Episode Eighteen

Incomplete

Post The Squire of Gothos and Arena

The gymnasium wasn't empty when Captain Kirk sauntered in, all bluster and anger, but it emptied quickly once he was inside. It was late, anyway; very few people were up and training at this hour. Of those who were, none wanted to get in the way of a boiling mad Captain Kirk.

Jim quickly made off with his shirt, not bothering to step into the locker room to change; he kept his uniform pants on, but slipped his boots and socks off, setting them all at the side of the mats. Then he approached the punching bag.

He could still feel the aches and pains that had, hours ago, been his, but they were gone; the Metrons had healed him after his fight with the Gorn, and Kirk had found he wished they hadn't. Pain was memory, it was something earned, and he found he couldn't rest until he could feel it again.

Pain meant you were alive, even if it was in a dark, harsh way. Only the dead did not feel pain. So Kirk threw himself at the punching bag, letting loose. While his body thrived, he fell into his mind.

Not so long ago Kirk had contemplated seducing the two most important men in his life; knowing that one already loved him, and the other cared in his own distant way, believing in his own abilities of seduction that he could have them both. Now, after weeks of trying, Kirk wondered if he'd overestimated his technique.

Then again, he hadn't really had all that much time to try. What with that ridiculous mess with the Squire, and then the calamity of destruction at the Federation outpost which led to his fight with the Gorn, he'd been pretty preoccupied. What little time he had been able to spend with them, he'd noticed something had… changed.

At first, they seemed even more at odds with each other than before, just after that heartbreaking night when Bones had stormed into his quarters in tears. The days after that had been bitter and tense, with the doctor taking every potshot he could at the Vulcan officer. But not long after, there was a sudden switch, an unexplained change in their interactions. Not back to normal… better than normal.

The doctor, when asked about it, smirked and glanced back at his tricorder.

"I just figured something out about our Mr. Spock, is all," Leonard had chuckled a little. "He thinks he's got me pegged, but I know his number."

That had been no explanation at all, but Leonard wouldn't give and there was no way Jim was asking Spock. Which was fine, in the end; they weren't tearing into each other anymore. In fact, their interactions seemed tinged with almost reluctant fondness. Leonard still took every chance he could to rile the Vulcan, but he didn't do so with misanthropic anger anymore. And Spock, while seemingly exasperated by the antics of the doctor, did not appear to be truly bothered by it.

It was a mystery, all right; and it bothered Jim.

Somehow the two of them, his best friends, were getting along better than they ever had. Something had transpired between them without his knowledge – before, he'd always been needed to break up their fights, to balance their tempers. Now they seemed to get on just fine without him.

Jim hit the bag especially hard and felt the skin of his knuckles split.

"Captain?"

Startled, Jim spun around. Speak of the devil.

"Spock." Running a hand over his forehead, Jim stumbled away from the mat. His first officer was dressed only in his black undershirt and uniform pants; his boots were gone, too. "Need me for something?"

"Negative, Captain. I thought perhaps you might require a sparring partner."

Sparring? That was new. Once or twice they'd worked together to demonstrate moves for the crew, but they'd never really fought. Jim wasn't a masochist; he knew Spock had the upper hand in more ways than one, and more than that, sparring would bring them into close enough contact that it would be practically torture.

But could he really say no?

"Sure, Spock." Shrugging, he gestured to the mat. The two of them stepped onto it, and Jim tried to ignore the skip in his heartbeat. "What made you want to spar?"

"It is far preferable for you to vent your emotions upon a suitable partner rather than injure yourself against the equipment." Jim glanced down at his bleeding knuckles and shrugged again.

"It's nothing, Spock." He rolled his shoulder, nerves quaking in his stomach, wondering if he could get out of this. On the other hand… there was a part of him that was eager to touch Spock, whatever the scenario. "Don't feel obligated to do this for me."

"I am your first officer, Jim." The Vulcan insisted, adopting one of his Vulcan fighting poses. "It is my duty to ensure your safety."

Chuckling, Jim adopted his own pose. "Whatever you say, Spock. I think you just want a chance to mop the floor with me. Vent some frustrations of your own."

"Vulcans do not have frustrations."

Jim didn't reply; he flew at the Vulcan, fists raised, and let the fury take over.

