A/N: Thanks to everyone who weighed in. I've decided to throw in one more twist. Enjoy!


Ch. 11: One year later

"Look, ya damn, bloody ape, I dunna care about yer damn timetable. If ya hadna kept me sittin here for three hours, we'd have had plenty of time to unload."

"Yeah, yeah, buddy. I don't make the rules. If ya got a problem, take it up with the boss."

"Foin, then, take me ta yer bloody boss!"

The tall, beefy, ill-smelling man guffawed loudly, spraying a thin mist of spittle across the outraged visage of one Montgomery Scott. "Ha, yeah, okay buddy. You wait right here while I go and get him, okay." As he strode away, Scotty could still here him chuckling under his breath, "Get the boss!! Ha, ha, ha."

Scotty pressed his hands into his temples and resisted the urge to chase down the big tosser and roll him. Why had he decided to handle the docking order himself? Why hadn't he sent Pavel or Spock instead? They, at least, had the patience to deal with these power happy yokels. Striding out of the customs office to regain his temper, he looked across the tarmac, catching sight of his ship off in the distance. He could vaguely make out the four figures seated on the roof. Pressing a finger into the bridge of his nose, he went to grab his communicator to inform him of the holdup. At the last minute, he thought better of it. In his current mood, he was liable to unleash a vitriolic rant on whichever crewman answered, leading to bad moods all around, pissy ball breaking from Bones and no relief for his worsening headache. Instead, he extended an arm and made a thumbs-down gesture. Spock had excellent vision. He'd see it.

He had just found an old crate in an alley next to the customs office and had plunked himself down to massage his throbbing head when a large shadow fell over him. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the burly customs agent and two equally well-fed lackeys. "So," heckled Mr. Customs, "You want to see the boss, do you. Turns out, he'd like to see you, too."

Scotty never even saw the pipe that cracked him across the back of his head.

He woke up gradually, swaying and teetering on a small wooden chair in the middle of a dimly lit room. Christ on a sidecar! He thought his head had hurt before! Off to the left he heard several high pitched voices, each one like a knife in his eyes. "Och," he thought, "kill me already but please shut the blessed hell up." As if on cue, the voices were silenced. He heard footsteps approaching and looked up to meet his three ugly attackers. "So, where's the boss?"

Mr. Customs leaned down, bathing Scotty in fetid breath. "As far as you're concerned, sweetheart, I am the boss. When I talk, you listen. When I say jump, you say how high. And when I say give me the access codes to your cargo bay so I can strip your shipment, you say yes sir."

"Or I could just tell ya ta kiss my ass!"

Mr. Customs smiled, "Yeah, we could do it that way, too." Still grinning, he reared back and punched Scotty right in the stomach. He doubled over and slumped out of the chair, completely winded. He could hear the ugly laughter from his three assailants layered over conversation from the outside room. "Great," he thought, "Who knows how many there are." Surveying the situation, he decided that nobility was meant for another day, reared back, and kicked ugly lackey number one cleanly in the nuts. As the man doubled over in agony, Scotty jumped to his feet. He dodged to avoid a kick, only to walk into an ugly left hook. Crashing back down on his back, he found himself being summarily stomped into oblivion and was just about to make his peace with God when the door to the room flew open and slammed into the wall.

"Hello, gentlemen," a high even voice announced, "I believe you have somezhing zhat belongs to us."

Mr. Customs spun around and spat, "Oh yeah, and what might that be?"

"Our keptin, sir."

There was a sudden rush of activity. Scotty was pulled to his feet and squeezed open two rapidly swelling eyes to stare into the face of a giddy but relieved Pavel Chekov. Looking around, he surveyed the damage. Bones had one goon in a headlock, his face pressed into the floor. The other one was also face down, Jim holding his arm in a turkey wing with a knee in his back. Glancing behind him, he found Mr. Customs in a chokehold, suspended a foot off the ground by a mildly annoyed looking Vulcan. Spock shot him a curious glance, "What would you like me to do with this man, sir?"

Scotty stumbled over, holding his side. "All I want is ta unload my damn ship. Where's yer boss?"

"I'm right here."

