[Fic] Of Enclosed Quarters and Eight-Legged Creatures
Okay, here's my second K/S fic, and I'm sure it won't be the last ;) This is more pre-slash than anything, but I felt more wasn't possible within the scenario.
Title: Of Enclosed Quarters and Eight-Legged Creatures
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (Reboot)
Rating: PG
Genre: H/C, pre-slash
Summary: Kirk and Spock are trapped in the closet in a chamber in an ancient city of ruins and have to wait to get rescued. An easy task, if only someone didn't have a rather inconvenient problem...
A/N: Big thanks to melonbutterfly and jihime47 for lots of input and brainstorming help while planning (and writing) this story.
It was the most inconvenient situation they had gotten themselves into, and Jim still felt his heart hammering in his chest after almost having been crushed by millennia old tons of stone. But there was no time to catch his breath.
"Kirk to Bahar," he spoke into his communicator, his upper body only propped up on his elbow. The space he and Spock were trapped in was hardly bigger than the average cabin on a training vessel.
"Bahar here."
"Mister Spock and I are trapped in one of the chambers of the northern wing. Can you get us out of here?"
"Sir..." The Lieutenant's voice sounded slightly breathless and Jim swore he could hear a pained call in the background. "We are trapped as well. A mechanism was triggered and a door came sliding down. Andrews is injured."
"Can you get out of there?" Turning around, Jim let his fingers run along the wall facing the former entrance of the chamber, feeling for a lever in the near-darkness, or anything that would revert the mechanism that only seconds ago had caused a heavy, previously hidden stone door slide into the entrance at the same time as the slab had sunken down with both he and Spock having to get flat on their backs so they wouldn't be crushed. But so far, there was nothing.
"I don't know, Captain. There is... nothing here. It must have been triggered by something outside of the chamber. All I can see is bare stone walls around us, not even inscriptions or murals."
"How big's the room you're in? Can you try blasting the entrance open with your phaser?"
"Already did," the Lieutenant replied. "That's how Andrews got injured. The phaser backfired and hit his leg. There seems to be like an energy field shielding the walls."
Damnit!
"Okay, keep on looking. I'll contact the Enterprise and see if they can beam us out of here," Jim said but already had a sinking feeling in his stomach that whatever shielded the walls of the chamber the other three crew members were trapped in might prevent transporting as well.
"Kirk to Enterprise."
"Captain," he heard Scotty's voice.
"Seems like we got ourselves trapped in these ruins. Can you lock onto us and beam us out?"
There were just a few seconds of silence in which Jim mentally crossed his fingers that his fears may not prove true, faint beeping of the computer working in the background. Then: "Negative, Captain. I cannae lock on anything within the city. The closest signature the transporter can pick up is... three point seven kilometers from your last position."
"Okay, send an away team to the coordinates. They'll have to get us out of here manually. Looks like something or someone triggered some kind of mechanism that caused a full lock-down."
"Aye Captain."
"And have Bones contact Bahir or Kehls. Andrews is injured."
At least communication wasn't blocked out as well, he thought as he closed his communicator and put it on the stone floor somewhere beside his head, its faint glow and that of Spock's tricoder the only light source within the constricted space.
He finally turned and looked at Spock, sighing in exasperation but giving his first officer a small smile. "Guess we'll just have to lie around and wait.” He even chuckled. “Not exactly how I'd pictured this archaeological expedition but I'm sure they'll find a way to revert the mechanism."
His first officer only nodded, his tall form pressed against the far wall in a half-upright sitting position, and he shifted slightly as if he wanted to squeeze further into the corner. One hand was running around the ceiling in what Jim could already predict would be a futile effort to find anything.
The expedition had gone really well until then. That day, the Enterprise had discovered an uninhabited planet in a yet to be mapped solar system. But despite the absence of humanoid life forms the scanners had found remains of architecture as a clear sign that once, centuries or milleninia ago, people had lived here and cities thrived. The biggest settlement, which they had chosen for their first exploration, bore strong resemblance to ancient Egyptian cities. Tall temples and palaces, some of them underground beneath tons of rock, either built that way by design or entombed by a landslide half an eternity ago. They had proceeded far into the corridors of what they believed to be the main building of the city, either a ruler's palace or place of worship. One hall had almost left him breathless, covered in hardly faded layers of gold, massive pillars of stone holding the ceiling more than twenty meters above the floor. Statues that resembled humans except for cat-like snouts. Varicolored murals and a gem-cover
ed altar. Whatever civilization had lived here they surely had known a thing or two about beautiful architecture.
And apparently also technology.
“Any theories on how the mechanism works?” Jim looked at Spock again as he, himself, tried to find a somewhat comfortable position. So far, lying on his side and his head supported with one hand seemed okay.
“All I can deduce from the evidence given is that there must have been a previously inactive device that seals any exit when triggered. The system itself must be mechanic, not electronic. The device, however, could be, even if we have not been able to detect it.”
“Yeah, that's the only way to explain why the transporters can't get through,” Jim nodded. “But it must have been something either you and me or the other three touched. Some kind of trigger. Maybe in one of the main corridors where the others had been. I'm sure when the team gets here they'll find it.”
“That appears plausible.”
Spock remained quiet after that and Jim sighed faintly, trying to play through the various possible scenarios in his head. If the technology was so advanced to block transporter signatures then there could be other traps and dangers in these ruins. But then again the rescue team would be prepared for that possibility, would recalibrate their scanners and take every option into consideration. And maybe it really was something very, very simple and stupid like a slab of stone being pushed or the arm of a statue turned or something of the sort.
