lah_mrh | Why They Call It Falling

Fandom: Star Trek Reboot (AU)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When a group of Vulcans on a cultural exchange move in downstairs, Jim's friends bet him he can't seduce one of them. The last thing Jim expects is to fall in love, but Vulcan culture is strict, and he and Spock will have to battle many trials before they can reach their happy ending. Based on the film Latter Days.
Words: ~5500/24000
Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, past minor character death, homophobia, parental disapproval, attempted suicide

Jim wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. Looking round, his heart sinks as he realises Spock's luggage is gone. He is alone.

His attention is caught by something on the nightstand and he turns to see Spock's IDIC medallion. Jim stares at it. Spock told him that medallion was one of his most treasured possessions. Surely he can't have been so careless as to leave it behind? Then he realises there's something underneath it.

It's a note, very short.

Jim,
I did not wish a long goodbye, but I want to thank you for everything you have given me. Please accept this gift as a token of my affection.
Spock.

Jim's vision blurs briefly, but he blinks the tears back firmly. He hasn't cried since his mother died, and he's damn well not going to start now.

He picks up the medallion and holds it tightly, the edges digging painfully into his hand, until the urge to cry passes. Then he slowly gets up and begins gathering his things.

* * *

Jim checks the boards when he gets back to the shuttle terminal, to find the shuttle to Vulcan is just leaving. He wraps his fingers around the medallion in his pocket and stares at the board for a long moment, feeling a sense of loss grip him. Finally he turns away and heads back to the area for shuttles to Earth. It's time he went home.

The act of buying a ticket and boarding the shuttle is done by rote, Jim's mind still stuck back in the hotel room with Spock. When the shuttle takes off he looks out of the window, fixing his gaze out at the moon until the motion of the shuttle takes it out of sight.

With nothing else to do, he pulls out his communicator. He turned it off last night so no one would disturb them, but he figures he should find out what he missed. There are a couple of messages from people in his classes wondering why he wasn't there, and four separate messages from Uhura demanding to know where he is and what the hell is going on.

He sends her a quick reply, I'm fine. Long story, I'll explain when I get back. Then he shoves his communicator back in his bag and goes back to trying not to think about Spock. He wishes they'd thought to exchange comm numbers or something, but it's too late now.

He reaches San Francisco around lunchtime. He's missed an entire day and a half of classes, but he can't really bring himself to care. He's way ahead in most of them anyway.

It doesn't take him long to get back to their apartment building, and he stares at it blankly for a moment before going in. He avoids looking at the door to the Vulcans' apartment as he strides past, heading quickly for the elevator.

The apartment is just how he left it, despite Uhura's last message that she was going to move her latest fling into his room if he didn't start responding to her messages.

For lack of anything better to do, Jim begins tidying up. He weighs the pros and cons of attending his last class of the day and decides to blow it off. He really isn't in the mood for discussing the finer points of Tellarite etiquette right now. Besides, he knows for a fact that the professor for that course likes him and will let him make it up later if he has to.

By the time Uhura gets back he's tidied the living room and made a decent start on the kitchen. She stops dead in the doorway at the sight of him, though Jim isn't sure whether her surprise is due to his presence or the fact that he is voluntarily cleaning the floor. (He isn't sure either of them have done so since they moved in.)

"You," she says, narrowing her eyes.

Jim offers a grin. "Hi?"

Uhura puts her hands on her hips and glares at him. "What the hell happened to you?" she demands. "You disappear with some vague note about going to Lunaport and don't answer your communicator, and then when you do respond all you'll say is that it's a long story and you'll explain later."

With a sigh, Jim puts aside the cleaner he's been using to wash the floor and leans against the counter. "Something happened with Spock," he says.

Her expression changes from annoyance to curiosity. "Tell me."

Jim takes a deep breath and begins retelling the events of the past few days; Stonn's accident, the kiss, Spock's leaving, the two of them reuniting at Lunaport. He skims over the details of his and Spock's night together, and is endlessly grateful that she doesn't mention the bet. He isn't sure he could take it right now.

"So he's gone, then?" Uhura asks softly, once he's finished.

Jim nods. "Yep." He draws the word out, popping the p. It's an affectation designed to annoy, but it just comes out flat.

