Part Nine and the epilogue have been posted at the same time. Please read Part Nine first if you have not!

We left the Datarius system with little mishap. Although the ship's computer assures me there is nothing amiss with the Enterprise—as has Commander Spock—and crew morale seems undiminished, I could not help but feel as if something has changed. That I have changed. It is a peculiar feeling: not the kind of red alert at the back of my neck I can readily recognize, and not quite a sense of loss—for if I have lost something, I do not know what it is.

My Chief Medical Officer has warned me not to look for trouble where there is none. In this, I suppose I must bow to his wisdom. We have returned from an exploration of the unknown and, once again, survived. That is all a captain could hope for.

Orders from Starfleet Command reached us almost immediately upon re-entry into the familiar reaches of space. Our new mission is to proceed to Sierra VI, a recently colonized Federation outpost along the Neutral Zone, to rendezvous with the Galantia. There is a high possibility of a skirmish with Romulans and the Enterprise, alongside her sister-ship, must do what she can to prevent war.

It is never a pleasure placing my crew at the forefront of battle but today, oddly, I find myself ready and willing to fight. Whether or not this feeling stems from our seemingly endless weeks of roaming unchallenged through uncharted territory I do not know.

But fight I will and gladly, standing ready at the helm of the ship, my most trusted officers at my side.

Captain's Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

Jim cannot find his ring. Normally a warm presence against the skin of his chest, he notices it missing upon his groggy awakening. A long search of the cabin and his effects proves fruitless. The absence of it puzzles him through his morning routine but there are duties to attend and, more importantly, a breakfast date not to be late to.

"Morning," he murmurs, taking a seat between McCoy and Spock and casting a honeyed smile between them. Leonard looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, face set into grumpy, sleepy lines.

Come to think of it, why had Bones stayed the night in his own quarters? Jim frowns briefly but the troubled feeling fades, and he reaches for a spoon beside his bowl of oatmeal. He grimaces at his first taste.

"There's something wrong with the replicators," he complains. "Cinnamon oatmeal isn't supposed to taste like cardboard."

Leonard grunts an unintelligible reply and takes a healthy swallow of coffee.

Spock is always the more efficient of the three of them in the morning (of which he must be extremely proud, Vulcan or not, Jim believes). Today, Jim is grateful for that efficiency when Spock produces a small plate of sugar cubes for Jim to put into his food. There's something to be said for partners who know what Jim likes.

That wakes McCoy up, who snatches away the plate of sugar like the food police he is.

"Jim's on a diet."

"I'm not," Jim insists, stealing a cube and dropping it into his oatmeal before Bones can catch him. He eyes another cube but decides it isn't worth the finger it will cost him. He smirks, wondering if he should make a comment about what a biter Bones can be when riled.

Leonard, as if sensing the turn of Jim's thoughts, deliberately knocks his shoulder into Jim's and grins crookedly. "Think about the long hours ahead of you on the Bridge, Jim, while sufferin' from all that indigestion."

Why don't you give me something else to consider while I'm up there? he shoots back mischievously but to his surprise, Leonard doesn't respond.

"Well, give it to 'im, Spock," McCoy is saying over Jim's shoulder instead.

Jim refocuses his attention on the man on his opposite side. He drops his spoon when he sees what Spock is holding.

"Where did you get that?" Jim asks, taking the gold band and chain from the Vulcan.

Spock quirks an eyebrow. "It was in my possession."

"Sometimes I think you'd lose your head, Jim, it wasn't attached," Leonard jokes, mostly so Jim will know it isn't offending to either Spock or McCoy that he somehow lost his wedding ring. But then Leonard holds up his left hand contemplatively and frowns at his own ring. "Maybe I should say the same of myself. Found mine in my sock drawer this morning."

"That is odd," Jim comments, feeling better once the chain is over his head and the ring is resting just beneath his shirt. He releases a breath and picks up his spoon to resume eating his oatmeal. "Bones, I know we just came off a lackluster assignment at the backend of space, but how long until we're due for shore leave?"

Leonard rubs a finger against his bottom lip as he thinks. "I could probably advise Command we need one. It's not like we take 'em as frequently as some of the other ships."

"Good," Jim says, nodding to himself. The back of his head aches inexplicably, which is as strange as the way his body feels so weary, reminiscent of the times he's been running on nothing but stimulants for days. "I feel like we need the break."

"Ditto," echoes the doctor.

After he is halfway through his bowl, Jim becomes aware of how intently Spock is focused on him, though the Vulcan does not look directly at him. It's like an itch in his mind. He glances at his companion. "Something wrong?"

But Spock's gaze skips over him to McCoy.

"Jim," Leonard tells him slowly, "you're kinda distant."

Jim puts down his spoon, troubled again. "Explain."

Leonard does a quick tap to his forehead and emphasizes, "You're distant. Are you feeling all right?"

Jim shrugs, stops. "Tired." At Bones's assessing look, he admits, "Exhausted." Which makes no sense. "Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"Hmm. Okay, well, stop by Sickbay and I'll look you over."

Jim groans. "Can't I just sleep, Bones?"

"Nope," McCoy says unsympathetically. Then he stands, cradling his coffee and looking resigned. "Speaking of, I have an appointment I'd better get to."

Jim watches an odd look pass over Leonard's face, but Bones just blinks afterwards, shaking his head, and walks away.

"What was that?" Jim asks Spock, feeling an inkling of concern that he hadn't caught at least a passing sensation of what McCoy felt in that moment.

"I believe the Doctor refers to it as déjà-vu, Captain." Spock stares at him a second too long. The question, when it comes, is said quietly enough to be kept between them. "Do you... feel different, Jim?"

"Define different," he responds with a faint smile, suppressing a wince when the lighting in the Officers' Mess seems to aggravate the headache and cause it to spread to his temples.

"I request permission to test the state of the bond."

Jim is surprised not by the forthrightness of the request but by its formality. "Permission granted. When... now?"

"Unfortunately, now we must proceed to the Bridge for duty. I will come by your quarters after beta shift, if this is acceptable."

Spock is welcome in his quarters any time. It's their quarters, practically. Nonetheless Jim agrees. "Sure, Spock."

Spock dips his head in a slight nod and rises from the table, collecting his tray as he goes. Jim rubs at a temple absently before picking up his tray and following his Vulcan First Officer.

The troubled feeling subsides as he transverses the corridors to the nearest turbolift. Jim doesn't allow himself to worry about the feeling beyond a moment's thought. Because what could possibly be wrong when he has his ship, his crew, and most importantly, Spock and McCoy—his friends, his lovers who he hopes will remain his partners for life—so close to him?

The End

Author's Note

"Forget," said Spock in Requiem for Methuselah as he mind-melded with a sleeping Kirk to coax his mind to do exactly that and forget a broken heart. I was always struck by this scene, both for good and bad reasons.

So I will leave you with this one question:

Is it better to forget, or to remember?