DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of J. M. Lane and is copyright (c) 2002 by J. M. Lane. This story is rated PG.

SECOND BEST

by JM Lane

Leonard McCoy was angry. Of course, that would come as no surprise to those who knew him best, for he was easily provoked--but this time, things were different. It was those he cared about most who had hurt him…not just provoked, but hurt him. For their sake, he had endured it without complaint for years, but this latest incident had pushed him to the limits of his endurance and patience. He was sick and tired of being consistently shunted aside, taken for granted, rarely being trusted with their personal feelings, even more rarely invited along with them on shore leave, made to leave if they wanted to talk privately…

Whether they "meant" to or not, they did these things, and he wasn't going to take it any more. Okay, so he had his faults, but so did they. Why did he have to be the one constantly penalized for them, sit in sackcloth and ashes because he wasn't precisely as they thought he should be? Jim he could handle; it was Spock that he was upset with at the moment. Not that it was so much something the Vulcan had done to him as to Christine--but his hurt and anger toward him were as great as if it had been done to him. He was determined that they be treated more fairly and decently, or else he and Christine would leave…and go as far away as they could, see just how long those two, superior, self-righteous bastards could last without them. This was the last straw!

It was bad enough that Spock ignored Christine, consistently rebuffing any attempts by her at closer contact, but now he was making her feel incompetent and useless on top of everything else. It made him see red, and it was going to change, even if he had to tie Spock down and make him listen. He'd had it up to here with their neglect and mistreatment of not only himself, but Christine. A lot of the time they were treated as though they either weren't there or had no feelings--simply expected to take their abuse and not squawk, all supposedly in the name of "friendship" or "professionalism."

Spock, of all people, should have known better, because he knew what it was like to be mistreated, rejected and rebuffed…but it seemed that all his manners, not to mention basic gentleness and decency, were reserved for Kirk. Otherwise, they went totally out the window. The Captain seemed to be the only one the Vulcan considered deserving of his attention, consideration or affection; he and Christine seemed to be merely necessary evils that Spock endured for the sake of staying around Kirk. If their medical expertise wasn't needed, they didn't exist. Even now, he could recount the events of five days ago as if they'd happened an hour ago.

He had come in for his shift around 1430 to find Christine with her head down on her desk, quietly sobbing as if her heart would break. She was usually almost Vulcan when it came to hiding her feelings; it had to be traumatic for her to end up in tears--and he had a pretty good idea who had caused them. He approached her and gently touched her shoulder, speaking in his softest, most compassionate voice.

"Chris, what's wrong?" As if I need to ask, the Doctor thought bitterly. It's Spock. When isn't it?

She lifted her head to face him, her vision blurred through tear-filled eyes, which were red and swollen from crying, her face flushed as though she had a high fever. "Leonard? Oh, it's nothing. The usual."

"The usual? Come on, I need more than that if I'm going to help you."

The nurse sighed, blew her nose with a tissue from the nearby dispenser, then wiped her eyes with another and threw them both away before standing up and turning toward McCoy's office. "Let's go to your office. I don't want anyone to overhear this."

He followed her there; the doors swished shut behind them. They seated themselves and called up cups of hot coffee, sipping intermittently as they talked.

"Well, you know that Spock has been in Sickbay for the last couple of days because you wanted to see that he got the drug which will get his blood production rate back to normal."

McCoy nodded. "Go on."

Christine sighed and continued. "Well, I gave it to him a couple of hours ago, and noticed that he seemed tense. I could tell he needed a back and shoulder rub to relax, and even offered to give him one, but he refused. I didn't force the issue; you know how he is if you do that. About an hour ago, the Captain came to visit him and noticed the same thing. I moved as close as I dared, where I could see and hear them, but they couldn't see me--then the Captain said, 'You look tense, Spock. Is there something I can do to help?'

"Spock says, 'I would appreciate a back rub.' " She fought back tears as she went on. "The words went through me like a knife, you know? Then he turns on his belly and the Captain begins the rubdown. A little while later, Spock went all but limp with relaxation. I even saw him smile and squeeze the Captain's hand after turning over. 'Thank you, Jim,' he says. 'I feel much better.'

"'I'm glad,' the Captain replies, then moves to the door before turning back. 'But wasn't there anyone on duty here who could have done the back rub?'

"Spock looked uncomfortable for a second, then reluctantly admits, 'Yes. Nurse Chapel is on duty.'

"'Couldn't she have done it?' the Captain asks.

"'I suppose so,' Spock replies. 'But I prefer the way you do it. You seem to know how to do it just right.'

"'But the personnel here are professionally trained. Why experience any more discomfort than you have to?'

"'Because I…prefer your touch,' Spock retorts. 'Now, please leave me. I wish to sleep.'

"'All right, if you say so. See you later,' the Captain says, then leaves, sensing that Spock was in no mood for further conversation. The Captain didn't seem to notice me, and that was good, because I couldn't have explained why I was there if he had." She once again began sobbing.

The Doctor got up, came around his desk and gathered his Head Nurse close, holding her in comforting arms. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, Chris."

"I wanted to help him, but he wouldn't let me," she said, voice barely audible.

"Does that surprise you?"

"No, but it hurts. It hurts like hell." She clung to him like a lifeline. "He doesn't want my help or my touch." Her voice almost broke as she buried her wet face in the Doctor's uniform shirt. "He wouldn't care if you or I died or disappeared tomorrow…but if it was the Captain--" Her voice broke off. "Leonard, why do I bother, why do I try? He never notices, it never matters. I might as well not even exist." Her sobbing increased. "Why couldn't he at least have let me make the attempt?"

McCoy couldn't find any words which would ease her pain, so he merely held her and let her have her grief. This time it wasn't a case of over-reaction, not an isolated incident--but one of far too many times that Christine had been shunted aside, taken for granted, ignored and/or for-gotten…and not only by Spock. This stupidity was going to end…and soon…whatever he had to do!

* * *

It was that evening that McCoy decided to confront Spock and have it out with him once and for all. The Vulcan was reading something on the bedside monitor when the Doctor walked in. He raised an eyebrow at the grim look on the latter's face.

"Is something wrong, Doctor?" he asked conversationally, unaware of what was coming--and for that reason, was unprepared for it.

"I want to talk to you, Spock." McCoy's voice was deceptively quiet.

"What about?" The Vulcan's voice was infuriatingly calm, and McCoy made sure that Spock knew how he felt about it.

"Your treatment of Christine a few hours ago."

"That is not your concern," Spock retorted stiffly. "My conduct is my own affair." Let it never be said that a Vulcan cannot rise to the occasion.

McCoy's fists clenched and unclenched behind his back as he fought for control. "Not when it affects the smooth running of Sickbay," the Doctor shot back. "You had a rubdown a few hours ago, right?"

"Yes. Why?" The First Officer allowed himself a frown.

"Who gave it to you--or need I ask?"

"What is that supposed to mean, Doctor?" Spock's tone was suspicious.

"Did Christine offer to do it?"

"She did," the Vulcan reluctantly admitted.

"And you refused it," McCoy finished coldly.

"I did not require it at that point," the Science Officer claimed, dignity fully intact.

"That's strange, since Christine told me that you seemed quite tense and restless," McCoy informed him. "And I'm inclined to believe her."

"Are you accusing me of lying, Doctor?" Spock almost visibly bristled as he pushed the monitor aside.

"Not at all," the Doctor replied evenly. "Only that you didn't allow her to do her job. What do you think Christine was in Sickbay for, decoration?"

The two stared at each other with equally frigid gazes.

"Since then, Christine has been fumbling around, dropping things, making mistakes she hasn't made in years…"

"…and you believe I am the cause," the Vulcan finished, eyes as hard, black and cold as obsidian.

"I know you are," McCoy snapped. "Damn it, Spock, even if you don't consider me a friend, Christine certainly deserves better after all she's done for you."

"Doctor, I assure you it was not a reflection on her competency. I merely did not wish a rubdown at that point."

"But you did when Jim came in an hour later," the Doctor said, his voice sounding too much like an accusation for Spock not to notice it.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Spock flared.

"Not to your way of thinking," McCoy retorted. "But the least you could have done was let her do her job--or at least attempt it--instead of making her feel useless. But you didn't even let her try, from what I understand. Just where did you think she was after Jim came? Did you even care? I doubt it very much. She heard everything you said…that you were tense, needed a rubdown and hadn't gotten one, so Jim gave it to you. I have to give him credit for one thing, though--he confronted you about it, asked you why you didn't let Christine do it if you needed it and she was available. You said you preferred him doing it, even though she is equally capable of doing it. But that didn't matter one damn bit to you, did it? She didn't matter one damn bit… though that doesn't surprise me. She never has mattered to you." Any more than I have, the Doctor finished sadly in his mind.

There was so much bitterness in McCoy's voice that Spock sensed that the Doctor wasn't only protesting Christine's treatment, but his own. "Is there something you are not telling me, Doctor?"

"A lot," McCoy remarked. "But there's no sense mentioning it, because we'd be up all night arguing about it--and even then, probably wouldn't resolve anything. It's hard to resolve problems when one person's mind is already made up beforehand and unwilling to give the other person the benefit of the doubt…in essence, a chance to prove themselves."

His voice was a mixture of pain and bitterness. "It's a mistake for one person to be the be-all and end-all of another's existence. That can often be as hard on the latter as the former if the dependent one has no one else to turn to in the event something happens to the one they depend on."

Spock gave him a funny look. "What do you mean, Doctor?"

"Suffice it to say that it's a pretty poor life that only has room for one other person in it, when a person won't give anyone else a chance to be their friend--can't forgive them their faults when he should know they care about him and mean well, yet expects others to accept him without reservation. Nor are they responsible or should be penalized for whatever trauma he went through in his childhood." McCoy turned away, all talked out for the moment. "Good night, Spock. I'll leave now so as not to impose my odious presence on you any longer. I know you don't care to be around me any more than absolutely necessary." With that, the Doctor left, leaving Spock to ponder his words and the emotions behind them.

* * *

Upon his release from Sickbay, Spock called Kirk to his quarters to discuss what McCoy had said--none of which he had been able to figure out, and which he had decided not to mention until he and Kirk could discuss it privately.

"What's so urgent, Spock? You sounded troubled when you called." Kirk sounded concerned.

"It is…about Dr. McCoy," the Vulcan confessed quietly as the two went to sit on his bed in the sleeping alcove.

"Bones? What about him?" The Captain's brows raised in a most Vulcan manner.

"I had a most--unusual conversation with him some days ago." The Vulcan stepped to the auto-chef to get himself and Kirk a drink, handing Kirk's Saurian brandy to him upon his return.

Kirk took a swallow before answering. "What did he say?"

Spock related everything McCoy had said and finally confessed, "I have been unable to deduce what he meant by those statements, though I did detect sadness and bitterness in his voice."

Kirk smiled. "Not really surprising, considering that we've been pretty much spending time together without including him. It wouldn't surprise me if he felt left out or excluded."

Spock didn't want to admit it, even to Kirk, but he felt more comfortable when it was just the two of them as opposed to having the Doctor with them. "But I only… feel comfortable when we are alone."

"That's probably something else that's been bothering him, judging from what you said. No one likes to feel like they're 'on the outside looking in,' like they can't join people they consider friends if they so choose. He must feel hesitant at joining us whenever he sees us together, even if he wants to be with us--because he doesn't want to intrude. Perhaps he even feels like we don't consider him as much of a friend as we do each other. Remember, he has feelings as much as we do. We must try and make him feel as welcome as possible when he spends time with us, and I think I may invited him to dinner with us next time, if you don't mind. It shouldn't be too much of a hardship to be polite to him for a couple of hours. After all, you should know better than anyone how it feels to be left out and excluded because you feel or believe differently about things than your peers.

"I'm afraid I must also agree with his statement that it's best for a person to have more than one friend they can turn to, not build their whole world around one person. It can be devastating if something happens to that person, and you know how easily that can happen in Starfleet. I know it's not easy for you to make friends, but I can help you if you have problems approaching either Bones or Christine, though I can certainly understand your wanting us to spend some time alone as friends. That's natural…but I'm not the only one who cares about you.

Give them a chance, Spock. You might be surprised.

"You should also try to keep in mind that although Bones is very outspoken, he is basically a decent, caring person, as is Christine. They couldn't be as good at what they do if they weren't. Both of them were only children, as you were, so neither ever had any siblings. For Christine, Uhura is a surrogate sister; for Bones, we are surrogate brothers, so it's up to us to fill those roles as best we can. You should also include Christine occasionally, even spend some time alone with her once in a while. It should be your decision how much to share with me--or Bones, if you so choose--of what happens at those times. Don't worry; I'll try to keep his teasing and such to a minimum.

