Story is coming to an end in two more chapters. Didn't get much love for the last chapter. I thought it was decent . . .

"Ji─im."

At the sound of his name, he turned partially around to meet the woman's gaze. He hated when they drew out his name like that. Why did women think that was cute? Even so, he put on a suave smile as he pulled on his pants. "Sorry, can't stay. Have stuff to do."

The women pouted, crossing her arms trying to bring across her displeasure as much as possible. Jim ignored her and picked up the phaser he had left on the night stand. "Where does a sixteen year old even get a phaser?"

The woman was startled by the cold look in Jim's eyes. When Jim smiled, his cold stare didn't dissipate even when he said jokingly, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

She laughed uneasily. "Well, when will I see you again? "

"Sorry. One night thing."

"Aw, come on." She tugged on his arm and dragged him back into bed. "We've been dancing around each other for a year now. One night isn't nearly enough."

"And why's that?"

She grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck, "Because I love you," she said kissing his cheek.

Jim took her wrists into his own and gently pushed her away. "Sorry," he replied, getting off the bed. "I don't get attached." As he made his way to the door he paused and added, "And you're an idiot. Love doesn't exist in this world. Not with words at least." With that parting message, he left the gaping woman behind.

McCoy sighed. What he wouldn't have given for a bottle of whiskey at that moment. The past 36 hours had been hell even by his standards. He slumped in the chair in his borrowed office. He wanted to sleep but was too afraid to. Just outside, visible from the office window, he could see his best friends both sound asleep in their biobeds, 36 hours ago he really thought he was doomed.

\

He escaped. McCoy wasn't sure if it was a good thing or bad thing at this point. He glanced at the white in the cracks of his skin again. All these years of saying how Jim was going to contract some mysterious space disease gallivanting across the galaxy, and he was the one who ended up catching it. Kind of like on Miri. Figures. Jim always had all the luck. The only difference this time was there were no lab and no Spock. Two things that had helped him figure out a cure in the first place.

Now he sat, leaned up against a tree wondering if he should find his way back to their previous camp site or if he should stay hidden. Jim would blame himself if he went back. The kid was like that, taking responsibility for things out of his control. Like the destruction of Vulcan or him being infected, and there was no known cure. The best they could do was sterilize the fungus and keep it from spreading. That was of course if they managed to get off the planet in the first place and that the fungus was the same strain as the one they previously encountered. It wasn't looking good for him. McCoy was aware of that.

Being faced with his mortality wasn't a fun past time, but as he contemplated what to do next, it was unavoidable. He closed his eyes wishing he could see his little girl again. Just because he was a workaholic, and he had a bit of a sour demeanor, his bitch of an ex-wife kept her from him. Joanna would grow up thinking he didn't care about her no matter how many presents or cards or letters he sent. That was probably his biggest regret closely followed by dying on Jim. He didn't want his best friend to slowly watch him die. It would be cruel to Jim to make him see that again, and with the hobgoblin by his side, Jim would still have someone to keep him out of trouble.

So that was it then. He'd stay away from them. On his own he wouldn't last long. Someone would probably kill him before the disease or hunger took him over. Maybe he could find something he could send a last message with. Leave a last message for Joanna and maybe some meaningful message for Jim and Spock. He knew Jim already had a message for him and Spock in case he died. It sounded like a good idea.

Just as he thought of some ideas on how to get his hands on a recording device, he felt the beginnings of being transported. "You have got to be shitting me!" he yelled out into the night air. Just when he accepted he was going to die, he gets rescued now?

McCoy had a few curse words for Scotty for waiting so long to rescue them, but where he materialized wasn't the Enterprise. It was the cargo bay of a constitution class vessel like the Enterprise, but it was smaller, and he didn't recognize any of the Starfleet officers directing the survivors to sanitation stalls.

"You can't take me!"

The yell drew McCoy and everyone else's attention to a young man with a sharp rock in his hands. "I won't go to prison! I won't! I didn't mean to kill her. It was an accident," his hand shook, as he slowly backed away from the officers.

An officer tried to explain that no one was going to prison, but the man wouldn't have it. He ran, shoving people out of the way, yelling how it wasn't his fault. He was skin and bones, his hair long and knotted, and covered in grime just like a lot of the people around McCoy. What set him apart was that he was covered in blood, and had a large scab from his chin and neck down to his chest that was an angry red.

It took three officers to stop him, stunning him multiple times before he went down. Unfortunately, with the man's poor physical condition, the excessive stunning was too much on his heart. Doctors rushed over to try to resuscitate the individual, and the rescues were growing agitated at the sight.

Whoever was in charge must have realized that and had the man carted away. Uneasy now, McCoy looked around. The rescue must have just started. Judging by how few there were in the cargo bay. About a hundred, maybe a little more. But why the cargo bay? What was wrong with the transporter room to the point they had to redirect everyone from the transporter computer to the cargo bay? It was a much more risky procedure.

"Excuse me!" McCoy looked at the man who had approached him. He was in Starfleet scrubs and looked desperate when he addressed McCoy. "Are you a Starfleet officer?"