Another burly man entered the room, older, cleaner, hopefully wiser, and moved toward Scotty. "What seems to be the trouble here?" he asked.

Scotty glared for a minute before speaking. "I'm the captain of the cargo ship Ignatius. My crew and I want ta unload our shipment. These damn fools thought they'd rob us blind instead."

The man scanned his eyes over the motley crew before him. "What's the name of your ship?"

"The bloody Ignatius."

"I see. And you are?"

"Name's Martin Douglass," Scotty answered, the lie rolling easily off his tongue.

The man starred at him pensively before responding. "Fine, sir. You are free to unload." He held up his hand to silence his own angry men. "We'll leave you to it." He waddled out the door, the three would-be pirates trailing behind him.

Bones stomped toward Scotty in full on doctor mode. Pulling out his well-concealed tricorder, he quickly ran it over the groaning man before declaring, "Good job, Mr. Douglass! You have a concussion."

Scotty groaned, "Doesn't noise aggravate concussions?"

"Yer damn straight!"

"Then for tha love o God, shut the bleeding hell up!"

"Dammit, Bones, can the bitching. Can't you see his head hurts?"

"Look, farm boy…"

"Gentleman, it would be wise to vacate this venue."

"Yeah, the hobgoblin has a point. And you need to lie down."

"Och, all I did was crack my bloody head. I'm foin."

"Look, CAPTAIN, I might look like a street bum but technically I'm still a doctor and you will……."

The familiar banter carried as the five men headed across the tarmac.

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

Scotty reclined in an old lawnchair, idly watching his friends unload the Aberdeen. No, the Ignatius, or whatever it was called now. Bones had benched him and he had to admit he was enjoying this rare opportunity to watch the show. What do you get when you throw five of the brightest minds to ever navigate Starfleet at a common cargo ship? A hell of an efficient crew, that's what. Scotty was amazed at the speed and ease with which they were unloading the cumbersome shipment. It wasn't just the complex tractor beam pulley system they had engineered. It was the way they anticipated each other's moves, read each other's expressions and compensated without even thinking. Sometimes he wondered if the happy couple was contagious. It was like they were all reading each other's minds.

Taking a moment to examine his four crewmen, he couldn't help but chuckle. They looked like a bunch of roughnecks, even Spock, whose shaggy hair fell in waves around his ears. Scotty thought of his old crew sometimes. They'd served him for three years, shared hard work, shared hard drinks, but they were just friends. As he looked over the four men hefting another load from the cargo bay, he sighed but it was a sound of contentment. In the hierarchy of human need, these four took precedence. He'd traded in his friends to regain his brothers.

He shifted in his chair and groaned as pain shot through his head. Damn those animals. He couldn't stand thieves. Also, the boss man's questions made him nervous. He tried not to lapse into paranoia but any inquiries always put him on edge. He still caught himself looking over his shoulder, certain some unseen entity was giving chase.

He couldn't fault the guys. They did their best to maintain a low profile but nothing could stop their basic natures from rising to the surface. Sure, he was their captain, technically, but what was he supposed to do. Order Spock not to insinuate himself into a local turf war, saving dozens of lives with his peaceful, logical sense of compromise? Tell Jim he wasn't allowed to put his oratory powers to work and convince a local family to spare their child from a barbarous initiation into womanhood? Forbid Bones from performing emergency surgery in the back room of a tavern, thereby saving a young man's leg? And Pavel, hell the damn kid was still trying to get laid. No, this was who they were, why he loved them and such things just couldn't be restrained or changed. They'd just have to keep their fingers crossed.

He was no better himself, running around different ports, making all kinds of mechanical adjustments on ships. If anyone was paying close attention, they could easily find a link between the sudden influx of super efficient cargo vessels and the recent ports of call for the Ignatius. But he was honestly starting to think no one was looking. It had been a little more than a year since they fled Vulcan and nothing had happened. If anyone was after them, wouldn't they have made their move by now? Pavel had wiped the entire Aberdeen log clean and manufactured years of data for the Ignatius. They traveled under pseudonyms. Maybe it was enough.

