Rivals

_**Hello, my dears! :) In case you're interested in this story's origin, read further this bold-italics paragraph. If you're not, feel free to skip it and go straight to the story, it doesn't need the explanation but I wanted to give it. :)**_

_**Alright, so here it is: I don't know if you have seen the movie 'Rush' which was in cinemas in autumn. If you have, you'll understand what I will talk about in the next few sentences and you'll also see some parallels with the movie in this story. If you haven't, you should do it now, but you don't have to abandon my story, it will do just fine. The reason why I tell you to see the movie is that it is amazing and I am not exaggerating when I say it moved me almost to tears when I saw it in airplane (on a tiny screen and without sound, it was only in german and my german is still not too good.) I don't know how the movie did it, but it was an extraordinary experience. When I watched it again, at home on a big screen and with sound :D, and heard all the dialogues, I understood the characters more and more and I thought: 'I have to use this idea in Star Trek universe! It's so obviously Jim and Spock!' And this is the result, I didn't do much about the story, I kept it similar to the movie - and true events for the movie is based on truth. That's all, thanks for reading and now continue with the story. :) And let me know what you think.**_

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My name is James Tiberius Kirk. I'm the youngest person to win the Federation Championship in racing driving, which is a good thing to be remembered for. However the thing most people think of when speaking of me, it's not about what I achieved. The thing people know me for is not a thing at all; it's a man who allowed me to be so good and pushed me harder than I could ever do myself. The man who made me try to get things I'd never even dreamt of. His name is Spock.

That's not his whole name of course, but he's a Vulcan and the problem with Vulcans is that their language is very hard to spaek because of pronunciation. But whatever his name is, he is special. Vulcans rarely become racing drivers; you know, the risk, danger – it's illogical to risk your life to drive round and round in circles. There are many people who don't understand what racing is about, there have always been and will be people who wouldn't get what is good about driving. That the closer you are to death, the more alive you feel. Women think we are insane and in a way we are. But I can't imagine my life to be any different.

The point is that there will always be lunatics like me who would do everything to feel the rush of adrenaline in their vessels. Adrenaline is a drug that can't be banned. But as with other drugs, the more you get, the more you need. Even though racing itself has changed a lot since it was founded, we have not changed at all. Only on Earth in the twenty-first century it almost disappeared as a sport and drivers were just models in refractory suits and expensive cars. People stopped watching it because it was boring. It was always the same person to win and nothing happened throughout the whole race. It was safe and nobody died. Of course people didn't watch it. The attractive thing about racing is the proximity of death and the feeling that you never know what is going to happen.

They changed rules after this. It was a controversial thing to do, but they did it anyway to make sponsors keep putting their money into it. Many people protested, but with the level of risk increased the number of spectators and that was what mattered. Racing regained its glory back.

Spock would never admit it, but the main reason why he started racing was his rebellion against his father. He told Spock he would never see him again if he hadn't applied for the Vulcan Academy or at least Star Fleet. Spock says he had always wanted to drive a car but I think it's a crap. People who are born with a wish to do something don't exist and if they do, they're never successful. You need a greater motivation to put everything into what you are doing. Spock's motivation was the face of his father when he would win the championship. I honestly don't get how he could tell apart various expressions of his father's face but I've never questioned this ability of his.

My motivation was to be better than him. To prove his logical way of driving, his ridiculous calculations of how high the risk was and all the other manners that annoyed me about him but also distinguished him were wrong and that my carefree way of life was a way to become a champion as well.

The first time we met was many years ago. I was barely adult and allowed to race, I had nothing to live from, nowhere to stay and nobody to care for. My father died the day I was born and my mother never got over it. Everything kept reminding her of him and at last she couldn't stand it any longer and left me here on Earth while she disappeared among the stars where she felt nearest to my father. I decided to become a driver and since then, nothing could stop me. I slept with the right women and drank alcohol with the right men and all the time the only thing I had in mind was to get into a car.

I was splendid driver and nobody could deny that so I got to start. Not in the best contest, but I was a racing driver. But then he came and things got interesting. Since the moment I saw him I knew he was different than all the other men I've ever met behind the steering wheels. In the very first race I beat him but that was just because he was squeamish and chose to be the second rather than to crash into me. I was laughing at him in that moment, but now I see what effort it must have taken him.

