Be prepared. Feelings.

Two officers relocated to a quiet corner of the patient ward. A soft sigh preceded the question, “Are we back where we started?”

“We can’t be,” Sandeep argued, although his gut told him otherwise as the frigid silence between Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy grew to frightening proportions. They refused to make eye contact with each other.

“We need Kirk,” his companion said, worry in her eyes. “This team is falling apart without him.”

Sandeep agreed. It wasn’t simply that Spock and McCoy couldn’t keep it together. Captain Kirk had a way of dragging his crew out of dire situations which no one could quite match. He would think up a solution that utilized everyone’s talents and gave them a fighting chance. With the death literally upon their doorstep this time, the one thing that their team needed most was hope.

Which meant they needed Jim Kirk.

“I don’t want it to sound like I am okay with placing our captain’s life in more danger than it’s already in,” Olivares began to explain when Sandeep failed to respond to her assessment.

“It’s all right,” he assured her quickly. “I understand what you mean. We do need him.”

She looked at him, graver than ever. “Do you think the Boss would agree?”

“We should ask,” Sandeep decided.

“And take our stand accordingly,” the woman finished. “Follow me.”

The pair slipped away from the ward, unnoticed.

“How do you feel?”

“Better,” stated the lieutenant, watching the doctor take his pulse with curiosity. “Doesn’t your tricorder do that?”

“A man can’t always rely on machines,” Leonard replied. “You feel better, Lieutenant, because you are better.”

The man’s face lit up. “Really?”

He gave a slow nod. “See for yourself.” Drawing aside the bed sheet, he removed a lightly wrapped bandage and indicated the man’s right side.

The patient’s prods to the lightly discolored area were tentative but his response was ecstatic. “The rash is gone!”

“Not quite but getting there.” Leonard noted, “Your blood pressure is back to normal, and your body temperature has stabilized.” He scrutinized the man sharply. “You still have a headache, though.”

The officer nodded. “The headache does seem worse.”

Leonard marked a line on PADD before he said, “It’s likely a side-effect of the serum. I would give you something for the pain, but I’m hesitant to risk the good results we have seen so far. Do you think you can you stand it a while longer?”

“Whatever you believe is best, Doc. As long as I’m not going to die on this hellish planet.”

“You’re not,” Leonard said firmly. “Rest a minute. I’ll be right back.”

When he turned for the opposite side of the room, Spock stepped into his path.

Leonard’s hand tightened around his tricorder. “What?”

“Was the treatment successful?”

“It seems so.”

Spock studied briefly. “I could assist in replicating the serum.”

“Don’t bother.” The retort came out harsher than Leonard intended. He swallowed down some of his anger. “I can do that much by myself, Mr. Spock. Stay where you’re needed.”

When Spock settled back into silence, Leonard pressed his mouth flat and skirted around the Vulcan. But he didn’t get far before his name was called and, instinctually, he stiffened.

“I will not revoke my order,” the Vulcan reminded him. “I hope you come to your senses before it is too late.”

Damn you, thought Leonard. He left the ward without reply.

Lt. Danson had seen many of his fellow crewmen take pleasure in their work. Normally he found his security duties tolerable, but it had taken this particular adventure to make him realize he was in the wrong job. There was pride in being the protectors of the ship, to be sure, and there was some excitement that came along with the danger of an away mission.

However, that didn’t mean he had no qualms about dangerous work. In fact, his taste for adventure (which had initially set him on this career track) had pretty much waned in last few months. Being where he was now, at the very forefront of possibly the most dangerous mission he had undertaken, he resolved that he would give up the red shirt when he returned to the Enterprise.

If he returned, that was. Thinking of his future-to-be once the facility shields failed scared the hell out of him. He could be brave in a group. By himself, he was a coward.

So deeply ensconced in his thoughts was he, the hand that landed on his shoulder made him jump straight into the air.

“It’s just us,” Blanca told him.

Danson laughed nervously. “I knew you were there.”

Sandeep and Olivares rolled their eyes at him. Then they crowded him against the window.

“We have a situation,” Sandeep told him in a hushed tone.

Then they explained it to him.

