"Greetings, my son."

"Greetings, Father. I trust you are well?"

"I am. We thrive, however tenuously."

Spock nodded, his hands clasped in his lap. "The purpose of my call is to inform you of what I can regarding the talks."

"The Romulans - are they being cooperative?"

Spock thought of the commander, and wondered how difficult it would be to walk the line between the obvious pride of the Romulan race, and the need to concede something to the Federation.

"As well as is to be expected. The weather here is well-suited to both our races. The Humans require constant hydration."

Sarek nodded briefly. "That is to be expected. Captain Kirk, has he found himself beyond his skill set?"

"No, he has not. Quite the contrary; his apparent ease of conversation removed tension at key moments, and allowed everyone to proceed with maximum efficiency."

"Then perhaps I have misjudged the captain."

Spock considered that statement. Spock himself had misjudged the captain, and not only in diplomatic skills. It was hardly surprising that the same could be said of his father. Jim was hardly the sort Sarek was accustomed to conversing with, or respecting, and it would take the close working conditions Spock had been forced into to make him truly see different.

There was no reason whatsoever why it should be necessary for his father to appreciate Jim, yet the idea that he did not was surprisingly disquieting.

"As have I," Spock said. "You did not meet him under the most... favorable conditions."

"Nor flattering."

"Indeed."

"Nevertheless. There is evidence of his character now. I have made the mistake of misjudging you in the past as well." Sarek met his eyes unflinchingly like he had in the transporter room the last time he had been on-board the Enterprise. "I do not intend to make it a habit."

The only outward reaction was a blink from Spock. "Thank you, Father."

"It is illogical to thank one for observing facts." But Sarek seemed vaguely amused, though nothing in his face had changed. "Until next time, my son."

Spock stared at the blank screen in wonderment.

"Will I live," the elder Spock deadpanned.

Leonard glanced at him in surprise, unsure if he was joking, an appalling prospect from his counterpart as far as he was concerned, no matter what Jim said. He shook his head. "I almost dropped my instrument, you poin- I mean, Ambassador." He shook his head again and sighed. "This is still strange to me."

"It will continue to be strange to me as well, so perhaps we are not at such a disadvantage to each other." Spock regarded the doctor. "I know how you hate to be at any disadvantage."

Leonard paused and replaced the hypo of cortisone. "Just a mild adverse reaction to something you brushed against. It's only dermatological, but I don't suggest you frolic through the bushes anymore."

"I assure you I am beyond the age of frolic, Doctor."

Leonard nodded as he stared at the patch of oddly green skin on the older Vulcan's forearm. "I think I want to ask you a question," he hesitated.

The elder Spock merely waited.

"Um, it's about Jim."

Spock continued to wait, but his posture stiffened, something McCoy would have had no knowledge of had he not still been holding his arm.

"'M not makin' you nervous, am I, Spock?" he couldn't help smirking.

Spock withdrew his arm and settled it in his lap. "Hardly, Doctor," he said, and there was a tone there that McCoy was far more accustomed to than the elder's gentle air of amusement.

"Sorry," he said, though he kind of wanted to press the attack just for the hell of it. He cleared his throat. "I mean, I don't know how it was there." He made a vague gesture that he hoped accurately depicted the Vulcan's other reality. "But here... I dunno, you're one of the few people Jim will talk to other than me, and I... you and I aren't so... chummy, but if we were, you'd be someone I could go to. About Jim. Who would have enough information for an opinion. I mean, I don't know if you two are as close as he and I are, but you don't hate each other anymore at least. And for Jim to talk to someone... really talk to them... it must be more than a good working relationship by now, at least."

Spock watched him throughout the speech, brow slightly furrowed. When McCoy came to the end of it, somewhat expectant, he shook his head at him. "Forgive me, Doctor, I am not certain I understand what you are asking."

"Oh, uh," McCoy rubbed at the back of his neck, "I just mean... I can ask you about Jim, right?"

"A complicated question," Spock said. "Whatever familiarity exists or does not exist between Jim and my counterpart, the only information I am capable of imparting is that which your and my Jim happen to share. Neither of us know the extent of those similarities."

