RoH 15

To Recreate One Another

Stardate 2260.251, 1100 hours, Deck 7, Quarantine Room 1

Spock came back to himself gradually, dragged into consciousness by harsh spikes of physical and mental pain. His first instinct was to slam down his shields, to cut off the intense discomfort, to isolate himself in the serenity of his mind. But at the center of his consciousness rested a warm weight, another mind, fast asleep, a katra in perfect harmony with his own: Jim.

Jim was the focus he needed. From one second to the next, Spock was wide awake, his mind ultra-aware, his body hyper-sensitive. It took every ounce of control he had left not to move, not to push ever deeper into Jim’s body, into Jim’s mind, and instead to meticulously assess their joined physical and mental state. Clearly, something had gone – no, not wrong. There was nothing wrong with them; he’d already know if that were the case. But something had happened … Ah. The drug – Water of Life. Spice. Jim had been correct to be wary, then. Thankfully, Sybok seemed to have been correct, too …

Carefully, Spock began to explore his Bondmate’s mind. He kept away from memories and feelings. There was time for that later. Instead, he concentrated on the brain regions involved in the biological mechanisms of addiction. He started at the limbic dopaminergic system. Next he traced the neurons influenced by Spice to the area of the midbrain associated with psionic ability in humanoid species. The effects of the drug on that particular cluster of neurons were profound. The basal forebrain was predictably affected as well.

Spock found it hard to resist the impulse to simply fix his Bondmate’s brain. The urge to protect Jim was so strong, so primal that to suppress the instinct hurt Spock in a physical way. Only now that they were Bonded, Spock also recognized how fatal the inherent imbalance of power in his relationship with Jim could be. Not enough that Spock was physically so much stronger than Jim – now he was able to control Jim’s mind. Never Bonded before, Spock had been unable to perceive the full potential of this most intimate telepathic connection. If he had, would he have found the courage to pursue this course of action nevertheless? He doubted it. For once, he was grateful for his ignorance.

Soon, he knew that Sybok had been right about Spice. The drug had indeed facilitated a connection between Jim and himself that was unprecedented in its intensity. Even still immature – without the finalization of their connection during pon farr – their Bond was stronger than that of many Vulcan couples. With a strange sense of gratitude Spock realized that with this Bond, he would have no choice at the end of all things.

Upon further investigation Spock discovered that Spice affected Jim’s brain in two similar, yet very different ways.

On one level, the effects of Spice on Jim’s brain were similar to those of many other drugs used by humanoids. Spice impaired Jim’s dopamine system. It forced receptors to develop a hypersensitivity to the neurotransmitters released by the drug. It made neurons adapt until they required constant repetitive stimulation just to keep Jim’s brain functioning at a normal level.

On another level, the neuromodulatory influence of Spice altered the fundamental functionality of Jim’s psionic center. Spice activated dormant telepathic receptors, caused them to multiply and increased their sensitivity. Spice forced neurons to form connections between Jim’s psionic center and the area of his brain that constituted his conscious mind.

A comparison of the different ways Spice worked gave Spock an idea. What if he could separate the two levels? What if he were able to neutralize the addiction … while keeping Jim’s telepathy alive …

Yes! It was possible. He could assuage the agonizing need for the drug that screamed inside Jim’s unconscious mind even now. He could curb Jim’s helpless desire to experience the drug’s artificial euphoria over and over again. He could restructure Jim’s compromised dopamine system. At the same time Spock was able preserve the new functionality of Jim’s psionic center. But – at least until the maturation of their Bond in pon farr – it would still fall to Spock to activate Jim’s latent telepathy, to “flick the switch” in a way. He also had no way to tell how Jim would respond to the activation of psionic brain functions in absence of the dopamine-induced euphoria of Spice. But thanks to Spock’s careful manipulations, Jim would not be reduced to a passive partner within their Bond.

Relief meshed with exhaustion. For a moment, Spock floated within Jim’s mind. Purposeless and content in the warmth of Jim’s affection. Then he recalled Jim’s preoccupation with the possible effects of Spice on his melanocytes. He examined the current pigmentation of Jim’s iris and was forced to conclude that Jim’s apprehension had not been unfounded. The Water of Life had turned Jim’s eyes blue again. Thanks to Spock’s increasing familiarity with Jim’s mind, it cost little effort to increase the melanin levels in the stroma of his iris. However, Spock was unable to deduce what created the strange brilliance of a Spice-addict’s eyes and was unable to ameliorate that effect of the drug.

