"It would be wiser to share, rather than limit."

Spock heard Kirk's audible scoff from the seat beside him and purposely ignored it, though he agreed that far too many tried to pass off folly as wisdom. He carefully inclined his head. "At times, yes. But what you wish for us to share is the red matter."

"It is."

Spock had never heard Sub-Commander Tal speak before this session, but today, his commander appeared to be allowing him and the loudest of their two ambassadors to do most of the arguing, sitting back with a pensive expression on her face. The light of mischief was missing from her eyes and Spock found himself wondering where it had gone.

"We've already told you that Ambassador Spock is the only one who knows anything," Kirk said, and Spock silently commended him for not stating outright that the Romulans must actively distrust them.

The elder Spock leaned forward. "I assure you, the Federation has not yet received what I know of the formula, nor will they."

"We're talking in circles again, here, ladies and gentlemen," Jim said, commanding even though he was not suggesting anything yet. "I believe it might be time to break for lunch."

It was not a concept Romulans, or for that matter, Vulcans shared in, this "lunch," however familiar Spock was with it. It was an excuse for recess, and Spock imagined everyone present would do better to eat. Everyone was aware that this was going nowhere and no one wanted to admit it.

It left a bad taste in Spock's mouth, as his mother would say. He could understand the metaphor now that he was older.

There was a general air of reluctance, and some grumbling amid the rising murmur of voices as everyone stood, but Jim was obeyed. Spock looked over to the captain, gathering his things, and felt a surge of pride. Kirk was perhaps the youngest person in the chamber.

He almost complimented him, but Kirk had yet to look at him, and it only served to remind Spock how tense they had been the past two days. They had not spoken privately since they had discussed Kirk's feelings.

His captain stepped away from him with only a nod and a begrudging smile, heading for the antechamber and Spock bent to retrieve his own PADD, suppressing a sigh.

"You realize, of course," he heard, the tone near conspiratorial, "that we argue for the knowledge, should it be developed."

Spock looked up, believing he was overhearing the commander speaking with her subordinate, but was almost startled to find her standing at his own side, looking up at him with a determined expression that reminded him far too much of Kirk.

"And you cannot concede even this?" she prompted.

"The Federation is aware of what you are requesting."

"You keep your secrets," she said. "And expect us to disarm as well. Reality, you understand, will be somewhere in between."

"I do. I would expect even Romulus to bend to the logic of that as well."

She did sigh now, a touch of her teasing back, taking the near insult in stride. She leaned against the conference table and crossed her arms over her chest. "I can only do what the public allows me to do," she said. "And no public, Mister Spock, even yours, is logical. What I would concede and what they would are two entirely different things. And I can not return to my planet and tell them to disarm. I will not."

She pushed away from the table and stepped around him. "Perhaps," she said as she passed him. "We have all been 'neutral' for far too long."

"Is that a threat, Commander?" Spock found himself demanding, his posture bristling, and she turned to him, her still-teasing smile somehow mirthless.

"I simply meant, Mister Spock that it is time we negotiate true peace," she said. "Or we may as well declare war."

And she followed the rest from the room.

"She wants us to disarm if they do," Jim told him when Spock related the conversation to him during the break.

"Which we have offered."

Jim scratched at his head. "To an extent, I suppose," he said. "But she's right. The red matter is a question of trust on both sides of the fence. We can't be hypocrites there."

"Then the only option is to remove it as a point from the table, to be decided upon when and if the knowledge is developed."

And Jim shrugged. "Tell the Romulans that, I guess. Agreeing to disagree does seem to be all we can do right now."

Which appeared to be remaining "neutral", Spock thought, but he did not know how to change that. The Federation public would take no more kindly to disarming than Romulus would.

"Captain," he began, but paused as Kirk winced. "Are you in pain?" he asked instead.

"No. You have that, 'we have to talk' voice. Human males are prepared to dislike that one even upon first hearing it," Jim said ruefully.

Spock blinked. "I think I know of what you speak. It is the same voice my mother employed when she had found something I had done of which she did not approve. Curiously, it bears close resemblance to the tone Nyota uses when she has also decided I have done something wrong and must be made aware." He looked at his captain, briefly surprised. "I had not made the connection until now."

Jim snorted. "Don't mention it. We have a responsibility to warn every Human male. Even half-Human," he said with a smirk. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Spock suddenly did not know how to proceed. "I have seen the tension in your shoulders every time we are in the same room together. I do not wish to be the reason you must seek out Doctor McCoy for medication."

Jim rolled the words around in his head and pulled out the real meaning. "I think that's something that will have to go away on its own. Humans deal with rejection in different ways."

"You assume so readily that you've been rejected," Spock said tersely. "Humans assume much."

Jim felt his face go hot and he had to look at everything but his second in command. "What are you trying to say then," he asked hoarsely.

Spock regarded Jim and quite suddenly saw the logic in a shrug, though he refrained. "I am simply refuting your claim on events which did not take place and which had no opportunity to take place. I wanted you to be aware of the facts, rather than your emotionally contrived speculation."

Jim watched Spock leave, ironically stepping toward Uhura, and felt as if the whole room had begun to spin as his heart raced. So, if he could read Spock correctly (and he had been faithfully reading the manual), then did he just...

No. Really, Spock had carefully not said it. And admitting attraction, as Jim had so pathetically proven two days ago, was not admitting an intent to act on it. He knew Spock better than that, loved him for that.

Uhura smiled up at Spock, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, and Jim turned away.

"Something has disturbed you."

