examples of charming behavior to him, especially in Starfleet where people had to learn diplomacy. His accidental use of a hand gesture or phrase could start or stop a war. The lives of his crew were always his responsibility, and often the lives of other people as well. He was in charge of keeping the peace and restoring it when it was broken, but he was also supposed to protect against invasion and threats by any means necessary. He needed to be able to completely trust every member of his crew and rely on them to do their jobs, but he also needed to catch their mistakes and correct them, and he needed to be able to act quickly against any crew member who disobeyed orders or mutinied. It went without saying that anyone expected to do all of that, and more, had to be good at dealing with people. Jim didn't think he was particularly better or worse at it than the majority of starship Captains were. It was just a part of his job.
He knew some people thought he was attractive-well, okay, a lot of people if he was being honest. But oddly enough that never mattered in all the most important situations and relationships in his life. If he was a great Captain, that was because of his own skills and the teamwork his crew had, not because of his looks. Of course, the people he was currently closest to were equally unfazed. The people he'd fooled around with in the past had no real importance in his life, so it didn't actually matter if they had given his appearance any thought at all. McCoy had probably never even thought about how attractive Jim was. And it was more than obvious that Spock couldn't have cared less about how anyone appeared, Jim included. But he wasn't going to start thinking about all the ways he simply was not what Spock wanted.
The point was, Jim hadn't done anything yet to merit all of this attention he was getting. Defeating Nero had been a team effort. It would have been impossible to do alone. He'd take the praise and the starship, sure, but he wasn't entirely sure he had earned either. There was a fine line between being rewarding for your work and being rewarded for who you were. Jim wasn't sure which side of the line he fell on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a boring few days in terms of work. They had gone back to charting out new sections of the galaxy, which was the most tedious job they had to do. Jim was thankful he could order people to do it for him. Otherwise, he might kill himself to stop the monotony.
Although if he was being honest, he couldn't really complain. His mind felt like it was being pulled in a thousand different directions. He still had reports to read and logs to make. Besides that, Pike's warning about New Vulcan was a steady pressure in the back of his mind. There had been no news on that front, but that didn't mean nothing was happening. No doubt Jim would find out about whatever was going on when it was much too late to do anything about it. Not that he knew what the problem was or what his plan would be to stop it. But he knew he would have a plan if he just knew what the hell was going on.
To get his mind off of all those unanswered questions, Jim began doing daily check-ups at all the different stations throughout the Enterprise. It wasn't a big deal-just popping in to see who was working and who was slacking off and who wanted to grab some food when he was hungry. He made small talk with the crew, and most of them were dealing with the fact that their Captain was bored out of his mind and needed to find ways to entertain himself. In a few days Jim had learned more about the exact processes of replicating food, stopping a leak in a water tank, and updating historical records than he had ever wanted to know.
Even all of that was not enough to get his mind off of Spock. His damn First Officer was going to drive him crazy. He had seen Spock with Uhura a lot more than usual since they had last spoken. He knew he'd been the one to encourage Spock to try and make things work with her but, despite his efforts to stop acting childish, he felt a sharp pain that had him standing up straighter and clenching his teeth whenever he saw them together. He would eventually get over it, he knew he would, but the longer this went on the more he thought he truly needed to tell somebody about it.
The worst part of it all was he had no idea how to go about flirting with a guy. He knew enough about flirting with chicks to write an encyclopedia on the subject, but guys were a whole new area. He really didn't think complimenting Spock's outfit or carrying something heavy for him was going to do the trick. Jim actually had no idea what it was about himself that was appealing to people, specifically girls, so he had no idea how to use that to make himself more appealing to Spock. The sad thing was that, even if he had known, chances were Spock wouldn't have even noticed his attempt.
Jim passed by sick bay on his way to the lift, and his steps faltered. He had been planning on going down to engineering to say hi to Scotty and see who he could annoy, but he might be able to catch McCoy now. Not that he knew what he would say. But he clearly needed some sort of guidance. All this waiting was driving him insane. It had been over two weeks since he'd figured it out. The fact that he'd kept quiet this long actually kind of astounded him.
Just as Jim was about to turn around to go in and see if McCoy was there, the door opened. McCoy and Spock walked out, both silent, and both of them stopped when they saw Jim. McCoy immediately walked up to him and hit him on the arm while Spock stood back and nodded at him. Jim had a moment where all he could think was that they had just been talking about him and he would die if McCoy had said anything incriminating. Shit, McCoy knew about a lot of things Jim wasn't particularly keen on Spock finding out.
"Jim," McCoy said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Are you in need of medical attention, Captain?" Spock asked, face as blank as always but Jim thought he detected concern, though it could have just as easily been wishful thinking.
Jim saw McCoy's smile fade and he quickly shook his head before they could make any further assumptions about the logical reasons he'd be loitering outside sick bay. "No. No, I'm fine."
"So what brings you here?" McCoy asked.
"Oh, uh, I was just, you know, walking," Jim said. He waited a beat and realized that probably hadn't been a very good answer. "Around."
McCoy stared at him. Spock raised an eyebrow.
"You know, I am the Captain," Jim said, huffily. "I can walk around if I want to." Changing the subject quickly was probably the only way out of this. "And anyway, what are you doing here?" Jim asked, looking at Spock.
"There was an error in one of the medical reports that Doctor McCoy had filed about the unknown disease on Lambda Four. I brought the original file so Doctor McCoy could update it with the correct information," Spock explained.
Jim looked at McCoy questioningly. "A mistake? You?" He frowned. "That's not like you."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "As much as it pains me to correct you, I'm actually not perfect."
"Oh my God!" Jim shouted.
"Occasionally I make mistakes," McCoy continued. Jim threw both hands up to cover his horrified expression. "I know it shocks you. Try not to panic."
"I'm all in states now," Jim said, letting his hands drop. "So how'd you screw up?"
McCoy shook his head. "I forgot to list a few of the trials I'd done on the experimental medication and the results of them. It's fixed now. No harm, ho foul."
"Well that's good," Jim replied. He looked at Spock and asked, "Heading to the bridge?"
"Yes," Spock answered. "Doctor McCoy and I were on our way there now."
"Oh," Jim said. "Well, guess I'm coming along, then."
"Finished your walk around the ship?" McCoy asked, slightly bemused.
"Yep. Captainy things to do now, you know how it goes," Jim said, shrugging.
Jim walked towards the lift with McCoy and Spock walking on either side. It felt strange, but good, to be walking with both of them at the same time when no one was dying and there was no epic disaster to take care of. For some reason, Jim had unconsciously placed McCoy and Spock into two different sections in his mind, and throwing them suddenly together like this was a bit disconcerting.
"So how's Uhura?" McCoy asked Spock, without warning.
Jim's head whipped around to face McCoy, eyebrows furrowed with his mouth slightly open. Why would McCoy ask Spock how Uhura was? Why would anyone want to bring that up? Did he know something Jim didn't? Was he just trying to be friendly? McCoy looked back at Jim, giving him a what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you look, and Jim tried to school his expression into friendly interest.
"As far as I am aware, Lieutenant Uhura is fine," Spock replied.
"Hm. You two are hitting it off, then?" McCoy continued. Jim wondered if he could strangle McCoy and then pretend it had been an accident.
Spock looked confused and before he could even ask, Jim said, "He's asking how things are going between you and Uhura. Um, romantically."
"Ah," Spock said. "I am going to make every attempt to ensure our relationship is a successful one."
For a moment Jim thought he had died. Then he realized his heart actually hadn't exploded out of his chest, leaving his internal organs splayed across the corridor. He swallowed convulsively and hoped he hadn't appeared too obvious, but he didn't risk glancing at either of them. He didn't know what his face looked like. He couldn't give himself away.
"So you like her?" McCoy asked, clearly not knowing when to shut the fuck up and leave people to wallow in their misery in peace.
"Yes," Spock said, shortly. "I do."
Jim sucked in a sharp breath. That was news to him. Last time they'd talked, Spock had said he wasn't interested in her. Had he really changed his mind? If that was the case, Jim's situation had just gone from bad but bearable to completely hopeless and pathetic.
