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***
I was difficult, silent, and stubborn ...
--- Julia Ecklar, For The Needs of the One
***
I should have known when I first thought of Jim as my t’hy’la. I should have known when my kolinahr master melded her mind with mine and saw the very human passion burning there. I should have known when I first stepped onto the bridge of the Enterprise after so many lost years of cold loneliness on a dry planet. I should have known when I saw his face again for the first time, noting that there were more wrinkles there, but that they did nothing to diminish his beauty. I should have known when his eyes grew wide with unveiled joy, drinking in my image as though he were the one thirsty from a desert exile that stretched the years between us. I should have known when I stole the spacesuit and knew that Jim would follow me. I should have known, my t’hy’la. I should have known.
I wake to the sound of my own laughter. It is an alien, but not an unwelcome sound. You are at my side in an instant, as I knew you would be. I feel mirth flowing through me. Here am I, your stoic, logical Vulcan and I cannot contain my laughter. I cannot deny how happy I am to be near you, that this happiness is welcome to me in a way it never was before. For the moment I let myself feel, unreservedly, as I have done only a few times before, but this time I do not turn away. I have turned away from you so many times, Jim, and it hurt you, although I know you told yourself it should not. I cannot let you be hurt now. I feel too old, too tired, too silly, Jim. So I laugh.
How serious you look! You must think the melding with V’Ger has broken my mind, that now it has finally happened, after all the strange things that have happened to us, I have finally passed forever beyond your reach. If only you knew! I must tell you...I must figure out a way to tell you...”I should have known...”
“Known? Known what? Spock--- Spock! What should you have known? What should you have known?” Now the desperation in your voice is my link to consciousness. I know you are begging me to open to you as you did before. You cannot close yourself off to the pain of the past, not this time. You begged me then too, so many years ago. You begged me to stay with you, to join with you, to know your mind, to know the feelings a man like you had never felt and could not name. I was so afraid of my affection for you then. I left you in the name of logic, but in truth I left because I had already allowed myself to be consumed by that lowliest of emotions---fear. You were fearless. You wanted, needed, desired, but you did not fear, and somehow that frightened me all the more. And I know the joy you felt at our reunion was genuine, but there was pain there too, a pain you chose to suppress. But you were never made to hide emotion Jim. It is not in your nature. And yet you have tried to do so for my sake, always for my sake. But now the time for hiding is over, for both of us.
So I tell you of V’Ger’s barrenness, and to speak of it is to speak of my own since I left you.
***
I remember your amber eyes, warmer than the red sands of Vulcan, the pleading I saw there when you came to my quarters, the ship gliding all too quickly, too irrevocably, earthward.
“Spock, please,” you breathed, your hands firmly gripping your knees as you sat across from me, and though I knew what you wanted, I raised my brow and pretended ignorance as I had so many times before. It was easier this way. More efficient this way. Less messy this way. And yet even then I envied your openness, your lack of shame as I studied the soft curve of your mouth, so different from the hard line that was my own.
“I need you. You’re the best first officer in the fleet. I don’t think I can command this ship without you. I don’t think I want to.” Curse that meddling doctor, I think. He had no business looking at my private communications. I had not intended to tell you that I was considering resigning my commission and returning to Vulcan. I should have been more careful. And then it hits me, maybe I wanted to be found out. I quickly suppress the thought. And then suddenly you’ve crossed the room and your hands are on me, gripping my shoulders tightly as you have done so many times before. This memory amuses me now as I remember how you were always touching me then, and how rarely I would touch you back.
“Spock, it’s more than that, more than your knowledge, your skill, or your expertise. You’re my friend, Spock. Don’t you understand that? You know me better than anyone in the universe. You’re my...friend. Spock...” and your eyes are wild now. I have the urge to grab you back, even more tightly, with all my Vulcan strength.
“Spock, ” you whisper, your hands drifting down my arms and grasping for my fingers, and oh, the feeling of your hands on mine is so sweet, but you can’t possible know what you are doing to me. You raise my hands to your face and to feel it under my hands like this, it is as though I again have the virus we caught on Psi 2000, and I could weep. “You have to understand Spock, please, join my mind.” And I realize that your hands are no longer holding mine to your face, I am holding them there myself, and I have no desire to let them fall. Your breathing is shallow, expectant.