He paused as something caught his eye. Jim and Pavel took off at run towards the side of the ship as Bones grabbed a line and anchored Spock. As Scotty watched, the Vulcan reached down just as the two humans jumped. Bones acted as the fulcrum, Spock grasped the humans' wrists and the three of the sailed cleanly back onto the roof of the ship. The move was perfectly timed and elegant in its execution and though Scotty had seen them do it numerous times before, he had never really considered its implications. This was the difference between them and his old crew; the total trust, the symbiotic instinct. A full year later, they were once again a cohesive team.

It hadn't been easy to achieve. He still shuddered to think about the maelstrom of anger, guilt, pity, and confusion that had nearly consumed them in the first two months. That many broken relationships in that small a place was just a recipe for trouble and trouble was what they got. First, there was he and Chekov's issues with Bones. Jim and the doctor appeared to be okay. In fact, Jim frequently confided in him regarding his tumultuous marital state. But Scotty, and by extension Pavel, had a lot of unresolved anger about the Enterprise and Bones had become the unwitting target. He'd born it with incredible patience, especially considering his cantankerous personality but his forbearance had eventually worn thin. It had exploded one night in the middle of a local bar and they'd been pulled off each other by the bouncers and tossed into jail for the night. Scotty had been reclining on the floor, nursing his bruised jaw, when he'd heard the doctor's voice from across the hall.

"I think it would be a good idea if I left the ship."

Scotty had rolled angry eyes, "Shut it. I ain't leavin ya in this hell hole."

"No, I don't want to stay here. Antoch has a good interplanetary travel system. We head there next. I'll get off then." Bones' voice was calm and unemotional.

Scotty rolled over and stared at the man in the cell across from him. Bones didn't look angry, only resigned. "Why now?" he asked.

"Look, I stayed because Jim asked me to. I didn't feel like I should but he said it was what he wanted and that I owed him. I do owe him but I also owe him and everyone else a chance to get over this. You're pissed and you can't let it go but maybe you could if I wasn't always around. I'm telling you as a doctor that nothing good is going to come out of us constantly going at each other over this shit. I wish I could change what happened but I can't. I can only try to make the best of what's left and right now the best thing I can do for everyone is go away so that's what I'm going to do," he looked around, "but I agree that this isn't a good place. I'll get off at Antoch."

That had been the plan and at first Scotty had felt cruelly satisfied. Jim wasn't happy but wisely kept his mouth shut. Spock was also upset but he didn't get a vote. It was Chekov who'd finally confronted the incensed Scott and pointed out that he didn't want Bones to go.

"Och, whaday mean, he should stay? A man's got no honor if he betrays his own friends."

"Yes, Keptin, I know," Pavel took a deep breath, "but zhat is not who the doctor is. He is a man who vill risk himself to zave others. He is a man who doezn't care eef people like him az long as zhey are zafe and healzhy. Zhats who he vas on zhe ship and he is zhat vay now." Pavel sighed and took a seat, "I don't vant him to leafe. He zaved my life many times. He vaz a friend. And Mr. Spock vaz a friend who taught me many zhings. I just vant to forgive zhem, Keptin. But I zhink ve all need to have a talk and stop pretending zhat eweryzhing is fine."

"Look, I'm na gonna do some psychobabble emotional damn campfire."

"Well, then we should all just scatter to the four winds, cause this ain't working," came a voice from behind them.

Scotty and Pavel turned to find Jim leaning against the door. "Ah laddie, I dunno want to upset ya but I canna help how I feel. Ya think I dinna lose a lot through all this?"

"I know you did, Scotty. They know you did. That's why you all need to just yell at each other and get if off your chests. I did it with Bones and I REALLY did it with Spock, let me tell you. And they have their own resentments, not to you or anything but towards this situation."

"Oh, I'm sposed to feel sorry fer them?"

"No, but it would make things easier if we were all on the same page. Besides, I know you and for all you're pissed off, you don't actually want them to leave. But that means you're gonna have to talk to them. And you can do it. After all, Spock and I have the most problems and we're managing to work it out."

"Yeah, well there's a big difference, laddie. You two love each other."

