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Date: Wed, 23 Jun 2004 08:40:33 -0400
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW TOS KMF "Starting All Over" 1/2 [R] K/Mc, K/S
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Title: Starting All Over
Author: Acidqueen <a.q @ gmx.de>
Pairings: Kirk/McCoy, K/S (implied: lots)
Series: TOS
Rating: R
Summary: After V'Ger, some dice are rolled anew.
brain. No infringement is intended, and no money is being
made.
Archive: My own website at http://www.syredronning.de/ ,
ASCEM, all others ask, please.
Acknowledgement: Thanks to Lyrastar for her invaluable
advice and beta! All remaining errors are mine!

***

McCoy lay on the bed of his small rented apartment, his
tired limbs sprawled all over the unattractively patterned
blankets. It had been a long day at Starfleet Medical
Academy, where they had offered him a temporary lecture
position. Since he was available - pulled away by Jim from
the research projects that he had started on Dawn's
Planet, with no other idea of what to do right now - he
had accepted. At least until his - their? - future was
decided upon. Jim, hero of the Federation once again,
thanks to V'Ger, was raising heaven and hell to get his
blasted ship back, and had made Spock and him promise that
they would fly with him again, if he succeeded.

No, of course the problem wasn't the Enterprise, but Jim's
obsession with her. McCoy had come to know several
starship captains in his career, but none had been so
absolutely committed to his ship and crew. Unfortunately,
this commitment had found no other object when Kirk had
been grounded at HQ; instead, it had turned into the
obsession he had witnessed during the last crisis.

They all had had to save Jim's ass out there. Of course
they had won once again, but this time it hadn't really
been Jim's achievement - less than ever before in a
mission. Without Decker, they would've been scrambled to
pieces long before even meeting V'Ger. Without Spock's
stunt of melding with that perfectly logical machine mind,
they wouldn't have learned what made it tick. And without
Chapel and him in sickbay to put the Vulcan's pieces back
together, Spock would never have been able to tell them.
Not to speak of Ilia, whose love surpassed the moment when
she was turned into a living machine and thus saved them
all, because Decker still loved her.

Pretty emotional solution, McCoy thought dryly, wondering
how Spock would put together his own pieces now. In
sickbay he had been allowed a pretty deep view into the
Vulcan's struggle, and although V'Ger obviously had shoved
some bricks out of the Kolinahry walls, McCoy was sure
that Spock nonetheless had a long way to go.

Still pondering the Vulcan, he was drifting into sleep
when the chime disturbed the silence. At first he ignored
it, but it rang over and over again, urging him up with
its insistence. With a sigh he went to the door, revealing
an unexpected visitor.

"Jim! What brings you to this neck of the woods?" McCoy
stepped aside, allowing Kirk to pass. When he closed the
door, he took in his appearance, instantly noticing that
something was wrong with the captain.

"I wanted to talk to you," Kirk said, avoiding his eyes.
"We haven't had much time for each other until now...I've
never had the chance to tell you how much I appreciated
that you were there..."

"Hm-hm," McCoy mumbled, wondering. They had pretty much
settled their relationship back to old friends' level,
although some bad feelings remained on his side, about the
way he was drafted back. Offering superfluous thanks now
was unlike Kirk, who usually never had a second thought
about decisions once made.

"Any news about the Enterprise?" he inquired, following
Kirk into the living room.

"No." Kirk shook his head, still unwilling to fully meet
his gaze.

McCoy's concern grew. "Are you heartbroken?" he asked
jokingly, when Kirk sank down in one of the small
armchairs.

But Kirk shook his head again. "No, Bones. It's something
else," he replied seriously.

McCoy sat down opposite to him, trying to read more in the
aged façade. Time hadn't been good to Kirk - maybe to none
of them. But the main difference was that the former
glorious, brilliant smile had vanished. The man who had
used all his power and influence in HQ to get back the
command of the Enterprise wasn't the man he'd left behind
two years ago. What had caused this change? He had heard
about Lori and the failed marriage, as well as about the
tension in HQ between Morrow and Jim - he still had many
contacts in the 'Fleet. But all those things weren't
enough in his book to explain this major change...in
character? That had to be the answer.

