The courtyard where the treaty was to be signed was spacious and shaded by an intricately woven covering that hung eight meters above them, allowing in enough light to illuminate the space while still providing ample shelter from the harsh sun. He was seated at a round table near the center of the courtyard across from the senate leader. Around them stood the four Trial Masters and Ambassador Hchun, as well as several recording devices that were currently displaying the ceremony across Ewle and the Federation as they had the day before.

"Today, we rejoice as we join the United Federation of Planets, and we pledge ourselves to uphold the statutes of this alliance and to aid our new family in their times of need," the senate leader intoned, pen poised above the paper. There was, of course, a digital copy of the treaty which they would also both sign after the ceremony.

"We rejoice!" The Trial Masters and ambassador echoed. Spock had attended many such ceremonies both during his tenure at Starfleet and before at his father's side, and he had rarely heard a group of people sound more sincere. The Federation had secured a true ally in Ewle. The senate leader signed the document first in Ewlean Standard characters and then in Federation Standard before handing the pen across the table to Spock.

He took it with a deep nod. "The United Federation of Planets gains a new member today, but it also gains an ally. The planet of Ewle brings a number of diverse cultures, beliefs, and skills to the Federation, and we are grateful to count Ewle among our number." The senate leader's smile widened slightly, and Spock turned his attention to the document. He signed it, first in Vuhlkansu characters and again using the Federation Standard ones.

Then, both he and the senate leader stood, and they bowed to one another, the ceremony complete.

. . .

Jim grinned as he watched Spock speak quietly with the ambassador and senate leader after the conclusion of the ceremony. The audio had been turned off, but it was still fun to watch him mingle with the Ewlean leaders. Spock always insisted that he wasn't any good at small-talk, and he was right—he never talked about something that didn't matter, and that drew people to him and held their attention.

Eventually, the video stopped as well, and Jim stood from his bed—he had hoped that if he just stayed in bed for as long as he could he would sleep a little more—and made his way over to his closet. He debated for a moment before pulling out his command golds and heading to the 'fresher. He was technically on medical leave for the rest of the day still, but that wasn't going to stop him from meeting Spock and Bones on the transporter pad when they beamed back up soon.

. . .

The Ewlean sun beat down on their heads as Spock and Bones made their way to the transporter beam-up location, escorted by the Trial Masters. The doctor was oddly quiet, but Spock did not question the irregularity aloud, for it would surely result in a cessation of the phenomenon.

When they reached the place, they exchanged bows with the Trial Masters. "May you find shade wherever you seek it, Representatives," the Trial Master of Cultivation said.

"May your days be cool and your water plentiful," Spock replied, nodding deeply. Then, he tapped his communicator. "Two to beam up, Mister Scott." Golden light surrounded them, and the Ewle disappeared, replaced by the familiar sight of the Enterprise transporter room.

As Spock's eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room, he froze. Leaning against the transporter console was Jim, a smile on his face.

"Welcome back, gentlemen," he greeted, laughter in his voice. "Congratulations on your Trial, Mister Spock, although perhaps the fact that the two of you didn't kill each other is a larger accomplishment."

Doctor McCoy grumbled something about it being a narrow thing. Typically Spock would have had a comment on the illogic of congratulations or the fact that he would never harm Doctor McCoy under normal circumstances, but the words died on his tongue as memories came rushing back.

The last time he had seen Jim, he had berated him, doubted him, and undermined his command mere minutes before the man had undergone a likely traumatic event. And here he was, smiling as if all were forgiven. He wanted to speak up and apologize, but he was all too aware of Doctor McCoy and Mister Scott's presence. Instead, he bowed his head—the action twelve seconds delayed—and stepped off the transporter.

"Are you not on medical leave, Captain?" he asked, clasping his hands behind him in parade rest, a familiar motion that helped to calm his mind.

"I know for a fact that M'Benga put you on leave for two days, Jim, and unless somebody went and changed the clock on me, it hasn't been forty-eight hours," Doctor McCoy said to Spock's left, striding forward and looking over Jim with a critical eye.

Jim laughed and waved the doctor's attention away. "Easy, Bones. I am on leave. I just figured I would come meet you when you beamed back up. Uhura, Sulu, and Chapel send their regards by the way—they're actually on duty right now."

The doctor frowned doubtfully. "You haven't been on the bridge once?"

Jim grinned slyly, and the doctor spluttered before Jim cut him off with another laugh. "Just once, Bones, and I stayed for less than five minutes. I just wanted to make sure the bridge crew knew I was still alive!"

"I can confirm that, Doctor. The Captain was only up there a minute," Scotty said from his place behind the console, smiling. "We were mighty glad to see him."