She touches his arm, looking sympathetic. "You really cared about him, didn't you?"

Jim shrugs, then turns and picks up the cleaner. From her lack of comment, he guesses that's probably answer enough.

* * * * *

Spock spends the two-day journey to Vulcan alternately planning what he will do when he arrives, and trying and failing to avoid thinking about Jim.

Perhaps it was cowardly to leave without saying goodbye, but he did not wish a big emotional scene. It was easier and less painful to make a clean break. Still, he cannot help but wonder what Jim's reaction was when he woke to find that Spock had gone.

As his shuttle approaches the planet he finds it more and more difficult to suppress his anxiety. His father has always come down hard on any display of illogic from Spock, and his recent actions have achieved a new record in that area. To be caught exchanging intimacy not only with a human but a male is so far beyond any previous misdemeanours that Spock cannot imagine his father's reaction, but there is no doubt that it will be an extremely negative one.

Meditation helps to calm him, but only up to a point, and when the shuttle docks at ShiKahr he gathers his bags with a feeling of near dread.

His unease is soon proven correct. His father is waiting for him, his face an expressionless mask. Spock has only seen his father so closed off a handful of times, and it has never boded well for him.

Forcing down the anxiety that grips him, Spock walks over to his father and offers the ta'al. "Father."

"Spock," his father replies shortly. "Come." He does not return the ta'al, instead turning and striding towards the exit, leaving Spock to follow.

The flight back to the house is made in silence, Sarek seemingly pretending that Spock does not exist. Spock considers breaking the silence, but he does not know what to say. He senses that any attempt to explain himself would be in vain, and so in the end he remains silent and waits for his father to make the first move.

It is not until the air-car touches down on the landing pad and the engine is turned off that Sarek speaks. "Your actions have brought shame on not only yourself, but your clan. Do you have any explanation for your illogical behaviour?"

Spock wants to tell him that his actions weren't shameful, that the time he spent with Jim was the only time he felt accepted, and that if he had the chance he would do it all over again. But the words stick in his throat. His father will never understand, and any explanation Spock attempts to give will be viewed as digging himself deeper.

"That is what I expected," Sarek says, into the silence. "I considered punishing you, as I did when you were a child, but it is your mother's opinion that the coming days will be punishment enough. T'Pring's parents have already contacted me to discuss breaking your betrothal, and I cannot imagine other reactions will be any more positive."

Spock does not care about the betrothal, but the disappointment in his father's tone still stings. The instant he is dismissed he gathers his bags and, without a second look, makes his way up to his room.

Once there he locks the door and slowly goes about the process of unpacking. He is almost finished when he comes across the card from Christopher Pike. He stares at it for a long moment, then slides it back into the bag, out of sight.

He is arranging the last of things on his dresser when there is a knock on the door. Forcing down his nerves, Spock crosses the room and opens the door.

His mother stands there, fingers fiddling absently with a seam of her robe. She stops when he opens the door and instead smoothes her hands down the fabric. "Spock," she greets. "I hope you are well?"

She does not offer him a welcome home, nor does she attempt to hug him as she usually does. Even though such actions often make him uncomfortable, Spock finds himself missing them. His mother's current reticence feels wrong, and once again he wonders that a simple kiss could ruin everything.

"I am physically fit," he replies, deliberately leaving out any references to his emotional health. Vulcans do not lie, after all.

She offers a faint smile. "Good. That's good." She glances around, then adds, "I just wanted to tell you that dinner will be ready in about half an hour, okay?"

"I will be there," Spock replies. Much as he might wish to skip it.

His mother nods. "Well, I should go. I'm… I'm glad you're okay." With that she turns to leave.

Spock wants to call after her, to ask her why she's acting this way, but once more the words stick in his throat. He watches her disappear down the stairs before going back into his room and dropping down onto his meditation mat. If ever he needed the peace of meditation, it is now.

* * *

As promised, T'Pring's parents arrive the next day to break the betrothal. T'Pring is with them.

His mother opts not to sit in on the meeting, instead disappearing off to some other part of the house as soon as they arrive. The rest of them retire to the drawing room, and Spock finds himself studying T'Pring as they sit down. She is attractive, he supposes, but there is a coldness about her that is the complete opposite of Jim's warmth and enthusiasm. She is, in every respect, a proper Vulcan woman, and Spock no longer wants that. If, indeed, he ever did.

