Jim rolled his neck, twisting it in all directions until he was rewarded with a satisfying pop.

Conducting negotiations had never been his favorite aspect of the job, especially ones that continued to drag on and on and…

The moment he realized he'd been fading, he snapped his attention back to Minister Aedon. Day four and they were no closer to adopting Cursioa into the Federation than they were when they arrived.

Now he was beginning to see Bones' point. At this rate, they would be here forever.

Jim wasn't an idiot. He knew his friend had deeper reasons for wanting to go back to the ship, and by all rights, Bones had hit the mark: there wasn't any need for the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise to waste four days on a mission that required no immediate medical attention and begged nothing of his specific skill set.

So, why are you keeping him here?

No, we're not having this conversation. You need to focus. Focus on Minister Aedon…

Jim resisted the strong urge to paw at his forehead.

Or maybe, you just don't want to admit it.

Knock it off.

Bones is here because you want him here.

He had nothing to say to that, mainly because he felt the truth of it every time he caught sight of Bones out of the corner of his eye.

The doctor had been clinging close to Spock for the past couple of days, an odd departure from the norm that Jim hadn't had time to really think about yet. Not with the Cursioans doing everything in their power to make this whole mess more complicated than necessary.

And yet, he didn't sense any malice on their part, just an honest curiosity that was getting in the way of business more often than not.

Their turf, their rules, he reminded himself. After all, isn't that what he'd told Bones that first day?

Touché.

As long as he lived, he was sure he'd never forget that look in his friend's eyes…

When this was all over, he'd find the source of that look. He'd known forever that Bones held a particular dislike for the supernatural or anything of the like, which included any sort of alien "mumbo jumbo," telepathy, empathic readings, etcetera, etcetera, etc—

"Minister Aedon," he began, the words sounding a bit too sudden the moment he realized a silence had overtaken the group. A moment too late. Clearing his throat, Jim took a second to survey the group. The minister waited patiently for him to say his piece while the others continued to work away at their dinners.

Bones leaned over and whispered something to Spock, to which the Vulcan replied with his usual stoicism, coupled with just a touch of emotion—one Jim couldn't quite decipher.

"Minister Aedon," he repeated, clasping his hands together, "while I have enjoyed our many discussions about my culture, and while I appreciate your people's passion for learning, I don't think we can dance around the subject any longer. My crew and I were sent here because we were told you and your people had expressed an interest in joining the Federation."

To Jim's immense relief, the minister had begun to nod even before he had finished speaking.

"You are right, as it would seem you usually are, Captain Kirk," Aedon said, steepling his own fingers in contemplation. "I apologize for our curiosity."

Jim shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't accept your apology because there's none necessary."

"I thank you, Captain. We are still very interested in your Federation. From what I have heard, the benefits of such a union would add greatly to the expansion and growth of our planet. I suppose we simply got a bit distracted by your species. Contact with aliens has been quite a rare experience over the course of Cursioa's history."

And who's fault is that? The closed off society or the outsiders who can't even seem to touch you guys with a ten foot pole?

Jim plastered on a smile. "Understandable. Believe me, it isn't often we meet with a species that rivals humans in curiosity."

Light laughter rippled across the table at this and Jim's smile slowly became genuine. As his gaze drifted to Bones, he felt a prick of relief at the glow of hope lighting up his friend's dismal features.

"Now that we're on the same page, why don't we go over some of those concerns about joining that you expressed earlier. Then, perhaps you can tell me your best case scenarios."

And there was that smile again, the one Jim had come to learn meant he was about to be shut down.

Oh, no. Not this time, you don't.

"By now I am sure you've noticed," Aedon began, "that Cursioan tempers are at their highest point during the fading evening hours. I believe it would be best to resume this conversation tomorrow morning, when heads are clearer—"

"And emotions more stable. Yes," Jim responded with a firm grin, "I know. With all due respect, human tempers can be quite volatile as well, especially when playing Ring-Around the Rosie with negotiations that should have come to an end three days ago. So, I'll offer you a compromise, Minister: you'll discuss with us some of your concerns about joining the Federation tonight—meaning right now—and we'll save the rest of the conversation for tomorrow. After all," he added, flashing another grin and sparing a glance at Spock and Bones, "what better time to lay all the negative aspects of the matter out on the table than when you're at your most irritable?"

