Pacing the Cage

The first thought that achieved coherence with a groggy consciousness was: it is five hundred hours in the morning. His Vulcan awareness of time was intact.

With the passing of the slow minutes Spock's other senses returned. He lay upon a hospital bed: he heard the soft swish-swish of the monitoring equipment, he smelled the same antiseptic odor he had encountered too often in the Enterprise's sickbay, and his thoughts were obviously impaired by painkilling drugs such as McCoy had occasionally imposed upon him. There was no pain, but he suffered from lassitude that forced him to debate opening his eyes for what felt like a very long time.

But eventually he decided it was worth the effort. Someone was professional and considerate for the lights in the room were dim, and once he had forced his lids up Spock was able to see without squinting excessively.

Jim stood beside the bed, his head bowed, and Spock allowed his gaze to rest upon him gently. There were dark stains on Kirk's silken beige shirt and about the waistband of his brown trousers. His hands grasped the rail that ran along the side of the bed. Perhaps he was in prayer.

Spock licked his lips but did not know what he should say, or even if he could speak. He remembered the voices and the touches as he had sprawled in the street before Jim's home, but he was much too tired to interpret any of it. But that did not seem to be important. Jim was here.

He attempted to raise his hand but was hindered by an intravenous unit that seemed impossibly heavy. But Jim saw the minute movement. His head jerked up, his lips mouthed a breathless word.

"Spock?"

Spock's nod was pitiful, but at least he managed to move. It was a small triumph.

Kirk disengaged from the railing, he leaned over it and very slowly, very carefully placed one hand on each side of Spock's white pillow. The mattress dipped with the weight, Spock rode down with it, but he could not take his eyes from Jim's face so close to his.

"How do you feel?" A whisper.

" -- ficient."

A small smile, and a flick of a thumb against his cheek. "That's my Spock. Can I get you anything? Water? The doctor will probably be in here any minute."

He managed to get out, "Negative. Only. . ." before breath failed him.

"Only what?"

"Nothing. You."

The smile grew. "You've got me. I'm not going anywhere."

It was good to see Jim smiling so close to him, he could see each individual eyelash, and the flawless complexion that glowed with health, looking so lush and soft that he wondered for what he knew was the thousandth secret time how it would feel to stroke that skin with his fingers. He saw the moment when joy turned to sorrow, and the welling of tears held back.

" -- not weep," he hoarsely whispered. His throat was raw, but it was important that Jim hear him.

"I won't," Kirk said with a gulp. "What's important is that you're alive. The doctor says there isn't any lasting injury that won't heal eventually. But it was a close thing, Spock. Only T'Brita kept you alive."

Spock's eyes flicked about the room, Kirk read the question there.

"She went home a few hours ago. She said it was illogical to wait for you to wake up when she knew there wasn't anything else for her to do. You can't fault her for her logic."

Spock returned his gaze to Kirk's soft eyes, staring down at him with what he could only interpret as affection. But he might be wrong. The drugs were interfering with his perception of reality. The edges of his vision were blurring, Jim's face seemed to pick up the light and glow.

"Spock?"

"Um?"

"You're going to fall asleep again, aren't you?"

" -- es."

"That's okay, you need all the rest you can get. But before you leave me, there's something I've got to say. I can't delay it any more. Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Spock forced his eyes wide open again. "Yes."

Jim's form seemed to sway, moving away and then closer, perhaps with indecision and then resolution? Illogical. It was just the drugs. . . .

"I've been wanting to say this to you for a while. Weeks. Remember. . .remember our last meld? On the day before we docked?"

They had never spoken of it after their final mental joining on the ship, but he would never forget those moments of perfection. "Yes." It seemed to take a long time to get the word out, he could almost see it in the air between them, traveling to bridge the enormous distance between them.

"It was special, Spock. The most special moment. I want to do it again. Do you think we could, you and I? Join our minds?"

If only the sedatives were not so effective, he would be able to formulate the correct reply, he would manage to find a way to convey to Jim without unseemly, overt manifestations how much he wished to engage in a meld with his friend again. He would find a way to translate the most unVulcan joy in his heart into a small gesture, a word that Jim would be able to understand. . . . But none of that was possible. He was falling, sinking into darkness again, and all he could take with him was the luster in Jim's incomparable eyes, and the smile there, and a small whisper. "When you're better. Don't forget."

*****

He did not forget over the next week that he spent in the hospital recuperating. He could scarcely escape the promise from reverberating in his befogged mind every second. Kirk visited him often but never made reference to that hazy, sedative-filled night, and so neither did Spock. After a few days he questioned whether the memory were but a figment of his imagination, perhaps caused by the severe concussion that also prevented him from initiating a healing trance, but he did not think so. Kirk smiled at him when he came to share the evening hours, but it was a soft, withdrawn expression, hinting at words so far unspoken and events yet unlived. Their conversation about melding had been real. Spock did not allow himself to analyze beyond that, and he resigned himself to a slow recovery in the human way, without the aid of the Vulcan gifts that could have speeded his body's return to health.

He took the healer's and the doctor's advice and allowed himself to sink often into slumber. It was not a burden, for he took with him Jim's face so close to his, close enough for the meld that they would share as soon as he was well.

Thoughts of the joining dominated his waking hours too, and he was so without control that his body reacted to his shamefully emotional contemplations. His breathing accelerated, his chest grew tight. Once a nurse practitioner checked him while he was lost in the meld that was-to-be because his readings had suddenly gone awry.

Nothing, he assured her. He was recovering. There was little pain. So she left and he was able to think again, to remember, to anticipate, and to finally slip into slumber. Yes, such fixation with fantasies was juvenile, yes, such indulgence in raw emotion was most unVulcan, but Jim had injected a far more powerful hallucinogenic drug into his veins than any doctor ever had. He could not resist.

And yet. . . . And yet. . . . Even with this unlooked for gift, even with this most fortunate outcome the result of such an unfortunate event, still there was a whispering voice that asked for. . .more. What more? his rational self asked, but it was not rationality that knew or could comprehend the answer to that question.

So Spock welcomed the enforced idleness of sleep, and that mystical area between awakening and dreams where anything could come true, and where all questions were answered, all truths exposed.

Eventually the dream-like quality of the minutes retreated and the world became brighter, louder, and ever more painful as the sedative doses were reduced. One early evening Spock awakened slowly, trying to deny the ache in his arm and his broken leg, the headache that throbbed behind his temples most of the time, and before he opened his eyes he heard the soft hiss of voices. People were in his room, talking to one another in low tones. From the intensity of their words, arguing? He remained still and listened.

"There is no need for you to take time off from your duties, Commodore, I am perfectly capable of assisting Spock when he is released from this institution."

"Of course you are, T'Brita, but that's not the point. I think that Spock would be more comfortable if I were the one to settle him back in his apartment. I could stay with him for a few days just to make sure he's okay."

"As could I. We Vulcans do not subscribe to your human moral code, it would be acceptable for me to reside in Spock's home and provide him with the help he will need."

"Morals don't enter into this, we just have to figure out what's best for Spock. I've already re-arranged my schedule so that I can do this."

"And it would not be difficult for me to do the same. My contribution to the project is important, but others do not depend upon it to the same extent that they depend on yours."

"There's a perfectly acceptable comlink at the apartment where I can take care of emergencies."

"But would that be the ideal environment in which Spock can regain his strength?"

"He's comfortable with me, we've known each other for years. You've only just met him."

"We have melded."

"I know, I saw you do it. I told you to do it. What difference does that make?"

"On Vulcan, such an act between unbonded adults carries with it certain presumptions. . . . "

"But you haven't talked about bonding yet, have you?" Kirk's voice was assertive.

"No. However -- "

"Then it doesn't make a difference."

A short silence. Spock could imagine T'Brita tilting her head to one side and examining his fierce, determined friend. Kirk's shoulders must be set, his torso tilted slightly forward. That was the way Jim always looked when he was intent on getting his own way.

T'Brita spoke. "The resolution of this situation is important to you. There are emotional undercurrents I perceive but do not completely understand. You wish to do this for Spock?"

"Because it's best for him, that's all."

"Then I will not interfere. If he requires assistance that you cannot provide, you will call upon me."

"Fine, I will."

He had never doubted that Jim would prevail. He had confidence in his former captain.

Before Spock could reveal his awakened state a personal comlink sounded and Kirk was called away by a male voice. Spock was pleased it was not a feminine one instead. Mai Tagnaki had been conspicuous by her absence from his sick room. "Tell him I was here, T'Brita," Kirk said as the door closed behind him.

"Of course, Commodore."

So when Spock abandoned his pretense and opened his eyes, it was T'Brita alone who greeted him.

"Good-evening, Spock," she said. "You are looking more alert this evening. Is there anything I can procure for you?" Before he could answer she took the chair at the side of the bed, sitting with the erect posture which would have been an affectation in any Terran woman but was second nature to a Vulcan female. Tonight she was wearing the navy blue coveralls she preferred, accented by a woolly red turtleneck sweater. Her hair was gathered into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, a new and not unattractive style.

Spock sat up carefully and instructed the bed to assume a supporting position. "I require nothing. I am well."

"Your recovery is proceeding as the doctors expect, although of course it would be much more efficient if only you were able to enter a healing trance. Spock, I wish to speak to you on a matter of import, something I believe I have been remiss in not mentioning before this time."

He cocked a weary, wary eyebrow at her.

"I wish to speak of our. . . . "

He actually saw her lips purse into the "b" sound, but at the last second she retreated and substituted another word for what she had intended to say.

". . .our relationship."

He would not help her in this, and a slight feeling of shame emerged. T'Brita was a good woman. There was a high probability that she would be his bondmate and bear his children. There was no real reason for him to resist her -- but he did. "Indeed?"

"Yes. It is fortunate that you and I had melded that one time before your accident. My familiarity with your mental configuration is the only element which enabled me to initiate and maintain the fl'ntar. I am impressed that you were able to support the life processes of beings from the Enterprise with whom you had not melded before, because I would find such a task quite beyond my capacity."

