Entry tags:

fic, kidfic, startrek, stbigbang

Star Trek Fic: So Wise We Grow, part 1/12

Title: So Wise We Grow
Author: Deastar ( captanddeastar )
Artist: brynnamorgan
Mixer: summerslaughter
Series: ST XI
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, Ensemble
Rating: R
Word Count: 81,000
Warnings: death of minor characters, discussion of past child sexual abuse
Betas: peganix , Captain T
Notes: Thank you to my partner in crime, Captain T; my amazing beta, peganix ; the super-talented brynnamorgan and summerslaughter ; and last but not least, the stbigbang mods!
Summary: “Commander Spock, we have located your son,” the Vulcan lady on the screen says, which would be great, except Jim can tell by the look on Spock’s face that he’s never heard of this kid before in his life. “If it is expedient, the child will be sent to join you on the Enterprise within the week.”

 

 

 

Probably a lot of this explosion of awkwardness could have been avoided if Vulcans had normal definitions of “official” and “personal” issues, because when the transmission comes from New Vulcan, addressed to Commander Spock, it’s labeled “official business,” and so Spock receives it live on the bridge in front of everybody. The old Vulcan lady whose face pops up on the screen calls herself T’Pau, and Jim will give her this: she gets right to the point.

“Commander Spock, we have located your son.”

When the Enterprise set off, six months ago, on this crazy five-year mission, Jim could already read Spock pretty well. By now, after six months of late-night chess games and the occasional shared moment of mortal peril, Jim likes to consider himself an expert. When Spock says, “My son?” Jim can tell that T’Pau couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d thrown off her clothes and danced in the nude.

“Yes.” T’Pau’s brow furrows. “I have listed here a Storek, son of S’chn T’gai Spock and his wife T’Pring, ten years of age, is that not correct?”

“Ah, yes. Storek, quite correct.”

Spock is talking a good game by Vulcan standards, but by Human standards, he’s a pretty awful liar, and by Jim’s standards, it’s like he’s not even trying. If Jim had to guess, he’d say that Spock has never even heard of this kid before. He can see that Spock is thinking fast, Vulcan brain whirling, as Spock slowly says, “I apologize for my confusion, T’Pau; as I felt T’Pring’s absence six months ago, I assumed that… our son… had perished with her.”

“He was among the first to be evacuated – the Vulcan High Council apologizes for the delay in informing you of his survival. There has been much chaos and confusion.”

“Understandable.”

“A shuttle is leaving in three days which is scheduled to intersect with the Enterprise’s posted flight plan. If it is expedient, Storek will be provided passage on that shuttle, and should reach your ship within the week.”

“Thank you, T’Pau. That would indeed be most… expedient.”

“Live long and prosper,” T’Pau says, then closes communication before Spock has the chance to return the gesture.

“Captain,” Spock says, looking as shaken as he ever does, “may I submit a request to be dismissed from my shift? It appears there are arrangements to be made that require my immediate attention.”

Jim’s internal Vulcan-to-Human translator figures that works out roughly to: “My personal business just got splattered all over the bridge and I’m so mortified that I wish the science console would swallow me up and spit out my bones. Failing that, I need to go hide in my quarters.”

“Of course, Mr. Spock. Take as long as you need.”

Spock heads for the turbolift, leaving an awkward-looking Sulu, a confused-looking Chekov, and a totally impassive Uhura – Here comes trouble, Jim thinks – behind with the captain.

A good friend, Jim figures, would not leave a guy to work through weirdness of this magnitude all by himself. Also, Jim can admit, he’s totally inappropriately curious about what just went down.

“Mr. Sulu, you have the conn.”

 

~*~

 

Over the past six months, Spock has gradually been cured of the delusion that he can prevent the captain from entering his quarters whenever the man so wishes. Therefore, when he hears the soft chime of the door, a few moments after retreating to the privacy of his quarters, he gracefully yields to the inevitable and allows Captain Kirk to enter.

“I do not wish to talk about it,” Spock says, with little hope that his objections will have any effect on the force of nature that is James Tiberius Kirk when curious. Predictably, Kirk nods his assent, sits down silently in his usual chess-playing chair, and then begins his interrogation anyway.

“So. You’re married?”

