Olivares and Sandeep ran into Dr. McCoy in the reception area. He was pale, distracted, muttering to himself just beyond the doors that led outside. As they came through the doorway, Blanca saw that he was arguing with himself on what he should do. It didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to determine what had him so conflicted. She was surprised that he wasn’t already en route to Kirk.

That was a good thing for their little party, of course, considering that she and Sandeep had a dying man between them.

“Doctor!” her partner called to grab his attention. “Dr. McCoy!”

He turned around and said sharply, “Is this the emergency?”

“Aye, sir,” Blanca replied.

McCoy pulled the man’s arm off her shoulders and placed it over his own. He and Sandeep half-steered, half-dragged the fellow down a long corridor.

She explained as she followed them, “We found him unconscious. He’s roused a little since then but hasn’t been very coherent.” She hesitated before she said, “He has head trauma.”

“I can see that,” McCoy remarked in a grim tone. “Head for that biobed on the right, Lieutenant.” As the two men eased the patient onto the empty bed, the doctor told them, “I’ll take a look at him here but we’ll likely have to move him to the OR. Can one of you stay to assist me?”

A movement in the ward caught Olivares’ eye. Mr. Spock was watching them from a distance.

“I could do it,” Sandeep said in reply to McCoy’s request. “My mother had a small medical practice at home. Sometimes I helped her.”

McCoy nodded, already leaning over the patient and lifting one eyelid at a time, a tricorder whirring softly in his other hand.

“He’s had several good cracks over the head. Do you know what was used to bludgeon him?”

“A farming tool, but I couldn’t tell you what kind.” Blanca turned, then, and discovered that the Ambassador hadn’t followed them inside the patient ward. “Excuse me.”

Blanca found her in the corridor.

“How is he?” the woman asked anxiously.

“The doctor’s with him now.” Blanca crossed her arms over her chest and stared hard at Leta. “Why did you attack him?”

“I told you, he was trying to hurt me.”

“Did you provoke him?”

The woman straightened slightly. “We were arguing—not that that is any of your business.”

“It’s my duty to investigate what I don’t understand.”

“It’s your duty to report,” the Ambassador corrected in a colder tone, “and let your superiors make the decision to investigate.”

Blanca smiled thinly. “Fair enough.” The woman seemed startled when she left.

Mr. Spock hadn’t moved from his corner in Olivares’ absence.

“Sir, Ambassador Leta is in the hallway.”

After a few seconds more of watching McCoy, the Vulcan gave her his attention . “How was she involved?”

“She’s responsible for the incident, but I was told I don’t have the authority to hear the details.”

Wordlessly, Mr. Spock crossed the ward. He paused only when McCoy looked up and called to him.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” the doctor said in a surprisingly un-heated tone. “Where’re you going?”

“To question your patient’s assailant.”

McCoy quieted, gave a brief nod, and returned to his patient.

Leta was waiting for them, her stance tense, her face clear of grief. Her expression grew even more composed when she spotted Spock. “Commander,” she said.

“Ambassador. I assume I have the proper level of authority to speak with you.”

Leta shot Blanca a black look before she focused again on the Vulcan. “What is it you want to know, Commander Spock?”

The Vulcan clasped his hands behind his back. “What is your relationship to the victim?”

It was a very intuitive question, thought Blanca, especially since she hadn’t said anything about the man’s identity to anyone other than Sandeep.

Leta answered readily enough. “He’s my son, Ramses.”

“Would you classify your actions as defensive?”

“Absolutely.”

“Explain.”

“My son and I were engaged in a disagreement. He grew violent. Then he—” The woman faltered momentarily. “—attempted to strangle me. I couldn’t reason with him. I had to act in my defense.”

“Given his current condition, it appears that defense may have been excessive.”

Leta’s mask cracked. “Do you think I wanted to hurt my child? I tried to run. He came after me! I had to fight back!”

Blanca almost felt sorry for Leta. “Is it out of character for him to act so aggressively?”

