Spock had finally decided to exit the transporter bay, because his inability to somehow conjure up a brilliant solution or observation just by staring at the controls was proving too much to bear. He knew his mental discipline had limits, and as long as he respected them, he could maintain said discipline. However, he could not rid his mind of the desperate pressures weighing down on him to return his friend to his rightful place, and just how impossible that continued to seem.

And even worse, he knew that if he were to consult another Vulcan on this problem, he would be told to make peace with the current situation. It would be a waste of time to continue wrestling with this insolvable problem. It would be madness.

"Commander Spock!"

Spock stopped and frowned slightly, recognizing that voice. He turned a hard, stony face to the Romulan addressing him. He had such a look of childish excitement on his face, it only added to Spock's irritation. He glanced just behind the other to see two officers watching them, their hands hovering over their phasers.

"Captain," Spock replied stiffly. He stood up straighter and grasped his hands behind his back. He shot a look to the guards to assure them he did not feel threatened. "I trust your stay so far has been comfortable?"

"Oh yes, yes," Dorek replied, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm fine. My crew is fine, before you ask. I just...well, I had hoped that I could spend a little time talking to you." He turned his eyes up to Spock. They were hopeful, eager. No trace at all of attempting to hide his feelings, unless, of course, this was just some kind of deception.

Spock started walking down the hall way again, but in a way that encouraged Dorek to follow. His first impulse was to send the Romulan back to his quarters, but he was sure the captain would not wish for his "guest" to become angry with any of them. "We can speak in the rec room, Captain-"

"Oh, please, call me Dorek. Not only is it so much less formal, but considerably more accurate, given the circumstances."

"Very well, Dorek. Keep in mind, however, that I do not have long." He lengthened his stride, and with the Romulan and his escorts in tow, made it to the turbo lift. They were quiet and anxious to leave that confined space as they went to the appropriate deck. Spock took the lead out, and even quickened his pace, forcing Dorek to practically jog to keep up. He told himself this was to help impress how he busy he was, but if he were honest with himself, he'd know that to be only one reason.

As soon as they entered, the few officers there, whether by personal volition or by the stern looks on the escorts' faces, left. Spock stood by the replicator and asked, "Would you care for anything?"

Dorek sat down at the table. "Oh, just a glass of water. Thank you." His pleasant tone irritated Spock, but he made no sign of that as he returned with two glasses of water. After placing them at their appropriate spots, he sat down next to the other.

"What is it you wish to speak to me about?" he asked, while Dorek had the glass to his lips. "Would you prefer to speak to the captain? If I asked him-"

"Oh, no, no," Dorek answered, placing down his glass. "No, Commander, I wanted to speak with you specifically. I do hate to take up any of your time, Sir, and I do realize how busy you must be-"

"Would this have anything to do with my heritage, Captain?"

For just a second, they locked eyes, and Spock wondered if the young Romulan would once again request the far more personal form of address. Or if he would take offense to the rather cold tone of voice Spock used. And he did indeed look slightly deflated, and took a moment for him to compose himself to answer. This gratified Spock. He did not want the Romulan to think it was possible to charm him.

"It does, Sir," he answered finally. He idly traced a knuckle along the curve of his glass and didn't look up at Spock while he spoke. "I had very much hoped to talk with you a little bit about the teachings of Surak." Here, he did look up, with that same hopeful, vulnerable expression on his face.

"Any of the ship's computers can supply with you all the information you need," Spock answered. "And the ship's library contains documents that should be more than sufficient."

Dorek smiled, as if Spock's answer amused him and mattered little. As if he had been expecting it. That only made Spock more determined to be stubborn. "Sir, you may be surprised to learn that I have, in fact, studied quite a bit about the culture and philosophy if your people extensively before leaving Romulus. I've had my fill of what the dry computers can give me."