Gently, he withdrew into the confines of his own mind. As it had been his first experience with Spice since his birth, he encountered no problems in adjusting the dopamine system of his own brain. At the same time, he realized that thanks to the peculiarities of a Vulcan mind, a full-blooded Vulcan would not be able to alleviate the addiction easily – if at all – once it was an established habit.

Next Spock addressed his physical condition. Shame and humiliation suffused him when he realized he had tied himself to Jim as if he were mindless with the rutting of plak’tow. Instantly, he released the knot and sheathed himself. The pain was immediate and immense. Somehow, he managed to maintain enough control not to disturb Jim’s rest. But he could not contain his physical reactions to the stimulus. His tear ducts convulsively released moisture. As if from far away, he heard his voice rise in a choked scream. He grew aware that his limbs were shaking. With faint astonishment, he realized he was close to fainting. But he must not! He knew he had to relinquish the meld first. For a terrifying fraction of a second he did not remember how, could not endure the thought of separation.

But like a benediction, words drifted into his mind and soothed him: “Estuhn wi ri estuhn. K’wuhli wi ri k’wuhli.”

Touching, yet not touching. Apart, yet never apart. His hand slid away from Jim’s face. Spock fell asleep.

♦♦♦

Stardate 2260.251, 1100 hours, Deck 7, Quarantine Room 1

The alarm sounded when Leonard had fallen asleep on his desk, his head on his arms, right next to a mug of real coffee provided by Yeoman Rand. A damn shame, that.

He was on his feet and out of the room before he was awake and promptly ran right into the closed door of his office. For a moment he leaned against it, a pain-filled “fuck” on his lips. Then he palmed the door open and ran to the quarantine rooms. Sybok and M’Benga were already in the room when he got there.

“What’s happening?” Leonard asked, pushing forward to get a look.

“Spock is awake,” Sybok informed him. “I believe he is attempting to control the effects of Spice on both their minds. We cannot interrupt him now.”

Minutes passed, while Jim’s scans were going off the rocker crazy. Leonard watched in shocked fascination as Jim’s brain was practically rewired on the spot. But apart from the fact that such a thing shouldn’t be possible in the first place, there didn’t seem to be any negative effects. Not that he’d be able to do much if there had been, damn Vulcan voodoo. Then, suddenly, Spock spasmed and wrenched himself backwards. When he jerked up his head, Leonard saw how Spock’s face contorted in agony, tears streaming down his cheeks. Spock was trembling with tension but couldn’t seem to move or to let go of Jim.

Without a word, Sybok rushed to the bed and captured Spock’s face with both hands. “Estuhn wi ri estuhn. K’wuhli wi ri k’wuhli,” he murmured, and again, “estuhn wi ri estuhn. K’wuhli wi ri k’wuhli.”

Leonard had no idea what that meant, but the words had an immediate effect on Spock. He gasped for breath, his hand slipped away from Jim’s face, and he collapsed at Jim’s side.

“What the hell just happened?” Leonard demanded. “What did you do?”

“Releasing the knot can be painful,” Sybok explained. “The physical pain made it more difficult for Spock to let go of the mind meld. I reminded him that he doesn’t need a meld anymore to stay connected to Jim. Their Bond is now very strong, very resilient.”

“Well, Spock looks done in, no matter what,” Leonard commented. “M’Benga?”

M’Benga was already busy at the console. “As expected, no physical damage. While releasing the knot obviously hurt him, he is anatomically a fully functional, fertile Vulcan.” He glanced at Leonard with a slight smile. “Vulcan anatomy is made to endure prolonged priapism during pon farr without ill effects. He should be cleaned up, though. I’ll take care of that with the mobile sonic unit. He’s so out of it that I don’t think he’ll wake, no matter what I do.”

“How about Jim?” Leonard asked. “I’d prefer not to wake him, but I need to examine him now, too.”

