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Spock had managed to attain a light level of meditative immersion when he felt a sharp poke to his knee.
"You're doing it again," Jim said in a whisper. He gave Spock another unnecessary poke.
Spock did his best to suppress a sigh. "Jim, the only thing I am endeavoring to do is meditate alongside you."
"No, you're twitching again. You know what I'm talking about. That twitching thing you do with your eye." The exaggerated repeated wink Jim performed left Spock so affronted he had to shift his gaze away.
"I very much doubt my expression resembled your current countenance," he said when he had collected himself. "But regardless, I must ask: how can you witness my demeanor if, as I repeatedly recommend when you join me to meditate, you close your eyes?"
For a moment Jim simply stared at him, his cheeks increasingly flushed red. Then he burst out, "Because! I can tell even if my eyes are shut that you're getting super annoyed about something!"
Though Spock wished to protest the flaws in Jim's statement (that Jim could intuit visual cues while unable to see; that Spock was discernably 'annoyed' when Spock had for the most part risen above the irritation he typically experienced at the start of their sessions; that Jim was 'doing it wrong,' when Spock technically could not determine Jim's degree of success when Spock was pursuing his own practice), he did not analyze those errors aloud. He had learned over the past few weeks the more time he and Jim spent disagreeing, the less time would remain for meditation.
Spock took a breath. "Rather than debate your dubious claims, might I suggest we return to our pursuit of serenity?"
"Oh my god. You know what?" Jim attempted to get up in a huff, scowling all the while. But what remained of his rejoinder had to wait for him to "un-pretzel himself" (as he commonly referred to his mixed efforts to emerge from the posture Spock had taught him).
At last however Jim succeeded in stumbling to his feet and snapped, "Have fun pursuing serenity all by yourself!"
"The pursuit of serenity has little to do with 'fun,'" Spock told him. But as Jim had exited Spock's quarters midway through the response, the effect of his words was debatable at best.
"Looking a little rough around the edges there, Commander," Doctor McCoy noted moments after joining Spock uninvited at the table in the officer's mess. He took a sip of his coffee, his shrewd gaze flickering over Spock.
Spock resisted the urge to glance down and verify he was presentable. Of late he had more and more found himself nearly falling prey to similar unconsidered impulses. He did, however, sit up straighter. "On the contrary, Doctor, most witnesses would judge my appearance in accordance with Starfleet regulations."
"Just because you're in uniform and that bowl cut of yours is combed to within an inch of its life doesn't mean I can't tell you're out of sorts. Space gets to all of us," McCoy continued, tapping the right temple of his head. "Even you're not exempt. So make sure you take time to unwind."
"As you are well aware, as a Vulcan, I regularly engage in restorative meditation to achieve –" Spock stopped himself for the barest second and employed what was currently a more accurate answer. "I am aware how best to attain peace of mind. Your advice is unnecessary."
"Oh yeah," McCoy said slowly, as though some salient fact had occurred to him. "Vulcan meditation. Jim mentioned you're teaching him how to go about it. How's that working out for you two?"
"Meditation is a private subject. Therefore, I have no comment upon the matter."
McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Seems to me you should feel free to confide in your doctor."
Spock hesitated. When he had been very young, his mother had occasionally urged him to "let it out," when he had objections to his peers' behaviors. Indeed, Spock had found those opportunities to speak without restraint to a sympathetic listener advantageous. As he had continued to mature, however, and developed deeper meditative techniques with his father's guidance, he was relieved he no longer needed to process his emotional reactions verbally.
Now, though, the temptation to vent about Jim's recent disruptions to his meditative practice surged strong. But reverting to juvenile patterns of conduct held no appeal for Spock. In addition, voicing complaints about Jim for relatively minor habits seemed to Spock petty. Surely even Doctor McCoy, who regularly indulged in negative comments about a wide variety of topics, would think Spock a poor romantic partner for such trivial criticisms.
Still, for all his bluster, McCoy sometimes demonstrated a subtle compassion that Spock found appealing. Perhaps articulating a few negligible issues to a fellow officer, particularly one who acted as steward of the crew's physical and mental health, would not be entirely inappropriate.
"This is hardly a venue for confidences," Spock began reluctantly.