We were rivals and everybody else seemed to stop existing. It was he and I and the people who were worse drivers than us and never could beat us. I wasn't aware of his intention to get into the elite and be the best Federation could offer. To be honest I had no idea of it. To me, our petty conflict was the whole world. We argued so much but I realised he was the only person I was happy to see because we were even. One day my manager told me Spock had bought his own company and therefore became a racer of Formula One. Of course I had to follow him and prove I was better.

He is a genius and understands cars more than anybody else I've ever met. He could always find a way how to improve the car and not break the rules. I'd like to remind you that it wasn't an easy thing at all because cars had been worked on for hundreds of years and it seemed they couldn't be any lighter, any faster. But he managed to improve his vehicles. His car was better and he was better. But he had one weakness and I was determined to use it against him. He had his limit, a level of danger he was not going to break. He kept saying driving wasn't about risking your life. To him it wasn't a lifestyle as it was for me; he was a driver but he had never been the racer I was. He wouldn't risk everything only to show off or to get high from the adrenaline. He had his scientific way of thinking and he was driving as he would lead a company.

His calculations were good, no matter how many races I had won, he always won two more. And before I knew what was going on, he had his first title. One would say I was sad or disappointed and in a way I was. But I was also even more determined to win, to show him I was not just a little spoilt boy. He told me he had always considered me an opponent and not once – despite his mocking words – thought I wasn't a dangerous rival for many years after that moment.

We kept on racing, he worked, worked and worked, and I was partying, sleeping with women and keeping chinchillas. We couldn't have been more different but we still remained in balance, not leaving the latter a moment to catch a second breath. He was studying starships in his free time. He said it helped him to concentrate and maybe he was right.

The next season he was leading even more masterfully and keeping up with him was more and more challenging. He seemed to be unbeatable; he was a god of racing, an idol, a distant star unreachable for me. But I didn't give up; I knew it was my destiny to be a champion and he made it possible. I put every single bit of myself into it, I was completely absorbed by it and nothing could take me from it. It was as if I was bedevilled, I even dreamt of him. People were trying to distract me, they were sending me to see some doctors, psychologists and I don't know what else but I couldn't care less. I suffered from insomnia and I drank way too more coffee and alcohol than I should have. If I didn't make so much money and weren't so good, nobody would talk to me. Well, nobody apart from him of course, because we talked a lot. I in a derisive tone and he with his Vulcan self-control; he drove me insane. He says I was making him crazy as well, but I don't believe him. He was always so calm, so steady and so above everything.

But I was still far from my champion title. Nobody could endanger my second place, not if something didn't happen, but I wanted to be the first. The scoring meant that it would be enough if he didn't finish two races and I managed to arrive among the first five – which was not impossible – for me to get into the lead. The only problem was how to do it. He was flawless, his rides were precise and perfectly planned and nothing could unsettle him. I couldn't be waiting for him to make a mistake because that was not his way to drive. He had never made any serious mistake.

And then it came; the race of Andor. Spock had never liked that track and I understood why. It was the most dangerous races of all even if the weather was fine and nothing was going on. That day it was pouring with rain, thunderstorms were expected and to make it even worse, one of the drivers was very badly hurt during the qualification. Spock was strictly against driving and he was fighting for the race to be cancelled. And I was idiotic enough to oppose him.

At the moment, I didn't think of anything. I wanted to ridicule him and make him look like a coward. I don't want to think of it, not at all, because it will always be the worst mistake of my life. The only thing I can say to defend myself is that I was frightened. I shivered just at the thought of actually driving in the terrible rain and I did wish to cancel the race. But I couldn't agree with Spock, I had to be the careless lad who would show off and laugh at the leader of the championship because that's what we do. I demonstrated such an obvious case of total idiocy and irresponsibility people should tell stories about me to kids in kinder gardens. I provoked all the other racers and we outnumbered those who didn't wish to drive.