The space he and Spock were locked in was approximately one and a half meters wide, maybe seventy centimeters high but at least three or even four meters in length. And there was a very small gap around the lowered ceiling. The air in here and what could stream in through that gap should be enough for many hours, maybe even a day or two, so Jim did not even dwell on the thought that they might suffocate or starve in here. He was just really glad he had taken a leak before they had entered the palace and had to half chuckle, half shudder at the implication.
“A kingdom for a chess set, huh?” he asked, trying to get over the slight awkwardness of being trapped with someone but not finding a topic of conversation. It could take the team two, three, maybe even four hours to get here, and Jim didn't plan to shut up the entire time.
He expected Spock to at least raise an eyebrow at him, something he could have just so made out in the dim light but close proximity. Instead, the Vulcan merely looked at him for a second before his gaze drifted to the walls and ceiling again, fingers never ceasing to explore the stone.
“Spock,” Jim said calmly. “Stop fidgeting. There's nothing in here. Just... just relax until the team gets here.”
Again silence, but the first officer did indeed quit his attempts, now laying down in a similar manner as Jim but pressed so far into the corner of the chamber that Jim briefly wondered whether he had eaten garlic for lunch or was otherwise causing the Vulcan discomfort. He had never asked whether Vulcan scent was just as sophisticated as some of their other senses.
“Captain, I must... warn you.” Spock's voice sounded strangely strained, a little weaker than usual.
Jim tried to sit himself up a bit and looked at the Vulcan. “Warn me of what?”
He could see that Spock was reluctant to reply, no trace of the usual determination in either his features nor posture, and he even would have sworn there was something like a frown on his face, eyes slightly wider and brow furrowed.
“I believe I... the correct term for the condition would be claustrophobia.”
On first impulse, Jim let out a low chuckle but immediately felt bad for it when he saw Spock's expression not change. “You're not joking, are you?”
“No.”
Jim tried to process that information for a moment, surprised that beings as logical as Vulcans, even if in this case he was only half-Vulcan, could suffer from something as illogical as a phobia at all. It all started to make sense now, though, the way Spock tried to get as far into that corner so that the space in front of him would seem bigger, his fidgeting and uncharacteristic nervousness.
“As a child I lost my way in the desert and fell into a chasm,” Spock explained then, probably having seen the confusion on Jim's face. And although his words and intonation sounded as factual and emotionless as ever there was still that strained undertone in his voice that clearly told it was affecting him more than he would like to show. “I assume the rather traumatic experience must have caused my immense discomfort in constricted spaces, but due to the fact that I was never exposed to a similar situation after the incident I never learned to... cope.”
Jim felt a wave of sympathy for his first officer, especially for the child that had been in what sounded like an even more dire situation than the one they had found themselves in now. Still, he could not quite comprehend how Spock had never really noticed or tried to do something about it.
“What about... a turbolift or a shower, though? This chamber here is a lot bigger than the shower cabins in the crew quarters.”
Spock nodded faintly but his eyes did not focus on Jim, gazed somewhere into the farthest corner of the small chamber. “Both a turbolift and a shower have functioning doors. It would not be logical to feel fear when one can step out of it at any chosen moment.”
“Yeah, but phobias aren't exactly logical.”
“Maybe that applies to humans.” Jim could tell that it was more a guess than a fact and that Spock, himself, didn't quite understand it. Most of all, though, for someone that knew the Vulcan as well as Jim did it was plain as day that Spock felt ashamed about his illogically logical fear. He would really like to change that.
“Well, you're half human. So... it's nothing uncommon. Hm... is there something I can do?”
Spock's eyes widened slightly as he finally looked at Jim. “Yes. You can ignore any uncharacteristic behavior of mine. I apologize in advance if I may react irascibly, but it seems I have no control over the effects this situation has on my body and mind. My blood pressure has increased by twenty-four percent and I am feeling cold sweat on my skin.”
“Hey, it's okay. I'm used to Bones' crankiness all the time. Sure I can handle yours,” he tried light-heartedly, hoping that it would somehow help to cheer Spock up - as far as that was possible with a Vulcan. “You don't have to apologize.”
Spock didn't reply and for a little while it was silent again except for the faint sound of Spock's deep breaths. Whether he was doing that on purpose to calm himself or could not control it Jim didn't know.
“So... um... do you want to tell me about it. Or want me to shut up or something else?”
At the words, Spock's gaze drifted back up to meet Jim's, and the same, slightly confused uncertainty as before was visible in his eyes. “I... do not know.”
“Well you know what they say,” Jim replied, making a waving hand gesture . Sure, having a caring and sharing moment with Spock was of the last things he'd ever imagined possible, but what kind of friend would he be if he didn't at least try everything to help Spock? And right now all he could offer was some kind of verbal comfort as any practical solution for their present situation was off the menu. “Talking sometimes helps?” He concluded awkwardly.
“That does not seem logical.”
“Well then..” Jim tried to wreck his brain to either come up with a convincing argument why talking would indeed help or another option. “You know, maybe it could help you analyze the situation. If you verbalize things they tend to be easier to grasp instead of being just some vague and confusing emotion.” Not that Jim was one to ever really follow that advice himself, but he remembered having heard about this quite often.