Jim had seen space slugs go faster than the look of understanding that traveled across the minister's face. Eventually, however, Jim's grin was returned.

"Once again, Captain Kirk, your brilliant powers of persuasion astound me. Yes, let us at least begin the conversation so we will be better able to pick it up again tomorrow."

He shot what he hoped was a subtle look of triumph at his friends. Bones looked beyond relieved and was making no show of hiding it. Oddly enough, so did Spock.

"Minister Aedon," he said, eyes twinkling, "nothing would please me more."

"What did I tell you?" Leonard couldn't help but smile even as Jim landed a playful blow on his shoulder. "What did I tell you, Bones? I knew they'd come around! We just had to give them time."

"Oh, yeah. You sure told them, Jim. It only took, what?" He glanced at Spock. "Five, six days?"

"Four," Jim insisted.

"Really? Because I think we're only a few hours away from day five, but who am I to complain? Really," and Leonard couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips, "it's not my style."

"Yeah." Jim rolled his eyes. "Right."

A comfortable silence fell over the trio as they walked down the corridor to their rooms. With each step, Leonard felt lighter.

They were going home soon.

Home.

Never in a million years would he have thought he'd ever called a starship home. But over the last few days, he realized there wasn't anywhere he wanted to be more than back on the Enterprise.

"I wonder," Spock began, tone ever thoughtful, "if the Cursioans still intend to drag out the negotiations now that you seemingly forced their hand."

Jim waved a hand. "Oh, all they needed was a good kick in the pants, Mr. Spock. I wouldn't be surprised if we wrapped this thing up tomorrow and were back on the ship before dinner."

Oh, if life would only be so kind...

"They do seem fascinated by the human race," Spock continued, arms tucked neatly behind his back.

Leonard couldn't stop the snort in time. You're telling me.

"For once," he said after sitting a moment under Jim and Spock's curious eyes, "the word fascinate has been used very effectively."

Spock merely cocked a brow at this. "I am certain I have been using that particular word not only properly, but effectively as well."

"More like overusing."

A sly smirk appeared to be growing on Jim's face. "Is that irritation and frustration I hear? Gentlemen, perhaps it would be best if we continued this tomorrow morning, when heads are clearer and emotions more stable."

This got a good chuckle out of the group, except Spock, of course, but Leonard had learned not to expect such things from the Vulcan. Gotta keep those emotions in check, after all.

"Maybe," Jim said through a yawn as they came to their quarters at last, "I'll send them a book on human studies once all this is over."

"I'll send them a library," Leonard added.

"I…" Sighing Jim shook his head. "I do feel like I have to apologize to you two. I, well…" A dry chuckle filled the air. "I didn't think it was going to take this long. Starfleet made it sound like the Cursioans were practically begging to join the Federation."

Spock put on his thoughtful face. "It would seem that the Cursioans have quite a few assets to 'bring to the table,' if you will, making their involvement in the Federation a beneficial venture for both parties."

"I couldn't agree more, Spock. Let's just hope they're still willing to continue the conversation tomorrow."

Leonard also couldn't agree more as the three bid each other goodnight. He caught Jim's gaze briefly before retiring to his own room, a touch of concern evident in his friend's hazel eyes.

I'll be just fine, Jim, he said through a small smile.

With his hope in leaving this God-awful planet renewed, Leonard found his suite more appealing than he had the previous couple of nights. Especially since he had learned a few tricks from Spock.

Meditation had never been his thing, and even after trying it, Leonard decided it would be something he'd purge from his routine the second his feet hit the transporter pad.

That evening, however, he slipped onto his knees and began aligning his focus.

If he could just clear his mind, even the slightest little bit, maybe he could actually get some sleep…

When the door slid open, all the air froze in his lungs. He almost didn't want to open his eyes.

Maybe it was Jim. Maybe it was Spock coming to teach him more about the wonders of the meditative world.

In his heart, he knew it wasn't.

Forcing his lungs to suck in a breath—to do their damn job—Leonard snapped open his eyes.

A dozen jabs sat on the tip of his tongue, sarcastic insults that would demand to know why his room was being invaded once again, but the Cursioan spoke before Leonard could even open his mouth.

"I had thought time would be a luxury," the being declared. "But it now seems you will be leaving before I can truly finish my studies on your kind."

