Shadow Captain

Once alone, Spock moved to the door, touching it, despairing. There were traces of torment in his eyes as he whispered, "Rilain, forgive me, forgive me."

Jilla was curled on the bed when Sulu came in. She was supposed to have met him in the messhall half an hour before. The first place he'd looked had been Engineering; then he'd checked with Ruth and Jade. To find her home with no explanation gave him an uneasy apprehension.

"Jilla, are you alright?" he asked. She didn't move, didn't look up, as though she hadn't heard him. He crossed to the bed, sat down next to her. "Jilla?"

Slowly she raised herself onto her knees. Her head was down; she was shaking. He gently lifted her chin. His worry renewed as her pain hit him with shocking intensity. Her face was streaked with tears, a hollow, drawn mask of humiliation, her eyes opening into a well of emptiness and despair. She sobbed, and he swiftly enfolded her in his arms. She clung to him, weeping desolately, hopelessly. He stroked her head, tried not to let his own fear into his voice. Not nightmares, not again!

"Jilla, honey, what happened?" he asked gently.

She drew away, the emptiness replaced with a bitter horror. "I mean nothing to him," she rasped, "less that nothing, he sees me only as... he was bound to me only by... he never cared! It was all my delusion, a game he went along with because he hoped it would make me.. make it easier for him to..." The horror grew with a flood of tears, the pain sharp, tangible. "Sulu, why?" she cried, her grey eyes pleading.

"You tried to talk to Spock, didn't you? You tried to offer him some help." Sulu spoke quietly, keeping the rage at Jilla's anguish under control.

"I thought he needed... someone... to talk to, who would understand... He said I wanted... tried to..." Jilla broke into renewed sobbing. "There was never more between us than raw, brutal passion..." The words choked off as she doubled up, clutching at her left hand.

The rage flared into roaring, mindless fury, yet it was incredulous, disbelieving. Jilla's words, the terror, said rape, but that was impossible.

"I didn't..." she cried, "it was not what I wanted, I didn't mean.... sumin tu, I didn't!"

It wasn't impossible. "Jilla, what did he do!" Sulu demanded. Her agony fell into desolation.

"Nothing," she whispered, "but it was all he wanted, and all I could give."

Sulu looked at the pain on her face, saw that whatever Spock hadn't done didn't matter. Jilla believed she had caused it. He swallowed, understanding, knowing that feeling. Sick, humiliated, used. It tore at you deep inside, a nausea that stayed like a bitter knot in your stomach, pounding into you with loathing and despair. Damn him, damn that cold, soulless glacier! He held onto Jilla, rocking her, giving what comfort he could, soothing her with tender declarations of love and promises of strength and protection. How could he do anything; what was there to do? Spock had made Jilla believe it, made her doubt the innocence of her motives. Even if he confronted the bastard with it, he had done nothing. Threatened. Let Jilla take the guilt, the blame. How can she refute it when there's just enough truth in it to call up the horror of her damnation? She wants him, always will, but it's not like that and he knows it! Damn him, he knows it, and used it!

She was crying, repeating words he must've said to her, cruel words that pierced Sulu's heart with searing anger and pain. We are bonded, yet you believe it is sacred, chaste. I have lived with your foolishly innocent affections as long as I care to. I warn you, child, I can take that which is mine. I grow tired of the chase.

Bastard! Unfeeling, merciless sadist! Goddamn brutal son of a bitch! His fury fed on Jilla's rasping sobs, making him tremble with helpless frustration, but he continued to hold her, letting her tears soak his uniform until, exhausted and disconsolate, she fell asleep in his arms.

Ruth sat in Jim's quarters — her quarters — trying to get used to being there. My quarters, she reminded again, mine and Spock's. She closed her eyes against the flood of pain and tried again to make a dent in the veritable swamp of work she had yet to finish. Maybe tonight Spock would be able to let down his Vulcan mask and...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door chime. "Come," she called absently.

"Is the captain here?" Sulu's voice asked, cold propriety covering a flush of naked anger. Ruth looked up at him. No doubting, he was furious -- and hurting. She stood.

"No, Sulu. What is it?" His eyes closed, and he swallowed with difficulty.

"Nothing, Ruth. Where's Spock? He's not in his office."

"I don't know," she replied. "And don't tell me nothing. What's wrong?"

"It's personal," he growled tightly, and turned to leave. Ruth quickly crossed the room, touching his arm.

"Roy...?" she questioned.

He grimaced. "I've never tried to involve you in my problems, Ruth."

