InsaneJournal

His legs swung back and forth and back and forth. He clenched his fingers around the chain links and leaned forward so he could get a better view of the ground rushing toward him and then away. Speeding up. Slowing down. Then he turned his gaze upward. The sky whooshed in one direction and then the other. He could calculate the curvature of the earth by the way the sky seemed to move in oppositional conjunction to his own movements, but he didn’t.

Because he didn’t want to.

Because he was too enthralled by the fun to think about mathematics. He enjoyed that subtle split second stage of backward momentum when his acceleration slowed, just before the swing plummeted forward again. It wasn’t quite the same rush as entering warp, but he still felt that internal tug of adrenaline.

Was this what Jim felt when he rode a motorcycle? Was this the feeling Sulu had when he saw his husband waiting for him at the space dock? Was this the same enthusiasm Chekov experienced whenever he was assigned to an away mission? Or when McCoy sipped his sour brand of Southern whisky?

Was this what it felt like to be human?

Spock was smiling and he didn’t even know it. It was school hours so the rest of the playground was empty. There was no laughter of children climbing the jungle gym or playing on the slide. There was just the creaky wince and winge of the swing set chains against their attached joints and the occasional chuckle from Spock whenever the swing hit its zenith and he felt exactly .0783 seconds of weightlessness.

He’d panicked when he saw himself in the mirror that morning. His sharp brows and ears rounded off. Hardly distinguishable as himself. Then he looked at himself more closely and decided his hair was too flat. He combed it back. It had been too messy at first. But now? Now the wind in his hair gave it a kind of purposefully messy appearance. Not that he cared. Vulcan Spock cared how he looked. He cared that he was perfect in every pose, manner, and presentation. But human Spock? He only cared about how he felt.

And right now he felt … happy.

The small wisp of a tear formed at the corner of his eye.

It had been a long time since he’d felt happy.

---

Dog found Spock first.

Maybe. Julia didn’t know how these powers worked exactly. Just that all of Dunwich felt too small for some element of her that was not normally meant to be contained to such a limited space that she could not quite identify or name.

Did Dog find Spock first? Had Julia’s subconscious directed Dog somehow? Had something about reality altered or changed in order to take Julia to a familiar voice of reason?

Dog didn’t know the answer either. Dog sat a safe distance in front of Spock’s swing, wagged his tail very pleased with himself, and barked helpfully twice. He was a good dog. With the important work done, Dog went about the business of collecting all the different smells around the park. Likely there would be squirrels. There was nothing especially dangerous about squirrels, unlike cats, Dog just thought it was important to make a note of them and chase them on occasion.

Julia followed shortly after.

He was still recognizable as Spock, and yet, looked like a completely different person. Without the dramatic haircut, the eyebrows, the ears— or more importantly the air of logic, and semi permanent thoughtful brooding expression, it was hard for Julia to say if this was Spock or someone else.

Given everything else that was happening, she couldn’t quite say.

“Spock?”

It seemed reasonable to ask first.

Dog perked up at the sound of Julia’s voice. She was still nervous, afraid, so he never wandered too far from her. He had a job to do, even if he missed Adam. Perhaps Julia would go visit his former master soon. Perhaps Dog could try biting the ankle of Julia’s black trousers and convince her to visit Adam soon. Dog settled on collecting more scents first. For now Julia was safe.

Julia frowned, and carefully approached the former Vulcan.

If it was him. She honestly couldn’t be sure.

---

Spock slowed down his swinging when he saw the dog. His eyes glistened with a kind of empathetic enthusiasm. Most Vulcans weren’t animal people. Canines, in particular, were a deterrent for Vulcans because of their smell. They had a much stronger odor than felines, for example. And while Spock’s sense of smell wasn’t as strong as a Vulcan woman’s, dogs had always bothered him more than other animals.

Today felt different though. For one, he couldn’t smell the dog as keenly as usual. For another—

Well, petting a dog suddenly felt like something that might give him joy.

The swing was almost slowed to a stop when he heard Julia. He glanced up and smiled. It must have looked strange on his face. So much animation. The movements in his facial muscles felt exaggerated to Spock because he was so accustomed to very slight changes in his expression, but it really wasn’t quite as amplified as he thought. If anything it was more normal. Human normal, that is. The smile of someone excited to see a good friend.

Perhaps even a best friend.

“Julia!”

