A/N: This chapter is dedicated to two lovely ladies who constantly keep me writing. I love you both and happy late birthday ;)

VIIII. Fouette en tournant.

Jim Kirk placed his hands into his trouser pockets and carefully looked around as the assembly of Trill officials and noted citizens began to disperse in an excited din. The lighting in the arena began to slowly brighten. The fast-paced crowd moved along in a chaotic rhythm before the young captain, but somehow, Jim could not locate the fast-forward key within his own programming. Something inside him gripped at him like a quick and light tapping from a nowhere. Absently, he turned half a pace and found himself looking upward at the high ceiling. His breathing was deep and paced evenly.

Through all of the scuffling of shoes and boots along the wooden flooring, Jim heard a distinct pair of steps. He stole a glance to the side, seeing Senator Dorraine passing through a small clutter of her people in his direction. She stared at him intently; her lips were still a straight line across her face. Her robes billowed out behind her and her finger tips were pressed together before her, mid-torso. She appeared to have a lot on her mind, but more so determined to say something to him directly. Jim fully turned to her, trying to maintain a casual, comfortable demeanor. After all, the Trills were humanoid and resembled his physique to a tee almost entirely. Yet, aside from the two security chiefs that were still absent from his presence, Jim was the lone alien within the crowd. And more and more, everything that was weighing him down on the Trill surface was becoming obsolete in his eyes.

"Head in the clouds, Captain?" came the stiff tone of Dorraine.

Jim cracked a smile. She was like a kindergarten teacher en route to offer Jim an all-too familiar slap on the wrist. "You have no idea, Senator."

Senator Dorraine's lips curled into a lopsided smile that found a way to surprise Jim. She halted before him, tipping her chin up ever so slightly to meet his stare. "You didn't really seem to be involved in the theatrics of the evening."

This time, Jim offered a chuckle. "Oh, I was involved in theatrics … just not on this planet."

"You don't seem like the typical diplomat," the senator admitted as she instantly took his forearm and pursued a small course that he obliged to instantly. Their stride went against the current of the mass. It was slow and steady, and led the couple through a smaller door towards the back of the arena.

Jim inhaled deeply as he and the senator stepped out into the night, onto a small balcony that overlooked the docking bay and the outer city until his gaze rose up to the stars. The senator released him as they both stepped to the edge of the platform and took hold of the smooth wooden railing. The air temperature was lovely; Jim savored every breath that he took as waves of freshness entered his nostrils and cleansed his lungs.

Quietly, Senator Dorraine broke the silence between them. "You aren't the type at all, actually."

Jim continued to stare out at the soft glow of the stars. "What do you see, Senator?"

"I see a boy. A reckless one."

Jim eyed her. He watched her as she turned around so that her back was now against the railing, her hands clutching it at her sides.

"This wasn't the mission you wanted, was it Jim?"

Jim licked his lips, cocking an eyebrow and returned his gaze outward. He ran a hand over his chin, the formation of stubble collecting apparent as his fingertips felt each little tickle. "There's a very distinct line between wants and responsibility. It's hard to cater to both at times. But that doesn't mean I abandon either."

"And so you shouldn't." Senator Dorraine paused. "But what's in it for you?"

Jim glanced at her, his curiosity piqued by this change in her cold demeanor. Was he being hunted, suddenly? Carefully, he said, "I don't understand."

"I think you do, Jim. I think you're just afraid."

"Of …?"

Dorraine leaned in closer to him. Quietly, she replied, "Of where your answer to me will lead you."

Jim watched as Dorraine moved away from the railing and opened her arms out wide to the city before her. "You see this, Jim? Isn't it beautiful?"

Jim nodded. "Yes. Almost like home in a way."

"Have you ever been to a planet like this?"

"Several."

"Have you ever been to Trill?"

"No."

"Have you ever had to perform negotiations on a planet like this before?"

Jim eyed her again. Dorraine placed her hands on her hips.

"Truthfully."

"No, Senator, I have not."