"Yeah, I am. Is something wrong?" McCoy replied, his instincts telling him he wasn't going to like what the doctor had to say.

"From the Enterprise?"

McCoy nodded, really not liking where this was going. "Yeah, Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy. What in blue blazes is going on?"

Instead of answering, the young doctor dragged McCoy into the sanitation room, stripped him down, and had him scrubbed, sanitized, and redressed in borrowed scrubs all in the span of five minutes.

"What is going on? " McCoy repeated.

"You'll see when we get there."

The ship design was similar to the Enterprise, maybe a bit more cramped, so it was easy to figure out where they were heading. Outside the transporter room, another young doctor stood, staring into the transporter room. The new doctor was dark skinned with short, black, curly hair, with a frown etched into his features with a hint of concern in his eyes.

The doctor leading McCoy went straight to him. "Doctor M'Benga, I found one of the Enterprise's crew, Doctor Leonard McCoy."

The doctor named M'Benga looked relieved and exasperated at the same time, taking in McCoy's appearance. "I am sorry, Doctor McCoy. Regulation would normally forbid us from asking for your assistance given the trauma you have been through, but giving the circumstances, we will have to ignore it for now."

"What's going on?" McCoy demanded for the third and final time, growing impatient.

M'Benga's frown grew, and he waved away a few of the security members away from the door. McCoy looked through the door and inhaled sharply at what he saw.

Jim was lying unconscious on the transporter pad on his back, blood flowing from his ears and dark stains in his black shirt visible. His face was pale, possibly from blood loss, and he didn't look to be breathing.

Spock was there as well, leaning over Kirk and growling at whoever got too close, and he was bleeding, a lot. There was a puddle of blood beneath them. McCoy's instinct knew Spock should be on the edge of death and not conscious at all. And when he looked into Spock's eyes, he knew he was partially right. Spock's eyes were unfocused as if he wasn't even seeing anything. Spock probably couldn't even really attack them, but even on the edge of death, adrenalin was a powerful thing, and agitating Spock further would probably put the Vulcan in a worse position, opening any wounds that had managed to close, and using a phaser to stun him would most likely kill him with one shot just like the man in the cargo bay. It was the state of Spock's hands however that really made McCoy feel sympathy for the Vulcan. Any pressure on those hands should cause Spock immense pain in the condition they were in, and yet it didn't stop Spock from supporting Jim's head.

One of the security officers took a step closer, trying to reassure Spock of who they were, and Spock held the knife in his left hand higher in warning.

"As you can see Doctor McCoy, Commander Spock will not allow anyone near him or Captain Kirk. They've been here for the past ten minutes, and the captain's and the commander's vitals are dropping. If we wait until the commander is no longer able to defend them, it might be too late for both of them."

"Right," so they needed a familiar face. After a quick discussion with M'Benga, he walked into the transporter room with a hypo hidden in his pocket.

At McCoy's approach, Spock looked at him and growled, readying the knife in preparation for an attack.

"Stupid hobgoblin, what nonsense have you dragged Jim into now." The delivery was gruff and relatively normal to their usual banter, but he lacked his usual bite and it was said relatively softly. His words however did earn him some weary glances from the security team, silently asking if he was out of his mind.

Spock's brows drew together in thought, recognizing the voice addressing him. "D-doctor?"

"That's right, get that computer brain of yours working already. You realize you're cluttering up the transporter room and bringing down everyone's efficiency, right?" McCoy stopped a couple feet from Spock.

Spock's posture dropped considerably, and McCoy squatted in front of him. "You've done enough Spock. You protected him. It's time to put him in sickbay and patch Jim up yet again. Then we'll take a look at you too. "

Spock dropped the knife and nodded wearily. "Sahrafel nash-veh t'Jim ek'manek vu-tor."

McCoy didn't understand the words, but understood the sentiment. "Sure thing," he injected the hypo into Spock's neck, and the Vulcan was out in under a second.

M'Benga was ordering people around before Spock even toppled over. "Get those two into the same surgical room on the double. Ask the Enterprise to send over their supply of T-Negative for the commander. Doctor McCoy, do you think you are well enough to join me in surgery?"

McCoy gave the man a wry grin, joining the man out the door, "I might need something to raise my blood sugar, and I guess I should mention it's against the rules without a medical and psychological exam."

M'Benga matched his smile. "I'll get you a something light, but do you want the explanation now?"

The middle aged, country doctor snorted. "Later then." He ran his hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "After we get those two idiots settled."

/

They had lost Spock three times on the table and Jim once. Jim was lost shortly after getting him to the surgical room from blood loss. Otherwise, his wounds weren't too bad. His mind had been overly stressed due to some outside influence, and it took three hours to stabilize his brainwaves again. It took a couple more hours for McCoy to patch up Jim's right arm that had the multiple stab wounds. Patching up a few more injuries, the one on his chest and shoulder included, Jim wasn't in too bad a state. He suffered a bit from smoke inhalation and might have a bit of a cough when he woke, but he would pretty much be good as new in a couple of days.

