Part I

Chapter 1

If you had not have fallen...
then I would not have found you...
Angel flying too close to the ground.

And I patched up your broken wing...
and hung around awhile...
trying to keep your spirits up...
And your fever down.

I knew someday that you would fly away...
for ....
Love's the greatest healer to be found.
So leave me...if you need to...
I will still remember...

Angel flying too close to the ground.

So fly on...
fly on past the speed of sound...
I'd rather see you up...
than see you down.

So leave me...if you need to..
I will still remember...

Angel flying too close to the ground.

The song is "Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground" By Willie Nelson

Computer, record.

Doctor's Private Log: Stardate 6723.9

Leonard McCoy, USS Enterprise recording. Security code...voiceprint ID...Leonard McCoy...end list.

First, for anyone who ever figures out how to play this, let me tell you that I'm drunk, quite drunk and before this night's over I plan on getting much drunker. Not that anyone'll ever hear it 'cause I plan to bury this chip so deep that it'll take 'em a thousand years to dig it up. But the fact is, I’ve gotta talk to somebody. So cheers, my multi-circuited friend, you're elected. You're the only one left who I can talk to about what's going on.

Okay, that's outta the way. I just wanna say I get it…I finally get it. I'm usually not quite this slow at catching on but there's just some things you don't wanna admit, even to yourself.

You see I've spent the last five years onboard this tub watching his displays of brilliance, insanity, charm, determination, loyalty, fool heartiness, humor, recklessness, devotion, and any of a thousand other narratives I could use to describe him. I've nursed him through injuries of both the body and spirit that would've killed most men. I've repaired his organs, set his broken bones, sealed his lacerations, and offered him a drink and a shoulder when all the gadgets in sickbay wouldn't touch his pain.

I've held him when he's cried, argued with him when he's wrong and made love to him when he's lonely. I've seen him through the throes of fever, depression, excitement, confusion, boredom and passion. I've seen him give those needing it, a hefty clout on the chin, and give those in need the proverbial shirt off his back. But, dammit, I never thought I'd be around to see the day that Jim Kirk gave up. Today I had to watch him do just that.

Guess I better start by settin' the record straight. I love Jim Kirk. I love him as a brother, as a friend, and as a commander; because God only knows whether or not we'd be pulling into spacedock tomorrow if he hadn't been the one in the center seat. And, yes, I love him as the lover who'd come to me at those times when your soul just calls out to be with someone who knows everything about you.

Now don't get me wrong, we never considered settin' up house together or anything like that, but we always knew we were there for each other. Being in the hind-end of space does something funny to you. It makes you feel cut off from everything and everybody who's ever been important in your life. There's an aloneness out here that will eat away at you, if you let it.

Jim was like that right after his brother and sister-in-law died. Yeah, we saved the boy, but having to let him off at Starbase 18 to be sent back to Aurelan's family was rough on him. He knew damned well that a ship was no place to keep the kid, and he wouldn't have been allowed to let him stay here even if he'd wanted to. But when he had to turn Peter over to the counselor, he felt like the last tie to the life he had before had been cut. That was the first night he came to me. I remember it like it was yesterday. Hard to believe that was almost four years ago.

I'd been dining on ashes, myself. We got there too late to save Sam and although I'd done everything I could think of, Aurelan died too. Then, if things weren't bad enough, I'd about blinded Spock because I hadn't taken into consideration that those damned creatures could be killed using only the ultraviolet bandwidth of light. If it hadn't been for that crazy second eyelid, it would've been permanent for sure.

So, there I was in my cabin, feeling pretty sorry for myself when he showed up. He said he wanted something for a headache, but I knew he wanted someone to talk to. Otherwise he could've just gone to the medic on duty, gotten her to give him a pill, and that would've been the end of it. No, that night Jim needed a friend. We both did.

Over a couple of drinks, he started telling me things about himself that I never knew. That was the night he told me he had a son and that the kid's mother didn't want Jim anywhere near him. He talked about the many failed relationships in his life and the one person he thought he could see himself spending the rest of his life with, but it seemed there was no chance of that happenin'. I didn't ask him who; it didn't matter, and the truth be known, maybe I didn't wanna know.

He talked about his life as a youngster on the farm and the death of his parents. He told me about his brother and the life they had growing up together. He told me how much he was going to miss him. Sure, they had completely different lives and didn't get to see much of each other, but Sam represented all of the things that Jim had missed. Not that he didn't love the life he had chosen, but when things really got bad, he could go for a visit and get a taste of the family he missed out on having. Now, except for a nephew he would probably rarely see, his family was gone.

I remember watching him as he gripped the glass so hard that I thought he was gonna shatter it. His knuckles turned white as he fought back the emotions that were building inside of him. In the last days he'd been running on pure adrenaline and now the realization of all he'd lost was crashing in on him. He started to stand up and I knew where he was going; back to the privacy of his cabin to do whatever it is he always did to pull himself together, alone.

Something made me reach out and grab his arm, stopping him from leaving. I pulled him back down beside me on the couch, it wasn't hard since his resistance was shot, and I put my arms around him. He buried his head in my neck and I felt a hot tear run down my neck. It's not that he sobbed, or anything like that; I've only seen him do that once, but I'll get to that later.

When he finally pulled his head up and looked at me, there was still sadness in those eyes but there was also something else. There was a need that I'd never seen from him before. Somehow, around the lump of emotion that seemed caught in his throat, he managed to choke out one word, "Bones..." It was all he needed to say. I knew. I leaned my head toward him and he met my mouth with his own.

Now, if you'da told me we were gonna end up on my couch kissing and touching with that kind of intensity, I would'a said you were out of your ever-lovin' mind! But that's exactly what happened. I swear, on that night, we were two madmen. Any clothing that wouldn't give easily got ripped out of the way. Somehow we ended up on my bunk and for the next several hours we tried to devour each other. Damned near succeeded, too! I gotta tell ya, there are things that happened that night that I didn't know I was capable of. Hell, I've never cum so many times in my life, and that includes the day I stayed home 'sick' from school when I was fourteen years old!

Sometime around the middle of the night we fell asleep, or passed out, I was never quite sure which. But, in either case, it was like we had both burned out all that was tearing us apart. The next morning, when I was finally able to open my eyes, I saw he was already up and dressed. Well, in everything but his gold command shirt, it was lying in pieces somewhere. He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers down the side of my face. Reaching for my hand, he pulled it up and, with a gentleness I didn't know he possessed, kissed it. "Thanks," he whispered, "I don't know how I could've gotten through last night without you."

I just nodded and mumbled something about, "Anytime," or something like that, and he left. I knew that he'd be back when he needed me, or I needed him, but it wasn't going to be a permanent thing between us, and that was okay. What we had together was more important than that. And that's how it was. Every month or so, when the pressures got too bad for either of us, the other would just seem to know and show up for a night of unrestrained passion. In the mean time, he had other lovers and so did I. That worked for us; that is until we started this downward spiral that has brought us to where we find ourselves today.

This whole mess started about two months ago. That's when the two of them actually got together, so to speak. Not that Jim would've ever told me, but there's some evidence that a doctor just can't miss. Especially a doctor who knows his patient like I know Jim Kirk.

Maybe I'd better start at the beginning. We'd been caught-up in a situation between the Romulans and some of the smaller planets on the outer rim for several months. They'd keep busting across this Goddamned imaginary line some idiot drew out here and we had to stay in the area trying to keep them on the other side of the Neutral Zone. It was nothin' more than a damned cat and mouse game. The whole crew was on edge, and it seemed like we'd never get away from there. Jim knew they must have been settin' up a base of operation, but searching planet after planet had turned up nothin'.

Then one afternoon, Nyota was able to trace a signal to some hot, godforsaken rock. Seems the Romulans were building a communication's station and planning on settlin' in for a nice, long stay. Well, with Spock already looking like one of the devils and me havin' altered Jim to pass for one once before, it wasn't long before the two of them were headed down, both sportin' pointed ears and the latest Romulan garb, to see about putting a halt to their activities. I was kinda concerned that Jim would be spotted right off. Because they were in such an all-fired hurry, I only had time to add small points to Jim's ears and didn't take time to arch the eyebrows at all.

They were gone for several days; nearly got themselves captured more than once. While we were in a dogfight with a Romulan ship that kept sickbay full for days, they were having to hide out in the caves because their cover had been blown. You know, why anyone would think I can patch people up when they are bouncing the ship all over hell and half a' Georgia, is a mystery to me. It's a wonder I didn't lose several of those patients, but I guess I'm gettin' used to havin' to aim a surgi-laser with one hand and hold on with the other. I may never be able to do surgery on steady ground again!

Okay, back to what I was saying. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Well, by the time they got back to the ship, they were both pretty beat up. Nothing serious, just mostly contusions. Jim had some pretty bad scrapes on his shoulder and back and some bruises on his legs. Spock had a pretty good bump on his head and a couple of bruised ribs, but neither one had any serious underlying damage. Jim said one of the caves they were navigating had collapsed, which accounted for most of their injuries. Other than that, they weren't saying much, either to each other or me. I didn't give it much thought because they were both beat.

I treated their injuries and reshaped Jim's ears, which didn't take but a few minutes because I'd done such small modifications before they left. After that, I gave them a couple of hours to clean up, rest a little, grab somethin' to eat, and then told them to report back to sickbay. With the Romulans high-tailin' it back across the Neutral Zone, it was the excuse I needed for both of them to submit to their quarterly physicals. Both were overdue and every time I brought the subject up, they always found some good reason why they couldn't give me the hour I needed. I wasn't going to have my reports incomplete at the end of the mission and it was coming down to the wire. Being the CMO, and in charge of declaring them fit for duty, does have its advantages every now and then. I told them that unless we got this outta the way, neither one of them was ever going to see the bridge again. Spock showed back up, but Jim was nowhere around when the time came.

That was okay. It gave me the chance to take care of Spock first. The fact is, I wanted some time to talk to Jim alone. I knew we were headed back to Earth in the next few weeks and I wanted to see what he had heard from Starfleet about reassignments. Hell, let's be honest, I was wonderin' what was going to happen between us when this mission ended.

Anyway, Spock breezed through his exam, but he was about as anxious as I've ever seen him. The only thing I noted was that his hormone levels were somewhat elevated. Now considering what they'd just come through, and the fact that it had to be pretty damned stressful, and the fact that there were times when Spock's constant battle against his human half often played havoc with the readings, I didn't think much about it. But he seemed in a mighty big hurry to get outta there.

Course, it's not unusual for the crew to need time alone after a difficult mission to sort things out, and our esteemed Vulcan's no different. We all know he needs time to meditate every so often, so I just chalked up his nervousness to his need to fulfill those Vulcan rituals of his. After giving him the 'all-clear' to return to his cabin, he took off outta sickbay like the preverbal bat outta hell.

I paged Jim in his cabin and he tried to give me the run-around about needing to file reports and such, and that he would get with me in a few days. I don't know why I have to go through this with him every time, but that man just about has to be unconscious to get him on a bio-bed. But this seemed different, like he was fighting it even more than usual. After I gave him a few well-placed threats, he relented. By the time he showed up in sickbay, he had a whole new string of excuses why this wasn't a good time. But I was ready for him. I wasn't buying any of his lame excuses and I told him that flat out to his face.

Now like I say, Jim and I were about as close as two people could be, and I couldn't figure out why he was fighting me so hard over something as simple as a physical. Hell, he'd had one every three months and had always flown through them with the highest rating of anyone on the ship. This time didn't seem like it was going to be any different. His blood test was within the normal limits; a little high on iron and zinc, a trace increase in the amount of copper, but nothing to be concerned about. His urine test was normal, the cardiac fitness test was amazing, and the skeletal scan showed nothing but old injuries.

We were down to the rectal exam and, considering our history over the last years, this part usually lead to a little hanky-panky. I made sure the door lock couldn't be overridden and asked him to strip down. I couldn't understand his objections. After all, it'd only been a couple'a weeks since we'd been together. It wasn't a territory I was unfamiliar with. I guess it was then that I began to get this nagging feeling in my gut that there was something seriously wrong, something he was trying very hard to hide.

Oh, damn, who the hell is this? Computer pause...

Chapter 2

Computer resume.

That was the transport tech here to pick up my gear. I guess they want us off the ship as quickly as possible tomorrow. Seems like my life has been just a series of endings, but I've gotta tell ya, this is the hardest one I've ever faced. How are you supposed to just walk away from something like this? Of course, let's face it, I took this job because it was a limited tour of duty. Swore I wasn't going to get involved with these people. I was gonna spend these five years patching them up and trying to decide what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Little did I know how they would worm their way into my very soul.

Even Spock found a part of me I didn't know existed. I still can't believe that, without so much as a fare-thee-well, he took off for Vulcan. Well, that's not exactly true. I knew he was leaving. I even tried to talk him out of it, but I can't really blame him. That's one man I never thought I'd see lose it, but they say if you live long enough and you'll see everything. That brings me back to what I was telling you. Let's see, where was I.

Oh yeah, in the exam room. Okay, I finally talked Jim outta his britches and got him to lean over. I slicked up my fingers. Sure, I usually use liquid-glove when I do these exams, but like I told you, this wasn't just your average crewmember. Anyway, soon as I inserted a finger I felt him tense up. When I moved in a little deeper and heard a hiss of pain escape from him, I knew something was terribly wrong. It wasn't like this was some virgin who'd never had this area invaded before.

I pulled my finger out and grabbed the scanner. His rectum was bloodied and swollen and the tissue was torn both internally and externally. Most of the tears were small and could be easily enough treated, but there were a lot of them. He'd been fucked, and fucked hard by someone a lot larger than what he was used to. My first thought was that they were captured while down on the planet and someone had raped him. It was obvious that whoever did this didn't take time to prepare him. But there was none of the usual bruising around the hips, thighs or groin that you'd expect to find on someone who's been raped.

I even ran a scan on his wrists and ankles to see if there had been any ligature marks that I hadn't noticed on the regular exam, but except for some slight bruising on the underside of each wrist, and the injuries I had noted earlier, nothing else showed up. I asked him who the hell had done this to him and he told me, through gritted teeth, to mind my own damned business and get it over with. The way he was gripping the side of the bed made me think of that night in my cabin, the first night we were together. It wasn't too many times that I'd seen Jim Kirk white-knuckled.

Someone had hurt him, badly, and I had every intention of finding out who the hell it was! Jim, on the other hand, was equally determined to hide whatever it was that had happened. I pressed a syringe of anesthetic and skin repair inside of him and scanned to make sure I had covered all of the cuts. I put my hand on his back and laid the scanner aside. It had told me all it could; the rest would have to come from him. "Jim," I asked, "what happened? Were you captured? Did one of the Romulans do this to you? Jim, were you...raped?"

He pushed off the bed with his arms and grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him. Now, I'd seen this man naked too many times to count. We didn't exactly have a relationship where we were modest around each other. He shook his head hard. "No," he told me, quite emphatically.

So, it wasn't a Romulan who had done this to him, there hadn't been anyone else on the ship lately, and I knew he wasn't messing around with the crew – well, me being the one exception. That only left one person he'd spent time with lately. Now, let me tell you that I'd always wondered what kept the two of them from gettin' together. I mean, there's not two other people in the galaxy who blend together like they do. The way they fall in step with each other when they walk the corridors. The way they can finish each other's sentences. The small touches that are shared between them. I mean there are times that you'd swear they were a breath away from falling into each other's arms. But I know damned well it's never happened. I think most have just assumed that it's because neither one are interested in men. Little do they know what Jim and I do every so often. Or, that the seven-year thing we found out about Spock keeps him from desiring anyone, in that way, between the times he has to go to Vulcan.

But could Spock be the one who'd been at him? He was the only person Jim had spent the last few days with. I just couldn't believe that Spock, one of the gentlest beings I've ever known--though irritating as hell--could be capable of the kind of damage I saw. Jim was looking at me like a deer caught in the headlights and I couldn't even put into words what I was thinking. Somehow my lips managed to form the word and I think I breathed, more than said, the name, "Spock?"

He stumbled backwards a couple of steps. I swear if he'd been dressed he would have turned tail and run outta there. He stared at me, his arms stiff at his side, his hands clenched into tight fists. "Leave it alone, Bones," was all he told me. As if his legs wouldn't hold his weight any longer, he took the couple of steps back to the desk chair and sat, no - more like fell, down into it. I noticed him wince and he gripped the edge of the table as if to steady himself. Obviously the anesthetic hadn't taken full effect yet. Resting his elbows on his knees, he balled his fists and pressed his head against them.

I wasn't lettin' go of this, no matter how tightlipped he wanted to be. I walked over to him and knelt down in front of him, maybe because I wasn't trusting my own balance at that moment. I just kept pushing him by asking, "Jim, answer me. Did Spock do this to you? Did you...consent...to this?" I knew it was Spock; sure as I knew my own name, but I had to know, I had to know if Spock had...had raped him. God, even now I can barely say it.

He shook his head from side to side, indicating a "No," but his words didn't sound so convincing. "Just leave it alone. Nothing happened that I didn't ask for," he snapped.

"Ask for!" I blurted out, not believing what I was hearing. "Jim, your ass is torn up! No one asks for this kind of abuse!" There was no way I was going to let him protect a rapist, no matter who it was.

He dropped his fists, raised his head and looked me square in the eyes and said, "I did. I did everything but offer myself on a plate to him."

I couldn't believe the coldness I saw in those eyes. What the hell had happened down there? I stood up and got his trousers and handed them to him. Let me tell you, Jim Kirk's not a man who's self-conscious about his body. Hell, I've seen him strip down to his skivvies and change in the turbolift when need be, and not think a damned thing about who was in there with him. But to see him turn away and slip his clothes on, almost shy, like he was trying to hide from sight, well, it just about broke my heart.

I gave him the privacy he needed and told him I'd be waiting in my office. I knew it was a risk. I knew he could'a just as well marched outta there and not tell me what happened and there wouldn't be a thing I could do about it. But in a couple of minutes, he rounded the corner.

When offered a seat he took the couch--the padded couch. I could understand why. I poured him some of the stuff Scotty had given me on my last birthday. It packed more of a punch than straight bourbon and that's what he needed just then. I took the desk chair and for the next two hours, maybe more, just listened to a story that if I hadn't seen the evidence for myself, I'd 'uv never believed it.

Seems the first couple of days went better than they could have expected. They were able to infiltrate the camp by blending into a pretty good-sized task force that'd been scouting alternative sites for some of the equipment the Romulans were installing. They fell in with them and, when the time came, just marched right through the security shield like they were meant to be there. Between Spock's rudimentary understanding of the Romulan language and the universal translator Jim had concealed in his uniform, they managed to stay outta trouble, for the most part.

Seems they did have one close call when a Romulan security officer cornered Jim someplace he wasn't suppose’ta be and the words he was using wasn't anything recognized by the translator. But Spock was able to calm the guard and reassure him that they had been ordered there, right before putting him out for a few hours with that Vulcan nerve-pinch thing.

Jim said Spock really seemed to overreact to that situation. Hell, they'd been in tight spots before, but after Spock had the man unconscious, Jim had to stop him from breaking the Romulan's neck. Spock's not a man who kills anyone unless it's absolutely necessary; not that you wanna cross him, ‘cause in the line of duty he'll do whatever's necessary. Anyway, after that, they stayed outta sight and were able to locate the main computer. Spock fed some kinda massive virus into it. That's one computer that'll never again do anything more than hum to itself, I'll tell you!

By the time they'd accomplished all they were there to do, we were pretty busy up here dealing with a couple'a enemy ships of our own. Dropping the shields to beam them up was out of the question. They were stranded, right in the middle of about a thousand Romulans. Seems the security guard had regained consciousness and announced there were intruders, so the camp was being turned upside down looking for them. They knew their only chance was to make it outside and hide deep inside the caves near where they had landed the day before. What provisions they had brought with them had been left in packs in the mouth of one cave. They figured they could be in for a long haul and would need to get back to their supplies. Spock managed to disarm a section of the security shield and they fled the camp with the Romulans right on their heels. Must have been one hell of a battle, but somehow they managed to get away.

By that time, we’d had to pull back outta transport range and even the communications link was gettin’ shaky. Jim told Scotty that keepin’ the ship in one piece was his sole duty and assured his chief engineer that he and Spock would be fine. They agreed to attempt contact very twenty-four hours and then Jim ended all transmissions so they couldn't be traced.

Now this planet wasn't any vacation spot. It was hot and the terrain was made up mostly of steep, rocky, volcanic cliffs. By the time they made it back to their provisions, they were tired and dirty and, even though Jim wouldn't tell me so, I think he was dehydrated. He did say he took a couple of the water-tabs and drank enough to keep him thinking clearly; but Spock refused to drink any of the water rations.

After catching their breath, they headed back into one of the tunnels to hide out. Spock was able to get a vague fix on the underground layout with the tricorder and they headed toward one of the caverns he had located. About two kilometers in, they hit an area where the sides were comprised of nothing more stable than small, loose stones and when they brushed against the wall, it all came tumbling down on top of them. Jim said Spock was a few steps ahead of him and caught the worst of it. The larger rocks were raining down as they dug themselves out, but they were able to get free before the route closed completely. That explained most of the injuries I had seen on their exams, at least as far as the bump on Spock's head and the contusions to Jim's shoulder went.