The race was held. The rain was thick, so thick I could barely see the front and rear of my own car. I felt this was a huge mistake right when I was sitting down into the car, but I couldn't step back, not after the scene I made. I looked at Spock who stared in front of himself and concentrated. I saw concern on his face and wished I could take my words back because it was the first time I saw him worry. He had shown emotions before – pride, happiness or even mockery when he looked at me with the cup for a Federation champion in his hands. Nevertheless I've never seen him worry and it scared me. We sat down into cars, we waited at the start and even though I had the refractory suit and a helmet so no part of my body was exposed to the rain, in a little while I felt soaked wet. But maybe I was just sweating because of nerves.

We started and in the moment I stopped thinking and concentrated only on the race. Spock had the best start again – I think he had always been the first, no matter if he was the first in qualification. He had something special that enabled him to beat everybody at the start; maybe a sixth sense. He was leading the race but after three laps I managed to overtake him. He wasn't trying to get his position back, not so soon at least. The rain was getting even thicker; I couldn't see anything but my head was rumbling with a silent mantra: Win, win, win! I wasn't thinking of anything, I didn't listen to all the people who kept shouting at me via the intercom in my helmet. I was the god that day; I was bound to be the winner on this rainy day and forever after.

Once I looked into the rear-view mirror and realised that the guy behind me wasn't Spock. I knew him because he was usually on the third place behind me. Spock's absence was calming at first but after few minutes it made me anxious. What happened to him? He was the best and now he was nowhere to be seen.

Of course it didn't interest me enough to preoccupy me so much that I would lose my lead. But somewhere in the back of my brain, worry and fear grew bigger and bigger. I sped up and I knew I was driving faster than I ever had, but I needed to be in the end and find out what happened to Spock. What happened to such an experienced and flawless driver? Couldn't it happen to me as well?

I had to change my tyres and I asked my manager what happened to Spock. I was told that Spock for some reason fell on the sixth position and couldn't get forward. I was happy; Spock was out of my way, I could win. But nothing happened to him, no engine failure or something like that. Spock was simply afraid to drive faster. He wasn't the kind of a man to risk everything and that's why he wasn't meant to win this race.

Six laps before the end I noticed they sent safety-car on the track. I was quite satisfied – I could relax for a while and stop worrying over the Orion guy behind me who was trying to overtake me from all sides. I had never realised how difficult it is to lead almost the whole race when you don't have anybody in front of you who would challenge you to do better.

Then I reached the part of the track where the reason why they made us drive behind the safety-car was. It had stopped raining a little while ago and there was fog creating in the cool air above the heated road. Through this haze, I saw pieces of a car smashed against the barriers along the track. I saw paramedics there, part of a stretcher but that was all. I couldn't see who the driver was, in the little glimpse I could only catch a sight of the scene but it seemed to me the car was dark blue.

I was not mistaken.

I won the race and immediately began searching for Spock; I wanted to know how he had driven. But before I could even get out of the car, people ran towards me and shouted one over another. It required some effort but at last I understood that Spock had had an accident – it was his car I had seen – and was in the hospital. It was very serious, he might not survive it.

I jumped out of the car and went to search for some more reliable source of information. It turned out that Spock's injury was quite awful but he was certainly going to live. I can't describe how relieved I felt when I learnt this. I was feeling very guilty but at least I knew I could apologise to Spock for acting like a brain-less idiot.

Spock had a broken leg, a quite ugly-looking open fracture at least according to his own words, badly bruised knee and a concussion but fortunately his car didn't blow up. Nevertheless, they didn't allow him to leave a bed for two weeks – despite the miracles that were in power of our medicine – and forbid him to drive for another two months. He promised not to drive, but of course he didn't do what he was told or what was logical. He was a racing driver – he had it in his blood and he wasn't going to let a broken leg to keep him from racing.

He missed two races of which I won one and didn't finish other because of some engine problem. I was deceiving myself – I convinced my conscience that I didn't need to apologise to Spock; why should I? He shouldn't have driven if he was afraid, he should have finished the race if he was as good as he seemed to be, he shouldn't have made the mistake he must have made. There were so many excuses and it was enough for me. I had light moments when I tried to write a letter if I didn't visit him in the hospital but it always ended in a bin or fire. One day he just appeared on the track. Everybody kept staring at him. He couldn't walk normally for he had some metal construction around his thigh but he sat down into his car as gracefully as I'd never seen him before.