McCoy lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "No one's listening."
In truth, there were no occupants at the tables nearby. But when he glanced around, Spock observed Jim retrieving his food at the synthesizers. A moment later, he apparently spotted them and began to head in their direction.
"Captain," Spock greeted him rather loudly.
"Hey, Bones, Spock." Jim let his tray fall to the table with a clatter, picked up half of his sandwich, and began to bite into it before he had fully taken his seat.
"Try to remember, you want those fingers attached at the end of the meal," McCoy advised.
Jim pointedly took another overlarge bite and said, "You're hilarious, Bones," though he had yet to finish chewing.
If Spock in any way looked "rough around the edges," Jim appeared visibly harried. His hair stood up in small tufts about his head as though he had been absently tugging at it, dark circles marked the skin below his eyes, and his usually golden skin looked pale. When he spilled a portion of his caffeinated beverage on himself, rather than making one of his customary jokes about his predicament, he muttered, "Great. That's just great."
As soon as Jim took the napkin McCoy had slid across the table, his eyes snapped to Spock. "Everything all right, Commander?" he asked flatly he began to dab at his uniform.
"There are no immediate concerns requiring your attention, Captain," Spock replied.
"Careful there," McCoy broke on. "Or you two lovebirds might get written up for overt displays of fraternization."
Jim focused on his plate while he continued to eat his sandwich. "Well, if there are 'no immediate concerns,' that gives me a chance to take a whack at the reports piling up. So I probably won't join you for meditation later, Spock."
Though Spock had in fact completed all of Jim's reports the previous night – his own disordered mental state had made uninterrupted sleep unattainable – he inclined his head in agreement.
Jim stole a glance at him but just as quickly looked away. "Hey, maybe I'll get started now. Catch you both later." Without waiting for a reply, he picked up his tray and left.
As he watched Jim retreat, Spock could not help but notice his tight shoulders, tense gait, and unnecessarily tight grip on his PADD.
"You know, I've half a mind to take up Vulcan Meditation myself," McCoy mused into his coffee cup. "Looks like it does wonders."
Later that night alone in his sitting area, as his mind advanced toward composure, Spock systematically began to leave behind his surface awareness so that he might fully enjoy the tranquility afforded by deeper meditation.
"Whoops," he heard blurted seconds before something crashed to the floor.
Spock opened his eyes to assess the situation. Apparently Jim had entered while Spock had become absorbed and thus unaware of small sounds. But now, as Jim scrambled to pick up the components of the scientific model he had knocked off a shelf, Spock could not ignore external commotion.
He was not successful in quashing his sigh though he masked it somewhat by asking, "What is it, Jim?"
"I thought you'd be done by now," Jim said in exasperation, as though Spock had deliberately created an emergency in the Science Labs so as to delay his regular meditation session. "I wasn't trying to distract you." When Spock did not reply at once, he exhaled noisily. "If you want I can come back later."
Instead of informing Jim that, yes, he would prefer it if Jim returned after his meditation, he observed his captain. Jim had changed into civilian sleep clothes before entering Spock's quarters through their shared bathroom: dark green flannel plaid pants (ones Spock was particularly fond of because of their pleasing soft texture), and his threadbare Starfleet Academy Chess Club t-shirts (a piece of apparel bearing a small rip at the neck that allowed an enticing glimpse of Jim's collarbone).
Yet though Jim's outfit indicated relaxation, his posture appeared wary. As Spock watched him, an unsure expression flitted over his face as if he considered his welcome uncertain.
"I have only recently begun to meditate," Spock said. "Please, join me if you like."
Jim breathed out slowly and the tension melted from his body. "Okay. I'll jump in in just a sec, all right? Don't go anywhere."
Spock decided not to reply that he was unlikely to depart his own quarters while in the midst of his much-needed meditation and watched Jim dash back into the bathroom.
There was no point in striving to re-immerse himself in contemplation before Jim's return. So instead he performed a series of stretches from his sitting position. For the last pose in the sequence, Spock took a deep breath and bent at the waist to fold over his crossed legs. Inhaling and exhaling, his nose nearly touching the floor, he gradually extended his arms as far as they would reach above his head and placed his palms flat on the deck.
