The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug. ~Mark Twain

"Good lord, Jimmy," Scotty said when Jim was back inside the house. "How OCD is he?"

"He's a Vulcan," Jim laughed. "Aren't they really interchangeable?"

"Aye. I suppose they are at that," Scotty had to agree, climbing off the step ladder. "Go make your revisions. I can handle this."

"You sure?" Jim asked, watching him wind his way around the tree.

"Positive. If you make the revisions and send them right on, it'll fly all over him. That alone will be worth it."

"Yeah," Jim laughed. "I'll bring my laptop to the living room. In case you fall off the step stool."

"That's not goin' happen," Scotty assured him with a laugh.

"You weren't drinking just Pepsi after lunch."

"Ach," Scotty said, shrugging it off. "Just a wee nip. To keep out the cold."

"It's not snowing inside the house," Jim pointed out, laughing at Scotty.

"It's not at that," Scotty agreed, pausing to peer out the huge windows at the snow. "Do I need to run get Leonard?"

"He hasn't called. What time is it?"

"Quarter to six."

"I'll give him a call and see," Jim said, going over to the phone to dial Bones' cell. "Hey."

"Hey," Bones responded.

"You on your way home?"

"Another 45 minutes. Why? You okay?"

"I'm fine," Jim assured him. "Scotty said he'd come get you if you're worried about the snow."

"It bad?" Bones asked.

"Not yet. But by 6:30 it could be slick," Jim said. "It's laying on the grass."

"What's he driving?" Bones asked.

"Hey Scotty," Jim said. "What are you driving today?"

"Hummer," Scotty told him.

"Then yeah, tell him to come get me," Bones agreed. "Wait. How much has he had to drink?"

"He said just a wee nip," Jim said, doing a fine imitation of Scotty's accent.

"Of course."

"Spock paid me a visit," Jim said casually.

"Oh joy. Bet that was just a whole world of fun," Bones said.

"Yeah. I'll tell you all about it when you get home."

"Good. What's for dinner?"

"Scotty, what's for dinner?" Jim asked.

"It's your turn," Scotty responded.

"So. No dinner," Bones said.

"You and Scotty can run by the China Palace," Jim said.

"No. We'll go to Marcella's."

"Okay. Scotty should come get you at 6:30?"

"Sounds good. Call Marcella's. Order me linguini with clam sauce. The boys comin'?" Bones asked.

"I don't know. I'll call them and ask."

"You sound tired. Did you nap today like I asked you to?" Bones asked sternly.

"We could talk about that when you get home," Jim suggested.

"Fine. You'll go to bed once you finish eating."

"When did you become the boss of me?"

"When you refused to take care of yourself. I got to go. I'll see you in an hour."

"Yep," Jim agreed, hanging up and telling Scotty about the plans. He then called Sulu who said that he and Chekov would be coming over, Pavel wanting to tell Jim all about his meeting with Chris. Since they were already out in the weather, they agreed to run by the hospital and pick up Leonard, and then go to the restaurant. Jim didn't bother to call Bones about the change of plans. When he saw Hikaru's cherry red Jeep Cherokee instead of Scotty's obnoxiously yellow Hummer, he'd know automatically.

Jim went to his study for his laptop, bringing it into the living room. It was easier to work on than his desk top since he could put it lower and reduce the strain on his left arm. It was feeling tight but he knew that meant it was healing. In a few days, it would start to itch unbearably which was sometimes worse than the pain.

He opened the draft that Spock had returned, reading quickly over the first few comments. They were short and pointed, no flowery language to sugarcoat the truth. Jim wasn't sure if he preferred that way or Marjorie's gentler suggestions. He felt like he had the option to ignore Marjorie but Spock seemed to be dictating to him the revisions that would be made.

"Hey Scotty?"

"Yeah?" Scotty responded, pausing in stringing the lights on the foyer tree.

"Do you think 'mitigated' and 'reduced' are the same?" Jim asked, studying the page.

"No. They have different shades of meaning," Scotty said.

"I think so too. Listen to this sentence and tell me if you think I should change it," Jim said. He read the sentence in question, using first one verb and then the other. "What do you think?"

