Title: To Lose, Lie, and Love
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I’m just messing about because I have some spare time (which sadly may not be the case quite soon).
Summary: Three lives, abound with lost love, are on a course to unite. TOS elements.

She lifts a hand towards her lover, precative in her plea. “Please, please don’t go!”

Jim shoves the rest of his clothes into a duffel bag. “No more, Carol. You say you can’t stand my bullshit? The feeling’s mutual, babe.”

“I didn’t mean it!” She snatches at his arm. “We were fighting. This was just a fight,” she insists.

He snaps out, “Stop it!” Then, with iron control over wild emotion: “I can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry,” and slams the door to her apartment on his way out.

Leonard, achingly tired, comes home late to an empty house. He thinks Jocelyn has gone out for the night—maybe in the company of her girlfriends, she likes that—but there is no usual note or cold supper in the refrigerator waiting to be heated. The man strips off his tie, sheds his jacket too, and decides that a sandwich will have to satisfy his hunger. After a short dinner, he drifts in sleep on the couch until morning light peeks through the living room curtains. Upon waking up, he realizes he is still alone. Confusion fades as worry sets in—where is Joce? he wonders—and Leonard takes the cordless phone from its cradle. As if on cue, it rings in his hand before he can dial a number, and he answers immediately, “Jocelyn?”

She is at her mother’s, he is informed by the strangely flat voice of his wife. She isn’t coming home, she says.

“It’s not you, Leonard—it’s me.”

He never figures out what those words mean. All he knows, even years down the road, is they have the power to hurt him.

“What you request is not feasible, Ms. Kalomi.” The officer’s stiff posture speaks of great discomfort at this confrontation.

Leila tries hard to be brave in the face of rejection. “But, Mr. Spock, I—”

He is more Vulcan than human today, she can see; despite that he has not moved an inch, Spock is distant now, emotionally removed from her behind an impassive face.

“Ms. Kalomi—Leila—” Spock’s use of her first name is gentle, and she chokes down a tiny sob. “—I am flattered by your attentions; however, I would not wish for you to act out of misunderstanding. I cannot engage in a non-professional relationship at this time. Please, accept my sincerest apology.”

The only options left to her are a nod of acceptance and a lie. “I understand, Mr. Spock.”

She accepts an offer to travel with a group of new colonists as their resident botanist a month later, hoping that the farther she travels from Earth and Mr. Spock, the less her heart will hurt.

~~~

James Tiberius Kirk has his ship and a galaxy of stars to sail through. He has friends and shipmates, enemies and admirers. Sometimes he looks at an old picture taken before Starfleet, of an impossibly young couple wrapped up in each other’s arms; but there is a truth the picture hides: this man and woman fought more than they loved.

He doesn’t have to have love, Jim decides. A man like him is lucky, with a ship and stars and adventure. It’s best not to need too much.

Leonard Horatio McCoy loves his work and resents the circumstances which ushered him to it. Senior Medical Officer on a starship? He doesn’t want the title, not the way others crave an ambitious position. Yet the ‘Fleet claims they need McCoy’s expertise badly (which isn’t a lie, not with the decimated population of cadets and service-ready officers) and Leonard supposes he wouldn’t be in Starfleet at all if he hadn’t been lacking in options and too depressed to care if a service contract got him killed one day.

Jocelyn couldn’t have known he joined Starfleet (no communication between them after the divorce). Was she surprised to see his name in the news feeds after Narada and Nero?

He doesn’t know, but to say he doesn’t care too would be untruthful. And that makes Leonard more resentful.

What good is love if it doesn’t last?

Spock of Vulcan, son of Sarek, son of the human Amanda Grayson, is not one to allot a portion of his thoughts to a whimsical phenomenon such as personal attachment. It may be so that he indulged in this behavior as a child: placing extraneous sentiment upon a birthday gift from his mother, or developing unorthodox sentiment for a sehlat, which he attempted to tame (and whom his mother referred to as “Spock’s pet” often). A child of Vulcan grows rapidly in mind, outpacing a child of Terran origin; thus Spock soon learned to treat objects as merely objects and, at Sarek’s suggestion, released the sehlat into the wild of the Vulcan desert where it belonged.

Leila Kalomi was a test of will some years ago, in Spock’s young Vulcan adolescence, but Spock remained true to his deeply ingrained principles and to the person he envisions himself to be. Therefore Spock feels no regret for his decision to discard the possibility of returning her interest.

This does not mean he is unknowledgable of attraction between individuals, of desire, and of love. His duty and his personal experiences are separated by a carefully marked line. Spock lives what he feels is the only truth specified for one such as himself; love in particular is a form of personal attachment which is neither necessary nor desirable to Spock. Yet the First Officer of the Enterprise must remain aware at all times of the variety of relationships which can occur on a starship, though he is not required to remark upon them if he deems them harmless. He thinks he handles both aspects well. If he continues to hold firm to this logical method of separation, he can claim to believe his life need not be lived any other way.

