The BLTS Archive- Circles in the Sand
by T'Thrill
Series: TOS
Romance Codes: K/Mc, Su/C, Sa, Sc/U, Sa/Mc, K/S/Mc (implied)
Rating: NC-17 m/m, m/f

Summary: The Enterprise has made a successful getaway, and the crew
is on their way to the Genesis planet to retrieve Spock's
body.  "Circles in the Sand," is the seventh part in the Under the
Sun series.  The first six installments are:

"Skylights"
"Life is but a Dream"
"The Burning Sands"
"Easy Does It"
"The Winter of Despair"
"Praying for Time"

If you have not read these, you may want to do so before reading this
story.  They can be found on my webpage --
T'Thrill's Den of Trek Delights -
http://www.geocities.com/tthrill1612/

Warning:  This story contains very explicit m/m and m/f sex.  If you
are not interested in and/or 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.

Disclaimer: Copyright 2003 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 COCO-SSD, BLTS and ASCEM only, provided
that header, disclaimers, my name, and email address are all
attached. All others please ask. My email address is --
TThrill1612@aol.com

Acknowledgments--I once more praise my betas, Selek and MizzMarcee.
Never has anyone been so blessed with having two such wonderful
people to offer support and assistance.  I cannot begin to express
the impact they (both) have on my writing.  If you enjoy my stories,
it is only because of their diligence.  Any mistakes are mine.  I
also want to mention the Vulcan Language Dictionary that Selek has
spent so much time creating.  Although some of the Vulcan language
used in this story I created, most words were found using this
valuable resource.

---

ven if the Enterprise could maintain warp six, Uhura knew it would
take a full two days for it to reach the Genesis planet.  Time would
need to be allotted to recover Spock's body, break free of Genesis'
orbit, and travel the distance to Vulcan.  If all ran smoothly, the
Enterprise would be in a protected orbit around the red planet just a
few hours after the arrival of the Vulcan Diplomatic shuttle.  It was
this shuttle in which Nyota traveled, along with Ambassador Sarek and
the two-member crew.

Listening for outgoing and incoming communications was the extent of
her capability to lend assistance to the renegade ship.  Long being
an intricate member of the rebel crew, Nyota found this nominal duty
to be, at the least, frustrating.  The Vulcan crew, and especially
the male who manned the communications station on the shuttle, found
her often-repeated requests for updates both illogical and
irrational.  It didn't help that even after finally ignoring the
Vulcan's regard for personal space, and ending up all but hanging
over him, she still couldn't decipher the information on the
screens.  Most were in unfamiliar symbols since they were being sent
via Vulcan outposts and being intercepted as they were forwarded to
the Vulcan Interplanetary Affairs Ministry.  She certainly had basic
knowledge of Vulcan communication codes, but not at the speed at
which they were flashing across the small screen.

There were the expected communications being sent from Starfleet
Command regarding the abducted ship.  These she had no problem in
understanding.  The seriousness of the 'flash messages' that were
being sounded at regular intervals was quite unmistakable.  She heard
the relaying of intercept orders to any Starfleet vessel in the area,
however, due to the recent destruction of the U.S.S. Alexander, it
seemed there were no ships capable of catching the Enterprise before
she reached the planet.  The U.S.S. Carolina had reported in as the
closest ship, but even at best speed, it would take almost three days
for her to reach the Mutara system.  That was more than enough time
for Kirk to get them in and out.  The Grissom was in orbit over the
planet, but that was a scientific vessel and certainly no match for
the Enterprise.

Uhura heard the warning go out to the Grissom and found it curious
that there was no response.  However, she concluded, there was the
possibility that the atypical energy waves created by the Genesis
device could still be creating communication disturbances.  Too, even
under the best of circumstances, the Grissom was not as powerful as a
Constitution Class vessel, and was close to its maximum range for
direct contact with Starfleet Command.  Either way, there had been no
messages intercepted that indicated trouble.  Everything seemed to be
running smoothly--too smoothly--she thought, but then admonished
herself.  After all they'd been through these last days, it was
certainly time that they had things working on their side.

She had been assigned a small room for rest, and the first two nights
she stayed in her quarters.  But by the end of the second full day,
she decided to remain topside.  She was growing concerned and knew
that she wouldn't be able relax in the small, secluded room.
Besides, the shuttle was approaching Vulcan territory, and they would
be on the planet in less than a day.  As each hour ticked away, she
became more anxious.  The Enterprise was to have broken communication
silence and sent word to the Vulcan shuttle once the tube containing
Spock's body had been recovered.  She found herself repeatedly
glancing between the chrono displayed above the ship's controls and
the small one attached to her wrist, and noted they were long past
the expected time to receive that message.

Once more attempting to settle down, and be as little of an annoyance
as possible, she opted to curl up in one of the seats on the main
deck, staying as close as she could to the comm station.  This was
much to the chagrin of the Vulcan stationed there, if the arched
eyebrow meant what she assumed it did.  After continuously fidgeting,
Nyota was just beginning to get somewhat comfortable when she heard
an emergency signal burst through the comm unit.  In an instant she
was on her feet, alert, and leaning across the communications
station, struggling to understand what had triggered the alarm.

In their native language, the male at the communications station
began relaying information to the pilot of the shuttle; eyebrows had
risen high on their respective foreheads.  Uhura had lived and worked
around Spock enough years to realize that their actions, which would
have been considered controlled by most standards, were anything but.

"What is it?" she demanded.  "What's happening?"

It was the pilot of the shuttle who turned to her and answered.  "The
Vulcan outpost T'lecir'hath has intercepted a communication from a
Starfleet ship identified as the U.S.S. Carolina.  It seems they have
now reached the system in question, arriving at the location where
the Genesis planet was last reported to be."

"What do you mean 'last reported to be'?  How can you *lose* a
planet?" she asked.  A knot of fear began to rise within her.

"Commander, the planet is not lost, it no longer exists.  There is
only a fresh debris field.  It seems the Genesis planet has been
destroyed.  Within the debris, they have retrieved and identified
pieces of wreckage, as well as encoded signal boxes, from two
Starfleet ships; a scientific vessel identified as the Grissom, and a
Constitution Class ship identified as the Enterprise.  There are
apparently no survivors."

"That can't be!" she stated emphatically.  "How?  What could have
happened?"

"The specific details are unknown, Commander.  There has been a
report of a Klingon ship, a Bird of Prey, detected in the system, but
that has not been confirmed.  There is no other information available
at this time."

A cold numbness began to settle over Nyota.  'No survivors,' he had
said.  It was as if a shield rose within her and the words stung
against it, but kept them from penetrating into her mind.  It
couldn't be.  The ship she had served on for so long...was gone?
Images of the Enterprise slipped through her consciousness unbidden.
She recalled the cabin that had been her primary residence for the
last eighteen years, the station and controls where she had been
master over all that transpired, the herbatorium where she had loved
to walk and think during her off hours.  There was the smell of her
decks and the small vibration that one didn't notice until you left
her.  Nyota concentrated on all the inorganic aspects of the ship,
centering her grief toward those, for she knew if she allowed her
mind to consider the demise of the five men onboard, she would go
insane.

But even in the midst of denial, she felt an icy vacuum begin to
envelop her.  There was no oxygen, no heat.  The ability to breathe
seemed to leave her, as if her body had forgotten how to respond to
the aching of her lungs.  Her mind seemed insistent on thinking about
them, although her heart screamed for it not to.

Jim Kirk wasn't dead.  He couldn't be.  How do you kill a man who has
carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, yet could calm
your fears with a single glance?  Just a half-smile and a wink from
him, and you knew that all was right with the universe.  He was the
kind of man that legends are made of.  How do you kill a legend?
NO!  It wasn't possible.

Not Len.  His caring hands were lined from the many chemicals they
had been exposed to, yet were so very soft and gentle.  A touch from
him could do more to heal than all the gadgets and potions in
sickbay.  You can't kill a man like that.  Impossible.  And certainly
not Hikaru or Pavel.  They had the future in their hands.  They would
be the ones to lead long after the legend was just that.  The
universe could surely never survive without their humor, their
spirit, their strength, and their courage.

And Oh God!  Not Scotty!  He was a saint with just enough of the
devil mixed in to make him perfect.  He was a magician, a miracle
worker, a phenomenon, and a visionary.  He was...her love.  With the
thought of him, there was a piercing agony of realization that seized
her.

A gasp, sounding more like a strangulated wail, was ripped from her
throat as she stumbled backwards.  It was only the quick reflexes of
the male standing behind her that kept her from tumbling to the
deck.  She was seated, but she couldn't remember how.  She became
aware of the two males standing before her and she slowly raised her
face up to meet theirs.  Even the Vulcan facade couldn't hide their
concern.  "I grieve with thee," the pilot stated.  The one standing
beside him nodded once in confirmation.

The pilot started to move past her, toward the steps that would lead
to the lower deck on the shuttle.  "Where are you going?" she managed.

He stopped, turned to her, and answered, "To inform Ambassador
Sarek."

"No!" she all but shouted.  Then collecting herself, she said more
calmly, "No I'll do it."

"Are you certain that you are capable?" he asked.

She knew there was no insult intended.  "Yes," she nodded as she
pushed herself from the seat.  With a hand on the seatback for a
moment to steady herself, she replied, "I think I need to be the one
to break it to him."

"Very well," he nodded, then returned to his position.  Was it a
measure of relief that she saw flash across the stoic face?

With a deep breath, Nyota removed her hand from the seat and took a
step, as if testing her legs.  Finding she could once more trust them
to support her, she started toward the back of the shuttle.  As she
descended the steps, she began to think of how she was going to tell
Sarek.  Stopping halfway down the stairs, she sat down and buried her
head in her hands.

---















Chapter 5/16 - See chapter 1/16 for all disclaimers

In these last days, Jim had been asked to believe things that tested
his powers of imagination to the limits.  This was no different.
Uhura's message had sounded quite optimistic regarding Sarek's plan.
But the losses that he had recently suffered allowed very little room
for hope at this point.

He had held Spock in his arms, felt the warmth of his skin, felt his
chest expand and contract as breaths repeatedly filled his lungs.
Yet, even with that, he had not allowed himself to expect anything
other than their initial goal.  Maybe it was because to hope for
anything more was to open himself up to more pain in the event of
failure.  More likely was the fact that after David's death, Jim was
finding it hard to connect with his feelings at all.  He glanced
toward Leonard.  Whereas it seemed the doctor had begun to regain a
part of himself that had been lost with Spock's death, Jim was
experiencing that numb sensation of denial.  Looking at Bones, he
thought that perhaps they had all but traded places on this journey.

Pavel came toward them, bringing his thoughts back to the
present.  "Sair, Lieutenant Saavik and I have released the Klingon to
the hands of Vulcan security.  They will transport him to a
Federation holding facility."

"Thank you, Commander.  That's one person I hope to never see
again."  The principal player in this latest fiasco, Kruge, had
fittingly died on the planet along with his son.  Even though Jim
offered the Klingon captain an opportunity for life, he had shed no
tears over his death.  Neither would he regret whatever action the
Federation decided was fitting for their prisoner, Maltz, the sole
survivor of the Bird of Prey.

When they were advised that all was ready, he couldn't help but
notice Bones looking up to where Sarek waited for them.  As the
procession of Vulcans began their ascent up the mountainside, Jim and
his crew followed them up the ancient, stone steps.  It took several
minutes to make their way up the long, winding path.  After all they
had been through, and now experiencing the thinness of the air and
the heavier gravity on Vulcan, it felt good to finally reach the
towering dome that sat at the peak of the mountain.

Inside the structure, there were additional attendants waiting for
them.  Cool cloths that had been anointed with a fragrant liquid were
handed to each and, following Saavik's lead, they used them to cool
their faces and sponge their hands.  Jim winced when he rubbed across
the deep bruises on his cheek and the cut above his eye, an aftermath
of the battle that had ensued between him and Kruge on the Genesis
planet.  But he didn't mind the pain.  It was the only thing that
made these last days seem real and not some farfetched nightmare.

Each person was handed a delicately thin glass filled with a native
juice.  Jim found it a little sweet, but he nonetheless appreciated
the feel of the cool liquid as it slid down his parched throat.  The
hover-cart that held Spock's body was brought to a large pedestal
centered in the middle of the room, placed across it, and powered
down to allow it to settle on the stand.  Only Jim and McCoy remained
close when the women began to prepare Spock.  The rest of the crew
turned and moved away in uncomfortable silence when they removed
first the blanket and then the robe from him.  Only a thin strip of
material kept him from being completely nude.

A nauseating feeling kept creeping up Jim's throat as they stood
together and watched the body being bathed and oiled.  It was too
similar to the very acts that he and Bones had carried out just over
a week before.  But then there had been patches burned deep into the
skin; this time all signs of the radiation burns were gone.  Watching
carefully, he could see Spock's chest was moving in gentle rises and
falls--the only indication that, unlike a week before, there was life
beneath the stillness.

Bones was standing at his shoulder and Jim glanced over at him.  But
McCoy wasn't paying attention to what was happening with Spock.
Instead, his eyes were staring straight ahead, across Spock's body.
Jim thought that perhaps the doctor's mind was less on the appearance
of their former bondmate, and more on what would soon be taking
place.  As the women continued to massage oil onto Spock's body, Jim
looked out in the direction where Bones was staring, and he saw what
was holding the doctor's undivided attention.  Sarek was approaching
from an archway opposite the one they had been brought through.  As
the regal Vulcan drew closer, he could almost feel Bones tense up.

Sarek walked to the pedestal where Spock lay.  Gently, he laid his
hand on the meld points of his son, closed his eyes, and breathed
deeply.  His eyes opened, and Jim had to look away.  The pained
expression told him all he needed to know.  Sarek dropped his hand
and walked toward where they were standing, coming to rest
immediately beside them.  Jim turned his eyes briefly in Sarek's
direction.  "Kirk," Sarek greeted him.

"Sarek," Jim replied.

"I understand your voyage was a difficult one.  I wish to express..."

"Please, Sarek, not now," Jim interrupted and turned his eyes back to
Spock.  He was a man walking a tightrope of fire.  If he didn't keep
his mind focused on each moment, if he let the events of these last
days seep in, he would be lost.

Sarek turned his attention to the man standing beside
Kirk.  "Leonard..." he said in a voice that was less than steady.

Hearing the tone in Sarek's voice, Jim turned his attention from the
ritual massage being administered to Spock to the men standing beside
him.  For lack of a better term, their eyes were locked together.
Ice blue meeting brown, and Jim could almost feel the emotion
sparking between them.

"Sarek," Bones whispered.  For a moment they just stood there,
drinking in the presence of the other.  Jim was certain that Bones
hadn't drawn a breath since whispering the name.  He was convinced
that had they been alone, they would have already been in each
other's arms, and it cut through him like a hot knife.  The emotional
electricity between the two men was very real.  Others standing about
were drawn to turn from the quiet conversations they were involved in
to watch them.  In the large stone room, where even quiet whispers
seemed to take on a life of their own, a hushed silence descended.

As if suddenly realizing they were not alone, Sarek broke the gaze
between them and looked back toward Kirk.  The look in those dark
eyes left no doubt about the feelings Sarek still held for
McCoy.  "The Vulcan acolytes are preparing Spock for the ritual.  We
will be ready to begin shortly," Sarek explained.

"Vulcan acolytes?  How quaint."  Jim knew his tone was
condescending.  His mind could not help but go back to the evening in
his apartment.  Even though Sarek had promised Jim that he would do
nothing to interfere, he knew once this was over, nothing was going
to keep McCoy and Sarek apart.

"Yes, Admiral.  They are Vulcan females who dedicate themselves to a
life of service to the High Priestess of Gol," Sarek replied,
seemingly ignoring Jim's tone.  Jim decided it was probably for the
best.  This wasn't exactly the best place for a showdown over Bones.

Jim turned his attention back to Spock.  "Will he be himself once
this is over?" he asked.  He had only fooled himself.  He did want
this to work, to have the man he had shared his life with these last
years back.  Both men.  And by the looks of it, he had a fight on his
hands where Bones was concerned.  But for now, he was just too tired
to fight.

"Unknown, Admiral.  There are no assurances of success."

"And if it fails?" Jim asked, but he already knew the answer.  If
this failed, Spock would never remember all they had been to each
other.

"Then his body cannot survive."

Jim snapped his head toward Sarek.  "Can't survive?  Why?  Why can't
he just be retrained?  It's been done before.  Many years ago,
Commander Uhura had to go through retraining when her memory was
stripped away.  Why can't that be done with Spock?"

"Admiral, Commander Uhura is not Vulcan.  The katra is more than just
a collection of memories.  It is the very essence of his soul.  All
that he is, all that he is capable of, both mentally and physically,
are locked in this part which McCoy now holds.  If restoration is not
achieved, then his autonomic functions will continue to fail.  In a
matter of days, he will die."

Kirk felt his shoulders steel against Sarek's words.  Sarek's dark
eyes told of a man who fully understood all Jim had lost to bring
them to this point.  They were also telling him that there was a
great probability that his losses were not yet finished.  But Jim
couldn't allow himself to acknowledge those possibilities, not yet.
To do so, would require him to call upon emotions that he no longer
had the ability to deal with.  It felt like his very spirit had been
crushed under the weight of all that had transpired.  As if a black
hole had formed inside him and it was lying in wait to draw his
emotions into the swirling, impenetrable mass, allowing no
possibility for release.  When Sarek's eyes finally left him, Jim
felt himself breathe a sigh of relief.

It seemed as if Sarek's initial reaction to Bones had abated.  He
turned back to McCoy and stated, "As the keeper of the katra, I need
to explain all that I understand regarding the events that may take
place.  We have only a short time.  Will you walk with me?" he asked
Leonard.

McCoy looked quickly at Jim, never fully meeting his eyes, and then
toward Spock.  "Certainly," he responded, and took a few steps toward
Sarek.

Jim watched them as they walked through the archway where Sarek had
emerged just minutes before.  Was it only his imagination, or did the
two of them really fall into step with one another so easily?

---

Seeing Leonard for the first time since leaving him on the Deltan
Station, weeks before, had tested Sarek's controls beyond anything
that he had expected.  As he walked beside Leonard, he perceived
within himself the strong urge to reach for him.  To keep himself
from doing so, he clasped his hands firmly behind his back as they
left the others behind.  Sarek led McCoy down the large stone path
until it opened up to a broad expanse that was nestled between the
mountain peaks.  It was here where they stopped and he turned,
stiffly, toward Leonard.

"In the event that my appeal is deemed logical, I need tell you what
will transpire," Sarek began.  He heard the coldness in his voice as
he spoke, and realized that he was trying to overcompensate for those
emotions which were struggling to surface.

"Sarek, there's no need.  That part of me which is your son knows
what to expect.  At least, as much as anyone can know what to expect
from a ritual that hasn't been performed in modern times."

Taken aback, Sarek replied, this time his voice revealed more
compassion than before.  "You feel him that strongly?  Is this
presence a consciousness, or simply his memories?"

Leonard leaned against the rock wall behind him, looked at Sarek, and
smiled gently.  It nearly stole Sarek's breath.  "To tell you the
truth, I'm not sure.  It's tough to explain anything about these last
days.  When it first started, I didn't understand it at all.  Had no
idea what was happening to me, and I really did think I was losin' my
mind.  I started remembering things that I knew I'd never
experienced, things that he'd never shared with me, instincts that
come without conscious thought.  Even now, I can't tell you how much
of what's goin' on in my head is me, and how much is Spock."

Leonard looked away, and Sarek wondered if he was going to
continue.  "Explain," Sarek finally said, but the man standing with
him was affecting him deeply, and what he intended to sound like a
command, came out as no more than a whisper.

Leonard looked back at him and nodded his head, thoughtfully.  "Since
I was initially bonded to Spock as a sko'tan, we've had to use deep
melds to join our thoughts over the years.  Therefore, our thoughts
have become so deeply entwined with the many melds we've shared, that
it's difficult to know just where I begin and he ends.  Remember when
we were on Bakswana-7, and I began to sense them?  You speculated
that because of the many melds, my link to Spock had deepened to that
of a full bondmate.  You were right, you know.  Anyway, to answer
your question, yes, in some form, he lives within me.  We
both...exist.  It's...a fascinating experience.  But I've gotta
admit, it'll be nice to have his memories back where they belong."
Leonard's smile widened, and Sarek discerned a most illogical
sensation, as if the air around them was growing thinner.

"You seem to have gained some measure of comfort from this
experience," Sarek stated.

"Comfort?  I don't know if you could call it that.  But there's just
somethin' about being here..." Leonard's eyes swept their
surroundings before he looked back at Sarek.  "All of this seems
familiar.  It's as if everything just feels right at this moment.
Although I've never been to this place before, it feels like I've
come home.  I know that doesn't make any sense."  McCoy looked down
and Sarek noticed a flush that tinged the doctor's skin.

