The BLTS Archive - Blame it on Midnight
by TThrill (TThrill1216@aol.com)

---

Written for the 2003-2004 KirkMcCoyfest . My assigned scenario was,
'Kirk has split with Spock. McCoy helps him.' That pretty much says
it all.

This, like all my stories, can be found on my webpage T'Thrill's Den
of Trek Delights.

Warning:  This story contains m/m sexual situations.  If you are not
interested in and/or are offended by such things, you will find
reading this a complete waste of your time, so please move on.  If you
are under 18 years of age, please move on, as well.

Disclaimer:  Copyright 2004 by T'Thrill.  This is an original work of
amateur fiction based on Star Trek. This work makes "fair use" of Star
Trek copyrighted material; it is not intended to infringe on the
intellectual property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of
copyright in Star Trek or any of their assignees or licensees.  The
author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work.

Archive:  Okay to archive in KirkMcCoyfest, ASCEM, BLTS, and COCO-SSD,
provided that header, disclaimers, my name, and email address are all
attached.  All others please ask.

Acknowledgments:  Once again, Selek has been so very kind to beta a
story for me.  Without his guidance, I would post little more than
nonsense.  Thank you, my friend.

---
Until you've been beside a man
You don't know what he wants
You don't know if he cries at night
You don't know if he don't
When nothin'comes easy
Old nightmares are real
Until you've been beside a man
You don't know how he feels

Bob Seger - Shame on the Moon
---

Leonard McCoy was hunched over the latest quarterly fitness reports,
readying them to be forward on to the captain, when he heard the doors
to sickbay slide open and shut.  Almost 2200 hours, ship's time.  He
didn't need to look up.  He had no doubt that it was Jim.  Their
esteemed captain had been badgering him for these very reports for
over a week.  Leonard knew that Jim needed to review them before
handing them over to Starfleet Command, and that like everything else,
his commander liked things done in a neat, timely manner, but time to
do anything as mundane as reports had been a real premium lately.

Little would it matter that he'd spent the last twenty-six hours in
surgery patching up the latest landing party, or that with trying to
get the last of the reports finished, sleep was nothing more than a
distant, elusive memory.  "Hold your horses!  I said I'd have 'em to
you in the hour, and I meant it!  I'm just looking over the last of
'em now," he grumbled.  Everyone onboard was on edge, including him.

He expected Jim to step closer, perch himself on the edge of the desk,
cross his arms, and offer a redundant comment that stemmed more from
frustration than anything else.  With the mission coming to an end,
it'd been that kind of a week.  Not only was every department under
the gun to get all the final checks done, but to top it off they'd run
into a nasty situation on Theolis 7 that had damned near cost them the
away team.   It had been Jim's resourcefulness, as usual, that had
saved the day.  Still, there had been a few injuries, two that had
been serious, but this time, thankfully, no casualties to report.  It
was the continued, unexpected stillness and silence that finally
forced McCoy's eyes away from the display on the screen and toward the
office door.  What he saw was a man devoid of all color, looking like
he was about to collapse.   "My God, Jim!  What the hell's wrong?"
McCoy gasped, rising quickly from his chair.

"Have you seen him?  Did he tell you?" Jim asked.

"Who?  Tell me what?  Jim, what's happened?" McCoy demanded, reaching
his commander, and more importantly his friend, and grasping him by
the biceps.

"Spock.  Have you talked to him?  Do you know?"

"Jim, I haven't seen Spock in four days.  Hell, I haven't so much as
stepped a foot outta sickbay in that long."  He led Jim to the chair
he just vacated.  After Jim had fallen into the seat, Leonard reached
in his top drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.  He didn't know
what had happened, but he could still tell when a man was in desperate
need of a drink.   He retrieved a glass from the file drawer and
poured a hefty shot.  He knew that Jim wasn't scheduled to report to
the bridge for another two shifts, so offering him alcohol now
wouldn't even be breaking any regulations.  "Here, drink this," he
ordered, as he set the glass down on the desk.

Wrapping his hand tightly around the glass, for a second Leonard
thought Jim just might fling it across the office.  If that's what it
took, so be it.  There was more where that came from.  Instead, Jim
tilted it toward his lips, threw his head back, and downed the liquor
in one large gulp.  Setting the glass back down, he breathed through
the heat, "So, you don't know.  You haven't heard."