He mostly avoids listening to the recitation of his misdeeds, instead focusing on a particular patch of carpet and mentally reciting everything he learned during his all too brief time on Earth. He just wants this meeting to be over with so he can go back to being ignored.

A slight change in tone tells him a question has been asked of him, and he mentally rewinds the conversation to find that T'Pring's father has just asked what he intended to prove with his actions.

"Nothing," he answers simply. "My actions were not intended as a proof, or a betrayal, or anything else. They simply were." The feeling of being unable to speak that has dogged him since he arrived on Vulcan has suddenly lifted, and everything he has longed to say comes spilling out. "Furthermore, it was not wrong, or 'illogical', or whatever else you are undoubtedly thinking. It was wonderful and right and perfect, and I will not let you or anyone else say otherwise."

He lapses into silence, fingernails digging into his palm as he looks around at the others. T'Pring's parents look shocked at his outburst, while his father looks quietly furious. T'Pring herself looks merely curious, as if he's a puzzle she has yet to figure out. It is probably the most affectionate look she has ever given him.

"I believe the ceremony should be performed as soon as possible," T'Pring's mother says, breaking the silence.

"Indeed," Sarek mutters. He stands and adds, " I shall make the arrangements and contact you with the details."

T'Pring and her parents stand likewise, and bow their heads in acquiescence. "That is acceptable," T'Pring's mother says.

Sarek gestures to the doorway. "Let me show you out." Without even looking at Spock, he adds, "Spock, you are dismissed."

T'Pring catches his eye as she and her parents are shown out, and there's something in her expression Spock can't quite identify. If forced, he would say it's almost… sympathetic, but then she is gone and he writes it off as wishful thinking. He will find no sympathy here.

* * *

The ceremony takes place the next day. It is over quickly, a simple mindmeld to remove the betrothal link, and he is free. Alone.

He keeps his head high, meeting the disapproving gazes around him with impassiveness, but inside he is aching. He has always been an outcast, but not like this. Even his own mother will not meet his eyes, and as they make their way home from the annulment ceremony he finds himself missing Jim more than ever.

* * * * *

Back on Earth, Jim is dealing with the separation in his own way. His first instinct is to throw himself into other things; work, hobbies, extra-credit projects, anything that will keep his mind busy enough to avoid thinking about the hole Spock's absence has left.

Unfortunately, this plan comes with side effects.

"Dammit, Jim," McCoy says, crossing his arms as Jim blinks at him from a bed in the medical centre. "You can't keep running yourself ragged like this. When's the last time you ate? Or slept?" Jim opens his mouth, only to close it again when McCoy glares at him and adds, "For more than a couple of hours at a time."

"I'm fine," Jim protests, although he realises his present location does not exactly add credence to his claim.

Sure enough, McCoy just snorts. "Right. You're totally fine. That's why you collapsed in the middle of your self-defence class and ended up here." His expression softens, and he adds, "Look, Jim. I know you miss him, but you need to start taking better care of yourself."

Jim sets his jaw and looks away. "Can I go now?"

McCoy sighs, holding out a PADD. "Just sign this, and you're free to leave. But I want you to eat a full meal and get at least eight hours of sleep tonight."

Jim obediently scrawls a signature, then gathers his things and hurries off before McCoy can change his mind.

He's already missed half of his Interplanetary Ethics class thanks to his little fainting spell, so he's at something of a loose end. He considers going to the library and doing some more research on the Kobayashi Maru test, but McCoy's words stick in his mind and he finds himself making his way towards the mess hall instead.

He orders a chicken sandwich and water, deciding to skip the coffee for once. He has a suspicion that his recent trip to the medical centre can be blamed at least in part on the vast amounts of caffeine he's been ingesting recently. McCoy's right, he needs to get more sleep, but when he sleeps he dreams of Spock, and even the good dreams make his chest ache.

The only bright spot he can see is that the Vulcans disappeared the day he got back. Apparently the sudden 'betrayal' of one quarter of their group unsettled them enough to move out. Jim doesn't know if they went somewhere else in San Francisco, or cut their losses and went back to Vulcan, but he doesn't really care. He's just grateful to be spared at least one reminder of his loss.

