It was late night and the majority of the Enterprise crew were sleeping, however doctor McCoy was sat with Jim in the captain's quarters, each of them nursing a shining glass of smuggled Romulan ale.
"Why didn't he say anything?" Jim asked after a long silence, sounding utterly desolated. He'd rarely, if ever, seen his friend Spock show the simple emotions let alone the more complicated one of love, and to have McCoy tell him that the Vulcan had quickly fallen head over heals for this Zarabeth, was a truly extraordinary concept.
"Ah, come of it, Jim, you know what Spock's like, he's never gonna talk about it," Bones replied and poured himself another drink.
"No, no, I know...you're right," the captain sighed.
"But he should," the doctor muttered.
"That's not what Vulcans do, though, is it?"
"No, but they should, even him," the doctor replied.
"Yeah...so...where is he?"
"Well he wasn't on the bridge, the observation deck, or the science labs last I checked, and if he's not in any o' those he must be in his quarters, sittin' in the dark brooding or whatever he wants to call it."
"Yeah," Jim sighed again, and suddenly shot up out of his chair, "Come on, Bones," he commanded.
"What? Where're we goin'?" the doctor asked.
"To...talk..." he said, "Bring that bottle, and the glasses...grab an extra one, would ya?"
"Aye, aye, cap'n," Bones saluted, and they made their way across the deserted and darkened corridor to Spock's rooms.
They entered the room instantly and tried to ignore the ridiculously high ambient temperature and the stuffy atmosphere that spoke of many an incense stick having been burned over a long period of time. Jim and McCoy saw the rooms' occupant sitting in a dark corner in his mediation robes. Above were the red hanging drapes hanging elegantly, and an intricate incense burner proving a small amount of light with a strong, relaxing aroma.
"Hey, Spock," Jim smiled, "Not busy, are ya?"
"Well, I..." the Vulcan began to say that he was clearly very busy attempting to mediate, but Jim didn't allow him to get far in his explanation.
"Good, good, we come bearing gifts, my friend," he quickly said.
"Romulan ale, 's good for what ails ya," Bones added smugly and set down the three glasses on the well ordered desk.
"I do not..."
"You don't get a say, Spock," Bones interrupted this time, and walked across to Spock, then held a glass of ale out to his friend, who was still sat for meditation. "Here, drink...consider it a medical order, officer."
Spock have a quiet, un-Vulcan sigh and stood, mindful of his long black sleeves he then took the glass and sat at his desk while Jim and Bones took the seats opposite their friend.
"Here's mud in your eye," Bones nodded sagely and tossed the contents of his glass back in one swift movement. "Don't make me repeat myself, Spock," he said with a frown.
"I've never understood why you..."
"Spock, drink it; that's an order from your captain," Jim commanded strictly.
With one last dubious glance at the curiosity blue beverage, Spock did indeed drink it all at once. "I had believed that to carry Romulan ale on a Federation ship was highly illegal," he said as Bones refilled his glass instantly.
"It is, but rules were made to be broken, y'know," Jim replied.
"A most...curious attitude for a captain of a starship," Spock said before swallowing his second drink within seconds of Bones having poured it.
"It keeps things interesting, though, doesn't it?" the captain asked with a weak smile.
"Interesting..." Spock repeated slowly, "...Perhaps..." he raised an eyebrow.
"So, Spock...this woman...Zarabeth..."
"...I...was not myself..." Spock replied quietly.
"Yes, Bones did tell me about the whole 'prehistoric' Vulcan thing," Jim nodded.
"...I see..."
"Did you love her?" Jim asked outright, and ignored McCoy's incredulous look that clearly said he thought asking that was a very bad idea.
"...I..."
"Did you love her?" he repeated softly, but Spock only looked away; unusual for someone who usually had no problem with direct eye contact.
"'Course he did...or whatever the Vulcan equivalent of 'love' is," Bones insisted.
"I'm sorry, then," Jim said sympathetically.
"As am I, captain," Spock replied and stared down at his glass. "But such emotions were far more prevalent in my ancestors, and in no way does it indicate that the same would have happened under normal circumstances . Furthermore, in no way does it impede my duty aboard this ship."
"Bull!" McCoy slammed his glass down, spilling the blue ale across the surface of the desk. "I saw you, damn it! You loved her! Just because you started reverting into your ancestors didn't mean you'd fall for the first girl in sight, it just made you admit that you did love her sooner!"
"...Perhaps..."
"No 'perhaps' about it. Don't give me any damnable logic about this, Spock, I know love when I see it!"
"Bones..." Jim warned quietly and the doctor leaned back in his seat.
"Yeah...sorry there, Spock," McCoy muttered, "If we could've..."
"I know, doctor," the Vulcan sighed and they lapsed into silence broken k ly by the 'clinking' and 'swishing' of the glasses being shuffled around, refilled and subsequently emptied, with the process being repeated rather rapidly.
"Well, this'd go down just swell with StarFleet command," Jim spoke after he decided he could stand the silence no longer. "Three senior officers of the flagship sitting around like a trio of sorry saps in the dark, and all of us probably more than half way over the recommended amount of alcohol intake for a month."