Spock does not grind his teeth. Such an action would be wildly illogical – not only would it fail to discourage the captain from his line of questioning, it would also place Spock at greater risk of future dental health problems.

“I was… I suppose a Human would say ‘betrothed’ to a Vulcan woman named T’Pring when we were both quite young: I was seven years of age, and she was eleven. I have not seen her for many years – the last time we spoke, I was fourteen years of age, and she was eighteen. What we shared was less than a marriage, but more than a betrothal. Our personalities were… not well matched. T’Pring died on Vulcan, like so many others. Through the bond, I felt her death.”

“I’m sorry, Spock. That’s… really terrible. I’m sorry.” Kirk’s eyes, when they seek Spock out, are somber, almost pitying, and Spock shakes his head.

“As I said, we were not well matched – we felt no affection for each other. Your sympathy, while appreciated, is unwarranted.”

“You still miss her though, don’t you? I can see it,” Kirk says. “Your eyes – they’re sad.”

Since it seems to be Spock’s appointed day for the unpleasant recollection of events from his Vulcan childhood, Kirk’s echo of a bully’s long-ago words hardly surprises Spock. Instead, he addresses Kirk’s comment on its merits.

“I do… miss her,” Spock admits. “I did not like T’Pring, but in some ways I did admire her, and at the very least, I had grown used to feeling her presence in the back of my mind. Even after six months, its absence is still… disconcerting.”

“Plus, she’s the mother of your child,” Kirk says, watching Spock closely. “That’s something right there – I mean, even if you didn’t like her, that’s still… that still makes her pretty special to you.”

Spock says nothing, and the silence stretches.

“I knew it,” Kirk says quietly. “I knew it back on the bridge, I could see it. You didn’t even know this kid existed, did you?”

“I did not,” Spock admits. He is unsure whether he should say more, but the captain is a friend, has gone to some lengths to earn his trust, and in truth, the situation is so complex and uncertain that Spock is not confident in his ability to come to the right conclusions in isolation. It may be that Kirk’s unpredictable and unorthodox way of thinking will be beneficial to Spock’s own thought processes.

“As I said, I had not seen T’Pring since she was eighteen. It is certainly possible that in the intervening years she could have given birth to a son, who is now ten years of age, but… it is not possible that he is mine.”

Kirk draws a breath in sharply, and looks as if it pained him. When he sighs a heartfelt “Well, shit,” all Spock can say is, “Indeed.”

“There’s absolutely no way he could be yours?” Kirk asks, his tone suggesting that he already knows the answer but hopes he is wrong.

“For many reasons, it is impossible. I last saw T’Pring when I was fourteen – at no point in our acquaintance had we ever participated in sexual congress, and even had we done so, simple mathematics would prove that this child must have been conceived significantly after our last meeting. Also, my biology, like that of most hybrids, means that I am and have always been sterile – I have had this confirmed by many tests,” Spock concludes. He suspects he has done an insufficient job of concealing the degree to which that fact still troubles him, illogical though such a feeling is. His suspicion is confirmed when Kirk stands and places a hand on his shoulder in a common Human gesture of emotional support.

“So she… she cheated on you. That’s rough,” Kirk says, but then his eyes narrow, and he points at Spock accusingly. “You! You were cheating on her! With Uhura! I mean, that’s not an excuse, but still, your moral high ground is looking a little shaky here, buddy.”

“A Vulcan betrothal does not have the same expectations of fidelity as a Human marriage,” Spock explains. “My relationship with Lieutenant Uhura was still very new when T’Pring passed away – it is still quite new even now.” Spock ignores Kirk’s blatant disbelief at Spock’s characterization of a nine-month-long relationship as “new.” On the matter of romantic relationships, especially those of any significant length or emotional significance, as in matters of warp physics, Spock trusts his own expertise beyond that of his captain.

“Had my relationship with Lieutenant Uhura ever become serious enough that our permanent monogamous bonding became imminently desirable, I would have been able to return to Vulcan to break the bond to T’Pring without any blame being attached to either of us. It is acceptable that members of a betrothed pair engage in other temporary romantic relationships before the bond is consummated, but if one has made other permanent plans, it is unacceptable to allow one’s betrothed to continue in the misapprehension that the wedding will someday take place,” Spock concludes, surprising himself with the hint of bitterness in his last words.

