Title: Where the Dreams
Author: T'Pat
Series: TOS
Codes: K/S
Rating: [PG-13]
Archive: ASC(EM), BLTS. Anything else, pls ask first.
Summary: Kirk has been avoiding Spock, causing the Vulcan and
McCoy to worry. The doctor corners him and suggests
he has a talk with Spock...
Disclaimer: Paramount & Viacom own 'em. I merely use 'em
for fun (theirs and mine). No money is made, of course.
The story is mine, but gladly shared.
Please leave header, disclaimers attached.
Feedback will be most welcome, either personal or on the NG
(in this case, please CC to <TPat_98@yahoo.com>).
I realized I appreciate knowing about what is behind a story
almost as much as reading the story itself, so I'll drop a
few notes for those among us that share this interest.
Everybody else, just skip them. No grudge, of course.
This story has been, in its evolving forms, in my scratchbook,
my personal computer, and finally my workstation HD since 1991.
It is the first story I wrote, and I think it still shows,
even though it has gone through so many changes. At the time,
I did not know what would happen after the fade-out, and
now it just does not feel right to change it to include the
missing scenes. Especially in light of the fact that I cannot
write sex scenes worth the electrons they are e-mailed with.
However, should you feel you have been mistreated because of
the fade-out, then tell me. I'll find a way to let you know
what happened afterwards...
It is also the story where Spock is given a black velvet tunic
[in answer to those who read
The
Second Beer and
Black Velvet--Black Silk and wondered], though it does not last
long on <vbg>.
The title comes from the song "Over the Rainbow" sang by
Judy Garland in "Wizard of Oz". Lyrics by E.Y. Harburg,
to whom my sincere apologies go for misusing them.
And, Special thanks go to my Bondmate, never-ending inspiration, and
my unbelievably patient beta-readers. They turned a self-centred
story that required readers to read my mind on a regular basis
into what it is now (<leans closer, raising a warning eyebrow>
and of course if you still do not like it, I get all the blame,
mind you!). Wildcat, Maelen, Nan, thank you so very much.
These pieces of my mind are dedicated to all those who can
rejoice in differences in the true spirit of the IDIC.
To those who believe that
personality*, that *sensitive* is not the same as *weak*.
To all those who can see, beyond the deceiving softness of
a gesture, the steely strength underneath.
By T'Pat
Copyright © 1998
"Forgive me, Spock. I know Vulcans don't like to get personal, but I must ask. You once told me our friendship made you feel ashamed. Is it still so?"
"At the time both you and I were under the influence of the PSI 2000 virus."
"Are you saying you didn't mean it?"
"Vulcans avoid talking about themselves." His lips fight a smile.
"Hey, it's me!"
"Then you should know the answer." A challenging raise of an eyebrow.
"No admission?"
"No admission."
"For today. I'll keep asking, you know." Twinkle in the hazel eyes.
"That is your right. But you will find out Vulcan patience and stubbornness are even greater than Vulcan reticence to `get personal'."
"Jim, wait!" In the corridor everybody heard McCoy's shout. Kirk halted in mid-stride and turned, a bit too slowly. The stiffness in his back told McCoy the Captain was not happy to see him.
"I'm a busy man, Bones. Perhaps another time."
"Right now, Captain," he insisted, stressing rank, coming this close to actually ordering him. Judging by the stiff-lipped nod he got as a response, the tone had been warning enough.
"Make it short, Doctor."
"Shall we go someplace private or do you want to talk here?" They were indeed gathering attention from their crew mates, and he did not want to have this conversation in a corridor. Fuming at Kirk's defensive stance, McCoy followed as the Captain led him to an empty briefing room. The door had barely closed when McCoy stamped his hands on the table.
"What the hell are you doing to Spock?"
"What?!"
"Now, don't give me that innocent look of yours," he hissed. "Perhaps you can fool everybody else with it, but not me. He will never admit it, but you're driving him crazy. What's wrong with the two of you?"
"You stay out of this." He made to leave. McCoy was in his way.
"No, Jim. This morning that cold proud Vulcan came to me to ask me if I knew how he could have offended you unaware. He came to ask for my help, 'cause you've been avoiding him for reasons he can't understand." He frowned, knowing that his concern must be obvious on his own face. "Nor, for that matter, can I. This is not the Jim Kirk I know."
Kirk froze, his anger momentarily faltering. "Spock asked you--about me," he said, slowly. Not a real question, but his words were tinged with surprise.
McCoy merely looked at him, giving him time to ponder on the meaning of the Vulcan's extreme gesture.
"What--what did he want to know?"
"Where he went wrong with you." McCoy saw him flinch at that. He continued, making appeal to the part of his friend that would never let the Vulcan suffer because of him. "It took me a while to get it out of him, but he has noticed you are not talking to him. Or playing chess with him. You're avoiding him, and it's not been subtle. You spent years trying to get him out of his box and now you just closed the lid back on his face. He's confused."
"I never tried to change him."
Kirk gave him his back, joining his hands, in a nervous gesture McCoy was very familiar with. "Jim, he's worried sick."
"For a Vulcan, that is."
The bitterness was not lost on McCoy. "Jim, he doesn't know what to do with you. And the fact he came down to sick-bay to ask for my advice should tell you he's not taking this lightly."
Kirk's shoulders slumped and he sat heavily at the table, looking drained, bitter and cold. He sighed. "What did you tell him?"
The surgeon took the chair closer to Kirk. "Nothing really useful, I'm afraid. I told him to wait for you to sweat it out on your own. Give you time. But, for God's sake, you've gotta tell him what he did to--"
"Bones," Kirk passed a hand on his weary eyes, letting out his breath in exasperation. "He did nothing to offend me."
"Then what in--" Kirk's eyes narrowed in warning, and McCoy fell silent.
"I know I've been such a bastard... I just can't help it." Then he met the doctor's gaze. "Yes, Bones, it's me. It's my problem."
McCoy waited for him to continue, but Kirk just stared at the immaculate table. "Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But take your doctor and friend's advice; talk to Spock, let him know what's ailing you. You owe him an explanation." He was not going to tell him he had been hurting the Vulcan's supposedly non-existent feelings; he could tell Kirk was all too aware of it.
Then he saw it happen. He saw the instant the decision was made, and how much it cost.
"You're right, Bones." He stood, determination in his every fiber once again. At the door he turned. "We'll have a chat this evening. Thank you."
"Any time, Jim." But the Captain had already gone.
* * * * * * * *
In the reddish light and hot air, Spock sat on his meditation stone, his fingers steepled and his eyes focused on the attunement flame that danced inside an idol-looking statue. He was trying--and failing--to reach interior peace, for Jim's odd behaviour haunted him like a ghost. Despite the sound advice of his Vulcan mind not to over-analyse what was probably a human's transitory phase, he had not been able to meditate on much else. An image persisted in his mind of a few days before when an overly excited ensign had dropped a stack of tapes on the Bridge. Kirk and Spock had both knelt to pick them up. Their eyes had met and, without an apparent reason, Jim had produced one of his slow, bright smiles. But then, Spock thought, that was before something happened that he had obviously missed. Kirk had not talked to him except in the line of duty in more than a week. He had even forged the most elaborate excuses not to play chess with him before retiring for the night, as they had been doing for years.
The Vulcan had never understood some of the subtlest shades of human behaviour, but he was sure his friend was mad at him. What troubled him most was his own inability to understand why, especially after paying McCoy a visit. A painful visit, a tiny voice inside whispered, that he immediately silenced.
The light on his com-unit flashed. This kind of signal at this hour could only mean it was a private call. Meant to beckon, not to wake up. He rose and thumbed the line open. "Spock here."
"This is Kirk. Can you spare me a few minutes? I'd like to talk to you if you're not busy."