Feeling a sympathetic stab in his gut, Leonard realized that the pain
radiating from his friend's eyes was more contagious than any microbe
he'd ever run across.  "No, I haven't heard a thing.  Take a minute,
then tell me what's goin' on," Leonard soothed, settling himself in
Jim's normal spot on the desktop.

Jim nodded, and then seemed to take a deep breath before he continued.
"Spock's leaving the service.  He's already prepared his resignation.
As soon as the debriefings are finished, he's gone.  He's going back
to Vulcan...to...to be bonded!"

Of all the scenarios that had run through Leonard's mind in the last
few seconds, he hadn't even considered this as a possibility.
"Bonded?  Who?  Surely not T'Pring!"

Jim held out the glass.  Leonard refilled it.  "No, not T'Pring.   To
a woman whose bondmate was the captain on the Intrepid.   Seems she's
been without a bondmate since that ship was destroyed, and Spock's all
too willing to apply for the job," he said, bitterly.

"But I thought the two of you...I mean, y'all have been together for
over two years.  I just assumed that…someday...it would be *you* and
Spock taking that step together," Leonard stammered.

"So did I, although we never really talked about it.  We were
together, and that's all that mattered.  At least, that's what I
thought.  We agreed that we'd wait until the end of the mission to
make any decisions.  Well, the mission is ending, so tonight I made it
official.  I asked him to marry me."

Leonard retrieved another glass.  After pouring himself a shot, and
refilling Jim's, again, he managed, "I have to assume the answer was
'No'."

"No?" Jim clucked humorlessly.  "No, I could've handled.  At least I
could have debated that.  'Impossible' is more like it.   Oh, and
'illogical', of course!"

"Jim, there's gotta be some mistake.  I've never seen Spock...Well,
as blissful as he's been in these last years.  My God!  The man
actually lights up in your presence.  Always has."

Jim shook his head.  "No mistake, Bones.  I've spent the last two
hours going over and over it, and I know what was said."

Leonard absentmindedly stared at his glass as he turned it around in
his hand.  It was as if he was looking for answers in the hypnotic,
amber-colored sparkle caused by the reflection of the overhead light.
When no answer came, he downed the liquid.  "Spock leavin' you for a
woman, or anyone else for that matter, just doesn't make sense.  Oh,
sure, he's had a couple'a brief dalliances, but even those can be
explained away due to the circumstances.  The fact that he's made this
choice really surprises me.  After the mess with T'Pring, I never
thought Spock would consider bonding with woman.   Hell, after you two
got together, I never though he would consider bonding with *anyone*
else."

"Neither did I," Jim answered, the depths of the defeat he was feeling
coming through loud and clear.

Leonard was sure that something serious had happened to cause Spock to
make this decision.  As much as he hated himself for thinking it, only
one possibility came to mind.   "Jim, don't get me wrong, but you
haven't...?  What I mean is, we both know that you've had your share
of...let's just say, extracurricular activities.  Did you...?"

Jim shook his head emphatically.  "No!  No one.  Not since Miramanee.
That's when Spock and I made the commitment to each other, and there
hasn't been anyone since."

It had been two years, eight months, and an odd amount of days since
the Enterprise had been forced to abandon Jim in an attempt to chase
down and divert the asteroid bearing down on the Preserver planet.
Spock had been commanding the ship when the attempt had failed, frying
the warp engines in the process.  It was during the two months they
spent crawling back to the planet on nothing more than impulse
engines, during which time he and Spock were constantly at each
other's throats, that he had first begun to suspect the true nature of
Spock's feelings for Jim.

Although they knew Jim must still be on the planet, they didn't know
for sure if he was still alive, or if they could reach him in time.
During those weeks of failure and uncertainty, Spock had repeatedly
refused food, rest, and had frequently handed command over to either
Scotty or Sulu in deference to his obsession with the symbols that had
been found on the obelisk.  It wasn't long before Leonard realized it
was an obsession born out of guilt for leaving Jim on the planet, and
a nearly overwhelming fear that his actions had cost him any future
with the one person he'd ever dared to love.  With those factors
combined, they had driven Spock closer to insanity than Leonard had
ever imagined possible, or ever wanted to see again.  It was Spock's
willingness to sacrifice everything-- himself, the crew, and the
ship--on the slim chance that Jim could be rescued that made this
newest development seem so unbelievable.