"Another thing about Christine: if she wants to give you a back rub or something and you're confined to bed in Sickbay, especially if I'm not around to do it, let her do it. It's her job, and it won't hurt you. You might even like it. If nothing else, at least be civil to her…acknowledge her existence, or say hello to her if you happen to see her. That shouldn't be too much to ask." Kirk took a breath and another swallow of his drink after his lengthy diatribe.

"Is that an order?" the Vulcan asked quietly.

"Take it as you will--but it's meant as a request."

"I will…attempt to do so," Spock promised. "If it will please you."

"You should want to do it for your own sake, Spock, not just to please me--or them, though they don't ask much of you, so it shouldn't be too hard to have a friendly conversation with them once in a while," Kirk admonished. "Or spend an evening with them…if not alone, with all of us together." Kirk thought a moment. "In fact, I have an idea. How about your asking Christine to join the three of us in the Rec Room tonight at 1930 hours, then we can go to my quarters and watch that holovid you said your mother sent you for your birthday and that you wanted me to see? I'm sure Bones and Christine would enjoy it as well. What better opportunity to do so--and 'cement relationships,' as it were, at the same time?" Kirk could see that Spock looked both dubious and not too pleased at the prospect of sharing his time with Kirk, even to make Christine and McCoy feel better. "Don't worry. We can still watch it ourselves later," Kirk assured him.

The Vulcan sighed. "Very well. I will speak to Miss Chapel."

"And I'll get hold of Bones. Now, let's get cracking. On the double, Mister!"

Kirk used his command voice, but Spock detected a mischievous twinkle in his eye, which lightened the mood of the moment…even though he privately would have preferred to view the holo with Jim alone first before inviting anyone to join them. The main positive thing to come out of their conversation was that he now knew why McCoy had spoken as he had, and what to do about it. And deep down, Spock knew the Captain was right about the Doctor and Christine. They indeed deserved better treatment than they'd been getting lately, so it was the least he could do to please them by spending time with both them and Jim, at least for tonight, if not other times in the future. That possibility would depend on the outcome of tonight's excursion.

* * *

But between this time and the time of the get-together, McCoy--now off-duty--was in the midst of a dream born of his feelings of uselessness, neglect and hurt…a dream rapidly turning into a nightmare, complete with a darkly-robed, ghostly figure with no face that the Doctor could see: only a disembodied voice, a voice which somehow sounded like both Jim and Spock's put together, if that was possible. He was convinced that his friends and family would have been better off if he'd never been born. As it was, he was constantly in Jim and Spock's way, always underfoot, and had alienated his precious Jo. She barely spoke to him, having still not quite for-given him for breaking up their family and running off to Starfleet.

Without her, all he had was his work and friends aboard the Enterprise--but even they seemed to prefer each other's company to his. Most of the time, he might as well not even have been around for all the attention they paid him. They probably wouldn't even notice if he were gone, nor would it matter too much unless they needed medical help. That's all he was good for any more, as far as they were concerned…or so it seemed to him. He wasn't a friend, he was a necessary evil. In fact, he was even considering asking Christine, a fellow "necessary evil", to set up a medical practice with him after they'd resigned from Starfleet, which he was seriously considering doing and wouldn't be surprised if she were as well, leaving Jim and Spock to themselves and their lives aboard ship.

Dr. Leonard McCoy, do you truly wish you had never been born? the disembodied voice inquired.

I do, the Doctor replied glumly. I'm no good to anyone; I'm just in Jim and Spock's way, my daughter hates me…what have I got to live for? Chris is the only one who understands me any more--and that's only because she's in the same boat as I am.

Very well, Leonard McCoy. As of this moment, you have never been born, never married or had a child, never joined Starfleet or met your friends Kirk and Spock. Would you like to see what their lives would be like without you? The voice was ominously quiet.

For a time McCoy wondered why, then put it aside for the time being.

Who would you like to see first?

My parents, David and Jo-Ellen McCoy. Did they have another child--a daughter, perhaps?

The scene shifted to the living room of a small farmhouse in rural Georgia, one of the few farmhouses left in the 23^rd century. It was late at night, a woman with dark brown hair and a care-worn face, looking to be in her mid to late twenties, sat in a rocking chair, knitting baby bootees.

Is she pregnant? McCoy asked, asking the reason for the baby bootees.

Not any more, the voice said. She had a miscarriage six months ago, and the complications left her unable to bear further children. Instead, she now babysits for children and grandchildren of various friends, making sweaters, bonnets and bootees for them when the necessity arises.

Was her lost child…would it have been--me? McCoy asked.

Yes, came the one-word reply.

Didn't she ever try to adopt? he wondered.

No. She believed it could never be the same as having her own.

McCoy smiled sadly. Mama always was like that. What about Daddy? How did he feel about it?

He could not accept her attitude, and so ended their marriage shortly after her recovery from the miscarriage. He re-married, but remained childless. He is still a doctor, however, and finds some solace in his work--but his heart and home will be forever empty. The son he so longed for is gone, never to be replaced.

May I see him? McCoy asked.

This time the scene turned into a Doctor's office; a despondent-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair, in his early forties but looking far older, sat at a desk cluttered with papers and computer tape cassettes. There were deep lines and dark circles around his bloodshot eyes. McCoy noted a bottle of Tennessee whiskey with a half-full glass next to it on the desk at the elder McCoy's elbow. The text of one cassette had been called up on the computer and was on the monitor screen. The title--all McCoy could make out--read:

MISCARRIAGES: ONE OF THE COMPLICATIONS OF PREGNANCY

AND HOW TO PREVENT THEM

By David A. McCoy, M.D.

That was all Leonard McCoy could see, but it was enough. After a time, the man reached out and turned off the computer, the text on the screen winking out. As the screen faded, he laid his head down on his cluttered desk and wept.

But Daddy never wrote anything like that, the Chief Surgeon protested.

Correct. Originally, he never did--but in this case, he did, because you were never born. He did all he could to save his unborn child…you…but failed. Jo-Ellen McCoy miscarried in her third month of pregnancy.

Is that why he's crying? Because he feels like a failure, totally useless because all his medical skill could not save his child?

Yes, the voice responded.

McCoy couldn't stand to see his father cry, so he asked to see how Christine's life had gone. The voice did not speak, but the scene changed to one the Doctor knew well: the Starfleet Medical Building at the Academy on Earth.

Is Chris here? McCoy asked.

Yes.

Where is she? What is she? Is she Head of Starfleet Medical or what?

Indeed. This time the voice sounded more like Spock's.

That's great! Did she ever get married? What happened to her?

Patience. You will soon see.

The scene switched to another Doctor's office--and he saw a familiar face busily working at a medical computer.

Chris! That's Chris! I always knew she could accomplish anything she set her mind to. Is she happy in her job?

She spends many hours at it, was the ambiguous reply.

Doesn't she have a life outside of her work? he wondered.

She has friends, was the answer.

But no husband or children? What happened to Spock? There was no reply for so long that McCoy became angry. Dammit, answer me! What happened to him?

Observe, the voice said.

While McCoy watched, Christine stopped working and opened her desk drawer, pulling out a holograph--of Spock, he noted…and the Vulcan was smiling! No doubt only for her, but what counted was that he was doing it. She hugged the holograph to her chest, then gazed lovingly at it, tears brimming in her eyes. "Spock--oh, Spock, my love. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault at all! I don't blame you for what happened. No matter what, I would gladly have married you. Why did you leave me? Why?" Her voice broke and she began sobbing, hugging the holo to her chest again after kissing it tenderly. That was as much as McCoy could take.

In the next moment, the scene shifted to a cell-like room, where an emaciated and shaggy-haired figure dressed in prison clothes languished on a cot in the far corner, and seemed to be trembling. There was food on a nearby tray, but it hadn't been touched. It wasn't until the figure's head turned that McCoy recognized him. The upswept brows, elegant ears and dark eyes were unmistakable. Spock! When the Doctor looked closer, he noted that the eyes were haunted and green-rimmed, the skeletal face tear-streaked. The Vulcan had been crying. McCoy almost had a coronary from the shock.

Spock! Oh, my God! What happened to him? Why is he in prison?

He recently had his pon farr and was challenged by his betrothed. Captain Kirk went down to stand with him, the voice explained.

Jim? Where is he? What happened to him?

Can you not guess?

Then a realization hit McCoy--a realization too terrible for him to voice--but the owner of the voice had no such reservations.

Because you were not there to prevent it, Spock killed the Captain in his madness. Since then, Spock has resigned from Starfleet, turned himself in to the authorities and has been sentenced to life in prison for the killing.

What? That's insane! They couldn't possibly hold him responsible for his actions while under the influence of pon farr!

But they did--because you were not there to intercede for him.

Oh, dear God… McCoy's thought-voice was filled with horror and grief.

In addition, he has stopped eating and drinks little, sleeping even less. His grief will eventually kill him, long before his time.

Did he ever become involved with Christine?

Yes, shortly before the ill-fated trip to Vulcan. In fact, they had planned to bond once his previous one with T'Pring had been nullified. They had even decided to have the Captain marry them. Upon Captain Kirk's death, that all changed. Spock canceled their bonding and marriage plans, unable to believe that Christine could still want him because of his actions, no matter how much she tried to persuade him otherwise…and even though he forbade her to come see him, he still loves her. This pain is in addition to his grief for the Captain, so Spock will not live much longer. He was only strong because of the love and friendship you, Christine and the Captain bore for him. Now he has nothing to live for, not even the woman he loves.

Poor Spock, McCoy wept inwardly for his Vulcan friend. He doesn't deserve that. T'Pring is the one who should pay, not him.

Can you not see now, Leonard McCoy? You are necessary; you are loved, you are needed. Your friends love you, your daughter loves you. If you don't believe me, wait and see. Before the day is out, things will change drastically--I promise you.

McCoy barely heard the voice, his head spinning with all he had seen and heard…so wrapped up in Spock's pain that he had forgotten it wasn't really happening, as well as to ask about his former wife. But that was all academic now. The next thing he knew, he found himself stretched out on his bed, boots and uniform shirt off, and heard Kirk's voice, accompanied by pounding on his door.

"Bones, open up! Let me in! If you're there and all right, let me in. I've got to talk to you!"

The Doctor made himself get up and press the button to unlock his door.

Kirk burst in, flushed with exertion, his voice full of concern. "Bones! Are you all right? I've been trying to get hold of you for the last hour!"

"I'm fine, Jim," McCoy said warmly. "In fact, I couldn't be better." He was hard-pressed not to cry, just seeing Jim and knowing he was alive, coming over to his startled friend and hugging him fiercely, almost literally leaving the Captain breathless.

"Bones, what happened? You're acting funny," Kirk observed upon regaining his breath.

"I'm just happy to see you, that's all," McCoy replied with an enigmatic smile. I can't tell you how happy, he finished in his mind. Especially to see you alive!

Kirk knew him too well to be fooled for long, however, and the Doctor finally said, "Had a bad dream. I'll tell you about it the next time we both have an off-duty day. Right now, I need to sort things out, make some sense of the dream before I could possibly explain it to you. Incidentally, why are you here?"

"I came to invite you to dinner with me and Spock."

"Are you sure he won't mind? He might see it as an intrusion on his time with you," the Chief Surgeon asked warily.

"Not at all," Kirk assured him, deciding it was best that he not tell McCoy that he had practically ordered Spock to accept the Doctor's presence with them. "In fact, I even told him to go invite Christine to join us."

McCoy had to laugh as he envisioned the look that must have been on the Vulcan's face at Kirk's request--or was it an order? "Is that what he's doing now?"

"I would assume so," Kirk replied.

:"It's going to shock the hell out of Christine, that's for sure," McCoy laughed. "But it'll be a nice shock."

"Well, I'm ready if you are," Kirk smiled warmly at his second-best friend.

"I couldn't be more ready," McCoy declared, glad that his bad dream was just that--a bad dream--but the feelings it inspired were very real. Feelings he intended to act upon at the first opportunity.

"Let's go, then," Kirk told him, leading the way out into the Deck Five corridor, where to their pleasant surprise, they found Spock and Christine waiting for them. The four greeted each other with smiles and nods, then turned en masse to the nearest turbolift, the one at the end of the corridor, which would take them to Deck Seven, the Rec Room, their evening meal… and closer friendships.