"I am not. On my way."
"Thank you."
An eyebrow rose in the hellish light.
* * * * * * * *
"Come," Kirk said, automatically, as the door chime buzzed.
"Captain."
From behind the desk Kirk looked up at his Vulcan shadow--upswept eyebrows, pointed ears and dark complexion that in the dim light made his being alien even more evident. And makes him look even more handsome. He hushed the last thought guiltily. He could do this. He put on his best official smile. "Spock, please sit down. Brandy?"
An eyebrow rose. "Captain, you must be aware I never fully subscribed to this ritual consumption of poisonous substances."
Kirk caught the flicker of a smile on the Vulcan's lips and let out the breath he had not been aware he had been holding. He suddenly felt so glad his friend bore him no grudge that he grinned, despite himself. "You old liar."
"It is a well-known fact I am incapable of lying." Playing the game perpetually going on between them, Spock pretended indignation and sat, apparently satisfied he had broken the Captain's mood.
As he busied himself with bottle and glasses, Kirk stole a few glances at the Vulcan. Spock was sitting relaxed, the usual quiet intensity about him making Kirk smile in affection. Spock would forgive him anything. Or would he? He handed out the glass, watched as the Vulcan accepted it despite his previous protests and lost himself in the reflections of the smooth liquid surface. Probably noticing how aesthetically pleasing the interference patterns on the inside of the glass are, Kirk mused fondly.
"You know, Spock, aside from the social aspects of the `ritual', humans may drink alcohol to gain courage from it."
Deep-cast ebony eyes rose and met the solar gleam in Kirk's, studiously. "Why do you need it tonight, Jim?"
Kirk suddenly knew that the Vulcan had not missed the fact that the temperature was set a few degrees higher than midway human and Vulcan comfort; the air was soothingly devoid of humidity and the drink was meant to give a pleasant warmth to a cold, lonely day. Neither had Spock missed his friend's unusual nervousness, which deeply contrasted with the atmosphere Jim had carefully created.
With an anguished, thoughtless movement, Kirk stood and started pacing. "We must talk." He briefly looked at his companion, then looked away. "Though I don't know if I can bring myself to do it."
The Vulcan's austere features relaxed, inviting. "Surely there is nothing you cannot discuss with me, Jim. Please, let me know your mind." And perfectly straight-faced he added, "Afterwards, I can pretend that--I haven't heard a word you said".
The very sentence Kirk had pronounced as the Vulcan had experienced the ordeal of Pon Farr on the Enterprise. Surprised, Kirk stared. Spock could not possibly imagine how close he had accidentally come to Jim's problem. How much it hurt to have to talk to him, not knowing if the Vulcan would hate him afterwards, or if their friendship would survive this test.
I haven't heard a word you said. His own words coming back at him. "How long have you wanted to tell me that?"
"Too long," Spock admitted, putting the almost untouched glass down.
Though Spock was still sitting against the back of his chair, Kirk felt as if the Vulcan had mentally leaned closer. A rueful smile tugged at Kirk's lips. "I should have known you'd use it against me one day."
He sat on the desk, merely a pace from Spock, his attention focused on some inner ache inside him. "I want to apologize. I wasn't fair to you."
"I--thought you had your reasons, though they have eluded me, till now," the Vulcan said quietly. "I concluded I missed something."
"You did." He made sure there was no accusation in his voice.
"So, it is my fault," Spock said, taking the blame anyway. The Vulcan's eyes closed briefly. He raised one hand, and an eyebrow, in a silent invitation.
/A meld with me?/ Kirk was thinking. /After all I put him through? Such a generous offer from a telepath who finds alien emotions painful./
"You are no alien to me."
Kirk's breath caught. "Can you always read me this easily?"
Spock's eyes were smiling reassuringly. "Only when you are close and alone and... needing." But Kirk had withdrawn again and Spock could only accept the change; he let his hand fall. "Perhaps another time, then."
It was Kirk's call, but silence stretched uncomfortably.
The Vulcan rose. "Captain."
Kirk drew an unsteady breath. He could not let him go. Not now, not ever. "Spock," he called, urgently, shameful pain in his voice.
The Vulcan recognized a plea when he heard one. And Kirk's distress. Spock realized he could not leave.
Slowly, almost fearfully, Jim reached out and took his hand, acknowledging without words that their minds were drawn together. Now as they had always been. Let them speak, then, Kirk sighed, hoping Spock would understand, and forgive what he was about to tell him. The Vulcan was going into the meld willingly, relieved Jim would tell him whatever reasons were behind his recent behaviour, Kirk thought, the insistent tug of guilt making him uneasy. Spock was in for a shock. This time he would not find a friendly, though tightly guarded mind to meet him. This time there would be no secrets between them.
Their minds gently met, and as gently entwined. Spock had always been so careful with him, Kirk realized. Never going beyond the boundaries set by the emergencies that had required them to meld. Never prying, never asking, even though he was devoured by that feline curiosity of his. Spock had touched him, healed him, protected him, and managed to keep the meld as professionally detached as possible.
Not this time.
The Vulcan's presence put a question, patiently waited for an answer. And suddenly, everything inside Kirk wanted to scream, let it all out, let him find out the real depth of his feelings for him. Spock, the impossibly handsome, forbidding, Vulcan science officer he had almost resented having on his bridge when he had got the command of this ship, because he was too good. Spock, whom he had learnt to trust above himself. His cool logic always there to show him the way--and silently accept his doing otherwise. His wit at his service, his strength at his side, his friendship he could feel in his mind and heart, like something with a life of its own. Spock, whom the Klingons called `Kirk's shadow'. Spock, the being he wanted to have at his side always, on the Bridge, in the gym, the mess hall, playing chess. And home, in his quarters, to hold and cherish. And love. Love with everything he was.
Kirk blinked, looked at his friend, hesitating.
Now Spock knew.
Spock knew of his love and, yes, even his desire. It had only taken an moment of weakness as the meld formed and Kirk had let it happen. And now he could only ask a question. /Can you love me back?/
Caught off guard, for an unbelieving moment, Spock rejoiced. Then he made a visible effort at control.
At the Vulcan's odd expression, Jim smiled, uncertainly. "Spock, I--"
"No!" the Vulcan said too loud, recoiling and snapping out of the still forming meld, as if uncaring of the discomfort this caused both of them.
Kirk moaned at the loss.
"No," Spock repeated, his voice a poor approximation of his usual calm, and started toward the door.
Still unsteady on his feet, Kirk grabbed him by an elbow. "Why?"
"Because", Spock replied slowly, whirling and shaking his arm free, an odd mixture of anger and sadness on his face, "it cannot work. I cannot love. Not this way. Not even you." An angry sigh. "Especially you."
"That's bullshit!" Kirk burst, "Not even me! You want this as much as I do."
An angry, wolfish smile flew on the Vulcan's lips. It did not reach his eyes. "And how would you know?"
"I've been reading you for a very long time. If I ever had any doubts, now they're gone." An unsteady breath. "What was it that evoked such a powerful reaction, Spock? Is it the absurdity of a proposal of an emotional link with a human? Or is it my ability to tempt you with an offer--"
"--that is beyond my wildest dreams?" Spock said intensely, the truth burning as it escaped his lips. "Captain, the very fact I have been tempted makes me shudder with shame and anger."
Kirk flinched at the fire in Spock's eyes. He saw the anger build up, could sense all his rage as Spock came closer to him. He remembered that look, remembered the bruises Spock had left on him, when he had angered him to get rid of the spores. He pushed the fear away, looked up, met fire with fire. Spock's denial with his resolve. "I know your mind, Spock. As you know mine."