M'Benga didn't have as much luck. Smoke inhalation and blood loss was the least of Spock's worries. First off, they were low on T-negative. Spock had to give his own blood every month to keep up his own private supply. Because T-negative was rare among Vulcans, there weren't many donors. On top of that, the human element in Spock's blood made any donation useless without modifying it specifically for Spock. Adding to the fact that Spock used some of his supply a few months ago, the Enterprise's supply was lower than usual.

Then there was just the vast amount of damage Spock had gained the past 72 hours on planet. There were bruising around his spine and heart, lacerations, a phaser wound, and broken bones. His leg had to be rebroken and set properly. Plus Spock's brainwaves were erratic and went haywire whenever they tried to remove Jim from the surgical room. And then there were Spock's hands. M'Benga spent 10 hours trying to fix them after the 13 hours of surgery to fix everything else. While Spock's left hand had been sliced open with precision and dealt with carefully and therefore easy to fix, Spock's right hand was almost beyond saving. It had suffered a lot of nerve damage and his fingers had been in odd angles. If he had been a human, they might have considered cutting it off as a prosthetic would work better than the recovered hand. However, due to being a touch telepath, unless they had to, they didn't consider it. They were hoping they fixed enough of the nerve damage that Spock would be able to use his hand under normal everyday situations after some therapy. For now, Spock was in a healing trance in the isolation ward with Jim in another bed beside him.

McCoy had surprised M'Benga had allowed it and suggested it when he remembered neither of the two had been sterilized completely and a lot of people were going in and out of sickbay. M'Benga and his staff had been busy seeing to every colonist, administering vitamins, vaccines, and patching up injuries. The only part of sickbay that wasn't in a frenzy was M'Benga's office and Jim and Spock's room. This ship's doctor was nice enough to offer his office so McCoy could get some shut eye. He was exhausted. It had been 48 hours since he had rested, and two weeks since he had any real sleep. It was hard to believe that it had only been two weeks since they're accident. It felt so much longer.

And yet, he couldn't get any shut eye. His stomach was upset with real food filling it, and he was still going to die. Besides that, he always had trouble sleeping whenever Jim was in his sickbay, afraid that the moment he closed his eyes, the idiot would wake up and escape and then bleed to death somewhere. That last part had happened once. It was Jim's fault he was getting grey hair.

A knock on the door had McCoy looking up lazily, and M'Benga let himself in. "I take it you couldn't sleep."

"With those two," he pointed outside the window, "I rarely get sleep, especially when they're in my sick bay."

M'Benga smiled and took a seat opposite of McCoy. "I can imagine them being a handful. I don't envy you there." The young doctor yawned.

"You should get some rest."

"I have another couple hours before I can change shifts with another doctor. I just thought I'd have that talk with you while I can." M'Benga slouched in his chair, making himself comfortable. "I've been interning on New Vulcan for the past two years. Since they needed the help and I wanted the experience, it was a good opportunity. I learned a lot. About medicine and them."

He met McCoy's gaze. "A lot of humans seem to harbor the idea that Vulcan's don't feel rather than they control their emotions. It's hard for humans to make that distinction even though we know the truth theoretically. We forget that their history is full of violence and bloodshed, and that those powerful emotions don't go away just because they learned to control it. That being said, it doesn't mean it's easy to show those emotions either. Unless they lack discipline or are mentally ill, it is difficult to make a Vulcan show strong outbursts of emotions unless under certain circumstances. Pon Farr is one of them, though that is a biological function that cannot be avoided. Another way is to stir up their protective instincts, specifically involving their children and bondmates."

McCoy leaned back in his chair rubbing a hand over his face. "They aren't bondmates."

"No, but they do have some sort of mental link. He knew that Captain Kirk was nearby, and he went into a panic when the captain was to be removed from the room while completely unconscious. Added to the near savage behavior and disregards to his own health in the transporter room, I could guess that they're in some sort of relationship."

McCoy laughed. "It'd be so much simpler if they were. Believe me. But at this moment, no, they aren't seeing each other."

"I see. Either way, the commander would not allow anyone he was not familiar with to approach Captain Kirk. Unless you were in the surgical room with me, there was a high chance Spock would work himself into a panic." M'Benga looked out the window at the sleeping duo. "His control is in tatters if he couldn't even logically conclude that his protective behavior was harming Captain Kirk rather than helping him. He might require a Vulcan healer to help with the damage to his mind."

"No healers," McCoy said sharply, surprising the other doctor. "Ambassador Selek or Sarek, and only if Spock thinks they are needed."

To M'Benga's credit, he didn't ask why McCoy was so against a Vulcan healer. "I'll see what I can do."

The heart rate monitor above Jim's bed beeped, signaling his elevated heart rate and elevated brain activity. "Looks like he's waking up."

"I'll let you talk to him before I officially take you off duty."

The country doctor smiled softly, looking over to where his friend was waking up. "Thanks."

Damn he was really drunk. His world around him was blurry and tilting. He should probably take a cab home. He looked for his pants in the dark room, fumbling around for them. As he straightened, he felt soft breasts press against his back and arms wrap around his shoulders. "Where do you think you're going handsome?"

