ataraxion | video|

Entry tags:

video|

[ it has been nine months.

nine months that he has served aboard the Tranquility, and with each passing jump, fewer and fewer of those that arrived with him- remain. those that he could acknowledge with a nod of his head, those who would offer up their places in the lift so that he might not be forced to endure physical contact. those with whom he shared name, rank, and specialty. history and conversation. those who had offered advice and understanding as readily as curiosity and appreciation. each and every one of them is important to him, because it illustrates how far he has come from the deeply disapproving Vulcan cadet he had once been. Spock does not know if these associations have made him more human- but their worth to him cannot be accurately quantified. ]

In light of recent discussion and events, I find it appropriate to make request.

If you possess qualification or experience in the counsel of others and desire to assist fellow passengers, I advise that you submit yourself for placement among medical personnel. Similarly, as I anticipate that medical bay would not deny participation- [ there is no pause for McCoy's loss, or the personal difficulty with which he anticipates John Watson must perform, but the thought is there. a ghost in the line of his mouth. ] if you have served Medical prior, your presence would likely be of significant value.

[ Spock's chin dips forward a fraction. it is barely movement at all, but enough to allow his face to move from the sterile, unnatural light of the ship's interior. when he speaks again, his voice quiets. he takes account of the adjustment in his body language and the slight tonal inflection of his voice, but does nothing to smooth their perceived imperfections.

empathy is a fundamental expression of sentience, so said Surak.
and Spock will not begrudge himself his humanity, however contained he may allow his experience of it to be. ]

As members of Starfleet, as cadets we are taught to understand and accept the potential that we may perish in the line of duty. I expect that those of you in similar professions are familiar with the experience. However- [ his gaze flickers before lifting, returning to the feed. ] The Tranquility is not manned by an organized service. A significant portion of our number are civilians and each of us are unwilling members of her crew.

Loss is a universal experience.

It is known to the most seasoned shipmen, and to those who have never considered the possibility. Grief is a natural progression, and given the nature of our work here, as are fear, anxiety, and apprehension. But they are responses that must be overcome if we intend to return to our homes.

There are members aboard willing and able to provide. Should you find yourself in need of their services, I urge you to attend to them.

Spock out.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ sulu's quiet for a long moment. and then, very softly, ]

That was well said, sir.

[ oh no, she is not going to cry, no sir.

okay, maybe just a little dammit spock. ]

You're a good man, Spock.

[it's a long while before Kirk responds to this. it isn't that they haven't been keeping in touch. hell, he speaks to Spock more than anyone else on the ship. but they'd been together on this godforsaken vessel for months before any of their crew showed up. maybe it was to be expected, that their relationship would start to transcend that of simple captain and first officer.

or maybe it had been something Kirk was seeking (I have been, and always shall be, your friend.) selfishly.

it's late at night when he sends Spock a message. they'd been wise words, advising people to seek help. Kirk hated getting help, he was used to being independent, to standing on his own, to being the post that everyone else leaned up. but this month had destroyed him. he'd been wrecked when they'd suffered jump losses, but with Sherlock today? he couldn't focus anymore. he couldn't do his work, and while he'd been delegating to his best ability, his own pile of paperwork was steadily building.

he needed help, but the help he needed, he couldn't get from Deanna. he couldn't get it from anyone he talked to on this ship, because this whole mess had started with Spock. and wasn't that ironic? it almost seemed like everything started with Spock; or ended with him.]

Mister Spock.

[two words, something so simple, and yet knowing that he was going to breach the topic was already making Kirk queasy. after his incident in front of Godric...

he was going to give the Vulcan thirty seconds to respond and then he was hanging up.]

[ he is at something of a loss, with no task to otherwise attend to and his quarters uncharacteristically empty. Spock's head tilts faintly to one side, but his tone remains. soft and constant. ]

On the contrary, Ariadne. I am an ordinary individual, merely attempting to perform to the best of my abilities.