"You know nothing. Vulcans--"
"Dammit, Spock, this is not about Vulcans. This is between you and me. What is the logic of denying what I saw in your heart? Because I did see it, Spock, before you clamped it down. I saw. " Spock grabbed his shoulders in a painful grasp with a strength he suddenly feared--and that excited him. And then, Spock was responding to him, drinking in his fear, breathing his same breath, his fingers unconsciously caressing as they bruised.
Kirk was not accepting a `no' for an answer. Not this time.
Spock's eyes finally showed the emotions Kirk had been trying to force out. "You know nothing," he threatened, again.
"Show me, then," the human hissed defiantly as the steely grasp made him wince. "Show me now."
For an endless minute Spock only stared down at him. Then his jaw set. He closed his eyes, a crease of undisguised pain forming between his eyebrows. He let go of Kirk, his palms brushing the bruised shoulders even as they left them. His arms fell at his sides.
The human took this as a final refusal. "Spock--"
All of a sudden, a deadly expression flashed on the Vulcan's face. He tore Kirk's tunic apart. Flung the pieces away. Stood there, mere inches from him. Looking down at him, his lips parted, his breath ragged. His body almost hunched in tension.
Ready to spring, or break, Kirk did not know. He reached out for the Vulcan's chest, but Spock grabbed his shoulders again, roughly pushed him backwards through the room, quenching any thought of resistance with a hot, dark glare.
Spock shoved him against the metal partition between the outer quarters and the bedroom, nailing his arms above his head. He was trapped between the cold metal against his naked back and the inhuman heat Spock radiated, standing close. So close Kirk could smell his scent, alien, yet dangerously familiar--and it undid him, utterly.
The Vulcan's body pressed against his, and Kirk hissed with sudden need. "Spock--"
The Vulcan leaned closer, pointedly looking at his lips. Then, he met Kirk's gaze and held it, his eyes dark, smoldering. And the pressure that kept him against the partition was gone, the kiss Kirk so desperately sought never came.
Finally, Spock moved away, but held onto the human's elbow. Kirk twisted in his grasp and held his forearm, squeezed the steely muscles he found there.
Smiling, Jim preceded him to the bed.
The passion had died, and they quietly rested entwined. Sighing, Spock moved a hand to give it back its circulation, involuntarily shaking the human out of his dozing.
"Don't go," Kirk whispered.
"I am not leaving," the Vulcan assured in a gentle voice. The sheets had fallen off the bed and, while a thin film of perspiration made Kirk's forehead glitter, Spock was shivering. Kirk reached out for the climate controls but the Vulcan restrained him with the newly revived hand. "Don't."
"But you're cold."
The Vulcan dismissed the fact with a casual shrug. "How are you?"
Kirk smiled, the gentle, fond smile that always undid him. "Me? I'm fine. You can check yourself."
With uncharacteristic hesitation, Spock sat up and carefully looked at Kirk all over. His stare hovered on two angry bluish bruises on Kirk's shoulders--where he had held the human--and had to resort to his Vulcan training not to show his sadness and guilt. With a light touch he brushed the smooth pale chest. He drew a sharp breath in as his fingertips traced the contours of a cracked rib.
How could I let this happen? The damage...
"Stop looking at me, Spock--I won't be held responsible for my actions, if you don't." The Vulcan saw his own worry register. "Really, Spock, I am fine. You see, now I know."
"So do I. How fragile you are." So delicate. So soft. So beautiful.
A sound midway a sob and a laugh came out of Kirk's throat. "I hope you're referring to human weaknesses in general and not to mine in particular."
"Jim," Spock warned. "I shall endeavour to be more cautious with soft human flesh." He saw the human sigh in relief as he implied there would be other times. In an odd way it was reassuring.
"You'd better be." A pause. "What about McCoy...?"
"Will you tell him about this... unexpected development in our relationship?" The neutral tone was a warning in itself.
"I'm afraid it wasn't so unexpected to him. He told me to talk to you. A wise advice."
The Vulcan did not bother hiding his amusement. "Yes, the good doctor has a reputation of being very perceptive."
Kirk smiled, caressing his aching rib. "He would've found out on my next physical, anyway."
Spock considered this for a moment. "I can help you heal yourself, Jim."
He knelt beside him, reaching out to his face, almost fearful to complete the gesture. The relaxed attitude and the joyous light in the human's smiling eyes told him he was granted permission.
"No need to knock, Spock," Kirk teased.
The Vulcan's heart skipped a beat as he realized how much Kirk wanted that touch, that intimate contact with the Vulcan's cool, soothing mind.
Kirk was smiling, embarrassed, remembering. "You scared the hell out of me, a while back, Spock."
"I scared myself as well," Spock said, diverting his gaze. "I was so--angry. At myself for not wanting to see it come and at you for being what you are. Somewhere--inside me--something really wanted to hurt you. What I permitted myself is--"
"--exactly what I was trying to get from you." Touching his chin, he made him turn. "Look, I know what you're feeling, the confusion, even the shame. I'm new to this myself! But, please, don't let that cold Vulcan mind of yours take over again. Not while you're with me."
The human sat up and brushed Spock's wrist. "I love you", he whispered, "as a brother, a friend, a life-mate. This is what I was trying to tell you. Care to join your life with mine?"
Relief flooded the Vulcan, and hope. "Yes," he breathed.
"No Vulcan ceremonies?"
Bond, a voice whispered in his mind, you need to Bond. He silenced it, harshly. He could make it work. The fire in Jim's veins, in his own eyes demanded the link. But the human may refuse. He must be ready to accept that. "There are rites. They can wait till tomorrow--if you will agree."
"That's a deal, then."
"Yes, T'hy'la. "
Through the lingering connection between their minds, Spock felt Kirk's surprise and deep joy. T'hy'la! A word from Vulcan's ancient emotional past, only to be whispered in the ears of a beloved, so rich in meaning it equaled a proposal, a bonding for life.
Kirk looked up, fighting back tears, trying to return to safe subjects. "Now..."
"You rest," Spock said, pushing the human back down on the pillow. Kirk had no way to win by sheer strength and the Vulcan was well aware of that. Thus, the Captain of the Enterprise merely sighed while his First Officer tucked him up in bed. "Sleep."
"Yes, Mother."
"I assure you I have no motherly--" he trailed off, at the sudden need in Jim's eyes.
"Promise you won't go away. I want to wake up with you by my side."
The Vulcan let the human think he was considering this illogical request from all possible points of view before he nodded. "There is where you will find me."
The human was still smiling when Spock's fingertips gently skimmed over Kirk's lips. "Good night, Jim."
"Night, Spock."
Sleep was already claiming Kirk when Spock laid his fingertips on his temples. /Not the worst way to crack a rib,/ came an unbidden thought. Kirk was hoping that thought had not reached him through the healing meld.
Unseen, Spock smiled.
* * * * * * * *
"Don't!" Kirk very nearly screamed, as the Vulcan staggered backwards, and a soft pained moan escaped his lips.
King M'ravlja was looking at him out of those round yellow eyes, impassively. "You brought a telepath, Kirk. This is a capital offense on Selythia." He licked his muzzle with a bifurcated black tongue, as if enjoying the prospect of killing the Vulcan with his own mind. He waived a hand imperiously and the servants left the room. He looked at the Vulcan pointedly.
Spock instinctively held on the human's arm, but it did not prevent him from falling to his knees, as if pole-axed. He brought a closed fist to his temples, trying to fight a battle that was lost from the beginning.
Kirk squatted beside him, and watched horrified as green blood started oozing from the Vulcan's nose. "Spock."
The Vulcan looked up at him, pain and trust chasing each other in the dilated pupils.
Kirk turned back to M'ravlja, urgently. "We did not know of this custom, Your Majesty. We apologize." He hated the strained sound of his own voice, but there was no time for subtlety now. "Let me beam him back to the ship, remove the offense. Then we can talk as we agreed."