Oh, how well he had come to know this man.  Sarek knew that this
reaction was indicative of McCoy becoming embarrassed.  At times like
this he was so vulnerable.  So human.  Sarek wished he could reach
out for him, take him in his arms and change that flush of
embarrassment to a flush of a different kind.  The kind that made
those bright blue eyes become dark with passion.  But he refrained.
Instead, he attempted to soothe the man with his words.  "Your
reaction is understandable.  This is where Spock's katra was calling
to you to bring it.  This is where peace is found."

Leonard looked back up at him.  "Yeah, I think I understand that.
Whatever it is, it's working.  And it will be nice when this is over."

"Leonard, there is no certainty.  The process of separating your
thoughts will be most difficult.  There is a possibility..."

"Sarek, I understand."  McCoy reached out his hand and laid it on
Sarek's bicep, just beneath the shoulder.  Although the touch was a
light one, it was as if the heat from McCoy's hand penetrated the
heavy material of his sleeve and permeated deep into his soul.  "I do
have one request of you," McCoy breathed.

"You only need to ask," Sarek stated.  His voice was growing rough
and he mentally berated himself for allowing his desires to become so
obvious.

"Please, if something should happen...be there for Jim?"

Sarek nodded.  Only when he was certain that he could trust his
voice, did he reply.  "I will do all in my power to comply with your
request.  And, if you wish, I will be at your side when you are
ready."  The need to sweep McCoy into his arms was becoming intense,
but both Amanda's angry words--perhaps striking closer to the truth
than he had been willing to admit--and his promise to Kirk, rang
strong within him.  He started to turn back toward the entry to the
hall when he felt the hand tighten around his arm.  It stopped him,
and he turned back toward Leonard.

"Sarek..." McCoy breathed.

The Vulcan felt the hand as it slid up his arm and to the back of his
neck.  Sarek reached out and traced the shape of the face before him
with just the barest touch.  He ran his thumb across the soft lips
and watched as they parted slightly and trembled.  He, too, was
trembling.  The hand at the back of his neck gently pulled them
together as McCoy's other arm slid around him.  Sarek did not--could
not--resist.  Instead, his hands went to the smaller man's waist as
they came together.  At first, it was a mere brush of the lips
against each other's, not an actual kiss, but that did not diminish
the intensity that seemed to pass between them.  As the kiss
deepened, and the arms drew them tighter together, Sarek knew that he
could easily fall into the very soul of this man.

The kiss ended, and Sarek could feel the warm breath against his head
when Leonard moved his lips to his ear, and whispered, "Thank you.
Whatever happens, I need for you to know that being here, in this
place--with you--is the first complete happiness I've felt since,
well...since this whole mess started."

Sarek pulled away slightly so he could look at the azure-eyed man in
his arms.  "Yes, Leonard, I understand.  Perhaps more than you know."

Leonard nodded.  They separated and turned back to the archway











Chapter 7/16 - See chapter 1/16 for all disclaimers

Assuring himself that Bones was all right, Jim turned his attention
to the altar.  When T'Lar had removed her fingers from Spock's face,
it took all of Jim's restraint to keep from storming the steps.  But
it was only Sarek who was allowed to advance to where they both lay
when the Priestess had completed the ritual.

He watched as Sarek spoke to the yet unmoving form on the platform
and Jim had thought the ritual had been a failure.  He had not dared
to let himself believe the outcome would be any different.  But when
he saw Spock turn his face to his father, and begin to speak, Jim
froze.  How could that be?  He had seen Spock charred in the
containment chamber, had helped prepare him, and had wept over the
cylinder that held his body.  He had watched as the tube containing
Spock's corpse had been jettisoned from the ship.  These were not
images that were conducive to the moving, living, breathing man he
saw at the altar.

Jim had also watched as Sarek moved beside McCoy, bent over him, and
stroked Leonard's hand with a look of tenderness that Jim had never
before seen emanate from the stoic Vulcan.

Sarek's arm had gently supported Bones as he rose, and it was obvious
that the ordeal of the last hours had taken its toll.  When McCoy had
finally turned and scanned the faces of those who were waiting below,
the ice-blue eyes found his own.  For the brief moment that they
looked at each other, more questions than answers passed between them.

"What about Spock?" Kirk asked Sarek when he paused in front of him.

"Only time will answer," he responded.  "Kirk, I thank you.  What you
have done is...."

"What I have done..." Jim answered curtly.  But his tone softened
somewhat when he continued.  "...I had to do."

"But at what cost?  Your ship.  Your son."

Didn't he know?  How could he not try to save the men who completed
him?  Even with all that had happened, he would go through it again,
if need be.  Looking down, even though fighting against it, his voice
filled with emotion as he replied.  "If I hadn't tried, the cost
would have been my soul."

Sarek nodded his understanding.  There was nothing more to be said
between them at this time.  The understanding between the two men was
more than clear.  Both were grateful to the other for the parts each
played in rescuing Spock, no matter the presently unknown outcome.
And each understood the reasons behind this event not being as joyous
as expected.  The deaths, the expulsion from Starfleet, the
destruction of the ship that he had offered up his life to save more
times than he cared to remember, and, possibly most important of all,
the man who played an integral role in the lives of both of them--
Leonard McCoy.

Sarek turned to follow the procession that was leaving the sacred
place.  Spock, after being adorned in the sacramental robe, the hood
tucked precisely around his head, was escorted down the steps by the
priests that surrounded him.

Kirk stood waiting for some sign that Spock knew him.  But when the
hooded figure passed by without even a glance in his direction,
Kirk's hopes were dashed.  'Spock!  It's me, Jim!  I am here!' he
wanted to scream, but he stood quietly, turning his body as Spock
passed and could only watch as the man he had known for so many years
began to climb the steps that led to the interior of the great
mountain.

On the third step, Spock stopped, as did those that were accompanying
him.  He turned and pulled the carefully arranged hood back.
Apprehensively, his eyes scanned the group standing below.  When his
eyes met Jim's, his gaze paused before he looked back toward the
ground.  The forehead furrowed as the questioning look became more
pronounced.  He walked back down the steps and examined each person
that waited below.

Spock studied each face only briefly as he passed them, with no
indication of recognition.  There was Saavik, who seemed surprisingly
uncomfortable under his gaze.  Next was Uhura, whose look of sheer
amazement echoed what Jim assumed they were all feeling at that
moment.  He passed by Scotty, Chekov, and Sulu, who even though the
days had been grueling, couldn't hide their astonishment.  But
Spock's eyes did little more than slide across those faces.  It
wasn't until he paused momentarily in front of Bones that there was
even the barest flicker of recognition in those dark eyes.  But even
that lasted only for a brief second before he moved in front of Jim.

It didn't seem to be pleasure, but uneasiness that appeared on
Spock's face as he studied Jim carefully.  "My father says that you
have been my friend.  You came back for me."

Jim was astonished.  It was that same wonderful voice he remembered
that spoke to him, and it was around a lump in his throat that he
answered, "You would have done the same for me."

"Why would you do this?" Spock asked as his eyebrows knitted in
question.

Why did he even have to ask?  "Because the needs of the one outweigh
the needs of the many."

Spock stared at Jim, as though his voice was familiar as well.  It
was clear that his words didn't seem logical, nor would they to any
but those who had lived through these last days.  He turned, and Jim
thought he was going to walk away.  He held his breath, forcing
himself not to grab Spock by the shoulders and turn him around.

To his amazement, Spock slowly turned back towards him once again.

"I have been...and ever shall be...your friend," he strained.  These
words were obviously within the grasp of his memory.

"Yes...  Yes, Spock!" Jim exclaimed.

That last fateful conversation between them as Spock was in the
containment chamber seemed just beneath the surface.  "The ship...out
of danger?"

"You saved the ship.  You saved us all!  Don't you remember?"

Spock shook his head.  Evidently the words were familiar, but it was
obvious that he still couldn't place the circumstances under which
they were spoken.  Jim heard the insistence in his own voice, and
felt Bones' eyes bearing down on him.  He knew damned well that Bones
was on the verge of telling him not to press too hard.  But he wanted
to.  God, how he wanted to take Spock in his arms, tell him what the
three of them had meant to each other, demand that Spock remember.

Then, unexpectedly, there was a cold wave of fear that ran through
Jim.  What if Spock did remember this quickly?  What if he expected
everything to be just as it had been before?  And why did the idea of
that scare Jim so?  He knew why.  They all needed time--time to
repair and heal from all that had happened.

Even realizing this, it didn't stem his excitement when Spock
said, "Jim.  Your name...is Jim."

"Yes, Spock...yes!" Jim answered enthusiastically.  He smiled,
knowing that at some point they would all find their way back from
all that had transpired.  For now, it was enough.  Spock pulled
himself up to his full stature and snapped his eyes toward McCoy.
Bones was tapping the side of his head with his finger, his smile
showing the unmistakable joy he was feeling at that moment.  Spock
looked back at him, his eyebrows arched in question.  It was then
that Jim felt relief flood him.  Spock would remember...when they
were all ready.

It was then that the rest of the crew encircled Spock, all inundating
him with words of welcome.  It seemed that they all had to touch him
in some way to reassure themselves that this was real, that Spock was
really alive.  Even Sulu, who would never have considered invading
Spock's personal space in such a manner, laid a hand on the robed
chest, his smile widening at the touch.  When Spock looked at Jim and
raised his eyebrows high on his forehead, Jim recognized the sound of
his own laughter, a sound he could not remember hearing in a very
long time.

Jim looked over and saw Sarek waiting off to the side.  Sarek
nodded.  Jim smiled and returned the gesture.  It was true that this
man was his adversary in regard to Bones, but he certainly wasn't his
enemy.  This was only a man who had loved his son enough to search
the universe for any part of him that had remained.  He was a man who
had the ability to love.  And, maybe in the long run, that was all
that mattered.

Jim turned his attention back to the group and watched as Spock
walked over to McCoy.  "You, I believe, are the one who carried that
which has been restored to me."

"Yeah, I did."

"For that, I am grateful.  It could not have been an easy task."
Spock bowed slightly.

McCoy grinned.  Hell, they were all smiling, except for Spock.  "As
Jim said, you would have done the same for me.  I'm just glad it
worked!  Hell, carryin' around that much logic was really screwing up
my mind!" McCoy chuckled.

It was obvious that Spock didn't understand, but it didn't matter.
Spock cocked an eyebrow, and McCoy laughed louder.  Spock not
understanding Bones' particular sense of humor was normal!  Normal!
What a wonderful word!  Maybe for the first time in, hell, Jim
couldn't remember when, there was a measure of normalcy that existed
between them.

Sarek walked to his son's side and Spock turned his attention to his
father.  "Spock," Sarek said gently, "the elders await you."

Spock nodded.  After scanning each face once more, he turned to
rejoin those he had left standing on the steps.  As they walked away,
Jim noticed that Sarek did not follow.  Walking over to him, Jim
asked, "You're not going with him?"

"I am not.  This is a journey which Spock must travel alone."

"Where will he go?" Jim asked.

"He will stay in a section of Gol that houses the Tela'at, the elders
with the Order of Zi'har, until they are assured that Spock has been
fully retrained in the basic doctrines.  From there, he will have
access to all that is available in the Hall of Knowledge."

Jim watched as Saavik, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov--with McCoy in
the rear--followed the entourage up the path.  It seemed that Bones
was unsure of what to do next.  When the rest disappeared into the
tower, he turned at the entrance and waited for the two still
standing below.

Jim watched until Spock disappeared through the giant arch that was
cut into the mountainside.  He had lived through Spock's
disappearance before, too many times it seemed, but at least this
time there was a promise of renewal that Jim had never had in the
past.  "Is there any indication of how long that will take?" he asked.

"It will depend on his ability to relearn that which they present to
him.  This, too, is an unknown for our people."

"Will we be allowed to see him?" Jim turned from facing to mountain
to face the man standing beside him.

The rest of the group had disappeared from sight, but Jim noticed
Sarek watching the lone figure that still remained in view.  Before
answering, he lowered his gaze to Kirk.  "Unlike that time when he
chose to be a Kolinahru, if he requests the presence of outsiders,
they are allowed.  It would be unwise to go to him until he is
ready.  Should the time come when he wishes to meet with you, he will
be advised of where you are, so that he may contact you."

"Where we'll be?  That's the sixty-thousand credit question, isn't
it?  Any suggestions?"

"There are many options open to you and your crew.  I am not aware,
however, of any which are based on that particular monetary unit."

Jim looked at Sarek and to his amazement there was a certain sparkle
in the deep brown eyes, the same sparkle that he had seen in the eyes
of Spock on so many occasions.  It was true, what they had seen in
Bones' mind after he had returned from the Deltan Station, this man
did have the capacity for humor.  But, at the moment, Jim wasn't
feeling quite as appreciative of this fact as he would have earlier.
Not with the way the Vulcan kept turning his attention toward Bones.
Jim answered, wryly, "A human expression, but I think you know that.
What options are open to us?"

Sarek nodded his acquiescence to being found out, and continued.  "My
residence is still considered your home, and you are welcome to stay
there.  Or, you may stay in any of the homes of the Vulcan High
Council.  All members have opened their doors to you.  There are
comfortable units that can be made available to you at the Vulcan
Science Academy complex, and there are rooms that are available to
certain honored guests in the central building at Gol.  It would not
be in the same area where Spock will reside, and there is little
distraction offered there, but for any who wish to have quiet time
for meditation, it is satisfactory."

"Vulcan High Council?  Honored guests at Gol?  Forgive me if I'm
surprised.  I always got the impression that Terrans were looked upon
as outsiders."

"Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you.  However, you,
McCoy, and your crew, have returned to us one who is most important
to all of our people."

"Sarek, I know that your family is respected and highly thought of,
but forgive me if I'm confused by how this affects all of Vulcan."

"James, Spock is the last male in the lineage of Solkar.  He is the
last recognized Vulcan to be able to claim that title."

"Solkar?  I've heard that name.  Ah...T'Lar stated you were the child
of Skon, child of Solkar.  Your grandfather?"

"In a manner, many generations past.  Spock is the twelfth in the
line of Solkar.  It is the only recognized orkika, the line descended
from Surak."

Jim swallowed deeply, unable to keep the shock out of his voice, he
choked, "Are you saying that Spock is the last blood descendant of
Surak?  The founder of the present-day Vulcan philosophy?"

"He is.  There were two others.  However, one no longer exists, the
other was the commander onboard the ship, Intrepid.  Therefore, you
understand the importance of your actions.  You will find that the
Vulcan people are most appreciative."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Not exactly, Admiral.  That particular deity was considered to be a
spiritual figure.  Surak was a man of great forethought, but he was a
man, not a god."

They began to walk toward the steps.  Jim wondered if there would
ever be an end to the things he learned about Spock.  He remembered
something he had once seen in Spock's mind from that first time they
had come to Vulcan.  "That reminds me of something T'Pring once said
to Spock.  Something about him becoming a legend in the eyes of the
Vulcan people.  Is that true?"

"Not precisely.  Legends are usually formed around those who have
gone before, and some of their exploits have become somewhat of an
exaggeration.  He is what on your planet would be more closely
considered as a descendant of ruling ancestors."

"Royalty.  So, if I'm understanding correctly, yours is the royal
family on Vulcan," Jim stated, finding himself astonished at these
revelations.

Sarek dropped his head slightly.  "Perhaps," he uttered.

"Modesty, Sarek?  It doesn't become you," Jim mused.

Sarek raised his head, stopped on the steps, and looked at Kirk.  "I
believe, Admiral, I have heard you refer to yourself as a 'farm boy
from Iowa.'  Yet, there is small mention of your forefathers that
contributed greatly to Terra's expansion into the galaxy.  If I
recollect properly, you had a grandmother who was one of the leading
scientists of her era.  I believe it was she who discovered and
mapped the formula for instantaneous gaseous isotope regeneration.
And your great grandfather, Andrew Kirk, tested the first warp
powered..."

"Okay, okay!  Point well taken!" Jim stopped him.  "Enough said.
Back to the issue at hand.  We can't exactly pack up and go home."

"No, that would be unwise at this time."

The man, like his son, obviously had a tendency for understatement,
Jim thought.  "Which presents us with a problem.  It's a foregone
conclusion that our accounts have been frozen, and we have certainly
been taken off of the Starfleet payroll.  Unfortunately, it seems we
have arrived on the planet with--literally--nothing more than the
clothes on our backs.  The information and technology on the Bird of
Prey will be valuable, but retrieving it will take time.  In the
meantime, if I could get off the planet, I could run a freighter..."

"Monetary concerns are not at issue, Admiral.  Arrangements have been
made."

"Arrangements?  What kind of arrangements?" Jim asked, warily.

"Your housing and transportation needs will be met.  Also, there has
been account set up for you and your crew.  You may draw from it at
anytime."

Jim shook his head.  "Thank you, but I can't accept.  It's not that I
don't appreciate the offer, but it's not our way."

"Pride, Admiral?" Sarek asked.  There was something in his tone and
the way he arched his eyebrows that made Jim realize there was an
accusation behind the question.

"Self-respect, Ambassador," Jim shot back.  Then, tempering his tone,
he said, "It all has to do with a sense of worth.  To have everything
given to us, and provide nothing in return, diminishes us."

"I understand your position.  Perhaps we can consider it an advance.
I am certain that the expertise that you and your crew possess will
prove to be most helpful, and most valuable, to our people."

Jim considered his options.  He certainly didn't have the means to
support his crew.  Whether Sarek called it a 'gift', 'hand out',
or 'advance', it was all a matter of semantics, and Jim knew it.
Just the same as 'consent', 'acceptance', and 'giving in', was.
However, his hands were tied.  He couldn't allow his crew to suffer
anymore than they were already, even if it meant accepting this offer.

"That's fine, Sarek," Jim finally relinquished.  "It's just that I
want you to understand, what we did out there, what we risked, wasn't
for payment anymore than Spock giving his life to save the ship and
crew was for payment."

"I understand, James.  But you seem to be willing to foster the false
illusion portrayed by Starfleet.  As you know, Spock did not give his
life for the crew."

"Sarek, remember, I was there.  If he hadn't walked into that
containment chamber, there would have been no survivors that day."

"I dispute neither the details, nor the number that survived due to
his actions.  However, as you are aware, he knowingly gave his life
that day for primarily one reason.  To save his bondmates."

"What do you mean?  Are you saying that Spock wouldn't have entered
that chamber if Bones and I hadn't been onboard?  I don't believe
that," Jim shook his head.  "I've seen Spock risk his life on many
occasions to save members of the crew.  Even in the days before we
were bonded."

"Agreed.  However, in those circumstances, even though the
probability was minimal, was there not always a chance of survival?
On that day, there existed no potential for his continued existence.
It is why he instilled his katra into McCoy before he entered the
chamber.  As one bonded to a Vulcan, you are aware that life is
valued above all things.  The only reason that a Vulcan will
knowingly lay down his life, fight to the death if need be, is to
keep and protect a bondmate.  It is for this reason only that a
Vulcan will knowingly commit shal'ma'toi.  As his bondmate, did you
not realize this?"

Jim felt a painful stab in his midsection.  As much as he wanted to
deny it, on a subconscious level Jim knew that Sarek was telling him
the truth.  Perhaps he knew because of the bond they had shared;
because of those things left unspoken that had never been consciously
considered.  But Jim was sure.  Questions that had plagued him since
that day were suddenly answered.  At the moment when Spock had left
the bridge, it was to commit suicide.  It was the ultimate sacrifice
in an effort to save his bondmates.  As hard as he had prayed to
follow Spock in death that day, those onboard the ship had survived
only because of the bond the three of them shared.  Only now did he
understand why Spock had blocked him out so completely, why he could
not reach him through the bond as he knelt on the outside of the
chamber.

Realizing that Spock had made such a decision--alone--for the reasons
he did, was heartbreaking.  But Jim found the fact that Spock had
made such a decision without conferring with him, the commander in
charge, unsettled him in a different way as well.  It wasn't that,
given the choice, Jim would have let the ship be destroyed.  What he
found painful was that Spock hadn't trusted him to participate in the
choice.  He wasn't a child, yet on both a personal and professional
level, Spock had treated him like one.  Jim had spent his adult life
making decisions, sometimes hard ones that ripped at his gut.  But,
with his silence, Spock had left him incapable of participating in
the decision.  Powerless.  It was a feeling he was becoming used to.

He had been powerless against Khan, powerless to stop David from
being murdered, and, even now, he was powerless to protect his own
crew, relying instead on the Vulcans to do it for him.  Then, looking
toward Bones, he realized that he was even powerless to fight for
him.  He had nothing to offer.

"James?" Sarek spoke, bringing Jim's attention back to the present.

Jim shook his head.  He found the words seemed to stick in his
throat.  "No," he choked, "I didn't know."

"I am sorry.  I had assumed you were aware of this."

