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Disclaimer: Seventeen postcards and thirty letters. That's all I got for ya, but no claims to own Star Trek.

The bridge is humming with quiet energy when Bones steps onto it. Several people look up at him, nodding in acknowledgement before going back to studying their screens. Bones glances around before his gaze settles on the one person he expects to be there no matter what – Spock is seated in front of the captain's chair, eyes locked on the endless scene of space stretching out before him.

"Doctor," he greets Spock carefully, sitting next to him. "Can't sleep?"

"I find that sleep eludes me, despite being in a body that requires it," Spock answers, shifting his position to accommodate Bones. "You, however, do not need it."

"Yes, Lieutenant Uhura informed me of this." Bones glances around. No one is listening to them speak. He frowns when he sees someone asleep in front of his station. "Gotta talk to Jim about that one," he mutters.

"How is she?" Spock asks, turning his head to look at Bones.

"About as well as she can be." Bones hesitates. "She and I had a little talk about you," he admits.

"I presume you two discussed at length your aggravation regarding my disposition." Spock's voice is neutral, but if he listens carefully, Bones can hear the tinge of bitterness concealed beneath the Southern cadence.

"Well, yeah," he says, trying to sound like he's joking. "What else would we talk about?"

Spock actually smiles a little. "That is one thing I like about you, Doctor. You do not hide things from me. Were you a Vulcan, I imagine that we may have been fast friends."

"Yeah, Pointy Ears, I don't think that that's a feasible situation," Bones snorts.

"Indeed." Spock resumes staring out the window.

Bones pauses a little, thinking about Uhura's request. "Well, I don't think it's too late," he says at last.

Spock glances at him again but does not say anything.

"To be friends," Bones clarifies. "We're stuck as each other. We might as well make the best of it. I don't understand you – but maybe it's because I don't know anything about the way your Vulcan mind works."

"That is because we have not spent time with each other in close quarters," Spock says. "But you have a fair argument."

"It's strange to hear you agreeing with me."

"As I have pointed out before, Doctor, we have agreed on multiple occasions."

"Multiple may be a slight exaggeration," Bones drawls. "But then again, Vulcans don't lie, right, Spock?"

"Indeed, Doctor. You are learning." Spock nods at him.

"So what do you say, Spock? You taking the olive branch?" Bones holds his hand out.

"That statement perplexes me, Doctor. I do not see you extending foliage to me."

"It's a metaphor – forget it. How about we call each other friends and get on with it?"

"Our current state may not be classified as friendship, Doctor, but I am willing to go along with this experiment." Spock shakes his hand firmly. "Though I am unsure if our new endeavor will yield a much more positive outcome than this afternoon's attempt."

"I didn't take you for a pessimist, Spock."

"Not a pessimist, Doctor, a realist. There is a fine difference, I find."

Bones just rolls his eyes. "Alright. Fine. Realist. Whatever." They fall into comfortable silence, with only the soft humming of the ship, occasional chatter on the bridge, and the rhythmic snoring coming from behind them. Finally, Bones speaks again: "Maybe we should tell each other stories about ourselves. You know, just so we know a little bit about each other."

"I am afraid that my life yields no interesting stories, Doctor. As you are so fond of pointing out, I had no childhood."

"That is not my fault – who sticks their child into school at the age of five?"

"Vulcans," Spock says flatly.

"No wonder you don't have a sense of humour."

"Oh, I have a sense of humour, Doctor. It so happens to be much more refined than yours. I do not expect you to understand it."

Bones almost snarks something back at him, but he takes a deep breath instead and repeats in his head: be the bigger man, be the bigger man. "Alright," he concedes, "I'll give you that. But think about it logically, Spock. If we know a little bit about one another, we can better act as one another. Understanding comes from factual knowledge, does it not?"

"Not in all matters," Spock says, "but again, you present a fair and logical argument. Very well." He spreads his arms wide. "What would you like to know about me?"

"Tell me about your mother," Bones says, getting right to the heart of it.

"My mother, Doctor?" Spock blinks. "I fail to understand her relevance in this whole situation."

"Oh, I think it's relevant," Bones says, hoping that the gamble he's taking doesn't backfire into Spock shutting down on him. "Your whole life, you've been wanting to impress your father, so you rely on your Vulcan logic, your rational side. You don't like your emotions because they remind you of her, doesn't it?"

"You presume," Spock begins, but Bones jumps in.

"That's why we need to talk about her, Spock - because this whole exercise is about learning how to be one another. I need you to be human." Behind his back, Bones crosses his fingers, hoping that the gambit will work.

"What basis do you have for that assumption?" Spock asks. "You have no evidence, no proof. At best you are only positing a theory."

Bones taps his head. "It makes sense, does it not?"

Spock hesitates, struggling to fight the inevitable conclusion in his head. Finally, he relents. "Very well, Doctor. You present a persuasive argument that I cannot contend with."

Bones almost pumps his fist at the victory, but he composes himself. "We'll go slow," he promises. "Tell me about yourself first."

Spock looks out into space, his eyes fixated on the endless, undulating waves of space that stretch in front of both of them. "As you ask. I was born in the year 2231. You are aware of my birthplace on the planet Vulcan…"

And - scene. I have an overwhelming urge to film this.

Much love,
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