Alone Among Others [Open]
Claustrophobia was a feeling that Spock was unaccustomed to. He was usually so calm. So composed. So rigid in his mannerisms and in his thoughts. But something in him had changed since he'd awoken to find himself trapped. Isolated. Restrained. Drugged. How very human of his captors to use internal medications on him. On a physiology that might not have been made for such medications. It brought out the very essence of his Vulcan nature. It tore at his logic, created waves in his mental sea of unwavering strength. He wanted to lash out in anger. In frustration. He wanted to be rashly emotional. He wanted to be violent. And he could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest in response to this destruction of his emotional barrier. A barrier that his mind worked feverishly to repair.
His species was not meant for this kind of confinement. It tasted bitter in his mouth. He felt like he was tiptoeing around an alter-ego of his own making. The inner Spock. The true Spock. The Spock that wanted to give in to both his illogical human and feral Vulcan tendencies. He didn't know how long he could control himself like this. He wanted to beg his captors to keep him sedated. To knock him out of his conscious mind. In slumber, he might be able to fight it off longer. But he couldn't. Another one of his human emotions prevented him from calling out to the ones who had put him in this place. And this was an emotion he could deal with the least.
Pride. Meditation helped. It eased his mental aggression. He also constructed mind games for himself to occupy the gaps wherein he wanted to revert to his ancestors' ways. Traditional Vulcan children's games. Math puzzles. Construct diagrams. Anything that could keep him from becoming completely human. Or worse. Completely Vulcan. (For his people weren't always the stringent bearers of logic that they were today.) The time before Surak was a dark time, akin to Earth's Dark Ages. Only worse. That was something that fool Doctor McCoy could never understand about Spock. It wasn't his human side that he worried about. It was his Vulcan side. For Vulcans were far more dangerous and emotional and illogical than humans could ever imagine. With their logic stripped from them, they were monsters.
Deep breaths.
The courtyard proved to provide some solace for the Enterprise's first officer. It was quiet and it gave him the opportunity to see the sky. It was fascinating how a species born to a planet, bipedal, unable to fly on its own, could hold such an attachment to something as unfamiliar as the sky. But space had been Spock's refuge. It had been his opportunity to find the truth in himself. A truth that he had been unable to discover on his home planet. And though he often times missed the brightness of his planet. He missed the dark, expanse that was space even more.
Spock stood silent in the center of the courtyard, staring upward. He hated to admit it. But for the first time since arriving in The City, he was sad. He felt alone. He missed his friends on the Enterprise. Jim. If only you were here. But he also knew, that were it not for the medications in his system, he wouldn't feel this way at all. It was painful. Emotions hurt.
He didn't know how these humans could live with such pain.