A/N: A very special and inappropiately warm thank you to the lovely Tridacnagigas (that's her name, btdubs; maybe you should check her work out *hint hint*)

V. Duties.

Leonard McCoy was not pleased. Grumbling to himself, he grabbed his PADD off of the counter and met the intense gaze of Skylar Pike, who was still holding her injured fist out to him. She flinched away from his eyes, suddenly becoming fascinated by the terrific blandness of his office door. A Starfleet Academy-issued sweatshirt - two sizes too big - draped her like a shroud, as her other fist bunched up the sagging neckline.

Leonard noted the low side ponytail she was sporting with clinical interest; her long, wavy black locks tumbled over her shoulder and down her side, locked in behind the arm that was gripping her neckline, as if she was cold. It was rare to see Skylar without her hair up in its usual high ponytail, but this minor adjustment in her wardrobe confirmed the rumors: Skylar had not been on active duty today. Leonard, who was used to forcing her on bed rest after lengthy arguments as to why she could not get back to sparring with a broken rib or sprained ankle, would have never imagined that Skylar would send herself to Sick Bay. With only an injured hand, and completely out of uniform standards, no less. She did not look sick; in fact, the hand injury was the only thing he could diagnose as being an ailment, and blood had never slowed her down before. Why would Skylar walk into Sick Bay looking less than professional? This display was considerably out of character for her.

Pursing his lips, Leonard raised a curiously irritated eyebrow. "How'd you manage that?" He indicated to her bloody hand with his stubbled chin. "I heard you were down and out today."

Skylar rolled her eyes. "Just fix it, Bones," she replied curtly, still avoiding his stare.

Tucking the PADD under his arm, Leonard took a step forward and ruthlessly gripped her slender fingers, Skylar letting out a yelp as he inspected the extent of the damage.

"Shit, Leonard, are you trying to pull my fingers off?" Skylar groaned, her other hand falling from her sweatshirt and balling into a fist at her side as he twisted the appendages. "I do shoot with that hand, ya know."

"I don't have gloves on, I don't want any of the Vulcan diseases you've been exposed to," Leonard stated matter-of-factly, releasing her hand. He retrieved his PADD and began to punch in a few quick notes.

Skylar's free hand instantly rose back up towards her neck. Exhaling sharply, she said, "I broke a mirror, okay?"

Leonard eyed her skeptically. "It looks to me more like you punched a mirror, am I right?"

"Maybe," Skylar returned in a pout. "I think we're all entitled every so often."

Leonard tossed the PADD onto the counter next to him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, why the hell wasn't I given the memo on that little fact?" he inquired sarcastically.

"Because Jim would go broke trying to replace all the mirrors you'd break," Skylar retorted. "Can't you just dip my hand in a vat of Neosporin and give me a Band-Aid so I can go? Be off your hands?"

"What the hell do you think this is, the Dark Ages?" He scowled at the bloody mess that was her hand as if it had insulted him personally. "And if you really wanted to be off of my hands, you'd stop injuring yourself all the damn time," Leonard scolded her. "How the hell is Jim supposed to explain a yeoman with an injury like this to the Trill Ambassador?"

Skylar simply shrugged. "I had a disagreement with my PADD?" she suggested acidly.

Leonard shook his head and sighed. "You won't be content until you've broken every bone in your body. Either that, or you just love visiting me."

"Let's stick to the latter for the sake of our friendship," Skylar replied and twitched her injured hand at him. "Hey, doctor, this isn't going to fix itself."

Leonard raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at her hand again. "Actually, it is. In fact, the blood that has already begun to crust is an indication that the injury isn't fresh. You probably debated with yourself about bugging me in Sick Bay for at least an hour."

"You're a genius."

"No, I'm a doctor."

"Not a very good one. I'm still bleeding."

Grimacing, Leonard seized a hypo off of the counter and motioned her over with a jerk of his head while he inspected its liquid contents. "This will numb the hand while I dig out any embedded glass shards," he explained, taking her fingers again, flipping her hand over, and sticking the hypo into her bloody palm.