[ his head doesn't lower, but there is a significant lag before his gaze lifts to the feed. there is a universe (perhaps two) of things he does not say- of experiences that require no reminder. the crew of the Enterprise has come to watch Spock change more than he ever anticipated possible. to witness the possibility of their number diminishing-

is a very different thing than the potential and his awareness thereof.

when his attention finds sulu, it lingers. even after the nod of acknowledgment- a mute expression of gratitude. ]

I trust you understand that the responsibility for communicating shipwide acceptance of multigender representation now falls entirely to your person.

[ the message does not wake him, because Spock has not elected to sleep this evening. his quarters are unnaturally quiet without the interruption, the occupation of others- a presence that in his many months aboard the Tranquility, he has come to accept and at times, anticipate. Chase may yet return to their room. Nyota may elect to seek him out. Spock himself may extend conversation to John Watson.

there are multiple possibilities, and he contents himself with the knowledge that it is a combination of that fact, and experience that keep him at his desk.

there is no shortage of work to be completed, and by occupying his attention, there is less of his mind left to the emotional nature of recent experience. time, he has learned, is a capable healer. in the distance that will come from this, he will separate and experience his loss. he will understand it, and accept it. as they all must.

but when his Captain's voice reaches him across the feed, his hands settle. PADD stilled in his hand. this too, was a possibility. James Kirk has been- uniquely unreachable in the passed days. he would be found when he so desired to be.

one beat passes before he replies. ]

Captain. [ i am here ]

[when he responds it pulls the rug out from under him for any escape plan he'd vaguely been considering. Spock has always been perfectly punctual, regardless of the situation, and Jim knows this would only change if something was wrong.

but Spock sounds completely unfazed, as he always does, and while Kirk used to hate him for this- right now? he finds he envies it. the single word response has a weight to it that, once upon a time, Jim wouldn't have understood the nuances to. but he gets it now, like he can hear it in his own head.

he takes a breath, and feels his throat tighten.]

I- [he falters] This- this isn't on the record. [nothing out here, technically, was, but he didn't know how else to start this conversation.] I need your help.

[ the PADD is lowered, set soundlessly upon the desk's polished, meticulously ordered surface- and Spock's hands slip to his lap. lace themselves in one another. there can be no true expectation of what will come to pass, of what he is being requested. estimates perhaps, conjecture with a percentage of probability, a margin of error- but Spock has no inclination to postulate.

they have had enough time together, in these passing months, to come to some sort of understanding of one another. if Kirk's intention had been to remain quiet, he would have done so. that he has asked for his attention means that a decision has already been reached, and Spock has learned to trust that, if he trusts little else. ]

To what location would you prefer to convene?

[ it's been a hard month. the lingering mess from strela, still keeping sulu up nights. mccoy gone, and kirk a ghost and deaths and disappearances and both his commanding officers' names in stark black text on that list--no, it hasn't been a good month. sulu's been spending his nights with his katana in hand, and it shows in the smudges beneath his eyes, but--

well, spock calls back to happier times. and sulu's smile is a small, uncertain thing but.

it exists. it's progress. ]

I'll have to make sure I'm up to the challenge. I wouldn't want...I'd hate to mess it up and have to tell McCoy about it when we got back.

[he falters.

these devices, they'd offered some form of privacy that Kirk had unwittingly come to rely on in situations like this. a physical barrier between himself and those he might choose to bare himself to.]

It's not that important. [he says, but even as he says it, the words fall miserably flat. whatever swell of emotion had been crawling up into the back of his mouth rolled over him, violent and hard. he takes a breath and it shudders on the inhale. broken glass.

he corrects himself.] I'm- not sure that would be wise.

I would be willing to help in medbay.

And I could use some... services. [He's aware it sound awkward and not quite as he meant, but... yes, psychological services.]

Well said, Mr. Spock.

[Charles offered with a small, genuine smile before he reached up and brushed a hand through his hair.]

Before the events on that space station and more recent losses I would have offered my services for counseling. Now, I do not know if I would be more of a help or a hindrance.