“Spock,” and this time, when you say my name I can no longer resist you, for you are my captain, my friend. I have served you loyally for the best five years of my unhappy life and I can deny you nothing. I succumb to your desire, to my own, and I enter you.
It is the easiest melding I had ever experienced. Normally a mind is well shielded with barriers built upon barriers that go deeper still. Normally it is a struggle to find one strand of thought naked enough to probe coherently. I have melded with my captain before, but never like this. Always before there was a clear purpose behind the melding, and you had never been open like this, before only sharing with me what needed at the time to be shared. Now I was overwhelmed with the intensity of the joining, the emotions that were consuming you came cascading over my consciousness like a tidal wave, and it was like drowning, yet it was ecstasy.
In my captain’s mind I saw myself as he saw me, heard my own harsh voice, my awkward wit, and I felt the warmth that these experiences of me invoked in him. He was in awe of the quickness of my mind, as he himself was an intelligent man unused to meeting his intellectual match. But what surprised me was the beauty that he associated with me. The mere act of looking at me filled this man with pleasure and comfort, and the idea that he might never see me again was hateful to him. I remembered my blindness shortly after his brother’s death on Deneva. The way he held me, steadied me, and the grief I had felt at thinking I would never see his face again. He caught this thought in the joining and gasped at it. He had not dared to hope. There were so many other feelings there, many I could not fully understand. There was protectiveness, a willingness to suffer and die for my sake. I remembered my words to T’Pau at the place of koon-ut-kali-fee and his heart broke at hearing them in my mind, and I knew that he would feel the same upon my death. That knowledge frightened me in a way I could not explain, and in the years to come I endeavored to forget this feeling most of all. And there was...lust. Yes, there was this too, and for the first time I felt a twinge of shame course through my captain’s mind as I saw there the stirrings of desire he often felt when he looked at me, and during the many times he’d touched me. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, ” I heard him whisper aloud as I saw in his mind the memory of confronting me about the blood fever, about the late pon farr that had brought me so much shame. And I saw the memory of his death at my hands. The wild fear he felt as the ahn-woon stole his breath, and I nearly recoiled to learn of the secret pleasure it had given him, to give over everything to me, even his life. And when I flinched he saw the bittersweet pleasure I too had felt in that moment of disgrace. The fever had stripped my reason from me and I had been nothing but raw emotion, passion, desire. In my heart I had grappled with Jim as though he were my lover, not my opponent, and for the first time it became clear to us both why I had never desired T’Pring. Why the combat itself, why the climax of Jim’s body limp in my hands was sufficient to clear my mind. Had I not desired him even on the Enterprise? Had my hands not shook with the longing to possess his flesh, and yes, even his life?
“Oh---Jim,” I groaned and I felt all Vulcan control slip from me in that moment, stripped from me even more completely than it had been during pon farr. He knew everything now, everything, and I had nothing left. Vaguely, through a fog I felt his physical body move under my hands, his own coming up to touch my face, pulling mine down towards him as though he were himself a Vulcan, but what he did next was so human, so heartbreakingly human. I felt his lips softly pressed to mine and I realized that he had moved his entire body closer, the length of him pressed up against me. It was not a Vulcan kiss, but I was no Vulcan, and I submitted to the pleasure of it, my mouth opening to his, our breath as shared as our minds.
