Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured. ~Mark Twain

Spock sat in his home office, using the time most people would be sleeping to get some work done. There was much that demanded his attention and for the past month his focus had been mainly elsewhere. He tried not to berate himself over his wandering mind although it had gotten him behind in some of the work his father expected from him.

When he went to check some figures in an email sent by the CFO, he could not fail to notice that the tiny green light next to James Kirk's name was illuminated. Jim was on his computer. At 3:45 in the morning.

Spock theorized that Jim had not read the email he had sent as no response had yet been received. Did he want to take advantage of the instant chat feature embedded in their common email program?

Rather than consider it further – what was it Jim had said at some point paralysis through analysis? – Spock clicked on Jim's name.

Jim.

Spock waited, watching the response box and willing the program to indicate that the recipient was composing a reply.

After a nearly interminable delay, one came:

Hey.

Are you unable to sleep? Spock typed. Not remotely close to what he really wanted to say but easing into the conversation seemed appropriate.

Again, he had to wait until a reply was even composed.

Are you?

Well. This was not going especially well, Spock acknowledged to himself. Perhaps he should simply give up and go back to the work awaiting his attention.

I was working when I noted your on-line presence.

What is it you want? Jim sent.

That was direct at least. Spock considered the question. Not just the immediate answer to it. The long term from now until forever part.

To talk with you. Preferably in person.

Is that a good idea? Jim returned.

I was overly hasty in my evaluation of your… connection to the Consortium.

There was a pause in the activity box, Spock wondering if Jim had left the program. But his indicator light remained illuminated.

I am still who I am Jim finally responded.

I acknowledge that. I have acquired new information that has put your involvement in a different light.

Who were you talking to? Jim asked. Spock could practically see the anger in those pixels.

Is that important? I have a deeper understanding of all that it means.

It's important that what you learned is true. Since you seemed disinclined to discuss it with me.

That was an error on my part. Spock did not think that it was error to not discuss it. It was an error not to ask the questions of Jim rather than his grandmother. May we please meet in person and have this conversation?

This request was met with an even longer delay. Spock unconsciously checked the green light several times, needing the reassurance that Jim was in fact still there. Electronically at the very least.

When? came the response. Finally.

Are you free tomorrow for lunch?

Tomorrow as in Monday? Or tomorrow as in later today?

Either one would be fine with me, Spock responded. Because if he could see Jim, he would do it whenever Jim was available.

I have time today. Where should I meet you?

Would you come to my apartment?

No Jim responded, not surprisingly.

Park Avenue Grille?

What time?

Noon if that is convenient to you, Spock replied.

Noon. With that, the light next to Jim's name went out. At least he had agreed to lunch. That was something of a victory, Spock decided.

~o0o~

Spock arrived at the restaurant at 11:55 precisely, informing the hostess that he had a reservation and that his guest would be arriving shortly. She escorted him to the table with the discreet 'reserved' sign, assuring him that Mr. Kirk would be shown the table the moment he arrived.

At precisely noon, Jim appeared, staring at Spock, anger simmering in his eyes and in his entire body. He was holding himself unnaturally tightly beneath the dark green sweater and jeans that were his customary attire.

"Jim," Spock said, looking up at him.

"Hey," Jim responded. He sounded normal even if his voice had a new huskiness to it, one Spock wanted to pretend did not add to his already considerable appeal.

"Please join me," Spock requested.

Jim nodded, sliding into the booth opposite from Spock and picking up the menu at his place.

"Why are you angry?" Spock asked quietly, studying Jim openly.

"I don't want to be," Jim admitted. "But I am."

"Why?"

"Because you are judging me. And that makes me judge myself. Sometimes you don't want to consider who you are and what you do as a result. It's simpler to just be."

"Yes," Spock had to agree. "It was never my intention to make you self-conscious."

"I know that," Jim said with a sigh. "This was a bad idea."

"It was not," Spock said in a low voice. "We can talk civilly. Discuss that which disrupted our relationship. We are adults capable of mature discourse."