[Though, he had been considering reaching out to others who had gone through part or whole assimilation and seeing how people were recovering from having their minds nearly stolen from them.]

People seem to speak often of loss here. I must admit that I, too, have felt some dread hanging over my breast since my arrival.

What is it that plagues you so?

No. [ she shook her head greatly in disagreement at that, wiping away a yet another tear before it came out. it's obvious things are getting to her though (can anyone blame her for that though) and her normally confident and calm demeanor is not there, as it seems to be replaced with something almost burnt out and lost.

but stressed or not, she is still firmly set on her thoughts here, and wants to make sure he understands why she thinks the way she does. ]

You are far from ordinary - you care - I don't think there are many here that do. And I honestly don't think you would have even bothered saying anything like this if you didn't.

[ and she was firmly set in that opinion. because to her, he was one of the only ones that has ever made an attempt at trying to comfort them (as subtle as it was) .]

[ Uhura sits with her comm in both hands settled on her lap for a short stretch of time, trying to decide what to type or what to say. but for whatever reason, the words never form. she's not in shock, she's not grieving, she's not angry. but she does feel that sense of loss, the kind of stretched out thinness that comes with not being able to do anything to put a stop to someone else's pain. in this case, the crew of the Tranquility's pain. Kirk's pain. because she knows, she's not blind to it. Kirk and Spock have both been here much longer than her, and she knows they didn't get by by just scratching the surface with the people here. they know everyone, they formed bonds with everyone. on some level, because of what they have all been through, it's more than just crewmates joined together on the same ship - it's become a matter of survival. you rely on these people to help you through, and when one is taken away- she gets it, even if she doesn't feel the same, not just yet.

but no, the words never form, it's just a feeling in her chest that leaves her quiet. so she gives up on it, tucks her communicator into one of the pockets of her uniform, and heads to Spock's room. it's simpler than trying to articulate her sentiment, because they wouldn't have to talk, wouldn't have to do anything at all besides be in each other's company. sometimes it's better that way, oddly. hundreds of languages and translations sometimes never seem to amount to the same thing as being able to sit with Spock and let him know she's there, in every sense of the word.

her knock is a soft drum of her knuckles against the frame of his door, same as it always is when she's taken it upon herself to show up at his room unannounced. no urgency, but there's a distinction to it that's there every time, intentional or not - it's me. ]

[ the correction is immensely significant in itself. the cadet he had known those months ago is in many ways, incongruous to the man he now calls Captain. the unmistakable traces remain, hints to one's origin- but Spock has come to wonder if perhaps that too is a universal constant. who would Jim be, if not a man that even the stars must stop to pay attention to?

Spock rises to his feet and moves off, preparing a second glass to the tea he has been neglecting, and in the silence considers those words. once, Jim would have stopped at nothing in his effort to prove himself- to be considered beyond capable. it is, he has come to understand, considered a weakness- a failing, to find oneself in need of anything- especially should that need come from a Starship Captain. and yet Spock can think of no more noble act than to find the courage to do what is necessary to resolve it. to have sought him out at all, speaks volumes to Kirk's character. perhaps volumes to them both. ]

What is necessary, is never unwise.

[it could be any number of things getting to the young captain in this moment; the quiet of night on the ship, Spock's voice low and understanding over the network, some distant upswell of feeling that he knows can't belong to him but he craves nevertheless, or that at this hour he's lost his tenuous control over the pain that's been plaguing him. either way, he leans forward against his desk, elbow propped on the smooth surface and his hand pressing up through his hair. it forces it to stand at odd angles, and his breath hitches.

once. twice.

he swallows, tries to force it down, but ultimately fails. the sound that cracks out of him is nothing short of a miserable sob.

come here, help me, god I can't do this is what he wants to say, but he closes his mouth and wars with himself, an attempt to reign himself under control to keep the conversation going and prevent himself from weeping uncontrollably over the feed.]