Leta turned partly away from them and folded her arms, rubbing them as if she was cold. “I want to say yes but Ramses has always been… unpredictable. Why? That’s what I want to know. Why would he do this to me?”

Blanca’s pity fled. This woman was too selfish to be a mother. She turned to Mr. Spock. “I think this case is no different than what happened with the others.”

“Based on what evidence?” the Vulcan wanted to know.

“My impression of Leta’s son. He was a bit of a smartass but he had a conscience. He wanted to help us despite it siding him against his father. And when it came down to fight or flight, his instinct told him to run. He didn’t choose to attack anyone.”

“I see. Let us hope you are correct, Lieutenant.”

Blanca wondered why Mr. Spock would say that but didn’t ask him.

Leta said, “I want to see my son.”

Spock started to speak but a voice came from behind them.

“That isn’t a good idea.”

Leta moved towards Dr. McCoy, asking “Why?” and sounding afraid of the answer.

“I think Blanca’s right about your son’s condition.” McCoy wore a medical scrub over his uniform, tied around the waist. “He’s stabilized for the moment. I can heal his wounds but there’s a fluctuation to his neural patterns that I don’t like. I came to ask permission to use a cortical monitor.”

“Doctor,” Spock said, his response somewhat bemused, “permission is a given.”

McCoy looked at Leta, his expression solemn. “From you maybe, but I need it from her. What’s it going to be, Ambassador? Should I help your son?”

Leta said nothing for a moment. Then, “Are you threatening me?”

“Hardly,” replied the doctor. “I’m just telling you there’s more wrong with him than the damage you caused. I want to help him but I have a feeling if I do, I’ll find out what you’ve been trying to hide all along. Are you going to let me do that? Is your son worth that price?”

“You’re mistaken,” the woman said sharply. “I have nothing to hide.”

Dr. McCoy nodded. “Then that’s settled. Spock,” he started to say, then stopped, shaking his head. He turned away.

“Doctor,” the Vulcan called.

McCoy paused on the threshold to the ward.

“Do what you can.”

“Let me know when the Captain arrives.”

“Affirmative.”

McCoy left their group standing in the corridor.

Olivares perused Mr. Spock’s expression but per usual wasn’t able to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Had she heard a note of longing in the Vulcan’s tone or had it been her imagination? The regret she understood but not longing. What if Spock and McCoy hadn’t reconciled their differences? Would having Kirk back finally bring them together or push them farther apart?

She wished she knew.

James Kirk wasn’t a man who gave up easily but, lying in the dark, nauseous and once again fever-blind, he was only human. He thought about his demise, came close to wishing for it. As he shivered and sweated in turns, tears began to leak out of the corners of his eyes. He remembered his mother, his strong mother, crying when she saw his ravaged body for the first time after Tarsus IV. His father just held his hand through every examination and accompanied him to the mandated therapy sessions. Jim had hated those. Every time he was forced to say something about his experience, he had an all-too-vivid recollection of the horror he had lived through. He remembered the sounds—sometimes screaming and fighting, sometimes frightening silence—and the prevalent smell of rot and death.

It smelled like this place, his brain insisted. How did you find Tarsus again, Jim?

“I didn’t,” he whispered back. “I didn’t. It’s over.”

You know it will never be over.

That was true. For over twenty years, that event had always come back to him when he was his most vulnerable.

Not since Bones, though. It had been a relief to realize that. He didn’t have to worry about waking up in a cold sweat. He didn’t have to suffer insomnia because, after watching his men die on a mission, of nightmares of Kodos the Executioner that made him afraid to sleep. Bones had a calming presence. It wasn’t simply because Jim had another warm body next to him. Some of his past lovers had complained of how fitfully he slept. With Leonard, he was spared both the bad dreams and the awkward inability to explain them.

For the briefest moment he wished the man was with him. He even imagined it: Leonard leaning over him, the light cresting his shoulders to illuminate his finer features, that wide smile and those twinkling blue eyes. He was saying to Jim in his teasing way, “Captain… Captain Kirk.”