"Oh, yeah! You actually want to look me in the eye and tell me you don't love them, Scotty! That's half the damn problem. If you didn't love them, they never would've been able to hurt you so bad. Don't try to bullshit me about this! I know it too well!"

Jim and Scotty were toe to toe, openly glaring, when a large crash interrupted them. They both looked over in shock at the little Russian who had driven his fist into the console, " Now you two listen. I am zick of zhis. Ve are all going to zit down and talk. Az first mate of zhis wessel, I order you, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy to attend. Az for you, Keptin, eef you von't participate, you can accept my resignation." And he had stomped off to inform the rest of the crew.

And so they'd found themselves sitting around the table in the rec room, avoiding each other's eyes until the angry Russian had produced a bottle of Vodka and made all the humans do two shots. He had volunteered to go first, explaining how devastated he had been when his mentor turned into a frightening, savage animal. How helpless he'd felt by his small stature and how ashamed he'd been when he had been unwilling to physically defend Jim.

Scotty had been reluctant to talk but when he started, he really got going. He railed at Bones for being a traitor and Spock for being less than a man. He told them how much he resented the destruction of his service record in Starfleet due to all his time in the brig. And then he'd thrown back another shot and finally admitted his own shame, that while he was very angry at the attack on his friend, he was equally furious at the loss of the Enterprise. He had put so much into the ship and it had become something dirty and uninhabitable for him. He mourned that loss terribly and was disgusted with himself for putting the loss of the ship on par with the loss of a friend.

Bones had been even more reticent. He'd needed two more shots and Jim's threat of spilling the story himself before he had consented to explain his alpha/beta theory to Scotty and Pavel. Spock had briefly opened his mouth to voice his agreement and Scotty had started to feel a little guilty towards the doctor. This whole situation was becoming more complicated and he had to admit that Pavel was right; Bones was not a man who threw over his friends. The doctor's explanation smacked of honesty and his pain and self-recrimination were obviously still cutting him to the quick. There was no need for Scotty to make it any worse.

"Keptin?"

Startled back to reality, Scotty almost fell over in his lawnchair. Pavel smirked for a moment before continuing. "Zhe ship ees empty. Jeem and I vere going to order us up zome dinner eef ve are done." At Scotty's nod, the Russian jogged back to the ship and gave a thumbs-up to the three men still lounging on the roof. They quickly dropped to the ground and headed towards the open side hatch, Pavel and the doctor engaged in some kind of jocular debate. Jim and Spock silently followed and Scotty's well trained eye caught the subtle brush of fingertips as they headed up the gangplank. They loved each other, he'd known that for years. It was a bond stronger than any mere marriage and he'd been forced to admit that separating them would've meant Jim's death as surely as Spock's. Pavel was right, they'd needed to learn to live with what happened, to find a way to put it behind them. But Scotty still shuttered to remember that final confrontation. He was sometimes surprised the five of them had come out of it alive.

Bones had been staring at the rec room table, studiously pretending he wasn't about to cry. Pavel wasn't even trying anymore and Jim was holding his head and looking decidedly punch drunk. Scotty had a cold knot in his stomach but also felt a profound sense of relief. He hadn't wanted Bones to leave the ship. In fact, he now realized just how badly he wanted the man to stay. Well, that only left one fly in the ointment. All four humans stared down the table at the introspective half-Vulcan who was currently fixating on his steepled fingers.

Scotty just didn't know what to do with him. He had considered Spock to be one of the finest people he'd ever met, human or otherwise. What he'd done to Jim was unbelievable but also completely out of character. His willingness to sacrifice himself for Jim's freedom and his voluntary acquiescence to a slow, painful death had done much to restore Scotty's faith in him. Yet, two months later, he still found himself with this irrational desire to lash out at Spock, to reach out and shake the man senseless. He wasn't sure why but recognized similar feelings in Bones, Pavel and even Jim. Outwardly, Spock was doing nothing to encourage such antagonism. In fact, he barely opened his mouth and spent the majority of his days blending into the bulkhead, kissing Jim's ass, or being at Scotty's beck and call.