* * *

The evening passed pleasantly for all concerned; Uhura even joined them for a time--then begged off because she had an early shift, at 0530. Christine made a date to get together with her later in the week, then the dark woman departed with a smile and wave before disappearing through the Rec Room door. The Humans smiled and nodded in her direction; the Vulcan merely nodded.

Near the end of their meal, Kirk looked around at everyone and said, giving Spock a meaningful look, "I'd like to invite everyone to my quarters to watch a holovid Spock's mother sent him recently."

McCoy and Christine brightened at the prospect; it was a rare opportunity. Usually only Kirk ever knew what Spock's mother sent him, so the Doctor and Christine suspected that Spock was going along merely to please Kirk--but the latter was doing it in order that neither of them felt excluded, at least not this time around.

"Then let's get to it. I'm anxious to see what Amanda sent," McCoy remarked as the four stood up and headed for the Rec Room doors, then into a turbolift which would take them to Deck Five and the senior officers' quarters. Upon reaching Deck Five, Spock said, "I must retrieve the holovid from my quarters. I will rejoin you in a moment." He ostensibly addressed everyone, but kept his eyes on Kirk as he spoke. A short time later, he ducked into his quarters; the others continued on to Kirk's. The two medical officers sat on the chairs from Kirk's desk; he and Spock would sit on the Captain's bed. His viewer was on a swivel base, positioned so all could see from where they were sitting.

Once the others were settled, Kirk (ever the thoughtful host) asked, "Would either of you like a drink?"

"Saurian brandy, Jim," the Doctor said.

"Altair water," Christine told him.

"Coming up." Going over to his personal wet-bar, Kirk poured drinks for everyone, including himself and Spock. He kept a supply of the Vulcan's favorite drink, tulac, in his small refrigerator/freezer, situated on a shelf below where he kept his stash of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks from various Federation planets.

Spock returned as Kirk was distributing drinks to the others.

"You don't usually take this long, Spock," Kirk remarked upon noting the Vulcan's presence. "Was there a problem?"

"I merely thought it logical to re-wind the holovid," came the cool reply. "It took longer than I anticipated."

Kirk looked at him skeptically. Spock was usually painstaking in seeing to it that any holovid he (or they) might watch was re-wound immediately after viewing--but the Captain didn't comment further. At least not in front of McCoy and Christine. "As long as it's ready now. Let's get started."

Spock inserted the holovid, then seated himself beside Kirk on his bed and waited for it to begin.

* * *

All were surprised when the holovid began, and turned to Spock. McCoy spoke first. "How did your mother ever get hold of the Walt Disney movie Fantasia, Spock?" the Doctor wondered. "That's one of the rarest holovids around!"

"It was not easy, Doctor," the Vulcan replied, taking a drink of tulac before continuing. "But when she heard that my father knew someone who dealt in location of rare holovids of classic films from the last three centuries, she asked if it would be possible for him to locate a copy of Fantasia."

"Connections, always connections," the Captain chuckled. "But I'm glad he was able to find it. I haven't seen it since I was a child."

"I haven't seen it for five years," Christine said. "I always loved the music in it, particularly Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite and Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony."

In spite of himself, Spock was surprised at her statements. Those two pieces were also his personal favorites from the film. Uncanny… As the film progressed, the Vulcan found himself nurturing a new respect for her musical taste, if nothing else. When the Dance of the Snowflakes piece played, Spock stole a look at her face; it was radiant, with an almost rapturous look. He looked at Kirk and McCoy; their faces wore similar looks. After that, he himself became lost in the music; no one spoke again until the part in Beethoven's symphony where the female centaurs were parading before the males.

"I especially like this female centaur," Christine said as one with a particularly long tail decorated with roses appeared on screen. "Her tail is so beautiful."

The others smiled and nodded, but made no comment.

A short time later, when one pair sat on the edge of the pond, the male swinging his front hooves over the water, the female snuggled close to him and he put an arm around her, Christine was unable to resist sneaking a wistful look at Spock. If only it could have been them doing that…

Another time was when the cherubs noticed that one of the young males was "odd man out" and decided to see if they could find a young female for him--which they did, a cute little blonde with pigtails and flowers on her bosom and around her waist. Christine couldn't help but be reminded of Spock and herself, nonetheless surprised to catch a look of longing on Spock's face as the two were brought together…sighing as the young male kissed the girl's hand, then gestured to a private spot, where they settled down together a short time later. She also couldn't help wondering if anyone else had noticed that even Spock had been caught up in both the magic of the music and the budding romance on-screen. After the scene faded, she stole a look at the others, who seemed to be enjoying it as much as herself and Spock.

Another thing they had in common! Who would have thought that Spock, of all people, was a closet romantic? Maybe at some point she could show him some sketches she had made of some of the characters from that part of the film. Strictly amateurish, but they still looked pretty good--at least to her. That was unusual, since she hadn't even showed them to Nyota or Leonard …yet she was actually considering showing a "logical" Vulcan an emotional thing! Luckily for her that Spock was one of the few Vulcans likely to appreciate even a few Human things, particularly classical music or art. Even so, she was hesitant to even mention it to him, as much as she wanted to.

She was brought back to reality by a burst of laughter from Kirk and McCoy; she looked at the screen, which showed that the head ostrich ballet dancer had just fallen on her backside. She had to chuckle at that herself, but what was funniest to her was when the female hippo tried to jump into the alligator's arms and nearly flattened him. She had no idea how anyone could have thought that plausible--but then, what was impossible in reality was commonplace in animation. She wasn't too fond of the first of the last two pieces, Night on Bald Mountain, depicting the Devil and dead or evil things. She much preferred the second and last piece, Ave Maria, featuring pastoral scenes and people carrying torches as they walked to a chapel in the forest. Once again, she carefully looked at Spock out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to prefer it as well.

Just as the holo was ending, the intercom sounded. Kirk reached to open it. "Kirk here."

"Communication for Dr. McCoy, sir," Uhura's voice came back. "It's his daughter, from Centaurus. She wishes to speak with him."

The Doctor seemed stunned for a moment, then his face lit up. "In that case, I'd better get back to my quarters. I haven't spoken to Jo in a long time. Thank you for having me, Jim; thank you for sharing the holovid, Spock. See you later." He nodded and smiled in everyone's direction, then departed.

Kirk seemed just as surprised, commenting, "How's that for coming out of the blue? Bones hasn't talked with, much less about, his daughter for as long as I can remember."

"I'm just glad they're going to get a chance to talk and hopefully straighten things out between themselves," Christine opined.

"It'll probably take more than just one talk for that to happen," Kirk replied. "They've been estranged for some years."

"As long as it happens one day," the nurse concluded.

Kirk had to nod in agreement as he told the viewer to re-wind upon the holo's reaching the end of the film credits. "It was great, Spock," he said with a smile. "I loved every minute of it."

Spock gave his Human friend a half-smile and nodded in his direction, then to Christine's surprise, offered to walk her back to her quarters. "Of course, Spock. I wouldn't mind that at all, if you don't."

"I would not ask if I did," he rejoined coolly. "I will rejoin you shortly, Captain."

Christine moved to the door; Spock joined her there a moment later. After the door closed behind them, Kirk smiled and shook his head in wonder. Whatever had possessed Spock to do a thing like that? He supposed it was possible that the Vulcan was doing it simply to please him, but then again, he could also be doing it to please both himself and Christine. Oh, well…what did it matter what Spock's reasons were, as long as he did it? After the holo had finished re-winding, he then removed it from the viewer and replaced it in its case, then set it on top of the viewer and turned to head for the shower, grabbing his pajamas on the way.

* * *

As for Christine, she was certain that she had to be dreaming, to actually be walking beside Spock on the way to her quarters. He had never done this before, ever--but she didn't care why he was doing it as long as he was doing it. Certainly this was the last thing she'd ever expected, to actually be alone with him, even for a moment (and best of all, he had suggested it!), deciding to mention the possibility of showing him her sketches from the film. The worst he could say was "no," so she didn't have anything to lose by suggesting it.

Her quarters weren't far away, just at the other end of the corridor, so it didn't take long for them to reach her door. "Please be sure to thank the Captain for inviting me," she told him as they momentarily lingered at the door.

"I invited you," the Vulcan softly reminded her.

"Because the Captain told you to, no doubt," she gently countered. "I'm not stupid, Spock. I could sense that you didn't really want either me or Leonard there, that you felt we were intruding on what you considered your private time with the Captain." She held up a hand to stop his reply. "It's all right; I'm not holding it against you…but I truly enjoyed tonight. I haven't seen Fantasia in years. Which reminds me--I've done some sketches from the film, if you'd care to see them. It's all right if you don't, of course, but since you seemed to be enjoying the film as much as I was, I thought I'd make the attempt."

Spock was both touched and ashamed; had his displeasure been that obvious? "I am sorry…Christine. I never meant for it to show. But I must say that it was only in the beginning. Once the film began, I was even--glad that you were present."

"You're not just saying that?"

"I do not lie," he reminded her. "After a time, I even noticed that the Doctor was enjoying the film. Best of all, he never teased me once."

"That's just one of the ways he shows affection, Spock. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't bother," she reminded him. "Sometimes that's hard to remember, but whatever Leonard's faults, he does care about you and the Captain…more than anyone else on the ship, and it hurts him that he's so rarely invited to join the two of you. Of course, he'd never forgive me if he knew I'd told you, so keep it to yourself. I don't want to get in trouble."

Spock nodded with a half-smile. "I would--also like to see your sketches at the earliest opportunity."

Christine was stunned almost speechless, then smiled once the shock wore off. "That's great, Spock. You're due to come in for a physical day after tomorrow, right?"

"I believe so," he agreed.

"I can show you the sketches then, if you like. I'll have to remember to bring them. That is, if you don't mind Leonard seeing them, too. I haven't had a chance to show them to him, either."

Spock wasn't comfortable with the idea of McCoy being there, but did his best to conceal it. "Of course not, Christine. I will be looking forward to seeing them."

"Even with Dr. McCoy there?"

"Even with Dr. McCoy there," he assured her. "I will see you then. Now I must return to the Captain's quarters. Good night."

"Good night, Spock." She smiled and opened her door, turning to go inside.

"Christine, wait." He didn't know why he'd called to her, but somehow he couldn't let her leave without doing one last thing, however illogical…and this time, he wasn't doing it just to please Jim. He was doing it because he wanted to, for both himself and Christine.

"Yes?" She lifted her head to face him, stunned when he reached for her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. "Spock?"

He lifted his head slowly, not wanting to meet her eyes. "Do you mind?" he asked, so quietly that she had to strain to hear him.

"Of course not," she assured him. "It was just such a surprise. And don't worry; I won't tell anyone you did it."

"Thank you," he said, favoring her with a half-smile. "Good night."

"Good night."

With that, the Vulcan turned and headed back in the general direction of Kirk's quarters; she watched until he disappeared around the corner, then went into her own and prepared for bed after showering and washing her hair. Something told her that he wasn't just thanking her for her promise to keep what he had done a secret, but for all she had done for him, though she wouldn't call him on it…simply respect his privacy and not mention it again unless he did.

* * *

Spock thought he was hiding it, but Kirk could see that whatever had happened during his time with Christine had affected the Vulcan more deeply than he was willing to admit, even to him--at least for the time being. "Anything wrong, Spock?" the Captain asked when his alien friend stepped into his quarters again as he was working on the next day's duty roster on his computer.

Spock felt a mixture of affection and annoyance; Jim was entirely too perceptive for his comfort. At times like this, he wished his friend couldn't read him so well, because he didn't feel like discussing it before having a chance to sort out his mixed-up emotions regarding Christine--and McCoy, too, especially after what Christine had said about him.

"Don't worry, Spock; I won't pry," Kirk assured him. "But I can't help thinking that you've had a revelation about Christine and Bones tonight, and it's very disturbing to you. That's not surprising…but when you want to talk, you know where to find me."

"Thank you, Jim. I think I will retire after an hour of meditation." Already the Vulcan was headed for the direction of the bathroom he and Kirk shared, which connected their respective quarters and which both used when they wished to talk privately and didn't want anyone else to know about it.

Kirk couldn't help thinking that it was probably going to be difficult for Spock to meditate tonight; it usually was after an unusual occurrence, particularly if it prompted a revelation about someone the Vulcan hadn't considered before. "Spock?" he called as the First Officer reached the bathroom door.

"Yes?" Spock half-turned back to him.

"I had a great time tonight. I loved seeing Fantasia again. Thank you."