"Speak for yourself, Jim, Spock doesn't even look halfway to bein' tipsy," Bones sniffed. "I thought for sure Romulan ale'd do the job," he added.
"Looks like you'd better keep at it, Bones," the captain replied with an over enthusiastic smile.
"Quite the contrary, doctor, I assure you," Spock said slowly, examining his left hand with a furrowed brow. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something not right about his vision.
"You squiffy, Spock?" the doctor exclaimed, but continued when Spock didn't answer, "He is! He damn near just admitted it! I don't believe it! He's drunk!"
"I am not drunk," Spock replied sternly, lowering his hand.
"No, not yet my friend," Jim said and refilled the now empty glasses. "But trust me; it'll help."
"I don't believe anyone would agree with you captain once the effects of such a state became clear."
"No, I guess not, but like all good human beings, I'll moan and curse and swear I'll never drink again, and then get right back to drinking again."
"Most illogical."
"Indeed it is," Jim nodded, "Anyway, I remember this doozy of a hangover I had once, worse one ever, and I mean the worst. I think I was on Signa Beta Three...there was this girl..."
"Isn't there always?" Bones muttered and drank his ale.
"...Anyway...there was this bar...beautiful place, all dark reds and purples and silk...and women...lots and lots of women. But this one girl, she comes over to me, and within half an hour we're both three sheets to the wind and confessing our undying love for each other in a...well...in a less than classy alleyway. Next thing I know...she's off and I'm late for my deport."
"I'm surprised you remembered so much detail, Jim," the doctor smirked.
"Well this was years ago, I've had time to think back...took me a while though...what a night that was though...but, since we're swapping stories...Bones, you want the floor?"
"Not so's you'd noticed , Jim, but...well...whatever...lemme think...worst hangover...ah...I know, right after the divorce, took me a whole week to get over that one, and another week to even be able to stand to go outside!"
"You'd think a doctor'd know better," Jim said, scandalised.
"You'd think so," Bones nodded.
"I would have thought that all humans would know better," Spock said.
"Well, sometimes it's easier to deal with a hangover than it is to face a problem," the captain told him through the blurry haze in his mind that had been building up over time.
"Amen to that," Bones nodded and once more polished off his glass. "Speakin' of problems, cap'n but we got us a biggie right 'ere!" he added and lifted up the now empty bottle.
"This is a disaster," Jim shook his head. "Gentlemen, wait right here, I got some scotch under my bed from Scotty, been saving it...since...err...well...it'll come to me...wait here..." he finished and on unsteady feet, he left the room.
Bones slowly tuned to Spock and saw the Vulcan staring at his empty glass with shadowed eyes; he knew that look. In a human he'd say, without a doubt that it was heartache, sadness, loneliness, but in a Vulcan would it be classed as such? Perhaps, but Spock was half human, so maybe he was right anyway.
"I know that look, Spock," he spoke, "Really miss her, don't ya?" Of course Spock said nothing, it would not be acceptable to Vulcans, so he kept silent, even though half of him wanted to speak and relish the company. "I can tell even if you don't say it."
"Then why ask me at all?"
"'Cos that's what you do when a friend gets his heart broke, you..."
"I can assure you, my heart is fully functional..."
"Not literally, Spock, you know what I mean!"
"...You believe me to be...heartbroken?"
"No, no...I know you to be heartbroken."
"You are mistaken," Spock replied after a moment of quiet deliberation.
"No I'm not," Bones said with equal, if not, far more certainty.
"Not what, Bones?" Jim asked as he walked back into the room carrying a dusty bottle of scotch with him.
"Nothin', Jim," the doctor replied.
"Discussing top secret plans behind your captains' back?"
"Hardly," Bones scoffed, "Well, ya gonna open that baby or just stare at it?" he asked lifting his empty glass and gesturing at the bottle that Jim still held.
"Maybe if you asked nicely," the captain smiled.
"Never was one for scotch," the doctor muttered.
"I don't know, Bones, it's not that bad," Jim replied happily.
"It'll do, I guess," was the muttered answer.
"Go on then, Spock, get that down you," the captain said to his friend after he'd opened the bottle and filled the glasses generously.
Spock, meanwhile was eyeing the scotch warily as he tried to ignore the slightly inebriated feeling he had from the Romulan ale. Scotch wasn't nearly as stung as that but how he felt now it wild probably add to the his already uneasy vision. But despite this logical assessment he preceded to drain the glass of its contents in the desire to forget the sadness he had been desperately trying to repress since he returned from the frozen wasteland without Zarabeth.
As the night passed the three of them quickly emptied the rather large bottle of scotch as well as a further bottle of gin that Bones later dug out of his rooms. And, when it was time for the first bridge shift of the day, the captain, chief medical officer and first officer were silently cursing the creation of alcohol as they diligently continued to perform their duties with the rest of the bridge crew smirking behind their backs and betting in which one one would give up first.