Except the dream-Leonard kept saying it over and over until the light grew too bright and washed away the image of McCoy entirely.

“Kirk!” a different voice shouted, then another one. “Captain!”

Jim shielded his eyes against the light—the overhead light above the hatch that cloaked the figures standing on the platform. The ladder had been rolled down, and someone was descending into the silo.

His brain began to make sense of the situation. No one would come to pull him out of this hell unless it was his own men. Feebly, he rolled over onto his stomach and tried to lift himself up. Telling them to stop was out of the question; his throat was swollen. He couldn’t shout. He had to get up and be across the silo before the man on the ladder came in contact with the wet, rotting wheat.

Sitting up was painstaking; climbing to his feet, more so. He must look have looked like a drunken sailor, weaving across the small mountains of grain, nearly tumbling down one. He was only halfway to the ladder by the time the man in the red shirt jumped down.

Then the man turned, and Jim saw it was Giotto.

Giotto started toward him but obediently came to a halt when Jim flung out his hand and ordered, albeit in a harsh whisper, “Stop.”

“Captain?”

“Stop,” Jim whispered again, and clumsily crossed the remaining distance between them. His legs were shaking by the end, but he stubbornly locked his kneecaps.

Giotto took him by the shoulders, his solemn face pinched as he questioned again, “Captain?”

Jim let out a croak that was meant to be more of a chuckle. He laid a trembling hand on his Chief of Security’s shoulder and said, “John, good to see you. Let’s get out of here.”

“Think you can climb?” Giotto asked him.

Jim knew Giotto wouldn’t judge him harshly for saying no. Still, it didn’t come naturally to him to give in to weakness, particularly in front of others. He nodded.

The first few rungs wavered in his vision but he resolutely closed his eyes and reached for the next one, then the next. By this method, he climbed the ladder, though the climb seemed endless. At some point, when his arms grew too weak and one of his hands slipped, Giotto looped an arm about his waist and without comment lent him the strength needed to reach the top.

Several pairs of hands lifted him from the topmost rung to the platform itself. The circle of crewmen looked so happy to see him that he gave them a small smile.

“C’mon, Captain,” Giotto said. “We need to get you to Dr. McCoy.”

“McCoy?” Jim echoed as they moved through the hatch.

“Of course. And Mr. Spock. You’ve had a lot of people looking for you, sir.”

Something shivered through Jim. “How many on the planet?”

“Nine in the search party.”

Jim had to pause on the steel staircase when he felt the waning sunlight on his skin. The world below the silo made a slow turn. “My team,” he recalled. “They were taken by Tappan’s men.”

“We’ve recovered Olivares, Kolarski, and Joran.” Giotto seemed to think on something for a moment before he added, “The Ambassador as well.”

Jim grimaced and slowly resumed his trek down the stairs. “What about Tappan?”

“In custody of Spock and McCoy. Captain… There’s more you should know, but it may be better for you to hear it from the Commander.”

Giotto had misgivings about telling him something? That made Jim nervous. He stumbled a little when he took his first step on the ground.

Giotto caught his elbow.

“Thank you, Mr. Giotto. I’m… not at my best right now.”

“That much is apparent.” Giotto moved in closer, blocked the view of the other officers—or rather kept them from seeing Jim in an attempt to give him privacy. “Captain, I need to ask a question before we go any farther.”

“In case I become incapacitated later on,” Jim acknowledged, ignoring the way his body temperature seemed to have increased another two or three degrees and his speech slowed. “Understood, Lieutenant-Commander. Continue.”

“Why you, sir?”

Jim closed his eyes. “I have the power of a starship in my hands. And with it, the ability to destroy an entire colony.”

Giotto stiffened. “He wants to destroy Tassos III?”

“So he says,” murmured Jim. He opened his eyes and swallowed against the fire in his throat. “Which will never happen, do you understand?”