“A mild sedative won’t affect the Bond anymore now, Doctor,” Sybok said. “If you agree, I shall ascertain the success of Spock’s intervention in a meld and at need increase the effects before you examine your patients.”

“Very well.” Leonard gestured at Sybok to go ahead. What else was he supposed to do? So far, Sybok had proved to be right more often than he’d turned out to be wrong, damn it.

Sybok placed his right hand on Jim’s face, his left on Spock’s. The meld lasted just a few seconds, then Sybok opened his eyes and drew back. “Spock’s work is excellent. I do wish he’d consider becoming a mind healer. His talents are wasted as a first officer on a starship.”

Leonard scowled, but Sybok ignored him and went on, “Doctor, as far as I can detect, Spock has managed to remove every trace of Spice addiction from both their brains. Due to the mechanism of emotional transference some symptoms may linger. But they should not be focused on the drug.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“For a while they may act is if they are addicted to each other,” Sybok explained without batting an eyelash. “Up to a point that is normal behavior for new Bondmates. A strong desire for physical and mental proximity, sexual relations, taking care of each other in every way. In this particular case those symptoms might be stronger than usual and last longer. You can think of it as intensified mating behavior typical for most humanoid species.”

“… right,” Leonard managed. “Tell me something else I don’t want to hear.”

Sybok raised his left eyebrow. Leonard wondered if Sarek shared that tick, and if the VSA used to have a file on the genetics of Vulcan eyebrow behavior. “I do not recommend separating them for a few weeks, not even for short periods of time. If possible, avoid situations in which one of them might perceive the other as threatened for any reason, as that can trigger a violent reaction.”

“Okay,” Leonard said. “Gotcha.”

M’Benga cast a curious glance his way. Apparently his colleague expected him to kick up more of a fuss. Leonard just shook his head. If he was honest with himself, he’d known where Jim and Spock were headed pretty much since day one. Definitely since Jim woke after the Marcus thing. Heck, even Keenser must have noticed at that point. Still, it wasn’t a crime if Leonard had wished his best friend had ended up in an easier relationship. But of course “easy” wasn’t Jim’s style. Also, Leonard had witnessed Jim’s casual relationships. Even when things between Spock and Jim had been at their worst, their relationship had been saner than some of Jim’s supposedly easy lays. So now that Leonard had to face the facts of Jim and Spock together, he’d deal. He’d help Jim and Spock as much as possible. Never mind that a command team compromised by pon farr was a nightmare for the admiralty come true

“They won’t like it. Sulu will like it less. But that’s no issue,” Leonard grinned savagely. “Kids just got themselves signed up for a month-long vacation.”

“Sometimes it’s good to be the CMO,” M’Benga remarked.

“Betcha.”

♦♦♦

Stardate 2260.252, 1900 hours, Deck 7, Quarantine Room 1

Jim opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Spock. Spock’s expressive brown eyes, just a few inches, no more than a foot away from him. So full of warmth. And inside his mind, Jim could feel that warmth. Like … like a heating pad right inside his skull. A cozy connection that radiated contentment.

The next thing Jim noticed was that they were not on Arrakis anymore. He didn’t need to hear the beeping of monitors or see the flickering of screens out of the corner of his eye or feel the slight scratchiness of hospital sheets around his naked body to know where they were. The smell of sickbay surrounded them. But he wasn’t worried. Spock was inside his mind, and Spock was right in front of him. The only thing that was wrong was that they were not touching. And he could do something about that.

“Hey,” he said, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. He raised his right hand, index and middle finger outstretched – and gasped. Sore didn’t even begin to cover the pain that ripped through his upper body. “What the hell?”

Spock captured his hand and pulled it down to rest on the mattress. “Four days have elapsed since our Bonding,” he explained quietly. “An unexpected complication. I was unable to maintain control during orgasm. In consequence, due to the emotional transference caused by our mind meld—”

“My Spice high transferred to you? Shit. I’m sorry.” Jim winced. “And we were out of it for four days?” But that still didn’t explain why he was so damn sore.

“Not just ‘out of it’,” Spock replied. “We remained …” He hesitated, clearly discomfited. “… as we were – for three days. There is a version of sexual intercourse among Vulcans that normally occurs only during pon farr. Apparently that biological mechanism can also be triggered by drugs. It prevents the partners from separating.”

