A Birthday Farewell - Spock-centric
Aug. 25th, 2010 04:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ensignceleryA Birthday Farewell
Pairing: None, Spock-centric
Rating: G/PG
Words: 890
Prompt: Written around Nimoy's birthday
The captain’s behavior had been very strange as of late, but Spock had decided that it was not worth commenting on as his abnormal behavior had not affected his performance or that of those around him. Still, the captain seemed to be focusing more and more on Spock himself and, though he was unwilling to admit it to himself outright, it was beginning to make him uncomfortable.
It was when the captain asked him to accompany him at the end of their shift only to shove him into a locked conference room that Spock finally understood. On the display screen in the center of the table was the Ambassador, Spock’s Prime self, looking worried and saddened, his expressive eyes haunting Spock with their open humanity. They seemed to ignite in him the feelings he had been trying to bury for the past couple of weeks.
With a clap to his shoulder, the captain left the room, allowing him to sit and face himself.
“Ambassador,” he acknowledged with a curt nod. “To what do I owe this meeting?”
“Jim informs me that you have been acting strangely, Spock,” came the response, drawing a small but noticeable confused furrowing of the brow from the younger.
“On the contrary, Ambassador. I have found the captain’s behavior over the course of the past several days to be abnormal, not my own.”
“You say this, Spock, because you are Vulcan. You are trained to ignore your emotions, as I am. However, Jim has always possessed a talent for reading us in a way that most humans cannot.” Here the older man paused, his expression softening to be one of sorrow, grief, regret. “He informs me that you have seemed distracted. He described you as ‘moping.’ Could it have something to do with the approach of our day of birth?”
If Spock were human, he would have flinched. He said nothing in response, but his silence seemed to be all the answer that the elder man needed.
“I seem to recall,” Spock’s Prime went on, “our mother sending a transmission each anniversary of our birth. She seemed to think it necessary to celebrate in some way, even if that celebration was limited to a short video conference.”
Spock’s eyes, previously focused stubbornly on the screen in front of him, slowly dropped to stare at his feet as the older Spock spoke. Yes, his mother had done that. He knew that it was likely his father disapproved of such contact, but his mother thought it necessary to remind him every year that she was proud of him and that he was loved. He was always curt with his responses, admitting to himself now that he was worried he would cause a rift between his parents by allowing these calls, but he now regretted his shortness.
“Spock.”
He lifted his eyes again to focus on the screen, struggling briefly but forcing himself to once again make eye contact with his elder through the screen. “Ambassador?”
“I once had an emotional breakdown while aboard the Enterprise, in front of the captain,” the elder Spock said with surprisingly little shame in his voice considering what he was admitting to. “I cried in front of him, announcing that I was upset and ashamed with myself because, though I am certain she knew, I had never told my mother that I loved her.” He paused to take in the sudden obvious pain in the younger man’s eyes before continuing. “I was, as you have surmised, older than you are now when I experienced this bout of emotion. Therefore, I can only assume that the same dilemma haunts you.”
It had been a very long time since Spock had felt his eyes burn with the signs of moisture that would signal tears. He had been a toddler the last time his father had allowed it. Now, though, his emotions seemed to be completely out of his control.
“Spock,” the Ambassador looked as if tears were tempting him as well. “Do not be ashamed to show emotion in front of me. We are one in the same. I cannot judge you without judging myself, and I have long since abandoned the idea of judging myself for expressing emotion over those closest to my soul.”
And, as if those words were the final crack in the mental dam Spock had built inside of himself, he began to cry. Silent tears began to stream down his face in long trails. Through the blur of tears, though, he could see that his elder was beginning to cry as well, murmuring apologies and reassurances in a stuttering mix of Vulcan and Standard.
Neither was sure who let out the first sob, but it started a chain reaction of real, hysterical, soul cleansing crying.
-----
At approximately 2015 hours, Spock finally exited the conference room to find Jim waiting outside for him. And, if his eyes showed any sign of flush after the conversation with his older self, Jim made no mention of it.
“I’m sorry my birthday present was so depressing, Spock. But, I hope you liked it anyway?”
Spock glanced into those bright, earnest eyes and allowed his eyes to crinkle slightly in his own version of a smile.
“Yes, Jim. I did enjoy my gift,” he said, sincerity slipping into his normally monotonous tone. “Thank you.”