After his return to the ship, Jim had run headlong into his own
demons, specifically the tragic and senseless death of Mirimanee and
her unborn child--his child.  It was during the dark days that
followed that Jim and Spock had finally been forced to face up to what
they had both tried so hard to deny: their feelings for each other. As
far as Leonard knew, neither man had been involved with anyone since,
but with Jim's history, it had been a logical conclusion.

"Sorry.  I had to ask," he sighed.  "Jim, from what I've observed, I'd
bet money on the fact that Spock really loves you.  That's saying a
hellava lot for a Vulcan.  There has to be a *reason* for his
decision!"

Jim propped his elbows on the desktop and swirled the liquid around in
his glass.  "There is.  I'm neither Vulcan, nor female.  Therein lies
the problem."

"You wanna explain that?  It hasn't been a problem up until now, has
it?"

Jim shut his eyes and slowly rubbed the glass across his forehead.
The depth of the pain radiating from Jim's face was like a knife
twisting in Leonard's gut.  "Didn't seem to be.   According to him,
the fact that I'm a male actually served to make me more appealing."

"And the fact that you're human?"

"It was never an issue...until now.  Recently he's been delving deeper
into the Vulcan disciplines, and his intervals of meditation have
become longer and more intense.  When I saw some information on his
terminal regarding Vulcan mating rituals, I asked him if was entering
into pon farr, but he assured me he wasn't.  I just assumed he was
planning for the time when we could be bonded.  I couldn't have been
more wrong.  According to Spock, Vulcans choose their mates for two
reasons: the first is to survive the madness of the bloodfever, and
second is to procreate.

"Considering Spock's family tree, reproducing seems to be a major
consideration.  A Vulcan is preferable, and a female bondmate makes
things a lot easier in the baby-making department.  That makes me
unacceptable all the way around.   I tried to tell him that with the
medical advances available today, it was certainly possible for us to
have a child, but even that didn't help.  It seems that although
Vulcans allow for homosexual bondmates, it's a choice that's
considered to be based on emotion instead of logic, which is another
issue that Spock isn't willing to deal with.  Logic!  Imagine that!
God forbid that we should have a marriage based on the fact that we
love one another!"  Jim tossed the third shot down his throat, and
held out the glass once more.  This time, Leonard took it away.

"Getting drunk isn't the answer, Jim," Leonard said, gripping both
empty glasses.

"Maybe not, but it's the best one I can come up with for now," Jim
spat, folding his arms on top of the desk.

"I take it that Spock didn't just decide on this bond tonight?"
Leonard asked, steering Jim's thoughts away from more alcohol.

"No, he didn't.  He's been arranging this for the last ten weeks!
Over two months, and not a word to me!"  The bitter tone in Jim's
voice was growing more and more venomous, and Leonard hoped the
calming effects of the whisky would kick in soon.  "Of course, that
didn't keep him from fucking me on a regular basis!" Jim continued.
"When I asked him about that, he said it would have been illogical to
end a mutually satisfying relationship just because this bond was
being negotiated!  God dammit!"

Leonard refrained from mentioning the fact that, according to the
physical exams he'd performed on both of them, the fucking seemed to
be fairly mutual.  The slightly decreased muscular tension in Spock's
anus was a pretty good indicator that he wasn't *always* on the giving
end.  There are just some things you can't hide from your old country
doctor!  Not only that, Leonard knew Spock could act as cold as anyone
he'd ever met, but for the most part that was a facade, and not a very
good one.  Certainly this degree of calculation didn't sound like the
Vulcan he'd come to know and, in truth, respect.  Leonard suspected
that this version of the story was somewhat lop-sided, and that once
Jim calmed down he'd hear the rest of it.  But that wasn't what was
important right now.  Jim was hurting.  That's all that mattered.  It
was his job to help his friend hold the pieces together.

Leonard sat the glasses off to the side, then reached over and laid a
hand on his friend's shoulder.  "Damn, Jim, I'm really sorry.  I know
I've had my doubts, maybe even expressed them more than I should've,
but I'd really begun to believe that things were gonna work out for
the two of you, even against all the odds."

Jim looked up.  "Thanks, Bones, so did I, but it seems you were right
all along.  I don't know how.  You sure must have seen something that
I missed."

Leonard shook his head.  "Jim, I'm no fortune teller.  I never for a
second thought something like this would happen.  My concerns stemmed
from the exact reasons I told you at the time I found out that you and
he were lovers.  With Spock being your second-in-command, I thought
it'd be the pressures of the job that would get in the way.  I was
afraid that the two of you bein' together would pose serious problems
to the mission, even to the point of puttin' this ship and crew at
risk.  I don't know how you did it, but y'all managed to prove me
wrong.  Somehow the two of you never allowed your personal
relationship to carry over onto the bridge."