Danson’s eyes bugged out. “What do you mean, they’re fighting again? I just saw them—” Noticing just how intently Sandeep and Olivares were listening, he floundered. “—uh, saw them acting very cordial with one another.”

Olivares snorted but Sandeep’s face lit up.

“You saw it, didn’t you? They had that look.”

Blanca cut her eyes towards Giotto and nudged Sandeep with her elbow. “Now’s not the time to discuss any looks.”

“But I was right! He knows—!”

This time the elbow went into Sandeep’s stomach, hard. Sandeep doubled over with a gasp.

Giotto called out sharply to their little group, “What are you three doing over there?”

“Nothing, sir,” the woman answered cheerily.

Danson took pity on Sandeep. “It’s all right, man. I should have believed you. I just find it difficult to imagine that anybody who looks that cozy together suddenly decide they can’t stand the sight of each other.”

“Married couples do it all the time,” Sandeep replied and, with a grin, dodged Olivares’ swat at his head. “Blanca has a point, though. This discussion can happen later.” He sobered then. “We want your opinion before we talk to Giotto. Do you think we need Captain Kirk?”

Danson rubbed a hand down his face. “Isn’t that going to cause more problems?”

“It’s Kirk,” Blanca said.

“Point taken.” Danson frowned, then sighed. “My instinct says yes. My brain tells me guilt would eat me alive if something bad happened to him. I mean, he is the captain. Protecting the captain of the ship is our first priority.”

Olivares gave him an understanding look. “Honestly, I’m afraid of what happens if we all die. Who would be left to protect him then? Isn’t that as bad as having him with us at the frontline?”

“He would rather be at the frontline,” Sandeep stated with firm belief. “Give him the choice, and that is what he would say.”

They all nodded.

“Kirk is a man who doesn’t believe in asking others to take a risk that he wouldn’t take himself.”

Danson nearly jumped out of his skin. When he spun around, he squeaked, “Sir!”

Giotto observed them without expression. “Just giving my two cents.”

Olivares flushed. “Boss, we were going to ask if you…”

“If I want Kirk by my side at the gates of Hell?” Giotto’s smile was mirthless. “Let me offer you a piece of advice, Lieutenants.”

Immediately Giotto’s team stood at attention.

“You don’t protect a man by standing in front of him. You protect him by standing alongside him and respecting his choices. I didn’t expect to live out this five-year voyage yet here I am. I know I wouldn’t have made it this far if I hadn’t trusted my commander.”

Danson saw that Olivares’ and Sandeep’s eyes shone. He was fairly certain that his eyes shone too. Giotto always managed to remind him that his work had value. “Then what next, sir?” he asked respectfully.

Giotto adopted a slight grimace. “Dr. McCoy will be opposed, so someone informs him that he has been outvoted.”

Sandeep’s hand flew up. “Not it!”

Olivares widened her eyes, attempting to appear innocent. “You are the superior among us, sir.”

Danson wisely kept his mouth shut.

Giotto did grimace in full this time and pivoted away on his heel. His charges trailed behind him, completely unrepentant to be out of the direct line of fire.

“…crazy…can’t do it…cold-blooded son of a…“

When Leonard caught himself mumbling as he methodically operated various pieces of medical equipment, he pressed his hands to his face. The ring on his pinky ringer was a bite of cold against his warm skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked himself.

Did Spock hate him?

“Get it together.”

Would Spock forgive him?

“Stop it.“

As he pulled his hands from his face, the room took a spin. He latched onto the edge of the counter top and waited out the bout of vertigo. When the objects in the room finally settled back where they belonged, he found a stool and shakily sat down.

Running the tricorder over himself told him a lot of things he already knew and some things he didn’t. The stimulant had petered out at last. His stress levels were through the roof. Unfortunately the Vulcan had been right. He was closer to having a heart attack than he liked.

The treatment batch needed to be finished. He had to contact M’Benga. He had to find a stabilizer for Kirk and Leta’s son. He had to stop Tappan from hurting them, from using Jim. The list was endless.

Sweat ran down McCoy’s face. He moped at it with his forearm and slid away from the stool—and in the next instant met with the floor.

