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Chapter Text

In general, Leonard could write a book about the typical away mission for the Enterprise for the simple fact that nothing typical ever occurs. Their missions are always the most dangerous (his words), most illogical (usually Spock's), and most unorthodox-but-not-so-terrible-Bones-really (Jim's opinion, which is pure horseshit) adventures of the entire fleet. But lately common denominators have begun to crop up, trends that Leonard is starting to recognize. For instance, when they venture onto a Class M planet with inhabitants in the formative years of a pre-warp civilization, that is almost a guarantee the landing party will violate the Prime Directive by unwittingly attracting the attention of the locals and then getting themselves captured. Once in captivity, it also is guaranteed that Jim will find a way to impress or confuse their captors into believing his alien status is synonymous with 'superpowered'.

Leonard sighs and sips at his morning coffee while he records notes from the latest mission, another perfect example of his theory. Something about Jim's fair hair and bright blue eyes combined with an exceptionally charming personality had prompted the natives to believe James T. Kirk was the incarnation of their sky god. They covered Jim from head to toe in mineral dust that made him shine like gold, gave him a ridiculous tribal headdress to wear, and then sent a horde of virgins to attend the god's every need. Jim had laughed good-naturedly at it all and seemed right at home in the center of a grandiose festival to celebrate his (that is, the sky god's) awakening.

Still inside a cramped cage but with a clear view of the activities, Leonard had turned his back in disgust and demanded to know of his companion, "When he's going to remember that we're still locked up in here?"

Spock, pausing in his inspection of the rudimentary but effective locking mechanism of their cage, had replied, "I highly doubt the Captain has forgotten us, Doctor."

"You give Jim too much credit. How's he supposed to remember us with a bunch of exotic humanoids rubbing his chest?"

Spock had simply arched an eyebrow.

Hunching his shoulders, Leonard denied, sourer than before, "I'm not jealous."

But that had been a lie. Upon a safe return to the Enterprise, Leonard can finally admit the truth, that longing brings a new light to the darkness. He had hardly been envious of Jim, convinced that it would be much too awkward and embarrassing if a race of beings were to decide to worship him instead. No, what Leonard felt was jealousy over Jim doling out his attention so freely to those enraptured attendants, as if their pleasure was all that was needed to please Jim.

Nonetheless, Spock had been right after all. Jim had not forgotten the fate of his officers. In trademark Kirkian fashion, the captain had convinced the captors to bring Leonard, Spock, and the remaining landing party to the center of the festivities, albeit trussed up like somebody's dinner much to the doctor's dismay. The culminating event was Jim standing atop his throne, flipping open his communicator (having somehow re-acquired and fixed the damn thing), and relaying a message to the Enterprise to transport their team aboard the ship pronto like he was commanding the very heavens to part and bring salvation. McCoy is certain that had been an impressive spectacle for the planet-bound, watching a god and his minion-like compatriots shimmer and disappear into thin air. Spock is probably as of this moment trying to write a debriefing report that doesn't make their actions seem like half of the regulation book was tossed out of an airlock on a whim.

Leonard sighs and goes back to his own notes. His stylus is poised above the data padd when the door to his office slides open to admit the one person he is not in the mood to see.

"Morning, Bones," Jim says, taking a seat in front of the doctor's desk. He crosses one leg over the other and locks his fingers around a knee, gaze flicking from the cup of coffee to Leonard. "Is that your breakfast?"

"I didn't make it to the cafeteria because I have too much work to catch up on. But you could have called to find that out. So why are you here, Captain?"

Kirk's gaze sharpens. "Trying to determine if one of my senior officers feels he has reason to avoid me."

Leonard's hand slips across the padd screen, causing him to scratch through several words of his report. The word program automatically erases what was scratched through. Leonard curses.

Jim doesn't blink, saying almost as a demand, "Bones."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Leonard hedges. "I have work to do—like the rest of this crew."

"Spock made time for the morning meal."

Oh, that hobgoblin. Yet another problem all of its own for McCoy. "Well good for Spock."

Jim adopts a thoughtful expression. "He said something of interest while we were eating. During yesterday's mission you displayed symptoms of a peculiar behavior..."

Leonard's eyebrows lift with interest—

"Jealousy," Jim concludes.

—and he promptly chokes on his own spit. "Why, that...!" Tattle-tell!

"Spock also said," Kirk continues on, oblivious to Leonard's sputtering, "I need to address this issue with you immediately so he isn't stuck listening to you complain on future missions." Jim looks at Leonard, his expression a touch concerned, his tone of voice without judgment. "Bones, what's going on?"

"That green-blooded hobgoblin is what! Sticking his pointed ears where they don't belong!"

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Yeah," Leonard snarls, pushing away from his desk and standing up as he grows more and more outraged at Spock's audacity, "that this ship is about to be less a Vulcan officer!"

Jim continues to look at him.

Leonard grips the edge of his desk, knowing he can't dismiss Kirk's concern out of hand. "Jim... it's nothing."

"Bones," Jim starts, then stops briefly before picking up his sentence again, "being jealous—has it happened before?"

"Don't try to psychoanalyze me, kid."

"I'm not. I only want to understand the connection between how you feel and... me," Kirk finishes awkwardly.

Leonard can't answer him without lying outright, and Jim will recognize a lie right away. He straightens up and drops his hands to his sides. "I think there has been a misunderstanding. I'll talk to Spock."

Jim's response is slow in coming, a shade disappointed. "All right." Planting both feet on the floor, the man rises from his chair. "Doctor, my apologies for the interruption."

Odd, Leonard thinks even as he is filled with relief. Jim rarely backs down when he's so curious. Something Kirk and the Vulcan have in common.

Spock.

Leonard presses his mouth flat as the door to his office closes in Kirk's wake. He reaches across his desk and presses the comm button programmed to locate Spock anywhere on the ship. Spock answers right away.

"Commander," McCoy says without preamble, "the Captain was just in my office. You owe me an explanation."

A pause. Then, "My calendar is clear for the next hour and ten minutes. Shall that suffice?"

Hardly, and you know it. "I'll be in Science in five."

"Acknowledged."

Leonard ends the call. Since their offices aren't that far apart, it won't take more than three minutes to storm over there. For the remaining two minutes, well, there's only one thing Leonard can do: he drops into his chair and threads his fingers through his hair.

"Damn it," he mutters. Just what has Spock started... and why?

Chapter Text

First Officer Spock of the USS Enterprise swivels around in his desk chair to greet an anticipated arrival. Hardly surprising to the Vulcan, the irate Dr. McCoy forgoes returning such pleasantries. When McCoy opts to stand before Spock rather than take a seat as is his usual custom, Spock hypothesizes their conversation will meander from professional conjecture to distinct, personal nuances in a short span of time. Leonard had claimed over the comm that Spock owed him an explanation, and the doctor will undoubtedly push for such.

However, not all information can or should be disclosed at this time.

Spock steeples his fingers, prepared to engage in what one might refer to as a battle of wits. But to him, it is more—a preconceived tactical exercise in an age-old war he has only recently come to realize is of significance to his future.

Feeling gracious, he allows McCoy the first move.

The Vulcan officer looks much too calm for Leonard's liking, also appearing as though he cannot possibly fathom why Leonard is on the verge of a bonafide fit of temper. Well, that error in judgment is about to be irrevocably corrected!

"I just had a disconcerting conversation with our captain." He accuses, "You had no right to speak to him about me as you did this morning."

"I can recall no regulation of Starfleet which prohibits me from offering an opinion, Dr. McCoy."

If Leonard had been sitting down, he would have thumped a fist against his chair in outrage. "You gave Jim a false impression! I'd say that makes you plenty wrong!"

"Specify."

"You told Jim I was jealous because of what happened during our last mission. Now he thinks he has to tread carefully in case I'm harboring a grudge against him. You can't go around spouting that kind of shit without facts!"

Spock stares at the doctor for a moment, then opens a drawer of his desk and removes a PADD. His fingers glide gracefully across it, its screen brightening.

"Mission on Zambar II," the Vulcan intones without looking up from his PADD. "Observations of Cmdr. Spock: during an effort to retrieve materials left behind by the USS Herrington scouting party, encounter with hostiles led to capture. CMO exhibited an uncharacteristic belligerence when Cpt. Kirk was forced to pair with Lt. Noel in holding cells."

Leonard's brows draw together. "Zambar II was six months ago."

"Exploration of Class M planet 835-2," Spock continues. "Unstable ion storm forced overnight stay; 6.7 hours spent listening to CMO question Cpt. Kirk's motives for attending social event two weeks prior without him. Pollux IV. Omnipotent being named Apollo attempted to negotiate the exchange of the Enterprise for a wife. Cpt. Kirk offered himself. CMO sedated the captain, thereby elevating me to Acting Captain to resolve the situation through sensible means. However, CMO then enacted medical protocol, placing Kirk under house arrest and would allow no other crewman to determine Kirk's status for 48 hours. A most unusual over-reaction."

"Enough, Spock!" Leonard reaches for the PADD. "What is this?"

Spock promptly deactivates the device and places it aside on the farthest corner of his desk. "In short, Doctor, they are my recordings of unexplained incidents, behaviors, and emotions relating to the crew."

"Your recordings," Leonard repeats, still disbelieving. "For what reason?"

"Obviously so that I will not forget."

"Bullhocky! You're a Vulcan. Your memory is impeccable."

Spock inclines his head. "While true, that does not preclude the purpose or necessity of proper documentation."

Leonard frowns. "And just how many of these crewman... observations do you have?"

"The necessity depends on whom I identify as requiring supplemental monitoring. Consider this activity as an extension of my duties, Doctor."

In all honesty, Leonard isn't certain what to consider it. How much of Spock's work is actually logged within the ship's computer? Is it subject to Command review?

Spock is still talking. "Regarding the matter which brought you here, I acknowledge your perspective; however, from a purely analytical standpoint one cannot deny the possibility of irregularities in any given data set. Once the scope and frequency of those irregularities becomes significant, it is only logical that I express concern to our ship's commanding officer."

"So," Leonard summarizes, mollified in one respect about Spock's motives but also much more alarmed in another, "you think I have experienced an 'irregular' shift in behavior." Unfortunately, when he thinks about it like that he cannot dismiss Spock's concern, not as a doctor or as an officer. Leonard eyes the PADD. "I don't suppose I could take a peek at your notes for my own analysis?"

"I am afraid that would be a violation of the data-sensitivity clause. I am obligated to maintain a certain confidentiality of all performance reviews in much the same manner you are sworn to uphold doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Then how do you recommend we proceed, Mr. Spock?" he asks gravely. "Do you believe a psychological evaluation is necessary for the subject of your concern?"

Once again, Spock lapses into a short silence. He surprises Leonard by finally saying, "I am prepared to let the matter resolve itself."

"But... how?"

"That, Dr. McCoy, falls within your purview." Spock collects a stylus and a new data padd. "Is there any other matter you wish to speak of? I am due shortly for a conference with the head geneticist."

"No," Leonard replies, seeing no reason to refuse Spock's dismissal. He pauses at the doorway and murmurs awkwardly, "I'll... see you, Spock."

If the Vulcan replies, the door cuts that reply off and Leonard doesn't hear it.

Hours later, Leonard rolls over in bed, moans, and punches his pillow. Damn that green-blooded hobgoblin!

"Lights, fifty percent," he calls, sitting up with a resigned sigh. No sleep for the weary.

Why did Spock have to unsettle him with all that talk about unusual and concerning behavior? Now Leonard is trying to psychoanalyze himself, and worse yet second-guessing every little thing he does while on duty. Could be it that he really has let his feelings of unhappiness branch into something more toxic like jealousy? Is he going to one day make a bad decision because he no longer feels contentment in the presence of his best friend?

The questions are piling up with the answers, even after serious internal reflection, remaining scarce. As self-aware as Leonard tries to be, he has somehow missed a crucial marker regarding his own behavior.

If, that is, there actually exists something to be concerned about. What are the odds Spock is making a mountain out of a mole hill?

That is the reason Leonard throws back his blanket to swing his legs over the side of his bed; that question is what spurs McCoy to don a black undershirt and the Fleet's trademark black pants so he can slip out of his cabin into the nearly empty corridor.

Most of the officers on this level of the ship have tucked into their living quarters to welcome a sleep cycle or two. Since Leonard cannot sleep, he tells himself he might as well be productive. The type of productivity he is contemplating leads him to Science, where only a handful of laboratories are lit and in use.

There is a tiny voice in the back of McCoy's head telling him a recon mission is a bad idea. Leonard shushes it.

As he hones in on the door to Spock's office, another door leading to an adjacent lab slides open, allowing a pair of voices to float into the silent corridor. Unnerved, Leonard sprints the remaining distance to his destination and flattens himself against the targeted doorway.

The ship's computer seems inevitably slow in recognizing that Leonard wants inside the office. Sweat pops out on his forehead as he hears the voices in the lab growing louder, imagining the rustling of the attendants' uniforms as they approach the lab entrance. Panicking now, he jams his thumb against the door's code panel. The panel gives a soft beep, and the door whooshes open, depositing Leonard in a heap on the other side.

"Son of a bitch," he breathes, coming to his hands and knees, then shakily to his feet. "That was too close."

He looks around at the empty office and remarks, "You old fool, you've officially lost your mind."