"But before," Jim started and then quickly shut up. He swallowed when he realized they were both looking at him, waiting for him to finish. "I mean, uh, you said you weren't all that into her."
Spock paused. "It is my goal to try and make the relationship between myself and Lieutenant Uhura a successful one."
"Oh," Jim said, quietly. "Okay."
The lift was in sight, and Jim walked faster, hitting the button several times in quick succession. McCoy looked at him askance, clearly wondering what was up, but Spock only stared at the lift doors, waiting for them to open. The lift ride was short and silent. Jim knew he was probably acting strangely, but he didn't really care. When they finally got to the bridge, Jim practically ran to his chair for the comfort he knew it would give him. He specifically did not look at Uhura as he passed her, knowing there was nothing he could do and she really couldn't be blamed for the situation. He just had to remember his place, that was all. Spock went to his station without another word, thank God. McCoy lingered for a few minutes, attempting to make idle conversation, but Jim really was not in the mood and McCoy left before ten minutes had passed, giving Jim an exasperated look on his way out.
Well, what was Jim supposed to do? Act all sunshine and bunnies now? The conversation had been a nightmare. He'd need to find a way to tell McCoy what was going on, and soon, because he didn't think he could take another scene like that one.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It seemed as though every time Spock turned a corner he found someone else trying to avoid him. The crew was alternatively anxious of or intimidated by him. Either way meant the same thing-they cleared the way without being asked, never made eye contact, and saluted quickly, hoping they wouldn't get into trouble for not following even the smallest bit of procedure. Spock knew it was his job to have the crew concerned with doing their jobs to the best of their abilities, but it was still a bit disconcerting.
Not that they didn't have reason to be anxious and intimidated. Spock was on a mission to find and reprimand the three officers who had been in charge of repairing a few meters of wire that connected various circuits to control the lighting and temperature controls in five recreation rooms. They had turned in their report, stating the job was done, and an hour later requests for repairs had been filed for the exact same problem.
Obviously something had gone wrong. There were several logical explanations which did not involve negligence on the officers' part. The problem could be a larger one that would need more than a simple fix, in which case someone from engineering would be called in. The wire that the officers had used might have been damaged or faulty. Another area of wiring might need to be replaced. The buttons on the control panel might be damaged or faulty. Perhaps the entire area needed to be reprogrammed from scratch due to mechanical failure that could only be fixed electronically. All of those explanations, and plenty more, made perfect sense.
However, intuition was telling Spock that none of that had occurred. The most likely problem was that the job had been done incorrectly. After all, if they had replaced the wiring correctly and the lights and temperature controls were still broken, they would no doubt have called for engineering to have a look. The fact that they had turned in a report which stated the problem was fixed when it clearly wasn't-that was what concerned him.
Spock found the three officers in the mess hall, talking animatedly over a late dinner. He strode over to them, prepared to ask them to leave the mess hall so he could speak with them in private. The three officers were all cadets who had gotten onto the Enterprise on the Nero mission. This wasn't a surprise, since the majority of the crew had been there that first time, but it did mean that Spock knew they had to be treated with finesse. The cadets who had never been assigned to any starship before were still incredibly new. Two months on the job did little to give them the wisdom and experience they needed to be effective crew members.
"Will the three of you follow me?" Spock asked, polite but firm. "I must speak with you privately and immediately."
"Yes, sir," the first one said, jumping up and almost knocking his plate over in his haste. Spock placed his face to the personnel files he had checked before coming and recognized him as Ensign Hannigan.
The second officer nodded and wiped his mouth none too subtly, pushing his tray away as he stood up. "Just let me put this away, sir," he said, picking up his tray and walking quickly to the trash disposal area. Spock recalled his name was Ensign Tatsushi.
Hannigan picked up his tray and said, "Sorry, sir, I should too…" He hesitated and Spock nodded, which allowed Hannigan to run off without feeling insubordinate.
Throughout this, the third one, Ensign Wilshaw, sat calmly and continued eating.
"I would suggest you follow the example your co-workers have set for you," Spock said, feeling his patience run thin. This kind of thing only happened with new officers.
"In a minute," Wilshaw replied.
Spock blinked, taken aback. This kind of behavior could not be tolerated, regardless of the situation. "That was not a request."
"Funny, sir. It sounded like one to me," Wilshaw said. "I can't tell the difference when you talk like that."
Spock hesitated as he saw the two other officers returning and Wilshaw continued being obstinate. He hadn't checked out the Academy records for these officers, but perhaps he should have. He would not be so foolish next time this happened. Currently, though, all Spock could do was make one more attempt to get Wilshaw to leave quietly.
"I am ordering you to clean up your tray and follow me," Spock stated. There was no way to misinterpret that. By now the first two officers were within earshot, and of course there were several crew members from other tables watching. This could become problematic.
Wilshaw sneered. "Us humans have to eat or else we can't do our jobs," he said, not even looking up at Spock. "Sir."
"Patrick," Hannigan whispered, glancing hurriedly at Spock. He was standing close to Wilshaw and no doubt assumed Spock couldn't hear him, but of course most people were unaware of how the senses were enhanced for Vulcans, particularly hearing. "What are you doing? The Captain's gonna kill you."
"Are you refusing to follow orders, Mr. Wilshaw?" Spock asked, still speaking calmly.
Hannigan and Tatsushi both looked as if they were about to be violently ill. Wilshaw continued sitting there, not even bothering to answer Spock this time.
Spock turned around and walked to the communicator by the door of the mess hall. He pressed the button and spoke into the intercom as Wilshaw's eyes flashed. "Security, send a guard to the mess hall immediately."
The security guard came before Wilshaw could do more than stand up in anger. Spock gestured to him, saying, "Arrest Mr. Wilshaw and confine him to his quarters."
Wilshaw glared at Spock as he passed but did nothing else. Hannigan, Tatsushi, and the rest of the mess hall watched him go with a mixture of fear and relief. Spock tried not to let the incident faze him. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.
Of course, after that incident, Hannigan and Tatsushi were more than ready to accept the blame for the wiring problem. Spock sorted it out quickly. It had been an accidental error on their part. The wires were supposed to connect one way but they had put them together wrong. It took less than five minutes to fix, during which time Spock stood there and explained to them what their error had been and how to avoid doing the same in the future. They accepted the censure with dignity and Spock was satisfied with the results.
He would need to speak with Him about Wilshaw. There wasn't much that could be done right now. Relieving him of duty would be the best course of action, but keeping a guard stationed outside his quarters until they could drop him back off on Earth seemed an illogical waste of resources. Maybe another solution would present itself.
The problem was that there were crew members who would never have graduated from Starfleet Academy if their class hadn't been decimated by Nero. The majority of their crew were competent and willing to work, but Spock was more aware now than he ever had been of just how much he needed the obedience of every crew member, regardless of whether or not they had the knowledge they needed to do what was required of them. When the occasional crew member who should not be on board the Enterprise was combined with prejudice, it only ended in contempt. Spock had not missed the way Wilshaw had emphasized ‘humans'. He also vividly remembered Sulu's warning and reassurances.
If there were other crew members who felt this way, they needed to be found as soon as possible. Any delay would only cause a larger problem when they were eventually dealt with-however Jim chose to act.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spock knew he was different from everyone else. There was the obvious-being half-human and half-Vulcan, forced to live in two different worlds and two opposing mindsets simultaneously. That would have been enough to set him apart by itself. Unfortunately, he couldn't even claim that was all that had him stand out from everyone else, although the majority of it did stem from that unlikely mixture. His misunderstanding of many aspects of human culture always put him at odds with whoever was around. He felt emotions strongly but knew he couldn't show them-which meant the constant accusations about him having no emotions left a lasting impression on him. His attempts at friendship were often ignored by people who were simply unable to understand what he had been trying to do. In fact, only the people he worked closest with had a chance at understanding him, and often even they were confused or uncertain.