Spock dragged his feet along the dirt until the swing settled to a gentle sway. Then he motioned to the empty swing beside him. “Please. Join me. I didn’t know you had a dog.”

Spock leaned forward and stretched his hand out for Dog to sniff.

---

Dog was very perceptive. Seeing the way Julia had taken her seat next to the man, and the way the man greeted her, it struck Dog that this was okay. His nose reached out cautiously for the man’s hand and sniffed. Dutifully, he gave Spock’s fingers a small lick of approval. Yes, the man would be allowed in the presence of his new master. Giving out the all clear bark, Dog trotted around the swing set in circles, ever vigilant for squirrels.

“I didn’t,” Julia said. She wasn’t sure what else to do but take a seat in the swing next to Spock. She seemed much less happy about this entire situation, but forced a small smile for Spock’s benefit.

She looked over at Spock, scrutinized his hair, the way he smiled. He seemed happy, and for some reason that put her on alert.

“You doing okay?” she asked.

She didn’t swing, but planted her heels on the ground and gently pushed the swing back and forth, occasionally dipping it to the side to get a look at Spock, in that way that adults used swings when the novelty and the joy associated with them generally wore off with time.

She should have been happy for him. And maybe, under different circumstances, she would have been. Maybe they could have gone and done ridiculous things to celebrate his new found human emotional state. Except…

First, she felt like a walking nuclear bomb with no idea of what might set her off.

Second, it would be one thing if Spock asked for this or wanted this. That, she was not so certain of.

---

Spock managed to give Dog one quick scratch behind the ears before Dog ran off in search of more interesting playground finds. Spock looked at his fingers where a few pieces of fur had stuck. Normally he would wash his hands—almost immediately—and carefully ensure that his attire wasn’t burdened by excess hair or fur. (That would have been against Starfleet regulation, after all.) But today he seemed less bothered by mess and disorder. He wiped the fur off on his knee.

“I am doing very well, thank you.” Again, there was a little too much pep in Spock’s tone. He hadn’t quite figured out a good middle ground. When he tried to speak like himself, he sounded too bored and disinterested. (Did he always sound like that or was it just because he had human ears to hear himself with?) But when he tried to express enthusiasm or joy, he verged on too much.

He felt erratic. He lacked balance.

It both flustered him and filled him with a newfound sense of freedom. Freedom to be less restrictive in his actions. Freedom to be more casual, more open, more relaxed.

How had his mother ever survived Vulcan? How had she ever managed to live among so much placidity when she herself was full of all these feelings?

“I do miss my ears. That is something I find very disconcerting. But it has crossed my mind that someone with magic—Margo, perhaps—would be able to return my ears to their normal shape. I believe I could grow accustomed to the rest. But these ears are so … round.” Truth was, Spock had been quite distraught to see himself that way at first. It took him almost thirty minutes to calm the frantic beating of his heart. The human propensity to freak out was a new experience for him. Thankfully he had a vast array of meditative techniques that worked for most species.

But that sudden rush of emotion—that had been terrifying. Swinging on the swing set, however, was a much more pleasant sensation. Relaxing, too. In a playful way.

Playful. That was also an emotion he rarely leaned into.

---

The answer surprised her. Julia watched him carefully, looking for signs that it might suddenly turn or everything might go wrong in a moment.

“...Do you want to stay this way? Human, I mean? …Besides the ears.”

It wasn’t wrong or right. As a half Vulcan, it wasn’t as if Spock were missing part of his soul that would cause him to hurt anyone. At least, she didn’t think so. She was more worried about him doing something he couldn’t walk back from.

She knew the dangers of that from experience.

“...You look happy. And, I’m not saying that’s bad at all, it’s just, emotionally you’re somewhere very different right now and I just want to make sure you don’t end up… doing something you regret. Just, do me favor? Think your actions through logically before you do anything major?”

Then again, the sudden rush or emotional high could be a lot to overcome. Julia knew that rush when she was no longer burdened by fear, guilt, shame, sadness, hurt. There was no way she was going to think rationally for the first few days. Not when everything felt so good.

But this was different. This wasn’t that. There was nothing to suggest Spock was an immediate danger to himself or anyone else.

“If you can.”

Fuck.

“We could go watch a movie? Inside Out is… about emotions?”