"I am…pleased to have been able to show it to you, my friend. And to Miss Chapel and the Doctor as well."

"You mean that? You're not just saying that because it's what you think I want to hear?"

Again, the Vulcan felt the mixture of affection and annoyance, but said, "That was the case at first, but now I am--gratified that you enabled me to share it with them as well."

"Glad to help. Do you think you'll be able to invite them on your own after this?"

"I…believe I will still need your help, at least for a while longer. Remember, it was not--easy for me to…develop a friendship with you. It will--take longer than overnight for me to even begin to…feel anywhere near as--comfortable with them as I do with you." Spock was embarrassed to feel heat coming into his cheeks and ears, grateful that his face was in shadow so Jim couldn't see it. "But I intend to--try, because you are…right. It is logical that I have--other friends to turn to. I must go now." With that, the First Officer disappeared through the bathroom door.

Kirk smiled after him for a time, vowing to have a talk with Spock as soon as his friend gave him an opening, then turned back to finish the duty roster and post it before retiring. * * *

All the while this was going on, McCoy was experiencing a revelation or two of his own. Upon reaching his quarters, he told Uhura to open the channel to Centaurus and pipe it down to his quarters. The next thing he heard was his daughter's voice--without anger or bitterness, as he was unfortunately all too used to . . . and usually deserved. Even so, McCoy had never intended to alienate either his wife or his daughter--and hoped that Joanna knew that, even if "J.J." (as he had always called his ex-wife) hadn't.

"Daddy, are you there? It's me, Joanna."

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, as beautiful as J.J. had been when he'd first met her 25 years ago . . . and Jo's voice was equally beautiful. Soft, husky, melodic, with just a touch of his Southern accent.

"Yes, baby. I'm here." His voice held warmth and tenderness.

"You haven't called me 'baby' since I was one, I don't think," Joanna remarked with a laugh.

"Nope," McCoy disagreed. "When you were a baby, I called you either 'Pumpkin' or 'Precious.' I didn't start calling you 'baby' until you were a teenager. Which reminds me, that was probably the last time you talked to me with anything resembling affection," the Doctor recalled, his voice a mixture of sadness and self-recrimination. "I'm sorry I was such a coward, baby. I never meant to make you feel abandoned," he told her regretfully. "Nor did I ever mean to make it seem as though my work was more important than you. Honey, nothing is more important to me than you are. I've lost your mother through my bone-headed stupidity; I don't want to lose you, too. Please forgive me, baby. I know I haven't done right by you, but I've never stopped thinking about you--and most importantly, never stopped loving you."

McCoy paused, letting his words and sincerity sink in. He looked at his daughter's face for a time and could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes: blue eyes identical to his own.

"I love you too, Daddy. I'm sorry it took me so long to grow up enough to see your side of the situation. For a long time I saw only Mama's and hated you for what you did to us, but not any more. I realize now that you couldn't have meant to do it. Life's too short and uncertain to hold grudges. Especially now." She smiled enigmatically.

McCoy raised a Vulcan-like eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

"I'm going to be married." Joanna's smile widened. "And I want you to give me away." Her face was radiant with happiness.

"I'd be honored, baby. When's the wedding?"

"Another three months, until Michael's and my duties allow time for a honeymoon. Then we're planning to come see you, wherever you are, so you can meet him."

"Is this what this call is about?" the Doctor inquired.

"Partly that, and partly my attempt to mend fences between us. I never want us to be out of touch again. It's been far too long as it is."

"Amen to that," the Chief Surgeon concurred. "Especially since I'll want you to keep me informed of everything concerning my grandchildren."

"Don't worry, I will," Joanna laughed. "I'd better go now, Daddy. I need to be up again in a few hours to go to work."

"What does your intended--Michael--do for a living?"

Joanna laughed again. "He owns a restaurant in New Athens, which specializes . . . get this--in authentic Southern cuisine!"

"Fantastic," the Doctor pronounced. "You must take me there sometime."

"Oh, I will," came the assurance. "It's on the edge of town, just a few blocks from the Medical Complex. We usually have dinner there after I get off. I've really got to go now, Daddy. We'll talk again. I love you."

"I love you, baby. Congratulations, and all the best to you and Michael. Take care."

She smiled and blew him a kiss, then the transmission ended.

McCoy now knew that even as late as it was, he would be too keyed up to sleep--for the dual facts of his daughter's most unexpected yet most welcome contact (the ghostly voice in his dream had been right on the money) and the even more joyous news of her upcoming marriage. Best of all, Jo wanted him to give her away! Now all he could do was hope and pray nothing would come up to prevent his presence at her wedding. It wasn't every day that a father had the chance to give his daughter away in marriage. He could only hope that this Michael would treat her right, make her happy; he hadn't had the chance to find out anything else about him--like what he was like, personality-wise; what he looked like physically or how old he was. Oh well, he'd probably find all that out next time . . . and it was wonderful beyond words to know that there would be a next time. Wait until he told Jim and the others!

McCoy talked with Christine during their break the following day, telling her all about his talk with his daughter and the news that she was to be married and wanted him to give her away.

"That's great, Leonard. I'm so glad that you and Joanna have mended fences--and that she wants you to give her away."

McCoy nodded and smiled. "She even said they were going to come here so I can meet her intended."

"That's even better. I'd love to meet her."

"I'm sure she'd like you, too," the Doctor opined. "Which reminds me, if we should leave Starfleet one day, I would be honored if you would go into practice with me."

"The honor would be mine," Christine smiled. "Oh, did I ever tell you that I've done sketches of the centaurs from Fantasia?"

"No. I'd love to see them," McCoy told her.

"I'll be bringing them in tomorrow," Christine informed him. "Incidentally, I also invited Spock to look at them. Remember, he's supposed to get a checkup tomorrow."

The Chief Surgeon nodded in acknowledgment. "Yeah. So what?"

"I know you mean well, but I must ask you to remain on your best behavior while Spock is with us. If you expect him to even begin to feel comfortable around you, you cannot react as you normally do whenever he inadvertently shows his emotions. Remember, he's been schooled to believe that showing emotion is bad--but sometimes can't help showing his feelings because of his Human half, whether he means to or not. Just act as you would if it was the Captain or I doing it."

"That won't be easy," the Doctor confessed.

"I know, but I think you'll find that the results will convince you that I'm right," Christine finished. "Now, I think we'd better get back to work. Break time is over."

With that, the two Medical Officers left the Chief Surgeon's office and resumed the crew physicals they had been doing before the break. Spock was due to come in for his around 1630, near the end of Christine's shift. Surely the timing was only coincidence, but Spock was always a great one for timely arrivals. What if he planned to walk her to the Officers' Lounge for an early dinner after she got off and his physical had been completed? If nothing else, she could show him the sketches before they ate… and show them to Leonard at a later date. It was probably just wishful thinking, but she liked the idea that now this scenario wasn't as impossible as she had once believed. Not to mention the fact that she was anxious to learn both Spock and Leonard's opinion of her artwork.

* * *

She found out--and was pleasantly surprised, particularly at Spock's opinion. She enjoyed drawing as a hobby, especially animated characters, but didn't consider herself that good an artist. Even so, she was warmed and encouraged by their praise, though as expected, Spock kept his low-key. McCoy, on the other hand, was lavish in his accolades to her ability. She was pleasantly surprised to note that the Doctor was indeed on his best behavior in Spock's presence, which no doubt surprised the Vulcan as much as it did her.

After Spock had checked out as being in perfect health, as expected, she led the two men to her desk, where she had stashed her sketchbook in the center right drawer, but even as she reached to open the drawer and get out the sketchbook, she felt an inexplicable rush of shyness. She wanted them to see her work, but had never shown it to anyone before--even Uhura--so she was apprehensive about letting it be seen. Spock would no doubt be honest, as would Leonard, but the latter was more likely to wax poetic… say what she wanted to hear rather than the truth, in order to make her feel better.

Spock was the first to notice her hesitancy and comment on it. "Is anything wrong, Miss Chapel?"

She noticed that he was back to formality in McCoy's presence, but that didn't bother her as long as he called her by her first name when they were alone. "Oh no, Spock. I'm fine. Just a little--unsure. I've never shown my sketches to anyone before."

"Understandable," he said gently. "But we still wish to see them, if you would not mind."

He exchanged glances with McCoy; the latter's eyes conveyed agreement and a reassuring smile in Christine's direction when she looked up at him for confirmation.

"Well… all right," she acquiesced, reluctantly placing the sketchbook on her desk and opening it to the first page, then on through about ten more pages, pausing for a minute to let them peruse each one before going on to the next. There was silence for a long time, and with every passing moment, Christine became more uneasy.

Spock finally broke the silence. "You drew these freehand?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I did these, working from the screen, the last time I saw Fantasia."

"How long ago was that?" McCoy put in.

"About five years."

"My God, they're great! If I didn't know better, I'd swear that you were the original artist!" McCoy couldn't believe how well done they were--the shading, the perspective, was near-perfect. He half-expected the figures to move, they were that good. Not that he was any kind of art critic, but he knew good work when he saw it.

"The good Doctor exaggerates slightly," the Vulcan remarked, "but his observations are essentially correct. The sketches are quite good, particularly the ones of the centaur couples."

Christine blushed slightly. "I'm glad you both think so, but I never thought of myself as an artist. It was always just a hobby with me, a way to pass the time if I wasn't doing anything else."

"A hobby you should continue," the First Officer said so just Christine could hear.

"You have real talent," McCoy assured her. "Keep up the good work."

At that point McCoy looked up at the chrono on Christine's desk and noted the time. "It's 1700, Chris. Your shift is over. What do you intend to do now?"

"Oh, probably have an early dinner and a shower… then maybe listen to some music and do some reading," she tossed back airily.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," McCoy smiled. "Thanks for letting me see your sketches, Chris. They are really good, no kidding."

"Thanks." Christine returned his smile. "See you later."

She got up and left the room with the intention of going to the Officers' Lounge for a solitary dinner--or what she had assumed would be a solitary dinner. Spock followed her out, yet she was so preoccupied with figuring her dinner menu that she never noticed him until she was nearly to the doors of the Lounge. They had even shared a turbolift from Deck Seven to Deck Three, where the Officers' Lounge was, and she'd never realized it. That didn't happen very often!

She could usually sense his presence, even if he'd just entered the room or was all the way across it. What made his presence even more surprising was that he asked to join her for dinner. Christine was naturally pleased, but still couldn't help thinking that he had to be doing this in order to please Kirk, not because he really wanted to do it. Of course, that didn't stop her from accepting his offer… that is, once she had recovered from the shock of both his asking her and of his touching her to let her know of his presence.

"May I join you, Christine?" he asked quietly.

She was pleased to hear him again calling her by her first name, glad that her original theory had been correct. "Sure, if you like," she replied. "May I ask why?"

"I am curious as to what inspired you to do the centaur sketches," he informed her.

"It might bore you," she warned. "My reasons were… quite emotional, to put it mildly."

"Allow me to determine that," he countered. "I wish to know, or I would not ask."

She sighed and shrugged. "Okay, if you say so. But don't say I didn't warn you."

The two then entered the Officers' Lounge, a discreet distance apart the whole time except for when they sat down together in a booth near one of the viewports after calling up some food. To Christine's surprise, Spock called up a largely Terran meal; the only thing Vulcan about it was the drink--kahlin, to the taste, a cross between apple and tangerine juice. He couldn't help but notice her astonishment at his choice of meal, calmly explaining that there were many Terran foods that he enjoyed, because his mother had introduced them to him while he was growing up and he had never stopped liking them.

This time he ordered a helping of broccoli casserole, potatoes au gratin and applesauce; all portions were larger than Christine had ever seen him eat and she felt sure that he wouldn't be able to eat them all. "That explains it, then," she remarked with a sigh of relief. "You usually eat Vulcan dishes--or at least you did whenever I happened to see you eating."

"Even I wish a change once in a while," he informed her with a half-smile and quirk of one upswept eyebrow.

"In other words, even you occasionally get… cravings for certain types of food," she observed with a smile. For her own meal, Christine had chosen chicken a la king, with a steaming bowl of New England clam chowder and hot, buttered corn on the cob. A slice of pumpkin pie with whipped cream served as dessert and an orange juice/passion fruit wine cooler was her beverage of choice, served in a large goblet "on the rocks".

"Is that not a large amount of food for you?" the Vulcan inquired.