Sometimes Jim wished his mind was a bit slower with jumping to correct conclusions. “That knot at the base. That’s what it does.” He buried his face in his pillow, trying to get a hold on himself, on the mixture of humiliation and arousal that gripped him. No wonder he was so sore. Actually, it was a miracle that he didn’t feel worse. Much worse. You didn’t need to be a doctor to know that a human body wasn’t made to— Urgh. Speaking of doctors. “Since we’re in sickbay, I’m guessing Bones checked in on us and …” Jim squeezed his eyes shut. And that after he’d tried so hard to be responsible with everything and to cover his ass— Okay, wrong, wrong idiom. At least – he experimentally clenched – whew – at least Bones hadn’t taken it out on his ass. That was definitely the sensation of some serious regen plus a pretty strong local. Oy.

He turned his head again and cracked his eyes open. Spock hadn’t moved and regarded him with the calm, Vulcan serenity and just perhaps even a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. The warm sensation inside his mind sparkled, too. Or something. Jim wasn’t sure how to describe the experience. It was good, though. Very good, even. But the link wasn’t as close as it had been. Well, after five days the Spice must have worn off … He couldn’t suppress the sense of loss at the thought.

Spock let go of Jim’s hand and brought his fingers up to his face. He touched Jim’s temple with just the fingertips of his index finger and middle finger – a Vulcan kiss. Desire rushed straight to his groin. His cock stirred.

“I am not certain how to proceed,” Spock admitted, and Jim was aware of his insecurity in – a kind of shivery sensation inside his head that made him want to twitch and roll his head. “I believe the appropriate Standard expression is that I have a confession to make. When I neutralized the drug’s influence on your brain, I allowed certain effects to persist. Specifically the neural processes that activate your psionic center. You will require me to meld with you in order to initiate the process, but the result should approximate the state of mind you achieved with the aid of the drug.”

Jim blinked as he worked out what that explanation meant when applied to his brain chemistry. “You installed a switch in my mind?” he asked. “For my non-existent telepathy?”

“Latent telepathy,” Spock corrected. “Passive psionic potential does not mean that it does not exist, it means that—”

“Yeah, I know,” Jim interrupted him. “Wow. That’s … inspired. Kind of crazy.” He smiled and squeezed Spock’s hand when his fingers trembled against his skin. “In a good way.”

“We will need to test the modifications I made in a safe, controlled environ—”

Jim’s laugh cut him off. “Once a science officer, always a science officer, huh?” He drew Spock’s fingers to his lips and kissed them. A sharp intake of breath and a … hot spark in his mind and a spicy taste on his tongue. Guh. Even without actual telepathy the Bond was pretty damn awesome. And giving him ideas … “I’m all for experiments.”

Before Spock had a chance to lecture him on what constituted suitable experiments in telepathy and other things, Jim managed to get his tongue on Spock’s fingertips. Just a quick taste, just a fleeting touch. The effect in his mind was more than just sparks, closer to a flare. But Jim caught the concern in Spock’s eyes and withdrew his hand from his mouth again. “Hey …” He interlaced his fingers with Spock. He needed to touch him. In fact, he wanted to crawl over to him and press himself against his body, because he wanted to feel the warmth of his skin so damn much. “No worries. I know we’ve got to talk and figure out how this works for us, the Bond and all. Bones and M’Benga and your brother will want to talk to us, too, I guess.” He frowned. It was a small miracle that Bones wasn’t looming over them in full lecture mode right now, in fact.

“I requested privacy for us, should you not require immediate medical attention upon waking,” Spock explained earnestly. “I remember how much you disliked having an examination forced on you immediately upon waking at Starfleet Medical. To subject you to unnecessary stress is not beneficial. I was able to make Doctor McCoy see the logic of that.”

Jim couldn’t help himself. Cursing under his breath because every movement hurt like hell, he scooted over to Spock and squeezed next to the startled Vulcan under his much thicker blanket. Then he proceeded to kiss Spock the human and the Vulcan way. At the same time. Now, that was a kind of multitasking he could get into.