McCoy sighed. "What I mean to say is, you knew Jim pretty well, right?"

"I did."

"Okay, then."

They both waited, and it took McCoy a moment to realize they were both waiting on him, so lost was he in how to word it.

"Was that the extent of your curiosity, Doctor?"

"No," Leonard said, perhaps too quickly. "Jim's been... 'depressed' seems too drastic a word, so I won't use it, but... down. Sort of. Part of me thinks it's the new command, and I'm sure that is at least some of it, and I think he's pretty sure it's all of it, but it feels like there's more. He mentioned being-"

"Lonely."

McCoy stopped, surprised that Spock's interruption had not been phrased as a question. "Yeah."

"A common enough problem with command, especially for Jim."

"I don't know, I suppose so. Just the way he seems to be reacting to it..."

Spock's eyes were gentle and open, still waiting for more, and McCoy swallowed. He was making entirely too much of this. It was entirely possible that Jim just had a serious case of blue balls.

"Maybe I just need to hear that he's gonna be all right," he finished. "That it's a phase, normal."

"Normal, perhaps, though I cannot promise it will subside so long as he remains captain." Spock glanced down to the irritated patch of skin on his arm. "I can promise he will adjust. If I know Jim." He paused. "Is he reacting in an unusual fashion?"

McCoy bit his lip, reaching for the gauze in his tray and bypassing the dermal regenerator. "I'm just gonna wrap this with some balm."

Spock said nothing to prompt him to answer, merely watching him go about spreading the salve on his arm, but McCoy still felt the need to answer.

"I don't know," he said. "Weird for Jim, I guess. You know how he gets between leaves."

"Indeed."

"It's just that. Loneliness in all ways. I think he's just not used to going so long."

"... I see."

"But he has me, and... and you." McCoy looked up as he placed the edge of the gauze to wind around Spock's arm, eyes darting quickly back down again. "Right?"

Spock hesitated before answering, and Leonard didn't quite know what to do with that. "Naturally."

"Thing is..." McCoy spoke slowly and kept his eyes on his work, unsure if he wanted to broach this. "If I didn't know better... I mean, you know Jim's the type to flirt and joke and... but that's, you know. It's playing for the most part. Like with Uhura. Would you consider it a little strange if he made a joke like that to me?"

"The captain propositioned you?" There was enough discernible shock in Spock's voice that McCoy knew he wasn't teasing.

"No, no, no." And he couldn't help laughing a little at Spock, because there was a picture. "No. If he had done that, I would just think he was he was messing with me. It was about someone else. My point is, he was joking. About that someone. But not to them, where he might get a reaction. Just to me. That sound weird to you?"

There was a pause again, but this time, McCoy knew Spock was just thinking. "It is a small thing," he said.

"Not to a best friend." McCoy said it because he had heard it in Spock's tone anyway. He wound the gauze around again. "It was almost like he was trying to make it seem like nothing. So I'm just wondering if it is."

McCoy was still wrapping when Spock answered, so he didn't see the expression on his face, but he felt him give an actual sigh and was surprised by it. "Shall we agree to be candid, Doctor?" he asked. "There is a reason you ask me this and not someone else who clearly knows your captain better, my counterpart included."

McCoy pulled the gauze too tight, but Spock didn't flinch. "So if you... other you... if you were the 'someone'," he said, "you wouldn't be surprised."

Spock stared him straight in the eye and McCoy saw his throat work. "I would not."

McCoy stood there a moment, motionless, before he remembered to fasten the gauze. Then he took a step back, setting his tray aside, and sighed himself, shaking his head. "Maybe it's nothing."

"I, of course, can only speak so far for this universe," Spock said. "However, for my own... I can assure you, it is not."

"Damn," McCoy muttered to the floor. "This was a problem in yours too?"

Spock lifted an eyebrow at him. "Problem?"

"Well, y-" And he stopped, gazing at Spock's face. "Oh," he said. "You..."