"Oh no," she assured him. "I'm quite hungry. Haven't eaten all day. Been too busy with the crew physicals." After a bite of chicken, she took a swallow of wine cooler, then said, "Incidentally, that's the most food I've seen on your plate in quite some time." She gave him a penetrating glance, but Spock was unruffled.

"As you say, I happened to have a--craving for these particular foods at this moment in time." With that, they both attacked their meals with relish, deciding not to talk about her artwork until after they'd finished eating.

* * *

The talk began almost immediately upon finishing the meals, and the drinks were replenished so neither would get hoarse or a dry mouth. Even as open as Christine had been with him, the Vulcan could sense that she was still holding something back, but would not invade her privacy by asking what it was. If she'd wanted him to know, she would have told him… and he couldn't blame her for being reticent, considering the fact that he had rarely wanted to spend any substantial amount of time with her until and unless duty necessitated it--and certainly had never asked her to speak of personal things, because usually all they did was make him uncomfortable.

Not this time; he had been genuinely interested in knowing why she had done the sketches the way she had, with the couples holding and kissing each other. He was also pleased to notice that she had not pressured him to tell her why he was so curious, making a note to show her his appreciation in subtle ways over the next several days and weeks. And not only because it would please Jim, but because he wanted to do it.

* * *

The following day, after Christine had gotten off-duty, she was stunned to find Spock waiting for her a short distance down the Deck Seven corridor from the Sickbay doors. "Is there something you want to see me about, Spock?" she asked, though she couldn't imagine what he could possibly want, once they fell into step together further down the corridor.

"I…am planning a private concert this evening and would like you to attend, if you are available," he replied, his voice controlled but edged with both sincerity and uncertainty.

The Vulcan could only hope that Christine would sense his sincerity and trust him enough to come to the concert without asking too many questions. He had even asked Uhura (after swearing her to secrecy) what Christine's favorite song was. He had checked its origin, lyrics and melody, uncomfortable with the blatant emotionalism evident in the words, the longing for love and for someone to love--though the melody was hauntingly beautiful, reminiscent of some of his own instrumental compositions.

If he had been an emotional being, he himself might have written such words; as it was, deep down, he identified with the feelings expressed in the song…though he would not have readily admitted it to anyone, except perhaps Jim, and the Captain was the kind who would know without his saying anything. There were times that Spock would have sworn that Jim could read his mind, even without a mind-meld. Another source of discomfort was the fact that the feelings of desire and cautious affection which had begun at the dinner and movie of three nights before--which he had been fighting to suppress ever since--were once again at the forefront of his mind.

It would take all the control he possessed to keep the relationship between himself and Christine platonic, as his logic told him he must, despite the voice of his oft-denied Humanity which screamed at him to take the woman who loved him and make her his own. The emotions of his disparate halves were pulling him in two different directions until Spock was certain he would go mad. He had found it necessary to use all the Vulcan mental disciplines at his command to keep both Christine and the feelings she inspired in him at arms' length, both literally and figuratively.

But in spite of all he could do, it was becoming progressively more difficult to do this with every passing day…and before too much more time had passed, it would be all but impossible, particularly if he was around her very much (especially if they were alone for any length

of time), which seemed necessary at this point if he and Jim were going to convince her and Dr. McCoy to stay with the ship--and them. Even so, Spock found himself having to fight a strong desire to pull her close and kiss her. If he did that, he didn't think he would be able to stop himself for a long time.

He had not wanted a woman so much since his time with Zarabeth, since the time he had reverted to the ways of his pre-logic ancestors, who allowed their emotions and physical needs to dictate their actions…actions which had prompted him at that time to kiss, caress, then make passionate love to the woman from five millennia in the past. He felt those same feelings as he gazed upon Christine now, felt her nearness and smelled both her perfume and womanly scent, the combination of which was intensely arousing to him.

How he would control his desires, he had no idea, but control them, he must. At least during the Sarpeidon affair, he had the excuse of going through the atavachron to explain away his atypical behavior, but there was no such excuse here--not with Christine.

Her voice brought him back to reality. "Spock?…Spock!" Her tone indicated that she had repeated herself several times and was becoming impatient.

"I am sorry, Christine. I--was preoccupied. What did you wish to know?"

"Where and when is this concert going to be?" she asked.

"In the Captain's quarters at 1900 hours this evening," he replied, having decided that it was logical to allow her some time to "freshen up".

"Will Leonard…Dr. McCoy…be there?"

"The Captain is likely asking the Doctor even as we speak," he informed her.

She nodded and smiled in agreement. "I'll need some time to shower and change," she told him. "Would you mind waiting?"

"No," he said.

With that, the pair turned and headed to the turbolift at the end of the corridor, which would take them to Deck Five and the senior officers' quarters, which included those of the Head Nurse.

* * *

As for Kirk, he had barely managed to intercept McCoy as the Doctor prepared to leave his Sickbay office and go to his quarters to have a shower and fall into bed. He wasn't thinking beyond anything more than that when the Captain entered.

"Bones, can I talk to you a minute?"

"A minute," the Chief Surgeon replied. "What do you want, Jim?"

"I want to invite you to a concert in my quarters," the Captain told him.

McCoy looked right through him. "I'm tired, Jim. It's been a rough day. All I want is to have a shower and go to bed."

"This won't take long," Kirk entreated, sensing McCoy's reluctance. "Besides, Christine is likely to be there. I sent Spock to ask her, and have you ever known her to turn him down for any reason?"

"No," the Doctor had to admit. "All right, when is this concert?"

"Another hour," was the reply.

McCoy sighed. "I suppose I could go, if Christine's going. Just let me shower and change first."

"No problem," Kirk assured him.

"Spock's going to be playing his harp, I take it," McCoy remarked.

"Right."

In spite of himself, the Doctor was impressed. Jim and Spock seemed to be doing their utmost to see that he and Chris felt more like friends and less like "necessary evils", and he had to give them credit for that, but it still remained to be seen whether or not they could keep it up long enough to convince them.

"Do you think Spock knows Dixie?" McCoy wondered. "I haven't heard it for ages."

"I don't know, Bones," Kirk answered. "You'll have to ask him."

"I'll do that," was the matter-of-fact reply. "Now, let's get the hell out of here and leave things to the Gamma shift people."

The Captain smiled and turned for the door. "Sounds good to me," he opined. Moments later, the pair departed Sickbay and headed for the Doctor's quarters, where--like Spock--Kirk would wait while Bones showered and changed. All the while, he hoped Spock had been able to convince Christine to accompany him, as he had convinced Bones. It was possible that they would decide to stay with the ship if he and Spock could keep this up long enough…but he and Spock had to do their utmost to make it convincing, since both McCoy and Christine could usually see through them as if they were transparent aluminum.

* * *

Half an hour later, the four were all gathered in Kirk's quarters. The Captain again called up drinks for everyone and distributed them. Spock had obviously stopped by his quarters on the way back from Christine's to pick up his Vulcan harp and was sitting on the foot of Kirk's bed, Christine nearby in one of the two chairs from the Captain's work area. The First Officer's long, slender fingers alternately stroked the strings and adjusted the tone dials as he prepared the instrument for playing.

"Are you all ready?" he finally asked, looking around at everyone after they had seated themselves.

The others all smiled and nodded. With that, Spock began--and within the first couple of minutes, Christine looked up at Spock, eyes wide with mixed pleasure and surprise. "How did you know that that was my favorite song, Spock?"

The Vulcan gave her an enigmatic half-smile. "I have my ways," he said, and resumed playing.

"Spock?" the Doctor called quietly.

"Yes, Doctor?" The Vulcan turned his head in McCoy's direction.

"Do you know the song Dixie? It's from the South, as I am," the Chief Surgeon explained.

"I am afraid not, Doctor," Spock apologized. "But I believe I could play it if you hummed a few bars for me." He gave Christine a lingering look. "As soon as I am finished with the song for Christine."

Christine's eyes warned McCoy not to comment on that; all speakers fell silent as Spock resumed playing Where is Love? for her. Neither Kirk nor the Doctor could help but notice that the Vulcan's eyes remained locked with hers for the duration of the song, and he played with such feeling that she couldn't help blushing. Spock had never looked at her like that before… She had never felt so happy in her life, and prayed it would never end, but knew even as she wished it that it had to.

Moments afterward, Spock's eyes found McCoy's, prompting him to begin humming the tune of Dixie. A few minutes later, the Doctor was pleased to hear a very creditable rendition of the aforementioned song. "Great, Spock. Keep it up," he encouraged," moving his hands and feet in time to the music. The Chief Surgeon's enthusiasm was contagious, and both Christine and Kirk joined him in keeping time.

When it was over, McCoy gave the Vulcan a warm smile. "Thank you, Spock. I enjoyed it."

"I…am pleased," the First Officer replied quietly, lowering his eyes modestly even while accepting the well-deserved (though unexpected) compliment.

"While I am 'taking requests,' as it were, is there anything you would care to hear, Jim?" Spock asked, fixing his eyes on Kirk.

"Would you happen to know Travelin' Man, by a 20^th-century singer named Rick Nelson?" the Captain asked hopefully. "I heard it once, years ago, and it's stuck in my mind ever since."

It was fortunate that Spock had made it his business to learn as many Terran songs as he could, from the 18^th to 23^rd centuries; otherwise, the Vulcan might not have been able to accommodate his Captain and friend. "It sounds…somewhat familiar," was the reply. "Does it go like this?" He played a few bars.

Kirk's face lit up as he recognized the tune. "Yes, that's it," he confirmed. For the next few minutes, the Captain was enthralled by the unusual (but very good) rendition of the three hundred-year-old song, which--despite its age--seemed to almost have been written for him.

Upon finishing the Captain's request, Spock looked around at everyone and said, "Now, if no one minds, I would like to play my own choice."

When no one objected, the Science Officer began to play--and Christine was stunned upon learning that the song was not only a current popular ballad, but a favorite of hers as well as Spock's: Beyond Antares. Kirk and McCoy seemed to like it, too…then after Spock had finished, he played whatever came into his head. Time got away from them; none looked up to check the chrono for some time, and when they did, they couldn't believe it.

"Good Lord," Kirk asserted after yawning deeply and stretching in his chair. "I thought it was getting late, and I was right. It's past 2400. We've got to get to bed!"

Christine yawned and stretched, preparing to stand up. "That's for sure. I've got to be up at 0530!"

McCoy stood up and stretched. "Tell me about it. I've got to be up at 0430!"

Spock got to his feet, still seemingly as fresh as a daisy even after several hours of playing. "Which reminds me, I also have an early shift…so it would be logical that we all retire as soon as possible."

The two Medical Officers made sure to thank the others for inviting them to the concert; Christine reached the door first. Spock was one step behind her. He surreptitiously raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, hoping neither of his friends could see him do it. "Thank you for coming, Christine. Your presence was most--pleasing to me. I would…also like to share dinner with you again, if you do not mind," the Vulcan said, voice lowered so only Christine could hear.

"Of course," the Head Nurse replied. "Just let me know when."

"I will," came the reply. "Good night."

"Good night, Spock." With that, she touched his cheek and departed.

A short time later, the other two men moved to the door; Spock waited patiently for McCoy to leave. "Thank you for a most enjoyable evening, Spock. I haven't heard Dixie in ages." The Doctor again smiled warmly at the Vulcan just before stepping so the door opened.

"My pleasure, Doctor," was the soft-spoken answer. "Good night."

"Good night, Spock." With another smile in Kirk's direction, McCoy departed.

The remaining two moved to the door of their shared bathroom. "I think I'll be spending my next off-duty day with Bones, if you don't mind, Spock," Kirk informed him.

The First Officer shook his head. "Not at all, Jim. I have…already made plans to spend mine with Christine."

"After that, though, let's get together, just the two of us, if possible. Otherwise, we'll figure on getting together again and doing something, the four of us."

"Very well," the Vulcan acknowledged. "Good night, Jim. I will see you tomorrow--or more accurately, later today."

Kirk smiled before chuckling softly. "See you then, Spock. Sleep well."

"I will endeavor to do so. Good night." With a nod, the Science Officer stepped through the bathroom door and was gone.

The Captain turned on his heel and headed for his sleeping alcove, retiring after changing into pajamas and using the bathroom. Once in bed, he lay thinking of what he and Bones could do together that neither Christine nor Spock would be interested in. Too tired to think extensively, he told himself to ask McCoy for ideas at the first opportunity, then fell into a deep sleep a short time later.