Spock drew a shuddering breath and gave up trying to get his legs below him. He sat on his heels, leaned on an unsteady arm.
"He's not even a full telepath, M'ravlja!" Kirk pressed. "He would not touch your thoughts unless he had your explicit consent."
M'ravlja simply blinked placidly, his eyelids moving sideways.
"It's not his mistake. It's mine!" He held Spock's shoulders as the Vulcan's arm gave. Spock was shaking, and feeling him in pain tore Kirk's heart apart. "Please, stop it."
"Why?"
Spock shuddered, and leaned heavily on the human's chest. His lean frame trembled again, more strongly.
"He's innocent, M'ravlja." Was he begging? He could not bring himself to really care, not when Spock was convulsing against him.
The King slowly rose, and walked closer, leaned above them. "How can we trust you, if you're lying to yourself, Kirk?"
"What?" Kirk was suddenly aware that the King had scanned his mind as well, had seen something there he wanted him to face. Something Kirk did not know. "What is it you want of me, M'ravlja? A life? Then take mine. Just spare him."
The Vulcan grasped his hand, weakly shook his head. /Jim/, he whispered in his mind, /don't--/
/Spock--/
"He touches your thoughts, Kirk, and you his. Even now."
/--Please./ Then, Spock mercifully sank into unconsciousness.
Anger flared in Kirk. He looked up defiantly. "This makes no sense, M'ravlja. If there is something you want, say so."
"Tell me why I should save him," the King pressed.
"He's innocent," he repeated.
M'ravlja leaned closer. "And?"
"And he's the best science officer in the Fleet."
"And?"
"And he's my friend." Loud.
A scowl on the reptilian face. "Not good enough, Kirk."
"My best friend, M'ravlja." Louder, exasperated.
"He's not from your world, Kirk, he's alien. How can you be friends?"
"Born under different stars, yes. But it doesn't matter. Not to me." What the Hell did the lizard want from him? His life, he had already offered it. This was not about Spock being a telepath. It was not about Spock at all. This was about him, something the King had seen in him that he wanted out in the open, as a proof that they could be trusted.
The Vulcan convulsed once more in his arms, then lay still. Kirk could not find a pulse.
"Why, Kirk?"
"Because I love him," he shouted, finally.
Kirk closed his eyes against the shocking, burning truth in his words, let out a groan. I love him--God help me, I love him.
M'ravlja reached out and briefly laid his hand on the Captain's shoulder.
"Did Spock have to die for you to hear this?" He retrieved his communicator with limp finger and told Scott to stand by for transport. "You--and your almighty mental powers--have made his death meaningless."
M'ravlja nodded, then stepped back. His eyes shone in sympathy. His voice was so soft, almost intimate. "Your secret is safe with me, Captain Kirk. I shall speak of it with no one."
In Kirk's arms, Spock softly moaned, then coughed.
"Spock!" In a second, Kirk was helping the Vulcan to lie on his thighs to facilitate breathing. He drank in the dark eyes, and smiled down at him, unbelieving. Spock's eyebrow shot up, and it made Kirk laugh out loud in relief.
"Forgive me, Captain. And you, Mr Spock. Please, forgive me." M'ravlja was suddenly there, close to their involuntary embrace, reaching out for the Vulcan but not touching. Kirk could almost feel the silent communication rush back and forth between them.
"I had to make sure we could trust you. We had to make sure you can love the alien."
The human moved uneasily, hoped Spock would not feel his turmoil right now. Hoped he could. He did not know what to hope for anymore. He needed time. Oh, God. Time to face, time to cope with what he had discovered about himself. Time... Oh, God, what am I going to do now?
* * * * * * * *
The human woke up and, for a fleeting moment, he belonged to the dream again. Anguish took him, fearing Spock would find out, feeling he already had. Then, with the memory of the last night came the perception of the Vulcan's mind gently touching his to ease his anguish and as gently retiring.
He felt Spock's warm presence beside him, but when he reached out he only found velour. Stretching luxuriously, Jim yawned and opened his eyes. Spock was sitting rather rigidly on the side of the bed and, unfortunately, he was fully dressed.
"Good morning, Jim."
Obviously the Vulcan was not wearing his mental shields, for Kirk swore he saw a faint smile around his eyes as his own thoughts reached him. Or was his disappointment so plain? "Morning," he muttered.
"Feeling any better?" Spock asked.
Kirk frowned, sniffing. "I must be hallucinating. I smell coffee."
A perfectly straight-faced Vulcan placed a hot mug in his hand.
Kirk smiled, surprised. "How did you...?"
"Along the years I made a thorough research on human habits. Yours in particular," the Vulcan said softly. "Does it fit your expectations?"
"Why, thank you, Spock." He sipped the hot liquid and found it wonderful. "Just great." The Vulcan was still looking at him expectantly and he smiled again touching his own rib cage.
"I'm fine, Spock." And he reached out to ruffle the Vulcan's carefully combed bangs with affection.
Automatically repairing the damage, Spock sighed. "It was your... love for the alien that gained the Selythians' entrance to the Federation." Not a question, just a statement. "And this is what I had missed."
"Yes."
Spock nodded his silent understanding, approval and thanks. And Kirk held his gaze as his friend's face turned from the calm intensity of the last night to the impassible mask he usually wore when shielded.
"Captain, I have work to attend to."
Kirk understood Spock's need to fall back to routine, even if he missed his passionate Vulcan already. "I'll see you on the bridge."
The First Officer reached the door.
"Spock," he called back, just to say the name, see the depths of those eyes once again. See the warmth there he had seen last night, once more before routine did take over.
The Vulcan looked at him from above his shoulder, but his eyes were guarded. "Jim. I am what I am. I cannot change."
Kirk shrugged apologetically. "I don't want you to change, my old Vulcan friend. Maybe I'd like a small bending here or there, but nothing that wouldn't come by itself. I'll never force you."
The Vulcan nodded once again, sealing the pact. "Thank you. Jim."
He had caressed his name, as usual, Kirk thought when he was alone. Only under the shower he realized the Vulcan had looked tense, as though the human had missed something himself. Then, his friend's low voice said, `There are rites. They can wait till tomorrow--if you will agree.' Sure enough Spock would tell him soon, he thought with anticipation.
* * * * * * * *
Spock had already finished his breakfast, when McCoy entered the mess hall. The look he got from the Vulcan made him aware of the beaming smile he must be sporting. Good news are so rare in deep space, he really could not help himself. Before the Vulcan could formulate a believable excuse to leave, the surgeon took the place in front of him. "Hallo, Spock!"
"Good morning, Doctor." Spock raised an eyebrow at the human's grin. "I trust you slept well."
"Very. And you too, I gather." There it was, McCoy thought, that stiffening of his back anyone less familiar with the Vulcan wouldn't have noticed.
`You' meaning I or `you' meaning us?, Spock's raised eyebrow said. "You have seen the Captain this morning...?" Doubt crept into his voice, despite the tight control he was obviously applying.
"Yeah, but I recognized the symptoms even before he told me." His smile died as he realized Spock would not be easily humored. "Just a joke, Spock. I hope now Jim will teach you some manners."
"Doctor, please," he cast his eyes down lest they betray something the human surely wouldn't miss, "voices carry."
McCoy swept the room with a glance. "Don't you think they have the right to know?"
"I hoped you would respect the Vulcan Code of Privacy, Doctor."
Despite the Vulcan's evident discomfort, McCoy couldn't help grinning. "And I do, but people know more about you than you're ever going to be Vulcanly comfortable with."
Spock closed his eyes.