"But if it involves Spock..."

"Especially when it involves Spock. I don't intend to put you in the middle."

Ruth paused, then said, "Sulu, whatever he did, I'm sure it was out of his own need to keep control over..."

Sulu laughed, a short, bitter sound. "Oh, I'm sure it was."

It hurt, and Ruth winced."Please, don't judge him so hard."

Sulu's eyes closed again. "Right. Excuse me." His voice was so full of pain that Ruth grabbed his shoulders, her eyes pleading.

"What is it?" she begged.

"I can't get you..." he began.

"Sulu!" she demanded helplessly. Sulu's answer came in a rush of fury.

"Your husband tried to rape my wife and made her believe she asked him for it!" He stopped, and turned again. "Excuse me, Ruth."

"Spock!?” Ruth gasped. “You can't believe that! Sulu, is this some kind of a joke?"

"Yeah, real funny, isn't it?" he muttered. She grabbed him, turning him to face her.

"Sulu, it isn't possible!" she said vehemently. His tone matched hers.

"You go tell Jilla that!" he spat. "Make her unclench her hand, stop the shame in her eyes! Convince her he didn't tell her it was all he ever wanted from her!"

"Sulu!" The word was a plea and a denial. "He wouldn’t… couldn't do that to his rilain! You're lying!” Violet fury blazed from her eyes. “Get out of here! I don't know why you're saying these things, or why you came here trying to make me feel sorry for you! Get out!"

Sulu's eyes went cold. "You asked, Ruth. Sorry you didn't like what you heard." And he turned, leaving the room.

Ruth stared after him, her mind not daring to even contemplate the question that tore at her heart. What if he were telling the truth?

"Spock."

The voice was soft, worried, full of the concern of invading his privacy that he used as a shield against her. He was sorry for so misusing her empathy but — He blocked the guilt with thoughts of necessity and duty as he made his features cold, distant. The habits of so many years so long passed return so easily... He turned to face her. "Yes?" A curt, clipped word.

Her eyes searched his in a way that was becoming familiar. Hunting, he knew, for signs of weakness, signs of life. Painfully similar to the covert stares he used to catch from ensign-then-lieutenant Valley. She swallowed, made several false starts before managing, "Jilla... Sulu said -- " Her eyes moved away from his face. "...you tried to rape her." She swallowed again, forced her gaze back to his, hopeful, confused. "What really happened?"

It was an effort but Spock kept his features impassive, his eyes from betraying the slightest flicker. How painful to hear the word, and from her... "Rape?" he said, his tone one of someone tasting some very sour lie. "A strong word, I think. I am not capable of such an act. I cannot accept you would give credence to such an accusation."

Ruth's eyes lowered. "No, of course not but — she's emotional, you could've accidentally.... please, Spock, what happened?"

"Evidence for defense or prosecution?" he returned icily.

Her tone was pleading. "I'm just repeating what Sulu -- he was upset, genuinely, and Jilla doesn't lie..."

"Mrs. Majiir does, however, exaggerate." He made a gesture he knew Ruth would interpret as annoyed concession. "She offered — comfort — that I found unnecessary. I simply made it clear to her that such offers were unappreciated and would not be allowed or accepted. I cannot be held responsible for her interpretation of my words. All I threatened was displeasure. I trust this closes the matter."

"I -- I'm sorry. Of course. I just wanted..." Her words trailed off into an apologetic shrug. She looked guilty for having even brought the subject up. He gave her a curt nod of forgiveness and dismissal.

It occurred to Spock with painful irony that he was indeed a son of the Xtmprosqzntwlfd line. He was as capable of bluff and lies as any diplomat in the clan.

Jim Kirk ‘bout th' only man in th' Federation I could t’ink, ‘my captain right or wrong', DelMonde mused as he sat alone in the mess room. He had duty in an hour. Duty. How, when I not sleep in days? I have t’ see Len ‘bout this insomnia, I be t’inkin’ . See Len -- hell, th' man's eyes so full o’ grief I not bear to look at him. Everyone's are. We loved that man. Yeah, I guess me too. He like my poetry, how I not appreciate a man like that? Hated my music, though. DelMonde smiled sourly and got up to get a refill of coffee. He thought about dialing up a glass of whiskey as well but decided that this wasn't the time. Not with duty fifty-three minutes away. He was thinking like that lately, counting every slow, individual second and hating whatever it was that was making him do it.