“Of course it won’t.” Giotto looked consternated by the thought nonetheless. “Tappan is a fool.”

“A madman,” Kirk amended, which in his opinion was far worse than a fool.

Giotto let go of him.

It turned out that was a bad idea. When Jim took his next step forward, his left knee buckled. Hands lifted him up. Giotto put one of Jim’s arms over his shoulders. Another officer took Jim’s other arm.

Jim dropped his head forward, grateful not to have to bear most of his own weight for the duration of the journey.

“We’ve got you, Captain.”

He knew that. He did. His crew always had his back, just as he tried to protect theirs.

This time he gladly let them lead the way to freedom.

When Kirk came through the facility doors, even in an unconscious slump, nearly everyone stopped what they were doing. Sandeep dropped a roll of bandages. Olivares jumped up from Joran’s bedside. Spock froze, and Leta gave a soft gasp.

Leonard McCoy realized belatedly why the Ambassador was no longer paying attention to his recommendations for her son’s care.

When he turned around, he had no reaction at all. He merely said, “Through the door on the right.”

Giotto gave a slight nod and hauled McCoy’s new patient into the private examination room.

Leonard snapped his fingers in front of Leta’s face. “Have you heard a word I said?”

“Dr. McCoy, that was your missing captain. Why aren’t you running after him?”

“He made it this far. He’ll keep another minute. And, Ambassador,” the doctor leaned in and dropped his voice, “you have no right to talk to me about Kirk. In fact, I strongly suggest you start practicing your apology to him.” He straightened up. “Once I have a better idea of your son’s prognosis, I’ll let you know.”

He turned on his heel and said to Spock who stood in the doorway to the exam room, “Keep that woman away from my patients.”

Leonard took a moment before he approached the biobed to take in Kirk’s appearance from head to toe. He said to Giotto and the other officer, “I know you came as quickly as you could. Thank you both.”

They accepted his words as the dismissal he meant them to be.

Leonard engaged the monitor above the biobed. He adjusted his tricorder to start a new multivariate analysis. He ran his hand along the coverlet beneath Kirk.

Finally he touched Jim.

“Where’ve you been, Jim-boy?” he said in a thick voice. “Don’t you know how worried I’ve been?”

He bowed his head momentarily because Jim couldn’t answer him. Then he got to work.

An hour passed quickly.

“Would you stop hovering, you oversized mother hen?”

“How is he?”

Leonard pressed his mouth flat. “No different than the last time you asked, Spock.”

“His complexion is unsettling,” Spock said.

The doctor bit back a retort about green-blooded complexions. “He’s running a fever, and he’s dehydrated.” When Spock looked like he would say more, Leonard quickly held up the hypospray in his hand. “Do you want this shot instead?”

Spock closed his mouth.

“Sandeep!” Leonard snapped to the red-shirted man standing farther away, by a rolling tray. “Mr. Spock needs his temperature taken. Can you handle that?”

Sandeep turned wide eyes to him. “I think so?”

“Don’t forget to record it on his chart.” Leonard turned back to Kirk, hoping he had at least earned a five-minute reprieve. Sandeep was painstakingly slow at figuring out the medical instruments, but luckily Spock was also too polite to offer to do the job for him.

He sighed once he was alone. “This is not what I meant when I said it would be useful to observe someone in a later stage. Damn it, Jim. What did they do? Dump you in a vat of bacteria?”

His tricorder readings said yes. Kirk’s clothes and skin were coated in a species of bacteria similar to the strain in the barn, only more toxic. At the moment, Jim’s most dangerous symptoms were his high blood pressure, fever, and the swollen airways. Leonard could treat those with what he had on hand, but he wondered if he could concoct the right medicine to handle their underlying cause.

Jim groaned and shifted restlessly on the small bed.

Leonard ran a cloth over the man’s brow, wiping away the sweat there. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “You’ll be okay.”

Kirk settled.

Sandeep returned without Spock seven minutes later, holding up a PADD and looking proud. “Job accomplished, Dr. McCoy.”

