BONES
McCoy watched, scarcely breathing, as his two friends materialised on the platform. To honour their return, he and the rest of the welcoming group had swiftly donned their dress uniform tunics but he soon forgot the stranglehold around his neck on seeing Jim and Spock alive and well.
"Jim!" he exclaimed. "Dammit, Jim, I'm so glad to see you." The urge to weep aloud was almost overwhelming and he controlled it with difficulty.
The wide smile which greeted the doctor, eased his worries a little as it transmitted a carefree, untroubled happiness. However, the trained professional in McCoy studied the gold and black outfit Kirk wore, noticed the thinness of face and body, and the scale of his concern increased.
"Sickbay. You've lost weight," he snapped.
Kirk began to protest, but McCoy ignored him and turning on the Vulcan standing in his usual place at the captain's shoulder hissed, "Damn you, Spock. You've not been taking care of him. What kind of friend are you, anyway?"
Spock's eyes narrowed but he did not reply.
"Bones, Bones, calm down. I'm okay," Kirk intervened. "I'll come to sickbay soon. I have matters to attend first."
McCoy's practised medical eye, his diagnostic skill noted the tell-tale signs of the ordeal his friend had been through, and the weeks of stress and worry accumulated into one intense, angry burst of accusation. "You let him get hurt, you damn green-blooded, pointy-eared computer. Why weren't you there in time to save him? You delayed too long. What the hell happened down there?"
The flash of fury that streaked from the Vulcan's eyes caused McCoy to physically recoil with a fear he had not experienced for years.
"Bones, enough," Kirk snapped with all the force of command behind it.
He greeted the others then strode from the transporter room, with Spock following, leaving McCoy standing there shaking with rage. At himself or with them? McCoy could not tell. Without a glance at the watching Lt. Kyle he stormed out and made his way to his office in Sickbay, where he opened a bottle of Saurian brandy and took a long, satisfying swig of the fiery drink.
The Enterprise left orbit and McCoy still sat at his desk, his anger at himself and the other two increasing with every minute. He had no idea of what had happened to them for they had not even deigned to tell him. He had been sick with worry; afraid of never seeing them again, never knowing what their fate might be. On the return journey from Paradion, he had scarcely slept for fear of the worst - the death of his two closest friends. And how had he greeted them? How had he greeted Spock? The answer to the latter question caused him to squirm with guilt.
How could he have accused Spock like that?
He knew they must have endured a terrible ordeal on Kathal. Instead of supporting them, greeting them with the deep affection he held for them, he had allowed his acerbic tongue to spout complaints, saying things he did not mean. Miserably he sat there, deaf to all around him, not hearing the hissing sound of the door release.
"Bones," called the soft, familiar voice of his captain and friend.
Quickly standing up, McCoy swivelled round to stare into the smiling face for a split second before drawing the younger man into a tight hug. "Jim, I'm sorry."
Jim returned the hold. "It's okay, and I'm fine. You can check me out; then you'll see. Don't worry so much, Bones."
McCoy stood back but kept a firm grip on the broad shoulders of a body which now appeared so vulnerable. "You're damn right, I'll check you out," he responded gruffly. "What the hell happened to you down there?"
Kirk saw the concern in the other's eyes and remorse hit him. Bones had not known if he and Spock were alive or dead. Sometimes Kirk forgot that behind the other man's crusty exterior was a very close friend with deep feelings for him and, although the doctor would never admit to them, for Spock. It was always the same on long starship voyages; one either formed close attachments with one's shipmates or life was intolerable. Sentient beings could not survive alone. All were dependent, to some degree, on others.
"I was captured and sold. Spock rescued me. We had to play master and slave for a while." Kirk shrugged. "We're home now."
McCoy studied him carefully. "There's a lot more to it, Jim."
Kirk nodded. "Yes, much more but I can't talk about it yet. Please understand, Bones, it's too soon. Suffice to say that Spock was my salvation. I owe him so much." He turned away to hide the depth of his emotion from the perceptive doctor.
"And I accused him of not taking care of you," McCoy berated himself.
"He knows you didn't mean it," Kirk assured.
Remembering how those eyes had blazed at him, McCoy wondered if Jim was sparing his feelings. "Where is he? I should apologise."
Kirk chewed at his lower lip. "He asked my permission for two days to meditate. I couldn't refuse him."
Seeing Jim's unhappiness, McCoy poured a glass of brandy and handed it to him. "Drink this, I think you need it."
Kirk smiled his thanks, took a gulp and sat down. "I'm worried about him, Bones." He had to talk to someone and McCoy was the only one who might understand. "That planet was like something out of a nightmare. The degeneration of Vulcans, who according to history were fierce, warlike but not excessively vicious, has really disturbed Spock. The slaves told us horrifying tales of atrocities that rival the very worst of Earth's." He hesitated then decided to continue. "It's a long story, Bones, which I will tell you in full, but for the moment let me explain just a little. I was badly injured and he selflessly expended all his strength during a deep healing meld. We've become closer than ever, yet I feel uneasy. I can't quite pinpoint it but now we're home, he's withdrawing from me."
McCoy shook his head, poured another glass, and then sat down on the edge of his desk. "He probably needs some time to himself. We've seen it before, Jim. He disappears for a few days, doesn't eat or sleep. He'll be meditating; reinforcing his shields or something."
Kirk considered that. "Perhaps, but maybe we've become too close. The link between us has heightened into an awareness through which I can sense him as never before. Our minds are so attuned now, it's as if he's with me right here." He touched his forehead. "We can communicate telepathically without touch. Even now it would be easy to reach out and talk to him, though I wouldn't dare to invade his privacy." He looked down, unwilling to allow McCoy to see the desperate loneliness which pervaded his whole being and would show in his all-too-expressive eyes."
McCoy shuddered. "That's scary, Jim."
Kirk suddenly grinned at the other man. "It doesn't bother me. We've been through too much together over the years and especially down on that planet. He has become... like a part of me." Kirk became serious as he recalled the events he now spoke about. "The mind-meld we shared was the most intensely personal, the most intimate experience of my life. His very essence was in my blood and bones; the very cells of my body; the pain control centres and memory patterns of my mind. It was Vulcan healing but something more because we are t'hy'la. The problem is that he can't deal with it; he's afraid of getting too close, even with me. He can't resolve the difficulties caused by his dual nature. He's more confused than ever now; tormented by the escalation of our bond, fearful of it."
