"Well, that sucks," Leonard McCoy, for once, had no snarky reply to offer, no good humor to lighten the mood and he knew that no amount of strong liquor would dull the pain he was seeing in those blue eyes across from him. He just couldn't believe it, "Are you sure he doesn't—"

"I'm sure," Jim's voice was hollow, devoid of all the joy of his soul. "Spock doesn't love me. He never did and…I knew this would happen."

Bones shook his head, heart breaking for his friend—so full of love and so deserving of it and yet no one that Jim has ever loved has seen fit to return it, but they've certainly used it to their own advantage. Jim's mother didn't even celebrate her son's birthday as a child, hadn't been around long enough to read a report card and didn't even show up to her son's graduation and promotion ceremony. Then, a year into their mission, she comm's Jim out of the blue, says they're going to lose the Kirk farm if he doesn't wire funds immediately. Turns out the farm was never in any danger and Winona had used the money, combined with some of her own, to buy her brother Frank—Jim's childhood abuser—a pardon from Iowa's governor. As far as McCoy knew, she hadn't so much as comm'd her son since, not even to offer an explanation, but she sure as hell broke his heart and Jim had just let it go.

Then, there was Sam, the brother Jim would have done anything for—ran off and left him for the fucking wolves when they were kids. They had reunited while Jim was still in the academy, but when Jim refused to help Sam hack into the United Federation National Bank to skim some of the credits off the tops of some accounts belonging to wealthy Ambassadors (Sarek of Vulcan being one of them), he'd kicked Jim to the curb without so much as a by your leave. The worst though, was Carol. Jim had met her before joining the academy, planned his life around her and their unborn child. What does she do? She runs off with her ex and aborts the baby. She'd been using Jim to make the other man jealous and she discarded Jim and their son like trash. McCoy considers it a happy accident that the bar Jim decided to drown his sorrows in that night had led him to Starfleet. And now Spock. Goddamnit, Spock!

The Vulcan had roped Jim in—hook, line and sinker. The Captain had been mooning over the hobgoblin for the better part of a year—programming the replicators to produce a larger variety of Vulcan entrees, increasing the bridge and corridor temperatures by six degrees (Is it me, or is it nippy around here? The Captain had asked, not fooling anyone. Except maybe Spock), making sure that when upgrade schedules were handed down from Starfleet, Sciences received their modifications right after Engineering and Sickbay and let's not forget all the pacing whenever Spock happened to catch injury or illness.

Then the hobgoblin had gone and lost his memories and along with it his inhibitions and logic. He'd pulled Jim in, seduced him with loving touch and whispered words of affection, only to drop him on his head? McCoy couldn't believe that even Spock, operating under the tenants of Vulcan logic and control, stoically robotic and unemotional—could ever be so fucking cruel.

"You say he's taking an entire week for meditation?" Bones leaned forward, hoping to glean some kind of insight as to why.

"Yeah," Jim sighed, "Said he needs to process and refocus…I mean…he did pretty much blow off his Vulcan culture for an entire month—didn't meditate or anything. He only started trying to practice control when he got that first memory back."

"That was same night the two of you…"

"Actually, that was the next morning," Jim scrubbed a hand over his bloodshot eyes. "I just don't get it, Bones. I mean, I know I should just walk away and forget it, but I can't. I thought I could do this…I thought I was prepared to let him go but now all I can think of about is how I'm gonna get him back. What do I do? What can I say to him to make him—" Jim broke off, his voice catching again, "to make him love me again? God, I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic," Bone replied, his eyes radiating the conviction of that statement. "There's no way, not after what I've seen this past year not just the last month—that he doesn't love you. Maybe he's overwhelmed, maybe he's scared…it's got to be something, but it ain't for a lack of love, I'd stake my life on it—the hobgoblin's lyin'."

Jim shook his head, "Vulcan's don't lie—"

"That's a crock and you know it," McCoy felt his ire starting to rise. Where was the Jim Kirk that didn't believe in no-win scenarios? "Spock's half human, in case you forgot and he didn't have any problem deceiving you when he was trying get into your pants."

"He wasn't himself—"

"Again, Jim, horseshit," McCoy cut him off with a sweep of his hands. "Spock's memory return was gradual. He was as much himself these past four weeks as he is right now. He'd regained his ability to shield and control his emotions, he remembered every aspect of his life up until two and half years ago when the two of you first met and yet that didn't stop him—for weeks—from crawling into bed with you, did it?"