"Unless you want personal anecdotes of my childhood," Spock countered, with an attitude that would be cocky for him, "I fail to see how I can fill in any gaps in your self-education. Perhaps if I knew the reasons behind this curiosity, Captain, I could better assist you."

For a moment, Dorek's previously smug expression faded, as he stared into his water glass and a very slight haze of green passed over his face. His apparent struggle in explaining his reason gave Spock cause for concern, as if perhaps the captain had less than honorable intentions he wished to keep secret.

So he softened, just a tad. He didn't want this man to close up completely. If Dorek had any treacherous plans, it was doubtful he'd come right out and reveal them, but there could be much to learn from more subtle, unconscious clues. "Dorek, let me make something clear with you. The security of this ship is my number one priority. If you tell me anything that would suggest to me that you would pose a threat, I will be obliged to take action. But anything else you tell me, I will regard as personal information imparted to me in confidence. Even if the captain were to ask me what we have discussed, if it doesn't relate to the ship or her crew, I would not tell him without your explicit permission. I take such matters very seriously."

And, as Spock had hoped, the Romulan relaxed. He turned his glance back up at Spock and said with a slight grin, "I appreciate that, Spock. And I trust that whatever I say does indeed stay between us. As long as they are personal matters," he added with an indulgent grin.

"Just as I must trust that whatever you tell me is honest," Spock countered.

"It seems that mutual trust is mutually binding?" Dorek quipped.

Spock narrowed his eyes very slightly as he tried to read Dorek's face. He couldn't detect anything insidious, but doubted he'd ever have reason to lessen his suspicions. Nothing could change that fact that this was a Romulan he was speaking to. "If you choose to see it that way."

Dorek flashed a wide smile and glanced back down at his glass. "To answer your question, Sir, I...and I do hope you don't think it incredibly silly of me or even worse, disrespectful, but I wish to become Vulcan myself." He looked up to see Spock gazing back at him, as impassive as a brick wall. The color drained from his face and he turned slightly in his seat. "I really don't mean disrespect, and like I told you, I have been studying-"

"I believe you are underestimating the reality of your goal, Captain," Spock interrupted. "You are talking about trying to immerse within yourself nearly 2000 year's worth of cultures and traditions that have evolved isolated from yours, and have been ingrained into the minds and souls of all of us who claim T'Khasi as home. Watching a few data-tapes-"

"But I haven't just been watching tapes!" Dorek interrupted right back, and then visibly calmed himself, realizing that it would hardly help his argument if he indulged in such displays of emotion. Slowly, deliberately, he focused on the water glass and continued, "You don't understand. You might seem to think that all Romulans love their Senate. The tyrannical government, the secret police! Well, we don't. I don't. And until the very day I decided to escape that nightmare, I was living with the very worst of them." He turned his attention back to Spock and leaned closer. This act made the guards nervous, and Spock made a small gesture with his hand to them, signaling he was alright. "My father is Tal Shiar," Dorek whispered.

This did not alarm Spock overmuch, and he really didn't have much sympathy for this man. In fact, now he was beginning to see this as some kind of family dispute. He could just imagine Dorek's father, accompanied by a dozen war birds, crossing into Federation Space to retrieve his runaway son. He did respect the promise he had made, but decided this was something that could not be kept secret. "When you report to Star Fleet Command, it would be wise to discuss that. They will find out anyway, but if you are as open and honest as you can be, things should go well for you. You do realize I will have to inform the captain of this as well?"

Dorek rolled his eyes and made a decidedly un-Vulcan-like expression of dismissal. "Fine. Tell him. I'll tell him myself if he asks. I'm happy to use that as evidence against my father, and help you understand my need to get away!"

"How does embracing another culture help anything? And, forgive me if this may seem rude, but I doubt your government allows much information regarding outsiders to the public. It would seem to me that your father would especially prove as an impediment. So how would you even know enough about it to desire to devote your life to it?"