The doctor reached out to clasp the now trembling shoulders. "Jim... "
"I'm scared, Bones. Scared about the future."
McCoy was at a loss for words. No-one knew the Vulcan better than this man who now shared his fears with him. James T. Kirk had always been very sure of one person during the last five years, and that had been Spock. That implicit trust in the first officer had made him the exceptional captain that he was; the strength, support and friendship of the Vulcan had been his inspiration. Now as the mission was drawing to a close, an uncertain future loomed before them all. It would have been a difficult enough situation normally but with the unknown repercussions of the ordeal on Kathal, Kirk's confidence was wavering.
"It'll work out, Jim, you'll see," he finally managed to murmur. "Give him time."
Kirk nodded but it was obvious that the doubts and fears remained with him.
HONESTY
Spock paced his cabin. For two days he had tried to achieve meditation but the familiarity of the discipline eluded him. His emotions churned inside him as he relived the events on the slave world. In rescuing Jim and healing him, a deep inner barrier - the wall separating his emotional, human responses from his Vulcan personality - had vanished without trace.
The fear of being unable to retain control; to be exposed to Jim's unbridled humanity on a permanent basis was a very real threat now. His shields had been breached and pierced many times before but had always been repairable. Now they were gone, destroyed by the intimacy of the healing meld. He did not feel Vulcan anymore for he had lost the most essential part of his being. He was rootless and drifting; at a crossroads in his life. Gone was the person he had been; the Vulcan he had always attempted to be. Left was a stranger, a human stranger.
It was imperative that he regain his control or he would become a savage living by his passions as those slave-owning degenerates did. He felt human but was far more dangerous than any human being. His powerful Vulcan abilities, if misused, could cause irreparable harm. He had to relearn the disciplines, and that was only possible on his home world. Here, on the Enterprise, he was too aware of Jim's feelings and thoughts. He had merged with his captain in the deep-link commonly used prior to the time the healers had evolved the codes of practice on telepathic treatment. It had been the only possible way to heal Jim, without the safeguards and knowledge of a trained healer, in the instinctive and selfless, ancient way of t'hy'la.
He had told Jim of his willingness to pay any price to heal him, and had done so, not regretting his decision for one instant as it had restored the captain to his former self. The P'Tal Zaan T'hy'la had destroyed the final barrier between them to leave Spock open and vulnerable, without any protection at all. He needed help to regain Vulcan discipline; he was weary and confused. He craved the quiet solitude of his home. There he would find himself again. There...
Delving deeply into his memory, the visit he made to Gol many years previously began to clarify in his mind. The Masters of Kolinahr, those Vulcans who had discarded their emotions, who dedicated their lives to study and meditation seemed to call him. Peace reigned on their mountain home. No stress or tensions caused by human presence, no friendship, love or t'hy'la; just tranquillity gained by the study of intellectual pursuits unhampered by emotion.
Yet he could clearly imagine the pain it would cause Jim if he returned to Vulcan. Perhaps it would be for the best. Jim had come to rely on him too much; the events on Kathal had forced an unnatural dependence on a man who was fiercely individualistic. He and Kirk were two different beings who had merged in a unity too intense. It had built up over the years but the Healing had set a final seal upon it. Now the inescapable fact could not be denied. He had to leave to find his true path, shed his emotions before he and perhaps Jim were totally destroyed.
The alternative - to live with them, accept them, share his uncertainties with Jim, and lean on his human friend did not occur to him. In his confusion he did not recall the tales of t'hy'la who had lived contentedly within such a profound relationship; without any barriers between them, rejoicing in the unique privilege of sharing in the bonding of souls. The precedents were documented in Vulcan history, but Spock's thought processes were not completely rational or he might have remembered enough to prevent himself from contacting his captain to request a meeting.
Ten minutes later he stood in Kirk's quarters, attempting to make his shaky voice flat and inflectionless as he said, "Sir, I request permission to leave the Enterprise to return to Vulcan. I wish to present the case of the Zalar before the Council."
Kirk sat rigidly on his chair. "It can be done via subspace communication," he said, painfully aware of his first officer's cold, withdrawn demeanour. He forced himself to breathe evenly as the premonition of unbearable hurt settled around and within him.
"Sir, I have rarely taken advantage of my leave time. I wish to take it now."
"But we return to Earth soon. You must be aboard when the mission ends."
Spock's speech was clipped. "It is imperative that I go to Vulcan, sir. The return of the Enterprise is of secondary importance."
Kirk beat down his deep, throbbing fears and stood up. "Mr. Spock, I cannot refuse your request but I'm unhappy at your decision to leave at such a time. There is so much to say, to plan. I want us to be together on our next assignment. We are the perfect command team." He stared at the Vulcan keenly as a maelstrom of emotion seeped through their link.
"I wish to stay on Vulcan. I will be resigning my commission," Spock replied after some moments of silence.
That hit Kirk with all the stunning force of a phaser blast. He staggered, held onto the desk and gripped tightly, his knuckles whitening with the force of his hold. "What!" he exclaimed in a voice no more than a whisper. His apprehension over the future had not prepared him for this. "What have I done, Spock?" he asked, immediately blaming himself.
Spock fixed his gaze upon the wall. "You have destroyed what I was, what I am. I must find myself again."
Kirk had believed it impossible to be hurt more than he had been by Zuma's viciousness, but Spock's brutal honesty tore at his innards until all within lay in tiny, broken shards. Blindly he slumped down onto his chair, clenched his hands together and lowered his head, trying to mute the horror those words brought; the agony which twisted and turned, stabbing him. He sought for understanding but could not reach it as his eyes blurred until he could barely see, and his ears buzzed, deafening him.
A voice penetrated his fog of pain. "I did not mean to hurt you, Jim. I beg forgiveness."
He lifted his head to see Spock's face on a level with his own. The Vulcan knelt at his feet, no longer expressionless and cold, his tone betraying emotion. Kirk nodded for he was unable - at this moment - to speak.