Leonard’s head cleared enough for him to realize that he had momentarily passed out. He rolled onto his back and began a count of sixty. Once he felt his blood pressure was stable, he slowly sat up and leaned against the side of the lab counter. Not until he reached for his tricorder did Leonard discover it had broken during his fall. Pieces of it lay beyond reach.

Swallowing hard, he pulled his tunic away from his skin and looked down. His suspicion proved correct. The rash had spread halfway down his chest. “Oh hell. Looks like you’re getting the first dose, Leonard.”

On his second try he managed to get to his feet. It was fortuitous timing; the travel-size replicator beamed down from the Enterprise gave a loud ding. The cartridges were ready for transfer.

The doctor was loading hyposprays when the lab door opened and several people came through it in single file.

Leonard jumped to his feet, questioning apprehensively, “What’s happened?”

“Doctor…” Spock began.

Giotto stepped forward. “Dr. McCoy, there has been unanimous agreement. We need Captain Kirk.”

Leonard flashed hot and cold at the same time. The hypospray in his hand slid from his fingers and rolled across the counter. “I am the Chief Medical Officer. On whose authority are you challenging me?”

Spock came towards him but paused when something crunched underfoot. He bent down.

“This isn’t a challenge of your authority,” Giotto said. “This is a request. A plea, if you will.”

Lieutenant Olivares lent her voice to the argument. “The Captain would want to help us.”

Leonard slammed a fist down on the counter, rattling a tray of microscope slides. “Except he’s in no condition to do so! My god, has every last one of you gone out of your mind? Am I the only sane person left on this planet?”

“What happened to your face?”

The question was so abrupt, so off-topic, that Leonard turned and stared dumbly at Spock for the longest time.

“Your face is bruised,” Spock remarked. Then he held out a piece of the broken tricorder. “”You tend to be very careful with medical equipment, yet I discover that some of it has been damaged. I will ask again, Doctor: what, precisely, happened to you?”

That Spock already knew the answer was obvious.

Leonard was afraid to find out how Spock planned to use the knowledge against him but it was habit to challenge him. “What’s your point, Mr. Spock?”

The Vulcan’s eyes darkened. He moved towards Leonard, softening his tone as he drew closer. “How is your health? Are you experiencing weakness? Disorientation?”

“None of us feel our best.” Leonard stiffened as Spock came within arm’s reach. “It doesn’t mean I can’t do my job.”

Spock reached out and Leonard almost drew back, but the Vulcan only picked up the hypospray that had rolled to the counter’s edge.

“It means precisely that if you are medically unfit,” Spock replied gravely. “Dr. McCoy, effective immediately you are relieved of duty.”

Leonard blanched. The room went fuzzy grey at the edges. He didn’t realize he had stumbled back until Spock moved to catch him. No one else attempted to intervene.

“You bastard,” he whispered, but it was oddly difficult to shake the impression that, as the Vulcan stared down at him, Spock was as deeply unhappy as he was.

Spock backed away from him again. “You give me no choice.”

Leonard’s throat grew tight with emotion. His distress must have shown in his face, for Spock seemed even unhappier.

“The sedation drip will be removed,” he told Leonard, “at which time I will assess the Captain’s state of mind.”

“Good luck with that,” Leonard managed to say, every word bitter. He turned to the others standing across the room and snapped, “Congratulations, y’all won. Now get the hell out of here.”

The lieutenants looked stricken at the cold dismissal. Giotto rumbled in an apologetic voice, “We will prove to you it’s for the best, Dr. McCoy.” He ushered his team out of the lab. Spock stayed behind.

Leonard couldn’t look at the Vulcan, not with the feeling of betrayal burning him up from the inside out, so he went for his communicator and the single phaser which Spock had insisted he keep near him at all times after Leta’s attack and tossed both devices to the counter. “You’ll want these back.”

“Doctor.”

“How proud you must be, Mr. Spock. You stripped me of my medical authority. You turned me into a fool in front of our peers.”

“I took no pride or pleasure in relieving you of duty. It was a necessary course of action.”

Leonard spun around, his blue eyes fiercely alight. “I don’t believe you, Spock. Tell me, just how far are you planning to take this? Are you going to tie my hands, too, so I have to watch my patients go untreated?”