Kirk looks confused. “So you think that your wife had made these… other permanent plans? That she changed her mind? How do you know?”

Now Spock is equally confused. “Most alternative fertility techniques are incompatible with Vulcan biology. Therefore, I am secure in my assumption that, for a child to be conceived, T’Pring must have engaged in sexual congress with a male other than myself.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” The captain’s eyes appear to be nearly twice their usual size. Fascinating, Spock thinks.

“If you’re saying that it’s only cheating if you have sex… You’re saying that you and Uhura aren’t? That you never have?”

If Spock were not aware of the impossibility of such an outcome, he might fear that Captain Kirk’s face was about to explode. As it is, though, Spock is merely slightly quizzical – if also somewhat impressed at the speed and facility with which Kirk is able to draw new and accurate conclusions from seemingly disparate pieces of data.

“I know that Humans in general, and you in particular, Captain, take a much more casual view of sex, but for Vulcans, it is a very serious matter. I assumed that you were aware of this. Lieutenant Uhura has always been very understanding of the values of our culture. Our relationship’s success stems from our willingness to make reasonable compromises to each other’s expectations. In any case, I fail to see what relevance this has to the subject at hand.”

“I know, I know, I’m just having a really hard time wrapping my head around… wait, what are we calling ‘sex’ here? Because I know I’ve seen you two making out – so is it just no…” Kirk trails off and begins performing what Spock can only conclude is some type of obscene hand gesture.

“Relevance,” Spock reminds him, in a tone that has caused several graduating classes of Starfleet cadets to flinch violently and drop their books.

“Right, sorry, yeah. Relevance. Kid.” Kirk thinks for a minute. “So the kid’s not yours. Your wife-betrothed-lady cheated on you with… who knows? But she let everybody think the kid was yours. Then she died, and since he’s listed as your kid, now they all think you’re going to raise him. But you’ve never seen him before.”

“An apt summation of the situation as it stands.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I… I am unsure,” Spock confesses. He has not suffered from this level of indecision since he was forced to choose between the serving on the Enterprise and rebuilding his race. Spock takes a seat on his own side of the chess table, and gestures for Kirk to sit across from him. Kirk obeys.

“Do you want advice? Do you want to just talk it out? What can I do here?”

Spock considers this.

“I believe that the most beneficial course of action may be a combination of those two strategies – if you would not mind, I will lay out for you my own understanding of this quandary, and then seek your perspective.”

“Hit me.”

Spock allows the colloquialism to pass without comment.

“I am… distressed at T’Pring’s deception in attaching my name to this child. I do not know what he has been told – if he believes me to be his father, then I am sure that he resents me greatly for my absence in his life thus far. If he knows himself to be born out of wedlock, that is its own burden to bear. In either case, I imagine that his life has been quite difficult, even before the loss of his mother. I must admit a certain… empathy for his circumstances.”

Kirk nods encouragingly, and miraculously, does not interrupt.

“Clearly the guiding principle must be the child’s welfare. The Enterprise is frequently a dangerous place – I know that there is no policy against crew members’ family members joining them on board, but it cannot be denied that we are frequently placed in great peril. And yet, for me to refuse his care, I would have to deny paternity to the Vulcan High Council. My suit would, of course, be confirmed on even the most cursory genetic investigation, but… I fear the consequences for the child.”

Kirk frowns.

“Why’s that? With there being so few of you, I’d think that there’d be lots of people on New Vulcan who would want to take in an orphan – there are probably hundreds of kids in that position right now.”

“You do not speak any Vulcan, do you?” Spock asks, feeling a wash of weariness at the prospect of attempting to explain the intricacies of Vulcan culture to the captain. Some of his reaction must show on his face – Kirk scowls at Spock and throws up his hands.

“Why does everybody always assume I’m an idiot? Yeah, actually, I do speak some Vulcan, thanks, Spock. I wasn’t just in the Xenolinguistics Club to pick up girls and annoy Uhura. I had other reasons!”

Spock allows a moment to give that statement the lack of reaction that it deserves.

“Then are you familiar with the word kre’nath?”

Kirk’s face screws up and he drums his fingers – it is quite a performance. Eventually he sighs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I got nothing. Something about shame, I think. That’s all I’ve got.”

