tampered | ( open )

Entry tags:

( open )

When: September 2-3rd, daytime.
Rating: G.
Characters: Spock (

logistical) & OPEN.
Summary: Someone has acquired a lute and is playing.
Notes: Wrote in [action] but prose is also welcome.
Log:

[ Spock hasn't yet installed a door to cover that "magnificent hole in the wall" (as Jim has dubbed it. McCoy was far more less forgiving), and claims it is due to lack of sufficient currency. That is true - he prefers to save rather than spend right away - but he is getting quite comfortable simply being a busybody and listening to the goings-on of the other apartment. The transition was inevitable and he shouldn't be putting it off, but the displacement to the City, even with the crew, had not been easy. He found living in a metropolitan area constricting considering he had spent the majority of the past few years on board a spaceship, where they could leave at a moment's notice. He'd have taken the expanse of Vulcan's deserts over this in a heartbeat, and not for purely sentimental reasons. ]

[ However, there's no longer a home except the Enterprise, no family save for her crew, and while he has made an attempt to make his residence presentable he has no intention of getting to know the City. Walks are limited to exercise - though he needed little - and his routine is strict, but offers little comfort or intellectual stimulation. ]

[ Even work is progressing frustratingly slowly. Unlike Jim, who finds other outlets for the restless energy, Spock diverts his into more projects. He would read, but since Khan was at the library, Spock avoids it as much as he can, and he occasionally skims the books Nyota has finished and placed on the shelf to be returned as soon as possible. ]

[ So one day, he quite spontaneously decides to find himself a lute. The exact object wouldn't be present in the City, but there was wood, and strings, he could make do. When he's satisfied, he sits in the middle of the living room, and begins to play. ]

[ Maybe you are visiting. Maybe you are walking by, or coming home and wondering what the music is. Or maybe you are an angry neighbour who wants to know when that racket can stop. In any case, the sound carries. ]

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[ He looks up from his PADD when the music draws to a close, waiting until he's addressed before shaking his head and replying. ]

I liked it. Can you play it again, or something else?

Perhaps something else.

[A pause.]

Previous audiences [one person is an audience ok] have made requests.

I want to hear what you want to play.

[ Simple as, really. That and the fact he hasn't got a clue what he'd ask him to perform. ]

Mind if I stay parked here?

You may remain.

[Equivalent to a plea for company, but it is not fitting of him to request someone's presence unless he's under great emotional strain. This is.. a way of getting around it.]

[And with that, he begins another piece, faster, more lively, than the previous one. He's determined that the strings can handle it, and he feels like pushing the instrument a little, to deliver its best for his listener.]

[ He doesn't get much progress done on his work while he sits in as the audience, smiling to himself as he sways his knees to the jaunty tune. There's an insistence to Spock's playing which demands all of Jim's attention, and eventually he lays the PADD at his side and folds his arms as he slouches, head tilted to listen. ]

Did you make that here yourself? [ — asked once the piece draws to a close. ]

[In turn, Spock maintains his satisfied expression - content. He pays attention to Jim's body language, noting the cues. It has taken a while, but he catalogues them, each reaction is specific. He knows what they mean, but he has yet to fully understand what inspires them.]

[He lowers the instrument slightly.]

Yes. The local music shops did not have one.

[ He feels the same sense of general well-being, even in their silences which aren't at all strained. It's nice not having to talk at a mile a minute or fight to put a point across, even more rewarding when it's halfway picked up on before a sentence is finished. Jim is willing to bet Spock might not expect what he suggests next, though. ]

If I find a guitar sometime, do you want to see if we can put something together? I'd re-learn the chords, I don't really remember them now but I once messed around in a bar where I got to play. Could pick them up for you.

[ It would probably be a disaster for a while. ]

[Jim is right. Spock looks momentarily confused, not expecting the request. It seems... mundane. Pointless. Sentimental.]

I am acquainted with this instrument. I would be happy to instruct you.

[Things he misses: being an teacher. He was an intimidating one, that was for certain, but Jim was fearless, and Jim could take it.]

