Work Text:
The Klingon ship breathed. It was a common way of personifying starships with warp drive, because to a tired mind, the gentle thrum of the engines truly seemed to echo the rushes of air blown past human lips. Inhale-exhale, a steady rhythm. It was bothersome to many, the constant absence of silence, but David had found that his mind had come to embrace the soft ambience. It was a comfort to know that he wasn’t alone. That for the ship to be breathing, Scotty had to be working on the warp engines at the moment, trying to fix them for the voyage home.
Isolation didn’t sit well with David. Perhaps it was his recent brush with death, the ultimate isolation, or maybe it was because he hadn’t been truly alone his whole life. Spending a childhood on research stations meant that there were always people, at least in the next room, always breathing and talking and laughing. He’d never experienced the isolation that came with planetside life, the feeling of being lost in nature with not another human soul around for kilometres on end.
Death had been different. He had not truly died, of course, but as unconsciousness had swallowed him, the darkness, the fear, had been near unbearable. He hadn't wanted to die. Only knowing that Saavik, at least, had been saved, had brought him some relief.
Saavik. She had haunted his thoughts recently. Not haunted as a ghost, but as a vague warmth, a comfort amongst uncertain times. He had not been expecting that. From what little he'd heard about Vulcans, they had seemed cold, heartless, even, if certain sources were to be believed. And certainly a half Romulan must be ruthless indeed. Of course, David had never lent much credence to stereotypes, but finding an easy friend where he'd at most been expecting careful professionalism had certainly been a shock. Maybe more than a friend.
He smiled softly to himself, pressing two fingers to the palm of his other hand, the memory of their kiss still etched into his skin. He'd been laying in the sickbay, the rasping thrum of Klingon machinery around him as he'd fought to cling to life. She'd clasped his hand. He knew enough about Vulcan culture to know what it meant to her. Then later, once McCoy had stitched him back together with the help of Vulcan healers, and he'd been hobbling around the hospital beside her for support, the gentle press of her two fingers against his. Easier, this time, less heavy with emotion.
They had to figure out what to do now. David's father - it was still odd to think of Admiral Kirk that way - would surely be in trouble with Starfleet for this, and with him, the rest of his crew. It had been a foolish decision. Illogical, Saavik had called it, though there had been no bite to it. David wondered what she thought of his own sacrifice. Whether that, too, was illogical. Whether it mattered at all, when you truly loved someone.
"Of course it matters," Saavik's voice made him jump. The Vulcan ability to wander about as quiet as a cat was draining on the nerves, though this was nothing compared to the surprise that came with their telepathic prowess. He found that he was glad she was here, regardless. He did not regret their bond. Her thoughts were a pleasure to listen to, like the thrum of the warp engines, but warmer, alive. He would never be alone again for as long as they both lived, and that, that was worth giving up the privacy of his mind for. It was worth so much more than he ever could have imagined.
"Does it?" David asked with a fond smile. "Then my sacrifice was as illogical as my father's."
"Indeed it was," she said. "But you seem to be under the assumption that something being illogical deprives it of all value."
"Isn't that what Vulcans believe?"
"There are those who think so. There are those for whom it is true. Our ideologies are not a one size fits all affair."
"And for you?"
She blinked up at him, and didn't smile back, of course, but there was a softness in her eyes. "Logic is a valuable retreat. But it does not define me. Neither does the anger of my Romulan side. I am what I am, and I feel what I feel."
"Kaiidth," David said. His heart thumped. Languages had never been his strong suit. "Right?"
She inclined her head, and through their bond he could feel her adoration embracing him in gentle arms, easing away all earthly sorrows.
"Right."
"You know, I- I don't know much about Vulcan culture. Perhaps you could show me around?"
"I am not the best guide for my peoples' culture myself, I am afraid."
"Well, I'll take what I've got, regardless." He smiled down at her. She raised an eyebrow.
"In that case I would not object to giving you a history lesson. And a tour, perhaps. Some light exercise will be beneficial for your health."
"Of course. Whatever you say, Mr Saavik."
Her eyes flickered with warmth, and she turned to walk down the corridors of the ship, towards the exit. David wandered after her, still glancing around him. The Klingon ship was truly a technological marvel. Its breaths had died down by now, signifying that Scotty was done tinkering with the engines and had probably left for dinner.
"We could do so as well," Saavik spoke out loud, and David jumped once more. Luckily she only seemed amused by this. "Leave for dinner, I mean," she added for his benefit, in case her understanding of his thoughts was superior to his. "It is a bit late for a tour, but I can show you around tomorrow morning, if you would like."
"I would," David smiled. "I would also enjoy dinner. With you, I mean. Vulcan cuisine suits me better than Terran cuisine, to be honest."
"You are vegetarian?"
"Yes. My mother raised me to respect all life. It was the only natural outcome."
She inclined her head. "That was most wonderful of her."
"It really was."
Her eyes seemed to sparkle, and she lifted two fingers, allowing him to meet them in a kiss. "I will show you my favourite restaurant in ShiKhar."
"Show me. Show me everything. I want to know it all."
She almost truly smiled at that, and he thought he caught the tailwind of her thoughts.
Truly a scientist, through and through.