"Please understand that it is not your fault. You are human. Such a bond between two such as we has never been known before." Spock's eyes were dark with pain. "Your friendship has strengthened me. It ended my loneliness but now I am weakened, fatigued, and if I am to survive must regain the disciplines of my Vulcan heritage. I am not human but you have made me so."
In the desperation needed to make his friend understand, Kirk found his voice. "There's nothing wrong in being human. You are half-human, surely you can accept that part of your heritage. You must have learned by now that it's not wrong or shameful to do so." He grasped the stooped shoulders tightly and shook them. "You have always been afraid of our friendship. Even now after all these years. Why Spock? Am I unworthy? Is there something ugly in me that you see? What is it, Spock?"
Spock's eyes darkened into an alien blackness, trapping Kirk's gaze in hypnotic compulsion. "You saw it, Jim. It is in me, in all Vulcans; the savagery within us. You trust me too much. What if I abused your trust one day? If I forgot my own power? We have merged too deeply, Jim, and I am not strong enough to stop it. My controls are gone and I cannot face the risk of taking your identity and personality from you. I beg you to allow me to return to Vulcan. My answer lies there. It is the only place where I can be helped."
Completely choked with the deepest empathy he had ever experienced, Kirk pulled his friend to him in a crushing hold. "I'm sorry, Spock. Forgive me for doing this to you, for causing you such turmoil. If I hadn't been caught on that damn planet, if I... " His voice broke and he could not continue.
Spock leaned on the broad, human shoulders, his telepathic senses sinking through the link, reaching for the familiar, dynamic mind. There are no barriers, no defences left. We have become too close.
Why does it matter? The reply was pleading.
It should not be. Our personalities are merging; we are becoming as one.
I don't care, Spock. It doesn't scare me. I feel it's right, perhaps the way of t'hy'la. You have told me that it's a relationship which grows and matures.
No. I beg of thee to release me. Permit me to return to Vulcan. I am afraid. I must learn control. Jim, please.
Abruptly, Spock was pushed away and with a sudden gust of coldness there was a chilling sense of being bereft and alone. Jim's face was expressionless, harsh, almost Vulcan.
"Very well, Mr. Spock. Your application for leave is granted," the captain said.
Shaken, Spock bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I thank thee."
Kirk's voice was icy. "Do not speak to me as if we are t'hy'la. You've made it perfectly clear that you reject all the years of our friendship."
Spock stared at him in horror. "I beg thy understanding."
Kirk stood, brushed by the still kneeling Vulcan and walked away. "You are dismissed. Leave whenever suitable. The long range shuttle is at your disposal."
"Yes, Captain," Spock replied. He ached with unbearable hurt, stunned by the sudden change of Kirk's mood, the rejection of all they had been to one another. After unsteadily rising to his feet he faced the stone-faced human, aware through their link of the chaos wreaking havoc inside his friend's mind. "I do not wish for us to part in bitterness."
Kirk's face grew very pale. "I don't wish us to part at all. We may never see one another again."
Spock stared intently at the tense human. "Logic dictates that we would have been separated. You will be promoted; as will I."
"Dammit, Spock, don't give me logic!" Kirk shouted. "Captain Pike had this ship for eleven years and two separate missions. Why should I be any different? I'll give you human logic. Our mission has been highly successful. I'm too young to be an admiral or even a commodore. They will give me another tour of duty and I want you with me."
Spock lowered his gaze before the burning hazel eyes as all Kirk's raw emotions ripped into him through the open link. He had lost all protection, all of it. Kolinahr called to him with the promise of peace, but Jim... How was it possible to leave such a friendship behind? "Jim, I beg of thee. I plead with thee, my t'hy'la. Thee who love and honour me above all others, permit me to go with thy blessing. I do not wish to leave but I must."
Kirk covered his face with his hands as Spock's distress flooded him, adding to his own pain. He remembered the last minutes on the planet when the two of them had communed with complete openness. There had been no distress at that time, only contentment and the joy of sharing. Since the return to the ship, Spock had lost his relaxed acceptance of their deepening relationship and had become increasingly agitated and desperate in his attempts to place some distance between them. The horror of seeing vulcanoids abusing weaker beings had affected his friend more deeply than Kirk had realised. It had caused Spock to doubt himself and fear that he, unleashed and unrestricted by his own perception of control, could also revert to savagery and turn on the one closest to him.
What nonsense!
Spock doubted himself too much, and always had. Kirk knew with absolute certainty that Spock would never abuse his trust but confused and upset by all that had occurred, his friend was not thinking straight. Exhausted, drained physically and emotionally by recent events, the frightened child that Spock now was, needed to go home to rest and be comforted.
Selfish bastard, he chastised himself. Allow him time on Vulcan to recover. We'll all be getting six months leave anyway. He'll return, refreshed and serene once more, then everything will be back to normal. What are you anyway? Stop being so petty and selfish. Part with him in dignity and with love.
He drew on every ounce of grit he possessed to find the will to speak without breaking down. "Very well, Spock. Go with my blessing but remember I'll await your return." Blindly, he held out his hands. "Goodbye, my friend."
The powerful grip he knew so well, caught his hands. "Farewell, my friend." The deep voice was charged with emotion.
The hold eased until only their fingertips were touching. The tingling sensation of the friendship bond rippled with the pain of parting. Then it was gone leaving only a numbing ache of emptiness in Kirk's mind and body. His eyes focussed on Spock, all Vulcan courtesy even now, bowing respectfully before him. Their eyes met in one final, searching look. Kirk fought to keep the plea from his expression. He wanted to beg Spock to stay but would not cause his friend further stress. He encircled the lean form in a tight hug, and was not denied the warmth and comfort of a Vulcan embrace.
Farewell, my t'hy'la, Spock whispered in his mind.
Farewell, my t'hy'la, Kirk repeated.
Their thoughts intertwined for one last intense moment, then Spock broke away and walked from his captain's cabin. In his distress, he was unaware of the many crewmembers who passed him as he instinctively headed to his own quarters like a hurt animal seeking its lair. Once in the warmth and privacy, the door sealed behind him, he sank to his knees upon the meditation stone before the fire pot, and succumbed to soul-numbing mute agony.
