Message-ID: <002d01c44b52$01e060a0$9b6d5c3f@max>
To: "ASCEM-S" <ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com>
From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Mailing-List: list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEM-S-owner@yahoogroups.com
Precedence: bulk
Date: Sat, 5 Jun 2004 18:08:25 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW TOS Blame it on Midnight [R]  K/Mc, K/S (implied) 2/2  kirkmccoyfest
Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=UTF-8


Chapter 2/2
(All disclaimers and warnings found in part 1/2)

Before the two of them had left the privacy of his office, 
Leonard's hands had dropped to his side.  He knew better than 
to embarrass Jim by letting anyone see the captain being 
helped to his quarters.  True, this mission was ending, but 
whether it was the Enterprise, or another ship they were 
assigned to--he hoped it was *they* since he couldn't stand 
the idea of serving under anyone else--Jim had a reputation to 
uphold.  Heroes aren't supposed to be fallible, especially 
publicly.  It was a point Leonard understood well, and one of 
the reasons Jim trusted him.

However, once the two of them were alone in the turbolift, 
Jim seemed to sway and Leonard reached over and placed a 
steadying arm protectively around his friend's shoulders.  
Instead of pulling away, he felt Jim lean into the contact.  
Even when the doors opened on the level where the officer's 
quarters were located, Jim allowed Leonard to support him.  
Luckily, at this late hour, the corridor was deserted, and Jim's 
cabin was just steps away.

When they reached the door, Leonard reached up and keyed 
in his override code, saving Jim the effort.  The door slid 
open and the lights fully illuminated the cabin.  Too damned 
bright!  "Lights to one-quarter," he ordered.  Leonard guided 
Jim to the sleeping area behind the semi-transparent mesh 
divider and eased him on down on the edge of the bunk.

Jim attempted to toe off one boot, but after several tries he 
gave up.  This not being the first occasion of sharing a few 
shots of whiskey with Jim--far from it--Leonard knew this 
was more than just the relaxing effects derived from a 
moderate amount of alcohol.  This was a man who was not 
only physically, but also emotionally, depleted.

Leonard squatted down and pulled off Jim's boots and socks.  
Then, standing up, he tugged at the edge of Jim's gold 
command shirt, getting him to raise his arms long enough to 
slide it over his head.  Tossing it onto the dressing stand, he 
reached for the top of the cover and pulled back the sheet and 
lightweight blanket.  "Here, Jim, lay down," he instructed.

Yawning, Jim leaned over until the side of his head hit the 
pillow, and then he rolled onto his back.  He unclasped the 
closure of his trousers and pushed them out from under his 
hips, but he didn't seem to have the strength to get them any 
further.  Leonard reached down, grabbed the hem at each 
ankle, and pulled them the rest of the way off.  He then pulled 
the cover up to Jim's chest.  Jim's eyes were already closed.  
"Get some sleep.  I'll be back later to check on you," he 
whispered through a yawn of his own.

With that, Jim's eyes opened.  "Don't leave, Bones.  Not yet.  
Call me crazy, but I don't want to be left alone...not right 
now."

Leonard nodded, stifling another yawn, and pulled up a small 
chair that was sitting just inside the divider.  "Sure, Jim.  I'll 
hang around until you fall asleep," he assured him.  'Crazy?' 
he thought.  Maybe.  Love has a tendency to do that.  Over 
the next hour, Leonard sat and watched, keeping a close vigil 
on his friend.  Twice Jim had fallen into a deep sleep, only to 
bolt straight up in the bed, sheer panic suffusing the normally 
self-confident persona.  A few words of reassurance, and Jim 
would lie back down and close his eyes.  Frequently, just 
when Leonard would hope that Jim had found the ability to 
rest, he would watch Jim's eyes crack open ever so slightly.  
Once seemingly assured that Leonard was still there, the eyes 
would close again.

Ten minutes, or so, past without further incident, and Leonard 
began to relax, too much, perhaps.  Even sitting in the small, 
decidedly uncomfortable chair, there were several times when 
Leonard would catch himself nodding off as sleep tried to 
claim him.  He would straighten himself quickly, much to the 
distain of his aching neck, and attempt to shake himself 
awake.

"Bones," Leonard heard, rousing him as he all but tumbled 
from the chair, his neck jerking so hard that he was surprised 
when his head didn't end up sailing across the cabin.  He 
forced open his eyes to see Jim staring at him.  "Bones, I'm 
fine.  You don't have to stay.  Go get some sleep."

Leonard shook his head.  Had he observed Jim resting 
soundly for any decent amount of time, he would've 
complied, but that was far from being the case.  "That's 
okay," Leonard mumbled.  "I'll hang around a little longer."