There is no doubt for Leonard now; this is a bad idea. Spock will not be happy when he finds out the resident senior medical officer has been nosing around in places he shouldn't be.

The PADD is exactly where Spock had set it down. Leonard hesitates to touch it until he reminds himself that whatever information he gleans he can put to good use in fixing the situation. By that logic he can't fix anything if he doesn't understand the problem.

With that tenuous excuse, he spends a couple of minutes toying with the device, employing a few quick search methods to delineate the location of a file with his name in it. The storage of the device is oddly only a few data-bytes full, so Leonard finds the file in short order. With it, he also identifies another file that has him skipping over the one he had been originally been looking for altogether.

The report that comes up is extremely detailed and in meticulous order. It is not unlike the personal medical logs Leonard keeps on each of his patients, filled with information that he wouldn't necessarily report in an official log but that might be of some use in prescribing future treatments.

Glancing down the report's length, Leonard decides that if Spock has some concerns over his recent behavior, then the Vulcan must be going out of his mind with worry about Jim's. Leonard becomes captivated as he starts at the top and reads through the remarks about their captain. Spock has noted trends and habits, charted variances in mood swings, even gone so far as to baseline a set of 'normal' reactions for Kirk on regular work days versus critical mission days. And anything that Spock doesn't appear to understand about his own observations has the statement To research further in bold attached to it.

"My god," Leonard murmurs, scrolling through a particularly insightful piece of intel about Jim's interactions with crewmen based on gender, species, height, hair color, and a special category Spock has dubbed 'Characteristics of Terran Sub-Species Known As Southerners'.

Leonard nearly drops the PADD. That's HIM!

He clicks on an intra-document link which brings up a whole new and disturbing set of schematics. The sentence underneath a large chunk of data stands out to Leonard immediately, for it says: Remarkable attraction between J. Kirk and L. McCoy is as of yet unresolved. Analysis predicts no deviation in current trend of extreme avoidance of this issue. Long-term effects could include strained relations, decrease in unilateral communication, and inability to focus and/or perform as required of commanding officer. Resolution to be determined.

Leonard finds the nearest chair and eases into it. With an unsteady hand, he locates and opens Spock's file on him. He reads through it with a different perspective, coming to a brief concluding paragraph at the bottom. Spock has written, Suitability aligns between subjects. In the event L. McCoy can be convinced of emotional standing, a solution becomes feasible. Signs of readiness previously noted as aberrations are nearing proper capacity. Refer to timeline analysis above for details.

Beneath, all on its own is a single, disturbing sentence: To proceed is logical.

Leonard has no idea what this is. It is a study in his behavior but it's more than that at the same time. He switches back to Jim's file for clarity but his eyes refuse to look past the word attraction.

In a conversation between two humans, that meaning would be pretty obvious but Spock is a scientist and this... report is basically outlining some experiment. Would Spock mean the term attraction in the most basic sense? If so, how does that correlate to Jim and Leonard, and why would it even be of interest?

These personnel files are strange. Granted, they contain interesting and admittedly—in Jim's case—useful information, but Leonard cannot parse their specific objective. If Command ever got their hands on this data, they would dump it as garbage.

More confused than ever, Leonard closes the PADD's apps and replaces the device on the edge of Spock's pristine desk. It isn't until he leaves the office that he realizes he had not noticed files other than his and Jim's. A fluke, perhaps.

Shaking his head, he returns to his quarters and lays on the bed, catching only a few hours of sleep close to the end of gamma shift once his brain falls blissfully silent.

Leonard fares no better the next day. In the Officer's Mess, he can barely concentrate on his breakfast. He is too busy noticing every little thing Jim says or does. The strange part is that nothing about Kirk seems out of the ordinary. Jim brings his food tray to Leonard's table right away; he greets the surrounding crew with a pleasant "Good morning." He doesn't say a word as Leonard takes the fried potatoes from his plate and replaces it with an apple.

Then Spock arrives to partake of the morning meal in their company, and all actions and conversational remarks sound so normal, they could be considered routine.

Maybe the Vulcan's observations weren't meant to shed light on the nuances of the human psyche. To Leonard's eyes, Jim hardly has the appearance of somebody in the throes of attraction.

"So, Bones, anything exciting going on in Sickbay today?"

"Besides wrapping up the semi-annual physicals? Not really. I might have some time to drop by the Bridge later."

A flush of color crosses Kirk's face, there and gone. "At times it can be boring on the Bridge too. We could use the company." Jim glances sideways at Spock. "Don't you agree, Mr. Spock?"

"I believe you are aware of my opinion concerning Dr. McCoy's visits to the Bridge."

"Well, it's not like I go up there to visit you," Leonard retorts.

Spock's stare is extra-prickly.

Leonard amends, "That is, when you're in a sour mood."

"I do not know to what you are referring, Doctor."

Leonard leans across the table to whisper loudly to Jim, "Looks like somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!"

Jim chuckles softly and takes a bite out of his apple.

Leonard sits back, and the three of them focus on their meals in comfortable silence. But oddly having lost most of his appetite, Leonard stirs his grits, wondering if he let a misconception lead him astray.

Thinking again of Spock's reports, he acknowledges that if he plans to fall sleep tonight, he will have to clear his conscience first. Waiting until Jim and Spock have finished eating in concert and Jim has risen from his seat to bid them both farewell to attend his weekly sparring session with the Chief of Security, Leonard puts down his spoon in preparation to address Spock.

He has a difficult time forming the right words.

Oblivious, Spock collects his tray from the table and walks away. Leonard curses himself for delaying the inevitable.

Hurrying to catch up, he abandons his own tray at the trash receptacle and calls ahead through the opening cafeteria doors, "Commander, wait!"

Further along the corridor, Spock has stopped walking. Leonard jogs up to him.

"Dr. McCoy?" the Vulcan questions.

"I, uh..." Damn, thinks Leonard, there is no delicate way to confess a sin. He blurts out, "I broke into your office last night."

Spock just blinks at him.

"And read those personnel files." He cringes, expecting the full force of the commander's disappointment.

But Spock only continues looking at him in an impassive manner before unexpectedly pivoting on the ball of one foot and striding away.

Leonard hurries after him. "Spock, I'm sorry."

"Delay your apology a moment longer, Lieutenant-Commander."

Surprised by the request and use of his rank, which effectively makes him feel even more guilty, Leonard keeps his silence. When the pair reaches the end of the corridor, Spock summons the turbolift. He allows Leonard to enter the lift first.

The door slides shut, and Leonard begins again, this time more subdued. "I am truly sorry, sir. I realize I have disappointed you... broken your trust."

Spock turns to face him. "Why?"

"Why did I do it?" Leonard fills in miserably. "Because I'm a fool."

"Negative. I meant why do you assume I am disappointed by your actions?" Spock tilts his head ever-so-slightly. "On the contrary, Dr. McCoy, I am relieved."

Leonard opens his mouth but can think of nothing to say beyond, "...What?"

Spock unlocks his hands from behind his back and folds his arms across his chest. "The PADD had not been removed from the desk. When you activated it, you discovered no security measure to prevent your search for the directory containing your file—a directory which had only one other file in it, that of James T. Kirk."

"How'd you know that?"

"I assure you, Doctor, if I had intended to keep you from accessing such information, I have would taken the necessary precautions to do so."

"But you said earlier it would be a violation of..." The words die out as what Spock is claiming finally ripens in Leonard's brain. "Wait, you wanted me to read those reports?"

"There is benefit to your awareness of my observations."

Leonard sputters.

Spock states blandly, "You appear upset."

"Because you lied to me!"

Spock lifts both eyebrows. "I merely enticed you to do what was logical for a human."

Leonard flings his hands up in a parody of strangling a person. The Vulcan—who is the imaginary victim—studies this posture with interest, seemingly without comprehending its intended message of violence.

The fight vanishes from McCoy as quickly as it had come. He drops his hands to his sides and says, more disgusted with himself than anyone else, "I should have known."

Spock's air of amused patience subsides as he neutralizes his expression and lowers his hands as well, after a beat of hesitation locking them once again behind his back.

Leonard promises himself he won't ever feel guilty about going behind Spock's back again. The hobgoblin deserves what he gets for being so convoluted and sly! "I ought to report you to the Captain for sharing sensitive information about colleagues."

"An ironic choice of words, Doctor, since it is you who did not obtain permission to view it." Spock looks contemplative. "I have also considered approaching the Captain about the existence of my observations using a tactic similar to that which I employed with you. Of course, he would not attempt the old-fashioned method of 'breaking in' to my office, so the end result would prove far more educational."

"Spock, what in hell are you talking about?"

"The new security protocol I designed for personal devices," Spock insists, as though Leonard is a child with limited understanding. "I seek to know its operating effectiveness."

Leonard points out, "If you're thinking Jim can't hack his way through one of your protocols, don't forget he already beat your unbeatable test as a cadet."

"Not alone," Spock replies cryptically, turning his face from McCoy to study the turbolift door. "Yes, it should be most satisfactory." The turbolift pings, announcing their arrival, and Spock swiftly exits to the deck.

"I can't imagine what a file on you would say!" Leonard hollers at the retreating commander's back.

The Vulcan pauses in the corridor to turn back. "In due time, those contents will be revealed."

The turbolift closes its door on Leonard's stunned face.

Chapter Text

Three days following the conversation with Spock, ship's business has settled back into a familiar routine for Leonard. A feeling of unease persists, however, that he has only glimpsed the path to resolution rather than actually taken it, so at the end of beta shift on the third day, this uneasiness drives him to the corridor outside his captain's quarters, where he awkwardly balances a tray on one hand and contemplates the solid structure of Kirk's cabin door.

After an indecisive moment, Leonard reminds himself that he has the right to be there both as a doctor to and a friend of Jim. Taking that one step forward allows the door's sensors to pick up his presence. Since McCoy is one of the few people aboard the ship for whom Jim has programmed his cabin to allow unrestricted access, the door slides open with nary a sound.

Upon finding an empty room, he calls ahead, "Jim?" and cautiously wanders toward the partition that sections off the bedroom from the main cabin.

The lights within are dimmed nearly to extinction. The vaguely human-shaped lump in the middle of the bed must be Kirk.

"Lights," Leonard commands in a softer tone, "twenty percent." This grants him enough light to see by but not enough to rouse the room's sleeping occupant.

Leonard backtracks to set his tray on the round table in the other cabin, then heads straight through the bedroom to the bathroom. There he unlocks Jim's personal medicine cabinet to retrieve a small case stamped with the emblem of a generic medkit. Popping the lid, he removes a hypospray that, as suspected, has been used so infrequently it still contains most of its contents.

Returning to the bedroom, Leonard settles on the bed's edge and dials the correct dose for the hypospray. He depresses it into the skin of Kirk's exposed neck.

"Kid," he chastises in a murmur after setting the hypo aside on a small end table, "I prescribe you medicine for a reason. You're supposed to use it." An errant lock of hair curling across Jim's forehead is enticing Leonard to brush it aside. He is about to give in to temptation when Jim sighs softly against the pillow mashed to the side of his face.

Eyes still closed, the man mumbles, "Wasn't bad."

"That's what you always say." Jim shifts, then, and Leonard presses a restraining hand to one bare shoulder. "Take your time. Your body needs a minute to adjust."

"This one doesn't make me nauseous, Bones."

"I know but a little caution never hurt anybody."

A corner of Jim's mouth deepens as his eyes open to a squint. "A McCoy family motto."

Leonard pats Kirk's shoulder before removing his hand. "One of many. Think you might feel like a little supper?"

Jim continues to squint—conditioned, Leonard knows, from years of migraines to expect pain. Eventually Kirk's face relaxes enough that his eyes fully open. He rolls sideways to look at Leonard, and Leonard doesn't protest this time. "Were we scheduled for dinner?" The question is followed by a tinge of alarm.

Leonard suppresses a swell of fondness. "Don't worry, you didn't forget. I just happened to receive a new shipment today and thought of you."

The remaining sleepiness recedes from Jim's face. "The bourbon arrived!"

Leonard isn't above a bit of dramatics. He sighs gustily. "Too bad we're going to have to crack it open another time."

"Bones."

"You know the rules," Leonard chides lightly as he moves back to give Jim room to maneuver into a sitting position. "No mixing alcohol with your migraine medication."

Jim frowns. "Then you should've let me keep the migraine."

"You can't be that eager for a drink."

Jim's gaze touches on him briefly, more serious than humored, before sliding away. "I'm not. It's the company I prefer."

Leonard's brain blanks. Then he jokes to cover his own surprise, "Careful, kid. Somebody might think you're tryin' to charm me."

Jim's gaze comes back to him, this time speculative, but he shrugs one shoulder and offers a half-smirk.

Leonard doesn't care to think through that reaction too carefully at the moment so he stands, tugging Jim up by the forearm as he goes. "I'll order the food. You—" He waves a hand at Jim's attire, or lack thereof. "—find some pants."

Jim's smirk becomes a guileless smile. "I don't think the problem is me, Bones. You're impossible to charm."

Leonard snorts, releases his friend, and returns to the main cabin. There he fiddles with the bottle of bourbon briefly without purpose to pass some time before he unstacks the two glasses he had brought along as well and fills them with water.

Fool, Leonard warns to himself, don't make something out of nothing.