As he moved back toward his table, the Chief of Science walked into the room. He didn't want to look into her eyes, either, but couldn't help himself. Her gaze slid past his, hardly recognizing him. She looked scared and tired and hurting. Without acknowledging anyone's presence she attacked the replicator, scooped up her cup and picked a seat where her back was to the rest of the room.

She hurtin’ an' she gonna need someone. She gonna need me. Always does when she need someone to jus’ be wit’. Th' Vulcan not understand. He can't. He love her but he not accept her emotions. He got her up on a pedestal, not down on th' ground next to him where she belong. He love th' picture o’ her his needs create. He accept nothin’ but th' strong, bright, golden side o’ her. She a goddess, right ‘nough, but she a man-eatin’ shark, too. She destroy an' not know she does it. An’ hate herself ‘cause that what she is. Carnivorous, dangerous… succubus.

DelMonde closed his eyes and forced himself to think rationally. Non, not dangerous. She not seventeen anymore. I not a vulnerable eighteen. It jus’ th' look in her eyes that remind me, got me t’inkin’ like that. She outgrow it… but I not outgrow her. She gonna need me. Spock can't handle –

He her husband, imbecile. An’ he love her, not some image he got. They both telepaths, remember?

An’ so am I an’ she need me. It not idle fancy nor vanity. What wrong wit' lettin’ her know I here?

He got up, crossed to her, stood behind her. "It alright, babe," he said, and was startled as she jumped at his voice. His hands tenderly sought her shoulders and she flinched away. "Ruth?" he asked, a little hurt that came out irritated.

"Del, I..." Her eyes came up. "I..."

Something in him cried out possessively and he stifled it furiously. "You wanna talk, cher..." he began instead.

"No!” she shrieked, then, "yes, but — " then, "no, I — Del I don't...!"

"Hush, babe," he soothed, and slid into a chair beside her. "I here, you ever need..." His hand found hers, his fingers entwining with hers, stroking softly. She was leaning toward him, miserable, alone, wanting with a desperation he hadn't seen since Naois. What goin’ on wit your husband — or what not? He reached for her, touching her face, letting his eyes speak to her as they always had, pushing aside a stray strand of hair. I here, he said again, silently. I here, Ruth, cher, golden honey love, sugar angel --

"No!" Ruth sobbed and she moved awkwardly up and away from him, leaving him as lost and as shaken as she was.

Sulu lay on the bed, crosswise, his eyes closed in the weariness that wasn't sleepy. His mind kept running on no matter how often he told it he was finally off duty. Rechecking details, re-filing data, re-preparing reports — stop, stop, for gods’ sake time out!

The mattress beneath him moved as Jilla came to him, her hands gently pulling at his boots. "Sleep, my love," she said. He groaned, and sat up.

"I'm not tired," he said. "And I don't want to waste one minute I can spend with you."

"Perhaps if you were with me..."

He grinned at her sighing, resigned tone. "Sorry. I haven't learned to turn First Officer off yet." He slipped his arm around her, hugging her warmly. "Love you, hon."

"And I you," she whispered.

They looked up at the hiss of the door.

"Buzz, come, thanks, I'm not intruding am I?" Ruth said in a tight breathless ramble as she raced through the door. "No, of course not, Ruth what's wrong? Nothing, can I have some coffee? Don't give me 'nothing'! Oh for god's sake alright Del's after me and I can't handle it! Poor thing, here, sit down and talk. I just want someplace to go thanks again Roy, Jilla." She collapsed into a chair, taking a deep breath, then grinned. "I won't disturb you, really, I can hang from the ceiling if you like."

Sulu and Jilla exchanged concerned glances and Jilla rose to get the asked-for coffee. "What do you mean, 'Del's after you'?" Sulu asked.

"Babe, I'm here if you need, dot, dot, dot," Ruth said in a strained voice.

"Bastard," Sulu muttered.

"No, damn it, it's me! He's sincere." She laughed shortly. "Can you believe that? God help me, I can't let it happen and I don't know how to stop it! I do need and he wants to help but I know, damn it I know what would happen..." Her voice trailed off and she covered her face with her hands. Jilla began a hesitant sentence and Ruth abruptly looked up. "Just let me stay, okay? Somewhere to go because I can't — I don't want to disturb — please?"

Again glances were exchanged. Sulu angrily swept Jilla's guilt aside. Spock obviously wasn't interested in his wife but that didn't necessarily mean it was because — "Sure, Spike, stay as long as you want," he said, and realized he'd finally turned the First Officer off.

