They say goodnight less quickly. . . It took them a quick moment to reach their bedroom doors. James Kirk turned toward his companion and studied the familiar face with a new appreciation. Those lines, the bags under his eyes -- probably the result of losing sleep over his patients. lot of compassion in that man, he reflected. "Bones?" His voice sounded embarrassingly tentative, even to his own ears. "Were you trying to tell me something? 'Sthere something I should know?" The physician stood up a little straighter, worked to find the right answer. "Ah, Jim, I'm not quite sure. It's just -- sometimes -- Well, sometimes I feel -- you seem -- you seem very familiar. As if I know you better than I think I do. I can't really describe it." Both laughed a little nervously. "Anything in particular I'm supposed to do about it?" "Nah, just follow the doctor's orders. Get more sleep, relax more. Same old story -- you know the ending." He began to bring his hand up to wave a vague goodnight. But suddenly Kirk could see a shadowy outline around his friend, taller, even thinner, with a hand raised in a very familiar gesture. Without thinking he stepped forward, cupped McCoy's chin in his hand, and gently kissed him. His free hand found the doctor's fingers, half in a Vulcan salute. A spark leapt instantly between them. It went out as suddenly. Both men jumped a little and stepped clumsily back. McCoy rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand absently. They said nothing, just stared. "Bones, I'm really sorry. For a moment, it was like. . . when. . . like Spock. . ." But he couldn't complete the sentence. Gently the doctor said, "Goodnight, Jim. Sleep well." He squeezed his friend's shoulder in a firm grip, then turned carefully away and shut the door between them.

they set up camp
back to start of story
back (graphics archive)		back (text archive)