♦♦♦

Stardate 2260.252, 2100 hours, Deck 7, CMO’s Office

M’Benga and Sybok had already claimed the two chairs at the back of the small table in Leonard’s office. With a sigh, Leonard pulled his comfortable office chair to the front end of the table and sat as well. Yeoman Lawton came in with mugs of coffee and tea. Real coffee, real tea. At least something.

Thanks to pure stubbornness and a hypo he hadn’t deserved, Jim made it into Leonard’s office under his own steam. With a muffled curse he slumped into the chair next to the door. When Jim attempted to lean back, he had to bite on his lip to suppress a moan. Spock, first at his side, then close behind, sat down in the chair next to him, posture perfect, expression carefully mellow.

Not so very different from before, Leonard thought. And yet …

He narrowed his eyes at them. Sometimes, Jim’s shattered childhood and adolescence shone through his façade in painful cracks. Like now, the way Jim gave him a belligerent stare, his hazel eyes greener than before and feverish bright. He could have been seventeen instead of twenty-seven, introducing his first serious boyfriend to his father. Possessively, he linked his fingers with Spock, giving off his best rebellious Romeo vibes. The way Spock accepted his touch, dark eyes huge in his pale face wasn’t half bad as a Juliet impersonation, either.

Leonard didn’t particularly appreciate being cast in the role of Jim’s father in this particular episode of their space opera. But with Pike, Sarek, and the older Spock dozens of light-years and weeks of subspace lag out of reach, he was willing to accept the part. Someone had to, after all.

“Jesus, Jim, stop glaring at me, will ya?” Leonard said. “I’m not gonna give you any grief over your choice of a boyfriend.”

“Bondmate,” Spock corrected mildly, ears faintly green-tinged.

Well, that answered a few questions already. “See, that’s a much more constructive start for this conversation,” he told Jim. “Your relationship needs to be logged and Starfleet Command has to be informed. While Vulcan Bonds are exempted from Starfleet fraternization protocols, I suggest that you still get an official counselor’s report. You never know what will happen. At some point in the future, you may be grateful for any scrap of official documentation that supports your continued professional qualification as a command team. You’re getting on well with Guinan, so make an appointment with her.”

Jim relaxed enough to attempt to let go of Spock. But Spock would have none of that and kept a close, possessive hold of his hand. “Yeah, good point. We’ll do that,” Jim said. Ducking his head in a somewhat abashed fashion, he glanced at Spock. “There should also be some kind of public announcement I guess. Maybe even a party?”

“At this point I would advise against a party,” M’Benga put in smoothly. “Sybok has suggested that you may experience a more intense reaction to the Bond due to your special circumstances. You should get used to your new connection before you attempt to navigate complex social situations.”

Jim squared his shoulders and shifted forward in a protective gesture. “We’re fine.”

In his mind, Leonard ticked off the symptoms Sybok and M’Benga had provided before: increased need for physical proximity, possessiveness, protectiveness, irritability … He suppressed a sigh. And those were just the effects of a new Bond. He was so not looking forward to Spock’s first pon farr.

“Yes, you are,” Leonard agreed. It hurt to see Jim’s surprise at that statement. That his best friend did never fully expect to be okay. Not even now. That Jim always had to fight for his optimism, an inch at a time. At least from now on, Jim would not face that battle alone.

“However,” Leonard forced his face into a scowl and his voice into a growl, “your mental and physical health is at stake here. Yours and Spock’s. Jim, I’m aware you don’t want to hear that, but you’re not an average John Doe anymore, and Spock never was a run of the mill Vulcan. We’re not going to take any risks we don’t have to take. So you’re both on medical leave for a month.” Leonard rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a vacation, not a prison sentence, damn it. Jim, Spock will tell you that it’s perfectly normal for newly Bonded couples to take some time off together. Think of it as a honeymoon.” That term made Jim twitch, and Leonard smirked a little before he turned to Sybok. “Your turn.”

“I would like to offer my help to you, both as a mind healer and based on my personal experience. I –I have been Bonded again for ten years now, Mated for six years,” Sybok said, fondly, although his eyes darkened – as if with grief, as if there was more to his explanation than a simple story of Vulcan Bonding and Mating. “You’ve met T’Saralonde, and I want to introduce you to our daughter T’Maire before we must part ways.”

