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To anyone who knew him, Spock was very reserved, very quiet, and he held his tongue quite often. He was the very picture of Vulcan heritage to the outside world. Jim Kirk, however, got the very picture of a confusing mixture of human and Vulcan when he saw Spock, and now was no different.
Spock, slumped against the glass, his skin almost falling away from his very bones, had his hand pressed up as high as he could force his arm to go. Jim fell to his knees before the glass, before the scene, and found that he could not distance himself, and this whole thing hurt like hell.
“You can’t. Spock, you...” Jim was grasping desperately at straws, they both knew, and Spock’s eyes were darker than usual.
“I know.” Spock said softly. Jim let his forehead hit the glass, and he forced his eyes to stay open and on Spock.
“You can’t leave me.” Jim protested, his voice quiet despite his bubbling anger. Spock’s head came to rest against the glass.
“Jim-” Spock began, but Jim could not let him finish.
“I love you.” Jim offered weakly. Spock nodded slightly, once, but it was enough.
“I know, Jim.” Spock whispered, his voice no longer able to go any higher. “Jim-”
“Don’t.” Jim’s voice was choked, cut off, and he could not do this any longer. “Just don’t, Spock.”
Spock cleared his throat a bit frantically. “Very well, Captain.”
Jim laughed humorlessly. “Damn it, Spock. You never quit, not at anything. We’re supposed to... You should’ve lived longer than me.”
“And I am glad not to.” Spock said softly. He let his eyes shut, and Jim’s fists were pounding against the glass before he could stop himself.