"I am fortunate in my mental abilities."

"Yes. Individuals are blessed with different gifts, but you appear to have developed yours through application. The commodore told me you had melded with four different individuals in the same manner that I supported you."

"That is true. However, I was familiar with one mind, they were not all strange to me."

"Yes." T'Brita paused and looked down at the carefully composed hands in her lap. "Commodore Kirk's, when he was your captain. You know his mind. You have joined with him frequently, I presume."

"But not recently." Jim, touching him. Even if not in the way that was Spock's secret dream, still, touching him. . . .

T'Brita wrenched his attention back to her by rising and standing next to his bed. She appeared to gather her thoughts, then spoke slowly. "It occurs to me that you perhaps do not place the same interpretation on melding between unbonded adults that I do. I had thought that when you agreed to meld with me you were exploring the possibility of a bonding between us, as I have been doing. Am I in error?"

Spock's ride on the wings of euphoric dreams came to an abrupt, disconcerting halt. She had him neatly pinned. Again she showed the same talent in direct speaking, in verbal attack that she had displayed before. It was quite similar to Kirk's forthright style.

He did not wish to speak of this, but he must respond, and he would not do so untruthfully. The bedclothes rustled as he slowly twisted his bandaged right leg under the sheet, an acceptable manifestation of the level of his discomfort. He resented this severing of his false serenity, this confrontation with hard truths. T'Brita reminded him: one meld with Jim Kirk would last but a few minutes. Spock must still consider the rest of his life.

"No," he said slowly, "you are not in error. It is logical that we consider the possibility of a bonding between us."

"Yes, it is. I desire a bondmate, Spock. It is not good to live alone, especially for our people. My childhood mate died in an industrial accident many years ago, and I have rejected all those advanced by my clan since then. I have done so because I desire to bond with someone whom I respect, with whom I can form a satisfying life, shared by compatible beings. It is necessary to me that I share interests and goals with my bondmate. There are not many male Vulcans who would appreciate my career and my off-world travels.

"I wish to pursue the compatibilities we have already ascertained, and to discover if there are more. To do this most effectively, there must be truth of intention between us, do you not agree? It would be illogical for us to continue if you have already determined that I am not a suitable prospective partner. Have you?"

It was difficult to acknowledge. "No, I have not. Nor have I decided that a bonding between us is inevitable."

"That is only logical," she said smoothly, and with a slight fervor which Spock easily interpreted as relief. She resumed her place in the chair. "You have not accumulated enough data. You do wish to do so, however, do you not?"

How could it ever be a matter of choice, of wishing, for a male Vulcan? Spock was driven to T'Brita by the inevitable approach of his pon farr, by Jim's confirmed heterosexuality, by Mai Tagnaki in seductive nightwear.

"I will accumulate more data until I can inform you of whether I wish to initiate a bonding sequence between us. Or not."

"And I will do the same. I presume that in the future there will be more melds for us to share. You have seemed oddly reluctant to initiate another. Was the initial joining between us unsatisfactory?"

"No, T'Brita, it was not unsatisfactory. It was beneficial in many ways."

"Indeed, that one encounter was responsible for my being able to sustain your life. So, we will proceed. It is good that we have had this conversation, is it not? I bring you greetings from the rest of my team, Spock, they are most concerned for your recovery. And Siddorn has a question about the parameters of the change in section 4B of the schematics. Did you intend a ratio of five point six or five point seven?"

They spoke only of business after that until a nurse entered the room, stared pointedly at the fluctuating readings on the diagnostic panel built into the headboard, and announced, "My patient requires rest, ma'am. I believe he is over-tired."

"Of course, I will leave at once. It was not my intention to remain this long. Spock, I will anticipate future melds between us with positive thoughts. Good-evening."

T'Brita retreated from the room, but a moment later she re-appeared in the doorway. "I neglected to mention that Commodore Kirk was here earlier while you were sleeping. He was called away on some business and particularly requested that I inform you of his visit. Good-night."

Spock stared at the swinging door as the nurse adjusted a dial on the panel. "It's not a good thing," she said kindly, "to have agitating conversations when you're recovering, Captain Spock. Your body needs rest, not confrontation. Perhaps it would be best if I had a word with your lady friend."

"No," Spock said bleakly. "No."

It was only logical to face the truth. Nothing had really changed, had it? As soon as he was stronger, perhaps the day he returned to his own dwelling, he must spend time strengthening his controls. He had been unforgivably lax. Despite the meld-to-be, Jim was not for him.

It was a subdued, realistic Spock, sitting on the edge of his bed, who welcomed Kirk when he arrived the morning he was finally to be released from the hospital. But Kirk did not seem to perceive his somber mood, the commodore was all genuine cheerfulness. Dressed in crisp black slacks and a bulky, cream-colored sweater, he stood in the middle of the room, rubbed his hands together and exclaimed, "At last! You've been in here forever. Want some help with your shoes?"

Spock could not help but agree, the last few cloudy days had felt like forever, and yes, he did require help with his footwear as his leg was still painfully stiff and his arm was little better. Kirk winked, then bent to assist him, his square, capable hands as efficient and as gentle as any nurse's. Spock forlornly observed the fair head bent in his service, and did not allow his body to react to the touch upon his extremities at all.

"Thank you," Spock said when his now-shod feet were released.

"My pleasure," Kirk said with an odd little smile. "Any time."

They tussled with the overly-solicitous, excessively-young discharge nurse who emphasized the limitations on his activities: "get lots of rest, don't overdo, stop when there's excessive pain or fatigue, and don't forget what the healer said about not trying any of your Vulcan mind tricks yet. Come back in five days for your follow-up appointments with Doctor Gates and Healer Sunta." Then she attempted to deposit him in an anti-grav chair, but he and Kirk overruled her by ignoring the mechanism and proceeding out the door, albeit with Kirk's supporting hand under his elbow. It was a maneuver not unlike those they had accomplished while they were still the command team of the Enterprise, although of considerably less import, but nevertheless there was a certain satisfaction in working with his former captain in the unstated conspiracy. When they stood before the hospital turbolift doors, Kirk released his arm and looked at him with a twinkle in his eye.

"Feels good to escape from prison, doesn't it?

"Indeed, it is a relief to be returning to my apartment."

"I guess I haven't mentioned that, have I? Hope you don't mind, but -- "

The turbo doors opened, the lift was already occupied by two white-coated technicians, and Kirk extended his arm to usher Spock inside. They remained silent during the long ride to the ground level, and as Spock limped through the lobby and slowly out to where Kirk's seldom-used aircar was parked in the front. To Spock's disgust he was already fatigued, and his leg ached abominably. It was possible that his arm was actually. . .yes, it was trembling.

"Here, let me get that." Kirk reached beyond him and opened the aircar passenger door. "There you are." Of course the commodore owned the latest model sports version, requiring an effort to hoist oneself into the front seat even for healthy individuals. Spock did not believe he fell into that category at the moment.

An awkward hesitation and then Kirk's arm was around his waist, his other arm braced against Spock's thigh, and with a lift -- "Up you go" -- and a slide Spock found himself in the front seat with minimal effort on his part, and no additional jarring to his throbbing leg.

Kirk smiled at him through the open door, heedless of the cold rain that was just starting to fall from the cloudy gray sky. "There. I don't imagine T'Brita would have been able to do that for you."

If Jim wanted to tease him with that overtly affectionate tone and that devilish spark in his eye, then Spock would allow it and return it in kind. "You forget T'Brita's Vulcan strength. She is fully capable of assisting me in the same way, I am sure. However, I am also sure such an action would not have been necessary, since she would not be driving such an illogical and pretentious aircar."

"Illogical and pretentious?" Kirk sputtered happily. "I'll have you know this is an X-1411 Skylark, with dual cam acceleration chambers -- "

"Which you will have no occasion to use in the metropolitan San Francisco area. Jim, would it not be wise for you to come in out of the rain?"

With a quick grin Kirk scrambled to the driver's seat, wiped the drops of water from his brow, started the 'car, and with careful, exaggerated precision -- "Don't worry, you can trust me, haven't had a citation in at least a week" -- lifted them up into the designated air lanes. Really, it was impossible not to share his good humor, it was infectious. Spock allowed himself a small smile which Kirk caught and returned.

Spock waited until they were airborne and locked into the metro grid control before he continued their conversation. "I believe you were about to mention something concerning my apartment?"

"Right. Hold on, let me punch in this code. . . . " Kirk relinquished the controls and shifted in his seat to face Spock as the aircar reverted to automatic; his right arm went up to extend across the back of the seat. His expression was suddenly serious. "I'm not taking us to your place, Spock. I thought it would be better if you spent the first few days at my house. I should have asked you first, but. . .I guess I just never got around to it. Okay?"

Spock was caught between conflicting reactions. He was touched that Jim offered him such personal hospitality, but on the other hand. . . .

"Would not my presence interfere with your relationship with Ms. Tagnaki?" He could not imagine sharing living space with her. If she were actually inhabiting the same dwelling, as Spock suspected she had been at the New Year, then he could not --

"No." Kirk was definite. "She's not around any more."

He examined his friend's face to see if perhaps this were a perpetuation of Kirk's jocular mood, but he appeared to be completely serious. "You have terminated your relationship with her?" Spock tried not to allow his tone to appear too hopeful.

"Absolutely. It wasn't going too well anyway, you know that, don't you? Oh, she's a nice woman, but she looks at the world differently than I do."

"Indeed."

"Indeed is an understatement, my logical friend."

"She is. . .I believe the word would be ambitious."

Kirk's mouth quirked. "And pushy."

"She believes strongly in the benefits of the subtle political system that permeates San Francisco base."

"And she wanted me right in the middle of it, exploiting it for advancement. God."

"But she is quite talented in her administrative work, I believe. The party was well organized."