“Good. Hope you scared him off for me too. Now help me get Kirk out of these clothes.”

Sandeep flushed. “Uh…”

Leonard fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Boy, he doesn’t have anything you or I don’t see every day in a mirror.”

“But…” Sandeep leaned forward to whisper, “I am not very comfortable with the idea of undressing my captain.”

Leonard lost his patience. “Didn’t you say you worked in a sick room?”

“Mostly paperwork and errands,” the man admitted sheepishly.

Leonard muttered an oath under his breath and, having no choice, hollered, “Spock!”

Spock appeared at his elbow, as if he had been loitering close by. “Doctor, how is the Captain?”

“Lieutenant, be thankful you never applied to Starfleet Medical. I would have you assigned to sponge-bath duty for the foreseeable future. Now go annoy somebody else. Spock, put on these gloves and take his shirt. I’ll take his pants.” He eyed the Vulcan after Sandeep left. “You don’t have a problem with the naked body, do you?”

“Recall the incident on Verdes IX, Doctor. One unclothed human body is hardly comparable to the shock of one hundred. I believe the word embarrassment is no longer part of my vocabulary.”

Leonard’s face grew hot. “You said you would never bring that up.”

Spock cocked his head. “I said I would not mention it in front of company.”

“Lord, I should’ve known you’d make that distinction.” He donned another pair of gloves and removed Jim’s boots. “Enough with the blackmail. Be careful not to let your skin touch the cloth.”

“How should I dispose of the shirt?”

“Use the container on that counter. I still need it for the lab.”

They worked in silence until they covered Jim with a sheet. Spock offered to locate clothing they could dress him in. Leonard waved the Vulcan away. Then he studied the filthy garments. Blood spotted the collar of Jim’s torn gold tunic. He closed the container lid quickly, hiding it from sight. The clothes were unsalvageable and would have to be disintegrated after the lab analysis.

Once again alone with Jim, Leonard took the opportunity to lay his gloved hand against the man’s cheek.

“Jim,” he said softly, “fight for me.”

Kirk gave no indication that his lover’s plea had been heard.

Karen eavesdropped on the conversation of two of Kirk’s security officers in the corridor and afterwards asked her guard, “Why did no one inform me that Augustus is here?”

The woman ignored her.

Leta paced the corner of the waiting room where she had been told to stay until either Spock or McCoy returned for her. She had been able to see Ramses after McCoy and another officer wheeled him out of the OR. His face had been puffy but clear of blood. He had looked like her child, then, while he slept. The doctor assured her he wasn’t going to die from her actions. She still didn’t understand why McCoy had grown short-tempered with her after that remark about Kirk.

Her patience was near its end. She didn’t like being confined and stationed with a watchdog. She didn’t appreciate the way the others looked at her, like she was a criminal. So she had made the mistake of bringing Kirk to Tassos III. Once explained to the right parties, it meant little. It wouldn’t even tarnish her record since Kirk had been returned alive into the hands of his crew. She was to thank for that after all.

And she had been used, hadn’t she?

Oh, this damn waiting made her thoughts circle each other.

It was unfortunate she couldn’t trick the Starfleet officer as she had Tappan’s man. Not that there was much to be gained. She wanted to take Ram with her when she left this godforsaken colony. He wasn’t well enough to leave yet, not until the doctor cured him of his strange ailment.

“Let me see him,” she demanded, her thoughts switching back to Tappan. Augustus would explain about Ramses and why he had been with Kirk. And if Augustus told her a little about his plan, she could offer it up to Commander Spock as part of her cooperation.

She loved him, she did, but he had certainly made a mess of everything. She could plead his case to the authorities later. There were ways to have him released before this went to trial. Perhaps then Augustus would finally feel grateful to her. Yes, she had to convince him to let go of this disaster. Whatever he wanted out of it, he would never achieve now.

The female officer, who had been talkative before, was annoyingly silent. She was likely thinking that she had put Karen in her place by having Commander Spock interrogate her.