What's happening is those blasted reports meddling with his mind! Why else would he be affected by a simple remark like the one Jim had made? He already knows that Kirk enjoys his company. They're best friends, for god's sake!

"You must be very disappointed," Jim observes as he comes around the partition.

"What?"

The man elaborates, "You're muttering at the bottle, yet somehow I don't think it deserves your ire, Bones."

Leonard rolls his eyes. "Never you mind my penchant for talkin' to myself."

"Uh-huh. Where's my food?"

Leonard almost slaps his forehead, hurrying to the replicator (a rare commodity for an officer's quarters but Jim is the captain of the ship after all). "Shit, I forgot. It'll be up shortly."

Jim lounges on the nearby couch, crossing one leg over the other at the knee and draping his arms along its back. "No salad."

"No salad, then no dessert," Leonard retorts.

That perks Kirk up. "I can have dessert?"

"I'm not a complete son-of-a-bitch."

"Sometimes," his friend disagrees, cheeky as ever, "you really are."

"Yeah, well. It's not like you're a ball of sunshine either." Leonard inputs the code for a particular meal plan he has in mind that will suit them both.

Minutes later, Jim abandons the couch and a quiet contemplation when Leonard, juggling plates of food, turns towards the little kitchenette's table. Together they set out the meal in silence. It isn't until Jim has retrieved utensils from a cabinet drawer, passed them out, and taken a seat opposite Leonard that Jim appears ready to speak his mind.

And, per usual, he does so in a carefully crafted manner, all at once seeming only casually conversational in his inquiry but also especially intent on the reply: "So, Bones, what brought you to my quarters this late with a desire to share your prized bourbon?"

"You say that as if I don't share my liquor stash with you on a regular basis."

Jim smiles slightly, not looking up from the lettuce he has stabbed with his fork.

Leonard leans back in his chair and finishes chewing on his mouth full of food before answering. "I had to make certain what Spock said didn't upset you."

Jim glances at him. "Why would I be upset?"

Leonard decided before he packed up his bourbon and pair of drinking glasses that he would have to be blunt. "I'm not jealous of you, Jim."

Jim puts down his fork and locks his arms across his chest, signaling the end to their pretense for caring more about dinner than the current conversation. "I never said I agreed with Spock."

"But you know him." After a tense pause, Leonard adds, "Well enough to be aware that Spock wouldn't bring a concern to you without good reason."

"Spock can be wrong," Jim argues. "If you tell me there is a misunderstanding, I have to assume it's true."

Leonard is somewhat taken aback. "Are you saying you trust me more than you trust him?"

"We aren't talking about an issue of trust, Bones." Jim's expression tightens momentarily with an emotion akin to displeasure. "Whatever is... troubling you and Spock, you need to work it out yourselves. Bringing me into the middle makes things worse, remember?" His jaw twitches. "I have no desire to reprimand either of you again."

Leonard's bark of laughter isn't at all feigned. "You—Jim, you think Spock and I are having a pissing contest? My god!" He is laughing without restraint now, unable to manage a coherent word until he takes a sip from his glass of water to calm himself down.

The redness in Jim's face isn't fading. Jim challenges, "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong."

"Bullshit. It's not just one pissing contest, Bones. You guys have made it perpetual."

"No, we haven't."

"Yes, you have!" Jim brings the flat of his hand down on the table with a crack, exploding suddenly, "And I'm done with it!"

Some of Leonard's amusement fades in the face of his captain's temper. "Jim, listen to me. We fixed that problem ages ago. You asked us to, so we did." Kirk just looks at Leonard until Leonard's shoulders drop an inch. "I swear we did."

That slight grimace of Jim's returns. "Then why do you and Spock continue to argue constantly?"

Leonard picks up his napkin, rubbing it between two fingertips. He can't quite look his friend in the eyes. "Has it occurred to you that we enjoy arguing with each other?"

Jim closes his mouth and sits back in his chair, frowning. Then he grabs his water and drains the glass. "You enjoy it?" he says afterwards with a faint kind of wonder. "But I don't enjoy fighting with Spock."

"That's because you usually piss Spock off so much, he's tempted to strangle you again."

Jim doesn't appear to understand. "And how's that different from the way you two fight?"

Leonard explains, "Spock and I... spar verbally. It's kinda friendly. Not all the time," he is quick to amend at Jim's incredulous expression, rubbing a hand against his forehead. "But there's no animosity behind how we interact anymore. Frustration, lots and lots of that. I have to say, I think I respect him all the more because he does frustrate me." He drops his hand and smiles. "I guess by those standards, I must worship you."

There is only humor in Jim's eyes now, no lingering anger. "I guess you must." Jim clears his throat. "Bones, I'm sorry. I made a stupid assumption."

"I think the fault is mine and Spock's. We should have reported our reconciliation to you. Eased that worry." He studies his friend more closely. "Just how long has this been chewing at you?"

Jim reaches for the pitcher of water and refills his glass. "Long enough. I need you both," he answers, as if that is the only proper explanation he can give. "I can't command this ship without you."

Leonard isn't certain what to make of either statement. "You command the Enterprise just fine."

When Jim looks up, the seriousness of his gaze unsettles Leonard. "Do you believe in destiny, Bones?" Even if Leonard had a quick answer, Jim gives him no time to respond. "I don't—or I didn't when I first accepted this position. I was too concerned with proving myself."

"Jim..."

Kirk lifts a hand to stall anything Leonard might say. "It's okay. I understand now that the only person who expected too much was me. I'm... better now. But sometimes I'm left feeling that being out here is," he pauses briefly, clearly searching for the right word, "not entirely in my control. There are patterns you can't imagine—" Jim draws a breath, seems to correct himself. "Ironically it has given me something to look forward to." His gaze lingers on Leonard's. "So given how things have been lately between us, I find myself questioning my purpose again. My... destiny."

"Purpose or destiny—whatever you call it, Jim, it's what you decide it should be. If something or someone is making you unhappy on this ship," Leonard swallows hard at the thought that Jim's 'us' could imply that someone is him, "or if you want something else for yourself other than what Starfleet has to offer, don't think for a second that you're obligated to stay."

"I know that, Bones. I'm only saying that I find it difficult to reconcile what I want with what I currently have."

"You're losing me. What else do you want? You have an exciting career, a stellar crew, and the flagship of the 'Fleet," he protests.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Leonard huffs. "Given the variety of crazy things you and I have seen in these last few years, I'm less inclined to dismiss any idea as impossible. And, god," he complains, lifting his eyes ceiling-ward for a second, "now you got me sounding like Spock!"

"You did that all on your own," Jim counters with a quick grin. But as that grin fades, a hint of discomfort remains behind. "I want... that other life."

Leonard is confused again. "Whose life?"

"Mine. I mean, not mine exactly. His. The one Spock's Kirk had."

"Jim, you are Spock's Kirk."

Jim shakes his head slightly, a forlorn motion. "Not our Spock, Bones. The other Spock."

"Oh." Finally the implication of what Jim is saying dawns on Leonard. "Wait a minute, how do you know what kind of life that Jim Kirk had?"

Jim grimaces, scratches at his head. "Sometimes I dream about it. Only, not dreams... Memories, I think?"

"What!" Leonard pushes out of his chair in an instant, skipping alarmed altogether to land smack in the middle of freaked out.

Jim's hands go up. "Whoa, what are you doing?"

"Sickbay," Leonard snarls, snagging the sleeve of Jim's shirt with the intention of dragging the idiot to his feet. "We're going to Sickbay!"

"Bones, calm down."

"Calm! You trying being calm when your best friend admits to having somebody else's memories instead of his own! Oh hell no," he rants in a thickening drawl that belies how upset he truly is, "we're gonna straighten this shit out right now! Where's that fool hobgoblin? Spock! Damn it, Jim, why the hell won't you get up? SPOCK!"

Jim switches his grip from McCoy's wrist to his shoulders, standing up only to shake Leonard instead of be dragged along. "Bones," Jim keeps saying, "listen. It's fine. I'm fine. And Spock can't hear you through the wall—"

The door to Kirk's quarters slides open, the complaint, "Dr. McCoy, shouting is unnecessary when you desire my company," floating ahead of the newcomer's arrival. Spock freezes in front of the doorway when he sees them.

"Help me," Jim orders sharply to the Vulcan, "he's panicking."

"I'm not!" Leonard tries to snap, but it has become a little difficult to breathe and talk at the same time so, okay, he might be having a small panic attack after all. "Shit," he says weakly.

Spock's hand ghosts Leonard's right shoulder, settling on his arm. Jim takes hold of the doctor's left side. The pair steers him to the couch. Once seated, Leonard bends forward and places his forehead against his knees. With Spock and Jim situated on either side of him, his panic slowly recedes.

"Well," he mutters some time later, taking care as he straightens up, "that wasn't pleasant."

Jim still has a grip on his arm. "What happened?"

"You s-scared me," he stammers, feeling a flush creep up his neck that has nothing to do with panic and everything to do with embarrassment regarding his overreaction.

Jim's "Bones" is full of meaning: sympathy, concern, and a demand for more truth.

Leonard is careful not to look at either Jim or Spock. "What you were talking about, Jim, sounds like symptoms of someone messing with your mind." Leonard feels Spock stiffen. "I'm sensitive about it, is all. Can't stand the thought that that could've been done to you." He's afraid that just by saying these words he has given too much away.

Jim tugs on Leonard's arm until Leonard looks at him. "Bones, I've had these dreams for years. They're a residual effect but not harmful. I made certain of that." His tone becomes firmer. "What I want is an explanation about you. What haven't you told me?"

Leonard's mouth is too dry. Is he going to have to tell them?

Maybe Spock takes pity on Leonard or Spock is simply uncomfortable with knowing only half the conversation, but all the same Leonard is grateful when he intervenes. Though, to be fair, Spock sounds far from happy as he says, "Captain, I am well-aware dreaming is a common occurrence for your species but you speak of such in a different context, as the result of external stimuli. Therefore I echo Dr. McCoy's concern. Please specify. An effect of what?"

Jim shifts his gaze from McCoy to Spock. "The encounter on Delta Vega with your counterpart. I did tell you about that, Commander."

The Vulcan's gaze darkens. "You failed to mention a residual effect."

Leonard cannot help his intrigue, for Spock is so rarely inept at disguising his emotions. This agitation is unusual.

Then Jim retorts, "Maybe I didn't think it was any of your business."

Spock's nostrils flare ever-so-slightly.

Leonard has the sudden feeling he should not be in the middle of this particular argument. He tries to get up. Spock deftly draws him back down and Jim pins his shoulder with a hand, doing all of this without interrupting their glaring contest.

"Excuse me," Leonard inserts politely, "but I hear a little bird calling."

Jim says, "No."

Spock's "Negative" is no less commanding.

"I have to pee," he insists.

Spock and Jim switch their stares to him. Remembering how stubborn both of them can be, Leonard crosses his arms over his chest and settles back into the couch cushion, resigned to his lot in life to be stuck in between them. How laughable, Jim complaining about him not getting along with Spock. Sometimes these two are just like oil and water!

Jim has begun to eye Leonard speculatively again.

Spock remarks matter-of-factly, "We will discern the matter with Dr. McCoy shortly."

Oh no we will not. Leonard will fake a second panic attack if he has to. Some things are not up for discussion.

The little voice in the back of his head disagrees, saying this conversation was inevitable. When Medical contacts Command...

Leonard shuts down that line of thinking as guilt beginning to rear its ugly head.

The way Jim and Spock are staring at each other now means they have come to some silent agreement. Jim's gaze breaks away from Spock's to find Leonard. He jokes with a touch of ruefulness, "You didn't tell me confessions were a requirement of tonight's dinner."

"Then maybe you shouldn't keep things to yourself."

"To hear that statement coming from you is quite ironic, Doctor."

"Oh, can it, Spock. Jim's the one who didn't tell you about your older self mucking with his brain waves." Of course, Jim hadn't told his physician that either. That does make Leonard mad; but Leonard also accepts that if it has been happening for years as Jim claims, he's just crying over spilt milk.

As fiercely as they can disagree sometimes, Jim is also very good at changing Spock's mind. Leonard knows he has been checkmated when Jim announces in a mild tone, indicating himself, "This guy isn't going to talk unless Bones agrees to do the same."

Leonard fidgets in dismay.

Spock inclines his head. "I believe that is a fair arrangement."

"How's that fair!" the doctor explodes. "You need to share a secret with us too for it to be fair!"

Spock reminds him gravely, "As I informed you, Doctor, in due time. I do intend to honor my promise."

Leonard's denial sputters and dies before leaving his throat. He had thought Spock was being cryptic per usual, not making a promise. So this means a file of Spock does exist, and Leonard will be privy to it?

Will Jim?

Jim snaps his fingers in front of McCoy's face. "Fascinating though Spock is, Bones, I need you to answer my question."

Leonard glares out of habit. "You answer Spock first."

"Captain's orders, Bones."

"Doctor's orders, Captain."

"Gentlemen," their third companion intervenes, "I shall be the one to decide." Spock focuses on Leonard. "As Jim has attempted somewhat of an explanation for his circumstances, however unsatisfactory that explanation may be—" Jim, the idiot, just grins. "—I believe we should hear yours, Doctor. Before you disagree," Spock tacks on quickly as Leonard opens his mouth, "recall that you are the one who requested my presence."