Jim smiled at the fact that this was phrased as a statement rather than a question, and nodded. "Many things. I wish I could say the legitimate problems are what's keeping me from your company. But really, I've been delaying my paperwork, and I am pretty sure I've received a death threat from my yeoman."

Ambassador Spock smiled. "To some degree your... counterpart had the same issue with paperwork. But eventually he worked out a system which allowed him to stay on top of everything. Perhaps you can try to determine what would help you do the same."

Kirk nodded. "That sounds like good advice." He smirked. "Be even better advice if you'd tell me what the system was."

"I do not believe you would entirely appreciate it if I were to simply relate it to you. Nor would you likely abide by it."

Jim snorted a laugh, tracing a hand along the wall of the ship's corridor. "You know me too well," he said. "Or you enjoy messing with me. I choose to believe the former."

"The two are not mutually exclusive," Spock said.

"Well, anyway. I'm sorry for having to cancel."

"As am I," Spock came to a stop and faced him, and Jim, unsure what else to do, did the same. "Perhaps we could have discussed your troubles."

Jim gave him a rueful smile simply to indulge him, but purposely got them walking again. "Yeah... I don't know. That might be awkward."

"Oh?"

Jim winced. "I just need to work it out for myself, I think." He glanced over at the ambassador. "Not so used to parental advice."

It was Spock's turn to smile, however subtly. "Is that how you see me?"

"I think you give me parental advice. How I see you isn't quite as parental as I might like it to be," Kirk said cryptically.

Spock's eyebrow rose, but he only nodded when Jim looked. "Another time, then?" he offered, blowing past that, Jim felt perhaps deliberately.

Jim knew the question asked about not only company, but serious conversation. "Absolutely." He gave what he felt was his trademark grin before backing away and turning to move down the hall.

All the time in the world.

"I miss you sometimes," Nyota said, quite abruptly, and Spock looked up from his meal, startled from the silence. He lifted an eyebrow at her. "When you go away."

Spock returned his eyes to the table, and carefully did not shift in his seat. He supposed this was the first opportunity they had had in quite some time to truly enjoy being together. He glanced around. However unimpressive the establishment. "The talks have been extensive for all of us," he conceded, watching another pair across the restaurant, curiously; a mother and young son.

"No, that's..." And she breathed a laugh at him, surprising him, "that wasn't what I meant. I mean now."

His brow furrowed. "I am right here," he said.

Her laugh's smile remained, odd somehow. "Are you?" She speared a foreign vegetable with her utensil. "I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

"We have almost daily contact, however brief and superficial."

Nyota nodded to herself. "And you become obtuse on purpose, when there is something you don't wish to discuss. We don't have to talk about the mission right now. We can talk about other things."

Spock did not think he wanted to talk about anything at all, really, but in a social setting, one was called upon to be social. For some reason the word brought with it an image of Jim, a bright smile on his face as he shook the hands of those around him. People flocked to his side and asked his opinion, usually before he had proven himself deserving of such trust.

What drew them to him?

"Or we could not," she said with another laugh, although he could hear the tension within the notes. She observed him quietly. "You want to talk about it?"

"'It'?" he echoed, and he wanted to add her rank at the end, but this was hardly the proper setting for the comfort of formality.

"Whatever it is that's bothering you," she clarified. "Where you've been."

"I am beginning to understand this 'where' less as a location and more as a state of mind; is this correct?"

Her eyes sparkled attractively in the restaurant's low light. "Correct."

Spock swallowed down at his food. "I find myself conflicted," he said, because it was true. There was no reason to hesitate over the word, despite the illogical impulse. "I have come to no other conclusion beyond this, myself. To attempt to explain would therefore be illogical, and so I have not."

Nyota finished chewing and swallowed her bite. "Fair enough," she said, but her tone was a touch breathless. "Emotional problems?"

To deny that emotion played a part in his life, particularly in this problem, would be illogical with a woman whose company he kept on an emotional basis. "That would be a way of putting it, yes."

"Do you wish help figuring it all out?"

Spock was almost tempted to accept. "I do not wish to burden you until I am certain."

Nyota nodded. "May I ask... is it about us?"

Spock shook his head. "It is not." It was not a lie; the confusion laid with him and Jim, not him and Nyota. Nevertheless, the words felt closer to a lie than he would have liked.

"Okay." He noted the apparent relief in her posture as her frown eased and she sat up straighter. "But you should eat something. Perhaps if what you've ordered isn't palatable, then we could order something else? Or perhaps skip to desert?"

There was a familiar smirk on her face now and Spock found himself almost smiling at it, in spite of his mood. "Pleasurable though I am sure that would be, I believe further... stimuli when I am currently in need of meditation may prove unwise."

Nyota appeared disappointed, but not uneasy, reaching across the table to brush her fingers against his. Spock turned his hand over to return the caress, watching the interplay of the digits with what felt almost like nostalgia.

Jim woke before the communicator beeped, breathless without knowing why.

He sat up and braced himself on his palms, eyes darting around the dark room before he reached up to swipe a hand over his mouth. His heart was pounding too fast, ready like he had risen to a red alert, but his diplomatic quarters were silent, and far from his ship, orbiting above.

He was reaching for his communicator to check the time when it went off, twittering like a captured bird. Jim started and flicked it open, fingers trembling slightly with adrenaline.

"Kirk here," he said, voice rough.

"Captain," he heard. "Wilkes here, sir."

Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed, instantly lucid. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"We have a security breach, sir," Wilkes said, and Jim was already reaching for his shirt, waiting for more, for worse.

He wasn't forced to wait long.

"Ambassador Spock is missing."