Jim rubbed his thumb across his forehead.  "Maybe...on some level.  I
don't know.  Don't say anything about this to Bones, or the crew."
What was done was done.  He would have to accept it and move on.
There was no reason for the crew to know what was in Spock's mind at
the moment he entered the chamber.  For whatever reasons, he had
saved them...ALL of them.

"No, I assure you that I will not.  If they are to be informed, then
it will be by you.  Now, I believe the others are waiting for us."
Sarek motioned toward the tower that loomed ahead.  "It has been a
most tiresome day.  Perhaps your crew will come to the residence to
freshen up and rest.  And, as I stated previously, the offer to stay
there stands."

Jim looked at the man that was still standing at the entrance to the
mountain waiting for them.  There was still so much that was
unsettled, not the least of that being the relationship between Bones
and Sarek.  Jim turned his attention to the man walking beside him as
he spoke.  "The offer for rest is appreciated.   I accept.  However,
as for staying there, I'm sure you'll understand if there are things
that I'd rather not bear witness to.  I'll opt for a place at the
Academy.  As for Bones, he'll have to decide for himself."

---

He and Bones had been accepted many years before as a member of
Sarek's family, a family that included some of the most influential
people on the planet.  Jim knew that Sarek was being as gracious as
possible to him, and to all of the refugees.  Certainly his reasons
were sound.  And Jim knew enough about the Vulcan people to know that
Sarek's offers were genuine; they would not be offered otherwise.
But, even so, there was a noticeable wedge that had formed between
him and the ambassador.  They could both sense it.  It stemmed from
an underlying feeling of rivalry that brewed between them.  They both
cared deeply for the very man who was waiting just ahead.

The rest of the walk toward McCoy was completed in silence.  When
they came to where he stood, Jim paused.  "Well, Bones, how are you
doing?"

"Nothing a stop at the local bar wouldn't cure!  But all in all, I
feel okay."

"Maybe if we can learn to decipher Klingon, we can synthesize
something on the ship," Jim offered.

"No thank you!  I've tried some of the stuff transported across the
Neutral Zone that's suppose to be Klingon liquor, and I think I'd
rather stay sober!"

Jim grinned, partly with relief.  At least there were signs that the
Bones McCoy he had known for years was back with them.

It was Sarek who responded.  "I have arranged for refreshments, both
liquid and otherwise, at my home.  Too, it will give you a place to
discuss those decisions that will need to be made."

Jim watched as Bones' eyes began to shine with the smile that bathed
his face.  They both knew quite well what the some of the 'liquid
refreshments' were like on Vulcan.  For years they had seen Spock
turn his nose up at offers of alcoholic beverages, and they had
always assumed that Vulcans had an aversion to intoxicating drinks.
But at the time of their bonding, they had discovered that some of
the native juices on the planet would put most commercially produced
liquors on Earth to shame.  Turned out, Spock thought the Terran
alcohols were too mild.

Jim had to chuckle when Bones rubbed his hands together as the three
turned and entered the mountain.  "Now you're talkin'!" the doctor
exclaimed.

As they made their way down the steps of the mountain, the crew began
to ask questions, lots of questions, about the planet they found
themselves on.  Jim flashed Nyota a grateful smile when she assumed
the task of answering.

She explained that Gol was located on the other side of the mountain
range, and pointed out the crest that separated the renowned temple
from the side of the mountain where the Bird of Prey was resting.
She explained that the transport center where they had landed was
used for those who wished to journey into the desert region.

As the renegades, less Saavik who had excused herself from the
gathering, boarded Sarek's aircar and departed, Uhura pointed out the
sights they passed over.  Jim settled back in the seat and listened,
even though Spock had given his bondmates the "grand tour" years
before.  He found the sound of her voice comforting as she pointed
out the desert below, and explained that although there were
travelers allowed into the region, no permanent structures were
erected there for historical reasons.

As the desert below ended, there was a large group of precisely
arranged buildings that came into view.  "That, gentlemen," Uhura
advised them, "is the Vulcan Science Academy."

"It's much larger than I thought," Pavel stated.

"It is almost three times the area of Starfleet Academy, but with
less than half the number of students," she explained.

"Lass, ye have learned a lot in the day since ye arrived," Scotty
grinned teasingly.

"I owe that to the fact that I had an excellent guide, Mr. Scott,"
she replied.

"Thank you, Nyota," Sarek acknowledged from the front of the
shuttle.  "Considering the activities of this last day, the fact that
you recollect as much as you do is admirable."

"Thank you, Sarek.  It is only your patience and willingness to be so
thorough that has made me feel so comfortable here," she stated.

It was all Jim could do to suppress a groan.  'Nyota...Sarek?'  Had
everyone fallen under the Vulcan's spell?  Jim looked over at the man
seated beside him and noticed Bones couldn't take his eyes off the
head directly in front of him.  Well, it was obvious that Sarek had
completely captivated Bones.  Uhura continued her aerial tour, but
Jim no longer listened as she pointed out the Central Transportation
Center, the business district in the city of Shi'kahr, or the
countryside as they began to move over the area where the private
residences were located.

It wasn't until they began to descend toward the estate that Jim
leaned over, and whispered, "How are you doing?"

He had hoped to draw McCoy's attention away from the Vulcan piloting
the shuttle.  It worked.  Bones turned and looked at Jim.

"I'm okay.  Just rememberin' the first time we came here with
him...when we were bonded."

Jim sat back and let his head rest against the back of the seat.  He
closed his eyes and allowed the guilt to wash over him.  Bones hadn't
been thinking about Sarek, but about the first time they had
approached this place.  It had been in expectation of the bonding
ceremony to Spock.  At that time, their lover had been suffering the
deep effects of plak'tow.  This time, he was elsewhere and didn't
remember the important role they had played in his life.  A feeling
of depression seemed to settle on Jim with that thought.  "I know,"
Jim whispered.

An hour after leaving the top of Mt. Seleya, they settled in front of
the long, low estate.  All got out of the shuttle and Sarek led Uhura
and McCoy inside.  However, the three men who had never been here
before--Chekov, Sulu, and Scott--stopped and stared at the entrance
to the manor.  Jim watched, slightly bemused, as they took in the
unexpected magnificence of Sarek's home.  By the looks on their
faces, it seemed to be quite a shock to the three men.  Jim could
understand.  He and Bones had almost the same reaction the first time
they came here.

Under his breath, Pavel muttered something that was obviously a
Russian explicative.

"Aye, lad!  My words exactly!" the Scotsman agreed.

"Gentlemen, if you please?" Jim indicated the entrance with a wave of
his hand.

Closing their mouths, and nodding just a bit contritely, they
followed him inside.  Staull, Sarek's aide, met them at the door and
greeted Kirk, acknowledging him as a member of the household.  He
then showed them to the main room where Sarek, Uhura, and McCoy
waited.

"Admiral Kirk," Sarek addressed him by his title as he entered the
room.  "I have had your room prepared, as well as suites for your
crew.  There you will find drinks and refreshments.  This will give
you and your crew an opportunity to freshen up and rest from your
travel."

"Thank you, Ambassador.  I'm sure we'd all appreciate the opportunity
to get cleaned up and get something to drink, right?" He looked at
his crew, and was met with assuring nods.

Sarek nodded to the group assembled, but then Jim watched as the
Vulcan's eyes fixed on McCoy.  "A late afternoon meal will be served
in three hours.  In the meantime, as usual, the house is yours to
enjoy at your leisure.  I will have Staull show your crew to the
suites." Sarek broke his gaze with McCoy, and looked at Jim, before
he motioned toward his aide.

All followed the elderly aide from the room, and toward the breezeway
that led to the section where the guest suites were housed.  But the
sound of Sarek saying, "Leonard..." caused Jim to stop at the
threshold and turn back toward the main room.  It seemed the two of
them were unaware of his presence.  Knowing that he should follow the
others, he could not drag himself away from the scene being played
out before him.

"You have had little to say since leaving the place of refusion.  Are
you well?" Sarek asked.

McCoy turned to Sarek, and Jim noticed that there was barely an arms-
length of space separating them.  "Yeah, Sarek, I'm fine.  Tired, but
a little rest will cure that," Bones answered, turning his face
toward the Vulcan.

The look of passion that flashed across Sarek's face took Jim by
surprise.  Jim sensed that Sarek was on the verge of asking Bones to
retire with him, and he stood deathly still as he waited to see what
McCoy's answer would be.  But the question never came.

"Then I should allow you to rest.  However, I have not had a chance
to thank you for all you have done.  I want to do so now."

McCoy shook his head and walked toward the large window that looked
out on the terrace.  Sarek followed, coming to stand right behind
Bones.  "Don't, Sarek.  Don't thank me.  Not for this.  I would've
done anything to save him, you know that."  McCoy turned away from
the window; he and Sarek were now nearly chest-to-chest.  "Besides,"
Bones continued, his voice softening, "I once made a promise to you,
remember?"

Standing almost six meters away, and only being able to see the
ambassador's back, Jim wasn't sure if an answer came.  If it did, it
was no more than a breath.  Jim stood in stunned silence and watched
as Sarek's hands, which had been clasped behind his back, released
and dropped to his side.  Then one hand moved upwards, as if to
caress the face in front of him, but, instead, he brought his hands
behind him once more.  The fists tightened, one around the other,
until Jim could see the knuckles turning white, even from across the
room.

The knot that had been ever-present in Jim's gut these last days,
tightened.  There was an atmosphere of denied passions that seemed to
saturate the room, permeating it with want and need and denial;
robbing it of air.  His body wanted him to draw a breath, but his
lungs could not react.  He wanted to turn and run, but his muscles
had him frozen in place.  At that moment, he despised Sarek for
desiring Bones so completely.  Even more disturbing, however, he
realized there was a minuscule part of him, a diminutive element
within him, which wanted Sarek to reach for McCoy; wanted the Vulcan
to help Bones find that part of himself that he had lost on the day
Spock died.  Something that Jim, himself, felt incapable of doing
just now.  With that thought, Jim felt his fists constrict, and felt
his nails cutting into the palms of his hands.

Sarek bowed slightly toward McCoy, then turned and left the room
through the door closest to the terrace.  He never looked toward Jim,
and he had no idea if Sarek was even aware of his presence.  It was
only then that McCoy looked at the entry where Jim was standing.
There was a momentary look of stunned surprise in the doctor's
expression when their eyes met, but it was only when a small smile
was flashed toward him, that Jim found the ability to draw air into
his oxygen-starved lungs again.

"Well, Jim," McCoy grinned as he walked toward him.  "I'm ready to
see what refreshments have been supplied in the suites, how about
you?"

"Sure, Bones," Jim replied, just not so enthusiastically, as they
turned and followed the same way the others had gone minutes before.

Once they were through the breezeway and into one of the connecting
parts of the manor, they saw that the other crewmembers had already
retired to various suites.  Staull was standing beside the arch that
led to the suite they had shared with Spock during their times here.
It would not have been Jim's choice to go to the same room that held
so many memories, but it was obvious that this had been set up for
them.  There was a tray of fruits and breads set out on the table
behind the sofa, and a selection of beverages awaited them in several
crystalline pitchers.

Nodding their appreciation to Staull, they entered the room.  Right
away, Jim noticed the sheer fabric that separated the platform
sleeping area from the rest of the suite had been pulled aside, and
there were two robes laid out on the bed.  For some unfathomable
reason, the sight unnerved him.

Bones seemed not to notice, and he went straight for the pitcher that
contained an opaque, green liquid.  It was unmistakably saya, a very
potent, fermented juice from one of the plants found on the planet.
And, if comparing intoxicating qualities, Jim knew it would put any
of the alcohols produced on Earth to shame.

Perusing the platter of fruits, Jim selected a small spear of a blue-
green fruit he knew to be kaasa.  It had a taste similar to
pineapple, but not nearly as sweet.  The juice running down his
throat as he bit into it was a welcome feeling.  As Bones drained the
last of the liquid from his glass, Jim sampled a few more of the
offerings from the platter before pouring himself a glass of the cool
water supplied.

"Well, Jim, first things first," Bones said, setting his glass on the
table.  "I'm gonna to take advantage of the shower."

"Sounds good," Jim nodded in agreement.  And, for a second, stripping
the clothes from both of them and taking a shower together sounded
great.  Then Bones began to unceremoniously get undressed, and Jim
found himself walking to the glass wall that overlooked the grounds,
and staring through the nearly sheer fabric instead of at the man
behind him.

Jim wondered why he couldn't bring himself to turn and watch the
pleasing sight of his lover disrobing.  For over eleven years, that
had been one of the basic pleasures in his life.  He had always loved
reveling in those moments when they could shed the uniforms and
garments that they wore for the outside world, for the sensuality of
bare flesh that was only meant for each other.  It was as if even
that outlet for enjoyment had been stolen from him.

"You gonna join me?" Bones asked.

Still not turning around, Jim shook his head, and answered, "Not
right now, Bones.  You go ahead."

He felt the touch of the hands as they were laid on his shoulders.
Bones pressed his nude body closer, and Jim could feel the arousal
against his butt as it was pressed against the material of his
trousers.  Warm lips caressed the area of his neck just beneath the
hairline.  "Are ya sure?" was whispered, seductively.

But instead of pressing back against the body, which had been his
natural instinct for as long as he could remember, he felt himself
take a quick step forward to free himself from the contact, the
sensation, of Bones moving against him.  He sucked a quick breath
through his clenched teeth, as if a hot iron had seared him.

Bones didn't say anything else.  The hands dropped from his shoulders
and he heard McCoy walk toward the bathroom and slide the door shut.
It was only then that Jim felt his body relax a bit.

---

God, why had he reacted like that?  That had been Bones touching him,
a man who could normally arouse him with nothing more than a single
glance.  To feel those hands on him, and it not stimulate him to the
point of throwing that man to the bed and ravishing him, was
something that he didn't understand at all.  Even before they began a
physical relationship, long before Jim had admitted his feelings,
even to himself, just the briefest touch from McCoy had always
excited him.  Now, he couldn't stand the thought of being in physical
contact with him, and he had no idea why.  Sure, the last days had
been bad, bad as any he'd ever faced.  But there had been many bad
times that the three of them had shared, and they had always found
the comfort and strength to get through those with each other.

But this was the same feeling he'd had on Mt. Seleya when he thought
Spock's memory might be complete.  It was fear that washed over him--
cold, unadulterated fear.  But of what, or from where it originated,
he had no idea.  There seemed to be no basis for it, but it seemed to
be taking over his mind nonetheless.  Of all the enemies he'd ever
fought, both the physical and mental ones, he had always known the
source and could attack it at its root.  This seemed to have no
beginning and no end.  How the hell can you be expected to fight
something when you don't know where it's coming from?

He heard Bones exit the bathroom.  Without giving Leonard anything
more than a glancing nod, Jim walked to the bed and retrieved the one
robe that was still lying there before going into the still steamy
room and sliding the door closed.  He stripped down and hung his
clothes in the fresher beside Bones', relieved himself, and stepped
into the cubicle where the shower was located.

He noticed that some droplets of water were still clinging to the
walls, while others meandered sluggishly in a lazy path toward the
floor.  Bones had stood here just moments before.

Jim was well aware of the reason for the abundance of water in this
house; Spock had explained it to him years ago.  When Sarek had
brought Amanda to Vulcan to live, he had wanted to supply her with
those things that would make her feel more at ease on her new
planet.  He had called in the best engineers from across the galaxy
to have a system designed that tapped moisture from the underground
steam fields.  It then converted the steam to a nearly endless supply
of fresh water for the house, before purifying it and returning it to
the underground caverns--where the process would be repeated over and
over again.  It wasn't that water was unavailable in other buildings
and residences, but certainly not in the abundance that could be
found here, making this home unique.

However, the reason didn't matter.  The fact was that the drops had
splashed off his lover's naked body.  He traced an irregular trail
through the moisture with his fingertip, and he felt his body's
desire to come alive with that thought.  But the barriers that he had
erected inside precluded him from perceiving anything other than a
strange, disturbing sensation.  Turning, he palmed the water on and
felt the warm spray as it hit him.  Quickly, he scrubbed cleaning
foam through his hair and down his body, then stood under the spray
and let it rinse the lather from him.

He palmed the water off, reached for a towel, and dried himself.
Walking to the sink, he raked his fingers through his hair and aimed
the sonic cleaner at his mouth, all the while avoiding his image in
the mirror.

When he was finished, he tossed the damp towel in the recycler and
put on the robe, tying it snuggly around his waist.  Leaving the
room, he noticed that Bones was standing in just about the same place
that he had been earlier, looking out the window.  "Well, I have to
admit that being clean again is a good feeling," Jim commented.

Bones turned around, and Kirk noticed that he had refilled his glass
with the same potent beverage he had been drinking earlier.  Glancing
at the platter, it looked nearly untouched.  There may have been one
or two additional pieces of fruit missing, but he noticed that the
level in the crystal pitcher had decreased significantly.

Still concerned about there being after effects from the earlier
ritual, Jim stopped next to the table and asked, "Bones, don't you
think you should get some solid food in your stomach before hitting
that stuff?"

Tipping the glass up to his lips and draining the contents, Bones
replied, "You party your way, and I'll party mine."

Jim watched him.  After spending so many years with this man, he knew
that tone of voice.  This was Bones when he was ready to crawl out of
his own skin.  Nerves were getting the best of him.  Whether it was a
delayed effect of the separation ritual, or the regal Vulcan that was
under this same roof, Jim was unsure.  Bones had acted strangely
since returning to the tower room with Sarek before the ceremony.
Not that his behavior at anytime in the last week could be considered
normal, but there was something he sensed as Bones had all but
avoided direct eye contact with him upon their return.  Jim had no
idea what was said between the two men when they went off alone, but
he knew this wasn't the time to ask.  Or, more likely, he didn't want
to know what transpired between them.  Denial.  Another new
experience for him.  One thing he did know--neither the gentle,
protective way Sarek had treated Bones just after the ritual, nor the
way the Vulcan had acted in the main room, had not been his
imagination.

Leonard walked to the table and reached for the decanter, but Jim
placed his hand over his before McCoy could pick it up.  "Bones,
don't do this.  Get something to eat, or get some rest, but don't
bury yourself in this."

McCoy nodded his acquiescence.  "Maybe you're right," he consented,
but still held onto the glass.

There was something that Jim needed to discuss with McCoy, something
that would have to be settled soon.  Better here than in front of the
rest of the crew.  Drawing a deep breath, he said, "Bones, Sarek has
offered his home to us if we want to stay here.  Or, you can take a
place at the VSA complex.  The choice is yours."

Bones turned his head, and their eyes met.  "And you?  Whaddya you
wanna do?  Jim, I get the feeling there is somethin' going on between
the two of you, and I don't understand it.  After all, we
accomplished all that we set out to do, and a helluva lot more."

"There's more to it than that," Jim answered, shaking his head
slightly.

Jim watched as the blue eyes dropped toward the floor.  "Jim, if this
is about the way I reacted to Sarek, well...you know what went on
between us on Bakswana-7.  It's just that seeing him again threw
me..."

Bones was hitting pretty close to the truth, maybe too close, but Jim
couldn't deal with that right now.  Besides, there was a lot that
Bones didn't know.  "It's not," Jim replied simply.

McCoy's eyes met his once more.  "Then ya wanna fill me in on what
*is* goin' on?" Bones asked, cocking his head to one side.

Jim realized that Bones was picking up on the acrimony that was
sporadically brewing between Sarek and himself.  But this wasn't the
place to discuss all that had happened, or Sarek's confession that he
still held feelings for McCoy.  "Not right now.  For the most part, I
have to work this out for myself."

Leonard sat the now empty glass down with force before he
replied.  "I know things haven't been right between us for the last
week, maybe a lot longer than that.  I know that I was wrong for the
way I treated you when Spock's katra was in me, and for that I
apologize.  But Jim, I remember the days when we would talk things
out together.  Have we gone beyond that?"

Jim looked at the man who had been his friend for more than sixteen
years, and had been his lover and partner for well over half of those
years.  He remembered the times they held each other and the peace
that he could feel in those arms.  But now, something felt like it
was missing.  This went beyond the recent events.  It seemed that
there had been some part of him missing for some time.  Jim reached
for the decanter and poured himself a small amount of the same potion
Bones had been drinking.  He tossed it down his throat and grimaced
as he felt the scorching heat sliding toward its ultimate destination
in his gut.  Bones still awaited an answer.  The problem was, he
didn't have one.  "I don't know, Bones, have we?"

Leonard just looked at him and shrugged.  Kirk wasn't sure anymore
where the answers lay.  But there was no need to rush into anything.
There would be time to deal with interpersonal relationships--later.
Of all things that concerned the crew, time was not an issue.

"So, Bones, back to the issue at hand.  I think I'll probably take an
apartment at the VSA for the time being.  But I'm not pressuring you
into staying there.  I guess that has to be your own decision."