"Not if you're going to try to sit there, you're not.  You're 
going to break your neck."  Jim scooted to the far side of the 
bunk and held up one edge of the cover.  "Here.  Get in."

Leonard watched in near amazement as Jim situated himself, 
leaving room for him to lie down.  'Not smart!  Not 
smart...not smart...not smart!  He's vulnerable and, 
considering the circumstances and the late hour, you're both 
beyond thinking straight!'   It was the reasonable side of his 
brain that was screaming at him.  'Bid him good-night, and 
leave.'  The mental message was as clear and bright as a 
summer's day.

Then there was the other side of his brain, the one that always 
seemed to get him into trouble.  'You've shared bunks with 
him before,' it was telling him.  'Sure, it's usually in some jail 
cell you've managed to get yourselves tossed into, and 
certainly never onboard the ship, but it's not like you've never 
stretched out next to him before.  What could be the harm?  
He's hurting, you're both beat...why shouldn't both of you get 
some needed rest?'  Why he ever listened to this side of his 
brain, why he didn't just check himself into the Elba II 
Neurological Clinic and have that part of his mind excised 
completely, he'd never know.

"Jim, you're not gonna be able to rest.  Not with me laying 
there, too," he replied, the reasonable side of his brain 
mustering a weak, half-hearted protest.

"Bones, I'm not going to rest at all if I wake up to an empty 
cabin, and I'm sure not going to be responsible for you 
cracking your skull open on the floor.  Come on."

He had to face it; neither the reasonable side nor the 
troublesome side of his brain could deny the look in those 
eyes.  "All right," he nodded, toeing off his boots.  He pulled 
off his socks and started to lay down in his medical tunic and 
trousers, but then decided to free himself from the confines of 
the tunic.  He pulled it off, tossed it onto the chair he'd just 
vacated, and crawled bare-chested into the bunk.  He rolled 
onto his side, crossed his arms tightly over his chest, and 
facing toward Jim, laid his head on the edge of the pillow.

Even though trying to keep some distance between them, the 
narrow, at least for two people, bunk didn't allow for much 
space.  Jim offered him a small, grateful smile, and then 
closed his eyes again.  It did seem that his presence was 
having a calming effect on his friend.  The tension in Jim's 
face seemed to be relaxing a bit.  Unfortunately, Leonard 
found that lying next to Jim had the opposite effect on him.  
Suddenly, he was as wide-awake as he'd ever been, and 
wishing the bunk was a bit wider--about two feet wider would 
be just about right!  Wide enough so he couldn't feel Jim's 
body heat, or feel the warm puffs of moist air brushing 
against his flesh every time Jim exhaled.

He found it surprising that as long as Jim and Spock had been 
sharing a bed, they hadn't requisitioned a larger one.  Then 
again, he reminded himself, if two people *wanted* to be 
together, it was probably just the right size.  The cabin lights 
were still turned low, but not so low that he couldn't see the 
fringe of eyelashes as they lay softly against the gold-toned 
cheeks.  There had never, in the history of the universe, been 
an artist who had the ability to capture this kind of beauty, 
Leonard decided.  The mattress beneath him seemed to warm 
as he began to wonder how many times Spock and Jim had 
laid here, pressed together, relishing the feel of each other's 
bodies.

'Stop it!' his mind screamed.  He had no idea which side of his 
brain screamed that, but most likely it was both.  Neither side 
wanted to think about Spock making love to Jim, or vice 
versa, for that matter.  What were the mental techniques he 
used when doing their quarterlies?  What were the mental 
tricks he used to keep his mind off the reason Spock's anus 
was not as rigid as it used to be?  What had he done the time 
he noticed small, discolored areas trailing from the back of 
Jim's neck, down his spine, and across his buttocks, only to 
realize it was where someone had sucked a path to the 
treasures that lay below?  Hell, he remembered exactly what 
he'd done that time, and the many others besides.  He'd 
finished the exam as quickly as possible, locked himself in his 
office and done the only thing guaranteed to rid himself of a 
raging erection.  Just like the one he was getting now.  
'Damn!'

Why hadn't he just listened to reason?  If he had, he wouldn't 
be in this predicament.  Well, he would just have to lie here 
and let Jim sleep.  Later, when he could quietly escape, he'd 
make his way to his own cabin and take care of the problem 
the same way he'd always done before.  How long had he 
been laying here?  Was it safe for him to leave, yet?  Jim's 
breathing seemed to be steady.  Could he ease himself out of 
the bed and make a get-away with Jim never being the wiser?

"Bones?" Jim whispered, his eyes still closed.

Leonard felt a shiver run through his body.  "Yeah?"

