Time is a God and We Cannot See Her Face

PART 3

{Song: "Lonely" by Imagine Dragons}

James.
James...

The name rolls over and over the sweet spot in Spock's mind, lapping at it with the consistency of a pendulum and the predictability of an uncontrollable tide. Washed ashore. Shipwrecked. Marooned. Spock was surrounded by people, the crew, and enough instruments and intriguing projects to keep his mind occupied for weeks and still— he'd never felt so disconnected from the Enterprise. At first, he had hypothesized that it was an after-effect from being on Vulcan again, and all that had transpired during the Pon Farr ordeal. But his reasoning knew better...

"Captain! Jim!"

Joy. All-encompassing joy had rushed through him, and he'd taken hold of Jim without a second thought. Jim was alive. Jim was really here. He hadn't killed him. He hadn't lost him. Spock hadn't cared what it looked like, a logical Vulcan utterly beaming with happiness as he whirled his captain around and embraced him. He didn't care what he looked like. At least not until Dr. McCoy's smug eyes flashed over Jim's shoulder, smacking Spock back into his regular reserved fashion. Spock's insides continued to tremble and his imagination ran wild as the three of them spoke in the med bay. He could hear Kirk's heartbeat— it was so fast at the moment, why? Was Jim alright?— but he wanted to feel it, almost needed to feel it, needed to pull Jim close to his chest.

Control.

"After a time, Stonn, you may find that having a thing is not so pleasing as wanting."

"I am... relieved." He'd said it to his two friends as they flanked him in the Sick Bay, then again as soon as he and Kirk were walking side by side down the hallway after.

"Me too," Jim replied, that boyish grin still spread across his face as he gave Spock a waggle of his eyebrows. They turned the corner and Spock paused. He'd assumed they were going to the bridge.

"Captain?"

"Scotty has the comm, we're relieved for the moment so we can talk. Come on." Jim continued down the hall towards their quarters.

Spock's side pounded like the Vulcan gongs.

"Talhuk," his mind uttered silently. Not a second passed before he'd shoved it down into the recesses of his memory.

"Bones told me you're in good shape physically, though he was concerned about you... otherwise. I couldn't pry any more from him than that, he simply said I should ask you about it." Jim unlocked the door and offered a warm smile as he gestured for Spock to enter. "Please."

"I assure you, Captain, I am undoubtedly fit for duty." It took all Spock's energy to contain the tremble in his voice. He stepped inside and clasped his hands behind his back, firmer than usual. Jim, standing over his desk, merely looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows at him as he poured them glasses.

"At ease, Mr. Spock. I'm not questioning whether you're fit for duty. But I do have some other questions I'd like to ask you."

"Very well." Spock sat in his usual chair at the chess table. His captain took an unusually long time preparing the drinks, so he set about the task of dismantling the pieces and setting up a new game for whenever they determined it was time to play again.

"Here we are." Jim's proximity was foreseen but nevertheless a complication. Spock dropped the queen and hastily bent down to recover it from the floor. Jim didn't sit right away; instead, he watched Spock's movements with his brown-sugar eyes until his first officer was seated upright once more. He gazed at him warmly, boldly, then cleared his throat and set the cup of tea before Spock.