Jim said Spock seemed dazed for a couple of minutes, but swore he was okay. After making sure they were still all in one piece, they looked around for Spock's pack and realized it, along with what was left of their water supply, was buried under the debris. Taking stock, they found they still had one pack with food, the tricorder, one communicator, the light sticks and Jim's phaser, which still held half a charge. With the heat really getting to him, not to mention the energy and sweat they had expelled digging themselves out, Jim knew if they didn't find a source of water soon, they weren't going to make it.

Spock powered up the tricorder but it wasn't reading too well from deep inside the cave. He said he had located what may be another cavern off in a different direction, so they tried again. It took them almost three hours to navigate their way to the new site, all the while having to watch out for unstable tunnels. On top of that, Spock had become increasingly quiet and Jim was beginning to worry that he'd been hurt worse than he was letting on. That damned Vulcan's like that! He'd have to be near dead to admit anything was the matter.

Anyway, they did find the small room. Jim immediately began to explore and when he found an offshoot with a small pool of water, he was ecstatic. He turned to tell Spock and saw him lying on the ground. When he got to him, Spock was shaking and his skin was cool and clammy to the touch. Now Jim said he didn't know if it was the head injury or if Spock had some internal damage or if he was just suffering from the effects of the planet. But he was in bad shape and with no medical scanner he just had to guess at what to do. He tried to spread the cape from Spock's uniform under him, and took his own and spread over him.

When Spock stopped shaking, he took a container from the one pack they had left and went back to the pool. Locating the source of the water, he collected some but couldn't tell if it was going to be drinkable. He tried using the tricorder on it, but the minerals, high in iron and zinc, were so skewed by their surroundings that he couldn't tell if it was toxic or not. Said he decided there was only one way to find out, so he took a big swig.

Evidently it was warm and tasted heavy with natural elements, but didn't seem to have any adverse affects. By raising Spock's head, Jim was able to get him to drink quite a bit. Of course that stubborn Vulcan hadn't taken any of the water tabs, or drunk any of their water supply, and even a Vulcan can only go so long without liquid. Well, Jim said after a few minutes he seemed to improve, at least the shaking stopped completely and he appeared more lucid.

Okay, hold right there. That seems to be the end of that bottle. I know I've got another one stashed around here somewhere. Where is it? Ah...there you are. Shit, I packed my bottle opener in my bag! Scotty! Yeah, I know Scotty has one!

Computer pause.

Chapter 3

Computer resume recording.

Scotty wanted me to stay and drink the night away with him. I guess he's having as hard a time with this as anybody, but I just couldn't hang out with him and hear him bemoan the fact that his precious "bairns" were about to have their guts ripped out. So I made my excuses. Sometimes it's just better to be alone. Oh, sorry. Alone with your computer, I mean.

Okay, let's see…so they're in the cave and Spock is coming around. Jim said his color was looking better and he had flung off the cloak that he had put over him, but he still wasn't responding with anything much more than one-word answers. Jim said he seemed tired more than anything else. But Jim figured Spock was just exhausted. Apparently Jim had been able to catch a few winks while they were holed up in the Romulan camp, although Spock insisted on staying alert.

After a while, Jim mixed up some of the noodles in one of the pouches and warmed it over a rock he'd heated with the phaser. He ate some of it, bad as it was, to try to keep his strength up. During one of the periods when Spock was awake, Jim tried to get him to eat, but Spock wouldn't, sayin' he wasn't hungry. It wasn't long before the Vulcan was asleep again. All this sleeping kinda worried Jim. Not wanting to fall asleep in case Spock took a turn for the worse, he propped himself against a rock and kept an eye on him. Jim said Spock would rouse for a few minutes, sit up and drink some of the water, but be out again in no time.

Guess it was during one of these sleep periods that Jim began to notice Spock's package. Now sure, we all get erections when we're asleep, and Jim damned well knows it, but he said this was pretty hard to ignore. I can just imagine. I saw the way those damned Romulan pants fit. Hell, they couldn't have been any tighter if the damned things had been painted on. They sure don't leave any doubts about how well you're hung, if you get my drift. And, being Spock's physician, I know for a fact he wasn't exactly hiding behind the door when they were handing out equipment.

Well, I guess the view was a nice one and Jim began to let his imagination run away with him. He started thinking of all sorts of things he'd never allowed himself to seriously consider before. Well, at least not with Spock in the same room. He admitted to me--right there, unashamed--that he had developed deep feelings for the Vulcan from the beginning and had thought about approaching him from time to time. He told me that Spock had never seemed interested in a sexual relationship so he never took things to the next step.

Guess that's when I realized just who it was that Jim had spoken of in my cabin all those years ago. Not that it came as any big surprise, I’d always suspected as much. Anyway, sittin' there watching the object of his secret affection gettin' aroused, he must'a got himself pretty worked up. But, hell, a little sexual fantasy never hurt anybody, right? I mean, they had a lot of empty time to kill down there. And it's not like he did anything about it. He just shook off the urge. But when he looked back up towards Spock's face, his eyes were open...looking right at him!

Jim was pretty embarrassed to be caught staring at Spock's goods like that. Anyway, he hopped up and started busying himself with the supplies. By this time Spock was sitting up and looking like he was going to be okay. He asked Spock if he felt like trying any of the food packs, but he still refused. Jim said he couldn't much blame him; starving was almost a better option.

Figuring that Spock didn't need anyone hovering over him, Jim decided to try out the pool of water to get some of the grime off. Hell, he probably needed to get away from Spock for a while, y'know, at least until he could cool off a bit. Anyway, he walked to the edge of the pool and began to strip off his clothes. Said he'd thrown his tunic on the ground and was just about to shed his trousers when a thought occurred to him.

If Spock was aroused while he was wide-awake, just maybe their minds were running in the same direction. Now I gotta tell ya, there's very few men I've ever run across that can turn me on just by stripping off their clothes, but watching Jim Kirk get undressed is just about as pleasing a sight as I've ever seen. Hell, he's almost made me cum just by getting outta his uniform. He didn't say so, but I've gotta feeling he put everything he had into getting out of his pants. That man could make a Goddamned bulkhead horny!

When he finally got in the water, he realized the bottom wasn't all that deep, but it was deep enough to float and bathe in. At some point, he dared to look back at Spock and sure enough, he was sitting up taking in the whole damned show! Jim said that he knew right then, that if he had anything to say about it, before the evening was over he was going to curl up next to one hot Vulcan.

Feeling as clean as possible under the circumstances, he got out of the pool, shook the water off best he could and gathered up his clothes. He saw no need in getting redressed right then, not till he'd dried out anyway. Like I was telling you, I can believe this. Jim has never been what you'd call modest. So, he walked back to where Spock was propped up, spread out the clothes and sat down on them. Now, I've seen Jim in action more times than I'd care to count and his powers of seduction are formidable. Once he has his mind set on ya, there's just something he can do that can turn even the most tenacious to oatmeal. So I can just imagine what he was doing; the way he can look at ya through those damned eyelashes, and those hips ought to be declared an illegal weapon!

Anyway, back to the story. He said he told Spock the water felt good if he wanted to rinse off. Spock nodded and rose to go toward the pool. Jim noticed that when Spock got up, he seemed every bit as aroused as he had earlier. He watched the Vulcan the whole while as he unceremoniously shed his uniform and stepped into the water. The thought occurred to him to join him in there, but decided to just wait and see what happened when Spock returned.

Said he laid back, closed his eyes, and started considering some of the possibilities. Knowing this man as well as I do, I'm pretty sure he was stroking himself, but I didn't ask. He said he was wondering why he hadn't considered approaching Spock about a relationship before this. But, then again, Spock had never given any indication that he was interested in anything more than friendship. Hell, in reality he still hadn't! Being aroused is one thing, taking it to a physical stage is something else entirely.

Jim hadn't heard Spock leave the water, but when he opened his eyes, there the Vulcan was, standing at his feet and watching his every move. Jim said Spock's condition hadn't changed, and even more than that, there seemed to be a fire in those eyes that left no doubt about what was going to transpire between them. Jim said he moved in a way to give Spock an open invitation to lay down with him. Spock knelt down between his legs and Jim reached to pull him to him, but evidently the Vulcan had other ideas.

Without so much as a 'hello, don't mind if I do,' Spock grasped his calves, hoisted them to his shoulders, and centered his cock to Jim's rectum. Jim said he tried to protest, but before he could even get the word, "Wait" out, he was impaled. God, the pain he musta felt at that moment is unimaginable. He said it seared him to his very core, even to the point that he found it hard to breathe.

Spock released his legs and covered him. Jim said he tried to scream out, but Spock clamped his mouth down on top of his in a brutal kiss. He tried to push Spock off, hit him so hard in the sides that he thought for sure he had broken the Vulcan's ribs, but even that was no deterrent. Before he could land another blow, he found his wrists being held above his head by one of Spock's hands. Guess all he could do was lay there and take it. He did say that after a couple of minutes he, mercifully, felt a slickness forming. He didn't want to think about it being his own blood that was greasing the path, but he knew that it was.

When he told me that, I watched the shudder that ran through him. It was all I could do to sit in that chair and listen to what happened. I wanted to get up and run away. I didn’t know how much more I could stand to hear. But the story was pouring out in a rush, and I knew he had to get it outta his system. God knows there wasn't anyone else on the ship he could tell this to! So, I told him it was "okay," and he continued.

Spock still had his mouth covered so the only air Jim could get into his lungs was what he could suck in through his nostrils. He's pretty sure he passed out ‘cause the next thing he knew, Spock wasn't restraining his hands any longer and he had his fingers on Jim's meld points. Jim didn't remember Spock entering his mind, but he knew this wasn't like any of the melds he'd had with him before. This time he was paralyzed. Said he couldn't have moved even if he had wanted to.

Jim said it was like Spock had taken over his body and all its functions; breathing, moving, even his heart beating was under Spock's control. The only thing that still felt like his own was his mind, but even his thoughts seemed to echo within Spock. Even then, through the meld, he tried to tell Spock to stop, but he was met with only a wall of his own pain and Spock's need and lust that had to be quenched. There was no reaching him on any level.

And, as much as his own thoughts were flowing to Spock, he realized that if he concentrated, he could hear Spock in his own mind. It was more than that; as best as he could explain it, it was as if Spock existed through him. He found himself falling into this consciousness that was inside of him. He could feel every sensation that Spock was feeling. He was surprised to find that Spock was hurtin' too. That his groin felt like it was on fire. But this was only one of a thousand sensations flowing through the Vulcan.

He said he kept getting this Vulcan word, I can't for the life of me remember how to pronounce it, but he knew it meant a "blood bond" that must be created between them. He also knew that some part of Spock was elated to have his organ embedded inside of the very person he had desired and been unable to approach since their first days together. He felt the ecstasy that comes with sexual gratification when you are finally with the one person you've wanted with all of your being. He also knew, without a doubt, that this was Spock's first time.

Somewhere during this discovery, Jim was able to forget about his own pain and begin to respond. Everything seemed like it was gonna be okay. Yeah, he was gonna be sore as the dickens, but by focusing on Spock, the result was going to be enjoyable.

Well, sir, that's about as long as any thoughts of pleasure lasted. Next thing he knew, it felt like a Goddamned volcano had erupted inside of him. I guess when that hot semen hit those open lacerations, it must have just about killed him!

Jim said once he was freed, he rolled over on his side, pulled his knees up, and tried to mentally control the blistering pain that radiated from inside of him. He has no idea how long he lay there, may have been just'a couple a' minutes, but he doesn't know for sure. Time didn't have any meaning right then.

Spock picked Jim up and carried him to the pool. Evidently with great care, he lowered Jim into the water and washed him. When the water hit his back, he knew that his back was scraped all to hell from the rocky ground where he had been taken. It burned, but nothing like the fingers that proceeded to bathe him…elsewhere. But, he had to admit, once the initial pain from the water had subsided, it did feel somewhat soothing.

Of course I could've told him why it helped. It was the high zinc level. It was the same reason Jim's blood showed elevated levels after drinking the water, the same substance that was used in soothing ointments for centuries. But, I figured he didn't need a medical lesson right then, so I stayed quiet and let him talk.

Spock lifted him out of the water and put him down. It was all he could do to support himself on his own feet. He made it back to where the clothes were and, as much as he was able, he spread them out and lay down. He said he fell asleep almost immediately. I guess his mind was just trying to clamp down on what had happened. The brain's a funny thing, like that. Has a way of shuttin' off when there are things goin' on that you don't wanna deal with.

When he woke up, he felt a body against him. He said he tried to roll away, but found himself held tight by the Vulcan's arms. He could feel Spock against him and thought he was about to be invaded again. He said he tried to scream, but his throat was dry, so the best he could do was to grate out somethin' like, "Goddammit, Spock! Don't touch me! I'm ripped to pieces!"

Evidently that did the trick because Spock released him and Jim rolled away from him, getting as far away as the small cave allowed. He was afraid that Spock was going to chase him down, but he made no move toward him. Jim said Spock sat up on the mat, crossed his legs, and lowered his head. When he began to speak, Jim had to strain to hear what he was saying. Spock told him he was sorry. That he thought Jim understood that it had to be this way.

Jim asked him what way, what the hell he was talking about.

Spock told him that since Jim had participated in many such encounters, that had he prepared him, there would have been no blood exchange, no bonding, between them.

Jim said he asked what Spock he meant by "many such encounters," and what the hell he meant by a "bonding?"

Well sir, by Jim offering himself up the way he did, he gave Spock the idea that he was ready to be his bondmate, something Spock had secretly desired all along. Spock told him that sexual activity was not something Vulcans engage in until they are ready to be bonded for the first time. Seems that to be bonded, not only must there be a meld, but there must be an exchange of blood; a blood oath, to each other.

Well, little did we know that when we've had to meld with Spock over these years, he was picking up on what was goin' on between Jim and me. Spock had known all along about mine and Jim's little arrangement, and knew it wouldn't achieve the desired results if he had taken it easy on him, like it would have if he was bonding himself to a male who'd never had anal intercourse before. I guess it's just not the same unless you can split your partner wide open! On top of that, Spock told Jim that now that they were bonded, his association with me would have to stop.

Beyond the shock at hearing all this, it pissed me off that Spock was telling Jim who he could and couldn't be with. I'd never fooled myself into thinking Jim was going to be with me forever, but I sure as hell didn't think it was that damned Vulcan's business what Jim and I choose to do!

Anyway, I have no doubt that Jim could've handled the next hours better. Never have seen a man so determined not to be backed into a corner. He let Spock know in no uncertain terms that sex, normal sex, was one thing, but he wasn't ready to let himself get tied down to any one person. Spock pulled back into his most Vulcan self, and kept telling Jim that what was done, was done. Said he kept muttering some Vulcan term, "Kalith or Kaiidth," or something like that, which in Standard must mean, "Too fucking bad!"

Well, the first twenty-four hour period came and went, but we were still out of range of even the communicators at that time, so they were stuck down there for another day. Spock barely moved from the makeshift mat, and Jim wasn't sure how to handle the whole mess. It sounds like Spock was suffering from some degree of pon farr and was going through a pretty tough time. Jim said he spent that first night just royally pissed. But, after so long of watching the man who had been his friend these many years, doing nothing more than holding his middle and rocking back in forth like he was going through agony, Jim knew that whatever else had happened, he had to help him.

I'm sure Jim was afraid to approach him. Sure, under normal circumstances, Jim can hold his own against Spock on a wrestling mat, but you mix in those damned ancient Vulcan urges, and you get one powerful being! Jim said he knew he couldn't stand for Spock to fuck him again, but over the next hours they worked it out so he could help Spock relieve some of what he was going through. I didn't ask what, and he didn't expand, but it didn't take much imagination to figure out why Jim had higher-than-normal trace elements of copper on his exam, especially considerin' Spock's biological system is copper based.

Late onto the second day of their seclusion, Spock seemed to pull out of it. Jim said he once again became very quiet, and meditated on and off. Jim said he just sat and watched him. He said he still hurt, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, well, except for one time he had slipped into one of the distant tunnels to answer the call of nature, and it about tore him apart. Said he noticed he was bleeding again, and spent a couple of hours soaking in the pool of water.

It was in these hours of watching Spock that Jim really began to think about what had transpired between them. Began to realize he had been putting off signals to let Spock know he'd be willing for a long time, maybe since the beginning. He knew from the meld that these feelings were nothing new on Spock's part. Jim said he thought about the small touches that had always seemed so natural between them, even though he knew Vulcans didn't like to be touched. He said he started to realize just how important Spock was to him, how much he really did care for him.

But the burning inside, and the buzzing in his head, which he was now understanding was the bond that had formed, reminded him of the viciousness of the way he had been taken, claimed, by Spock. And the tenderness he would start to feel for Spock would quickly turned to anger.

And so it went, Jim wrestling with his emotions until the time came to try to contact the ship. By that time, we were back in range. Scotty told Jim the planet had been evacuated and the Romulans were headed toward home. Jim gave Scotty the coordinates for the cave entrance and told him they would be there in two hours. They dressed, gathered their supplies, and made their way out toward the entrance in silence. During this time, Jim had made a decision. When they reached the mouth of the cave, he told Spock that no one would ever know what had happened between them. He told Spock that whatever it took they were going to break this bond and, until that could be accomplished, Spock was to say nothing. Of course, he hadn't taken into consideration that I would order complete physicals for the both of them.

He said Spock nodded his consent. Jim contacted the ship and they were beamed aboard with no one being the wiser about what had transpired down there.

Now personally, I could see this from both sides. Yeah, Spock should'a told Jim what he was in for. But there's no doubt that Jim used all of that damned sexual energy he carries around to encourage Spock. And our Vulcan friend just assumed that Jim knew what he was committing to. No, Spock hadn't raped him, not in the strictest sense of the term. Hell, I guess if the truth be known, he'd married him!

But I also knew that Jim had gotten himself into something way over his head. And he was scared, scared as I've ever seen him. Scared that someone he trusted was capable of that kinda violence, scared about what being bonded to Spock meant. And, I think, he was scared that maybe, just maybe, he was feeling things that he'd never prepared himself to feel toward another person.

I need ice. Dammit! They've powered down the replicators! There's gotta be ice around here somewhere.

Computer pause.

Chapter 4

Computer resume.

Okay, I'm set for the night. I have enough ice to sink the Goddamned Titanic. Well, I might as well tell ya the rest of it. It's been two months of hell around here!

After Jim finished, he just sat there, looking like a man who's had his last emotion drained from him. Hell, I didn't know what to say to him. First time I can remember when I was at a loss for words.

I told him the first order of business was rest. That I was going to put the both on them on the inactive list for twenty-four hours and I didn't want any argument. And I told him to stay away from Spock until this mess was straightened out. I didn't know how this bond was going to affect Spock, and until I had some answers, I didn't want him to take any chances on reopening those wounds.

Well, I should'a known that Jim Kirk would do as he damned well pleased! I found out later that he stayed in his cabin exactly two hours before he was beatin' down Spock's door. While I'm up to my ears in the computer bank trying to sort out what this bond meant, and if there was anyway to break it, he's in Spock's cabin demanding answers. There was one other thing he'd decided he needed to tell Spock, too. That he wanted him to share his life, and his bed.

To Jim's surprise, Spock didn't welcome this change of heart. He would only refer to him as "Captain," and stated that Jim had been right. That his actions were deplorable. He stated he wished to present himself on charges of sodomizing a superior officer.

Jim told Spock he would have a hard time proving anything because he was the superior officer in question, and would testify that it was a mutual act.

Now, how'd I find out about this? Well, I had come across some reference to the capabilities of these people called Kolinahrus. Seems they have all sorts of talents, including the dissolution of Vulcan marriages. I had to assume that meant the bond that existed between partners, as well. But the information was vague and since I already knew all about what'd happened, I thought it was high time that I go see Spock.

When Jim turned around and saw me standing there, he looked just about like the kid whose hand has been caught in the cookie jar. He asked me what the hell I was doing there. I could'a asked him the same question.

"I need to talk to Spock, alone," I told him. "I think I ordered you to your cabin for rest." Yeah, it pissed me off that he did exactly what I told him not to do. I continued, "Now, Captain, sir, if you'll excuse us, I wanna talk to Spock."

He tried to protest. "Bones," he said in that way he does when he's trying to get around me. But I was having no part of it. He'd sunk me right in the middle of this and, dammit, I was going to handle it the way I saw fit. Besides, they both needed some time apart, time to sort out exactly what had happened between them. Jim may have been thrown into this, but Spock had some say-so about this too, and it was up to me to see he got it. There was more than one man hurting here; the look in the Vulcan's eyes proved that.

Jim, seeing I meant business, walked toward the door, but before he left, he turned and said to Spock, "Don't make any decisions before we talk. Promise me that, will you?"

I looked toward Spock to see him nod and respond with, "I shall grant you that request, Captain." Damn, he was so formal! He only gets like that when he's holding on by a thread. I'd been around him enough to know that.