Kirk's legs gave way as his t'hy'la's pain paralysed him. He staggered back onto his chair and sat there, white, shaken and ill, staring at the wall in helpless misery until McCoy arrived.
"Jim!" the doctor exclaimed as he rushed over to kneel by the chair.
The intercom suddenly buzzed in the silence of the room, startling the concerned McCoy. "Shuttle Bay to Captain Kirk," a female voice called.
"Kirk here," came the automatic response.
"Lt. Masters here, sir. Mr. Spock has asked me to inform you that he has departed for Vulcan. He will have the shuttle returned as soon as possible. Sir, he asked me to say that you should go to his cabin. He left a message for you there."
"Very well, Lieutenant Masters," Kirk replied, his voice unnaturally calm.
"Jim, what has happened?" McCoy asked worriedly. "Why is Spock going to Vulcan? What the hell is goin' on? Jim... you look terrible!"
Kirk swallowed and forced himself to speak. "Spock has business on Vulcan, and plenty leave time accumulated. Excuse me, Doctor, I'll speak with you later." He rose to his feet, combating the unsteadiness with a grim determination, leaving McCoy staring after him worriedly.
The first impression received on entering Spock's quarters was the emptiness. All the Vulcan's personal belongings were gone; the red drapes and higher temperature the only indications of the cabin's former occupant.
Kirk drew a deep breath and looked around more closely. There were no message tapes. The room was empty. He glanced into the sleeping area and his eyes locked onto the familiar sight of Spock's lyre. With a lump at the back of his throat which would not dissolve, Kirk sat on the bed. He reverently picked up the priceless musical instrument and saw the sheet of Vulcan parchment which had been placed underneath. On its perfect white surface was a message in Spock's elegant handwriting.
My t'hy'la,
Please accept this lyre as a parting gift from me. It can never repay the joy your friendship has given me but I wish you to accept it as a small token of my regard. I beg forgiveness for the pain I have caused you. Know that I love and honour thee above all others. I have been and ever shall be your friend.
Live long and prosper.
Spock.
Kirk sat holding the lyre. The ancient wood reverberated with his trembling as he stayed in the solitude of the cabin with all the memories of his years on this ship crowding in on him. Loneliness struck, merciless in its attack on one who had become accustomed to telepathic unity with another. Bereft in a manner never before experienced he tightened his grip, as if to gain some comfort from the musical instrument Spock had so cherished, for some part of his t'hy'la's spirit seemed to cling to it, infused into the grain of the wood.
Memory of the first time Spock had played the lyre for him filled his thoughts. How stunned he had been to discover that his first officer was such a fine musician. How many times since had the sounds of Vulcan music brought him peace?
McCoy found him there, hours later. Worried sick by the turn of events, and the effect on his friend, the doctor had decided to seek Kirk out, not allow him to be by himself after this most difficult of partings. He found a huddled, anguished figure, vulnerable and alone, sitting as still as a statue on Spock's bed. Tightly clenched hands gripped the Vulcan lyre, grief-stricken hazel eyes were moist, and tears streaked the gaunt face. Not knowing how to help, McCoy could only sit near and show his support by his physical presence.
Though he was close to both Jim and Spock, McCoy could not fully understand the depth of the friendship that existed between the two, nor could he ever conceive the intensity of what they had shared on Kathal. Jim had mentioned some of the ordeals but there was much the captain had not confided in him. As a doctor he understood but as a friend it upset him. Although deeply hurt that the Vulcan had not seen fit to say goodbye, McCoy put it aside. Jim's pain far surpassed his own. His prime duty as doctor and friend to this man took priority.
He placed an arm around the bowed back. "Jim, talk to me. Don't keep this to yourself. It'll eat you up inside."
His concern must have reached his friend for Jim roused enough to hand him a piece of paper, before returning to his previous hunched position. McCoy read the message slowly, then again, his hand tightening on Kirk's arm as he assimilated the emotional impact of those beautifully written words.
The two men sat silently in the empty quarters of the Vulcan officer who had been such a major influence on their lives, and who had come to mean so much to them. His absence settled upon them, leaving a raw, aching void, the same question probing relentlessly at their thoughts. Would they ever see him again?
HOME
Spock lay on his bunk and tried once more to clear his mind enough to settle into meditation. It did not work. He stared out of the viewscreen at the emptiness of space as the ship, on automatic computer control, efficiently headed for Vulcan. Before his mind's eye he could see the hurt and bewildered face of his t'hy'la, struggling to understand why Spock wished to leave but finally accepting its necessity and granting permission. Nagging doubt plagued Spock. Had he done the correct thing? Was returning to Vulcan the only way or should he have stayed and accepted the change in their relationship? Had Jim been correct? Was it the way of t'hy'la?
Jim's thoughts bombarded his distraught mind. Allow him time on Vulcan to recover. He will return refreshed and serene once more, then everything will be back to normal. Part with him in dignity and with love.
Perhaps Jim was right. Possibly all he needed was leave on Vulcan then he would be able to return to the Enterprise. He would train with a Master of Kolinahr to repair his shields, repress and control his emotions and then be able to work with humans again. He regretted not saying farewell to McCoy. The fear that the volatile doctor's anger and truthful jibes would have weakened his resolve had paralysed him. He thought of the others he had known for so many years. Friends, he suddenly realised. They had always been his friends and he had never known, never understood that until now.
"Jim, I shall return to thee," he said, into the emptiness of the shuttle.
Even from this distance he could have searched for and found Jim's familiar mind-presence, but he did not dare in case the contact might tempt him into turning the shuttle around and back to the ship. Instead he recalled the first moment he had met James T. Kirk, newly appointed to the Enterprise; a brash, youthful hero of a previous mission, promoted to starship command and the youngest ever captain in the fleet. At first their relationship had been strained. Kirk had resented him being first officer, wanting his own closest friend Gary Mitchell in the post. Spock had held serious doubts about serving with the highly emotional Kirk after years with the quiet, stable Captain Pike.
In a manner Spock had never understood and was powerless to prevent, they had been inexorably drawn together. Had it been the quiet moments over the chess board where Spock had discovered an opponent who could - on occasion - defeat him? Or the training sessions in the gymnasium where Kirk had so eagerly wanted to learn Vulcan martial arts in a bid to build up strength? Had it been the failure of Gary Mitchell to support Kirk in his new command which had made the captain turn so desperately to his first officer?