Kirk’s crew was becoming less and less likable. Why were they so loyal to him? Did they truly think they were the best starship crew in the galaxy?

Karen stepped up to the lieutenant’s side. “Didn’t you hear me? I will speak with your prisoner. He owes me an explanation.”

The woman looked her straight in the eyes. “Do you think I’m actually stupid enough to let you stand in the same room as the man you take orders from?”

Karen was outraged. “I am a Federation ambassador! I take orders from no one!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” the officer retorted and turned away.

Oh, this bitch was going to pay dearly for her insubordination. Karen would make certain of it.

That was when an idea occurred to her.

Leonard leaned against the doorjamb of the laboratory, feeling more drained than he should have after a few hours of administering medical care. “I found this in one of Jim’s boots.” He lifted a sealed test tube containing small grain heads. “We have the source of the infection.”

Spock moved away from his computer to inspect it.

“As you know,” Leonard continued, “Jim wasn’t in any condition to report on his experience. Luckily, Giotto had something to say. Remember the barn, the way it smelled like mold? The smell was stronger in the silo where the harvest is normally stored before processing and packaging, and he found out why. The colony’s harvest is rotting, Spock.”

“Why is it infectious to humans?”

“That I don’t know.” He pushed away from the door. “Nor do I know how it’s linked to our other problem.”

Spock studied him. “But you still believe it is.”

“Has to be. If only there weren’t so many possibilities, if only we had some way to narrow it down medically. The pathogen cells could be the cause, of course, but that’s not my gut feeling. I have no evidence to say it’s the side effect of their immunity either. That leaves me with a chemical reaction, but there is nothing unusual about the manufacturing process that we could discover—which brings me circling back to the outbreak, to the infection itself. I don’t know, Spock. What could they have done that…”

Leonard fell silent all of sudden. He slipped out of the lab without another word, unaware that Spock followed him. When he reached the small administrative office where they had imprisoned Tappan, he dismissed the guard.

Tappan observed him with a neutral expression.

Leonard asked him, “What antimicrobials did you use?”

Tappan raised an eyebrow.

“In order to save the crops, you would have attempted some kind of decontamination procedure. What did you try?”

Tappan still said nothing.

A burst of anger shot through Leonard. He was reaching for Tappan before he thought better of it.

Spock intervened, physically stepping between them.

Leonard moved around the Vulcan to glare at Tappan. “What did you try?” he repeated. “Oxidation? Peracid? Irradiation?”

Tappan asked, “Why do our failed attempts interest you?”

“Answer the damn question!”

“Doctor,” Spock said.

“This is important,” Leonard snarled.

Spock told Tappan, “Even if you refuse to answer, there are others who will talk. There are also computer records.”

Tappan looked away. “The foreman was in charge of the disinfection. I wasn’t involved.”

“Then where are his reports?”

“My office, perhaps.”

Leonard turned away. “Send someone to find them, Mr. Spock.”

He heard Tappan ask with interest, “What do you suspect, Dr. McCoy?”

It was his turn to withhold answers. He left the office. Spock lingered a moment with Tappan, then invited the guard back into the room before catching up to him.

Leonard checked on Joran, Greene, and Leta’s son. Then he returned to Jim’s room and sat in a chair by Jim’s bedside, watching the statistics dashboard on the biobed.

Spock came to stand beside his chair.

Eventually Leonard broke the silence. “The bastard knows what I’m after. That’s why he wouldn’t answer me.”

“Most modern decontamination processes are not harmful to humanoids. Of those that are, which do you suspect?”

This time Leonard did answer: “There’s a synthetic form of mephredone that in vapor form has an excellent success rate of eradicating high-resistance bacteria without corroding living tissue. But it has other dangerous properties. In the twenty-second century a group of scientists tried to develop a drug from it for the battlefield. To be blunt, a mind control drug.” His voice grew flat. “The experiments were shut down as inhumane. Do you know why?”

“Beyond the obvious, I do not.”

