Message-Id: <5.2.1.1.2.20040623084043.0375cde0@popd.ix.netcom.com>
To: ascem-s@yahoogroups.com
From: ASC Archive Team <asc-l@ix.netcom.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Mailing-List: list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEM-S-owner@yahoogroups.com
Precedence: bulk
Date: Wed, 23 Jun 2004 08:40:54 -0400
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW TOS KMF "Starting all Over" 2/2 [R] K/Mc, K/S
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1

Part 2/2, disclaimer see Part 1

*

The day went rather quietly, but the night was stressful
again, with Kirk tossing around and falling back into
depression. Unfortunately, there was nothing McCoy could
do for now - the doses of substitutes he had given Kirk
over the last few hours had been at the limit of what he
estimated to be safe. Maybe he should've asked Christine,
but she would've seen right through him in a second,
knowing her old boss and modern medicine all too well.
Lots of bad luck, all in all, he thought fatalistically
when Kirk elbowed him in his side, then sank back into
disturbing dreams.

He awoke to the feel of his arm going to sleep with Kirk's
body locked around it; but it was the hand on his chest
that really caught his attention.

"Jim?" he mumbled sleepily, futilely attempting to grab
it. The wrist slipped through his fingers, and the hand
wandered further, wrapping around his side with
considerable strength to pull him around.

"Jim -" McCoy started, but then Kirk's lips were already
sealing his. All words died under the unexpected, erotic
assault, and McCoy found himself automatically leaning
into the touch, allowing a probing tongue to meet his own
for several beautiful moments.

Kirk drew back, his enlarged eyes two smoldering, dark
coals in the shady room. "Will, don't go there," he
mumbled.

"I won't, Jim," McCoy instinctively murmured in a fair
imitation of the young captain. Here it comes, he thought
sadly. He'd read it in their interaction in the clash
about the wormhole disaster, and it had been all over
Decker's features when he had pleaded with Jim to leave
him with V'Ger. It must have been one fucked-up
relationship, naturally doomed to fail; Will had been
Jim's "kid" and protégée, at least before he'd suddenly
been given the command of the Enterprise. Intermixing
mentorship and sex never worked...

He kept telling himself that when Kirk's hand caressed up
and down his back and a pronounced erection pressed
against his groin. "Jim, it's alright," he said
breathlessly, after having managed to pull back from
another deep kiss, "but it's over between us. It's been
for a long time."

The touches stopped, fingers freezing on his buttocks. "I
didn't want it to end like that," a voice murmured through
the darkness. "Seems I can never make it right, can I?" It
tore at McCoy to hear the pain and frustration in his
friend's voice, but he fought the desire to touch him.

"You can make it right with someone else," he stated more
coolly than intended, falling into the distancing mindset
of a physician.

"No." All body contact vanished as the dark figure rolled
away.

"Sure, Jim," McCoy said insistently, not certain anymore
if Kirk was still tied to his dream visions or already
realizing who was really talking. "You aren't any worse
than anyone else in that respect."

"Leave me along." The figure rolled around further,
wrapping itself into the blankets like a child trying to
hide from the world. A small sob traveled through the
fabric nevertheless, a sound of desperate loneliness.

Devoid of his covers, McCoy remained lying on his back and
stared at the gray ceiling, the night's chill creeping
into his skin and soul.

*

He didn't really know how he made it through the night,
but in the morning he found himself side by side under the
same blanket with a snoring Jim again, their limbs nestled
together. His erection was throbbing against the other
one's thigh, greedily calling for satiation when his
friend moved against it in his sleep.

Hastily he slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom in
silence. It was a mad man that met his gaze in the mirror,
and it was an ever madder man that jerked off minutes
later, splashing his cum right into the toilet. Shakily he
cleaned off the last droplets, simply relieved to have
gotten over it with only little bother.