This time Leonard's glare is genuinely born of annoyance. "You and your damn cat ears."

Spock ignores the jab. "Contrary to how you wish to be perceived, you are very much an intellectual being, Dr. McCoy, so I assume you have already discerned the cause of your panic, perhaps even attempted a treatment for it." When Leonard stubbornly locks his jaw, the Vulcan continues in a flatter voice, "But the fact remains that it exists and does affect you. You place yourself and others at risk. Why and from when does your phobia of being mentally compromised stem?"

Leonard bares his teeth. "Bite me."

Something flickers through the Vulcan's eyes. Wordlessly he raises his left hand, fingers splayed, towards Leonard's face.

Leonard feels sweat gather along his temples. He knows his face must have drained of color. The body's response always gives away fear. The closer Spock's hand is, the more slippery Leonard's control over his reaction becomes. He hates that his normally steady hands have a fine tremor running through them.

Spock withdraws without warning to conclude with regret, "As I suspected."

An arm slides around Leonard's shoulders—Jim, shifting so that their sides press together, an offer of support and comfort.

Leonard closes his eyes briefly. "Damn you, Spock."

Spock adopts a neutral expression. "Your aversion also extends to me specifically, implying a connection between my ability and your fear." His pause of silence is tense, weighed down with an unspoken fear. "Have you been harmed by a telepath... a Vulcan?"

Jim's arm tightens about Leonard. "Bones."

"No," Leonard is able to answer truthfully, "nothing has happened to me." Yet his voice is on the edge of cracking, not from fear but an ever-present guilt. "I witnessed an attack on someone else."

"When?" Kirk and Spock ask together. "Who?"

"During the incident with the parallel universe," Leonard says, "the one where everything was... switched. Like a mirror."

Jim turns Leonard around to face him, his tone at first demanding, only to falter midway to a plea. "But how could...? Bones, you never said anything!"

"It happened before we locked your counterparts in the brig. You—I mean, the other you," he explains, "had ordered his Spock to find out why the Enterprise and crew looked different. The officer who had been manning the transporter when they appeared raised the alarm. I was close enough to respond. When I got there, that bastard had her—Lt. Korro—pinned to the console. He was..." Unable to help himself, he flicks a look at Spock. "...taking information from her mind. About our universe. Us."

The horror in Spock's eyes is unmistakable. Leonard drops his gaze to Jim's arms, who still has him by the shoulders. "I stunned him. Then Sulu and Security arrived and took care of the rest." He remembers it too vividly, the bearded Spock collapsing, Korro sliding off the console to the ground. That imposter Kirk, bearing a thin scar down the side of his face, had leapt off the platform with a murderous expression. Leonard had been too shocked to turn his phaser on Jim. If not for Sulu showing up at the right moment and stunning Kirk mid-stride, Leonard suspects Kirk would have cut his throat with the short dagger in his hand.

"Korro," Jim says the name softly, a look of distress building in his gaze.

Leonard knows now that he has to confess the rest of the story, no matter how awful it is. "Sulu was busy interrogating the imposters, and Scotty had to figure what had actually happened to you, Spock, Uhura, and Chekov during transport. I took Korro to Sickbay and stayed with her but, Jim, there was no accurate way for us to measure the damage. Spock wasn't there to ask. After I kept her for a day of observation, she insisted I had no medical reason to detain her. When I tried to tell her that having someone force his way into her mind was no different than rape, she almost struck me. Then she cried." He takes a breath to steady his voice. "I've dealt with victims of physical violation before. The signs were there. I sat her down. We talked about treatment. I reminded her I was obligated to report her condition up the chain of command."

Korro's sorrowful voice from that confrontation rings through his mind. She had said, You don't understand, Dr. McCoy. My father is governor of the Zeta colonies. If he hears of this, it's all the leverage he needs to have me removed from duty and bring me home. The woman had gripped her arms hard enough to bruise. I want to work for Starfleet. It's my dream. Please, I only need time... I'm not in pain!

"Against my better judgment, we worked out a compromise. I would maintain our doctor-patient confidentiality, and in return she swore to attend sessions with Dr. Noel twice a week for the foreseeable future. I reserved the right to notify you if I or Noel thought the therapy wouldn't be effective." Leonard swallows hard. "Helen came to me after a month with the concern that physical symptoms of the trauma were beginning to manifest. Those dreams you have, Jim? She experienced nightmares—vivid ones that began to happen while she was awake," he says hollowly.

Jim's hands slip from his shoulders. "You should have told me."

"I know. My silence only gave her wounds time to eat her alive. I planned to come to you after that but..."

Leonard doesn't need to finish, for Jim has surmised the rest: "I had already signed off on Lt. Korro's transfer to the Farragut."

"I contacted the Farragut's CMO, sent him every scrap of data I had. I tried to reach out to the medical community on New Vulcan too, but it's no good now," Leonard reveals. "Korro's gone. Never showed for her shuttle pickup at Starbase Nine."

Jim's face contracts with pain, and Leonard watches him hide his eyes briefly with one hand.

Leonard says guiltily, grief-stricken, "The mistake I made with Korro... I can't do that again. I won't. I guess I should tell you this now..." He slides his hands along the front of his pants. "I submitted an investigation request to Starfleet Medical. They'll decide if I should keep my license or not."

"Bones," Jim says, sounding resigned.

"I know," Leonard murmurs, "but it was the right thing to do. Not that I seem to know much about doing the right thing lately." It occurs to him, then, that Spock has been silent through the entire recounting of what happened with Korro. He is worried that the commander might try to absorb some of the blame when that should fall squarely on his shoulders for poor decision-making as the ship's doctor. To this effect, he utters, "You weren't there, Spock. There was nothing you could have done."

Spock regards him with an unreadable expression. "Do you know who initiated Lt. Korro's transfer?"

Jim's head comes up. However impossible, he looks even more pained.

"I did," Spock informs McCoy.

Leonard grabs the Vulcan's wrist, squeezing it without thinking. "You did that? Why? She needed help!"

"I had a meeting with the lieutenant to discuss my concerns over a shift in her work performance." Spock's voice roughens for a second. "Had I known..."

"Spock." Jim reaches for Spock, too, settling a hand on the Vulcan's forearm above Leonard's hand. "Spock, you didn't know."

"Negative, I should have suspected. Her behavior grew erratic during our discussion. I noted an initial nervousness but that is not an uncommon reaction when I meet with an officer, so I dismissed it. Only when her agitation became... spiteful did I realize she could not tolerate my presence. Comments were made which I shall not repeat. The result of the confrontation was that I gave in to her demand to be released to another ship, as I was rather unappreciative of her unprofessional outbursts. Captain, I submitted that request for transfer to you henceforth—an unacceptable course of action, sir, as I should have more thoroughly investigated the cause of her discomfort first. I will accept your reprimand and any requirement for reparations to be made to Lt. Korro's family."

"That's not going to happen." Leonard rounds on Jim. "I'm the one responsible. I didn't—"

"Stop," Jim interrupts. "Both of you—stop this. Spock, you're not infallible. Bones, there's no punishment I could force on you that would be more hellish than the one you are putting yourself through right now. You made a mistake. We all did, and it cost us an officer, possibly a woman's life." Jim releases Spock to leave the couch. "We will live with the consequences of that. But make no mistake, gentlemen, I will be following up whenever an attack occurs on one of my crewmen from now on. My failure to do so was my contribution to this." His gaze touches on McCoy. "Bones, I will cede to Medical's decision. That doesn't mean I won't do my damnedest to sway the outcome beforehand. I told you, and I will tell you again: I need you here."

He looks at them both for a moment longer, then with a shake of his head skirts the couch to disappear into the privacy of his bedroom.

Leonard props an elbow on his knee and drops his head into his hand. "You shouldn't have answered my call," he tells Spock after a minute.

Wordlessly Spock rises from the couch, locking his hands behind his back. "Come, Doctor. There is much to discuss."

Leonard looks up at him. "About?"

"That which my race rarely shares with those not of our world: what it means to be of Vulcan and a telepath. You must know, for though I hope what occurred with Lt. Korro will not happen again, there is no greater defense or preparation I can give you than knowledge."

Leonard's eyes are tear-bright. "Thank you." He stands up and follows Spock to the cabin's exit, glancing back only once into the darkened space where Kirk had vanished.

Will Jim come back to finish his dinner? Doubtful. Who could have an appetite after hearing a tale like Leonard's?

Still, Leonard will slip back into these quarters to clean up later. For now, it's enough to accept what solace Spock is willing to offer with his companionship, as tonight is certain to be sleepless for all of them.

Chapter Text

If you intend to make a nuisance of yourself, the Head Nurse had complained, at least finish last month's paperwork.

Scoffing at that memory, Leonard confirms his approval on the requisition form for a new regenerator set then swipes over to the next report in his queue. Staff these days are much too brazen, ordering senior officers about and labeling them as nuisances. It's not like Leonard twiddles his thumbs all day or distracts his team from their doing their jobs. He's a working manager!

Apparently there had been the perfect balance between when he was absent and present in Medical during a normal work day, and now he's gone and upset the apple cart by 'hanging around' more than usual.

"It's my own damn department!" Leonard grouses in the silence of his office. Before he can think better of it, he snaps his thumb over to the internal comm system. "Nurse!"

"Yes, Dr. McCoy," comes the response, "what is it?"

Oh hell, why does she sound so irate? "Never mind," he mutters, chickening out, and clicks off the unit.

At the next staff briefing, he should say something about respect for one's superior—even if said superior is supposedly the one at fault for decreasing the overall work efficiency of the team.

Leonard harrumphs, taps his stylus against his data padd, and returns to his paperwork.

Not a moment to soon, it seems. As the door to his office slides open, spilling extra light from the hallway inside, Leonard complains without looking up, "Would you stop checking up on me? I'm not going anywhere."

"That would appear to be the problem, Doctor."

Leonard's head snaps up in surprise. A funny sensation, like nervousness, passes through him. "Commander," he says with more caution, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Spock steps through the doorway to allow the office door to close behind him, though strangely he makes no move to come closer. "Forgive my intrusion, Dr. McCoy. I thought this might be an opportune time to discuss a concern. However I see you are otherwise occupied. Should I return later?"

Leonard waves a hand at an empty chair. "Any concern of yours, Mr. Spock, takes precedence over paperwork. Have a seat."

Spock obliges him, adopting his favored position for a discussion between colleagues by propping his elbows on the arm rests of the chair and interlocking his fingers except for the index fingers, which he steeples together.

"What's this concern?" Leonard wants to know, already worried it might have something to do with the one person that could send the First Officer directly to the CMO's office unannounced.

"You."

The unexpected answer, combined with the blunt way Spock delivers it, causes Leonard rock back in his chair. "Me?" Then, as his senses return, "You can't be serious!"

"I assure you I am." Spock explains, "You requested that I bring any concerns, including those pertaining to yourself, to your attention." He blinks, adds, "I have not yet approached the Captain."

Oh god. In other words, Leonard is getting exactly what he asked for since last time he made a big fuss about Spock telling Kirk about a 'concern' first.

If it wouldn't make him look like he's given up, Leonard would bury his head in his hands and curse his own existence. He summons an ounce of gratitude, partnered with ruefulness. "Thanks, Spock. It's... mighty nice of you to do as I asked." Delicately he clears his throat. "You're concerned... about me. What's happened this time?"

"Precisely three days, six hours, and nine point seven-nine minutes have lapsed since your last visit to the Bridge, Dr. McCoy. While I do not claim to understand this illogical need of yours to deliberately ignore the regulations governing the security of our most critical command center of the ship, one cannot dismiss the change in habit. I find it most unsettling, therefore I am here to ascertain why."

How it is that Spock manages to insult him and at the same time express touching concern is beyond McCoy. "So I haven't been on the Bridge lately. I thought that would make you happy."

"It is Jim who is unhappy."

Leonard sucks in a breath. "Spock..."

Spock only blinks placidly at him. "Shall I relay my theory, Doctor?" He proceeds without waiting for Leonard's reply. "Your error in judgment with Lt. Korro was revealed. Yet rather than choosing to avoid the Captain out of shame, I believe the motivation behind your absence to be more complex. You have undertaken a personal mission to deprive yourself of the one thing which would most likely rectify your guilt—that being," the Vulcan concludes in a softer tone, "Jim's forgiveness."

Leonard stares at him. Usually he hates it when Spock states a painful truth so bluntly but there is a lack of anger this time. "You have an interesting theory, Mr. Spock."

The commander unlocks his fingers and lowers his arms to rest on the chair. "Do not think I wish to chastise you. On the contrary, it has occurred to me that I am remiss in not taking similar action."

"What?" he questions more sharply.

"Self-recrimination may be the best course. Although," Spock adds thoughtfully, "as a Vulcan, there are very few activities which I associate with positive emotion and therefore could deprive myself from pursuing. What would you suggest as an appropriate punishment?"

"Now wait a minute, Spock, you must be joking!" Leonard exclaims. "You've got no reason to punish yourself—"

"I committed an act of ignorance, resulting in the loss of any chance we might have had to assist in Korro's recovery."

"Damn it, man!" he cries, thumping his fist on his desk and then leveling his finger at Spock. "We've been over this. I'm to blame, all right? Why are you even pushing this?"