"It's good to see you back in one piece," I told him and smirked mirthfully. He turned to me and his dark eyes scanned me. We were staring at each other for a little while and I was trying not to gaze at his leg that was way too big in the refractory suit.

"It is a pleasant feeling to know I do not have to let you get my points without me interfering." He replied with a straight face.

"Oh, your points..." I laughed, "They can be mine as well. Don't be so sure of yourself."

"I am not overly sure of myself. I am barely trying to point out that I have won more races than you – apart from the fact that I am a champion – and that being said the points are more likely to become mine." He opposed so logically and coldly I wanted to hug him. I would never admit it, but I had missed him when he'd been in the hospital. He was the only one who could understand me because he was just as crazy as I am.

"Look, I'm sorry for what happened in Andor." I murmured and forced my eyes to look at him. His expression changed; just a little bit but I noticed some emotion in his eyes. Other people kept staring at us as if we were bears in a circus and they waited for us to quarrel or even fight. I wanted to drag Spock somewhere else but I didn't know how to do it.

"I accept your apology which was anticipated; you had a great contribution on my injury which gave you an opportunity to gain some points." He replied coldly and sternly. I gazed at him for a long moment. I heard shuffle and whispering in the crowd among us but I was too astonished to care.

"Well, you could have just said fuck off, you know," I spat and crossed my arms on my chest. He raised an eyebrow.

"I do not understand which part of the sentence I have pronounced earlier could be interpreted in the way you did." He responded and I laughed because it was so ridiculous and wonderful at the same time, because he was alive, walking and talking and I didn't have to feel so guilty for his accident.

"It doesn't matter," I said after a little while, "I'll see you at the podium."

"I am looking forward to it," he told me and left. People suddenly pretended to be very busy and preoccupied when he turned around and his sight fell on them.

Before the race, a press conference took place because everybody was so interested in what was not their business – as people always are – and the media was there to give them this information. Or some other piece of information, it didn't matter. Spock was there, of course, I sat by his side and there were some more people but for once nobody else existed but Spock, partly because someone found out he should have been in hospital instead of racing. You can keep information from your friends and family, your enemies or police, but you can never hide anything from media.

The journalists were aggressive, nasty and nosy and I was feeling angry for everything that happened. Spock seemed to be calm and he answered all the questions that were more or less inappropriate without hesitation – or at least it seemed like that. However, when one man asked him on what his family told him about his decision to drive despite the doctors' advice, Spock flushed, rose to his feet and in a low, controlled voice uttered few simple words.

"The conference is over."

Everybody was shocked by his behaviour but I was completely puzzled. I had never seen Spock so opened and yet so furious. Suddenly I felt anger boiling inside me. Who gave that person the right to ask Spock such a question?! Everybody knew his family was Spock's weak point; he could answer thousands of questions without raising his voice, but nobody was going to speak of his family. I stood up and disappeared as well but I don't think anybody noticed it. I found the man who was cocky enough to ask such a thing. He tried to ask me what I wanted so I shut a door behind us and beat him. Then, I took his PADD and sent a very interesting email to his mother and boss. I showed it to him, his eyes widened in fear and a small smile played on my lips.

"Go and ask mummy what she thinks of you." I said and threw the PADD at him.

Spock knew nothing about this and I hope he still has no suspicion as to why that journalist never appeared in public again. But friendship and virtuous deeds had to go away when the race started. He was still leading the scoring but I wasn't losing much and there was still one more race ahead of us.

That day, I won and he was the third. I couldn't believe it; he could barely stand after he got out of the car. It must have hurt him terribly to spent hours squatted in the small car. Even though everybody paid more attention to him than to me – because he was the one driving against advice of everybody – I didn't let anything to spoil my victory over him. I stood at the podium, received the cup and looked at him by my left side and wanted to do something foolish because I felt as happy as if I won the whole championship. The difference between us was two points, two unimportant points. I could do it, I could be a champion! It was so unbelievable I kept asking everybody if I was awake. I was; and in two weeks it was going to be decided. Was I able to beat Spock who was an impersonation of reason and logic?