Spock tensed. “T’Maire?”

Sybok nodded. His smile was for Spock, sad and full of sympathy. “Máire – the Gaelic form of Maria – was Amanda Grayson’s middle name”, he explained to the others. “I loved my stepmother very much.”

Jim (the same Jim Leonard had once accused of being worse than Spock in expressing emotions more complex than rage in the past) shifted closer to Spock, touching his cheek to the other man’s shoulder in a subtle show of affection and support. Spock relaxed a little, at least.

“If you permit me to do so,” Sybok told them, “I can monitor the development of your Bond in these crucial early stages. I can also teach Spock techniques that will help you in the future.”

“With pon farr and stuff? I tried to remain real passive throughout, the way Sybok and M’Benga told me to, but I don’t think I managed. It’s just not my normal style, I guess.” Jim bent forward, oblivious to his partner’s pained expression.

“From what I have gleaned in the diagnostic melds I have performed on both of you during your recovery, it was a very creditable effort,” Sybok said.

Keep up the good work, Leonard ad-libbed in his mind, entirely too amused by Sybok’s un-Vulcan ways. And although he didn’t want to imagine the sordid details, he couldn’t stop himself from drawling, “Practice makes perfect, I hear.”

Jim’s instant blushing was funny. The way Spock tensed and drew back his lips in a soundless snarl less so. Sybok caught Leonard’s eyes and minutely shook his head. “Shut up and don’t move” was the message there. Got that, Leonard thought and froze. Damn. Should have taken Sybok’s warning way more seriously. And I know how Spock can get when he loses control.

Judging from how Jim’s eyes widened, he was thinking along similar lines. Suddenly he frowned and closed his eyes. A look of intent concentration on his face, he leaned against Spock, as boneless as if he were about to fall asleep. The effect on Spock was immediate. His tension eased. He slipped an arm around Jim, drawing him closer to his side. Jim opened his eyes again. He winked at Leonard, grinning.

Spock pressed his lips together, his face white tinged with green shadows. In spite of the uncomfortable moment just now, Leonard felt sympathy for the man. Control meant so much to him, and according to Sybok, had never come easy to Spock. Add to that the very real dangers of pon farr looming on the horizon, and the edge of fear to Spock’s mortification was only too understandable.

“Spock, everyone in this room appreciates how difficult this situation is,” Leonard said carefully. “For you and for Jim. It was not my intention to make light of it. Humor is a human way of dealing with awkward situations. My remark was inappropriate, and I’m sorry. I am aware of how much of a cultural taboo these topics are for Vulcans. Unfortunately, we cannot afford the luxury of Vulcan propriety under the circumstances. So far, Jim has done his best to act in a responsible manner. I need you to do the same.”

After a moment Spock gave a curt, self-conscious nod. “Yes, Doctor.”

Jim didn’t move but stayed pressed into Spock’s embrace. “Also,” he said softly, “Bones is right.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, Jim.” Leonard shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “Spock, keep in mind that you’re in a much better place to deal with this than before. You’ve got a Bondmate. Your older self has made sure that we’ve got the information we need when the time comes. And now an expert mind healer can help you with whatever Vulcan mind voodoo there is to prepare for it. We’ve got your back, Spock.”

It was telling that Spock didn’t comment on how illogical that idiom was. It was even more telling that Jim didn’t try to make a lewd joke.

“On that note, there’s no reason to keep you on sickbay any longer,” Leonard announced. “There’s a surprise in Spock’s cabin for you. Since Jim sometimes must receive diplomatic visitors in his quarters that seemed the better way to protect your privacy.” He grinned. “Enjoy. And for heaven’s sake don’t tell me about it.”

♦♦♦

Stardate 2260.252, 2300 hours, Deck 4, McCoy’s Quarters

“Kids asleep?” Leonard asked as he stepped into his quarters. True to her word, Carolyn Paul had taken care of Jo and Thorby throughout the emergency. And different from the challenge she’d issued after the pool incident, she’d been absolutely professional in her interactions with him, never once letting on that she might have any feelings for him at all.

Carolyn put her PADD away with a smile and nodded. “Yes. Finally. There was a lot of whispering and even some giggling tonight – not only Jo, by the way – but now they are both asleep.”