Uhura had problems understanding him just like everyone else did. He also knew that she viewed him as being different from other people, and that she counted that among the top reasons why he was desirable. Spock was fairly sure he didn't want people to form relationships with him based on his heritage and social standing, or lack thereof. The fact that it seemed to be a huge contributing factor in why Uhura had become interested in him was off-putting in every way. Still, Spock had agreed that he would try and he would. He would work his hardest to ensure that he gave this relationship a fair chance. Then, after these last four months had passed, he could reach an actual decision using all the data he had gathered. It was incredibly logical.
Jim didn't seem to care at all that he was half-human half-Vulcan. Jim was the only person Spock had ever met who hadn't tried to change anything about him and who simply accepted all of his actions with his usual charm and kindness. Jim also didn't try to pretend that he was more logical or intelligent-which some people did, although for Jim that really wouldn't have been necessary given the Captain's remarkably high intelligence. It was nice to be treated as an equal, as someone who could play games and have serious and light-hearted discussions and be counted on in an emergency. Jim was the only person who treated Spock as if he was average and not someone rare and confusing to deal with.
The problem was that everything he knew set him apart was caused by circumstances of his birth and how he had been raised. He knew he was an excellent officer, but there were many excellent officers and being good at his job wasn't exactly what Spock wanted to be known for. He wanted to do something incredible-something that would be talked about for years after he'd died. He wanted to have such a huge impact on the world that nobody could ever think that he had only been an outcast. Spock had no desire to be known as the most famous of all half-human half-Vulcans. Yet everywhere he went, that was what people saw. Especially now with Vulcan destroyed, all remaining Vulcans had unintentionally attained a certain legendary status. He hoped he would be viewed by his actions and accomplishments alone, but if he was not, well, there really was nothing he could do to change the minds of people who were unwilling to look past the color of his blood.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spending the night bullshitting with McCoy hadn't been his plan, but Jim was relieved all the same. It was nice being able to just relax when you knew someone really well. He knew McCoy wouldn't judge him even when he said stupid, ridiculous things. He could bitch and moan about work and then listen to McCoy bitch and moan about the idiots who injured themselves in new and exciting ways every day. Poker nights were nice, but spending some time alone with his best friend was something Jim had missed recently. He hadn't realized just how much of his energy he was putting into his work and his relationship with Spock. There wasn't a whole lot of time left for anything else.
McCoy was sitting at a table in sick bay, arms folded on the table. Jim was standing a few feet away, leaning against some machine that he was sure was worth more than his annual salary. It was currently off, though, so Jim felt all right about the whole thing.
"So this girl comes in," McCoy said, starting another story when Jim still had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard at the last one. "And she's got this huge cut along her forearm." McCoy ran a finger over the outside of his arm, from just under his elbow to his wrist.
Jim sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Shit, that's dangerous."
"No shit," McCoy said, blandly. "Well, being the exceptional doctor I am, I ask her how she got it. You know what she says?" He waited a moment. "She tells me she was involved in a discussion on theoretical potassium-based life forms in the mess hall and leaned forward on the table where she'd left her damn steak knife, sharp side facing her, of course."
Jim's eyes widened. "How could you forget that?"
"Beats me," McCoy said. "And that's not the worst of it. She's so involved in the discussion that she actually doesn't notice the cut until she feels something wet dripping on her leg."
"Shut. The fuck. Up," Jim said. "You're lying."
"You can't make this shit up," McCoy replied. "So when her blood's all over the place she decides it might be a good time to go to sick bay. But first she cleans up her dishes because that's the sensible thing to do."
Jim bit his lower lip trying not to grin too brightly. "I don't even understand."
"Yeah, well, you and me both," McCoy said. "She had to actually have moved her arm along the edge of the blade as she was talking, back and forth, like this." McCoy moved his arm in the air a few inches forward and back several times. "Otherwise the cut wouldn't have been so deep."
Jim blinked. "Damn."
"Let me tell you, I learned more about theoretical potassium-based life forms in that half-hour than I ever wanted to know," McCoy grumbled. "I'm a doctor, not a theoretical biologist. Why these people think their hobbies interest me…"
Jim grinned outright. "Aw, come on, Bones. They're just trying to be nice."
"Maybe they should spend less time being nice and more time being aware of their surroundings," McCoy muttered.
Jim shook his head. "Hey, you're the one who signed up for the job."
"I know, I know," McCoy said. "And I love the work, you know I do. But damn it, Jim, I never realized just how stupid people can be."
"Then you're late to the party," Jim replied. "I've known people were stupid for years."
McCoy sighed. They lapsed into companionable silence. Jim always enjoyed spending time with McCoy. It was good to hear he was keeping himself busy. No matter how much he complained about the patients he got, he'd be even worse off with nothing to do all day long other than stare at the door and hope someone was injured.
Jim looked around the room briefly, noticing again how everything was in order here. McCoy took care of the sick bay like it was his quarters, which actually wasn't too far off from the truth. Thanks to his position, McCoy was often called to the sick bay at odd hours to treat whatever the nurses couldn't handle by themselves. All of the nurses on the Enterprise were more than competent, but there were always incidents that popped up, especially with a crew as eclectic as the one Jim had.
"So what was your problem?" McCoy asked, abruptly.
The question was so unexpected and off-topic that Jim could only blink, wondering what the hell McCoy was talking about. "My problem?" he repeated.
"When we were walking to the lift with Spock, you had a shit fit." McCoy frowned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. "What's going on?"
"I didn't have a shit fit," Jim replied, tense and uncomfortable. "I just… wasn't prepared."
"Prepared?" McCoy asked. "Prepared for what?"
"For that whole…" Jim trailed off, gesturing wildly and hoping his flinging hands would get his meaning across. "Thing."
McCoy rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't get it." Jim was quiet, hoping McCoy would explain without requiring any further details. "It's just that you never seemed that into Uhura," McCoy continued. "I'm surprised you're taking it this way."
Jim started laughing, so loudly it bounced off the walls and seemed to smack into him, each echo a slap in his face. "Uhura? I'm not into Uhura."
"Then what?" McCoy asked.
Jim realized his shoulders were shaking. He couldn't tell if it was from the laughter or the nerves or just that he was so fucked up right now that he just wasn't able to be still. He thought McCoy knew he didn't want to be with Uhura-he'd said as much to him a few times. So the question was why was he asking. And the answer Jim got frightened him so much he went completely still, not blinking, not breathing, just waiting for the look of revulsion he knew he'd see on McCoy's face.
"Jim?" McCoy asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Jim said so quickly it almost sounded like one syllable. He swallowed and turned to the door. "I'm going."
"Jim?" McCoy's voice was full of confusion, but that was easy to ignore considering the other option.
Jim left. He just turned around and walked out, seeing McCoy's confusion turn to frustration and worry but unable to do anything about it. He'd thought he could handle it. He'd thought it had been enough time, that it wouldn't matter anymore, that he would be all right confiding in someone he trusted with something that was important no matter what the topic was. But this was one topic Jim still didn't know what to do with. He could never be sure, he reminded himself. There was no way to know, and once it was out there he couldn't take it back.
What if McCoy hated him? What if, after he said all of his stupid thoughts and fears, McCoy decided Jim was a freak and didn't want to be friends anymore? God, listen to him, he was being ridiculous. "Didn't want to be friends anymore"-seriously, why was he always acting like such a girl? But no matter how ridiculous it seemed, Jim remembered his step-father's voice, and his mother's careful apathy, and the way being with another guy had never even been an option for him regardless of what he thought, and suddenly it all added up to losing the only friend he'd come to rely on. Jim wasn't prepared for that.
He couldn't take not being with Spock and destroying his friendship with McCoy. Since he couldn't have what he really wanted, he'd hold onto what he already had and forget the rest of it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spock was walking towards the bridge the next morning when Jim jogged down the corridor, stopping him with a hand on his arm.
"What the hell happened?" Jim asked, bewildered.
There was no mistaking what he was referring to. "I was planning on informing you when I saw you this morning."
"Why didn't you tell me if it happened last night?" Jim asked. His hand tightened on Spock's arm before he let go. Spock had noticed Jim doing that more than usual lately. "You should have told me straight away."