[ His smile broadens for a moment — of course Spock moonwalks over every stringed instrument known to their respective cultures. That's what Jim's going to choose to believe from now on, anyway. ]

Happy, huh? Alright, that'll work. [ He waves a hand and settles back, chin tipped up. ] Play me another song? Three time's a charm.

[In reply, he picks up the lute again, and this time, plays a slow song. It is inappropriate for the situation - it seems that way, the notes are deep and mournful. It is sadness, and longing, but the kind one can wrap up, put in a box, and keep safe until it can be taken away, like clouds covering the sun.]

[ That isn't a song that gets his feet tapping, instead rooting him to the spot with each sound that sinks through his skin to hold in the marrow of his bones. It makes him aware of each breath, of not to be too loud or break the woefully woven spell of the notes in case they end prematurely, like sitting alone at a window once the other person in an old house is finally asleep and feeling completely content to watch a horizon of distant stars over miles of endless fields. It sounds like wanting to bridge a distance.

Without taking his eyes off him, Jim paces over to perch on the arm-rest just to be that much closer, arms folded as he observes and lets the fresher notes find him with far greater ease, as he likes to think they want to. ]

[Sadness, Spock thinks, is a lot like walking on a planet with different gravity. Sometimes it is heavy, and every step takes more effort, other times it is light, barely present, but provides no solid anchor. It simply is.]

[He has learnt to let go. Anger is the only emotion he cannot yet quell, but grief has been there long enough for him to compartmentalise and understand. To lock the box away, and keep the key within reach.]

[Jim's presence is steadying. Spock wonders if he sings.]

[ Right up until the song ends he sits perched on the arm-rest attentively, his gaze swinging between Spock's artistic fingers and the middle-distance as his thoughts inevitably wander. The close of the piece earns a round of hollow applause in the large room, no less enthusiastic as Jim beams down and claps him lightly on the shoulder right after. ]

That was wonderful. How often do you have to practice to get that good?

Frequently.

[He's pleased at the praise. This is not a part of himself he shares with others, and for someone as perceptive as Jim even the choice of song can be extremely telling.]

I have not had the opportunity, recently.

It's not like we haven't got the time, right? Keep it up, I'd like to hear more in the future. [ His brows raise with a sudden thought. ] Can you write compositions?

I have not attempted any...

[But hey. It's not like he can't.]

If you intend to acquire a guitar, I will arrange a piece.

Alright, sounds good. We'll write something about us. [ He can't keep a grin off his face. ] It might start out a little shaky ...

[He twangs a few strings, it makes a discordant sound.]

The early days were difficult.

[A few more. Jim sneaking aboard the ship. The moment Spock stood up with him to Pike, seeing his logic. Saving Vulcan, or trying to. The chords change, it becomes smoother, but not completely in sync.]

[He pauses, and looks at Jim for confirmation that the tune is appropriate.]

[ His smile remains, muted as he listens and seats himself nearby on the couch, chinning a hand. A nod is given to the tune. ]

You were the first Vulcan I ever had any extended contact with, I had no idea how to take you.

[ It's a quiet murmur but one he doesn't mind relenting on. Not now. ]

I am half-human.

[Spock smirks. Just a little playful.]

No one had ever beaten the Kobayashi Maru.

[He continues, the tune turning harsh again. Jim telling him he'd never loved his mother, and the anger bleeds through in the quick, desperate movement of the fingers, reaching a crescendo. He's strangling Jim, all his rage and guilt pouring through that skin-to-skin contact, and abruptly, his father calls out his name, and he stops. The music stops, too, and turns quiet, mournful. The transporter room had been emptied to give him space.]

It was cruel. [What you said about her. What you had to] And yet. It was necessary.

[He puts the lute down, on his lap, and quietly-]

I understand why you called for me, and not Doctor McCoy.

Edited 2013-09-19 09:25 (UTC)

[ Those harsh twangs prompt laugh-lines before the tune settles into something sadder, his regret and commiseration during their first huge fight waning into outright sorrow for all that Spock lost. Jim felt it, secondhand perhaps but even so, he felt it from the older Vulcan and knew how it was to lose everything; to fail completely. It's a dim memory now, but it still pricks at him uncomfortably like a thorn under dust. Not knowing what to say when Spock broaches the topic of his lost mother, Jim remains obediently silent for the musical rendition. When the lute lowers, it's only then he looks up.