After a few moments of holding the stance he finished, rolling his body back up to seated position, letting each vertebrae shift back into place. When he opened his eyes, he saw Jim leaning against the bathroom entrance, watching Spock with undisguised admiration.
"Hey." Jim grinned. "You're so bendy."
"I have achieved a satisfactory degree of flexibility after much exercise," Spock agreed.
"You sure have," Jim said, his gaze still lingering on Spock's body. "You know... if you wanted to take a break from meditating and do some other relaxing stuff? I'd totally be down for that."
Though in more ideal circumstances Spock would have completed his practice first, the invitation was far from unwelcome. "I am amenable," Spock said after a very brief pause that he was almost entirely sure Jim would miss, and prepared to forgo meditation for another night.
In the week that followed, Spock might have utilized his blocks of free time to meditate alone and uninterrupted. In so doing, he could have regained his accustomed sense of equanimity. Perhaps then he could have discussed with Jim the topic of their as yet unsuccessful joint meditations. Surely given such considerations, the two of them might have peaceably addressed their respective frustrations and arrived at a reasonable understanding of how they could best meditate together in the future.
But unfortunately, the crew's scheduled agenda had come to an abrupt halt when a gang of belligerent space pirates attempting to smuggle outlawed cargo through the quadrant had arrived. The pirates had created havoc by disabling the Enterprise's weapons, invading the ship, taking over the transporter room, and even going so far as dispensing to the younger, more biddable ensigns and yeomen large quantities of an alcoholic beverage (an alarmingly inebriating brew that Doctor McCoy referred to as "hooch").
Though the conflict to gain control of the ship lasted several days, the unlucky predicament had at last been resolved. Jim had devised an ingenious trick that led to the pirates' capture, and security had subsequently confined the troublemakers to the brig. In addition, the crewmen who had temporarily been led astray had been sternly reprimanded and expressed due remorse.
Yet accolades for capably handling the tumultuous events were perforce postponed when another crisis had arisen. Soon after the pirates' containment, the medical staff alerted the crew the pirates had unwittingly brought aboard an unknown and highly contagious disease. Most of the fledgling crewmen who had fallen under the pirates' sway were impacted.
Consequently, for several days Spock focused all his attentions on the illness's composition and worked tirelessly to determine a remedy.
When Doctor McCoy approved the cure and began to treat those suffering, however, Spock sat in his laboratory chair and reflected on his weary condition. His head ached and his powers of comprehension had become sluggish. Such symptoms betokened extreme enervation; he would have to address his discombobulated state without delay.
After he excused himself from duty, he took the turbolift and strode down the corridor at a rapid pace, planning to engage in restorative meditation as soon as he was alone.
But when he entered his quarters, he halted at discovering Jim already occupied the room.
The captain sat on one of Spock's meditation mats, the cushion he used to correct his poor posture tucked under his backside, his eyes closed as though already absorbed in contemplation. He swayed slightly, however, and Spock noted his slumped shoulders and lowered chin.
To test his theory that Jim had fallen asleep, Spock cleared his throat.
Immediately Jim jerked on the floor, saying, "I'm up, I'm up," before blinking up at Spock in a disconcerted fashion. "Hey," he added. "Um. I was just resting my eyes."
"I see."
Jim's mouth twisted into an odd shape, as though trying to keep from yawning. "Well, I figured you must be ready for some serenity after all the pirate stuff. And when I saw on the roster you had cleared yourself for a break, I put myself on leave too." He spread his hands to indicate his pose. "So I'm all ready to meditate like crazy with you."
"Jim, one does not meditate 'like crazy' –"
"You know what I mean," Jim interrupted with a roll of his eyes.
Much as Spock did not desire Jim's particular variety of meditative companionship in his own currently fatigued state, he could not in good conscience refuse the offer. Jim was clearly exhausted and, after the upheaval of the past days, quite likely also in need of ordering his thoughts and emotions. How could Spock deny to him the manifold benefits of meditation (even if said benefits were only obtainable given the proviso that Jim focused properly)?
"Very well." Spock glanced down and glimpsed a small chemical stain on his uniform; an unsurprising occurrence, given that he had not had the opportunity to change clothing in over thirty-six hours. "Allow me to put on different attire and we will proceed."