Dr. McCoy rolled his eyes at his nurse one more time as her firm hands guided him out of Sick Bay.

"You have been down here more than twelve hours." Chapel insisted again. "I don't want to see you until gamma shift tomorrow."

"Ain't I the one in charge here?"

"Get out, Doctor." Chapel shoved him again, and when he turned he saw her beatific smile before the doors slid shut behind him. Leonard grumbled and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Much as it irked him to be bossed around in his own med bay, it was nice to have somebody who cared.

He considered, for a moment, going to his room; but there was no way he could. He'd just gotten out of an extensive five hour surgery and the adrenaline was still coursing through him. He felt alive, brimming with energy, and going to his room to drink wasn't going to help calm that down.

Maybe a run on a treadmill, he thought to himself, sticking his hands in his pockets as he headed for the gym. It didn't take him long to arrive; but when he did, he slid to a halt in the doorway, staring at the fight occurring in front of him.

Jim and Spock were going at it, hard, faces contorted into heavy scowls, limbs moving with tenacious force. Jim was half naked, and his torso glistened with sweat; while Spock wore black, as he always did, highlighting his smooth, trim form. McCoy about drooled at the sight, fumbling against the wall, mouth dropped open.

Damn. If that wouldn't fuel his daydreams for the next twenty years or so… Leonard stayed where he was, crossing his arms, allowing himself this indulgence.

When it came to his impossible aspirations in reference to Jim and Spock, McCoy had found he was resigned to his fate. It had been better after he'd realized what the… incident… on the Galileo with Spock had meant, why the Vulcan had been so harsh upon returning.

He'd been scared.

Now, there was no way Spock actually desired Leonard, the washed up old doctor; but he did, apparently, feel desire, and did not realize it until that crash course in kissing on the shuttle. Shocked that he could actually feel something so powerful, he lashed out – typical psychology. Spock's insulting diatribe in the med bay was an instinctive reaction meant to protect him from the feelings which so confused and overwhelmed him.

Once Bones had realized that, his anger at Spock had melted away. Because this meant the Vulcan really did feel – it was absolute proof, which Leonard had never really had. He'd always been sure the Vulcan could feel, because he focused so much on not feeling – he "doth protest too much", to put it in old Shakespearean. But this was proof.

In light of that, Bones became even more invested in provoking the Vulcan, trying to get behind his shell, because now he knew there was something there to reach. It was foolish to ignore such an important aspect of himself – to be so reverent of his Vulcan half and so ignorant of his Human side. Bones wasn't going to let Spock hide from that desire, or any other feelings, he was suppressing, just because he was scared, or because his damnable Vulcan breeding told him feeling nothing was superior to feeling anything at all.

It was that superiority that irked him most; Vulcans loved to look down on the feeling species of the galaxy. So much for IDIC, Bones thought dryly, letting his eyes dance across Spock's form as the Vulcan fought against Jim.

He was all the way across the gym, out of sight of both of them, but he could see them – and when they began to speak, he could hear them too.

"Captain," Spock spoke with an even tone, which by the irritated look on Jim's face, bothered the Captain. It was merely due to a difference of biology – Vulcans did not show fatigued through increased respiration or sweat. "Over the course of the last eight days you have appeared to be in an increasingly stressed mood. May I ask why?"

Kirk threw a punch, then another, followed by a kick. Spock blocked each one.

"Nature of the job, Spock." Kirk replied with a terse tone. "Stress is part of the package."

"That is correct. But I have come to the conclusion that this is not entirely the source of your distress." If Kirk was amping up the pounding, Spock didn't comment - he didn't seem to be much phased by it either.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I believe you do, Captain." There, finally! The Vulcan's breath hitched as a blow hit him rather hard, and for a moment Kirk felt the rush of satisfaction. Then Spock turned the tables and Jim found himself flat on his back under him. "I believe the source of your anxiety has little to do with your position as Captain."

"And what, exactly," Kirk huffed as he attempted to shove Spock off of him. "Do you know about my anxiety?"

"I know that you have yet to speak to Dr. McCoy about your... mutual affections."

It was Kirk's turn for hitched breath. "Are you ever going to let go of that?"

"It is illogical to not seek out a desired mate, particularly since the doctor desires you in return."