Jim left and the door slid closed, leaving us alone. I didn't even know where to start. Luckily, Spock got the conversation started with, "Doctor, I believe we completed all that was necessary, earlier. I wish to be left alone."

Well, although he was tryin’ to get me to leave, it gave me the opening I needed. I decided it was time to dive right in before he could throw me out. I held my ground, and said, "Spock, I know what went on down there. Now don't blame Jim. He couldn't disguise the injuries he's suffered. The rest, well, he told me because I was assuming the worst. Spock, we've gotta talk about this."

Talking about what had gone on was not something Spock was willing to do. But who could blame him? I told him that I was there not only as a doctor, but as a friend. I can't remember the exact words I used, but I told him that I'd overheard most of what Jim had said, and that it sounded to me like Jim may be warming up to the idea of a relationship between them.

I was hoping that he would relax a little, but he didn't move a muscle. Stood there rigid as a statue. I didn't understand why he wasn't glad that Jim wanted him, but it sure didn't seem to bring him any comfort. But, he hadn't tossed me into the corridor, yet, so I just kept pushing on. I asked him about this thing called a "blood oath," and why had he felt the need to injure Jim in such a way. That got his attention, let me tell you.

The look in his eyes scared the shit outta me! He told me I was speaking about something that was never revealed except between bonded couples, and I should not mention it again.

Now, it really pissed me off to have him stand there and talk about all this Vulcan hocus-pocus, like I had no business approaching the subject. Told him so, too! I told him that I was involved. I'd been the one who'd had to treat Jim after he'd been at him. That seemed to take him down a mite. And while I was on a roll, I added that if he'd ever opened up the tiniest bit about all this stuff associated with his heritage, not to mention his biology, that some of this could've been avoided. I told him that as CMO, it was my responsibility to see that this crew ran at top efficiency and that I had serious doubts about not only the captain, but also the second in command! I told him that like it or not, I was involved, right up to my neck!

He nodded, slightly. "I agree, Doctor," he finally replied. "Your argument is a logical, albeit emotional, one. I will cooperate," he stated, and I could see his shoulders relax under the uniform.

I followed him as he turned and walked toward the long bench that occupied the center of the room. He sat down, perched stiffly on the edge, and I turned the desk chair around so I could face him.

"Spock," I started, "what happened down there? Why now?"

He said that not long after landing on the planet, he began to feel something very much like the effects of pon farr. At first, he thought it was brought on by the heat of the planet, very nearly that of Vulcan. But he soon realized the reason he was affected was because the mission, and his time with Jim, was coming to an end. He said that when the Romulan guard discovered them, what the guard was saying to Jim enflamed his ancient Vulcan urges. Seems that by Jim having the fair features and muted characteristics, the smaller than usual ears and no upsweep to his eyebrows, this made him quite attractive to the Romulan. These features are considered effeminate among Romulans, something the guard wished to capitalize on, and the suggestions he was making were quite inappropriate. He knew if Jim had not stopped him, he would have surely killed the guard and that it would not have been from duty but from a shameful display of jealousy.

He told me that in the next hours he felt the fires raging within him and fought to keep them at bay. During the time of their escape, and the battle that ensued, he thought he had managed to control the urges. By the time they arrived back at the cave that held their supplies, he was sure he was once again under control. As part of the cleansing process after such an emotional outburst, he had refused all drink or food. It seems that a fast is part of the recuperative process that Vulcans must endure when the mind is centered on repressing emotions.

However, the accident in the cave, and the injuries suffered because of it, left him with little protection against the fever that was still burning within him. When Jim lifted his head and gave him water, he could feel the emotions directed toward him through the touch. What he could feel from Jim was beyond the normal caring and concern for an injured crewmember. It was those same feelings he had felt from him before, the same feelings he, himself, had fought against since Jim had first reported to the ship. When Jim made it obvious that he was welcome to make love to him, Spock believed Jim had decided that he wanted to become his bondmate.

"But, Spock," I asked him, "didn't you realize that to take him in such a vicious manner would injure him, alienate him?"

I'll never forget the way he looked at me when he replied, "I was not his first. And since your intercourse with him is frequent, there was no other alternative. I had to take him in a way that would seal our bond." God, his expression had turned to steel. There was somethin’ about the way those dark eyes had turned cold as ice that made me think he was blaming all this on me! Like he’d been so brutal ‘cause he was tryin’ to burn the memory of me outta Jim’s mind!

Well, this wasn’t the time to get into an argument with Spock over Jim, even if Jim had been my primary lover for the last four years. Somethin’ that I felt wasn’t any of his business. So I decided to ignore the reference to my relationship to Jim. After all, this was not the issue at the time.

And I still wasn't clear on the reason for the brutality or what this blood-thing was all about "I don’t understand this blood bond. Can you explain that to me?” I asked him. “It sounds to me like Jim was the only one injured to the point of bleeding."

He became very uncomfortable, I guess you’d say almost fidgety, but since he’d said he would cooperate, he finally told me everything. Now, I always thought that spare eyelid thing was a curious oddity. Well, it's nothin’ compared to what I found out next! He explained that when a Vulcan male is bonded for the first time that there is an actual mixing of the blood that must take place. Seems the Vulcan male genitalia is quite different from a human male in that there's a membrane that ruptures, causing the male to bleed when he has intercourse for the first time.

The first time I had examined him, I had asked him about the thin band of clear tissue that seemed to surround his shaft, and his answer had been that he was perfectly normal for a Vulcan male of his age. I’d just had to take his word for it since the Vulcans hadn’t seen fit to fill us in on anything but the basic Vulcan anatomy. It hit me that this was the membrane he was speaking of. I'd never questioned him about it again, but this explained why Jim had felt Spock's pain through the bond.

"So, Jim was right," I whispered. "This was your first...encounter."

His eyes softened, and he looked down as he replied, "Indeed. He is my first bond, therefore, he is my first sexual contact." After a few moments of silence, Spock explained that since Jim and I had seen him through one near-bonding, he just assumed Jim knew all about this.

"Spock, he didn't know. Neither of us did. Hell, I was there at the bonding ceremony too, but I didn't understand half of what was going on," I told him. God, as vulnerable as Jim had been, it was even worse with Spock. He looked at me. Any coldness that had been in that face was gone, and all the pain I’d ever witnessed before was radiating from those dark eyes.

He nodded. "I am aware of this, now. That which I have done is unforgivable."

I tried to soothe him by telling him that "unforgivable," was a little on the strong side. I told him that it may take time, but that there just might be a happy ending to this situation. I advised him to go to Jim and see what they could work out together. But he was damned insistent that the relationship would never succeed. He said that neither he, nor Jim, nor the Vulcans would ever be able to accept the bond, considering the way in which it was formed.

That's when he told me about Re'letli. Seems it's just about the worst thing you can do as a Vulcan. It literally is the forceful taking of a bondmate. It means to bond with someone who is unwilling or has not consented to join their mind to yours. It was the last act that carried the death sentence on Vulcan, before they did away with executions altogether. Seems that taking someone's body by force is sometimes necessary to achieve what must happen between bonded couples, but the taking of one's mind by force is never allowed. By doing just this, Spock had committed the greatest offense that is possible among the Vulcan people.

I tried to tell him he was being too hard on himself. That this was just a case of some seriously crossed signals. What he had done, he thought he was being invited to do. Jim just didn't know what he was lettin' himself in for. But there was no reasoning with him on this point. Since the bond seemed to be the one thing causing all the problems, I told him that I'd found information about someone called a Kolinahru, and the capabilities of this person to break a bond. I asked him if that would be a possibility.

Damn near shocked him outta his boots with that one. He was mighty surprised that I would know anything about one of these Kolinahru. Said it was a Vulcan ritual only done in complete secrecy and that there were few who even knew of the existence of such people. But, he said that it was a possibility. Said it could be done in conjunction with some kinda purging of all emotions. Hell, I thought all the rules associated with the Neo-Protestant religion that my grandmother tried to get me involved with as a child was hard to understand. Ain't nothin' compared with all the stuff these Vulcans have come up with! Anyway, he said something about going to Vulcan being the only option still open for him.

The man was hurting, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do to stop this kind of pain. I told him that he owed it to Jim to talk to him, but not yet. Right now they were both running on empty and needed time to rest.

There wasn't much else that could be done about this right then, so I stood up to leave. This whole thing was a mess and wasn't going to be solved in one afternoon. With all that had happened, there was only one thing about this that was obvious. I turned to him and asked, "You really do love him, don't you?"

"Yes," he replied.

I nodded and walked to the door. He stopped me when he said, "Doctor, you do understand that your relationship with him will have to stop. That what you have been to him in the past, can no longer be." It wasn't a question.

There it was. Now he was trying to tell me who I could and couldn't be with, and I wasn't going to take that from nobody. "I think there are some things that you need to leave up to Jim and me," I answered, not exactly politely. I didn't wait for him to respond, I just left.

I knew we had several weeks before we were due back at Earth Central. I figured that the best thing to do was just to leave well enough alone for the time being. Spock seemed subdued as hell and I didn't see any reason to be concerned about anything happening between them that they didn't both consent to. After all, we have the best security team in the galaxy right here on the ship and they can be anywhere at a moment's notice.

Besides, I thought giving them some time, they just may find out that this thing wasn't so bad and really begin to accept it. I didn't know of two other men in this universe who needed someone permanent in their lives like those two did. And, as much as I would have loved to be to Jim what he needed, I knew I wasn't ever going to be that person. I just thought that Spock might be the one. You know, if there's one thing I can admit about myself, when I'm wrong, I'm damned wrong!

Is it just me or am I beginning to smell like the inside of a bourbon bottle? Think I'll run through the shower.

Computer pause.

Chapter 5

Computer resume.

There, that's better. Nice to get outta that damned uniform and into my robe, too. Got the torture machine hanging in the fresher for tomorrow. That's what I call these dress uniforms. They want us to be all spiffed up for the docking ceremony in the morning. Well, with any luck, I'll still be too drunk to notice the damned thing's choking me! Let me pour myself just one more littl' one, oh...what the hell, might as well make it a big one, and I'll get on with this. Can I offer you one? Guess not, huh.

Okay, so I had decided to just leave them to their own devices and see where it took them. Didn't take them far. For the next few weeks, Spock reported for his duty shifts, but no one saw him other than that. Didn't have two words to say to anyone that wasn't in the line of duty. Everyone noticed that something was wrong. Of course no one, 'cept me, had any idea what was going on.

As for Jim, he walked around like a man sitting atop a razor blade. He was snapping at people right and left. Yeah, I know it was his responsibility to make sure the ship was in top condition when it came time for inspection, but that didn't account for his piss-poor attitude over every little thing. Poor Scotty. He got jumped so often, I thought he was going to crawl right outta his skin before we could get back to spacedock.

I couldn't talk to Jim. Tried on more than a few occasions and he'd just shut down completely. Well, that's how things were, that is until night before last. Now I know time-warp is possible, and if I had anything to say about it, we'd put this damned ship in overdrive and flash back two days, leaving everything that happened that night behind. Course, I guess if any of us had a choice, we'd all just as soon forget that night. Damn! I still can't believe it!

Yeah, I know I'm still recording. I'm just trying to figure out how to say this. Hell, I was there and it still all seems like a blur.

Okay, two nights ago, well after midnight, I was alone in my cabin and feeling pretty lonely. All right, I guess if I'm gonna be completely honest with you, I was horny; horny as hell and needing Jim. We hadn't been together in almost three months and my body was aching for him.

I paged him in his cabin and asked him what he was doing, and if he felt like having company. I could tell he knew exactly what kinda company I was talking about and, after a pause, he told me that he was in bed and, yeah, he could use some company, to come on up. I grabbed a tube of lubricant out of the cabinet and headed up to his deck. I knew I wasn't going to stay the night, I never did, and since I wasn't on duty, I sure didn't see the need to carry my medical kit. Geoff M'Benga was on duty and he was certainly capable of handling anything that came up.

It wasn't five minutes later that I was signaling my presence at Jim's door. The door slid open and I stepped inside the nearly dark cabin. The light was set so low that it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. Then I heard him call my name from the bed. I saw him through the mesh partition; he was propped up on one elbow, a sheet just barely covering his groin, waiting for me. Damn, just the sight of him about did me in! I walked to the side of the bed and he came to his knees, the sheet falling away and exposing that beautiful, aroused body. He reached for me and slipped his hands under my shirt. God, how I'd missed feeling those fingers slide across my skin! Makes me shiver even now to think of it.

He pulled my shirt off, and I quickly got rid of the rest of my clothing, tossing the tube I had brought with me on the pillow. He stroked the length of my cock, and I did the same to him. He was so ready. His hard cock reacted with each touch. I grazed my thumb across his cap and was rewarded with slick beads of anticipation. God, how I craved the taste of him! I knelt down and captured the tip of his cock with my lips, letting those sweet drops fall on my tongue. It was then that it hit me how much I depended on our times together. Being with him wasn’t just a romp to relieve the stresses that come with serving on a ship. This was makin’ love to someone I really cared about. When I realized that, it started an aching in my chest that hasn’t stopped yet.

Before I could take him over the edge, he pulled me to my feet and brought his mouth to mine. Between long, probing, mouth-exploring kisses, I told him how much I’d missed him. He laid me down on the bed and covered me, pressing our erections together. Somehow, I managed to find the tube, even with my hands shaking, opened the cap and spread some on my fingers. He spread his thighs so he was straddling my hips. I reached around him, found his entrance, and spread the gel around the tight orifice. With this, I could feel him tense and move away from my fingers.

"You're not still sore, are you?" I asked him. It'd been over two months and if he was still having problems, then there was something seriously wrong.

"No," he whispered as he drew small circles with his fingertips around my nipples, making me shudder. "It's just that the last time I was..."

I understood. The memory of the last invasion was still with him. "We don't have to do this," I told him. "Or, if you'd rather, you can fuck me."

"No, I remember how good it felt to have you in me. I'll be all right. Just...go easy, okay?"

God, I wanted him so badly, wanted this to be good for him. "Yes," I assured him. "Yes, very easy, but not this way. I can control my entry better if you roll over." He knew exactly what I meant and rolled off of me to lay on his stomach. He spread his thighs, pulling one leg up to give me full access to him. I ran my fingers within the crevice, slowly, to get him used to the feeling of being touched here again. With every stroke, I gently traced his opening and then dipped my finger into it. At first, he lay very still, but when I had worked one finger in as far as my knuckle, he began to push back against me. Pushing in deeper, I found that spot that made him open up to me. I felt the ring of muscle begin to relax and I told him when I was about to push the second finger inside.

My second finger had just penetrated him when his hips pushed hard against my hand. He was getting very ready for more. I followed it with a third finger, and the muscle gave way. It was then that he began to moan and told me he was ready for me. Makin' sure I had him as relaxed as possible, I withdrew my fingers and centered my cock to him. Very slowly, I pressed inside. I thought to myself that this must be how it was with someone who had never been invaded before. I was so very careful to pay attention to his every move, watchin' out for any sign of discomfort--physical or otherwise. It wasn't long before I was fully encased inside of him.

Oh, God, it felt so good to be inside of him again! I began to move, slowly at first, until I knew he was used to the full length of me. I reached around his bent leg and wrapped my hand around his erection. He had softened, slightly, and that was understandable, but he was soon fully erect with me pumping inside of him, and stroking him with each thrust. Just about the time things really got heated up, that's when all hell broke loose.

I was just feelin' like I couldn't hold out any longer, and wonderin' if I should cum inside of him or pull out first, when I felt an arm encircle my neck, and another grab me around the waist. Now, I swear, it took a few seconds for me to figure out what was happenin'. By that time, I'd been ripped out of him and flung against the side of the divider, busting the thing in the process. Next thing I knew, Spock was on top of me, fire like I've never seen in his eyes, and his hands were around my throat. God, look at my hands! It still makes me shake to think of it!

You know how some people talk about an 'out of body,' experience? Well, I guess now I know what they're talkin' about. I remember this like I was just floating above watching what was goin' on. Still doesn't seem real. Jim came up off the bunk and tried to pull him off of me, but with just one hand, Spock flung him aside like he was some rag doll. I knew that I'd breathed my last. Spock was gonna kill me right then and there. Then Jim stood back up and began ordering Spock to let me go. Just like he was up there on the bridge, that same "no nonsense" voice he uses.

Well, it must have registered on some level with that Vulcan, 'cause he let me go, but he turned on Jim so quick that neither one of us saw it coming. He grabbed Jim and threw him on the bed and covered him with his own body. Jim was fighting like a son-of-a-bitch, but it was no use. I was still trying to get to my feet when I saw what was he was doin'.

Spock had Jim on the bed, one of his arms was tucked up under him and he couldn't get it free. The other, Spock was holding tight. With his free hand, Spock was working to get the clasp of his pants undone. I knew I had to do something, and fast, or he was gonna rape Jim right there in front of me. I tried to grab him by the shoulders, but he stopped what he was doing and belted me so hard that I went flying onto the floor, again. I felt like I was going to pass out, but I think the situation at hand kept me from it. Somehow I was able to drag myself over to the desk and pull myself up. The first thing I thought of was a sedative. I called the lights to full power and began to look around for my kit. Then I realized I hadn't brought it with me.

I looked back toward the bed and saw Spock had pushed his trousers below his hips and had pulled one of Jim's legs up. He was centering himself for the invasion. And, as Jim had described the events in the cave, Spock's mouth covered his, allowing only deep, guttural sounds of desperation to escape. I reached for the console and keyed the emergency code for sickbay. M'Benga answered and I told him to bring a sedative syringe to the captain's quarters, STAT. I ran back around the partition, well, what was left of it, and started screaming at Spock to stop, but it didn't even slow him up. I was grabbing and screaming at him when I saw him plunge into Jim. I couldn't....

Computer stop!

Chapter 6

Computer resume.

Okay, I'm better now. Every time I remember that moment it affects me like that. I guess someday I'll stop gettin' sick to my stomach when I remember that scene.

Anyway, after what was probably a couple of minutes, but it seemed like hours, I saw the light from the corridor and M'Benga come charging through the door. Now I've never seen anything rattle Geoff before, but that sight brought him to a complete halt. I grabbed the syringe outta his hand and landed a clean blow on Spock's shoulder, plunging the whole dose into him. Now there's enough of that stuff in a full syringe to knock out a horse, but for a second, I didn't think even that was going to stop him. Then I saw Spock slump a little and Geoff, who'd recovered from the shock of seeing such a sight, at least enough to move, rounded the barrier and together we pulled him off Jim.

It wasn't until then we realized that two security officers had entered the cabin, phasers drawn, and was seeing what was going on. Dammit! I hadn't even thought about the fact that security team members go to every emergency call unless directed not to. I hadn't put through the all-clear to stop them.

There Jim and I are, buck naked as the day we were born. I'm looking like I've just gone ten rounds with the mutha of all Klingons. Geoff M'Benga, the only one of us fully dressed mind you, is hanging on to Spock, who's passed out cold, and still has his pants half down, and his privates bared for God n' everybody to see! If I hadn't been there, if I hadn't been a key player in this Goddamned mess, I could've almost laughed out loud, almost.

Well, I knew Spock was going to be taken to the brig, there was no getting around him being arrested, or so I thought. I turned to Jim, who by this time had rolled off the bed and was throwing on his robe and tossing me my trousers. I don't know if he knew security was there, hell I don't know if anything was registering with him just then.

Just as calm as you please, just like all the med chips say can happen in times of acute stress, I turn to Jim and say, "Jim, security's here. Do you want Spock arreste..."

"No," his eyes came up and flashed at me. He looked toward the shocked security officers and said, "Nothing has happened here that requires charges. You're dismissed."

"Sir?" one of the officers asked, obviously confused, but he didn't have a damned thing on me!

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Jim!" I insisted.

"Nothing, Bones!" he said, then told the officer, "I said, you're dismissed."

"Ye...yes, sir!" they said as they turned and left, but not before they had taken one more look at the scene in the room from the door.

He turned and looked at Spock while Geoff was getting his trousers resituated and fastened, and then back at me. "You called security?" he asked, angrily.

I was busy getting my own clothes back on, but couldn't believe he was angry with me. "I called for help. I didn't think about security responding, but forgive me if I wasn't exactly thinking clearly at the time! Jim, I don't know what the hell happened down there on that planet, but I have no doubts about what just went on in here. He about killed me, and he sure as hell ra..."

"That's enough, Doctor!" Jim shouted, cutting me off in mid sentence. He then turned toward the bed. "That'll be all. Dr. M'Benga, Dr. McCoy, you can both leave. I will handle things from here."

"Jim, we need to get Spock out of here, away from you. Let us take him to sickbay and restrain him if you won't let security arrest him."

"No," Jim shook his head, looking at the lifeless form on the bed. "He didn't mean to do this. I'm sure of it. He did warn me."

It was then that the words that Spock had said in his cabin came back to me. He had told me that the relationship I had with Jim couldn't continue. He had felt us through the bond, that much I was sure of, but that was still no guarantee that he was going to be any less violent when he pulled out from under the effects of the drug. "Jim..." I wanted to tell him I was stayin', but he stopped me.

"Bones," he whispered. "It's okay. I'll call if I need you, but, please, leave us alone."