When he stepped out again, Kirk was already awake, though
obviously not remembering a single word of their
conversation during the night. Or at least, he didn't
mention it. They had a small breakfast in the living room,
after which McCoy took the chance to change the linen
while Kirk took a prolonged bath in the small tub, an
emergency call button right next to him.

They settled back into bed, a small, invisible, unspoken
boundary between them now. Kirk was exhausted enough to
fall back into sleep within minutes, but McCoy was much
too awake, using his time to checking on his friend with
the medical scanner, relieved to see the numbers were
slowly coming back to normal levels. He put it away and
leaned back into the pillow, staring at the back of the
man next to him. Jim was so close...he would be able to
reach out and touch him, to caress the soft skin from
under the hairline down to the shoulders...to put a kiss
in his neck, to tell him that there was someone who cared
for him...

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. This was doing no
good. And it would stop right here.

He got out of bed again, donned his bathrobe and was just
on his way from the living room to the kitchen when the
door chimed. After a moment of inner debate, he opened the
main door with a feeling of deja-vu.

"Spock. Come in," he said, and went to the kitchen without
even checking to see if the Vulcan followed him. "Might as
well make good use of my time, now that I'm up," he
murmured and activated the coffee machine. Then he turned
around and leaned against the bench, giving Spock a bleary
look.

"Why are you here?"

Spock remained in the door, hands clasped behind his back.
"I have tried to raise the captain for two days, but to no
avail. Then I tried to call you in your office, but the
Academy told me you were on sick leave." The Vulcan
hesitated for a second. "I may be interfering with your
private lives, but is there anything I can do to help?"

"We'll see," McCoy murmured, and rubbed his unshaven chin.
The machine uttered a fizzle that indicated the end
of the brewing cycle, and he took a cup to fill it. "You
want one too?" he asked Spock, but the Vulcan declined.
"Just take a seat in the living room, will you? I'll be
with you in a few minutes."

Spock nodded and did as told, while McCoy went back to the
bedroom to check on Kirk. And for once, the life signs on
the tricorder were in the healthy range, showing that the
withdrawal was finally over. It was a real, normal sleep
in which his friend lay for now, softly breathing amongst
the cushions.

When McCoy returned to the living room, Spock had already
taken off his Vulcan robe and was stiffly sitting at the
edge of one comfy armchair, his hands laced in his lap.
His unreadable eyes were following every one of McCoy's
steps on his way to the couch.

McCoy sank down on it and took some big gulps of his
coffee before he said, "Jim was having a bit of a rough
time, health-wise. That's the short version and about all
that I can tell you."

Spock raised a brow.

"I don't think you want a thorough report on his puking,
do you?" McCoy added caustically.

The Vulcan pondered his words for a moment, then asked
once more, "Can I be of help?"

"That depends on you, Spock," McCoy said slowly. "He's
hurting. He didn't let on, for it's not in his character,
but he's hurting."

"And what should I do to remedy this?"

"Spock..." McCoy shook his head, remembering just how
limited the Vulcan could be when it came to emotions. "You
loved him once, Spock, but you couldn't work it out,
right? And now you come back and clasp his hand in
sickbay, and talk about 'this simple feeling'. Does it
mean what it sounds it might mean?"

He fully expected a Vulcan rebuff, but none came. Instead,
Spock slightly hung his head.

"If you are...referring to feelings, yes, it meant...it
was a declaration of affection."

"Love's the word, Spock. And what are you going to do
about it?"

Spock locked his gaze firmly at the floor when he
answered, "I assume you are asking me if I am considering
developing the friendship between the captain and me to
another level?"

"I'm damn well asking that, Spock," McCoy blurred out. "He
can't live all alone - he can't live without you, you
pointy-eared, cold-blooded, emotion-purging computer!
Didn't you see it, right there on the bridge? So what are
you gonna do about it?"

The Vulcan raised his head. "I...do not know. I,
personally, am fully satisfied with my actual situation.
The mere...feelings have always been there, and I can
accept them now for what they are, but I do not feel the
need to indulge in physical activities. It is simply not
part of me."