Spock is mildly surprised. “Very good, Captain.”

“I got it right?”

“Kre’nath is, literally, ‘the shamed one.’ It is also the Vulcan word for ‘illegitimate child.’”

Spock watches that sink in – some of the animation leaves Kirk’s face, and the line of his shoulders tightens.

“I get it,” he says softly. “You can’t just leave this kid out in the cold. Well, you can, but… don’t.” Kirk’s voice is subdued, almost pleading. “Don’t do that. I mean, not that I think you really would, but… you wanted my advice? Here it is – don’t abandon this kid to that kind of… shunning, or whatever. Take it from me: if I was this kid, I’d take life on the Enterprise any day, even if it meant being scared sometimes.”

“You speak as if you have personal experience,” Spock says, hoping for elaboration. Kirk obliges, smiling tightly with no humor.

“Let me put it this way. I’ve had people look at me that way – like there’s something wrong with me, like I should be ashamed of myself – and when it happens now, I don’t give a shit. Sometimes I even get a kick out of it. And that’s ‘cause I know they’re wrong. But when you’re a kid, you don’t know that. You can’t. And when everybody around you thinks something like that, you start to think it, too. And that… that fucks you up. Just saying.”

Kirk attempts a laugh, but Spock finds it unconvincing. He tells Kirk, “Thank you,” for it is clear that the captain has gifted him with something very painful and personal, and that he has revealed himself out of a sincere effort to help Spock reach the right conclusions in this matter. His thinking is very much in line with Spock’s own – after all, Spock’s childhood also took place in a general atmosphere of disapproval, mitigated only by his mother’s unquestioning love. It is not an experience to which he would care to subject any other child.

“I believe you are correct, Captain. There is no other choice that I can, in good conscience, make. I am not responsible for T’Pring’s deception, but neither is this child. I am under no illusions about my own potential as a parent – indeed, I must confess that I…” Spock trails off.

“You’re afraid you might suck at it,” Kirk supplies.

“…indeed.”

Kirk shrugs.

“Well, for the half a credit it’s worth to you, I think you’ll be great at it.”

Spock feels the thread of disturbance that he often feels when the captain speaks disparagingly about himself, and cannot help but correct the captain’s misapprehension.

“On the contrary, Captain, your faith in me is worth a good deal more than a half credit… as is… your friendship.” It is often the case that the things Spock find most difficult to say are the things that Captain Kirk most enjoys hearing – this particular declaration seems to be no exception. Kirk’s smile this time is real, and it transforms his face as it always does.

“We make a good team,” is all he says, but it is not difficult for Spock to discern that the captain is gratified by Spock’s reply.

Spock nods his assent – against all odds, the captain’s advice and understanding have, indeed, been of great assistance to Spock in clarifying his own thinking, and Spock is not insensible of the fact that this is the type of situation in which there are few others on whom Spock could rely for such aid.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you and the kid, Spock, okay? Officially or unofficially – as Captain James T. Kirk, or as a friend.”

“I thank you, Captain. Should any problems occur, I will certainly consult you.”

“Do something for me in return?” Kirk’s eyes are crackling with amusement, which is almost never a good sign for Spock’s calm, or for the smooth and orderly conduct of the ship’s affairs. Spock motions for Kirk to go on, resigned.

“Call me Jim, Spock. Seriously. Stop making me ask.”

This is not the first time that the captain has made such a request, but this is the first time that Spock seriously considers complying. In this conversation, Spock has made himself vulnerable to Kirk, and instead of treating that trust casually, the captain has returned the gesture, giving of himself. Spock acknowledges that he has little first-hand experience with friendship, but it seems to him that, from what he knows second-hand, Kirk’s actions today have been the actions of a true friend, and deserve to be rewarded with greater familiarity.

“Thank you… Jim.”

“That’s more like it!” Kirk grins, and leans back in his chair. “Chess tonight?”

“I believe that I will take the opportunity to have a conversation with Lieutenant Uhura – perhaps tomorrow night?”

“Sounds good to me. Good luck with Uhura!” Kirk calls as he backs out of the door. Spock ponders his parting comment. It seems that the captain anticipates that his conversation with Nyota will present a significant difficulty; Spock hopes very much that he is mistaken.

 

~*~

 

“You’re married?”