“Good.” Leonard went to his desk and punched in the security code for the compartment where he’d stashed away the single malt whisky that Scotty had presented him with for his birthday. “Want a shot?” he asked when he pulled out the bottle.

“Is that Ardbeg?” Carolyn asked. “Seriously? God, yes.”

Leonard laughed and poured a rather conservative measure for them both, before he put away the bottle. With Jo around, a single glass had become his limit on the few evenings he had the opportunity to indulge (when Jo could be persuaded to go to bed on time and there was no emergency). He raised his glass, thinking he could like a woman who knew about good whisky. “Cheers.”

“Slàinte mhath.” She inhaled reverently. Closing her eyes, she took a sip. Leonard hadn’t known that a woman could look so blissful drinking whisky. Or that a man could experience a stab of jealousy over that.

“And to your health,” he agreed, settling in the other armchair. He leaned back, relaxing into the peculiar mixture of exhaustion and excellent whisky.

“Are they going to be okay, then?” Carolyn asked, completely out of the blue.

He shot up from his seat, almost dropping his glass. “How the—” He stopped himself at the last second. His grandmother had raised him better than that. “What in— whatever are you talking about?”

“Goodness, Leonard, calm down. Don’t spill the whisky.” She put her glass on the table. “I was worried because you were so worried. Then I realized the captain and the first officer should have been back, but there hadn’t been an announcement that Kirk had the conn again. I wondered if I got the shore leave schedule mixed up. But I hadn’t. So I took a look at the public transporter log. Their return to the ship was listed. Then I asked the computer where they are, and the answer was in sickbay.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Leonard – I have no idea what happened, and I’m not going to ask for any details – but you should remember that there are security cameras practically everywhere on the Enterprise, including the transporter room. And … we’re not sure, okay? But it’s not impossible that – that Ambassador Gav and his – business associates in the slave trade – that they have someone on board. Or even several people. Or …” She shook her head. “You know there are other – interested parties. For … that kind of thing.”

Leonard had to sit down; Carolyn was right. Marcus may have been a maverick, but he hadn’t been a lone operator. Politically, “Humanitarians for Earth” never had more support. The last elections had proven that. Worse, with Marcus as a martyr for their cause, the party’s fundamentalist branch “Humans First” was more dangerous than ever. Since the Marcus conspiracy, half a dozen acts of terrorism, from assassinations to bomb threats and kidnappings, had been linked with “Humans First”. And besides being a corrupt asshole and a slave trade supporter, Ambassador Gav’s loathing of Sarek of Vulcan was a well-known fact. Yes, Leonard had to admit, all of them (and every tabloid in the whole damn Federation) would get a fucking kick out of discrediting the command team of Starfleet’s flagship.

“If there’s any material out there that mustn’t get into the wrong hands,” Carolyn said softly, “you have to make sure that there’s nothing to see.”

Suddenly, Leonard felt quite sick. “There’s a reason why I’m CMO and not Chief of Security,” he muttered. “Damn.”

Carolyn carefully picked up her whisky again. “Just bring it up with the captain next time you get the chance,” she suggested. “Mr. Spock’s a computer wizard. He can fix any footage you need to have fixed.”

Leonard stared at her. Sometimes he forgot who she was, what she was. That of course she would think of security, of files and footage, of evidence and blackmail … He took a deep breath and raised his glass with a shaking hand. “You’re a menace.”

“Thank you.” She actually smiled at that. “I do try.”

Minutes passed in silence, both of them pondering the secrets hidden in the beautiful amber liquid in their glasses. “Leonard?” she asked at last, unable to conceal her concern. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask. But … are they going to be okay?”

She cared, Leonard realized. Honestly cared. On a personal level. Even though she didn’t really know Jim and Spock at all. But of course it was that stupid, idealist compassion of hers that had gotten her into all kinds of trouble in the first place. He wasn’t sure if he liked that about her or if he hated that. “Yes,” he replied at last. There’d be a public announcement the next day or so; he might as well tell her now. “They Bonded, the Vulcan way. Something went a bit wrong there for a while, what with Jim being human and Spock not one hundred percent Vulcan. But it’s all right now.”