"And she's really pretty, don't you think?"

"It is difficult for me to judge the beauty of Terran women, Jim."

"Definitely pretty. But not the one for me."

"This termination of your relationship was not. . .difficult?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say we parted with no hard feelings. She, ah, didn't want to let go. I think she saw me as a ticket to a new and influential life. It was quite a scene."

"I regret the pain that you have experienced -- "

"Don't. It would be much worse if I had stayed with her, knowing that I don't want what she wants, that I've discovered I want. . ." Kirk's voice turned reflective, "I want something completely different."

Spock wished very much to ask what that "something different" was, but he would not do so. It was up to Jim to speak of whatever personal revelations he had experienced. He shifted his sore arm from the armrest to his lap, twisting slightly closer to Kirk in the process at the expense of some small pain. The sound of the wind rushing against the 'car changed from a cutting hiss to a softer purr as the vehicle dropped down into a lower airlane. Kirk glanced once out the front window, then his gaze came back to Spock. There was something different in Jim's eyes, something that was hard for Spock to interpret: a gentleness that he had often seen and admired, because so many men were not strong enough to be gentle, and also a. . .vulnerability? When Kirk spoke again, his voice was hushed and sincere.

"My house is free, Spock. Free for you to come and stay there, for a few days or longer, as long as you want to stay. And I'm free, too." A pause and mechanical pings as the aircar downshifted to a slower speed. "I've arranged things so I can spend the next several days at home with you. Okay?"

"If you are sure it will not be an inconvenience."

"For you?" Kirk asked softly. "Never. You know that, don't you?" The arm that rested along the back of the seat moved, and Kirk brushed his cool fingertips against Spock's cheek, just barely, and then they were gone.

The warning beep from the console, alerting the driver that the car was about to be released to manual control, prevented Spock from responding to the raw affection Kirk had suddenly energized between them. It was just as well, for he was startled by the. . .by what could only be called a caress, and he did not know how to react to it. Was he so lost in his dreams that he interpreted every small thing Kirk did in a way to substantiate his longings? He stared at his friend's profile and attempted to deny all hopes, all expectations, but it was difficult. Perhaps. . . .

"Almost home," Kirk said as he activated the driver's console.

Try though he might, Spock could not hide his trembling fatigue as he slid out of the vehicle, found his way through the back entrance into Kirk's dwelling, and finally down the three steps to an over-stuffed chair in the living room. "You need to sleep," Kirk said firmly, standing over him with hands on hips.

"I will be fine after a short rest here."

"Hah. I'm not going to spend my first day as a nursemaid by letting you relapse. Doctor's orders. Upstairs you go, I've got the spare bedroom all made up."

"Jim, it is not even noon. . ." Spock protested, but Kirk was not to be denied.

"You're not being very logical. Come on, I'll help you."

"I am capable of traversing the distance without assistance, thank you," Spock said with as much dignity as he could muster, which was not much considering that he was having difficulty even keeping his head upright against the chair back.

Kirk snorted. "Right. Let's go." Kirk had lost none of his command abilities, and McCoy would have been proud of his dictatorial medical mien.

Spock took the steps one at a time to the upper floor -- "Damn, I never realized this house had so many stairs, take your time" -- and carefully levered himself down to a sitting position on the expansive bed that was piled high with gray and white striped pillows and an assortment of folded quilts. Kirk bent before him and tackled the laces of his shoes without comment. Spock had always hated incarceration in medical facilities in part because of the personal and embarrassing services which were foisted upon him, from necessity, by the medical staff. But it did not bother him when Kirk slid the shoes off his feet, one at a time, or rubbed the flat of his palm against Spock's sore soles for just a few seconds, and then rose and gently lifted his legs to the mattress. It did not bother him; to his shame it aroused him, and roused in him an ache deep inside someplace undefined, someplace where need had never been satisfied. It could never be satisfied, could it?

Spock settled back against the pillow and watched in silence as Kirk covered him with one quilt, then another, and he was reaching for a third when Spock held up his hand. "Enough, Jim. You will smother me."

"All right. Sleep as long as you want to, I'll probably be in the office across the hall if you need anything." He went to the window and pulled down the shade, then retreated to the doorway and instructed the house computer to extinguish the overhead lights. "Spock?"

The soft glow from the hallway outlined Kirk's trim, athletic form, his broad shoulders and narrow hips and balanced stance, and despite his need for sleep Spock could not tear his gaze away from that so-attractive picture. His feet still tingled from the touch of his friend's hands. "Yes, Jim?"

A pause, as if Kirk were searching for the right words. Finally he softly said, "I'm glad you're here."

The door shut and Spock closed his eyes. He wanted to stay awake and contemplate the journey from the hospital to Kirk's home. He wished to touch upon the pleasure and find a place for it somewhere between his resignation over his relationship with T'Brita and his joyous anticipation of the meld with Kirk, but that proved to be impossible. He did indeed require sleep.

When Spock awakened in the darkened room, his time sense told him it was sixteen hundred hours. He had slept the afternoon away. The soft shush of an indrawn breath told him he was not alone.

Slowly he opened his eyes. The rain had passed; the late afternoon sun filtered through and around the drawn shade, draping a surreal, dim glow over the objects in the room. The glow washed over Jim Kirk, who was on his knees at the side of the bed.

Spock's heart thumped in his side. "Jim?"

Kirk leaned in closer, his hands gripped the edge of the mattress, his voice was a whisper. "I've been watching you sleep. I suppose it's an invasion of your privacy, but I couldn't help but think that maybe you. . . . Do you mind?"

He trembled, not his leg or his arm, but inside a wild cacophony beat against the bars he had erected so many years ago, back when he hadn't known he loved this man, this golden human who had become essential to his happiness.

"No," he managed to get out beyond his stiff lips. "I do not mind." He shifted his head on the pillow, closer, ignoring the discomfort of his injuries, aware only of Jim's face, his eyes luminous and liquid.

"Good."

Very slowly, Kirk reached out and rested his open hand against Spock's cheek, each finger coming to rest separately, as if Kirk were wary of rejection. Spock wanted to close his eyes, to savor the pressure and coolness of this new and even more daring caress against his skin, but he could not abandon the sight before him. Kirk's gaze searched his face, touching his eyebrows, his mouth and lips, returned to look earnestly into his eyes as if seeking the answer to a question that had not yet been spoken.

There were more words, words that drifted over him, touching him everywhere like gentle rain in the desert, like a sand storm that reshapes all before it. "You're very. . .I don't know the word to use. Not beautiful. I've told so many women they're beautiful. Handsome? I don't know. I came in to check on you, and I couldn't stop looking. Compelling. I find you very compelling, Spock. Does that embarrass you?"

It was impossible not to respond to the open emotion held out to him in the same way that Jim had always given him emotion, like a gift. Spock untangled his hand from the bedclothes and over Kirk's caressing hand he pressed his own. He could not believe that he was touching Jim in this way, that Jim did not pull away from an unwanted intimacy. But there was no withdrawal, only a light that seemed to burst into being, suddenly transforming Kirk's face. Contemplation and hesitation to. . .joy?

"I am not embarrassed, I am. . . . " He struggled to find the right words, but he had never been required to use terms of affection, endearment, or even emotional truth. He'd never spoken the truth that had been incarcerated beyond reprieve for so long, but he wanted to speak now, and was frustrated when only the same restrained words came to him. "I am gratified. You are. . .I also find you. . .compelling. I have for some. . . . "

The ghost of a smile touched Kirk's mouth, in the dimness that was like the pregnant twilight before the stars blazed. "Compelling. I think I know what that means, coming from you. Tell me that I know, that we mean the same thing."

Kirk leaned even closer, his poised, parted lips were but a few inches away, it was the way they had stood face to face in the wind outside Jim's home on the night of the accident. Only now Jim was not pushing him away.

He could barely form the syllables to perhaps the most important words he would ever speak. His heart was seized by a wild fluttering, anticipation raced through his veins. Was this really happening? "You must know how I feel."

"I think I do. I pray I do. You know I've never been one to go slowly, it's one of my faults. You're just out of the hospital, for God's sakes, and I thought I'd wait for days before I. . . . But I can't help myself, I can't keep this to myself anymore. Forgive me, Spock. Tell me. . . . " With a small sound that keened in the back of his throat, Kirk very slowly moved forward, until they shared breath, until he encountered the barrier of Spock's flesh, until their lips came into gentle and definite contact. Jim kissed him.

Immediately war ignited. The shields behind which Spock had hidden for so long roared into life to block his perception -- Jim's mouth, his body so cool, his heart in my hands -- and just as fiercely Spock fought them.

Foolish, foolish! Not to experience this? Find a way, under, around, through. . . . You have done it before in the desert, you have not augmented in weeks, do it!

His body stiffened in his struggle and, before he even realized he was creating a sound, he moaned in effort and despair.

Instantly Jim's lips were gone, his body pulled back from all contact, and Spock ached as if his arms had been torn from their sockets. So empty. He had not even fully assimilated Jim's touch, did not have a memory. . . .

"Spock?"

Large, seeking eyes gazed down at him, uncertain, rejected, sad. Jim Kirk's life-long heterosexuality had been laid at his feet in surrender and he had not even responded. . . . Spock wished he could weep.

"I. . .I thought you wanted the same. . . . I guess I was wrong."

No!

But he couldn't say it. The word stuck in his throat, the truth a captive just as it had always been, and it was wrong, so wrong for a lie to stand forever between the two of them who were one in spirit and should be one in body as well. That's what he'd been doing, lying all these years, perpetuating an untruth that had only brought him pain, and now looked to be inflicting pain on the one he would never see hurt.

In a moment he traveled back down the long difficult years to when he had fled to Gol, and he saw the action for what it was, the retreat of an immature, frightened Vulcan youth who could not cope with the emotions that humans forced him to confront. He had been attracted to, perhaps had loved Jim even then. Coward! What was important? His attempt to protect himself, resulting in a half life, a pain-filled, inadequate life? Or the truth of his soul, revealed to his soul's mate?