The Chief Surgeon felt a pang of guilt and compassion tug at his heart. If it had been hard for Jim--man, he had been something lately!--it must have been harder for the Vulcan, who had always denied possessing emotions. To him it must look like he had lost some of his ever-lasting inner battles. And now new conflicts would begin waging--he could see them brewing already. No need to complicate things saying, `I told you so'. Truth to tell, McCoy sincerely hoped his two friends could find a balance and their well-deserved happiness together. He would see to it in the only way he knew, giving Jim a shoulder to lean on and being his usual sour self with the Vulcan.
He took a gulp of his coffee--now dead cold--and met the Vulcan's stare with a gentle smile. For once he chose to forget his friend disliked to be touched and laid a hand on his forearm. "Don't you worry, Spock, I won't tell a soul."
The First Officer looked at McCoy's hand but did nothing to avoid the discreet, light touch. "I am grateful," he said softly, nodded, and walked out.
McCoy watched him leave with the odd feeling, based on subjective data, of course, that for just a moment he had reached the Vulcan's soul. He shook his head, glaring at his tray: now, he could have some bacon.
It was dark in the corridors and his soft steps echoed in his ears. Spock had been delayed on the Bridge and, as he walked back to his quarters, he wondered where Jim might be. They had to discuss something vital.
It had been so hard, in the heat of passion, not to touch the human's face. Not to lay his fingertips on the melding points and reach out and in and touch the deepest and most intimate of the human's thoughts. Not to bind with silvery threads two minds, two souls that had always belonged together. Not to make two One. Irrevocably.
Had Jim noticed his trembling? His hunger for him? Had he naively assumed it was thirst for his body only? His initial refusal, his fear of the longing, the madness Kirk could bring upon him, still shamed him. There is no logic in denying the truth--and no matter how illogical it seemed, he could love him back. And he would, with all his Vulcan and human selves could give him. If Jim only let him. He almost groaned aloud--so strong was the compulsion to Bond he could hardly breathe. Kroykah, he thought, clamping down the need inside, and went through the Mind Rules. For the third time this shift.
He entered his own quarters and found the object of his worries sitting at the desk, sprawled on the table. He was not wearing his shirt or the black regulation T-shirt, and his hair was ruffled. His neck must be bent at some un-physiological angle, for a soft snore could be heard in the quiet room. On his face was that serious expression Spock had learnt to recognize; to the Vulcan he looked a lot like a child, a young human child.
Then, a small bundle of black fabric caught his attention and he stepped closer, moved by almost feline curiosity. He unfolded it discovering it was a short tunic of Vulcan style, hand-cut and sewn; the fabric was a real wonder, incredibly soft at the touch and warm, pitch black as if absorbing visible light yet reflecting at the contours. It was a garment even a Vulcan would have liked to own and, judging by the small symbols--black on black--on the collar, it was for Spock to wear. He smiled inwardly and quickly went to shower and change, taking the tunic with him.
When he came back, he considered his options. Gently, almost tenderly he gathered the human in his arms and made him comfortable on his Spartan bed. He was turning, resigned to use the meditation stone, when Kirk's hand took his.
"Spock, what's the time?" He vigorously rubbed his eyes, sitting up. "It's so hot in here, I must've fallen asleep."
"Obviously, Captain, it is very late." Hopefully, his voice would not betray the stirring in his stomach Jim's dishevelled state caused.
Now the human was wide-awake and smiling broadly. "You found your present."
"And appreciated it, Jim." He looked down and brushed a corner of the garment. "This fabric is very interesting; it must have some light-absorbing..."
Kirk waved a hand to stop the flow of technicalities. "I personally entered the formula in your computer."
Only Kirk would have gone the through the trouble of looking up the composition of the fabric to satisfy Spock's curiosity. Two presents. "May I ask why?"
Kirk shrugged as if caught stealing the jam. "Just wanted to see you dress informal. I found it on our last shore leave and immediately thought of you. By the way..." he suddenly looked very much a Captain, "this is not the uniform of the day, Mr Spock."
The Vulcan managed to look offended. "My shift is ended, after all."
"At long last, I would say." Kirk smiled mischievously at him. "Want to share my bed?"
"Your bed?"
"Well, since I'm here--and it wouldn't be proper for you to throw me out at this ungodly hour--it only seemed polite if I invited you to stay with me...?" He let his words end in a question.
Spock took a step closer. "Polite indeed."
"...and while we're talking", he pointed at the climate controls, "would you please turn that damn thing off?! You don't want to have me walk in your quarters half-naked, do you?"
Had Spock hesitated too long? Kirk's all-knowing smile followed his movements as he complied.
Spock sat thoughtfully on the bedside and lowered his gaze. Breathe, he instructed his lungs. If he could tell you, you can do no less.
Kirk came closer, sensing trouble. "Spock, what is it?"
After all, the Vulcan had not given him the time up to five significant figures, and he had noticed. "I am merely thinking of the best way to discuss something with you."
"Your shields. You haven't lowered them half a iota since you came in. Is this so painful to you?"
The human had gained Spock's full attention. "You can tell the difference...?"
"Most of the time it's just good old human common sense", he replied, shrugging, "but sometimes I really feel when you're heavily shielded, as you are now."
"Perhaps we should check your ESP rate. This phenomenon is rare among your people."
"Later," Jim said impatiently. "Come on, man, this is only a five year mission."
Spock drew a deep breath and he was certain Kirk could see in his eyes the red desert sand, blindingly bright under the Vulcan suns, beaten by untiring hot blowing winds; but it was just a moment before years of mastery and control took over, and he spoke softly. "I once had a Bond with T'Pring. As you probably recall, we were Bonded at seven and, supposedly, we should have felt each other's thoughts. But our minds never met and I used to think it was my fault as a half-breed. I was wrong, for I can Bond and I want to."
"Why are you telling me this, now?"
Was it hope he saw in the Human's eyes? "That place in my mind is empty and yearning to be filled," the Vulcan said, simply. "Would you consider...?"
"Spock, I--" Kirk trailed off.
Since the human hesitated, Spock went on, as though delivering a speech he had rehearsed many times over. "I know what you must be thinking, Jim. There are risks."
"In the first place, there is our careers as Star Fleet officers. There are well tested command teams who share a Bond, and their abilities only improved since their minds joined. I believe all those close to us--those who love us, as you would say--will only be happy for us, if we chose to let them know.
"Also, I do not forget we are deeply different men, both emotionally and psychologically. But we got along well in the past as friends because we accepted what we are. We have shared much and gained strength from the sharing. The Bond would make this sharing deeper, easier and more complete."
Spock looked away, certain Kirk recognized his stance as his way to express embarrassment. Surprisingly, it did not bother him. "There is a question, though, I can only partially answer, and you must know before you make up your mind. You are aware I am not a very physical person."
That made Kirk grin. "Ordinarily, no. I would say you're not. But I know better, now."
"There will come a time when I will not be allowed to avoid... certain... biological needs." Their eyes locked and Spock swallowed.
/Pon farr./ The words traveled easily from mind to mind despite Spock's heavy shielding. It had been at the back of his mind since he had found out his feelings for the human. Someone must pay a price--and that someone would be Jim, if they Bonded. He knew Jim could support him emotionally in the ordeal of the `Time of Mating', but he did not know what the fever might push him to do to his mate. If last night was an example--
"Your bondmate is supposed to comfort, soothe the pain, the need. Welcome the heat with cool tenderness. Won't my emotions repel you? I'm only human, Spock."
Jim knew. Had he searched McCoy's database? Had he been thinking about this even before telling Spock what he felt for him? Jim knew and was not appalled, merely concerned whether or not he would be--enough? It sent a shiver of anticipation down Spock's spine. He leaned closer. "We can learn to rejoice in our differences." Then, as he realized he was insisting, Spock withdrew.
Kirk hesitated still, and a shadow fell across Spock's face. "There is no need for you to answer now. There is no need for you to say anything at all if the word is `no'. I will understand and care for you whatever your choice will be." Or so I dearly hope, he thought, bitterly.