Leonard had been so hurt and Jim hadn't had the answer for him that he wanted. "I didn't mean to call Spock instead of you, it was impulsive, please forgive me." None of that could pass his lips. He wasn't choosing one above the other at the time, it was a matter of who he needed most urgently at his side, all of it on Jim. There's an inability to feel sorry or badly for that which becomes abundantly clear when he looks at his close friend, still bereft of a way to explain it. ]

He misses his home. [ Strangely, that's what he says now. It ties in with why Jim called for Spock and not Leonard and he hopes that's conveyed. This is a sensitive subject, so when he swallows and amends where he's going, Jim makes sure to look him in the eye so he can see there's no ill intent behind the segue. ] When I met the old guy on Delta Vega and we melded, I felt it. His crew.

[ The only one that mattered to him. Jim's smile echoes the resonating note of loss which had stirred a notion of twice lost, twice adrift in the elder Spock's mind. Blue eyes blink to stay rooted on his friend and it's like Jim can't feel the couch or see the room, only the understanding between them matters. Now seems as good a moment to air the details as any. ]

He missed the other me like I already missed you when Scotty couldn't open that door.

[He misses his home.]

[Spock doesn't think about the other one - the older one - often. They are decidedly not the same, and while it's still uncertain if he'll become an Ambassador someday it'll be by a new path, different means. Nero had ensured as much, and the very nature of their reality meant that a great many things were different. No doubt the original crew had been assigned and weathered their missions, whereas theirs had come together, forged through crisis, well before that.]

[Yet-]

He would.

[He stares at the curtain separating the two apartments moving with the slight breeze. Up until a few weeks ago he had still been upset, he had told McCoy what he thought the doctor should have heard from someone, that he wished it'd been him, instead of Spock, at the other side of the glass. Spock thought it the proper thing to say, and now, he realises just how human of him that was, to offer comfort. Was it untrue? No. It had been what he'd thought was right, at the time, and he wasn't going to retract the statement.]

[Perhaps... he's less lost. He is definitely less scared.]

The crew is all we have left.

[He looks at Jim, with an expression of complete compassion, and mutual understanding. I can't allow you to do that, Jim says, a lifetime ago, before they beam to Nero's ship. I'm coming with you. He had melded with the other Spock, on Delta Vega, that was how-- he had known. To target Spock's mother. He'd held his tongue aboard the Jellyfish, too.]

[Their Jim, the one who's sitting on the bridge of the ship right now, back home, Spock wonders if he's thinking this too.]

[The only sound is his quiet, regulated breathing, then-]

If you still desire a mind-meld, I will acquiesce.

[Now now, he hopes, but perhaps, when they are both... calmer. Or now, since Jim says there's no time like the present quite often.]

[ There's a stillness lingering with pent-up words behind closed lips as he watches Spock closely to gauge his feelings. The crew is everything to both of them, Jim knows that. It just so happens that Spock makes up a different kind of everything, too. To say he's surprised at the offer would be an understatement, especially given how voracious Spock was in driving him off the idea last time. Jim wasn't planning on bringing it up as a viable option for them any time soon, respecting the boundary. ]

You know you don't have to do that, Spock.

[ Nothing will change if they don't and their relationship doesn't mean any less without that strangely intimate addition. ]

Indeed. It is unnecessary.

[But the context from the last request is different. There, it was for selfish reasons, and now, it is not. It's that simple.]

That is precisely why the offer is now open.

[He doesn't need to explain the reasoning, he knows. Jim will get it. Some things just need to be said out loud, though.]

[ The twist of a smile is wry, though he doesn't contest that. It didn't feel unnecessary last time he asked (well, demanded, that was definitely a mistake) for a meld, given his intentions had been good. It's easy to see how he messed things up in hindsight.

Now that he's been given the green light, Jim's more than a little shy of the idea in case he wrecks something else all over again. ]

When would you want to do it? [ It can all be Spock's decision, tailored to his comfort. That's the least that could be done, except, ] As long as you want one, too. I don't want to go in your head if it's just a favor.

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