"You're taking tranquilizers," McCoy stated, less a
question than a statement.

Kirk at first glared at him as if wanting to deny it; then
he slumped into the cushions in silent defeat. "Yes."

"For how long?"

Kirk rubbed his forehead. "Since this thing with Lori...it
started near the end. I had problems sleeping, was walking
around at night..."

"Pretty usual for you."

"But I didn't have the decks of the Enterprise here,
Bones," Kirk said, a bit of pain showing in his face. "She
talked me into seeing a doc, and he prescribed some pills.
Heck, they were even red. Didn't think they'd do more to
me than yours did. But after a few months, I realized they
didn't have much effect anymore. So I went there again and
and got something else as well."

McCoy frowned. "What exactly are you taking, Jim?"

"Terazin, Bolonite 10..."

"And?"

Kirk took a deep breath and let the air hiss out.
"Occasionally Vigradon."

"You take two kinds of heavy tranquilizers and when your
dick won't go up anymore, you throw in Vigradon? Good god,
I would've thought you'd be more intelligent, Jim," McCoy
growled, concern and irritation a weird mixture in his
heart. "And what exactly are you expecting me to do, now
that you've tricked me back? Do you think I'll have a
quick fix for your little problem and you'll be out having
more fun with the chicks again?"

"Bones..." Kirk sighed, briefly burying his face in his
hands. Then he lifted his head. "I missed you," he said.
"In many ways, Bones. Tell me, would your pride have
allowed you to come back to the 'Fleet if I had simply
called for you?"

"No."

"See? I just had to take that road. I meant what I said,
Bones. I need you. Badly." Kirk reached out with his
hands, mimicking the movement from two weeks ago.

McCoy glared at him, replying with much more sarcasm than
usual, "So that's why you wanted me back? Oh yes, I've
seen the moments where you needed me on the bridge. You
needed me to play your conscience again, your advisor.
Hold your hand, cover your back in critical situations.
But you didn't listen to me. The only one you really
listened to was Spock. So why don't you go and visit him,
see what he does with his new set of basic emotions?"

Kirk raised a hand. "Bones..."

"Spare me your pleas, Jim," McCoy said sharply. "Yeah, I
know, it worked once there in the transporter room. But
I'll be damned if it works again. I wouldn't be able to
look into the mirror again. You've manipulated me, Decker,
Nogura... I'm not even sure you weren't part of the reason
why Spock came back. You've become the most pushy,
arrogant and self-centered bastard I've ever come to know.
And now you're trying to keep the Enterprise, by any
means. But I'll be damned to be another of those means
again."

"Bones, you -"

"I'm not through with you, Jim. I -" McCoy stopped as he
saw Kirk wince in his seat, his face paling.

"I'm sorry, Bones. You're completely right, but I..." Kirk
stood up. "Bathroom anywhere?"

"Right next to the main door."

Shaking his head, he looked after Kirk's tumbling figure.
This wasn't quite the man that had gone through the
proverbial wall with his head only two weeks ago. But
maybe this was more of the man he'd left behind.

He shook himself out of his reverie and followed Kirk,
finding him bent over the toilet seat and shaking in
violent spasms. Unable to do anything else, he prepared a
fresh towel and a wet cloth and then waited until the
worst bout was over.

"You've already stopped taking the drugs, haven't you,"
McCoy deduced. He helped Kirk into a properly seated
position on the floor, then knelt down next to him. His
friend's face was as white as the tiles, and his hands
were shaking as he took the wet cloth to clean his face.

"Yes, I did. Yesterday. I wanted to get rid of them...be
my old self again." Kirk tilted his head back against the
wall and closed his eyes.

"Jim, this isn't like giving up coffee," McCoy said in
deep concern. "You're addicted to that stuff, and to
simply stop taking it will lead to serious withdrawal
syndromes. I'll bring you to the nearest hospital."

"No, Bones," Kirk choked. "I can't go there. I'll lose all
my chances for command of the Enterprise, if anyone learns
about it. They might even court-martial me because I led
her into the V'Ger crisis like that. You know that."

Yes, McCoy knew that. Kirk wouldn't ever get a ship back
if it the 'Fleet found this out. In fact, his whole career
might take a premature, unhappy ending. However...