"Pressure me?  Into stayin' wherever you are?  Damn interesting way
of puttin' it."  Bones looked up at Jim, and then took two steps
forward, closing the space that separated them.  Raising a hand,
Bones brushed gently across the bruises on his cheek, then pushed
back a strand of damp hair that Jim felt resting on his
forehead.  "Don't you know that there's only one place I belong, and
that's wherever you are?" he asked, moving his hand to the back of
Jim's neck.

"Do you, Bones?  Are you sure?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Leonard breathed, as he moved his head in closer,
finding Jim's mouth with his own.

With the contact, Jim felt the same desire rising inside of him,
urging him to flee the same way he had when Bones touched him before,
but he resisted the urge to back away.  Instead, he pressed back
against the searching mouth, willing himself to give into it.

Their breaths were becoming quicker and more erratic.  As they
kissed, arms encased him tightly, and Bones pressed his awakening
arousal into the side of Jim's hip. Bones pulled his head back, and
Jim felt a hand running down his arm until his lover's hand was
grasping his own.  Stepping back and turning, never letting his grip
on Jim go, Bones led them up the one step to the platform area, then
to the edge of the bed.  Only then was his hand released.  Kirk
couldn't help but look down as Leonard untied the belt of his robe
and parted it, exposing his aroused body to Jim.  Bones then knelt on
the bed and pulled them both down.

Jim knew he wanted this, convinced himself that he could give into
this.  The mouth captured his once more, and this time he responded
with determination in a hard, bruising kiss.  His arms wrapped
tightly around Bones, his nails scraping up and down his lover's
back, knowing that if it were not for the thick material of the robe,
he would be leaving angry, red streaks on the flesh.

Leonard pressed his arousal against his groin, and he pressed back,
wanting this, aching for his body to respond.  He felt a hand at his
waist, struggling to untie the robe.  He found himself hoping that
the hand never succeeded.  However, in just seconds he felt the belt
loosen around him and a hand slide under the material.  Fingers
splayed against his chest, taunting each nipple to hardness.  But
little did his lover realize that this was not a response to arousal,
but the prickling sensation of panic that was threatening to overtake
him.

He tried to keep the terror at bay as the hand slid down his body.
But when it reached his lower abdomen he felt the acid taste of bile
in his throat.  He tried to swallow, to dispel the sensation, but
when the hand reached his unresponsive flesh, he knew he couldn't go
through with this.  "Stop!  Bones..." he pushed away from his lover's
touch.  "I can't...I just can't..." he gasped, rolling away and
coming to a seated position on the side of the bed, pulling the robe
snuggly around him.

"Jim..." McCoy panted, coming to his knees at Jim's back.  "My God!
What is it?  What's wrong?"

Jim stood up before Bones could touch him again.  "I don't know.
Believe me, it's nothing you've done.  It's..." he had no idea how to
finish that statement.  Instead, he said, "I'm going to get
dressed."  With that, he went back to the bathroom and closed the
door.

Walking to the sink, he grabbed the edge.  He was trembling.  He hung
his head over the bowl in case he vomited.  He didn't understand what
the hell was happening to him.  There was no doubt that he loved
Bones, just as he still loved the man who was staying on that
mountain.  But whatever this was that had him in its grip, it was
driving him insane.  Never had he felt so out of control, so
completely powerless.

His head snapped up, and he looked at his reflection in the mirror.
No, that wasn't true.  Once before, a very long time ago, he had felt
just as powerless against forces he couldn't control.  Straightening
up, he raised his hand, palm up, and stared at it.  There, he could
still see it.  It was just a fine line that ran nearly the width of
his palm, under the first three fingers.  A faint scar that he had
never let Bones dissolve.  He had said it reminded him of the night
he discovered who it was that was important to him.  He would have
given up everything for them that night.  Was he still willing to do
that?  Not only for them, but for the crew that had followed him to
hell and back?

Suddenly the tremors within him stopped.  Could it really be that
simple?   He knew the answer--it was right there in his hand--yes, he
would do whatever it took.  He reached for his clothes in the fresher
and put them on.  He could do this, no matter what it took.  More
importantly of all, he knew he could share this with no one.

Leaving the bathroom, Bones was seated on the side of the bed.  The
blue eyes clouded as they looked away.  "Jim, I'm sorry.  I should 'a
known not to rush you."

Jim walked over and laid his hands on Bones' shoulders.  The blue
eyes looked up at him, almost melting his heart.  But he couldn't
give into them.  Not now, probably not ever.  "It's going to be okay,
Bones.  Trust me.  Now, you rest.  I have some things to think about,
and I'm going to walk around the grounds for a bit.  I'll meet you on
the terrace after a while."  With that, he released McCoy, walked to
the glass door that led to the gardens, slid it open and stepped out
into the heat of the Vulcan afternoon.

---

"Scotty!  I'm not dressed!" Uhura responded from the bed where she
had evidently been resting.  The sight of her lying there with a
light cover over her, but one that had fallen just below her breasts
as she sat up, didn't stop him from entering.  If anything, it
encouraged him.

"Aye, so I see," he nodded appreciatively.

"Scotty!  What will everyone think?" she asked, as he shed the robe
he had put on after his shower and crawled into the bed beside her.

"Nyota, with the sounds coming from the suite Sulu was shown to--
Pavel's room looked vacant, by the way--and the fact that nothing has
been heard from Jim or Len since they went inta their suite, I dinna
believe anyone is going t' be either interested or shocked at
anything that goes on in here," he soothed, as he molded his body to
hers.

"You know..." she purred between soft, sucking kisses, "I believe you
have a point, Mr. Scott."

"Oh, lass, I have missed ye," he rasped through a broken breath.

"Scotty, I was so afraid.  When we got word that the Enterprise...
Oh, Scotty, what would I do without you?" she sobbed into his
shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around him, holding on as if
grasping onto life itself.

"Shhh... It's okay.  Tis over now," he soothed, covering her with
kisses.

Slowly, her grip on him relaxed and he began to move against her.
His finger slid down the shape of her face, appreciating each lovely
feature; the dark, penetrating eyes; the shape of her nose; the full,
lovely lips that he had to taste once more.  Everything about her was
perfection in his eyes.  He trailed a path of kisses down her neck as
his hand moved to her full, round breast.  His mouth soon followed,
finding her tight, erect nipple.  Scotty lathed it with his tongue
and suckled it gently before he moved to the other.

He slid his hand further down her taunt body to the small thatch of
soft fur between her thighs.  Dipping his fingers between the smooth
lips, he felt her wetness and her hard, swollen clit.  He felt her
thrust her hips forward as she pushed against his fingers.
Repeatedly, he teased the engorged bud with his fingertip until he
felt her begin to shiver beneath him.  Her hands gripped his
shoulders as she readied herself for the orgasm that was about to
take her.

Releasing the hard nipple from between his lips, he raised his head.
He loved watching her face when she came.  Her mouth parted and
quick, ragged breaths were drawn and exhaled spasmodically.  In
between breaths, she licked her lips, and gently bit the lower one,
as she fought against the urge to audibly moan.  Her body began to
shudder as she was pushed over the edge.  Scotty pressed his fingers
inside of her, feeling her contractions as the orgasm swept through
her.  Pressing his erection against her thigh, he was almost brought
over as he watched her.

Spreading her thighs in invitation, she breathed, "Now, Scotty!  I
want to feel you inside of me."

Raising his hips, he centered his groin between her thighs and his
cock slid into her warm, wet cavity.  "Ahh...." he
sighed.  "Aye...lass...ye feel good.  Wherever we are, it always
feels like home when I'm with ye," he purred as he began to pump into
her.

"Yesssss Scotty.  Yes...I know," she moaned softly.

Aiming his thrusts so he would bring her to orgasm once again, she
was soon writhing underneath him.  He timed his strokes to keep her
on the edge until he could hold out no longer.  Waiting until they
were both on that magical edge, just between ecstasy and pain, he
knew it was time.  A few quick thrusts and her chamber began to
contract around his cock, milking him to completion, as they came
together in long, gasping, body shuddering waves.

They lay together, him still fully encased inside of her, neither
wanting the other to move.  She slowly stroked up and down his back
between his shoulders and his waist.  He felt the wetness at his
groin as their combined juices trickled against his scrotum.  Once
Scotty had softened a bit, he pulled out of her and rolled onto his
back.  Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her head onto his
shoulder.  For an unknown amount of time they lay together.  She
would draw small patterns around his nipples with her fingernail,
occasionally leaning over and giving the one closest to her a nibble
before stretching up for a real kiss.  He caressed her back with one
hand, and fondled her full breast with his other.  If it had been
left up to him, this is where they would have spent the remainder of
the day, loving and making love.  However, after dozing on and off
for a while, he realized that time was growing short.

"Ummm..." he moaned, feeling his arousal threatening once more, and
knowing there was no time for such.  "It's close t' the time t' meet
the others," he said, reluctantly, between kisses.

"I know," she purred, giving him one last kiss.  Reaching beneath the
cover, she stroked his half aroused cock before rising from the bed.

"Ah, lass, yer gonna be the death o' me, that's fer sure," he
grinned, the movement beneath the light cover showing the response
his body had to her touch.

She disappeared into the bathroom with a smile directed at him over
her shoulder.  "Later, my love," she cooed, before sliding the door
closed.  He rose and went to his own room to clean up a bit, again,
and to retrieve his clothes from the fresher.  When he returned to
her room, she was fully dressed and standing at the window that
looked out on the terrace.

Walking up behind her, he placed his arms around her waist and rested
his chin on her shoulder.  Looking through the fine fabric, they
could see the other two large angled sections that comprised the
house--any one of which would have been large enough to be considered
grand on its own--as well as the covered terrace.  Beyond the terrace
was a garden with a path that displayed several sculptures, and a
gate that led to an even larger expanse of property.

"I ne're would'ae thought of Mr. Spock as coming from such as this,"
Scotty mused.

"No, it took me by surprise as well.  He always seemed to find
pleasure in the simple things," she agreed.  "I hope he can again,"
she breathed.

"Aye...so do I, lass.  So do I."

"Scotty, that's Jim out there.  But I don't see Len."

Noticing the lone figure that was walking in the sculpture garden,
Scotty decided that perhaps his assumptions about what was happening
in the suite down the corridor might have been wrong.  He hoped
not.  "Let's get out there, Nyota.  That looks like a lonely man."

---

Sarek retired to one of the smaller studies located in the house, one
that adjoined the sleeping suite he had shared with Amanda for these
many years, and closed the door.  He seated himself behind the large
wooden desk that she had imported from Terra many years before in
celebration of their anniversary.  Steepling his fingers, he
attempted to still his many emotions that had been so thoroughly
stirred on this day.  His son was alive.  He was finding acceptance
of that fact to be most difficult.  It was often the case when one's
heart wishes for something so completely, yet one's mind tries to
remain neutral.

He had to, also, quiet those passions that Leonard's presence had
stimulated within him.  This, he found, equally difficult.  However,
once he discerned that he was in control, he reached for the comm
unit and keyed the necessary command to access a communications link
with the Vulcan Embassy on Earth.  Through them, he would be able to
reach Amanda at her home in Seattle.

---

T'sai Amanda, adun'a to Sarek--and if she had anything to say about
it, her name would soon be Amanda Grayson once more--had secluded
herself inside her home for the last two days.  She found that to
venture out meant being inundated by members of the media who
clamored after information she did not possess.  They all wanted to
know if Ambassador Sarek had been involved with the abduction of the
starship, and if the renegade crew were, indeed, being afforded
political asylum on Vulcan.  She did not have answers.  All the
information she was receiving was from those very reporters via the
vid reports that were being constantly broadcast.

She would occasionally turn on the vid unit, but when she did, more
often than not, she would be met with stock photos of the Starfleet
crew, specifically Kirk and McCoy.  It was not a sight that brought
her pleasure.  There was one picture of Sarek that all of the various
media outlets seemed to be in possession of, and it was repeatedly
being shown when his involvement in this fiasco was questioned.  It
was a picture of him, dressed in his full ambassadorial regalia, as
he addressed a group of Federation delegates.  She remembered the
conference, which had been held on Earth three years before.  As with
many such diplomatic-based affairs, she had accompanied him.  It was
a time that, before recent events, she had remembered with fondness.
It seemed that they had been more connected at that time than any
since those first days of their marriage.

She was certain that her husband had no part in the taking of the
ship.  She knew him well.  Left up to him, he would have sought a
solution through diplomatic channels.  If he was involved in any way,
she was sure it was *their* doing.  It seemed that her husband, like
her son, was equally susceptible to the slippery charisma that
Spock's bondmates exuded.

The comm unit sounded.  She walked to where it was sitting and was
prepared to key it off without an answer, as she expected it to be
another reporter.  She had received many such calls in these last
days.  However, she saw that this call was being forwarded through
the Vulcan Embassy.  It had to be the call she had been waiting for.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, she sat down at the desk, and
only when she felt fully in control did she press the "receive" key.
First, there was only the image of the Vulcan High Council logo, but
moments later her husband's face came into view.  The flash of
emotion that surged through her when his image appeared on the screen
took her by surprise.  She had to swallow deeply before she could
trust her voice.

"Sarek?  Is it finished?  Were you successful?" she asked, keeping
her voice steady.  She prided herself in the fact that she betrayed
none of the emotions that were coursing through her.

"More so than I had anticipated, Amanda.  Our son lives," Sarek
replied.

Lived!  How could Sarek say such a thing to her?  Having some part of
her son not at peace, but only surviving in some computer bank was
not living!  How could he say such a thing?  How could he be so
cruel?  Her anger flared, and she started to express that to him, but
before she spoke, she studied his face.  It was as if he, himself,
did not believe that which he was telling her.  Could it be?  No,
surely not!  Could Spock actually be ali...?  NO!  The thought was
too joyous to even put into words.

Amanda felt her eyes begin to cloud as she asked, "Alive?  Is he...as
he was before?"

She watched as Sarek nodded, slightly, and replied, "Yes, he lives.
His memories are not complete, and his retraining will be rigorous,
but he is the man he was before."

"How?" she breathed.  "How is this possible?"

"The tube carrying his body soft-landed on the planet where the
Genesis device was detonated.  Have you heard of this?"

"Yes, I've heard.  Go on," she choked.

"The effects of the device regenerated his body.  Through an ancient
ritual, that which he instilled in McCoy, his katra, was returned to
him."

She stared at the screen.  There were tears streaming down her face,
but she looked away before brushing them off of her cheeks.
Regaining her composure, she looked back at the unit and
asked, "Sarek, if I come to Vulcan, would I be allowed to see him?"
She had vowed that she would never return to that planet, but now
there was a reason even more overwhelming than the anger she had felt
toward Sarek these past weeks.

"Yes," he answered simply.  Then, as if it were an afterthought, he
added, "If you wish, I believe it can be arranged so that you can
take an active role in his retraining."

Take part in his retraining?  Suddenly she envisioned the time when
Spock was young and she had been his primary teacher.  She remembered
the joy she felt having her son close to her for those early years,
teaching him all that she knew.  Now, there was an opportunity to
relive that most precious time.  Of course she would come.  "Where is
he?"

"He is at Gol."

She would return to Vulcan, but only for her son.  "Will I be allowed
to stay at Gol?" she asked.  She knew that the meaning behind her
words was quite clear.  She would travel to Vulcan for Spock, but she
had no intention of returning to the home she had shared with Sarek.

The look that appeared in his eyes told her that her message had been
received.  "I will arrange it," he stated in his most Vulcan tone.

"Thank you.  I will be there as soon as passage can be booked," she
nodded, knowing that her continuing coldness toward him had not gone
unnoticed.

"Do you need assistance with transportation as well?" Sarek asked.

"No, it's something that I will have to arrange.  Leaving the planet
at this time, especially with the intended destination of Vulcan, is
something that will have to be done carefully.  But I will find a
way."

"I will advise the Masters at Gol to expect you within the week, my
wif...Amanda."  She noted that he almost ended the sentence with 'my
wife,' but stopped before the words were spoken.  In this very room,
five days earlier, she had made it quite clear that she would not
hold that title for much longer.  For some reason that thought seemed
painful.  But, she decided, it was merely the impending changes.

However, her tone softened toward him when she next spoke.  "Sarek,
thank you.  Beyond all else that has happened, you have returned our
son to us."

He shook his head slightly.  "I did little to achieve this.  Those
who made this possible are now on Vulcan in exile."

"Then, please, extend to them my gratitude."

"To both Kirk and McCoy, as well?  The price James paid was a high
one."

It was true that without Kirk's efforts, Spock would still be dead on
some foreign planet.  She knew that although Kirk was reckless, he
had never hurt her purposefully.  She could make this one small
concession for what he had accomplished.  "Yes, thank Kirk for me.
But I'm sure he feels any price paid was worth it."  She made no
mention of the consummate demon--Leonard McCoy--who she felt had
destroyed their marriage.  He, as far as she was concerned, could go
straight to hell.

The coldness returned to his voice.  "Even the death of his only son?"

"NO!  Sarek, I didn't know.  There have been reports regarding Kirk
and the others stealing the ship, but nothing beyond that." She
wasn't even aware that Kirk had a child, but she was more than aware
of the pain that losing a son caused, and she felt a pang of sympathy
toward him.  "How is he doing?"

"The death of David Marcus has been difficult, but he is coping as
well as can be expected, given the circumstances."

"David Marcus?  Kirks' son is the same scientist who was co-creator
of the Genesis device?"  She had heard his name before.  Saavik, the
young girl who Spock had rescued years before, and who had been
accepted as a part of their family, had mentioned the name in a note
of condolence Amanda had received from her after Spock's death.  In
the communiqu , Saavik had mentioned-- several times--that she would
be serving with this man, David Marcus.  It seemed she had formed a
great affection for him.   "Sarek, I understand Saavik was working
closely with him.  Is she...?"

"She is safe.  She, too, was rescued."

Amanda breathed a sigh of relief.  She had great fondness for the
child, now woman.  "I'm glad," she breathed.  For several moments,
there was silence between them.  There seemed little else to say.

"Do you wish for me to meet you and take you to Gol?"  Sarek asked.

But she remembered, all too well, their last encounter, and his
shameless lapse in control.  Her wrist still bore the deep purple-
green evidence.  Her aversion to seeing him was quick as she
answered, "I think you understand why I would prefer as little
contact between us as possible.  If you can just see to it that
arrangements have been made at Gol, I would appreciate it.  And,
Sarek, while I'm on the planet, I intend on applying for the
dissolution that we discussed earlier."

"As you wish.  I will not oppose you," he nodded, stoically.

If he experienced any disappointment at hearing this news, he did not
show it, she noted.  "Good-bye, Sarek," she nodded.

"Long life, Amanda," he replied, the finality of that statement was
not lost on her.  The image of her husband faded.

---

The unit went blank and Sarek watched the blackness where the image
of his wife's face had been just moments before.  Then, deciding that
to dwell on that which could not be changed was illogical, he began
to focus himself on attending to the many details that needed his
attention.

He contacted T'Pau to advise her of the success of the fal-tor-pan.
He discovered that she had already been informed.  Logically, he
should have expected this.  Her roots, and sources for information,
still ran deep within the Vulcan hierarchy.  She was, however,
displeased that he had not contacted her earlier.  He declined to
offer explanation, knowing that any such attempt to do so would be
futile.  He did inform her that upon his wife's return to Vulcan, he
would be seeking the services of a healer to perform p'pil'lay, a
dissolution of the mind link that bonded him to Amanda.

T'Pau's reaction had been nothing more than a carefully arched
eyebrow.  However, within that one basic gesture, his mother
expressed deep judgment toward him.  It was not a gesture he was
unfamiliar with.  She requested a full report be forwarded to her
regarding all matters concerning the skann.  She was still the
matriarch of the family, and he assured her that he would see to it
within the day.  With some measure of relief, the transmission was
ended.

Sarek spent the next hour making the necessary preparations for
Amanda, and reserving a section of apartments on the grounds of the
Vulcan Science Academy--units usually reserved for traveling
dignitaries--should the Terrans choose to use them.  That done, he
moved from the desk to the window, however his mind was not on the
view that often brought him a sense of relaxation.

Although a day for celebration, there were uncertainties that proved
unsettling, not the least of these was the pressure that the Vulcan
High Council would soon feel from the Federation to extradite the
band of refugees.  The decision by the twenty members of the
legislative body had been unanimous; their protection on Vulcan was
assured, no matter the consequences.  But even with the respect that
Vulcan commanded within the alliance of the Federation, ramifications
were sure to be felt.

Beyond the political considerations were concerns regarding Spock's
condition and the implications should he be unable to be retrained.
There was the anticipation of Amanda's arrival, the inevitable
confrontation that would take place between them, and the reason
behind their most recent unpleasant encounter, a man now located only
meters away, a man who had the unnerving ability to test his controls
to their limits, and beyond.