And then I realized what I would sacrifice. I would rip out half of myself, the difficult, stubborn, silent half that had resisted this joining for so many years. I would sacrifice logic, I would embrace pure emotion even more than my captain did. I would turn my back forever on my father’s house to stay by Jim’s side for all the years of his life. And I heard Jim think, No, Spock, sacrifice nothing for me, don’t destroy yourself for my sake, this is all I want, to be close like this. And with a jolt I realized that he did not understand. I heard T’Pau’s voice ring out like the gong at the place of koon-ut-kali-fee, Are ye Vulcan or are ye Human? And I felt Jim slipping from me, his voice calling though a fog that I was both, that I would always be both, that he was sorry, that he would do whatever was required. But the Vulcan matriarch had the wisdom of the ages in her voice, and Jim’s frail human pleas were as nothing to it. I had never wanted to be human, never. My father had made sure of that. Vulcan was what I was, who I was. I could not turn my back on that heritage, on the very blood that flowed through my veins. Green blood, not red. I could not be both, and Jim knew nothing of it. He could not know. He was so human, so very human. Why had I always made exceptions for him, excuses for him? Are ye Vulcan or are ye human? Oh wise one, I should have known that my feelings for Jim would come to this. I cannot compromise. I cannot be logical. I cannot find peace. My captain would be my undoing, always. Again and again I would succumb to emotion, to irrational behavior for his sake. I should have known. No! Spock! I’ll do anything! And I knew that it was truth, and that it would always be thus. No, Jim. I am a Vulcan. I am the son of Sarek. I should have known. And I felt his fear and his pain as I broke the link.
“No,” Jim’s voice broke in a ragged sob, my captain’s arms wrapped around me tightly, his face buried in the hollow of my throat. I stood motionless, my arms at my sides. My hands burned and I idly imagined what it would be like to kiss this human in the Vulcan way, but I quickly made myself dismiss the thought.
“I must ask you to leave now, Captain.” I surprised even myself to hear how quickly my voice became dispassionate, professional. At first my captain stiffened, and tightened his grip, but then slowly he let me go and stepped back. His eyes had always been so expressive, so I saw all too clearly how deeply I had hurt him. I will do whatever you require.
“You will pursue kolinahr then?”
“It is my wish.”
“If there is any way I can help...”
“There is only one way you can help me, Captain.” And he winced when I again used the title that stood for everything he had ever wanted, everyone he had ever wanted to be. Or so we both had thought.
“Spock...” he whispered, and my name was sorrow. He stopped himself in the midst of moving forward to touch me. Nodding once, his face grim, he turned and left my quarters. We did not speak of it again. Two days later we arrived at Starfleet Command. In less than a week I set foot on the sands of Vulcan intending never to see James Tiberius Kirk again.
***
Oh, Jim, I should have known. I should have known that I would fail in the pursuit of kolinahr. For many nights after I first came to Gol I lay awake in the monastery thinking not of logic, but of your smile. It was walking in those halls that I first thought of you as t’hy’la, long after I was supposed to have severed all ties to friendship. No one touched me there, and I thought the cool Vulcan detachment would finally bring me peace. And yet still I often felt the press of your hands on me, as I went through the ritual motion of my days. You must have known how invasive all those stolen touches were, but I knew even then that it could not be helped. If you were worried or fearful your hands sought to reassure themselves of my physical presence, and it would have been needlessly cruel to deny you that much, when I found so much comfort in the psychic touch of our minds whenever physical distance came between us. And sometimes I was the one to touch you. And for that there was nothing but human weakness to come to my defense.
But human weakness has no place at Gol. You had no place there, and therefore neither did the part of me that cared for you, clung to you, the part of me that was you. I did not dream onboard the Enterprise, but at Gol my nights were haunted. I had once flattered myself by thinking that I did not dream because to do so would be illogical, that it was a sign of my true Vulcanness that such things did not interrupt my rest. But it was the dreaming that made me question everything. I have never been at peace, Jim, but those years on the Enterprise under your command were the closest I had ever come. At Gol I was tormented, but I continued, and I succeeded far more than should have been possible. I buried you deep, and only in dreams did I let myself think of you, remembering, imagining, longing. In my dreams I would cross the bridge of our ship to where you sat and you welcomed me with a smile. In my dreams I brought my fingers to your lips, in front of the entire crew and I felt no shame. I heard McCoy’s laugh, maybe the pointed ear hobgoblin knows what to do with a warm, decent feeling after all! And then I would awake and the dreams were already distant, unreal. They are not who I am or why I came to this place, and I forget them.