[ her assessment gives him pause. it is not something Spock believes he has ever been accused of before, and his fingers come together quietly in his lap. linked- each holding the other aloft. ]

I have come to understand, in my time here, that there is a skewed perception regarding compassion for others. To forge bonds with one another is an expectation of all aboard. Efforts are made to deepen friendships, and friendships have evolved into romantic relations. And yet, should one of these bonds be severed- by absence or death, the expectation then becomes stoicism.

[ there is a flicker of one brow, and his chin dips thoughtfully forward. ] I do not believe that it is, as you say, a lack of caring that is present aboard the Tranquility. But instead, a surplus of the denial to acknowledge one's loss. I have found that it is often considered- [ a beat ] more appropriate, favorable to feign composure than to accept the consequences of emotional compromise.

[ it was not so long ago, after all, that Spock was among them. his gaze lifts, finds hers across the device. ]

A number of your party is gone?

[ the request is unnecessary for so many reasons.

not the first that Kirk has sought him out, and that Spock has come to know that in the midst of what one perceives as a loss of control, it is immeasurable comfort to be surrounded by the familiar. but it is, ultimately, so much more. Spock is already exiting his room, tea in hand, and while he does not run- there is significant purpose in his stride.

there is something within Jim, some great and insurmountable force that reaches outward. an expanse that stretches and asks and finds Spock himself in it's travels. much more than a ghost, draping itself over his senses. and Spock knows that he is answering that call as so much more than duty.

he pauses only once, before the man's door- and in the relative silence, dark lashes fall against his cheeks. a breath taken- held- and like all things, released.

the door opens, and he waits politely in it's entrance. allows himself to be discovered and acknowledged. ]

[ he adjusts the encryption on Charles' behalf, equal parts empathy and respect. Spock's gaze remains on the man's face, quietly tracing the lines there, mapping what he can of his expression- of the thoughts and memories that linger there. ]

I am unsurprised to know of your consideration. [ his head tilts faintly to one side at the gentle rib. everything he has come to know of Charles, after all, speaks volumes to his desire to assist others. it is not a stretch to imagine that he has spent a great deal of his time quietly analyzing his loss- in lieu of offering comfort to the others he knows. ]

Is there anything I may provide?

[ there is a nod, more solemn, more contained, than those he has offered in the past. ]

I am certain they will be pleased by the assistance.
I trust it is unnecessary to remind you to be mindful of your involvement.

There are a number of incidences that have occurred in the months since first arrival that have, as you say, plagued the ship and it's crew. At present however, it was my intention to speak regarding those who have vanished from the Tranquility and those who have perished while aboard.

[ Spock does not return the smile, though it is unmistakable to observe on the Lieutenant's face. there are traces perhaps, that linger in his gaze, and the curious sensation that some weight, however small, has been lifted. ]

Indeed. He is a uniquely stubborn individual. I do not believe he would allow you, or any other he should come into contact with, forget it.

[ it's something in the air- some intangible thing, a calling, that signifies her arrival. something in her stride, in their knowledge of one another, in their histories- separate and joint, that speaks to him. undefined but no less accurate, mysterious and no less true, it is this force that brings him to the entrance of his quarters. that opens the door no sooner than her knuckles have found it's surface- to find him standing there. her opposite.

nyota has always compelled him.
and to say that he has not considered the possibility of her loss would be a lie.

his hands do not move from his sides- only stay- dangling, limp (useless) at his thighs- but his face lowers to her own as a flower bowing to sunlight.

i knew you would come. ]

[ the enterprise crew: coping one step at a time. ]

If I stretch out Lieutenant Uhura's skirt, I'm sending her to you.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3

video|

no subject

no subject

voice | private | KIRK encryption 100%

no subject

no subject

voice | private | KIRK encryption 100%

voice | private | KIRK encryption 100%

voice | private | KIRK encryption 100%

no subject

voice | private | KIRK encryption 100%

no subject

Video - sad attempt at private

[voice]

no subject

action;

voice | private | KIRK encryption 100%

voice | private | KIRK encryption 100%

no subject

voice | private | KIRK encryption 100%

video| private encryption

no subject

permavideo|

no subject

action;

no subject