Skylar jerked slightlyand gritted her teeth, but the pain came as no surprise. As president of the Sick Bay Frequent Flyer's Club, the only real shock of being hypo-ed was the fact that she still jerked, albeit involuntarily, when its contents were inserted.

"Now," Leonard continued as he tossed the used hypo in a disposal unit, "I'm going to grab a pair of gloves and my magnifier, and we will begin the mini surgery process I'm sure you are fondly familiar with."

Skylar's lips curved into a cocky smile as he moved around her to reach his tool cabinet. "Should I take a seat?"

Leonard glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Whatever makes you …" His sentence faltered and his hands ceased their motion as he focused on the back of Skylar's neck.

At his sudden silence, Skylar turned back to look at him. "What's wrong?" she questioned innocently.

Leonard spun smartly away from the cabinet, marched back to her, and reached out for her hair. Skylar shrugged away from him, uninjured hand rising to gather the neckline once more, but he caught it in his bluff grip and yanked it away.

"What are you doing?" Skylar asked angrily, as Leonard wrapped his other hand in her hair to bare what he'd seen from across the room.

"Did you punch a mirror because you lost a fight?"

Arranging her chin to hide the bruise, Skylar demanded, "Let go, Bones!" but Leonard ignored her protests. His eyes widened as he got an unobstructed view of the purpled skin that started behind her ear and painted a mottled path leading down the curve of her neck and out toward her shoulder just above her left collar bone.

Using his grip on her uninjured hand to control her, he pressed her back from him a few inches to get a little perspective on his investigation. He internally noted a number of neatly patterned blotches within the bruising, what could only be teeth marks. There were a few areas around the marks where the top layer of skin had been broken, but there wasn't any sign of bleeding.

Skylar tried her strength against his grip again. "Okay, okay, so you've seen it," she spat, angling her body so that the bruise was no longer in his direct sightline.

Leonard released his grip on her hair, but retained her hand and did not move away. He locked her gaze with his, noting the tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. "That is some very deep bruising, Skylar," he said quietly, his tone dark. "You couldn't get that from sparring without a broken neck or clavicle with it."

Skylar watched him closely, his eyes the windows into his brain as she saw the wheels turning in a calculative storm of hypotheses and definitive conclusions. It had been a long while since Skylar had witnessed anything like that look, but as the veil of classic Leonard McCoy idiosyncrasy slipped away and left a very blatantly firm, paternal stare, Skylar could not help but feel guilty.

She felt a single tear slip down her cheek. This look had always been met with loud yelling and cursing, and then dodging a swing from her father, throwing a few of her own back, and then running off to stay elsewhere for a few days until the storm passed and it was back to living in two separate worlds under the same roof. But this was Leonard; and despite his outward curmudgeonly disposition, he was an absolute gentleman and a loyal friend. Guilt clogged her throat, even though she was at fault for nothing. This guilt was laced with fear, and though she swallowed convulsively, she could not dislodge it. She knew where Leonard was going to take this conversation and she knew she was not going to like it at all.

"It's not what you think," Skylar managed, her voice barely more than a strained whisper.

Leonard glanced at their surroundings. Around the corner was his fully-equipped Sick Bay, where he could hear the clacking of the nurse's and doctor's boots meeting the floor with rapid excitement as the vital-sign monitors trilled their melodies amongst an unintelligible din of medical terms, diagnoses and complaints. Making a decision, Leonard gruffly twitched his head toward the door into the privacy of his office. Skylar shrugged and started off with an air of annoyed defeat. Glancing down at the PADD on the counter, Leonard hesitated for a second longer before grabbing it and following Skylar into his office.

:::::

Spock marched into the empty conference room and turned sharply on his heel to face Jim as the doors closed tightly behind the captain with a hush of air. They stood eye to eye for a second, and then Jim walked past him and took a seat on the edge of the conference table.