Two totally opposite beings from different cultures had joined together in a bond unknown other than amongst Vulcans. It had made them the best command team in the Fleet and envied throughout the galaxy.
At long last, Spock fell into an exhausted slumber. It had been a week since his departure from the Enterprise and he had not slept since the night of the deep healing meld on Kathal, the slave world. His mind and body craved rest and, oblivious to his journey, he did not awaken until the shuttle approached Vulcan fifteen hours later.
His planet beckoned with the promise of peace and security, and he prepared to hail Vulcan Space Central.
He was home.
HOMECOMING
The safe homecoming of the U.S.S. Enterprise to Earth after her five year mission was the media event of the decade. No other ship had returned to such fanfare. Her adventures were widely known to the general public, her crew worshipped as heroes straight out of legend. Quick to capitalise on the excitement generated by its flagship's triumphant return, the Admiralty organised an awards ceremony in honour of the Enterprise's celebrated personnel to be broadcast throughout the galaxy. The publicity surrounding the Enterprise crew was a dream come true for an organisation whose budget was challenged by some politicians. It would also be a tremendous recruitment boost; the example set by this exceptional crew would inspire talented youngsters from every planet in the Federation to join the ranks of Starfleet.
James T. Kirk did not care. After the debriefing sessions in which he reported the bare outline of the reason for Spock's absence, he had unwillingly agreed to appear at the ceremony and to speak with reporters representing every Federation world. Admiral Nogura himself had accepted the excuse of Spock presenting the Zalar question to the Vulcan Council so easily that Kirk suspected Sarek or T'Pau's influence in the matter.
The command crew stayed at Kirk's side, lending their support during this most difficult of times. McCoy shadowed him, worried that the pressure would be too much even for this strongest of personalities. The isolation in Kirk's mind was hard to bear but the ache produced by the lack of that tall form at his side was agonising. Yet he knew that somehow it would have to be overcome. If not, McCoy would be forced to report the problem to the Surgeon General's Office, and even he - the most lauded captain in the Fleet - would have to submit to intrusive psych tests which would reveal the depth of his distress over Spock's departure. Bones had been a tower of strength during the last three months and gradually Kirk had been able to discuss the events on Kathal in a dispassionate light. Surrounded by his faithful crew he had endured; slowly accepted the void within himself and somewhere deep in his mind nurtured the hope that Spock would soon return.
The media question and answer session was almost his undoing. The legendary Enterprise command team had caught the imagination of the public and the reporters were curious as to why Spock was not on Earth. Kirk drew on all of his formidable oratorical skills, diverting their attention away to a safer subject. He smiled and exerted his considerable charm, his audience listening with rapt attention as he recounted some of the more amusing adventures of the five year mission.
***
Bedecked with medals of valour, Kirk stood with McCoy and Scott at the official Starfleet reception that immediately followed the awards ceremony. He absently stared down at his drink, his mind far away on a desert planet light years from Earth. He wondered what Spock was doing. There had been no word since the day the Vulcan had left the Enterprise. Kirk had tried to contact him but Sarek had answered the call, confirmed Spock was on Vulcan but regretted that his son could not be reached during a period of retreat at the ominous-sounding place named Gol.
McCoy touched his arm. "Jim, are you okay?"
Kirk looked up and smiled. "Yes, Bones, I'm fine. Just wondering about Spock."
McCoy nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, me too. That pointy-eared computer has sure got under everyone's skin. Damn ship has been like a morgue without him." He sniffed. "Sure is something how someone who professes not to feel emotion has made us all miss him."
"He'll be back," Kirk said confidently. "I know he will." He straightened as Nogura made his way towards them with a beautiful raven-haired woman by his side. The call of duty took priority over personal feelings, and the Admiral as the most powerful man in Starfleet was not to be trifled with. As the two approached, Kirk made the effort to control his weariness. How I wish this night was over. I want to go home. The tempting thought flicked across his mind.
Nogura beamed at him. "You were excellent, Jim. The people of the Federation are your worshipful admirers. You're Starfleet Publicity Department's fantasy come true. Invaluable at a time when some question our existence." The smaller man indicated his companion. "May I introduce Admiral Lori Ciani."
Kirk bowed slightly then allowed himself to absorb the woman's stunning looks. She smiled and the promise in her eyes poured soothing oil over the insecurities which still lingered from his captivity on Kathal. Responses he had thought never to experience again, despite McCoy's assurance that they would return, played a pleasant tingle along his nerves.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Captain Kirk," she said in a low contralto.
"The pleasure is mine, Admiral Ciani," Kirk replied gallantly. "Would you care to dance? That is if an admiral would not mind a lowly captain as partner."
Lori Ciani smiled. "I would be delighted, Captain."
As the couple walked to the dance floor, McCoy noted the satisfied grin on the normally impassive face of Commanding Admiral Nogura. It did little to stop the sense of dread that infiltrated the doctor's mind.
Nogura turned to him. "I read your reports, Dr. McCoy. You did a fine job in assisting Captain Kirk through the traumas of his ordeal but the best therapy for him now is a woman's affection and attention."
"Who is she?" McCoy asked, worried now by the notoriously manipulative admiral's words.
"I have every confidence in her, don't worry."
"Dammit, the man is my patient. I won't have him a part of your little scheme," McCoy responded angrily.
Nogura regarded him mildly. "I have it on the highest medical authority that after such horrific degradation, a man such as Kirk will need to reassert his masculinity. Better with someone trustworthy and discreet, Doctor. Would you not agree?"
"Jim Kirk needs love and affection, sir. Sex with your admiral is not enough," McCoy retaliated. "You don't know what he has suffered. Dammit, sir, at a time like this he needs the security of his friends about him."
"He won't be denied that, McCoy," Nogura snapped. "Unless they decide to abandon him like Spock did."
McCoy was furious at this outsider's interpretation of events. "How dare you malign Spock. I don't care who you are, Admiral, don't you ever say a word against Spock. You don't know what he sacrificed for Jim."
"No, I don't, and the Vulcans have drawn a veil of secrecy over the whole matter." Nogura's eyes blazed. "Kirk is my responsibility and I intend to see that he is well cared for. Are you with me, Doctor, or do I have to replace you?"