~~~

Jim doesn’t know how he came to this point but something inside Jim cries out in relief when his body is pulled into a pair of warm arms. He drops his head to a solid shoulder and confesses: “Don’t do this to me, Bones.”

Bones clings to Jim, too.

“I can’t,” the man, who refuses to ask for more, doesn’t quite beg of the other.

“I know,” Bones murmurs against his ear. “Me too, Jim.”

Yet such assertions cannot prevent them from seeking to connect with one another and holding on tight.

“You’re touching me,” the doctor says in astonishment.

Spock seems equally confounded by this occurrence, for he does not remark upon Leonard’s statement. Instead the Vulcan peers at their joined hands for some seconds before letting go. If Leonard didn’t know better, he would say Spock is gobbersmacked. Of course, McCoy isn’t that far behind in performing a what the hell just happened here mental somersault either.

At length, Spock explains somewhat unenthusiastically, “You were distressed.”

Admitting to that would be akin to cutting off his own arm. Leonard fixes his eyes on the console of the turbolift. Distressed is mild word for what he had been feeling. Being a touch-telepath, Spock undoubtedly cottoned onto that right away.

Behind him, the First Officer has fallen silent. The silence shouldn’t prick at Leonard, seeing how chatting about emotion at a time like this would only serve to embarrass them both, but it does. He says to the wall, “Jim coulda died. Should have, actually.”

“Yes,” replies Spock, and that one heavy word is enough to crack Leonard’s resolve.

He rounds on the stoic officer. “I ought to hate him!” the doctor spits fiercely. “The thoughtless bastard—he doesn’t even care what it’ll do to this ship if we lose our captain!” The tail-end of his sentence wobbles along with his voice.

Spock simply looks at him. Trapped by those dark, intelligent eyes, Leonard shudders. The lift announces its arrival to Deck 10. Spock and McCoy remain motionless, however, when the lift door opens.

Spock questions too softly, “Could you hate the Captain?”

“Not even if I wanted to,” he answers roughly, “and that’s Jim’s fault too.” Spinning on his heel, Leonard steps onto Deck 10, Spock in close attendance.

He is somewhat surprised when the Vulcan asks, voice modulated solely for Leonard’s hearing, “Do you believe you are capable of hating me, Doctor?”

Leonard thinks of those long fingers wrapped around his wrist, the grip tight but careful; he thinks of Spock’s unexpected reaction upon discovering the CMO quaking with unshed tears in an empty turbolift. He says truthfully, “I would have thought so when we first met, Spock, but things are changing.”

“Indeed,” agrees the Vulcan solemnly. “They are.”

Leonard offers, “You can came back to Sickbay and sit with Jim for an hour. I’m sorry I was rude when I kicked you out earlier.”

“You did not act without proper justification.” They both know the Acting Captain can’t put all of his energy into a bedside vigil.

“Still,” Leonard emphasizes, “an hour every once and a while won’t hurt, at least until Jim comes around.”

They say nothing else; they do not need to. For once, both men share a complete understanding.

“It is apparent you love your captain, First Officer Spock,” intones the “Ambassador” (not quite what his title means, but it’s close enough to the Standard definition of ambassador) from the class-M planet which the Enterprise currently orbits.