Dorek leaned in again. "Because things slip through, Spock. People slip through." He leaned back, pulling himself away from Spock, and sighed. "Things need to change, Sir. And I'm not the only one who feels this way, but we are terrified to speak up. These...teachings. They work for you. Am I not just a descendant of those who originally rejected them? I don't see why I can't try to find my way back."

For a slight moment, Spock had felt a glimmer of compassion for Dorek. A moment of understanding, especially when he spoke of his father. But it was that very understanding that inspired uncomfortably conflicting feelings and snapped him out of whatever pleasant mind set he now believed this man was trying to inspire in him. For all Spock knew, Dorek could be a spy. In fact that was seeming more and more to be the case. Further, it was insulting to him that this Romulan should even think he had any business trying to convert to a way of life that was by nature beyond him. And even more insulting to imagine that Dorek was making this all up in the hopes of appealing to his ego.

No, Spock decided. This was laughable at best. And it wasn't his job, anyway. Let Star Fleet Command deal with him and his stories. He stood up, compelling Dorek to somewhat awkwardly rise as well. The guards eyed them. "Captain, I'm afraid I have no more time for conversation," he said, and Dorek lowered his head. He waited, simply out of politeness, for the Romulan to raise it again to give him a chance to offer his farewells, although he was sorely tempted to leave just like that.

"I am very sorry to have offended you," he said, his head still down, emotion thick in his voice. When he looked up, his eyes were tinted green but his expression was hard, steely. "I won't take up any more of your time." He swiftly left the rec room, his escorts hurrying along behind him.

Spock felt he'd achieved a victory. The Romulan would certainly avoid him in the future, and he even thought that if any of what Dorek had claimed was true, he'd surely be rethinking those goals now.

But as he turned around to leave, his self-satisfaction dropped. McCoy was leaning against the bulkhead by the door, and he had quite a smug grin on his face. The doctor sauntered in, coming closer to Spock, who walked around the other side of the table. He did not bother to hide the intentions of this act; he kept his eyes on McCoy as he made it clear he would not allow him any closer.

"Was that amusing to you, Doctor?" he asked. "Did you enjoy watching me lecture the Romulan? Revenge, perhaps?"

McCoy's grin stretched as he chuckled softly and rolled his eyes. He crept around the table in slow but steady pursuit. So far McCoy was blocking Spock's way to the door. Of course, Spock could escape...if he broke out into a run. "I will admit I do enjoy seeing a Romulan in pain, yes. But that wasn't the fun part. No, Spock, it was you writhing. You couldn't stand him talking about aspiring to become Vulcan, could you?"

"I will not argue this point with you as well, Doctor. If you really had been listening to our conversation, then I believe I made my points clear enough for even you to understand."

When McCoy stopped, so did Spock, and they stared at each other from over the table. McCoy was by now about near the middle of it. "You feel threatened by him," he taunted. "What separates you from him, or any Romulan, for that matter? Thousands of years of development, bah! If you were born in his place, you'd be just like him."

"You are deliberately simplifying the-"

McCoy started to walk back around the table, towards Spock. Spock held his ground, though his entire body tensed. "Yes, you would and you know it. If you were born in a world where it was normal to be that way, where you saw your parents, your teachers, everyone, living like that and no other. And anyone who was different, say, a Vulcan perhaps, was mocked, even feared. Their example used a moral lesson."

He came up within arm's length of Spock but stopped. Spock replied, "Ah yes. I understand the purpose of this analogy, Doctor, and I'm afraid it does not fill me with whatever concerns you think it will. You are suggesting, of course had I have been born in, say for example, your world, I may have developed quite differently. Quite like someone you know? I'm afraid that's not exactly an eye-opening conjecture-"

At this, McCoy grabbed Spock's arm. He was not overly rough and did not appear especially hostile, so Spock did not fight him off, although his skin scrawled beneath the imposter's fingers. McCoy tugged him closer. "You may know this intellectually, Spock, but you haven't yet tried to imagine it, try to really know and feel it. But perhaps it's because you're afraid to, just as you're afraid to open up to that Romulan. Because you know there's that danger of losing yourself. If you think about what kind of man you'd be under the Empire, you'd begin to realize just how much of that man you already are!"

