Search for Me by Djinn

Search for me in every constellation. Search for me where ancient worlds collide. Please don't leave me stranded here without you by my side.
- "Search for Me" by Gailyn Addis

Spock is out there, somewhere beyond the hazy San Francisco skies. Only not somewhere--it is not a mystery where he has gone. Kirk knows that he is on Vulcan. At Gol. Purging his emotions from his system. Purging Kirk from his system.

Kirk just doesn't know why. It hurts that he doesn't know, that Spock didn't tell him. That he left in the night--like a thief, stealing all the good things out of Kirk's life.

They went to sleep one night, curled in each other's arms. Kirk woke up the next day alone. Not that unusual--Spock tended to sleep less than he did. Kirk often had the bed to himself. But the whole apartment? The whole city? The whole goddamned planet?

Starfleet Command is dismal now. It was bad before, when he knew Spock was there to come home to. But it was tolerable, if Spock was there to talk to, to hear his misery. It is so much worse now, with no one waiting for him. No one to care about him.

He hates his job, he hates his life.

And much of the time, he hates Spock. The rest of the time he hates himself for hating Spock.

If he just understood why Spock left him. It would be better then. It would hurt less.

If he understood--and if he just could stop missing him.


The skies above Gol are clear. There is nothing to obscure the view of the stars. Nothing to prevent Spock from staring up at them and wondering if Jim has forgiven him yet.

It has taken months for Spock to forgive himself.

He should have warned Jim. He shouldn't have left him in the night.

But he knew that Jim would have found a way to make him stay. One more night. Then another. Then another. Until all that was left was the human who loved Jim. Until everything Vulcan in Spock was gone.

He hears the priestess moving from the testing sands to the sleeping chambers, and he lies quietly, willing her not to notice him. Lying out under the stars is not part of the discipline. Lying under the stars and thinking of Jim is particularly not prescribed.

It is an indulgence. One he will give up soon. Now that he has made peace with his guilt, he must take the next step. He must eradicate his loneliness.

It is not logical to miss someone you abandoned.

But he does.


Kirk watches as Spock moves around the bridge. He's dreamed of this moment, scripted it in his head. So many ways it could play. Him angry, Spock contrite. Him happy, Spock relieved.

But he never imagined this. Him happy, Spock unmoved.

Why didn't he see this coming? No emotions means just that.

Spock isn't here for Kirk. He's here for his own reasons, and they have nothing to do with love and everything to do with that thing bearing down on them. Spock doesn't care that Kirk is here. He doesn't care if Kirk is hurting.

Spock wants to go down to engineering to discuss fuel equations. Kirk's heart is breaking with joy and pain, and Spock wants to talk about fuel equations. With someone else.

Spock doesn't care about him at all.

Kirk wishes he could turn and walk back to his chair and pretend that he too doesn't care at all.

But instead he smiles. "Welcome back," he says, like an idiot. Like a lovesick, kick-me-again-it-didn't-hurt-enough-the-first-time fool.

Spock ignores him.

It shouldn't be a surprise. It shouldn't hurt.

But it does.


Spock assesses the progress the Enterprise crew has made. They know little- -less than he thought they would when he decided to join them. They do not understand the nature of the entity that speeds toward them.

Spock does not understand it either, but he thinks he is farther along in knowing it than they are.

He sinks to the floor of the quarters the captain assigned him. He closes his eyes and reaches out with his mind.

The captain.

He forces the stray thought away. He feels the entity's power, radiating from it even now when it is still some distance from them.


Spock feels a surge of something as the name arises inside him, unwilled, unwanted. He suppresses the feeling as he learned to do at Gol. He knows some will think he failed in his task to rid himself of his emotions, but he did not. This entity promised him more than his home planet and its harshest discipline could ever deliver, so he decided to seek it out.

He searches for unity. He seeks wholeness. He wonders if he will be able to meld with the entity.

He remembers melding with Jim--Kirk--the captain.

This is why he did not stay at Gol. This is why the entity holds such promise. He has made it too far to have his serenity ripped away by these stray emotions. By this passion he can remember even if he can no longer feel it.

He will not give in to it.

He will not give in to Jim.


Kirk stands at the viewscreen, looking out at the stars. He hears his chime and does not turn around as he calls, "Come."

He can tell it is Spock, knows the cadence of his footsteps.

"I am not sure that I am welcome." Spock's voice is tentative. And hoarse, as if he has done more talking in the last few days than in the past few years.

It is possible he has.

"You left me."

"I know."

"Without a word."

There is no answer to that. Spock was there too, he knows he abandoned him.

"I am unwelcome," Spock says. He starts to walk away.

"No. You're not."

He can hear Spock turn again, back to him, back to what they had.

Will they ever get back what they had? They never will if he won't reach out to Spock. He stretches his hand behind him, palm up, and waits.

He does not have to wait long. Spock's hand covers his own; his fingers grasp his in a tight clasp--almost too tight.

"I'm glad you're back. I've missed you." He hears Spock start to speak and jerks his hand hard, to startle him--to silence him. "Don't. Don't say you missed me. Don't lie."

Spock is quiet, does not lie to him.

It is a start.


Spock stares down at Jim as he sleeps. He did not expect to be forgiven as easily as he has been. Jim is generous.

Jim has always been generous. Spock was a fool to leave that generosity.

Spock will not be a fool again.

He touches Jim's forehead, runs his fingers though hair that is darker than he remembers. Jim is darker than he remembers. The years on Earth were not kind to him.

But they did not make Jim unkind. He could have been that way, could have made Spock pay for leaving. Could have made him work for forgiveness. But he did not.

He was loving. He was passionate. He was merciful.

But Spock does not think he trusts him yet. He is not sure Jim will ever trust him again.

Spock will work his whole life to earn back that trust.

Jim pulls away from his fingers. He appears to be unused to sharing a bed, to having someone touch him in the night. It is a relief to Spock, even as it saddens him. Jim was alone. Jim should never have been alone, but he was. Because of him.

He thinks he should leave, go back to his quarters and let Jim sleep in peace. But he does not want him to wake and find him gone like the last time. He does not want Jim to think he abandoned him again, even if he feels less than welcome in his lover's bed.

Spock gets up, careful to not disturb Jim, to not wake him. He sits in the chair by the viewscreen, staring out at the stars, then back at Jim.

Looking at him, being back here with him, he cannot say why he ever left. He is not sure he will ever be able to explain it.

Perhaps he should not even try. Perhaps he should just say, "I was wrong to leave you as I did," as he said over and over to Jim before he fell asleep.

Jim did not tell him it was all right. Jim did not yell at him for leaving. Jim did not want to talk about it, said he never wants to talk about it.

Jim doesn't trust him enough to talk about it.

Spock knows that they will have to talk about it. Someday. When Jim believes in him again.

When he trusts him again.