Against every ounce of better judgment I have in my body, I nodded to Geoff. He laid Spock flat on the bed and looked briefly at the captain as he headed toward the door.

"Doctor," Jim called to him. Geoff turned. "Thanks," Jim said.

"Certainly, Captain. Please, call if you need assistance. I have experience with some of the Vulcan mind control techniques."

"I will," Jim nodded, but I had a feeling he was lying. There wasn't any more I could do or say, so I followed Geoff from the cabin.

M'Benga and I didn't talk till we got back to sickbay. I guess it wasn't until then that I got up the nerve to say anything to him. Finally, knowing he was the most knowledgeable onboard regarding Vulcans, he had done his post-graduate work at the Vulcan Science Academy, I asked him if he would come to my office. Once there, I asked him if he could explain what had happened to Spock.

He said his experience was limited, but he was showing all signs of a Vulcan going through Kalif'tut. Now, I had heard all about the Koonut Kal'ifee when we were going through that mess with Spock's bonding ceremony to T’Pring, so the name seemed familiar. He said it is a challenge when a threat is made to a bondmate. He asked if there was a possibility that Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk were bonded. In the briefest way possible, I explained that they were.

I told him that I certainly wasn't in Jim's room to cause him any harm, my state of undress when he arrived made it quite obvious just what I was there to do. He said it wasn't necessarily a threat of physical harm to the bondmate, but a threat to the bond itself that would cause such a reaction and that an act of infidelity was as much, or more, of a catalyst for such a reaction.

Jim said he knew Spock didn't mean to do this. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was the bond that had caused this. Well, the bond, and me not being able to keep it in my pants! If I hadn't gone to Jim that night, none of this would have happened. Anyway, I asked Geoff whether Jim would be safe when Spock awoke. Basically, he didn't know. But, he had never heard of a situation where bondmate turned on bondmate. However, rape was rare among bondmates too.

My eye was swelling shut, so he took me into the treatment room to attend to my injuries. But my mind was less on me, and more on what Geoff had said. So, I wasn't outta my mind. I wasn't the only one who saw this as a rape. Bond or no bond, what I had witnessed was Spock raping Jim.

It was about that time, right at 6:00 am ships time, that Christine came tearing into sickbay wanting to know if I was all right, wanted to know if Captain Kirk was okay, and had Spock really been arrested. Right then I knew we were in some deep shit. As near as I can figure, it took about forty minutes for word to start spreadin' about the scene in Jim's cabin.

As was procedure for any security call, there was a report filed and forwarded to the bridge about what had happened. Now this should’a been for Scotty's eyes only since he was on command duty, but God only knows how many people onboard have hacked into that system so they can see what's going on. And not having internal ships' messages coded meant it was there for anyone who'd ever taken a first year computer class to read.

It took some doing, she really didn't want to tell me all she'd heard, but I finally got it out of her. The gist of it was, when Chris had shown up in the cafeteria to get some coffee, she was inundated by several crewmembers all wantin' to know if it was true. Was there really a fight in the captain's quarters? Did security really have to show up and break up the whole mess? Did Dr. McCoy really go berserk? Were Dr. McCoy and the captain really having an affair? Or was it the first officer and Dr. McCoy who are involved? Did Mr. Spock really have to be pulled off the captain and sedated? Who was cheating on whom? Said there were about a hundred variations of these questions before she could get down the turbo and into sickbay.

I gotta tell ya, my first reaction was to find the nearest airlock and flush myself right out into space! But that wasn't gonna help Jim or Spock. Yeah, I'll admit it. Even after what had happened, I was mighty concerned about how this was going to affect that Vulcan. Hell, I knew Jim and I would get over it, someday. Bet they never heard of this on the pirate circuit at the outer rim, which is probably where we'd end up. But I was kinda worried that this kind of publicity would send Spock right over the edge, not that he wasn't there already.

By this time, Geoff had finished up with me, well as much as he could do under a local, and I sure wasn't gonna consent to anything more extensive, not now. I sat there watching Christine. There were so many questions in her eyes. Questions that even I didn't know if I had all the answers to. She turned and started putting away the equipment Geoff had used, and I heard her ask, "Leonard, are you and Spock...are you involved?"

I reached out and touched her sleeve and she turned to me. Now, there wasn't a soul on the ship who didn't know of Christine's desire for something more with Mr. Spock. Nor was there anyone who couldn't see it wasn't going to happen, except maybe Chris who kept eternal hope alive. Everyone else on the ship had rumor and speculation about this mess. That wasn't enough for her. "No, Chris. Spock isn't involved with me. It's just a situation where we find ourselves interested in the same person."

"Captain Kirk," she said with certainty.

I think I just nodded.

"And you?" she asked. "If they are involved, Leonard, what were you doing there?"

I glanced at Geoff who was still standing off to the side, propped against the shelf next to the bio-bed, his arms crossed and being as quiet as usual. I was pretty sure he had the same question floating around in his mind; he was just too much of a gentleman to ask.

"Chris," I said looking at her, wantin' to make this as clear as possible without all of the ugly details. "Captain Kirk and I have been...involved...for some time. Recently, a situation occurred where Spock and the captain found themselves bonded to each other." I saw the hurt in her face. But then I saw something else too. Maybe it was the facade of hope that she'd held onto slipping away. I continued, trying to explain the events of this evening. "It seems there's a lot Jim and I didn't realize about the power of this bond, and well...when I went to him, Spock didn't exactly welcome the idea that we were together. Chris, from what Dr. M'Benga has explained to me, it wasn't his fault. And it's Captain Kirk's choice not to press charges against him, at this time."

I didn't bother to tell her that I really hoped Jim would change his mind, at least until we could get all this sorted out. Did I believe Spock belonged in the brig? I guess on some level, after what I'd witnessed, I did. I was beginning to realize that he'd been driven to it, and that there was more than one person to blame for what went on. But to realize he was capable of that kinda violence, I knew he was a time bomb just waiting for the next opportunity to explode and I knew the next time, someone was gonna get killed.

Christine was still trying to make sense of this and I knew I couldn't just wait around for the next round of questions. There was someplace I needed to be. I stepped off the table and glanced in the mirror. Where M'Benga had used the regenerator on my face, it looked like I'd only been in a fight with a small Klingon.

I smoothed my uniform, made my excuses to Chris and Geoff, grabbed another hypo from the supply shelf and, after taking a deep breath, stepped out into the corridor.

Oh, God! My legs are asleep. I've gotta stretch!

Computer pause

Chapter 7

Computer resume

Okay, so I got some strange looks, but no one confronted me directly. That much I was grateful for. I just tried to ignore the hushed whispers as I passed by. There were a couple'a people hanging about when I keyed the override to Jim's cabin and stepped in. I was grateful that the last thing I heard was Scotty's booming voice saying, "If ye dinna have anything better to do than stand around, then ye'll find yer'self on scrub-down detail!" Bless him!

The door slid closed behind me and I saw them on the bunk. Jim was cradling Spock as if he were a child. Spock still seemed to be quite out of it. Jim looked up over the dark head. "Leave, Bones," he said.

I stepped closer and spoke softly in a voice that I hoped wouldn't disturb the sleeping Vulcan. Hell, if the truth be known, a phaser blast probably wouldn't have awakened him, not with the shot I'd given him. Anyway, I said, "Jim, I need to see you. Please, it's important."

Jim looked down at Spock and then freed his arm from beneath him. With that same gentleness I had seen from him once before, he smoothed the ruffled dark hair and laid a blanket over the sleeping form before he rounded the leaning partition. "What is it, Bones? I want to be with him when he wakes up." I could hear the irritation in his voice even though he was speaking barely above a whisper.

I felt like I was working a puzzle where none of the pieces fit. This man had raped Jim, once for sure, probably twice, and here he was cradling him. He'd been upset at having the bond forced on him, but had told Spock that he wanted them to work it out. Spock had forced the bond on him, and wouldn't hear of them staying together. But, let someone else show some interest, and he turns into some wild lunatic. And everyone thought I was losing it! I had nothing on these two!

But right now there were more pressing issues. "Jim, the word's out. I assume the whole ship knows what went on here last night."

"I assumed as much. What else?" he asked.

"What else?" My voice grew louder, but I was still trying to hold it down to a roar. "Jim, there's about a thousand 'what else's.' Where would you like to start?"

He nodded toward the bed. "With him, is he going to be okay?"

"Yeah, he'll be just fine. May have a doozy of a hangover, the stuff I filled him full of is pretty potent. But, other than that, he should be back to his old, cheerful self in no time!" Yeah, I know, probably not the time for sarcasm, but there are some things you just can't help.

He asked me, "Is there any way to bring him around? I have to talk to him before it's time to report to duty."

"Report to duty? Jim, have you just heard anything I've said?" I couldn't believe he was just gonna walk on the bridge like nothing had happened.

"Bones, we dock in two days. Like it or not, I'm still the captain. I have a job to do and I intend to carry it through. Now, answer my question, is there any way to bring him around?" The green eyes flashed at me. Somewhere deep down, on top of everything else, you just had to admire a man with this much gumption. I fingered the hypo I held at my back, knowing damned well that it would counteract the sedative.

I brought the mechanism out and handed it to him. "It's set at the right setting. Just get it into the shoulder or neck area and it should begin to work in a couple'a minutes. You want me to stay?"

"No, there's no telling what he'll do if he finds you here. He'll be all right with just me. I'm certain of that. Now Bones, leave us alone." The anger behind those eyes had cooled, but the forcefulness was still there.

I nodded my consent. "Come see me later, will ya? There's still a lot to talk about."

He nodded back at me. "Tonight, after the shift's end."

I walked out into an empty corridor. Evidently Scotty had been successful in dispersing any curious onlookers. Well, sir, that was about the longest damned day I've ever lived through. I checked the on-duty roster after the start of alpha shift and, sure enough, Jim was on the bridge. I didn't wander up to see how things were going, was trying to keep a pretty low profile, myself! Spock hadn't reported in, but he hadn't been assigned, either. Not that that usually kept him off duty.

Sure, there was enough in sickbay to keep me busy. I had to have everything finished up and catalogued. Although I had most of it finished, there are always those things you find which are overlooked. I think Chris thought I was gonna fall apart at any minute. In reality, she probably wasn't far from wrong. But every now and then she would either reach over and lay her hand on mine, or just ask me if I was okay, and it would keep me hanging on just a little longer. I know that Chris and I have had our differences over the years. But I have'ta give her credit, yesterday it was her strength and nonjudgmental attitude that kept me together more than anything I did. Hell, had I been left to my own devices, I probably would've crawled into this bottle twenty-four hours ago.

It was just after seventeen hundred hours when Jim walked into my office. Sure enough, he had come right after the shift end. He looked like the walking dead. I swear, this man who always looks the picture of health with his golden hair and his golden skin, looked positively gray. I think I told him that he looked like the devil, and asked him if he wanted a drink, but he shook his head.

He sounded tired and irritated when he asked, "Well, you asked me to come down. I'm here, what do you want?"

I told him exactly what I wanted. "I want to talk to you, like we've always been able to talk to each other. Jim, I don't understand all that's been going on here, I don't think you do, either. I don't know about you, but I need a friend. I need to talk to the person who's been my best friend over these last five years. And, something tells me, you need a friend, too."

"What I need," his voice softened to barely above a whisper, "is him. I need Spock, and he's leaving."

"Leaving? To go where? When?" I asked in a rush.

He held out a chip. "I found this when I got back to my cabin. He sent through a notice that he's resigning his commission and returning to Vulcan. As for when, I guess after we've docked and have turned the ship over."

Now I have to tell ya that this news was not exactly a surprise to me. Spock had talked about going to Vulcan several weeks before in his cabin, but until the events of the other night, I just assumed that they would figure out something to make this work. Now, I wasn't so sure this was a bad idea. "Jim, maybe this is what you both need, to have some time apart. Spock certainly isn't in the frame of mind to think clearly right now, and..."

"It's not just some time apart. According to this, he's going to Vulcan permanently. It says that as a part of purging all emotions, the bond will be broken, and he will never see me again. Bones, after we've docked, I'm going to go to him. I'm going to tell him that I'll go with him, whether it be to Vulcan or to hell, I don't care."

I couldn't help myself when I asked him, "Jim, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind? Do you remember what happened just hours ago?"

The eyes that looked back at me weren't those bright, hazel-green lights of wonderment that I had watched for these many years. These were clouded with confusion and anguish, the likes of which no one should ever have to face. He emitted a sound that chilled me right down to my bones. It was a chuckle, one devoid of all humor or joy. "Lost my mind? An interesting way of putting it. As for what went on, Bones, you're the one who doesn't understand. I drove him to it. Don't you understand? I love him. I can't stand to be without him."

I never expected to feel the stab in my gut with that one statement. But there it was, like a hot knife had just been buried inside of me. Of all the times I'd wondered what kept them apart, I'd never thought about how it would feel if they ever really discovered what they felt about each other.

I couldn't stand to see him standin' there, taking all the blame himself. "Jim," I said, "Spock tried to tell me. I didn't listen. He told me to stay away from you. So if you're wantin' to lay the blame for last night somewhere, here I am. But I don't care how many ways you try to twist this, nothing can justify what he did. I've known Spock as long as I've known you, and the man that showed up in your cabin in a rage isn't the man we've served with all these years. Did you get a chance to talk to him? What'd he have to say?"

He shook his head. "Not much. He had pulled back into that shell and as soon as he was able, he got up and left. He did say that I was in error not to have him arrested."

Now I was just on the verge of tellin' him that that may be the first thing Spock and I had agreed on in ages, but I didn't have the chance. The comm beeped and a message for him came through.

It was Chief of Security, DeLasso. First thing I thought of when I saw who it was callin', was that Spock was on the rampage again and headed to my office. Guess I was a little concerned that just Jim and I being together would set him off. But it wasn't anything like that. Jim keyed the unit and DeLasso informed him that the Vulcan transport had pulled along side and Mr. Spock was ready for departure.

Jim asked who had authorized this, and the officer answered, "Mr. Spock, sir."

Jim looked at me, and you wouldn't believe the terror that was registering in his face. He took off outta my office toward the transporter room and I wasn't two steps behind him. We musta looked like two madmen tearing off through the ship like we did, but I guess nothing we could do would surprise the crew at this point.

The doors to the transporter room slid open, only to see Mr. Kyle standing behind the control panel. Other than him, the room was empty. "Lieutenant, where is Mr. Spock?" Jim asked.

"Sir?" the confused man asked. "Why, he's just transported over to the Vulcan ship, sir."

"On whose authority, Lieutenant?" Jim asked.

"Authority, sir? Why, on his own authority. He ordered me to transport him over, and I wasn't going to disobey a superior officer, sir."

It was true, Spock could do as he damned well pleased. There certainly weren't any restrictions that had been placed on him. I could see Jim was realizing this too. "Very well, Lieutenant. You're dismissed." Kyle nodded and left the room. Jim walked to the control panel and called the communication station. "Uhura, put me through to that ship."

"Yes, sir. A moment, Captain," she answered. There was silence between us as he waited for the connection. "Sir," her voice came across the comm, "the Vulcan ship had just warped out. Our request for further communication is being denied."

"Understood, Lieutenant. Kirk out," he replied. Jezus! The look in his eyes! I swear, if we hadn't been standing in the transporter room, likely to be walked in on at any second, he would'a lost it right then and there. Never seen a man look so hit in the gut before.

He walked right past me, like I wasn't even there, and into the corridor. Stood there for a second like he was trying to decide which way to the turbolift. I didn't say a word, didn't dare. Not just yet. He'd already suffered enough humiliation with the crew. He didn't need to fall apart in public. I followed him to the lift and got on with him. He had to command his deck twice; the first time the computer didn't understand what he'd said. I still don't think he knew I was there with him. It wasn't until we were in his cabin that he turned and looked at me, almost surprised to see me, I think.

I looked around, the results of the previous night's activities still blatantly apparent with the mesh screen still leaning over like it was gonna fall at any moment.

I can't even tell ya what I was thinking right then. Hell, there was so much running through my mind, I felt like my brain was on warp speed. Confusion, anger, sadness; yeah, they were all there. And, I hate to admit it, but some relief that he was gone was floating around in my skull, too. Some part of me thought that maybe, just maybe, with him gone, we could begin to put this mess behind us and move on. And, I thought to myself, Jim wasn't losing the one person who really loved him. I was still here, and I wasn't going anywhere!

I guess that's the moment it really hit me. All this damned skirting the issue was over. I was in love with Jim Kirk, madly, hopelessly, follow him to the ends of the fucking universe, in love with him. And it'd only taken me five fucking years to figure that out. But now that Spock was outta the picture, I wasn't gonna let anything stop me from makin' sure we'd stay together. Again, when I'm wrong, I'm wrong.

"Jim..." I said when I looked back at him. He started to shake, all over. I walked to him and put my arms around him. I was gonna do whatever it took to hold him together. I couldn't lose him, not now. We'd get through whatever this was he was goin' through, together. I was gonna see to that. "It's okay," I whispered.

His arms wrapped around me in what could only be called a death grip. "I've lost him," was all he could get out before the first racking sob hit him. With that, all the energy drained from him and as he shook, his body heaving against mine, he nearly collapsed. It took all my strength to hold us both up long enough to get us over to the couch where we toppled down. No longer havin' to support us both, I could hold him as he let it all out.

Now I've had to deal with a lot of losses out here in the last five years. Hell, we all have. Not to mention I've had to sever some serious relationships over this time--losses that still hurt to this day, if the truth be told. But I've never seen anyone with the broken heart that Jim was dealing with right then. But it was perplexing as hell. Had they been partners for a long time--and had I not witnessed what had happened just hours before--I could'a understood it. But I'll be damned if I could understand why he was so bloody upset over losing someone who had just brutally attacked and raped him, not once, but twice.

I've seen Jim lose people that he loved, or thought he loved, in the past, more'n I care to think about, but he'd never reacted like this. But I knew instinctively that this wasn't the time to try figurin' all that out. This was the time to just hold him and help him get through it. And that's what I did, for a long time. I held him until his body just couldn't take anymore and he began to fall asleep. Even then, the occasional deep sob would rouse him as it raced through his body.

When it seemed he was through the worst of it, I laid him out on the couch and covered him with a blanket, still sitting on the edge beside him. It felt good to be able to move my shoulder again. It had fallen asleep sometime before. I slipped out of my tunic, leaving my T-shirt on, and realized that one arm was nearly wringing wet from the tears he had shed. Right then, I think if I could've gotten my hands on that damned Vulcan's throat, I would have been tempted to choke the life outta him. I still didn't understand all that had gone on, but I knew he had hurt this man, the man I loved, in a way that no one else on God's green earth had ever been able to. And no matter the reasons, that was unforgivable.

I caressed the golden hair of the sleeping man. Spock had once taken Jim's pain away when he was hurting, and Jim was furious at him when he found out. But right then, I wished I'd had that ability. I would've loved to go into that tortured mind and scrape out every last ounce of pain from him. But I was doing all I could. I was there with him, and would stay forever, if he'd let me. I leaned over and kissed the side of the head. I tasted the salt of the perspiration and tears that were still fresh on the skin. "I love you," I whispered quietly so's not to disturb him.

Oh, jeeze! I have to stop this. Talking about this is going to tear me apart.

Computer pause

Chapter 8

Computer resume

I'm gonna get through this, dammit! Call it my own personal catharsis, call it a drunken old fool, call it any damned thing you want, but dammit, I've got to finish this!

All right, just about the time I though he'd quieted down for the night and could find some rest, he came up off the couch like a madman. He emitted such a shriek that it scared the hell outta me. "Jim! What's wrong?" I screamed.

"Oh, God, Bones! I'm being ripped apart!" he moaned as he fell to his knees. He crumpled onto the floor in a heap. With his forehead pressed against the rug, he wrapped his arms around his head and squeezed, writhing in agony.

"Jim, my God! What the hell's happening?" I shouted. I went to the floor beside him and reached for his pulse. Now, the first thing I thought of was that he had a ruptured aneurysm. But the pulse from his carotid was strong and pounding against my fingers and he wasn't becoming unconscious like he would've been if that were the case. I tried to turn his face to me. "Jim!" I shouted, again, "what is it?"

"It's being ripped from me!" he moaned.

"Ripped from you? What, Jim? What's being ripped from you?" I hollered.

"The bond! Oh, God, Bones! He's severing the bond!" he wailed as he writhed against the floor. "Spock! NO!" he screamed. His body rolled and undulated across the floor, tipping over the lightweight coffee table, spilling the data chips and glass of water that had been on it, until he was pressed against the precariously perched screen. I was able to get to my feet and grab it just before it collapsed on top of him. I flung it in the opposite direction where it landed with a loud, metallic clang against the foot of the bunk.

When I was sure he was out of physical danger, I turned back to him. He had stopped moving and was almost catatonically still. I think I was more scared right then than at anytime throughout this whole situation. I flew over to where he was and threw myself down beside him. "JIM!" I bellowed. Even with the pure panic reflected in them, I was never so relieved to see his eyes roll up and look at me.