* * *

For obvious reasons, Kirk wasn't used to trying to think of anything for himself and Bones to do together, but upon awakening and stepping into his shower, began wracking his brain trying to figure something. By the time he was ready to leave his quarters, the Captain still hadn't thought of anything, and berated himself once again. If he couldn't think of any-thing, it had indeed been too long since he and Bones had done anything together as friends, just the two of them.

He couldn't help regretting letting so much time pass between their get-togethers, though he had enjoyed his times with Spock, too…always had, always would…but McCoy was his friend, too, even if they couldn't be as close as himself and Spock--and it was high time he showed it. His closeness to Spock notwithstanding, Kirk knew he (and Spock) also needed the Doctor's companionship… and was truly sorry not to have been more thoughtful and considerate of McCoy's feelings long before this.

It was wrong to take someone for granted, particularly people like McCoy and Christine …but that was just what he and Spock had done, telling themselves that the others would be there if either of them had nothing better to do. They always seemed to, however, but with each other--not Bones or Christine. It was just a tad selfish, if not cruel…even if it was unintentional. God knew neither had ever meant to take McCoy or Christine for granted, and it would have served him and Spock right if the others hadn't been there, at least once, if only to remind them that they had other people they could spend time with if he and Spock didn't want to be with them. Neither had they meant to brush them aside or slight them, but due to their own carelessness and thoughtlessness, things had gotten terribly out of hand.

If the two Medical Officers hadn't been the kind of people they were, Kirk was sure they would have left the ship a long time ago--and he wouldn't have blamed them one bit. After all, each had been alone for a long time; the last thing they needed were so-called friends or shipmates who neglected them. That wouldn't do much for anyone's ego. Kirk certainly knew how he would feel in that situation, so he could understand their skepticism after being treated as second-class citizens for so long…and could only hope they could be patient and bear with them a little longer, even if they didn't deserve it.

Of course, Bones and Christine wouldn't want him or Spock forcing themselves to spend time with them if they'd rather be with each other--or hold them in emotional bondage in order to keep them on the ship, Kirk was sure of that. They weren't that kind of people…but it seemed that whether they had intended it or not, he and Spock had become "that kind of people". As a result, it was their duty to see that each was assured of their necessity to not only the ship but himself and Spock, and not just as Medical Officers but friends--and in Christine's case, regarding her feelings for Spock, possibly more.

On the other hand, neither would want a "mercy" date (particularly not Christine) or either spending time with them simply out of guilt, in an attempt to salve their consciences rather than having sincere regret for their neglect of them…not because their company was truly desired. Both deserved better than that after what they had been made to endure, and worse yet, endure so patiently and quietly.

He doubted that either he or Spock could have endured it as well, yet they had expected McCoy and Christine to do so. Unfortunately, what was done could not be undone; all they could do was try their best to make sure it didn't happen again--or at least keep it to a minimum. With that, Kirk finished dressing and left his quarters to head for the Bridge and his duty shift. Hopefully at some point, he would think of something he and McCoy could do together. If not, he would have to see if Bones had come up with anything.

* * *

It was a routine shift (which usually meant boring), where the most interesting thing that happened was that Uhura sent some subspace messages to both Starfleet Command and a sister ship, the Potemkin, now in the Epsilon Indi system on a diplomatic mission for the Andorians. The Enterprise was supposed to join them there, along with the Lexington, which was already on its way there after completing its last mission of delivering food and medical supplies to the Federation colony on Vega IX, who would share their bounty with the original settlement of people from Delta III. Kirk was ready to climb the wall with boredom. Not even McCoy had called to break the monotony. At this point, the Captain would have welcomed even a skirmish with the Klingons or Romulans!

Kirk almost envied Uhura, who at least had something to do. He and the other Bridge personnel (with the possible exceptions of Sulu and Chekov, who manned the helm and navigation stations and were thus flying the ship) had little to do but wait at their stations. He was glad when the time came for shift change and he could go down to Sickbay to pick up Bones. He had finally decided they would have dinner, then they could figure something else to do after that while eating.

* * *

Once the two were on their way there, Kirk confessed to McCoy that he had found it difficult to figure something they could do together.

"Not surprising, Jim," the Doctor observed as they walked toward the turbolift, then entered. "But we don't have to do anything special. I'm content if we can have dinner and talk. We haven't done even that for a long time."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me, but I never meant to neglect you or take you for granted. You are still my friend, and you always will be, as long as you're willing to put up with me and my idiosyncrasies--"

McCoy raised a hand to stop the Captain's apology. "Did I ever say that you weren't still my friend? Don't apologize, Jim. I can understand. You and Spock have a lot more in common than you and I do; as a result, you feel a lot closer to each other than to me. Chris and I don't mind that. What we hope is that you two know that you can trust and confide in us as well as each other, feel free to discuss whatever the two of you might do with us. You know it won't go any further, especially if it involves a certain half-Vulcan and his emotions."

Kirk smiled as the Doctor's voice conveyed his sincerity, but it remained to be seen whether or not Spock would believe it, considering the Chief Surgeon's propensity for pouncing on any emotion the Vulcan might show like a hungry cat on a plump mouse. Kirk knew that Spock was extraordinarily sensitive about any teasing because of what he had been made to endure while growing up, even the good-natured variety, which McCoy was a master of, so that made the First Officer wary of being around the Doctor very much without having Jim around to "head him off at the pass".

Not that Spock couldn't handle himself in a verbal battle if necessary, but even though the Vulcan had recently confided to him that he had a closet affection for the Doctor, there had rarely been an opportunity to show it…at least not in a way that wouldn't violate his Vulcan sensibilities. Which was probably one reason why Bones thought Spock didn't care about him. Even so, both he and Spock had been surprised but pleased that McCoy was being so circumspect--essentially on his best behavior. Of course, how long that would last was a matter for debate. Meanwhile, both were silent for the rest of the trip to the Officers' Lounge, mentally figuring their dinner menus.

McCoy was also figuring how to tell Jim that Jo was to be married and that he would give her away…and best of all, that she was going to come visit him with her intended shortly before their wedding. Certainly would be the last thing Jim would expect to hear!

* * *

Once the two friends had settled down to eat, McCoy decided to tell Kirk what all had transpired when he had talked to Joanna, which saved the Captain from wracking his brain any further--for which he silently blessed the Doctor. Bones had "saved his bacon", at least in a sense, once again. It was when Kirk lifted his head after taking a bite of his chicken sandwich and a swallow of coffee that McCoy dropped his bombshell.

"Guess what, Jim?" The Chief Surgeon's voice had the air of a small boy who had just received the birthday gift he had always wanted.

"What, Bones?" the Captain returned, a touch of impatience in his voice, even though he had detected the excitement in the Doctor's voice.

"You won't believe what Jo told me," McCoy returned with a Mona Lisa-type smile.

"What did she tell you?" Kirk almost demanded after taking a swallow of coffee and setting down his coffee cup.

"She's getting married," came the pleased reply.

Kirk almost choked on the coffee in his surprise. "Say what?"

"Jo's getting married…and best of all, she wants me to give her away. Not only that, she and her intended are coming here to visit me!"

For his friend's sake, Kirk was pleased; he hadn't seen the Doctor so happy in a long time. "That's great, Bones. I'm very happy for you. When's she coming?"

"In another three months. That's when she and her intended will have enough time for a honeymoon."

"I have no idea where we'll be in three months," the Captain warned.

"I know, Jim," the Doctor said. "Don't worry; I'll keep her informed, so she'll know where to come."

"Did she tell you anything about him?" Kirk wondered after swallowing his coffee and regaining his composure.

"Only his name and the fact that he owns a restaurant in New Athens which specializes--you won't believe this--in Southern cuisine!"

Kirk chuckled. "You should love it, then," he opined before taking another bite of his sandwich.

"I've already made her promise to take me there one day," McCoy assured him.

"Nothing like having a son-in-law who owns a Southern restaurant," the Captain observed. "I wonder how their business is? I would think you would want her to marry someone who's a good provider."

"I want her to marry someone she'll be happy with," the Doctor countered. "If she's not happy, the rest isn't going to make any difference."

"Do you think she's going to be happy with this guy?" Kirk inquired after swallowing.

"I think so. She seemed almost radiant when she talked about him…but I'll be better able to determine that after I meet him."

"Then I don't see anything to worry about," the Captain returned with a smile. "Sounds like she chose well."

"It would seem so," the Doctor agreed, though Kirk seemed to detect an element of doubt--but he chose not to point it out. "It'll be good to see her again. It's been ages since we've been together."

"And what better occasion to get together than a wedding? Which reminds me…if they haven't made a final decision, what would you say to my marrying them?"

"That would be great, Jim--but I can't speak for them. You'll have to put it to them once they arrive."

"I'll do that," Kirk assured him. "Be sure to tell me as soon as you know when they're coming."

"Sure thing," was the answer as the Chief Surgeon continued eating, which he had been doing to a certain extent all through their conversation. "I've also made her promise to keep me informed about my grandchildren…once she has them, that is."

Kirk chuckled again. "Are you sure she even plans to have children, Bones?"

"She didn't say she didn't," McCoy told him.

"That may have been simply to pacify you," Kirk warned. "I'd ask her again when she gets here if I were you. Between now and then, she and her intended will no doubt discuss that very thing."

"Among others," the Doctor returned, taking the last bite of his meal and washing it down with a swallow of mint julep.

"What do you want to do now? As I've said, I've wracked my brain, but can't think of anything," Kirk reminded him as he finished his own meal.

"Would you object to watching Gone With The Wind with me?" McCoy wondered. "I know it's kind of long, not to mention old, but it's my favorite film about the old South. I'd love to be able to share it with someone for a change."

"I'd have to tell Uhura where I'm going to be, but other than that, I don't think I'd be averse to it," Kirk told his friend, which made the Doctor's blue eyes light up with happiness.

"Great, Jim. I'll set it up. Come on down as soon as you're ready," McCoy told him.

"I'll be there," Kirk said. "See you in half an hour."

After showering and changing into casual clothes, the Captain told Uhura where he was going to be, then made his way to the Chief Surgeon's quarters. McCoy greeted him warmly upon arrival, offering him a place beside him on his own bed in front of his holovid viewer. Kirk was pleased to note that Bones had also made a drink of Saurian brandy for him, all iced and ready, waiting on a coaster on the nightstand at the head of the bed. As soon as they were settled, McCoy told the voice-operated viewer to turn on, then they settled back to enjoy the film.

* * *

Even though the film was almost four hours long, it seemed to go by all too rapidly for the two watching it. Kirk had never known that Bones' ex-wife was anything like the character of Melanie in the film, but the Doctor assured him that she was. "Jo got her looks and my personality," McCoy laughed. "It's a wonder she ever landed a guy."

Kirk laughed. "I once heard that the female lead in this film wasn't even American, much less Southern, Bones. Is that true?"

"That's true, Jim. She was British."

"Then how could she possibly pull off a Southern accent?"

"I don't know, but she did. Quite well, too, I might add," the Doctor opined…and so it began.

The pair spent almost as much time discussing the film after viewing it as they had watching it. In spite of himself, the Captain knew he hadn't enjoyed himself so much since all four of them had watched Fantasia, having to ask how he could ever have taken so long to spend an evening with McCoy. With all due respect to Spock, the Vulcan could never have comprehended the emotionalism of one kind or another throughout the film.

Only full-blooded Humans could even begin to understand the motivations of both the characters and author, Margaret Mitchell. It was the only book she'd ever written which had garnered any serious attention, and had taken her ten years to write. Both McCoy and Kirk agreed that it seemed to be semi-autobiographical, particularly when Kirk commented that the character of Rhett Butler, Scarlett's third husband, was supposed to have been based upon Margaret Mitchell's own second husband… though they also both did their share of disagreeing.

It was almost 0400 by the time the two came back to reality. "Oh my God, I've got to get to bed!" Kirk exclaimed. "Even at that, I'll probably only get about four hours of sleep, since I have to be on the Bridge at 0900--provided I get to sleep at all, I'm so keyed up."

"I can always give you one of my little red pills, Jim," McCoy offered, picking up the bottle from his nightstand.

Kirk smiled but shook his head, holding up his hands. "No way, Bones. The last time I took one of those, it knocked me out for twelve hours."

"As I recall, you needed the sleep," McCoy reminded him with a knowing smile.

"Just as I need sleep now. See you later, Bones. I really enjoyed tonight." The Captain moved toward the door.

"So did I. I hope we can do it again sometime. Good night, Jim."

Kirk turned back, smiled and nodded in McCoy's direction, then departed. "I'll let you know. Good night."