McCoy bit his lip hard to stop his caustic reply, for Nogura had the power to do exactly what he threatened. Kirk was dancing and seemed relaxed and happy. It had been a long time since his friend had been involved with a woman, perhaps now it would be the very therapy he needed to finally erase the pain of his ordeal. Maybe he could find contentment in the arms of an understanding woman. Admiral Ciani was certainly a stunningly attractive, and no doubt, exceptionally intelligent. A Starfleet officer of the highest calibre - the perfect companion for the Federation's finest hero.
The wily Nogura had not reached his exalted status without being a shrewd judge of others. He had known that Kirk would be attracted to Ciani whose likeness to Edith Keeler, one of the few women Jim had really loved, was uncanny. The Admiral had planned this encounter carefully.
Yet could anyone ease the ache caused by Spock's absence?
Only time would tell.
Leonard McCoy remained at the reception, silently watching until Kirk and Lori Ciani left together. With a sigh he poured out another glass of brandy, swallowed the potent liquor but found that it did nothing to ease his worries.
Spock, come back soon. You've left Jim empty inside. I don't profess to understand the bond you share but he needs that closeness. He needs you to be with him. Damn Vulcan, why did you have to leave?
McCoy's eyes prickled with unshed tears. He pushed his way across the crowded dance area to finally reach the terrace overlooking San Francisco Bay. As he gazed up into the night sky a dark and insidious, foreboding crept through him, taunting that Spock would not return for a very long time. Perhaps Jim knew this too.
With a heavy heart Leonard McCoy left the reception.
The five year mission had been fraught with danger, heartache and pain, but they had been the most fulfilling years of all their lives. Why had it ended so traumatically for the best command team in the history of the Fleet?
EPILOGUE
"Thataway!"
Spock stood behind the captain's chair, apprehensively noting the flippant reply to the request for a heading. His task on Vulcan was complete. No more would he hide behind the false assumption that the teachings of Kolinahr were his destiny. He had learned that after the meld with V'Ger when his final hopes of release from his own feelings had been crumpled into non-existence. Yes, he should have known there was no escape from human or Vulcan emotions. His only chance for future peace lay in acceptance. His only hope of survival rested in the hands of the one person he had so cruelly hurt.
That moment in Sickbay when he had clutched at Kirk's hand had been a revelation. The bond between them had powerfully reasserted itself leaving him shaken but strangely elated. Jim had sent waves of comfort through the touch and Spock had barely been able to prevent himself from breaking down from the joy of that reunion. Later on the bridge he had succumbed to his emotion, denying the real, deep reason for the secondary one; true also but insufficient cause to make him weep.
He became aware of Dr. McCoy's concerned gaze, and steeled himself for the onslaught of guilt. He was not proud of the way he had spurned the former crewmates who cared so much for him. They were confused and hurt by his behaviour, and he vowed to apologise to each and everyone but first...
"Captain?"
Kirk swivelled to face him, his expression guarded, his eyes inquiring as they stared up at him in their disconcerting way. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"
"May I request a meeting with you as soon as possible?"
Kirk's look was grim. He had changed. Gone was the idealistic and impetuous young captain of the five year mission. In his place was an older, wiser man who had been scarred by the change of circumstance; wary of everyone including, with just cause, the Vulcan friend who had abandoned him.
"Certainly, Mr. Spock. Now will be suitable," Kirk replied.
Shock swept the Vulcan. He had not expected his request to be granted at once. Swiftly controlling his reaction, he clasped his hands together as command was turned over to Scott with the additional order from Kirk that they were not to be disturbed for any reason except an emergency. Spock closed his eyes in an attempt to control his fears over the forthcoming confrontation. This time there was nowhere to run. He would have to face Jim openly and honestly, regardless of the consequences.
"Jim, what about Nogura?" McCoy cut in.
Kirk's expression vividly showed his sentiments on that. "Let's go, Mr. Spock," he said and, with a brisk tread, headed for the turbolift.
Spock glanced at McCoy and saw the touch of pity on the usually cynical face. He sighed, accepted the proffered look of support, and followed his captain from the bridge.
As the doors of the lift closed, shutting them from view, McCoy worriedly chewed at his lip. Kirk's hurt and anger over Spock not returning still festered. He had expected Spock only to take the time necessary to rebuild his damaged telepathic shields then back him in the bid to retain his captaincy of the new, refitted Enterprise. Instead he had received a message informing him that Spock had decided to enter Gol to study the disciplines of Kolinahr in a final attempt at purging his emotions. The Vulcan had urged him to keep his command and not allow himself to be pressurised into taking a desk job at the Admiralty. He had offered regrets at not returning to serve as Kirk's first officer and had recommended Commander Sonak, a highly proficient science officer, in his place.
Something in Kirk had died that day. McCoy had seen it but no matter how often he had tried to broach the subject, Kirk refused to speak about it. Instead he had allowed himself to be manipulated into promotion. It had been simple for Nogura to convince the now vulnerable and confused Kirk of the new challenges and excitements of being Chief of Starfleet Operations. The beautiful Admiral Ciani had been a further inducement so he accepted the honours and awards, convinced himself that he was in love, married Lori and settled down to his new life despite the protestations and advice of his friends. His beloved ship was given to another.
The new position soon palled as he discovered that he was barely more than a figurehead for Starfleet public relations. He was fond of Lori and was faithful to her but they had little in common and it was a mutual decision not to renew their one year contract marriage. Only the V'Ger threat had roused Kirk out of his lethargy and the return to starship command had been both painful and exhilarating. Now with Spock at his side, there were shades of the old, confident Kirk of the five year mission. McCoy hoped and prayed that the two of them would repair the damage those years apart had caused and, for their sakes and Starfleet's, would face the future as the incomparable team that they were.
Kirk led the way to his quarters, activated the door-lock and faced the silent Vulcan. He gathered all of his courage as he looked up into the lined, worn face marked by the severe rigours of Kolinahr, etched deeper by the strain of the encounter with V'Ger. He sensed Spock's uneasiness but waited for the Vulcan to speak first. Spock had left; a decision which had changed the course of both their lives. The recent return had shown Kirk just how empty he had been for three long years, functioning by gut instinct alone, only half a person without the vitality and zest for living which had been so much a part of him.