That seemed to placate the doctor. "Mmm. Well, I want you in Medbay for a check-up before you go on duty tomorrow," he ordered, and Jim nodded, still smiling. Then McCoy turned. "And don't you even think about going up to the bridge, Spock. You aren't cleared for duty yet."

Spock raised an eyebrow. The doctor had examined him several times following the Trial the day before and had found nothing amiss. He was not surprised by the demand, however, and inclined his head in acceptance. He had learned that it was better, occasionally, to simply allow Doctor McCoy his eccentricities. They were his unique way of expressing his...friendship.

"Can I steal Spock for a few minutes before you submit him to your torturing?" Jim asked, taking a step closer to Spock. "I promise I won't keep him long."

Doctor McCoy opened his mouth as if to object, but then he glanced between the two of them and nodded instead. "Fine. Twenty minutes, and then I want you in Medbay." He stepped past them and left the room, Mister Scott following with a meaningful look of his own that Jim thankfully did not seem to notice.

Spock resisted the urge to shift on his feet. "Is there something you require of me, Captain?" he asked, forcing himself to meet Jim's warm eyes.

"I'm not on duty, remember, Spock? It's Jim."

Spock bowed his head, not quite trusting himself to repeat the name.

"I just wanted to check in with you. I got the report you wrote up, which could have waited a few days, by the way." He shook his head. His features seemed...fond, but Spock was not certain he trusted his ability to interpret them correctly. "It was perfect, of course, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean, with everything being on the holonet."

Spock blinked. In the face of his guilt—for that was what it was—over Jim's Trial, he had pushed the memories of his own to the back of his mind. "What is, is," he replied, his mind spinning.

Jim smiled softly. "Of course."

They drifted into silence then, simply gazing at each other. Jim opened his mouth once more, but Spock quickly cut him off, the words he had meant to say finally coming forth. "Captain. Jim. I wish to apologize for my actions the day of your Trial."

It was Jim's turn to blink now. Recognition dawned across his face a few moments later. "Don't worry about it, Spock. I know where you were coming from, and it all worked out in the end. No harm done."

Spock frowned and took a half step forward. "No, Jim. I should not have reacted as I did. You are my superior officer, and questioning you so publicly was an act of insubordination." He paused for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at Jim—this wonderful man who deserved the universe and more. "Even disregarding our ranks I was at fault. I trust you implicitly and should have acted as such."

Jim's hand came up to rest on his upper arm, squeezing gently. Spock froze under the touch, barely resisting the urge to lean into it. Jim's warmth soaked easily through the material of his uniform: a sun concentrated just above his skin. "Apology accepted, Spock. Your trust means a lot to me, you know. I'm glad to have you at my side."

Spock bowed his head. "It is an honor to serve with you." It was an honor to simply orbit his presence. Jim lit the lives of all he interacted with, if only fleetingly, and Spock was party to that warmth nearly constantly.

The hand on his arm squeezed once more before releasing him. "Well, I should let you go before McCoy decides it's been too long. I'll see you on the bridge tomorrow?"

"Indeed."

Jim nodded, a smile once more on his lips. "Good, good"

Then he stepped to the side, allowing Spock to pass him. He was nearly out the door when Jim's voice stopped him again.

"Oh, Spock?" Spock turned, his eyebrow raised. "I hope you know I trust you the same way."

"Thank you, Jim." It was an inadequate response, but it was the only one he was capable of at the moment. Regardless, Jim's smile widened a little, and Spock was still thinking of the way it seemed to brighten the room seven minutes and thirty-six seconds later as Doctor McCoy ran his tricorder over him.

"So, how'd your lover's talk go?" the doctor asked as he turned to his PADD to compare Spock's current readings to his typical ones.

Spock arched an eyebrow. They were thankfully alone in the Medbay—despite his antagonistic attitude, McCoy would never discuss his personal life where others could hear—but that made Spock no more eager to answer the doctor's question. "It was not a 'lover's talk'," he replied firmly.

The doctor made a disbelieving noise. He then crossed the room to a cabinet where he searched for several moments before retrieving three pre-prepared hyposprays. "You need to talk to him, Spock, and you need to do it soon, before something else comes up and drags us into another disaster."

Spock did not bother to rearticulate the reasons he had refrained from doing so thus far. Instead, he simply gazed at the man as he moved around the room, double checking several charts and medicines as he continued, saying,

"You could wait, maybe. Wait for some big moment when one of you is in danger of dying and spill your guts to him then, but then what? I'd patch you both up at the end of the day and you'd pretend it never happened? Pretend it was the adrenaline or the fatigue or some kind of alien influence? Or maybe one of you actually dies and the other is left with what could have been. No. Talk to him now, when you're both mostly alright in the head." McCoy stopped tapping on his PADD and looked up to meet Spock's eyes. "Don't waste your time together."