"Ok, Spock, spill it." He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Spock expectantly.

Spock raised an eyebrow curiously and clasped his hands behind his back. "Captain?"

"Explain," Jim rephrased impatiently. "What the hell is up with you?"

Spock's lips became a straight line across his face.

"You're not yourself lately," Jim continued at the Vulcan's silence. "You have continually instigated petty bickering amongst my helmsmen and other various bridge crew personnel; I have had to ask you more than once for scanner readouts, and today you have questioned our direct orders from Starfleet about the designated arrival time to Trill."

Spock considered this with a tilt of his head. "I deny none of these allegations against me, Captain."

"Spock, this behavior is completely incongruent with how my First Officer normally acts. I need your cooperation more than ever in this matter. I'm carrying the weight of the entire Federation on my shoulders and you're. Fucking. Around." Jim's tone became almost a hiss by the end of his sentence and he glared harshly up at the Vulcan, with his hands gripping the edge of the table.

"If your final statement was intended as a colorful metaphor, its use is unwelcome," Spock replied evenly, though his eyes were dark as ever as they locked onto Jim.

Jim sighed in resignation, his sudden fury leaving him as he was reminded to whom he was actually speaking. He rubbed his face with callused hands, and then proceeded to run his fingers through his short, sandy-brown hair before returning his gaze to Spock. "I'm sorry, Spock. I just need to understand what is going on with you before I beam down onto that planet. I need to know that you are going to back me up here; like I said, nothing can go wrong. Nothing. This Senator Dorraine is not exactly thrilled to have Federation presence around after the last screw-up with that other crew. If I lose him, we lose our stake on Trillus Prime and my reputation goes to shit at Warp 10."

Spock remained silent for a moment, obviously digesting what had been said. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest and stated matter-of-factly, "To ensure absolute fortification of this mission and the parties involved, I urgently request that I be removed from the away team. I can assure you that my presence will only cause a negative and fruitless distraction."

Jim's mouth fell open as disbelief gripped him. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It is not in my nature to be comedic."

"You have to be joking, Spock, I need you!" Jim jumped to his feet, incensed. His fists balled at his sides. "You cannot do this, not now! Why the hell should I let you off? Are you sick?" he demanded. "Speak, dammit! As your Captain, I order you to explain why you are abandoning your duties as First Officer."

"As I stated prior to your sudden emotional outburst, I am forfeiting my duties for the safety of the away team and the parties involved with this diplomatic mission, not to mention the outcome of the mission itself."

"And why would anyone's safety be at risk with you present?" Jim seethed. "For God's sake, Spock, you can manhandle anyone! Is there some kind of Vulcan-Trill prejudice I am unaware of that is preventing you from completing this task?"

"No," Spock replied simply. "But it is a matter that I do not wish to discuss with you."

"And why the hell not? What happened to us being friends?"

"This matter does not concern camaraderie. It is a complex issue that is not casually discussed between Vulcans, let alone with Humans."

Jim's anger was replaced by befuddlement. He clenched and unclenched his fists, unsure whether to deck Spock in the face for being so enigmatic or to offer concern for the ailment that was clearly gripping his friend. Spock's fingers were twitching against the pretzel shape of his arms over his chest, a considerably odd habit he'd noticed Spock had recently developed. Calm down, Jim, he told himself inwardly. This is Spock we're dealing with; it's got to be more than silly humanistic bullshit. Taking a deep calming breath, Jim gestured to a chair at the conference table. "Take a seat, man."

"I'd prefer to stand," Spock replied tersely.

Jim shrugged amiably. "Suit yourself," he said, taking the seat he'd offered to Spock.

