The BLTS Archive- At Officer's Row Third in the Edge of Forever series by S.R. Benjamin (phil@temples.com) --- This is for Arachnethe2, even if I left out the prop she wanted. Much appreciation to Greywolf for the excellent job of beta reading that has made this piece what it is. This earns me fun but no money, and Paramount owns Star Trek. The story draws on the canon episode "City on the Edge of Forever." It is the third in a three-parter comprised of "In the City," "On the Ship," and "At Officer's Row." But know that if you liked part two's grittiness, you may not like the schmaltz of part three, and vice- versa. --- Day 3 Corridor of Officer's Row 2013 --- I walk down the corridor of my ship like a man struck dumb. I acted so calmly. Just like that! I pushed him to give me the transfer, even when he looked conflicted. And the last embrace...I have heard him sob in pleasure, but never in pain like that. I can't stop shivering. --- Day 3 First Officer's Quarters 2013 --- My next realization after the door shuts is that I am sitting on the floor, with one hand on my head and the other across my midsection. But there is nothing to comfort or protect. I could not ask, and he could not give. I remind myself that this is logical. I must make preparations for my departure. --- Day 4 The Bridge 0900 --- We've been moving like mannequins. The actions are there, but no substance. It's like the old buildings in New York. Their facades were intact but they were empty inside. Well, the crew looks first at the façade, and if that is solid, there are few who will peer further. If I avoid Bones I should be safe. It feels different on the bridge, now that Spock has left to do an experiment in the laboratories. No tension, finally. But where is the vitality I was used to in earlier times? It's still hard for me to believe he's transferring. We won't rendezvous with Reliant for another two weeks, but I must make the announcement soon so that the crew can say goodbye. As have I. --- Day 4 Laboratory 1 1030 --- It is difficult enough to have ruined an experiment. More awkward is the injury I have sustained to my hand from the dissecting laser. The laboratory bench and wall are speckled with excessive green droplets, and more pulse from an open wound on my wrist, near my palm. Doubtless this shall necessitate a visit to sickbay. Perhaps it will be possible to have the cut sealed in time to restart some of this work, so that a remnant may be salvaged. Curiously, the cut is painless. I have only experienced this once before, when I was already unconsciously shielding. I had brought Captain Pike to Talos IV. "Commodore Mendez" had contacted Jim with information. Later, Jim was hurt by my silence and by what he considered my betrayal when I did not involve him. It became easiest to focus away from his negative emotions and to withdraw. These actions were so automatic that I was unaware of my response to Jim's feelings until I fell and injured my hand during a workout. I could see the irritation in McCoy's eyes when he said, "Dammit, this is a fracture, not just a bump--why didn't you tell me how uncomfortable it was so I could have treated you sooner?" I replied with a raised eyebrow, at which Leonard grunted in disgust as he turned to sterilize his instruments and replace them in their bays. In truth, I had been unable to inform the doctor. I did not know myself. --- Day 4 Sickbay 1040 --- Just the normal workday, until Spock showed up with his wrist sliced across an artery. Damned Vulcan--just saunters in with a bloody towel wrapped around his arm, like he's got a paper cut when he'd just missed amputating a finger with that confounded dissecting tool. Polite and reserved: "Excuse me, Doctor, I may require some assistance in staunching the flow of blood from this incision." Things got even more peculiar after I finished, and he proceeded to thank me not just for this time, but for all the other times I had rendered him care. What's he planning to cut off now, that we're saying our farewells? What did Jim sever that I can't fix? --- Day 5 Captain's Quarters 2150 --- "I'm tellin' you, Jim, it's not like Spock to bang himself up that way. He must really be distracted by something he's chewin' on." "Bones, it's late. Get to the point, please." "What happened between you two in New York? Something changed. And like I said before, it wasn't just Edith Keeler." "Why are you making all these assumptions? Spock makes mistakes just like the rest of us. People get hurt sometimes. That's why you're here. Don't read more into it than what's there." Piercing blue eyes, the eyes of a surgeon, eyes that miss little, focus directly on mine. They are sharper than a laser, and I feel my face start to