McCoy snorted. "I would believe you if I hadn't seen it
happen all too often. Of course -" he raised his hand to
stop Spock from interrupting him "- mostly under some
alien influence. But deep down in your oh-so-controlled
Vulcan shell, there is a being that craves being close to
someone, both mentally *and* physically."

"Mentally, yes. But physically..." Spock began looking
almost helplessly. "I have never been interested in
sexuality, doctor, and the Pon Farr was something I
suppressed as quickly as possible. Today, the Kolinahr
disciplines give me the means to live through it without
ever needing a partner, and I fully intend to do that."

"And what about Jim? He doesn't need someone who's only
into mind melds," McCoy stated sharply. "He needs
something more, and you know that. Why don't you even try,
Spock?"

Once more, Spock lowered his gaze, avoiding McCoy's eyes.
"I...we did try. It did not work," he said quietly.

McCoy was stunned...then he began adding two and two and
got five as answer. "So that's why you left! But the night
wasn't without side effects, was it? You *are* connected!
It was him who called you back!"

"No," Spock shook his head. "There was only a kind of
mental filament, which was removed in Gol."

Intense, cold anger flared in McCoy. "So you got rid of
him. Did he want that? Did you ask him? No wonder he
thinks that he's always failing in relationships." Only
silence answered. "Spock, you're the cruelest creature on
this side of the moon," McCoy choked as he went up. "I
need a break." He turned to leave, but there was the
Vulcan, faster than ever, clamping one iron hand around
his wrist.

"I am what I am, doctor," Spock stated, his blazing eyes
belying his controlled voice. "I still do not fit into
your human world view, less than ever. I did what I had to
do, and I would do it again. But you, doctor, have you
ever analyzed your own motives?"

"Mine?" McCoy frowned.

"Is old friendship the only reason why you are pleading
the Jim's case now? Or did it transcend into something you
do not want to admit to yourself?"

McCoy took a deep breath. "Get your hands off me," he
said, dangerously slowly. The grip loosened, but remained
on his arm.

"I only speak of something I have thought for many years.
The captain has not left you unaffected either."

"Jim Kirk leaves nobody unaffected," McCoy said bluntly.
"And you're still hurting me."

"I demand an answer, doctor," Spock stated. "You've been
neither a liar nor a bad psychologist in the past, so I
would appreciate your professional opinion on the matter."

"Alright. Yes. Maybe I *do* feel attracted to him," McCoy
admitted, "but it doesn't matter, Spock. I'm his physician
and his advisor, and both positions prohibit any other
kind of relationship."

Spock raised a brow. "I see. So that is why you would
rather...give him to me?"

McCoy sighed. "This isn't about me giving or taking
anything, Spock. I think he wants you, and so I'd be happy
if he got you. Why don't you give him and yourself a
second chance?"

He froze as a door open behind him; Spock's hand dropped
from his arm, leaving him free to turn to a pale Jim Kirk,
who shakily stood in the door frame.

"Guess you've got some things to talk about," McCoy said,
and gave Jim a short nod. "I'll take a shower." He
vanished into the bathroom without looking back.

It was probably the longest shower in his life, but he
didn't feel like ever stepping out again. He soaped his
hair and body several times, each time cherishing the view
of the white foam swirling away in a maelstrom. And when
there was really nothing to scrub anymore, the skin
cleaned so thoroughly that it almost hurt, he still
remained under the steady flow of hot water, listening to
the drowning sound of thousands of droplets on his head
with eyes closed. It was more than just a physical
purging; in the end he left the stall ready to face
reality, whichever way it looked like. He could only hope
Spock had made good use of his second chance.

Wrapping his body into the bathrobe, he took a deep breath
before entering the living room. His friends sat on the
couch, hastily unlacing their fingers upon his
reappearance.

"I'll have another coffee," McCoy murmured and went right
into the kitchen. It was Kirk who followed him, shedding
him an unsure smile.

"Bones..."