Which was either a very good idea to keep him occupied for a few hours, or a very bad one. Educational, yes. Emotional as hell, also yes. Julia made a note to have tissues available. Fucking Bing Bong.

---

Want was a curious word.

Of course, Spock had wants. All creatures had wants. Just as all creatures had needs. But the word ‘want’ felt different now. It encompassed so much more than it did when he had his Vulcan half. Because humans could want more. They allowed themselves that luxury. They could indulge in ways Vulcans could not. Because too much indulging led to too much emotion. And too much emotion could be dangerous for a Vulcan.

Want.

What did Spock want?

He pursed his lips in thought. “I have accepted the possibility that this change could be permanent. I didn’t want to spend too much time lingering in the unknown or the futile. If I wake up tomorrow the way I was when I arrived in Dunwich, I will accept that. If I wake up and I’m still human … so be it. I accept that I may not have any power to control the outcome of whatever has caused this change.”

There was some logic to Spock’s response, but it was also missing a big piece of the puzzle. A piece he might have been hiding—cue his gaze suddenly looking away from Julia. Perhaps he’d already gone through that emotional outburst that morning. The agony of not being Spock, but some half-amalgamation of himself.

I am Spock.

I am not Spock.

“Something I regret?” Spock blinked. He didn’t entirely understand what she meant. He may have unbridled access to emotions, but that didn’t mean he was going to be reckless. Then again, he remembered how he’d been as a child. Angry, volatile, jealous.

But he was an adult now. Surely he could control those feelings.

Spock turned the swing so he could face Julia directly. “Why are you acting like this? Are you trying to distract me from something?”

---

“Because…”

Julia looked down at the ground near her feet. She was worried about him. But that wasn’t why she was behaving this way.

Early on, when she and Adam first traded powers, he’d tried to explain how the original swap between them may have been his fault. He tried guiding her on how to swap them back, only… More people ended up swapped and she couldn’t help but suspect this was her fault. She’d done this.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. To explain her fear, Julia would have to tell him what she did. And to explain what she did, she would have to describe what happened to her. In the best of circumstances, she could put on a neutral face and dispassionately, safely recount freeing Reynard, the slaughter of her safehouse, the assault, her abortion afterward, the loss of her shade, committing genocide against Fillory’s small sentient tree popu—

In the best of circumstances, Julia could briefly explain one or two of those things. Together, they made up a very long story of the lowest point in her life.

This was far from the best of circumstances.

”Can we not talk about me?” she snapped. She didn’t mean to. Worse was the fact that she was unaware she’d used Adam’s power in that very instance. Her power did not ban Spock from wanting or attempting to talk about Julia, only the actual act itself.

Adam had explained how his powers worked. She should have known better.

She did not.

“I care about you,” said Dunwich’s newest Antichrist. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

---

There was something Spock wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth to speak, the words didn’t come out. He thought about the words. Thought about Julia. Thought about what he wanted to say with regards to her and the questions he wanted to ask, but it was like his breath caught in his throat.

After three failed attempts, he stopped trying. Clearly there was more than just one magical mishap going on around Dunwich.

Spock should have been more concerned. And in many ways he was. But he was so wrapped up in his own feelings and these new experiences that concern was the furthest thing from his mind. Not very Vulcan. Not very logical. Not very Spock.

“Care,” he repeated the word, glancing down at the dirt beneath his boots and the jagged lines in the earth he’d made with his heels when he brought the swing to a stop.

Spock cared about Julia, too.

He cared about a lot of people.

And for the first time in a long time—since childhood perhaps—he worried that the people he cared about might not care about him. Hell, he worried that they might not even like him. And that didn’t make him feel good at all.

“I’m not hurt,” Spock said. It was only partly a lie. “I’ve never been happier.”

True, but also not true. So much of this newfound happiness was superficial. But Spock hadn’t quite realized that yet.

He smiled. His muscles were so unaccustomed to that. It almost made his face ache. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

---

Julia released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She tried to reflect his smile back at him, but it was half hearted. She felt guilty for it. Spock wasn’t her. He’d hadn’t been made into some kind of emotional sociopath. If anything, it was the opposite.

She tried swinging, at least a little, until she turned the swing toward Spock and nudged his leg with her foot, playfully. Her smile shifted into something a little more genuine.

Maybe she was freaked out over nothing. She hadn’t ended the world yet. Spock didn’t look like he wanted to burn down any forests. It was going to be okay.