"If you must suffer," Spock reasons baldly, "then so must I."

Leonard presses his mouth into an unhappy line. "That's blackmail."

The Vulcan cocks his head. "Fascinating, is it not, that you are susceptible to blackmail when the threat is in regard to me?"

Spock could have shocked Leonard less by reaching across the desk and knocking Leonard upside the head. His mouth comes open and stays open for a while until he recovers the ability to speak. "By god, I think you've lost your mind."

"I considered that possibility, only to conclude that there exist some emotions which cannot be constrained by logic."

Leonard fumbles for his desk's bottom drawer where he keeps an emergency tricorder. Spock has lost his mind if he's admitting to experiencing a feeling and announcing that feeling to be perfectly acceptable.

"Dr. McCoy, I assure you there is no need for concern. I am functioning optimally."

"In a pig's eye!" Leonard comes around the desk, adjusting the device in his hand to scan for irregularities in the Vulcan.

Spock, oddly enough, seems quite content to remain seated and allow the examination.

Leonard gives the tricorder a bop with his free hand when the analysis claims Spock is normal. "Damn thing must be broken."

"If your worry has been assuaged, might we speak plainly?"

Leonard leans back against his desk, crossing his arms. "You tellin' me you weren't being plain?"

Spock's dark eyes hold his. "There is no logical reason for you to deny yourself forgiveness for a mistake. Understandably, you may not feel you should accept it from someone else when you are not yet ready to forgive yourself, but consider a different approach, Doctor. The Captain suffers when you deny him your company. At the very least, are you not bound by your oath as a doctor to prevent more suffering?"

"You came all the way here just to tell me that I'm hurting Jim." That funny feeling from earlier returns. "You must care about him a great deal."

"Jim is not the only one I care for."

Something there in Spock's eyes; all Leonard has to do is ask, to press a little more.

He's afraid, suddenly. He breaks eye contact by lowering his gaze. "Spock..." Leonard hardly dares more than a subdued breath. "Message received."

Silence envelopes the office for some time. When Leonard twitches slightly, starts to unfold his arms, Spock finally rises to his feet to leave.

Leonard glances at his desk, only to return his gaze to the Vulcan's retreating back. "Spock," he calls when Spock is upon the threshold, "are you on Bridge duty right now?"

"Affirmative."

The decision is surprisingly easy to make. "I'll come with you."

Spock inclines his head ever-so-slightly. Leonard joins him. Their trek through the ship is a silent but not uncomfortable one. When the turbolift closes in on their destination, a sudden gratitude washes through McCoy. Spock hadn't invaded his office merely to set his thinking straight; he had come to make a tacit offer of support, should Leonard need it.

He looks to the Vulcan next to him. "Thanks," he says as the lift door opens to the Bridge.

"You are welcome," Spock replies, and exits with a greeting of "Captain" to herald their arrival.

The figure in the center of the Bridge should be a foreboding sight, especially when he turns in his chair and his gaze connects with McCoy's. But Leonard sees the relief there, though it is quickly masked.

"Bones," Jim says, his tone casual, "where have you been?"

"Buried under a mound of paperwork," Leonard says by way of explanation, stepping down from the upper platform. "It took a Vulcan to extricate me."

Jim lifts his voice to carry. "Good work, Mr. Spock."

Spock pivots away from his Science station to acknowledge the praise with a raised eyebrow and "Thank you, Captain."

Jim's gaze finds Leonard again, and Jim smiles.

Leonard smiles back. "What've I missed?"

"Star charting," replies his friend in an aggrieved tone. "Possibly the most boring—"

"Captain," Sulu cuts in, "long-range scanners are picking up some kind of object."

"A wessel," amends Chekov.

Jim twists around to face the main viewer, eyes alight. "Identity, Mr. Chekov?"

"I cannot be certain at this distance, Keptin, but readings indicate a similar energy signal to a Klingon Bird-of-Prey."

"Bones," Jim praises him now, "you must be good luck."

Leonard closes his eyes. "I can't believe this."

Spock comes down to the lower platform and takes up a position on the other side of the Captain's chair. "Captain, luck has nothing to do with it. I did inform you that we were passing in close proximity to a region of space rumored to contain a new outpost of the Klingon Empire."

Leonard snaps at Spock, "You knew we might encounter Klingons and brought me up here anyway?! Why you green-blooded—"

The Vulcan just looks at him, causing Leonard to inarticulately sputter his final word.

Jim reaches up to pat his senior medical officer's hand which has latched tightly onto the back of his chair. "Relax, Bones. This is certain to be more entertaining than paperwork."

"Klingons aren't entertaining, Jim. They're murderous! And insane!"

"And approaching fast, Captain," interjects Sulu. "We've been spotted!"

"Shields up!" Jim orders. "Uhura, open a hailing frequency. Let's find out who wants a piece of my Enterprise."

"I hate you, Hobgoblin," Leonard gripes through the sudden blaring of the ship's klaxons.

"He that hath all can have no more," quotes Spock.

"Donne," Jim notes approvingly, grinning up at them both. "This is going to be fun."

Clearly the commander of the Klingon vessel agrees. He roars through the open channel, "Adversary Kirk! Long have I awaited to destroy you in battle and bring glory to the Empire!"

As the enemy delves into incomprehensible, excited Klingon that has even Uhura scrunching her nose in confusion, Leonard covers his face with his hands.

The Bird-of-Prey opens fire.

"Sore?" Jim inquires as his CMO slowly limps from the bathroom to the main cabin of the captain's quarters.

Leonard huffs. "Spock makes a terrible cushion. He's too bony."

"I'm just glad he caught you."

Leonard feels his eye twitch. There are plenty of remarks he could make, like how he wouldn't have been tossed around on the Bridge if Jim hadn't wanted to test out a new evasive maneuver against that Bird-of-Prey, or why it is that the Bridge's damn stabilizer never seems to be working right, or even that Spock only managed to catch him because the Vulcan had practically been breathing down his neck while the ship rocked back and forth.

He settles on, "Damn it, Jim."

"What?" Jim queries, uncomprehending.

"Next time you want to engage in war games, give me an advanced start back to Sickbay."

"Bones," remarks his companion, and the name is full of fondness, "I didn't request your presence on the Bridge."

No, that's the fault of their fool Vulcan. And recalling that little fact has the effect of reminding McCoy why he wanted to see Jim in private.

"We've got something to discuss," he says more gravely, settling on the end of the couch opposite Kirk.

Jim rolls the small amount of liquor remaining in a tumbler in his hand and just watches McCoy curiously.

"I was planning to tell you this before," he begins, "because I don't half understand it myself and that annoying First Officer of yours is about as helpful as piss in a boot when it comes to explaining himself."

"Spock's usually straight forward."

"When he wants to be," counters Leonard. "Which is why I think he's playing us."

Kirk's hand stills. His eyes narrow. "Explain."

"Apparently the Commander has too much time on his hands. He's been conducting experiments, of which you and I seem to be the main subjects."

Jim's countenance relaxes again. His tone of voice is mild as he asks, "What kind of experiment?"

Leonard frowns. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Yes, Bones, I did. Spock's testing a theory. Do you know what it is?"

Leonard can't understand him. "Jim, you're not even miffed by the idea that he's studying us like specimens in a laboratory?"

"That's just how Spock is. He is so efficient at running the Enterprise, he has to be actively engaged in some other pursuit of knowledge to stay occupied. I mean, c'mon, Bones, imagine living on a starship with a bored Vulcan. Do you think that would be any fun?"

Leonard closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You deserve each other."

Silence.

Then, as Leonard opens his eyes, Jim questions in a peculiar voice, "Why would you say that?"

Leonard blinks. "I don't rightly know."

"Bones."

"Look, kid," he chides, exasperated, close to throwing his hands up and declaring defeat, "you may be perfectly fine with having a nosy second-in-command but I'm not." And frankly Spock's motives confuse him, though he will be damned if he confesses that. "He's got it into his cotton-pickin' head to analyze our behavior by the weirdest scientific scale I've ever seen. Factors like attraction and suitability. For crying out loud, it's almost like Spock's trying to measure our compat..." Before the word fully forms, it lodges in Leonard's throat. He assimilates his own rant.

Compatibility.

My god, he realizes, it's a compatibility ratio Spock is after. Namely, the compatibility of one James T. Kirk and Leonard Horatio McCoy.

Still looking directly at Jim, he closes his mouth.

The faint lightening of Jim's skin means that Jim has finished the sentence without any help. After a tense moment, Jim lowers his drink and rests it on his knee. "You said 'seen'," he murmurs in a softer tone. "A write-up of some kind, I presume. Where?"

"Jim," Leonard says but fails to add more, swallowing hard.

"Where?" Kirk repeats.

"He's got files on a personal PADD. I had a chance to look at 'em in his office."

"Thank you for telling me." Jim's drink is moved from his knee to the coffee table, and Jim stands up.

Leonard follows suit in a more awkward fashion. Don't let the conversation end like this, McCoy. He reaches for Kirk's arm but stops short of actually touching him. "Jim," he tries again, "hold on a second."

Jim refuses to look at him. "I see now why it bothers you. I'll talk to Spock. You're right. There has to be a line between the scientific and the intrusive."

Leonard does grab him this time. "Captain!"

Jim turns his head, finally acknowledging McCoy by meeting his gaze. His eyes, normally expressive, for once give no secrets away.

In that instant, Leonard understands a truth about himself. But he takes the coward's way out. "You said it yourself. It's who Spock is. Don't be too hard on him."

He releases Kirk, then, watching Jim cut a path across the cabin to the computer desk in the corner. There, Jim directs the ship's computer to locate Spock.

Knowing it isn't his place to stay, Leonard lets himself out while his commanding officer is busy opening the comm channel to Science. He touches his fingertips to the wall next to the closed cabin door and tries to sort through muddled feelings.

Those files—he desperately wants to see them again, to read Spock's assessment with this newfound truth fresh in his mind. How obvious now that the jealousy accusation had been a cover-up, first said in passing by Leonard and then cleverly utilized by Spock to set events in motion that would force Leonard—and thereby Jim—to face what Spock had long ago concluded about them: that Leonard and Jim, who are remarkably compatible, have the potential to be more than friends.

And the other truth, the very personal one that feels to Leonard like the last missing piece of a puzzle... that he has been in love with his best friend for a long time.

Those files, he thinks again. He needs them. He has to know without a doubt that the odds are in his favor.

Damn it all to hell, Jim will require Spock to cease his experiment and destroy the evidence.

Leonard turns left down the corridor with renewed purpose. Spock was in one of the Science labs when the ship's computer located him. At Jim's request to see him, Spock will head straight for Jim's quarters.

McCoy sighs deeply when he reaches the turbolift, startling an ensign. Once again, he is on a mission to break into Spock's office. He would have never guessed that by joining Starfleet he would be adopting criminal behavior.

Hopefully Spock hasn't added that particular observation to the McCoy file. Leonard would die of embarrassment.

"Deck Thirteen," he tells the ship's computer, and the lift speeds on.

Three hither-to neat stacks of data padds on the shelf behind First Officer Spock's desk are askew.

Leonard curses, "Son of a bitch!" as a nearby stack topples over in the process of him grabbing the next data padd in the current stack. Where is the damn thing?

So far, every PADD has been secured and mocking his inability to break into it. What happened to the PADD that Spock left unsecured for him to access?

"Of all the times to take precautions, Spock!" he snarls to the empty office, discarding yet another useless device and making a bigger mess of the organized shelf in the process. Finally, in defeat, he turns for the desk drawers to deliberate which one he should pry open first. If it will come open, that is.

Damn Vulcan!

A thump on the outer wall of the office freezes the man in place.

Eyes wide, Leonard then hears the tell-tale beep of a security code being inputted and approved on the other side of the door, and he squeaks in alarm, diving behind the desk just in time as the office door whooshes open.

The long silhouette thrown against the far wall, the very wall that Leonard is now facing in a panic, has pointed ears. The shadow momentarily shortens as it draws farther into the office; then there is a halt in motion at the sound of a faint call along the corridor of "Mr. Spock!"

Leonard breaks out in a sweat. Turn back, turn back, turn back, he pleads silently to the Spock-shadow.

Spock turns back.

The door slides shut again, the shadow disappearing.

Swamped by relief, Leonard slumps to the side and just breathes. It is a second or two before he can rouse himself to his feet. Mission forgotten, he creeps toward the closed door and listens for any noises from the other side.

"You fool," he whispers furiously to himself, "what are you going to do now?"

There's nothing for it. He will just have to step out and pray to every available deity that Spock has been enticed away by his staff for some reason or other. It's not like Leonard can hide away in this blasted small space unless he tries to cram under the desk. Even then, the success of that would be slim.

Jim could probably think of some clever way to get out of this. Unfortunately, Leonard just isn't that clever.

He hurries at the door at full speed before he allows himself time to think better of the decision. The door quickly draws back.

And reveals Spock on the opposite side, head cocked.

Leonard wants to sink through the floor. "S-Spock," he stammers.

"Dr. McCoy," the Vulcan responds evenly, "what a surprise."

Leonard's brilliant brain fails him. He can't think up a proper excuse.

Without further ado, Spock places one hand on McCoy's shoulder and propels him backwards. The door closes on their heels, leaving them alone inside the office. Spock lowers his hand back to his side.

