Musical message - A star trek story k/s

Part4

Spock POV

... 32 samples have been collected from main engineering where the incident occurred and are now in the lab awaiting results. Readings of debri would indicate an explosion of the warp core as it appears the anti matter has been released; however there a only trace amounts of ionic radiation. There is also no evidence to suggest coolant leak or plasma disruption. Dilithium crystals and converter also remain intact...

Spock was writing his report on the reconnaissance mission 'Highly unusual...' he pondered, lifting the stylus to his lips in thought. Sighing slightly he removed the tape and inserted another.

Suddenly he froze. Startled for a moment by a strong crash of piano keys. It sounded familiar and ominous. He felt heat rising in his chest - 'could it be?'
He leaned back in his chair, the breath seemingly taken from him. It felt like an invasion of his senses. Here he was alone in his quarters and still he could not escape him. He felt Jim's eyes on him as if he were right there in the room. He had left the bridge early to avoid this very gaze. His peace in solitude -could he not rekeep that? No, not aboard this ship it would seem.
Then again, he thought - 'I invaded Jim's privacy in the first place, by leaving that tape. Forcing my presence under the door and into his private space.' He was ashamed of himself for doing it, he hardly wanted to admit that he had indeed acted on impulse. Worse, he had shown himself in a way that he wish he could take back... to hide away like before. But that time has passed and he could not hide even in his own quarters anymore.
He closed his eyes. No matter how he berated himself he still felt closer to Jim. Now, hearing the allegro rising, the tumultuous harmony between light and dark. Expressivo. Yes, he thought, this is much like Jim. The constant need to move, to push forward, the rolling pressures and conflicting desires of being a starship captain. He bent over the desk, his hands clasped, eyes still closed, as if it helped him to listen more closely. In a classic Vulcan way he began to study the music. To pick it apart and put it back together in his mind. Order with the impression of disarray.
Then there was a moment of innocent lightness, amid the perpetual cascading motion. A simple melody grounding the message of the piece. Light, like a hand running its fingers through long blades of grass... Jim's hand, his, fingers. A soft touch amid heavy storms. Rondo. There was a story in there somewhere.
Jim had been teasing him, he knew it. He didn't mind because it was him, secretly he even enjoyed it occasionally. Surely Jim knew, -now at least, he thought... my weakness, my admonition of feeling... He reflected on what they had discussed, that the arrangement of certain music is logical and therefore pleasurable... but was there any feeling in pure mathematics? Perhaps not. Then that would make Jim correct. -But he could not ignore the fact that mathematical calculation could invent and create beauty. Does that make its creation objectively beautiful? Could there be such a thing? In his own way he had also been teasing Jim. Deep down he knew he enjoyed music partly for the way it made him feel, whether he could explain it away or not. He hated to admit it. While mathematics takes the world and orders it, music takes mathematics and makes it subject to interpretation. 'No...' he whispered, breaking from his reverie. 'That is not a  scientific outcome,' he thought, trying desperately to return to his Vulcan assertiveness.
Still, Spock sat there musing for a long time. Even he was unsure how many times he had replayed the song. It seemed to send a message of comfort, for the most part. Yet there was sadness too, and a kindly knowingness, mirroring one of Jim's smirks. Deep resonance in the lows and sweet pangs in the high notes... What was he trying to say...

He attempted to resume his report, with success eventually, but not without frustration. He couldn't help but feel agitated that a human could make him question himself and act so, so out of character. He decided to meditate, which usually helped helped with his very human frustration at human feelings... his human failings. He focused on a lit candle before him. The flame flickered slightly, he noted it, and followed the changing shape, ebbing, but always remaining. And so he also remained. Upright and resolute. His sense of self has always ebbed , but he could steady it by accepting that. Letting the ebb pass. Yet he felt different now. Though admitting to feel, however small the feeling, was difficult, he could do it and move on citing human blood as the cause, the liability. But right now it did not seem like something he could accept and let flow through him. Acceptance would indicate an openness to continued and similar experiences of these feelings. He could not accept that. So he became stunted. He let out an exhale. He could not alleviate the sense of shame at even entertaining the idea that he admit this to anyone. Especially Jim, he could not tell him that his choice of musical expression had made him feel, -let alone how... Then what could he say to him? The only one who could see through his facade. No matter how he responded, Jim would would get the truth out of him, somehow. As he often did, without having to say much at all.