burn. "Look, Bones, I don't know what you're referring to. Why don't you ask Spock?" "What makes you think I didn't?" My head snaps up. Too slowly, I cover my startled expression. McCoy has seen too much, and now waits silently. I know Spock would never have told him anything. "I suggest you content yourself with his reply, Doctor." "Oh, I know what he told me, Jim. So do you. Nothin' with his words. But somethin', sure enough." I don't believe that, and I'm not leaning into it. I'm not about to get this off my chest to anyone on the ship. There is, however, a way to divert McCoy. "Look, Bones, he probably is distracted. After all, he's planning to transfer. I'm telling the crew tomorrow. We'll pick up a new XO when we meet Reliant in two weeks." I can see the impact as McCoy sits further back in his chair, sets down his glass. He lowers his head. I've succeeded. McCoy's retreat is deceptive. A sharp drawl demands, "You're not goin' to just let him go, are you?" He sees me nod, and his next move is for the jugular. "What did you two do, alone in New York with no future or past, just the two of you?" I pull back; he bears down. "I'm askin' as ship's surgeon, Jim. Spock's leavin', you're clammed up, and it's time to stop pretendin' everything's all just fine and dandy." "Dammit, Bones, what would you have me say?" "The truth, Jim. Between us. Because I'm more concerned about Spock than I am about you, to be honest. It's my responsibility to render aid. But I'm working blind. So don't tell me for yourself, Jim. Tell me for him." I should have known this was a contest I couldn't win. McCoy knows better than anyone on this ship how to get what he wants from people. And Spock does need a friend right now. I surely can't be the one to help him any more. I remember the sound he made as we last embraced. Finality and severance rise behind my eyes, a tight pain, and my chest hurts. I look away, and after a moment I feel a hand on my shoulder. "I made a mistake with him, Bones." It's all I can get out through a throat so tight it hurts. There is no reply, but after a moment, the hand squeezes gently, before it is withdrawn. "It was cold, we were sharing a room, but Spock built his electronics on top of one of the two beds, and I told him I would sleep on the floor while he took the bed that was left but he insisted we share and I didn't want to keep fighting it..." The words gush out of me, and I feel mortified. For Spock, I remind myself. For Bones to help Spock. I hazard a sidelong glance at McCoy who is regarding me intently, compassion in every line of his face. I have felt so alone with this, until now. "It wasn't something we decided, where one of us took the initiative. We were both in the same bed, talking, and Spock told me how he liked being in proximity to me. I was lying against him, feeling how warm he was, and suddenly we weren't just talking anymore when he leaned over and we kissed." I take another sip of my drink, feeling heat rise through my face. "So what worked for you two in New York is causin' trouble here." I nod miserably. I want to say I am sorry. No, I want to say I didn't mean to get carried away. No, I want to say it was one of the finest moments of my life, that the love I feel for Spock permeates my every breath and completes me. McCoy makes a soft sound, a cross between a sigh and a hum. He has heard it all, most especially the words I did not say. "He must be upset to be leaving you, Jim. You two make such a fine team, you really do complement each other in extraordinary ways. I know how strongly you've felt about each other, even before you...well, before." I stand and move away from him toward my bookshelves, reading titles. Anything, anything but to face the emotions his words enkindle. I can't let him know how hard it is. In the end, I don't need to let him know. He's known it all along. Finally, I turn toward him, shrug slowly, and return to my seat. His hands, that have restored my health so many times, are wrapped around his glass. He doesn't look up as I sit, but he continues, "Jim, it doesn't have to end this way. You know Fleetcom, and how they treat high-ranking officers in these situations. RHIP is alive and well. There's no reason your relationship can't be, too. I care about you, and Spock, and the two of you together, for that matter. If there's anything I can do, you just ask me." Our eyes finally meet. I feel like I've stopped cringing. "We each must do what we have to do, Bones. I can't stop him from leaving when it's what he wants." "Does he really?" my ship's CMO asks quietly. "Or does he think it's what you want?" I feel my future sliding from my grasp, too smoothly for me to get any purchase. Well then, Spock. Let's not waste time. I'll walk