A retort was on Spock's lips, but he let it fade away, instead holding the doctor's gaze for several moments and reading the sincerity there. His words echoed, in many ways, Nyota's from several days previous. Finally, he nodded infinitesimally. "I will think on your words, Doctor."

McCoy huffed. "That's the best I'm going to get out of you, I suppose. These hyposprays should help you sleep. There's three days worth. If you still can't sleep or meditate deeply enough on your own after three days come see me."

On another day, Spock might have argued that he had no need for artificial sleeping aids. Today, he silently accepted the hyposprays.

. . .

Jim couldn't sleep. Maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise, but he had hoped that since the Enterprise had left Ewle's orbit his mind would settle down enough for him to sleep. Spock and Bones were both back safely on board, the treaty was signed, and everyone was happy. That should have been enough.

It wasn't.

His hallucination of Tarsus had unburied trauma he had thought he had moved past. After years of learning how to cope and live with it, it had become just another part of who he was. An ugly part but one that he could largely ignore. Now, it was back on the surface of his mind, a picture gallery he couldn't ignore that proudly displayed some of the worst memories of his life in perfect detail, now mixed with the hallucination he had faced and pervaded by a sense of anticipatory dread. Tarsus was over. Rationally, he knew that. He also knew, however, that the second he closed his eyes it would be back, replaying itself in his dreams.

Eventually, he gave up on trying to sleep at all with a heavy sigh. He thought about reviewing reports so that he would at least be doing something productive with his time but quickly remembered that there weren't any reports to review—he had done them all over the past two days while he had been mostly confined to his room.

He groaned, his head thunking against the bulkhead behind him. What he needed was a good run, a way to get his body just a little more exhausted than it already was while burning up the nervous energy that twitched in his muscles. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that either. M'Benga and Bones had restricted his access to the gym while his ankle finished healing. It was fine, really, but they were worried he would push himself too hard and injure it again, which was fair considering his track record.

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood, bouncing a little before beginning to wander aimlessly around his room. His feet carried him to the door to the 'Fresher, and he paused. It was later, which meant that Spock was likely back in his rooms by now. Maybe he could ask his First Officer for a game of chess? The thought was rejected as soon as it had appeared. Just because he kept horrible hours didn't mean he had the right to keep Spock up. He was probably meditating or sleeping by now.

Meditating…

Jim stood there thinking for a few moments before shrugging and making his way back to his bed where he pulled a pillow off. He plopped it on the floor and sat down, his back against his bed. Once again, he knew the exercise wouldn't be half as useful as it had been with Spock guiding him, but he let his eyes drift closed, smiling slightly. Spock would get a kick out of learning he had instilled a new habit into him.

. . .

The screen of Spock's monitor glowed dimly in the darkness of his room as he reread the message his mother had sent him. It was relatively short, especially considering their typical multiple-page correspondence, and yet he had been pondering it for the past twenty minutes and nineteen seconds.

'Spock, I watched your Trial on Ewle yesterday and your final negotiations today. You did wonderfully. I must admit, it was odd seeing a double of myself on a planet I've never been to—although I would like to visit one day, perhaps with your father—especially considering the nature of the conversation. It reminded me of the one we had just before you applied to the Academy.

'That hallucination of yours said many things I have said and thought, as well as I few things I haven't, but I want you to know that I love you as you are. There are times when I wish you would be more in touch with the human part of you, but I never want that to come at the expense of the person you are.

'I won't lie—I think your time on the Enterprise has helped you find the balance you need. I'm sorry that you couldn't have found it sooner, but I'm sure you'll say that apologies are illogical. Still. Hold on to the people you are close to now, my son. They are good people, and I think they understand you more than you might believe.'

Much love (illogical though it may be),

Your mother

P.S. Give Jim my love!

The message was, as a whole, close to what he would have expected from his mother. He was not aware that she had intended to watch the Trial or negotiation, nor was he aware of how she had been informed of the events in the first place, but the behavior was not irregular. With the exception of the postscript.

His mother had never mentioned Jim by name before in her messages, save for one directly following his Pon Farr and Jim's actions on Vulcan, for which Amanda praised him for several pages. Since then, however, she had only referred to him as 'your captain' if she mentioned him at all. Thus, the postscript gave him pause. His mother had often claimed she had an 'intuition' when it came to certain things, and while he had frequently discounted it during his youth, his time on the Enterprise had given him a greater appreciation for the frequency with which humans correctly determined future events despite the lack of sufficient data to form a hypothesis.

After a few more moments, he powered the screen off. He would formulate a reply to his mother later, after he had had the opportunity to mediate properly on the events of the last several days. Perhaps then he would have an answer to the question she did not ask.