He hastened to place his blemished uniform in the laundry receptacle. It would be best for them to begin while Jim was not yet distracted.
But by the time he had donned appropriate garb, Jim had begun to glance around the room and tap his fingers against on his knees.
Spock forced himself not to grit his teeth, assumed a place on the floor across from Jim, and said in a pointed voice, "Let us clear our minds and begin."
"You bet," Jim muttered. He gave his arms and shoulders a little shake and closed his eyes.
After five deep breaths, Spock allowed his eyes to fall closed. He increased his awareness of his body and began to relax individual muscle groups while maintaining a suitable position.
Several uninterrupted minutes passed. But at that point, Jim's breathing began to take on a familiar whistling sound as it emerged from his nose.
Spock did his best to block the noise from his consciousness. Instead, he concentrated on the energy collected at key points on his body.
Then the knee tapping began again. Not long after, Jim began to hum under his breath. Somehow he managed to syncopate his tapping so that it was not in rhythm with his droning tune.
Before he could become indignant, Spock reminded himself he should be well-accustomed to the audible manifestations of Jim's inexpert meditation. Certainly he had been exposed to a range of them: the wheezing, the whistling, the shifting of his limbs, the unnecessarily loud coughing at unexpected intervals, and the occasional mumbling of words or phrases as Jim apparently mentally reviewed various items on his to-do list. Given Spock's thorough training, rationally he should have already anticipated and adjusted to Jim's careless noises instead of experiencing them as disturbances.
When he heard the sound of Jim cracking his knuckles, however, Spock's eyes flew open. He stood abruptly and announced, "I cannot continue under these circumstances."
"What?" Jim tried to get to his feet before he had completely untangled his limbs. He winced at the contortion and struggled before he too assumed a standing position. "Oh my god, you're actually upset. Why are you upset?"
"Your stertorous exhalations already disrupt my mindfulness," Spock railed. "Why you would emit such sounds when silence is vastly preferred – but you cannot stop there! No, you persist in twitching and tapping until focused meditation is well-nigh impossible!"
Jim stared at Spock without blinking, his blue eyes very wide.
"No one should articulate superfluous noises during meditation, never mind a chorus of them!" Spock fumed. "Because of your distracting habits, I have been unable to meditate fully for weeks! Without my regulating practice, I am disordered and unbalanced and –"
"Wait a sec. Hold up." Jim held a palm out. "Are you seriously yelling at me right now because I'm too annoying to meditate with?"
"I –" Spock shut his jaw with a loud click. His rant echoed in his head – small-minded, intolerant, and peevish to the extreme. For several seconds he could not speak, overcome with shame.
"Jim, please forgive me," he began formally.
Jim narrowed his eyes. "What exactly am I forgiving you for?"
Spock stood straighter and clasped his hands behind his back. "When I first suggested we pursue this practice together, I thought not only to share the experience with you but also to help you avail yourself of the rewards furnished by regular Vulcan meditation. Yet now I can only conclude I have forced the practice upon you without witnessing any evidence of gains on your side."
Jim frowned but remained silent.
"Perhaps I had been overeager to meditate with a partner and rushed your introduction to the process. Ideally, Vulcans partake in the experience with intimate companions, and together attain satisfaction in their mutual practice. Yet though any successful partnership calls for compromise and harmony, instead rigidity and confusion have characterized our sessions."
"Sure, right," Jim muttered as he folded his arms across his chest.
"The fault, of course, is entirely mine," Spock hurried to add. "I confess I did not anticipate how...audibly you would express yourself, how restlessly you would behave, and to what degree that would impact me. But that does not excuse my stringent overreaction. Rather than temper my expectations, I allowed my resentment to grow until I could no longer contain it." He took a deep breath. "Clearly you will agree such an arrangement does not benefit either of us. Therefore, logic dictates we ought to desist –"
"Look, why don't you tell me straight out what you want?" Jim cut in. "I can handle it."
Spock tilted his head to the side. "Jim, I have spoken my mind. All that remains is your reply."
"So that's it, then?" Jim huffed out a breath. "God, I was so worried things would go south with us if I didn't agree to meditate with you. But now you're calling it quits because I'm crappy at it? I can't believe we're breaking up over this!"