Sarek knelt on the floor of the study, his mind not on the firepot in
front of him, but on the azure-blue eyes that had met his on the
mountaintop, and then again here in his home.  He gripped his robe in
his fists and crushed it within the tight clasp of his fingers.  He
had known his Time was near, but now he was feeling the first of many
small fires that would burn strong during these next cycles of
T'Kuht's rotation around Vulcan.  Perhaps it was the sight of McCoy
that had started the burning.  He did burn for him; want him in ways
he had never before felt for another being.  His desire for Leonard
McCoy was most illogical.  But he knew his logic would soon be ripped
from him.  He knew that he would have to make arrangements to go to
one of his consorts and lock himself away until the fever was burned
out.  But he knew with certainly that it would never be fully
extinguished for one.  Even in the agitated state his body was
entering, he knew his desire for Leonard McCoy was something that
went far beyond a biological need.

His clenched fists tore at the robe, ripping it open.  His flesh, as
well as his thoughts, had betrayed him.  His hands went to his
engorged organ that ached for the touch of another.  Spreading his
knees and giving into the humiliation, he wrapped his hand around the
engorged shaft of his penis and began to pull on it roughly.  He
could still feel Leonard's lips as they had brushed against his just
hours before, and the feel of the arms searing him as they wrapped
around him.  And, with little effort, he could still remember the
feel of that body against his--just as he had weeks before.

Faster his hand pumped around his cruel, unyielding erection as he
remembered the way McCoy's hands had roamed over him.  Those fingers
had sought out areas on his flesh that he had never before realized
were responsive.  He ran his hand over his chest and remembered the
sensation of having the small nubs pinched and suckled until they
were hard and tight.  Even now, he could feel the cooler body as it
spooned against his back, the feeling of Leonard invading him, the
lips that had located that spot behind his ear that made him writhe
with pleasure while Leonard's hand had massaged his penis, stroking
them in rhythm.  The sensation of having Leonard press repeatedly
inside of him as he thrust into the hand caused a hot shiver to race
through him.  Sarek remembered letting his body give over to the
powerful orgasm.  He felt the pulsating member and the fullness as
Leonard came inside of him.  Using his own ejaculate, McCoy had
coated him with the slick substance and slid his hand underneath the
ridges, coaxing the last of the fluid from him.  With these memories,
Sarek threw his head back and stifled the groan that threatened as
his orgasm exploded from him--coating his hand, and splashing
droplets onto the robe and meditation rug.

When his breathing was under control, he slipped the torn robe off
his shoulders and wiped his hands forcefully with it.  He leaned over
and, using an unspoiled section of the robe, removed the drops that
were soiling the rug.  Harder than necessary, he scrubbed at the
spots, wanting to scrub away the realization of his own lack of self-
control.  When satisfied that no indication of his lapse in
discipline remained, he rose and tossed the ripped garment into the
recycling unit.  His desire, for a time, was now cooled.  He retired
to the sleeping chambers and retrieved another robe and wrapped it
around him.  Securing the belt tightly around him, he made sure both
the fresh robe and his Vulcan veneer were firmly in place.

---

Jim had spent the last hour meandering through the sculpture garden,
alone.  His concentration, however, was not on the displays of art
found there, but on a plan that had begun to seed itself in his
mind.  Yes, if he were careful, this would work, and no one would be
the wiser.  He decided he would do whatever it took for this to
succeed.  He felt arising within him a new sense of determination
that he had not felt in a long, long time.  And with it, he realized,
the fear that had seemed so overwhelming began to give way.

Looking up, he saw Scotty and Uhura as they emerged from the door of
one of the suites and walked toward him.  When they were within
earshot, he asked, "Well, Mr. Scott, Commander Uhura, did you rest
well?"

"Aye, sir!" Scotty replied jovially.  It seemed he was more relaxed
and in a much better frame of mind than in recent days.  The reason,
Jim suspected, was the lovely woman standing at his side.  "One could
get use ta relaxing in a place like this!  Tis very fine, indeed!"

Jim smiled at the Scotsman.  "Indeed it is, Mr. Scott, however, don't
get too used to it.  We have work to do."

"Aye, sir!  Now yer talking!" Scotty responded.  He was the only man
Jim knew that was happier in the belly of a ship than relaxing on a
fine estate. "What do ye have in mind?"

Noticing Sulu and Chekov coming through the door of the main house
that joined to the covered terrace, and Bones coming toward them from
the door of the suite they had been given together, he
replied, "Let's gather the crew together, and I'll explain."

They all converged on the patio, and Jim began to address
them.  "First, I commend you all on a job well done.  Sarek is unsure
just how much of his memory Spock will regain, but you all have done
an outstanding job to get him to this point.  We have been assured
the Vulcan government will not allow us to be turned over to
Starfleet for prosecution--even though the list of offenses we are
charged with is long and impressive."

There was a nervous chuckle from those around him.

Taking a deep breath, he continued.  "Now, I'm sure you're wondering
what's next.  Well, there's a lot of information that can be gained
from the Bird of Prey.  Information that will be valuable to the
Federation.  We may be considered outlaws in the eyes of Starfleet,
but I still want to learn as much as we can from that ship and hand
it over.  It may save the next crew that comes up against one.  After
that, who knows?  Let's take this one step at a time, shall we?"

"Admiral Kirk," Chekov spoke up, "where are we to live, sair?"

"A good question.  Although we've been offered many options, Sarek
has advised me that there are apartments at the Vulcan Science
Academy that can be made available to us.  I'll be moving in there.
I think it would be wise for all of us to stay in the same location,
at least until we have finished getting all of the information we can
from the Bird of Prey."

Jim paused, choosing his words carefully.  "That's going to be our
major concern for the time being.  I know it's going to be long,
arduous work, and it's going to take time.  But time is something we
have plenty of.  We're going to be here a while, and I think staying
in the city will get us all more acclimated to this culture, and
maybe even get them used to our presence."

There was a general agreement, from all but Bones, that they would
stay in the units at the Academy, at least for the time being.  Jim
couldn't help but notice that McCoy remained quiet on the subject.
After the events in the room earlier, Jim wouldn't blame Bones if he
did decide to stay here.  But it couldn't be one of his concerns at
the moment.

It was then that Staull came out and informed them that the meal was
being served.  Proceeding inside, they noticed Sarek had joined them
and stood at the head of the table until all were seated.  They
helped themselves to the food offered, and over the meal began to
make plans on the best way to attack the mission at hand.  Although
not a mission sanctioned by Starfleet, it was important nonetheless.

None of them were sure what the future would bring, but it was
certain that the lives they had before had ended.  With the wine that
was served, they toasted successes and mentioned little else.  There
was no use.  What was done--was done.  There was no turning back.

Once the meal was finished, and the dishes had been cleared away, the
group began to mill around; all somehow finding their way back out
onto the terrace.  Even in the heat of the afternoon, which was
afforded some relief by the overhead trellis, it was normal for a
crew who had spent so many years onboard a ship to relish any
opportunity to be out in the open.

Sarek was being asked many questions about the planet from those who
had never spent time here, and he answered each, in turn, with
patience and clarity.  However, it was not hard to miss the fact that
the Vulcan's gaze seemed to follow Bones wherever he went.

Jim found himself drawn into various discussions regarding how best
to begin work on the ship.  Scotty, of course, wanted to begin with
tearing down the engines, specifically the anti-matter converter,
which the Scotsman considered the 'meat n' potatoes' of the vessel.
Sulu, on the other hand, was most anxious to begin work on the
computer banks and see if he could find out what secrets they held.
If Chekov was granted his wish, they would dismantle the ship, piece
by piece, just to find out what made her 'tick'.  Jim could almost
hear Spock telling Pavel that it was an illogical statement; that
ships do not have a tendency to 'tick', and it made him sad that
Spock was missing from this gathering.  McCoy's idea, one which Jim
actually agreed with, was to download the medical banks and spend
time working on them, especially since very little was actually known
about Klingon physiology.

"What would you need to work on those records?" Jim asked him,
thoughtfully.

"Well, from what I remember about the ship, there's very little
equipment onboard that I can use for research.  Since we'll be
staying at the VSA, maybe I can see about using some of the equipment
there."

"*We'll* be staying at the VSA?  You hadn't said what your decision
was going to be.  Bones, are you sure?"

"What?  About staying wherever you are?  Yeah, Jim, I'm sure.
Besides," McCoy grinned, deviously, "it's much closer to the business
and visitors district.  I think my chances of finding a bar or two
are pretty good, don't you?"

Jim found himself smiling back.  Despite this afternoon, and even
knowing that their time together would be limited, he couldn't deny
that he felt some measure of relief.  He turned and saw Sarek as he
made his way toward them.  Well, made his way toward Bones because
his eyes never left the face of Jim's companion.

"Gentlemen," Sarek acknowledged both men, but still never letting his
stare waiver.

"Sarek," Leonard began, "Jim told me about your generous offer to
stay here."

"Indeed.  You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish.  You
may use the time to recuperate and explore the gardens at your
leisure."

Jim was certain that if Bones changed his mind, the gardens weren't
all that his friend would end up exploring.

He looked back at Jim.  "I think I'll stay at the Academy, too.
Maybe I can be some help in accessing information from the medical
logs on the ship.  Especially if I can talk the scientists at the VSA
into letting me use some of their equipment."

Sarek nodded.  If the ambassador was disappointed, he hid it well
beneath his Vulcan facade.  "As you wish.  All has been prearranged.
I have reserved a block of rooms at the Academy complex.  That should
house as many as wish to stay there.  I will speak with the Dean of
Residents on your behalf.  I am certain that lab space and equipment,
as well as anything else that you require, can be supplied."

"That's fine," Jim conceded.  He knew if what he had in mind was
going to play out, he was going to have to learn to 'eat crow,' as
Bones was always so fond of saying.  "Sarek, if I can call for a
shuttle, I guess it's time that we go see where we'll be living.  Get
settled in, so to speak."

"That will not be necessary, James," Sarek said as he motioned toward
Staull.  The aide brought a large envelope and gave it to the
ambassador, who, in turn, handed it to Kirk.  "A shuttle has been
provided, as well as the items we discussed earlier."

Kirk opened the flap in looked inside.  Flipping through the
contents, he noticed there was an ownership chip for the shuttle--
made out in his name--but available for use by any of the crew, and
documents with the Vulcan High Council seal showing them to be
temporary citizens of the planet, only revocable by the High Council
itself.  There were the credit chips Sarek had spoken of, each
imprinted with a different crewmembers name, and various other offers
and information that had been supplied for them.

In Kirk's opinion, beginning their stay here by accepting charity
didn't bode well.  But, swallowing hard--swallowing his 'pride,' as
Sarek had called it--he nodded and managed, "Thank you," although
there was some amount of ruefulness that seeped into his voice.

"No expressions of gratitude are required.  If there is nothing else
at this time, I shall take my leave of you.  I have matters that I
must attend to."

"Certainly, Sarek," Jim acknowledged, but by this time Sarek was once
more looking at McCoy.  With a slight nod in the doctor's direction,
he turned and left.

Motioning to the crew, and advising them that it was time to leave,
they filed through the house and out the front entrance.  Since their
arrival hours before, a new shuttle had appeared in front of the
estate.  Pulling the code-chip from the envelope, he handed it to
Sulu.  "Would you care to do the honors, Mr. Sulu?" he asked.

"YES, SIR!" came the enthusiastic reply, as Sulu accepted the chip
and slid into the pilot's seat.

As the rest slid into the passenger area, they noticed that lining
the center of the aisle were six traveling bags, each tagged with one
of their names.  It seemed that there had been little overlooked.

---


Sarek retired to his main study.  There was much to do.  T'Pau
expected a full report, as did the members of the Vulcan High Council.

He had to admit that it was relief he perceived--mixed with a
fragment of something nearing devastation--that McCoy had refused his
offer and was gone from this place.  Had he remained, Sarek knew that
keeping his promise to Kirk not to interfere with their relationship
would have proven to be most difficult.  With Leonard staying
elsewhere, it would be easier to deny his feelings regarding him.
Then, he realized, that his feelings had come to light with the
doctor on the opposite side of the quadrant.  A matter of a few
kilometers would most likely make little difference.  Avoidance of
Leonard at all costs was the only rational solution.

Settling himself at his desk, he began the communiqu  to the Vulcan
High Council.  In it, he detailed the events that had transpired and
advised them of Admiral Kirk's objection to the acceptance of aid.
He advised them that he had only gained Kirk's approval to the plans
that had been laid out by utilizing his negotiating skills.  Even so,
there was still a measure of resistance perceived from the admiral.
He suggested that additional attempts at support for the Terran crew
should be considered carefully before further offers were tendered.
The crew's unwillingness to be facilitated in lieu of their sacrifice
was a factor that had not been considered.  Humans...they could be
most illogical.

---

It was early in the Vulcan evening when Sulu settled the shuttle
smoothly at the coordinates that had been provided.  The complex
before them was located on the very edge of the VSA campus.  Waiting
out front was a tall, striking individual who introduced himself as
Khartauau Shatiel.  He explained to the renegade group that he was
the Dean of Residents for the Academy.

He led the six Terrans to a secluded courtyard behind a walled
entryway.  Expecting the same type of cramped quarters offered at the
Starfleet Academy complex, the crew found the spacious, modern
complex to be a pleasant surprise.  Encircling the quad were several
units, each capable of housing two comfortably, the Vulcan
explained.  Palming the door to the first unit, they were presented
with a two-bedroom apartment that was modern in every way.  In a very
matter-of-fact manner, Khartauau Shatiel explained that there were,
also, three units with one bedroom.  In those units, the bedroom was
equipped with a larger bed, should any members of the crew wish to
cohabit.

He took time to explain all the equipment located in the apartments;
including the replicator, recycler, and other mechanical devices, all
similar to devices the crew had used for years.  Trying not to be
rude, but ready to be left alone for a while, Jim assured him they
were used to using such equipment.  Only after the Vulcan seemed
quite certain that all had been explained thoroughly, did he depart.
But not before assuring McCoy that the ambassador had contacted him
regarding lab space, and he was told to advise him that it had been
arranged.

McCoy thanked him as they walked back to the entryway.  The crew
retrieved their travel bags from the shuttle and began exploring the
various units.  Pavel and Hikaru didn't waiver in their decision,
selecting one of the one-bedroom units right away.

Once they had made their decision, gone inside, and closed the door,
McCoy looked at Jim, and asked, "Just when did those two get back
together?  After what they went through before, I didn't think there
was any hope."

"Actually, it was on the Enterprise, not long after Spock's funeral,"
Jim answered.  That time was still a raw wound inside of him.

Evidently it was for McCoy, too, by the look that flashed across his
face.  "Well, I'm glad to see it.  Didn't think those two would ever
find their way back to each other."

Looking around, making sure that both Scotty and Uhura were off
checking out other units, he asked, "Bones, you knew?  In those
earlier years?  How?"

"Jim, there's just some things ya can't hide from your family doctor,
y'know?"

"Ah," Jim nodded quickly, not wanting to know any more.  He'd always
felt a particular protectiveness toward Pavel Chekov; maybe it had
been the young Russian's freshness just out of the Academy when he
joined the crew, but Jim always felt an odd sensation when thinking
of Pavel in a physical relationship.  He had convinced himself long
ago that it was almost like having a kid brother; you just never
wanted to think about him losing his innocence.

Scotty and Nyota emerged from another of the one-bedroom units.  Jim
noticed that they no longer had their traveling bags in tow.
Evidently they, too, had decided.  "We'll take this one," Scotty
offered.

Another relationship he had always suspected, but never confirmed,
Jim noted.  With this decision, they had seemingly decided to forgo
any veiled attempts at keeping the true nature of their private lives
secret.  "That's fine, Scotty," Jim answered, managing to keep the
smile that lurked just beneath the surface from showing.  He would
never want to react in any way that would embarrass Nyota, even
though he might have given Scotty a broad grin had they been alone.
By the look on her face, this had been a great concession to agree to
cohabit openly.  "You two get settled in, and we will meet back up in
the morning.  I'm sure everyone is tired," he added, casually.

"Aye, sir," Scotty agreed.  As he turned, Jim couldn't help but
notice Uhura's arm encircle Scotty before the door slid closed behind
them.  That only left the two of them.  The one thing that hadn't
been discussed was the sleeping arrangements.  Evidently, there was
another of the one-bedroom units left, along with several of the two-
bedroom units, like the one they had been shown initially.  He found
it wasn't an easy subject to broach.  Jim was certain of one thing,
he wasn't prepared for a physical relationship with anyone, even
Bones, right now.

McCoy seemed to notice Jim's discomfort.  "Hey, Jim, whaddya say we
just settle in that first unit we were shown?"

It was with a sense of relief that Jim breathed, "Yeah, Bones, that
will be fine."

Jim palmed opened the door to the unit and walked inside; Bones
followed.  There was a common sitting area with a low couch and two
additional chairs, and a small dining table and chairs for eating.
There was a small kitchen, and two bedrooms with a bathroom
separating them.  The only indications of the Vulcan culture were the
mats and firepots found in the corner of each of the sleeping
quarters, and the small meditation garden off the patio.  The
furnishings in the bedrooms were minimal, but adequate; a bed, side
table, desk and chair, and a storage unit.

Leonard had watched Jim, and the reaction he had to the various
sleeping arrangements offered in the units.  In the years they had
known each other, the one thing Leonard McCoy had learned to do was
to read Jim Kirk like a book.  Tonight it was quite clear that the
page Jim was on read, 'Keep Away.'  Any other time, McCoy would have
tried to get to the bottom of it, but he was all but dead on his
feet.  The last days were beginning to take its toll, and all he
wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for hours!  He would deal
with whatever had put Jim in this funk...later, after a good night's
rest.

"I'll take the one on the left, and you can have the room on the
right, if that's okay with you."

"Sure, Bones.  That'll work," Jim nodded.  He stepped into his room
and closed the door.  Leonard did the same.

Setting the travel bag tagged with his name on the desk, Leonard
opened it.  Inside he found a robe, much like the ones they were
always provided when they visited Sarek's home, a pair of slippers
that just happened to be the perfect size, along with just about
every personal item that could be conceived.  He smiled when he
pulled out the tube of beard suppressor, wondering if Nyota had
received the same items in her kit.  But when he pulled out the
containers of shampoo and soap, the very brands he usually used,
there was no longer any doubt that Sarek was behind this.  The only
way he could have known was from the time they lived together while
on Bakswana-7.  He was certain that not only had Sarek arranged this,
but had tried to pack each kit to match the individual as closely as
possible.

There was one tube left in the kit, and he pulled it out.  It was a
colorless, odorless clear gel.  Feeling a flush overtake him, Leonard
realized that Sarek had certainly overlooked nothing.  He laid the
tube aside.  The one thing he evidently wasn't going to need for the
time being was lube.

Gathering the items that would be stored in the bathroom, he listened
at the door to make sure the facility was available.  Assuring
himself that it was, he proceeded inside.  He stripped off his
clothes, put on the robe, placed his clothes in the recycler--
ordering up a couple of extra sets--and performed all other necessary
tasks.

Once he was ready for bed, he left the bathroom, closing the door
behind him to afford Jim privacy, stripped off his robe, tossing it
over the back of the chair, and crawled under the lightweight
blanket.  Never had it felt so good to lie down.  He could feel the
exhaustion as it settled over him, seeping into every joint and
muscle, and he expected to be asleep in a matter of seconds.
However, he found that even this tired, sleep was not going to come
easily.

His mind began to spin with the images and events of the day.
Spock's eyes had been so vacant when they had met his as they were
standing on the plateau.  His memories from the refusion ceremony
were now nothing more than a distant fog, a blur of images that
seemed as elusive as a dream that was now nothing more than a series
of impressions.  But he thought he had felt Spock with him, he had
been sure of it.  Now, there seemed to be no hint about what had been
real, and what had been imagined during that time.  Oh, those
eyes...those dark, vacant eyes!  How they seemed to haunt him.

Leonard flipped from his right side over to his left, stuffing the
pillow under his head as he attempted to wipe the memory of Spock's
face from his mind.  He was successful, however, now Jim's image
replaced it.  Just what the hell had happened between them this
afternoon?  What had caused Jim to jump up from the bed they shared?
It was obvious that something was going on with Jim that Leonard
didn't understand.  He was distant.  As distant as he had ever seen
him, and that included the time when Leonard had been recalled to the
Enterprise.  He knew Jim had been through hell recently--they all had-
-but this was even deeper than the events that had transpired these
last stressful days.  It felt like some deep abyss had formed between
the two of them.  Whatever it was, they needed time to talk about it,
but not now.  Now was the time for rest!