Dorraine took him by the forearm. "You don't give a damn about this, do you, Captain?"

Jim stood before her, staring directly into her eyes. "I give a damn, Dorraine."

"Just not about this," Dorraine said, releasing him. "And therein lies our problem, Captain." Dorraine shifted her gaze to the city. "I do. With all of my being – I do."

Jim followed her gaze. He sighed deeply. "Regardless of my personal beliefs, Senator, and with all do respect to you and your people, I do have a responsibility to fulfill. This is my mission."

"Do you always run into the mission you've been given half-heartedly, Jim?"

Jim's jaw clenched.

Dorraine stared at him hard. "What would your security chiefs say?"

"She – they would say that that is suicide."

Dorraine smiled softly up at him and her eyebrows both jumped up on her forehead stealthily. "Your yeoman," she murmured. "I should have guessed." Louder, she continued, "Never half-heartily in terms of defense, though. Because if your half-hearted offense should go miserably, at least the Federation would have something to fall back on."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest.

"The second I was contacted for this negotiation, I looked into everything, Jim," Dorraine continued. "I am not an ignorant female. It is my responsibility – and want, fortunately – to know who is beaming down to my planet and why; what baggage they bring with them and what ammunition they are using. Your name is not unknown to many and your ship is almost legend. You are Captain James T. Kirk of the famed U.S.S. Enterprise. The Federation must think I am incredibly ignorant that I should overlook why they called you for this mission."

She slowly placed her hands on the railing. She slid them almost romantically across the smooth surface, watching her own action. "You are a talented tactical captain. You operate with one of the galaxy's finest offense crews. Beyond that, you are a just a boy who knows how to get what he wants and is used to making that so. You are the poster child for the Federation."

Jim was at a loss for words.

Dorraine looked up at him. "The negotiations have failed before they even begun. As aforementioned, Captain, I give a damn about this place. You don't. You could care less what is built here, or even what we could offer to your Federation." She touched his forearm again, and the touch was soft and light. "There is something more to you, Jim. But it is nothing you'll ever find making half-hearted attempts at diplomacy on the ground. Whatever it is, it's up there." She applied pressure at her fingertips. "You may not give a damn about this place, but you give a damn about people. There are people that you dreamily stare up at, up there in the stars."

"I'm not sure if you want me to be offended or flattered," Jim stated cautiously.

Dorraine smirked. "There is a distinct line that separates them both. You shouldn't abandon either." She tipped her head respectfully to him and turned to walk back towards the door.

Jim watched her, his cheeks growing hot as he saw the wind run its long, slender fingers between the folds of her robes. "Dorraine!" he said suddenly, and the Trill stopped. She looked back at him.

"No, reckless boy. The answer is no."

Jim stood silent as he watched the Trill Senator and his hopes of successfully negotiating on behalf of Starfleet disappear behind the door.

His walk of shame was a little lengthier and quieter than he'd wanted. He continually ran a hand through his hair and whenever anyone would pass him in a corridor, his gaze would shift toward his feet before giving them a brisk greeting. Finally, Jim's hand outstretched to the door of his room. Turning the handle, he pressed open the door and proceeded in. He was not surprised that Skylar was there laying on his bed, her gaze out the window. She was dressed in a black tank top and black shorts that resembled the ones she generally worked out in. She did not turn to him upon his entry, but rather kept her arms crossed over her chest.

"I think I was just mind fucked – hard," he said, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed. He began to unhinge the clasps down the front of his formal tunic.

"Both Torres and DeHaven reported back," Skylar stated tiredly, turning her head to him. "They are both in their rooms now."

Jim pulled off his tunic and tossed it onto the bed next to him. He sighed deeply. "I really screwed this up somehow." He heard movement on the bed but did not acknowledge it as he placed his head in his hands. "I feel so defeated." Suddenly, two warm hands began to massage his shoulders.

"Don't feel too bad, Captain," came the smooth words of Skylar. "You were never much of a talker when it came down to things. The smooth talk only lasts so long until it all just falls away."