The human looked up from Spock's joined hands to the dark, deep-set eyes. "Spock."
"The choice must be mutual", the Vulcan said slowly, then he quoted Jim, "I will never force you".
"But you'll need a few lessons in human body-language. Spock, I chose you long ago." He smiled apologetically, for keeping him waiting. "What must I do?"
The Vulcan frowned, then it hit him. Yes, Kirk had said yes to him. He drew a couple of steadying breaths. "No questions?"
"The most important thing I've already learnt from your mother. It's for life." And Spock could see he was thinking back at the joyous light in Lady Amanda's blue eyes. "I want it, and I want it badly."
Spock simply drank in the sight of his Bondmate-to-be.
"Won't we need witnesses?" Kirk asked, still unaccustomed to the open emotion on the Vulcan's face.
"No, we are both adults, we need no supervision. Besides, this Bond is somewhat out of the ordinary," Spock said, not without a trace of his dry humor.
"Let me guess. If the logical outcome of mating is offspring, then this bonding is not logical," Kirk whispered, a little bitterness in his voice.
"No. Emotion dictates this choice, as well as logic." Spock almost gave in to a smile at Kirk's reaction to his first admission to emotion.
"I had assumed bonding required the presence of a healer."
The Vulcan shook his head. "We will join our minds in a meld. The Bond will form by itself--last night I had to consciously prevent it from happening."
"So that's why we didn't meld. I had expected we would. The Vulcan thing to do, I thought." A shy smile touched the human's lips.
Spock nodded. "After the initial meld we shall need no more. In the first few days, however, we shall practice in erecting mental barriers between our minds and between our Bond and other telepaths. In this initial period it would be wise if we avoided using mental communications--for the Bond will be almost palpable to the other telepaths in the crew."
"You mean that once I've learnt how not to break into your mind I'll be able to reach you when I want to?"
"Of course."
Kirk tried to disguise the sting in his eyes.
Spock knew he was thinking of all the times their missions had separated them--and neither had known if the other still lived... There would be no more anguish, no more doubts. "This is a tremendous gift you're giving me, Spock."
The Vulcan shook his head, understanding all the other didn't say. "It is for us. "
The human sat close to Spock and looked at him eagerly. "Please."
"Jim. I would Bond with thee, never and always touching and touched," the Vulcan whispered reaching out to lay his fingertips on Kirk's temples.
"Spock. I would bond with thee, never and always touching and touched," Kirk answered and added in the human fashion, "I love you".
He mirrored Spock's gesture--and they became one. Carefully, the Vulcan eased the merging of their minds, reassuringly inviting and tenderly hugging.
Jim found himself lost in a sea of warmth and care. /You never told me it could be so... comforting,/ the human thought, running out of words.
A thin ray of thought touched him and surrounded him. /This is a Vulcan's heart, it is not for show,/ it said, mildly amused.
/You mean it's not your human half alone that--loves me?/
Amusement, unashamed and free, rang in the Vulcan's answer. /No, it is Spock--who just happens to be half human./
Like droplets on the still surface of a pond, Kirk's startled laughter created small ripples in the sea he was floating in.
/Come,/ Spock's voice sang in his mind, making his whole being vibrate as if resonating. Gently, the Vulcan led Jim through the labyrinths of the human's mind, brushing, caressing, examining--never judging--facts and feelings he had always kept secret, hidden, lest they discourage his logical friend. The women he'd had, his losses and victories; he saw them all as from high above. Ashamed, he mentally turned to the Vulcan and shivered, causing the sea to break down in waves. /This must be painful to you./
Yet, he sensed no pain. Instead, a wave of warmth washed him and almost drowned him, and a sweet acceptance surprised him to speechlessness.
Almost suddenly, the roaring sea calmed down and slowly evaporated and he realized that Spock was guiding him into the depths of his own mind. What had been the bed of the sea was now becoming a harsh, cracked land. Spock shared one of his dearest memories, a sunrise on Vulcan. The human recognized the sand, as it reflected the first rays of light like a carpet of rubies; he felt the hot wind through his hair; he heard the distant cry of a le-matya--far too distant for human ears to pick it up--and the familiar smell of dust. He saw the barren landscape the way Spock must see it. It felt like home.
They shared the longing for this fierce place where men forged their bodies with fire and tamed their minds with the coolest logic. That also felt like home.
Surprise. The red desert sand grew darker in small spots: it was raining. Quickly, the first drops were absorbed, to be followed by others, till it poured.
/You are the rain,/ Spock said loud enough to be heard over the noise. In time, the pelting rain became a gentle drizzle and the miracle happened. Soon the dust flourished with vegetation and small animal life. Joy.
The image faded and the Vulcan guided him forward. At first the human was only awed by the logical perfection of the patterns of thought he saw, then he found himself moved to tears when Spock invited him deeper, to uncover the logic-coated burning heart underneath. A sudden joy burst in their minds as Kirk touched the reality of his friend's inner being.
/Your mind is as beautiful as I remembered,/ Jim whispered. /Even more so./
And Spock's mind hugged his, revealing, sharing and filling with promises the aching emptiness that had been in each. For a time they just wandered in each other's mind like children exploring a new house, warily, joyously, boldly.
A mental frown from Kirk made Spock pause, and he smiled, realizing the source of Jim's wonder. The human had found out the reason Vulcans did not seek physical pleasure, though he had not understood, yet.
/Our minds,/ Spock thought, purposely cryptic.
/Explain,/ Jim asked eagerly.
/Easier done than said.../ and a thin tendril stretched from the Vulcan to Jim's Bonding centres. Though being very careful not to hurt an unskilled mind, Spock's touch gave Kirk such an intense pleasure it was almost painful.
The human gasped and was suddenly aware of his own body again. He was stubbornly keeping his eyes closed, trying to regain concentration. /I don't want this ever to stop,/ he whispered.
/It shall not./
Kirk moaned, fearing the emptiness he had just discovered in his soul would reappear, after the meld ended. He kept his eyes shut, refusing to move.
Spock's gentle but firm hand took Kirk's away from his own face, and held it. "Jim." He permitted himself a faint smile in anticipation and called him along the Bond, /Jim./
Stunned, Kirk looked at him through stinging tears. "You are with me!"
The Vulcan briefly squeezed Kirk's hand, then let it go, but the contact between them only lessened, without fading away completely.
/Never and always touching and touched, Jim./
He reached out to brush away the tears on the human's face with a thumb and the Bond grew in intensity again.
"I'm sorry, Spock."
"I shall not forgive you for being Human." /*My* Human./
"Then I won't ask forgiveness for this, too," Kirk whispered, holding his shoulders. Jim's hand rested lightly on his nape, Jim's fingers gently teased his hair there. Kirk leaned forward.
For the first time their lips met.
And it was a shock, like a low voltage current traveling through their nerves. Kirk smiled, surprised, then brushed his lips again.
At first the Vulcan frowned, neither resisting nor responding. Then the Bond flared up again and something in Spock gave. He closed his eyes and took Jim's breath away.
When they came up for air, Kirk looked at him.
Spock could read him like an open book, to the tiniest detail. Shocking to the human. /You have the conn, Captain,/ Spock thought, only half teasingly.
/Captain?/
/You will always be my Captain, Jim./ His whole body, his mind and heart were telling the human that Spock waited for Jim's decision. Not only as something he would accept but also as the first experience they would truly share.
"All right, no cracked ribs, this time," the human whispered maliciously and took the rein of command firmly in his hands. He breathed deeply and slowly slipped his hands under the Vulcan's tunic in a gentle hug, the newly formed Bond intensifying at the contact.