Truth.

Anything that prevented its expression must be wrong.

"Jim," he said, as truly and as surely as he could, though he was ice-cold inside. Soul's mate. Memory of the sweetness of their last meld sustained him. They were meant to be together. He could do this.

Trembling, he reached out and touched Kirk's face -- a first caress and Jim did not pull away, ah, his finger pads slid over that flawless skin, it was just as he had thought, soft, smooth, so achingly beautiful on this masculine man -- then his hand drifted over Kirk's cheek and down around to the back of his neck. The firm touch would be an anchor in a stormy sea. Surprise flared in Kirk's sad eyes, and then hope appeared again. His t'hy'la swayed, moved towards him.

"What?" Kirk whispered, and it seemed to Spock that he bent over him and breathed upon him, giving him all the strength he would ever need.

"Jim," Spock started again. "I -- " he would not be alone any more, T'Brita had said it, it was not good to live alone -- "I love you."

Not the twilight but the desert dawn brightened in Kirk's eyes, sparkling with life-giving dew.

"I've wanted to hear you say that," Kirk breathed. "I love you too. Not the way I've pretended for so long. This way. Every way."

Tentatively, as if he still feared rejection, Kirk gently placed his lips over Spock's, and this time there were no shields, there was nothing to even battle, there was only one man expressing love for another man, body upon body, flesh upon flesh, and Spock accepted it all. It was right. It was good. It was truth.

Jim.

This was life.

A great calm spread through Spock as his incursion past his ingrained controls grew longer, as Jim shifted on his knees and their innocent, closed-mouth labial contact softened and then firmed, as his own hand moved up to tangle lightly in Kirk's honey hair, and with the calm came a strange familiarity. Was it possible they had never joined their bodies in this way before? It felt like the most natural event in Spock's universe. Never had he consciously fantasized what Jim's lips would feel like locked with his, but now he knew he must have entertained a thousand unacknowledged dreams, for they were just as he knew they would be: soft, commanding, an exactly-perfect fit for his own yearning mouth.

This breaking of barriers, this forging of new steel, this tantalizing flick of Kirk's tongue lasted but a few seconds, but it blasted through time and space and every preconception Spock had formed of how the long years of his life would pass.

They eased apart as slowly, as gently as they had come together, but Spock's anchoring hand would not allow Kirk to retreat very far, and Kirk seemed disinclined to move further than an inch from where his mouth had found a home. The commodore, smiling, breathless, and with eyes glowing, was the most beautiful sight Spock had ever seen.

"Are you okay?" Kirk whispered. "Are you sure about this?"

"I have never been more sure of anything."

"I was afraid that I'd read you wrong, that you might just want to be friends."

"Jim, friendship between us is not enough. It has not been enough for me for a considerable time."

"I want to give you so much more. Everything."

"I will take everything. Come here."

He pulled Kirk's head down again, Jim came willingly, and this time the most basic expression of sexual interest became more than a tentative question asked between them, this time it was Jim slowly opening his mouth and breathing life into Spock's, it was the ecstatic, most intimate moment when the tips of their tongues came into moist contact for the first time. Spock moaned again, Jim surged forward and hissed, "Yes!" directly into their joined mouths. Then Jim's broad tongue was in his body again, sliding, claiming, and Spock twisted his own in a desperate attempt for more contact, they moved their labial surfaces against one another frantically, as if to separate would be death.

Spock's heart thundered, a green mist passed before his half-closed eyes when Jim growled "Come here" and his tongue was sucked forward into his captain's mouth. For one panic-stricken moment he believed it was possible that he would lose consciousness because of too much pleasure. He had not known it could be like this. Jim was altering his definition of self, they were doing it together, he was being redefined in the whirlwind of Jim's desire for him, in the desire that was even now hurtling into existence in every cell of Spock's own body. He arched upwards, glorying in the weight of Kirk's arms and chest leaning upon his own torso, yearning for more weight, more pressure on the rest of his body that was not there because Jim remained stubbornly on his knees. Spock wanted more, he could not possibly express how much he wished this sexual contact to continue, to grow, how he wished for this moment to lead to more moments ablaze with sexuality. He wanted to stand in Jim's light and bare everything, body and mind.

He reached over and to the side and wrapped his arms around the man he loved above all beings, hard, and without even thinking his hand slithered down Jim's back, to his trim waist and over to his buttocks. They were perfect. He squeezed their yielding curve and wondered hazily how he and Jim would complete this sexual act, he was so inexperienced but he knew that they would find a way together, and he had a dream that he had never had the courage to actually dream. . . .

And then abruptly Kirk pushed back on stiffened arms. "No," he gasped. "Spock, we can't do this, you're not well, we've got to slow down."

But his body was just awakening to the delights of what conjugal relations with Jim Kirk might be like, and Spock did not listen. He placed his injured right arm around Kirk's waist and heaved. A moment later Kirk left the floor and rolled completely up onto Spock's body, and just as quickly -- and in concert with an undisguised gasp of pain from Spock -- he rolled over onto the other side of the mattress and up onto one elbow.

"Are you all right?" Kirk asked, his chest heaving, while regret, concern, and rampant lust mixed in his eyes.

It took several moments for Spock to respond. The controls he needed for the pain searing his right leg were so far away as to be in another galaxy, or at least the Klingon Empire. He curled up on his left side, closed his eyes and concentrated. It was a long journey back from his arousal, and he witnessed its diminution with real regret. Finally he was back in control, his breathing even, his heartbeat steady, and the exquisitely sharp throbbing around his shinbone had gradually retreated to a manageable ache. He opened his eyes again and Jim was but inches away, staring into his face anxiously. Kirk pressed up close to his curled form, one arm draped over him and cautiously began rubbing the small of his back. No one had ever ministered to Spock's body in this way, purely from concern, from love, and he pushed back minutely to firm the contact.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Spock. We shouldn't have done that. You're still recuperating."

"Jim, I am not that injured. The leg and arm are well on their way to healing or I would not have been released from the hospital, and. . . . "

"No." Kirk was adamant. "I'm not going to cause you pain when we make love for the first time." His hand and voice stopped, then he went on slowly with an awe-struck look. "When we make love. God, Spock, I want to make love with you."

Sexual response returned with a vengeance as even the innocent area of his back that Jim was touching flared into arousal. "Jim," he pleaded hoarsely, hitching forward and reaching.

Kirk snatched his hand away and retreated to the edge of the mattress. He threw his arm over his forehead, stared up at the ceiling and laughed shakily. "I can't believe this. I'm the one showing some restraint, and you're the one who's chasing me all over this bed. Spock, come on, you know we shouldn't."

"It will be at least five days before the doctors certify me fit for light activity. Do you believe you can wait for. . .for consummation that long?" Five days had never sounded such an eternity to Spock.

"Absolutely," Kirk proclaimed, and rolled over to face him again. "And so can you. Because this isn't a one-night stand, this isn't some relationship like the one with Mai that will be over in weeks or months that we need to rush. This is. . . . " Suddenly his voice was different, soft and whisper-sincere. "This is us. Spock, I don't know how it happened or why, but I'm serious about us. Lifetime serious. Does that sound illogical to you? Too soon?"

"Negative," Spock croaked around his swelling joy. "We do not require a period of experimentation and personal proximity. I know that the emotion I harbor for you encompasses the human definition of love." Spock found the forbidden word waiting inside himself, wholly defined by how he felt for James Kirk. "It includes a desire to co-habitate with you on a permanent basis. I love you."

Kirk laughed shakily. "God, you don't know what it does to me to hear you say that, my controlled, logical Vulcan friend. You must really mean it."

"I do." It was easy to say aloud, gratifying to witness the joyous response in his friend. "However, that does not mean we cannot continue to pursue our physical ac -- "

"Oh, yes it does."

Spock easily recognized the stubbornly out-thrust jaw and intransigent attitude. But bowing to James Kirk in battle was not a disgrace. Truth be told, as much as he wished to immediately remove all their clothing and indulge in acts, whatever they might be, that would lead to mutual orgasms, he did not know how he would be able to manage the undeniable fragility of his limbs with the activity needed for such relations.

"Besides," Kirk continued quietly, "I've already caused you so much pain. All of this," he indicated Spock's arm and leg wrapped in the supporting bandages, "it's my fault. If only I hadn't been weak, if I hadn't called you back. God, when I think that you were hit by that idiot because you were coming back to me, because I wasn't strong enough to keep quiet. . . . "

"I admire your strengths, and you have many. But I cannot regret your lapse. If you had not called me. . . . " He reached and Jim met him half-way, their fingers entwined and rested on the sheet between them. "I do not know whether we would be here now."

"I couldn't let everything you went through be for nothing. That night in the hospital, when we didn't even know whether you would. . . . I swore to myself that as soon as you were well I'd talk to you. I just didn't expect it," Kirk offered a small smile, "to be so soon."

Spock cocked his head against the pillow. "When you did call for me. . . . What were you going to say?"

Kirk's eyes misted, and one hand came up to caress the side of his face. Spock turned and daringly licked the capable, loving palm.

"That feels so good," Kirk whispered unsteadily. "God, you are so tempting." He heaved in a deep breath. "I. . .I was going to say that I couldn't let you just go off with T'Brita without giving us a chance first. I'd tried so hard to step back, to give you your chance with her for a more normal Vulcan life that I thought might make you happy, only I couldn't. I was jealous."

Spock tested the idea and found it incomprehensible. James Kirk, who could consort with any being he chose simply because of the force of his incomparable personality, jealous? "Indeed?"

Kirk shrugged against the sheet. "I don't know what else you would call it. Suddenly I was counting up the years since your pon farr, and seeing how beautiful T'Brita is, and how well matched the two of you are. It was hard to think of the two of you together. I didn't know what to do."

