qizuwk.cc 
Spock spent the day alone, at the city’s museum, which had a fascinating exhibit on Riidux III’s early space travels. The quiet solitude of the museum gave him time to, if not meditate, at least think. And as he stared without seeing at a picture of Riidux III’s four moons, all he could think about was Jim.
His thoughts were not proud ones. He was beginning to realize that it might be pleasant to have the captain as a part of his life, and even more so to be Jim’s friend. But when he reviewed his actions since the Enterprise began its voyage, he knew he had so thoroughly rejected any overtures of friendship or kindness from Jim that a friendship might now be impossible.
No. I am a Vulcan. I do not need friends. I am, as humans put it, not interested in you.
Spock’s throat tightened as he remembered his words. At the time, it had seemed logical to put a stop to any romantic overtures. Now, however, his words seemed unnecessarily harsh. Hurtful, even. And then so soon after, in the forest -
Jim is unconscious, and there's blood, too much blood; vividly red, human blood -
Spock swallowed, mind assaulted by the scene of Jim wounded on the forest floor. He quickly tried to banish the image by refocusing on the picture of the moons, but it was no use. The memory of the fear he'd felt when Jim nearly died would not stay buried.
The skin of his arm is shredded and covered in tooth marks; his chest is scored with long scratches and bleeding claw wounds; his pulse is nearly gone; he's dying -
Spock realized he was trembling all over. It took a great deal of effort to stop.
For dinner, he returned to the hotel restaurant. As he walked in, his attention was immediately drawn, without conscious effort on his part, to Jim, seated with McCoy at a table. Jim no longer had the bandages on his arm, and, thankfully, had changed out of the doctor's shirt.
Spock was flooded with a sudden yearning to be in Jim's presence. He wanted to be physically near Jim; to be reassured that he was unharmed, to hear his voice. Knowing that his own presence might be very unwelcome - and unable to fault Jim for that at all - he approached the table cautiously.
As politely as he could, he asked, “If you are about to commence with your evening meal, would it be permissible for me to join you?”
The two humans turned in surprise. At the sight of Spock, McCoy's expression became openly hostile. "You got some nerve - "
"Please," Spock said quietly. He wasn't entirely certain he could bear to be turned away.
Jim looked like he was considering running away again to anywhere that was far away from Spock. But then he bit his lip, took a steadying breath, and said, “Sure. We haven’t even ordered yet.”
McCoy turned to him. “Jim, you don't have to -”
“It's hardly fair to the Enterprise if her captain can't share a meal with his own First Officer.” Jim didn't quite meet Spock's eyes as he gestured to the empty chair. “Have a seat.”
Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Spock took the seat across the table from Jim.
"So," Jim said to McCoy, with a forced sort of normalcy, "anything exciting going on in Medical?"
With one last huff, McCoy took Jim's not-so-subtle cue and began to talk.
The conversation stayed focused on Enterprise business, and McCoy and Jim did nearly all of the talking. Spock was content to simply share Jim's table and quietly eat. He could not have explained it, but Jim's presence was soothing, like warm sun after the cold of space. He was uncomfortably aware, however, that Jim still looked troublingly unwell and even now had barely touched the food on his plate.
When Spock caught himself stealthily pushing a basket of breads in Jim's direction, hoping to see Jim eat, he realized he was upset by Jim's condition - and even more upset at himself for having done nothing to address it.
The doctor was correct. As First Officer it is my duty to see to the captain’s health. Spock felt a jab of shame that he'd allowed the captain to get so sick, resolving to begin research into the captain’s condition the instant he was back on the Enterprise.
To Spock's disappointment, Jim didn't eat anything from the bread basket. Instead, he toyed with his barely-used fork for a moment. "So Fleet's just announced these new supercomputers, and I was thinking about trying to get one for the main science lab." He hesitated. "Did you - do you have an opinion on that, Spock?"
His tone was unmistakably wary, like Spock was a feral animal only pretending to be tame, whom Jim expected would turn on him and strike another emotional blow at any time. Spock had to accept this was, perhaps, a logical way for Jim to act with him. It did not mean he was proud that he had reduced Jim to behaving in such a manner.
Jim's discomfort with him was particularly noticeable in contrast to the relaxed manner with which Jim treated McCoy, whom he clearly adored. Spock was beginning to understand why the Enterprise had the best, most high-tech and up-to-date medical bay in the fleet, why McCoy could say anything to Jim and never face the captain’s reprimand, and why Jim insisted that valuable Enterprise storage space be used for crates of Georgia peaches.
McCoy had been there for Jim throughout Jim's illness and had Jim's affection in return. Thinking about his own excluded position in opposition to the doctor's valued place in Jim's life made Spock's stomach burn with that strange, white-hot searing again. And this time, the heat would not be suppressed. Instead, it spread up to his chest and face, making his skin prickly with heat.
He opened his mouth to answer, and Jim subtly cringed, obviously expecting Spock's words to hurt. The movement jabbed at Spock like the sharp cut of a knife. Unhappy at the knowledge that Jim expected pain from him, he tried to make his tone as respectful as he knew how. "I will defer to your no-doubt well-reasoned decision," he said. Then he pursed his lips, wondering if it was really necessary for Jim and McCoy to stare at him in such bewilderment.
As they were finishing their meals, McCoy nudged Jim. “Looks like you made an impression.”
Jim looked up. So did Spock. As he followed Jim’s gaze, he realized that Jim was looking at an Orion girl seated at the bar. The girl was positively stunning, with raven curls tumbling half-way down her back and vivid green skin. She was staring intently at Jim, and seeing that she had his attention, she winked at him.
Jim smiled, and blew a kiss back at her.
I would have thought you’d have used up all your oral skills last night.
Mmm, there is that.
So who was she?
The Orion.
And as that white-hot spark flared into a fire that threatened to burn him, Spock suddenly understood the conversation he’d overheard at breakfast.
“You had intercourse with that Orion female?”
Jim and McCoy turned shocked faces on Spock. Spock ignored their surprise. He had stood involuntarily, his entire body trembling, and suddenly he knew - he knew - what the raging fire boiling his blood was.
Jealousy.
“Spock, what in heaven are you – "
But Jim interrupted McCoy. He also stood, and met Spock’s angry gaze with his own angrier one. “How dare you," he said. "My sex life is absolutely none of your business. You made sure of that.”
Jim's words struck like a punch to Spock's stomach. “Jim – ”
“No,” Jim said harshly. “I don’t care what you think of me anymore. And I don't need your permission.”
He shoved his chair to the side and stormed off. At the restaurant door, he paused and looked back at the Orion girl questioningly. She was at his side so fast it looked like she’d teleported. They left together.
Spock lunged to follow, but McCoy grabbed his arm with both hands. “You're not going after him.”
“Let me go, doctor, or I will hurt you.”
“The hell you will! Jim is a grown man. He is free to sleep with whoever he wants, whether you approve of it or not.”
“But – ”
McCoy yanked on his arm, forcing Spock to turn and face him. “You gave up any right to care about his sex life when you told him you couldn’t even be bothered to be his friend.”
That hurt. It hurt even more when Spock realized that McCoy had made a logical point, one Spock couldn’t argue with. Defeated, he let the doctor pull him down into his seat. He was still trembling.
He stared at his hands for a moment, willing them to stop shaking. When he was unable to control the tremors, he pressed his palms together. “Orions are feral and dangerous.”