Placing his elbows on his thighs and his chin on intertwined knuckles, Jim spoke to the floor. "You are the most qualified diplomat on this team. You are logical and just, and you happen to be one of my best friends. I honestly do not want my team to beam down without you because I'm afraid something will go horribly wrong." He looked up at Spock intensely. "Enlighten me as to why you cannot. Please. As a friend and in total confidence, I want to understand why." When Spock said nothing, Jim continued, pleadingly, "I told you yesterday that I was horny; I think we're beyond professional boundaries here, now, don't you think? There's nothing you can say to me that will make me judge you or lose respect for you." He pressed his hands to his chest. "I'm James T. Kirk – I've seen, done, and seduced it all in some way, shape, or form. There's no reason to be embarrassed."

Had Spock been completely human, he would have found this moment to be appropriate for a long, exasperated sigh. His mother would have encouraged such an action. However, his father's side won. He dropped his hands to his sides, standing tall and composed.

His dark eyes hypnotized the captain, and the line of lips parted at last. "I trust you, Jim," he started quietly. "There is something dangerous happening within me. And that danger will go beyond me, Jim, and it will destroy this mission."

Jim stared up at him, flabbergasted. These were not the words he was expecting to hear out of Spock's mouth. "What are you talking about? You would never hurt anyone."

"I already have." Spock's gaze flinched away. "And it will not stop until …"

"Until what?"

Spock's eyes returned to Jim's. "Until I reach Vulcan. Or another alternative is formulated."

Jim nodded slowly. "That's why you wanted to land early … so we could leave earlier – and go to Vulcan?"

"Not entirely," Spock replied. "I have not yet gained control over this; I merely estimated incorrectly my ability to self-inhibit a certain biological occurrence, and that perhaps if we arrived on Trill more expediently, I would be able to complete the mission and return to the ship in time to remedy my situation. Returning to Vulcan would be ideal; however, in my present state it would be illogical to attempt to fathom a course of action that would aid the Enterprise in even coming remotely close to arriving in time."

"In time for what, Spock? You're still being cryptic."

"Jim, I am undergoing what is known amongst my people as the pon farr." The Vulcan's cheeks took on a hint of green. "It is a neurochemical imbalance that produces in Vulcans a state of frenzied madness at a cycle of every seven years. Pon farr is a considerably private matter; it is taboo to even speak of it amongst peers, Vulcan or other."

Jim took this in. Gently, he asked, "What causes it, exactly?"

"It is not a question of causation; it is a matter of why it occurs. It is not an illness."

"So, why does it occur then?"

Spock hesitated, maintaining his even gaze at Jim though his brow furrowed ever so slightly and his hands balled into fists at his sides. "As Vulcans, we are called to a time of mating. That is what the pon farr is, Jim."

"A time of-" Jim's lips curved as a light went on for him. "Wait a second, wait a second," he said, holding up a hand to forestall interruption. "You're telling me that you have to have sex every seven years – that's it's required?"

"Biologically, yes," Spock answered.

Jim's mouth twitched, then twitched again. "That's what you're getting all pissy about; you're horny too!"

"I do not believe that term is appropriate in this situation, Jim."

"You sure get angry when you're sexually frustrated." Jim's eyes lit up. "Spock, isn't all of this a simple fix? You have a girlfriend – why don't you two just 'mate' tonight. I'm sure you'll feel better by tomorrow."

Spock shook his head, derailing his captain's momentum.

Jim stared at him, confused. "Are you two fighting or something? I noticed you didn't speak to each other today."

"I …" Spock trailed off, something that seemed to surprise him as his eyes darted down to the floor. He composed himself again and continued, confidently. "Mating with Skylar will not suffice; she will need to be present and in excellent health for your assignment on Trill."

"Uh, Spock, as a representative for the Human species, sex always us feel better; trust me, if I'd had any recently, I'd be a much happier captain right about now."

"This has nothing to do with 'being happy,'" Spock explained firmly. "For a Vulcan, this particular episode of copulation is the discharge of the accumulation of all repressed emotions in one's daily existence. Also, Vulcans are superior in strength compared to Humans. Combine both of these factors, and one can only imagine how physically and mentally detrimental such an occurrence would be to the other party involved." Spock's voice trailed off as his gaze focused on something distant that Jim could not see.