"Thanks...you know...for staying.  I know you think I'm being 
silly, maybe even childish.  I guess I think so, too.  Being 
someone who can command this ship, you'd think I'd be 
better prepared to handle a situation like this."

There it was, the vulnerability that few others ever had the 
privilege of witnessing.  Jim Kirk was as strong, as brave, and 
as fearless as any man in the universe, but even inside of him 
resided a tender soul with the ability to feel love and pain so 
deeply that, at least for tonight, he couldn't stand the idea of 
being left alone.  Even this side, maybe especially this side, 
Leonard found appealing.  "I don't think that, Jim.  Even the 
captain of a starship deserves to be human from time to time."

Whether it was his reply, or the obvious roughness that had 
seeped into his voice, Leonard didn't know, but the eyes 
opened and seemed to study him carefully.  Leonard felt self-
conscious under the gaze, knowing that Jim had the ability to 
read him as no one else had ever been able to.  When he saw 
the eyes soften into understanding, he knew that Jim knew.  It 
was only a matter of whether they would ignore the obvious.  
He had his answer when Jim sighed, "Oh...Bones.  I'm sorry.  
I wasn't thinking when I asked you to stay.  You made it 
pretty obvious years ago that you weren't interested...so I 
didn't even consider..."

Leonard felt the heat as he flushed from head to toe.  
"Jim...it's all right.  It'll pass.  Besides, to set the record 
straight, it was never a case of not bein' interested.  The fact 
is, I knew from the start that I couldn't be the person you 
needed as your CMO, and your lover, too.  Unlike Spock, I 
don't have the ability to separate the two.  In that way, he 
really was perfect for you, able to satisfy all aspects of your 
complex nature."

"Me?  Complex?" Jim grinned up at him, slightly.  "I'm not 
all that complex, Bones."

Leonard couldn't help but return the smile.  Perhaps it wasn't 
Jim's pain, but his smile that was the most contagious entity 
ever encountered.  "Jim, there never existed a man more 
complex than you are.  Hell, look what you've accomplished 
in just these last five years.  You've been a leader, a warrior, a 
diplomat, and on top of all that, you even managed to fall in 
love."

The grin faded, and Jim swallowed hard.  The brow creased 
when Jim said, "And look where it got me.  Afraid of being 
alone in my own cabin."

"Don't kid yourself, my friend.  It's not fear you're feeling.  
It's grief.  Someone you love has rejected you, and you need 
time to deal with that.  Time to mourn a very real loss.  Time 
that you don't have.  You're not like the rest of us, Jim.  You 
can't allow yourself the liberty of bearing your soul for all to 
see."

"Except with you.  I've always been able to come to you, 
haven't I?  Why is that?  Why do I feel a freedom in your 
presence that I've never felt with another soul?  I don't think I 
would've made it through these years without you, Bones."

Leonard raised his hand and stroked the back of his fingers 
against Jim's brow, wanting to ease the tension he saw there.  
"That works both ways, ya know."

"I'd like to think so.  I'd like to believe I've been there for you, 
too, but we both know that I've taken from you a lot more 
than I've ever given back."

"That's not possible.  My God, Jim.  You've given me the 
universe and someone I care for to explore it with.  What else 
is there?"

Leonard felt Jim's arm slip around his waist, pulling them 
together.  If there had been any secrets left between them, 
there weren't anymore, as Leonard felt his arousal press 
against the softness of Jim's groin.  He was aroused; Jim was 
not.  "There's love," Jim sighed.  "There's the love I've always 
felt for you, right from the beginning.  The love you wouldn't 
allow me to show you early on."

Leonard slid one arm under Jim's head, the other he slid 
around Jim's chest, his hand resting on Jim's back.  "And it's 
not the same as what you felt...and still feel…for Spock."


"No, not the same," Jim shook his head in that juncture 
between Leonard's neck and shoulder.   Leonard swore he felt 
a drop of wetness, and then another, slide down his shoulder 
and spill onto the bed underneath him.  "I wanted to give him 
everything.  I wanted to become a part of him."  Jim took a 
deep breath, perhaps it was a sniff, but if so, it was so soft that 
Leonard couldn't be certain.  Then Jim pulled his head back 
and looked up at him.  "With you, I've always wanted to share 
everything.  It's the reason I always find myself coming to 
you, in good times, and in bad."  Jim stretched up and placed 
his lips very close to Leonard's.  "Let me share tonight with 
you.  Hold me, Bones.  For tonight, let's hold each other."  He 
felt a stirring below as Jim responded to his presence.