The last race of each championship is always held on Earth because it were humans who came up with the idea of creating a Championship of the whole Federation and the last race is usually the most interesting and important one. To me it certainly was. I don't know how Spock spent the eve of the race but I was so nervous I couldn't sleep, eat or drink. I kept pacing through my hotel room, biting my lips and staring out of the window. The race was in Monte Carlo which has always been one of the most famous tracks and I never found anything as fascinating as this Monaco's city. I felt as if the life of the whole town was concentrating on mine and Spock's battle that was about to take place the other day. Of course it was not true, there certainly were people who didn't care about cars at all but to me, the whole world – universe – was lessened into this city with all its glory and shining buildings. The weather was warm and the air was comfortably, nicely damp; a slight breeze was playing with curtains when I opened the window and for a while I closed my eyes and pictured myself as the winner the next day. But then a scary thing presented itself to me – what was I going to do next?

During that silent moment I realised I didn't want to win that much. It was an unsolvable problem; I had to win to prove I could but at the same time I wished to lose because I would have a goal for another year. Beating Spock had been the meaning of life to me for many years and now when I was so close to gaining it, I felt like I didn't want it. What would racing be when I reached the stars? What would be so alluring about it if I already was a champion? Why did Spock still race? To me it was incomprehensible.

However, when I sat down into the car the morning after, all my night's worries dispersed into the air. I saw Spock's car, shining and challenging in front of me and I couldn't understand how I could have questioned my desire to win only few hours before. We looked at each other and suddenly he nodded. I saw his eyes and – maybe I just pictured it, but it didn't matter – saw acceptance. That whoever was going to win, he would always respect me as an opponent. I nodded back and he turned his head away.

That race was a slaughter. Not actually because nobody died, but out of the original twenty-five racers only thirteen finished. I don't know why but for a long time it seemed to me a destiny; that all the others were making way for me and Spock. But then I was told Spock ceded. Stopped. Gave up. Let me win. At first I couldn't believe it; he didn't have an accident he simply quit. Why? Was he mocking me? Showing everybody that I couldn't win without him not finishing the race? I was so mad at him I almost had an accident myself; how did he dare to stand back and therefore make it impossible for me to beat him? He said he would never allow me to have his points and yet here he was, stepping back.

I won the race. I was destined to win it but after finishing it, I couldn't comprehend what it meant. I was in trance; I could not see a meaning in all the shouting around me, in the hysteria or in the journalists who wanted to be the first to talk to me. Why did everybody bother me when the only thing I wanted was to punch Spock for giving up and spoiling the best day in my life? I was rude but finally I managed to find Spock.

He had already changed; he was wearing a pair of jeans and a plain light-green shirt. It was so strange to see him dressed in normal clothes instead of the uniform called refractory suit. He looked at me and his deep eyes showed all the emotions I wanted to see. He looked afraid.

"I would like to congratulate you," he said stiffly. I widened my eyes, took few deep breaths and finally lost control.

"You asshole!" I shouted, "It was supposed to be my day! It was supposed to be the day when I prove everybody I was better than you! I was supposed to beat you not to get a victory because you're a fucking coward!"

"James," he said calmly, "you have won and nobody questions you. This is your day and I hope you will enjoy it sufficiently."

"No! Everybody, every – _fucking_ – body keeps asking me if you quitting this race and your injury in addition had any influence on my victory! They don't believe I'm able to beat you." I almost sobbed at the end of my speech. I was so desperate.

"Is it enough when _I_ say you have beaten me?" His impossible eyes pierced through me and irritated me to the highest level. All his being irritated me in that moment.

"I wanted to- I don't know- I..." my voice trailed off and I gazed at him fiercely."Have I?" I babbled. He almost laughed and I felt I was going to pass out from exertion.

"Yes." He said simply and diverted his gaze. I didn't know what to do but thankfully I didn't have to do anything because somebody found me and I had to go onto the podium to receive my cup, my trophy. Spock's eyes followed me and I had to put a lot of effort into walking straight forward.

I didn't see Spock during the next two or three weeks. While I was doing interviews for TVs, radio's and press, enjoying my victory and doing nothing, he was studying god knows what. He wasn't able to have fun like normal people. He either concentrated on racing or worked for Starfleet. In that moment when I found myself yet another woman so the media would have something to ask me about, he was lonely. As far as I know there were people interested in him – why not he was good-looking, rich and famous – but he kept rejecting them. I couldn't get it, but I cared little about him in those days.