Nyota is fully, beautifully Human, and Spock cherishes that about her – she has never seemed Vulcan to him, nor would he want her to.

That said, she suddenly reminds him very much of a Vulcan woman at this moment – it is the way that the depth of her anger shows, not by explosions of sound or flashing eyes, but by ever-increasing ominous calm.

“You’re married with kids?”

“Nyota, if you would allow me to explain—”

“Oh, I’ll allow you to explain, Spock – in fact, I’m begging you to explain. All I can say is that this better be a really excellent explanation, do you understand? The best explanation you’ve ever given or I’ve ever heard.”

Spock does explain – he tells her nearly everything that he told Captain Kirk, explains the circumstances of his betrothal to T’Pring, her death, her betrayal, his ignorance, his resolve, his responsibility, the child’s precarious future. He ends by asking her, formally but with as much emotion as he can muster, if she would be willing to become this small stranger’s mother, to help him in this daunting task which he has set himself.

“I know it is a great deal to ask – I know it is sudden…”

“It is a lot to ask,” Nyota says quietly, her eyes sad. “It’s too much. Spock, you lied to me.”

The accusation, coming after what Spock believed to be a very accurate and exhaustive explanation of the circumstances, catches Spock by surprise. Although he disagrees, strenuously, he remembers the importance of compromise.

“I may have failed to mention—” he begins, but Nyota cuts him off with a sharp gesture.

“You lied, even if only by omission. You were married all this time—”

“Betrothed—” Spock attempts to interject, but she stares him down.

“That’s a translation quibble and we both know it. Whichever way you translate it, it’s pretty unpleasant to get nine months into a relationship, and then find out that you’re the other woman.”

Spock is both bewildered and ashamed – an extremely unpleasant combination. It is clear that Nyota has taken the events of the past day to imply some lack of respect for her on his part… perhaps even a deliberate and callous disregard. He attempts to apologize.

“Nyota, I regret that I have upset you. At the outset of our relationship, I assumed that your familiarity with Vulcan culture and expertise in our customs would lead you to assume that I had entered into such a bond, which is standard for our people.”

Nyota’s eyes are bright with liquid when she looks at him, furious.

“And I assumed, based on my familiarity with Vulcan culture and expertise in your customs, that I might have to put up with a lot from a Vulcan boyfriend – emotional distance, lack of sexual intimacy, parental disapproval – but you know, the one thing I thought I’d be spared, at least, was the lying and the cheating.”

Spock could admire the acuteness of her strike if he were not its target – as it stands, all he can do is stare intently at the carpeting and attempt to reassert his increasingly tattered control.

“I’m sorry, Spock,” Nyota says softly. “That was out of line.”

Spock says nothing.

“And maybe you are right – maybe I should have assumed… or better yet, just asked. But it’s all a moot point anyway, Spock.”

Spock looks up from the carpet to meet her eyes, warily.

“I do not understand. Please clarify.”

Nyota pauses, and Spock takes the opportunity to observe her posture; she appears to have folded in on herself, her usual poise seeming somehow diminished.

“Spock, even if you had been up front with me from the beginning, and everything between us was fine… I still can’t be what you want. I don’t want to be anybody’s mother – not yet. I’m not ready for that. Maybe someday. But right now, I have my career just getting started – I’m just figuring out my own life, Spock. I’m not ready to be in charge of anyone else’s. I’m sorry. I can’t be your son’s new mother.”

Anger is the emotion with which Spock is most comfortable – he attempts to summon it in an ill-considered attempt to replace the hurt and confusion that are currently interfering with his control, but fails.

“Since that is the case, I believe the most logical course of action would be to terminate our romantic relationship,” Spock says, with only the slightest catch in his voice, and he ignores the spark of illogical disappointment when Nyota nods sadly and says, “That’s probably best.”

 

~*~

 

Jim is a little surprised to see Spock in his quarters again so soon, especially looking as starched and formal as he did during the first awkward days of this mission, when they were still uncomfortably trying to work around the attempted mutiny, murder and marooning that both of them wanted pretty badly to forget.

“I thought you were going to hang out with Uhura tonight.”

“The lieutenant and I spoke,” Spock says stiffly. He stands there at attention, with his hands behind his back, looking totally blank, and he won’t meet Jim’s eyes -- that’s when Jim starts to worry.

