Chapter Five

Chekov shivered slightly as he followed Sulu back to the tent. He was still slightly spooked from Mr. Scott's tale – or perhaps it was because he had been holding Sulu's hand back at the campfire? Chekov shook his head vigorously and wrapped his blanket around him like a cape.

He wanted to tell himself that the idea was preposterous, but as he looked at Sulu's back silhouetted by the stars and moonlight, his sentiment changed. It was liberating to admit to himself that he had fallen for Sulu; as though a weight had been lifted from his chest. Yet as he walked on, the weight was replaced by anxiety: what should he do? Would Sulu ever see him in that way? It was overwhelming to think about.

"It's beautiful out, isn't it?" Sulu said, gazing up as he walked. Chekov followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of a comet shooting across the sky. He understood: Sulu was feeling restless, too. Shore leave was a luxury he embraced, but Chekov knew that their first home was among the stars.

"Yes, yes it is," he quietly agreed. He wanted to say something more to ensure that the conversation would continue, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Chekov lowered his head to watch his feet move rhythmically through the weeds. At long last, they reached the tent. Relieved, and feeling a bit sleepy, Chekov dropped to the ground to crawl into the tent. His blanket that was draped over his back slid forward, blindfolding him.

"Hey, look at that!" Sulu suddenly said excitedly, tapping Chekov on the back.

"Hmm, look at what?" Chekov said, scrambling blindly backwards out of the tent.

"Just look at the stars," Sulu said quietly, tapping Chekov more firmly with impatience. Chekov obliged, throwing the blanket around him once more. He sat on the ground, his hands supporting his weight as he leaned back. Sulu sat down next to him, leaning back on his elbows and not at all bothered by the cold air.

"You can't see this from San Francisco! It's almost miraculous," Sulu said. Chekov could tell he was thinking aloud. "It's a miracle that we get to travel out there. We visit so many places. It's nice to be able to look up every once in a while and say, 'I know those stars. I went there once.' How many people get to say that?"

Chekov nodded, taking in Sulu's words; Sulu was not one for philosophic monologues. Chekov understood that he was witness to something private, almost religious. He closed his eyes, letting the words reverberate in his memory.

"Not many," he agreed. He looked over at his friend and smiled. "It is something to marvel at," he added. Sulu grinned, returning his gaze. His face was illuminated by dim moonlight, making his eyes glisten slightly. Chekov knew he should look away, but he could only smile back.

"We've really seen it all, haven't we?" Sulu said, still looking at Chekov.

"Yeah," Chekov replied, adjusting his gaze back to the sky. He scrutinized the darkness above him, mapping the constellations.

"That is Ursa Minor, is it not?" he asked, pointing to its location. Sulu followed Chekov's gesture, frowning slightly in thought.

"I suppose it is," he said. "And that," he pointed to Chekov's left, "is the Big Dipper. The famous North Star is part of its handle."

"The North Star was discovered by a Russian," Chekov said before he could stop himself. Sulu chuckled.

"For you, Pavel, everything was discovered in Russia." Chekov grinned sheepishly. They fell into comfortable silence, looking out into the vast night sky. Sulu shivered slightly, but tried to hide the fact from his friend. Chekov had seen the movement. He offered part of the blanket to Sulu who hesitated for a moment, but took it graciously.

"Thanks," he said, sitting up to pull the blanket tightly across his shoulders.

"But of course," Chekov grinned, sitting up as well so that they could sit comfortably under the blanket.

"If only you could see the Northern Lights from here," Sulu sighed.

"Have you ever wisited them?" Chekov asked curiously. Sulu shook his head sadly.

"You would think that I would go to every spot on my home planet before venturing off, but I guess I never got around to it. Have you?"

Chekov shrugged. Earth natural monuments and phenomena had never really interested him. "Maybe someday."

"Maybe someday," Sulu agreed. They lapsed into silence again, lost in the constellations. Chekov could hear the crickets chirping around them and the wind rustling softly in the grass. It was a reminder that they were isolated from the rest of the crew and the rest of the world.

"You know what?" Sulu said, turning to look Chekov in the eye.

"What, Hikaru?" Chekov replied.

"We should visit the Northern Lights. Together. When we retire from Starfleet, we'll travel Earth. We've traveled everywhere else together, so why not?"

Chekov could not help but chuckle; Sulu proved once again that underneath his grounded exterior, he was filled with flights of fancy.

"Whatever you say, Hikaru," he said, brushing away the proposition.

"I'm serious!" Sulu said indignantly. Chekov blinked and swallowed nervously. "If I'm going to go, I'm going to go with you."