"Areel, not tonight. I just want to go home." He checked his pant pockets to make sure he had everything keys, credits, phone, phaser, and a napkin with a girl's number. Good, so he wouldn't leave anything for once.

"Come on Jim, we've been seeing each other for a couple months now. Don't you think it's time?"

He did not want to have this conversation. He never wanted to have this conversation. Still, he smiled at her. "Time for what?"

"To start seeing each other officially instead of messing around. I know you call me your girlfriend in public, but we both know it wasn't really serious. Hell you don't even spend the night. It's starting to feel like I'm a fuck buddy."

He resisted rubbing his temples. "Look, I just got out of a serious relationship, and I don't think I'm ready to─"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Kirk. I'm aspiring to be a lawyer. I can tell when you're lying, and I have evidence to back it up." She looked at him pleadingly with her big blue eyes. "I really like you, Jim. I might even call it love, but if you want to keep doing this, you have to take this to the next level."

There was that word again. "Sorry, Areel, but I really don't want anything to change anything between us."

"When are you going to grow up? You're 21 years old. Is being a player really that satisfying?"

Jim was tempted to say yes but decided he rather not pissed her off. She was going to be a good lawyer, and if she was ever to prosecute him, he rather not leave her scorned. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not ready. Can't you be happy I'm telling you the truth instead of pulling you along?"

Apparently it wasn't satisfying enough. She yelled at him to get out, and Jim stumbled out the door. Well he was planning to break up with her anyway. He pulled out his cell to call a cab, but eyed his bike. They were in the middle of nowhere. Putting his phone away, he mounted his bike.

His body was sore. That was the first thing Jim became aware of followed by the stiffness in his arm. When he opened his eyes, he made out a white, unfamiliar ceiling that slowly came into focus then he focused on the figure standing over him.

"How are you feeling, kid?"

Jim stared at McCoy for a couple seconds trying to recall what had happened. "Where's Spock?" he asked, trying to sit up.

The doctor snorted and glanced to the bed beside him. "Should have known you'd ask that first."

Jim followed his gaze and the tension in his chest eased at the sight of the sleeping Vulcan. He was safe. They did it. They escaped. Unless this was another sick illusion…

"You should take it easy for another day or so. If you stay put, I'll even let you out of sickbay early."

Bones was being too nice. Maybe he was an illusion. The thought disappeared from his mind when a hypo was jammed into his neck. He yelped at the pain.

"That's what you get for giving me yet another damn heart attack! Are you trying to kill me?"

Jim's eyes widened in alarm. He grabbed McCoy's scrubs and pulled him in close. "Where are my pants?"

McCoy looked startled at the sudden burst of strength but replied, "Probably on their way to the incinerator."

"Get them now! The secret to a cure is in there!"

McCoy cursed and was out of sickbay in a heartbeat, but not before he threw over his shoulder, "Move and I'll hypo you into next week."

Naturally, Jim moved to get out of bed. He flexed the fingers in his right hand and frowned. He couldn't feel his ring finger and pinky when he moved them. Still, the stiff feeling eased and his shoulder and chest only ached mildly thanks to the painkiller. The skin grafts still felt a bit tight but would ease in a day or so. He was a little dizzy but nothing he couldn't handle.

He turned off the monitors before getting out of bed and setting them off, and then dragged a nearby chair to Spock's bedside. Spock looked peaceful in sleep. He was covered in bandages, and he still had assistance breathing, but he was alive. He was going to live. Jim's gaze traveled to Spock's heavily bandaged hand. Gently, he rested a hand on top of it. "I'm sorry, Spock. I bet my counterpart never fucked over your counterpart this badly. If I was a proper captain, you wouldn't have been on that planet in the first place." Jim went quiet trying to figure out what to say. "I'm no good. I just hope my mistake doesn't cost you your hands, just… make sure you do wake up, okay?" He whispered.

Spock didn't reply, so Jim sat there and waited for when he could.

"James Tiberius Kirk!"

He winced at the sound of his name. Figures he couldn't escape Uhura's room without being confronted about that first. "Gaila!" He said cheerfully hoping to calm the Orion woman down.

"What the hell was that response earlier? I tell you I love you and you say "that's so weird"?" Gaila had thrown on an overly large T-shirt, probably left behind from an old boyfriend, but Jim was still in his underwear and would have preferred to have gotten a chance to get dressed before this conversation. It wasn't his fault his mouth spouted out things before he thought it over.

"Look, it just slipped out. I didn't mean to say that. It just took me by shock. We've only been dating a couple months."

Gaila crossed her arms not convinced. "You're not just using me to pass that stupid test right?"

"Yes," Jim thought offhandedly. It was bothering the hell out of him. Who did this Commander Spock think he was? He could imagine the smug Vulcan face thinking no one could beat his test. It made him want to beat it even more. It was almost an obsession. After all, no one took the Kobayashi Maru test twice let alone a third time. He couldn't wait to meet the bastard after he beat it. If anyone could appreciate his brilliance in overcoming a no-win scenario, surely a Vulcan would. "Of course not. I like what we have." He hurriedly got dressed so people would stop staring at him and made sure nothing fell out of his pockets. His room key and pocket knife were still there.