"I," Leonard begins, stops, tries again. "I..." Damn it. He shields his eyes out of shame. "I broke into your office again."

"Obviously."

Leonard dares to peek at the Vulcan. "That's all you have to say?"

"It would seem," Spock adds, "that you require unrestricted access to my domain. Shall I suggest to the Captain that we cohabitate?"

At that, Leonard's thought process pops like an overloaded lightbulb, fizzles and dies. "Cohabitate?" he repeats dumbly.

"Other alternatives would not be as efficient."

Leonard takes a step back, then another. For the first time when he looks at Spock, he sees an alien. Not someone he can't communicate with or understand, but an honest-to-god unidentified lifeform.

"You're not joking," he decides. "You'd really go to Jim and ask him that."

Spock confirms, "I would."

Leonard shakes his head. "Spock, what's the matter with you? What's happened to you?"

Without warning, Spock moves past the doctor to his desk. From the shelf behind it, he retrieves an ornate box small enough to fit into two hands which Leonard had dismissed as a trinket or family heirloom. "To answer accurately would be an impossibility," Spock informs Leonard as he opens the box, "but I shall endeavor to try." He offers up a device, then, which turns out to be a mini-PADD.

"What is this?" McCoy asks as he takes it, watching Spock closely.

The Vulcan occupies himself with replacing the box and tidying the shelf. "I promised to share my file with you, Leonard. Take it, read it, and when you are done, return to me. I would appreciate your thoughts as well but know that if you do not share them with me, that in and of itself will be considered an answer."

An answer. But hadn't Leonard asked a question of Spock, not vice versa?

Leonard lingers only a moment before preparing to leave because it has become acutely clear to him that Spock is uncomfortable. Then he remembers his reason for getting caught in the first place. "Jim knows about your assessments," he warns Spock. "He'll ask you to stop."

"He already has," comes the reply.

That hurts Leonard for some inexplicable reason. "I'm sorry."

Spock turns to face him, then. "It does not matter. My work could be taken no further. Action is no longer the prerogative of the tester but of the subjects."

"This is important to you," he realizes.

"I would not risk my standing with you and Jim otherwise."

Leonard believes him. "I'll read it, Spock," he promises, "and afterwards let you know what I think." It's the least I can do, he doesn't add.

This time Leonard does leave, resolutely, not quite feeling a burden on his shoulders but definitely what one could define as responsibility for the future. His future, Spock's... and Jim's.

There's only one thing that comes to Leonard's mind as he passes from Science to the junction of main corridors. But will it do any good?

Darkness has settled in without obvious reason, lending the cabin a coldness that shouldn't be there. Leonard steps into it with unease, calling to the computer, "Lights, thirty percent."

The main cabin seems to brighten more slowly than usual, as if loathe to give up what it has hidden from sight: a man on the short couch, wide-awake and soundless.

"You came back," that man says.

Leonard frowns. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Jim's gaze slides away. "Needed to think."

Leonard accepts that with a sigh because he's in no position to judge strange habits. "I came back because I made a mess of things. Here." He approaches Kirk and holds out the mini-PADD Spock had given him.

Jim takes it, wanting to know like Leonard had, "What is it?"

"That experiment I complained about? Spock included himself in it." Jim draws the tiniest breath, but it's enough for Leonard to know that Jim is willing to listen to the rest. "He gave me his file. I want us to read it together."

Jim's knuckles whiten against the black device, but he says nothing as Leonard gingerly sits next to him.

"I made another mistake, Jim," Leonard confesses. "I didn't consider what relevance Spock's work would have to him. I guess I thought he spent his time observing us, analyzing us, simply because he could... or because he believed he was duty-bound to. That he would be invested in the results more than anyone else didn't cross my mind. But you told him to stop, didn't you?"

"I did. Bones..."

"Jim," Leonard interjects more quietly, suddenly having a difficult time meeting his eyes, "we're gonna break his heart if we're not careful."

Jim's throat works as he lays the PADD down in his lap. "Bones, do you understand the significance of what you just said?"

"How can I not? You didn't see the way he held himself," reveals Leonard, "like he'd just handed me all the hope in the galaxy. In all these years, I've never seen Spock that vulnerable. That's why I came here, Jim. I can't trust myself not to do him harm, even unintentionally. I need you to help me figure this thing out." He begs, "Won't you, please?"

Jim reaches between the couch cushions, unearths something which looks like a replica of Spock's personal PADD.

Leonard takes it, astonished.

"I guess you could say Spock came prepared to face me." Jim picks up the other data padd from his lap, inspecting its casing with care. "You said this one has the report on Spock?"

"Yeah, it does. And this," Leonard surmises, holding up the one Jim presented, "must have our files?" Of course. Spock would have given it to Jim to read once he realized there would be no other opportunity to do so.

Jim nods. "Bones," he says, glancing up, "I have something to tell you as well, since I think I already know what is in this report."

"What do you mean you think you know?"

Jim holds his gaze. "Those dreams, memories... they belonged to Ambassador Spock. I know because I can tell you how he felt."

Leonard is taken aback. "His feelings, not just his memories, transferred to you?" But Spock had said that would be a rare occurrence, since information transmitted through a mind meld generally lacked emotion. It is the Vulcan way, Spock had explained, to filter out emotions whenever possible, unless the purpose of the meld is to interpret or influence them.

"No, not always," amends Kirk. "Most of time it's like I am watching a movie without sound. I don't feel anything from the memories. But a few..." Jim lifts a hand, rubs the back of it against his mouth briefly. "Just a few of them have coloring. A sense I can recognize, like how I know I would feel if I experienced happiness or sadness... loneliness. Bones, I think there were moments in Ambassador Spock's life when he felt so deeply he could not separate his emotion from the memory—that, or he didn't care to."

Leonard is both fascinated and disturbed. "Jim, I can't imagine how... strange that would feel."

"Not so strange," murmurs his friend, "when one can empathize."

"What?" The word comes out sharper than intended. Leonard makes an effort to gentle his tone. "Jim, what do you mean?"

Jim raises the PADD between them. "That if our Spock thinks and feels as Ambassador Spock did, I know what's on here." He takes a deep breath. "And I will likely agree with him. Can you handle that?"

"How do I know if I can handle it if I don't know what I'm supposed to be handling?"

Jim nods once, resolutely. "Then let's find out." He activates the PADD.

Nervousness and apprehension have never stopped Leonard before when it comes to follow his friend into the unknown, and it doesn't stop him now. He leans into Jim's shoulder so he can see the screen powering on. Hardly to Leonard's surprise, Jim shifts to slip his arm around Leonard's shoulders, not seeking comfort or offering it, but affirming for McCoy they shall always face what is to come together.

Leonard loves him for that caring, that support; he always has. It's water to a dying man, to someone like Leonard who once believed he would be utterly alone for the rest of his life.

So the question becomes simpler, then: when the unknown Kirk and McCoy are facing turns out to be Spock, will they become weaker or stronger?

Because Leonard isn't willing to hurt any more people, he decides there is little choice. He must become strong enough to take care of Spock too.

"Here it is," Jim says softly, having located the file.

"Read it aloud," requests Leonard. "Don't skip any parts."

"I won't," his friend promises, and clears his throat to begin.

Chapter Text

In the darkness of his room, Leonard opens his eyes. The wall's chronometer says he has too long to go before alpha shift. With a sigh, he shuts his eyes firmly again and wills himself to fall asleep.

Subject's ranking: Commander. Origins: Vulcan. Species: Vulcan-Terran.

He lays a hand against his forehead in a futile effort to stop the replay.

Physical health: Functions optimal.

McCoy rolls to his side and begs his brain, Please, enough already, but the brain is not listening, has not been listening since the lights of the bedroom went out some hours ago.

However unusual condition of subject persists as it relates to the neurological; resulting psychological impact has yet to be determined. The condition derives from an incident of a most disturbing nature...

Leonard crumples his pillow under his head and groans into it.

The waking dream. To one who is in body as Vulcanian as I am, Spock had stated, switching from observer to subject, to relax the restraint of the mind is nearly impossible. It should not be. Therefore it becomes imperative to determine why I have broken from a discipline which has operated effectively for nearly twenty years. I begin this attempt at understanding the change in my behavior by examining the content of the aberration.

Finally giving in, Leonard opens his eyes and shucks off his bed covers to sit up. "Lights, forty percent." His private cabin brightens in response.

Cpt. James T. Kirk and Dr. Leonard McCoy. While I was working on a particularly challenging application of a temporal paradox, I imagined them standing behind me on the Bridge when in fact neither man was in the vicinity. They gave no indication of wishing to converse, merely laid their hands upon my shoulders. I did not turn around.

Leonard drops his head into his hands as a sigh shudders out of him, experiencing an echo of the astonishment that had bloomed as Spock's motive for assessing Jim and Leonard became clearer with each sentence.

My first sensation upon the end to this waking dream was one of great comfort; the second, resolution to finish my work. It was only then that I comprehended what had occurred. My subconscious mind, against the rigors set in place to control its impulses, brought forth this image to supplement an emotional need I was not aware of having. As there may be other factors in existence of which I am not presently cognizant, I am filled with many questions. What has caused this incident? What is the likelihood of reoccurrence? Is my weakened state a symptom of some greater concern?

Next to Leonard at the time they had been reading Spock's report, Jim had murmured, "I know when this was, Bones. Spock came out of his chair suddenly that day, startling the rest of us. I asked him if anything was the matter, but he only gave me this blank stare before answering in the negative and returning to his seat. He didn't speak to anyone for the remainder of that shift. I thought of calling you, but a hunch convinced me he wouldn't want to share what was on his mind."

Even if Spock had been willing to discuss what he deemed an aberration, Leonard would have been of no use to him. How could he when he could hardly make sense of the baseline norm for a healthy Vulcan?

But that Spock never considered he could ask for help in unraveling this mystery hurts Leonard too. One day he must convince Spock of his qualifications to attend to Spock's medical and perhaps even psychological needs; to show Spock that he is more than a 'witch doctor' when it comes to treating a Vulcan.

Spock had written, unconcerned with such things as acquiring assistance for his problem, Logic decrees that an image not based in reality should be easily dismissed as irrelevant. Yet such a thing inspires these... pleasant feelings. Is this the basis of desire? As I continue to contemplate the matter more deeply, I become less certain of what I know. At this juncture, I can only propose to move forward in the manner in which I am accustomed, that of the scientific procedure necessary to make a discovery. Strategy, then, becomes imminent for identifying any correlations to the root cause in hopes to uncover the root cause itself. Within strategizing, assigning priorities to the addressing of my concerns.

Clearly one quandary ranks above the others. Of the many individuals who have supported me through personal hardship, why should I—Spock of Vulcan—dream of these two colleagues? An obvious answer would seem that I respect, in particular, Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy to the utmost of my capacity, that I trust them to command and care for the ship, the crew... myself. Yet, in the face of this logic, my discontent persists. It would seem I require another answer, though what form that answer must take remains elusive.

The supposition of that inquisitive Vulcan mind had continued on for two more pages until Leonard and Jim had been wide-eyed and nervous to meet the final statement of its lengthy introduction. It read, rather simply, Seeking the truth could be the preface to change. As one can only evolve by adapting, I shall endeavor to embrace the results of my discovery whatever those results may be.

"My god," Leonard mutters now to the emptiness of his cabin as he had to Jim earlier, twisting the ring on his smallest finger round and round, "we're in big trouble."

Jim shows up in the morning Mess looking as tired as Leonard feels. When Leonard sidles up to him in the replicator line and says simply, "Captain," Jim jumps like a cat with its tail beside a rocking chair.

Leonard catches the man's arm and quickly draws him back into place, hoping no one else noticed. The last thing they need is someone tattling to the First Officer that the Captain seems off today.

"Bones," Jim says, and his raspy voice is right in line with the dark circles under his eyes.

"Didn't you sleep at all?" Leonard asks.

The man counters, "Did you?"

Leonard mutters under his breath about a traitorous brain. It had become too easily fascinated by the prospect of Spock, whose picture accompanies the definition of impersonal objectivity, undergoing the process of creating an emotional upheaval by choice. In the end, he thinks he passed out from sheer exhaustion for about an hour.

Jim, assuredly in a similar kind of stupor, haphazardly punches in codes to the replicator. By the time Leonard intervenes, the machine has already produced a plate of blueberry waffles, two fried chicken legs, an old style snack called a Twinkie, a pink gelatinous mass that must be a delicacy from a code section of the replicator that nobody should know, and one cup of coffee.

"At least you got the beverage right," he says mournfully. "Recycle the rest."

A complacent Kirk turns around with the tray and drops it onto the nearest table with a clatter. "Free food!" he calls, then proceeds to pick up the cup of coffee and find a back corner of the cafeteria, walking against the flow of people heading McCoy's way to inspect their captain's offerings.

Rolling his eyes ceiling-ward, Leonard places his order which mainly consists of food he can feed Jim and joins the man across the room. They huddle around their steaming coffee mugs and generally avoid looking each other in the eyes for the first few minutes of breakfast.

Jim's gaze eventually ceases to meander elsewhere and finds Leonard's. "I don't think he's coming."

"No surprise there," Leonard affirms. "I'd be more worried if the hobgoblin showed up and pretended he hadn't just handed us his heart by way of a data padd."