Spock was reflective. "She is a good person."

"But not for you," Kirk said definitely, echoing their conversation from the aircar.

"I believe you are correct. Although I was prepared to establish a bond with her because I believed I could not. . .do so with you."

Kirk smiled a soft, confident smile. "And now you know that you can. I meant what I said in the 'car, Spock. I'm free."

"No," Spock said roughly, "you are not. You are mine."

He shocked himself with the possessive tone and jealousy that streaked through his limbs, but Kirk only laughed and stroked his cheek again. "That I am. And you're mine. Equals," he said with evident satisfaction. "I've always wanted that."

A vision of what his life beside Jim Kirk would be like unfolded before his gratified eyes. They would be equals in life, in love, joined through commitment and shared goals. There would be days and nights of Jim's presence, the ease and friendship that had developed on the ship, the passion that they had just discovered between them. . .and the chance to indulge in melds frequently, enhanced by a bond that would draw together their minds as well as their bodies. Perhaps theirs was a perfect universe after all.

Kirk was continuing. "T'Brita is why I brought you here instead of to your apartment."

"You have always been an excellent tactician."

"Damn right. Your place is neutral ground. Here, she'll have to venture into enemy territory to get to you."

"Really, Jim." Spock was amused. "I am not a prize of war over which to fight."

"That depends on your perspective, my friend. My. . .precious. . .friend."

Kirk hitched forward, Spock brought their bodies into gentle, pressing alignment. "Careful," Kirk whispered, already in tantalizing contact with his lips, "just a little. Don't let me hurt you again."

They kissed because they wished to, from affection and the desire to experience more of each other, and because Spock could not imagine responding to Kirk's softly spoken endearment in any other way but the one his body demanded.

Their kiss was long and deep and open-mouthed and everything that Spock had never allowed himself to imagine, his body in service to the emotions he had so long denied. This was right. This was truth uncaged. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the wonder, to the solid, hard strength of Jim's shoulders in his grasp, to the barely-remembered but now welcome sensation of his penis slowly filling, lifting away from his body and matching Jim's own tumescence, to the wondrous taste and wanton sounds and wet touch of a human tongue possessing his mouth.

And when their lips parted their bodies did not. Jim held him, and he held Jim. It was the most satisfying, most fulfilling action in which he could be engaged, kissing Jim, holding him. Spock smiled.

"I like to see you like this," Kirk breathed, and traced his smile with the tip of his tongue. Every moment with Kirk in bed, it seemed, was to educate him further about sexual activities, for electric tingles streaked from Spock's mouth up his cheekbones, his face flushed, and his penis throbbed. He had not known that his lips could feel so alive, nor that his entire body could be energized by one touch. "You're happy. I don't think T'Brita could make you happy, Spock."

Spock ran his hand up and down Jim's back in delighted, tender possession. "Nor could Ms. Tagnaki fulfill your needs. I will tell you that I harbored. . .negative emotions concerning your relationship with her."

"She was almighty jealous of you, too."

"You revealed to her -- "

"No! Of course not. But women have a kind of long-range scanner for their rivals, I think. She knew without really knowing."

"I am not sorry to see her out of your life."

"And you here. It's. . . . " Kirk drew a long, shaky breath, then slowly pushed Spock against the pillow, following to lean over him so closely, like the lover he would be. The desire shining from the hazel eyes was still a surprise to Spock, and he stared up at Kirk, entranced.

"I was wrong before," Jim whispered. "You are beautiful, so beautiful to me. How did I live so long without you? I want to touch you so much. Your body," his hand swept down the length of Spock's chest to rest on his hipbone, "your mind. We'll meld again soon, won't we?"

"Always," Spock promised.

"Not always," Kirk said shakily, "Starfleet would lose one middle-aged commodore because I wouldn't want to do anything else but rest in your mind. And your body. God, Spock, I wish we could. . .touch, just a little. I'm so hard, and I want you so much."

Spock's penis was throbbing so wildly against his pants that he believed he might achieve climax simply through the excitement of Jim's words and their matched desires. He wrapped his arms around Kirk's back and attempted to pull him down. "Jim, let us. . . . "

"No!" Kirk resisted and shook his head violently. "That's it. I can fight what I want, but don't make it harder for me. If I don't get out of this bed right now, I am not going to be responsible for my actions." He shrugged from Spock's embrace, sat up and swung his legs over the side, then swiftly turned around onto his stomach so that he was poised over Spock one last time. "I am going to get us some dinner, and then we'll spend a nice, quiet evening together, and you are going to go to bed early. To sleep. Because we can't make love until you're well. Okay?"

He swooped in to claim one last kiss, then a moment later strode out of the room, tight-fisted and determined, fleeing temptation.

Spock lay back upon the bedclothes and stared at the open door. The late afternoon sun had barely changed its angle of penetration into the room, only seventeen point two five minutes had passed from the moment he had awakened. It was such a short period of time to have transformed his life. Could it have indeed been so easy? One conversation, one moment of confession, a caress, a kiss to erase the years of longing and doubt and sacrifice?

There had been several kisses, he amended, and lightly traced his lips. It felt strange, to be touching his own lips with his fingertips, to know his body had been sexually stimulated with his full, conscious cooperation, that the echoes of that arousal still reverberated in all his limbs. Jim had kissed him, here, he had used these same lips to stimulate Jim into considerable excitement. What was to follow? In approximately five days, if his body cooperated and recuperated to the doctor's satisfaction, then he and Jim. . . .

With a groan Spock rolled over onto his side, his face cradled on his hands, and he attempted to subdue the intense longing that centered in his solar plexus but encompassed the rest of his body and his mind as well. If only he were completely well now, if only Jim were to reappear in this room and lay down upon him, covering him with the desire and weight of his arms and chest and legs and. . .and his penis, so they could complete what they had started, and then begin it again, and spend the entire evening in each other's arms and in each other's minds. He had waited so long for this to happen, he did not know if he could wait another hour, much less most of a week.

And when that time came, what would they do?

Spock's swallow was so distinct in the quiet room that it sounded explosively loud even to him. He had never permitted himself to contemplate -- only in the most general way. He had no experience, only inspecific knowledge of male to male sexual practices, but he had considerable desire. Mutual manual masturbation, frottage, oral intercourse, mutual oral intercourse, anal penetration: the technical terms paraded before his mind dry of content and devoid of meaning, as he had always imposed his controlled disinterest on any sexual terms. But now. . . .

Hesitantly, he experimented with an image, to test if he had truly learned how to bypass the barriers that had been a part of his life for so long. He thought of Jim as he would look breathtakingly naked, presenting a beautifully human and impressively erect organ, kneeling before him to take Spock's own penis in his mouth. . . .

With a gasp, Spock rolled over onto his stomach and stabbed his suddenly demanding organ against the mattress, then gasped again as the extension and strain of muscle shot consuming pain through his leg. If he had been human, he might have resorted to the audible utterance of an expletive. As it was, he hung on the edges of intense arousal and considerable discomfort for long seconds, until finally he was left drained and shaking.

This condition was not acceptable. The activities that it was absolutely necessary he pursue were in conflict with his abilities at this time. What could be done to resolve this dilemma? An application of rudimentary reasoning produced an obvious answer: the Vulcan healing trance that had been denied him by the consultation of the 'base healer.

But Jim would never agree to be there to rouse him from the trance, not until the healer certified him fit, even if he were capable of initiating the complex mental discipline. Spock pondered deeply. Another possibility loomed, but there was a degree of risk involved. Spock was not certain the possible negative consequences were justified, and Jim would surely object, perhaps with reason. It might not be the wisest decision to initiate the lar'gnatlu. Prudence cautioned that two mature men could wait five days. But prudence had never sounded so. . .irrelevant. Perhaps he would be able to --

"Spock?" The call came from the foot of the stairs. "Coming down for dinner, or do you want help?"

He moved with as much alacrity as was possible, already regretting the few minutes he had spent apart from Jim. This time was precious.

The evening spent in Kirk's dwelling was as different from the previous evening he had spent there as it was possible to be. There were ease and comfort, blessed privacy during which he could gaze upon his beloved as often as he wished, and revel in the looks Jim gifted him with in return. The turmoil and doubt of the party were banished, and his distaste for the openly displayed emotions of the humans celebrating the turn of a new year was replaced with a profound gratitude that he could express, and share, the best of emotions with the man he respected and treasured.

They witnessed a quiet sunset from the deck at the back of Kirk's dwelling, leaning on a wooden fence side by side, their forearms comfortably pressed together through the jackets that Kirk insisted they both don. It was not a spectacular display, but one made special by contentment. The disk of the sun slid behind the ordinary houses that blocked the clear line of the horizon, and again deja vu swept over Spock. He had never stood with Kirk in this way, and yet it felt as if he had done so hundreds of times, as if the sight of Jim's face tipped with flame and staring out into the fiery sky were a familiar one.

Spock turned, pulled Kirk back against his chest so they could still observe the deepening twilight and the first appearance of the stars together, and was moved when Kirk yielded to him, leaned against him so easily with such trust. He brushed his lips against the side of the golden head. "You are beautiful," he murmured into a rounded human ear he found intoxicating, and it was true.

After a simple dinner -- "You won't be getting much of a cook, Spock, all I can do is punch buttons" -- they settled upon the same blue couch that Spock had shared with T'Brita. Spock could see the doubt in Kirk's eyes in the next moment of silence, felt his own desires rising.

"Perhaps a news vidcast?" he offered. As Kirk had said, they could wait, even if Spock had no intention of putting off the consummation of his desires for the long length of days.

With obvious reluctance Kirk nodded and instructed the computer to start the holographic news display, then fetched an ottoman so that Spock could elevate his leg. They wrangled over which media consortium produced the broadcast most favorable to Starfleet's interests, and Spock found even their disagreement to be intensely stimulating. He had not known Jim favored the less well-funded Arcturans because of their more technical, precise approach.