"Jim, this is really dangerous for your health. And I
don't have the proper medicine here to help you."

"You can get it." Kirk opened his eyes fully, and McCoy
could see they were tinged yellow around the irises. On
his forehead, a thin layer of sweat shimmered in the cool
light of the bathroom. "I'm sure you can get them. Bones,
help me. Please."

McCoy stood up, his legs shaking. Must be from the reduced
blood circulation, he tried telling himself, where in fact
he knew that Kirk just had manipulated him into yet
another situation where he couldn't say no. Kirk always
could do that - he'd simply forgotten that over the last
months. But here he was, back again in the old bind of
friendship and...whatever. "What about work?"

"I've got some days off."

"Where're your messages going?

"Secretary. I said I'd call in once a day."

"Okay. You stay right here. Next to the toilet. You don't
answer my calls. You're not even here."

Kirk nodded weakly.

"I'll go and do some quick research and buy some things. I
probably can't get all I need in the pharmacy, which makes
things a bit more complicated. But I'll be back in about
three hours. Message me if you're in serious trouble. But
only then."

Kirk nodded again. "I don't feel like going anywhere
anyway," he said weakly.

McCoy dialed the lights down to 50 percent. "Try drinking
some water. Take care your stomach isn't empty. I'll get
you some salty chips and biscuits and good old Coke."

"Coke? You wanna kill me?"

"You'll soon wish it were only the Coke that wants to kill
you, not your own body," McCoy said harshly, not at all in
the mood for jokes.

Kirk waved his hand. "I know, Bones. It already feels like
that. Sorry. And - thanks."

"See you," McCoy mumbled when he left the bathroom.
Minutes later, he stepped out of his apartment on his way
to bend some laws.

*

When he came back, Kirk still sat crouched next to the
toilet. He almost looked asleep, but opened his eyes when
McCoy peered into the bathroom.

"Better?"

"No."

"How often did you throw up?"

"Four times. When it's gonna stop?"

"You've only started. But I bought some useful stuff. Come
to the living room with me." He gave Kirk a helping hand.

Slowly they made their way into the other room, "You're
not concerned about your upholstery?" Kirk said as he sank
down on the couch.

"A, it's not mine. B, I found a big bucket and placed it
strategically right next to you."

"You're a perfect nurse, Bones."

"I'm just a stupid doctor who can't let down his former
best friend," McCoy muttered to himself as he prepared a
first hypo, inaudible to the other one's ears. Falling
into more of the old patterns, he stepped behind Kirk and
pulled his shirt over his shoulder. The hypo hissed as he
pressed it into the skin. "You should be better off in a
minute."

"Hope so," Kirk said wearily. "Everything seems to be
spinning...it's worse than the worst hangover I've ever
had. Almost like severe space sickness." He swallowed hard
and hastily bent down to reach for the bucket. But nothing
came up, and so he leaned back with a sigh.

McCoy left for the kitchen, where he filled his fridge and
prepared some tea. "I brought something to eat," he called
over to the living area.

"Eat?" Kirk's voice repeated faintly.

"Yeah. It's much better for your stomach if you eat
something. Doesn't matter what. I bought a collection of
your favorites. Chocolate, chips, cookies and biscuits,
some cheese and sausage, bread...even some mixed pickles."
He returned to his friend, a vacuum bottle and two cups in
his hands.

"I'm not pregnant, Bones," Kirk protested.

"But you'll be subjected to the same illogical needs,
because your body chemistry is going to be out of sync for
the next few days." McCoy sat down next to him, pouring
the fresh, steaming tea.

"What are we going to do in the meantime?"

McCoy yawned. "I badly need some sleep for now, Jim. You
can watch TV, if you feel like, or surf the 'net. Though
the 'Fleet databanks aren't connected right now."

"I'm tired, too," Kirk admitted. "Do you have a place for
me to sleep, besides this couch?"

McCoy shrugged. "You can share my bed - it's quite large
and probably the most comfortable place. Just take the
bucket with you, will you?"

When he moved to the bedroom, Jim followed on his heels.
Before long, they had settled in on their respective sides
and fallen asleep.