He did not blame Spock but he was angry that circumstances had forced them to part. That wondrous moment in Sickbay when Spock had reached out to him had brought him intense happiness; an acute reminder of how much their friendship had meant to him and the knowledge that he was still needed, not abandoned like some useless rag.
Spock's eyes were downcast. "Captain... Captain, I am deeply ashamed." His voice was hoarse and Kirk fought to control the urge to hug him close and comfort him.
The lump in Kirk's throat threatened to choke him as he stared at the bent head. "Why won't you look at me? Why aren't you calling me Jim?" he whispered in an unsteady voice.
"I am unworthy of looking upon you; unfit to have the honour of addressing you by that name. I abandoned you when you needed me," Spock replied, his head hanging lower, his whole body radiating anguish.
Kirk's deeply suppressed anger rose with sudden, overpowering violence. "Yes you left me! Yes you ran away to Gol. You never intended to return did you? All you wanted was to retreat behind cold, patterned logic. To be alone, self-sufficient, needing no-one and not caring that there were people who needed you."
A small section hidden deep within Kirk's mind watched in astonishment as the fury erupted like molten lava from a long dormant volcano. He was powerless to control the feelings of betrayal and rejection he had so carefully restrained for years. The long held dam had burst.
"Damn you for the agony you caused me. For the wasted years, the unnecessary pain we both suffered. What right had you to turn to Kolinahr? Why didn't you trust me? I would never have invaded your privacy. I'd have come to Vulcan to learn; submitted myself to any training required to control my emotions and erect mental shields. You didn't have to take sole responsibility. It was not just your problem but ours! Why didn't you confide your difficulties to me? We could have worked them out. I spoke with Sarek. He told me how he tried to dissuade you from entering Gol. He explained your reasons."
Kirk stopped for a moment to draw a long gasping breath. A memory surfaced of the distressed face of the Vulcan ambassador who had taken the blame for his son's emotional turmoil. Sarek had accepted responsibility for the insecurity which had caused Spock's constant attempts to reach impossible standards; the denial of his humanity and even the Vulcan norm to try and reach the unreasonable expectations of complete non-emotion, attainable only to a minority of the Vulcan people. The Masters of Gol were revered but few endeavoured to emulate their rigid regime.
"He told me of another way," Kirk continued relentlessly. "We could have learned to live with such a close mental rapport, openly, unashamedly, as has been done in the past. Or we could have been taught to build shields against continuous contact. You must have known that or did you think because I was human that would make it impossible for me not to invade your mind with my emotions?" His anger reached an explosive crescendo. "But it was too late to reach you, there was no way to communicate with you at Gol. You hurt your parents, yourself, and you almost destroyed me, your bondbrother. Why didn't you give us a chance, Spock? Why did you reject all we had shared, all we could share? Why?"
As Kirk's tirade continued, Spock seemed to shrink into himself. His body trembled, sweat broke out on his forehead and he swayed as if buffeted by a gale. The human hesitated, staring at him in astonishment, studying him closely for the first time, noting the alarming pallor of the moist skin, the dark, green smudges under sunken eyes, the too-thin frame and bone-weary exhaustion.
A horrifying thought invaded the savage fury. Has he eaten or slept since boarding the Enterprise? His anger dissolved as immediately as it had begun. "Spock," he murmured.
"Jim, forgive me," Spock gasped through clenched teeth. His dark eyes were wide with shock, brimming with tears, filled with agony. "Logic and knowledge are not enough. I beg forgiveness."
Kirk remembered a time when he had collapsed when the power of Spock's uncontrolled fury had ripped into him. The anger of a bondbrother could cause severe repercussions; for one was vulnerable to the intense emotions of the other. It was a part of the bond which was frightening to consider but could only be accepted as part of the whole. Spock, whose mind was still deeply traumatised by the link with V'Ger, would have no defence against him. Kirk could see and feel his physical and emotional torment and he shuddered with empathic reaction.
"T'hy'la," Spock whispered as he slumped weakly to his knees.
Jolted into action, Kirk grabbed the dead weight of his friend's body and held him in a fierce hug. "Spock," he called urgently, desperate to reach the tortured mind. "It's all right. I promise you, it's all right." He cradled the dark head, rocking his friend gently like a child. "Please listen to me, Spock. There must be no more recriminations. The past is done with. We're together now. That's all that matters."
Jim. Spock's voice resonated inside his head.
Kirk's eyes were wet as he experienced that familiar, yearned for communication as warm, steely arms clasped around his back in a bone-crushing embrace. The cold, empty place in his mind filled with warmth as Spock's telepathic touch reached its lonely depths.
My answer has always been with thee. I was too afraid to permit myself to see it. We are bonded in brotherhood, Jim. How could I have expected Kolinahr to release me? It was an illogical assumption.
The front of his shirt dampened by Vulcan tears, Kirk held his t'hy'la tightly, intimating without words that they would never be parted under such circumstances again. He pressed his cheek against the soft, black hair. I have been and ever shall be your friend. He reaffirmed their vow of brotherhood in silent fervour.
I have been and ever shall be your friend. Spock resealed his own commitment as he buried his face against the soothing, steady beat of the human's heart.
The internal glow of profound contentment filtered through Spock's consciousness as their joint vows settled into the bond-link, increasing its strength. Only death would truly part them now. The bond of t'hy'la was comparable to the marriage bond in the power of the emotional attachment of one partner to the other; a fact Spock had never fully understood until this moment. To run from such a relationship had been self-defeating and foolish. Totally illogical. He suspected that the Masters of Gol had been testing the bond. They had seen its strands within his mind yet had misunderstood its validity, dismissing it as a purely human friendship, easily broken by their harsh disciplines. He almost laughed. Spock, the half/human and Kirk, the Terran had forged a unique, unbreakable kinship which nothing and no-one could erase. They were true t'hy'la. Friends, brothers and lovers in the spiritual way of ancient tradition.
He was supported by strong arms, half-lifted to his feet and led to the inner section of Kirk's quarters. "Jim," he attempted in feeble protest but his friend was fully in command now. There was nothing to do but comply as he was propped up against the pillows of the bed, fussed over as if he were a sick child, and brought a plate of plomeek soup from the food selector.