Jim slowly sat upright, forcing himself against her hands. "What does that mean?"

Skylar leaned in close to him, kneading his shoulders with her knuckles. "It means the charm is intriguing at first but the gist of the words is empty." Her hands traveled over his shoulders and down the length of his arms. "You are so appealing and sexy, and you know all of the words to make that worm on your hook so tasty." She clasped her hands over his, her lips close to his ear now. "But we dumb fish always forget about the hook."

Jim tipped his head back to look at her and Skylar pressed her lips to his forcibly. Jim knew that that would happen. It was a side of her he never expected but something he expected of her tonight. A significant part of him was surprised that it did happen – actually happen. He didn't really want it to happen … didn't he?

Jim moved his hands away from hers and broke the kiss, standing from the bed immediately. He turned to her. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked as evenly as possible. "My friend and your boyfriend is on the brink of death, and you're kissing me – what the hell is up with you?"

"He's allowed to play but I can't, Jim? You play all of the time … and I can't."

"You don't want to play, Skylar. You're better than that. I know you love Spock."

Skylar reached down and pulled the tank top over her head, exposing her breasts. "It doesn't matter. Nothing else does." She tossed her top between them.

Jim very carefully looked down at the floor to her tank top, trying desperately not to see her nakedness. His body was beginning to betray him. He walked to the top, picked it up and held it out to her.

Skylar carefully wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled him to her, wrapping her other hand around the back of his neck with a firmer grip than Jim expected and pulled him into a deep kiss. Her tongue thrashed out at his in the most sensual way; she pressed up against him, and he could feel her nipples hard against his skin. She was trembling against his warmth. Her nails pressed into the skin behind his back. It was slightly alarming and far too easy. Jim broke the kiss again and tried (with minimal effort) to move away from her. But her grasp was strong and his heart was only half into the protest.

"We can't do this," he whispered to her as she took his hand and placed it on one of her breasts.

"Jim, I need you," she whispered back, almost painfully. "You understand how I feel. You want this, too."

Jim's fingers twitched as her soft flesh ignited all of the tactile sensors in his hand.

"It hurts so much that I want to kill something … but I really, really need you, right now, inside me," Skylar pleaded with him as she began to feel his grip on her breast tighten. Wrapping both his arms around his neck, she pulled him so that he was on top on her on the bed.

Jim began to heatedly kiss her, Skylar reacting similarly. He was hard instantly as he felt her hands travel down to the button of his trousers. As she began to release the button from the hole, Jim's heart began to race. He opened his eyes and when he did not see Nyota, he instantly pulled away from her and gritted his teeth, releasing an irritated growl.

"Fuck – Skylar – stop it." He looked down at her harshly. "We cannot do this. We can't betray them."

Skylar narrowed her eyes at him. Suddenly, she slapped his hard across the face. Before Jim had any time to react, Skylar grabbed him and pulled him back onto the bed, this time turning him over and mounting him. Jim eyed her with shock as he found himself pinned under her, her eyes wild and his hands bound above his head under hers. She kissed him hard, biting his lip in the process. He gasped, which allowed her access into his mouth. As her tongue forcefully fought against his, she released one of his hands and ran her nails with a surprising amount of painful pressure against his skin and down his side. She released his mouth so that he could gasp again, this time in pain, before sensually biting at his neck. Jim's free hand attempted to confine hers, but she found his erection first. She squeezed. Hard.

Jim moaned, tilting his head back in sweet agony as he felt Skylar's grip on him, her fingers rotating against the material of his trousers.

"Betrayal," she breathed into his ear before quickly snapping at his earlobe, "This isn't betrayal; it's natural." Skylar moved down onto his thighs and began to unbutton his trousers.