Coming half awake from an exhausted, dreamless sleep, Ruth felt a shifting and a slight movement beside her. Something warm and firm slid down beside her. More out of habit than conscious effort she rolled over, her body half-draping itself over Spock's chest. It was familiar and comfortable even without the usual touch of his arm across her back. It was some time before she came fully awake and registered that she was actually in the same bed with her husband.

Maybe the waiting’s over. Goddess, I hope so. The loneliness and longing that had been building up inside her... It had been eight weeks since Jim disappeared, five weeks since Spock had begun deliberately avoiding their quarters when he knew she was there. That was the truth, wasn't it? He hadn't wanted to see her, he hadn't said so, he simply was never there. Why was he here now? There was a hope stirring in her, mixed with desire and the familiarity of the nearness of him. A need for a return to some sort of normal existence, a need for a husband, not just a captain, to be needed by him as something other than an excellent Science Officer.

"I love you," she murmured softly as her fingers began to gently stroke his chest and neck. He neither moved nor answered. "Spock?" she asked softly and reached up to touch his face. Opening her eyes, she saw that he was very much awake, his eyes open and staring at something above his head. She shuddered. Didn't he even know she was there? Didn't he care? "Look at me," she pleaded. "Spock, please." She leaned forward, kissing him as her fingers found his ears. His only response was to let her try for awhile before pushing her aside.

"Ruth, I wish only to rest," he told her in an emotionless voice.

"And what about what I want?" she whispered hoarsely, fighting sudden, humiliated tears.

"We will not discuss it. These are my quarters, I came here to sleep. I did not mean to disturb you."

Ruth knelt beside her husband and stared down at the face that seemed even colder because of the near-darkness of the room. There was no comfort or reassurance in the Vulcan features. She couldn't stop herself from shaking and the tears refused to be held back. "Why?" she demanded of the statue.

"I have said nothing that is open to question," he answered.

"Everything you've done for eight weeks is open to question!" she screamed back at him, not really aware that she was screaming. "Why have you turned into such a callous Vulcan bastard! Why are you doing this to me? Is it because of Jim? Are you blaming me for his death? What kind of logic are you using to make me into the villain? If you hadn't married me you could have devoted your entire life to him and he wouldn't've disappeared? So I've got to be punished? I've never done anything but love you and now you're trying to destroy that! Jim's dead, but I'm alive and I need you! He's DEAD!!! It's the truth, god damn it! Believe it and stop acting dead yourself!" The words poured thoughtlessly out of her, things she had not even known she had been thinking. Waves of pain and hysteria washed over her, blinding her; she didn't know when she started pounding her fists against his chest, trying to physically break through the wall he was building between them. She only knew when he grabbed her wrists, holding her firmly until she stopped struggling. Waves of cold and silence seemed to radiate from him; his eyes found and held hers. There was nothing in them. Eventually the emptiness of his stare was enough to calm her. He released her as soon as he saw that she was under control, then lay back down, ignoring her as if nothing had happened.

She rolled out of bed and said from between clenched teeth, "If you'll excuse me, Captain, I have work to do." She pulled on her uniform and boots, pulled back her hair, and left. Anything, anywhere was better than a bed with Spock in it.

It had been a mistake. He had not meant to be deliberately cruel, yet he had been. There were no words of apology, no explanation he could offer. He had been surprised to find her there. His thought had been only to get a few hours of rest. Seeing her curled on her side of the bed, comfortably asleep, he had found himself lingering in the doorway, just watching her. It was a pleasure he had dared not give himself since this had begun. She didn't know how tempting she was. She tempted him to relax, to let his shields down. He had become captain of the Enterprise for one reason, to find and rescue James Kirk. There was a certainty in him that he knew bordered on fanaticism, but with the bargain he had made with Starfleet…

We are becoming strangers. Would it be a danger to spend some time with her, to share a meal, or work, or conversation or music?

You have had four years with her; she knows you too well. One word, one look would be enough to arouse her suspicions, and then, she wouldn't let it rest. And I would be forced to alienate her all over again. No. Once is enough. He loved her too much to think he could succeed a second time.

She had thrown back the covers — the room was too hot for her, had been since he'd stopped compromising on the temperature nearly eight weeks before -- he tried not to notice the gentle rise and fall of her breasts or the outline of the long, slender waist against the dark bedclothes. Her hair spread across her pillow and was somehow tangled around her arms. He was tired, he needed rest, and it was all so familiar…

An hour of meditation will be enough, he told himself. She is sleeping. If I am quiet, I will not disturb her. He made a quick decision and lay down beside her. Her head was resting just above his heart within seconds. She clung to him in the way that he had always found both comforting and disturbing and that had become habitual. He didn't move, found that he could scarcely breathe. He waited and composed himself, hoping that she would not wake, and knowing that she would.

