Chapter 9 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. Chapter 10 "Lass?" Scotty called softly at the entrance to the suite. "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 communiqué, 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. Chapter 11 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 communiqué 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. Chapter 12 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. |