Jim looked away, wistfulness replacing the anger that had shown from
that face just moments before.  "It was hard, especially on those
occasions when I had to knowingly place him in danger.  But on that
first night together, the night when we finally admitted what had been
in our hearts all along, we agreed that the only way it could work was
to keep our personal and professional lives separate.  Now I find out
that there was a lot more separating us than just the job."

Jim drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly, as he put his head
down on his folded arms, and sighed, "My God, Bones!   What the hell
am I supposed to do without him?"

Leonard laid his hand on Jim's head and began gently stroking it.  "I
know it doesn't feel like it now, but you'll go on," he soothed.
There were few people in the galaxy who had ever been allowed to
witness Jim Kirk with his guard completely down, and Leonard was one
of them, but even he'd never seen his friend this shattered.  In
truth, Spock wasn't the only one on board who was good at hiding
behind a facade.  It was perhaps the one area in which his two friends
were perfectly matched.

With Leonard, Jim had the freedom to release the emotions that he
couldn't allow anyone else--even to some extent, Spock--to see.  The
crew trusted Jim to lead them, guide them, and even insure their very
survival, and it was difficult for them to realize that even heroes
have their breaking point.  And in their eyes, that's exactly what
Jim Kirk was.  Although Leonard had respected, maybe even loved, the
man from the beginning, there was never an element of hero-worship
that stood between them.  Because of that, a deep sense of trust had
formed between them from almost the first day.  Over these five years,
there had been countless times when they had served as the emotional
support for one another.  Leonard knew that's exactly what Jim needed
from him now, and no matter what it took, he was determined not to let
him down.

Whatever Spock's reasoning -- whether it was good, bad, or as Leonard
suspected, somewhere in the middle -- the mere fact that the Vulcan
was causing Jim this amount of anguish pissed him off.  Jim had to
carry the weight of this ship on his shoulders.  He certainly didn't
need to be dealing with this kind of bullshit!  Leonard began to comb
his fingers lightly through Jim's hair.  Now that Jim had finally
given up fighting the natural curl, it had darkened a bit.  Leonard
found that running his fingers through the soft, bronze tangle was
admittedly pleasurable and threatened to raise the head of feelings
that had long ago been put to rest.

Once, very early in their friendship, just after Leonard had been
forced to kill the shape-shifting creature that had disguised itself
as his old flame, Nancy Crater, he could've become Jim's lover.  In
the days that followed, he experienced a profound need for an
emotional connection to another person, and Jim had made it clear that
his door was open.   Perhaps it was because of their new, but solid,
friendship that Jim offered, or maybe he really had believed there
could be more between them.  Leonard was never sure, and it was never
discussed.

Not that he hadn't been tempted, even to the point of standing in
front of Jim's cabin late one evening with his finger hovering just
above the button that would've signaled his presence.  But even then,
although he was craving the touch of another, Leonard knew he could
either be the CMO Jim needed, or his lover, but not both.  As Spock
was so fond of pointing out, he was a man who could easily be led by
his emotions, and Leonard knew he'd be unable to draw the line, no
matter how pleasant it may be.  So, he had chosen the former of the
two options, to be the best CMO possible for Jim, and had never
stepped through that door.  It was just as well, since it wasn't long
before he noticed a definite gleam in those hazel-gold eyes whenever
they looked toward a certain first officer, a glimmer of nothing less
than endless desire that had never been there for anyone else,
including him.  But now, seeing Jim so torn up, he wondered if he'd
made the right decision all those years ago.  God knows if he'd ever
allowed himself to give his heart over to Jim, he'd never hurt him,
not like this.

"Umm...that feels good," Jim breathed, as Leonard continued stroking
his fingers through the soft hair.

Leonard thought that Jim had fallen asleep.  He sure needed the rest.
He'd been going non-stop for a week, and then having to face this kind
of disappointment was taking its toll.   Leaning over, placing his
mouth close to Jim's ear, he whispered, "Jim, when was the last time
you slept?"

Jim shrugged his shoulders, slightly.  "I dunno.  A few days ago, I
guess.  Too much going on...and still too much to do."

Leonard slid off the desk, and placed his hands on Jim's upper arms.
"Not for the next eight hours.  C'mon.  I'm takin' you to your cabin
and puttin' you to bed."