“Okay.”

She could decide to agree with him, right? Even if she couldn’t quite feel it, yet?

“But just in case you do revert back to being your old self… There anything you want to do as a human? Anything you’ve been dying to understand or experience from a human perspective?”

Supportive friend. Julia did not have to be the buzzkill friend. She could do supportive. She was fun, right? Sometimes? …Did research count?

---

Spock didn’t shy away when she nudged his leg. In fact, he gently swung himself sideways until their hips bumped against each other. He didn’t know why he did that. The swings weren’t meant to go that direction. It wasn’t a natural motion. It wasn’t logical.

But it was fun.

“I want to do everything,” he said, slowly spinning himself around until the chains twisted tautly together above his head. Then he clenched his hands close to his hips and lifted his feet off the ground.

Around and around and around. Centripetal force accelerated his spin until the chains fully untwined and separated. Then he was jerked back in the opposite direction.

Spock could have calculated the speed and prepared himself for the whiplash, but he didn’t. And he nearly knocked his head against the chains. He planted his feet on the ground and stopped the swing. He was disoriented. Dizzy. For a moment he thought he might be sick.

Then he laughed.

Everything. He wanted to do everything.

And he wanted to feel everything.

“What is the most joyous experience you can think of?”

---

Julia watched Spock play on the swing and sat in awe of the display of pure, innocent joy. Maybe, if she is somehow responsible for all these random switches with Adam’s powers when the two tried to switch back, maybe she didn’t completely fuck up at least one person.

It was delightful. If Julia got out of her own head, out of her own way, the way his hip bumped against hers. The way he spun around. The way he smiled. It was a pretty smile.

“I mean, we’d have to make a whole day of it, right?” Unfortunately the big ideas were out: they couldn’t go to a major theme park, or visit a major zoo. The most joyous experiences Julia could think of were spent with the people she loved-- her dad when she was a kid, Quentin as they grew up together.

“The best food you can think of to try… You could try dancing again? We could invite people over and just enjoy everyone’s company?”

They were small things, really. But if he wanted one joyful day, Julia could at least try to give him that. Add up a number of small experiences until they would become a time he could look back on and remember fondly, no matter who he ended up becoming.

“What’s the most ridiculous thing you’d like to do?” she asked. “Maybe let’s start there.”

---

“I want to do something entirely illogical,” Spock replied without hesitation. He chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. It was such a human gesture. It was something Spock might have done when he was a young boy. Before his father reprimanded him, that is. A tiny piece of his human side that he’d repressed for decades. “I want to do something that makes no sense. That serves no purpose other than to experience a thrill or an exhilaration or … pleasure.”

He hesitated on that last word. Spock hadn’t realized before just how much desire there was in emotions. In all emotions. It was as though his mind—maybe even his katra—craved the pleasure of experiencing feelings.

He wanted to feel to the full extent that a person could feel.

“There is a section of beach not far from Margo’s house where the lobstrosities rarely go. I scouted the area the first week we arrived. It’s quite isolated.” Spock turned the swing to face her. “We could go … I believe the human expression is … skinny dipping.”

---

Julia’s mouth dropped open. She isn’t sure why she was so surprised by his suggestion, but it isn’t what she was expecting. The corners of her mouth are tugged into a slight smile. Actually, the suggestion is downright impressive.

She’s not a prude, and this is something completely stupid she can give him. Just one perfectly happy, joyful, illogical moment. Maybe that’s the key. Even if Julia is adamant that she not keep these powers that don’t belong to her, maybe she needs to know they can be used for good. That she can still be a force of good.

“You are so bad,” she teased.

Julia stood up and offered her hand.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Immature? Maybe, but Spock’s probably been a composed, overly mature person his entire life. He’s earned this moment. Julia just wanted to do something right. By him, or anyone else. She needed this as badly as him.

Dog barked twice. He was also ready to go.

---

Part of Spock was horrified by his own suggestion. It wasn’t that he would regret it later if he returned to ‘normal.’ It was more a shock that he would ever feel comfortable enough to suggest such an idea to someone else. Let alone do it.

She offered her hand.

Spock hesitated.

You’re human now. Humans hold hands. Think of the capta—Jim. Jim would do it. He wouldn’t flinch at the touch. Neither should you.

You’ve done this before.

Just not as someone who was fully human.