They all realized that Spock viewed this as part of a life-long penance but in all honesty it was getting pretty tired. Spock, their Spock, had been driven, opinionated, confident, and strong. He had valiantly earned their respect, devotion and love. The weak-willed sycophant currently wearing his face only served to remind them all of what they'd lost. No, Scotty realized, he didn't care what he'd said about what the Vulcan might owe them. He didn't want this hyper-contrite shell on his ship. He wanted his friend back. Even more, he wanted his friend to stop lying down and taking it from them. He, they all, needed Spock to fight back, make his case, and defend himself. And at this point, Scotty didn't care what he needed to do to make that happen.

Grasping the vodka bottle, he slid it hard down the table, heading right for Spock's face. He reluctantly caught it as Scotty ordered, "Here, have a drink."

Spock eyed the bottle. "Vulcans do not partake of alcohol as a rule."

"Yeah, well break the damn rule," interjected Bones, "And don't give me any of that crap about being immune."

Spock continued to hesitate and Scotty saw his chance. "So, ye've forgotton how ta listen? Do I need ta remind ya that I own yer ass? I say drink, you say how much, Captain."

Spock stared the bottle with resignation before reluctantly uncapping it. "How much, Captain?"

"Hell, let's start with one good chug. Then we'll see." Spock nodded, eyes still averted, and took a deep drink.

"That was good, laddie. Now another." The Vulcan closed his eyes but complied once again.

"Alright, Mr. Spock, it seems ya still know how ta listen. Once more, then." This time, Scotty could see a hint of fire in Spock's eyes. He took another gulp, setting the bottle down forcefully on the table and glaring at the four men. Scotty smiled inwardly. He was ready. "Now talk."

Spock eyebrow shot up, but not before Scotty caught the brief glint of fear that flashed across his face. "About what, Captain?"

"Och, Mr. Spock, don't play coy wi me! You're the damn root of all this. We deserve a bloody explanation!" Scotty paused, "Unless ya need another drink first!"

Spock pressed his lips together and stared at the table. Vulcans just didn't make public confessions. It violated their dignity, debased their pride and self-respect. But that was the price they demanded of him and he resolved that he would pay it. Gripping the edges of the table, he began. "You all heard the explanation I offered during the official hearing in front of Starfleet. You know what I stood accused of and what I confessed to. You also heard the reasons I offered for my behavior. It does not excuse anything but it is the best explanation I can give you."

"Why Jim."

"Excuse me?"

"Ya bloody well heard me! Why Jim?"

Spock glanced at his mate, seated at the table. Jim shrugged, "Go ahead and tell them."

Spock took a breath, "Jim is my t'hy'la. It is an ancient Vulcan word that would most directly be translated to mean soulmate in Standard. I targeted him because of that inherent connection."

Scotty digested this quickly and pushed on. "Oh, I see. So, are ya the only damn Vulcan to have a soulmate?"

"No, although it is considered rare."

"Alright then. Have another drink." This time there was no mistaking the raw emotion in the Vulcan's eyes. He stared at Scotty, hovering on the verge of an open challenge. The captain stared right back, not about to back down now. He tilted his head, a subtle reminder of who was in control and Spock grudgingly relented. Grabbing the vodka bottle, he took another healthy swallow. Scotty smiled before continuing in an innocent voice "So, Mr. Spock, tell me. Do all Vulcan's beat and rape their soulmates?"

Chekov and Bones exhaled loud breaths. Jim gawked at him in shock before shooting a helpless glance at his mate. Spock and Scotty never noticed, their gazes locked together in open hostility. Scotty leaned forward, his face a mask of feigned curiosity. "Well?"

Spock grimaced. "No!"

"Ah. Just you then?"

"I imagine so."

"Hmmmm. Well, I guess we canna blame yer father, then. Must've been yer mum's influence, ay."