“I do not see how that should be the case,” Spock replied, and his voice started to sound even more strained than before, trembling slightly. “I remember the incident precisely and also know the psychological effects. I doubt that there is anything I haven't... grasped.”
“Okay, then how about...” He was not going to give up so easily and just let Spock suffer quietly. “Maybe some distraction? A game or... you tell me some interesting historical or scientific facts that I don't know about yet.”
“I doubt that I would be capable for either,” Spock replied and shifted in his position, his breath now even coming quicker than before, and Jim worried that the Vulcan might actually have a panic attack.
Jim had known for quite a long time now that deep down, Spock was more emotional than he claimed to be. He had learned so at the beginning of their - back then involuntary - working relationship. But to see him this nervous, weakened and... helpless, really, kind of shocked him. There had to be something he could do, not only to prevent the worst in case the rising panic really did reach alarming levels, but also because the fact that Spock, his friend, was obviously feeling embarrassed and humiliated was not something Jim could simply let go by.
“Arachnophobia,” he said then, watching Spock raise his gaze from where he had almost curled up in a fetal position.
“I know, it's ridiculous, but that's what I have”, he admitted and shrugged his shoulder.
“I appreciate your attempt, Jim, but it is not necessary to make something up to solidarize with me.”
“I'm not making it up,” Jim replied, letting out a short, breathy chuckle. “It's the truth, I swear. There just aren't many people that know because... the captain of a starship, fighting off evil Romulans and giant alien monster reptiles, scared shitless of an itsy bitsy spider? Everybody would laugh at me,” he said but then realized that the implication a phobia was something hilarious and worthy of ridicule might not be the best strategy to take away Spock's embarrassment. “Well okay, probably not. But I get that a weakness like that is nothing anybody easily likes to admit.”
Spock did not reply. Only his brow furrowed slightly in thought, probably pondering on how illogical shame, same as any other negative emotion, was.
“Guess why I liked the dormitories at the academy so much. Hardly any insects ever get through in modern buildings with their perfect air vents and dust filters. But back in Iowa....” He breathed out. “Man! Crawling critters everywhere. I guess it's kinda my brother's fault. He could be a real dick sometimes when I was still little. He didn't get that it really freaked me out to no end, and so every time he found a spider he'd sit it into my bed or somewhere else in my room.”
“It was my older brother, too, that sent me into the desert.”
“Oh, wow,” Jim replied, finding it somehow odd that Spock even mentioned his brother. Jim had known that Sarek had been married before Amanda and had fathered a child, but aside from that he didn't know anything about the family ties between the siblings. “Guess being the youngest child sucks sometimes, huh?”
“It has its disadvantages,” Spock agreed curtly, no remark on the colorful metaphor or any otherwise subtle teasing.
For the time being, Jim decided to simply continue talking. Maybe concentrating on his voice would help Spock not to focus on the situation too much. Although with that super multi-tasking-capable brain of his it was also possible it didn't make a difference at all.
“And you know what the meanest thing was? When I was... I don't know, five or six or something, he told me that giant spiders lived in the floor boards beneath my bed and that they'd only come out at night. Naturally I sat cross-legged on the bed with a flashlight in my hand and didn't dare sleeping the entire night. And I probably still wouldn't have slept the next one if my mom hadn't noticed and asked me what it was all about.” Jim watched Spock closely, saw how he, despite not looking at Jim, seemed to listen intently, and his breathing, too, became a little slower again.
“So she slept in my bed, not before I had fallen asleep myself though. Said she'd keep watch and protect me if any monster or spider showed up. I guess that must have gone on for at least a week or so, and even after that I'd sometimes crawl into her bed at night when I'd had a nightmare.”
It really was strange, confessing all this. All his life, Jim had prided himself with his independence, strength and even somewhat ruthlessness. A scared little boy that ran to his mommy at the thought of an eight-legged insect did not really fit that picture.
“My mother sometimes did the same.” The Vulcan spoke even quieter and more slowly than before, the trembling far from being gone from his voice.
So half Vulcan children had nightmares just like any others, too.
“Well, guess that's what moms just do. Protect and comfort their kids. If she hadn't then I don't know how bad this would have gotten. It's better now then when I was a kid, but mainly because of what I said: I hardly ever have to face spiders anymore. As long as I'm inside a clean, air-filtered building or on a spaceship I'm good, but sit me on a lawn and I get tingly all over. Kinda screwed up a few really good opportunities for me already.” He tried again for a humorous tone, hoping that, even though Spock always claimed not to understand humor or even relate to the notion, it would somehow brighten him up a bit. “That was in my second year at the academy. A fellow cadet, Alice, wanted to sit on the lawn to study. I barely endured it there ten minutes and then told her I remembered Bones needed me for something.” He chuckled faintly. Yes, that really had been quite pathetic: passing on the opportunity to flirt and later get some quality time with the pretty brunette just because he was too scared something
could crawl up his trouser leg.
Spock did seem a little calmer then; Jim could see that the Vulcan had closed his eyes and was breathing evenly through his nose. It seemed like what Jim was doing at least worked to some degree, and he felt a small smile of relief on his lips.
When his communicator beeped, Spock's eyes immediately shot open.
“McCoy to Captain Kirk.”
“Bones, where are you?” Jim propped himself up on both elbows as he spoke into his communicator.
“Still a an hour or so away. If it wasn't for those damn rocks we'd already be there. You and Spock okay in there?”