He briefly wondered what Uhura would think of him. Would she have preferred him this way? He thought that in many ways, she might have. But she was never really drawn to his emotions. She appreciated his intellect and his subtleties. Emotions were where they failed to get along.

“If this is what it feels like to be bad then I think I ought to be bad more often.” Spock took Julia’s hand and stood up. Then he entwined their fingers and started off in the direction of the beach.

---

Julia’s use of Adam’s power was widely irresponsible. But if they were going to figure out how to beat this curse, she had to try something, didn’t she? If nothing else, if she got better at using his power, perhaps she could put things back together again.

So the walk to the beach was an improbably perfect affair. There was an old fashioned ice cream cart and a kindly old man handing out ice cream cones on the way. Julia, quietly, seemed to have a canvas bag on her with towels rolled up inside. The weather got two and a half degrees warmer as they walked. Instead of being overcast, the sky turned a bright blue with perfect white cotton ball clouds in the sky.

It even extended to the beach itself. No one else was around to spy on their hijinx. There wasn’t a lobstrocity in sight. The water was a shocking sort of cold at the start, despite being the Northeast in the spring, that turned pleasant after the initial chill. Julia had stripped down to her skivvies, and the waves of the ocean were perfect and calm. No bits of seaweed or questionable creatures swimming up against them that always skeeved Julia out.

Just a perfect day in the water, being perfectly ridiculous.

Julia wondered how often Adam used his powers like this.

---

If Spock noticed that the world around them seemed to be just a little more perfect than normal, he didn’t say. He was too busy soaking up his newfound emotions and this great resurgence of feeling in his chest. It was like being reunited with an old friend after spending decades apart and picking up where they last left off. It was joyous, but bittersweet. Exciting, but confusing. And Spock wasn’t naive. He knew that the better he felt the greater risk he had of succumbing to the exact opposite feeling—sadness, grief, regret, loneliness. But he was trying to remain as optimistic as he could. For as long as he could.

When they reached the beach, he stripped down to nothing and made his way into the water. It was cold at first, but the temperature warmed not long after Julia joined him. And his body acclimated quickly.

He never would have done this as a Vulcan. Aside from that staunch Vulcan modesty, there would have been no rational reason to swim naked in the ocean. A Vulcan would not be able to appreciate the small pleasure of the waves rolling over his shoulders. A Vulcan would not find amusement or excitement in the thrill of being caught. Or understand the pleasure of emotional freedom.

Vulcans were prisoners of their own emotions. They subdued them in order to maintain their balance. But humans? Humans embraced the unpredictability of their feelings.

It gave Spock an almost drug-like high. A rush of adrenaline.

He could feel. And he could still maintain his control.

He deeply wanted to share this experience with Julia, but he couldn’t find the words. So, instead he treaded water, gaze lifted towards the ever changing colors of the sky on the horizon.

---

The moment Julia realized Spock was really going for it, she quickly turned to look away until she heard the splash of him running into the water, while teasing him with a cartoon howl. It seemed better not to tell him humans didn’t typically do this kind of thing in broad daylight. Or that she was pretty confident no one was going to run into them unless it was someone they wanted to see thanks to her newfound ability. If he didn’t know, it still counted, didn’t it?

In her own way, Julia was both encouraging this exploration while respecting his usual modesty.

As he treaded water, Julia engaged in another great, silly human pastime: splashing him when he wasn’t paying attention. It was probably a water fight she would lose, until the object was to get him to laugh.

In that case, she was pretty sure she’d win.

---

Spock was distracted by the awe-inspiring beauty of the horizon when Julia splashed him. It was something he didn’t expect and he whipped his head around quickly, instinct warning him that maybe something horrible had happened. Like a lobstrosity pulling her under the water. It didn’t occur to him that the splash was playful and that she’d done it on purpose. Not until he saw her face. Then he realized it was supposed to be fun.

He blinked.

Then a wide smile spread across his face. He splashed her back. The motions were awkward because Spock had never done this before. He’d never played. Not in the way humans played when they were children. He’d played Vulcan games as a young boy. But those were always steeped in logic. Problem-solving puzzles. Games meant to stimulate the mind. Not the emotions.

But this? This was all about feeling good. It was all about having fun. And that was something entirely new for Spock.

And Julia was right. She did win. Because for the first time in a long time—perhaps for the first time in his life—Spock laughed.

And he enjoyed it.