Obediently, Jim rose up.  Some of the color was back in his face, and
it was obvious that the whisky had finally reached his bloodstream and
was helping him to relax.  "Is that a proposal or a proposition,
Doctor?" Jim grinned that killer half-grin of his.

"It'll be an order if you don't comply," Leonard smiled back, although
he sincerely meant every word.

Before the two of them had left the privacy of his office, Leonard's
hands had dropped to his side.  He knew better than to embarrass Jim
by letting anyone see the captain being helped to his quarters.  True,
this mission was ending, but whether it was the Enterprise, or another
ship they were assigned to -- he hoped it was *they* since he couldn't
stand the idea of serving under anyone else -- Jim had a reputation to
uphold.  Heroes aren't supposed to be fallible, especially publicly.
It was a point Leonard understood well, and one of the reasons Jim
trusted him.

However, once the two of them were alone in the turbolift, Jim seemed
to sway and Leonard reached over and placed a steadying arm
protectively around his friend's shoulders.   Instead of pulling away,
he felt Jim lean into the contact.   Even when the doors opened on the
level where the officer's quarters were located, Jim allowed Leonard
to support him.   Luckily, at this late hour, the corridor was
deserted, and Jim's cabin was just steps away.

When they reached the door, Leonard reached up and keyed in his
override code, saving Jim the effort.  The door slid open and the
lights fully illuminated the cabin.  Too damned bright!  "Lights to
one-quarter," he ordered.  Leonard guided Jim to the sleeping area
behind the semi-transparent mesh divider and eased him on down on the
edge of the bunk.

Jim attempted to toe off one boot, but after several tries he gave up.
This not being the first occasion of sharing a few shots of whiskey
with Jim -- far from it -- Leonard knew this was more than just the
relaxing effects derived from a moderate amount of alcohol.  This was
a man who was not only physically, but also emotionally, depleted.

Leonard squatted down and pulled off Jim's boots and socks.   Then,
standing up, he tugged at the edge of Jim's gold command shirt,
getting him to raise his arms long enough to slide it over his head.
Tossing it onto the dressing stand, he reached for the top of the
cover and pulled back the sheet and lightweight blanket.  "Here, Jim,
lay down," he instructed.

Yawning, Jim leaned over until the side of his head hit the pillow,
and then he rolled onto his back.  He unclasped the closure of his
trousers and pushed them out from under his hips, but he didn't seem
to have the strength to get them any further.  Leonard reached down,
grabbed the hem at each ankle, and pulled them the rest of the way
off.  He then pulled the cover up to Jim's chest.  Jim's eyes were
already closed.  "Get some sleep.  I'll be back later to check on
you," he whispered through a yawn of his own.

With that, Jim's eyes opened.  "Don't leave, Bones.  Not yet.  Call
me crazy, but I don't want to be left alone...not right now."

Leonard nodded, stifling another yawn, and pulled up a small chair
that was sitting just inside the divider.  "Sure, Jim.  I'll hang
around until you fall asleep," he assured him.  'Crazy?' he thought.
Maybe.  Love has a tendency to do that.  Over the next hour, Leonard
sat and watched, keeping a close vigil on his friend.  Twice Jim had
fallen into a deep sleep, only to bolt straight up in the bed, sheer
panic suffusing the normally self-confident persona.  A few words of
reassurance, and Jim would lie back down and close his eyes.
Frequently, just when Leonard would hope that Jim had found the
ability to rest, he would watch Jim's eyes crack open ever so
slightly.  Once seemingly assured that Leonard was still there, the
eyes would close again.

Ten minutes, or so, past without further incident, and Leonard began
to relax, too much, perhaps.  Even sitting in the small, decidedly
uncomfortable chair, there were several times when Leonard would catch
himself nodding off as sleep tried to claim him.  He would straighten
himself quickly, much to the distain of his aching neck, and attempt
to shake himself awake.

"Bones," Leonard heard, rousing him as he all but tumbled from the
chair, his neck jerking so hard that he was surprised when his head
didn't end up sailing across the cabin.  He forced open his eyes to
see Jim staring at him.  "Bones, I'm fine.  You don't have to stay.
Go get some sleep."

Leonard shook his head.  Had he observed Jim resting soundly for any
decent amount of time, he would've complied, but that was far from
being the case.  "That's okay," Leonard mumbled.  "I'll hang around a
little longer."