Jim stood slowly, his eyes glued to his First Officer. Spock's demeanor had suddenly changed; his posture did not have its usual ramrod-straightness, nor were the gears behind his eyes engaging and spinning logically away like the Vulcan encyclopedia that he typically was. Jim could tell that a bout of despair had overcome Spock by the way his eyes glimmered tearlessly, and his lips had again become a tight line across his face. "You mentioned before that you'd already hurt someone," said Jim gently. "Did you mean Skylar?"

Spock's dark eyes blinked and refocused below his sharply angled brows. "Yes," he replied. "I have come to the conclusion that Skylar cannot be my mate during this pon farr. She is too valuable for this mission to Trill. You need her, Jim, and I cannot guarantee her safety when the madness takes me."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "We need to talk to McCoy," he stated suddenly.

"I assure you, bringing the doctor into this will not be productive, considering that this is strictly a Vulcan matter," Spock remarked curtly. "It was inappropriate to convey anything at all with regards to the pon farr. I have brought shame on myself."

"Hardly so, Spock," Jim told him. "This isn't your fault."

"I respectfully disagree, Captain. Biologically, it is not. But if the mission fails due to my condition, it would, logically, be my fault. I will not have Skylar injured further on my behalf."

Jim's brows drew together anxiously. "How injured is she? Is she Sick-Bay-injured?"

"I do not believe so."

"Skylar wouldn't report in anyway," Jim said, reaching for his communicator and pulling it up to his lips. "Captain Kirk to Bones, come in please."

After a moment, Leonard's voice came over the communicator. "Is this important, Jim? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Exceedingly so. I need you to pull Lt. Pike. Spock and I will meet you in Sick Bay immediately." There was a short pause, but the dead air on the frequency between communicators remained open. "Bones, do you copy?"

"Yes, Jim. But I don't need to pull Lt. Pike – she's already here."

Jim's eyes wearily traveled back to his First Officer. "Kirk out," he said and tapped his communicator off. "Spock, if you won't mate with Skylar, maybe Bones will have a remedy."

"The probability that Dr. McCoy could offer anything beyond a magnitude of sardonicisms equates to the likelihood of farm-raised livestock spontaneously becoming airborne."

Jim shook his head in frustration. "Come on, Spock, there has to be a way. You're the Vulcan, tell us what you need." Jim suddenly took hold of Spock around the wrist. "Or better yet, tell McCoy. Come on, Spock – let's fix this."

:::::

Spock had kept right on Jim's heels as the captain maintained his impetuous pace all the way to Sick Bay. He was relieved that Jim led; his fingers would not unlock from the fierce fists they had formed and Spock was grinding his teeth again, two things he did not wish for the captain to observe. These habits – an uncustomary occurrence for a Vulcan to develop – were becoming a reminder of the tender mercies he would eventually have to succumb to.

The tics were also an obvious indication to everyone else how unable he would be to perform his duties from here on out. He was becoming more and more incapable of following logic's organized paths. Suddenly, his heart's desires were singing louder than ever before, a din so rampant that his brain could hear nothing else … and instead whispered to his body to respond irrationally.

Spock wanted more than anything to strike out at Jim for not listening to him. His mind was beginning to wrestle with the idea of subduing his captain right here in the ship's lengthy, bustling corridors. An excited feeling gripped his insides at the thought of taking the captain out right in front of his faithful crew – for an arm to swing in sweet release and crash itself into the side of his neck. With a mighty force, it would be a gamble to bet on Jim's neck not breaking instantly. Spock could easily break it; it was so human, so fragile, so … fallible.

You are moving into an irrevocably dangerous place at an alarming rate, cried Spock's heart up his side to his brain. No one will be safe until the plak tow is subdued.

His brain leered down at his heart in a very humanistic fashion foreign to the holistic Vulcan paradigm: Spock – you know the answer to this conundrum; it's sound, easily attainable and utterly simplistic. A resolution cannot possibly be achieved in any easier fashion!