The vodka bottle exploded into a million pieces, liquid and glass shards liberally spraying the five men. Green blood dripped from the clenched fist onto the rec room table and Bones leaped to his feet to staunch the wound. Spock pushed up and shoved him away, eyes shooting bolts of fire at the seated men. Turning, he strode to the back wall of the rec room, leaning his hands and forehead into the bulkhead. His shoulders tensed and he suddenly pulled back and slammed his fist into the wall. Skin split, knuckles crunched and blood flew as he hit the wall over and over. Cursing under his breath, Jim bolted to his feet and ran, catching the compromised Vulcan around the chest and capturing the wrist of his shattered hand. Bones, Scotty, and Pavel stood in complete silence as Jim whispered soothing words to his distraught mate. The two sank to the floor, Jim still holding Spock tightly as a choking sob emitted from his throat. Scotty tensed. It was a horrible sound, one he never wanted to hear again and he hoped it had been worth it. His was snapped back to attention by Spock's strangled voice. "You're right."

"What?"

"Vulcans do not do this. But you are also wrong. Humans do not do this, either. Vulcans behave rationally when they find their t'hy'la. They recognize their limitations and make the appropriate changes necessary. Humans react emotionally, seize the situation they are handed and find a way to bend it to their will. I, of course, am both and yet I succeed at being neither. I cannot reconcile myself, I cannot decisively choose a path for my life and so I am destined to be in a constant state of turmoil, destroying all those I care about."

Bones rubbed his head, "I don't mean to sound all touchy-feely right now but you're half drunk and actually expressing some emotions. Why don't you just go ahead and say what's on your mind. You're mad at yourself, I get that, but you've got other pent-up resentments. Get them off your chest."

"Doctor, must you always be so obtuse? For years, you have pestered me about feeling shame in regards to my so-called emotions. Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I was not ashamed of feelings in general but of mine in particular? The feelings I have are disgraceful."

"Okay. Go on."

Spock shuddered and for a moment Scotty was afraid he was going to hit the wall again. But Jim held him tightly and he settled back down on the floor. Shoulders sagging, he continued. "Fine, doctor!........ Lets, see. I am a child of two different worlds but I am also the child of two immensely intelligent beings. They met, they defied tradition, they married and they produced offspring. My mother often told me I was a miracle, that they didn't know if they could ever conceive. However, I find myself wondering if they were so concerned with whether or not they could that they overlooked a bigger problem; whether or not they even should! I am aware that they faced conflict from both of their respective cultures and know the difficulty of walking with one foot in two worlds, especially my mother. But I assure you, there is an enormous difference between living in two worlds and having both worlds warring inside your head!

My Vulcaness sent me into pon farr. My humanity made me fall in love with a woman that my Vulcan biology then rejected! My humanity made me want to seek out a solution that satisfied my emotional needs. My Vulcaness told me that the place to find the strength to do this was with my ancestors and then my human emotions overwhelmed me and allowed an invader into my mind!" He surged up again and this time Jim could not hold him. His hand met the wall again with a sickening crack and Scotty knew he had broken several bones. Jim and the doctor wrestled him back down and Bones took hold of his hand.

"Dammit, Spock! Your Vulcan hands are too sensitive for this shit. Knock it off." He pulled the hand flat to align the fingers before crudely splinting it but Spock yanked it away. He wasn't finished.

"So, you see, gentlemen," he continued, his voice bitter and starting to slur, "I actually feel anger towards my parents, towards a mother who loved me right up until she died. Towards a father who tried to raise me to be a proper Vulcan after he deliberately made me improperly. For all their intelligence, where was their common sense? And so I am angry at my two halves, constantly shortchanging and working against each other. However, they still remain a part of me, so even though I feel torn apart by my very nature, the only one I can really blame is myself. Anything else would be……illogical. That means I will never truly find forgiveness or any real relief, but of course, that is what I deserve!" Spock made a half-hearted attempt to stand but was too woozy and unsteady on his feet. Collapsing back down on the deck, he allowed Jim to pull him back against his chest and smooth his hair, too drained to fight back. Jim turned to Scotty, eyes bright with anger and concern and silently mouthed, "ENOUGH!"