you back to your quarters, and I'll sign your request so it can be submitted tonight. A shiver runs visibly through me. A surgeon's skilled hand reaches with utter tenderness, squeezes my shoulder. His chair slides back, I hear boots clicking on the deck, and I am alone with my emptiness. --- Day 5 Captain's Quarters 2225 --- I have never been chilled to the soul this way. Maybe I can stop shivering if I take a hot shower. It's my reflection in the mirror that brings me up short. It's impossible to keep going, when I see the faint fading pattern of bruises, of those unmistakable signs of passion and connection that Spock and I shared. How can all that be gone, regardless of how we've been behaving? I've made command decisions, carried out orders, many times. And when necessary, I've made decisions that break rules. My reflection glares at me with unassailable conviction. My shirt is tangled and I'm wrestling it over my head. Now for the pants. I hope he's there. He startles when the door snaps open. It wasn't locked and I raced through right after hailing. He's doubled over on the meditation mat. My heart constricts with how thin and defeated he looks, one hand bandaged at the wrist. Like in New York, everything is fluid and alive, nothing frozen. I can't tell what I'm thinking and what I'm saying aloud, what crosses the air between us and what sparks through those exquisite lines of thought and feeling that connect us in wordless wonder. Oh Spock, Spock, I didn't want it to be this way either. You are poised to leave me, with the transfer request. But I just can't stand by and let it all go. I see murderous fate bearing down and this time I leap, as fast as I can, I just fling myself forward in the blinding glare of that white emptiness. I catch you full in my arms, and we are rolling to safety. --- Day 3 First Officer's Quarters 2230 --- I'm on the floor with Jim, tightly enfolded in powerful arms as he has rolled me onto my back, his kisses interspersed with anguished words of sadness and determination. We grip each other as we did in New York, as if life itself springs from our embrace. Then Jim pauses to regard me, poised above like the golden clouds that command the skies at the close of a regal day. All the years of denial, the stern dismissal of what was surely one of our best moments there in that cold dark tenement, meet in one gasp that hurts my throat. He pulls me to him, soothing, cradling my head as I have never been held before. I gasp again, while the one who holds my life murmurs comfort. I have not acted thus since I was a child, since my sehlat died and the others had tormented me. Our words tumble over each other as we caress and begin to wend our way back: "Spock, I'm sorry. I wanted to speak to you, but there wasn't a good time, the way things were happening. I didn't think I could reach you, but after the transfer request, I had to." "I do not wish to leave, Jim. But I cannot ask of you what we shared in New York." "Why, my friend? Don't you want it? It was an expression of the truest in us." "That is my belief as well. It would be a beneficial resolution were we to continue what we began in New York. But our actions conflict with regulations. My departure seems the only solution." I not sure how we'll do it, Spock, but I want you with me on this ship, and I want you with me in bed." "That would certainly suffice as a desirable outcome. But the means by which to achieve it are not immediately evident." "Look, we'll work it out logically, OK?" Jim laughs at my raised eyebrow, traces my cheek with a gentle hand. His words warm me as in New York. The weight of his body pressing mine against the deck feels solid, right. His face changes fluidly, offering exasperation, affection, and a friendship meant to withstand whatever is to come. I am drawn into his gaze, unaware of my own response to him, wholly held in his hazel, laughing eyes. "Spock, I hope to see you smile like that many more times. Don't leave, because then we'll always wonder-and live lives of goddamned 'if onlys.' The only way to know for sure is to try living here together. Starfleet knows of other officers in our position. The real policy is silence in exchange for discretion, no matter what the manual says." Leaving was a logical solution, but hardly a welcome one. It is all I can do now to keep from surrendering, knowing he will welcome me into making love, into remaining here with him. He is tightly focussed on me as we approach fundamental decisions, seeking to intuit what my words are powerless to convey. I therefore take the next step. "Indeed, Jim, I would not find it productive to begin anew on another vessel. A far superior choice would be to continue here, and to resume our sexual