A smile eased on her face, and she gave him a kiss which he returned. "See you tomorrow?"

"After the test. You know what to do right?"

Gaila flipped her orange hair over her shoulder. "You can count on me."

Jim smirked and watched the Orion saunter away. He was so close to victory. He'd show that Vulcan professor that there was no such thing as a no-win scenario.

McCoy yawned. It had been a long two nights. He managed to save Jim's pants and have the contents sent to the labs and was up every hour out of habit to make sure Jim wasn't just waiting for Spock to wake. The man hadn't moved from Spock's bedside. When he entered the medbay, he was surprised to see Jim absent from Spock's side and the sight of M'Benga slapping the crap out of Spock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

He was ready to pull the mad doctor off Spock, when Spock's left hand shot up and grabbed a hold of M'Benga's hand. "That is sufficient, Doctor M'Benga. Thank you for your assistance," Spock said gruffly, his voice dry and raspy.

McCoy stared inanely at the two of them. "How do you know his name?"

"Vulcans are well aware of their surroundings during their trance, Doctor McCoy. And I was slapping him to assist Mr. Spock in waking. Strong physical sensations are needed for the mind to refocus into consciousness."

Spock nodded in agreement. His brown eyes flickered to the empty chair beside his bed and said nothing other than asking for his medical charts which M'Benga obliged.

"You shouldn't give them too him," McCoy grumbled. "He'll just try to tell you how to do your job."

"On the contrary Doctor McCoy, I fully trust Doctor M'Benga's assessment. He is quite knowledgeable on Vulcan anatomy and has a fascinating resume."

McCoy glared at both of them then. "And you know this because?"

Spock glanced at the empty chair again. "I overheard the doctor talk about his internship on Vulcan and give a small lecture on Vulcan anatomy."

"Yeah, yeah, he's amazing, and I'm not. I'll remember that during your next physical."

"Spock, we have a few things to discuss, do you wish for Doctor McCoy to be present for it? He is your normal physician." M'Benga retrieved the medical chart from him.

"You may speak," Spock seemed to sag marginally into his bed until he used the remote to have the bed help him sit up.

"Spock, I recommend you see a healer to help address your shielding. Both Doctor McCoy and Captain Kirk have mentioned your unusual behavior, and I can take a good guess that like many of your Vulcan counterparts, you have been having trouble meditating since the destruction of Vulcan. Given the stressful situation you have been subjected to, it is no surprise your disciplines failed you."

McCoy noticed the stone like expression on Spock. A strong indication he rather not talk about it and be elsewhere. He supposed to M'Benga though, Spock had a typical Vulcan expression.

"You'll also need to undergo therapy. Both psychological and physical. Everyone in the landing party will be seeing a psychologist and subjected to a psych exam. As your Vulcan half is more predominant than your human half, I have no doubt it will only be a few sessions you have to muddle through."

"Of course," Spock said stiffly. "Anything else you wish to discuss?"

"Not right now, though the bandages on your hands need to be changed."

"I would like Doctor McCoy to change my bandages."

"Sure thing, Commander." M'Benga left the isolation room, leaving McCoy and Spock alone.

McCoy sat on the edge of the bed, taking Spock's right hand and carefully removing the bandages. Normally he wouldn't have sat on the bed as it was unprofessional, but he was tired and he felt maybe Spock would say what was on his mind if he didn't act like a doctor for once.

"If what M'Benga said was true, you already know that Jim is okay and was sitting here up until recently."

Spock nodded.

"He's in a guest room. Being captain has its perks. The rest of the rescues have to sleep in a crowded cargo bay."

"How are Lieutenant Uhura and Luca?"

"Still on planet it seems. There are places around the planet that naturally interfere with the transporter. Specifically the area around the central settlement. Most of the colonist arrived on planet through shuttle transportation."

"I see. And the Enterprise?"

"Scotty is finishing up some repairs. He's about a day away. He thought it'd make Jim relax more if the Enterprise wasn't there to distract him." McCoy took a stylus and ran it from the bottom of Spock's palm to the tip of the index finger. Spock inhaled sharply. "You felt that?"

"Yes. It appears to be very sensitive."

"Be happy that you can feel anything at all." He repeated the action with the other finger. His pinky and pointer finger were overly sensitive while he couldn't feel anything in his middle two. "It's not going to be the same again, Spock. You're going to have difficulties moving them."

"But they will move. I will consider myself fortunate for that." Spock waited for McCoy to wrap up his hand again.

"Do I want to know how your hands got into this state?"

"Most likely not," Spock closed his eyes as McCoy got up to check his other hand.

"Hn, I should revise that and say tell me what happened but I won't. I'll just read your official report."

"Of course, Doctor."

McCoy left the bandages off his left hand. The back of his hand was still bit raw and red, but sufficiently healed. "Another day in sick bay and I'll convince M'Benga to let you go. I'll even let you know when they've located Uhura and Luca." He put a hypo to Spock's neck.