The discussion was an excuse for them to touch -- hand upon shoulder, fingers dancing together -- the touch an incitement to move closer -- arms reaching to encircle his shoulder, the warm pleasure of thigh pressing against thigh -- and before the broadcast was over Spock not only was familiar with Kirk's views on the excessive power the media had over Starfleet funding requests, but he also knew what it was to rest comfortably within the circle of his t'hy'la's embrace, and not to pay any attention to the droning voice or flashing vids that were being created on the holographic home-stage. The look in Jim's eyes, the soft kisses they shared were all he wanted.

Shortly after Kirk quietly commanded, "Computer, holo-cast off" so that they could bask together in silence and content, looking, gently exploring faces with fingertips, keeping their arousal tuned to a gentle simmer, the vidphone buzzed.

"Damn," Kirk said, tracing the length of Spock's nose with his forefinger. "I'd better get that in case it's headquarters."

It was not headquarters, it was T'Brita. "Good evening, Commodore," Spock could hear from across the room. Abruptly he sat up from where he lay virtually sprawled upon the couch, where Kirk had left him.

"Hello, T'Brita."

"It was an unanticipated event to contact Spock's apartment and not find him there. Am I correct in assuming that he is instead with you?"

"That's right." Kirk moved to block Spock's view of the pick-up. He also, Spock noted, was not giving T'Brita an inch of cooperation.

"I do not understand why you found it necessary to escort him to an unfamiliar dwelling; surely he would be more comfortable in his domicile. However, what is done is done, and it is not necessary for you to justify your decisions to me. I would speak with Spock if he is well enough to do so."

"I don't think that's a good idea. He was exhausted by the trip here from the hospital. I sent him to bed."

And followed me there, Spock thought wryly.

"I. . .see," T'Brita said, and Spock wondered if indeed she did.

"Should I tell him you called?" Kirk offered generously.

"Yes, please do so. Relay my best wishes for his comfort and complete recovery. Is there anything that I can do at this time which will be of help to either you or Spock?"

"No, everything is going fine."

"Very well. I would caution you, Commodore, not to allow Captain Spock to become overtired. I am sure we are united in our hopes for his rapid return to health."

"We are, T'Brita. I'll take good care of him. Good-night."

"Good-evening, Commodore."

A completely unabashed Kirk turned away from the vidphone and advanced towards the couch. "You heard the lady, time for you to go to bed."

Spock looked down at his hands clasped between his knees. "Jim, that was. . .not well done of us. I should have spoken with her."

"You will, Spock, when it's the right time. I know you, talking to her now would just get you feeling guilty, which isn't good for your recuperation, and would be disastrous for my chances of a decent good-night kiss. You think too much, you know."

"James Kirk," he accused as he was carefully helped upright by Kirk's caring hands, "you are outrageous."

It was disconcerting to Spock to find that his body rebelled against the day's activities. He experienced unmistakable discomfort as they made their slow, step-by-step way up the stairs, and was somewhat alarmed to be required to stop mid-way to catch his breath.

"I think T'Brita would have reason to be upset with us," Kirk said grimly as he waited, supporting with his arm about Spock's waist. "You definitely overdid it."

"With considerable assistance," Spock replied acerbically.

So the passionate kiss that Spock craved, which he knew Kirk wanted, became instead a sweet, innocent pressing of lips after Spock had once again been covered with an excessive number of blankets. "Good-night," Kirk whispered, breathing against his lips. "Call me if you need anything."

"Besides you?"

Kirk smiled into their mouths' contact. "I love your sense of humor. I couldn't marry anyone without it, you know. Now go to sleep."

"Good-night, tyrant."

The door had not even closed before Spock knew that sleep was impossible. A new and determined fire burned inside him, consuming Spock's prudence and the cautions of the healer. It destroyed his analysis of the dangers of the lar'gnatlu. He would not spend this night nor any other night half-realized, half-loved, half-discovered, his cocoon incompletely opened. The evening's soft caresses could not possibly be enough.

He could not have all of what he craved, Jim's mind moving within his in the light of the meld, but he would this night share his body. It was necessary.

Very well. No meld, no healing trance. But one other option beckoned him. Carefully he accessed his strength -- meager -- his will -- considerable -- and his desire. Together Spock judged that they would just be enough.

Closing his eyes, he sought for the first truths. I am. I am Spock. I am the mind and the body.

I am loved.

*****

Spock paused in the doorway of the bedroom where James Kirk had made love with many women, most recently with Mai Tagnaki. The tiny glow of the chronometer reading 02:47 and the leech of moonlight from around the drawn shade provided the only illumination in the room, but he could make out the bulky shadow of a wooden wardrobe to one side, the outline of the window and the long desk before it to the left, and the bed that sheltered Jim between the two.

He took a step closer, moving easily and without pain, and gloried at the life that tingled through his veins. He perceived his whole unclothed body moving through time and space to this precise moment, to this exact room, as if it were a predestined event he had been avoiding for years. But now he yielded to its inevitability. He yielded with his skin, kissed by warm air, with the prickle of the hairs on his arms as he came closer to his sleeping love, he yielded with his sexual organ swinging freely between his legs, to be openly shared with Jim Kirk.

This was to be his future; he would have the right to observe Jim sleeping, to waken him and stand before him unclothed, to move against him in the night. Although this invasion of privacy went against the precepts with which Spock had lived his life, his life was changed now.

Another few steps, his knees gently brushed against the side of the bed. Now that he had finally lifted the veil of his feigned disinterest, he could feast upon the sight of the object of his desires, and know that he had always loved Jim's body as well as his spirit and his mind. Hadn't his dreams of Jim Kirk's body sent him to Gol?

Jim was curled up on his right side facing the window, breathing softly. His naked torso gleamed, the white skin seemed to shine in the star-touched darkness, the sheet draped its way haphazardly across his lower body to reveal the outline of briefs snugged across the delicious curve of his buttocks. To Spock, his beloved looked the epitome of masculine beauty, a rare combination of strength and sensitivity that enticed him beyond bearing, a being to whom he could surrender in absolute trust, and who would surrender to Spock's own strengths in wanton delight. He knew how it would be between them now, he could close his eyes and imagine it. . . .

Soon, Spock would touch that body, make it his own, shower it with all the love of which he was capable. He would learn to make that body sing with pleasure. All he had to do was reach out and touch, or call Jim's name, and his life would be transformed. His heart's desire would fall into the palm of his hand. Soon.

As quietly as he was able, Spock dropped to his knees beside the bed and daringly grasped the edge of the mattress. Kirk did not stir, did not react to Spock's breath blessing him.

His day had been a cataclysm of profound intimacies, from Jim's arrival at the hospital, the revealing conversation in the aircar, the astonishment of awakening and finding Kirk's lips so close to his, but all of that was merely a prelude. Spock would not be able to rest until they had joined their bodies in the sexual act, until he ached with the force of Jim's hands upon him and had revealed everything, everything. For so long he had hidden, remained passive, waited for events to unfold around him because of his fear, his reticence, his inability to expose his love. But now his true self was unfurling, like a seed hidden and dormant in the crack of a stone in the desert, suddenly nourished by spring rain. He knew what he wanted, and would not wait any longer. He desperately needed to be seen entire.

"Jim," he murmured, "wake up."

His love had been a starship captain, and men of that breed do not take long to gather their wits. The hazel eyes flew open, accessed Spock kneeling there, and a moment later Kirk smiled with instant comprehension. "What," he breathed, "have you done?"

"The lar'gnatlu. It is. . .not important. But I am no longer injured."

"The lar . . ." Kirk's brow wrinkled, "the small trance?"

Spock nodded solemnly. Like everything else that had occurred between the two of them that day, kneeling at the side of Jim's bed in the darkness, totally naked and having a conversation, did not seem unusual at all.

"Not as effective as the G'natlu, nor does it require the presence of an outside agent." Most of the time, when it works properly, he amended to himself. Jim did not require every detail. "I deemed it necessary to initiate it tonight, along with meditation, and it has improved my condition by seventy-six point four percent."

Kirk put out his hand, rested it palm flat against the hair on Spock's chest, between his nipples. Spock looked down at it and sucked air between his teeth.

"Seventy-six point four percent," Kirk said slowly. "Tomorrow, am I going to get some information on this lar'gnatlu and discover that it was dangerous for you to do? Am I going to be madder than hell at you?"

"Possibly," Spock said without a hint of regret. "However, I anticipate that you will also be gratified and satisfied because my actions will have allowed us to spend the night together."

"Should we?" Kirk asked, his eyes suddenly large and looking deeply into Spock's. "Should we really do this? I don't want to talk you into this just because I -- "

Abruptly Spock wrenched himself away and to his feet. "Look at me, Jim," he commanded, taking three steps back and extending his arms wide, feeling foolish and exposed and desperate to convey the depths of his wanting. "This is who I am. Spock of Vulcan, of Starfleet, with an inexperienced body and no proficiency in expressing the emotions with which you are so familiar. See me? I am not one of the women to whom you are accustomed, but I love you, more than anyone else could. I want to share with you, everything, to take and to give. Will you? Will you see the truth of what I am?"

Kirk did not abandon him, even for a moment, to stand alone in the center of the room. In a flash he was up and out of the bed, skinning his briefs off and kicking them away, advancing to stand but a foot in front of Spock.

He reached his arms wide, grasping wrists that Spock still held suspended.

"See me, my friend," he said thickly, his deep sincerity stabbing truth into Spock's eyes, "wanting you, only you, wanting everything you are. I'll spend the rest of my life accepting what you are. Can you accept that truth? That I love you and want you so much, in every way?"

Jim was so close. Their arms were vibrating with the effort of their emotions, with the force of their desire, a last physical barrier keeping apart two who were meant to be together. Slowly Spock brought their joined arms down from their suffering, to their sides, he linked their fingers together. "Let us make love, Jim," he whispered. "Now."