"There was no immediate need to bother you with this information," Spock replied. "The insubordinate officer is currently being held in his quarters. Since we are not near Earth, and therefore this situation would have no quick solution, I believed it would be best for you to enjoy your night off and not concern yourself with this matter."
"Spock, you idiot," Jim said, running a hand over his face. Spock tensed, knowing Jim was irritated but unsure why. "If you've ever got a situation with an officer being an asshole, I want you to tell me about it right away, all right?"
"I am perfectly capable of dealing with these types of situations without your assistance," Spock replied, slightly offended at what Jim was implying.
"No, I mean, yeah, I know you are, that's not the point," Jim said, causing Spock further confusion and explaining nothing at all. "I'm the Captain. I want to know if a member of my crew is causing trouble. And I especially want to know if someone's saying shit that…"
Spock waited for Jim to finished whatever he had been about to say, but he remained silent. It would be difficult to question Jim on this simply because Spock really had no idea what the problem was. Part of his duties as First Officer was to reprimand the crew, and Jim had never said anything about it before now. This wasn't the first time he had disciplined an officer without Jim's approval, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last. The only difference in this situation was Spock's suspicions that the man had motivations that were based more on prejudice than on a simple attitude problem. He couldn't help but wonder if Wilshaw would have listened to the order had it come from Jim.
"I had no difficulties," Spock said, hoping Jim would understand that and let it pass. "However I will be sure to inform you of any insubordination in the future."
"As soon as it happens," Jim stated. "I want to know the minute something like this is going on." Jim grit his teeth, eyes narrowed and dark. "If there's anybody else here who has problems following your orders, they don't belong here." Jim's heel was slowly grinding down into the ground. His hands were fisted and he was clearly not getting any calmer. "Or in Starfleet."
Spock was surprised by the vehemence in Jim's voice. Of course, he agreed. Any officer who would disobey the First Officer was not welcome in any chain of command Spock had ever known. Yet Jim was so furious about this. Spock would have understood it more if it had been Jim who had been challenged. But since it was obviously a matter that Spock needed to resolve himself, Jim's personal interest in it was a bit much. Still, Spock knew Jim was a loyal friend-his anger was most likely on Spock's behalf, which was thoughtful but also completely unnecessary.
"I appreciate your concern," Spock said. "I will inform you immediately the next time a similar situation occurs."
That seemed to make Jim relax slightly. At least, he stopped grinding his heel into the floor. "So what do you want to do with him?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I believe that is entirely up to you, Captain."
Jim looked at Spock incredulously. "Oh, come on," he said, taking a step towards Spock and then quickly away again. "Don't you want to figure out what his punishment is? I mean, I know I'd want to do it if I was you."
The corner of Spock's mouth lifted upwards. "I have no doubt about that. Be that as it may, it is standard procedure that the Captain decides the punishment for insubordination."
Jim rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Okay, fine, then I'm asking you to advise me. As my First Officer, you can do that, right?"
"Of course," Spock replied.
"Excellent," Jim answered, grinning evilly. "So what should we do to him?"
Spock closed his eyes for a few seconds and opened them, deeply unsatisfied to see Jim remained half-insane. "Jim," he said, gently. "There really is no reason to become so agitated over this incident."
"No reason," Jim repeated, scowling.
"No," Spock replied. "There is not. Please stop acting deranged in a misguided attempt to defend my honor."
Jim stared at Spock for a moment before he spluttered. "Deranged? I'm not acting deranged," he scoffed. "I'm doing what any sensible person would do."
"Which is?" Spock asked.
"Get really fucking pissed off," Jim replied, eyes glinting. "I get that's not your thing, so I'm doing it for you. No worries there."
Spock realized with heavy resignation that Jim was going to be angry until he had punished Wilshaw. The idea was actually quite appealing to Spock, in that some type of punishment needed to occur and if Jim doing it would get him to calm down, then everything was solved. So Spock looked at Jim another moment before nodding. Jim showed his teeth in what was supposed to be a smile but instead was overtly threatening.
"Good. Let's go," Jim said.
Spock followed him to Wilshaw's quarters, unsure how he should proceed. It was his duty to reprimand the crew, but if Jim wanted to do it Spock had no particular qualms about that. Maybe all he'd be expected to do was look foreboding in the background. Spock could look foreboding like nobody's business. He considered it a necessary job skill.
Wilshaw was in his quarters, of course, with one guard who looked slightly bored waiting outside. The guard straightened up when Jim and Spock came by. Jim nodded at him and he opened the door, allowing them to enter Wilshaw's room.
At first, it appeared empty, but a second look showed Spock that Wilshaw was sitting in the far corner with his eyes closed. He looked up when they entered, eyes widening and then narrowing in quick succession. Jim walked over to stand in front of him as Wilshaw scrambled to his feet. It was clear that he respected Jim, possibly even admired him. This only convinced Spock that the entire altercation had been evidence of the prejudice Sulu had warned him about.
"Captain," Wilshaw said, standing at attention and saluting him.
Jim sneered at him. "I'm not your Captain," he replied.
Wilshaw looked confused, hesitant. "Sir?"
"I will not have any members of my crew express insubordination or intolerance. Is that understood?" Spock hadn't known Jim's voice could sound so cold.
"Yes, sir," Wilshaw said, but his body language didn't agree with his words and Spock knew Jim noticed it too.
"I'm recommending that you be dishonorably discharged," Jim said. Wilshaw's eyes widened, and Spock couldn't blame him. He hadn't expected the punishment to go that far. "I'll be dropping you off at the next Federation outpost, where you can take the next ship to Earth."
"Please, sir, it was a misunderstanding, I just-" Wilshaw began, but Jim cut him off.
"Your record and the eyewitnesses say otherwise," Jim replied. "You might be able to get out of the discharge if you make a good case. But I doubt it." He turned his back on Wilshaw and began walking out of the room. "We will be at the outpost in two hours. Pack your bags. You'll be on Earth within the week."
"It was just one mistake!" Wilshaw exploded, throwing his hands out to his sides. "I should at least get a second chance!"
Jim whirled on him. Spock watched him in awe. He had never seen Jim so furious before. "Unless you conveniently forgot, this assignment was your third chance."
Wilshaw's eyes widened. "Those were just misunderstandings!"
Jim shook his head. "You bring disgrace to that uniform every second you wear it." He turned and walked out, pausing only to tell the guard, "We're through here. Don't let him out of this room."
Spock followed Jim down the corridor, feeling an odd mixture of pride and fondness. This man was going to become someone great, someone so powerful and important that words would hardly be able to describe him. Spock had thought it before, and now he thought it again. It was a privilege to be able to watch Jim as he grew into his command.
Almost a minute after they'd been walking, Jim turned to Spock, eyes lit up and breath coming in short, heavy bursts. "That was kind of awesome," he said. Then he grinned and Spock was reminded who Jim really was and why, even now, Spock wanted so badly to be around him whenever he could.
Two hours later, after Wilshaw beamed down to the outpost with his belongings, Jim ordered the ship to warp away, back towards their original destination. Spock looked over at him, saw that Jim was already watching him, and nodded once, firmly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Part 9
Feedback is love. <3
EDIT: OMG nix_this did Apogee fanart!! ♥ ♥ ♥ She made Spock in the lake from 6b YAYZ!! And it is beautifully awesomesauce and win in every way. I'm not biased. Actually I think he looks better here than the way I wrote it, LOL. So give her some love, people! *loves upon muchly*
Author: kowaiyoukai
Rating: R
Pairing: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)
Warning(s): Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody
Spoilers: Star Trek XI (2009) (a.k.a. Star Trek XI, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek Reboot, New Trek, and can we please just pick one name for this fandom people?!)
Word Count: 7,100
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.
Beta Acknowledgment: None! I know there are errors, so please let me know if you see any! Thanks!
Summary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise.