Spock jerked his arm, but found McCoy's grip to be stronger than he was used to. It took two tugs to pull free. "What do you want from me?" Spock asked in a slight hiss. "You have done nothing but terrorize me since you arrived. Are you seeking revenge for what my counterpart has done to you?"

McCoy smirked. "Believe it or not, if I could take revenge against anyone, it wouldn't be him."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know, Spock. Maybe I want answers. I personally don't feel I'm terrorizing you. Perhaps...pushing you out of your comfort zone, in the off chance I get a glimpse of the real you. And by that token, the real him."

Spock took a step closer with such defiance, that McCoy took a nervous step back. "You may push, Doctor. But I will tell you now, the harder you push me, the harder I shall push back."

He turned and left the rec room, half-expecting McCoy to try to grab him again or to be followed. He told himself over and over that his problem right now was simply an excess of stress. There was no shame in recognizing limits, he reminded himself.

He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way to the turbo-lift, worried that the imposter was following him. After that scene in the rec room, he felt it was wise to consider the man a definite threat to his safety. As if being cornered in his own quarters weren't threatening enough. It was not hard to see how much this false McCoy was enjoying the psychological pain he was causing, but what if he decided to attack him physically as well? It was clear that man cared little about his own safety and bodily health; desperate sadism alone would be enough to make McCoy try to take Spock on. And then Spock would be forced to defend himself. He'd be forced to hurt him...

/Just as he did/ was the sudden thought that caused him to slow in his tracks. He paused for just a moment and quickened his pace to reach the turbo-lift. He gripped the handle almost hard enough to rip it off as a decision formed strong and secure in his mind. If it were McCoy's game to break down his defenses in order to manipulate him, then he was in for a rude shock. Because Spock decided that if McCoy did try to confront him again, he'd give him far more than what he wanted. If he wanted physical violence, then he was going to get it.

He shot down any guilt that tried to form in response to this plan by reminding himself that this man was not his friend. He owed him nothing and did not have to care about him. And if violence was the only way to control him, then that was obviously the only logical course of action. Especially since Spock was confident he only needed one chance to prove to the imposter that whatever he may think of his own Spock, this one would never back down or let himself be intimidated.

He was sure the captain would understand.

/

McCoy did not follow Spock. He was finished with him for the moment, although his next target was indirectly connected to the Vulcan. As he sped down the hall in pursuit, he was feeling pretty amped up. That encounter with Spock was...amazing. Even he could see how cruel he had been to the Vulcan, but if this Spock had any idea the kinds of abuses he would heap upon his own Spock on a regular basis...

And as he had said, his aim was better understanding. There was so much about this Spock that was eerily similar to his own, and yet so much that was an enigma. This one hid so much of himself that it was hard to tell just how similar he was. In a way, that was exciting. So far this Spock seemed the perfect pacific, and yet a few times, McCoy had caught the glimmer of fury in those cold eyes, the beginnings of what he knew to be the warning signs of violent intent. Could this Spock turn nasty if pushed, he wondered.

He was thrilled to find out.

But for right now, he was focused on the Romulan. His escorts turned and gave McCoy a curious look, and looked back to Dorek, who stopped to regard McCoy as if he were expecting grief from him, too. But McCoy gave all three a winning smile and addressed the Romulan, "Hey, Dorek...do you mind if I call you that?"

Dorek shook his head gently, a dazed look in his eye. But McCoy saw the receptiveness in his body language and took that as a go.

"Look, I just wanted to, well...apologize for my rudeness earlier," he said, feigning humility. The escorts visibly calmed down as they noticed Dorek relaxing. They drifted back a bit, allowing them the semblance of privacy for a conversation, but were still obviously on alert.