Silence hung in the air of the rec room as Bones patched Spock up. Finishing, he stood and said, "Look, we've had a trying night and have a lot to think about. My medical opinion is that we all sleep on it." They had nodded their agreement. Pavel had taken the first watch and the other four had slipped off to bed. The night had been painful but the morning had brought a profound sense of relief, a sense of a shared burden that was easier to carry. They reached Antoch and Bones did not leave the ship. He stayed and over the next few months, they'd learned to forgive, to let go and move on. Now, ten months later, it still wasn't perfect but it was getting close.

The plant's third sun finally dipped below the horizon. Scotty stretched, stood and grabbed his lawnchair. Speaking of perfect, Pavel had managed to replicate a pretty mean Crappit Heid, just like his mother used to make it. Smiling to himself, Scotty headed inside for dinner.

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

"Doctor, considering the difficulties we have experienced on this plant, it is ill advised for the three of you to leave this ship."

Bones turned away from the mirror and smirked at Spock, "Yeah, you would say that but then you've got a sure thing, don't ya. The rest of us actually have to go work at it to get laid."

Spock raised an eyebrow. Bones raised him one back. "Look, we've got our communicators and we'll stay together. And you two can….I don't know. Enjoy a quiet evening alone? Or whatever?" He smiled lasciviously as he headed towards the rec room where Pavel and Scotty sat waiting. Glancing at the Captain's bruised face, he ordered, "You're still a little concussed. Absolutely no drinking!" Scotty shot him a dirty look but nodded.

Spock grabbed a seat at the table, obvious apprehension still written on his face. Jim plopped down next to him, "What's with you?"

"I am concerned about their well-being. We did, in fact, have a rather serious altercation this afternoon with some people who appear to wield power in this particular port. I think it would be wise for us to maintain a low profile."

Jim grinned, "Spock, we've been in space for a month and it's another three weeks til our next port. Nothing short of death could keep them on board tonight. Besides, they know how to watch each other's backs." Spock still looked unconvinced. "Come one. Let me see if I can distract you."

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

The bar was loud and rough, just like Scotty liked them, but he kept his promise to the good doctor and stuck to water. Besides, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had sober sex and found the possibility a little intriguing. There were certainly plenty of options around him. Bones was already half lit and currently working his southern charm on a cute brunette and Chekov….well, where was the kid? Scanning the crowd, he finally located him, leaning against a wall and chatting with a tiny waitress who looked entirely out of her element in this dive. She looked at Chekov with blatant gratitude and as Scotty watched, her eyes glazed over in overt invitation. Scotty snorted. No wait, it couldn't be. But, yes….miracle of miracles, the pretty young thing had just dragged the hapless Russian out the back door!

Turning to apprise Bones of their young friend's sudden run of luck, Scotty noticed that the doctor was no longer flirting up the brunette. Instead, he was slumping over onto the bar, his head in his hands and his eyes bleary. Scotty couldn't believe it. It usually took way more than that to knock Bones out. He hopped off his stool to steady his friend but the floor suddenly tilted and he hit the ground. No, this couldn't be right! He hadn't drunk anything! A wave of nausea overcame him and his mind registered one brief seed of panic before it dissolved completely into darkness.

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

Jim sprawled on his back, eyes shut, mouth opened, hands digging into the sheets. He gasped as hot lips and a moist tongue circled his left nipple before kissing and licking their way down his chest. Hands dug sharply into his hips, holding him still as a nose nudged through his boxers at his straining erection. He bit his lip and emitted a low moan, rising up onto his elbows to stare into Spock's eyes and beg, "Please don't tease me!"

Spock's lips quirked into a wolfish grin. "It's your move, Jim."

"What?"

"It's your move?"

Jim shook his head as his hot little fantasy dissolved around him. He found himself meeting Spock's eyes through the multiple levels of the ship's chess set. He sighed. This hadn't exactly been what he had in mind when he promised Spock distraction but any happy marriage involved compromise. Besides, the guys would be out late and they'd get to the good stuff later. He focused on the board, contemplating his next move, when Spock suddenly emitted a strange grunt. He looked up in time to see the Vulcan flop forward onto the table, a small, red dart protruding from his shoulder blade. He heard a low, dark chuckle from the rec room door and looked up into the eyes of the burly customs agent.

"Sweet dreams, lover boy." He chortled before shooting Jim right in the chest.