Jim's mind was in a hazy frenzy as his emotions and reason began to duke it out without gloves. He managed to sit up on his elbows, pain beginning to throb in the bitten and scratched areas on his body. He could taste the bitter, copper delicacy of blood that was now tainting his lip, a fresh reminder of what was happening. "Skylar …" he started to say, his mind questioning the reality of the situation. Hadn't this happened before? Maybe he was just asleep. But the throbbing of his arousal and the fact that it was now apparent behind his boxer briefs as Skylar pulled his trousers off seemingly effortlessly from his body spoke otherwise. "What's gotten into you?"

"Isn't this familiar?" she questioned him with a playful grin on her lips. Her fingers slid into the top hem of his boxer briefs, the touch all too much for him. Jim instantly sat up, trying to find the logic in what Skylar was telling him without letting the horrible desire to allow her to press on in her mission to conquer him prevail. His body screamed at him to let her continue – he needed this, his dick told him.

"… the Academy?" he questioned quietly as he took hold of her hands again and brought them each around his neck so that he now held her in his lap.

Skylar stared at him for a moment, her body beginning to move against him in a sensually impatient way. "Your dream." She secured her mouth over his and kissed him passionately, gripping his hair in her fist.

With every successful grind against his arousal, Jim realized he was losing this battle. Why the fuck am I not, like, Vulcan right now? his mind screamed at him. Then it happened – his mind began to take him back to the dream. She was in his lap, they were near the end of their encounter and he stood … he took her to finish it off … against the wall … and – Spock!

Jim grabbed Skylar by the arms as forcibly as he could without trying to purposely harm her, and he pushed Skylar back so that she could not kiss him anymore. He stared at her hard, gritting his teeth. He was furious at everything. He could have yelled it he wanted to, but with great struggle, Jim forced himself to remain as calm as humanly possible. His girth still pressed against her, Jim shook his head at her, not breaking eye contact. "This is over, Skylar. We're not stupid cadets anymore, and this is not a dream. This is reality, and we've both completely screwed up."

Skylar, now in her own painful agony, shook her head as tears began to fall from her eyes. She tried to press herself against him, but Jim's grasp was finally at its peak. "Please …" she tried again, but Jim shook his head. Skylar's eyes narrowed darkly out him, and all at once she screeched and bit at him. Surprised, Jim moved back but maintained his grip on her.

"Calm down," he said soothingly as he watched his friend finally bow her head in defeat, her body shuddering in his lap.

Tears now rushed down her face. If there was anything more surprising to him about the night, it was that Skylar Pike was now openly crying in his lap. After a brief moment, Jim released her hands and promptly gripped her around the shoulders, pulling her into a tight grip that he knew she'd have trouble getting out of. Waiting for Skylar to make a tactical advancement to subdue him again, Jim merely sat with a crying security chief against his chest. He couldn't help but rub her naked back. He felt her nudge her head into the crook of his neck, her sobs loud and pained.

"What's going on? Why is this happening?" he asked.

"It hurts," Skylar replied between sobs. "I have to, Jim."

"Are you trying to make a statement because of Spock's pon farr? This will only make it worse, Sky. This won't solve anything."

"It's like fire," Skylar managed to say as she cried.

Jim's mind began to race. He began to recall what Spock was describing as the plak tow once it had begun to control his every thought and movement. The blood fever, he'd called it. He was erratic and violent. He was anything but himself. Fever … like fire?

Jim began to recount his conversation with Spock.

"What are you talking about? You would never hurt anyone."

"I already have."

Spock had admitted that this biological function would render the host into doing everything in his or her power to mate. But Spock had not wanted Skylar to be his relief.

"Mating with Skylar will not suffice; she will need to be present and in excellent health for your assignment on Trill."

"You mentioned before that you'd already hurt someone. Did you mean Skylar?"

They had obviously had a sexual encounter during Spock's pon farr. And being that he and Skylar had been intimate for a while prior, was it possible that she could contract this kind of … virus? Jim thought that this idea seemed far fetched as it was only native to Vulcan biology. However, the only being that Jim knew of personally with any sort of telepathic abilities was Spock, but somehow Skylar kept reminded him of his dream … My dream, he thought suddenly. How else could she have known, unless she had somehow picked up the ability to mind meld from Spock? Was this possible?