"Bones, you..." Jim begins, only to shake his head and close his mouth. He pulls one of Leonard's plates over to his side of the table and picks up an extra spoon.

McCoy orders, "Eat all of that. Can't have you fainting in front of your subordinates because you're dismissive of your appetite."

"Yes, Mom."

"Physician and friend," Leonard corrects smoothly.

Jim glances up at him. "Is that all?"

Damn. The doctor has to look away, then, and clear his throat delicately. "So, do you have a plan?"

Jim stirs his spoon through the oatmeal several times before admitting, "No."

"Then I guess it's up to me." Really, Leonard needs to learn when to stop volunteering for the hard jobs. He is making himself more nervous than he already is, and that in turn causes him to wonder how he will ever follow up with Spock without turning into a bumbling wreck. Only, the problem is it's Spock who is in the worst position by all accounts, and so Leonard has to try to help him through it.

Somehow.

"Bones?"

He turns to face Jim. "What?"

"I said good luck."

Leonard stares at him, then sighs and downs the rest of his coffee in one scalding go. "You know, kid, that doesn't make me feel better." He shoves his empty mug under Kirk's nose. "More coffee."

Jim takes it from him with a dry "Yes, dear," and proceeds to retrieve a refill.

As Leonard watches him go, he acknowledges how grateful he is that they can be at ease with each other again. Trying to determine the destination of their collective fate has that effect, it seems.

Relentlessly as ever, his mind returns to that damn earth-shaking report. While Spock's assessments of him and Jim had clearly been the methodical, unbiased rationale of a scientist, the analysis of Spock himself was anything but; it had given Leonard the impression of a man slowly peeling back the layers of his psyche, buoyed by the innocent curiosity of a child.

What lay at the core was Spock's heart. Jim had suspected from the beginning where Spock would end up, but Leonard met the revelation ill-prepared. He recalls how, with a clear sense of wonder, Spock had written of this discovery so plainly:

I am fond of James T. Kirk and Leonard McCoy. Moreover, I am longing. Whether this emotion stems from another, such as loneliness, matters not. These men have become part of my perception of myself. To deny my need for them would be crueler than depriving my mind of stimulus. The solution: the pursuit of their affections, together or independently. Yet to consider one over the other begets malcontentment. Therefore considering them in equal measure, both belonging to me and I, belonging to them, is the harmony I seek.

There is one additional observation to consider. The objective will not be possible as envisioned, Spock had concluded, unless Jim and Leonard can maintain an equivalent harmony among themselves. To that end, I shall now focus my efforts. Proceeding is logical, for my well-being and theirs.

Ah, hobgoblin, McCoy thinks as Jim weaves his way back to him. If only I hadn't assumed you wouldn't recognize love.

"Your coffee, Doctor," Jim demurs, holding out the cup to Leonard.

Leonard takes it, feeling a swell of emotions both for Jim who desperately wants a chance to love and for the missing companion who had recently mustered the courage to pursue it. A pang of sadness joins that bittersweet mix when Leonard finally admits that he may be the one too handicapped to join them.

Fear and courage—the two go hand-in-hand. Perhaps if Leonard allows himself to start small, simply, by addressing with Spock the part which roused his scientific curiosity, he can work up to the courage to lead with his heart. Such a starting point, at least, should be enough to let Spock know that Leonard is willing to consider the possibilities between them.

"Spock's scheduled himself in Science for the day," Jim warns Leonard before they part ways.

"Speaking of people making themselves scarce, Jim, when will we finish our talk? We didn't leave ourselves in the best spot last night, you know."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jim assures McCoy. "If you want to talk, we'll talk." The man reaches over to pat the doctor's shoulder, but the hand freezes midway as Kirk's gaze lands on the wall chronometer.

Leonard sees the object of Kirk's distraction and grins. "Looks like you're late, Jim-boy. No way can you avoid her now," he teases.

"Damn," Kirk says succinctly. "Maybe I should come to Sickbay instead?"

Leonard gives his captain a push towards the nearest the turbolift. "Don't be such a baby. Nyota doesn't bite."

"She doesn't bite you," Jim retorts. "She keeps closer tabs on me than my yeoman does. In fact, I think if Spock was willing to vacate his position as my First, she would nominate herself for it whether or not Command or I agreed."

Leonard chortles now, because that's the damn funniest thing he has heard in a while. "After the first time you handed over the conn, you'd never be able to take it back."

"Precisely my point, Bones!"

Leonard just flaps a hand at Kirk, still laughing, and heads in the opposite direction. He intends to make a quick stop into the medbay before heading over to Science but the unfortunate timing of a mishap in Engineering involving one of Mr. Scott's lads-in-training and a Jefferies Tube the kid wasn't big enough to squeeze through keeps him occupied until a quarter past the start of beta shift. By then, Leonard is fighting a bout of grumpiness and a mild headache. He detours briefly to his office to pick up Spock's PADD and slips out of Sickbay after seeing to it that the other staff members who worked alongside him in Engineering are handing their duties to someone else.

McCoy finds his quarry ensconced in a lab with one associate tech, a young woman whom Spock dismisses immediately upon taking note of the doctor's arrival.

"Am I going to be interested in this?" Leonard asks as he circles a long counter where Spock is perched, peering at a set of partly filled test tubes.

The Vulcan remains preoccupied with calibrating an instrument in his hand. "You may be. Although," Spock adds after a moment in an oddly offhand manner, "it is unlikely I am the appropriate person to judge your interests."

Leonard isn't certain if another meaning is intended by that statement or not. He counters with the truth. "You would be a better guesser than most."

Spock raises his head, then, to stare at Leonard.

Leonard clarifies, "We're both scientists on a vessel where the definition of strange is synonymous with normal. Whatever interests you, Spock, is likely to interest me too."

"And what interest has brought you here, Dr. McCoy?"

"I have something to return to you." Leonard lays down the mini-PADD on the counter between them, which Spock makes no move to take back. "I promised you my thoughts, Commander. Well," he discloses quickly, "like any scientist worth his salt, I want to ask questions of my own before I offer an expert opinion on the matter."

Spock's tense shoulders relax into a more neutral pose. "Proceed."

Leonard jokes as he positions a free stool across from Spock, "You Vulcans are so tight-lipped about your biology—especially you—that I thought I must have uncovered a city of gold when I started on that overview of your medical history, pre-Starfleet."

"Doctor, you are fully aware any such myth about the Earth's mysterious city of gold has been scientifically disproven for nearly two centuries."

"Don't interrupt me, Spock." McCoy crosses his arms over his chest and drawls, "As I was sayin', here I believed I had discovered some riches of untold portions when it turns out what meager information you did share in that overview was only to stress the fact that you didn't like that you had a daydream."

"A daydream, Doctor, is not an insignificant matter to a—"

"Vulcan," Leonard finishes. "Uh-huh. But you know what I found really interesting, Spock? It wasn't your first daydream, was it?"

Spock blinks. "How... astute of you to infer that particular conclusion."

Leonard bristles. "Are you trying to insult me by saying you assumed I couldn't read between the lines?"

Spock tilts his head ever-so-slightly. "On the contrary, I am complimenting you for your insight."

Leonard purses his mouth, not certain whether or not he should be mollified. Then he dismisses his feeling to continue, because something is really bothering him. "I gathered the academic institute you mentioned attending as a child is the Vulcan Science Academy. How does the VSA relate to your condition?"

"Will this information be made public?"

"Of course not."

"I am a product of cross-breeding. A... genetic phenomenon, if you will. My existence has been and always shall be a curiosity to those of purely Vulcan ancestry."

Leonard is appalled. "Spock, you're not some experiment! Your parents made you out of love."

"Regardless of their desire to procreate, there was a period in which my father and mother did not know if a child between them was possible. Science assisted my parents in my conception, Doctor. In return, they were required to allow bi-annual studies of my development from infancy to pre-adolescence."

"How long would that be?"

"Fifteen years."

"My god," Leonard says softly. "Spock... that's awful." Is that why Spock is always prickly during physical examinations? Is he reminded too much of being poked and prodded by VSA specialists for the duration of his childhood?

"I have no feelings on the matter."

Hogwash! thinks Leonard. But now isn't the time to challenge Spock's claim—or lack thereof—concerning the ramifications of undergoing an examination without consent.

No doubt recognizing how little Leonard is mollified, Spock goes on to add, "At Mother's insistence, we ceased our appointments with the VSA in my eighth year. However, I had already asked my father for assistance in rectifying the issue of... daydreaming... by focusing my training on the discipline required for metacognition. At that time I had no desire to be unique from my peers."

"You were ashamed," Leonard supplies in a gentler tone.

Spock returns his gaze to the scientific instrument in his hands. "I perceived myself to be weaker."

"Spock," Leonard says, feeling a tug of compassion, "in this galaxy, there's a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And in all the universe, three million galaxies like this. And in all of that, and perhaps more, one of each of us.*"

Spock adopts a faintly amused air of challenge. "I believe we have proven two variations of the same person can exist in one universe."

"Ah, but you just said it yourself: the Ambassador is a variation. He is the product of his own experiences and has his own place—even if that place ended up being in our universe for a time. My point is we're meant to be unique. Don't destroy who you are simply because it's not in keeping with the person others think you should be."

"Does this mean you accept me as a being of logic?"

"Not a chance," Leonard objects promptly, "because now I know there's definitely something human in you beneath all that stuffy claptrap. My mission in life must be to see to it that you appreciate all your heritage."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "You may try."

Leonard grins. He rocks forward on his stool in lieu of bouncing on the balls of his feet.

The laboratory door slides open. It's the tech, wanting to know if she can come back in. Behind her is a far more familiar face who waits for no invitation.

"Spock," their captain calls, aggrieved, as he strides into the lab, "how could you be so cruel to leave me alone with Lt. Uhu—" He stops, then, looks between Spock and McCoy. "Am I interrupting?"

"Excellent timing, Captain. Dr. McCoy has, I perceive, insulted me to his satisfaction. Please escort him back to Sickbay now."

Leonard abandons his stool with a harrumph. He isn't one to hang around when he isn't wanted. "C'mon, Jim. Let Spock mind the store for you."

Jim turns with a slight shrug turns and follows McCoy back into the corridor. "Sorry, Bones. I didn't mean to keep you two from your... chat," he insists in a contrite tone. "I assumed you had been to see Spock by now."

Leonard glances knowingly at Kirk. "In other words, you decided to come along and check on him."

The guilty-faced man doesn't deny the accusation, saying instead, "Well, I really didn't want to stay on the Bridge with Uhura." He looks around surreptitiously, then lowers his voice. "Do you think she knows? Because I could swear I am being judged for some dumb-witted action—or inaction."

"Jim, there are any number of dumb-witted things you're capable of doing. That doesn't narrow down the list much."

Jim frowns. "But why is it only me she stares at like that?"

"No idea," Leonard answers sincerely. All he knows is that if Uhura decided to treat him the same, every ounce of courage he has would shrivel up. Though she may no longer be dating Spock, everyone knows the woman has no qualms slapping down someone she feels isn't treating her ex with the respect he deserves.

And right now, Leonard accepts, he needs his courage to determine what must come next.

Looking at Jim, he thinks he has an inkling as to that next step. "A drink," he says, seemingly out of nowhere. "How about a drink?"

Jim dips his head. "Your quarters or mine?"

"Mine," McCoy decides, and they head that way.

Leonard bypasses the living area to unearth a rare treat from his personal cabinet, a gourd-shaped bottle of amber liquid he had been stowed there when his previous attempt to share it with Jim hadn't come to pass. Since that bourbon couldn't be needed more than the present, he supposes the proper occasion has arrived.

Jim comes as far as the partition between the bedroom and the main cabin, leaning there in silence to observe McCoy.

"You know, Jim, it's funny you should mention that feeling you get with Uhura staring a hole into the back of your head," he begins awkwardly, careful to avoid looking at the man he is talking to. "There's a saying my grandmother often used which comes to mind: 'if that boy had an idea, it would die of loneliness.' Well," he confesses, "I must be that boy. I feel like the world's greatest idiot."

"Why?"

"A Vulcan figured out how I felt before I did."

"What we can see in others we are often blind to in ourselves."

Leonard looks sidelong at his friend. "You weren't oblivious."

"No," Jim agrees, pushing away from the partition to approach him. "I've known what I wanted for a while now."

"Spock," he surmises softly, turning back to the bourbon and removing the bottle's cork. "No surprise there. You two make a good team."

A hand settles on McCoy's shoulder, slides around to the middle of his back. Jim asks, "Don't we make a good team too, Bones?"

"Well, I don't know about team—"

Jim takes the bottle out of Leonard's hands and sets it aside. Then he turns Leonard to face him. "Forget Spock for a minute. This is about us."

Here's your chance, McCoy. Show your courage. But he finds himself arguing instead, "Spock's proposal concerns more than you and me, Jim."

"Exactly. None of us moves forward if there isn't a you and me." His gaze searches McCoy's. "Could you love me, Bones?"

"Fool." Leonard's voice cracks. "You don't even know how much I love you."

Kirk's grip tightens on his shoulders. "Say it. As a friend or...?"

"I told you. Who's the bigger idiot between the two of us? I am. So stupid for falling in love with my best friend and not even recognizing it."