The Doctor hated to see his friend go, but knew he had to, though he had enjoyed this evening with Jim immensely. It had been so long since they'd sat down and had a good long discussion! He didn't kid himself that it would happen again any time soon, but vowed to enjoy what time he could have with Jim. When they were together, it was easy to forget that they were Starfleet officers--almost too easy. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to get much sleep himself, since he had to be in Sickbay by 0700, but it had been worth it. It would be a long time before he forgot this night!

* * *

For both Spock and Christine, it was the following evening when they went to dinner, after she had gotten off-duty at 2300. She met him there, having the meal she had designated waiting for her. As for his own, it was spinach soufflé with cheddar cheese sauce, along with cottage cheese covered with applesauce. This time, his beverage of choice was Altair water, similar to Terran mineral water.

He noticed her reaction at his again choosing a Terran meal, though she tried to pretend she hadn't noticed, but decided not to comment on it. It wasn't often that they had a meal together--this was only the second time since they had known each other, in fact--so he had to make allowances for her. Jim would not have shown surprise, but Spock thought it best to put his friend out of his mind for the time being and concentrate on developing a friendship with Christine. She deserved his full attention whenever he was with her.

She had told him she wanted an Italian meal this time…chicken cacciatore with garlic bread and a small Caesar salad with garlic ranch dressing, croutons, hard-boiled eggs and bacon bits for garnish. Pink lemonade was her beverage of choice. A few minutes after the meal began, Christine noticed that soft instrumental music was playing in the background--the very song that was her favorite!

"Thank you, Spock," she told him with a smile; he raised one upswept brow at her. "Thank you for the meal, the music you did for me the other night…everything. It's wonderful."

He inclined his head with a half-smile upon feeling her sincerity, eyes half-closed. "It was the least I could do for you, Christine."

After that, the meal was mostly silent, though their eyes met and held many times--and she smiled at least twice more in the course of it…as did Spock, but only with his eyes. Near the end of the meal, she noticed that a piece she'd never heard before was playing. It was beautiful, but didn't sound like anything from Earth. Could it actually be--Vulcan?

"It is," Spock said quietly, as if reading her mind. "I composed it."

For a moment the nurse was stunned speechless, eyes wide with astonishment, then she fairly beamed at him, her face radiant. She wanted to ask him if he'd done it for her, but considered that too presumptuous, especially this early in the game.

"Indeed," she made herself say, with a calmness she didn't feel. "May I…hear some others? That is, if you don't mind sharing them with me."

He lifted his head to stare at her intently--not speaking verbally, but his dark eyes spoke volumes…volumes of emotion that even she hadn't thought him capable of expressing with just a glance. "If that is what you wish, Christine," he finally said, voice soft and low, having almost a crooning quality.

"I do--but only if you wish it, too. If you don't, I'll understand, and we can listen to some other music."

Part of the Vulcan was relieved to hear this, letting him off the hook if he so chose, but another part wanted to share his music with her. Not that he would have admitted that, of course--not publicly, at any rate. "I do not mind," he assured her. "We will go to my quarters, and I will play it for you after we finish our meal."

A short time later, the meal was over, and the two carried their trays over to the disposal bin, dumping the contents into the recycler before departing. It was late enough so that no one they knew spotted them together, especially not going into his quarters, for which Christine was thankful. Once they were inside, he got a chair and drink for her, sitting on his bed and placing his harp in his lap, his long, slender fingers alternately stroking and plucking the strings as the music required.

The nurse replenished her drink at least twice in the course of the next couple of hours, although neither she nor Spock was aware of the passage of time until she looked up and noted the hour on the Vulcan's wall chrono, which he kept in his quarters for his Human friends and shipmates. As a Vulcan, Spock rarely needed to consult a timepiece, due to his inborn time sense.

Again, there was little spoken verbally, but a lot visually; if their eyes hadn't met and held, or they didn't smile at each other, Christine was surreptitiously looking around at the interior of the Vulcan's quarters, a quarters which heretofore had been off-limits to her. She marveled that she was actually here with him; it was hard to believe it wasn't all a dream, having to discreetly close her eyes and open them again to make sure it didn't all disappear. But each time, he was still before her, sitting on his bed, playing his harp, and she was still sitting in a chair at the end of the bed, listening.

It was immaculately clean, as she expected; in the bedchamber, there were burgundy-colored drapes on the walls and a flame-pot with a lion-like statue, its mouth open and the flickering flames playing on the First Officer's lean, angular face; once she had even caught the flames reflecting in his eyes as he looked at her. The bed seemed to be covered with a royal blue bedspread and emerald-green pillows.

In the living area, his personal computer was situated at a right angle against one wall, and the other held a large IDIC wall hanging and a darkened, recessed area that could only have been his meditation chamber. Next to the work station was his holo-viewer and a cabinet which obviously held his collection of musical, motion picture and scientific holo-cassettes. In the corner facing the viewer, there was a small sofa just large enough for two, with one IDIC pillow at one end and a t'lerya-flower appliquéd pillow at the other, a blue and gold afghan draped over the back of the sofa.

She was reluctant to leave, but knew she had to once she realized what time it was. "I've enjoyed every moment of tonight," she assured Spock as she stood up. "But it's late and I've got to get to bed."

He nodded understandingly as he got up from the bed and followed her to the door after laying the harp on the bed. "I…must admit that I have found your company--most pleasant, Christine," he found himself confessing as they lingered at the door. "One suggestion, however," he informed her as she was about to step and open the door in preparation for departure. "We must schedule the next evening before an off-duty day in order that it…may last longer." The last was said so quietly that she was sure he hadn't meant her to hear it, but she did.

"That's fine by me, Spock. Just let me know when so that I may check my schedule and plan accordingly."

What happened next surprised them both, especially Spock. "One moment, Christine." He moved to stand before her, then took her hands in his and raised them to his lips to kiss them. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. Sleep well." Then, after a moment of looking deeply into each other's eyes, his dark head bent and his lips found hers. The touching of their lips was light and tentative at first, his kiss only deepening when he realized she had no objections to his action.

It had been a long time since the Vulcan had had the desire to kiss a woman or hold her in his arms, and the first time had been with Leila Kalomi on Omicron Ceti III as the result of the spores which had released his long-leashed emotions. But in this case, he had not needed any spores--only the scent of Christine's perfume. Her lips were amazingly warm and sweet, and the Vulcan found himself unable to keep from putting his arms around her to hold her firmly but gently close to him.

At the first touch of his lips on hers, a supernova exploded in Christine's head. How could this really be happening? How could Spock really be holding and kissing her? His lips were every bit as sweet and warm as she had always imagined they were, his arms strong yet gentle, and she wished the embrace and his kiss never had to end…but like all heavenly things, they did, all too soon. "Thank you for inviting me, Spock," she whispered after they parted. "Good night." With that, she stepped through the door and was gone.

After she left, Spock made himself go to his shower and set it as cold as he could stand it, then change into a black knee-length nightshirt with an IDIC appliquéd on it, which Jim had given him for his last birthday, upon getting out and drying off. He couldn't help wondering if Christine had done that, for he had never seen the clothing come that way originally--and made a note to ask Jim about it at the first opportunity. He also slipped on some heavy, black socks his mother had knitted for him and sent to him as her birthday gift, then got into bed and lay there for a time, thinking over the evening with Christine…the dinner they had shared, the music he had played for her both there and in his quarters--but most of all, their tender, lingering embrace and kiss just prior to her departure.

It was probably the most illogical, unVulcan thing he had ever done, but Spock couldn't bring himself to feel guilt or shame for it--either for doing it or for feeling pleasure while doing it, savoring the memory of the warmth and sweetness of her lips and the scented softness of her body as he had held her close to him. The visions that had plagued him earlier came back with a vengeance and made his sleep fitful and sporadic.

How much longer he could pretend indifference around her (or anyone else), he had no idea, especially now that he had actually held and kissed her, but for the present, he had to try …for it was far too soon to even consider any serious relationship with her. They were barely friends, for Vulcan's sake! What could have possessed him to have done such a thing? He didn't know, and doubted that he ever would, even if he managed to discuss it with Jim and his friend was able to come up with a possible reason.

* * *

It was the following evening that Kirk and Spock got together as friends for the first time in nearly a week--to compare notes on what each had done with Bones and Christine respectively. They decided to meet in Kirk's quarters after he had gotten off-duty, which wasn't until 2030 hours. The Captain had been on the Beta shift and Spock on the Gamma shift, from 2400 to 0800. Their hours would change in a couple of days, however, so both were preparing themselves for that.

Meanwhile, the Vulcan was alternating between computer busy-work and attempts at meditation while waiting for Kirk…attempts which always failed, because he kept seeing tantalizing visions of himself with Christine. If he'd had any idea that one kiss could prompt such visions, he wouldn't have done it--but it was too late to change what had happened. All he could do was deal with it as best he could, which wasn't saying much. Spock had just come out of his last unsuccessful attempt at meditation when he heard Jim's voice attempting to get his attention.

"Spock?…Spock!"

He looked up to find Kirk standing over him, a mixture of concern and annoyance on his handsome face.

"Spock, where have you been? I've been trying to get your attention for the last fifteen minutes!" the Captain declared.

"I--am sorry, Jim. I have been…attempting to meditate," Spock explained.

"And not having any luck," Kirk finished. "Care to talk about it?"

"Not at present," came the almost-too-quiet reply. "For the moment, I would prefer to--speak of something else."

Kirk didn't pressure his friend, because he knew what Spock's reluctance to talk usually signified, and that Spock would eventually get around to telling him what was bothering him without prodding. "Then would you like to hear what all I've been doing with Bones?" he asked, instead.

The First Officer felt a mixture of gratitude and relief at Jim's change of subject…one of the main reasons he felt more comfortable with Kirk. Jim never pressured him to talk when he was reluctant to do so. The one time that he had was out of necessity, to save Spock from the pon farr, so the latter discounted that. For the most part, Jim knew enough to wait until Spock had approached him, rather than vice versa.

"Of course," the Vulcan returned with a polite half-smile. "What did you do?"

"We had lunch once, then dinner the day before yesterday--and watched a holovid of his favorite film, the 20^th-century classic, Gone With The Wind. After watching it, we discussed it …and other things. Among them, his daughter's impending visit."

The Science Officer's brows climbed into his hairline. "She is coming here?"

"Because she is to be married, and has asked Bones to give her away. Another reason is because she wants him to meet her intended."

"When are they coming?" Spock inquired.

"As soon as her schedule--and that of her fiancé--allows," Kirk informed him. "Approximately three months."

"We do not know where we will be in three months," the First Officer pointed out.

"I know. I told Bones that myself," Kirk told him. "He'll keep her posted as to where we are, so they'll know where to come."

"Logical," came the answer.

"What have you and Christine been up to?" the Captain ventured carefully.

"We have…been to dinner twice, and last night I played my harp for her in my quarters."

Kirk fought to hide his surprise at Spock's actually having invited Christine to his quarters, but he had noted a touch of uneasiness in the Vulcan's voice--enough for him to feel obliged to ask if anything was wrong.

"Did something bad happen?" The Captain made his voice as gentle as possible.

"No…not really. Simply something which I believe I should not have done."

"Like what? And why shouldn't you have done it?"

"I--kissed her," the Vulcan confessed, ears and cheeks turning emerald-green with embarrassment. "But it was far too soon. I…cannot get it out of my mind."

"Is that why you can't meditate?" Kirk asked.

The First Officer nodded, unable to bring himself to speak for a long time. When he did, his voice was filled with self-recrimination and shame. "Jim, why did I do it? What could possibly have motivated me? No self-respecting Vulcan would knowingly do such a thing, especially this early in a relationship."

No self-respecting full-blooded Vulcan, at any rate, Kirk chuckled inwardly. Spock is something else again. "Sounds to me like keep down, you wanted to kiss her, or else you wouldn't have done it," the Captain observed with a knowing smile.

"Not consciously," the Vulcan countered.

"Well, consciously or not, you did it," Kirk pointed out. "It also strikes me that you must have enjoyed it. Other-wise, you wouldn't be so embarrassed about it."

"But I am a Vulcan. Vulcans do not do such things."

"Ordinarily, no, but you aren't an ordinary Vulcan," was the matter-of-fact reply.

"Then you believe that is why I did it?" Spock questioned.

"Only reason I can think of," Kirk told his friend. "But I wouldn't dwell on it. You're hardly the first man--or Vulcan, for that matter--that this has happened to. It's normal for a man to want to kiss a beautiful woman, particularly if he enjoys her company."