Leonard was on his feet in an instant, his hand grabbing hold of the first thing it could find as the alien advanced on him.

Seconds later, a chair went flying across the room, though the satisfying thud of the object hitting its target never came.

Those same mental powers that so easily brushed the flying chair out of the way latched onto Leonard's outstretched hand as well.

It's an odd thing, watching your own arm being lowered to your side without having done anything at all to move it yourself. Can it be counted as an out-of-body experience if you're not the one in control of your own limbs...?

"I cannot understand why you try to harm me when it is not my intention to harm you."

"Not your..." Leonard shook his head, hardly believing his ears. "You don't call digging into other people's minds causing harm?"

"As I have said, I am a scholar. It is my job to learn, to explore. Surely your Federation, which is based in exploration, can understand that."

"Understand this: You take one more step and I'll—"

Having his voice stolen away mid sentence was not something Leonard had needed to experience in order to know it was a feeling he absolutely despised.

"Please, Doctor. Because of your captain's need to rush, we don't have much time. Now..."

As the Cursioan's long fingers found their place on his temples, Leonard began to wonder how many more times he would end up trapped in the same nightmare.

Get out of my mind!

The Cursioan didn't listen, but in all honesty, Leonard hadn't expected him to. Try as he might, Spock's mental exercises didn't work, losing their power the second he actually needed them. What's the use if they don't even work when they're supposed to?

What was the use of clearing your mind when it only worked during the already quiet, already easy moments?

What about the chaotic, frightening moments? What was he supposed to do when his brain felt like a playground for any telepathic species with a desire to explore?

To take what they wanted when they wanted.

"Truly, Doctor McCoy. How long has your mind been so troubled?"

Get. Out.

Of. My.

Head.

The ordeal seemed to last much longer than the first time, and if Leonard had given this any thought, he might have attributed it to the Cursioan's need to pack as much studying into one night as he possibly could.

The being said a few things, of that he was well-aware. Exactly what, Leonard couldn't be sure. Sound blurred as his vision swam. Holding onto reality had never been so hard.

Just like the first time, he couldn't remember crumpling to his knees, but the cool tiles of the floor sent shivers coursing through his frame.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the door sliding shut.

That's when he felt his heart jump, almost as if it were trying to climb straight into his throat.

Alone.

He couldn't—

He didn't—

Leonard squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

Bad things happened when—

Alonealonealone.

How long has your mind—

Turmoil.

Howlonglongalonehow—

Alone.

Stumbling to his feet, it was all Leonard could do to keep upright in his desperate trek across the room.

His mind couldn't wrap around anything but the pain, the lingering throb and pulse of his tortured brain; the phantom burns on his temples.

It was a hell of a good thing that his legs seemed to know where they were going.

The room was dark and quiet by the time he arrived, the normally soft swoosh of the door driving spikes into his eardrums.

For a precious moment, he simply breathed, though filling his lungs felt like an impossible task. Like drinking the whole of the Pacific Ocean…

A gentle rustling pricked at the edges of his awareness, as did the confused, "Doctor...?"

"Spock." The name floated out on a choked sob, one Leonard hadn't even realized he'd been holding back until that point. "Spock, you have to… t-to… P-Please, just… j-just… Spock!"

His legs drove him forward again, his skin prickling against the pocket of solitude threatening to envelope his body and mind.

"Spock, you have to help me, I can't—" Leonard carded a hand through his hair, barely registering the pillow beneath his head or the blankets he'd jerked over his shoulders like a child afraid of the dark.

Or the monsters in the dark…

"I can't… I need… Spock, I need you to… t-to help me clear my mind. I-I tried and it's not… it's not working. Spock," he choked out the name once more, trying hard not to curl up into a ball, no matter how desperately he wanted to shut out everything. "Show me how to shut off my emotions. It looks so easy when you do it. You have t-to show me. There has t-to be a way to... to… t-to—"

The hand on his arm should have been startling, it should have sent his heart careening out of his chest.

Instead, reassurance bled from Spock's touch, steadying Leonard and bringing his ramblings to a freeing halt.

Spock didn't ask questions. He didn't probe or pry, he simply gave Leonard's arm a light squeeze.

And Leonard let the exhaustion wash over him at last, melting into the mattress with a renewed sense of relief.

Because this was far from over, but at least for a moment, he could feel safe.