*

At first, McCoy couldn't place the sounds and tried to
ignore them, but then he startled out of his sleep. "Jim?"
he asked into the darkness, then switched on the light.

Kirk knelt on the floor, bending low over the bucket in
spasmodic convulsions. McCoy stood up and knelt down
behind him, reaching around Kirk's chest to support him in
his uncomfortable position.

"Yeah, spit it out," he said soothingly, holding the
shivering body that felt cool and clammy to his touch.

It took several more minutes before Kirk rose from his
crouched position and settled back into McCoy's hold. "I'm
sorry, Bones," he murmured weakly. "I think I spoiled your
floor."

"Easily cleaned," McCoy mumbled, automatically counting
the beats of the heart that pounded under his right hand.
They were highly accelerated. "Let's get you under the
shower."

Together, they made their way through the small apartment,
and for a while Kirk looked lucid and well. However, that
state had already died by the time he slipped back into
bed.

"Bones, god, it's so cold, I'm falling into darkness." He
shivered, clutching the blankets to wrap them tighter
around himself.

"I'll be with you in a minute, Jim," McCoy said, quickly
finishing his cleaning attempts before he sat down beside
him.

"Shh, it's alright, Jim," he repeated, and stroked his
friend's head. The hair clung to the forehead, its
unfamiliar curls still wet from the shower. Increasing his
pressure, McCoy massaged the scalp beneath them with his
fingertips.

Kirk shifted under the massage, gazing at him through
unfocused eyes. "Hold me, Bones. Help me."

"I'm here, Jim." McCoy took hold of Kirk's hands with his
other one. "It's gonna be all right soon."

"Don't leave me alone."

"I won't." McCoy said reassuringly, but Kirk's weary gaze
still mirrored unbelief.

With a sigh, McCoy sneaked back under the blankets. The
material was moist and sweaty, but he ignored it as he
tightly gathered the shivering man in his arms. "Won't
leave you, Jim. See, I'm here. You'll be better in a day
or two. I promise."

"Thanks, Bones. Thank you so much." Kirk's eyes dropped
closed in relief as he relaxed into the embrace. "It's
already getting better. You're so warm and lively. Hold
me..."

McCoy held him close and, after a while, the breathing
against his neck slowed down. It would be only a short
break in the torturous withdrawal symptoms, but it was
needed damned badly by them both. Leaning his chin against
Kirk's head, he too fell into an uneasy slumber.

*

The sleep was short, the pain persistent over the next 24
hours. Kirk went through bouts of fever and cold sweats
and frequently threw up, although there was nothing left
in his stomach. Between bodily urges and restless sleep,
he fell into deep depression in his more lucid moments;
unrolling all failed relationships; bemoaning his decision
to accept admiralty and his ignorance that made McCoy
leave him; incriminating himself for his behavior in the
V'Ger crisis and blaming himself for all crewmen who'd
ever died or vanished under his command. Only two certain
names never came up, which was telling a whole story all
in itself.

McCoy, knowing that rational arguments were beyond Kirk at
the moment, simply let him talk in the safety of his
embrace, replying very little. From time to time, he rose
up to give him another dose of substitute, to gather
something to drink or to clean the bucket, taking care of
Jim in a more intimate way than he had ever done before.
Well, that's what friends are for, he thought, as he
leaned back against the window sill the next morning, his
arms crossed in front of his chest.

Except that what he felt was definitely going beyond
friendship's limits right now.

He stared at the sleeping figure. He should've realized it
long ago. In fact, a part of him had known it all the
time. Obviously he was even better at deceiving himself
than Jim was, when it came to feelings. He just had never
thought he might fall for a man. One of his oldest
friends. One of his best friends. The same old friend who
loved someone else, for all he knew.

This was doing no good. No good at all.

"Bones..." Kirk said slurred and rolled over, searching
the bed blindly. "Bones!"

McCoy slipped under the covers once more, but this time
reluctantly and too aware of the body that molded against
his. He lay stiffly as Kirk, shivering, nestled closer,
cursing himself when his body reacted to the touch - he
should've put on a shirt, but it was so hot under the many
layers already that he couldn't bring himself to do it.