A brief glance to his first officer confirmed what Jim had already been pretty sure of: slight panic in his dark eyes, shaking his head in a minuscule movement.
“Yeah, we're fine. How about Andrews?”
“He seems stable for the moment, but Kehls said he lost a lot of blood. I'm just hoping we can unlock that damn mechanism when we get there.”
“Yeah what about that? Any new theories?”
“Not yet,” the doctor replied, slightly out of breath. Jim remembered the rocky slopes all around the city of ruins that they had luckily been able to avoid when beaming down. “But from what our scanners can pick up the source of the energy field seems to be right in the center of the city. If we get to it first and find a way to shut it down we'll be able to beam you out. But we gotta examine it closely first. We don't wanna trigger something worse.”
“Yeah. Okay, you keep me updated. Kirk out.”
Without waiting for another reply, Jim closed his communicator. Even though Bones' typically pessimistic words had been spoken with a slightly chuckled undertone they had obviously provided enough realistic worst-case scenarios to make things worse for Spock. He pulled his knees up a little higher towards his chest, his breath coming out in a trembling staccato through flaring nostrils, though Jim could tell that the Vulcan was trying hard to hold himself back and not crumble completely in front of him. If that was a good thing Jim did not know.
“It's gonna be okay. They know what they're doing and they'll figure it out. And you know Bones, always painting everything black.” He tried for calming and light-hearted again but it didn't seem to work. Spock's eyes drifted from firmly shut to wide open within seconds, roaming over his surroundings like a trapped animal. Even in the near darkness he could see that his entire body was shaking with tension, tight as a watch spring.
“Hey... Hey Spock, come on,” he tried helplessly, feeling his heart break a little at the sight. “It's gonna be alright. Spock? Spock, look at me.” His hand twitched, following an instinct while his mind wondered whether he even should touch the Vulcan in his current state. But in the end, the first one and he reached out for Spock's hand and grasped it firmly.
He almost would have let it go again instantly when, through their touching fingers, he felt like a tiny shock of electricity shoot into his body, and at the same time a wave of dread and fear that almost overwhelmed him there for a moment. Spock tried to tear his hand away, but Jim somehow knew then that he shouldn't let go. He was reminded of the mind meld he had shared with the older Spock, though that had been completely different: vivid images and memories revived in his own mind as if they had been his. Maybe touching hands was like a weaker version of a mind meld. Come to think of it, in all their time on the Enterprise Jim had never once shaken or otherwise touched Spock's hands, so that would explain why the phenomenon was completely new to him.
Spock still struggled against the contact, and Jim was convinced if Spock had had his usual strength he would have managed within a split-second. But underneath the powerful dread and fear there was also something like... resignation. And also a need to feel... something Jim could not put into words but made him sure he should hold on. Maybe it worked in a way that he could somehow absorb a bit of Spock's fear, take a bit of the burden from him. And maybe...
Jim closed his eyes and took a few deep, calm breaths, fighting against the anxiety he was now experiencing himself and pushing it into a far corner of his mind. This wasn't his fear, there were no spiders or anything that was realistically so threatening that he couldn't handle it. He knew he wasn't a telepath himself and couldn't actually project any concrete thoughts and images, but he tried anyway, tried to concentrate on that calm and confident feeling and imagine it flow towards Spock.
And suddenly...
Spock's hand shifted slightly, not to escape the touch anymore but to change the position of their fingers, and when the tips of their index and middle fingers the link felt even stronger. A new wave of anxiety washed through him, but he tried to project confidence and a willingness to take these emotions from Spock, certainty that they would not affect him. His thumb stroked over the back of Spock's index and middle finger, following a purely human instinct, but it seemed to work and the fear he received through the link became weaker and weaker. Then he felt Spock's embarrassment surface through the becalmed panic and he tried to project something that would tell Spock it was okay, that he needn't feel ashamed, though Jim wasn't quite sure how to name that emotion. Acceptance, respect, admiration of a kind that would not get damaged by seeing someone's weaknesses. Underneath everything he tried to feel for Spock, he knew that the Vulcan must also sense his relief and pride at seeing that his efforts were working, that the trembling slowly subsided, his breathing becoming even and calm again and his body relaxing gradually. And after a while, Jim could feel Spock mimicking his movement, the way their fingers were hooked around each other allowing them both to let their thumbs caress the other's fingers in a slow, even rhythm.
“Feeling better?” It may not have been necessary to speak, and for a tiny moment Jim wondered whether it would break the almost trance-like state they had both found themselves in; but all he got in response was a small feeling of gratitude coming from Spock then as he opened his eyes and looked straight into Jim's.
He didn't know how much time had passed through all of this, so he was slightly surprised when his communicator beeped again and Bones was on the other end.
“We got it, Jim. Turned off the device. We're close to the other team right now. Who do you want to be beamed up first?”
He had had to let go of Spock's hand then, but when he looked over at his first officer he saw that there was no change in his calm expression yet; even more than that. He could see Spock give a small nod and, for a maybe not even a second saw something like a tiny smile twitch around the corner of Spock's mouth.
“No, we're good. Get Andrews and the others out of there first. Then Scotty can beam us up.”
When the connection was ended and Jim had attached the communicator to his belt again he smiled and briefly brought his fingertips back against Spock's.
Yes. They really were good.