Jim sat on the bed, watching his every sip until the bowl was emptied. He took the tray from Spock's unresisting hands only to return it laden with a steaming Vulcan vegetable dish.
"Jim," Spock tried again.
"EAT," Kirk ordered in a determined, no-refusal tone.
"Yes, sir," Spock replied, lowering his eyes, unable to face him down and not even wanting to as the tempting aroma of the food whetted his appetite. He was hungry. He was ravenous! He could not remember when he had last eaten! Still, caution prevailed and he took only a small portion, knowing that his stomach would not be able to accept any large amounts of food just yet.
"Okay, now you will sleep." Kirk said, his tone gentler.
Spock knew better than to argue. He nodded his acceptance and started to rise from the bed. "Yes, sir," he accepted meekly.
Kirk's hand halted him. "Oh no you don't. You're sleeping here."
"But!" Spock exclaimed in confusion.
"No buts, Mister," Kirk said adamantly, his hazel eyes like flints of steel. "You are not leaving here and that is an order."
Spock swallowed and an embarrassed flush greened his face. "It is not proper. What will the crew think?"
Kirk's laughter peeled out across the room. What was he going to do with his decorous Vulcan? "I don't give a sh.. " He suppressed the word on seeing the colour intensify on the gaunt cheeks, and continued more gently. "I just want the security of knowing you are resting. When did you last sleep?"
"I am unsure exactly," Spock replied. "I believe it was aboard the long-range shuttle from Vulcan."
"I knew it!" Kirk exclaimed angrily. "Damn you, Spock. You're gaunt with fatigue and starvation. I am personally taking charge of your welfare until I'm satisfied you're taking proper care of yourself."
"That is your right, Jim." Spock replied meekly. "I will offer no objection."
"You're damn right you won't. Now lie down and sleep."
Spock's dark eyes sparkled brilliantly in his strained face. "If I may?" he asked, gesturing towards the bathroom.
Kirk grinned, stood up then watched his friend's unsteady progress across the room. He was relieved that Spock was allowing him to act, indeed appeared to be very willing to accept his care, and perhaps was even enjoying being fussed over after the years of neglect. Picking up a book, he idly flicked through it until his hesitant - slightly damp from the shower - t'hy'la returned. He stared at the painfully thin form with horror.
"What the hell have you been living on for the last three years?" he demanded.
"The disciplines of Kolinahr are severe," the Vulcan's reply was cryptic.
Kirk could hardly restrain a string of crude expletives concerning the Masters of Gol but repressed any further comments on seeing Spock's pained reaction to his emotional outburst. "Well now you are subject to my orders. So get into that bed and sleep, Mister."
"Yes, sir," Spock replied, slipped under the covers and stretched his long body out comfortably.
His eyes, shining with a renewed vigour and deep, unashamed joy, sought his bondbrother's. He held out his hand in the Vulcan gesture of greeting, and with a smile Kirk sat down on the bed and touched his fingertips to Spock's. The familiar tingling of their bond of friendship swept through hands, along nerve endings to trigger the peaceful state of shared meditation in which they had found a compatibility of minds so many years ago. They maintained it for a few minutes but Kirk broke the contact when he sensed Spock's weariness, knowing there was now all the time in the world to rediscover their unique relationship and learn how to live with it.
Kirk clasped the slender fingers for a moment. "Sleep, my t'hy'la."
"I obey, my t'hy'la," came the reply as Spock's eyes closed.
Kirk stayed by him, reminiscing over the many incidents which had befallen them. He did not think about the events which had caused their disastrous parting; even now the memories were too painful. It would take a joint effort to finally lay those demons to rest but one positive result of the nightmare on the slave-world was taking place. Vulcan had sent teams of specialists to educate and redirect their wayward kin into an ethical system of government, after their Council and the Federation Court had agreed that the Prime Directive could not be considered applicable on Kathal. It would take years, but progress had been made amongst the more reasonable Sasharim. The days of Zuma and his ilk were numbered.
Asleep, the lines of privation on Spock's face eased, making him seem as young in appearance as he had been three years ago. An overpowering wave of affection overcame Kirk, transmitting itself into the Vulcan's sleeping mind, causing a smile to cross the austere features. The human sighed with joy. After the long and bitter years apart, the future now looked bright. Spock would follow wherever he led and a grim determination built within Kirk, reinforced by the welcome knowledge that his bondbrother would remain at his side. Starfleet would be unable to refuse him the Enterprise now! Not if he strongly indicated a wish to keep her. They would lose public support if the heroes who had saved Earth from V'Ger's menace were not rewarded. Nogura would not have a leg to stand on.
Kirk - too valuable to risk on a starship! Poppycock! He and his crew were too valuable in experience not to be on active duty. He was young, of an age where most officers received their first starship command. He would break new ground as he had done during his entire career. Youngest ever cadet at the Academy; youngest starship captain; youngest admiral; the only human to have bonded in brotherhood with a Vulcan. He would be Admiral James T. Kirk, Acting Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, the finest ship in the Fleet.
As long as Spock was with him, he would not fail. Together they would face whatever the future would bring. The events which had caused their separation would be dealt with and relegated to the past where they belonged. Their relationship would be explored, and if necessary he would learn whatever disciplines were required to prevent Spock from receiving an overload of human emotion.
He caught sight of the lyre sitting against the room divider. It had been his most cherished possession for the last three years but the time was now right to return it to its owner. He reached over to pick up the musical instrument and place it at the foot of the bed. Soon the silent strings would resonate with the complex chords and harmonies of Vulcan music. Kirk smiled in anticipation of the day he would be privileged to hear those glorious melodies again.
Spock dreamed contentedly of the rich, dulcet tones of his lyre. Jim, my t'hy'la, I shall play for thee again, he promised.
The happy ripple of Jim's laughter filtered through his mind. I await that moment with eagerness, t'hy'la, but sleep now.
With a contented sigh Spock curled up into a cosy nest consisting of a comfortable bed, soothing thoughts, and the warm mind-presence of his t'hy'la. He was at peace with himself at last.
This time he was truly home.
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The End.