I reached across for the blanket he had thrown to the floor and tucked it tightly around him. I wrapped my arms around him as if I could stop the pain from reaching him. I was afraid I was about to lose him, if not physically, then certainly his sanity was being stripped from him. And there was nothing, not a Goddamned thing I could do about it. It was in the hands of someone light-years away. And then, as quickly as it started, I felt him relax within the makeshift cocoon I had him encased in.

His panting breaths became more normal and I relaxed my hold on him. He released his arms from his head and I could see the red marks where he had pressed so tightly against the sides of his face. I watched as the look of fear and panic cooled, mutating into something less traumatic. I reached to brush back the damp hair clinging to his forehead, but he jerked his head away from my hand. "Jim, you okay?" I asked in a much softer tone than I’d used in these last minutes. I just wanted to hear a response from him. I knew damned well he was far from okay.

He nodded slightly and stated to sit up. I reached for his arm to help him, but he pulled it away. Okay, it's nothing personal, I thought. He just needs to prove to himself that he can get up on his own. I'll be right beside him if he starts to stumble. I'll always be right beside him if he starts to stumble.

It wasn't easy, but he got to his feet. He looked around at the mess and he walked toward the turned-over table. He bent down and started to collect the objects that had been strewn about when he had kicked it over.

"Jim," I said, "leave it. I'll get that stuff cleaned up. Just sit down and rest for a few minutes."

"No," he shook his head. "I have to get this in order. I'm fine, Doctor. You can leave. I'll be all right, now."

I couldn't believe my ears. DOCTOR? LEAVE? What the hell was this? But, I calmed down and decided he was just trying to overcompensate for what he'd been through this evening. Maybe he was even a little embarrassed that I had seem him fall apart that way. He just needed to understand that I was in this for the long-haul. "Jim," I smiled and shook my head, "I'm not going anywhere. It's me, Bones, and I'm here for you. There's no need for you to feel bad about what's gone on here tonight."

He looked at me and his face softened, some. He sat the table upright and placed the items in his hand on it. Standing up, he said, "Bones, it's not that I don't appreciate your bedside manner, but I have to deal with what's happened on my own."

This was certainly not what I was expecting. "On your own? Don't you know that I want to stay here with you? Don't you know how I feel? That I lov..."

"Stop it, Bones. I think I know where you would like to see this go, but you have to understand, it can't be. The bond Spock made with me is broken. For the first time in months, I'm free. I'll never give up a part of myself to anyone again, not like that." I tried to interrupt him, but he wasn't going to let me get a word in. He continued, "I've felt what it was like to love someone with everything I have in me to give. The pain is worse than any phaser blast I've ever felt. And it's never going to happen again, not with you, not with anybody."

"Jim," I managed around the hard knot that had formed in my chest. "I know this thing with Spock has hurt you. But you can't allow yourself to become closed off to everyone. I still can't understand how you could have these feelings toward someone who's treated you the way he did. But we can put this behind us."

He shook his head again. "You don't understand. I've already put it behind me. It's over. It's time to move on. It's time for all of us to move on."

I knew I was treading on dangerous ground here. In hindsight, I knew I was pushing things too fast, too hard. But do I ever listen? Never. So I pressed on, getting into Jim's face. "Goddammit, Jim, I know you've been hurt. And you're right, it seems that what went on between you and Spock is over, at least that bond that he foisted on you. You didn't ask for any of this. Hell, none of us did. But I'm the one who wants to be with you. Right now you're just puttin' up all the defenses you have to get over what happened on that planet, the bond, the humiliation of the scene last night, his leaving, and the...attack." I didn't call it a rape, even though that's exactly what it was. He tried to stop me, but he'd had his say, now it was my turn. "And when you come out on the other side, which you will, I want to be the one there waiting for you. What we've had together..."

And again, he interrupted me. I was gettin' kinda tired of this. This time there was no softness in his voice as he said, "What we've had together was nice. I'll agree. But it's over. Do you understand me? Over."

I knew there wasn't gonna be any gettin' through to him, not in this frame of mind. And if I stayed around against his wishes, we were gonna end up in one hell of an argument. Maybe it would be best to let him alone for a while. Once he calmed down and thought about it a bit, he'd come to realize what we could be to each other.

I reached over on the chair and grabbed my tunic I had tossed there earlier. I didn't say a word. There was no sense arguing with him, not now. And he sure wasn't gonna get me to admit defeat. I threw my shirt on; the crew had seen me quite disheveled enough lately, thank you, and, with one more exasperated sigh, headed for the door.

Back in my cabin, I found myself playing out every scenario in my head. If he walked through that door, I would run to him.... no, I would treat him very coolly... no, I would act like nothing had happened and just hear him out... no, I would slap him silly for puttin' us through this... no…I knew exactly what I would do. I would wrap my arms around him and never let him go.

But the minutes, then the hours, ticked by and the door never opened.

I would go from lying on the bunk; the images of the night before kept bringing the acid taste of bile to my throat, and I would end up in the head, heaving. I'd sit down at the computer console; nope, no messages. I would wander over to the liquor cabinet; no, not the way to handle this, have to keep my wits about me. I'd go to the closet where I was throwing all my personal items in the shipping containers supplied; what was that that broke? Screw it! And, eventually I'd go back to the bed, where it would start all over again.

That brings us up to this afternoon. The door signal about startled me right outta my skin. I'd been waiting so long for that sound, that when it came, it almost didn't register. "Come," I announced.

The door slid open, and there he was. It felt like every molecule in my body was about to explode. Of all the ways I'd imagined this moment in the last hours, I never suspected that I'd be frozen stiff. I couldn't move; I couldn't swallow; I couldn't breathe; hell, I couldn't even blink. But I could feel the tremor that began in the middle of my gut and consume my whole body. I was trying to read his expression, but couldn't.

"May I come in?" he asked, jarring me outta the stupor I was in.

"Yeah," I managed, still standing stone motionless.

He waited until the door closed behind him before he began with, "Bones." He paused and I already knew this wasn't good news. "I hope you understand about what I said in my cabin. You've been my friend for these years, and I don't want to hurt you."

"But?" I asked. Guess I wasn't capable of more than one word sentences at the time.

"But, I can't be anything more to you than that." God, he was trying to make amends, but this wasn't what I was wanting to hear. "You were right, you know?"

"About?" There I was, again. Guess I'll never be considered a renowned spokesman.

"About everything that's happened. You were right. It's over. And I'll find a way of getting through this."

This was sounding way too final for me. Collecting myself, I took a deep breath and a step forward; yes, it seemed movement was once again possible. With that, I said, "Jim, right now, with the ending of the mission, and Spock's leaving, you feel like you've had the wind knocked outta your sails. As soon as you've been assigned to another mission, and back out in space, you'll get your feet under you again. Hell, this crew would follow you to hell and back, already have, I think. Once they understand what went on here, they'll forget all about this. And you know I'll be there to sign on whenever you're ready." I tried to make my voice light as I said, "Hell, I wouldn't know how to operate on solid ground anymore. Guess I'm destined to remain space-bound."

I saw him purse his lips then bite the lower one ever so slightly before he said, "Bones, there won't be anymore missions, not for me. See, I've been told that there's a place at Starfleet Command. Admiral, Chief of Operations. I think that's where I need to go. This chasing through the galaxy isn't for me anymore.

"Jim, NO! Don't do this!" I blurted out. "Don't throw away everything you've worked for to become one of those damned pencil pushers!"

"It's done, Bones. I've already accepted. I report at oh-eight hundred, day after tomorrow to Starfleet Command."

I stood there and watched him. He'd changed. In the years I'd known him, we would've talked this over a glass of our favorite beverage before he'd made a decision like this. Now, he didn't need anyone to talk things over with. But that wasn't all that'd changed. There was no more light in his eyes. Yeah, he was gonna make a fine Admiral. He already had the dull look, no spark, just like the rest of the fat-assed brass. He was giving up, and giving in, to the pressures of Starfleet. I never though I'd live to see the day. Have I said that already? Whatever, it deserves repeating. "Well," I finally said, "I guess there's nothing else to say. Your decision is made."

He nodded. "I won't have time to meet with you after we dock. I just wanted to come by and tell you I wish you well, in whatever you decide to move on to."

"Thanks!" I answered sarcastically. If he was waiting for me to wish him the same, he could stand there till the cows came home! No way in hell was I going to wish him happiness buried up to his brass in Starfleet!

He opened his lips quickly, making that slight popping sound that no one but me could possibly notice, and said, "Well, there are things to do. Docking will proceed at oh-six hundred. Have you called transport to have your shipment scheduled?"

"No," I answered, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice.

Ignoring that, he said, "I'll have them contact you." With that, he turned and left.

Guess it was about ten seconds later that I opened this bottle of bourbon. No, it was the last bottle I opened. Or, was there one before that? Can't remember. Doesn't matter.

Before I got really drunk, I forwarded my resignation to Starfleet. I'll do horse surgery on the outer rim before I let them get their hooks in me again. They can take their promotions and their commendations and shove 'em where the sun don't shine, for all I care.

Well, my friend, that brings you up-to-date. You know, I've been thinking, why would Starfleet offer the best damned Starfleet captain in the service a desk job? Now that I think about it, seems to me that this offer to be promoted to Admiral came awful quick. S'my personal opinion that Starfleet got wind of what's been happening around here, and decided to reel him in a mite.

Hell, they sure weren't gonna discipline him, not after the successes he's afforded the fleet in these last years. But I can see that they would want him where they could keep an eye on him for a while. So, maybe I jumped the gun. Maybe this wasn't all his decision.

Well, it's morning and I seem to be more sober than I anticipated. The ice is melted and this last bottle I opened is still pretty full. Guess I won't be needing anymore of this anytime soon. It's a shame having to pour all of that down the drain.

Computer pause

Computer resume

Well, in the last hour I've been doing some serious thinking. Maybe this is what's for the best, for all of us, Jim included. Maybe we all need to step away from this...arggg... damned dress collars...and recoup what's left of our lives.

I sent along a message to Jim a little while ago, telling him I'd tendered my resignation since I feel like Starfleet isn't where I belong. I told him I wished him happiness, or contentment at the very least. I owe him that much. I hope someday he'll understand why I can't stay. I guess time will tell.

Yeah, I guess you can say that I finally get it. I know what I feel for Jim and I know that if we tried to stay together, we'd end up destroying anything that's left of what we had. Guess in the long run, I'd been right all along, but now that I understand how I feel about him, I can't say it doesn't hurt like the dickens.

And as for what Jim felt for Spock? Well, I have to believe it wasn't only the bond that caused it. Guess I'd have to admit that if he did belong with anyone, it would be that Goddamned Vulcan. But, from what Geoff M'Benga has said, and the message Spock left just before he left, that's no longer a possibility.

Guess we've all seen the last of him. Seems he'll be holed up on Vulcan from now on, some kinda monastery that he's joining. Whatever this Kali'near thing is, it's a life-long commitment. Well, Spock, I can honestly say that I hope you find peace there. You didn't ask for what happened to you anymore than the rest of us did.

So, Jim, if ya have to do this, then you'll get no more argument from me. I can't believe I'm saying this; maybe I am still a little drunk. But go do whatever it is you've got to, to put that light back in your eyes. Maybe, someday, we'll meet again. I hope so. And I hope that I'll see some of that man I've come to know over these years.

They just called and said the transport is here. Time to go.

Computer, stop recording and eject chip.

Part II

Chapter 1

Record.

Personal recording: Spock, son of Sarek, former acolyte of Gol, Starfleet status…currently inactive.

Kolinharu S’ethah has furnished me with this recording device so that I may better achieve an understanding and mastery of my most recent failure. I have been advised that should I be able to regain mastery over those situations that challenge me emotionally, and survive, I shall be allowed to return to this place of my ancient ancestors and complete my mission. This record will be heard by no one and is purely for the purpose of personal reflection of the deepest sort. By baring all, even if only to myself, I shall attempt to achieve domination over those inadequacies that have kept me from fulfilling that which I seek.

Interestingly, it was not a rush of unexpected passions that preceded this latest failure. I had experienced such breaks in my discipline since my arrival upon the red sands and had trained myself how to shield myself against the threats of emotion that would attempt to steal my logic. Quite the opposite. It was a being of immense power, possessing unattainable wide-ranging knowledge and wisdom, and possessing no detectable evidence of emotion that touched me when my psyche was at its most receptive.

As I sensed it graze against my mind, I knew I should turn away from it, shun it, and search for those things within myself. Instead, in an attempt to achieve a pinnacle of awareness that I had never before attained, I sought it out, seeking the source of these perfectly logical thought patterns. And, in doing so, it created a vacuum within me, robbing me of those things I value most, my calm and my strength. Once its destructive path through my mind was complete, I was left with a gaping maw of emptiness. Where I had found answers, now only questions remained. I was lost. It was not the first time I have been so and, considering the decision I have made, it will probably not be my last. I expect to be lost once more before death claims me.

The outcome from physical contact is unknown, but there is no reason to believe that I shall be able to survive such power that I feel emanating from the entity. I shall, however, continue to strive for that which I have been seeking these last years in hopes that, even if only in death, my katra will acquire the tranquility I have found unattainable in life.

I will use the time it will take to reach my destination to fully investigate those sensations that have once again converged upon me, threatening to overtake me. Only through self-examination may I learn the origin of this disquietment that is intent on dwelling within me.

Freshly groomed and no longer wearing the ritual garb of the acolyte, I await conveyance to S’hi’kar. I am feeling the stirrings of impatience that comes when one commences a journey into the unknown. I have been advised that a shuttle will come for me, but I have not been given a time for its arrival. Perhaps this ambiguousness is a test on behalf of my Kolinharu. I must quiet this eagerness that is rising within me. A shuttle has been requested; it will arrive. That I must accept. Acceptance is basic to my character, as it has always been, and must continue to be.

As a child, I accepted my father’s stipulation that I bond myself to another, even though the tradition is one that is still practiced only among those who follow the most ancient rituals of our people. When I arrived at the Age of Decision, I chose a life dedicated to Starfleet, knowing it would offer me the opportunity to expand my interests in naturally occurring phenomena, something which would have been unavailable to me had I remained on Vulcan. In making a choice to pursue a career based in science instead of the course expected by my father, one that would have led me to serve Vulcan and the political interests of its populace, I accepted the fact that Sarek’s disapproval was both logical and unavoidable.

Once I had achieved my objective of serving in Starfleet, I accepted each new assignment as it was presented to me and did all within my capabilities to succeed as well as my abilities allowed. I met each new situation with a dedication to duty while accepting my limitations and recognizing my potential. I approached those in charge with the same rational acceptance used in all other aspects of my life. I strove to be competent in my job and, therefore, was deemed a worthy member of a starship crew among most of my peers.

During the years I served with Captain Christopher Pike, I was rewarded with respect and increased responsibilities within the science department. In my fifth year under his direction, I was promoted to chief science officer. As a Vulcan serving in Starfleet, it would have been most unlikely for me to be placed on a direction toward command. And, since I had no desire for such goals, remaining as the head of this department served both my needs and my capabilities well. On Captain Pike's Enterprise, I found contentment.

By pursuing a career away from my home planet, I accepted that the cultures with whom I would live and work, mostly human, would find the presence of a Vulcan both an asset and a curiosity. I accepted the unusual way in which humans have an incessant need to have intimate knowledge of one another. It is an innate trait among that species. And, since I was not inclined to participate in this familiarity, I accepted the fact that I would be considered an outsider to most, and suspect to some.

When it was announced that the commander was being replaced, I accepted this as normal movement within the Starfleet hierarchy. Captain Pike had commanded the Enterprise for thirteen years and his promotion was expected. Although my length of service to Captain Pike had made my loyalties to him logically more pronounced than to any other commander under whom I had served, I did not experience any form of emotional severing when he departed.

That was not the case with the remaining members of the crew. Although I can only speculate on the reactions demonstrated in the privacy of the crew’s quarters, there were frequent emotional outbursts that occurred in the public areas of the ship. Our chief medical officer, Doctor Boyce, kept referring to it as, “Not a dry eye in the house.” I did not fully understand this reference since we were on a ship and not in a private dwelling, but I did not question him since he, too, seemed on the threshold of a sentiment-based emotional display.

Those humans within my presence seemed to resent the fact that I was not on the verge of one of these emotional tirades. I was quite aware of the atypical coolness directed toward me as the officers stood outside the shuttle bay, awaiting the arrival of the new captain. I accepted that this as another of the frequent periods that I must endure, as does one who chooses to serve with an illogical, emotional species. Kaiidth.

I had received the announcement as to who would become our new commander with logical reservations. The name, James Kirk, was not unknown. All who had access to media reports had become familiar with the accounts of heroism with which he was frequently attributed. The members of the media seemed intent on conveying every achievement of the young, charismatic officer who was moving quickly through the ranks of Starfleet and possessed the “boyish good looks” that seemed an essential component for such adulation. Starfleet, itself, aided their efforts since they were reaping the benefits of the propaganda and riding the wave of popularity this officer was affording them.

While those around me seemed to concentrate more on his aesthetic qualities, especially those female members of the crew, I chose to spend some time researching his record. Captain Kirk had been awarded accolades that officers many times his age had yet to achieve. On three separate occasions, he had been commended for saving the crews with which he served. Taken at face value, his credentials were impressive. However, as I researched further, I formed the opinion that many of the achievements with which he had been credited had been accomplished through acts of rash, sometimes illogical, behavior. I began to believe that equally favorable outcomes may have been achieved with less flamboyant tactics.

He was the youngest officer to be promoted to captain within Starfleet. His peers considered this fact alone commendable. However, it had been my observation that years of experience often tempered youthful exuberance. Therefore, although I accepted that he would become my commander and was prepared for his arrival, certain that I would give him the same respect that I had given to each of the commanders under whom I had served, I had concerns that he did not possess the experience necessary to command the premier ship in the fleet. It would not be an understatement to say that I had genuine doubts about Captain James Kirk.

It was announced that the shuttle had arrived and the bay was being pressurized. The somberness that had existed among the crew over Captain Pike’s departure seemed to mutate into anticipation among most of the officers…our CMO being the one exception. Pike’s departure three days before had seemingly affected our chief surgeon quite deeply. I noted that as he stood beside me, he wiped his eyes with something that looked like one of the absorbent surgical pads from sickbay before he placed it roughly into his pocket and straightened to attention. This incessant aptitude of humans to so entwine their emotions around another, oft times to the extent that moisture leaked from the tear ducts, was foreign to me. Then the doors leading to the shuttle bay opened, and he walked through.

There is no logical way to explain what happened to me on that day, no…much less time than that, in that instant. Something within my soul began to stir even before he came to stand in front of me. Perhaps it was his stature as he walked confidently down the ceremonial carpet. Perhaps it was the sapient gaze that swept his surroundings, as if this ship had always belonged to him, as if she had just been awaiting his arrival. Whatever the cause, his presence provoked an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation within me.

As Number One was introducing him to each member of the command staff, he would stop and speak to each. He was conversing first with Mr. Scott about the condition of the engines. Each word spoken by him sent a most disturbing vibration reverberating through me, as if the tight strings of a ka'athyra had been plucked savagely and then released.

He moved down the line and acknowledged the chief navigator. This was someone new to the crew, Mr. Mitchell, to whom he seemed to have some type of previous association. He spoke to both the chief helmsman and the chief of security. My initial reaction only grew more intense as he grew closer. My heart seemed to be pounding ferociously in my side. My circulatory system seemed to be pumping an excess of blood to my head and the dizzying result was a thrumming of each heartbeat in my ears. I hoped he would move past me, that he would not acknowledge me until I had been given an opportunity to meditate and calm this internal turbulence that his arrival had created.

He moved to where he was directly in front of the doctor and stated that he had heard many good things from Captain Pike about the CMO’s abilities. He hoped that routine maintenance of the crew was all they would have to face, but expected Boyce to be prepared for the unpredictable. Boyce assured him that he was.

Then his eyes turned to meet mine. With two short steps, he was standing in front of me. As we were introduced, he smiled, a half-smile, and nodded briefly.

“Mr. Spock,” he stated. And with those words, the mere sound of my name on his lips, I felt as if my equilibrium was faltering. I had an overwhelming urge to fall to my knees before him.

As he stood in front of me expressing the importance of the science department, I could only concentrate on the glimmering, gold-flecked eyes that seemed to be ripping into my very soul. I managed to summon all of the fortitude instilled within me so that I could respond in an appropriate manner. I told him that as the chief science officer, I could assure him the science department would be ready and at his disposal at any time he required it. He smiled again at me, and I knew from that moment what it would be to worship this man. My fate was sealed; I knew I must accept it.

After all the introductions had been made, and Number One had departed for her new assignment on the very shuttle that had ferried him to the ship, it was expected that the senior officers would attend a reception that had been arranged to welcome the new captain. Prior to meeting Captain Kirk, I had no intention of staying for the duration of this, mostly social, affair. However, after meeting him, I could not bring myself to leave. Over the course of the afternoon he made a point of speaking personally with every officer in attendance, but he seemed to spend most of his time with Lieutenant Mitchell. For some inexplicable reason, the intimate way in which they seemed to converse created new, undefined feelings of anxiety within me. Try as I might, I could not take my eyes from him.