Jim thought back to the conversation he had with Spock three nights ago…you were right. This must end now and we must return to how we were before. You are my most valued friend, and I cherish thee as such. Please, Jim, forgive me. It wasn't an outright denial, but it had sounded very final when Spock had said it. Still, he didn't specify what Jim had been right about… "No," Jim responded, sounding a little less hollow.

"Listen," Bones rounded the desk, coming to lean against it facing his best friend, "You want my honest opinion?"

"Do I ever have a choice?" Jim half-smiled.

"You march your ass over there, kick in that pointy-eared bastard's door and you make him tell you why," the doctor was on a rant now. "You make him tell you what is about you that he just can't love? You make him give you a real reason."

"I'd rather not hear what his reasons are," Jim admitted solemnly.

Bones bent down, making sure blue eyes were looking right into his own, "He doesn't have any reasons, Jim."

Nyota Uhura was not an idiot and quite frankly, the fact that Spock would believe she'd buy any of this was rather insulting. She looked at the message on her PADD, reading through it one more time, just to get herself nice and worked up all over again. She was going to need that fire to kick some ass later.

Nyota,

As you may already be aware, I have requested some personal time to meditate this week in order to process the events of my injury and subsequent amnesic episode. I wish to thank you for being supportive of me this past month. I realize that much of my behavior toward you could have been construed as insensitive. I regret my bluntness in my ignorance of our past romantic engagement and any pain I may have caused as a result.

Furthermore, I thank you for your friendship which you offered even when faced with the actualization of my inappropriate emotionalism toward the Captain. When I spoke to you in your quarters, regarding the recovery of my memories of our acquaintance at the Academy you were open and honest in your responses. You stated that you were happy that I was finally able to confess my feelings for James. Unfortunately, these feelings are inconsequential and illogical where duty is concerned.

I have spoken with the Captain and he has agreed that our relationship is best served by returning it to the friendship we shared previous to my accident. I regret having troubled you this past week with details regarding my affection for him, and for causing you undue pain. It was never my intention to do so. Please forgive my temporary ignorance.

Sincerely,

Spock

Spock, you coward, Nyota thought vehemently, re-reading the line where Spock dumped Jim. She would have never thought Spock capable of such meanness, not in his right mind anyway. She may not have always thought very highly of Kirk, but ever since he'd taken command of the Enterprise and she'd had the opportunity to watch him grow, not just as a commander but as a person as well, and Nyota had been honored to count him among her friends and proud to call him her Captain. When Spock had come to her and explained that he was having inappropriate thoughts about Jim, that he believed he may be homosexual, Nyota had taken it in stride.

Sure, it hurt, but she was a big girl and it wasn't like it was Spock's fault that his physiology couldn't align with his logic. Sexuality wasn't a choice and she had told Spock, tearfully—she'll admit it, that they would still be friends and that whatever he decided to do, she'd support him. Well, she told herself, pushing the comm button on the terminal inside her quarters, I guess I lied. No, Nyota was no fool and she recognized a Vulcan good-bye letter when she saw it. Something was wrong and Spock was doing what Spock did best to deal with it—holing himself away and trying to handle it alone. Well, fuck that, thank you very much.

"Uhura to Captain Kirk," she called, waiting for the computer to patch her through to the Captain.

"Kirk here," came the solemn voice of the usually vibrant Captain. Kirk, especially these past few weeks, was usually the epitome of all things humor and good cheer. The last three days he'd been a shell of himself. Snapping at his yeoman and refusing any invitations for card games or company at meal time. Kirk and Spock had been very discrete in regards to their new relationship. The only reason Nyota knew was because Spock had told her and she was pretty sure the only reason McCoy knew was because Jim had told him. Otherwise, as far as anyone else was concerned, Jim's foul mood and aloof demeanor could have been caused by anything. The gossip was leaning toward trouble with the Admiralty, but Uhura knew the truth. Jim was heartbroken and it was time it came to an end.

"Captain, I need to speak with you immediately," she kept her voice grave. "It's a…personal emergency."

Jim's voice was in Captain mode, "I'm on my way, Kirk out."

Fifteen minutes later, Jim realized that the personal emergency the Lieutenant had been referring to was his own, not hers. "Look, Uhura," Jim stated, trying to make his way to the door the second the words, 'Spock's in love with you' were the first to come flying out of her mouth. "I appreciate whatever it is you think you're trying to accomplish, but Spock made it pretty clear that he made some regrettable decisions as a result of his amnesia and—"

He was cut off abruptly when Nyota gripped his shoulders and forced him bodily away from the door and into a chair. Damn, she was strong for someone barely over five feet and 120 pounds. "Sit down and shut up," she demanded. "You need to hear what I have to say."