Dorek was just happy for some sort of kindness. He broke into a smile. "Oh, no need, Doctor."

"It's Leonard, actually." Dorek smiled warmly and further cemented his pliability in McCoy's mind. The weak are so easy to control, he thought. Those escorts were a problem, though. He had to get rid of them. "You know, you don't look so good," he said with a frown, stepping closer. Dorek frowned in confusion, and was about to reply, when McCoy took his arm, and not too gently. McCoy locked eyes with the Romulan and gave him a strong look before continuing, "I've seen this before. With any luck you're just dehydrated, but I'd better take you to Sick Bay."

A brief moment passed between the two. This was a test, and not only did Dorek realize it as such, but he passed it. /Once a Romulan.../ Dorek smirked conspiratorially at McCoy and let his knees buckle, forcing McCoy to catch him and hold him up. That was a bit dramatic, McCoy worried, but as long as the escorts believed them, that was forgivable.

So with the guards following, he took Dorek down the hall towards Sick Bay, with his arm around his waist. He glanced over a few times, just in pure amazement. This very same man, in his own universe, had been the cause, directly or indirectly, of so much agony and stress for not just him, but the entire crew. Hell, the entire Fleet. And really, it wasn't the terrible deeds that incensed McCoy so much, but the man's invincibility. No one dared touch him or give him any hint of disrespect to his face. And even Kirk could not touch him. It was true the captain had a way of making his enemies...disappear, but Dorek was just too high on the pecking order. Too well connected with other important people, mostly vengeful Romulans. If there had been any suspicions that his precious baby boy had been harmed on the Enterprise, Dorek's father would no doubt order the ship destroyed with everyone still on it. And no one would question him.

He didn't even know how many times he'd wile away the hours of his shift fantasizing about murdering that monster. Cornering him, after dispatching his sycophants, of course. Maybe taking his time...

There wasn't a vicious thing he hadn't imagined himself doing to the Romulan, the alternate of whom he was right now holding in his arms, completely trusting of him. At his mercy. But McCoy did not wish to kill this one. Just as in his own world, he knew he could not get away with killing Dorek, or anyone.

When he brought his over-acting load into Sick Bay, he informed the nurse and orderlies on duty that he was handling this situation himself, that it wasn't anything too series. And as part of his prerogative as a doctor, he was able to insist that Dorek's escorts remain outside the inner medical bay McCoy took him into. They would still be able to peer inside or hear most conversation, and could enter whenever they felt the need, but this was the most privacy the two could expect to have.

Dorek hopped up onto the medical bed and watched as McCoy went through the motions of giving him a physical. He said quietly, "I just figured you could use a friendly voice after that...disappointment with Spock."

Dorek's jaw tightened and he glanced away. "Well, now I know not to waste my time speaking with him again."

McCoy took one of Dorek's wrists, marveling at how trusting he was. There he was, holding that small wrist in his hands. He could snap it. He could knock the man down and strangle him. He had, within easy reach, a wide variety of drugs that could wreak havoc on that already journey-weakened body. And he could do all this well before his guards could stop him. He amused himself with these thoughts as he matched the pulse he felt with what showed on the monitors.

"If it makes you feel any better, he and I don't exactly get along, either," he said, leaning in to whisper. He smirked at Dorek's look of disbelief. "It's true. I knocked him out two weeks ago." And that was true, just in his universe, not this one.

"And you...forgive me, but...how did you get away with that? If a Romulan officer were to strike a superior..."

"Oh, I didn't get away with it," he chuckled as he prepared a hypo. It was a hydrating solution of water and electrolytes, as it seemed that Dorek did indeed need it after all. He smiled to himself at how deadly he could easily make it, with the addition of just one or two compounds. And that death could be swift or torturous, depending on his choice. He lifted Dorek's sleeve and injected the solution. "I'm on probation. My duties are limited, and I'm also being watched, as you are. Though my guards aren't as obvious as yours."