I should have experienced shame and recrimination for the sensations that were surging within me. I did not. It was as though I had been introduced to the other half of myself, the half that I had never before known was missing, the half that would make me whole. I knew that in whatever capacity this man would need me, I would be there. Should he need information, I would be there to inform. Should he need protection, I would be there to protect. Should he need air, I would give him my breath. How could it be any other way? He was a part of me. How does one deny from one’s self the necessary components for life? To do otherwise, would be the most illogical of all.

Stop recording.

********************

Chapter 2

Record.

I have left Gol. I was prepared to never again see the universe from any higher than from what the walls of that structure allowed. For the first time in eighteen Vulcan seasons, I am looking again upon the terrain of my home planet. But my answers lie much further away than even this expanse. I know the next stop in my journey is one hour, sixteen point three minutes away. Therefore, since I am afforded the privacy of the remote-driven shuttle, I shall use this time to continue.

I remember that in those first days following my introduction to Captain James T. Kirk, I was able to regain some semblance of emotional balance only through the aid of extensive meditation. But even after serving four full duty shifts with him, I still had difficulty controlling the muscular contortions that had the annoying tendency to pull at my lips when I was in his presence. It would take many more weeks to begin to master this disposition toward smiling at him and, even after serving many years together, I continued to have, albeit infrequent, slips.

On the evening of the fifth day under his command, I arrived in my cabin and noted the flashing light on the comm. It was a message from him. He wished to converse with me at my first opportunity, privately. I paged him immediately. He requested that I come to his cabin at eighteen hundred hours. At exactly seventeen hundred fifty nine, I arrived at his door. Waiting the few seconds until I was certain that ships time coincided with my expected appointment, I keyed the signal.

“Come,” he responded, and the door slid open. He was seated at his desk with an array of data chips spread out around him. Packing crates were stacked along the barrier to his sleeping quarters. Through the mesh screen, I noted the dress uniform he had worn for his arrival days earlier had been tossed haphazardly across a chair. He had obviously spent little time in his living quarters since taking command.

“Mr. Spock,” he stated, and the furrowed brow he had worn for just that brief moment as his eyes moved from the computer screen, relaxed into a genuine smile as he stood to greet me. “Thanks for agreeing to see me here. I’m afraid I haven’t had time to get settled in, but I want to get crew assignments taken care of before we leave the quadrant. The last of our crew should be arriving tomorrow and I want to be ready to slot them in.”

“Understood, Captain,” I replied. Although I had yet to feel guilt for my reaction to him, guilt being the one true emotion that is still acceptable as a learning tool among Vulcans, I did wish that the sound of his voice and the smile on his face did not unnerve me so.

“Please, have a seat." He motioned at the chair positioned in front of his desk.

I was grateful for this offer. My lower extremities still seemed to become quite unstable in his presence. He seated himself in the desk chair and faced me. Although I had perceived an elegance about him when he was dressed in the formal accouterments, the effect was even more striking now that he had taken to wearing the duty uniform. The green with gold insignia shirt seemed to be designed specifically to match his eyes. The material hugged him snugly, defining his well-proportioned form. As a Vulcan, the concept of beauty within each culture is accepted as a universal constant. This man was the epitome of that principle.

“Spock,” he began, and the sound of him speaking my name without the formal ‘Mister,’ or ‘Lieutenant,’ before it, seared a hole into me. “I am in the position of needing to assign someone to the second-in-command spot. Unfortunately, I have a dilemma.”

He paused and looked at me as if waiting on a response. Therefore, I commented, “I see, Captain Kirk. Would you care to explain?”

“I have a crew member assigned to one area, an area that I really need him to stay in due to his expertise in this department, but I wish for him to serve as my second, as well.”

I was certain he was speaking of Lieutenant Mitchell, someone who had been assigned, seemingly, at Captain Kirk’s request. The ease at which they associated with one another had been the source of disturbing waves of unpleasantness within me. I was used to the familiarity that formed between humans, but there seemed to be a camaraderie that existed between them, making their relationship closer than just that of crewmates. However, he was looking to me for information and I would only give him the best information at my disposal. Although it was unusual for the chief navigator to serve as the second-in-command, it was not unheard of. Perhaps he was unaware of this fact. Therefore, I stated, “Captain, there should be no conflict with the navigator serving in this position. It has been arranged on the Lexington, as well as on several smaller ships in the fleet.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of that, and Gary is too. As a matter of fact, he believes that’s why I requested him for this mission. It’s something that I will have to discuss with him. You see, Gary Mitchell isn’t my first choice. My first choice is the head of a department not normally considered on the chain of command. My first choice is the head of the science department.”

Few times in my life have I been uncertain of what I have heard. Once, in the throes of fever created after stepping between I’Chyia and a wild sehlat and receiving an infectious bite wound from the threatening animal, I had gone through a period of three days when I could hear voices, but was unable to decipher their meaning. I suddenly discerned an unsettling sensation--as if I had been thrown back into the grip of that same fever. I could hear his words but, for a period of four point nine seconds, I could not comprehend their meaning. “Captain Kirk,” I finally managed, “are you asking me to accept the position of first officer?” My Vulcan demeanor slipped and my surprise was shamefully evident. I could feel my eyebrows had climbed.

Inexplicably, this seemed to widen his smile. “Yes, I am,” he replied.

Recouping my demeanor, I stated, in what I hoped would be a more steady tone, “I have never desired command, Captain, and Starfleet has never assigned a Vulcan to that position on any ship other than those crewed solely by Vulcans.”

His smile faded as he became more serious. “Well, at my request, they’re willing to overlook that. It’s a move long overdue in my opinion. Spock, I’ve read the reports and I’ve taken these few days onboard to watch you in action. I know what you’re capable of. You’re the best in the fleet as science officer, and the ship needs you in that position. I also know that I need you in charge when I can’t be. There’s no one in the fleet who I feel meets the standards that I want for this crew better than you. I want to be able to rely on your insights and your opinions without feeling the need to go through someone whose judgment I may not value as highly as I do yours. I know I’m asking a lot of you, both positions are equally demanding, but will you consider this duel post?”

How could I deny him? Up until that point, command had not been a desire. But I knew that for him, I would strive to be the best commander that I could be. “Yes, Captain Kirk, I will accept.”

He stood up so quickly that it startled me. “That’s great, Spock!” he declared and held out his hand. “Welcome to my team. I promise you, we’re going to have the best crew in the galaxy before we’re done!”

I reached out my hand and he grasped it tightly, giving it one strong shake before releasing it. It was the first touch between us and in that first, brief contact, a feeling of completeness rushed in to replace the mere contentment that had existed within me before.

He reseated himself behind the desk and placed his elbows on the top, resting his chin on the thumbs of his entwined hands. His eyes seemed to shine and the smile was genuine as he said, “I will forward your acceptance immediately. Now, have you had dinner?”

“No, Captain, I have not,” I replied truthfully. I had not thought about sustenance since the end of the duty period, and it had been almost a full day since I had refueled myself.

“Neither have I, and I’m starving. What do you say to ordering in? We have a lot to do tonight, and several crew members to meet with.”

“That shall suffice, Captain Kirk,” I replied.

“Good,” he nodded as he keyed his order into the computer and turned it so I was able to do the same. Once the order had been sent, he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his midsection. “Now, since we’re going to be working so closely together, we’ve got to get the formality out of the way. Given the fact that I hope we can get to the point of being comfortable around each other, you’re welcome to call me ‘Jim.’

It was as if he was handing me the most precious of presents. I attempted to stem my enthusiasm and after careful thought, replied, “I would not feel comfortable calling you by your given name while on duty. However, calling you by your given name in an off duty setting is acceptable.”

“That’s reasonable. I can agree to that,” he smiled. “Now, let’s get down to business. Dr. Boyce has tendered his intent to retire and I need to assign a new CMO. Dr. Piper is available for the short term, but I have requested Dr. McCoy for our permanent replacement. He should be able to join us in a few weeks. I’ve known Leonard McCoy since my training days on the Republic. I think the two of you will get along...well, on second thought, it may be a bit of a challenge, but he’s the best the fleet has to offer and we’re lucky to get him.” There seemed to be a curious gleam in his eye that accompanied that statement. I did not understand what he meant at that moment. However, with the doctor’s arrival, it soon became quite clear that his use of the term ‘challenge’ was an understatement.

He continued, “The first of the crew we need to deal with is Gary Mitchell. Before the general announcement is made, I owe it to him to let him know that I’ve placed you in the second-in-command position. Like I told you, Gary is expecting me to name him. We were friends at the academy and he’s an excellent navigator. But Gary is...well, let’s just say he has difficulties controlling his temper at times, a trait that has kept him from moving up on the command ladder. I’ll speak to him alone, if you want me to, but right from the beginning I would like to show a strong, consolidated command team to the crew, all of the crew. Do you want to stay while I tell Gary of my decision?”

“Yes, Jim, I shall stay,” I replied. And stay I did, at his side, for the next four years, nine months and twenty-one point eight days. I will not go into the many situations we encountered together, some of which I had feared him to be dead, once at my own doing. I shall only say that over that period of time I came to know the meaning of friendship, not only from the captain, but also from the equally exasperating Leonard McCoy, as well as the command team. Where those before had merely tolerated me, this crew came to accept me, and I felt the stirrings of emotional ties to each and every one. Under scrutiny, I remained steadfast in my denials of such ties, but I was quite aware of their existence.

This course of action I now regret. Had I been more forthright about my feelings, especially with the albeit illogical but frequently insightful doctor, then the events that transpired may have been avoided. Leonard McCoy came to know me as well as anyone on the ship and, in those last days, knew my failures better than anyone, even better than I knew them myself.

As for Jim Kirk, I began to realize that the depth of my caring for this man exceeded my abilities to deny the multitude of intense emotions that he had awakened within me; not the least of those being love, anger, loyalty, passion, admiration and jealousy. But more than that, I came to trust him in a way that I had never allowed myself to trust another being. What I had mistakenly perceived as flamboyance was confidence and intelligence that far exceeded the chronology of his years. I had never before encountered such a brilliant tactician, as his abilities to consistently challenge me in chess proved. I was powerless over controlling these feelings and was only successful in not betraying myself to him for the afore mentioned period of time. But betray myself I did, and in doing so I betrayed him.

Stop recording

**********************

Chapter 3

Record.

I have arrived at the home of my parents. My mother was predictably pleased that I am no longer secluded within the gates of Gol. I was less prepared for my father’s generous recognition of my position as, once more, a member of the family unit in the House of Sarek. It was a right I had given up the day I dedicated myself to a life in the pursuit of logic, and one which he was not bound to reinstate. The fact that that he was not displeased with my failure at Gol was most unexpected. I had anticipated neither his acceptance of the circumstances which precluded my departure from that ancient temple, nor his understanding of my need for the quest at hand.

Knowing that private transportation would be necessary for intercepting that which I seek, Sarek has acquired approval from the Vulcan Council for me to have use of a diplomatic shuttle. He assured the members of the council that, since I am a competent pilot, there would be no need for anyone, other than myself, to undertake this mission. On these conditions, they agreed to his request. As I wait in his study, he is overseeing the supplying of the vehicle for the journey ahead. For this show of kindness, I am grateful.

Realizing that the entity I had sensed is the same powerful force that has entered the solar system and is on a collision course for Earth, I knew my first step would be to contact Starfleet. I deduced that it would only be logical that they would have a squadron in route to investigate this phenomenon. Considering my background, I assumed that I would be allowed to join the investigative team. But even if my request had been declined, I was prepared to do whatever was necessary to find this phantom, feel it against me once more, and join with that which has stolen my resolve.

However, due to the urgency being felt throughout the Federation, Admiral Nogura accepted my offer of assistance without hesitation. The admiral authorized me to proceed at best possible speed to the ship that is on an intercept course toward the massive cloud. The ship I am to rendezvous with is…the Enterprise.

While speaking with the Starfleet Admiral, using the computer in my father’s study, I accessed the information regarding the ship and noted that Captain Decker was in command. I advised Admiral Nogura that I would report to Captain Decker immediately upon my arrival. In a tone that seemed to denote caution, he informed me that Decker had been given a grade reduction to Commander and that Admiral James Kirk had been named captain for this mission. It is Kirk to whom I will report and, the admiral advised me, it shall be left to the acting captain’s sole discretion as to whether or not my commission would be reactivated.

The ancient teachings of my people theorize that time consists of eddies and folds in which important events and persons that impact our destiny will intersect along our path. There is no way to circumvent such encounters. It is as though I have just been swept into one of those folds of time, plunging headlong toward the point at which I will once again intersect with he who has most affected me. Perhaps this is to be my opportunity to correct that which has caused so much pain in the past. Perhaps this will be my period of atonement. I must accept that as the reasoning for why I am on my way to face the very one I expected never again to see.

I am uncertain as to whether he will accept my assistance. It may be that he will press those formal charges against me that he did not have the opportunity to do so before. That would be his right. If that is to be, then I will abide by his decision. It may be that the crew that was so willing to accept me before will now hold me up to ridicule. There would be just cause. Whatever is to be, I will endure. There would be no action or punishment levied against me that I would consider too severe for the acts that I have committed. As difficult as it is to face my past, I must remember every detail of that time so that I will not repeat those same errors in judgment.

I recall that in those last weeks, the fact that the mission was ending had consumed my thoughts. In the days before we were ordered to beam down to investigate the Romulan settlement, I had begun to feel the burning that was stirring within me. I was aware that the interrupted time of bonding had interfered with my traditional cycle of mating, but the realization that I would soon be separated from Jim was certainly a factor that instigated the fever that was beginning to burn within me.

As I had done once before, I made an appeal to Starfleet headquarters to have leave time assigned. And, as it had been once before, my request was denied. This time, however, I chose not to approach the captain with my request. I knew that had he been aware of the circumstances, he would have done all in his power to see that my needs were met. Once before he had suffered the recrimination of disobeying orders on my behalf, and I could not allow that to happen again.

Another factor that kept me from actively pursuing transportation to Vulcan was the knowledge that, had I been allowed to return to my home planet, it would have been a stranger who would have been assigned to see me through the Burning. The one I would have chosen as my bondmate, Jim, seemed incapable of the type of commitment I required. And, I could not bring myself to approach him regarding such a private matter. Therefore, suffering the effects of the fever alone, whatever the outcome, seemed a more appealing alternative than that which would await me had I defied orders and returned to the place of my birth.

When in the following days the symptoms did not become unbearable, I concluded that the intensity of this cycle was not to be as severe as my first and, with extensive meditation, I could control this onset of my biological cravings. Even so, I should have excused myself from the mission. But he needed that which I could offer, namely my language skills and my ability to blend in with the Romulan population. Too, the situation was a dangerous one and I had vowed that I would be there to protect him under any circumstance that was within my control. It was a silent promise made to myself, and to him, on that first day. Therefore, I convinced myself that I was capable of suppressing those desires for which my nature was calling.

The first break in my control occurred when a Romulan guard discovered Jim inside the main computer bunker. Because of time constraints, Dr. McCoy had performed only minimal reconstruction to the captain’s ears, and had left his eyebrows in their natural state. The guard was not the first in this all-male society who seemed intrigued and aroused by what was perceived as my companion’s effeminate appearance. The guard was, however, the first who became intent on taking advantage of the privacy afforded in the deserted structure.

The hour was late when Jim moved to the lower level of the bunker to disarm the entrance of the main computer room. I remained on the surface to watch for any who would approach from the main compound. With the aid of the concealed com-link in our uniforms, he was to advise me when he had accessed the room. At that time, I would descend to the lower level and accompany him. However, before this could be accomplished, he was taken by surprise by a lone guard on duty inside the structure. Jim was quickly overpowered.

Through the voices that were being transmitted through the communicator, I knew that the universal translator was not conveying to Jim the seriousness of the situation. Only my comprehension of the rudimentary Romulan language, it being a derivative of one of the primordial Vulcan tongues, allowed me to understand the invasive, physical act the guard was determined to perform. It was apparent that my human companion was going to be unable to thwart the advances of the Romulan and, if action were not taken, the guard would be successful in his efforts to attack Jim, sexually.

It seemed as though it took much longer than the actual three point eight minutes for me to access the level of the structure where the assault was taking place. Although he was fighting valiantly against the powerful Romulan, by the time I reached them the guard had Jim pinned against the wall, had already exposed himself and was attempting to lower the back of Jim’s trousers. Witnessing such actions against he who I desired, fueled the growing fires within me. I leapt on top of the attacker and rendered him unconscious.

Once on the ground, I grasped the throat of the would-be rapist in my hands, twisting his neck in such a manner that would have surely resulted in his death in a matter of seconds. Had it not been for Jim laying his hand on mine, and the caring I felt through his touch, I would surely have killed the Romulan.

“Spock,” he soothed, as he placed his hand over mine, “it’s okay. Let him go.”

At that, I stopped the pressure against the cartilage in the guard’s throat, but did not release my grip altogether. “Do you not understand what he was going to do to you?” I growled at Jim, the adrenaline surging strong within me.

He moved his hand as if he was going to touch my face but, instead, he laid it on my shoulder. A shadow of the half-smile that I had become so accustomed to, appeared on his lips when he replied, “Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. There are just some actions you don’t need a translator for. But I’m okay, thanks to you, so let him go. You don’t need to do this.”

I relaxed my grip. Not because I no longer had the desire to kill the guard, but because this was the man to whom I could deny nothing. It was not the first time I experienced a nearly overwhelming urge to take him in my arms and comfort him. On one other occasion, also battling against the effects of the mating fever, it took all of my fortitude to resist an “emotional outburst,” as the doctor called it, after discovering that I had not killed him. However, as I had done in those times before, I resisted the urges in deference to him and the duty at hand.

The next hours were difficult ones. Gaining access to the main computer, we disarmed its capabilities to either send or receive transmissions, the primary reason for the base. We were unable to be transported to the Enterprise due to the ship being engaged with a compliment of Romulan battle cruisers, a possibility Jim had foreseen prior to our arrival on the planet. We had survival packs stored in a secluded cave in the event we would be stranded for an extended period of time. With some effort, we breached the security shield and escaped into the rugged landscape of the rocky terrain.

My controls again in place, I declined the offer of water when we reached our supplies. The purging of the remaining emotions required my fasting for a period of twenty-four hours. However, the dryness of the atmosphere and the intensity of the hours since my encounter with the guard were proving to be most disadvantageous in this pursuit. These were not the last factors that would arise, challenging my capabilities to control that which had sprung to life within me.

The first obstacle was Jim, himself. As we traveled through the constricted passages of the cave, I frequently found myself in close physical contact with him. Humans, especially this human, prided himself on the cleanliness of his body. And although I found the pine scent of the cleaning formulas he used a pleasant sensation, it was the times such as this when there lay on his skin the faint smells of his natural musk that seemed to arouse me to the greater extent. Often there had been times I had to give in too quickly during sparring sessions because of that scent. The sweet, slightly acrid odor that was associated with only him would threaten my determination to conceal my physical attraction to him. It was this same arousing scent of his maleness that would permeate my olfactory glands when he would brush against me inside the narrow passages of the cave.

The second impediment occurred when, in my trying to distance myself from him, I dislodged the small stones along one wall, which served as the support structure for the passageway. The result of my carelessness was the raining down of dirt and rocks. One of the larger stones struck my head, causing a temporary disorientation. Before the passage collapsed completely, Jim pulled me from the falling debris.

Once a safe distance from the collapsed area in the tunnel, he threw down his pack and turned to me. He grabbed me by my shoulders and asked me if I was 'okay'. I assured him that I was. However, as if needing to reassure himself, he brushed the loose debris from my head and ran his fingers through my hair. He noted that I had a noticeable swelling at the back of my scalp, but his hands did not leave me. Those fingers rested at the back of my neck and I could feel his gratitude that I was still alive, and his desire to pull us closer. It was a sensation I had felt often from him over those years through the melds and touches we had become accustomed to sharing. But, just as in all the times before, I then felt his desire cool and the doubts within him arise; and he released me. It was then we discovered that the pack and equipment I had been carrying now lay permanently encased within the heavy pile of stones that sealed the passage. The tricorder, which had been strung across my shoulder, was the only equipment that I still had in my possession. Our water supply, half of our food stores, the med kit, my communicator and my phaser were hopelessly lost. Where he would have had sufficient cause to become quite angry with me, he did not.

Instead, he ran his fingers down my sleeve. “It’s okay, Spock,” he soothed. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters. We’ll get by on what we have left. There’s water in these walls. We’ll just have to find a spot where we can collect some of it.”

I could only nod a reply. His concern for my welfare over the loss of those items, supplies that could prove to be the difference between life and death, caused a lump to swell within my throat and speech to become impossible at that moment. Taking the tricorder, I adjusted the settings to read as well as possible within the mineral-rich cavern. It also gave me a chance to calm the upsurge of emotion that had arisen within me. When I knew I could speak without betraying myself, I advised him of the coordinates of another cavern, one that may contain the water we would need.