The skin around Spock’s eyes became taut. “Leonard.”

“No,” he cried angrily, “don’t call me that! Using my first name is a privilege, not a right—one you don’t deserve!”

Spock closed some of the physical distance between them but they were more like strangers now than friends and that type of distance he could not breach. He didn’t argue his case. He simply lifted his closed hand and opened it.

Leonard looked at the hypospray being offered to him.

“This is the treatment for the infection, correct?” Spock asked.

“Yes.”

“Take it,” the Vulcan insisted, placing the hypo carefully onto the counter next to the communicator and phaser, neither of which he took in exchange.

Leonard was still feeling mean when he said, “If I do, you won’t have a reason to deny my request for reinstatement.”

But Spock only replied, “I am counting on that request, Dr. McCoy.”

Then he left Leonard alone.

The laboratory fell silent after that, giving the tangle of thoughts in Leonard’s head time to separate themselves into sense. He came to a conclusion that he couldn’t deny, one which surprised him: Spock had never intended to take him away from his work or his patients. He would return Kirk’s care over to Leonard again the moment the doctor’s health showed signs of improvement. It was only that Spock needed a short period of time in which to remove Jim from sedation without causing a full-on fight between them and without completely breaking a trust they could never mend. In addition to that, if things went south, if something awful happened because Kirk had been awakened, Leonard could not be held liable for it. The responsibility landed squarely on Spock’s shoulders.

Spock was, as always, working diligently to preserve both of their professional reputations by that subtle manipulation of regulation at which he excelled. He was also trying to prove that Leonard’s personal feelings did matter, however impersonal the actions taken seemed. Spock would not, and perhaps never could, stand between Leonard and his heart.

Leonard was still angry but now he understood. He depressed the hypospray into the side of his neck. Spock would have this time to try things his way and then, the doctor decided, he would take charge again.

“Return to your stations,” Mr. Spock ordered the officers in the ward. To Giotto, the Vulcan inclined his head with a different command.

John followed him to Kirk’s room. “Do you know what to do?” he asked as Spock circled to the opposite side of the biobed.

“I have studied many medical texts over years,” the commander replied, “though I rarely have the opportunity to put my knowledge to use.”

“Generally speaking, sir, medical practice is best left to the professionals.”

“I fully agree, Mr. Giotto. My interests in medical science do not coincide with a desire to practice it.”

John certainly couldn’t picture Mr. Spock as a doctor, especially not a hands-on doctor like McCoy. He made no further comment and watched in silence as Spock operated the monitor above Kirk’s bed. After a minute or so, the Vulcan stepped back.

“It should take several minutes for the Captain to rouse.” Spock turned and stared hard at Giotto. “Are you prepared?”

He was. Placing a hand on the phaser at his side, he asked bluntly, “How much force can I use?”

The grave answer was “Heavy stun, if necessary.”

Giotto positioned himself across the room where Kirk could see him but not reach him or his phaser easily. The door had been locked by Giotto’s voice command so that the Captain wouldn’t be able to escape in the event he disarmed both men.

John truly hoped that Mr. Spock could revive the man they both knew as Jim Kirk.

The wait seemed endless, but at last Kirk began to groan and stir in the bed. Giotto watched as Spock lowered himself to the bed’s edge and placed his hands on Kirk’s shoulders. It wasn’t a moment too soon.

Kirk’s eyes opened. He croaked sleepily, “…Spock?”

“Captain,” Spock greeted him.

Kirk frowned and lifted a hand to touch a place near the underside of his skull where McCoy had attached a medical device. Giotto saw Spock press down slightly on Kirk’s shoulders as though he knew what would happen next.

Then, like a switch had been flipped, their captain’s eyes glazed over and his body tensed.

“Mr. Spock,” the man said in a different tone, “what is the meaning of this?”

“Captain,” Spock began, only to correct himself. “Jim…”

Kirk’s hand flew to the Vulcan’s wrists, gripped them hard. Spock’s expression didn’t change, nor did he budge.

“Get off me, you traitorous dog!”

“Jim, you are under the influence of a drug which is preventing you from thinking clearly. You must fight it.”

The only thing the man in the bed wanted to fight, Giotto concluded, was them.