"Mitigated," Scotty confirmed.

"Yeah," Jim said with a nod. "He certainly thinks highly of himself."

"That's a shame," Scotty said. "He ugly to ya?"

"No. Not exactly. He made quite a few more suggestions than Marjorie ever did. I'm not saying there are all wrong. But…." Jim shrugged, flipping through the rest of the pages.

"They are color coded?" Scotty had to ask with a laugh.

"Yeah. Sand is for factual errors. I think. No – that's canary. Sand is suggested revisions."

"What does that mean?" Scotty asked, leaning against the arm of Jim's chair to look down at the manuscript.

"Things I could have phrased better?"

"Seems to me you phrase things just fine. Don't get to be a best seller because you almost got it right."

"Yeah. His opinion is apparently quite different," Jim said, flipping to the next post-it.

"Light blue?"

"Aqua. Narrative…disruptions. I think. Good Lord. They may need to contract with Marjorie. Or I'm finding a new publisher," Jim said, looking up at Scotty with a frown.

"Give her a call," Scotty suggested. "She'll… well, I don't quite know what she'll say. She might have some wisdom to share."

"You think?"

"Sure no harm in askin'," Scotty pointed out, returning to his decorating.

Jim decided he had a point and called Marjorie, glad when she picked up right away. He tried really hard not to whine about the notes Spock had left him but he was taken aback by the volume of suggested changes.

"I know, darling. And I'm sorry," she said in sympathy.

"Has he done this before? I mean, really? Having a PhD doesn't automatically qualify you, does it?"

"Not necessarily. And he is Vulcan. That's a whole other dimension."

"Yeah," Jim sighed. "What's my best recourse?"

"Ask Chris to call them. Or call Spock and tell him," Marjorie suggested.

"Will it help? They have the right to request as many revisions as they want."

"That's their prerogative. That doesn't mean they are right, love. Your writing is different from most of their other talent. When did you say you'd have it back?"

"Tomorrow. Mostly because his attitude got my back up. But now…."

"I know."

"I'm not sure I can work like this. Maybe you spoiled me and if so, I appreciate it. But I seem to be utterly incapable of constructing a well constructed sentence. Well. That's just more proof, isn't it?"

"Oh sweetie," she laughed. "You are always more articulate on paper. One of the many reasons I love you so much."

"Glad someone does. Cause Spock sure isn't in my fan club," Jim moaned, sounding childish to his own ears.

"Yes he is. I think he wants to show you who is boss. Not my way of doing things but then I'm not the owner's son."

"And you're not Vulcan," Jim added in resignation.

"Make the revisions you agree with. Ignore the others. They bought the House to acquire you. Why would they want to ruin one of their best products?"

"I'm a product now?" Jim asked with a laugh.

"You know you are. Comes with being number one on Times best seller list 43 of the last 52 weeks."

"Damn Hillary Rodgers and her damn pixies."

"Fairies, dear. They aren't the same," Marjorie reminded him.

"Why didn't they invoke the Harry Potter rule and list her separately?"

"No idea. I'll ask next time I have sex with the editor of that section."

"You have a potty mouth," Jim told her with a laugh.

"Sometimes I do."

"And I know for a fact you've never had sex with him."

"Because you have?" she laughed.

"Not yet. It's on my to-do list."

"Sure. Call for the meeting, dear. Draw your proverbial line in the sand."

"Will you come with me?"

"No I will not. But you may want to take Chris. That would be reasonable."

"Alright. Thanks for being there in my time of need," Jim said, trying to sound put-upon.

"You are breaking my heart. You know that, right?"

"I hope so. Because you've already crushed mine."

"Right. I need to go. I have a date with a hot man who doesn't have anything to do with publishing or copyrights or revisions from stubborn writers."

"Humph," Jim snorted. "I'm pouring my heart out to you and you are going off to have sex with someone I don't know."

"I didn't know I needed your approval," she laughed.

"I suppose you don't at that," he had to agree. "I'll let you know what happens."

"Yes. Do that, dear," she agreed, hanging up after their farewells.

"What are ya goin' do?" Scotty asked, studying the illuminated tree to decide if the lights were evenly placed.