~ END ~
Oh yeah, I totally know I actually should have let at least one of the red shirts die, but ah well, I'm too much of a softie ;) Plus I didn't want even more reason for Spock and Kirk to fret.
Title: Of Enclosed Quarters and Eight-Legged Creatures
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (Reboot)
Rating: PG
Genre: H/C, pre-slash
Summary: Kirk and Spock are trapped in the closet in a chamber in an ancient city of ruins and have to wait to get rescued. An easy task, if only someone didn't have a rather inconvenient problem...
A/N: Big thanks to melonbutterfly and jihime47 for lots of input and brainstorming help while planning (and writing) this story.
It was the most inconvenient situation they had gotten themselves into, and Jim still felt his heart hammering in his chest after almost having been crushed by millennia old tons of stone. But there was no time to catch his breath.
"Kirk to Bahar," he spoke into his communicator, his upper body only propped up on his elbow. The space he and Spock were trapped in was hardly bigger than the average cabin on a training vessel.
"Bahar here."
"Mister Spock and I are trapped in one of the chambers of the northern wing. Can you get us out of here?"
"Sir..." The Lieutenant's voice sounded slightly breathless and Jim swore he could hear a pained call in the background. "We are trapped as well. A mechanism was triggered and a door came sliding down. Andrews is injured."
"Can you get out of there?" Turning around, Jim let his fingers run along the wall facing the former entrance of the chamber, feeling for a lever in the near-darkness, or anything that would revert the mechanism that only seconds ago had caused a heavy, previously hidden stone door slide into the entrance at the same time as the slab had sunken down with both he and Spock having to get flat on their backs so they wouldn't be crushed. But so far, there was nothing.
"I don't know, Captain. There is... nothing here. It must have been triggered by something outside of the chamber. All I can see is bare stone walls around us, not even inscriptions or murals."
"How big's the room you're in? Can you try blasting the entrance open with your phaser?"
"Already did," the Lieutenant replied. "That's how Andrews got injured. The phaser backfired and hit his leg. There seems to be like an energy field shielding the walls."
Damnit!
"Okay, keep on looking. I'll contact the Enterprise and see if they can beam us out of here," Jim said but already had a sinking feeling in his stomach that whatever shielded the walls of the chamber the other three crew members were trapped in might prevent transporting as well.
"Kirk to Enterprise."
"Captain," he heard Scotty's voice.
"Seems like we got ourselves trapped in these ruins. Can you lock onto us and beam us out?"
There were just a few seconds of silence in which Jim mentally crossed his fingers that his fears may not prove true, faint beeping of the computer working in the background. Then: "Negative, Captain. I cannae lock on anything within the city. The closest signature the transporter can pick up is... three point seven kilometers from your last position."
"Okay, send an away team to the coordinates. They'll have to get us out of here manually. Looks like something or someone triggered some kind of mechanism that caused a full lock-down."
"Aye Captain."
"And have Bones contact Bahir or Kehls. Andrews is injured."
At least communication wasn't blocked out as well, he thought as he closed his communicator and put it on the stone floor somewhere beside his head, its faint glow and that of Spock's tricoder the only light source within the constricted space.
He finally turned and looked at Spock, sighing in exasperation but giving his first officer a small smile. "Guess we'll just have to lie around and wait.” He even chuckled. “Not exactly how I'd pictured this archaeological expedition but I'm sure they'll find a way to revert the mechanism."
His first officer only nodded, his tall form pressed against the far wall in a half-upright sitting position, and he shifted slightly as if he wanted to squeeze further into the corner. One hand was running around the ceiling in what Jim could already predict would be a futile effort to find anything.
The expedition had gone really well until then. That day, the Enterprise had discovered an uninhabited planet in a yet to be mapped solar system. But despite the absence of humanoid life forms the scanners had found remains of architecture as a clear sign that once, centuries or milleninia ago, people had lived here and cities thrived. The biggest settlement, which they had chosen for their first exploration, bore strong resemblance to ancient Egyptian cities. Tall temples and palaces, some of them underground beneath tons of rock, either built that way by design or entombed by a landslide half an eternity ago. They had proceeded far into the corridors of what they believed to be the main building of the city, either a ruler's palace or place of worship. One hall had almost left him breathless, covered in hardly faded layers of gold, massive pillars of stone holding the ceiling more than twenty meters above the floor. Statues that resembled humans except for cat-like snouts. Varicolored murals and a gem-cover
ed altar. Whatever civilization had lived here they surely had known a thing or two about beautiful architecture.
And apparently also technology.
“Any theories on how the mechanism works?” Jim looked at Spock again as he, himself, tried to find a somewhat comfortable position. So far, lying on his side and his head supported with one hand seemed okay.
“All I can deduce from the evidence given is that there must have been a previously inactive device that seals any exit when triggered. The system itself must be mechanic, not electronic. The device, however, could be, even if we have not been able to detect it.”
“Yeah, that's the only way to explain why the transporters can't get through,” Jim nodded. “But it must have been something either you and me or the other three touched. Some kind of trigger. Maybe in one of the main corridors where the others had been. I'm sure when the team gets here they'll find it.”
“That appears plausible.”
Spock remained quiet after that and Jim sighed faintly, trying to play through the various possible scenarios in his head. If the technology was so advanced to block transporter signatures then there could be other traps and dangers in these ruins. But then again the rescue team would be prepared for that possibility, would recalibrate their scanners and take every option into consideration. And maybe it really was something very, very simple and stupid like a slab of stone being pushed or the arm of a statue turned or something of the sort.