Chekov was flabbergasted. "I – I suppose – I mean, if I am not assigned to-"

But his rationalizing was cut off by the presence of Sulu's hand on the side of his face and Sulu's lips gently resting on his own. Chekov's eyes remained open for a moment, his brain frantically processing what was going on. He could feel Sulu's thumb brushing his cheek gently – Sulu's whole action was kind and embracing.

Acting on sheer impulse, Chekov closed his eyes and kissed him back. He thought of the elevator, of Sulu's hand on his shoulder, of the stars above them now that always welcomed them, of the friendship that he had had with Sulu from the very beginning.

He felt the blanket fall from their shoulders, and he blindly reached for it again, taking it with him as he wrapped his arms around Sulu. The blanket enveloped them, and Chekov savored this fleeting moment which he had thought, only minutes before, would only manifest itself in a dream. Cocooned, they fell onto the meadow floor and rolled slightly, but neither one noticed. Sulu had a hand in Chekov's hair, which was now covered in burrs from the dirt; Chekov could feel dew settling in his clothes, but it didn't matter.

After a while, they broke apart. Chekov's face was inches from Sulu's – he could feel Sulu's breath on his face, and he broke into a smile.

"We should probably get some sleep now," Chekov said, immediately regretting the suggestion. Sulu bit his lip in thought.

"Let's just stay out here," he said softly. "Here," and he turned over, adjusting himself so that he was facing away from Chekov. Chekov scooted closer to Sulu, wrapping his arms around his torso and resting his chin on Sulu's shoulder.

"Good night," Sulu's voice sounded slightly muffled, but peaceful. Chekov ran his hand down Sulu's side, taking in the feel of the cloth and the warmth of his skin.

"Good night."

The campfire was still crackling and fizzling with its confetti-like sparks as Bones and Spock got up to return to the tent. Kirk remained by the fireside for a moment alone. As he gazed up into the night sky and its inviting stars, he wished he was back on the Enterprise. Then cold air filled his lungs, bringing him back to Earth with a sense of calm.

Slowly, he arose from his spot by the fire and began to walk back to his tent. He watched as Bones held the tent flap back for Spock, and Kirk's two friends vanished into the tent. Something about the way they entered the tent together made Kirk take pause. Making the decision to stay out in the fresh air a while longer, he wandered past the tent and flopped himself down on the meadow.

The fire's glow illuminated the tent, creating shadow-like projections of the tent's interior. Kirk could see his friends talking, like a silent puppet show. Sighing, Kirk lied down on the grass and let his mind wander.

"What'd you think of the campfire?" Bones asked Spock as he held the canopy flap open for Spock. Spock crawled through, got to his sleeping bag and sat on it, cross-legged.

"I found that the atmosphere seemed to be welcoming and relaxing to the human nervous system," Spock observed.

"I meant Mr. Scott's story, Spock," Bones smirked. He had somehow figured that Spock would not have understood his casual question. "What'd you think of it?"

Bones had crawled through the tent's opening and sat on his own sleeping bag at the head of the tent. Their tent was close enough to the campfire that he could see Spock's face very clearly. Although he hated to admit it, the Vulcan's features were easy on the eyes. The pointed ears and high cheekbones which were frequently the objects of his derision glowed yellow in the firelight. Despite the years they had spent together, always teasing, always arguing, Bones suddenly found himself drawn to the other man.

Spock paused, processing the story. "I believe that its plotline is entirely illogical and therefore, is something that should not invoke fear."

"Oh, c'mon Mr. Spock," Bones rolled his eyes. "You're telling me that it didn't at least entertain you?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"It was entertaining, Doctor," he confessed. "It is logical that a good story has an entertaining element to it."

"But you didn't have fun?" Bones asked, obviously attempting to invoke Spock's human feelings.

"I am unfamiliar with the human emotion of 'having fun'," Spock said matter-of-factly, furrowing his eyebrows in an attempt to comprehend the concept.

"I think that's where you're wrong, Mr. Spock," Bones said, leaning towards Spock so that the Vulcan could see the sly smile that was playing across his face. "I think you enjoyed it, but you don't want to admit it." He straightened up, resuming his position atop his sleeping bag in order to watch the effects of his words.

"What would be the purpose of my admitting to a particular human emotion, Doctor?" Spock asked, betraying a human sense of irritation.

"Well, you'd be proving the point of the whole exercise, Mr. Spock," Bones shrugged nonchalantly.

"You do not need a confession of human emotion from me, Doctor, in order to prove that ghost stories can be effective," Spock responded.

"Oh, I don't?" Bones said, leaning in again. He was suddenly very close to Spock, inches from his face. He sensed a tension between the two of them which had not been there before, and it wasn't just because of their close proximity.

"Well, it's fun to try, anyway," he said quietly. It could've been the firelight, but Bones thought that Spock looked slightly taken aback.