I came far in my pursuit of pure logic, Jim. I could not have fooled the masters so completely, as McCoy would say that I had fooled myself. I came very close, all the closer because you did not call out to me across the distance. And I wondered why. It was not logical. I had left you. Your life was separate from mine. You helped me in the way I had asked. You did what was required. And only when I saw your face again, as you rose from the captain’s chair, and gripped the railing between us to steady you, did I know the full extent of your strength, and that even so I part of you had died, again, for my sake.
But then you did call out. It must have been the Enterprise. Your passion for her, for the old life you never should have left, was reawakened, and you called out to me across the stars, and I heard you. My ship! She will be mine again! I claim her! And I knew then why you had accepted the promotion, why you had stayed planet-side despite your deepest longings. In your hidden self you had tied that ship to me, me to it, and if you could not have one you could not have the other. If one was returned to you--- Spock! I need you! And after the years of silence that call broke my heart and I could not breathe, I could not think, and so my mind reached out, begging for contact, for answers. But I had come too far to give into the raw longing of your call. I was angry to be woken. The dreams had grown hazy. I had forgotten your face. I had almost forgotten even your name, so I sought something else in that yawning darkness between the stars, and my mind met V’Ger’s.
I do not know what my master saw in my mind when the symbol of pure logic I had sacrificed so much for fell clattering to the stones, utterly devoid of all meaning. Perhaps she saw the touch of V’Ger which had already become an obsession, perhaps she saw the deep anger that filled the hole where my affection for you had once quietly lived. I know only that she saw that I had finally become truly cold, but it was not the cold of pure logic that had consumed me, and I was cast out.
***
When I walked onto the bridge I saw in your eyes that it was almost enough. I hated you in my way, in the way I had never allowed myself to love you, but even that did not protect me from the look in your eyes, from your smile. You moved to touch me as was your habit, as if I had never left your side, and there was no room in your gaze for reproach, or for regret. I turned away.
***
“Sit down!” For the first time I heard you speak with the hurt that I deserved to hear and I rigidly obeyed. I wanted you to send the Doctor away. You would not. Was it because he was the only other person who knew the truth of what was never and always spoken between us? He had long been your closest friend, who gave you the emotional openness that I could not. He was ever our witness, and I wondered if he told you that he had guessed at the depths of my feeling for you long before you came to my quarters for the last time, drunk with your own need. He knew long before you did, Jim, and I am quite certain that the knowledge of this gave him some smug satisfaction for many years. Those piercing eyes were forever seeing more than was logical, and to be under their scrutiny now, when we had come to this, was almost unbearable. But you were right to have him there, Jim. You would have opened yourself to me again, giving in too soon to the hope you thought you had lost, if he had not stood as your rock. And who I was then would have destroyed you. But your risks were always calculated, you were never wantonly reckless, save that once---no, you had known the risk even then. So McCoy was with us, as he had been so many times before. And we passed through.
***
When I melded with V’Ger I thought that I would die. I thought I had known the coldness of logic and of loss, but I had known nothing. Or rather---I knew what it was to never have known. To not know warmth or beauty, to have never known love, and the depths of that ignorance nearly broke my sanity. I never told my mother that I loved her. I confessed that to you once, long ago, do you remember? And do you remember the first time you called me ‘friend’? That word always meant so much to me when it came from your lips. When others said it, I felt nothing but perhaps annoyance. When you said it something in me answered, and I felt shame. The difference was everything. And now I would die and you would never know what I should have known all those years ago. All our lost yesterdays, my friend, and a human’s life is so short. All the time I stole from you, and you forgave me on the bridge without a word. Yet still I turned away from myself. You called my name and only now, when all the years that might have stretched out before us are rendered void, do I answer you. Jim!
***
And so I wake to the sound of my own laughter, and you come. I clasp your hand in mine and you do not know it yet, but that touch on my father’s world means as much as the human kiss you gave me all those years ago. But perhaps you do know, after all, because you are smiling and nodding your assent, and all the lost years fall away from us, and you look so young again, my captain, my t’hy’la. And you are mine, at last.