“Captain—”

“Jim,” he insists.

“Captain,” Spock repeats. “I am here to tender my resignation from Starfleet, effective immediately. Please place me in some location with access to civilian transport as soon as is practical.”

Jim is floored. I really thought we were done with this shit. What did Uhura say to him? Or… fuck, are they both resigning?

“Okay, first of all, resignation totally not accepted,” says Jim, narrowing his eyes. “Second of all, what’s going on with you, Spock?”

“I do not understand your query.”

Jim snorts. “That’s bullshit. You know what I mean, Spock. When you were in here a couple of hours ago, you told me everything was going to be fine; we were having a heart-to-heart, you and this Vulcan kid were going to be playing happy families, you and Uhura were going to be Starfleet parents of the year… and now you want to leave Starfleet? Are you crazy?”

Jim knows it’s bad when Spock doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at him.

“I am in full command of my mental faculties, and I have come to this decision through simple logic.”

Jim examines Spock – the way he’s looking fixedly over Jim’s head rather than meeting his gaze, the tension in the corners of his eyes, the sharp line of his elbows where the tension of his hands is keeping them locked…

“She dumped you!” Jim blurts out, “I can’t believe she did that!” Which is true – even though Jim’s been telling Bones for the past six months that he has no idea how that relationship even works, he’s always privately been a little jealous of how happy they seem, how well they get along.

Now, at least, he gets a reaction out of Spock, who gives Jim the look he always summons when Jim proves that you don’t need logic to make stunning deductions – it’s both a lot less funny and a lot less insulting than usual.

“Lieutenant Uhura and I have mutually decided to terminate our romantic relationship,” Spock confirms, and Jim privately thinks that “mutual” thing is a crock, but he’s got bigger fish to fry right now.

“Listen, Spock,” Jim says. “I have been through some awkward breakups of my own, let me tell you, but resigning from Starfleet is not the way to deal with this, seriously! You and Uhura are professionals, you can get past this--”

“It is not my professionalism I doubt… Jim. It is my ability as a parent.” Spock’s voice is quiet, as if he’s admitting a secret that he doesn’t want the walls to hear.

“So this does have something to do with the kid,” Jim says, and Spock nods.

“That is correct. When I first came to the decision to assume parental responsibilities for T’Pring’s child, I did so under the assumption that Lieutenant Uhura would be my partner in child-rearing. Now that I know that assumption to be incorrect, I must make alternate plans: I must go to New Vulcan with Storek.”

“Uhura would have made a great mom, definitely, but look – you wouldn’t be the only single parent in the fleet,” Jim argues; Spock gives his head the slightest shake.

“I do not believe myself… qualified… to be the sole parental influence on this child, nor am I qualified to be solely responsible for his care and welfare. My position as First Officer is time-consuming and frequently dangerous – if I were to be detained or injured, there would be no one to care for the boy, and I also cannot commit, alone, to the constant supervision that most children require. With a partner to share these responsibilities, those obstacles would not have been insurmountable, but as the situation stands, I cannot in good conscience take sole responsibility for Storek. On New Vulcan, there will be resources to support me in this task – a new wife is the most likely solution.”

At no point in this speech has Spock actually looked away from that fixed point in space over Jim’s left shoulder that he apparently finds so fascinating; Jim’s pretty damn tired of it.

“Look me in the eyes,” Jim demands, and when Spock hesitates, Jim repeats the order, more brusquely. “Look me in the eyes and tell me this is what you want.”

When Spock finally meets Jim’s gaze, Jim understands why he was so reluctant: when Jim couldn’t see Spock’s eyes, he could almost believe that Spock didn’t care, but now, Spock’s cover is blown. He cares. He cares a lot. He’s fucking miserable, and he’s still going to walk away from this ship and this life, because Jim has somehow fallen into the habit of becoming friends with good men, after so many years of nothing like it. Damn it.