Pairing: None, Spock-centric
Rating: G/PG
Words: 890
Prompt: Written around Nimoy's birthday
The captain’s behavior had been very strange as of late, but Spock had decided that it was not worth commenting on as his abnormal behavior had not affected his performance or that of those around him. Still, the captain seemed to be focusing more and more on Spock himself and, though he was unwilling to admit it to himself outright, it was beginning to make him uncomfortable.
It was when the captain asked him to accompany him at the end of their shift only to shove him into a locked conference room that Spock finally understood. On the display screen in the center of the table was the Ambassador, Spock’s Prime self, looking worried and saddened, his expressive eyes haunting Spock with their open humanity. They seemed to ignite in him the feelings he had been trying to bury for the past couple of weeks.
With a clap to his shoulder, the captain left the room, allowing him to sit and face himself.
“Ambassador,” he acknowledged with a curt nod. “To what do I owe this meeting?”
“Jim informs me that you have been acting strangely, Spock,” came the response, drawing a small but noticeable confused furrowing of the brow from the younger.
“On the contrary, Ambassador. I have found the captain’s behavior over the course of the past several days to be abnormal, not my own.”
“You say this, Spock, because you are Vulcan. You are trained to ignore your emotions, as I am. However, Jim has always possessed a talent for reading us in a way that most humans cannot.” Here the older man paused, his expression softening to be one of sorrow, grief, regret. “He informs me that you have seemed distracted. He described you as ‘moping.’ Could it have something to do with the approach of our day of birth?”
If Spock were human, he would have flinched. He said nothing in response, but his silence seemed to be all the answer that the elder man needed.
“I seem to recall,” Spock’s Prime went on, “our mother sending a transmission each anniversary of our birth. She seemed to think it necessary to celebrate in some way, even if that celebration was limited to a short video conference.”
Spock’s eyes, previously focused stubbornly on the screen in front of him, slowly dropped to stare at his feet as the older Spock spoke. Yes, his mother had done that. He knew that it was likely his father disapproved of such contact, but his mother thought it necessary to remind him every year that she was proud of him and that he was loved. He was always curt with his responses, admitting to himself now that he was worried he would cause a rift between his parents by allowing these calls, but he now regretted his shortness.
“Spock.”
He lifted his eyes again to focus on the screen, struggling briefly but forcing himself to once again make eye contact with his elder through the screen. “Ambassador?”
“I once had an emotional breakdown while aboard the Enterprise, in front of the captain,” the elder Spock said with surprisingly little shame in his voice considering what he was admitting to. “I cried in front of him, announcing that I was upset and ashamed with myself because, though I am certain she knew, I had never told my mother that I loved her.” He paused to take in the sudden obvious pain in the younger man’s eyes before continuing. “I was, as you have surmised, older than you are now when I experienced this bout of emotion. Therefore, I can only assume that the same dilemma haunts you.”
It had been a very long time since Spock had felt his eyes burn with the signs of moisture that would signal tears. He had been a toddler the last time his father had allowed it. Now, though, his emotions seemed to be completely out of his control.
“Spock,” the Ambassador looked as if tears were tempting him as well. “Do not be ashamed to show emotion in front of me. We are one in the same. I cannot judge you without judging myself, and I have long since abandoned the idea of judging myself for expressing emotion over those closest to my soul.”
And, as if those words were the final crack in the mental dam Spock had built inside of himself, he began to cry. Silent tears began to stream down his face in long trails. Through the blur of tears, though, he could see that his elder was beginning to cry as well, murmuring apologies and reassurances in a stuttering mix of Vulcan and Standard.
Neither was sure who let out the first sob, but it started a chain reaction of real, hysterical, soul cleansing crying.
-----
At approximately 2015 hours, Spock finally exited the conference room to find Jim waiting outside for him. And, if his eyes showed any sign of flush after the conversation with his older self, Jim made no mention of it.
“I’m sorry my birthday present was so depressing, Spock. But, I hope you liked it anyway?”
Spock glanced into those bright, earnest eyes and allowed his eyes to crinkle slightly in his own version of a smile.
“Yes, Jim. I did enjoy my gift,” he said, sincerity slipping into his normally monotonous tone. “Thank you.”