He rolled over on his back, and adjusted the pillow so that it was
under his neck.  There...perfect!  He closed his eyes, yet no matter
how hard he tried to 'wish' them away, the faces kept spinning in
front of him.  Even the image of his own face appeared before him.
He wasn't a fool!  He knew damned well what the time on Bakswana-7
and the imprisonment in the mineshaft had done to him.  He'd looked
like hell when he had finally returned to San Francisco, and had just
begun to get his strength back, feel like his old self again, when
all this happened.  He knew the events of these last months had aged
him beyond his years, and he couldn't help but wonder if Jim just
didn't find him appealing any longer.  Sure, it made him sound
shallow, Jim even more so.  But the fact was, he looked like crap
while Jim was still virile, robust, and fucking-take-your-breath-away
beautiful.  Although he really didn't believe it to be so, he had to
admit it was a concern.

It was obvious that something had happened between them.  He began to
wonder if it was only through Spock that the love between Jim and
himself had existed.  No, that wasn't possible!  He had loved Jim
Kirk long before he had realized his feelings extended to that damned
obstinate Vulcan.  They had strong feelings toward each other long
before they were bonded.  Why did that seem so far away now?  It was
hard to believe, especially after the fiasco this afternoon, that it
was just a little over two weeks ago that he and Jim had made love on
that night before the launch of the training mission.  God!  That
seemed like a lifetime ago!  Maybe it was--Spock's lifetime, anyway.

He had to remember that Jim had given up everything to save their
bondmate...ex-bondmate?  And God knows he'd lost a lot with the death
of David.  Too, Jim had to be sweating the position they now found
themselves.  Hell, unlike Jim, he could be a doctor anywhere.  That
pretty much went for the rest of the crew, too.  With the skills they
possessed, they could all find a place to fit in wherever they
landed.  But Jim had spent his life as a commander, in one scenario
or another.  It wasn't like there was a big calling for ex-Starfleet
Admirals out here.  Well, whatever was going on with him, Leonard
would stand beside him, would be there for him when the time came.
And the time would come, he was sure if it.

Finally feeling that he had everything settled in his mind, he rolled
over onto his stomach and pulled the pillow under his chin.  It was
with a moan that he thought of Sarek.  And what about Sarek?  Why did
seeing him affect him so?  What was it that had made him reach for
Sarek as they stood on Mount Seleya?  What was it about the sight,
sound, and touch of that Vulcan that made him ache inside?  He'd had
others in his life that he cared for, even made love to.  However,
other than the two men he had shared his life with, none had ever
made him feel this way.  This feeling had been for only Jim and
Spock.  Why Sarek?  Of all of the people in the universe, why did it
have to be Sarek that undid him like this?

Sure, the friendship they had formed had turned physical.  But given
their circumstances, wasn't it logical that they would turn to each
other for a bit of a diversion?  Okay, so, if he was honest with
himself, Sarek was more than a diversion--much more.  Yeah, he had
developed some real feelings for him.  Given any other situation, he
would even say he had come to love him.  Hell, given *this*
situation, he found that he loved him.  But he'd been honest about
his feelings regarding Sarek to both Jim and Spock.  He had convinced
himself it would pass.  He still had to believe that.  It was just
seeing him again that had thrown him a bit.  Well, he would get over
it.  He had to.  He would work this out himself.  Alone.  The
decision was made.  Finally, after a lot of tossing and turning,
sleep claimed him.

However, it was far from the period of peaceful rest he sought.
Images of dark monsters descending upon him filled his dreams.  In
the morning, when he finally fought himself to wakefulness, and
noticed the faint glow of the Vulcan dawn, he disentangled the
blanket from around him, which considering the battles he had waged
throughout the night was not an easy feat.  He grabbed up the robe,
stumbled from his bedroom, and went in search of Jim.  He hoped his
friend--if nothing more--would help him find some kind of reassurance
that would fade the images that had implanted themselves in his
tortured brain.  But on that morning, like every morning since, when
Leonard arose, Jim was already gone.

The images began to take on a life of their own as he found his
nighttime hours consisting of vivid, haunting images that seemed to
lurch toward him in the darkness.  He had experienced nightmares in
the past, but he no longer had his lovers beside him to comfort him.
But, he discovered, that waking up and realizing he was alone was
even harder to take than the dreams themselves.  The grueling routine
that began that next day, and continued for the days to come, became
a time of relief, whereas the time to sleep became something to be
dreaded.

As for Jim, he was as driven as McCoy had ever seen him.  Over the
course of the next week, the hours that Kirk was demanding from not
only himself, but from the crew, left little time for Leonard to see
him.  Most contact was quick and to the point over the
communicators.  Even when McCoy would find an excuse to transport to
the ship, not his favorite mode of transportation, but to see some
familiar faces he found it was worth it, Jim would find an excuse to
be unavailable.  The few times that Leonard did manage to corner him,
their discussions usually managed to spiral down into nothing less
than screaming matches.  It seemed that they could agree on nothing.
Their most recent encounter had resulted in some harsh words
accompanied by a can of red paint.

Sulu had discovered how to download the first of the medical records
to solids and had given these to McCoy.  Leonard's days were spent in
the VSA medical-science lab trying to match any of the symbols found
in the records to information stored in the library.  Even small
successes in decoding the information found in the computers were the
result of many hours of long, arduous work.  Unfortunately, the
repetitive, monotonous task did little to keep his mind from
wandering to personal issues.

Once, while leaning over the viewer, he remembered working in a much
more primitive lab on Bakswana-7, and the wonderful feeling of
looking up and seeing Sarek, clad in a blue jumpsuit, working
tirelessly beside him.  It had felt so reassuring to have him there.
Even then, before the night they became lovers, McCoy had known what
the man was doing to him.  Shaking off the memory, Leonard returned
quickly to the viewer and began searching for the next bit of
information.

---
Making arrangements to go to Vulcan had been much more difficult than
Amanda had anticipated.  The current situation between the Federation
and the Vulcan government, who protected the renegade crew that
Starfleet wanted returned, made travel between the two planets nearly
impossible.  All Starfleet vessels were forbidden to approach Vulcan,
and private shuttles were strongly discouraged.  Starfleet wanted to
make sure that the renegades on Vulcan stayed there until something
could be worked out.  It took every string she could pull, but
finally, two days after Sarek's call, and after posting a costly
bribe, she boarded a Sargasian freighter for the voyage.  Not
luxurious by any means, but welcomed nonetheless.

The voyage took three days, and she spent that time organizing chips
and preparing all that would be needed to tutor Spock.  Having no
idea what level he was on, she prepared tests so that she could judge
the areas that he needed to begin studying.  She found it to be an
almost euphoric feeling.  By the time the ship deposited her at the
main transport center in Shi'kahr, she had made some decisions
regarding her son.  This time, things would be different.  She would
see to it.

Automatically, her eyes scanned the crowd for Sarek.  She had told
him not to meet her, that she would arrange her own transportation to
Gol.  But that didn't keep her from searching the faces of those in
the station who were passing by on the way to their various
destinations.  She knew that had he been there, she would have been
angry with him for not respecting her wishes, but to not have him
here proved surprisingly disappointing.  She wrapped her cape tightly
around her and pulled the sleeves low; seemingly to cover the faint
hint of green and purple bruising that was still evident on her
wrist.  True, to the naked eye, it was barely visible now, but she
felt as if she could still feel the heat from his grip, a strong
reminder of their last encounter.  She made her way to the area where
aircars were available for hire and discovered a car and driver had
been reserved for her.  Even this, Sarek had seen to.  Boarding the
car, she was whisked off in the direction of Gol.

The anticipation of seeing her son made the trip seem longer than it
really was.  As Sarek's wife, she had been to Gol many times.
However, she could never get used to the coldness that could be found
in the massive configuration, not in the temperature, but in the
aloneness that this place represented.  Reddish-colored stones
comprised the immense structure.  They were placed so precisely that,
even after thousands of years, it was hard to see where they joined.
She knew the reasoning, no distractions from the constant meditations
that took place here, but the never-changing view did nothing to
comfort her as she waited to be shown to her room.

However, she found her accommodation was acceptable with a padded
platform for sleeping.  And, given this was Gol, at least it was
furnished, although minimally, with a desk, two chairs, and a lamp.
But the surroundings didn't matter.  She would have slept in the
middle of the desert if it meant being able to see him again.  She
waited nervously for her son to arrive.

"Mother?" Spock's voice came from behind her.

She turned and saw him.  Joy, grief, and relief flooded her all at
once.  Her son, her dead son, was now here with her, calling her
name.

"Spock!" she cried.  She walked slowly toward him and even though he
did not respond, she gently wrapped her arms around him.  "Spock..."
she whispered again as tears began to roll down her face.  "I was
devastated when I heard you had been killed."  She tightened her grip
on his shoulders and leaned back to look at him.  "But you're here,
alive.  I can hardly believe it!  It's a miracle!"

"It is fal-tor-pan, Mother.  No miracle was involved."

She felt the stiffing muscles beneath the robe at her touch and
released him.  "It's a miracle to me.  I never thought I would be
able to look upon you again.  Tell me Spock, how are you?"

He clasped his hands at his back.  "Physically, I am strong.  There
seems to be vast parts of my memory that have been lost, but I have
been studying the Vulcan disciplines under the guidance of the
Brothers of Zi'har, and some of what I have encountered has seemed
familiar."

He sounded so distant, as if he were giving a report to a
stranger.  "Do you remember me, Spock?"

"Yes, Mother, you and Father, and our home.  The memories beginning
with earliest childhood and youth are the strongest.  The memories
from early adulthood and beyond become increasingly faint."  She
watched him as his forehead tensed in the attempt to recall these
lost memories.  "That pattern continues until the recent past, which
is quite unfamiliar to me."

The sight of her son struggling to remember was painful.  But it
would be fine by her if he never remembered the facts of these last
years.  "Well, maybe the most recent part of your life is the least
significant.  We will start with what you know, and work our way up
from there."

He shook his head as he turned from her and paced a few steps before
turning back.  "I do not wish to dispute your word, Mother, but logic
dictates that the most recent events in my life should hold the most
importance to me.  It is disturbing not to remember those things
which have brought me to this point."

"Don't press, Spock.  After all, it may be that you will choose a
different path entirely from the one you chose before."

"That is something that I had not considered.  Perhaps you are
correct.  I have been advised that you will be taking over the area
of my academics.  Am I correct?"

"If you will allow me to do so.  I'll be glad to help you in any way
I can."

"I will be most grateful for your assistance."

"Good.  Let me get settled in and we can begin this evening if you
wish."

"Settled in?  You will be moving from our home?"

Amanda hesitated.  There was much that she could not explain, not
without telling Spock those things she hoped he would never
remember.  "Yes, I've decided it will be best if I stay here, at
least for a while.  It will give us more time to work together."

"I do not wish to impose in such a manner.  It is a great sacrifice
to ask you to move from your home."

"It's not a sacrifice I mind making, Spock."  This was certainly not
the time to go into details regarding her separation from Sarek.  And
she certainly couldn't tell him the cause of their union being
severed.  Even more than Kirk, McCoy was one person she hoped with
all of her heart that Spock would never remember.

"As you wish.  It would be agreeable to begin this evening.  I must
leave you at this time.  I have a session with Brother Saban, and
following that, I have been requested to attend a meeting with a
female scientist by the name of Saavik."

"Saavik?"  Amanda's eyes brightened.  This could be perfect.  There
was none who would be as well suited for Spock than Saavik.  She
possessed an excellent level of intelligence, common interests, and
the ability to give Spock what Amanda most hoped for her son, a life
of normalcy and a family.

"Yes, Mother, do you know her?  I have been advised that it was she,
accompanied by another scientist, who located me on the planet.  I
wish to discuss these events with her, for she may be able to give
insight into how I came to be rescued."

"Yes, Spock, we have met on several occasions.  If you wish to delay
our first session until tomorrow, then you would have more time to
spend with her."

"Unnecessary.  I will be here after the evening meal if that is
acceptable."

"Yes, Spock.  This evening."

She watched him as he turned and walked from the room.  He was rigid
and at his most Vulcan.  She couldn't help but notice that the spark
of passion that he had found in these past years was gone entirely.
He had stood before her and spoken with her, but it was as if the
life was still gone from his eyes.  She had watched him fight against
his passions, his troubling emotions, all of his life.  The last time
she had seen him, he had stopped fighting that which he had run from
for so long.  She had seen the joy, satisfaction, dignity, and humor
he had gained, and she remembered that even though she had not been
thrilled at his choice, she had been pleased to see him connect with
those emotions she had known were hidden within him.

Now, all of that was gone.  He had only found that with them.  They
had been by his side and he had been happy.  This was her son.  Could
she really deny him finding that happiness again?  But couldn't he
find the same level of satisfaction by staying on Vulcan, settling
down and taking his place among the leading citizens?  Wouldn't it
bring him happiness to find a bondmate who would give him that which
was necessary for his lineage to survive?  And, even if his lusts
were such that he required a male, it was certainly acceptable for
him to take a consort to satisfy those needs.  This was the direction
she hoped for Spock to take...this time.  Maybe Saavik was the answer
to him finding an acceptable direction.

However, there were dangers in having him in contact with anyone from
the outside, even Saavik.  This she would have to deal with right
away.  Summoning the leader of the Zi'har Order to her chambers, she
managed to alleviate that concern.  She advised the director that in
her opinion, no information should be furnished to her son other than
that which he remembered on his own.  Having no one on the planet
with prior experience in a situation such as this, proved to be to
her advantage.  Before their meeting was completed, it was agreed
that anyone from the outside who met with Spock would first be warned
against revealing information about his previous life.  It was all
she could have hoped for.

As she organized the tests that she would administer to Spock, to see
where they needed to begin, her thoughts were on her son, and on the
other Vulcan male that had shared her life these years--Sarek.  She
remembered that there had been a time when she had seen passion in
her husband's eyes.  But she had always discounted his need for an
emotional and highly physical relationship as illogical.  She had
been instructed in the ways of Vulcan since her early childhood, and
knew that Vulcan relationships were based purely on logic.  This, she
had learned at the knees of her parents.  Her grandfather had been
instrumental in bringing about a dialogue between the Vulcans and
Terrans.  Her parents had raised her to be acceptable to the Vulcan
people. They had instilled in her the fact that the emotional,
hormone-based behavior that most Terrans indulged in was beneath
her.  Her family had expected that her role would be as an example of
the best that Earth had to offer.  And she had grown up to exceed
their expectations.

Sarek's request to become her bondmate had been received with
reserved exuberance.  To have the one male with the purest bloodline
request her as his wife was more that they could have hoped for.
She, too, had found him a most appealing mate.  It had taken her by
surprise that this highly revered, highly respected Vulcan would want
her to behave in ways that only the most common on her home planet
behaved.  She had always been certain that this would pass, and she
was correct.  His passions had cooled as he came to respect her, and
take consorts towards whom he could direct his more guttural
behavior.  This was an acceptable practice for the best bred of
Vulcan.

For their many years together, all was as it should be--until he
returned from this last mission.  His respect for her was not as deep
as she had thought.  He wanted her to perform acts she found
repulsive, and when she did not, his thoughts turned to the other one
who had fired his emotions.  Having him seek physical release
elsewhere was acceptable, but finding that he had formed an emotional
attachment to this man, one of the same men that had assured her son
would have no future, was beyond forgiveness.

She continued to mull over these thoughts as the day passed and she
made preparations to meet with Spock.  As such, her emotions were
running the gambit from remembering with fondness her happier times
with Sarek to the raging anger that she felt toward him.  Always
present was the unrelenting hatred she still felt toward McCoy.  He
was the destructive force in her life.  Even before the encounter
with her husband, she had grown to resent McCoy much more than Kirk.
She was well aware of Kirk's reputation and knew that eventually he
would tire of his relationship with Spock and leave, giving Spock new
opportunities to fulfill his destiny.  But McCoy was different.

She knew that, given the chance, McCoy would hold onto Spock until
his last breath, leaving Spock little time to marry and have
children.  Certainly not in her lifetime would it happen with the
doctor clinging to him.  And if that was not enough, then she
discovered that her husband, too, was under this demon's spell.  No!
Whatever it took, she was going to make sure that Spock had nothing
to do with Leonard McCoy.  That part of his life was over and
forgotten; she would make certain it stayed that way.

As if emphasizing her decision, she slapped the stack of discs down
on the table beside the computer, smoothed her robe, and, seeing
everything was ready for Spock, left the room to partake of the
evening meal.  She was satisfied that this time she could steer Spock
in the right direction.  Sarek would not be present to drive him
away, and she would make sure the influences of Starfleet would not
be a factor.  Realizing that she was showing her new-found confidence
too openly, she wiped the smile from her face when given a
disapproving look from one of the elders she encountered in the
hallway.

---

Hikaru noticed a droplet of perspiration that came from beneath the
thick hair and trickled slowly--tantalizingly slowly--down the nape
of Pavel's neck and disappeared into the collar of the jumpsuit.
And, not for the first time this day, he imagined his tongue
following that same path...and beyond.  On the rest of the crew, the
work uniforms were ill fitting; Pavel was the exception.  His hugged
him perfectly, giving his lover's muscular body a Greek god
appearance.

Even though the job they were doing was important, it was also very
tedious.  Rerouting cable took nothing more than brute strength,
something Pavel had an abundance of.  After years of training in
Starfleet Security, and the rigorous training regime that Pavel kept
up even to this day, his lover had amazing strength that more than
made up for his diminutive stature.  It was for this reason that
Hikaru was standing behind him.  Pavel had the strength to pull the
heavy lines from their old path and stuff them into the new route
that Scotty had mapped out.  Hikaru's job was to stand behind him,
make sure the lines didn't tangle and feed them to Pavel when he
called for them.  It wasn't any wonder that with having nothing else
to think about, Sulu was experiencing a multitude of silent sexual
fantasies as he watched the muscles beneath the thin material ripple
with every move.

Of the seven days since they had begun work on the Klingon ship, the
last three had them doing just this.  And except for the few breaks
for water or food, Sulu had spent an average of sixteen hours a day
wedged into the small dead-end passage, watching that body.  Sure,
they had made it blatantly obvious to everyone that they were lovers
when, given their choice, they chose to share one of the one-bedroom
units instead of opting for separate apartments.   But except for
Len, who wasn't exactly himself at the time they had renewed their
relationship, the fact that they were lovers came as no surprise to
anyone.

However, even with sharing the apartment, romantic encounters had
mostly been limited to quick releases in the shower, always taken
together.  On the occasions that they waited until they crawled into
bed, one or the other would usually collapse in total exhaustion and
be asleep moments thereafter.  And as nice as the quick releases
were, and as much as he enjoyed holding and being held by Pavel while
they slept, neither circumstance was what Sulu's body was craving.
He wanted to feel that body in his arms, taste the saltiness of the
flesh, feel the tightness surround him as he was driven past the
point of no return.

Once again, Pavel stretched into the opening and the shoulders
swelled to their full width.  As the Russian pushed upwards on one
foot, Hikaru watched the narrow waist and tight, firm mounds twisting
sensuously.  It was more than he could stand.  He brought his hand
up, and when he laid it on Pavel's ass, he felt the Russian jump with
surprise.  The reaction was only a momentary one, as he soon felt the
hips pressing back against his fingers.

With one finger, Sulu traced the seam that snugged into the crevice
separating the firm mounds.  When he reached that spot where the
small puckered opening was, he pressed in a little deeper, tracing
the rim of the aperture with his fabric-covered fingertip.

Forgetting about the cable for the moment, Pavel withdrew from the
opening above and splayed his hands on the wall, spreading his legs
to give his lover full access to him.

Moving his hands around Pavel's waist, Sulu reached for the opening
in the front and pulled apart the hook-and-loop fastener that ran
from chest to groin with a crisp ripping sound.

"Hik..." Pavel breathed.  "Vhat if...someone could see..."

"Shhhh..." Sulu soothed.  "No one has been down here since we started
this project.  I want to feel you against me."

Pavel swallowed roughly.  "Yesssss...." he hissed when Sulu freed his
erection and began to stroke it.  Chekov pulled his arms from the
confines of the sleeves and let the jumpsuit slide down his thighs,
only stopping when his spread legs allowed it to advance no further.
Sulu slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of the briefs and slid
them down to meet the bunched suit.

Slipping his own jumpsuit down, he kneaded the tight mounds and
separated them, slipping his cock between the firm cheeks.

"Oh...God...Hik," Pavel moaned softly.  "Fuck me..." he pleaded.

Sulu grabbed Pavel around the waist and pulled him against him as
tightly as possible.  His lips went to the damp neck and he traced
the path of the droplets he had watched earlier.  His breaths were
coming in short gasps as the taste and smell of Pavel's salty skin
invaded all his senses.  He gently bit and nibbled his way to the
base of his lover's ear.  "I can't, Pav," he breathed roughly.  "We
don't have anything to lubricate you with."

He felt Pavel reach for his hand and pull it down to his hard
cock.  "Yes, we do.  Make me cum," Pavel whispered between short,
sharp breaths.