“Prolonged exposure to mephredone causes psychotic episodes. One of the test subjects went insane and killed two lab assistants before he was subdued. I didn’t think of it at first because no one in their right mind would use it around people in this day and age, not to mention that no supplier would sell it without a government-approved release form, which would be damned difficult to obtain. Can’t you see, Spock? It fits too well. Tappan knew what he was doing. However he got a hold of the stuff, he used it to control these people. He poisoned them for his own gain.”

Spock stared down at Leonard. “Something else bothers you. What?”

Leonard almost didn’t say it but with Spock looking at him, so willing to listen, so non-judgmental, he caved. “If the endgame was to take this colony for his own, Tappan had to have a legitimate reason to bring in the vapor without anyone suspecting an ulterior motive. So I have to wonder, Spock: did the grain become infected on its own… or with some help?”

“Your reasoning is surprisingly logical,” Spock admitted.

“It’s an awful thought. I don’t want to believe a man could be so terribly selfish.”

“We have encountered many such individuals on the course of this five-year mission.”

“God help me, I know.” Leonard watched the rise and fall of Kirk’s chest. “I can’t imagine how torturous this has been for Jim. He must have thought he had walked into the Tarsus IV nightmare all over again.”

“Yes,” was all Spock said.

Leonard reached up without thinking and gently encircled the Vulcan’s wrist. “As much as I worry about you, Spock, you always hold it together better than the rest of us. I’ll save Jim’s life because I can’t do anything less… but should something happen to me before we return to the Enterprise, promise me you will help him move past this.” He looked up at Spock. “Jim would never admit that he’s suffering, so it won’t be easy. Promise me you’ll try.”

Spock moved his arm to gently dislodge the doctor’s hand but rather than completely breaking contact, he slid his fingers across McCoy’s palm.

“You love him,” Spock said.

“Of course.”

“You would give him over to my care because you think I love him as well.”

Leonard countered quietly, “Don’t you?”

“As a friend,” Spock answered, “for almost four years.”

“And how long as more than a friend?”

“Only recently.”

Leonard nodded, expecting to hear that, and settled his hand back on his knee. “Then the promise should be easy to make.”

“The promise is a matter of course. I am more concerned that you are not prepared to hear the rest of my admission.”

The doctor blinked, for he hadn’t considered Spock had something else to say. “What is it?”

“I—”

Sandeep swung into the room. “Dr. McCoy! Lt. Olivares collapsed!”

Leonard jumped out of his chair. “What happened?”

“She was watching the Ambassador when—”

As Sandeep relayed the story, Leonard stopped Spock from following him to the door. “Stay with Jim. Let no one in you don’t trust.”

Spock relented and returned to the side of the biobed.

Leonard blew out a breath, wiped the sweat gathering along his forehead, and hurried back to the patient ward.

Jim’s dream had turned very strange. He was with Bones and Spock. Spock confessed to having feelings for him. His stalwart First Officer. Someone he cared for more than a friend should.

Spock was a secret Jim held in his heart which he shared with no one.

But Bones, with so much love of his own to give, accepted the confession without complaint, like it was a natural thing to share a love.

Jim realized then he was having the momentous kind of dream that should happen in real life. Yet, for a reason he could not discern, this particular dream had reached its end.

Some notes:
1) This story marks another milestone: 1,800,000 words! Woohoo! Getting ever closer to that 2 million goal.
2) Also, October may be a period of less frequent chapter updates. I have some RL activity that apparently takes precedence over Star Trek fanfiction, though that seems like a thing which should not be possible. I will try my best to keep to the weekly schedule. That said, we have four or five chapters left. It mainly depends on how much more I can torture our main characters.
3) Lastly, I will not be writing my usual Space_Wrapped story this holiday season. Instead I am participating in a McSpirk challenge! Prompt collection will begin soon over at mcspirkholidayfest.tumblr.com. If you submit a prompt, yours could be the one I pick to write! Yay for a McSpirk-y Christmas!