Spock's head swam. He took a step back to brace his hand against the bulkhead. "You wish to end our relationship?"
"Of course I don't! " Jim exclaimed. "But I get it, even if I don't like it. You've made it pretty damn clear Vulcans need calm and serenity and partners who can get tranquil with them right off the bat. So the fact that I can't meditate with you is a deal-breaker, and you want out."
"Jim, no – I do not, 'want out,'" Spock protested. "Obviously I have misspoken. I had intended to apologize and remedy the situation, not bring about the end of a relationship I find highly engaging and sustaining on multiple levels."
For several moments Jim stood perfectly still. "So we're not breaking up."
"I wish only to remove sources of strain between us."
Jim nodded slowly, his defensive expression turning thoughtful. "So I guess what's really going on is we've got to stop meditating together to save our relationship."
"That is – well." Spock focused on the mats on the deck and tried to collect his thoughts. True, he yearned for the quiet solitude of his former meditation customs. But he did not desire to offend Jim during a highly emotional moment by accepting his somewhat dramatic assessment of the situation. Nor did he want to deprive Jim of the chance to experience restful and restorative meditation in the future.
A small noise made him glance up, and he was startled to find Jim trying to hide a smile.
As soon as their gazes met, Jim grinned outright. "Well, at least now I know what all the eye-twitching was about. My breathing really drove you over the edge, huh?"
"Though your breathing patterns were somewhat disruptive, in the end it was the knuckle-cracking that provoked my ire," Spock confessed.
Jim laughed. "I never would have guessed something goofy like that could make you cranky. I thought it was way worse, that we'd have to split up because I couldn't do the postures perfectly and attain enlightenment in an instant."
"Jim, of course the positions must be learned in stages by a new practitioner," Spock explained. "I would not anticipate anyone would execute them flawlessly without many years of serious study. And aside from select elders who pursue a rigorous monastic practice, very few attain what you humans might describe as enlightenment."
"Well, yeah, when you say it out loud like that, it sounds totally rational."
When Jim reached out his hand, Spock clasped it in both of his own. He searched Jim's face, feeling no little relief at the ready warmth in his eyes, and relishing the fortifying affection in his touch.
"Will you forgive my outburst and again embark on a course of meditation with me? I assure you I will comport myself with forbearance and make certain to expound upon the various steps for your edification."
But to Spock's surprise, though Jim's countenance softened further, he shook his head. "I appreciate the offer. But I kind of think you were on to something when you had your little freak out."
"I must protest: though I spoke plainly, I did not 'freak out' –"
"Sure, sure," Jim said easily. "But look, meditating on your own really works for you, right?"
"Indeed."
"And it wasn't working for me. I'm not the type of guy who can't wait to sit still, you know?"
"Knowing your own disinclination to this sort of activity, then, why did you agree when I proposed we meditate together?" Spock asked curiously.
Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I was trying to be couple-y, doing things together, taking an interest in whatever is important to you. But the kind of relief you get from meditation, I get way more from working out. If I need to blow off steam, I usually head down to the gym, spar with someone or take it out on a punching bag. And if I've got to focus, I do some of my best thinking running on the track or with a little weight training."
"It is true that you are a highly physical individual," Spock admitted. "I have often admired your bodily talents." He drew his left thumb across Jim's soft palm and watched with keen interest as Jim shivered.
"See, you talk like that when we're trying to work something out, and you make me want to jump you."
Spock's mouth twitched. "I am not averse to your inclination."
Jim snickered and moved forward into Spock's arms, embracing him tightly. "You know I'd love to take you up on that." He drew back, smiling. "But I think I owe you a totally uninterrupted, twitching and tapping and superfluous noise-free session of meditation. So how about you get all focused and silent in here for an hour and I'll come back after?"
Spock let him go with some reluctance. "Very well. Please do return after an hour, however, so that we may spend the remainder of our off-duty time together."
"You can count on it." Jim gave him a cheery wave from the door and departed.
Spock stood silently for several moments before again taking a seated position on the mat. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, focusing on the highly appealing prospect of Jim's return in fifty-nine minutes, and began his meditation.
*~*~*the end*~*~*