Kirk bucked upwards. “I’ll have you court-martialed! Mr. Giotto, shoot this traitor!”

“Negative, sir,” John replied.

Kirk’s eyes rounded at the refusal. Then he snarled at both of them, “Mutiny! I’ll have your careers—your heads! I’ll kill all of you!” He was fighting Spock in earnest now but was no match for the Vulcan’s strength.

Giotto swore then and there never tell another soul the vile things Kirk which spewed at them. He wanted this ugly confrontation to be over, wanted his captain back. “Mr. Spock, if you plan to do something, I can’t think of a better time.”

Spock easily twisted one of his wrists out of Kirk’s grip and splayed a hand against the side of the man’s face. “Jim, forgive me. My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts—”

“I don’t consent!” Kirk screamed over and over again.

“—our minds are merging, our minds are one.”

Suddenly Kirk went limp mid-scream, like a stage puppet with its strings cut. His eyes rolled up into his head.

Giotto felt sick but it was impossible to tear his eyes away from the scene. Eerie silence settled over the room. The longer it went on, the more John began to sweat. Doubt crept in.

Then Kirk twitched, sighed under Spock’s hand, and seemed to sag further down into the bed. His eyes weren’t open but he spoke, sounding strangely sad. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “The control—it is no longer mine. I cannot function.”

It startled Giotto to hear Kirk and Spock talk in unison, their voices separate but their minds obviously intertwined. It wasn’t clear which of them was sorry. Maybe it was both, the way they felt mirrored in each other.

“…Must go on,” continued Kirk and Spock. “Danger. Return safely to the ship. Trust crew to fight.”

Could Spock explain to Kirk that they couldn’t return to the Enterprise? How did the mind meld work? Giotto had the strong sense he was not the right person to be in the room, watching this, worrying about the two men with their minds locked so tightly together.

“Concern? McCoy. Yes. Understand, understand,” Kirk and Spock repeated. Then, “Let me help. How?”

Yes, John wondered, how? Who was helping whom? He didn’t realize he was leaning forward in anticipation of the answers.

Nothing else happened verbally. Kirk’s eyes opened, and Spock stirred. Their gazes stayed locked until, at last, Spock pulled his hand away from Kirk’s face.

Giotto raised his phaser in case Kirk lashed out. To his surprise, the man on the bed turned his head in Giotto’s direction and looked at John with tears in his eyes.

“Help Spock,” he pleaded.

Giotto started forward and caught himself, afraid of a trick. Then Kirk’s hands reached up in time to catch Mr. Spock as the Vulcan suddenly slumped forward.

Giotto didn’t think. He reached the bedside of his captain in the next second and lifted Mr. Spock from the bed, away from Kirk.

Spock roused enough to say in a strained voice, “No need for concern. I am well.”

“Easy for you to say, Commander. Should I fetch Dr. McCoy?”

“Negative. The… weakness will pass.”

Kirk sat up. He didn’t look like a maniac. No maniac would appear so heartbroken. “Spock, don’t do this to you.”

“Negative,” Spock said again, which made little sense.

“Captain, what’s going on?” John had to know. “You sound…”

“Sane?” Kirk said with a small laugh that never reached his eyes. “Thank Mr. Spock—or don’t. He could break his own mind in the effort to save mine.”

“Negative.”

It disturbed Giotto that the Vulcan hadn’t bothered to stop leaning against him. It disturbed John more that Spock spoke like a broken record.

Damn, he was in over his head. He drew out his communicator with the hand not supporting his superior and flipped it open. “Giotto to McCoy. Need help. Kirk’s room.”

Kirk detached a cord snaking around his arm and then grimaced, a hand exploring the back of his neck. “What is this?”

No one had time to answer, for a fist suddenly pounded against the outside of the door.

John cursed, having forgotten the lockdown, and had to ease Mr. Spock against the wall, hoping like hell the Vulcan didn’t buckle to the floor. Kirk was already climbing out of bed, setting off various bio-monitor alarms.

Giotto ran for the door and slapped at the control panel, saying the command code that would release the lock.