Did it matter that he had only one sexual experience to draw from, that Kirk's many encounters had never included a single one with another man?

. . .Jim's mouth as he moved from lips down to Spock's neck, the side of his jaw, sucking and licking, it was so sensitive, ahhh, he had not known. . . .

. . .Human nipples hardening against his palm, so firm as he pinched them, rolled them between his fingers in delight, wanting to hear Jim's soft exclamations again and again. . . .

The brush of a hand against his penis, oh, yes, touch me there, touch me! and fingers wrapping around him, how do you know, exactly, exactly, yes! hearing his own voice in a moan, a sound he had surely never made before, but it was right with Jim who would know everything, right here with knowledgeable, loving fingers pumping his erection, this unfamiliar wellspring from his body, a gift he gave to his beloved. A voice whispering, "You are hard and beautiful, I love your cock in my hand," and there was no reason to hide, he would show it all, oh, Jim. . . .

A demanding stab against his thigh and his own fingers seeking, finding, his heart thumping so loudly and was it possible, here standing in this bedroom with Jim's hard penis ready for copulation against his palm and he fell to his knees with a cry and tears staining his face, not even knowing what it was that drove him but he must have it, all of it, if he didn't have it, what he wanted, Jim's penis jutting into the starlight, so beautiful he had to touch it, cradle it in both hands, kiss it, put tongue to the leaking slit, first taste of promised ejaculate, ambrosia, he would have more, down the years he would do this, taste Jim, Jim would erupt into his mouth screaming his joy, but for now this first time he would suck the leaking penis into his mouth.

Startling truth suddenly revealed: he had wanted to suck Jim's penis for years, had dreamed of the warmth against his tongue, the frantic thrust forward, Jim's moan of pleasure, the heft of human testicles in his hand. All of it imagined in the midnight hour of the dream, all of it familiar. Satisfaction. Ahhhh. Yes. Give it to me, your steel softness, your silken strength, just like you, your penis is you. Hands tangled in his hair, caressed the tips of his ears, pulses of sexual energy trickled down his spine and he thought he would explode from wanting Jim's cock so much. . . .

"Oh, God, Spock, oh, God!"

. . .and it tasted so good, suck, lick, tongue, but suddenly not enough and it was as if they were in a meld for Jim knew, pushed against Spock's shoulders, pulled him up and pressed him over to the bed, down onto his back. . . .

. . .Climbed over him, lowered his body down upon Spock's. . . .

He would have shrieked if he had had the breath, but his exultation came out in a whisper, a sob of longing, of laughter, to know at last Kirk's body over his, skin to skin, groin to groin, its weight possessing him -- "Yes, Jim, yes!" -- he heaved up and wrapped his arms around his love, wrapped his legs around the strong human body he craved more than he needed air to breathe, closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of sex, of love. He tilted his pelvis up just as Jim thrust down upon him, nerve endings screamed rapture as their penises kissed for the first time with sheer masculine power, and he gasped Yes! they were men copulating, he had always wanted to copulate with Jim and now, unbelievably, he lay locked in a sweat-tacky carnal embrace with the man he loved, and again he jerked his hips up as Jim thrust down, and he did not have words for how he felt, how Jim was making him feel, how his body sang. He had not known there was this accumulation of joy in a single universe.

Frenzied movement, his body against that other he craved, must have, push, thrust up, the movement of back muscles beneath his hands as he clutched Jim to him, the sound of Jim's frantic panting, the slick sound of flesh against flesh as they rocked, moved, slid against each other, pushing. . . . And then stillness. Silence. Searching blindly for the soft mouth, finding it, kissing.

"Spock?"

His penis pulsed against Kirk's at the sound of his lover's voice.

Warm breath in his face. "Spock, what do you want? How should we finish this? I don't. . . . "

Spock opened his eyes, caught Kirk's hesitancy laid over fierce desire.

I have already said it, I want to share everything with you, my love.

Even this, see me for what I am, what I need from you, don't turn me away because of what I need from you, rolling over onto his stomach, raising his ass and feeling Kirk's swollen sex brush against him, maneuvering so that it nestled within the crack that led to the entrance of his body.

"This way," he said. Or did he think it, shout it?

He perceived Kirk's hesitation, felt the "no" form and then dissolve into acquiescence, felt Jim's hands grip his hips in just the right spot for leverage, as if they'd done this before, as if all the times they would do this thing in the years to come, this expression of love and lust and possession and knowledge had already been experienced. But this was the first time, and so the hands fell away and it was still awkward when Jim fumbled in a bedside drawer for lubricant, difficult to remain still and on display in this most sexual position. He rubbed his face against the sheet and sobbed when his upraised anus felt the first touch of Jim's finger bringing moist coolness, but Jim didn't ask him if the sound were pain or pleasure, he knew, he must know how every second burned into Spock's memory, he would always retain this touch, the first slide of a finger into his body, how two digits stretched him with sure knowledge of what was to come, and he would always remember the centering of Jim's penis against him, the certain, careful pushing forward that split him wide, opened him along with Jim's breathless words. . . .

"I love you, Spock. God, I want you so much, you are so tight!"

. . .and with the last exclamation finally holding Jim within his body.

He saw green, he couldn't breathe, his frantic reaching for air filled the room, but they were moans too as Jim began to move within him, he'd never thought, never known, this is anal intercourse with the one who will be mine forever, unbelievable that this they could always share, this would be their right, he could experience this pleasure again and again and then the rhythm of Jim's thrusts changed, slowed, he leaned forward over Spock and his hand came around. . . .

"Try to come with me."

. . .There was no way he could resist, Jim's thrusts rocked him forward against the hand laid flat against his penis, pushing his sex up against his belly, sweet fire, he recognized how close he was to orgasm, he thought of how they must look together, flesh upon flesh, his body gored by Jim's swollen penis, the single crown disappearing within his rectum and then reappearing, moist, wonderful, strong, always his, always his, they would do this again, Jim would open him so he couldn't hide and they would share everything. . . .

A movement never consciously felt before from that part of him so long ignored, a trembling in his testicles, energy flashing up and through his penis, Jim! he tried to shout, Jim! Here is my orgasm, Here I am! but he couldn't speak, it was too much, he could only close his eyes and with a groan pulled up from his deepest hidden places he rode the unbelievable peak of pleasure -- this is what drives the humans -- that caught him and shook him and his semen gushed over Jim's tightening fingers.

Even as the last tremors of his climax weakened his limbs, Kirk growled "For you, Spock, for you," and a deep thrust, another, and unmistakable warmth flooded his bowels deep inside, Jim was ejaculating inside his body, how could he ever comprehend this joy? Human seed, Jim's seed now in his keeping where Spock would forever guard it, it would forever link the two of them into one life, one love.

Slowly, very slowly so as not to dislodge the possession that he'd been craving for an eternity, Spock lowered himself and his once and future captain down to the flat surface of the bed.

Peace.

Ten glorious minutes later, minutes laying bonelessly flat with Kirk's full weight spread upon him, Spock finally felt Jim stir. His lips brushed the side of Spock's face and his words were a sweet breeze.

"All of this, and we'll have the meld, too."

****

Sixty-five hours later the chime to Kirk's dwelling rang, and T'Brita stood in the doorway.

"Good-evening, Commodore Kirk, Captain Spock," she said correctly as she crossed the threshold. "I appreciate your invitation to visit this evening."

"We are pleased that you are here," Spock said. "Your visit honors us."

"Hello, T'Brita," was Kirk's restrained contribution.

Spock escorted her to the living room in silence, the smallest hesitation to his stride the only evidence of his injury, and Kirk followed close behind. Although they had spent the last days in a new world set apart, forged with trust and touch and love, they had also agreed it was now time to re-embrace duty and obligation, appearing before Spock in the person of one visually-appealing, worthy Vulcan female. T'Brita's black hair, hallmark of her clan and race, cascaded down her back in a new style, with the curls and waves and froth of this new world on which she visited, not the stylized constructions that were popular on her homeworld. She took a seat on the blue couch with a rustle of the same red skirt she had worn when Spock had first become aware of her potential as a bondmate, coming to rest with her erect spine not touching the upholstered back. The two lovers sat on separate wing-back chairs.

"Spock, I am pleased that you are apparently improved."

"Yes, I should be able to return to duty within a few more days."

"That will be of benefit to the project. Your guidance has been missed, and no one from my team can match your expertise. Commodore Kirk, I have not heard from you requesting assistance, so I assume that your duties in promoting Spock's return to health have not been onerous?"

"Everything's been going fine, T'Brita," Kirk said quietly, as composed as the two Vulcans. "As you can see. Can I get you something to drink?"

"This is a custom that our people share with yours, Commodore, the offering of liquid refreshment to guests. Has Spock told you of that? I find it interesting. And yes, I have developed a fondness for a beverage called root beer. Is your synthesizer capable of its construction?"

"One root beer, coming up."

As Kirk disappeared into the kitchen, T'Brita picked up the package in her lap and held it out towards Spock. "It is not a custom on Vulcan to exchange material goods as you know, but I thought this suitable considering your background. I hope you find it interesting during your recovery."

Touched, Spock reached into the brown plastic bag and pulled out a leather-bound, weighty tome entitled Discovering New Worlds: Space Exploration and its Effect on Twenty-second Century Terran Poetry.

This confrontation with the woman who wished to be his bondmate was not going as he had planned. Spock flipped through the pages of the book in silence, realizing the genuine thoughtfulness behind its selection, and the effort T'Brita was making to adjust to his needs. Finally he looked up to encounter her intent gaze. "This gift is most perceptive, T'Brita. I thank you."

"I did not know if you preferred tapes or printed presentations, but an acquaintance of yours from headquarters said that he had seen you with such volumes before, so I made the selection based on that recommendation."

"Indeed, I do indulge in both types of reading material."

There was a short, awkward silence, broken by Kirk's reappearance with a glass in hand, his observation of the book, the necessary perusal and explanation of it.