When his food comes, he takes his tray and sits down in a far corner to eat. It's actually not bad, and he's halfway through his sandwich when he's interrupted by someone sliding into the seat opposite.

He looks up to see a guy from his Warp Field Mechanics class studying him with a familiar look in his eyes. Jim lets a smile spread across his face, automatically falling into old habits.

"I'm looking for some… tutoring," the guy – Matthew? Michael? – says, his gaze straying blatantly down Jim's body. "You interested?"

Jim hesitates, his mind going straight to Spock, but then he pushes the thought away firmly. Spock is gone, and he's not coming back, and it's time he accepted that.

He studies the guy, letting his eyes linger on the way his chest fills out his uniform, and nods. He's attractive enough – dark hair, full lips, scattering of freckles – and Jim has never been what one would call picky. "I think that could be arranged," he says in a low voice, reaching out to lay a hand on the guy's arm. "I'm actually free right now, if that's good for you?"

Ten minutes later, they're in the guy's dorm room, hands and mouths roaming as they approach the bed. Jim feels something inside him flare to life as they move together, all the pain and doubt of the past days washing away as if it never existed. He surrenders himself to the feeling and for the first time in days does not think of Spock.

The freedom is short lived, however. He's still trying to get his breath back from the orgasm when his companion rolls out of bed and begins getting dressed. "That was great," he says, "but I have a class in fifteen minutes, so, you know."

Jim sits up, feeling oddly let down. "That's it?" he asks. "You don't want to like, talk or anything?"

The guy – Jim still doesn't know his name – gives him a look like he's said something totally ridiculous. "Don't make it weird, dude," he says.

Jim nods, then silently pulls on his clothes and leaves, his own words to Spock ringing in his mind. It's just sex, okay? Two people making each other feel good. It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to.

And if I do want it to? he asks silently. What then?

* * *

By the time he gets home that night, he's come up with a plan. It's becoming clear that he can't deal with being cut off from Spock like this, so he'll have to find some way to bring them back together.

It's complicated, of course, by the fact that he doesn't know Spock's comm number, or his address, or really anything except that he's called Spock and lives on Vulcan. And since, according to the data banks, that describes over one hundred thousand people, he's going to have to find some way of narrowing it down.

For the first time he wishes Stonn and the others hadn't moved out. They would have known how to contact Spock, or at the very least have access to much more information about him than Jim has.

As it happens, though, he has more information than he thinks. That night he's examining the medallion Spock left him when he realises there's something carved on the back. It's a sort of pattern of curved lines, and Jim stares at it, trying to remember where he's seen anything like it before. Then it dawns on him, and he bolts out of his room in search of Uhura.

She's watching a holovid in the living room, but pauses it when he comes rushing in. "What's up?" she asks, a look of concern crossing her face.

"You read Vulcan, right?" Jim asks, feeling the edges of the medallion digging into his hand.

"Some," Uhura replies doubtfully. "I'm better at Romulan."

Jim holds out the medallion. "Can you tell me what this says?"

Uhura takes it, running her fingers over the front. "Where did you get this?" she asks. "It looks old. And valuable."

"Spock gave it to me," Jim says, then grimaces as her expression begins to warp into pity. "Can you read it or not?"

Uhura's eyes narrow, but he knows she can't resist a challenge. Looking down, she turns the medallion over and stares at the writing with a frown. "It looks like a name," she says, then lets out a string of syllables that Jim has no chance of remembering, much less reproducing himself.

Uhura takes in his blank look and sighs. "I can try and transliterate it for you," she says. "Why are you so interested anyway?"

Jim crosses his arms, trying not to fidget. "Spock said the medallion belonged to his great-grandfather," he admits. "I thought if I could find out what it said I might be able to use it to find him."

Uhura nods slowly. "I'll see what I can do," she promises.

She's getting that look of pity again, and Jim scowls. He hates being pitied. Even being insulted or laughed at would be better. But she's doing him a favour, so he pushes down his annoyance. "Thanks," he says. He nods at the medallion and adds, "You can keep that for now. Until you find something out."

With that he retreats back to his room before Uhura can ask him to join her. He learned a long time ago never to watch a film with Uhura, unless he wants to spend the whole time listening to a running commentary of every single error and plot hole. She isn't one to be easily satisfied by media.