Then we met in Starfleet HQ on some occasion held by it. While I was invited to be the main attraction there, Spock spent his time observing star ships and maps. I kept forgetting how smart and well-educated he was. I couldn't help asking the same question his parents must have been asking: "Why was he wasting his intelligence and knowledge for racing?" That day I saw that he never gave up on studying, he kept himself a back door after he would stop racing. I met him in one of the classrooms where he was bent over a layout of a star ship called Enterprise that was just about to be constructed.

"Hey," I greeted him, "I heard you spent a lot of time with these."

He raised his head, looked at me and around himself. Maybe he was trying to see some kind of a prank in my sentence. When he didn't find it, he looked at me again.

"Good afternoon, James," he said and stood up, "I expected to see you tonight, but I was not as bold as to assume you would come alone."

"Sassy, aren't we?" I grinned and punched him on his shoulder slightly.

"I was expressing my opinion." He replied with a straight face.

"Oh right, sorry," I laughed, "so... star ships, hmm? That's really cool."

"It keeps me focused and allows me to relax when I do not desire to think of driving." He said plainly as if he dared me to question him. I put on a thoughtful expression.

"The season's just ended. Don't you think it's time for loosening up a bit?" I asked without any intention to mock him. I was just really astonished.

"I do not see any reason for loosening up as you put it if it is what you are doing these days." He frowned. Only a little bit and it was easy to overlook but it was there. A slightly derisive movement of his facial muscles and it was gone almost right when it came.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear your attempt to laugh at me." I explained and leant against a wall behind me to look even more cool and playboy-like. "But you should do something normal. Read a book – normal book - watch TV or some movie, go out. Whatever, just not working so much all the time. It's harming you, Spock."

"I read books; I do not spend whole days studying or working. But I do not suppose you would understand that somebody does not find amusement in coitus with various people whose names they do not even know." He glared at me and I noticed that he was enjoying himself. I couldn't get it but for some reason he was satisfied.

"I knew the names of all of them," I defended myself.

"Irrelevant," he returned and I had to admit he was quite right. And so what? I was young; I wanted to live so I lived. I didn't consider love to be a necessary part of sex.

"Maybe you're just jealous," I chuckled, "I guess you've never slept with anybody."

"I do not think it is as you would say any of your business," he spat and I saw flush in his cheeks. In that moment he was so adorable I almost forgot who he was; my rival and a Vulcan but a part of my mind reminded me of it and the fact that it was him made it even better.

Before I thought about anything, I took his face into my hands and kissed him. He responded in kind which astonished me greatly. His hands reluctantly made their way towards my back but once he placed them there, it felt as if they were made to be there. I moved my fingers and they found the tips of his ears. Suddenly I realised what I was doing and stopped. I pulled away, looked at him with fear and ran away like a small child.

I locked myself in a bathroom and for a long time sat there and thought. What I did was idiotic and I acted out of sudden. I am spontaneous, there's nothing wrong with that, sometimes I do things impulsively without thinking them over. But what kept intriguing me was his response. He didn't pull away or at least stood rigidly but actually kissed me back. Why?!

I avoided him for the rest of the break and the first time I saw him was only a small glimpse at the start of the next's year's opening race. But he was the winner and I was second and on the podium we looked at each other for the first time since that moment. His expression was unreadable and I was too frightened to ask. I tried to avoid talking to him, but he found me. I feared he would attempt to talk about it, but he acted as if nothing happened which I was grateful for. But that didn't mean I stopped thinking about it.

I passed my last exam at the academy of Starfleet today. I am going to set off for Space soon; to follow Spock there. Few years ago he gave racing up having gained three titles and proved everybody of his abilities and enlisted for the academy to go into Space. I quitted racing a year after him because it was a lot less interesting without him. I decided I have challenged him sufficiently on the surface of planets and then the time came to reach the stars.

I and Spock are going to serve on one ship one day, I'm sure of it. We're the best ones they have and we are the best motivation for the latter. And maybe, just maybe the rivalry between us would disappear. Whatever lies before us, I'm looking forward to it.


End file.