"Not if you're going to try to sit there, you're not.  You're going to
break your neck."  Jim scooted to the far side of the bunk and held up
one edge of the cover.  "Here.  Get in."

Leonard watched in near amazement as Jim situated himself, leaving
room for him to lie down.  'Not smart!  Not smart...not smart...not
smart!  He's vulnerable and, considering the circumstances and the
late hour, you're both beyond thinking straight!'  It was the
reasonable side of his brain that was screaming at him.  'Bid him
good-night, and leave.'  The mental message was as clear and bright as
a summer's day.

Then there was the other side of his brain, the one that always seemed
to get him into trouble.  'You've shared bunks with him before,' it
was telling him.  'Sure, it's usually in some jail cell you've managed
to get yourselves tossed into, and certainly never onboard the ship,
but it's not like you've never stretched out next to him before.  What
could be the harm?   He's hurting; you're both beat...why shouldn't
both of you get some needed rest?'  Why he ever listened to this side
of his brain, why he didn't just check himself into the Elba II
Neurological Clinic and have that part of his mind excised completely,
he'd never know.

"Jim, you're not gonna be able to rest.  Not with me laying there,
too," he replied, the reasonable side of his brain mustering a weak,
half-hearted protest.

"Bones, I'm not going to rest at all if I wake up to an empty cabin,
and I'm sure not going to be responsible for you cracking your skull
open on the floor.  Come on."

He had to face it; neither the reasonable side nor the troublesome
side of his brain could deny the look in those eyes.  "All right," he
nodded, toeing off his boots.  He pulled off his socks and started to
lay down in his medical tunic and trousers, but then decided to free
himself from the confines of the tunic.  He pulled it off, tossed it
onto the chair he'd just vacated, and crawled bare-chested into the
bunk.  He rolled onto his side, crossed his arms tightly over his
chest, and facing toward Jim, laid his head on the edge of the pillow.

Even though trying to keep some distance between them, the narrow, at
least for two people, bunk didn't allow for much space.  Jim offered
him a small, grateful smile, and then closed his eyes again.  It did
seem that his presence was having a calming effect on his friend.  The
tension in Jim's face seemed to be relaxing a bit.  Unfortunately,
Leonard found that lying next to Jim had the opposite effect on him.
Suddenly, he was as wide-awake as he'd ever been, and wishing the bunk
was a bit wider -- about two feet wider would be just about right!
Wide enough so he couldn't feel Jim's body heat, or feel the warm
puffs of moist air brushing against his flesh every time Jim exhaled.

He found it surprising that as long as Jim and Spock had been sharing
a bed, they hadn't requisitioned a larger one.  Then again, he
reminded himself, if two people *wanted* to be together, it was
probably just the right size.  The cabin lights were still turned low,
but not so low that he couldn't see the fringe of eyelashes as they
lay softly against the gold-toned cheeks.  There had never, in the
history of the universe, been an artist who had the ability to capture
this kind of beauty, Leonard decided.  The mattress beneath him seemed
to warm as he began to wonder how many times Spock and Jim had laid
here, pressed together, relishing the feel of each other's bodies.

'Stop it!' his mind screamed.  He had no idea which side of his brain
screamed that, but most likely it was both.  Neither side wanted to
think about Spock making love to Jim, or vice versa, for that matter.
What were the mental techniques he used when doing their quarterlies?
What were the mental tricks he used to keep his mind off the reason
Spock's anus was not as rigid as it used to be?  What had he done the
time he noticed small, discolored areas trailing from the back of
Jim's neck, down his spine, and across his buttocks, only to realize
it was where someone had sucked a path to the treasures that lay
below?  Hell, he remembered exactly what he'd done that time, and the
many others besides.  He'd finished the exam as quickly as possible,
locked himself in his office and done the only thing guaranteed to rid
himself of a raging erection.  Just like the one he was getting now.
'Damn!'

Why hadn't he just listened to reason?  If he had, he wouldn't be in
this predicament.  Well, he would just have to lie here and let Jim
sleep.  Later, when he could quietly escape, he'd make his way to his
own cabin and take care of the problem the same way he'd always done
before.  How long had he been laying here?  Was it safe for him to
leave, yet?  Jim's breathing seemed to be steady.  Could he ease
himself out of the bed and make a get-away with Jim never being the
wiser?

"Bones?" Jim whispered, his eyes still closed.

Leonard felt a shiver run through his body.  "Yeah?"