It took nearly three hours to navigate to the other cave beneath the planet’s surface. I still felt the area of my neck where his hands had rested. My controls were slipping and the effort to bury them once more was hindered by the need to stop the pain that was growing at the site of the scalp injury. I knew I needed time to mediate, but I could see Jim was struggling against dehydration and finding water for him was my first duty.

I watched him as he walked ahead of me. Occasionally he would look back, his concern for me evident in his eyes. The fever building within me would no longer be silenced. I watched his body as it twisted and maneuvered within the narrow passages, seemingly calling out to me. I could think of nothing beyond curving my body against him, having his angles press back against me. I wanted to touch his mind and have him open up to me without reservation. I wanted him to accept me in the same way he often allowed McCoy to come to him.

Indeed, I was quite aware of their relationship. The shared melds had shown me quite clearly what they were to each other. But it was often the doctor, himself, who unknowingly confirmed when these acts were taking place. On twenty-nine different occasions, as I was making my way to my cabin after an evening of research, I encountered McCoy in the corridors, his appearance disheveled and the scent of my captain still clinging to him. These moments would always create a degree of resentment to build within me, normally leading to several days of increased hostility to exist between the CMO and myself.

I had not yet achieved my first bonding; therefore I was not personally experienced in the acts that took place between them. However, as a scientist, my first instinct is to investigate and research that which I do not fully understand. Within days of my first realizing their encounters, I was well versed in the actions that were possible between them.

It was these mental images that accompanied me through the cave passages. The pain in my head grew worse and ripped the remainder of my controls away from me. By the time we reached the openness of the cavern room, the fever had consumed me. Somewhere, deep inside, I still fought against that which I knew was now hopeless. I began to shake and my legs would no longer support me. I fell to the ground. Then, I felt his hands on me. Smoothing the hair away from my forehead, his fingers stroked down my face and his hand rested on my chest; each touch stirring the embers that had grown white-hot within me. I felt his fear, but I could not comfort him.

He released the small cape attached to his uniform and covered me. He could not know that it was not cold, but the fire of unquenched passions that caused my body to convulse. He could not know that I was dying. However, I was, and I knew I must accept it. For, to survive, I would need to betray that which I have worked so hard to forge--the trust of my captain, Jim, the other half of my being. I knew I could not utter the words to request he join with me. It is not spoken of in my culture.

In those that follow the ancient traditions, the bond is arranged when one is but a child, with the foreknowledge that your bondmate had already been chosen for you, that your roles were accepted. Among those following a more modern philosophy, even then it is a choice made and agreed to long before the time of the joining is to occur. Even for those few who were foolish enough not to make the necessary preparations, there were arrangements that could be made with those dedicated to serve. But under no circumstance was a joining something to be embarked on under duress, as was this case. I knew I was doomed because I was forbidden to ask for what I needed from Jim to survive.

Perhaps it was that realization that my survival was no longer within my control that calmed me. Although I should have refused drink, I greedily accepted his offer of water and, through his touch as he lifted my head, I felt his deep-seated concern for me. Gently, he laid my head down and his hand again stroked my forehead and rested against the side of my face. “Spock, what is it? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

I attempted to shake my head, but the pain was too great. Reaching up, I covered his hand with my own. “Jim,” I managed, my resolve to follow the teachings of my people slipping away. “I need you…Don’t leave me,” I pleaded, as the fever consumed me. The betrayal had begun.

“I won’t leave you,” he assured me. “Trust me, Spock, I’m not going anywhere without you,” he whispered. But he did not lie beside me, did not understand what it was that I was asking of him.

Through those next hours my body calmed. I knew either he would come to me, or I would die. I had accepted this. The decision would have to be his. Although my condition made him most uncomfortable, my aroused state was something I could no longer hide from him.

When he left me to go to the pool, it was obvious that he had made his decision, that he had chosen to reject that which I required of him. I watched him as he pulled the clothing from his body. I watched as the water slid over him. The pain of seeing the smooth, rounded flesh that I craved, and could not have, was agonizing. I laid back and awaited my fated death.

Stop recording.

*****************

Chapter 4

Record.

The shuttle that will take me to the Enterprise has broken free of Vulcan's orbit. In one point seven solar days, I shall be facing him. I feel that I must have this record complete and my controls, those left to me by the entity, firmly intact before I can face what is ahead. Therefore, although I find it most distasteful, I shall continue recording my recollections of that time.

I was certain that the madness that would precede my death was close. I knew I should leave him and go out into the endless tunnels where I could not be seen, but I knew he would try to follow and we would both be lost. To leave him, alone and unprotected on this desolate planet, was against all that I had promised. And, selfishly, I knew it would be better to die at his side, looking into that face that had brought me such comfort, than to die alone. Therefore, I stayed.

But he did not let me go through the madness alone. He came to me, laid beside me, the drops of water clinging to his body. He rolled toward me and allowed me to see his arousal. His decision had been made. He had accompanied me at the time of my failed bonding and he was aware of what he was offering. At his suggestion, I went to the pool of water and cleansed myself, readied myself for him. When I returned, he was lying prone upon the mat of clothing and I stood at his feet watching the beautiful man who would be my bondmate. His knees were bent and his thighs spread. His hand slowly stroked the length of his organ.

I noticed that his eyes were half-lidded. I had observed that expression on his face--one of passion--as he pursued his numerous conquests through the years. Then his eyes opened. I realized that those eyes were gazing up at me, that he was now prepared for this conquest. “Spock,” he whispered. “Come here,” he invited as he spread his thighs further apart.

The white embers within me exploded into an inferno and consumed me. I could see only him through the fiery blindness of the fever. I knelt between his legs and knew that I must claim him in a way that would seal our bond. I touched his legs and felt his need and his long seated desire for me. He would be mine. The blood would spill between us and would make us whole. I tilted him forward and pushed the full length of my erect organ inside of him and, in one sharp, searing thrust, felt the ripping away of my innocence.

I felt him struggle against me. I lay upon him and I quieted his distressed cries with my mouth, tasting that which I had longed for. He fought against the pain; I knew it would be so. But as our bond strengthened, once he had become a part of me, he would accept those things that were never spoken between bondmates, only understood. I withdrew and plunged forcefully back into him. His life-giving fluid began to mix with my own and the painful ecstasy sealed my soul to his. I was his. He was mine. He stopped struggling and I reached for his mind. Deeper than I had ever dared to before, my mind moved into his as I allowed his to move toward me. I felt resistance but could not accept it. I felt his pleas for this to stop, but I ignored those and took that which belonged to me, his deepest thoughts, disregarding that which I chose, reveling in that which I found pleasurable. Further into him I drove, both physically and mentally.

I carved a path through his thoughts, disregarding his insufficient attempts to restrain me, seeking that which I had perceived from him on many occasions. With a surgeon’s skill, I sliced through his brain until I found that part of him which desired me, and I experienced the lust and passions he had fought against since those first weeks together; suppressed feelings of an intensity that were matched only by my own. It was here that I folded my mind into his, bonding us together.

Now I could just experience him, my beloved, as my bondmate and my lover. The long wait was finally over for us both. I tasted his mouth, this time savoring the flavors of him, and felt the ecstasy of having him clamped around me.

I attempted to relay to him my deep regret over the opportunities we had missed. I knew I had only myself to blame. He was my captain; he could not come to me. And, had I allowed him to know my attraction to him--how I realized we were two halves of the same soul--perhaps we would have found one other before he turned to someone else to satisfy his needs. It was then that I found the strong thread of emotion that he held for McCoy. The other. The one who wore the title of a friend, yet took Jim to his bed and made love to him. The one who Jim called on in those times of need. My own anger boiled within me. In my fevered state, I felt rage toward the invader.

Harder I pushed into the body beneath me, tearing away the last evidence of my virginity. I welcomed the searing pain radiating from us both, as if that alone could burn the memory of this other from him. I fused my mind to his; wanting to replace the need he had for any lover other than myself. Never again would McCoy take that which belonged to only me. My first. My Jim. The years of want, need, desire to be a part of him was finally realized. He was mine. I would forever be his.

His renewed hardness scraped against me as his fear turned toward the fulfillment of the lust he had long since hidden from me. I felt his pleasure when my organ pressed against that certain spot buried deep inside of him. I angled my thrusts and felt him respond as he moved toward orgasm. This doubling and redoubling of pleasure triggered my own release.

Although I knew the dynamics of sexual encounter, I was unprepared for the heat that began deep within my abdomen and moved in swells toward my groin. Thrusting uncontrollably into my beloved, crashing waves of ecstasy consumed me. As I erupted within him, I shook with the nova that rushed from my scrotum to every nerve in my body. It was as though I were being shattered into shards of blindingly brilliant glass. The rapturous joy of giving myself over to him defied any pleasure I had ever before experienced. If death had come at that moment, I would have welcomed it. My mind reached for his, needing to grasp onto him, needing him to hold me together. But I was met with only a wall of fiery pain.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong. This was not how it should be. He should be sharing my pleasure, but he was not.

I pulled out of him. He rolled off onto his side, pulled his knees up, grabbed his midsection and moaned in agony. His breaths came in irregular gasps as if the very air invading his lungs was painful. I should have been able to hear his thoughts, should have known what was hurting him, but his pain was blocking the bond that had been formed between us.

Through the fever, I heard myself calling his name, but he did not respond. I saw the deep scratches that had been caused by the rough ground beneath him and he recoiled as I touched this area of his back. It was only after assuring myself that these were not deep that I began to lightly trace a path down his spine. I found no further injuries until I had reached the crevice and felt the wetness surrounding his rectal orifice. Pulling back my fingers I noticed they were stained with bright red blood, more than I had expected, and the sticky substance that could only be the remnants of my own release. He then attempted to sit up, but the pain kept him from doing anything more than rolling over onto his knees. I can still recall the anguish in his voice, the pained choke he emitted, as he said, “Oh, God! Don’t touch me! God-damnit, Spock! You’ve torn me to pieces!” he gasped.

For perhaps the first time, I detected what could only be described as panic descending upon me. I had injured him, and I did not know how badly. We had no medical equipment with us, the minimal supplies being lost with my pack earlier.

Even through his protests, I scooped him into my arms. Through the bond we now shared, I forced myself past his pain and resistance, seeking and searching for those centers of his brain that would supply me with the greatest information regarding his physical condition. It took several minutes to calm him enough to locate that which I sought. Although there was damage, there seemed to be no permanent injuries that he had sustained. I set about to try to impose a healing trance within him, but his determination to block any further intrusion into his mind was quite powerful.

Through the bond I attempted to soothe him. The hazel eyes opened and looked at me. Something akin to terror seemed to be shining from those eyes, but I attempted to reassure him he had nothing to fear, and to communicate those things that could not be spoken, even between us. I stroked my fingers down his face, touching upon each point that would bring our minds closer, I wanted him to realize that I comprehended his pain and to assure him that I would not invade his tender area again until he was ready. Yet the trepidation in his eyes did not fade.

Above all else, I could feel his confusion and hurt at its most basic level at being invaded in such a way. It was as if he did not yet understand the need for the actions that had taken place. I decided that once the physical pain had subsided, all else would be accepted. Given our surroundings, I knew the best way to relieve the pain within him. Standing up, I lifted him and carried him to the pool of water. He did not protest.

I entered the pool and eased him into the water. When the water contacted his back, he took a quick breath between his clenched teeth and I could see him tense until the scrapes were fully emerged. Once he had relaxed, I began to wash him, starting with the injuries on his back, and continuing on to his rectum. He attempted to push away from me when I first touched his entrance, but with the increasingly comforting properties of the agents found in the water, he relaxed, somewhat, and allowed me to complete the task. Even thought my primary reason for treating him was for his comfort, I did not find the chance to explore and touch him unpleasant. For those minutes, his demeanor seemed to become increasingly tranquil and, although I was still unable to reach his thoughts on a level that should have been accessible to me, I believed that he was beginning to understand.

However, upon releasing him, he once again pushed away from me and proceeded to try to exit the pool. I assisted him, but then allowed him to walk on his own to the area where our clothes lay. I could see he moved with difficulty and I felt his need for independence and allowed him that. He knelt and smoothed out the clothes into an area for rest as efficiently as possible and laid down. He turned onto his side and was asleep quickly. Finding some temporary measure of relief from the fever, I meditated to stem my need for him, allowing him this time to renew himself. When the urges that were surging within me were sufficiently cooled, although not quieted, I settled beside him. Sleep claimed us both, although mine was significantly restless and came with visions of my beloved and myself in most erotic positions.

It was not until he awoke and felt my hardness against him that he rolled away. He became quite vocal, and I began to realize the full extent of his displeasure at the way in which I had taken him. In the hours that followed, he made it quite clear that the forcefulness in which I initiated the intercourse was both unwelcome and unsolicited. He referred to the bond that had been formed between us as a ‘meld,’ and I began to suspect that he did not fully understand the extent of the commitment he had entered into. But the fever raged within me as the bond I had created, a bond that he was seemingly still unaware of, called to me. I remember little of the hours that followed. Once, I heard him attempt to contact the ship and there was a small feeling of relief within me when there was no response. It would have been most difficult to encounter the crew in the state I was presently in. Death was no longer a possibility, but neither was the relief that I would have found should I have ceased to exist.

But then I felt the coolness of his hands against my hot skin as he laid them on my shoulders. Even knowing that he had yet to understand all that had passed between us did not stem the rush of desire that ran through me with that touch. Nor did the knowledge of these hidden truths stop me from accepting that which he offered. And the betrayal continued.

Jim knelt behind me; his hands moved down my arms, his lips lay against my hair. He whispered words of comfort, told me he would not let me suffer through the fever alone. And, as I had greedily accepted water from him in thirst just hours before, I accepted his body to satisfy me.

Even now, two point six standard years later, it takes little effort to remember the sensations associated with his touch. Control is difficult. My body still stirs with the memory of how his lips and hands felt against my skin, as if he was attempting to memorize the taste and feel of me. During this period of his exploration, he discovered areas that I would not have normally considered sexually arousing; the tips of my ears, the side of my neck, the length of my spine, were just some of the areas that, with his touch, would send shivers of sexual pleasure racing throughout me.

He worked his way around until he was kneeling in front of me. Placing his hand underneath my chin, he tilted my head up and kissed me, gently at first, then with more urgency. Breaking away from his mouth I looked at him and saw the same passions in those gold-flecked eyes that I had seen directed towards me earlier. I raised my hand and touched his head, expecting him to pull away, but he did not. My fingers traced the smoothness of his brow, the line of his chin, the softness of his lips. I leaned over and once again tasted his mouth. I let my fingers glide down the side of his neck and traced the muscles that comprised his smooth chest. I traced a nipple and felt it become taut under my touch. I remember the soft moan that escaped him and, as the wall of hurt between us began to break down, I felt the pleasure that this action created within him.

I felt his mind relax and allow me entry. I wished nothing more than to explore his beautifully, bright mind and his wonderfully, fulfilling body. The threads of the bond between us seemed strong, stronger than a new bond should be. It was as if what had culminated on this day had begun forming long before. As I relished in the brightness of that mind, I saw the many ways in which we were bonded, on so many levels. So many events over the time we shared had pulled us together and only that which existed between us, our love for one another, had saved us. No, this was not a new bond, but merely the finale of that which we had started with each other during those first days together.

I did not take him with the same vehemence in which I had that first time, it was unnecessary. He was mine. I rolled the hard pebble between my finger and thumb and his lips parted, slightly, and a small gasp of air was sucked between them. I watched as his arousal renewed under my touch. The fever within me wanted nothing more than the selfish pleasures of fulfillment, but my mind, my heart, wanted to watch him as he was brought through each level of desire. With one arm wrapped around his shoulders, his head resting against my arm, I stroked down the tight abdomen and across the small ripples of skin created from his kneeling position before me. His arm rose and his hand came to rest at the back of my neck. Further down I caressed him, finally able to explore this body that I had admired for so long. When I found the soft patch of golden hair that surrounded his sex, the fever within me once again ignited into a hot flame. My swollen organ craved his touch, and he felt my need. Moving his hands to my hips, he pulled us up to our knees and pressed us together.

It is impossible to verbalize the myriad of newly awakened passions that I was experiencing as he pressed against me, willingly giving himself to me. I watched him as his eyes grew deep amber with the excitement that he was feeling; the sexual tensions that were racing through us both. Hardness dueled against hardness as I pressed against him, urgency building within us, both of us seeking relief.

He was at his most beautiful when he tensed in my arms and his body shuttered. His head rolled back and he moaned my name. With one word, “Spock,” he shivered and his fluid splashed between us. Wrapping my arms around him, I experienced the waves of the orgasm that rushed through him. So intent was I on his release, that it was not until the last of the spasms had passed through him that I realized my own ejaculate was spraying between us, mingling with his semen, coating our abdomens and thighs with our fluid. Until that moment, I had assumed that some form of orifice stimulation was required for an orgasm to be achieved. My research had evidently been faulty. We both fought to pull needed air into our lungs through deep, spasmodic gasps. But soon, our respirations began to return to a more normal rate. It was only then that his arms around my neck relaxed.

Stop recording.

****************************

Chapter 5

Record.

I have once again experienced the bitter taste of failure. In remembering the feel of his touch against me, I surrendered to the call of my flesh and manipulated myself in such a fashion as to cause my seed to spill. I must bear in mind that these are merely reflections of those things that live in the past. As I clean away the evidence of this latest failing, I know I must find the strength to discontinue the flow of emotions that arise with such recollections.

However, through this exercise, I am beginning to understand that each of my failures has occurred when I have allowed my emotions to be compromised. With Jim, I sought the fulfillment of those ancient drives and lusts that he awoke in me. With the entity, it was envy that led me to seek out and capture the level of pure, unattainable logic that I had failed to achieve on my own. If I am to be successful in achieving a command over my emotions, I shall have to become more aware of this weakness that tempts me to find completeness within any other than myself. Even in that cave, when the fever had cooled and the bond was new and I could have given back to Jim what I had taken, I selfishly gave into the pleasures of the body and mind, claiming that which was not mine to claim.

After we had rested sufficiently, Jim rose, took me by the hand and led me back to the pool. Releasing me, his golden body slid gracefully beneath the surface of the water and immerged at the other end. Shaking the water from his eyes, he turned to me. I scooped handfuls of water and poured them over myself. The temperature was quite warm by human standards, but it was cool to me and felt good against my fevered skin. I washed myself and felt his eyes on me as I cleansed my groin and the traces of our semen from my abdomen and thighs. I enjoyed having his eyes on me. And, I discovered, I enjoyed the feel of my hands as they stroked up the shaft of my penis. The thin band of skin that had surrounded it for all my years was no longer intact and the feel of any stimulus against the newly exposed flesh was arousing.

Feeling clean, I swam to him and he was waiting for me. His arms folded around my neck as mine slid around his waist. I claimed his mouth, feeling the wonderment that his mouth was finally mine to claim. I pressed my erection against him and he pulled back and smiled that lovely half-smile at me.

“Again?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered. I could hear the changes in my voice that having this man close to me caused, but Jim did not seem to mind. He pulled me to him and kissed me. It was a moment that I had always anticipated, yet never expected to occur. In all of those years of desiring him, loving him, I knew I would have to wait for him to make the decision to come to me. It was apparent that he had accepted all that had passed between us.

His hand slid from my neck, beneath the water and between us. Sliding his hand up and down my arousal, he said, “I understand what’s going on with you, and I want you to know that I’m glad that I could be here for you, this time. You had me pretty scared, you know.”

“Scared?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I didn’t even think about it being pon farr. I thought you had injuries from the cave-in. By the way, isn’t this supposed to happen only every seven years? It’s hasn’t been quite four years since you went to Vulcan, but that wasn’t really completed, was it?”

“No, Jim, it was not,” I answered simply.

“So, is it true?” he asked.

“Is what true, my beloved?” I asked.

“It’s just…well, I get the feeling that this is your…that I’m your first. Am I?” he smiled.

I thought it odd for a bondmate to ask such a question. I decided that perhaps it was just a trait in humans that they wish to be assured of even those things they know to be true. “Of course you are my first, Jim,” I assured him.

His smile broadened before he recaptured my mouth and brought me to release with his hand. His hands and mouth brought me to orgasm many times over in that next day, even allowing me to taste his essence and experience the pleasing sensation of having him spill his seed inside of me.

After this last of many encounters, he pulled free, rolled over onto the tangled mat of clothes and pulled me to him. I looked down at him, and his gaze turned up toward me. “My God, Spock! What is it with us? You’re not going to believe this, but I swear I can feel you through me.”

After all of the years of fighting the urges to smile at him, it felt good to finally allow my facial muscles to relax and do what they wished. “That is how it will be between us. I, too, can feel you, my love,” I told him.

“You can feel me? That doesn’t make any sense,” he stated in obvious confusion, and I realized that he had yet to understand all aspects of the bond we shared.

“Through the bond we will be…aware of each other. And during times of physical contact, bondmates can actually feel the sensations of their partner,” I explained.

“Bondmates? Do you mean we are literally bondmates? I thought only another Vulcan could form a bond between two people,” he stated, his voice becoming agitated.

“Yes, Jim,” I assured him, “you are indeed my bondmate. The assistance of another is only needed when the two being bonded are not so mentally synchronized as we are.”