Jim let out a sigh of resignation, and slouched back into the chair, "Fine. I'm all ears."

A sympathetic glint came to her eyes as she took in how defeated the usually unflappable James Kirk appeared, "I know what happened between you and Spock and I know how much you love him. I think anyone who looked close enough would notice."

Jim's cheeks grew with the heat of his embarrassment, "Peachy."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," she reprimanded. "In fact, who would have thought you had such good taste?"

His answering chuckle was soft, but it still brought a smile to her face, "I've seen how hurt you are and I can't help but wonder…why aren't you and Spock still…you know?" Though very telling for Spock, the Vulcan's letter had been vague and Nyota wanted to be sure before she divulged anything.

"When he remembered the past two years, he told me he just wanted to be friends again. I knew he would do that, but it…hurts," he kept his eyes on the floor, knowing that if he looked up and saw sympathy swimming in those eyes he'd be a mess…well, a bigger mess and where would that leave his male dignity?

"Look, whatever he told you, it isn't true," she insisted, her voice full of certainty.

"What the hell? Have you and Bones been swapping notes or something?" Jim huffed, annoyed. Why was everyone trying to give him false hope? Wasn't it bad enough that he had convinced himself to ignore his better judgment in the first place? Feeding his own false hope was what had gotten him into this mess to begin with.

"No," Nyota crouched to meet his gaze, taking his hand, "Do you know why Spock and I broke up? Did he ever tell you about those memories?"

Jim swallowed a nervous lump, "No."

"Do you know what T'hy'la means in Vulcan?" She asked, continuing when he shook his head in reply. "Its closest translation to Standard is Soulmate, but it's more than that. Ancient Vulcan warriors, many of which spent their entire lives at war fighting with the men beside them, would sometimes forge a rare bond between brothers in arms. The concept of T'hy'la is friend, brother and lover. It is among one of the most rare and revered bonds among modern Vulcan society. Or well, what is left of it."

"What does any of this have to do with me and Spock, we aren't bonded. We aren't tahilla," he shrugged defiantly, ready to get the hell out of here so he could go sulk alone.

"It has everything to do with you," she pushed him back into the seat. "Do you remember the mission to Dorian VII? I'm sure you do. Spock had to meld with you to save your life. Do you know what he found when he entered your mind?"

"I don't know—the flying spaghetti monster?" Jim snorted.

"Oh get off the whambulance already," She narrowed her eyes. "James T. Kirk, Mr. I don't believe in no-win scenarios going down without a fight? You need to hear this: Spock is in love with you—has been for nearly a year. He came to me a couple months before that mission to break it off. Do you know why? Because he discovered that he was not only homosexual, but also had quote inappropriate feelings for the Captain." She rolled her eyes at Jim's stunned expression. "Oh, it gets better—for you, anyway. After that mission, he comes in here and starts pacing, Jim…Spock—pacing. I've never seen him so agitated, aside from the time he choked you on the bridge."

"Those were extreme circumstances," He defended, hope beginning to resurface.

"Anyway, he keeps going on and on about how illogical it is and how it just cannot be and how it hasn't happened for thousands of years and blah blah blah, literally doing the Vulcan version of a panic attack. Apparently, when his mind touched yours during that meld, his Katra recognized you as T'hy'la."

Jim's brow furrowed, "Okay, so if this T'hy'la thing is so important to him, then why doesn't he want to be with me?"

Nyota shook her head, "I don't know what's wrong, but something definitely is. I think you should check on him. Try to talk to him, something."

Jim sat there for a minute, considering. It didn't make any sense. If what Uhura had said was true, and there was no reason for her to lie to him, then why wouldn't Spock want to be with him? Decided, he stood suddenly, "You're right. I don't believe in no-win scenarios. I'm gonna go talk to him." He paused at the door, turning toward the Lieutenant, "Thank you, Nyota." Her answering smile helped to solidify his resolve as he marched through the door and down the corridor to his own room.

It was worse than any of them could have imagined. The first clue Jim received that something was very wrong indeed, was the fact that Spock had activated the secondary lock system to both the main door of his quarters and the door of the adjoining bathrooms. He had to contact Scotty and ask the Chief Engineer to trick Spock's bathroom door into thinking there was a ship-wide power outage so that it would unlock. He promised he'd explain later.

Upon entering the sweltering cabin, it was the smell that overtook him. Feces, urine, vomit, dried blood and ejaculate permeated the air, causing Jim to gag and push his nose into his shirt. He immediately called for Bones. "I need you in Spock's quarters, right now," he ordered. "Come alone and bring a small hazmat team—one or two trustworthy individuals."