"No idea. She said just make the ones I think are legit. If there's a throw down over it, I'll have a meeting with Spock and Sarek, and take Chris."

"Makes sense," Scotty said, rearranging a couple of the strings of lights.

"What do you want for dinner?" Jim asked as he watched Scotty putter.

"Mmm… Spaghetti with meatballs. And extra garlic bread."

Jim nodded, calling the restaurant and placing their order, adding an extra large pepperoni with extra cheese for Hikaru and Pavel although he thought Chekov might be too excited to eat. That done, he returned to his laptop, frowning at the numerous suggestions Spock had made on his manuscript. Could he just go on strike and refuse to make them? What would happen then? His novels had come out every February for the last six years. Regular as clockwork. If this one was late, his readers would let House Net'no'kwa know of their displeasure. And he was pretty sure pre-orders had already started. Deciding to find out, he skipped over to Amazon to discover his yet untitled novel was number 12 on the top of the pre-order list. Great. Just great.

"Hey Scotty. Guess who's #12 on the pre-order list," Jim said with a laugh.

"Hillary Rodgers?" Scotty said just to make Jim frown at him.

"Yeah. And I'm king of the universe."

"I knew that, your majesty," Scotty said. "How can anyone pre-order when you haven't given it a name yet?"

"It just says New Hardcover by Jim Kirk."

"How much?"

"You can preorder it today for $15.63 plus shipping and handling," Jim informed him.

"And when will I receive it?"

"February 12."

"That's an awfully long time to wait," Scotty complained mildly. "I had rather hoped I'd get it for Christmas."

"Or that you could read it tonight," Jim suggested with a laugh.

"Aye. That I would," Scotty agreed. "Where did Sulu leave the decorations?"

"In his room, I think. I'm not sure. He was vacuuming the living room rugs so he may not have wanted them in here."

"It's his room now?" Scotty laughed. "I had thought it was mine."

"His. Yours. Pavel's. You know," Jim said with a shrug. "There's enough for everybody."

"True, true," Scotty said, going down the hallway to get the boxes of decorations. "Leonard will thank you not to help," he said when Jim came over to the living room tree.

Jim snorted at him and returned to his chair, frowning at his manuscript. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. And that did not sit well with him. "Maybe I should tell Mr. Spock that I could have him killed. Think that would help?"

"Have him killed? Or do it yourself?" Scotty laughed.

"I guess Chris wouldn't approve, huh?" Jim asked.

"Pretty sure he'd object."

Jim picked up the phone, dialing the cell phone number that appeared on each and every one of the sticky notes, all four colors. "Mr. Spock," he said when the other man had answered.

"Mr. Kirk," came the even response.

"I've been looking over your 'suggested revisions,'" Jim told him, trying to disguise some of his growing anger.

"Yes," Mr. Spock said. Not exactly encouraging.

"I'm a little taken aback, to be honest," Jim said reluctantly. "I understand that I sometimes lose track of the narrative thread and I'm certain willing to make those revisions."

"As I had presumed," Mr. Spock said.

"Some of your other suggestions, however," Jim said, trying to find the most diplomatic way to phrase his objections. 'Are you out of your f-ing mind?' sounded reasonable but he didn't think that was the best way to state it. "They are a little…intrusive."

"Intrusive," Mr. Spock repeated as though trying out the word.

"Did you retain a copy?" Jim asked, knowing full well that he had. Of course he did. He's OCD.

"Yes," Mr. Spock agreed.

"On page 152 for instance," Jim said, looking down at the page. "You crossed out half of Dichali's dialog. He always talks too much. It's one of his defining characteristics. And some of what you suggest I eliminate is there to provide additional background."

"Yes," Mr. Spock repeated, not elaborating.

"Yes what? Yes you agree? Yes I should ignore your suggestion? Yes it provides background? Yes it's on page 152?" Jim asked, a sharp edge of impatience coloring his tone.

"You are correct," Mr. Spock said.

"What?" Jim demanded, rapidly losing control of his temper. "What game are you playing, Mr. Spock?"