I attempted to kiss him, but his hands went to my chest as he resisted against me. “Wait just a damned minute. You mean this, don’t you? We really are bonded? I thought I was just experiencing some effect from a intense meld, but it’s much deeper than that, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Jim,” I answered, my patience growing thin. “You are mine; I am yours. Ever and always touching and touched.”

With his hands, he pushed harder until he was free of me. He sat up and, in doing so, I realized that the discomfort within him had not subsided entirely. “Spock, you have got to undo whatever it is you’ve done. It’s not that I don’t love you. Hell, I think I have from the beginning. But I can’t be married, or bonded, or whatever you want to call it, to anyone, not even you…and certainly not now! Being your lover is one thing. I’ve even tried to figure out how to approach you regarding a relationship between us, but this…well, it just won’t do.”

His words stung me. I had not considered that he would wish anything less than a full bond between us. I had not considered that he was offering me any less when he presented himself to me. My raw emotions were riding dangerously close to the surface when I answered him in haste.

“Jim, what is done, is done. Kaiidth. There is no turning back. I am unable to be just another of your casual encounters. Neither am I able to come to your bed only when it suits you, as the doctor has.”

His eyes widened as his head snapped toward me. “Bones? How…how long have you known? How did you find out?”

“Since just after your first encounter,” I answered honestly. “I became aware of your relationship through the melds I have shared with the both of you.” It was a truthful answer that would suffice, however incomplete.

“Does the rest of the crew know?” he asked. His concern over this discovery was evident.

“Not that I am aware of,” I replied. “I believe that I am the only one who is cognizant of your frequent encounters with the doctor. And, Jim, now that we are bonded, you must understand that such encounters will have to cease immediately.”

He shook his head and stood up. As I have seen him do before in times of great stress, he began to pace the allowable length of the cavern. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed more than once. “There’s got to be a way to undo this. Spock, tell me that there is a way.”

“I am unaware of a way to sever that which has been formed between us.” I was quite aware that with the newness of the bond, and the similarities in our thought patterns, there was at least a possibility that I could have severed the bond. With this untruth, the betrayal was complete. Perhaps as a feeble attempt to soften the dishonesty, I added, “If there is an answer, it would be found on Vulcan.”

He stopped his incessant movement and turned to me. “Well, then, that’s the answer. We only have a few weeks until the mission is completed. At that point, we’ll have to go to Vulcan.”

I did not reply. I could not abide any suggestion that our bond, even one that was as ill conceived in its origin as this one, and was being kept intact through deceit, be destroyed. The next hours were spent in silence.

It was not until the fever had completely cooled that I began to realize the full extent of my treachery. He wished me for a lover, nothing more. I had taken that which did not belong to me and had deceived him to keep that which I desired.

I placed myself into deep meditation in an attempt to assimilate the events of the last thirty-six point two hours. Even then, I could feel the alternating waves of passion, concern and anger that emanated from him. I watched him as he would wash himself in the pool and I felt the flashes of searing pain that still came from the wounds inside of him.

When the time came, he attempted another contact with the ship. This time he was successful. Mr. Scott advised us that the Romulans had fled the sector and the ship would be in transporter range in just over three hours. I rose, washed myself and dressed. Being our original path was blocked, we found our way to a secondary exit out of the cavern. We remained silent during those hours as we proceeded through the long, arduous passage that would take us into the open. Reaching the exterior of the cave, he opened communications with the ship and advised them of our location.

Mr. Kyle signaled that he had the coordinates and that beam-up would occur in two minutes.

With that, he snapped the communicator shut and turned to me. With the same cold determination I had witnessed him use against the most resolute of enemies, he insisted that what had happened between us would remain only between us. He stated that until a way could be found to have the bond severed, that no one was to know what had transpired.

I agreed to his wishes.

Stop Recording.

*****************************

Chapter 6

Record.

I have taken time to refresh myself, eat a prepared meal and check my positioning and the location of the Enterprise. I am still on course to intercept it. I have also engaged in a short period of meditation to quiet the remnants of emotions that threatened to arise within me.

Even though it would be more satisfying to turn away from these memories, pushing them into the deep recesses where they have lived these last years, to do so only invites another failure. Only through recalling these events and remembering that the outcome of such self-indulgences is pain of the greatest sort, to all involved, will I be prepared to accept what is to come. Therefore, I must continue. I am compelled to complete this task before my rendezvous with the Enterprise.

I remember that on the very afternoon of our return to the ship, Jim came to my cabin. He stated that he had thought about the events of the last days and decided he could accept what had happened between us. As long as the bond did not interfere with his ability to command, he no longer wished for it to be severed. He seemed to feel that he would never find another that he felt as strongly toward, as he did toward me. He wanted me to disregard his earlier objections and consent to share his life, in all ways.

I could not accept his offer. It was not because I had lost my desire for him. On the contrary, it was because the emotions he had awakened in me had become unmanageable. I had allowed my passions to overrule my judgment. What had occurred between us was based on misconception, corruption and deception of the greatest sort. The way in which I had claimed him was hateful to me. I knew that it would become a cancer between us, nullifying the strong attachment and passions between us that the years together had cultivated.

I had committed Re'letli, the taking of one’s mind against their will. I knew that even if he was sincere regarding his ability to accept me, that our bond would be cursed, not only by us, but also by my people who would never accept a bondmate claimed in this reprehensible manner. It had only been within the last six generations that Re’letli no longer carried the sentence of death.

But even worse than any criminal accusation that could be levied against me, was the fact that I was guilty of committing the ultimate offense against the very one I had vowed to protect. I had broken his trust in me. There, standing before me, was the one who had frequently offered up his life to save mine, had bestowed on me the highest form of loyalty, had bequeathed me with a level of respect that I had never expected to receive from another being, had entrusted me with those things he held most dear-- his ship and crew, and had come to lay beside me when I needed him. I had repaid him with half-truths, fallacies, erroneous information, and, I had come to realize, rape of both his body and mind.

No, I could not accept that which he offered. He was worthy of better. He deserved to have a companion who would bring to the relationship those qualities that he best exemplified. I was no longer that man. I advised him that what he was offering was not possible. I told him that arrangements would be made for us to travel to Vulcan once the mission was completed, and that the bond would be severed shortly thereafter.

Before I could explain the reasons for my rejection, Dr. McCoy arrived in my cabin and insisted on speaking with me alone. Jim initially refused to leave, but relinquished at the doctor’s repeated demands. As Jim left my cabin, he turned back and asked me to reconsider my decision. I saw the pain behind those eyes, and the knowledge that I had caused it, tore at me.

I could not know that in just moments, I, myself, would experience the ache of betrayal. I had agreed to Jim’s demand that the events of those days would be revealed to no one. However, once we were alone, I found the doctor had been made aware of my behavior on the planet. And, seemingly, my bondmate had spared very little of the details of that time. At his first opportunity, Jim had told all that occurred to this man -- the other, the invader, the one he had gone to before; Leonard McCoy.

With this revelation, I realized that my bondmate could not have hurt me more if he had plunged a hot dagger into my chest. Had it not been just moments before that he had professed his desire to have our bond remain intact? How could he have made such an offer when the person he sought out to bare all to was this man who had been his lover? Because of this revelation, I deduced that my betrayal to Jim was not the only disloyalty that had occurred. I came to believe that he, too, had betrayed me.

And, there still remained an issue with the doctor, himself. I had yet to come to terms with the animosity that arose in me because of the times he had taken Jim to his bed. It was a resentment that had been building between us during these years together, since the time he had become Jim’s lover, and had been fully realized once the bond was initiated. His presence was not welcome. But even after my repeated requests for him to leave, he remained steadfast in his determination to stay.

Although I maintained as much control as was left to me at that time, my decorum was little more than a thin veil over the acrimony that I had developed toward him. I did not understand his insistence since he was quite aware that, in my recent state of mind, my judgment was unsound and my strength was more than sufficient if he pushed me to violence. However, even this knowledge did not cause him to waver in his persistence. It was his unwillingness to submit that reminded me of the numerous time I had watched this man face down both enemies and allies to protect his strong principle of justice. I began to appreciate the fact that behind McCoy’s obstinance, there lay a wide band of courage. I found it interesting that I had never before realized this.

His manner softened and the argumentativeness that I had frequently witnessed was replaced by sincerity. It was this change in his demeanor that caused my rancor to weaken. As my resentment faded, I could not deny that the admiration, which I had successfully shrouded from him over our years of serving together, remained.

As the rage within me cooled, I began to consider that perhaps there were actually three victims of this situation. This was a man of great compassion, and when those he cared about were hurting, his natural tendency toward empathy was most profound. And, perhaps he, too, felt betrayed. It was conceivable that he felt I was the interloper in the relationship he had formed with Jim.

I watched the man who I had felt such anger towards in the last days. He looked tired, and his distress for all concerned was most evident. It was that show of concern that made me realize he was not here to confront an enemy. He was, just as he said, here as a friend. It seemed that in the hours since hearing what had transpired, he had been most thorough in researching alternatives, even to the point of finding references to a Kolinahru. He had discovered that these individuals, who serve as teachers, physicians and guides to those in need, were considered mind healers and could possibility sever the bond.

The extent of his research had been most thorough and he was correct. It would take someone with the powers of a mind healer to reverse the bond. Although there had been a possibility that I could have reversed the link shortly after initiating it, the time for that had past. McCoy did not seem aware of that fact, and I did not advise him of that aspect.

However, on that day, I did speak with him about those things I had never dared to speak about to anyone before, even to he who was my bondmate. I trusted him with confidences that had never been shared with another being. I revealed surreptitious information that was only known among my people, and then never spoken of.

He attempted comfort, but there was little comfort that could be given. What was done was done. It must be accepted. Leaving my cabin, he turned to me. “You love him, don’t you,” he stated.

The time for falsehoods was over. Only honesty would suffice. “Yes,” I replied. I then warned him that the relationship he had shared with Jim these years, could no longer be. With that, he once again assumed his tenacious air and left. I was unaware that soon he, too, would become the betrayer.

The weeks that followed were difficult, but not unmanageable. All proceeded as it should toward the conclusion of the mission.

I had contacted my father and advised him that I would be returning to Vulcan and would require the service of a Kolinahru. His curiosity was understandable, as was his disappointment when I confessed my transgression. He agreed with my reasoning that this was the logical recourse.

Jim approached me on several occasions, but I repeatedly declined his offers of speaking alone during off-duty hours. I had been successful in blocking most of what would normally be transmitted through the bond. However, with the bond still intact, I knew I could not trust either of us to be dispassionate regarding the events that must take place. I did advise him that all had been arranged for us to travel to Vulcan.

Jim’s growing hostility toward me was understandable. That, I accepted. As we approached the sector where the mission would be terminated, his increasingly agitated temperament toward the crew was less comprehensible.

Some of the crew questioned this alteration in the captain’s personality, but theorized that it was uncertainty as to what lay ahead that was causing the increased tension onboard. Most were assuming that after a short period of refit, the ship would be reassigned to an additional five years of exploration. These conjectures were based on the successes from the soon to be completed mission. I preferred to base my expectations on fact rather than supposition. However, even if these unfounded deductions proved correct, I knew I would no longer be a member of the crew.

I had made the decision not renew my duty assignment, not to this ship, not on any vessel he commanded, even if it meant resigning my commission. Once we had completed our task on Vulcan, it was my resolve to seek solace in the training of my youth. To do so, I would have to recommit to the suppression of all emotion. I believed this would prove impossible should I remain under his command.

My time was spent in dedication to duty, assuring all was completed before the final reports were due, and in extensive meditation. My decision made, and a course of action determined, I began to experience a level of control that I had not realized since the day Jim had entered my life. It was to be a short-lived interlude of calm before the peace that had descended upon me was wrenched away once again.

It was late evening and all within the science department was in order for docking. All but the essentials--my uniforms, items used for personal grooming, a small fire pot and a kneeling mat--were already packed and had been forwarded to transport. All arrangements had been made, and a Vulcan transport was standing by to take us to Vulcan as soon as the debriefings were completed. As I knelt before the firepot to meditate, a sensation of order surrounded me.

With the tranquility I was experiencing, I had moved to a higher plane of the ritual mantra than I normally found attainable. However, soon a feeling of agitation began to intercede into my thoughts. I realized this restlessness was not my own, but that of my bondmate. I called upon all of my controls in an attempt to raise my shields to the point that I was able to block his thoughts. It seemed to be sufficient, although the period of meditation no longer remained centered on the traditional teachings. All of my strength began to be centered on the sole purpose of closing Jim off to me.

I believed that if I let down my defenses, he would become aware of the powerful emotions that I still held toward him, perhaps causing him to refuse the dissolution that I had arranged. Also, if the breaking of the bond were to be successful, then it would be unwise to allow our thoughts to merge. To do so would strengthen the already deeply ingrained link that we shared.

Without moving from my position on the floor, I concentrated on building the wall between our thoughts higher and higher. But without warning, the barricade that I had constructed came crashing down. In an instant, all of the ancient drives that dwell within my people took over. The bond was being adulterated. My bondmate and the invader were locked together, and the perfidy of the act necessitated my imposing Kalif'tut, death to the one who would betray the bond.

It was the ancient drives that propelled me to my bondmate’s cabin. The door allowed me entrance and my eyes fell upon them. Even though the lights were set low, I saw them through the lucent screen. But even more so, I felt them. My body sensed each caress and stroke being administered to my bondmate, as well as the physical pleasure Jim was experiencing from the act of infidelity. They were lost in the passions of the moment and were unaware of my presence as I approached them. I watched as McCoy repeatedly thrust his length inside of my beloved. A fiery inferno of torment exploded within me as I watched the invader take that which should belong to only me.

The one time that I had taken Jim in such a manner, he had fought against me. But he was allowing this interloper to mount him, willingly opening himself up to the invasion. I knew the trespasser must die.

I wrapped my arms around the other and ripped him from my bondmate, throwing him against the wall with all of my strength. He crumpled to the floor and I was on him immediately. As with the Romulan guard weeks before, my hands were immediately at his throat.

A brief moment of hesitation occurred when the face of the man within my grip came into focus. Something inside told me this was not the face of an enemy. That this was someone who should be spared. But the drives burning hot within me incinerated such thoughts of mercy.

Only the sound of that voice, Jim’s voice, my captain, the command I had to obey, stopped me. I released the throat in my grasp and turned to find him standing behind me. He belonged to me, and I would take that which was mine to possess.

I grabbed Jim and threw him to the bunk, following him down with my own body. Once more, he fought against me, but there would be no compassion shown toward him. I held him tight to the bed and, even though the adrenaline surging through him made him strong, he was no match for that which was driving me. I struggled to free myself from the confines of the fabric that lay between us.

Hands came to my shoulders and tried to pull me away, but with one swift swing, I knocked the invader away. Never again would I allow McCoy to take that which belonged only to me. Once and for all, I would sever the need for him from my bondmate. I would dive into Jim’s mind, find the origin of our bond, and rip the desire for any other from him. In an act of defiance, the bond had been defiled. I intended to take him as I pleased. His wishes were no longer a concern.

I succeeded in pushing the restraining material of my trousers down and, in one swift movement, claimed Jim, all of him; his body and his mind were mine to possess. I used neither care nor caution as I thrust into him, at the same time cutting a swath through his mind to reach that part of him that I sought. Hands clawed at my back, shoulders and waist, but I ignored them.

Stop recording

Chapter 7

Record.

My recording was interrupted by a relay that the Enterprise is in trouble. The message allowed me the interruption needed to quell the shaking that had begun within me and to regain my composure.

I have spent these last two hours monitoring the communications between the endangered ship and Starfleet. I have formulated a fuel ratio that may alleviate the complications of the stranded vessel. However, due to magnetic disruptions emanating from the cloud, I have been unable to establish a link to the ship to inform them of my findings. At the current time, the Enterprise is unable to make warp speed and is in the direct path between the entity and Earth. If they are unable to break away, then all onboard are doomed. I am still more than an hour from intercept range and, with the ship's warp engines unable to be engaged, the Enterprise may be destroyed before I can reach it.

In as much as I found it disquieting that I would see him again, my only goal at this moment is to get to him in time. Even after all that has transpired between us, I am still driven to safeguard him at any cost. Although, logically, I am aware that defense against such a powerful force may not be possible, it is my choice to present myself to him and do all within my abilities to protect him, or to die with him, whichever the case may be.

Again, I wonder if he will accept my assistance. But I remember that I am speaking of James Kirk, who, above all else, is a man of honor. To protect his ship and his crew, he would accept help from “the devil himself,” as McCoy was so fond of saying. I must presume that to both Jim and Leonard, I would be considered the equal of any such evil entity.

I have periodically speculated as to whether the two of them were able to build a life together after the bond was severed. Although I am certain that there were obstacles to overcome, in all likelihood they were able to restore that which I attempted to destroy and, in doing so, found a measure of contentment together.

However, the obstacles were not so great as they would have been if McCoy had not interceded on that evening. It was his astute reaction that kept me from accomplishing all that I intended. Fortunately, I was not given the time to complete my plan before the doctor injected me with a powerful sedative. Had I been given the opportunity to continue, there is little doubt that permanent, irreversible damage would have occurred in Jim’s mind.

Upon waking hours later, I discovered that Jim and I were alone in his cabin. Realization of the events slowly seeped in as I felt the powerful drug being metabolized by my system. Once I was able to fully open my eyes, I glanced around at my surroundings. Even if my memory had not recalled all that had taken place, the evidence of the broken partition and the general disarray in the cabin would have certainly convinced me of the seriousness of the situation.

I felt restrained and realized that Jim was lying next to me, his arms clutched tightly around the blanket in which I seemed to be encased. I attempted to free myself, but his arms remained firmly in place. “No, Spock,” he said. “Don’t go. We have to talk.”

I could not bring myself to look at him, much less rationally discuss the events of the previous hours. There was nothing left to say between us. There had to be an end to this. I knew what I must do. I freed myself from the confines of the bedcover and replied to his request, “Captain, there is nothing to discuss.” Against his protests, I left his cabin and returned to my own to carry out my plan.

Contacting my government, I was advised that due to our position, a Vulcan ship would be available to retrieve me in nine point one standard hours. During the time I was waiting, I composed and forwarded my resignation to Starfleet, recorded a voice chip directed to Jim, and retrieved from transport only those items that I would be allowed once I reached Vulcan. The rest of the day was spent in meditation.

At the hour of the scheduled rendezvous, I proceeded to the transporter room and signaled my readiness. Within moments, I was deposited upon the Vulcan transport. There waiting for me was a Kolinahru. I was placed into a chasmatic trance and before we had reached my home planet, the bond had ceased to exist.

Upon arriving on Vulcan, I presented myself to the authorities of the Vulcan Council to accept whatever retribution they deemed sufficient for the atrocities that I had committed. Within hours, their proclamation was announced.

Due to the fact that this was a human to whom I had bonded myself to, not a wise decision but certainly not a punishable one, it was decided that there existed extenuating circumstances to nullify the charge of Re’letli. It was decided that it would only be a logical conclusion that I had been affected by the emotions of the human, leading me to acts that would normally not be considered.

I attempted to protest their findings, but was silenced. I came to understand that there still existed among my people a general lack of approbation toward the human race. Although I, too, am half human, it is the fact that my Vulcan heritage, descended from the most ancient of lineages, afforded me the considerations I received.

Their final decision was that, at most, I was guilty of poor judgment in allowing the human to touch that within me that should always remain under control. All else, they declared, was defendable as legitimate actions taken when the sanctity of the bond was imperiled. I would be given a diplomatic censure that would remain with me through one Vulcan season. It was a penalty used generally as a training tool among those who have allowed their logic to be temporarily compromised. Beyond that, there would be no reprisal for my actions.

It was an inadequate judgment and an insufficient punishment. However, since I had already decided on a life dedicated to logic, one spent at Gol, even the act of censorship had little meaning.

However, I may yet be punished for my actions. If Jim and McCoy so choose, I could be charged with rape, two counts of assault on a superior officer, one count of assault on a fellow officer, one count of deception while on duty, dereliction of duty and a host of lesser charges. That is, if we should survive the next hours, which seems most unlikely.

The shuttle is slowing to sub-light speed. Permission has been requested and granted for my rendezvous. I watch as the speck of light outside the portal becomes the more distinctive shape of the ship I remember.

As I close this record, I understand what caused my past failures, and how to avoid future ones. Emotion is a most demanding master. Becoming its servant replaces reason and order with havoc and irrational behavior. Surrender to sentiment is a weakness within me that must be excised. With this task of self-reflection complete, I shall pull my mantle of logic around me and forever more encase myself in it. Not as one dons a cloak, but as one who is sealed within hard armor in readiness for battle.

I stand ready at the airlock. The shuttle’s pod has transitioned and is currently maneuvering into docking position to join with the Enterprise. I have programmed the return path into the computer. I shall have no means of escape once I step onto the ship.

I am ninety-two seconds away from facing those who know of my most shameful failure. In just moments, I will see him once more. I shall never again be able to let these emotions for him, or for anyone, escape from the dark recesses of my soul. I must accept this.

Stop recording and seal record.

The End