The wise doors to Sick Bay hissed open to an active display of nurses, doctors and patients each with their own agendas. Jim did not wait to be acknowledged in the slightest. He rounded about to the right and entered the adjacent private medical practitioner's office, which connected to the chief medical officer's quarters and office – Leonard McCoy's personal domain. Jim spared hardly a glance at the used hypo on the counter as he passed through the PMP office; he strode to the door on the other side of the small room and pressed the release button on the door that led into Leonard's private office.

Leonard stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his PADD wedged under an arm. His disposition, as dark as it appeared, was not exactly as Jim would have described him on a usual day. Leonard looked up as they came in, giving Jim a nod, and then shifting his gaze over Jim's shoulder to Spock as they entered the smaller room. Skylar, who was seated before his medical station with her head turned away from them, flinched as the door hissed open and turned her head only slightly to see whose presence the boot heels against the floor announced.

Spock remained on the edge of the room, allowing the door room to close behind him but not stepping any farther forward. He eyed the sharp curve of Skylar's jaw, burning with the knowledge that on the opposite side of her head, a dark reminder lay skin-deep within her flesh.

A fiery curtain fell over Leonard's eyes as he tossed the PADD onto the counter next to Skylar. "You!" he bellowed with a blunt finger aimed at Spock's chest. "Why the hell did you do it?"

Bewildered, Jim threw his arms out defensively between them. "Bones, what the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"That green blooded bastard – he did this!" growled Leonard, enraged.

"Did what?" Jim yelled back.

Leonard seized Skylar roughly by the elbow and alarmingly, Skylar allowed herself to be stood upright and turned as though on display. Her hair slid back over her shoulder with the motion of the turn, and the bruising came into view perfectly. Jim involuntarily gasped. Spock placed his arms behind his back, maintaining an inscrutable expression, though he did not look at the markings. Instead, he stared into Skylar's eyes.

Jim spun, eyes wide in shock and thoroughly incensed. "You hurt her! You actually hurt her."

"I've already attempted to convey this to you, Captain. In my current state I am dangerous."

"How the hell could you do this?" Leonard growled, Skylar's elbow still secured by his big hand.

"How is simple, Doctor: with my mouth. Why, is another matter entirely."

"You arrogant sonofabitch!" Leonard seethed. "Where I'm from, mercy doesn't exist for men like you!"

Jim held a hand out to Leonard to silence him. "Calm down, dammit, Bones – will you?" He looked back at Spock. "You've got a damned good explanation for this, right?"

"How is it possible that he's admitted this to you and you haven't thrown his ass in the Brig?" Leonard huffed.

"Let go of me!" Skylar's cry cut into their argument as she violently pulled away. Leonard and Jim both looked at her, but her stare was locked onto Spock. She took a couple of steps forward, Jim silently stepping aside even as Leonard instinctively reached for her. "Spock," she said quietly to the Vulcan. "What is happening to you?"

Spock stiffened as Skylar neared him, retreating so that his back pressed into the door. She halted at his reaction, confused. "The pon farr," he told her.

The room fell silent, and then Leonard lunged for his PADD and began tapping the screen at a furious pace.

"You are in danger if I remain close to you," Spock continued, still speaking only to her. "You will not be able to perform your duties to the captain on Trill. It is imperative that you and I remain separate in this time."

Skylar stared up at him in alarmed confusion. "Separate?" she repeated.

Suddenly Leonard spoke, his gruff voice agitated. "There's hardly anything in the Federation database about the pon farr –"

"It is an exceptionally private matter, Doctor," Spock said to him firmly.

"There has only been one recorded case in which a Federation medical officer has had to deal with this issue, but they did not leave much in the way of documentation on the subject," Leonard continued as though no interruption had occurred. He looked at Jim. "I need to get him hooked into the system immediately for further analysis."