Spock drew the sleeve of his robe down over his dressed arm and rose to his feet, gently forcing McCoy back a step. "Prematurely, I have already interfered too much here," Spock told him, clasping his hands behind his back. "You understand my desire to refrain from further indiscretions. What is, is. In all universes."

McCoy nodded dumbly at him.

"The captain, from your description, seems to possess the customary burdens of his profession, and therefore, I would deem him emotionally healthy, in so far as I am able." Spock inclined his head toward him. "Thank you, Doctor."

And he stepped politely around McCoy and made for the entrance to the medical bay.

The doctor stood there, palms braced against the bio-bed Spock had abandoned. "You're welcome," he whispered to no one.

The suns had set, but the glow that emanated from the stars lingered in the sky for hours after, like an extended sunset.

"Commander Spock, your profile is quite striking in this light."

Spock stiffened. "Commander Charvanek," he responded without tone.

"I think we are sufficiently acquainted that you may call me Liviana."

Spock started at the revealed name, but he continued on because this had to stop. "Commander Charvanek, I must ask you to desist your amorous pursuits."

"You think I pursue you?" She came to stand beside him with a small smile. "Perhaps I have offended your Vulcan sensibilities, but pursuit has yet to occur. I am merely... stating my interest."

Spock pursed his lips. "I ask that you desist."

"Why? Are you not interested?"

Spock sidestepped the query. "I am in a committed relationship."

"With a Human?" she asked as she cocked her head.

"Yes."

"Then I will desist. Your captain has my apologies." She moved away almost dismissively.

Spock blinked and frowned. "My captain?"

"It is not him you belong to?"

Spock straightened and shook his head, uncomfortable with the ambiguous phrasing. "No. I am involved with Lieutenant Uhura, the Enterprise's Chief of Communications."

"The linguist that speaks my language admirably well? She is... aesthetically pleasing."

"She is." Spock should not feel the need to respond, but defensive pride required him to.

"Then you will no longer be burdened by my... interest."

"I apologize for any offense," Spock said, and meant it. She was, at the very least, far more expedient to converse with than a Human. "But I would indeed appreciate the effort."

"Indeed," she echoed somewhat mockingly, and continued stepping obediently away. But then she stopped to throw a smirk over her shoulder, regally. "Of course... I cannot speak for the burden of your captain's interest."

She moved on toward the beamdown point in the distance, but Spock remained rooted to the spot.

Later, meticulously undressing himself as Nyota braided her long hair, he could not say what had stilled him, kept him standing there on the sand in thought for several minutes. Discussing it with Nyota had only served to confuse her as well. Of course, even had he correctly interpreted the commander's meaning, he knew her now to be teasing and clearly sexually-minded, at least in regards to him. And Jim was flirtatious with all he encountered, at times annoyingly indiscriminate in this regard. It was logical that the commander would come to the conclusion she had when the captain was so emotionally open with him in public and Spock was so emotionally careful with Nyota.

There was no reason it should gnaw at him so. The commander was mistaken and she had been corrected.

Still, his stomach felt unsettled, as though he had not eaten in days.

"Are you all right?"

"I am adequate." Spock said the words with resolve he did not feel.

Nyota finished with her hair and regarded him briefly. "All right," she said lightly, and moved to where he was folding the covers back and joined him in the bed. They laid in quiet comfort, enjoying the release of tension from the day in the relative darkness. "So strange, her bringing up the captain."

There was an odd note to her voice that Spock chose to ignore, similar to his own discomfort. "Indeed." Spock almost wanted to speak more about it, to worry at it but not to worry about it. He was mildly relieved to continue the conversation. "I think I should observe the behavior of the captain to see if I can find where she misconstrued her data."

Uhura didn't answer right away. "Perhaps she didn't even misconstrue. I just think it's odd."

"Agreed."

He spoke as if his reply were the obvious choice, but in truth, it had not consciously occurred to Spock that there could be some validity to the commander's observations until Nyota had said that. He squirmed uncharacteristically, but his bedmate did not comment.

"Odd," he echoed, and turned on his side.