“What I want is… irrelevant,” Spock says, sounding as if he’s rehearsed this a hundred times. “Only what is necessary is relevant. I cannot raise a child alone, and there is no one aboard the Enterprise now with whom I can share this responsibility. Therefore, logically—”

Jim suddenly holds up a hand to stop him. Something, some phrase or idea in what Spock just said is tugging at his brain, catching on it like a jagged fingernail on a piece of cloth. Jim knows this feeling by now – it’s the feeling he always gets when he’s about to come up with the kind of idea that makes Bones yell, and makes Spock twitch, and makes Uhura glare, but ultimately ends with everybody still alive and mostly unharmed. It’s a feeling he’s learned to trust.

“I think…” he starts, then trails off, still not ready to commit to words the idea that’s gathering in his mind like a planet accreting from bits of rock and dust. Another man might take some time to think something of this magnitude through – Spock certainly would. Jim Kirk, though… That’s not really my style, he thinks, and smiles.

“Let’s do it,” Jim says decisively.

“What?” Spock’s reaction to this particular Jim Kirk Spectacularly Awesome Bad Idea is even better than usual – there’s something a Human might almost recognize as genuine shock in his face and voice.

“You and me,” Jim says, getting surer by the second. “Let’s do it. This parenting thing. Together.”

“Captain, I’m afraid I am currently suffering under some sort of delusion that your offer is serious…”

“I am serious.” And Jim is. Like a heart attack. He never saw this coming, but Jim thinks it’s possible he’s never been this serious in his life. “I refuse to let you leave, and I refuse to let you screw over this nameless kid I’ve never met—”

“His name is Storek—”

“Whatever. And I refuse to let you go it alone, because that would suck for pretty much everybody.”

Spock at a loss for words is kind of a novel experience, and if Jim weren’t privately freaking out about the magnitude of the responsibility he’s about to sign up for, he might be pretty entertained by it.

“Captain… Jim…I cannot allow you to—”

“No.” Jim stands up and puts both his hands flat on his desk, getting into Spock’s personal space. “Listen, if you want to tell me ‘no’ because you think I’d be a shitty parent, that’s totally fair, I’d probably even agree with you, okay? But you are not allowed to turn me down to spare my feelings, or because you don’t want to impose, or because you think it’d be unprofessional – I absolutely will not accept that. You can turn me down for the kid’s sake, Storek’s sake, if you think you’ve got to – hell, maybe you should – but you are not allowed to turn me down for your sake, and least of all for my sake, okay? I’m a grown-up, I can make my own damn decisions for myself.”

Jim thinks that his point might have gotten lost in there somewhere, but hopefully most of it got through.

“Jim…” Spock says, sounding as bewildered as a Vulcan gets, “I confess that I am at a loss.”

“You can take some time to think about it… I mean, you really should,” Jim assures him quickly. “I mean—” Jim winces. “—one of us should, right?”

“Indeed,” says Spock, although not with the level of snottiness that Jim was expecting, considering the circumstances. “If you will excuse me, I must think on this in solitude, and at some greater length. I do appreciate your offer, and I will consider it seriously.” Spock turns to leave, but hesitates, and turns back to face Jim.

“Capt—Jim, if I may ask a personal query…”

Jim waves his hand – Yeah, yeah, go for it. Spock takes a moment to put together his thoughts. When he speaks, Jim can detect a hint of something more than just curiosity in his voice.

“I believe I understand your motivation for discouraging me from leaving the Enterprise… but that goal could just as easily be achieved by persuading me to reject my parental responsibilities, leaving me unencumbered.”

Jim waits for there to be an actual question, but when he realizes that’s it, he doesn’t have to think.

“If you were the kind of man who could be persuaded to abandon a kid like that who needed you, I wouldn’t want you on my ship.”

 

~*~

 

Spock shows up right on schedule for their chess game the next night – he doesn’t bring up the kid, and Jim doesn’t either. It’s not their best game – We’re both distracted, Jim thinks – but he fights for it, and when Spock checkmates him, Jim mutters, “Damn it.”

Spock pauses in that way he has that tells Jim that he’s got something to say and wants Jim to pay attention.

“As… frustrating as you find me, you should be aware that Storek, although young, will likely be equally… frustrating to you.”

When it hits Jim, he grins, and feels pretty damn good about himself.

“Is that a yes? That’s a yes, isn’t it?”

Very pointedly ignoring him, Spock goes on. “Caring for Storek will not be like caring for a Human child. His emotions, while deep, will be extremely restrained, and he will be embarrassed by displays of emotion that might be necessary to the psychological health of a Human boy.”

