GRIEF

~>§@§<~

Spock studied his friend over the chess table. He tried to control the feeling of unease that coursed through his body, but wasn't entirely successful. He knew there was something wrong. There had been something wrong for a very long time.

Kirk was so tense. He'd been tense and not quite himself for far too long. At first Spock had believed it to be guilt or perhaps anger, but as the days wore on he had finally deciphered Kirk's body language. The captain was maintaining a control that even he, as a Vulcan, had to pause to admire. But it was also quite clear that the control would snap. If Kirk's actions were anything to go by, it would be sooner rather than later. For a moment, Spock considered calling it a night and go talk to McCoy.

"Your move, Mr. Spock," Kirk said tersely.

Spock's attention moved to the chess game and he made his move quickly without giving it much consideration. He met Kirk's surprised expression with a lifted eyebrow. His mind was not on the game, and he did not care whether it showed. He kept watching Kirk, and saw the slight twitch of the other man's leg, as he tapped his foot impatiently.

"See anything you like, Mr. Spock?" Kirk finally snapped.

Spock started and felt his eyes widen in surprise. Then he realized that Kirk hadn't really meant it that way. He was simply 'pissed off' as McCoy would say--in truth very tense, and the control was slipping. Spock finally recognized the emotion in Kirk's eyes as the carefully maintained mask disappeared.

It was grief. A soul-shattering grief that probably took the Human's last reserves to keep at bay.

"Jim," Spock finally said. He didn't truly recognize his own voice. He'd never spoken so softly before. It was quite clear that Kirk heard the difference in his tone as well, because Kirk met his gaze suddenly, and Spock had no trouble deciphering the words in the other man's face.

Don't do this, Spock, it said.

But Spock had no intention of backing away now that he had finally realized what was wrong. He silently put the chessboard away. Kirk leaned back in his chair, looking apprehensive, almost frightened.

"We must talk," Spock said.

"Did Bones put you up to this?" Kirk said, tension lacing his words.

"No."

"Then why are you doing this? This isn't like you, Spock."

"What is not 'like me', Jim?"

Kirk looked away and rose from his chair. He began pacing the room. The Human's body was taut as a bowstring, and the fragile link that usually lived between them was completely closed down. Spock frowned inwardly. Curious, he had not noticed until now how the connection had been completely blocked.

"Just leave me alone, Spock. I'll get over it."

"I am sure you will, but this will not do. I have been unable to understand what has been distressing you so since Deneva. At first I believed it to be guilt at my loss of sight. I understand now, however, that this was highly egotistical of me."

Kirk turned toward him then.

"Egotistical? I'd hardly call you egotistical, Spock." Kirk's voice was trembling now and Spock wasn't certain if it was sadness or anger or perhaps a mixture of both that made Kirk's face look so blank. It was difficult to decipher emotions, and the deeper they ran, the more difficult it seemed to get.

"Do not change the subject, Jim," Spock said evenly. "I understand that the loss you feel at your brother's death is what is troubling you."

All color drained from Kirk's face then and he turned his back. Spock felt no satisfaction of having read his friend accurately. Instead, an unfamiliar feeling of compassion overwhelmed him and he rose.

"Jim," he repeated. "You must not keep this within yourself any longer. It consumes you." He put his hand on Kirk's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting grasp.

Kirk shrugged violently. "What would you have me do, Mr. Spock?" he said mockingly. "Break down and cry?"

The words were spat out in a venomous tone. The look in Kirk's eyes made Spock back off half a step before realizing it was as though watching a wounded animal lashing out at anyone or anything coming just a bit too close.

"Perhaps that is a good idea, Jim," he said softly.

A bark of laughter erupted from Jim and the eyes became hard and unyielding. "Cry? You're suggesting I cry, Spock? I've never seen you shed a tear!"

"I am not you, Jim," Spock pointed out, determined not to allow Jim's words to wound him. "Vulcans seldom weep."

Kirk seemed unable to respond to that, and Spock moved closer again, putting his hands on Kirk's shoulders once more. This time, his grip was harder, telling Kirk that he wasn't about to let go. He could feel the incredible tension in the other's body, and expected to be shoved away again.

Spock could barely imagine the pain such tension tried to hold at bay.

"He was your brother, Jim," Spock said.

"Don't you tell me that, Spock. Dammit. Don't you tell me that!"

Spock didn't know what to do, other than pull the human into his arms and hold on.

"Let it out, Jim. Just let it out," he said brokenly, feeling as though Kirk's pain was his own.

Jim's body was tense in his arms and he struggled to get loose, but Spock wouldn't let go. He kept holding on, pulling Jim closer. Somewhere deep down he knew that this was the right thing to do.

Suddenly Jim's body went slack. Spock's arms grasped tighter, keeping the human upright.

"My God, Spock." Kirk whispered. "Sam. He's dead."

The only thing that could be heard was Kirk's labored breathing as he fought the pain.

"Do not fight it, Jim." Spock said softly.

"He's dead."

"Yes."

Spock winced as he felt Kirk's hands dig into his shoulders in a painful grip and then he the first soul-shattering gasp tore itself from Kirk's chest. Finally, he was crying. Spock remained holding on tightly, sensing the grief radiating off the human's body in tangible waves.

"You don't understand," Kirk's voice was shaky. '

Spock didn't know what to say. What could he say? He had lost a brother once, but they had never been close. Few even knew about Sybok. But the human's next words came as a shock-

"Everytime I think about Sam dying, Spock, I can't help feeling grateful."

Spock pulled back for a second, searching Kirk's face. The eyes were red and puffy, and filled with guilt.

"Why are you grateful, Jim?" Spock couldn't help asking.

"Because it wasn't you. I wouldn't have survived if it had been you, Spock."

"You are right, Jim. I do not understand."

Jim's hand grasped his shoulder in a tight grip.

"You're more like a brother to me than Sam ever was."

Spock couldn't reply. Suddenly his throat constricted and all he could do was turn his head away and allow his grip around Jim's shoulders to tighten even more.

END