relationship-with alacrity, if possible." He regards me with a tilted head, eyes wide. "Well then..." he whispers, with a molten grin. He kisses me slowly, sucking on my ear. I tell the computer to lock the cabin door. Hoarse as I am, the voice recognition succeeds. It is no more appropriate to hold back now than during those nights in New York. Jim feels it in me, moves against me full length, pressing. He is teasing me now, tracing a finger down my side, leaving a line of fire. "So, are you still ready to transfer, Commander?" "Yes, Captain." "You are? And where do you plan to transfer to?" I am emboldened to tease him further. "To the bed, Sir," I reply, and am rewarded by another of his golden smiles. He laughs softly, enticingly. "Let me help you set that transfer in motion, First Officer..." he says in a throaty whisper, lips curved upward just before a storm of kisses descends. His tongue is enflaming. I feel cool air on my skin as he moves from atop me and begins to remove my clothing. I reach to do the same with his. "You know there IS only one place you can transfer to like that, Commander," he rebukes while staring fixedly at a single region of my nude body with a rapt expression. "That would be, I believe, the only logical location, Captain, and the one I have chosen above all others," I reply as he moves to lay atop me and I fondle the aforementioned site. We begin to mock-wrestle each other towards the bed, amidst kisses and his playful laughter. His hands stroke me, his mouth warm as I run my fingers through his hair, shining like the scintillating thoughts just beneath. As we roll closer to the bed, Jim roughly clambers at my instruction to pull a vial of Vulcan oil from the nightstand. He pauses to drip some across my stomach, then eases himself back on top of me. --- Day 3 First Officer's Quarters 2255 --- This was so right, to come back to Spock's quarters. What an emptiness would have awaited me, had I not. Oh, my ardent lover, running hot fingers through my hair with wanting noises, thrusting against my hips and groin in supplication. His clear moisture on my belly mixes with that rose-scented oil, as we roll away from the scattered clothes and bump against the side of the bed. I hear a groan escape me as his lips brush a nipple. White hot, and the feeling where our hips meet is overwhelming. I already know we're not going to get further than the deck. Neither of us can stop now. Like lava flowing, we have flooded into each other's depths, I above, lost in the rhythm, watching his black eyes close with the intensity. He reaches to grasp my head in both hands, kisses me as uncontrolled passion rises, urgent like his cries, like the grip in which he holds me, as we feed the cresting wave rising to take us... Jim groans my name as warm fluid splashes my midsection, but before he can finish I grasp him tightly as mine floods forth. It is a union beyond time. It is New York, and now here, and so very right. His thoughts are fire dancing across the starfield. This is but the third time of many to come. How by any logic could something of such value have been ruthlessly abandoned? We gaze at each other, panting, while satiation and fatigue play across our features. Jim grins at me weakly and says, "I think the deck's harder than we are now," and gestures toward the bed. I raise an eyebrow and pull him against me, preparing to rise. The door to my quarters opens on override. --- Day 3 Sickbay 2330 --- Gotta admit, I'm a little amused. And glad they resolved it. I just never expected to race in on a medical alert and find them in each other's arms. I wonder which one pressed the alarm by accident while fumbling around the open drawer of the nightstand? Not to say it wasn't extremely awkward after I busted in. I got out fast after blurting, "Well, the alarm got turned on too. As you were, gentlemen, but this time I'll mute the annunciator down in sickbay." Good thing I'd returned to sickbay after talking with Jim, so that it was only me, not the med team. Good old New York. Haven for tomorrow's drugged psychotics and newfound lovers. Edith's dying words finally make sense. After Jim let me go, I went to her, though of course there was nothing I could do. But she saw me. In response to her small motion I bent toward her. In a moment she was gone. But not before I heard her speak. I thought she meant she'd figured out we were from the future. I'm sure I gave it away in that Cordrazine haze, even if Jim and Spock didn't. But now I know that wasn't the half of it. So simple, what she said. So right. And so full of acceptance and of her faith in brighter tomorrows that informed her work and her life: "Tell Jim I know. And the future will be beautiful." --- The End