Back in his room, he stares at his PADD and hopes Uhura's research will turn up something. However bad this separation is for him, he knows it must be much worse for Spock. He looks out the window, fastening his gaze on the stars. "I wish you were here," he whispers. "But more than that I just wish I knew you were okay."

With a sigh, he turns away from the window and goes back to work.

* * * * *

The days on Vulcan pass slowly. Spock spends most of his time in his room, or out in the garden, away from everyone else. His father seems to be avoiding him, which Spock is fine with. It isn't as if his father has ever really spent much time with him, after all, even when Spock was young. Spock is used to being a disappointment, an inconvenience to be tolerated, and it ceased to bother him a long time ago.

It is his mother's reaction that hurts. She used to be warm and affectionate, sometimes uncomfortably so. But now she avoids touching him, and her smile seems strained, their relationship awkward in a way it has never been.

They all avoid the subject of Jim, and Spock's disgrace. Spock is reminded of a phrase he learned back on Earth for a topic that everyone avoids discussing; the 'elephant in the room'. It is a strange analogy, but an apt one. Spock feels sometimes as if the elephant in question is sitting on his chest, making it difficult to breathe and constantly threatening to crush him under its weight.

Finally, after seeing the strain in his mother's eyes one too many times, something inside Spock snaps. "Are you angry with me?" he asks quietly, watching her stir the sauce for their dinner.

She sighs. "No, I'm not angry. I just don't understand." She turns to him, looking at him directly for the first time in what feels like days. "When you were younger, we gave you a choice. You chose to follow the Vulcan way. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I supported you, and you excelled beyond anyone's expectations. You were top of your class, the kind of son every mother would want, and I was so proud. And then I learn that you've decided to throw it all away for some human boy you knew for less than a month. And I just… can't understand why."

"He accepted me," Spock replies, barely audible. "He… made me happy."

His mother sighs, pausing in her stirring long enough to reach out and smooth back his hair. "Oh, Spock," she says. "You know, I've always admired your ability to see the good in people. But I think sometimes it keeps you from seeing how things really are."

Spock digs his fingernails into his palm. "I am not a child," he replies. "I know how things are. Jim loves me, and-"

She cuts him off before he can finish. "No, he doesn't," she says, and there's a hint of something he can't identify in her eyes. Spock opens his mouth to argue, but she is faster. "He doesn't love you. He told Stonn that he seduced you on a bet." Her expression softens as she adds, "I'm sorry, Spock, but it's true. You were nothing but a game to him."

Spock stares at her blankly, not wanting to believe. Jim wouldn't do that. He told Spock, he said that he loved him, that he wanted to be with him. It couldn't just be for a bet. But he knows his mother, and he can tell she isn't lying.

She turns back to the sauce. "You'd better go wash up. Dinner's almost ready."

Numbly, Spock turns and makes his way out of the room, the ache in his chest growing and threatening to swallow him whole.

* * * * *

True to her word, Uhura comes up with a transliteration of the name, along with an approximate pronunciation. With that information Jim is able to narrow his list down to around a dozen possibilities, and begins making calls.

The first six calls result in five wrong numbers and one non-answer. But on the seventh, Jim's luck changes.

The call is answered by a dark-haired woman who stares at him impassively. But after five of these conversations, Jim is past being wrong-footed by such a reaction. "I'm looking for Spock," he says, managing not to make it sound like a question.

"What do you want with him?" the woman asks sharply, and Jim has to fight not to grin. Jackpot!

"I'm… a friend," he says. "From Earth. Can I speak to him?"

The woman's eyes narrow. "You're him, aren't you? Well, Spock doesn't want to speak to you, so you can just leave us alone." She leans forward and the screen goes dark.

Jim stares at the blank screen for a moment, replaying what he saw just before the connection cut out. The woman's cheeks were flushed with anger – flushed red.

He pokes his head out into the living room. "I found him."

Uhura's eyes widen. "Really? What did he say?"

Jim shrugs. "I didn't get to speak to him. His mom hung up on me."

"Then how do you know it was the right number?" Uhura asks, frowning.

Jim grins. "Because," he says. "She was human."