"Thanks...you know...for staying.  I know you think I'm being silly,
maybe even childish.  I guess I think so too.  Being someone who can
command this ship, you'd think I'd be better prepared to handle a
situation like this."

There it was, the vulnerability that few others ever had the privilege
of witnessing.  Jim Kirk was as strong, as brave, and as fearless as
any man in the universe, but even inside of him resided a tender soul
with the ability to feel love and pain so deeply that, at least for
tonight, he couldn't stand the idea of being left alone.  Even this
side, maybe especially this side, Leonard found appealing.  "I don't
think that, Jim.  Even the captain of a starship deserves to be human
from time to time."

Whether it was his reply, or the obvious roughness that had seeped
into his voice, Leonard didn't know, but the eyes opened and seemed to
study him carefully.  Leonard felt self- conscious under the gaze,
knowing that Jim had the ability to read him as no one else had ever
been able to.  When he saw the eyes soften into understanding, he knew
that Jim knew.  It was only a matter of whether they would ignore the
obvious.  He had his answer when Jim sighed, "Oh...Bones.  I'm sorry.
I wasn't thinking when I asked you to stay.  You made it pretty
obvious years ago that you weren't interested...so I didn't even
consider..."

Leonard felt the heat as he flushed from head to toe.   "Jim...it's
all right.  It'll pass.  Besides, to set the record straight, it was
never a case of not bein' interested.  The fact is, I knew from the
start that I couldn't be the person you needed as your CMO, and your
lover too.  Unlike Spock, I don't have the ability to separate the
two.  In that way, he really was perfect for you, able to satisfy all
aspects of your complex nature."

"Me?  Complex?" Jim grinned up at him, slightly.  "I'm not all that
complex, Bones."

Leonard couldn't help but return the smile.  Perhaps it wasn't Jim's
pain, but his smile that was the most contagious entity ever
encountered.  "Jim, there never existed a man more complex than you
are.  Hell, look what you've accomplished in just these last five
years.  You've been a leader, a warrior, a diplomat, and on top of all
that, you even managed to fall in love."

The grin faded, and Jim swallowed hard.  The brow creased when Jim
said, "And look where it got me.  Afraid of being alone in my own
cabin."

"Don't kid yourself, my friend.  It's not fear you're feeling.  It's
grief.  Someone you love has rejected you, and you need time to deal
with that.  Time to mourn a very real loss.  Time that you don't have.
You're not like the rest of us, Jim.  You can't allow yourself the
liberty of bearing your soul for all to see."

"Except with you.  I've always been able to come to you, haven't I?
Why is that?  Why do I feel a freedom in your presence that I've never
felt with another soul?  I don't think I would've made it through
these years without you, Bones."

Leonard raised his hand and stroked the back of his fingers against
Jim's brow, wanting to ease the tension he saw there.  "That works
both ways, ya know."

"I'd like to think so.  I'd like to believe I've been there for you,
too, but we both know that I've taken from you a lot more than I've
ever given back."

"That's not possible.  My God, Jim.  You've given me the universe and
someone I care for to explore it with.  What else is there?"

Leonard felt Jim's arm slip around his waist, pulling them together.
If there had been any secrets left between them, there weren't
anymore, as Leonard felt his arousal press against the softness of
Jim's groin.  He was aroused; Jim was not.  "There's love," Jim
sighed.  "There's the love I've always felt for you, right from the
beginning.  The love you wouldn't allow me to show you early on."

Leonard slid one arm under Jim's head, the other he slid around Jim's
chest, his hand resting on Jim's back.  "And it's not the same as what
you felt...and still feel…for Spock."

"No, not the same," Jim shook his head in that juncture between
Leonard's neck and shoulder.   Leonard swore he felt a drop of
wetness, and then another, slide down his shoulder and spill onto the
bed underneath him.  "I wanted to give him everything.  I wanted to
become a part of him."  Jim took a deep breath, perhaps it was a
sniff, but if so, it was so soft that Leonard couldn't be certain.
Then Jim pulled his head back and looked up at him.  "With you, I've
always wanted to share everything.  It's the reason I always find
myself coming to you, in good times, and in bad."  Jim stretched up
and placed his lips very close to Leonard's.  "Let me share tonight
with you.  Hold me, Bones.  For tonight, let's hold each other."  He
felt a stirring below as Jim responded to his presence.