"I do not play games, Mr. Kirk. I was in error with my suggestion on page 152. You are under no obligation to accept any of my revisions."

Jim took a deep breath, trying to quell some of his near epic exasperation. "We aren't off to a very good start."

"I regret you feel that way," Mr. Spock said in the exact same tone he had used the entire time. Jim sure didn't hear any regret.

"Maybe we need to do this in person," Jim said reluctantly. "I need to have an idea of where your head is."

"Where my head is," Spock repeated.

"You know what I mean. Do you have time to meet with me tomorrow? I'll come to your office."

"I do not have the time tomorrow. I am available on Wednesday. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes, Wednesday is fine," Jim agreed, wondering if he could manage to have him killed between now and then.

"What time on Wednesday would be convenient to you, Mr. Kirk?"

"8 in the morning? That will leave me the rest of the day to concentrate."

"That will be fine. I will see you Wednesday morning at 8 a.m.," Mr. Spock said, ringing off.

"You takin' Chris with you?" Scotty asked.

"No. This is ridiculous," Jim said, shaking his head. "Utterly ridiculous."

"It seems overdone," Scotty had to agree, going to open the front door when he heard the Cherokee arrive in the drive. Leonard came in first, complaining about the cold, and Hikaru's driving, and Pavel's nonstop talking the entire trip home. He accepted the glass of bourbon from Jim, frowning at him on principle.

"How was your day?" Jim asked him as Leonard shrugged out of his overcoat, giving it to Sulu to hang on the back of the closet.

"What do you care?" Bones asked in return.

"Whoa, Dr. Grumpy. What did I do?"

"You sent Abbott and Costello to get me. Do you have any idea how much they talk? Talk talk talk talk talk."

Jim shook his head, looking over at Hikaru and Pavel who were standing in the foyer with bags from the restaurant, their laughter barely disguised. "What did you two do with the kind, amusing doctor who lives here?"

"Invasion of the body snatcher?" Sulu suggested, going into the dining room to put their dinners on the table. "Come and get it."

Pavel was still talking nonstop, telling Jim about being certified, picking out his brand new phaser, going with Mr. Pike to the range to be certified on it, getting his credentials, and receiving the brand new cell phone that was already programmed with Jim's number and Leonard's number and Mr. Pike's private number.

Jim glanced over at Hikaru who was doing nothing to disguise his smile at Pavel's excitement. Even Bones had to smile as much as he tried not to. Scotty listened and ate and ate some more.

When Pavel finally wound down, Jim told them about Mr. Spock's visit and the revisions he had suggested.

"Color coded 'em," Scotty added, the others shaking their heads.

"What are you goin' do?" Bones asked Jim as they lingered over garlic bread and bourbon.

Jim shrugged. "Make some of them. Ignore some. I'm meeting him Wednesday at 8 to talk about the rest."

"Are you taking Chris?" Hikaru asked.

"Not this time. Marjorie thinks it may come to that but not yet," Jim said as Hikaru and Pavel cleaned up the table, stacking the dishes on the dishwasher. They all adjourned to the living room, Jim lounging on the couch, Bones in his chair, the other three busy with the trees.

"How was your day?" Jim asked Bones when there was a lull in the chatter.

Bones shrugged. "You know. Fine. A little boring."

"Sorry," Jim laughed. "Kind of a nice change of pace though."

"Yeah. December does that," Bones agreed, watching the others put the decorations on the trees, engaging in friendly arguments about where each bauble and angel and Santa should be placed. "We ever that young?" he asked, nodding his head toward Pavel.

"Once we were. A long time ago," Jim said with a smile. "I wouldn't want to be."

"Me neither," Bones agreed. "They staying the night?"

"Are y'all sleeping over?" Jim asked in their general direction.

"You mind?" Hikaru asked in response.

"You know the answer to that," Bones assured him. "And anyway, you have to take me in tomorrow morning."

"Of course. Chauffer is on my job description somewhere," Sulu laughed.

"Right under smart-ass," Bones agreed.

"May be right over it," Jim said with a laugh.

"If all you smarty pants will excuse me, I'm turning in," Bones said, receiving a chorus of good-nights in response.