Spock's eyes widened at the surprising emotions this simple touching evoked in Jim--and in himself. With a life of their own, his arms went around Jim's bare chest and he hugged back.
Almost reluctantly Jim released him, pausing to kiss his neck, his ears--/deliciously pointed/--the side of his face; a tense minute went by as their hot cheeks brushed and slid against each other until their lips were only millimeters apart.
Through the Bond, Spock felt a sweet, dark desire take hold of the human and wondered. His wonder raised Jim's hilarity.
/Stop thinking, green-blooded son of an iceberg!/
/Just wondering at the highly unconventional methods you use to `warm up icebergs', Captain./ He made it sound as if it were Jim's words, not his.
Kirk deposited a small kiss on a corner of his mouth, then, taking his time, on the other. But when the Vulcan leaned closer to kiss him, Jim drew back, smiling mischievously.
Baffled, Spock frowned. /Why are you doing this?/
A silvery laugh rang in his mind. /I'm shaking my Vulcan up before use.../
/Jim/, the other warned, /are you playing with me?/
The human unfastened Spock's tunic. /Precisely,/ he thought in the Vulcan's own voice and helped him out of the garment.
Once and very softly, Spock laughed. And he made up his mind. /All right/, he thought, /let us play your way./
As Kirk frowned in the abrupt and absolute silence in his mind, Spock grabbed the human's wrists with a sudden move and brought him down on the pillow. Jim's surprise evoked a weird euphoria that he shared in the Bond. And with the sharing came back Kirk's faithful acceptance of Spock's superior strength and--amusement?
Spock paused to look down at the human, frowning himself. "I cannot determine the source of your amusement, Jim. Please explain."
Feeling like a frog on a dissection table--he only lacked the green skin of which, after all, the Vulcan had an ample supply--he smiled up at the expectant dark eyes. "I always thought Vulcans were emotionally handicapped. I trust I will re-educate you."
"I was afraid it would be something of that sort," the Vulcan said. Then he perceived that Jim's body ached with tension and in his eyes he saw a silent request.
/Last night I did not ask for permission. It is a mistake I shall not make twice,/ the Vulcan thought and let his features relax, soften, let a faint smile tug at his lips, now mouthing a `May I?'
/Last night I provoked you,/ Jim was thinking, detecting a trace of guilt in Spock's mind. /We hurt each other, but we won't let it happen again, will we?/
Following a telepathically-enhanced inspiration, the Vulcan bent and kissed him, adding fuel to their desire. /No/, he thought, /no more pain, my *T'hy'la*./
They rose as one and slowly helped each other out of their clothes, never losing eye-contact, then Spock held out a hand and Kirk smiled again. That's when a soft beep came from the desk terminal, signaling an incoming message.
Spock's eyebrow rose.
Kirk quietly swore.
The second eyebrow disappeared behind the bangs and Spock turned to Jim, inquiringly.
"I had postponed my routine physical. He must have found out," he smiled. "Such an old fox to address a message to you..."
"If I understand the implications of this situation we will never hear the end of it," Spock said, grimly.
"Well, let's have fun. Doctor's orders."
This time Spock did not pretend he had not understood and took the offered hand gladly. He followed the human into the inner room, watched him remove the covers and sit on the bed. Jim smiled, then, and Spock felt himself respond to the gentle tease in the hazel eyes. He did not fight it.
The Vulcan hesitated for a few seconds, then, "Do not move". He let the frowning human wonder what the problem was and went to the bathroom to retrieve something he had carefully prepared during his lunch break. He approached Kirk with the towels and the artfully decorated oil container, laid the former on the night-stand, the latter in the human's hands.
"Massage oil, Spock?" There was something decidedly wicked in the human's eyes.
Sitting beside him, Spock laid his hands over the human's. "I hope you find the scent agreeable, Jim."
Kirk's smile made the Vulcan's apprehension vanish like droplets in the sun. He put the oil aside and quietly observed his human. So beautiful, so intense. His. Forever. Spock reached out and before he knew, he had gently skimmed over the human's thigh. His fingertips had brushed the human's jaw. He had laid his palm on the side of the beloved face.
Kirk rested his hand over Spock's and leaned into the touch. He briefly closed his eyes and sighed.
It was a sound Spock had longed to hear. Something winged moved in the Vulcan's stomach, then--he felt so aware. Of himself, of the silver threads of their Bond stretching effortlessly between them, of the solar brightness of his mate's thoughts. All the years of quiet respect and admiration, silent understanding and then friendship--they all had led to this very moment, to the sudden, overwhelming tenderness he felt inside. He did not fight this either. He cherished it dearly, realizing what sort of power his human had over him. Rejoicing.
For the first time in his life he felt he belonged. "Jim, I--"
Kirk's fingers tightened over his. /And I you, Spock./
Spock's thumb brushed the human's lips, and he allowed his own eyes a tiny smile. He leaned closer and kissed him, briefly, the now familiar jolt at the contact making the smile reach his lips. He gently pushed Jim down on the bed and lay beside him, stroked a rebel curl from the human's forehead.
It was so easy to cherish this human, to need him. To love him. Spock wanted to make tender, passionate love to the man who possessed his soul.
As if reading the thought, Kirk smiled again, and pulled him into a deliberately slow kiss that rekindled the fire in their bodies.
Slowly, carefully, perhaps a little warily at first, and then gently and joyously, they made love.
* * * * * * * *
Spock forced his fogged head to rise from the pillow. "Jim?"
The human turned toward him, opened his eyes briefly and gifted him with a look of pure love; then he curled up against the Vulcan's warm chest and sighed contentedly.
/?/
/Just checking your ribs.../ Spock whispered in his mind, gently kissing his forehead. Soon they were both asleep, tenderly, possessively entwined.
"Well, I'll be damned..." McCoy exclaimed as Kirk stepped into his kingdom. "It takes a Vulcan to talk some sense into a starship captain! How do you feel?"
Broad smiles on both parts, then Kirk shook his head, unbelieving. "Couldn't be better, Bones."
"And you're even early for your check!" McCoy said enthusiastically. "Come and let's get it over with."
"Actually", Kirk began, not moving away from the threshold, "I'm not here for my physical."
A shadow fell across the surgeon's face. "You're not?"
"I just came down to tell you I'm not coming. Not this week. And setting Spock on a mother-hen attitude won't help either." He suddenly became aware of Nurse Chapel's presence nearby.
McCoy incinerated his captain where he stood, then he turned to tell Chapel to leave them alone, but the woman, out of a long practice with this particular surgeon and captain, was already on the move.
"I'll be in Lab 8, Doctor, should you need me."
"Fine."
Kirk waited for the doors to close then talked before the surgeon had the chance to do it himself. "Look, I'm just too busy. And all I ask for is a week's delay. If we go by the book and you file a protest, by the time it gets processed, I'll be fifty. Let's make it next week." He started to leave.
"I don't buy it, Jim."
At the door Kirk paused. "I have to go, Bones."
"I don't think so."
The intensity in McCoy's words made Kirk turn, and stay.
"Our logical Mr Spock is not someone you can set into any attitude, let alone a `mother-hen' attitude. Now, if just this once he concurs with me that you have to take your physical, that's exactly what you'll be doing in the next few minutes."
"Bones, I--"
"Captain, I don't like to pull strings--I'm a doctor, not a puppeteer--but I'll do more than file a complaint if you do not sit on my table at once."
Kirk knew McCoy was not kidding. Still, he felt he could not give in.
The surgeon's eyes narrowed with concern, as he scanned his friend clinically. "What are you afraid of, Jim?"
Of being seen, touched, Kirk thought, now that I still feel Spock's warmth on my skin, and his cool presence in my mind. Now that all my nerves are raw with new, unexpected sensations. Now that my arms long for him. Now that I still bear the marks of our passion.