"Holy shit," he murmured.

Skylar snapped her head up at him. "Jim," she started to say, but Jim gently pressed her head back to his chest.

"It's going to be okay, Sky," he said softly to her. "You're one of my closest friends. I'm going to make this right. Everything's going to be alright." He carefully slid her off of his lap and onto the bed. Suddenly he realized that all of the pain and the extreme desire for her were gone. Crouching down before her, taking her hands with one hand and grabbing for her tank top with the other, Jim looked up at her in complete seriousness. "I think I understand what's going on," he said. "While I'm not a doctor, or even a Vulcan, I think I get it. And though the solution to this may be that I should give into what my body and I want – and God, help me, I am a weak man who would love to say yes to you again – my responsibilities lie with making sure all of my friends are okay. Skylar, I love you. And I love Spock, and Amelia and Leonard. But if making love to you will fix what you're going through with a loss of Spock's friendship and trust, I'm sorry to say that I can't be the one to fix you. He's going to have to help you himself, because this issue is beyond me. I'm not the one to fix this piece of the mess."

Skylar watched him, shaking. "It hurts," she stated robotically. "Jim, it hurts."

Jim stood tall before her. He gently took her arms and guided them up, pulling them through the arm spaces of the tank top. He then pulled it down and covered her nakedness, giving her hands a squeeze thereafter. Jim pulled her to a standing position and looked her square in the eyes. "I won't fail you this time," he said.

:::::

Somewhere in the darkness, a spotlight formed a holy-like beam of light upon a crouched figure in the center of a stage. An earthy shawl-like cloth encased her head, covering her hair and wound itself tightly around her neck. The end piece spilled over her neck and lay in a heap on the polished floor that she stared down at, her reflection a constant reminder of everything. She balanced herself on her arms, leaning into them, these encased slender columns of bone and flesh and muscle; she was draped in brown, and around her torso was a cage that locked her into the lengthy dress.

Amelia raised her head. She looked out into the dark void. The spotlight was so bright that she saw nothing, and the silence was overbearingly loud. Her gasp echoed out at the darkness. Amelia stood slowly, her eyes searching around for something warm, something familiar. As she lengthened out, her eyes fell in defeat back down at her reflection in the floor. She embodied the perfect figure, the perfect look. Not an inch beyond her hands and face peeked out through the Vulcan attire. She was perfect.

Spock looked down at Amelia as she lay on the bed, her eyes blinking rapidly as she began to recover from his blow. He tilted his head to the side in observation, the dark pools on his face trying to understand the life form before him. However, the mound of flesh and bone did not represent anything beyond the task at hand. His eyes scanned over the soft curve of her face and the shapeliness of her breasts; he followed the red skant that covered her hourglass figure down to the bottom hem where two fabulously slender legs protruded over the side of the bed.

He blinked several times, a mind on autopilot calculating every inch of flesh seen and unseen. The answer was simple: the specimen was perfect for domination. After all, someone had to live. If one wanted to survive, one would have to fight. And if there was one word Spock's body was screaming at his head, it was survival.

Spock instantly pulled the tunic over his head, tossing it aimlessly to the side. His hands fell to his uniform trousers where, without unfastening the clasp, he vehemently forced himself out of them and kicked them to the side. His chest expanding and collapsing at an alarming width, Spock leaned over the stirring body of Amelia and with two strong hands opened his grip wide around the base of her neck. He pulled her to a sitting position without any effort. He watched lifelessly as Amelia's head started to loll to either side, her eyes trying to focus on his face. She was completely disorientated; a thin trail of blood escaped from the side of her mouth where the blunt force of the back of his hand had struck at her shamelessly.

Looking her straight in the eyes, he said darkly, "You will obey."