Sulu wrapped one hand around the thick cock, positioning his fingers
for optimum pleasure.  With his other, he cradled Pavel's scrotum and
gently massaged the orbs inside.  With Pavel wrapped in his arms,
Hikaru began stroking the hard organ.  Pavel covered the head of his
penis with his palm to capture his ejaculate, and it didn't take long
until Sulu felt him tense and then begin to spasm.  After massaging
Pavel to completion, he released the organ and moved back a bit,
freeing his cock from between the tight mounds.

Pavel brought his hand behind him and began to coat Sulu's erection
with his fluid.  Hikaru spread the mounds and Pavel spread the
remainder of his ejaculate around and within his anus, readying
himself for his lover's invasion.  Looking down and watching Pavel's
fingers move into his own body was a sight that almost brought Hikaru
over.

Thoroughly prepared, Pavel removed his hand and splayed himself
against the wall again.  Centering his cock, Hikaru pressed the head
of his organ inside and felt Pavel push back against him.  With just
a few short strokes, he was fully encased within his lover.  Holding
Pavel's hips still against him, he made sure his lover was adjusted
to his length before he began to thrust into the body.  Withdrawing
all but the tip, he then buried his cock up to the root inside his
lover.  Once...twice...three times, was all it took before he felt
the swell of heat begin to gather in his groin.  Reaching for one of
Pavel's hands, he moved it down to his lover's renewed erection and
together they stroked up the firm length of flesh.  Then Hikaru
removed his hand and grasped Pavel around the waist once more,
leaving Pavel to stroke himself to completion.

"Oh, GOD!" Sulu breathed.  Maybe it was the fact that they were doing
something that they both knew they shouldn't be, or maybe it was the
heat in the bowels of the ship that had finally burned any semblance
of good sense from them, but right now, Sulu didn't care.  It was
evident from Pavel's deep moans that his partner had long since
dismissed any concerns about this encounter.  Thrusting deep, he sunk
the full length of his cock into his lover once more.

"Da!  Trakhat'sya moju z opa!"  Pavel moaned loudly.

Again, his tongue found the slick, wet flesh at the base of Pavel's
neck and bathed upwards, flicking the damp strands of hair with his
tongue.  His legs trembled and he could feel the stinging rush of his
orgasm as it was about to overtake him.  "Oh, God...Pav...you feel so
good...so hot...so tight!" he groaned.

"Ummm...ostokhuitel'no!" his lover gasped.

Sinking his lips into the curve of Pavel's neck to stifle his moan,
he thrust again and felt the rush of his orgasm as he began to fill
Pavel's contracting chamber.  The muscles of his lover's cavity
clenched around his organ as Pavel brought himself off.  Hikaru slid
his hand down Pavel's arm until his hand closed over his lover's
larger one.  He could feel the sticky wetness of the Russian's semen
as it seeped between his fingers.  "Oh...yes!" Sulu groaned into the
beads of sweat just beneath Pavel's ear.  He felt the last erotic
wave wash over him, and he shot the last of his ejaculate into his
lover's ass.

"Sukin syn!" Pavel exclaimed, his voice sounding alarmed, as all hell
broke loose.

---

They were all tired.  The crew had been putting in a minimum of
sixteen-hour days.  Well, only twelve if they used Vulcan hours.  It
didn't sound so bad when thought of in those terms, he kept reminding
his crew.  Never mind that there were only eighteen hours in a Vulcan
day, and each hour converted to almost an hour and a half in Standard.

They had only been able to download some of the medical information
from the ship's computer banks before they found out that there were
more immediate concerns that had to be addressed.  Scotty had
discovered that most of the systems were routed through the weapons
controls on the Bird of Prey, and bypassing that system had to take
precedence.  Jim didn't want to chance firing off a phaser blast when
he merely wanted a cup of coffee from the replicator.  Not that they
had happened upon any code that would supply them with consumable
coffee, or anything else for that matter.

Bones had insisted for days that Jim was going to have a full mutiny
on his hands if he kept up this backbreaking schedule.  It was that
little statement that ended up naming the ship.  Bones, in one of his
tirades, and armed with a can of red paint, had dubbed her the H.M.S.
Bounty.  He said it was the perfect name, considering the commander
the crew had to put up with.  Other than agreeing on the name, which
somehow appealed to his own sense of irony, he chose to ignore the
doctor's advice.  Too, since McCoy wasn't usually on the ship, but in
the labs at the Academy trying to work on the medical tapes, he
didn't have to hear Bones' criticisms all that often.

Jim's days usually began long before the others.  He would rise,
dress, and walk to the transport station where he would arrive at the
site while it was still dark.  It seemed that only on this ship could
he find any peace.  It was his key.  He was certain that it held his
answers.

But the answers did not come easily.  More than once, Jim wished for
Spock's expertise.  More than once, Jim wished for Spock.  Each day,
as the sun would rise over the horizon, Jim would look up at the path
that ran across the crest of the mountain.  Occasionally, he would
see those who lived at Gol walking there, but never the lithe,
graceful figure that he hoped to catch a glimpse of.  More often than
not, there would be nothing except the harsh, jagged shape of the
rocks that were illuminated by the red sun's glow as it tried to rise
above the peaks.  Convincing himself that it was for the best, he
would then turn back to the issue at hand and immerse himself in the
monumental task before him.  This became his routine.

It was their seventh day of working on the Bird of Prey.  They had
taken a short break to eat their midday meal and then gone back to
their stations.  Jim, Scotty, and Nyota were on the bridge.  Pavel
and Hikaru were where they'd been for the last three days, in the
bottom of the ship rerouting the kilometers of cables that led from
the central computer to the various controls.  McCoy hadn't shown up
that day, but considering the argument that they had the day before,
Jim wasn't surprised.

The heat within the ship, especially during the middle of the day,
became very uncomfortable.  Scotty had disappeared from the waist up
as he was straining to disengage a circuit board through a panel that
had been removed in the floor.  Jim wiped the sweat from his forehead
with his thumb as he squatted next to the opening, handing Scotty the
tools he needed.  He was often amazed how a man of Scotty's stature
could maneuver within these tiny areas with such remarkable agility.
But all he had to do was point the Scotsman toward any mechanical
task, and his chief engineer always managed to snake himself into
even the smallest niche to work on it.  Nyota was underneath the comm
unit working on rewiring that center so it would be able to pick up
Federation frequencies.

"Dammit!  Dammit ta hell!" he heard coming from beneath the floor.
Scotty scooted his legs back and slowly emerged from the pit.

"What's the matter?" Jim rose quickly to his feet and asked in a
rush, thinking that Scotty might be hurt.

Scott sat up and grabbed a towel lying on the floor.  He mopped the
sweat from his brow and hands.  "The damned magna-wrench slipped
outta my hand!  Now it's lying at the bottom of the chamber and I
dinna have the reach t' grab it."

"Can we get our hands on another one?" Jim asked.

"Nae...not one that'll fit these Klingon connectors.  I'll have t' go
get the magnetic clamp from down below.  That'll retrieve it right
enough!" Scotty said as he started to rise.

"Sit still, Scotty.  Get something to drink, and I'll go after it."

"Are ye sure ye know what you're going after?"

"Long rod...magnetic clamp on the end?  Yeah, I think even I can
handle that, Mr. Scott!" Jim smiled and winked.

Mopping his brow once more, Scotty grinned.  "Then I'll let ye!" he
replied.

Jim headed for the access ladder and, ignoring the rungs, slid down
the four levels bringing him to the belly of the ship.  He knew that
Chekov and Sulu had been using the tool kit in the aft section
earlier in the day, so he headed in that direction.

The passage that contained the electrical conduit was located at the
back of a twisting corridor that circled around behind the anti-
matter chamber.  Jim had to turn sideways to slide through the narrow
opening, and found himself almost on top of them before he realized
what was going on.  Luckily, they hadn't heard him since both men
were faced away from the opening and otherwise distracted.  Pavel was
splayed against the bulkhead, supporting himself with one hand, and
Sulu was spooned against his back.  Both of their jumpsuits were
around their knees, Sulu's arms encircling his lover, and his hips
were thrusting forward.

Pavel was mumbling something in his native tongue--Jim had a pretty
good idea what--and it sounded like Sulu was trying to suppress his
own moans against Chekov's neck.  Jim, after gaining his wits, tried
to back away silently.  If the open toolbox hadn't been directly
behind him, he probably would have made a clean get-away.

However, he struck the box with his heel and tools began to clatter
as they were spilled all over the floor.

Pavel screamed something in Russian, not a welcome greeting if Jim
could tell anything from the way it was yelled, and the men who had
been otherwise occupied jumped and grabbed at their clothes.  They
each were trying to pull the tangle of underwear and jumpsuits up
quickly as they turned and all eyes met.

"ADMIRAL!" Pavel exclaimed with nothing less than pure shock and
embarrassment.

It always amazed Jim how time could slow to a near halt at moments
like this.  It was no more than a few seconds, but in that time,
everything he was seeing was registering with absolute clarity.
Sulu's cock, dark and glistening, withdrew from Chekov's ass.
Pavel's hand was coated with his own semen as he grasped for the
bunched clothes around his knees.

"Sorry...it's just...Scotty needed...the...never mind..." Jim
stammered as he backed away.  Looking down at the spill of tools
lying around his feet, there was a moment when he didn't know whether
to try to pick up the scattered items, or just run.  Running won
out.  Turning quickly, he flung himself through the narrow opening
and sprinted for the ladder.

"Dammit...dammit...dammit!" he was still exclaiming as he reached the
bridge level.  Bones had warned him.  Had he listened?  Hell no!
Just because he didn't have a private life anymore, he hadn't thought
about what these grueling hours were doing to his crew.  Hell, Chekov
and Sulu had just recently gotten back together after years apart!
What the hell did he expect?

Oh, GOD!  It was bad enough catching anyone in that position, but the
fact that it had been Pavel caused his gut to tighten.  He'd always
imagined--pretended--there was a facade of innocence that surrounded
the Russian.  So much for that!  'FUCK!' Jim silently screamed.  He
didn't even realize that he was back on the bridge until he heard
Scotty's voice.

"Could ye 'nae find it?" Scotty asked Jim, who had rushed back onto
the bridge empty handed.

"It...?" he asked, forgetting what the hell he'd gone after to begin
with.  "Oh...the magnetic clamp.  No...er...didn't get a chance to
look for it," he breathed heavily.

"No problem, I know right where it is.  I'll get it," Scotty offered
as he headed for the door.

"NO!" Jim shouted before he could stop himself.

Scotty stopped dead in his tracks and turned to the admiral.  Even
Nyota came from underneath the communications station with the sound
of his shout.  Taking a deep breath, Jim said, this time more
calmly, "What I mean, Mr. Scott, is that we've been working too
long.  It will be waiting for us again tomorrow.  Everyone is
relieved of duty for the day."

"But, sir," Scotty began to protest.  He was as much a workaholic as
anyone, but Nyota strolled over and whispered something to him.
Whatever it was, it worked, seemingly changing Scotty's mind in mid-
thought.  "AYE, Admiral!" he nodded.

Laying the towel that he still held in his hand over the rail, he and
Uhura turned to leave the ship.

"Oh, and Scotty, will you two inform Chekov and Sulu on your way
out?" Jim called.

"Certainly, sir," Scotty answered.

Sure, it was the coward's way out, but Jim really didn't feel like
facing them right now.  And he had no doubt that they were already
dressed and on their way to the bridge.

"Aren't ye coming, Admiral?" Scotty asked.

"You all go ahead.  I just want to shut down some things and I'll be
leaving shortly."  Since he had started using the transporter at the
station more than the shuttle, this didn't seem to raise any warning
signals.

Scotty nodded and Jim noticed the small tug that Uhura gave his
engineer's arm.  After they had gone, Jim sat down at the navigation
position and rested his elbows on the unit, balling his fingers
together in front of his face.  Lightly, he pounded his forehead with
the clasped fingers.  "Dammit!" he exclaimed.

---

Deep in the ship, fully dressed once more, there were two men who
suspected that they were in serious trouble.

"Hik, do you think the admiral will really be mad?"

"Are you kidding?" Sulu turned and looked at his lover.  "It's a good
thing that Starfleet has probably already court-martialed us in
absentia.  Otherwise, Admiral Kirk would have us taking a long walk
out a short waste tube!  Damn!  Of all the times for him to show up!
We've been the only ones down in this part of the ship for days!
Pav, I'm really sorry."

"You didn't do anything that I haven't been thinking about since we
started!  You KNOW what he'll be tink'ing!  That we do this all the
time.  He'll NEVER believe that this was our first time."

"Does it matter?  Well, we might as well go topside and face the
music.  Better than putting it off."

"I tink I'd rather put it off," Pavel sighed as he started down the
corridor.

They had just climbed up the first of the four levels when they
noticed Scotty and Nyota coming down.  "Did he send BOTH of you after
us?" Pavel asked.

Uhura reached the level they were standing on and turned to
them.  "Well, he told us to tell you that you're relieved of duty for
the rest of the day."

"Oh...damn!" Pavel breathed, looking toward Sulu.

"I didn't think he'd relieve us of duty," Hikaru responded, shaking
his head.  "A reprimand, maybe.  We have to go talk to him...have to
explain."

"Explain what?  I swear!  First Scotty and now you two!  You would
think that an evening off for a change was punishment.  I would think
the two of you would look forward to some time spent together."

"Aye, the lass is right," Scotty added, now that he had reached the
same level.  "I say we go get cleaned up, maybe get something to eat,
then do whatever we want to.  And I, for one, know exactly what I
plan on doin' with the evening," he grinned, wrapping his arms around
Nyota's waist.

"Wait...let me get this straight.  You mean the admiral has given us
ALL the evening off?  It's not just Pavel and me he's sending home?"

"Now, why in heaven's name would he go and do a thing like that?"
Scotty asked.  "Don't ye think we deserve some time away from this
tub, too?"

"Doesn't he want to see us?  Wasn't he mad?" Pavel asked.

"Mad?" Uhura questioned.  Looking over her shoulder at Scotty, both
of them shook their heads before she turned back and answered.  "No,
he didn't seem angry.  A bit flustered, maybe.  Why?  What's going on
with you two, anyway?"

"Aye!  The two of ye look like you've been caught with yer hands in
the cookie jar, sure 'nough," Scotty added.

Sulu looked sheepishly toward Pavel.  "Well, it wasn't exactly our
hands in the cookie jar that the admiral caught us at," he whispered,
the flush turning his complexion to a dark ginger color.

"Do ye mean t' tell me that Jim Kirk caught ye with yer knickers
down?" Scotty exclaimed.

They both nodded.  "Yeah, and I figured that he would be pretty angry
with us," Sulu said, not quite believing that they were being all but
rewarded.

Once both Nyota and Monty had managed to control their laughter,
Nyota said, "Well, he might be after giving it some thought, but he
seemed more flustered than anything.  I say let's get out of here and
deal with the rest tomorrow.  I, for one, am looking forward to a
shower and a night away from here!"  She all but purred as she looked
across her shoulder at the man who still held her.

---

Jim wasn't sure how long he sat in the seat.  Certainly long enough
for the rest of the crew to clear out.  The scene he had encountered
below kept playing out in his mind.  Sure, it was an embarrassing
encounter, and one that would take some time for all of them to get
over.  And true, given normal circumstances he'd have had the two of
them hauled up and would've at least threatened 'Behavior
Unbecoming'.  But they were far from home, in all likelihood had
given up everything they loved--except each other--and had a
commander who was asking the impossible from them.  No, he wasn't
angry.  If anything, Jim was feeling somewhat envious.

Passion.  Pure, unadulterated passion is what he'd caught a glimpse
of.  He remembered feeling like that.  By the calendar it wasn't so
long ago--just shy of a month.  But by his heart it seemed like it
had been years since he'd felt that way.  He recalled the feeling of
being so in love that just being near him, in Jim's case either of
them, turned him on.  He remembered one evening in a restaurant when,
under the cover of darkness, his lovers' had ravaged him.  He
remembered many days when he had to consciously fight with his brain
against erotic images that threatened to bring him to arousal.  There
was a time when just the glimpse of either of them would stir his
passions.

Hell, who was he kidding?  Spock and McCoy were always giving him a
hard time about checking out most everyone he passed.  He hadn't felt
any desire to act upon it with any others in a very long time, but
he'd told them that until the day came when he was struck blind, he
wasn't going to stop looking.  It had turned into a running joke
between them about his roving eye.

Even as recently as his birthday, the day Saavik had gone through the
Kobayashi Maru, after he and Spock had walked past a maintenance
worker, Jim, in true fashion, had turned to give the man the once-
over.  Spock had teasingly arched an eyebrow at him.  His lovers had
long before realized that most of the looking and flirting that went
on was for their benefit.  A few glances here, a little more
attention than was necessary there, all under their watchful eyes,
could institute a night of love making that would all but set the
sheets on fire.  At what point had he lost his desire for that?  At
what point did the memory of flesh--their flesh--rubbing against his
stop arousing him?

God, how he missed that feeling!  He'd told himself that Sarek had a
fight on his hands where Bones was concerned, but his desire to fight
was gone.  Where did that leave them?  Where did that leave Bones?
Waiting for someone who wasn't going to be there for him, that's
where.  The desire for what they had was gone, but his love for the
man was as strong as ever.  Just as he'd denied Pavel and Hikaru what
they needed, Scotty and Nyota, too, for that matter, he was denying
Bones what he needed.

What was it his father used to say?  'Boys, you either need to take
the shot or pass the ball, but the game can't go on if you just stand
there.'  It had been his father's way of telling them that if they
weren't going to take action, step out of the way for those who
will.  Okay, so it was time to take action.  Reaching for his
personal communicator he stared at the device.  Now that they had
been reprogrammed to work through the Vulcan network, it made staying
in touch a lot easier.  Flipping it open with determination, he
punched in the frequency to contact McCoy.

---

Leonard had spent less time working and more time daydreaming that
afternoon.  Maybe it was just reminiscing.  The thought had crossed
his mind more than once to go back to the apartment, strip naked and
call Jim.  It was something he'd done at least once or twice over the
years, but certainly not here, and certainly not now.  But with the
increased hostility that had been brewing between himself and Jim
lately, he wasn't sure it would work.

He knew one thing for sure!  He was definitely beginning to feel that
spark again; his threatening erection was testament enough to that.
Okay, so things weren't the same as they'd been.  Did that mean that
they couldn't go on from here?

His comm unit sounded.  Picking it up, he saw that the transmission
was coming in from Jim.  Well, well!  Maybe Jim had been having the
same ideas?  One could only hope!

"McCoy, here," he answered.

"Bones, I've given the crew the rest of the day off.  How about you
knocking off for the day, too?  What would you say to meeting
somewhere for dinner?"

"You, Jim?" Leonard asked, amazement evident in his voice.  He could
feel the uncontrollable smile that spread across his face.  Could it
be that his stunt the day before, had paid off?  "Let me get this
straight.  You, Jim Kirk, have given the most overworked crew in the
quadrant the rest of the day off?"

"Okay, Bones, that's enough.  You want to meet me, or not?"

"Sure I do.  Just name the time and place," Leonard grinned.

"Well, I need to get cleaned up, but I can use the sonics here on the
ship since Scotty has them working."

'Too bad,' McCoy thought.  Had Jim said he was going back to the
apartment to clean up, he may have found himself with a little
company in the shower.  "An hour, then?" McCoy asked.

"It won't take that long.  How about thirty minutes, somewhere in the
International District?  Maybe that little place that has Italian
food?"

"I don't care what they say, Italian food without meat isn't the real
thing, but yeah, that sounds fine."

"Good, see you then," Jim said before closing the link.

McCoy looked around at the other scientists in the area, all Vulcan,
none of which were terribly conversive.  He grinned at the thought of
their reaction if he decided to stand up and do a little dance to the
tune of "I've gotta date with Jim."  Damn, suddenly he was all but
giddy.  Hell, it was only dinner.  Well, that was all that was
mentioned, but before the night was over, Leonard McCoy had other
plans for the esteemed admiral.

Before he made a fool out of himself, he decided to go back to the
apartment, grab a quick shower and a change of clothes.  Okay, so
except for some ill-fitting jumpsuits, everything they wore looked
the same.  It wasn't his fault that the clothes they had on their
backs were being used as the pattern to replicate their wardrobe in
the recycler.  But it was better than the alternative.  He'd be
damned before he'd start wearing robes!

He was a few minutes late arriving at the restaurant.  He would have
been even later if he'd given into the urge to relieve his straining
erection in the shower.  It took willpower, but he decided to hold
off and let Jim do that for him...later.

He saw Jim standing out front and he realized he was as excited as a
kid on his first date.  He tried to calm himself as he walked from
the transport center to the caf .  It was just dinner, he told
himself, again.  It's not like Jim had invited him back to the
apartment to fuck his brains out, not yet anyway.  "Well, hello
there, Jim!  You wanna tell me what the occasion is?" he asked,
trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible.