"Doctor…"

"What is it Spock?"

"Thank you … for stopping me."

The doctor paused then grunted with a small smile, "Isn't gratitude a human sentiment?"

"Being subjugated to …environment….contamination…. inevitab─" Spock drifted off.

"Couldn't just be honest with your feelings could you," McCoy sighed. "Damn hobgoblin."

At least now he could get some sleep. He reset Spock's bed so he was lying flat once again and updated his charts. Once he finished, he was looking forward to his first real sleep in weeks.

Jim placed his phaser back in the armory, signing it back in. Their much deserved shore leave was spent well.

"Did you enjoy your first shore leave, Captain."

Jim almost dropped his stylus at Spock's sudden arrival. "Why are you up so early in the night Spock? There's still 12 hours of shore leave left."

"I did not take shore leave. There were many experiments that required my attention."

"Right," Jim shifted awkwardly. Spock always came off as a bit closed off around him, like he was tolerating Jim's existence. "Well to answer your question, I enjoyed shore leave. The women there are so─" At Spock's quizzical stare, Jim stopped. "Never mind. Let's just say I enjoyed the local color."

"I fail to see why you find promiscuous behavior so appealing."

Coming from Spock, he felt a little embarrassed about his activities. "A distraction I guess. Don't you do it with Uhura when you're feeling stressed?"

Spock's posture became stiff. "If you are referring to sexual intercourse, Vulcans do not engage in such acts unless they are bonded."

Jim grinned. "Are you saying you're a virgin?"

A light green dusted the Vulcan's cheeks. "I see nothing wrong with waiting. Sexual intercourse's purpose is to procreate."

With a roll of his eyes, Jim said, "Why not? It's a stress reliever. As long as no one gets hurt and its consensual why does it matter?"

"I do not see the purpose of becoming intimate with so many individuals."

It was Jim's turn to become stiff. He took a defense stance, crossing his arms across his chest and his smile grew tight. "Who said it's intimate?

"Then you engage these individuals guarded? Does it really "relieve stress" if you must put so much effort in keeping your distance?"

Jim looked away, feeling the need to get out of there, badly. "Look, if you want to call me a slut or whore, say it straight out alright? Not that I need you judging me more than you already do."

"I was not implying that you were. Many humans engage in a similar past times, I have just never met one so detached from their romantic partners."

"Did you come here to analyze me Spock?" Jim asked coldly.

Spock stood straighter. He seemed to consider whether or not he should continue speaking. "I came to ask if you would like to play chess. I believe you have an aptitude for the game, and I have often heard that it was a good way to relieve stress. As you have stated, shore leave still has 12. 298 hours left and playing a game or two would not interfere with your duties."

"You want to play chess with me?" he asked with surprise in his voice.

"I have come to the realization that our constant arguments on the bridge could harm the crew's morale. I hypothesized that games of chess could help us better understand each other's motives." Spock's lips thinned. "However, if you do not wish to participate, I understand."

"No, just a bit surprised." Jim gave him a wide grin. "Let's go to Rec Room C."

Just as McCoy had promised, he had let Spock out of medbay the next day. The Enterprise had returned as well. Jim had gone over the moment it was in range, which wasn't a surprise. He still had a crew member missing, he had a mission report to write, a conference with HQ, damage reports to review, and crew members families to contact. McCoy had took him off duty for one more day to prevent him from working himself to death, but Spock hadn't seen him since he had awoken. The moment they were back on the Enterprise, Jim had sequestered himself in his quarters, supposedly working.

Spock had another theory however. While it may have been true the captain was a workaholic, especially when he was stressed, he had a feeling Jim was trying to avoid him as well.

Crew members stopped to welcome him back as he walked down the halls. Everyone was so eager to welcome him and to wish him a swift recovery. The attention was a bit overwhelming. This was not their first life and death situation, and it would not be the last. If this were to happen after every mission, efficiency would decrease by 9.3 percent.

He contemplated on sending a memo about professionalism. He realized after the second paragraph of his mental draft that it was due to his own irritation that he found the excessive emotionalisms overwhelming. He knew Jim had been worried about him. He had felt Jim's hand on top of his and heard his words, and yet when he awoke Jim had disappeared. Spock had been unable to tell him that it was not his fault. It was his choice to go and Jim could not have stopped him. Jim did try to stop him.

Spock stopped in front of the captain's door.

He didn't expect Jim to say come in after the first knock as if expecting him. Perhaps if he had given it more thought, he would have seen it as the logical conclusion. They both knew they had to talk eventually.

When Spock entered, Jim was sitting at his desk, a hardback copy of Drowning Whispers in his hands. The human didn't even look up at Spock when he entered. Instead, he closed the book and placed it down on the desk where Spock could easily see the title, then folded his hands, but Jim didn't look away from the book. "Back then. Why did you say those words?"

Spock too looked at the book. Jim knew. "While I was on planet, I managed to obtain a copy of the book and read it. Given the situation, it seemed appropriate at the time."