He feels like a weight has been lifted. Sure, Spock's mom hung up on him, but he has the right number now. All he has to do is keep trying.

Everything's going to be fine.

* * * * *

Spock stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Effortlessly he pinpoints the differences that have always set him apart; the colour of his eyes, the slight curve to his eyebrows, the sharp points of his canine teeth. Tiny things, but together they indicate to anyone looking at him that he is not truly Vulcan. He is a half-breed, an experiment. A freak.

His life has never been easy. For as long as he can remember it has been drilled into him that he is different, inferior, and will have to work twice as hard to prove himself. And he has done so. He has excelled at his schooling, passed his kahs-wan first time, and worked to make certain that his logic and emotional control are faultless. He has not only met but exceeded every challenge that has been given to him. And now it seems as though all that effort was for naught.

Earlier today, he met with several senior members of the Science Academy, discussing his place there. According to the professors they are prepared to overlook his "illogical behaviour", but he is aware that he has lost a great deal of respect; the reputation he has worked so hard to build ruined by one simple act of emotion.

As always, he thinks of Jim, but the memories are tainted by his mother's words. You were nothing but a game to him.

Spock grips the edge of the sink, feeling as though his life is falling apart. His acquaintances pretend not to know him, his mother looks at him with pity, his father does not look at him at all. And Jim, the one person Spock thought he could count on, the only person who has ever truly accepted him, turned out to be just using him to win a bet with his friends.

With a sudden surge of despair, Spock slams his hand against the mirror, and it falls off the wall and shatters in the sink.

He stares at the mess tiredly, then begins clearing it up. But as he collects up the pieces of the mirror, he feels a sharp pain in his right index finger and realises that he has cut himself on one of the shards.

Spock stares at the blood dripping from his finger, watching as it spatters against the sink. For the first time in days he feels something other than loss and despair, and it is an almost addictive feeling. And then the thought comes to him, whispering softly in the back of his mind, that perhaps there is a way out after all.

As if in a trance, he picks up one of the larger shards from the mirror and presses it to his wrist.

It only hurts for a moment.

* * * * *

Jim calls several times during the next few days, but his calls are never picked up. He suspects Spock's parents are screening his number, and Spock himself is unable or unwilling to answer. But he can't give up, not when he's this close to finally being able to talk to Spock again, so he keeps trying.

Finally his persistence pays off – sort of. The call is answered, but not by Spock. The image on the screen is the same woman who hung up on him the first time he called, and she seems even more angry and upset than she was before.

"Why can't you just leave us in peace?" she demands.

Jim takes a breath, not wanting to antagonise her further. (Small hope, given he's always been the kind of person who can cause insult by saying hello, but he has to at least try.) "Look," he says, "I know you don't like me, but I care about your son a lot and I just want to talk to him and make sure he's okay."

She gives a bitter laugh. "You claim to care about my son?" She glares at him, and Jim can see that her eyes are red-rimmed. "My son took a piece of glass to his wrists because of you, because you betrayed him. I have lost him forever and it is all your fault."

Jim's entire body goes numb at the words. No, no, please, it can't be true. But looking at her face, he can tell it is. He fumbles for words. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Just leave us alone," she spits. "I hope you pay for what you've done."

With that, the screen goes black and Jim is left staring at it blankly, trying to process what has just happened. He feels like he might be sick, and when he puts out a hand to grip the desk, he realises it's shaking. Slowly, he stands and makes his way out into the living room, where Uhura is working on a paper, her feet up on the coffee table.

"Did you get through?" she asks without glancing up from her work. When he doesn't answer she looks up, her expression changing instantly from vague interest to concern. A small part of Jim's mind wonders how bad he must look to put that look on her face, but the rest of him is just numb. "What?" she asks. "What's wrong?"

Jim tries to speak, but the words stick in his throat. He tries again and manages to get out, "Spock…." He swallows and forces out the rest. "Spock's dead. He killed himself."

"Oh my God." Uhura is off the couch in an instant, rushing to his side. Her arms wrap around him, holding him, and Jim clutches at her, desperate for even the illusion of comfort.

"I loved him," he mumbles into her shoulder.

"I know," she assures him, holding him all the tighter. "I know."

They stay like that, locked together, for a very long time.

Next

Why They Call It Falling - Part 3

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