A/N: This was a very strange part to write, I think. Some info that needed to get out there, and a few scenes that had me pondering what the heck was going on in my mind. *headdesk*
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Othersides 1 | Part 6a | Part 6b | Part 6c | Part 7
As people went, Jim thought he was about average. Maybe even a little below. Nothing in particular stood out as being exceptional or horrific about him. He was smart, sure, but lots of people got good grades and knew a lot of random facts. It was practically a requirement to graduate from Starfleet Academy. And yeah, he knew he had been the top of his class, but that didn't make him feel any more intelligent than other people he knew. Everyone had their own field of expertise. Spock was the best scientist, McCoy the best doctor, and Scotty the best engineer. Jim couldn't compete with any of them in those areas. He had a large field of knowledge that covered almost every area, but he lacked the minutiae. All the details that people who had studied in those areas had learned were beyond him. He could make snap judgment calls and decide instantly how to react to any given situation-but that didn't mean his decisions were flawless. He knew he made mistakes. He tried to limit them, but they still happened.
People also said he was charming and extremely sociable. Well, maybe they had a point and maybe they didn't. Being friendly and willing to make conversation seemed like poor examples of charming behavior to him, especially in Starfleet where people had to learn diplomacy. His accidental use of a hand gesture or phrase could start or stop a war. The lives of his crew were always his responsibility, and often the lives of other people as well. He was in charge of keeping the peace and restoring it when it was broken, but he was also supposed to protect against invasion and threats by any means necessary. He needed to be able to completely trust every member of his crew and rely on them to do their jobs, but he also needed to catch their mistakes and correct them, and he needed to be able to act quickly against any crew member who disobeyed orders or mutinied. It went without saying that anyone expected to do all of that, and more, had to be good at dealing with people. Jim didn't think he was particularly better or worse at it than the majority of starship Captains were. It was just a part of his job.
He knew some people thought he was attractive-well, okay, a lot of people if he was being honest. But oddly enough that never mattered in all the most important situations and relationships in his life. If he was a great Captain, that was because of his own skills and the teamwork his crew had, not because of his looks. Of course, the people he was currently closest to were equally unfazed. The people he'd fooled around with in the past had no real importance in his life, so it didn't actually matter if they had given his appearance any thought at all. McCoy had probably never even thought about how attractive Jim was. And it was more than obvious that Spock couldn't have cared less about how anyone appeared, Jim included. But he wasn't going to start thinking about all the ways he simply was not what Spock wanted.
The point was, Jim hadn't done anything yet to merit all of this attention he was getting. Defeating Nero had been a team effort. It would have been impossible to do alone. He'd take the praise and the starship, sure, but he wasn't entirely sure he had earned either. There was a fine line between being rewarding for your work and being rewarded for who you were. Jim wasn't sure which side of the line he fell on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a boring few days in terms of work. They had gone back to charting out new sections of the galaxy, which was the most tedious job they had to do. Jim was thankful he could order people to do it for him. Otherwise, he might kill himself to stop the monotony.
Although if he was being honest, he couldn't really complain. His mind felt like it was being pulled in a thousand different directions. He still had reports to read and logs to make. Besides that, Pike's warning about New Vulcan was a steady pressure in the back of his mind. There had been no news on that front, but that didn't mean nothing was happening. No doubt Jim would find out about whatever was going on when it was much too late to do anything about it. Not that he knew what the problem was or what his plan would be to stop it. But he knew he would have a plan if he just knew what the hell was going on.
To get his mind off of all those unanswered questions, Jim began doing daily check-ups at all the different stations throughout the Enterprise. It wasn't a big deal-just popping in to see who was working and who was slacking off and who wanted to grab some food when he was hungry. He made small talk with the crew, and most of them were dealing with the fact that their Captain was bored out of his mind and needed to find ways to entertain himself. In a few days Jim had learned more about the exact processes of replicating food, stopping a leak in a water tank, and updating historical records than he had ever wanted to know.
Even all of that was not enough to get his mind off of Spock. His damn First Officer was going to drive him crazy. He had seen Spock with Uhura a lot more than usual since they had last spoken. He knew he'd been the one to encourage Spock to try and make things work with her but, despite his efforts to stop acting childish, he felt a sharp pain that had him standing up straighter and clenching his teeth whenever he saw them together. He would eventually get over it, he knew he would, but the longer this went on the more he thought he truly needed to tell somebody about it.
The worst part of it all was he had no idea how to go about flirting with a guy. He knew enough about flirting with chicks to write an encyclopedia on the subject, but guys were a whole new area. He really didn't think complimenting Spock's outfit or carrying something heavy for him was going to do the trick. Jim actually had no idea what it was about himself that was appealing to people, specifically girls, so he had no idea how to use that to make himself more appealing to Spock. The sad thing was that, even if he had known, chances were Spock wouldn't have even noticed his attempt.
Jim passed by sick bay on his way to the lift, and his steps faltered. He had been planning on going down to engineering to say hi to Scotty and see who he could annoy, but he might be able to catch McCoy now. Not that he knew what he would say. But he clearly needed some sort of guidance. All this waiting was driving him insane. It had been over two weeks since he'd figured it out. The fact that he'd kept quiet this long actually kind of astounded him.
Just as Jim was about to turn around to go in and see if McCoy was there, the door opened. McCoy and Spock walked out, both silent, and both of them stopped when they saw Jim. McCoy immediately walked up to him and hit him on the arm while Spock stood back and nodded at him. Jim had a moment where all he could think was that they had just been talking about him and he would die if McCoy had said anything incriminating. Shit, McCoy knew about a lot of things Jim wasn't particularly keen on Spock finding out.
"Jim," McCoy said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Are you in need of medical attention, Captain?" Spock asked, face as blank as always but Jim thought he detected concern, though it could have just as easily been wishful thinking.
Jim saw McCoy's smile fade and he quickly shook his head before they could make any further assumptions about the logical reasons he'd be loitering outside sick bay. "No. No, I'm fine."
"So what brings you here?" McCoy asked.
"Oh, uh, I was just, you know, walking," Jim said. He waited a beat and realized that probably hadn't been a very good answer. "Around."
McCoy stared at him. Spock raised an eyebrow.
"You know, I am the Captain," Jim said, huffily. "I can walk around if I want to." Changing the subject quickly was probably the only way out of this. "And anyway, what are you doing here?" Jim asked, looking at Spock.
"There was an error in one of the medical reports that Doctor McCoy had filed about the unknown disease on Lambda Four. I brought the original file so Doctor McCoy could update it with the correct information," Spock explained.
Jim looked at McCoy questioningly. "A mistake? You?" He frowned. "That's not like you."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "As much as it pains me to correct you, I'm actually not perfect."
"Oh my God!" Jim shouted.
"Occasionally I make mistakes," McCoy continued. Jim threw both hands up to cover his horrified expression. "I know it shocks you. Try not to panic."
"I'm all in states now," Jim said, letting his hands drop. "So how'd you screw up?"
McCoy shook his head. "I forgot to list a few of the trials I'd done on the experimental medication and the results of them. It's fixed now. No harm, ho foul."
"Well that's good," Jim replied. He looked at Spock and asked, "Heading to the bridge?"
"Yes," Spock answered. "Doctor McCoy and I were on our way there now."
"Oh," Jim said. "Well, guess I'm coming along, then."
"Finished your walk around the ship?" McCoy asked, slightly bemused.
"Yep. Captainy things to do now, you know how it goes," Jim said, shrugging.
Jim walked towards the lift with McCoy and Spock walking on either side. It felt strange, but good, to be walking with both of them at the same time when no one was dying and there was no epic disaster to take care of. For some reason, Jim had unconsciously placed McCoy and Spock into two different sections in his mind, and throwing them suddenly together like this was a bit disconcerting.
"So how's Uhura?" McCoy asked Spock, without warning.
Jim's head whipped around to face McCoy, eyebrows furrowed with his mouth slightly open. Why would McCoy ask Spock how Uhura was? Why would anyone want to bring that up? Did he know something Jim didn't? Was he just trying to be friendly? McCoy looked back at Jim, giving him a what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you look, and Jim tried to school his expression into friendly interest.
"As far as I am aware, Lieutenant Uhura is fine," Spock replied.
"Hm. You two are hitting it off, then?" McCoy continued. Jim wondered if he could strangle McCoy and then pretend it had been an accident.
Spock looked confused and before he could even ask, Jim said, "He's asking how things are going between you and Uhura. Um, romantically."