"How can I be sure of that?"

Spock cocked an eyebrow, still holding Jim down rather easily. One of his legs was thrown over Kirk's and their thighs brushed with every thrash as Jim tried throwing the Vulcan off.

"Then your anxiety finds it source in fear of rejection?"

"No! I'm not - there's no anxiety!"

"That is not correct."

"Damn it Spock!" Jim, letting his head fall back to the mat, hard, glared heavily up at his first officer. "Of all people you should understand not wanting to talk about something - about repressing things. You do it all the damn time! I haven't talked to Bones about it because I don't want to, and I'm not going to."

"I do not understand." Brow furrowed, Spock weakened his hold for a second and Kirk was finally able to shove him off. He followed the momentum, turning the surprised Vulcan onto his back and pinning him.

"Spock -" When Jim's eyes met Spock's, wide and deep brown and so full of churning emotions, of concern and even fear, the human's anger evaporated. He gave a sigh, trying to control himself and pull his thoughts together. "Bones is my friend. I've known him for years, we're as close as brothers, and he's one of the only people on this ship I can really let go with. He means more to me than I can say, and to - to risk that for sexual desire is the height of illogic."

"What is there to risk?" Spock's eyes narrowed.

"Everything. I'm Captain, he's CMO, and our professional relationship is already compromised enough as is. He's a divorcee who still gripes about 'the ex' and I'm Starfleet's playboy who can't keep it in his pants. Do you really see a relationship between the two of us working out? Not to mention -" Jim's breath caught in his throat as he realized what he was about to reveal, and he let Spock go, leaping to his feet. He'd allowed himself to become too relaxed around the man. "Forget it." Spinning on his heel, Jim stormed towards the door.

"Jim."

The cajoling tone of Spock's voice, almost emotional in its intensity, made him slow to a halt.

"I apologize for intruding. I meant no insult, I simply... I was concerned for your well being." The Vulcan paused, and Jim could almost see him straightening his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. "You are not happy."

A barking laugh escaped the Captain as ironic amusement bubbled to life in his chest. "Neither are you. And don't tell me Vulcans don't 'feel happiness', because I know now that you do feel. You just... repress it."

His friend hesitated. "Vulcans do not emphasize the importance of happiness the way humans do."

Jim grunted. As he spoke he continued towards the door. "Well, emphasized or not, we're pretty bad at it, anyway."

Jim just barely missed Bones on his way out. If Jim hadn't of halted at the Vulcan's voice earlier, Bones would never have had the time to duck out of the way. He felt foolish and underhanded doing so, but Leonard would take that over the reaction he'd get from Jim if he was found eavesdropping.

Leonard's gran always said people who eavesdropped never heard a nice thing about themselves - Leonard wasn't sure if that conversation proved her right or not. He was still reeling from it, trying to process what had been said, to interpret it clearly before his memory began fogging up the words.

Stunned, he stooped behind a weight bench, hands on his knees, staring open mouthed at the far wall. His head fell back against the equipment.

Jim loved him.

Footsteps echoed through the room then halted, and the vibration of the door sliding open echoed through the room. Bones hesitated to stand, though he was relatively sure it was safe going now, but his heart was aflame and he wasn't sure his limbs would carry him.

"Jim loves me," He whispered aloud, incredulous.

"Indeed." Came a voice from the door. "Though I begin to wonder if that alone is enough." With that enigmatic statement he strode through the door.

Spock had left before Bones could come up with a response; but in time, as he stumbled drunkenly back to his quarters, he did come up with one.

He tried imagining himself with Jim in a thousand scenarios: on dates; eating meals; sharing a bed; sharing a life. Each image seemed hollow, fake, almost sour. Leonard frowned as he thought of them, trying to pinpoint the problem.

It took half a second for his brain to supply the image of the dour Vulcan in those scenarios - quoting illogical human behavior on dates; eating salads next Jim and Bones; resting between them in bed, a real Vulcan furnace; sharing their lives. A world-weary sigh escaped him at the realization as it sunk in. Suddenly he was sure he knew why Jim had never spoken up.

On the Enterprise, Jim, Bones, and Spock were a triad, at team, equals in most everything; and without Spock in their personal life, no matter how much they might love each other, Leonard and Jim were simply incomplete.