"Leonard would argue with you on that," Jim said coughing softly.

"Are you ill?" Spock asked.

"No. We went to the Ice Floes concert last night. I always sing too loud and too much. And I'm hoarse the next day."

"I see," Spock said. "The concert was enjoyable?"

"Always," Jim said, looking up at the waitress when she stopped by their table.

"Gentlemen," she said, an appreciative gaze lingering on Jim. "What may I get you to drink?"

"I'll have Pepsi," Jim requested.

"Of course. And for you, sir?"

"A glass of water. No ice and no lemon."

"Certainly," she acknowledged before sashaying away.

"Do you know what you are having to eat?" Spock asked as Jim continued to study the heavy menu.

"I can't decide," Jim admitted. "Although the roast pork with apple glaze sounds really good. What are you getting?"

"Pasta primavera with vodka sauce," Spock decided.

"That sounds good too," Jim said.

"They will include chicken if you request it," Spock said, waiting as the waitress set down their drinks.

"Have you decided?" she asked.

"We have," Spock responded, nodding to Jim to begin.

"I'll have the pasta primavera. With blackened chicken, please."

"Of course. And your salad?"

"Caesar," Jim decided.

She inquired from Spock who placed his order. Once she had walked away, Spock turned his attention on Jim. His initial anger had been replaced by nervousness.

"I had a lengthy conversation with my grandmother," Spock said, Jim nodding. "She provided much insight."

"Which you could have gotten from me," Jim said evenly.

"Yes," Spock said. "I regret my inability to talk with you more directly. And more civilly."

Jim shrugged but did not respond otherwise.

"While you were away, you were assisting in the installation of the Prime Minister of Tajikistan?"

"I was," Jim agreed when Spock paused. Because something needed to go into the silence.

"My grandmother additionally told me that I erred in my judgment of you as simply an assassin."

"I'm not sure it's the simply part that you have a problem dealing with," Jim suggested.

"True," Spock conceded, studying Jim who looked back with guarded eyes. "While I cannot say I can approve of your actions…."

"I'm not looking for your approval. I'm not sure I'm looking for anything from you," Jim said, his anger as crystal clear as the blue of his eyes.

"Jim," Spock requested. "I regret your anger. I regret I did not handle the information you gave to me in an appropriate manner. Since that time, I have learned additional facts which has put it all into a new perspective."

"And?" Jim challenged.

"You are not willing to truly listen," Spock said in quiet regret.

"What are you planning to tell me? That you abhor violence but can accept me? That my actions are reprehensible but you're willing to overlook them?"

"That is not precisely how I would phrase it," Spock said.

"No matter how you might phrase it, it doesn't alter the truth of who I am."

Spock considered those words, looking at them from what he thought might be Jim's perspective. He could see that Jim's anger was justified. He had made his opinion clear. Why would Jim think his core beliefs had changed?

"I knew this was a mistake," Jim said, sliding out of the booth and carefully putting his napkin on the seat. He reached into his pocket and took out two crumpled 20 bills which he placed on the table. "You shouldn't have to pay for food I won't be eating."

Spock nodded, his silence his only answer as he watched Jim walk away. Regret was not a meal he wanted to eat but it was the only one left on his personal menu.

~o0o~

"Oh no," Bones said as Jim entered the house.

"Yeah," Jim sighed, flopping down on the couch. "I knew I shouldn't have gone. Why didn't I listen to myself?"

"I'm sorry, kid. Chris is grilling steaks. Please try to eat some."

Jim flung his arm over his eyes. "Are you ever sorry? That we're part of the Consortium?"

"You know I am. But I'll never leave until you do. If ever."

"Where's Mom?" Jim asked because the house was unnaturally quiet.

"She went to have lunch with Tahla."

"Chris didn't go?" Jim asked.

"No. He said he was meeting with her tomorrow. And Tahla and Winona need the time to themselves. So they can gossip."

"About us no doubt."

"Without a doubt," Bones said. "Tell me what happened."