"Ah," Spock said. "I am going to make every attempt to ensure our relationship is a successful one."
For a moment Jim thought he had died. Then he realized his heart actually hadn't exploded out of his chest, leaving his internal organs splayed across the corridor. He swallowed convulsively and hoped he hadn't appeared too obvious, but he didn't risk glancing at either of them. He didn't know what his face looked like. He couldn't give himself away.
"So you like her?" McCoy asked, clearly not knowing when to shut the fuck up and leave people to wallow in their misery in peace.
"Yes," Spock said, shortly. "I do."
Jim sucked in a sharp breath. That was news to him. Last time they'd talked, Spock had said he wasn't interested in her. Had he really changed his mind? If that was the case, Jim's situation had just gone from bad but bearable to completely hopeless and pathetic.
"But before," Jim started and then quickly shut up. He swallowed when he realized they were both looking at him, waiting for him to finish. "I mean, uh, you said you weren't all that into her."
Spock paused. "It is my goal to try and make the relationship between myself and Lieutenant Uhura a successful one."
"Oh," Jim said, quietly. "Okay."
The lift was in sight, and Jim walked faster, hitting the button several times in quick succession. McCoy looked at him askance, clearly wondering what was up, but Spock only stared at the lift doors, waiting for them to open. The lift ride was short and silent. Jim knew he was probably acting strangely, but he didn't really care. When they finally got to the bridge, Jim practically ran to his chair for the comfort he knew it would give him. He specifically did not look at Uhura as he passed her, knowing there was nothing he could do and she really couldn't be blamed for the situation. He just had to remember his place, that was all. Spock went to his station without another word, thank God. McCoy lingered for a few minutes, attempting to make idle conversation, but Jim really was not in the mood and McCoy left before ten minutes had passed, giving Jim an exasperated look on his way out.
Well, what was Jim supposed to do? Act all sunshine and bunnies now? The conversation had been a nightmare. He'd need to find a way to tell McCoy what was going on, and soon, because he didn't think he could take another scene like that one.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It seemed as though every time Spock turned a corner he found someone else trying to avoid him. The crew was alternatively anxious of or intimidated by him. Either way meant the same thing-they cleared the way without being asked, never made eye contact, and saluted quickly, hoping they wouldn't get into trouble for not following even the smallest bit of procedure. Spock knew it was his job to have the crew concerned with doing their jobs to the best of their abilities, but it was still a bit disconcerting.
Not that they didn't have reason to be anxious and intimidated. Spock was on a mission to find and reprimand the three officers who had been in charge of repairing a few meters of wire that connected various circuits to control the lighting and temperature controls in five recreation rooms. They had turned in their report, stating the job was done, and an hour later requests for repairs had been filed for the exact same problem.
Obviously something had gone wrong. There were several logical explanations which did not involve negligence on the officers' part. The problem could be a larger one that would need more than a simple fix, in which case someone from engineering would be called in. The wire that the officers had used might have been damaged or faulty. Another area of wiring might need to be replaced. The buttons on the control panel might be damaged or faulty. Perhaps the entire area needed to be reprogrammed from scratch due to mechanical failure that could only be fixed electronically. All of those explanations, and plenty more, made perfect sense.
However, intuition was telling Spock that none of that had occurred. The most likely problem was that the job had been done incorrectly. After all, if they had replaced the wiring correctly and the lights and temperature controls were still broken, they would no doubt have called for engineering to have a look. The fact that they had turned in a report which stated the problem was fixed when it clearly wasn't-that was what concerned him.
Spock found the three officers in the mess hall, talking animatedly over a late dinner. He strode over to them, prepared to ask them to leave the mess hall so he could speak with them in private. The three officers were all cadets who had gotten onto the Enterprise on the Nero mission. This wasn't a surprise, since the majority of the crew had been there that first time, but it did mean that Spock knew they had to be treated with finesse. The cadets who had never been assigned to any starship before were still incredibly new. Two months on the job did little to give them the wisdom and experience they needed to be effective crew members.
"Will the three of you follow me?" Spock asked, polite but firm. "I must speak with you privately and immediately."
"Yes, sir," the first one said, jumping up and almost knocking his plate over in his haste. Spock placed his face to the personnel files he had checked before coming and recognized him as Ensign Hannigan.
The second officer nodded and wiped his mouth none too subtly, pushing his tray away as he stood up. "Just let me put this away, sir," he said, picking up his tray and walking quickly to the trash disposal area. Spock recalled his name was Ensign Tatsushi.
Hannigan picked up his tray and said, "Sorry, sir, I should too…" He hesitated and Spock nodded, which allowed Hannigan to run off without feeling insubordinate.
Throughout this, the third one, Ensign Wilshaw, sat calmly and continued eating.
"I would suggest you follow the example your co-workers have set for you," Spock said, feeling his patience run thin. This kind of thing only happened with new officers.
"In a minute," Wilshaw replied.
Spock blinked, taken aback. This kind of behavior could not be tolerated, regardless of the situation. "That was not a request."
"Funny, sir. It sounded like one to me," Wilshaw said. "I can't tell the difference when you talk like that."
Spock hesitated as he saw the two other officers returning and Wilshaw continued being obstinate. He hadn't checked out the Academy records for these officers, but perhaps he should have. He would not be so foolish next time this happened. Currently, though, all Spock could do was make one more attempt to get Wilshaw to leave quietly.
"I am ordering you to clean up your tray and follow me," Spock stated. There was no way to misinterpret that. By now the first two officers were within earshot, and of course there were several crew members from other tables watching. This could become problematic.
Wilshaw sneered. "Us humans have to eat or else we can't do our jobs," he said, not even looking up at Spock. "Sir."
"Patrick," Hannigan whispered, glancing hurriedly at Spock. He was standing close to Wilshaw and no doubt assumed Spock couldn't hear him, but of course most people were unaware of how the senses were enhanced for Vulcans, particularly hearing. "What are you doing? The Captain's gonna kill you."
"Are you refusing to follow orders, Mr. Wilshaw?" Spock asked, still speaking calmly.
Hannigan and Tatsushi both looked as if they were about to be violently ill. Wilshaw continued sitting there, not even bothering to answer Spock this time.
Spock turned around and walked to the communicator by the door of the mess hall. He pressed the button and spoke into the intercom as Wilshaw's eyes flashed. "Security, send a guard to the mess hall immediately."
The security guard came before Wilshaw could do more than stand up in anger. Spock gestured to him, saying, "Arrest Mr. Wilshaw and confine him to his quarters."
Wilshaw glared at Spock as he passed but did nothing else. Hannigan, Tatsushi, and the rest of the mess hall watched him go with a mixture of fear and relief. Spock tried not to let the incident faze him. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.
Of course, after that incident, Hannigan and Tatsushi were more than ready to accept the blame for the wiring problem. Spock sorted it out quickly. It had been an accidental error on their part. The wires were supposed to connect one way but they had put them together wrong. It took less than five minutes to fix, during which time Spock stood there and explained to them what their error had been and how to avoid doing the same in the future. They accepted the censure with dignity and Spock was satisfied with the results.
He would need to speak with Him about Wilshaw. There wasn't much that could be done right now. Relieving him of duty would be the best course of action, but keeping a guard stationed outside his quarters until they could drop him back off on Earth seemed an illogical waste of resources. Maybe another solution would present itself.
The problem was that there were crew members who would never have graduated from Starfleet Academy if their class hadn't been decimated by Nero. The majority of their crew were competent and willing to work, but Spock was more aware now than he ever had been of just how much he needed the obedience of every crew member, regardless of whether or not they had the knowledge they needed to do what was required of them. When the occasional crew member who should not be on board the Enterprise was combined with prejudice, it only ended in contempt. Spock had not missed the way Wilshaw had emphasized ‘humans'. He also vividly remembered Sulu's warning and reassurances.