Amelia's hands went to her mouth dramatically and she allowed her head to loll around in a counterclockwise rotation once before she cried out, throwing her arms out above her head. She stood on pointed toes, though neither could be seen due to the length of the dress that covered her. She tried desperately to breathe but the corset suffocated her with its tight grip on her ribcage. In a desperate effort, she brought her left foot up, sensuously dragging it up the inside of her leg at point, stopping just above her knee. Crying out in pain from the pressure of the corset as its base dug into her hip, her leg snapped out into a perfect arabesque. She could barely hold it up before she lost her balance and was forced to let her leg drop, landing in fourth position.

Amelia's eyes caught her reflection again. Dropping to her knees and allowing the tears to flow freely, Amelia screamed down at her reflected self. Raising her fist high into the air –

Amelia grabbed onto each of Spock's wrists as the pressure around her neck from his fighting fists began to become deadly. His teeth were bared before her and his breathing was ragged. Spock was shaking violently. He suddenly pulled her into a furious kiss, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. The familiar taste of iron corroded her tongue as Spock sucked on her flesh hard. Amelia's fists around his wrists tightened as she began to gather the strength to push him back, but like a wall, he would not budge. However, Amelia continued to hold her ground. She tried to pull away from his mouth, but Spock continued to press into her. Finally, in a growl of frustration, the Vulcan shoved her back with great force, nearly sending her over the opposite of the bed.

– and her fist slammed down ferociously onto the sleek flooring where her reflection stared up meekly at her. A thousand cracks rippled outward like a pebble breaking the surface of a pond. A small crater cupped her bloody fist until she slowly began to separate her flesh from the floor. Amelia's eyes wandered over the throbbing bloodiness as she stood again, her other hand balled up at her side. Her injured hand opened, her red fingers spreading out like the legs of a spider.

The hand traveled up to the shawl wrapped firmly around her head that concealed her hair. She wiped her blood on the majestic material. She grabbed at the end piece that bound her around the neck. She gave it a tug and it threatened to take her head off. She began to unwind it from around her neck.

Spock climbed onto the bed on all fours, legs on either side of Amelia as she sat up on her elbows drunkenly, her eyes maintaining a stare on him. He sat down carelessly onto her lap and his fingers locked around the low neckline of her skant.

The veil was loosening. Amelia released the end piece and latched onto the fabric on top of her head. She pulled it off fearlessly, the airy shawl fluttering after her bloody hair like a terribly long ribbon. She did not watch the shawl fall to a crumbled heap on the floor beside her. She slowly rotated her head again, counterclockwise, her hair loose and becoming accustomed to the freedom at hand. She ran her hands up the sides of the corset, turning her hands up around the outside of her chest region and brought her fingers up to the tall neckline on the top of the dress. Her fingers tightened around the fabric mercilessly.

Spock tore the neckline into a V shape. Amelia lightly gasped as the sound overpowered the pounding of her heart from inside her chest and the haggard breathing from Spock. Her cleavage and black lace of her bra peeked out at him, and the black pools on Spock's face shifted to observe their findings. Both hands pulling the fabric open around either shoulder, Spock dipped his head down into the crook of her neck and he began sensually biting and kissing her flesh hard. His hands swept over her shoulders, tearing the fabric only a bit more before his hands took hold of the top of her rib cage under her arms; his hands cupped the outsides of her breasts, his thumbs nearly pushing into them.

With the sudden addition of his weight onto her, Amelia's elbows cried out painfully at her. She quickly grabbed onto his shoulders to hold herself up as she felt his teeth on her neck. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Fear and pain gripped her as he devoured her neck, down her jugular and towards her clavicle. Eyes widening as she tried desperately not to cry out, Amelia dug her nails into Spock's shoulders in an attempt to distract him from the pain he was causing her. At first, the Vulcan hardly noticed it; in fact, for a brief moment, Amelia was sure that Spock had found her retaliation almost pleasurable as his mouth on her skin let up ever so slightly as her nails did not relieve pressure. But that suddenly changed when Spock released her all together, slamming her back against the bed.

"You don't have a choice," he hissed, and he smacked her across the face.