“It’ll be like dealing with you,” Jim interrupts, nodding, unruffled. “I can do that.”

Spock lets the silence stretch.

“What?” Jim says, putting on a look of fake-innocence, spreading his hands. “You know you can’t resist me – it’s okay, you can admit it.”

“I admire you as an officer in spite of your recklessness, immaturity and pointless affinity for confrontation and meaningless sexual gratification,” Spock allows. “And your company is… not unpleasant.”

“Uh-huh,” Kirk says, leaning back in his chair, still grinning. “Not unpleasant… I know that one. For a Vulcan, that’s pretty much saying you want to braid flowers in my hair and call me up on the comm just to hear me breathe.”

“In any case,” Spock says quellingly, “while Storek is young, and therefore much more openly emotional than an adult Vulcan would be, he is also a full-blooded Vulcan, not a hybrid like myself, and will, therefore, possess more developed emotional control than I did at his age. In addition, it is difficult to predict the consequences of the destruction of Vulcan and the loss of his mother, in terms of his psychological wellbeing. I suspect that interacting with Storek will require extreme tact, sensitivity, and, for lack of a better term, diplomacy.”

Jim knows he shouldn’t be pissed at Spock’s low expectations – a lot of the time, Jim encourages them, either for fun or because it’s sometimes good to have people underestimate him. Fortunately, Jim is a Human, and he’s plenty at peace with his illogical emotions – he can be mad even though he knows it’s stupid.

“Spock… I do actually know how to be a little bit sensitive. I’m not going to get in his face and tell him he didn’t love his mother, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Jim winces when he hears himself, but Spock just raises an eyebrow again.

“Should Storek ever become captain of a starship which you believe yourself entitled to command, I will acknowledge that there is cause for alarm. The situation as it stands, though, does not trouble me.” More softly, he says, “Jim… I understood almost immediately your true motive – and it was not cruelty.”

Jim nods, and lets the serious moment settle for a bit before grinning and rocking forward in his chair again.

“So that’s a yes, right? I mean, basically, all of this is a ‘Yes, Jim, it is only logical that you should have my Vulcan babies,’ am I right?”

“The odds of…” Spock pauses. “I am unsure which of the many illogical implications of that sentence I should engage with first.”

Jim laughs. “Leave ‘em all, that’s what I say. You want the quarters on the other side of mine? They have an extra attached room that could be the kid’s.”

“His name is Storek.”

“And by the time he arrives, I’ll have it engraved on my heart, okay?” Jim rolls his eyes. “Room, yes, no?”

“That arrangement does indeed sound logical.”

“So, yes,” Jim says, starting to ride the thin edge between triumph and panic. “Do you want to take care of the other practical stuff, or should I?”

“I am able to resolve the necessary practical matters.”

Thank fuck, Jim thinks fervently. I have an urgent appointment with Bones and his medicinal whiskey stash.

“Awesome. Keep me apprised.” Jim frowns. “Is that a word? I’m pretty sure that’s a word.”

“It is,” says Spock.

“You’re a little surprised yourself, aren’t you?” Jim asks, grinning in a way that he knows Spock thinks is obnoxious.

“I cannot say that I spend much thought on the – no doubt fascinating – development and usage of your vocabulary,” Spock says in that fantastic dry way that Jim’s gotten a kick out of since the very first day, because he knows that Spock’s not the kind of guy who invites just everybody in on the joke, but somehow Jim got to be on the inside even when he still had the marks of Spock’s hands on his throat. It’s something he earned.

“I will begin the necessary administrative paperwork immediately,” Spock says, standing an iota straighter, which is his usual signal that he’s about to leave.

“Hey, Spock…” Jim says, and Spock raises an eyebrow as if prompting him. “Thank you,” Jim says, very quietly. It’s not what he wanted to say – that would probably involve words like “trust” and “family” and end up embarrassing the hell out of both of them – but it’s pretty close.

“I find myself very grateful to you, as well,” Spock replies. There’s a terrifying moment when Jim thinks that Spock might be about to attempt to talk about his feelings, but it passes, and Spock departs Jim’s quarters with a simple nod.

That went well, Jim thinks. And then, shit, shit, shit! BONES! HELP!

 

~*~

 

(on to part two)