If there were other crew members who felt this way, they needed to be found as soon as possible. Any delay would only cause a larger problem when they were eventually dealt with-however Jim chose to act.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spock knew he was different from everyone else. There was the obvious-being half-human and half-Vulcan, forced to live in two different worlds and two opposing mindsets simultaneously. That would have been enough to set him apart by itself. Unfortunately, he couldn't even claim that was all that had him stand out from everyone else, although the majority of it did stem from that unlikely mixture. His misunderstanding of many aspects of human culture always put him at odds with whoever was around. He felt emotions strongly but knew he couldn't show them-which meant the constant accusations about him having no emotions left a lasting impression on him. His attempts at friendship were often ignored by people who were simply unable to understand what he had been trying to do. In fact, only the people he worked closest with had a chance at understanding him, and often even they were confused or uncertain.
Uhura had problems understanding him just like everyone else did. He also knew that she viewed him as being different from other people, and that she counted that among the top reasons why he was desirable. Spock was fairly sure he didn't want people to form relationships with him based on his heritage and social standing, or lack thereof. The fact that it seemed to be a huge contributing factor in why Uhura had become interested in him was off-putting in every way. Still, Spock had agreed that he would try and he would. He would work his hardest to ensure that he gave this relationship a fair chance. Then, after these last four months had passed, he could reach an actual decision using all the data he had gathered. It was incredibly logical.
Jim didn't seem to care at all that he was half-human half-Vulcan. Jim was the only person Spock had ever met who hadn't tried to change anything about him and who simply accepted all of his actions with his usual charm and kindness. Jim also didn't try to pretend that he was more logical or intelligent-which some people did, although for Jim that really wouldn't have been necessary given the Captain's remarkably high intelligence. It was nice to be treated as an equal, as someone who could play games and have serious and light-hearted discussions and be counted on in an emergency. Jim was the only person who treated Spock as if he was average and not someone rare and confusing to deal with.
The problem was that everything he knew set him apart was caused by circumstances of his birth and how he had been raised. He knew he was an excellent officer, but there were many excellent officers and being good at his job wasn't exactly what Spock wanted to be known for. He wanted to do something incredible-something that would be talked about for years after he'd died. He wanted to have such a huge impact on the world that nobody could ever think that he had only been an outcast. Spock had no desire to be known as the most famous of all half-human half-Vulcans. Yet everywhere he went, that was what people saw. Especially now with Vulcan destroyed, all remaining Vulcans had unintentionally attained a certain legendary status. He hoped he would be viewed by his actions and accomplishments alone, but if he was not, well, there really was nothing he could do to change the minds of people who were unwilling to look past the color of his blood.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spending the night bullshitting with McCoy hadn't been his plan, but Jim was relieved all the same. It was nice being able to just relax when you knew someone really well. He knew McCoy wouldn't judge him even when he said stupid, ridiculous things. He could bitch and moan about work and then listen to McCoy bitch and moan about the idiots who injured themselves in new and exciting ways every day. Poker nights were nice, but spending some time alone with his best friend was something Jim had missed recently. He hadn't realized just how much of his energy he was putting into his work and his relationship with Spock. There wasn't a whole lot of time left for anything else.
McCoy was sitting at a table in sick bay, arms folded on the table. Jim was standing a few feet away, leaning against some machine that he was sure was worth more than his annual salary. It was currently off, though, so Jim felt all right about the whole thing.
"So this girl comes in," McCoy said, starting another story when Jim still had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard at the last one. "And she's got this huge cut along her forearm." McCoy ran a finger over the outside of his arm, from just under his elbow to his wrist.
Jim sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Shit, that's dangerous."
"No shit," McCoy said, blandly. "Well, being the exceptional doctor I am, I ask her how she got it. You know what she says?" He waited a moment. "She tells me she was involved in a discussion on theoretical potassium-based life forms in the mess hall and leaned forward on the table where she'd left her damn steak knife, sharp side facing her, of course."
Jim's eyes widened. "How could you forget that?"
"Beats me," McCoy said. "And that's not the worst of it. She's so involved in the discussion that she actually doesn't notice the cut until she feels something wet dripping on her leg."
"Shut. The fuck. Up," Jim said. "You're lying."
"You can't make this shit up," McCoy replied. "So when her blood's all over the place she decides it might be a good time to go to sick bay. But first she cleans up her dishes because that's the sensible thing to do."
Jim bit his lower lip trying not to grin too brightly. "I don't even understand."
"Yeah, well, you and me both," McCoy said. "She had to actually have moved her arm along the edge of the blade as she was talking, back and forth, like this." McCoy moved his arm in the air a few inches forward and back several times. "Otherwise the cut wouldn't have been so deep."
Jim blinked. "Damn."
"Let me tell you, I learned more about theoretical potassium-based life forms in that half-hour than I ever wanted to know," McCoy grumbled. "I'm a doctor, not a theoretical biologist. Why these people think their hobbies interest me…"
Jim grinned outright. "Aw, come on, Bones. They're just trying to be nice."
"Maybe they should spend less time being nice and more time being aware of their surroundings," McCoy muttered.
Jim shook his head. "Hey, you're the one who signed up for the job."
"I know, I know," McCoy said. "And I love the work, you know I do. But damn it, Jim, I never realized just how stupid people can be."
"Then you're late to the party," Jim replied. "I've known people were stupid for years."
McCoy sighed. They lapsed into companionable silence. Jim always enjoyed spending time with McCoy. It was good to hear he was keeping himself busy. No matter how much he complained about the patients he got, he'd be even worse off with nothing to do all day long other than stare at the door and hope someone was injured.
Jim looked around the room briefly, noticing again how everything was in order here. McCoy took care of the sick bay like it was his quarters, which actually wasn't too far off from the truth. Thanks to his position, McCoy was often called to the sick bay at odd hours to treat whatever the nurses couldn't handle by themselves. All of the nurses on the Enterprise were more than competent, but there were always incidents that popped up, especially with a crew as eclectic as the one Jim had.
"So what was your problem?" McCoy asked, abruptly.
The question was so unexpected and off-topic that Jim could only blink, wondering what the hell McCoy was talking about. "My problem?" he repeated.
"When we were walking to the lift with Spock, you had a shit fit." McCoy frowned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. "What's going on?"
"I didn't have a shit fit," Jim replied, tense and uncomfortable. "I just… wasn't prepared."
"Prepared?" McCoy asked. "Prepared for what?"
"For that whole…" Jim trailed off, gesturing wildly and hoping his flinging hands would get his meaning across. "Thing."
McCoy rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't get it." Jim was quiet, hoping McCoy would explain without requiring any further details. "It's just that you never seemed that into Uhura," McCoy continued. "I'm surprised you're taking it this way."
Jim started laughing, so loudly it bounced off the walls and seemed to smack into him, each echo a slap in his face. "Uhura? I'm not into Uhura."
"Then what?" McCoy asked.
Jim realized his shoulders were shaking. He couldn't tell if it was from the laughter or the nerves or just that he was so fucked up right now that he just wasn't able to be still. He thought McCoy knew he didn't want to be with Uhura-he'd said as much to him a few times. So the question was why was he asking. And the answer Jim got frightened him so much he went completely still, not blinking, not breathing, just waiting for the look of revulsion he knew he'd see on McCoy's face.
"Jim?" McCoy asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Jim said so quickly it almost sounded like one syllable. He swallowed and turned to the door. "I'm going."
"Jim?" McCoy's voice was full of confusion, but that was easy to ignore considering the other option.
Jim left. He just turned around and walked out, seeing McCoy's confusion turn to frustration and worry but unable to do anything about it. He'd thought he could handle it. He'd thought it had been enough time, that it wouldn't matter anymore, that he would be all right confiding in someone he trusted with something that was important no matter what the topic was. But this was one topic Jim still didn't know what to do with. He could never be sure, he reminded himself. There was no way to know, and once it was out there he couldn't take it back.
What if McCoy hated him? What if, after he said all of his stupid thoughts and fears, McCoy decided Jim was a freak and didn't want to be friends anymore? God, listen to him, he was being ridiculous. "Didn't want to be friends anymore"-seriously, why was he always acting like such a girl? But no matter how ridiculous it seemed, Jim remembered his step-father's voice, and his mother's careful apathy, and the way being with another guy had never even been an option for him regardless of what he thought, and suddenly it all added up to losing the only friend he'd come to rely on. Jim wasn't prepared for that.