Every officer around the dinner table goes silent, some with their mouthes hanging open. A shuttered expression immediately drops over Jim’s face and next to the captain, Doctor McCoy stills, fork in mouth. No one who values their Starfleet career would dare to say something so forthright to Mr. Spock.

For his part, the First Officer simply blinks at the Ambassador with calm Vulcan regard.

When there is no reply or hearty agreement to his remark, the Ambassador looks troubled. “Forgive me, I misinterpreted.” He adds uneasily, “It is only that we—” Here he indicates himself and his companions, namely the Queen of the planet, the most honored guest. “—are sensitive to strong emotion. I felt…”

“Oh God, they’re empaths,” groans Doctor McCoy, having replaced his fork on his plate.

The Queen leans over and whispers something to the Ambassador. He clears his throat afterwards, looking sheepish. “Again, my apologies, Captain Kirk. It was inconsiderate of me to speak of a private affair at a public gathering such as this.” But his gaze flicks significantly from Spock to Kirk again then tracks over to McCoy and fixes there for a long moment.

Doctor McCoy returns the stare, confused.

The Ambassador turns to the Queen and murmurs, “Yes, I see now, my Lady. Most unusual.”

The formal dinner continues on with deliberate effort to pretend nothing is amiss. Spock ignores any speculative or curious looks sent his way, Captain Kirk launches into a prepared diplomatic speech directed to the Queen, and Doctor McCoy pushes food around his plate, frowning at nothing in particular.

Having finished the tense meal, the Ambassador thanks Kirk for his hospitality when the guests prepare to return to their planet. It is the Queen, however, who stubbornly cannot be budged on the steps of the transporter pad until she has had a private word with Captain Kirk. Jim allows himself to led to a corner of the room and listens intently to her. Then the Queen and the Captain return to the waiting party, and she smiles congenially at the line of senior officers of the Enterprise.

Jim quotes her people’s standard farewell in a strange voice: “Good journey, Lady. Be guided.”

“As may you, Captain Kirk,” she returns. “Be guided.”

His expression grows stranger.

Once the Ambassador and the Queen are a swirl of atoms, the Captain grabs his First Officer and CMO, each by a respective arm, to hold them in place (people are startled by this, especially Spock and McCoy) and says to everyone else, “Dismissed.” The transporter techs scurry out the door at his glare of you included.

McCoy shakes Jim off. “What the hell did she say to you?”

Jim lets go of Spock as well, if reluctantly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Negative,” Spock inputs before Leonard can open his mouth. “Doctor McCoy and I trust you will speak with honesty.”

The doctor rolls his eyes at the Vulcan but doesn’t argue.

Jim looks between them and suddenly backpedals. “Never mind. She’s crazy.”

“She didn’t seem loopy to me, Jim. The woman’s got scary sharp eyes and an ability for logical discourse that’d make a Vulcan salivate.”

Spock intercedes, “You need not insult my race in order to emphasize your point, Doctor.”

Jim holds up a hand to stall an argument. “Forget I said anything, okay?”

McCoy shares a long glance with Spock, one in which they communicate something unspoken. Jim skirts around them, clearly half-expecting to be stopped, but neither prevents him from leaving the transporter room.

Perhaps McCoy and Spock agree on a waiting game of some sort, two opponents against one; or perhaps they intend another course of action—such as confronting the source herself at the next scheduled dinner party. In short order, the First Officer and CMO vacate the transporter room as well, leveling a judicious nod (this Spock does) and an amused quirk of an eyebrow (McCoy’s preferred method of communication) at two wide-eyed techs waiting in the hallway.

~~~

The wise Queen had said to the Captain: “A man such as yourself needs most an unfaltering love. That love is ripe now, ready for plucking. Do not wait or the fruit will wither.”

“Who?” asked Kirk automatically before he could stop himself.

“There are two who already love you without measure, young one.”

She never identified them by name.

Jim will realize this later while mulling alone in a dark and empty Observation Deck; he will wonder why he had chosen Spock and McCoy to tell this to (even though he didn’t) and, not a moment later, will conclude exactly what the Queen had intended he know.

In the end, Jim Kirk heeds the Queen’s advice and invites those same two men to join him in stargazing—and to give them something to think about as well.

-Fini

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