"Occasion, Bones?" Jim looked at him curiously.

"Yeah.  Calling it a day in the middle of the afternoon, dinner out,
not what I'd call your usual behavior."

"Christ, Bones!  Don't I have the right to take an afternoon off
without getting the third degree?"

Leonard drew back a bit.  Okay, so Jim wasn't in the mood to kid
around.  Maybe he'd have to take it down a notch, move a little
slower.  "Sorry, Jim.  Of course you have the right."

"Besides," Jim continued, "other than some pretty stressful moments
at the ship, it's been a while since we've done much more than see
each other as we passed going in and out of the apartment.  I thought
that having a chance to catch up would be a good idea."

Now, that was sounding better, Leonard thought.  "Yeah, this is
nice.  Ready to go inside?" he asked, holding open the door.  Well,
hell, if this night was going to be about courtin' him, he might as
well go all the way!

They were shown to a table just off the center of the room.  They
placed their orders, and requested wine.  Yeah, it was synthesized,
but it tasted good nonetheless.  They had already been in the
restaurant a good ten minutes, and had yet to say anything directly
to each other.  This was a man Leonard had talked to, confided in,
made love to, for more years than he cared to count.  But lately, any
attempt at conversation usually ended up in strained small talk, and
silence would shortly win out, just as it seemed to be doing again
this evening.  Leonard had hoped that by meeting here, the noise of
other people would get them talking, but it was still very early for
the Vulcan evening meal, and there were only a few tables occupied.

"So, Jim, how's the progress coming on the ship?  Have Chekov and
Sulu finished rerouting the cables yet?"

McCoy noticed a definite flush that started at Jim's collar and crept
up his face.  Not only that, Jim was glaring at him!  What the hell
had he said now?  "Not yet, but it's...*coming* along," he finally
replied through clenched teeth.

Leonard decided to just sit there and shut up for a while, at least
until those daggers quit shooting out of Jim's eyes.

After a few more minutes of silence, Jim asked, "How are the medical
records?  Making any sense of them?"

McCoy tilted his head.  Leonard sent Jim a report every morning, and
both of them knew damned well how it was going; it was a case of
three steps forward, two steps back.  But at least it was another
attempt at conversation.  "Nothing else to report.  I found something
today that I thought I was gonna be able to decode, but it didn't pan
out."

Jim nodded.  The waiter came by and asked if they wanted a refill on
the wine, both held out their glasses.  A few silent minutes later,
their dinner was served.  Even Bones had to admit it was better than
what they'd been ordering in or replicating at the apartment lately.
Jim agreed that the food was good.  Beyond that, they both commented
that the music being played by the two musicians in the middle of the
room was interesting, the drink potent, and the weather hot.  It was
the small talk that they had become accustomed to lately at its best,
or worst, depending on how you looked at it.  Slowly, Bones' plans
for the evening were being dashed all to hell.

---

Jim carefully watched the man sitting across from him, and noticed a
small sigh, one uttered in what seemed to be defeat.  He thought he
had noticed a glimmer of mischievousness in the blue eyes when they
had met at outside the restaurant, but even that small spark seemed
to have faded.  He remembered how there used to always be just a
twinkle of naughtiness that was a constant in those blue eyes.
Now...nothing.  Jim's heart went out to his friend.  Bones was
hurting, and Jim knew why.  He couldn't help him find that spark
again, but he knew someone who could.  He knew Bones still had strong
feelings for Sarek, and it had been quite obvious that Sarek felt the
same, yet Jim was sure they had made no attempt to see each other.
One thing about it, if nothing else, Bones' loyalty couldn't be
denied, just as Sarek had been true to his word.

Sure, McCoy still loved Spock, but their former bondmate was firmly
ensconced at Gol, having no idea who they were.  And Jim knew that
all he would have to do is ask, and he'd find Bones beside him in
bed.  But Jim felt like he had nothing left inside to offer anyone
these days.  There was a single purpose that had taken over his soul,
and it left no room for what they had before.  Jim had resented
Sarek's interest in this man who had been his lover, and yet he
couldn't give Bones what he needed.  He watched as his friend picked
at the food on the plate.  He decided this could not go on.  He had
no right to keep them apart.

Jim put down his fork, placed his elbows on either side of his plate,
and clasped his fists together.  Taking a deep breath and looking
over his hands, he asked, "Have you seen Sarek?"

Bones looked up.  Jim noticed the surprised look McCoy gave him, as
he answered, "No, not me.  Not since we were at his house on the day
of the refusion.  Why?  Have you?"

"No.  He has been noticeably absent since that day.  I think you
should go see him."

Leonard shook his head.  "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?  You're closer to him than any of us.  Maybe he can update you
on Spock's condition."  Jim shrugged, hoping it made it seem like a
more natural request.

Leonard laid down his fork and took another sip of the wine.  "If you
want an update on Spock, I can try to get information through some of
the contacts I've made at the medical labs.  I'd rather not go to
Sarek."

"I don't want a print-out on his condition, Bones.  I want to know
*how* he's doing.  Only Sarek can give us that."

"Then you go ask him," Bones clipped, harshly.  Jim watched as Bones
gently bit his bottom lip, and knew his reaction had been more
extreme than he'd intended.  Jim took it as a good sign.  Obviously,
there were still strong feelings there.

Under Jim's scrutinizing eye, McCoy continued, this time a bit
calmer.  "Jim, on the day of the ritual, I made a fool of myself.
I'd really rather not see him right now."  Was it Jim's imagination
that the blood seemed to rush to McCoy's face?  No, he decided, it
definitely wasn't his imagination.

"Bones, on the day of the ritual, neither one of us was at our best.
But I think you need to go talk to him."  He was trying to keep it
casual, but that was difficult with someone as stubborn as the man
seated across from him.

Leonard lowered his voice, seemingly so those few seated around them
would not overhear.  "Why are you pressuring me to go to Sarek?  Why
don't you go?  What the hell has happened between the two of you,
anyway?  You haven't been able to say two civil words to him since
this started.  I can't go, Jim.  You don't understand the situation."

Sensing that if he pushed Bones any further, they were going to end
up drawing attention to themselves.  Therefore, he let the subject
drop.  Looking away, he raised his wine glass and took a long sip.
For the remainder of the meal, they reverted back to nothing more
controversial than small talk.  Jim noticed that Bones' mood seemed
to brighten once more.   He knew that the doctor thought he had won
this battle.  He was wrong.  He had only won the round, and the
evening was still young.

---

Upon exiting the caf , Jim turned toward Leonard, and asked, "You up
for a walk?"

"Sounds good," Bones replied.

Trying not to be too obvious, Jim steered them down a side street,
which he knew led to a park.  He hoped that they could find a
secluded area there where they could talk.  The business district was
generally quiet at this time of the day; as it was approaching that
hour when most Vulcans took their evening meal and meditated.  Jim
slowed his pace, allowing his gaze to wander from the buildings they
were passing to the man walking beside him.  The one thing he didn't
want to do was tip his hand.  There were things he needed to say, and
he didn't want Bones to bolt before he had the chance.

It seemed that McCoy suspected nothing, and even appeared to relax,
as he became more talkative.  "At least it's cooled off a little,"
the doctor offered.  "Why, it's probably no more than about ninety
degrees, now.  Course, that's using the old Fahrenheit scale.  That's
the scale we use 'ta use when talkin' about the weather when I was
growing up.  There was just somethin' about hearing that the
temperature had dropped below the ninety degree mark that made it
seem more...oh, I dunno, maybe more romantic somehow.  Guess that's
why I still don't like using the Celsius scale when discussin' the
temperature."

As they continued to walk side-by-side, Jim would glance occasionally
at the man next to him.  Jim watched the blue eyes as they stared off
into the distance.

"You know, if you threw in a few magnolia trees, maybe some of those
big ol' oaks with Spanish moss hanging from them, then it'd just
about feel like a summer's night at my grandmother's house in
Southern Georgia.  Air so thick you could almost cut it.  You'd end
up fanning yourself with whatever was handy.  Anything just to keep a
little wind movin'.  It was the same house where my mother had grown
up, and we'd go there every few weeks and stay the weekend.  I
remember back in the hot, humid summer evenings, we'd all gather on
the porch and listen to the orchestra of crickets and katydids coming
from the yard.  Jeeze, I haven't thought about that in a long time."
McCoy's voice faded off, and the far-away look on his friend's face
told Jim that, for the moment, he was reliving those days of his
childhood.

After a few seconds, McCoy continued.  "I loved goin' there.  My
sisters and I would wear ourselves out chasing lightning-bugs."  He
turned his head toward Jim.  "Have you ever see lightning-bugs, Jim?"

"A few, Bones.  There were some on the farm, but not many," he
whispered, softly.  He didn't want to interrupt these memories that
his friend was finding pleasure in.

"Well, they were thick as thieves at my grandmother's," Leonard
grinned.  "At least, that's how I remember.  Anyway, we'd finally
tire of chasin' them and my sisters would go in the house, but not
me.  I stayed outside until I couldn't hold my eyes open any longer.
Jim, there was an old porch swing that would squeak just a might with
every pass.  One of the few memories I have of my mother was sittin'
with her in that old swing.  When I got so sleepy that I couldn't
hold my head up anymore, she'd turn me so I was lying with my head in
her lap.  She'd slow the swing down so we were barely movin'.  Rocked
me right to sleep.  There was somethin' that felt so safe about those
evenings..." His voice drifted off again.

Jim felt a lump form in his throat, and he found he had to blink hard
as he caught a glimpse of the man he had fallen in love with.  All
the stress seemed to disappear from McCoy's face.  It was as if
everything that Bones had gone through this last year; the mission to
the outer rim, and the war that he and Sarek ended up in the middle
of while they were there; not to mention the injuries that he had
almost died from, vanished.  Gone were the telltale signs of the
nightmares that had haunted their blue-eyed lover in those weeks
after their return.  Nor was there any indication of the confusion
created from the relationship that had been formed with Sarek before
returning to San Francisco with his bondmates.  And all that had
transpired since, seemed to melt away from Bones' face as he
remembered a simpler time.  Jim wished with all his heart that he
could take him in his arms and give him that feeling of being safe
again.  But he couldn't find that within himself, and he sure didn't
have it to offer to anyone else.  "Sounds great, Bones," Jim breathed.

McCoy looked at Jim.  "Sorry, didn't mean to start runnin' off at the
mouth," he said with a grin.

"It's okay, Bones," Jim sighed.  Something inside of him wanted so
much to pull Bones to him, kiss him, to feel those lips against his
once more.  But he couldn't.  It wasn't fair to offer this man, this
kind, gentle, beautiful man, the promise of something that could
never be.  That part of their lives had passed.  Memories of what
they once had still remained, yet Jim could only view those memories
in what was lost, not what was shared.  Jim knew the kindest thing
would be to let go, before he hurt Bones any further.  He was no good
to his lover, or any of them now, at least not how things were at
present.

They had reached the edge of a small park.  Jim sat down on a stone
bench.  Bones put one foot on it and propped his arms across his
raised knee.  "Jim, you're a man with somethin' on his mind.  You
wanna let me in on it?"

Jim turned his head up and shielded his eyes with one hand against
the intensity of the purple-red sunset.  Taking a deep breath, Jim
knew what he had to do.  He also knew that before this night was
over, he was going to end up hurting someone he loved very
much.  "Bones, back at the restaurant, you said I don't understand
the situation.  I understand a lot more than you think."

Apparently exasperated when Jim wouldn't drop this topic, Leonard put
his foot down and shoved his hands in his pockets.  "Do you?  Do you
have any idea what it feels like to be so in love with you and Spock
that it hurts, and even so, find that I still have feelings for
Sarek?  So much so, that I made a total jackass outta myself?  Do you
have any idea how that feels?"

"Bones, you haven't done anything that..."

Leonard cut him off.  "You have no idea what I've done."

"What, Bones?  It couldn't have been that bad."

"NO?" McCoy shot back.  "Goddammit!  This wasn't the way I pictured
this evening goin'!  And this sure wasn't somethin' that I wanted to
tell you about!  But you want to know the gory details?  Fine!  Right
before the refusion ceremony, I grabbed Sarek by the shoulders and
kissed him.  And, well, it's obvious he's not interested, because I
haven't heard a word from him since.  Satisfied?" Leonard turned away.

"He's interested, Bones.  I think that may be obvious to everyone but
you.  But as for hearing from him, you won't.  If you want to find
out what there is between you, you'll have to go to him.  I know for
a fact that he will not come to you."

Leonard turned back toward Jim, and asked, "And just how in the hell
do you know that?"

"He told me."

"Told you?  When?  When did you discuss this with him?"

"The night before we stole the Enterprise, Sarek came to our
apartment.  He had been under the assumption that I was the keeper of
Spock's katra.  Anyway, after we discovered that it was you, and that
was the cause of the problems you were having, I told him that you
still had feelings for him."

"You told him, WHAT?" Leonard seethed.  "How could you go behind my
back like that?  Jim, you had no right to do that!"  His eyes were
flashing, clearly showing the betrayal he was feeling.

"Hold on, Bones," Jim tried to calm him.  "He was concerned about
you, we both were.  During our discussion, I found out that
he's...well...he's in love with you.  But he made it clear that he
wouldn't be the one that comes to you.  He said he wouldn't do
anything to jeopardize what we have."

"And just what do we have?  I've kind'a been wondering that myself,
lately."

"I wish I could tell you that everything would be just like it was.
But the fact is, right now, I don't know what I want."  Jim turned
away, shaking his head.  "I'm numb, I guess.  A lot has happened that
I'm going to have to deal with--alone.  Bones, I can't guarantee that
I will ever be able to find my way back to the way it was before."
Yes, it was only a part of what was going on with him, but it was all
Bones needed to know, for now.

"I get the idea that this is some kind of punishment for the way I
was acting before the refusion.  I can keep telling you I'm sorry,
but the fact is that I couldn't help what was goin' on.  Having
Spock's katra in me really screwed me up."

Jim turned his gaze back to the man who had been his lover.  "Bones,
believe me when I tell you I'm not trying to punish you.  Hell, if
anything, I think I can better understand what you were going
through."

"Jim, you've seen me through a hell of a lot.  I'll wait until you're
ready, I don't care how long that takes."

Jim raised his hand as if to brush away McCoy's promise.  "Please,
Bones...don't.  As angry as I was at Sarek for caring for you, I
don't want you waiting around for something that may never happen.
I...I don't want anyone depending on me right now.  Not like that.
And you need to find out what there is between the two of you."

McCoy grasped Jim by the upper arm.  "Jim, I'm never gonna find what
we've had with anyone else.  But even if what you say is true,
there's a lot more involved here than just us.  I don't know if
you're gettin' the full picture here, but Sarek's married.  Amanda
just may have somethin' to say about me showing up on her doorstep
and declarin' my intentions for her husband!"

"Bones, Amanda isn't living on Vulcan any longer.  She left Sarek.
She moved back to Earth just after the news about Spock's death."

Leonard's hand fell away from Jim's arm.  "Left him?" McCoy gasped,
his blue eyes wide with shock.  "Why?"

"I don't know all of the details, but Sarek told me that she had been
unable to accept what went on between the two of you.  I guess when
she got the news about Spock's death, it was the final straw."

Leonard turned around and paced a few steps before he responded.  Jim
watched him carefully.  He was shaking his head, as if all the pieces
were beginning to fall into place.  Turning back around, his voice
having the tone of disbelief, McCoy asked, "That's what's been going
on between the two of you, isn't it?  Some kind of power play, with
me at the center.  Nice of you to let me in on it!  Why not just
barter for me?"

"I was wrong, Bones.  I shouldn't have stood in the way of the two of
you."

"Don't you think I have anything to say about this?  My God, man!
Not only did I betray you and Spock, but I find out that Amanda's
left Sarek because of what happened between us.  On top of that,
Spock doesn't remember who the hell we are, and you've decided that
what we meant to each other for all these years isn't worth a hill of
beans!"  He dropped his head and his voice softened.  "How can you
expect me to just give up on what we had?  What the three of us had?
How can you give up?"

Jim could no longer meet that gaze.  He dropped his head and stared
at his hands.  "Bones, it's not a case of giving up, but of moving
on.  I'm not trying to diminish what we meant to each other.  What we
had together will always be a very important time in my life.  But I
have to get past Spock, David, the Enterprise, Starfleet, and
now...you.  I have to accept what's happened."  Jim stood up and
walked to Leonard who had turned away from him.  He placed his hands
on the still thin shoulders.  "Bones, what we had with Spock is gone,
probably forever.  Beyond all else, I'm still your friend, and hope
you will always think of me in that way.  But let go of what we had.
That life doesn't exist any longer."

Leonard turned around, and they were close, so close.  "Jim..." Bones
whispered.  It was almost a plea.

"Go, Bones.  You deserve a chance for more.  I can't give it to you.
Go...just go."  With his hands on his shoulders, Jim shook Bones
slightly.  He had to get him to believe he didn't care anymore.  He
saw the hurt in the blue eyes and he wanted to pull Bones to him and
tell him he didn't mean it.  But that would only get them through
tonight.  There would always be tomorrow and, in the light of day,
Jim had no idea what the future held.  But he was certain that there
had to be a clean break with the past.  Besides, if the plan he had
in mind worked, they would be separated anyway.  It was better now
than to have to go through this again in the near future.  Bones
would have to find comfort either within himself or with the other
one.  The decision was now his alone.

---

Leonard searched the eyes that he had looked to for so many years.
He had loved this man for so long, he couldn't remember how not to
desire him.  The hands on his shoulders seemed so right, so warm and
protective.  He had found refuge in this man's arms for years, along
with their bondmate.  But as hard as he wanted to deny it, something
inside of him knew that Jim was right.  Not about Sarek; he knew that
whatever was discussed between Sarek and Jim was of little
consequence.  He still had some control over his own destiny, as much
as any of them did while stranded on this planet.  Whatever they once
had together was over.  Maybe it *was* because the bond they shared
through Spock was gone.  But the 'why' no longer seemed important.

He brought a hand up and brushed back a small, stubborn lock of
golden-brown hair that had always insisted on falling over Jim's
forehead.  "I've had all I ever wanted.  If it turns out that that's
all there is, then I'm still glad we had our time together.  It was a
hell of a ride!" He forced a smile even though he could feel his eyes
beginning to sting.  "Jim..." his smile faded, "what's it going to
take for you to find contentment?  What are you going to do?"

Jim's hands dropped from Leonard's shoulders.  "I really don't think
beyond today anymore.  But if I can concentrate on the present, then
I can find a reason to keep going."

"You know, I'm not going anywhere.  Hell, right now none of us are.
I'll be there if you need someone to talk to."

"I know, but right now I can't even tell you what I need.  Somewhere
along the way, long before Khan, I lost myself.  I just need time to
see if I can find that part of me again."

"Jim..." Bones said, but there was nothing else to be said.

Jim turned away from him, and said, "Bones, I'm going to transfer my
gear to the ship.  It's where I spend most of my time, anyway, and I
think it would be best.  And there are some ideas I have about
gaining information from the computer banks.  I'd like to be there to
work on them."

The finality of the voice was clear.  There was no room for him in
this man's heart.  It was a realization that hit Leonard hard.  For
the first time since the refusion, he realized that even though he
could never stop loving this man, the life they had forged together
was a part of the past.  There had just been too much that had
happened to be able to go back to the simplicity of the relationship
they had enjoyed before.  He almost smiled.  It wasn't until now that
he understood just how simple the life they had shared had been.  He
had loved two men with a depth that he had never thought possible.
For that, he would always be grateful.  He doubted that many ever
found the completeness that he had felt in these last years.

"Sure, Jim...sure."

Jim didn't even look his way as he said, "Good night, Bones. Thanks
for dinner." The other man paused, and then said, "I better get back
to the ship."

"Good night, Jim," Leonard managed, his voice choking.

Bones watched as the man who had been so much a part of him walked
away.  He looked toward the sky in an attempt to blink back the tears
that stung his eyes.  It didn't work.  The sun had dipped just below
the horizon and he looked toward the purple-orange glow.  How had
this happened?  How did three men who had completed each other so,
had been so connected to each other, become such three separate
entities?

With a trembling hand, Leonard reached for his shirt and gathered a
clump of material in the center of his chest as he remembered the
medallion that used to hang there.  Three gold, interlocking
circles.  He sat down on the bench and slumped over.  Giving up on
stopping his tears, he allowed them to flow.  He watched as the drops
fell from his eyes and cheeks onto the sandy ground where they were
quickly absorbed.

After a while, Leonard composed himself, somewhat, and rubbed his
eyes and cheeks with his fingers.  He stood up and looked toward the
direction where Jim had left the park.  Clearing his throat, he
said, "In the words of a certain admiral--I swear to you, we're not
finished yet."  Leonard turned and left the park in the opposite
direction.

---

The End