6 Spock Related Problems (2)

The moment Spock's relief came onto the bridge, the captain was out of his chair and charging towards the turbolift before Spock could escape him. He just managed to squeeze through as the doors closed. Spock merely looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Thought you could escape me, Mr. Spock?" He grinned, proud that he managed to catch the Vulcan before he could hide out in one of the labs for the rest of the night.

"Not at all, Captain, as I was not trying to 'escape' from you." The calm tone in his voice was enough to grate on Kirk's nerves. Reaching past his first officer, he pushed the emergency stop, jamming it hard with his thumb, his eyes glued to Spock's. "Captain?"

"Why are you avoiding me Spock?" The intensity in his blue eyes dared Spock to contradict him.

"Captain, as much as I question its logic, this is the only turbo lift from the bridge, and I am certain that the other crew members would like to utilize it very soon." Spock leaned forward to release the emergency stop, but Jim side stepped to make it inaccessible to the Vulcan. It also brought Jim into his friend's personal space as a result. Exasperation flittered across Spock's brown eyes, his body very rigid. "Captain."

"It's Jim, Spock. Duty ended five minutes ago, and you know it. What the hell is going on with you? We've been getting along great for several months now. We only fight about regulations every other day now instead of every other minute. If anyone asked, I would say you were one of my closest friends." The hardness in his gaze softened. "So why does it seem like you can barely stay in the same room as me these days."

Spock took a step back, putting as much distance between his captain and himself as the limited space in the turbolift would allow. His face betrayed no emotion except the fact that he stared straight ahead and spared no glance at Jim. "I cannot say I reciprocate the sentiment, Captain."

A frown tugged at the corners of his lips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Until I am able to meditate and better control my shields, I cannot allow myself to interact with you as I have in the past." If he had been anyone else, Jim would not have notice the hesitation in his words, but it still stung to hear them spoken aloud.

"Why not?"

Spock's eyes glanced at him for a split second and for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to fidget until his Vulcan controls suppressed the urge. "My meditations have been inadequate as of late as you are well aware. It is best to avoid situations that strain my controls and invoke emotional responses from me."

"You're avoiding me . . . because I invoke emotional responses in you."

Spock gave him curt nod, not adding anything else.

Disbelief was the first thing Kirk felt run through him, then anger. His fist clenched at his side, shaking. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath before turning his gaze back up to the Vulcan. "That's not necessarily a bad thing Spock. I know Vulcans are all about restraint on their emotions, but your part human too. Maybe letting a little emotion through when you're with a friend is just what you need to help get your mind centered."

"That will be impossible Jim for I don't think of you as a friend."

Jim could only stare, emotions racing across his face in an instant; hurt being the most obvious one. When he opened his mouth, the turbolift jerked to life, starting it's decent. An engineer must have overrided the emergency stop. Jim stepped away from the control panel and took his spot at Spock's side, keeping his eyes forward. In a carefully controlled tone that would make a Vulcan proud, Jim spoke. "Alright Mr. Spock. If that's what you want, I'll keep things strictly professional between us. I don't want to cause my first officer any additional discomfort."

"Jim. . . I—" But it was too late. The doors to the lift opened, and Jim walked out with a quick and crisp, "Commander."

Jim marched straight into sickbay, heading right for the liquor cabinet hidden behind McCoy's desk not sparing a look at his best friend. He must have looked pissed off because everyone seemed to hurry out of his way, and the medbay cleared out the moment he walked in for the exception of one engineer who McCoy was looking over. Judging by the nervous glances the ensign was giving him, he was ready to bolt as well.

With a slight scowl, covering Bones' concern, he gave the young man a pat on the back, allowing him to leave. "Jim, mind telling me why you are scaring off all my patients?" Jim had taken the desk chair, so McCoy pulled up another, sitting opposite of him. His question wasn't answered however, causing the scowl to disappear and more concern to shine through.

Jim continued to sit tight lipped, pouring himself a large glass of the very illegal Romulan ale. Seeing that he was not ready to talk, the doctor busied himself with cleaning up his desk, organizing the PADDs, hypos, and samples crowding the surface. He knew that when Jim was like this, there was no use trying to pry it out of him. He would talk when he was ready. He had found that out the hard way in the past and never planned to repeat that mistake.

Kirk watched him move about as he sipped his ale, not muttering a word, and Bones let him. Once he finished tidying up, he got to work on his reports. Bones had forgotten that Jim was still in the room when he finally spoke, completely engrossed in his reports. "I confronted him. In the turbolift. He told me that he was avoiding me because I cause him to feel emotion and that he doesn't think of me as a friend."

"Jim, he's Vulcan. He's supposed to say those things."

"You weren't there Bones. He tried to keep as much space between us as possible. Barely looked me in the eye the entire time. It was like if he touched me everything would fall apart," he replied angrily, staring at the blue liquid. His knuckles were white from grasping the glass so hard that McCoy could hear the glass strain against the pressure.

Diligently, McCoy wrestled the cup away from his tight grip before the glass could break. "So what if he's not your friend Jim. You didn't care when you first got on board the Enterprise."

The psychology degree was coming out, Jim could already tell even in his intoxicated state. It was one of the things he loved about Bones. While Jim could dodge any question a psychologist threw at him, he couldn't help but confide in Bones as friend, and he trusted the doctor to keep it between them without him blabbing to Starfleet about every little issue. He couldn't say that about the actual ship psychologist. "I don't know. It's just that . . .," he paused, thinking about what he really wanted to say. "Is it so bad to have emotion? You and I know that Spock feels even if he suppresses them. We don't see it often, but we know it's there, but he insists that he doesn't have them, that he's not supposed to have them. Cold logic isn't the way to go either. They think that emotions can cause savagery? What about cold unrelenting logic?! It can be even worse!" His voice gradually grew louder until he was standing, trying to convey his point almost desperate to do so.

Bones just sat calmly, staring at Jim with understanding eyes. "You're not talking about Spock anymore, are you?"

Guilt at being caught crossed his features. Slowly, he sat down, nodding grimly. "No . . . I'm not."

"Jim," McCoy leaned forward, taking the bottle of liquor when Jim kept eyeing it. "That happened a long time ago."

"I know. I know." Jim ran his fingers through his hair, still glancing at the confiscated bottle. "I'm just tired. Some sleep and I'll be good as new." He rose from the desk, his eyes cast down to the floor.

"Jim, you haven't been having those nightmares recently right? If you are—"

"I'm fine, Bones. Honest. I haven't had those dreams since that class. I'm good." He did his best to smile. "I think I'll head to bed now. We'll be at our destination in a couple days, and I have sleep to catch up on."

"Alright Jim. If you need to talk, I'm here. Now get some sleep, doctor's orders," McCoy said in his heavy southern accent, giving his friend a smirk.

Jim moved around the desk, making his exit, but at the door he paused and said, "Thanks Bones. For listening."

"No problem, Jim."