kirktastic | [Kirk's Quarters] -- [Knock to Enter]

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[Kirk's Quarters] -- [Knock to Enter]

Kirk walked silently to his quarters with Spock, waiting for the doors to open before stepping inside. He gestured for Spock to come inside, and then just walked over to his desk. He sat down in the chair, not looking at his first officer. His entire body was throbbing, still on an adrenaline rush from hell. He had a feeling it was going to dissolve into a pounding headache.

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With those words, Kirk felt his own heart stop. It didn't take a genius to realize just what Spock was insinuating with those words. He stood up sharply, feeling a mix of anger and disbelief mixing together hot in his chest. "The fuck, Spock?! You're better then suicide! You're better then having to be court martialed!" He stepped forward, straight into the Vulcan's space-bubble, eyes narrowed. Kirk reached out and grabbed Spock's wrist, turning the other around so their eyes would meet.

In his distraction, those ever-important mental barriers weakened, and now the shock of being touched, grabbed, not only allowed him to be turned but also for his thoughts to project right on through to his unfortunate captain. There was a small foundation of pain, layered on top with disgust, the echo of traitor in more than one language, and then fear, panic, he'stouchingme--

Spock jerked his wrist back, and looked away.

Still had to learn about that whole touch-telepathy thing he really knew nothing about.

Kirk's body gave a full length jerk, a hand slamming against the wall to Spock's side so he didn't fall, as he was suddenly inundated by a rush of words and feelings. His eyes were wide for a long moment, trying to sort through the alien-not-unfamiliar addition of new information in his mind. He stared at Spock, the briefly open expression on the Vulcan's face.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, realizing what was going on. Spock knew he had done wrong. He... was hating himself for it?

Spock stepped back and to the side slightly. The cold wall pressed into his back, and Jim was still standing oppressively close. At least they weren't touching, and the silence was almost welcome.

"...Dammit, Spock." Whispered quietly in the darkness of the quarters. His head wouldn't let him keep it bright. "I... I don't want to court martial you. I fucking picked you to be my first officer because I thought you were stronger then this. I just..."

His eyes closed, but then he stepped up to Spock, their eyes only inches away. "I just knew we could do this together. But not if you're disobeying my orders and turning yourself inside out for whatever reason!" Those eyes blazed blue despite exhaustion, filled with a worry he couldn't suppress and an anger he didn't have to.

It was illogical for wish for something that was impossible, but Spock would have gladly accepted all the broken laws of physics if he could sink into the wall at that very moment. Or anything, really, to make those blue eyes bore into something else other than him. "...if you do not wish to court martial me, then why do you persist with the option?" Not that questioning it would really change anything.

"Because what fucking choice do I have?!" Anger flared up hot and bright in his expression. "I gave you a chance Spock, after you went down and disobeyed my rules by interrogating Pike! And you just threw it away! Why should I trust you again!?"

"Given what I have done, you should not." This was just as--perhaps even harder, than simply telling Jim to take his older counterpart instead. There wasn't any point making some elaborate lie about how he should trust him again, when all the evidence pointed to one obvious conclusion.

Kirk closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "...Maybe I was wrong. My intuition, I guess. It can't be perfect. You don't even give a shit about all of this." His fingers curl against the metal of the wall.

"On the contrary, I do. Though the option is an impossibility, I wish to remain here. I care for this ship and its crew as much as yourself." He had to correct him. He didn't want to go through court martial, shame his family house (or what was left of it), ultimately having to pick between suicide or eternal failure for the rest of his life. But he had enough remaining sense to know that reality had come to that. "That is why I have suggested a suitable replacement."

"...Dammit, I don't want a replacement. I want you as my first officer. That's why I picked you." He lifted his head, their eyes locking. "That's why I picked you. Because I know you care about this ship and crew even if you're good at hiding it. Because you were the one I trusted at my back on the Narada. But what am I supposed to do when you don't trust me? Or don't believe I'm a good captain? Or whatever reason is going through your head about not telling me things I'm supposed to know!?"

"...I did intend to relay to you her presence, unlike the incident in the brig." It made him uncomfortable even referring to it. "While it is no excuse, the Klingon incident did postpone that communication. It has nothing to do with your ability, or my trust in you."

"...how am I supposed to trust you with that, Spock?" Kirk's voice dropped, his eyes serious. "...I need to trust you. We have to, to do this together. Give me a reason to trust you, no bullshit."

There was a visible hesitation in his eyes, and he said nothing for a long moment. There wasn't anything strong he could say to this, no past heroics that would prove he would take a lethal hit for him (though he would, no mistake). This thing, this trust between them, was built on faith and one unrepeatable galactic adventure.

Then, quietly, "I have not fled from you, or wiped the memory of this encounter from your mind, though both would be comparatively easier than this." He was standing here against the wall, trapped between it and his captain, going through the painfully slow demise of his career second by second--for Jim. The anger, the annoyance, the betrayal--it needed to get out, and Spock would rather take all of it than let it taint any other aspect of this ship.

A slow breath out, and Kirk closed his eyes. There was only silence in the room for what seemed like an eternity. Kirk searched inside of himself, testing those words, the knowledge he had from the other Spock and Prime, testing his own intuition, perhaps.

Then, slowly, he smiled. He lifted his head, their eyes meeting again, and he leaned back. "Well, then. You've told me about our intruder, she's not causing harm since there haven't been any warnings. So this time, I guess you were right. How about... not doing this in the future?"

He had just enough room to take a breath. He didn't even really believe it: Jim's mercy, a second time, his ability to just forgive this, to--smile, of all things, after this. If Spock were human, he'd indulge in some nervous laughter, because there was no other way to respond to it. Being half-Vulcan, he just blinked at him in mild confusion, before a slow nod. "I shall endeavour to be more honest with you."

Kirk shook his head a little and stepped back. "...Good. I have stuff to talk to you about... too much random Vulcan in the last few days. T'hyla and katra and the fact that I fucking need to learn to keep people out of my head. But... it can wait until later. Fucking tired." A weaker smile, not even realizing what he had said.

Spock stepped forward, off the wall. In his amazement that he was, again, not in the brig, he didn't have enough shock left to question how Jim knew those words at all--words he shouldn't have possibly known. He looked at the door, and then glanced back at him. "I do not want to break your locking mechanism, Jim."

It took Kirk just a second before he laughed, "Right. Doors, unlock. Good night, Spock."

"Good night." Sincere; the least the man deserved was a full night's sleep, after all of this. Spock stepped outside the room and returned to his quarters.

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[Kirk's Quarters] -- [Knock to Enter]

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