"There is nothing you can prescribe that will prevent what is happening to me. We cannot reach Vulcan; I've completed rigorous meditation periods on several occasions; and my attempt at subduing the plak tow in mating with Skylar proved inefficient, in all probability because I was holding back to the best of my abilities," Spock recounted. His eyes shimmered as though flooded with angst.

"Mate?" Skylar cried. "That was what you call 'mating' on Vulcan? That was practically rape!"

"'Plak tow'?" Leonard repeated, and began tapping on his PADD screen once more.

"Blood fever," Spock said with effort. "I have already conveyed a lot on the subject. Too much."

"Too much, my ass," Leonard spat. "If you're going to go around raping women on this ship, I'll be damned if I allow you to do it on my watch, whether I understand this pon farr or not."

"This is a biological occurrence," Spock explained in defeat. "My body calls me to mate."

"You said you couldn't properly mate with Skylar because you held back," Jim mentioned, tapping a finger on his chin.

Spock returned his gaze to Skylar, who stood with her hand defensively covering the bruising on her neck. "Emotionally, more so. Physically, to the best of my strength." He directed his next comment to her specifically, coupling it with a step forward. "I did not mean to hurt you."

Skylar said nothing, but watched him.

Jim parted his lips to say something when suddenly the doors to the office hissed open and Amelia cheerily walked smack into Spock's back. He hurriedly rearranged himself as her eyes widened in surprise at the congregation.

"Oh, wow, I'm so sorry," she said ruefully. Her eyes traveled around the room as genuine concern settled over her expression. "Is everything okay?"

"Hardly," Leonard grunted. "Spock's having a Vulcan mating issue."

Jim whirled his head to glare at him. "Bones," he hissed.

"What?" Leonard countered hotly. "If Spock is going to be dangerous, especially to our female counterparts, I think Amelia should know."

"You're being a major dick about this," Jim chided.

"It does sound as if you're being a dick, Leonard," Amelia added apologetically. She looked at Spock, who had crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt at nonchalance, but was gripping his opposite elbows so tightly that his knuckles were turning green. "Are you okay, Commander?"

"This is a private matter, Lieutenant."

Amelia looked to Skylar and cocked her head as she noticed the placement of her hand. "That wasn't a hickey, was it?" she asked, more to herself, but everyone heard her.

"No," Skylar replied suddenly. "Not really." She dropped her hand to reveal the mark.

Amelia gasped. Her hand shot up to her chest. "Oh my gosh," she remarked as though she was out of breath. Her eyes went to Spock again. "He couldn't have done it on purpose. He loves her."

Spock did not meet Amelia's gaze. His teeth were grinding together behind his lips.

"I need to hook him up, Jim," Leonard said firmly. "I need to see what is going on inside him so that I can tell you what we're dealing with."

"With all due respect, Leonard, you have been told what it is you are dealing with," said Spock aggressively. He continued to stare at the opposite wall. "Your wildly irate outbursts are what have been keeping you from understanding the situation."

"Enlighten me then, Spock," Leonard challenged. "I'm supposed to trust your medical opinion and just let you wander dangerously around the ship?"

"He needs to mate, people," barked Jim over the squabble. "Plain and simple. He couldn't satisfy the pon farr with Skylar because he understood her importance to our mission on Trill and my safety. As he's already stated, meditation isn't working and it is impossible for us to return to Vulcan for it to be handled there."

"What's your solution Jim?" Leonard inquired acerbically.

Jim eyed him. "You're not going to like it." He looked around the room. "None of you are going to like it, but it is apparent that the longer we fight about this like children, the more at risk we all become and the more we set ourselves up for failure tomorrow." Jim's gaze settled on Spock, who slowly met his stare. "Spock, you need to find another mate."

Skylar snapped her head around, eyes wide.

"You were correct in holding back; I do need Skylar on-planet. I will find you someone who won't be on the away team."