McCoy did not wait for an answer. He walked closer and led him to the diagnostic bed. "Now, just take off your shirt and lie down."
Kirk hesitated still, though he knew the surgeon had won his battle already.
"Jim", he said at last, "I'm a doctor, and your friend."
"And I am a man, Bones." He finally exposed his torso--and the unconcealable signs of what was meant to remain a sacredly private fact.
"Things are never easy on starship captains," McCoy said under his breath as Jim lay down, defenseless. He put his best doctor's face on and smiled professionally. "That's why they don't make starship captains out of everybody. I'll be quick." He activated the bed sensors and his hand scanner.
Kirk closed his eyes, wishing he were somewhere else, heavily leaning on the Bond to steady himself for the old-style-doctor poking-and-prodding visit. None came. McCoy never touched him.
When the whining from the bed sensors and hand scanner died, he opened his eyes into McCoy's frowning blue ones.
"You may dress, Captain. We're finished, for the moment."
Kirk was quickly on his feet and fully dressed. "For the moment?"
"Unless you have a good explanation for the crazy readings I got, I'm afraid I'll have to put you through a Sigmund."
Full psychological examination. In his present state, hell. The captain's eyes widened in desperation. "Dear God, no, Doctor. What is it you found so odd in my readings?"
"Signs of a fairly recent stress--possibly a mental trauma of unknown origin. Without further examination I won't be able to predict whether--"
/Tell him we melded./
Spock's voice entered Kirk's mind so unexpectedly that he almost jumped out of his skin. He brushed his temples, recovering.
/Sorry, Jim./
Kirk smiled inwardly at the familiar warmth, their Bond alive once again. /That's dangerously close to lying, Mr Spock./
/At times one has to come down to compromises, Captain,/ Spock smiled. /Besides, it is the only explanation he will accept. There will be a time for the full truth, Jim./ His presence gradually faded in the background.
"--unfit for command, Captain," McCoy was saying, unaware of the mental exchange.
Kirk raised a hand. "Bones", he began in a confidential tone, "the explanation is very simple. Spock and I melded last night. It's part of his tradition--our tradition, now."
McCoy had the grace to look embarrassed, for once. "Oh." It figured.
"It takes time to get used to living with him, Bones. That's why I didn't want to take this physical. We're still adjusting to each other. Everything happened so quickly. But I assure you, I never felt better in my life. Believe me."
The doctor balanced the obvious signs of the trauma in his friend's mind with the new gleam in his eyes. The new-found peace under the tense muscles and raw nerves. And he smiled. "I do, Jim. It shows."
Kirk nodded and, "I really have to go, now."
"One last thing, Jim. You seem to have cracked a rib. My scanner says it's only a couple of days old, but perfectly healed." He didn't say, without my treatment, though it was plain enough that he meant it.
The Captain's expression softened, as recent memories came back to him. "He's strong, Bones," he said as if it could explain everything.
McCoy smiled and nodded at the implied trust.
"But he made it a point to repair what he unintentionally damaged. And as for everything, he's quite skilled at it--I think he could have become a healer had he not joined Starfleet." He came back from his reveries. "Oh, don't worry, Bones, it was an accident--even though not an unpleasant one. Besides", he smirked, finally able to talk about it freely, "he's wearing his own marks. Though I don't know how you could force him to show them. Unless you stunned him, of course."
McCoy shook his head in complicity and tossed him a cream tube. "Then this will do you both a lot of good. It's for your shoulders and his--marks, wherever they may be."
"Bones!"
"And in case of protest, remind him it's more pleasant than a solitary healing trance."
Kirk smiled self-consciously and nodded again. "I'll do that. Thanks."
"Again, Jim, any time. And if you need anything else, you know where to find me."
* * * * * * * *
Spock laid the cream tube before McCoy, on a pile of notepads.
The human looked up, wide-eyed. "Jesus, Spock! Don't you announce yourself anymore?"
The Vulcan folded his arms across his chest defensively. "I did, Doctor."
Now that the adrenalin rush was going down, McCoy tried a more hospitable approach. After all, every time the First Officer came down to sick-bay--while conscious--was a small victory. "Oh, well, sit down, Mr Spock. And tell me."
Spock looked at him at a total loss. "I merely came to give you back the cream, Doctor. We shall not need it anymore." Still, he did not sit.
The cream, McCoy thought. Why would he give it back to him? Was Spock mad at him? The Vulcan did not appear offended by McCoy's prescription for Jim's bruises. Quite the contrary, was it amusement he had seen flicker in the dark eyes? Maybe, just maybe, he had simply come to talk and needed an excuse. McCoy smiled his best business smile. "Really."
The Vulcan's jaw set. "My word, Doctor," he said intensely.
Oh, yes, McCoy thought. He's come down to let me know Jim is going to be fine. The human rose and walked around the desk, collecting his hand scanner along the way. "You know, Jim may not appreciate this decision, if I may say so," he whispered, starting a series of readings on the Vulcan. "So, tell me, Mr Spock", he went on before the Vulcan had time to organize his defenses, "how did you manage to send the Captain down for his physical? He didn't want to do it, but he did... If it worked once I may want to try it routinely."
The Vulcan looked decidedly amused despite the fact that McCoy was leading him to the examination table himself. "I do not think it could be generally applicable."
The doctor shared the amusement, briefly. "Now, lie down, Mr Spock." He looked up at the diagnostic panel and adjusted a few dials, while the Vulcan took his shirt off and did as was told with uncharacteristic docility. "I was afraid so. Then tell me how he managed to have you come down."
"My half of the bargain," he sighed, straightening his black t-shirt unnecessarily.
McCoy looked down, genuinely surprised. "I love this. How comes it never occurred to me? But then, would I have enough leverage?"
The Vulcan closed his eyes, as if suddenly reminded of his predicament. "Doctor."
"I'm almost done, Spock."
But then, "There is one thing I need to know, Doctor," he quietly said, reaching out and stopping short of touching his wrist. He rose on his elbows, almost unease. "How is Jim?"
McCoy turned his scanner off. "Physically he's as fit as a fiddle. As you are." As he noticed the concern in the dark eyes, he added, "I detected a recent mental trauma, Spock. He said the two of you melded last night. That may well explain it. I've noticed this same signature after every mind twister you performed with him. I'm confident there will be no permanent damage."
Spock looked away. "We did meld", he began with effort, "but it was--"
"--not in the line of duty. I know, Spock, and I don't need explanations, right now." He switched the sensors off. Was it guilt he saw in the dark eyes? "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him, too. But I'll check on him more frequently if you help him down here again."
The Vulcan nodded very seriously, sealing the deal. He sat up. "Thank you Doctor, I find myself quite--illogically--unable to be objective in his instance." He tried to stand, but McCoy motioned him to wait. For a second Spock looked as if he wanted to get his own words back.
But McCoy did not take the chance for another sour joke at the Vulcan's expenses. "Don't you want them removed?" he asked instead, pointing at where Spock's neck joined his shoulder, where his instruments had told him an incredible love bite and related marks were.
Spock was already dressed. "We shall take care of them together."
"How, if I may?"
The ghost of a smile flew on the Vulcan's lips. "I do possess some empathic skills." He would never admit he wanted to keep them where they were.
"That's how Jim's rib got healed, then."
Spock bowed slightly and walked toward the door.
"Don't spend your whole honeymoon on a healing trance, Spock," McCoy warned him. He hoped the meld Jim had talked about was part of their private wedding--or whatever the Vulcan called it. Jim had been tight-lipped on that part, hadn't he?
The Vulcan froze at the threshold. "Honeymoon."
"Ask Jim about it."
"I most certainly will. Have a good day, Doctor."
"You too--" But the Vulcan was gone. Why did everybody walk out on him like that these days?
==
End of story
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