Amelia took the blow without whimpering, but laid in shock as his hand swiftly left her face and joined the other in ripped her skant all the way down her front. Amelia's heart hurt tremendously as it pumped heatedly inside of her.

"Spock …" she started to say but the Vulcan gave no attention to what was coming out of her mouth. Instead, Spock bent forward over her and began to kiss her ferociously on the mouth again. As he did so, Amelia felt his hands latch around the sides of her panties. Amelia's eyes rolled back. All she could wish for was that her heart would explode and it would all be over …

Just as Amelia was about to rip at the top of the dress, she heard the clapping of boot heels on the glossy floor in the darkness before her. Pausing, she looked up, straining to see into the darkness. The clapping grew louder. Suddenly, a figure broke through.

"Hikaru?" she asked quietly.

Hands in his trouser pockets and a small smile on his unshaven face, Leonard McCoy stepped into the light of the beam.

"Not exactly," he replied quietly.

Amelia's bottom lip began to tremble as Leonard reached out and cupped the side of her face in his hand. He then leaned in and gave her a small yet significant kiss. His facial hair tickled her cheek as the warmth she'd longed for found its place within her. Leonard broke the kiss but remained close to her. His hands held her shoulders as he gave her a small kiss on the forehead, and then he moved his hands to the neckline of the dress where Amelia had wanted to start her attack.

As though using magic, Leonard simply pulled the fabric so that it stretched over her shoulders and fell down easily off of her slender body. She stood in the corset and her panties, the dressed crumpled at her feet. Suddenly, the corset began to crack like a piece of pottery. It fell over of her in pieces around their feet, but Amelia did not watch. Her stare was locked onto Leonard's as his soft gaze did not leave hers.

"There's always a choice," he said softly to her. "And however you dance, you have me."

Amelia looked down at herself and saw that she was in an aquamarine strapless leotard. There was a beautiful floral pattern that tapered across it, and a beautiful sheer skirt flowed out from the green belt that comfortably clung to her waist. The belt's color matched that of her ballet slippers and the straps that wound themselves up her calves. Though she could not see them, two peacock plume feathers decorated the sides of her head and her hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Strands of her bangs fell gracefully across her forehead as she watched Leonard slowly take a step away from her, his smile broader as he took the sight of her in.

"Beautiful," was all he said before stepping out of the beam. However, Leonard was not engulfed into darkness as the area around the spotlight had brightened to a very dim setting; while Amelia could not actually see the details of Leonard's face anymore, she could make out his outline – and he was there. Without another moment to lose, Amelia felt an excitement that she had not felt in a while. Sliding her right foot out to the side, Amelia hopped up onto it and began to turn, lifting her left leg into a perfect attitude almost like that of a porcelain ballerina figurine one might find rotating on a jewelry box. However, this ballerina had no music or beat of any kind. Amelia began to dance. She began to feel the movements. She improvised and allowed her body to move exactly how it wanted to. She was nervous and scared and completely comforted by her single audience member, but she did not stop. She could not.

The movements of her hands and legs were slow and fluid. She reached outward and leapt; she pirouetted and landed in a wide fourth position, an arm extended out to the side and the other upward into the light. As her head tilted back, Amelia caught the beam as it flickered for a moment.

Spock held one of Amelia's hands over her head, pressing it into the mattress. He felt her other hand against his chest as she began to resist him again. In a heated fury, he seized he hand and joined it to the other so that she was bound in a single grip while his other hand grabbed her around the side of her neck. His thumb nail traced her jaw line sharply. His mind was starting to call him away from this area of her body, to venture to the point at which all suffering would end. And while the blood that churned liquid fire throughout his veins coursed mercilessly in desperate need for sanity, Spock's fingers on her face began to press into her skin around her temple.