"Really?" Dorek peeked over McCoy's shoulder to make sure they weren't being obviously watched and asked quietly, "Was it worth it?"

McCoy laughed and slapped the Romulan on the shoulder, rather hard. "I only regret not hitting him harder."

When Dorek laughed back, McCoy was able to see the one of his universe in this gleeful eyes, hear him in the savage note to his laughter. He was now convinced, as if he weren't fairly certain before, that this man was just as rotten to the core as the other. And that wasn't too hard to believe, anyway. They were the same men, just born to different circumstances. Except in this case, their circumstances were both based on violence and ruthless subjugation.

It was also clear to McCoy that the Romulan seemed to enjoy his presence and wasn't in any rush to get back. Not that he had much to get back to, just more of being watched like the prisoner he must have known he was. He feigned a more serious, compassionate attitude as he said, "I can appreciate your disappointment in him, though. You thought of anyone on board, he'd be the best one to try to talk to. You'd think he'd be flattered by your interest and he'd show some kind of, well...civility! But if you had spent much time here at all, you'd quickly learn to avoid just about everyone." He put on a damaged expression.

Dorek frowned and peeked behind McCoy again. He was getting nervous, but in this case, that was good, McCoy thought. "Why do you say that?"

"I-I've really said too much already," he answered, and he also looked over his own shoulder to add to the tensity of the situation. He turned back and smiled softly. "And anyway, that's not exactly my favorite subject. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? You mentioned your father to Spock..."

And as McCoy had hoped, this brought a flush of green to Dorek's face. He gripped the sides of the bed and turned his tense face away, though it was impossible to hide the fury that was tormenting him at the mere mention. McCoy was not afraid, however. He knew this anger was not directed at him, and that as long as he was careful, he could stoke it into something he could use.

He listened as Dorek unleashed a tirade about his father that was really something to behold. It was all McCoy could do not to break into a grin and force himself to appear sympathetic. There were a few mentions of the Tal Shiar and other gems of the Romulan system, but the young captain was rather more concerned with his own personal frustrations. Since his point of view would be undoubtedly biased, it was hard for McCoy to judge Dorek as being right or wrong in this situation, but honestly, he didn't care. No matter his intentions or his reasons, the Romulan still had violence in his blood. The dent in the metal frame around the bed beneath his hand was evidence enough for that.

McCoy invented a charming little story about his own father to further Dorek's trust. He told a nasty little lie that painted him in a sympathetic light, when in reality, McCoy's childhood was a paradise compared to his life on the Enterprise. It was due to those like his own Dorek that caused the troubles he had.

But Dorek ate it up and gazed with obvious sympathy. McCoy pretended to be a little embarrassed for having shared something so personal-and to a stranger!-causing the Romulan to be hooked in even more. McCoy chose this as the perfect time to part, for now. He took both Dorek's hands in his own and said, "If we stay here like this any longer, it'll be suspicious. For the both of us."

"Oh, yes, yes of course-"

"Any time you want to talk, you come on down to Sick Bay, alright? Just stay away from Spock, or anyone else. You're not exactly welcome here, you know?"

Dorek nodded and squeezed McCoy's hands with a strength he was certainly used to. He slipped off the bed and slowly pulled his hands free. "I will, Leonard. And thank you."

"Hey, we gotta stick together," McCoy said with a smirk he hoped would convey quite a bit more than he dared speak aloud.

Dorek returned with a smirk of his own. It was largely repressed, but it had the same cold, hostile look, like the baring of teeth, that was painfully familiar. They left the room together, with McCoy explaining Dorek's condition and how it was treated. His escorts took him away, while McCoy closed himself off in his office. He had been most graciously given the rest of the night off by Spock, but was content to do a little drinking and reflecting on the past events by himself before passing out. It would give a chance to reflect upon these new opportunities. He knew the eventual outcome he wanted, but the trick was getting there. But if the next couple days worked out like the past hour, he was well on his way.