"Do you enjoy poetry, Commodore?" T'Brita asked politely as Kirk, with a speaking glance, passed the book back to Spock.

"No, I'm afraid that's one interest of Spock's I don't share."

"Ah, then we are not likely to see you at one of the poetry readings. I attended one last night, Spock, and found several presentations of value. I regretted not having a recording device so that I could share the event with you."

"I imagine you'd have to get the permission of the artists," Kirk cut in.

"That is true. I had not considered Terran copyright laws, with which I am unfamiliar. However, I believe that the proprietor is considering a publication of selected poems in the near future. I will purchase one if it becomes available, and perhaps you would enjoy one as well, Spock."

"That would be an interesting addition to my library."

"It would also give us the opportunity to discuss one poem in particular which intrigued me last night. It is written by Allan Cohen, with whom you are familiar, and it addresses the issues which we have touched upon before: uncommon affection and sacrifice."

There was a pregnant pause, until Kirk rose from his chair. "If you'll excuse me," he said with an easy smile, "I think I'll leave you two to discuss poetry in peace. It would all go over my head anyway, and I have some work to do upstairs in the office that I can't put off any longer. T'Brita, it's been a pleasure to see you again."

Spock watched his lover retreating up the stairs, postponing the moment of revelation with T'Brita and substituting his pleasure in perceiving Jim across the room instead. They had been so close these past days, he literally had not had the opportunity to regard his lover from a distance. But he did not allow himself more than a moment's warm regard before evenly turning his attention back to an expectant T'Brita. His serenity was newborn, child of the days spent by Kirk's side and the nights in his arms, and it was challenged by the task he must now perform and which Jim discreetly supported through his absence. But the turmoil and doubts of the past were banished. He could speak to her with confidence. Regret was there, too.

"T'Brita, we must speak." She would appreciate a direct approach, in the way of their people.

"Indeed. When do you plan to return to your apartment? I am anxious to initiate another meld between us, and I do not believe it would be comfortable to do so in this house. Perhaps I am incorrect, as the commodore is always gracious, but I believe that he -- "

"T'Brita," he interrupted her, "You must know. There will be no melds."

"I. . .see." She composed her hands in her lap. Spock looked for a physical manifestation of disappointment, and perhaps perceived it in the careful way she folded finger upon finger. Or perhaps that was no sign at all. She was a most admirable follower of the ways of Surak, despite her eagerness to learn of other cultures.

She continued in a quiet tone, "You have decided that I am not suitable to be your bondmate."

Spock shook his head in the human gesture he had adopted when he first attended the Academy. "That is not the case. You are eminently suitable to become my bondmate, and I believe that a joining between us would be satisfactory."

She cocked her head in the habit she had, one that Spock realized with a pang that he would miss. "However? I am learning to interpret the emotional inflections humans impose on their language, and usually there is the word 'however' following such a sentence as you have spoken. You are about to give me the reason why there will be no more melds even though I am suitable."

He bowed his head and clasped his hands between his knees. "You have an admirable intellect and an inquiring mind that will enhance your career. I am impressed with your character, and your children will be fortunate in their mother. We are compatible in many ways. But you must know. . . . " He met her eyes, for he would never pronounce this truth with any shame. "There is another with whom I will join my life."

T'Brita gazed at him, blinked, gazed long again during the silence that was broken only by the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner, an artifact that would not even exist on Vulcan. Finally she said, "I know of no other female with whom you are in close contact. Has your clan proposed another?"

"Negative. I am to bond with Commodore Kirk."

She assimilated that information in silence, and Spock permitted her that space of time that any Vulcan required to subdue emotional response. He had no doubt she was experiencing it, in the inner place which Surak taught must never be revealed or released -- except in the uncontrolled madness of pon farr.

"I confess that this is unexpected news," she suddenly said, her head coming up sharply. "And yet perhaps I have witnessed clues of an attachment between the two of you which I did not have the experience to evaluate properly. Nevertheless, it is not overtly logical to choose a sterile bonding. I can offer you children, Spock."

"T'Brita," he said gently, "life with the one who completes me could never be sterile."

"I. . . . " She looked down at the glass in her hand, carefully placed it on the small table nearby, adjusted the folds of her skirt. The retreat from the emotion he offered her was obvious, and yet. . . . "I do not understand. Or. . .perhaps I do," she said slowly. "Is this an example of a human proverb I have recently encountered? 'The heart has a logic of its own,' it said. The humans associate romantic emotion with the heart. So you are saying that your choice is a logical one, when viewed within the context of both reason and emotion?"

"Yes," he said with satisfaction. "You understand me well."

"No, I do not believe I do. I found our meld to be most stimulating, Spock, and I have a strong desire to repeat it. Perhaps I have not made my reaction to our joining clear enough, perhaps you require a more emotional response from me."

"Such response is not necessary, I am aware of your wishes. And I too found our joining to be. . . . I might say 'more than satisfactory,' in the way of our people, but instead I will say that our joining was a profound pleasure that I will not soon forget."

He hitched forward in his chair, held out his hands, and hesitantly, T'Brita placed her hands in his. They were small and warm. "I must thank you for what you have given me. Your kindness. Your understanding and your interest. I was in considerable confusion when we met, but the touch of your mind in mine cleared my path, provided me with some stability and a measure of perspective which I had lacked before."

She looked up at him with a touch of distress. "You say then that I am the instrument that led to your. . .arrangement with Commodore Kirk?"

"In a small way," he said as kindly as he could. Some truths were so painful to reveal. "Our friendship is of long standing, it only needed the correct time to mature into a. . .more formal attachment."

She searched his face. "This is what you truly want, a bonding with him?"

He nodded. "I love him."

"I do not understand love," she said wistfully. "I do not believe many Vulcans would even wish to, but much of what I have observed here on Earth has led me to contemplate its value. Perhaps there is the touch of such an emotion between long-bonded couples I have known."

"Yes, even though our people do not speak of it. T'Brita, I should not dare to presume that my own experience could be of benefit to you, but I offer it to you for consideration. Do not give up in your search for a compatible life partner. Your quest is logical and you are a most worthy individual. I have no doubt that your many excellent qualities will be appreciated by someone who will be more than acceptable to you, someone whose presence will be necessary for your well-being. Be patient, for there are occasions when time alone will provide you with what you desire."

"Much time has already passed for me, Spock," she said with longing undisguised. "It has been ten years since Solur died."

"And we are a long-lived people. Do not settle for the merely adequate, T'Brita, which is all that I could ever have been for you. I would see you happy."

"Happy? I am not sure that term has relevance for Vulcans."

"I have discovered that it does."

She nodded and looked down at their hands, then slowly drew hers away into her lap. "I will consider what you have said."

"I am pleased."

And suddenly she was on her feet and he rose to face her. "I do not believe it would be beneficial for either of us to continue this conversation. We have both said what we wish to say. Except that, I do most definitely regret that we shall not be bondmates, Spock. I do not entirely understand why you choose to bond with a human, and another male at that, but perhaps I will one day. This is your choice, and I can only entertain the hope that it is the correct one for you. Live long and prosper, Spock."

He matched her raised hand. "Peace and long life, T'Brita. And happiness."

She ducked her head and did not meet his eyes, and as he escorted her to the front door they did not exchange another word. Spock watched her walk down the steps towards her rented 'car, and then quietly closed the door.

He looked around the foyer of Kirk's dwelling. His dwelling, now, because there was no reason for him to leave. Within a few days they planned to cancel the lease on Spock's apartment and transfer his possessions. That would be a satisfying day. Or perhaps, in the truth-filled words he had used with T'Brita, it would be a profound pleasure, as all the days and nights that he spent with Kirk had always been, would always be.

He walked across to the foot of the steps that had proven such a challenge to him a few days ago, which were an easy part of his new life now. He looked up the stairwell. Jim was upstairs, waiting for him. He could hear the small body movements, the soft commands his lover gave to the computer as he worked and waited for the time that they would share tonight.

What a long journey he had been on, what a distance he had traversed and how difficult it had been to climb up from the depths of denial and despair. He looked down the long pathway of his life and could barely see the truth of the Spock who had been, who had hidden and denied so much of himself. No doubt there would be difficulties in the future, confusion and decisions not easy to make, but everything would be illuminated by the blazing joy he had found with Jim, as it was now. Despite his distress over the parting with T'Brita, still the very air that surrounded him sparkled with the happiness that he wished for her. He had happiness in his grasp. Even better, Jim offered him love and desire and the gift of his body.

Within a few days, the gift of his mind, too, for the healer would certify Spock fit to resume mental activities, and they would return to this house, he would turn to Jim with hands outstretched, and they would fall together into a meld. He longed for it. Last night Jim had awakened, reached for him and told him in hushed, sacred tones that he had dreamed of their minds coming together. His cheeks had been wet.

And Spock had no doubt at all that when they finally joined in an explosion of need and affection, the bond would form between them.

Easily he climbed the stairs and stood in the doorway of Kirk's office. Jim swiveled in his chair, looked up at him, then erased the distance between them. Spock took his love in his arms and kissed his perfect lips. They swayed against one another in silent support.

"No regrets?" Jim eventually whispered, his breath a butterfly kiss against Spock's cheek.

"You know there are none. You are the one I want, the one I cannot live without." He sighed with joy and tightened his embrace, still in wonder that his arms could claim the one he loved. It was so satisfying to be able to reveal the truth of his heart to Jim, only to Jim.

"I almost feel sorry for her," Kirk reflected. "She'll never really know you."

"Even if I had bonded with her, she would not have known me."

"But I do," Jim whispered. He pulled back and matched their gazes, and Spock saw the promise of the future they would share. "I will always know you."

At last he was free.

THE END

Notes:

"Pacing the Cage" was originally published in Beyond Dreams 1

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Pacing the Cage

Jenna Hilary Sinclair (JennaHilary)

Chapter 4

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