"You don't have to explain anything, Jim. It's written all
over your face," McCoy said amiably and concentrated on
pouring another coffee. "And I'm damn glad about it."

"Well, then...am I alright now?" Kirk asked, wearily
circling around him. "It feels like it."

"Yes, Jim," McCoy replied, avoiding the gaze that rested
on him by searching for a spoon in the depths of the
drawer. "You're through with it. Clean as a mountain
spring. No need to stay here and keep me from sleeping."

Only now he looked up fully. Their eyes met, and after a
long moment Kirk nodded slowly. "Thanks for everything,
Bones." He reached out and gently squeezed his upper arm.

"Better see that you get ready," McCoy said roughly, and
took a bottle of milk out of the fridge with a shaky grip.
He sniffed as an all too well-known smell rose from it.
"Damn, it's sour." Annoyed about himself and 22nd century
science, which still couldn't prevent milk from spoiling,
he threw the bottle into the recycler. When he looked up
again, Kirk had already left the room.

He took his time with the new bottle, watching the dance
of colors as the white cream merged with the coffee before
he returned to the living-room,
the cup in his hand. Spock stood at the main window and
looked outside, a quiet statuette of darkness against the
sunlight. From the bedroom, there came the sound of
rustling clothes.

"Thanks for doing the right thing, Spock," McCoy murmured
as he drew close to him. The coffee swashed against the
cup's wall, and a few droplets escaped it, dripping over
his fingers. He gathered them with his other hand,
distributing the liquid until it was only a hint of
wetness on his skin.

"I have to thank you, Doctor." The Vulcan gave him a
sideward glance.

McCoy chuckled quietly. "To ever hear those words from
you..." He lifted his gaze from the cup, drilling it into
Spock's eyes. "If you make him unhappy, I'll break every
single of your Vulcan bones," he said pointedly.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Doctor," Spock
replied seriously.

"Conspiring against me?" Kirk's voice came from behind,
making them both spin around.

"Never," the Vulcan said.

"Always," McCoy drawled.

Kirk laughed, and although it didn't yet sound like old
times, it sounded better than it had the last weeks. Soon,
the withdrawal would be just a small intermezzo, memories
diminishing in the light of this evolving relationship.

Moments later, the apartment was empty and McCoy as alone
as he had been three days ago. He put the coffee aside and
poured himself a drink, then went back to the window,
raising his glass when he saw his friends walking down the
street. "Here's to love," he said softly, and downed it
all.

*

Kirk opened his eyes, meeting Spock's. Warm fingers left
almost painful spots along his chin as they were
withdrawn. The room was already shady, the sun going down
over the beach of San Francisco where the whales had found
a new home three weeks ago.

"Why didn't he ever tell...?" he asked in disbelief. "All
those years, he didn't drop a single word about it."

"He made his decision that day, for our best interests."

"In his opinion, at least." Kirk glared at his lover.

Spock leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers. "At
that time, would you have been able to return his
feelings?"

"Maybe...I don't know," Kirk said defensively. Then, after
a moment of silence, he sighed. "No, not like that. He'd
always been a valuable friend and mentor to me, and that's
why I called for him in the crisis. I needed him, but
not... in that way. I don't think I would've been able to
cope if he'd told me."

Spock nodded serenely. "And today?"

Kirk stood up and went to the picture front of his
apartment. He walked a few steps up and down in front of
it, although he already knew the answer. Finally he stared
into the darkening sky and said quietly, "Today, it's
different. I don't know why - perhaps because I learned
that he's become such an important part of my life. When
he was falling apart after your death, it was like losing
my family."

He took a deep breath. "No, not only losing my family. I
was losing another part of me. First you, than him. God,
he's been on my side for so long, and ever since V'ger.
There was barely a day I didn't talk to him or send him a
note. It really hurts me to learn now that all the time,
it was his way of loving me. I've never thought about why
he stayed - I've just taken him for granted."