The human bit his lip before he tried for an easy grin to deflect from situation. The grin came out as a grimace, and he gave up trying to pretend that he was fine. "I was hoping that I was just reading into it too much. That the situation and your choice of words were just some weird coincidence with no feeling behind it." He stood up, but still he was unable to look at Spock even as the Vulcan came closer.

Jim looked frail, scared, and lonely, doing everything in his power to stay in command, to support himself, and to rely only on himself even if he didn't want to. Still he spoke in a stern voice as if trying to convince Spock of his next words, "I don't do love Spock. I don't get intimate with the people I have sex with. I just use them to make me forget and make me feel human." Spock stopped just in front of him. "I can't do that to you, I can't─"

Spock leaned forward and captured Jim's lips with his own, stopping Jim's rejection before he could accept Jim's excuses, and Jim kissed back with barely any hesitation, responding the moment he felt Spock's lips on his with a desperation he couldn't put into words. Spock wrapped his arm around his human's waist intending to pull Jim closer into the safety of his arms. The action seemed to snap Jim out of whatever trance he was in. He shoved Spock away.

"Don't," his voice cracked. "I don't want to use you too."

"You won't use me, Jim," Spock replied. "I trust you."

"That's the problem!" he yelled, anger burning brightly in his eyes. "If you knew me, knew the things I've done, you'd know you shouldn't. After everything you saw down there, you should know that I am not the man you all think I am!"

"Then let me see for myself," Spock countered, lifting his hand.

Jim's eyes widened then shook his head. "You can't unsee it, Spock. You'll regret it."

"Let me decide for myself."

Jim glanced at Spock's hand and guilt flashed in his eyes until he closed them. After a long silence, he gave his answer, nodding numbly. Spock closed the distance between them again. His left hand brushed Jim's temple and the young captain jerked away before he could steel himself not to move.

Spock paused, giving Jim another chance to back out. When Jim said nothing, he continued to place his fingers on his psi points.

Spock slipped into Jim's mind easily, the few melds shared during missions making it familiar territory, but moving deeper into Jim's thoughts, his memories, was met with a formidable wall. Spock could break through it if he wanted to, and he sensed Jim waiting for Spock to do it, but it would not accomplish Spock's true goal.

"You must let me in, Jim. You must trust me."

He sensed Jim wanting to scream no like a petulant child. After years and years of building walls between himself and people, after years of patching up his own emotional wounds it was unnatural to let go. To trust someone enough to let them see everything was something Jim feared most. Reluctantly, Jim relinquished his hold, little by little.

Once the first memory was released, the rest followed like a flood, having been repressed for so long. Jim's first kill, his first time, his constant pain of loss, his suicidal and selfish thoughts, his hatred and detachment, the never ending pain of hunger. Every memory from when Jim was on Tarsus to the nightmares after spilled into Spock's mind.

Spock broke the meld. Faintly he felt tears on his own face which mirrored the tears on Jim's, who had been forced to relive his memories when Spock shifted through them. "See. I'm more fucked up than you thought," he whispered.

Spock was caught in Jim's endless blue eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, bracing himself for rejection. With his thumb, he wiped away his tears, "I believe that the problem does not lie in what you have done, but that you have dealt with the aftermath alone." He stroked Jim's warm and flushed cheeks. "I grieve with thee, Jim."

A couple more tears fell down Jim's face. A weight had been lifted from his chest, and his shoulders sagged. How long had he waited for someone to finally say that to him and know exactly how much weight those words carried?

Spock captured his lips again, and Jim responded, softly at first, their lips just moving sensually against each other. Jim made the first move, wrapping an arm around Spock's neck to deepen the kiss, and Spock wrapped his arm around Jim's waist pulling him closer.

Jim's kisses trailed to Spock's jaw to the base of Spock's ear. He always had a fascination with them, wondering if they were as sensitive as his hands. He nipped his ear lobe then licked the shell to the tip, making the Vulcan shiver deliciously in his arms.

Without a word, Spock picked up Jim by his waist, leaving Jim's only option to wrap his legs around Spock's waist or be carried awkwardly. He went with the first option, his clothed erection sliding against Spock's in the process, drawing out a drawn out groan from both of them.

Spock attacked Jim's neck with kisses, biting hard enough to bruise before soothing it with his tongue. The pain mixed with pleasure was a heady mixture. Jim tilted his head so Spock had better access, faintly aware Spock was moving them into the sleeping quarters. "You sure you're up for this?"

Spock answered by depositing Jim on the bed and methodically taking off his shirt.

Spock slipped out of Jim's bed. It was only 0300 ship time. Their day was to start in another 3 hours, but Spock had more than enough sleep. He watched Jim, still asleep with the sheets tangled around his legs, barely covering any portion of his body. Their mess had crusted onto their skin while they had slept, an oversight Spock wouldn't overlook again, drool was trailing down the corner of Jim's mouth, and Jim's hair was awry, sticking in every direction. Even so, Jim was beautiful. Maybe even more so than last night. He had never looked as unguarded as he did right then.