For more hours they lay like that, and he drifted into
sleep again until something moved in his embrace.

"Bones..." A murmur, barely audible.

"What's up, Jim?" McCoy felt his voice vibrating with a
streak of hope that their ordeals soon would be over -
Kirk's cold turkey withdrawals and his own, emotional one
that he was forcing himself through at the moment.

"Would like to get up...use the bathroom...have a shower."

"No problem. Let me help you." Awkwardly they untangled
their limbs, and McCoy stood up first, helping up his
friend.

"Lord, I've never felt this weak," Kirk said. He looked
pale and strained, and was walking so unsteadily that
without McCoy's support he'd probably have crumpled to the
floor.

"Oh, seems you've forgotten all about that mission where
you drank that supposedly orange juice which was in fact a
-"

"Don't remind me!" Kirk said pained. "I'm feeling sick
enough without that particular memory. Anyway, I didn't
feel that weak for very long."

"It's worth it, Jim," McCoy said, as he jockeyed him
through the bathroom door. "You'll be your old self again
in no time, not that living mask you've been on the
Enterprise."

"Great," Kirk said, weakly attempting a smile, then folded
into the shower stall as his legs gave in. "Don't go away,
Bones. Shit." He stared at his hands, which began shaking
again. "And I thought it was over." Closing his eyes, he
sank back against the wall in utter defeat.

"You're almost through with it, Jim. Really. Take a long
shower now and then I'll check on you. And after that,
you've earned yourself a decent breakfast." McCoy
cautiously opened the water outlet and adjusted the
temperature. "I'll stay here in case of emergency."

"You might as well come in. You'll get wet anyway."

"True," McCoy said, avoiding Kirk's gaze. His friend
definitely wouldn't like the cold shower he'd preferred
for himself now.

"I mean it." Weakly Kirk pulled himself into stand.
"C'mon, Bones. You're in need of a shower, too." He gave
McCoy's moist, saggy pants a telling look. "And bring the
shower gel with you."

McCoy gave up. Turning his back to the shower stall, he
stripped the worn-out pants and discarded them right into
the recycling box. Then he grabbed the gel and joined his
friend. The water was warm and refreshing, springing over
them like summer rain.

"Gimme some," Kirk said, and held his palm open.

McCoy shook his head. "No, you first. Turn around."

Kirk obeyed dutifully, visibly relieved to have some hand-
holds again.

With professional attitude, McCoy distributed a generous
load of gel over Kirk's back and arms, massaging it into
the wet skin.

"That feels pretty good." Kirk said with a happy sigh, and
leaned his forehead against the wet tiles. Spreading his
legs into a comfortable stand, he presented his buttocks
for further administration.

McCoy hastily distributed the rest of the foam over them
and the thighs, then pulled away. This was heading
somewhere he didn't want to go. "You can finish by
yourself now." Quickly he cleaned the gel off his hands
and opened the door of the shower stall.

Kirk turned around and looked at him, puzzled. Between
them, the water spilled out of the open stall and bathed
the floor.

"What's the problem, Bones?"

"Nothing. I'm just getting claustrophobia," McCoy said.
"I'll be outside, if you need me." Determined, he left the
shower and closed the sliding door. He began to mop up the
wet floor, finishing just at the same time as his friend
did in the shower.

Together they went back to the living-room, where Kirk
sank down on the couch and stretched his limbs. His towel
fell open, revealing a body shining with remaining
wetness. "What was that about breakfast, Bones?"

McCoy was already pulling out his tricorder. "In a minute,
Jim," he said absently and fixed his gaze at the medical
scans, ignoring the enchanting view. But no matter what he
checked, the values belied the good image Kirk presented
now. There would be at least another long night before the
stuff would be out of his system - an unusually cyclic
development for a withdrawal, but Bolonite 10 was well-
known for its "afterburner" effects. They had been the
main reason why it was taken off the market already some
months ago; and he didn't even want to ask where Kirk
bought it, because he wouldn't be able to hold back on
reporting those blasted dealers to the authorities.

With an inward sigh, he closed the tricorder and began
cheering up his exhausted friend.

***

TBC in Part 2/2


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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
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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..."

*****


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