overanalytically | MoM Continuations

[ He barely even registers Jim's attempts to calm him, he's so focused inward, rebuilding that barrier between himself and his grief as fast as he can. By slow, tortuous degrees, Spock manages to control his emotions, his labored breathing taking on more of the rhythm of the breathing techniques he's shown Jim before for meditation. His expression slowly unclenches, eyelids smooth and just simply closed, his jaw relaxing and posture relaxing. The mind matches his body as well, the hollow and yawning pain easing off as he pushes it back down, burying it before it buries him. It leaves his mind and thoughts raw, like a wound only just scabbed over, but at least it's no longer bleeding.

It's almost full four minutes before Spock reopens his eyes, keeping them downcast, looking somewhere near Jim's stomach; he actually looks tired after that, dark circles appearing under his eyes. He's actually slumping right there on the bed, his body mimicking the mental exhaustion he feels. ]

[It's an agonizing four minutes for Jim. He's backed off mentally, letting Spock re-organize himself in peace. He hates how helpless he feels right now--emotional responses were never his strong suit and this went far beyond what he was capable of helping with and he knows it. All he can do is wait it out.

Jim feels a slight relief when Spock opens his eyes though can't quite shake how disturbing it is to see Spock isn't maintaining his usually perfect posture. Just how exhausted he looks is jarring. When Jim speaks it's quiet.]

Hey, you still with me?

[ Spock's voice is low, scratchy like he'd been shouting. ]

I am maintaining adequate control.

[He cards a hand through Spock's hair, ducking ever so slightly to see if Spock will meet his eyes yet.]

I'm sorry. What can I do?

[ His eyes re-close briefly, leaning very slightly into Jim's hand for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. He reopens his eyes and looks upwards—though he still can't quite meet Jim's eyes—when he makes an effort to straighten his posture. It also makes him pull away from his leaning into Jim's hand. ]

My apologies ... I require mediation.

[It probably wouldn't have hurt as bad if Spock hadn't so subtly pulled away from him. He awkwardly pulls his hands down, fisting them tightly for a second on his knees before he then climbs off of Spock.]

Right. Sure.

[Because he understands. Of course he understands, even if Spock wouldn't let him in close enough to empathize 100% yet. And that's what made him angry--that he did understand but he's still hurt by it. He turns and gathers his shirt and puts it on, then runs a hand through his hair. He grabs his wallet and communicator and shoves them in a pocket. It's his own fault anyhow. He leaves before he can look back. He needs to go home and nap off that headache, before he does something stupid like stay and try to talk. He'd only be burying himself deeper.]

[ His hand slides form Jim's hip as he stands, and Spock suddenly feels cold without Jim's solid warmth grounding him. He passively watches Jim gather his clothes and items, trying not to wince at the aggressiveness of his gestures. The bond is strangely silent as if Spock's emotions were holding their breath.

He sits up straighter when Jim's moving to leave, the first stirrings of another kind of panic shocking through the bond at the sight. Spock voice sounds agitated when he speaks up, calling after Jim before he can cross through the door. ]

Jim.

[Jim was just about out the door when he hears Spock call his name, the tone of voice also making him freeze. He hesitates for a second before turning around, hands casually in his pockets. Hadn't Spock just wanted to be left alone?]

[ He does need to be left alone. His control over himself is tentative at best – he'll need to focus for several hours to gain a better balance in his thoughts and mind.

But he doesn't want it at the expense of hurting Jim. He felt the sting of rejection from his own withdrawal, and he wants to make up for it somehow. The question is how. He needs Jim to know that he's not withdrawing entirely, that he just needs some time to himself.

There's a few beats of silence as Spock struggles to think of something to say to him. Finally he settles on: ]

... Would a shared evening meal be agreeable?

[That was definitely the right way to go about it--acknowledge he needed space while simultaneously reassuring Jim. The response from his side of the bond is instantaneous if Spock cares to feel. It's a glowing fog, hiding more of the complicated but its overall atmosphere emanates acceptance.

Jim turns to face Spock more fully and nods, face softening.]

...Shoot me a message when you're ready.

[ The tightness that was within Spock's side of their cord loosens to some degree, grateful that Jim accepted his offer. ]

Understood.

MoM Continuations

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