Spock took the time to look around the Captain's sleeping quarters as he had been occupied the night before to get a decent look. He had never been in this part of the cabin before. There were very few personal items. While Spock's room was decorated in many items from Vulcan and New Vulcan, Jim's room was practically bare. The only personal items he could see in plain sight were items on the shelf above Jim's bed. There was a dirty doll falling apart at the seams, a cracked PADD, and an old fashioned hand written letter. The rest were commendations he had earned throughout his service from Starfleet.

The old PADD drew Spock's attention, and Spock picked it up delicately, less it fall apart completely.

"Didn't picture you as someone to touch other people's things without permission," came the mumbled reply. The words lacked any real bite or venom. Jim had rolled over to his stomach, staring at the item in Spock's hands.

"Is this the same PADD as the one mentioned in the book?"

Jim sighed at the question. "You suck at pillow talk, you know that?" He didn't even have to look at the Vulcan to know that he had an eyebrow quirked. Sighing again, he said, "Yeah, that's the one."

"I am surprised you kept it," Spock said flatly.

"Why? Jealous?" Jim said it in a teasing tone, hoping to rile Spock up and steer him toward a different conversation. When Spock didn't take the bait, Jim became wide awake and gaped. "Seriously?"

The corners of Spock's lips downturned, "I have noticed we are quite similar in many regards."

It was too early in the morning to try to translate Spock speech into standard. Hell it was too early to be awake in general. Forcing his brain to start up, he tried to follow Spock's thought process. It took a while to come up with a conclusion. Spock had already replaced the PADD in its spot and was settling on the floor to begin his meditation.

"You're not as similar as you think. You have a sense of humor for one. You talk a lot more too." He couldn't help but grin when he saw a small tick in the corner of Spock's eye. "And you tell me when I'm being a bastard or when my plans are shitty. Jabari…" he fumbled over the name he hadn't said in years. Somehow, it felt right to start saying his name again. "He was more of the let me fall and learn for myself then help me back up when I do." He met Spock's gaze, wanting him to understand his next words as he answered what was really bothering Spock. "I wasn't in love with him. I never thought of him more than a friend. But I will admit he definitely ruined the word love for me after reading his book. It made the word so hallow that I couldn't stand people saying it so casually. For so long, whenever someone said it to me, I'd get angry and think, if they loved me, they'd show it, not say it."

He looked down at the mattress, playing with the sheets between his fingers. "You sure you want to be with me, Spock? I don't know if I could ever return your feelings the way you want me to."

Spock let a small smile slip, and he gave Jim a warm gaze that warmed the human from the inside out. "And if that happens, Jim, then I will accept whatever you can give me."

There really was no better place to spend shore leave. Well, when you were stuck at a starbase anyway. The Starbase 7's lounge was a nice place. There was a nice bar, soft, live music, and dim lighting. It was a nice place to pick up someone for the night or just mellow out. It was definitely easier on his hearing from his normal hunting grounds.

The women were classier too, form fitting dresses that showed all the right curves but not too much skin and classy updos. He was wearing his dress uniform himself. He had just finished sitting through a court martial. He was too tired to go change into something more casual, and he didn't stand out here either.

A woman made eyes at him across the room. It was a clear invitation, the way she looked over her glass while she drank. He smiled back, raising his glass to her. It was enough to encourage her to come to him. She wore a glittery white dress that had no back. The front of the dress stopped at her mid thigh while the back draped to the floor. Her four inch heels showed off her calves nicely and the way her hips moved when she walked was enticing.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're the infamous Captain Kirk, right?"

Jim put on his charming smile. "I am. I couldn't help but notice you're here alone."

She laughed. "If you come up with some line about how a pretty woman like me shouldn't be alone, it's really not necessary. I'm here for the same thing you are."

Straight and to the point, and she wasn't looking for a relationship. He really couldn't ask for more, especially when she pressed against him, breasts touching his shoulder as she reached for the wine menu.

"So what do you say?" She asked. "We can go to my room."

He was stressed, and he hadn't been laid in a while. It was the perfect opportunity. He opened his mouth to tell her he would meet her there when he saw Spock in the corner of his eye. They're eyes met, and Jim leaned forward a bit concerned as to why Spock would seek him out in a place like this. "Spock? Something wrong?"

Spock seemed to hesitate and glanced at Jim's companion. "Everything is optimal, Captain. I see you have company. If that is the case, then please continue. My query can wait another day."

As Spock turned away, Jim noticed the portable chess case in Spock's hands. It never occurred to Jim before that this place could also be just a really fancy place to hang out to play chess at while sipping wine with a friend.

He looked back at the woman. She was beautiful, graceful, and everything that a man could want.

"Would you like to play a game of chess, Mr. Spock?" He asked, getting up from his bar stool. "There are some comfortable chairs and coffee tables over there."

Spock stopped in his retreat, turning back to Jim with suppressed surprise at the invitation. "I would not mind at this time, Captain."

"Jim." He said, turning to Spock with a small smile. "You can call me Jim."

Sorry about the no sex scene guys. Eventually one day, I'll write it out, but I kind of suck at writing it, and I wrote this long chapter in practically a day.

The Vulcan says, "I entrust Jim's safety to you."

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