Leonard looked into those eyes, still glistening from the tears 
secretly spilled for another.  In those few breaths of time, he 
waited for guidance from his mind, but there was nothing but 
silence.  He was on his own.  Moving his head toward Jim's 
ever so slightly, he captured the soft, warm mouth.  Tonight 
they would make love.  It would be out of need, and pain, and 
longing, and even love, and it may be the last time, or the first 
of many.  But for now, it didn't matter.  The chronometer on 
the desk clicked softly.  It was the beginning of a new day.

*******************

Spock sat at his computer screen.  After several hours of 
meditation, and repeated attempts to dismiss the offer 
presented to him by Jim earlier in the evening, he was 
composing his second communiquÃ© that evening.  It was a 
message to Sarek.

'Father,

I understand, and appreciate, the contacts you have 
established between T'sai T'Vica and myself in these last 
months.  Discussions and negotiations regarding the 
formation of a bond between us have taken place.  Although I 
believed myself to be prepared for such a union, even to the 
point of resigning my commission--one of her requirements--
and making preparations to travel to Vulcan to join with her, I 
have come to realize that these stipulations, specifically my 
resignation from Starfleet, is not a requirement with which I 
am able to comply.  This evening, I have forwarded to her a 
message stating that a union between us will not be possible.

However, Father, there is one with whom I do wish to bond.  
It is Captain James Kirk, the commander of the Enterprise.  
Until recently, I was unaware that he, too, would be receptive 
to such a union.  I have explained to him, in detail, that ours 
would be considered an illogical union, and that we would 
certainly face adversity among my people if we were to 
proceed.  I have elucidated to him, in depth, that the purpose 
of a bonding is two-fold: to quench the fires of the 
bloodfever, and to procreate.  I know him to be capable of 
achieving the first of these objectives, and although the 
second cannot be achieved naturally, there are other 
possibilities.

After careful consideration, I have come to realize that 
whatever adversity we may face will be small compared to 
the torment that would certainly be experienced if this 
unrequited need to be as one is left unfulfilled.  Therefore, it 
is my sincerest hope that my parents, and you specifically, 
will be accepting of my decision.  However, if you choose not 
to accept this bonding, if you refuse to accept the one of my 
choosing into our family, your decision will not in any way 
deter my resolution in this matter.

I anticipate your reply.

In most high regard,

Your son, Spock.'


Spock started to key the 'send' button, but then decided that it 
was only fair that he should inform Jim of his decision before 
taking it upon himself to notify his father.  Rising from his 
desk, he accessed the panel that connected the internal 
sections of their cabins and slipped through the adjoining 
passage.  Immediately, his senses told him that Jim was not 
alone.  There was a distinctive aura of foreign, yet familiar, 
human maleness that seemed to permeate the cabin.  
However, it was three point six two seconds before he was 
able to identify the other person behind the mesh screen.

"Why do I feel a freedom in your presence that I've never felt 
with another soul?  I don't think I would've made it through 
these years without you, Bones."

"That works both ways, ya know."

"I'd like to think so.  I'd like to believe I've been there for you, 
too, but we both know that I've taken from you a lot more 
than I've ever given back."

"That's not possible.  My God, Jim.  You've given me the 
universe and someone I care for to explore it with.  What else 
is there?"

"There's love.  There's the love I've always felt for you, right 
from the beginning…"


There was more, but as Spock slipped quietly back through 
the passage, his ears thrumming soundly with every beat of 
his heart, he did not hear it.  He quickly palmed the passage 
door shut.  Leonard McCoy and Jim--his Jim--were lovers?  
How could he not have realized this?  Love.  It was a word 
that Humans used with such ease.

Stepping quickly to his desk, he pulled up the message and 
deleted the contents.  He then began again.

'Father,

I understand, and appreciate, the contacts you have 
established between T'sai T'Vica and myself in these last 
months.  Discussions and negotiations regarding the 
formation of a bond between us have taken place.  Although I 
believed myself to be prepared for such a union, even to the 
point of resigning my commission--one of her requirements--
and making preparations to travel to Vulcan to join with her, I 
have come to realize that I am unable to comply with her 
stipulations.  I have forwarded to her a message stating that a 
union between us will not be possible.

My resignation from Starfleet, however, will not be 
rescinded.  Following the completion of this mission, I will be 
traveling to Vulcan, but not for the purpose of seeking a 
bondmate.  It is my decision to join the Order of the 
Kolinahru.  It is my sincerest hope that you will be accepting 
of my decision.  However, even if you choose not to accept 
this decision, it will not deter my resolution in this matter.

In most high regard,

Your son, Spock.'

He hit the 'send' key.  At that moment, the chronometer on the 
computer clicked over to 0000.  It was the beginning of a new 
day.


<finis>


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]