"Oh, that's just fucking perfect," Leonard chuckled sarcastically. "You're just going to pimp some helpless girl off on him?"

"It's a sacrifice she and I will have to make."

Skylar smacked her lips. "And I'm just supposed to be completely fine with this, huh, Captain?"

Jim eyed her. "Yes. For the sake of your companion and your mission. Both are top priority."

"I can see which way the scale's tipping," she retorted bitterly. "You can't be serious about this, Jim." Skylar looked up at Spock in an almost panicked way. "That can't be necessary."

Spock lowered his gaze at her. "Quite the contrary. The captain's logic is sound."

Skylar inhaled sharply, holding Spock's gaze with hers. Suddenly, her hand flew up and slapped Spock across the face. The Vulcan did not flinch. Instead, he closed his eyes tightly as his arms began to shake behind his back. Skylar pushed past him and Amelia, and she stormed through the doors. A distinct crashing sounded from within the PMP office, followed by some reprimands from a doctor and loud cursing from Skylar, cut off as the doors hissed shut once more.

The room contained perfect silence for a moment, until Amelia's voice broke it like a stone passing through glass. "Who were you thinking of?"

"What?" Jim asked, turning away from the now-closed door to meet her inquiring gaze.

"Who, Jim? Which crew member?"

Jim switched his focus up to the ceiling in thought. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "I'll go through my list tonight and brief her before we dock tomorrow. Spock will have to be on lockdown in the PMP office tonight so Bones can run his vitals." He paused. "Maybe Uhura would …"

"Don't count on it," Leonard remarked. "You can't even get her to have sex with you; what makes you think she'll willingly have sex with someone you pawn her off on?"

Jim sighed. "Somebody will understand, Bones. It's just one night. It will mean absolutely nothing, except an end to this thing that is happening to Spock." Jim sympathetically eyed the Vulcan, who was still staring after the vanished Skylar. "My team is already going to be lacking considerably without him."

"I'll do it," Amelia said suddenly.

Leonard spun to face her, eyes widened in shock. "The hell you will! You already have a boyfriend, remember?"

Her eyes shimmering, Amelia took a step toward him. She wheedled, "Please, Leonard, try to understand; Spock needs someone, someone he can trust. And I trust him completely."

"I can't even – you can't be – are you fucking insane?" Leonard stammered in hostility.

"Leonard!" Jim yelled at him. "Calm down! She makes a valid point."

Leonard glared at him. "I'm glad this is so fucking easy for you, Jim. You get to have your happily ever after with this mission and your damned career, at the expense of your friends! You're turning into a damned good captain, but a completely shitty friend!" Leonard hurled the PADD tablet at the wall and marched directly into his quarters.

Tears were already leaking from Amelia's eyes as Jim turned to her with open arms. Amelia leaned into him as they streamed silently down her cheeks.

"This will mean nothing, absolutely nothing," Jim whispered to her. "Bones will get over it once he understands it more. He's just …"

"Human," Spock finished the sentence, though his response came from some dark distance.

Jim released Amelia and approached Spock slowly. "There has to be some protocol and certainty to this. Even though I won't need Amelia on-planet, her safety must be ensured in some way, even if it has to be something Bones cooks up himself."

Spock studied Jim for a moment, and then gave him a brief nod.

"I want you satisfy this plak tow, but not at the expense of her wellbeing or her life."

"To the best of my abilities," Spock said honestly. He looked at the back of Amelia's head. "Lieutenant, are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do? Once you venture down this path, there is no turning back. Your life will change. There will be conflict, and I do not solely speak of that which will happen as a part of the pon farr ritual. I am referring to that which will come from our social group. As you have witnessed, comprehension will not come easily, if at all."

Amelia turned to him then, her cheeks flushed and wet, but with an erect stance and fierceness in her face. Any bounce in her step or traces of effervescence that had previously radiated from her were gone, burned out of her. Instead, Amelia Takashi stood like a professional Starfleet Federation officer. "I understand, Commander. And I accept this mission."