Leonard looked into those eyes, still glistening from the tears
secretly spilled for another.  In those few breaths of time, he waited
for guidance from his mind, but there was nothing but silence.  He was
on his own.  Moving his head toward Jim's ever so slightly, he
captured the soft, warm mouth.  Tonight they would make love.  It
would be out of need, and pain, and longing, and even love, and it may
be the last time, or the first of many.  But for now, it didn't
matter.  The chronometer on the desk clicked softly.  It was the
beginning of a new day.

---

Spock sat at his computer screen.  After several hours of meditation,
and repeated attempts to dismiss the offer presented to him by Jim
earlier in the evening, he was composing his second communiqué that
evening.  It was a message to Sarek.

--
'Father,

I understand, and appreciate, the contacts you have established
between T'sai T'Vica and myself in these last months.  Discussions and
negotiations regarding the formation of a bond between us have taken
place.  Although I believed myself to be prepared for such a union,
even to the point of resigning my commission -- one of her
requirements -- and making preparations to travel to Vulcan to join
with her, I have come to realize that these stipulations, specifically
my resignation from Starfleet, is not a requirement with which I am
able to comply.  This evening, I have forwarded to her a message
stating that a union between us will not be possible.

However, Father, there is one with whom I do wish to bond.  It is
Captain James Kirk, the commander of the Enterprise.  Until recently,
I was unaware that he, too, would be receptive to such a union.  I
have explained to him, in detail, that ours would be considered an
illogical union, and that we would certainly face adversity among my
people if we were to proceed.  I have elucidated to him, in depth,
that the purpose of a bonding is two-fold: to quench the fires of the
bloodfever, and to procreate.  I know him to be capable of achieving
the first of these objectives, and although the second cannot be
achieved naturally, there are other possibilities.

After careful consideration, I have come to realize that whatever
adversity we may face will be small compared to the torment that would
certainly be experienced if this unrequited need to be as one is left
unfulfilled.  Therefore, it is my sincerest hope that my parents, and
you specifically, will be accepting of my decision.  However, if you
choose not to accept this bonding, if you refuse to accept the one of
my choosing into our family, your decision will not in any way deter
my resolution in this matter.

I anticipate your reply.

In most high regard,

Your son, Spock.'
--

Spock started to key the 'send' button, but then decided that it was
only fair that he should inform Jim of his decision before taking it
upon himself to notify his father.  Rising from his desk, he accessed
the panel that connected the internal sections of their cabins and
slipped through the adjoining passage.  Immediately, his senses told
him that Jim was not alone.  There was a distinctive aura of foreign,
yet familiar, human maleness that seemed to permeate the cabin.
However, it was three point six two seconds before he was able to
identify the other person behind the mesh screen.

"Why do I feel a freedom in your presence that I've never felt with
another soul?  I don't think I would've made it through these years
without you, Bones."

"That works both ways, ya know."

"I'd like to think so.  I'd like to believe I've been there for you,
too, but we both know that I've taken from you a lot more than I've
ever given back."

"That's not possible.  My God, Jim.  You've given me the universe and
someone I care for to explore it with.  What else is there?"

"There's love.  There's the love I've always felt for you, right from
the beginning…"

There was more, but as Spock slipped quietly back through the passage,
his ears thrumming soundly with every beat of his heart, he did not
hear it.  He quickly palmed the passage door shut.  Leonard McCoy and
Jim--his Jim--were lovers?   How could he not have realized this?
Love.  It was a word that Humans used with such ease.

Stepping quickly to his desk, he pulled up the message and deleted the
contents.  He then began again.

--
'Father,

I understand, and appreciate, the contacts you have established
between T'sai T'Vica and myself in these last months.  Discussions and
negotiations regarding the formation of a bond between us have taken
place.  Although I believed myself to be prepared for such a union,
even to the point of resigning my commission--one of her
requirements -- and making preparations to travel to Vulcan to join
with her, I have come to realize that I am unable to comply with her
stipulations.  I have forwarded to her a message stating that a union
between us will not be possible.

My resignation from Starfleet, however, will not be rescinded.
Following the completion of this mission, I will be traveling to
Vulcan, but not for the purpose of seeking a bondmate.  It is my
decision to join the Order of the Kolinahru.  It is my sincerest hope
that you will be accepting of my decision.  However, even if you
choose not to accept this decision, it will not deter my resolution in
this matter.

In most high regard,

Your son, Spock.'
--

He hit the 'send' key.  At that moment, the chronometer on the
computer clicked over to 0000.  It was the beginning of a new day.

---

The End