The space he and Spock were locked in was approximately one and a half meters wide, maybe seventy centimeters high but at least three or even four meters in length. And there was a very small gap around the lowered ceiling. The air in here and what could stream in through that gap should be enough for many hours, maybe even a day or two, so Jim did not even dwell on the thought that they might suffocate or starve in here. He was just really glad he had taken a leak before they had entered the palace and had to half chuckle, half shudder at the implication.
“A kingdom for a chess set, huh?” he asked, trying to get over the slight awkwardness of being trapped with someone but not finding a topic of conversation. It could take the team two, three, maybe even four hours to get here, and Jim didn't plan to shut up the entire time.
He expected Spock to at least raise an eyebrow at him, something he could have just so made out in the dim light but close proximity. Instead, the Vulcan merely looked at him for a second before his gaze drifted to the walls and ceiling again, fingers never ceasing to explore the stone.
“Spock,” Jim said calmly. “Stop fidgeting. There's nothing in here. Just... just relax until the team gets here.”
Again silence, but the first officer did indeed quit his attempts, now laying down in a similar manner as Jim but pressed so far into the corner of the chamber that Jim briefly wondered whether he had eaten garlic for lunch or was otherwise causing the Vulcan discomfort. He had never asked whether Vulcan scent was just as sophisticated as some of their other senses.
“Captain, I must... warn you.” Spock's voice sounded strangely strained, a little weaker than usual.
Jim tried to sit himself up a bit and looked at the Vulcan. “Warn me of what?”
He could see that Spock was reluctant to reply, no trace of the usual determination in either his features nor posture, and he even would have sworn there was something like a frown on his face, eyes slightly wider and brow furrowed.
“I believe I... the correct term for the condition would be claustrophobia.”
On first impulse, Jim let out a low chuckle but immediately felt bad for it when he saw Spock's expression not change. “You're not joking, are you?”
“No.”
Jim tried to process that information for a moment, surprised that beings as logical as Vulcans, even if in this case he was only half-Vulcan, could suffer from something as illogical as a phobia at all. It all started to make sense now, though, the way Spock tried to get as far into that corner so that the space in front of him would seem bigger, his fidgeting and uncharacteristic nervousness.
“As a child I lost my way in the desert and fell into a chasm,” Spock explained then, probably having seen the confusion on Jim's face. And although his words and intonation sounded as factual and emotionless as ever there was still that strained undertone in his voice that clearly told it was affecting him more than he would like to show. “I assume the rather traumatic experience must have caused my immense discomfort in constricted spaces, but due to the fact that I was never exposed to a similar situation after the incident I never learned to... cope.”
Jim felt a wave of sympathy for his first officer, especially for the child that had been in what sounded like an even more dire situation than the one they had found themselves in now. Still, he could not quite comprehend how Spock had never really noticed or tried to do something about it.
“What about... a turbolift or a shower, though? This chamber here is a lot bigger than the shower cabins in the crew quarters.”
Spock nodded faintly but his eyes did not focus on Jim, gazed somewhere into the farthest corner of the small chamber. “Both a turbolift and a shower have functioning doors. It would not be logical to feel fear when one can step out of it at any chosen moment.”
“Yeah, but phobias aren't exactly logical.”
“Maybe that applies to humans.” Jim could tell that it was more a guess than a fact and that Spock, himself, didn't quite understand it. Most of all, though, for someone that knew the Vulcan as well as Jim did it was plain as day that Spock felt ashamed about his illogically logical fear. He would really like to change that.
“Well, you're half human. So... it's nothing uncommon. Hm... is there something I can do?”
Spock's eyes widened slightly as he finally looked at Jim. “Yes. You can ignore any uncharacteristic behavior of mine. I apologize in advance if I may react irascibly, but it seems I have no control over the effects this situation has on my body and mind. My blood pressure has increased by twenty-four percent and I am feeling cold sweat on my skin.”
“Hey, it's okay. I'm used to Bones' crankiness all the time. Sure I can handle yours,” he tried light-heartedly, hoping that it would somehow help to cheer Spock up - as far as that was possible with a Vulcan. “You don't have to apologize.”
Spock didn't reply and for a little while it was silent again except for the faint sound of Spock's deep breaths. Whether he was doing that on purpose to calm himself or could not control it Jim didn't know.
“So... um... do you want to tell me about it. Or want me to shut up or something else?”
At the words, Spock's gaze drifted back up to meet Jim's, and the same, slightly confused uncertainty as before was visible in his eyes. “I... do not know.”
“Well you know what they say,” Jim replied, making a waving hand gesture . Sure, having a caring and sharing moment with Spock was of the last things he'd ever imagined possible, but what kind of friend would he be if he didn't at least try everything to help Spock? And right now all he could offer was some kind of verbal comfort as any practical solution for their present situation was off the menu. “Talking sometimes helps?” He concluded awkwardly.
“That does not seem logical.”
“Well then..” Jim tried to wreck his brain to either come up with a convincing argument why talking would indeed help or another option. “You know, maybe it could help you analyze the situation. If you verbalize things they tend to be easier to grasp instead of being just some vague and confusing emotion.” Not that Jim was one to ever really follow that advice himself, but he remembered having heard about this quite often.
“I do not see how that should be the case,” Spock replied, and his voice started to sound even more strained than before, trembling slightly. “I remember the incident precisely and also know the psychological effects. I doubt that there is anything I haven't... grasped.”