Jim jerks him forward into a hug. In response, Leonard locks his arms around the man's back and turns his face into Jim's neck.

"Thank you," Jim says, and his voice breaks too, just momentarily, as if overwhelmed. "Bones, thank you."

"Stop cracking my ribs," McCoy mumbles the complaint, not actually minding the tightness of their embrace at all.

When they finally let go of each other, a beat of silence ensues. Then, because confessing the sincerity of their feelings for one another is only half the problem, Leonard sighs and asks, "What do we do about Spock?"

Jim runs a thumb across the curve of McCoy's cheek. "I won't be a fool over this anymore. No more hiding. No more... longing." He swallows hard. "I want Spock as much as I want you."

"And if I don't know how I feel about Spock?"

Jim's tone turns graver. "Would you be willing to figure it out?"

Leonard sighs again, sagging slightly towards his friend. "I already made that promise." And he means to keep it, especially now that he knows that he will be the one to break Spock's heart if he isn't careful.

"Jim," he says, "no matter what comes of this, I won't stand in your way if you decide to accept Spock on your own. We'll find a way to make it work for all of us."

Jim releases a quiet, relieved breath but resolves nonetheless, "Together, Bones, or not at all."

Leonard finds that worrisome. "Are you sure?"

Jim brings their foreheads together. "It would hurt too much to only have one of you and not the other."

He may not envision their future the way Jim does, but he can place his faith in Jim to make it possible. That's why Jim is his captain, after all. "All right."

Jim brushes his mouth against Leonard's, the motion gentle, undemanding.

Damn it, thinks McCoy, now he owes Spock much more than a fair chance. Spock has given him this. Jim.

"The bourbon," he murmurs the reminder against the other man's mouth.

Jim pulls back with an air of amused resignation. "Do we need it now?"

"I do," Leonard replies, feeling a blush crawl up his neck. "I refuse to consider what kissing Spock would be like while sober."

Jim offers him the entire bottle. "Then drink up."

Leonard must look an awful sight, for the entirety of his staff is staring at him like he has grown a second head. Of course, they have reason to stare as this is the first time he has overslept for a staff meeting since accepting the commission of CMO aboard the Enterprise. The fault for his tardiness is that damn bottle of bourbon; with Jim chaperoning, Leonard had let himself enjoy a good portion of it. He has a vague recollection of Jim tucking him in afterwards and setting out a hangover hypospray on the night stand next to his bed; otherwise the time between his first drink and when he finally dozed off is largely a blur. There's this niggling feeling that something important happened in that interim, but Leonard decides he can live without knowing what it is for the time being.

Thank goodness that being the department head means McCoy isn't required to explain to his staff why he is so groggy, poorly shaven, and unprepared. Knowing some of them, like him, don't give a rat's ass about order of rank, he settles on an intense glare to ward off any potentially nosy questions.

One unimpressed staff members taps her stylus against the data padd in the crook of her arm. "Should we proceed, Dr. McCoy?"

He waves his hand and lets the Head Nurse take command of the briefing. Their conference lasts less than twenty minutes, with Leonard nodding in time to some of the remarks from various individuals but mostly trying to prevent himself from turning into an incoherent puddle in his chair. Either the standard hangover medication needs to be reformulated, or he had way more to drink than he originally guessed.

Probably should ask Jim, he notes to himself.

"That will be all," the Head Nurse finishes, looking to her superior.

With nothing to add, he agrees. "Dismissed."

Everyone files out of the meeting room except his second-in-command, but she only stays long enough to remark, too casually, "Commander Spock is waiting in your office."

Leonard nearly topples out of his chair. "What?"

"Oh, he's been there for a while," the woman adds on her way through the door.

Leonard's face burns with embarrassment as he hurries through the med bay. Damn it! Of all the days to be late and hung-over!

Leonard nearly trips over himself as he bursts into the CMO's office, but Spock barely acknowledges his sudden appearance, for the Vulcan is entranced by the PADD in his lap.

A few seconds pass. "Commander!" Leonard snaps, going from fumbling man to irritated coworker.

Spock looks up, blinking placidly. "Greetings, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard steps toward him. "What's the matter?"

The Vulcan raises an eyebrow. "Must there be a concern for me to visit you?"

Taken aback, Leonard chews on that for a moment. "I guess not... but that doesn't mean you can help yourself to another man's office whenever you feel like it."

Spock's other eyebrow goes up. "Sound advice, Lieutenant-Commander—in the event, that is, the one giving the advice also intends to follow it."

Flushing at the reminder of his previous transgressions, McCoy moves to the other side of his desk. He has the impression Spock is silently laughing at him. "I have work to do."

"I would like to discuss the document you sent me yesterday evening."

Leonard freezes in the act of sitting down. "What document?"

Spock tilts his head. "Your analysis, Dr. McCoy, of our suitability and attraction."

It's a small mercy that Leonard doesn't miss his chair altogether when his knees give out. "C-Come again?"

Spock locks his fingers together and recites, "If one had to choose a part based on visual appeal and arousal, it would be the ears. Those damn pointed ears. Kind of fancy them."

The pounding in Leonard's own ears must be his blood pressure rising... or his heart trying to bust out of his chest.

"Reduced attraction rating for the sass in between the ears. Remedy: I want the last word sometimes. It's not fair otherwise. Addendum: Solution seconded by James Tiberius Kirk." Spock pauses. "Assuming, of course, the initials JTK are to be interpreted as such."

Bones, Leonard hears in his head, a memory surfacing from those missing hours, what a great idea! But hold on, we should write this down.

Oh no. He hadn't. They hadn't.

Spock's expression, per usual, lacks guile.

"Dear god..." Leonard covers his eyes with a hand. They had.

There comes the sound of an object connecting with the surface of his desk. McCoy opens his eyes to discover that Spock has pushed his data padd across the desk. The screen is open to the report, dispersing the last vestiges of hope that it doesn't really exist.

The opening statement reads, This analysis as dictated by Dr. Leonard McCoy and transcribed by Cpt. James T. Kirk evaluates the subject Cmdr. Spock of Vulcan with the objective of determining the reasonableness of accepting his proposal.

"I didn't," Leonard fumbles, "I mean, I wasn't in my right mind when we did this, Spock."

"That much is apparent, Dr. McCoy. The ebb and flow of the narrative is highly emotional, even by the standards I normally associate with you."

"Then you can't—"

Spock interrupts, "There are several salient points, nonetheless. For instance: Overall efficiency of the proposition supported by consistent companionship throughout years of service. Some of those times have been the best of our lives—and the worst times made bearable by being together."

Leonard tries again. "Spock..."

"Qualities lending to the positive: intelligent, steadfast, nearly unbreakable under pressure. Thank you for the compliments, Doctor. Similarly I was impressed by the astuteness of this next observation: Could not handle Jim alone. Another partner becomes necessary. At least this one has more common sense. Jim, of course, made a comment following that statement which you may read for yourself."

Spock didn't come here to toss Jim and Leonard's report back at them as laughable trash; no, the Vulcan wants to praise them in his own way for adopting the same strategy. More than that, Leonard can tell that Spock is extremely pleased by the results of their assessment.

He's out of his Vulcan mind.

Leonard presses the comm console next to his computer. "McCoy to Bridge."

"Bridge acknowledging."

"I need the Captain to come to my office."

Jim's voice overrides Uhura's. "On my way, Bones."

Spock has paused his recitation of the highlights of the report to consider Leonard thoughtfully. "The Captain may have other duties to attend at this moment."

No way in hell is Leonard taking responsibility for this catastrophe by himself. "Equality, remember?"

The Vulcan inclines his head ever-so-slightly. "Very well."

Leonard spends the next few minutes skimming the document that his (once again) traitorous brain concocted in a drunken stupor. Halfway through it, he can't take anymore. It is highly emotional—and pretty damned honest. Apparently when uninhibited, Leonard has no problems coming up with a detailed proposal of why he should date Spock. Most of the language is his, with a few colorful anecdotes in parentheses by Jim.

He has decided to crawl under his desk and hide there when the office door slides open to admit one Jim Kirk, preceded by "Bones, you needed me?"

Mortification transforms into temper which in turn becomes outrage at the sight of the person who let Leonard throw himself under the proverbial bus (that bus being the giant green-blooded pain in the ass refusing to budge from his office). Leonard bursts out with "You!"

Kirk freezes in the doorway.

Coming out of his chair with the intention of giving his captain a sound thrashing for letting him do something so dumb as document his infatuation with another man's ears, Leonard forgets to anticipate that said infatuation might try to stop him.

He smacks into Spock's chest, who had risen quickly from his chair to bar Leonard's path. Jim, obviously reacting on instinct, shifts to shield himself more fully with his First Officer's body.

"Jim," Leonard snarls, "get over here!"

"Doctor, please calm yourself."

"Oh, I am calm, Mr. Spock. So calm the jury will have no trouble believing I premeditated the murder of my captain!"

"Bones, why are you mad at me?"

"You sent it to him!"

Jim's face lights up. "You remember? I wasn't sure that you would."

"You sent it to him!" Leonard yells again, because apparently Jim isn't getting the memo about his failure as a confidante and friend.

"Of course I did," Jim says. "You insisted."

"You sent—w-what!" Leonard nearly bites his tongue in his surprise.

Jim leans around Spock. "You practically ordered me to send it, Bones."

"But..."

Jim looks to Spock. "He said he was afraid he would lose his courage otherwise."

"Leonard can be very brave when the occasion calls for it," Spock agrees solemnly.

Leonard chokes and turns away. There's no way... but Jim isn't lying. That much is obvious.

"Bones?"

"Give me a second."

A hand takes his arm, turns him gently around again. It's Jim, daring to comfort him despite the possibility that his temper could still be running hot.

But Leonard hasn't the heart to be angry anymore. He is embarrassed, upset at himself, and even a little scared. "Jim..."

"I know," Jim murmurs, sliding his hand up McCoy's arm to squeeze his shoulder. "But you weren't as drunk as you think. You said what you meant, and that's what I wrote. The alcohol just made it easier to speak up."

"Confess, you mean."

Jim smiles a little. "Some of it was a confession, yes. That part about the ears—" He leans to whisper, "—a part I agree with by the way—"

"Thank you, Jim," Spock chimes in.

Jim winks at Leonard, ignoring the Vulcan. "—but mostly I think you just needed the push to analyze the potential there without some part of you second-guessing yourself. I understand that, Bones, because I have spent the last year trying to curb every desire which came to mind whenever I thought of you two. It didn't matter if it was the desire to spend time with you as a friend. I would think, Do I have the right when I feel more? Could my greed ruin our friendship? The doubt, and always trying to be cautious, nearly undid me."

Leonard covers Jim's hand with his own. "Our friendship is safe, Jim."

"Easy to say, Bones, harder to believe it."

Leonard rallies. "Then I'll help you believe it. What do you need? A blood oath? Spock, this is no time to exclude yourself. Help me think up something!"

Silence.

Kirk and McCoy blink at each other, then turn as one. With his PADD in hand, the Vulcan is busy reading again.

Flabbergasted, Jim says, "Spock?"

Leonard huffs. "I can't believe it. After everything, he isn't paying attention. Hell, the way Spock's pouring over that silly thing, you would think we had written him a love sonnet!"

Jim's head whips back to McCoy, eyes wider than before.

Leonard stares back. "What?"

"Bones, I think you're right."

His mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Jim breaks into a grin, then, looking more pleased than Leonard has ever seen him. "What do you know... We discovered how to woo a Vulcan."

Leonard's difficulty in forming words doesn't matter anyway. Spock breaks into the stunned silence with the distracted murmur, "This final figure, 99.98% compatibility... Not entirely the correct calculation as I estimate the ratio to be 99.998%, but to borrow a phrase, close enough." His dark eyes are shining as he looks up. "Doctor, Captain... This assessment is an admirable first attempt. However, I believe I should assist you in the practice of your analytical skills."

Jim not-so-subtly elbows Leonard.

Leonard blurts out, "Sounds great, Spock," all the while wondering exactly what he has gotten himself into.

Spock continues with an emphasis that nearly resembles cheerfulness, "Excellent. I propose we conduct a predicative data analysis with the purpose of optimizing the stages of our courtship. For instance, based on the intel gathered from this report, I predict our first date should occur within the next three solar days."

"Make it one," Jim advises. "I started the next part of the experiment ahead of you."

Leonard just wordlessly leans into Jim while Jim hooks an arm around his waist.

"Indeed?" Coming to stand before them, Spock appears very interested to learn of this news.

"Bones," Jim questions, also in good humor, "how do you feel about a romantic dinner under the stars?"

"Sounds like you're gonna give me the opportunity to find out."

"A very logical assumption, Doctor," Spock says approvingly. Then, "Shall I escort you both to the cafeteria for the midday meal?"

"It's not lunch for hours yet," Leonard protests, but Jim is already pushing him into the corridor. Accepting his fate, Leonard only digs in his heels long enough to drawl to the human and Vulcan at his back, "I'm not doin' all the work in this relationship, y'hear? Y'all better learn how to woo an old country doctor too."

"Good company, good food, good liquor," Jim replies immediately.

"And," Spock adds sagely, "honesty."

Well, damn, decides Leonard. His brain didn't make up that 99.98% compatibility ratio after all.

Somehow he just isn't surprised.