"Meaning what, Doctor?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly threatening. Bones kept his face inches from Spock's – there was a strange thrill in keeping Spock on his toes like this.

"Meaning that I find it entertaining to see you squirm and try to deny the fact that you're half-human," Bones declared.

Spock shook his head. "I'm not trying to deny anything, Doctor."

"I believe you are, Spock," Bones challenged.

"And what would that be, Doctor?" Spock could feel Bones' breath on his face, but he did not falter or back away.

"That you have emotional needs just like any other human being, Spock," Bones said, slightly enraged, "and that you want those needs to be met somehow. But you're afraid to admit it," he poked Spock hard in the chest. "You're afraid of what you can't control because, Spock, emotions are not logical!"

"So what if I have these… emotional needs, Doctor?" Spock challenged, his voice low with resentment. "You do not gain anything by knowing that the dichotomy of human emotion and Vulcan logic is something that has always existed within me."

"Spock! I gain understanding!" He put his hand on Spock's shoulder as a sign of comfort. Spock looked at Bones' hand, thinking about the pressure it created against his skin. He could sense the tension and, possibly, fear within Bones' muscles, but he could not understand where these feelings were coming from. He looked back at Bones: the doctor's eyes were wide and serious, piercing him like an X-ray.

"I'm a doctor," Bones continued, his voice calmer and quieter now. "And I'm your friend. That's what I do: help you to understand."

"I do not require your help," Spock said, looking at his knees. "I only require that you—"

"Spock," Bones interrupted. Although he had cut across Spock's speech, his voice was soft and comforting.

"Yes, Doctor?" Spock said, looking up once more.

"Yes, you do."

It happened in a flash: he was closing his eyes and closing the gap between his face and Spock's. His lips were suddenly on Spock's and although the Vulcan didn't pull away, he didn't exactly reciprocate the movement either. Bones' mind was flooded with confusing, contradictory thoughts urging him forward and pulling him back. Ah, forget it, Bones dismissed his thoughts and let his body take over – perhaps a bit too strongly. He pushed Spock back onto his sleeping bag and the two of them were caught in this illogical embrace.

Bones at last broke the embrace, holding himself up over Spock, who lay on the ground looking bemused.

"Doctor?" Spock asked quietly. Although Spock rarely smiled, Bones saw the ends of his lips purse themselves slightly. Bones knew this was a rhetorical proposal of sorts, but he felt compelled to say something.

"Spock," he responded in a low voice. There was a moment's pause as the two of them looked at each other, waiting for their feelings to catch up with their actions. The fire crackled outside the tent.

"You were speaking about the concept of understanding: I believe I understand you now," Spock said quietly. His voice seemed compassionate and more emotional than Bones had ever heard it before.

"Understand me?" Bones was surprised. "This was an attempt to understand you, Spock!"

Spock shook his head. "I mean that I understand your motives: this was simply a logical way to let you demonstrate, Doctor, the concept of human passion as a source of—"

"'Demonstrate?'" Bones was irritated again. "Spock, for once in your life shut up and accept the fact that you felt something!"

Again, Spock shook his head. "Accepting it is not what is troubling me," he admitted. "I am conflicted by the concept of emotional expression. I do not understand how to reply to what you have just expressed."

Bones let this process in his brain for a moment, staring down at Spock. "Well," he said, grinning sheepishly. His hand rested on the side of Spock's face. "You could try kissing back," he said, and he leaned into Spock's face once more…

Kirk's stargazing was interrupted as he heard rustling coming from his tent. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and saw the silhouettes of Bones and Spock drawing uncharacteristically close to each other. The sounds of Spock's sleeping bag being jostled against the ground and deep intakes of breath made Kirk's heart jump slightly. He scrutinized the two figures as Bones seemed to fall on top of Spock. Kirk could only begin to process what had just happened when Spock's arms wrapped their way around Bones' back. He felt indignant, possibly slightly betrayed, too, but not for the reasons he had expected. Somehow, it made perfect sense to him that his two best friends who seemed to hate each other were actually attracted to one another. That, in its own right, was entirely logical. No, what irked Kirk was that he was sitting here, alone and utterly clueless. At least Bones could've told him that he'd been honing feelings for Spock!

He was now resolute to go into the tent and just separate the two. As he sat there, however, he recognized a sense of jealousy intermingled with his anger and betrayal. Perhaps he wished it was he who Spock was kissing rather than Bones? He wanted to be able to laugh at the idea, but he couldn't find the humor in the thought. He was suddenly reminded of something Spock had once said, "Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." He had taken it from Sherlock Holmes, of course – but what did that matter? What really mattered was the truth: he was jealous of Spock – or was it Bones? It was all so complicated…

Sighing with defeat, he watched as his two friends resembled one figure in the firelight, feeling strangely alone.