Amelia maintained her position but dropped her head to see Leonard. She nearly gasped when she realized that Leonard was not alone. Though this new figure did not interact with Leonard and Leonard made no impression of acknowledging this other figure's existence, Amelia realized that she was beginning to feel differently. A wave of worry and fear came over her. She closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply. Gritting her teeth behind her lips, Amelia opened her eyes and stared past them both. Throwing her arms back behind her, Amelia gracefully trotted forward and threw herself into a perfect grand jete, leaping past the two audience members. The stage widened with every turn and leap she made. She moved faster and faster, the pace of her breathing becoming faster as she scooped low to the ground in plie. She extended her leg into fourth position again. Executing a releve fervently and standing onto pointe, Amelia whipped her leg around. She continued to do so in the same spot, her head snapping around faster than her body as she spotted. Fouette en tournant. Fouette en tournant. Fouette en tournant.

Spock's eyes opened and in an enormous effort, he pushed himself off of Amelia, yelling out as he did so. Amelia opened her eyes to see the Vulcan fall back onto the floor, landing in a fetal position. He continued to cry out in pain while Amelia sat up and slid off of the bed to knees before him. Her body ached but she could not help but ignore its cries out to her; Spock appeared to be experiencing a pain far greater than she could imagine.

"I can't," he said in a strained matter through his teeth. "I can't."

Amelia touched his shoulder as she watched the scene in alarm. "Spock – you're going to die."

"I can't," he repeated. He began to shake under her hand.

The door of the room opened with a snap. Amelia glanced up just as Leonard and Scotty came rushing in. Leonard was completely frazzled; his hair was a mess and his tunic was completely disheveled. He came to halt as she saw Amelia crouched next to the Spock, both of them only in their undergarments.

"Leonard!" Amelia cried.

Leonard took her by the arm and stood her up firmly, bringing him to her briefly before glancing over her again. Bruising had begun to sweep down her neck and over her clavicle. "Are you okay?" he growled, but he did not wait for a response. As Amelia started to state that she was okay, Leonard nodded to Scotty, who took hold of Amelia's hand and pulled her away from Spock. Amelia watched in horror as Leonard then proceeded to grab Spock by the shoulders, turning him so that they could see each other closely.

"Len – NO!" Amelia screamed out but Scotty held her close so that she could not run at the two.

Leonard grabbed Spock at the neck and punched him square in the face. The Vulcan's head snapped back but returned quickly as though unfazed by the blow. Leonard hesitated only a moment, and in that moment, Spock sent his fist straight into Leonard's diaphragm. All of the air within Leonard and a cry exited his body through his mouth all at once, and the doctor fell on top of the Vulcan, who promptly pushed his stunned body off of him. Spock rose to his feet.

"My fight is not with you," he said as he watched the doctor climb painfully to his knees, an arm around his torso. Spock turned toward Amelia and Scotty. Scotty instantly pushed Amelia toward the door just as Jim and Skylar came running through the doorway. The three of them each caught Scotty as he rushed at the Vulcan. He tackled Spock, yelling out as he did so. Leonard sacrificed himself as he positioned himself behind Spock. In a swift movement, Spock and Scotty fell back over Leonard, who was now pinned under them.

Scotty threw a couple of punches at Spock but Spock violently pushed Scotty away, sending him halfway across the room.

"Guys, stop!" Jim commanded as he skirted to Scotty's aid. He looked back at Skylar and nodded. "We need to get out of here," he said to everyone as Skylar walked carefully to the pile of Spock and Leonard.

Skylar stepped over Leonard, who was now pulling himself out from under Spock. Amelia rushed to him and took his hand, assisting him while keeping an eye on Skylar who was now crouched over Spock. They stared at each other for a moment before Skylar leaned over the Vulcan and kissed him passionately.

"Come on," Amelia said to Leonard as Leonard looked back at what was going on. "We need to leave."

"I'm sorry," Leonard said painfully as he pulled himself into a standing position. "You didn't want my help but I couldn't just sit around –"

"Let's talk about this later," Amelia cut him off firmly. Wrapping an arm around him, Amelia walked Leonard over to Jim who had an arm around Scotty. The four of them did not look back as they slowly made their way out into the corridor.