He couldn't take not being with Spock and destroying his friendship with McCoy. Since he couldn't have what he really wanted, he'd hold onto what he already had and forget the rest of it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spock was walking towards the bridge the next morning when Jim jogged down the corridor, stopping him with a hand on his arm.
"What the hell happened?" Jim asked, bewildered.
There was no mistaking what he was referring to. "I was planning on informing you when I saw you this morning."
"Why didn't you tell me if it happened last night?" Jim asked. His hand tightened on Spock's arm before he let go. Spock had noticed Jim doing that more than usual lately. "You should have told me straight away."
"There was no immediate need to bother you with this information," Spock replied. "The insubordinate officer is currently being held in his quarters. Since we are not near Earth, and therefore this situation would have no quick solution, I believed it would be best for you to enjoy your night off and not concern yourself with this matter."
"Spock, you idiot," Jim said, running a hand over his face. Spock tensed, knowing Jim was irritated but unsure why. "If you've ever got a situation with an officer being an asshole, I want you to tell me about it right away, all right?"
"I am perfectly capable of dealing with these types of situations without your assistance," Spock replied, slightly offended at what Jim was implying.
"No, I mean, yeah, I know you are, that's not the point," Jim said, causing Spock further confusion and explaining nothing at all. "I'm the Captain. I want to know if a member of my crew is causing trouble. And I especially want to know if someone's saying shit that…"
Spock waited for Jim to finished whatever he had been about to say, but he remained silent. It would be difficult to question Jim on this simply because Spock really had no idea what the problem was. Part of his duties as First Officer was to reprimand the crew, and Jim had never said anything about it before now. This wasn't the first time he had disciplined an officer without Jim's approval, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last. The only difference in this situation was Spock's suspicions that the man had motivations that were based more on prejudice than on a simple attitude problem. He couldn't help but wonder if Wilshaw would have listened to the order had it come from Jim.
"I had no difficulties," Spock said, hoping Jim would understand that and let it pass. "However I will be sure to inform you of any insubordination in the future."
"As soon as it happens," Jim stated. "I want to know the minute something like this is going on." Jim grit his teeth, eyes narrowed and dark. "If there's anybody else here who has problems following your orders, they don't belong here." Jim's heel was slowly grinding down into the ground. His hands were fisted and he was clearly not getting any calmer. "Or in Starfleet."
Spock was surprised by the vehemence in Jim's voice. Of course, he agreed. Any officer who would disobey the First Officer was not welcome in any chain of command Spock had ever known. Yet Jim was so furious about this. Spock would have understood it more if it had been Jim who had been challenged. But since it was obviously a matter that Spock needed to resolve himself, Jim's personal interest in it was a bit much. Still, Spock knew Jim was a loyal friend-his anger was most likely on Spock's behalf, which was thoughtful but also completely unnecessary.
"I appreciate your concern," Spock said. "I will inform you immediately the next time a similar situation occurs."
That seemed to make Jim relax slightly. At least, he stopped grinding his heel into the floor. "So what do you want to do with him?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I believe that is entirely up to you, Captain."
Jim looked at Spock incredulously. "Oh, come on," he said, taking a step towards Spock and then quickly away again. "Don't you want to figure out what his punishment is? I mean, I know I'd want to do it if I was you."
The corner of Spock's mouth lifted upwards. "I have no doubt about that. Be that as it may, it is standard procedure that the Captain decides the punishment for insubordination."
Jim rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Okay, fine, then I'm asking you to advise me. As my First Officer, you can do that, right?"
"Of course," Spock replied.
"Excellent," Jim answered, grinning evilly. "So what should we do to him?"
Spock closed his eyes for a few seconds and opened them, deeply unsatisfied to see Jim remained half-insane. "Jim," he said, gently. "There really is no reason to become so agitated over this incident."
"No reason," Jim repeated, scowling.
"No," Spock replied. "There is not. Please stop acting deranged in a misguided attempt to defend my honor."
Jim stared at Spock for a moment before he spluttered. "Deranged? I'm not acting deranged," he scoffed. "I'm doing what any sensible person would do."
"Which is?" Spock asked.
"Get really fucking pissed off," Jim replied, eyes glinting. "I get that's not your thing, so I'm doing it for you. No worries there."
Spock realized with heavy resignation that Jim was going to be angry until he had punished Wilshaw. The idea was actually quite appealing to Spock, in that some type of punishment needed to occur and if Jim doing it would get him to calm down, then everything was solved. So Spock looked at Jim another moment before nodding. Jim showed his teeth in what was supposed to be a smile but instead was overtly threatening.
"Good. Let's go," Jim said.
Spock followed him to Wilshaw's quarters, unsure how he should proceed. It was his duty to reprimand the crew, but if Jim wanted to do it Spock had no particular qualms about that. Maybe all he'd be expected to do was look foreboding in the background. Spock could look foreboding like nobody's business. He considered it a necessary job skill.
Wilshaw was in his quarters, of course, with one guard who looked slightly bored waiting outside. The guard straightened up when Jim and Spock came by. Jim nodded at him and he opened the door, allowing them to enter Wilshaw's room.
At first, it appeared empty, but a second look showed Spock that Wilshaw was sitting in the far corner with his eyes closed. He looked up when they entered, eyes widening and then narrowing in quick succession. Jim walked over to stand in front of him as Wilshaw scrambled to his feet. It was clear that he respected Jim, possibly even admired him. This only convinced Spock that the entire altercation had been evidence of the prejudice Sulu had warned him about.
"Captain," Wilshaw said, standing at attention and saluting him.
Jim sneered at him. "I'm not your Captain," he replied.
Wilshaw looked confused, hesitant. "Sir?"
"I will not have any members of my crew express insubordination or intolerance. Is that understood?" Spock hadn't known Jim's voice could sound so cold.
"Yes, sir," Wilshaw said, but his body language didn't agree with his words and Spock knew Jim noticed it too.
"I'm recommending that you be dishonorably discharged," Jim said. Wilshaw's eyes widened, and Spock couldn't blame him. He hadn't expected the punishment to go that far. "I'll be dropping you off at the next Federation outpost, where you can take the next ship to Earth."
"Please, sir, it was a misunderstanding, I just-" Wilshaw began, but Jim cut him off.
"Your record and the eyewitnesses say otherwise," Jim replied. "You might be able to get out of the discharge if you make a good case. But I doubt it." He turned his back on Wilshaw and began walking out of the room. "We will be at the outpost in two hours. Pack your bags. You'll be on Earth within the week."
"It was just one mistake!" Wilshaw exploded, throwing his hands out to his sides. "I should at least get a second chance!"
Jim whirled on him. Spock watched him in awe. He had never seen Jim so furious before. "Unless you conveniently forgot, this assignment was your third chance."
Wilshaw's eyes widened. "Those were just misunderstandings!"
Jim shook his head. "You bring disgrace to that uniform every second you wear it." He turned and walked out, pausing only to tell the guard, "We're through here. Don't let him out of this room."
Spock followed Jim down the corridor, feeling an odd mixture of pride and fondness. This man was going to become someone great, someone so powerful and important that words would hardly be able to describe him. Spock had thought it before, and now he thought it again. It was a privilege to be able to watch Jim as he grew into his command.
Almost a minute after they'd been walking, Jim turned to Spock, eyes lit up and breath coming in short, heavy bursts. "That was kind of awesome," he said. Then he grinned and Spock was reminded who Jim really was and why, even now, Spock wanted so badly to be around him whenever he could.
Two hours later, after Wilshaw beamed down to the outpost with his belongings, Jim ordered the ship to warp away, back towards their original destination. Spock looked over at him, saw that Jim was already watching him, and nodded once, firmly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Part 9
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EDIT: OMG nix_this did Apogee fanart!! ♥ ♥ ♥ She made Spock in the lake from 6b YAYZ!! And it is beautifully awesomesauce and win in every way. I'm not biased. Actually I think he looks better here than the way I wrote it, LOL. So give her some love, people! *loves upon muchly*