“Okay, then how about...” He was not going to give up so easily and just let Spock suffer quietly. “Maybe some distraction? A game or... you tell me some interesting historical or scientific facts that I don't know about yet.”
“I doubt that I would be capable for either,” Spock replied and shifted in his position, his breath now even coming quicker than before, and Jim worried that the Vulcan might actually have a panic attack.
Jim had known for quite a long time now that deep down, Spock was more emotional than he claimed to be. He had learned so at the beginning of their - back then involuntary - working relationship. But to see him this nervous, weakened and... helpless, really, kind of shocked him. There had to be something he could do, not only to prevent the worst in case the rising panic really did reach alarming levels, but also because the fact that Spock, his friend, was obviously feeling embarrassed and humiliated was not something Jim could simply let go by.
“Arachnophobia,” he said then, watching Spock raise his gaze from where he had almost curled up in a fetal position.
“I know, it's ridiculous, but that's what I have”, he admitted and shrugged his shoulder.
“I appreciate your attempt, Jim, but it is not necessary to make something up to solidarize with me.”
“I'm not making it up,” Jim replied, letting out a short, breathy chuckle. “It's the truth, I swear. There just aren't many people that know because... the captain of a starship, fighting off evil Romulans and giant alien monster reptiles, scared shitless of an itsy bitsy spider? Everybody would laugh at me,” he said but then realized that the implication a phobia was something hilarious and worthy of ridicule might not be the best strategy to take away Spock's embarrassment. “Well okay, probably not. But I get that a weakness like that is nothing anybody easily likes to admit.”
Spock did not reply. Only his brow furrowed slightly in thought, probably pondering on how illogical shame, same as any other negative emotion, was.
“Guess why I liked the dormitories at the academy so much. Hardly any insects ever get through in modern buildings with their perfect air vents and dust filters. But back in Iowa....” He breathed out. “Man! Crawling critters everywhere. I guess it's kinda my brother's fault. He could be a real dick sometimes when I was still little. He didn't get that it really freaked me out to no end, and so every time he found a spider he'd sit it into my bed or somewhere else in my room.”
“It was my older brother, too, that sent me into the desert.”
“Oh, wow,” Jim replied, finding it somehow odd that Spock even mentioned his brother. Jim had known that Sarek had been married before Amanda and had fathered a child, but aside from that he didn't know anything about the family ties between the siblings. “Guess being the youngest child sucks sometimes, huh?”
“It has its disadvantages,” Spock agreed curtly, no remark on the colorful metaphor or any otherwise subtle teasing.
For the time being, Jim decided to simply continue talking. Maybe concentrating on his voice would help Spock not to focus on the situation too much. Although with that super multi-tasking-capable brain of his it was also possible it didn't make a difference at all.
“And you know what the meanest thing was? When I was... I don't know, five or six or something, he told me that giant spiders lived in the floor boards beneath my bed and that they'd only come out at night. Naturally I sat cross-legged on the bed with a flashlight in my hand and didn't dare sleeping the entire night. And I probably still wouldn't have slept the next one if my mom hadn't noticed and asked me what it was all about.” Jim watched Spock closely, saw how he, despite not looking at Jim, seemed to listen intently, and his breathing, too, became a little slower again.
“So she slept in my bed, not before I had fallen asleep myself though. Said she'd keep watch and protect me if any monster or spider showed up. I guess that must have gone on for at least a week or so, and even after that I'd sometimes crawl into her bed at night when I'd had a nightmare.”
It really was strange, confessing all this. All his life, Jim had prided himself with his independence, strength and even somewhat ruthlessness. A scared little boy that ran to his mommy at the thought of an eight-legged insect did not really fit that picture.
“My mother sometimes did the same.” The Vulcan spoke even quieter and more slowly than before, the trembling far from being gone from his voice.
So half Vulcan children had nightmares just like any others, too.
“Well, guess that's what moms just do. Protect and comfort their kids. If she hadn't then I don't know how bad this would have gotten. It's better now then when I was a kid, but mainly because of what I said: I hardly ever have to face spiders anymore. As long as I'm inside a clean, air-filtered building or on a spaceship I'm good, but sit me on a lawn and I get tingly all over. Kinda screwed up a few really good opportunities for me already.” He tried again for a humorous tone, hoping that, even though Spock always claimed not to understand humor or even relate to the notion, it would somehow brighten him up a bit. “That was in my second year at the academy. A fellow cadet, Alice, wanted to sit on the lawn to study. I barely endured it there ten minutes and then told her I remembered Bones needed me for something.” He chuckled faintly. Yes, that really had been quite pathetic: passing on the opportunity to flirt and later get some quality time with the pretty brunette just because he was too scared something
could crawl up his trouser leg.
Spock did seem a little calmer then; Jim could see that the Vulcan had closed his eyes and was breathing evenly through his nose. It seemed like what Jim was doing at least worked to some degree, and he felt a small smile of relief on his lips.
When his communicator beeped, Spock's eyes immediately shot open.
“McCoy to Captain Kirk.”
“Bones, where are you?” Jim propped himself up on both elbows as he spoke into his communicator.
“Still a an hour or so away. If it wasn't for those damn rocks we'd already be there. You and Spock okay in there?”
A brief glance to his first officer confirmed what Jim had already been pretty sure of: slight panic in his dark eyes, shaking his head in a minuscule movement.