He turned around, facing Spock. "Can you live with that?"
he asked, his throat dry. Then suddenly, it dawned on him.
"You've shown me that memory because...you need him, too?"

Spock dropped his gaze and, after a moment of silence,
answered, "I don't know if I can explain it, Jim. I feel
incomplete...alienated of myself, ever since the Fal-Tor-
Pan. At first I had anticipated that this feeling would
diminish with time, later I had hoped it would by renewing
our relationship. But even when I am with you, it
remains." He looked up, encountering Kirk's thoughtful
gaze. "And I assume it is the same for him."

Kirk tilted his head and rubbed his chin. "I could call
him, invite him over. But we'd better be sure about it,
Spock. If this doesn't work..."

The Vulcan simply held his gaze; obviously, he had already
said all that he felt compelled to.

With a final nod, Kirk went to his comm. station. The
connection opened instantly, displaying their friend's
surprised face.

"Uh, Jim, this is really a bad moment to call, I was just
about to make an important call myself," McCoy said.

"This'll take just a moment, Bones," Kirk said soothingly.
"Spock and I have found out we have to talk about some
things...the three of us. Would you come over for dinner?"

McCoy frowned. "Tonight? That's very short notice."

"Or tomorrow, if that fits better in your schedule."

Kirk could see an unspoken battle raging in McCoy's
features, and he began wondering why. Although they had
met only a few times over the last weeks, such an
invitation wasn't all that unusual either. In sudden
concern, he leaned forward. "Bones - is everything
alright?"

"Yes, it's just...yeah, just a bit unexpected," McCoy
murmured. "I ..." He stopped and blew out some air. "Well,
Jim, I don't think I -"

Behind his back, Kirk could feel a faint movement. Seconds
later, Spock stood at his side.

"Leonard," he said more softly than Kirk had ever heard
him talking to McCoy. "It is really very important."

McCoy stared for so long at the Vulcan that Kirk wondered
what was going on between the two. Finally, the doctor's
frown vanished. "I understand," he said, suddenly all
business-like. "I'll be there tonight. 1900?"

"That's great, Bones," Kirk said. McCoy switched off the
line, leaving them in front of the dark screen.

"What was that, Spock?" Kirk asked curiously.

"I'm not entirely sure myself," Spock admitted, but
without further elaboration.

"Okay..." Kirk stood up, stretching his limbs. "So now
that we've made the date, we should think about the
meal...and the rest of the evening." There was a little
bit of doubt in his voice.

"I presume that whatever comes after it will evolve most
naturally," Spock said reassuringly.

"Yet another homecoming for us all?" Kirk murmured as he
leaned at him, placing his hand flat against his lover's
chest. "I hope it's as easy as you think it is. But you've
been in his head - I haven't."

"Exactly," Spock agreed, determined to use their
unexpected, second chance fully this time. There wasn't
likely to be another one ever.

*

On the other side of the beach, McCoy sat in front of his
console, his chin resting on his palms, eyes closed. He
could still feel the wondrous band of thoughts that
connected him to a mind that was not his, but was too
close to him to ignore, conveying to him their true
intention. And he could still see Jim's smile, the lips
offering an invitation that he had not really expected to
come at any time in his life, and surely not now when he
was about to move into a different direction.

He opened his eyes and let his hands sink down, watching
their aged skin as he flexed them, one after the other.
Still a surgeon's hands, Emony's voice seemed to tell him.

A new start, so late? Would it work out?

He pondered his options half-heartily, knowing already
that he couldn't dismiss that special call. They were too
close to him, first the one, then the other. He wouldn't,
couldn't really go on living without them.

Determined he reached for the comm., finally ready to
prepare his message.

"Hello Natira, my dear. I've thought about your generous
offer, long and hard, but I can't return to Yonada..."

*****











Messages from this list are mirrored on the ASCEM newsgroup.
Read http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML/files/faq.txt for
more information about your subscription to ASCEM/L.
Yahoo! Groups Links