"I'll be right there," Bones' voice was grave with his concern, knowing that shit must have really hit the fan if Jim was calling for Hazmat and discretion.

Jim found Spock, unconscious on his meditation mat, deathly pale and covered in all manner of biological waste. He immediately rushed to the collapsed Vulcan's side, "Spock!" His panicked voice echoed in the room around them. He ran hands down the length of the Vulcan's body, checking for external injuries, calming fractionally when he found none, but Spock's pulse was weak and his breathing eerily shallow. Doing what came naturally in times of crisis, Jim's survival instincts took over. He stripped Spock of his soiled robes and carried him to their bathroom, placing the Vulcan into the basin and dialing in a water shower.

Jim then proceeded to wash day old vomit from Vulcan hair, making sure to lather soap over every inch of skin the Vulcan possessed. He turned Spock onto his side to clean behind ears, scrub over back and behind knees, gently washing Spock's undercarriage with clinical, forcibly detached care. By the time Bones made it to the bathroom, the doctor was pulling a medical mask over his face, "What the hell is that stench?"

"It's Spock's quarters," Jim replied softly, flipping off the shower and gently toweling Spock dry. He turned to Bones, who was bending to inject Spock with a fever reducer, "Where's the hazmat team?"

"I told them to wait in your office," Bones replied. "Let's get him lying down. We'll take him to your room while they clean up."

Together, they lifted Spock from the floor of the shower and carried him to Jim's bed. "I'll give hazmat their orders—you figure out what the hell is going on with him."

"He's in Pon Farr," Bones informed the Captain when he returned from the Commander's quarters, hazmat having completed the cleanup and the air system in Spock's room working to filter out any remaining bacteria. The space wouldn't be livable for another twenty-four hours at any rate.

Jim didn't know everything about Vulcans, but he knew about the mating cycle. Everything suddenly clicked. Son of a bitch, Spock, Jim mentally cursed the Vulcan, unconscious on his bed and he fired off a series of rampant questions, "What the hell was he thinking? How far has it progressed? Is there still time?"

"He's just inside the blood fever as far as I can tell, but I've got him tranq'd," McCoy leveled a stare at Jim. "The second it wears off, he won't be in control. He'll need to mate, immediately and if he's too far gone it could be violent."

"I don't care," was Jim's immediate reply, stripping off his clothes. "Help me get prepared while he's still out."

"Jim," McCoy tried to warn.

"Don't," the blonde rifled through McCoy's med case until he found an enema kit. He tossed it to the doctor, "Just help."

McCoy nodded, following Jim into the bathroom, knowing this was the only option for Spock's survival. He just hoped the Vulcan didn't break Jim's heart again when it was over.

Spock fluttered into wakefulness an hour and half later, wondering idly if he was dead yet and if not, how much longer would it take? He sighed contently for a moment, feeling warmer and more comfortable than he had in…how many days had it been? How long had it been since he broke his T'hy'la's heart and forsaken himself to this fate? Oh, Jim…

He groaned when he felt his organ begin to stiffen once more, the sharp ache in his internal testicles beginning yet again. Spock could weep at his own helplessness at his own misfortune. He was about to attempt to sit up when cool hands ran up his chest and gently grasped his shoulders, "Hey," the voice of his beloved poured over his soul, warming him inside and out. Spock's eyes snapped open.

"Jim!" Spock's voice was a desperate exaltation. "Oh, Jim. T'hy'la, you should not be here. I cannot control…not safe…"

"It's okay," Jim shushed, running a talented hand over chest hair, abdominal muscles—down, down, down until finally, it wrapped around Spock's unquenchable organ, pulling delectably from base to right below head, over and over, slowly and steadily. Human lips pressed themselves against a hungry Vulcan mouth, licking, sucking, nibbling and nipping. When their mouths finally parted, Spock was fully awake and his eyes were beginning to dilate and Jim knew that this might be Spock's last moments of lucidity for a while. He grasped Spock's chin with his hand and forced the Vulcan to look at him, "I love you and I want you to know, that no matter what happens after this, I will always be yours. Don't you ever hide away from me again…T'hy'la."

Something snapped within Spock at Jim's words and he seized human lips in a fiery kiss, grasping Jim's hips and positioning his entrance over his engorged penis, "No," he shook his head. "Never," he promised, "never again, T'hy'la…Oh..." he moaned, his erection painfully distracting as once again he felt the flames threaten to overtake him. "Please…Jim…Golden One…sheath me…"