"I'm at fault. I wouldn't listen. He tried explaining. He talked to T'Pau. She told him he was overly hasty. Something I could have told him if he'd listened."

"But you are too angry right now to listen to him," Bones acknowledged.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "I thought I would be able to discuss it with him. But once I got there, all I could see was the horrified expression on his face when we first told him. No matter how much time has elapsed, all I see is his horror."

"Do you think he's incapable of a change of heart?" Bones asked gently.

"I know. I know," Jim sighed. "I'm a horrible person who deserves to die alone. Alone and despised by ordinary people."

"True. All true," Bones agreed, making Jim snort at him. Leonard looked over at the entry to the patio when Chris and Scotty entered, Chris carrying a platter piled high with delicious smelling steaks. "Come on, lonely man. Let's eat."

"Yeah," Jim sighed.

"I dinna think we'd be seein' you until much later, laddie," Scotty said as they sat at the table.

Jim shrugged, looking into the living room. "Where are the boys?"

"I locked them in the pantry," Chris said.

"Seriously. Where are they?" Jim asked.

"You don't need details," Bones said. "They'll be along shortly. They were doing the dishes and got distracted."

"Oh my Lord. At least someone in this house is in a happy relationship," Jim said.

"So it didn't go particularly well," Chris said, giving Jim a thick steak.

"Have you been taking lessons from Bones on understatements?" Jim asked, accepting the plate of sweet potatoes to take one.

"I am the master. He is but the learner," Chris said.

"For the love of all that is holy, stop letting him make you watch Star Wars," Leonard pleaded with a frown at Jim.

Chris and Scotty laughed at that, all eyes on Chekov and Sulu when they silently crossed the living room to slip into the dining room.

"How'd it go?" Hikaru asked in an attempt to focus attention elsewhere.

Jim shook his head not otherwise commenting. That was all they needed to know and they changed the subject. Leonard talked about the concert including the invitation he had extended to Sherry Waters and the children.

"Y'all'll be here, right?" Leonard asked Chekov and Sulu.

"Vhere else vould ve be?" Pavel asked.

"True," Leonard agreed. "Jim. Please."

All eyes focused on Jim and the plate which held his untouched food. Rather than answer, Jim stood up and left the table. It was only moments later that they heard the door to his office close with more force than strictly necessary. Leonard and Chris exchanged looks, Leonard shaking his head.

"Are you goin' then?" Scotty finally asked Leonard and Chris.

Leonard sighed, standing slowly. He went to the office, knocking and entering without waiting for a response. "I know you're angry at me and I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad at you," Jim said from where he knelt in front of his fireplace, placing the logs in precise order.

"I have a hard time believing that," Leonard said gently, sitting on the couch watching him.

"I'm mad at myself. I'm mad at Spock. I'm mad at Pavel and Hikaru for having what..…"

"I know," Leonard said. "What do you want to do?"

Jim shrugged, striking the match to watch the fire leap to life. "I want my life to be simpler. There was a time it wasn't so complicated, right?"

"Yeah. I'm sure there was. I don't quite remember it but that doesn't mean it didn't exist."

"Why am I suddenly reduced to a teen-age girl? One you're sure is suffering from anorexia. I know I need to eat. But I can't. Not yet."

"Is there anything you would eat? Waffles? French fries? I'll go to McDonalds for you."

Jim smiled sadly and shook his head. "Thanks. No. Go tell the boys I'm okay, please. I don't want to worry them."

"What are you going to do?"

"Write. Purge my soul on my computer."

"All right," Leonard said, standing up. "You know where to find me if you need anything."

"I do. Tell them I'm sorry."

"I won't need to. They understand," Leonard assured him, reluctantly leaving Jim's office to return to the overly quiet dining room. "He's okay. He asked me to tell you he's sorry."

They agreed it was, indeed, unnecessary, that they did understand. After a few awkward minutes, the conversation resumed its lively nature, even if it was somewhat subdued.

A/N: Special thanks to Romanse who (more-or-less) volunteered to proof this story. Because as she said - a writer never sees her own typos. Thanks!