“Oh.” She put her palms together and raised her hands to her lips. “Oh,” she repeated, and her whole face softened. “I’m so glad. That – that’s so …” She trailed off, shook her head, and exhaled in a deep sigh. “I’m so glad,” she repeated and smiled at him. Such a goofy, radiant smile. As if he’d just proved to her that fairy tales come true after all, with rainbows and kittens and happy endings.

♦♦♦

Stardate 2260.252, 2300 hours, Deck 5, First Officer’s Cabin

Jim might have made it from the quarantine room to Bones’s office on his own. But to his embarrassment, he wasn’t quite up to the trip to their quarters. If Spock hadn’t been there to drag him along, he would have probably just collapsed in the turbolift. Damn it, the human body really wasn’t designed to lie supine with a Vulcan on top and attached to it for several days at a time. A serious construction error. He’d mention that at the next opportunity.

He was shaking when they reached their quarters. Or Spock’s cabin, to be exact. Bones had promised them a surprise, and Jim was far too curious not to check it out right away.

“Oh my god,” he gasped when the door slid open. “Oh my god!” Breathless with laughter and exhaustion he leaned back against the wall. “They gave us a bed. A big bed!”

Spock stood frozen in the door until Jim pulled him inside his own cabin, still chuckling. “C’mon, Spock. It’s just a bed. It’s not going to eat you.”

“I sincerely hope not …” Spock didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“It’s just a bed,” Jim whispered. “It’s a gift. It’s what Humans do when friends get married. Also, it’s practical.”

The door closed behind them, and Jim engaged the privacy lock with a few tabs on the keypad. When he turned to Spock, his … his lover – partner – Bondmate – still hadn’t moved. Jim reached for his hands and held them, allowing Spock to feel his innermost self without reservation, a more immediate contact than the mental connection of the Bond, that strange heavy warmth at the back of his mind. He figured he got it. Because yeah, this? All real. No Spice, no desert. Just Spock’s normal cabin. Except that it wasn’t. Because there was this new, big bed shoved into the corner next to the bathroom.

Jim let go of Spock’s hands and forced himself to make it to the bathroom, to brush his teeth, comb his hair (all Spock’s fault; seriously, neat freak), take a piss, wash his hands. It was a heroic struggle to stumble into his own cabin to pull his PJs out from under his pillow and stagger back into Spock’s cabin. At last he slumped down on the new, awesome, big bed. Somehow he managed to man up and suppress a million groans as each movement reminded him of how many muscles he had and how sore they were. When Spock emerged from the bathroom, as immaculate in his sleepwear as in his uniform, Jim didn’t protest the hypo Spock produced. Apparently that was Bones’s idea of a Bonding gift. Sighing with relief as his various aches disappeared within seconds, Jim wasn’t about to complain.

Without further ado, Jim climbed in and stretched out on the wall side of the bed. “Not gonna argue,” he told Spock of the raised eyebrow. “I know you’re protective like that, mister. Haven’t forgotten how you shoved me behind you and against the wall during that kerfuffle with the Klingons. Now c’mere. Wanna feel you. As in hug me? Not much good for more tonight. Sorry.”

“Cease babbling, Jim,” Spock admonished. “That is a side-effect of the medication, and one which is mild enough for you to control.” But he pulled Jim into his arms with exquisite gentleness. “Now sleep, ashayam.”

♦♦♦

“We are one, after all, you and I, together we suffer, together exist and forever will recreate one another.”
– Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

♦♦♦♦♦♦

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Author’s Notes

• Back in chapter 7 it was revealed that Carolyn Paul working for “PATS” (Planets Against Trafficking of Sentients) had discovered evidence that the Tellarite Ambassador Gav is the corrupt member of the Federation Council who’s in league with the slave traders. With his connections it’s not implausible to be concerned about spies or saboteurs on board of the Enterprise.

• “Humanitarians for Earth”/“Humans First”: in real life, people like Admiral Marcus don’t just appear out of thin air but are nurtured by a specific political climate and powerful supporters; also, fundamentalists love nothing more than a good martyr, and Marcus did an excellent job that way. (I’m just incapable of writing unpolitical novels, I guess. Sorry.)