"But I have no wish to 'lead her on,' as you say…or allow her to expect something I cannot give."

Not at the moment, at least, the Captain told himself. Out loud, he affirmed in a soothing voice, "Of course not, and I'm sure she knows that. Just take it one day at a time. There's no rush. If you're meant to be together, it'll happen one day--when you're both ready."

It was at this point that Spock made himself voice something else he wanted to do, but was unsure if he could do alone. "I--was also considering speaking privately to Dr. McCoy regarding our…personal relationship, but would feel better if you--could be there to…help me should I--have need of it. Do not join us until and unless I give you a sign."

"A sign?" Kirk asked, his own brows arching Vulcan-fashion.

"A…mind-touch," Spock responded.

"When were you planning to do this?" Kirk inquired.

"Possibly--tomorrow evening. We…all three of us… have off-duty days the following day, at least partial ones, so we may speak late into the night if necessary."

"Does Bones know about this?"

"Not yet," the Vulcan confessed quietly. "I was planning to--contact him after we had finished our talk."

"Will this interfere with anything you may have planned with Christine?"

Spock shook his head. "I have made certain it will not."

Kirk nodded and smiled. "Good. Now, you'd better call and let McCoy know you're… we're… coming."

The Science Officer looked at his Human friend apprehensively.

"Don't worry. I'll stay here and help you through it."

Spock nodded in acknowledgment and gratitude before reaching to open the intercom for Sickbay. "Spock to Sickbay," he stated hesitantly.

"Sickbay. McCoy here. Is there something I can do for you, Spock?" The Doctor's voice was laced with inquiry and concern.

"I--would like to speak privately with you, Doctor," was the soft-voiced reply.

"Of course. I assume that my office would be too public," McCoy surmised.

"I would prefer it to…take place in your quarters," Spock affirmed.

"Fine. When?"

"Would 1930 hours tomorrow evening be convenient for you?"

"No problem. See you then."

"Thank you, Doctor. I will be there. Spock out."

After the Vulcan closed the channel he looked over at Kirk again; the Captain was smiling reassuringly at him. "See, that wasn't so hard. I'm sure the talk will go just fine," the Human told his alien friend.

I--am assuming so, Spock thought. Out loud, he said, "I hope you are right."

"I also notice that you didn't tell him I was coming, too," Kirk pointed out.

"What I was thinking was that you could perhaps…wait outside the Doctor's door or in the unoccupied quarters across the hall, then if I need help, I will touch your mind and--invite you in. Would that be…agreeable to you?" The First Officer looked up again at his Captain and friend, question in his dark eyes.

"It's all right with me," was the answer. "As I said, don't worry. I'll be there to help if you need it. Now, I'd better hit the hay. I've got a shift at 0500--and if memory serves, so do you. See you in the morning, Spock."

"Good night, Jim," the Vulcan said, then watched his friend leave, feeling very fortunate to have him--and the other two as well, even if he wasn't quite as comfortable with McCoy (though he was working on that), and perhaps becoming just a little more than friends with Christine. But at the moment, what Spock was concerned with was the upcoming talk with McCoy. At best, it was difficult for him to speak of personal things with the Doctor, but however difficult, it had to be done if he was to remain aboard ship…and his (and Jim's) friend.

He was glad that he wouldn't have to face McCoy alone--at least, not totally. The Vulcan didn't like to admit this, even to himself, but still didn't feel brave enough for that, despite their recurrent verbal sparring matches, both good-natured and otherwise. All he could hope for was that McCoy would sense his discomfort and act accordingly. Meanwhile, it was time for him to retire…and at least try to sleep, even if he couldn't meditate. There were times when it could relax him, if nothing else could, but this wasn't one of those times. Oh well, enough of these unVulcan thoughts, Spock told himself. It was best that he put himself into a sleep-trance now--or at least attempt it.

* * *

It was precisely 1930 hours when Spock went to the Doctor's quarters; Kirk was to stay in the quarters across from McCoy's, presently unoccupied, where he would remain until Spock needed him, which could be either within the first half-hour, not at all…or somewhere in between. Spock made sure to press the door buzzer only when the corridor was clear, unable to help hoping that he wouldn't be kept waiting too long--which he wasn't. Almost immediately, McCoy's answer came back. "Come on in, Spock. The door's open." The door slid open and the Vulcan stepped inside; the door then slid closed behind him.

Spock couldn't help thinking that it was almost like facing a lion (or in Spock's case, a le-matya) in its den, for it took nearly as much courage for Spock to be doing this as it would for him to face either of the aforementioned predators. He was unexpectedly put at ease by what Jim referred to as McCoy's "Southern charm". The First Officer had only seen it in action once, on Holberg 917-G, the small planet where they had detected ryetalyn, the one substance that could cure Rigellian fever, an illness related to bubonic plague. In so doing, they had met the owner of the planet, the mysterious Mr. Flint, and his equally mysterious ward, Rayna. When she had said, "You're the only other men I've ever seen," the Doctor had replied, "The misfortune of men everywhere…and our privilege."

Even Kirk had been surprised by McCoy's gallantry at the time, but had explained to his Vulcan friend later on that it had been a prime example of "Southern charm", just as disarming now as it had been then.

"Good to see you, Spock. I don't think you've ever come to my quarters before--and certainly not alone," the Chief Surgeon pointed out. "But what matters is that you're here. What did you want to talk privately with me about, if I may ask?"

McCoy offered his unexpected but welcome guest a chair at the table in the living quarters, choosing not to notice that the other man had not answered him; the Vulcan nodded gratefully in the Human's direction and seated himself. "Would you like a drink, Spock?" the Doctor asked.

"Altair water, thank you, Doctor," was the quiet reply, laced with appreciation.

"Coming up." McCoy turned to his own stash of drinks and small refrigerator/freezer, getting out the ingredients for his own drink, a mint julep, and the large bottle of Altair water for Spock's after getting out the ice for them and putting it in glasses which each held five ice cubes. "Straw, Spock?" he asked as he put the bottle and other drink ingredients away, then reached to pick up the drinks.

"No, thank you, Doctor."

A moment later, McCoy had joined the First Officer at the table, placing their drinks on it before seating himself. "First off, I must apologize for 'jumping down your throat' about Christine the other day. It just upset me when I came on duty and found her crying, especially when she told me why."

The Vulcan held up a hand. "No need to apologize, Doctor. You were merely concerned for her feelings…and I assure you that I will do my utmost never to hurt her like that again."

McCoy was both pleased and surprised to hear Spock admit to wrongdoing and regret that he had hurt Christine's feelings by refusing her offer to give him a rubdown.

"I now realize that Jim and I have been--neglecting you and Christine, and cannot blame you for feeling anger and hurt as a result…even threatening to transfer off the Enterprise if matters did not improve. Please be patient with us; we are attempting to make amends, but it will take time."

McCoy smiled at his Vulcan companion. "I know you are, and we appreciate it." It was all the Doctor could do not to choke on his drink when Spock actually returned the smile.

Spock sighed deeply and took a long swig of his own drink. "However, you also need to be apprised of a few facts. Even though matters have--indeed gotten out of hand regarding Jim's and my treatment of you and Christine, there will still be times that I will wish to be with Jim alone and choose not to tell you what we talk about…or what we do. We have never intentionally 'shut you out' or excluded you, though I am aware that it must seem that way to you. As I said, we regret that and are attempting to make up for it, but you must understand that we all must have our secrets. That does not mean we care any less for our friends.

"Jim has his; I have mine; the two of us have ours. You and Jim surely have yours, as do Christine and I. We do agree, however, that you and Christine deserve to be included more often--and will make…every attempt to confide in the two of you more often. However, I believe you know as well as I do that there are also times that I have shared with both you and Jim."

"Pretty rare," the Doctor opined carefully, taking a swig of his mint julep.

"I know, and that will be remedied--but there are also times when you and I have shared things, certain moments alone."

"That's even more rare," McCoy pointed out, taking another swig of his drink before adding a little more sugar.

"I am aware of that, but they have happened…such as the time we ended up in the planet Sarpeidon's past, five millennia ago." The two men were silent as each thought of the mission they had shared and how they had ended up in Sarpeidon's last Ice Age while attempting to find Jim after he had accidentally gone through the atavachron. They had missed each other; Kirk had ended up in a time period of Sarpeidon's past which resembled medieval Earth, while Spock and McCoy had found themselves in the planet's last Ice Age, complete with numbing cold, blowing winds and blizzard conditions.

The Doctor recalled how Spock had refused to leave him alone, even though the Vulcan had risked both exposure and frostbite, not to mention hypothermia. Had it not been for Zarabeth's discovering them and leading them to her cave, both would surely have died in the cold.

"I--appreciate your risking exposure and hypothermia to save me, Spock," the Chief Surgeon remarked quietly. "And I suppose I deserved your attacking me later on when I goaded you about not caring about finding Jim and your attentions toward Zarabeth."

"Neither of us were ourselves then, Doctor," the First Officer replied. "I no longer hold it against you…and I hope you have forgiven me for my actions against you at the time."

"Of course, Spock. A long time ago." McCoy smiled again, even though he couldn't help wondering if Spock would have attacked Kirk in the same situation, if Jim had been the one who ended up in the past with him and goaded the Vulcan about the same things he himself had. Come to think of it, there had been a time when Spock had attacked Jim for calling him names and hurling insults at him about his relationship with Leila Kalomi, then his background and ancestry (all in an attempt to bring his Vulcan friend back to normal and overcome the effects of the Omicron Ceti III spores), until Spock couldn't take it any more and had started knocking the Captain around, throwing him against the bulkheads in the Transporter Room. Jim had told him that he had fallen to the floor and Spock had stood over him, holding a phaser rack over his head, ready to swing it at him and strike him with it, when the Vulcan's anger had suddenly drained out of him and he had frozen in mid-swing, the spores' effects gone.

Jim hadn't been too much the worse for wear as a result, even though the Human had been sore and bruised for several days afterward…and in spite of the lecture he had given his friend, McCoy also recalled Jim's declaration that it had been worth the risk to himself to have brought Spock back to normal. Just the same, Kirk had vowed never to deliberately anger Spock again if he could help it; he might not survive a second encounter. After a time, he had forgiven Spock for it, though it had taken the Vulcan considerably longer to forgive himself for what he had nearly done to his closest friend--and once that occurred, the Science Officer also privately lectured his friend for his illogic, putting himself at such risk…even if it meant getting him back to normal.

McCoy was silent for so long that Spock felt obligated to break the silence. "Doctor?"

"Sorry, Spock," was the apologetic reply as the CMO set down his drink. "Just thinking."

"About what?" Spock prompted.

"The time you attacked Jim after he goaded you," the Doctor replied. "We're even on that score, at least. After all, not every Human can be attacked by an angry Vulcan and live to tell the tale."

"As I have said, at neither of those times was I myself, Doctor," the First Officer reminded him, his voice laced with annoyance. "Had I been myself, I would never have injured either of you."

"I know, I know. Don't worry. Just teasing. I won't do it again, Scout's honor," McCoy assured him, holding up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. "Now, let's get off that subject and back to the matter at hand."

Satisfied, the Vulcan reinforced his emotional controls and resumed his previous train of thought. "I am also aware that the three of us do not spend nearly enough time together as friends, but the simple fact that we have shows that Jim and I do value you. You and Jim are the two people of my own gender aboard ship whom I trust the most with my feelings."

I hope Christine is another, McCoy thought.

"Just as Miss Chapel is the only woman I trust," Spock admitted, in a telltale flat voice which the Doctor knew meant that the Vulcan was tightly controlling his feelings. "She is--patient, kind and understanding. Often far more so than I feel…deserving of." The Science Officer sounded somewhat self-deprecating.

"But you must be. Christine doesn't fall in love easily--but when she does, it's deep, true and unselfish." Almost too much so, sometimes, McCoy mused silently.

"Thank you, Doctor. I…appreciate the compliment--for both myself and Christine," Spock returned quietly, favoring McCoy with a rare smile.

"Finally, I wish to say that Jim and I will endeavor to tell you more about what we do together and talk about…as long as you endeavor to keep in mind that we do care about you and Christine, even if we do not always show it as we should. Nor do we ever mean to slight you, exclude you or shunt you aside. You and Christine are our friends; you always--have been…and always--will be," the Vulcan made himself say, his eyes and voice lowering simultaneously, only the strength of his bond with Kirk allowing him to voice his feelings for McCoy. "Please do not…ever leave the s