"I love you." An almost unheard whisper that he felt as a warm breath gliding across his chest. Impossible not to hear.

And I you. Impossible to reply.

She moved slightly, spoke his name as if not sure he was actually there. "Look at me. Spock, please." Beloved, do not make me do this to you.

Fingers, lips, soft, coaxing, a sensitive, delicate touch, ignoring the responses, blocking any physical need with logic, control. He put her aside and spoke matter-of-factly, telling her that all he wanted was rest. She asked about her wants and he ached and replied stiffly. She asked why. He used words of deliberate misunderstanding. Then she screamed at him, beat at him and he beat at himself with the pain. But to her he was stone and ice and let her anger run down to anguish. When she left, he could not rest and found himself playing not his lyrette, but her guitar.

Sulu thought he heard the hiss of the door. Jilla turned in his arms, sighing sleepily, and he relaxed, settling farther down under the blankets. He was almost asleep again when he heard a quiet sob. He gently eased Jilla away from him, his hand brushing the hair from her eyes, staring down at her. "Hon?” he asked gently, concerned once more about nightmares.

The grey eyes opened. "Yes, my love?" Then her brows lowered. "There is something wrong," she whispered.

Sulu sat up in confusion and Jilla said his name as another sob reached his ears. He slid out of bed as Jilla sat up, and he moved toward the door. The light from Jilla's shrine gleamed softly off a rich stream of gold and Sulu sighed, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. "Ruth," he said and knelt beside the figure that was curled up by the door.

Ruth looked up, her eyes wet, her face streaked with tears. "I can't take it anymore," she whispered hoarsely. "There's nothing there, he doesn't hate me, I don't exist."

He put his arms around her and looked up. Jilla was in a robe, coming toward him, handing him one. As he slipped it on, she took Ruth's hand, helping her to stand, and led her over to the bed, sitting her on it, then moved to the replicator

"I'm sorry..." Ruth began.

"Don't be silly," Sulu replied. "That's what we're here for." He took the cup of coffee from Jilla, smiling at her, then put it to Ruth's lips.

She drank, then looked up with hopeless eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm just so tired."

"Understood," Sulu murmured. "Do you need to talk?"

"I need my husband!" Ruth wailed, so suddenly that he nearly dropped the cup. She was sobbing, weeping desperately, and he glanced helplessly at Jilla as his arms came around Ruth's trembling shoulders. Jilla nodded and he pulled Ruth's head to his chest, hushing, soothing. She was clutching at him and he felt his throat constricting with the emotion. He loved her, and god it hurts to see her like this! Damn Vulcan bastard!

"Ruth," Jilla’s voice said softly. Ruth looked up desolately. "There is always a place for you here, comfort and solace and respite, no matter the hour. You are loved here, you are welcomed here, and we will help when we may."

Ruth sobbed again, strangely joyous, and reached out. Jilla came forward and Sulu gently released Ruth, giving her over to Jilla's embrace. Then he sat back, closing his eyes, rubbing at his temples. Captain, what are you doing to us? Why? It's not our fault Jim Kirk is dead. How can you so determinedly destroy the people who risked more than their lives to save yours? They should've left you on Elba. I wish they had.

The bridge did not look substantially different. Spock in the con was not unfamiliar, though his gold tunic was, even after eight weeks. It wasn't something easily gotten used to, though there was no doubt as to the captain's authority. Sulu was at the Helm, his gold sleeve now sporting two solid stripes. Ruth stood at the Science Station, breaking in her new assistant, Jan Bergmann. At Engineering, Jilla did her work with agitated efficiency, not able to adequately handle the pain of being so near the captain. The command unit was larger than Jim Kirk's had been by one, but Ruth as Chief of Science and First Officer Sulu functioned as well as, if a bit less sedately than had Commander Spock. Routine had begun to settle in, the fury of change was subsiding, the Enterprise was once more a whole. Working, near perfection for the stern, unyielding Vulcan who commanded her, again a prize of Starfleet ships but sober and solemn and somehow silently lonely.

END PROLOGUE

Go To The Title Song: "Shadow Captain" by Crosby, Stills and Nash.

"Me and Bobby McGee" by Kris Kristofferson as recorded by Janis Joplin

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