“Yeah, we're fine. How about Andrews?”
“He seems stable for the moment, but Kehls said he lost a lot of blood. I'm just hoping we can unlock that damn mechanism when we get there.”
“Yeah what about that? Any new theories?”
“Not yet,” the doctor replied, slightly out of breath. Jim remembered the rocky slopes all around the city of ruins that they had luckily been able to avoid when beaming down. “But from what our scanners can pick up the source of the energy field seems to be right in the center of the city. If we get to it first and find a way to shut it down we'll be able to beam you out. But we gotta examine it closely first. We don't wanna trigger something worse.”
“Yeah. Okay, you keep me updated. Kirk out.”
Without waiting for another reply, Jim closed his communicator. Even though Bones' typically pessimistic words had been spoken with a slightly chuckled undertone they had obviously provided enough realistic worst-case scenarios to make things worse for Spock. He pulled his knees up a little higher towards his chest, his breath coming out in a trembling staccato through flaring nostrils, though Jim could tell that the Vulcan was trying hard to hold himself back and not crumble completely in front of him. If that was a good thing Jim did not know.
“It's gonna be okay. They know what they're doing and they'll figure it out. And you know Bones, always painting everything black.” He tried for calming and light-hearted again but it didn't seem to work. Spock's eyes drifted from firmly shut to wide open within seconds, roaming over his surroundings like a trapped animal. Even in the near darkness he could see that his entire body was shaking with tension, tight as a watch spring.
“Hey... Hey Spock, come on,” he tried helplessly, feeling his heart break a little at the sight. “It's gonna be alright. Spock? Spock, look at me.” His hand twitched, following an instinct while his mind wondered whether he even should touch the Vulcan in his current state. But in the end, the first one and he reached out for Spock's hand and grasped it firmly.
He almost would have let it go again instantly when, through their touching fingers, he felt like a tiny shock of electricity shoot into his body, and at the same time a wave of dread and fear that almost overwhelmed him there for a moment. Spock tried to tear his hand away, but Jim somehow knew then that he shouldn't let go. He was reminded of the mind meld he had shared with the older Spock, though that had been completely different: vivid images and memories revived in his own mind as if they had been his. Maybe touching hands was like a weaker version of a mind meld. Come to think of it, in all their time on the Enterprise Jim had never once shaken or otherwise touched Spock's hands, so that would explain why the phenomenon was completely new to him.
Spock still struggled against the contact, and Jim was convinced if Spock had had his usual strength he would have managed within a split-second. But underneath the powerful dread and fear there was also something like... resignation. And also a need to feel... something Jim could not put into words but made him sure he should hold on. Maybe it worked in a way that he could somehow absorb a bit of Spock's fear, take a bit of the burden from him. And maybe...
Jim closed his eyes and took a few deep, calm breaths, fighting against the anxiety he was now experiencing himself and pushing it into a far corner of his mind. This wasn't his fear, there were no spiders or anything that was realistically so threatening that he couldn't handle it. He knew he wasn't a telepath himself and couldn't actually project any concrete thoughts and images, but he tried anyway, tried to concentrate on that calm and confident feeling and imagine it flow towards Spock.
And suddenly...
Spock's hand shifted slightly, not to escape the touch anymore but to change the position of their fingers, and when the tips of their index and middle fingers the link felt even stronger. A new wave of anxiety washed through him, but he tried to project confidence and a willingness to take these emotions from Spock, certainty that they would not affect him. His thumb stroked over the back of Spock's index and middle finger, following a purely human instinct, but it seemed to work and the fear he received through the link became weaker and weaker. Then he felt Spock's embarrassment surface through the becalmed panic and he tried to project something that would tell Spock it was okay, that he needn't feel ashamed, though Jim wasn't quite sure how to name that emotion. Acceptance, respect, admiration of a kind that would not get damaged by seeing someone's weaknesses. Underneath everything he tried to feel for Spock, he knew that the Vulcan must also sense his relief and pride at seeing that his efforts were working, that the trembling slowly subsided, his breathing becoming even and calm again and his body relaxing gradually. And after a while, Jim could feel Spock mimicking his movement, the way their fingers were hooked around each other allowing them both to let their thumbs caress the other's fingers in a slow, even rhythm.
“Feeling better?” It may not have been necessary to speak, and for a tiny moment Jim wondered whether it would break the almost trance-like state they had both found themselves in; but all he got in response was a small feeling of gratitude coming from Spock then as he opened his eyes and looked straight into Jim's.
He didn't know how much time had passed through all of this, so he was slightly surprised when his communicator beeped again and Bones was on the other end.
“We got it, Jim. Turned off the device. We're close to the other team right now. Who do you want to be beamed up first?”
He had had to let go of Spock's hand then, but when he looked over at his first officer he saw that there was no change in his calm expression yet; even more than that. He could see Spock give a small nod and, for a maybe not even a second saw something like a tiny smile twitch around the corner of Spock's mouth.
“No, we're good. Get Andrews and the others out of there first. Then Scotty can beam us up.”
When the connection was ended and Jim had attached the communicator to his belt again he smiled and briefly brought his fingertips back against Spock's.
Yes. They really were good.
~ END ~
Oh yeah, I totally know I actually should have let at least one of the red shirts die, but ah well, I'm too much of a softie ;) Plus I didn't want even more reason for Spock and Kirk to fret.