The man who shot past him was a wild-looking version of McCoy Giotto had never seen before. The doctor arrived at the other side of the room in time to catch half of the Vulcan as he tilted forward like he was going to pass out. Kirk caught the other half. Between them, they dragged Spock to the empty bed and laid him down.

McCoy was barking out questions at a rapid-fire pace.

John looked between the three of them and made an executive decision. He slipped from the room. The moment the door closed behind him, he dropped back against it and took several, unsteady breaths. He hadn’t known waking Kirk would come at the cost of Spock.

But then again, had Mr. Spock deigned to inform any of them of that tiny detail, not a single person would have agreed to take the risk of such a foolhardy plan.

They were all crazy—as crazy in here as the hundreds of drugged, homicidal people waiting beyond the building walls. Now it truly was game on to find out who among them would survive.

“Bones, how is he?”

The universe had cart-wheeled and landed on its head. That was the only explanation Leonard could think of for the moronic actions of the First Officer. “Back off a minute, Jim. Let me work.” I’ll get to you in a second, he didn’t add. No time to think about the return of his lover, not until he could give Jim his full attention.

Opening the communicator that his fingers had forgotten to let go of when he dashed out of the laboratory after Giotto’s abrupt distress call, Leonard called, “McCoy to Enterprise.”

The response was immediate. “We read you, Dr. McCoy.“

“M’Benga, and hurry.”

Uhura patched him without questions, no doubt recognizing how he sounded in the middle of a crisis.

“Geoff,” Leonard started in the moment he heard his second-in-command’s voice, “I’m transferring readings to you right now.” Before M’Benga could ask whose they were, he added, “Mr. Spock collapsed after a mind meld.”

Waiting for the other doctor to offer his diagnosis was excruciating. By the bed, Jim paced. To McCoy, he looked like he needed to be in a bed himself. Occasionally the man’s movements became jerky, coiled with tension and anger, only for the impression of violence to recede.

“You’re not in complete control,” Leonard observed.

“No,” Jim admitted. “Spock did—is doing—something to stave off the worst of it.” He stopped pacing to stare at McCoy. “What’s going through my mind, Bones… it’s unforgivable. Just when I think I’m going to lose it, I have clarity again.” Transferring his stare to the unconscious Vulcan, he said more softly, “He can’t help me for long. I think it will kill him.”

“I can confirm that, Captain,” came M’Benga’s voice over the unit. “Vulcans shield their minds because it is where they are most vulnerable. They are born with the natural inclination is to absorb and process emotions and thoughts through an extrasensory pathway in the brain. It’s only over time, with practice and control—as well as through hard-won evolution—that they cultivated another way to receive this information.“

“Touch telepathy,” Leonard said.

“Yes. It lessens the risk of attack. Mr. Spock is one of the strongest telepaths I have had the pleasure to meet, part of the reason being that his genetics are not purely Vulcan. He struggled notably during childhood to gain control of his ability and was not entirely successful in binding the pathway solely to touch perception.“

Jim and Leonard exchanged a look. Leonard would definitely have to find out later where M’Benga had acquired this confidential medical background on Spock.

“You can appreciate what this means, Dr. McCoy, Captain.“

“Spock is dangerous without his shield,” Jim replied.

“So much so that it has been deemed a crime by the Vulcan Elders for him to go without one.“

“That’s poppycock!” Leonard exploded. “You can’t punish a man for his genetics!”

Jim dropped a hand to Leonard’s shoulder. “Another fight for another time, Bones.”

Leonard subsided. “Geoff, what you are trying to say? He’s broken his shield?”

“You would know it if he did,” M’Benga responded somewhat dryly. “No, I’m trained to recognize the effect of stress on the Vulcan body. Hearing the Captain’s explanation, I can guess rather easily why Mr. Spock is suffering.“

Leonard’s stomach plummeted. He hated to hear that word ‘suffering’ applied to anyone. “What should I do?”

“Unless you can convince Mr. Spock to break his mental connection to Kirk, not much. His body recognizes that it is in danger, yet another unique ability of the Vulcans. Soon, his brain will begin to shut down his bodily functions in order to maintain the energy level necessary to feed the link. I must warn you both, this is not a healing trance. Mr. Spock will die.“

In other words, Spock was draining his own life away for the sake of waging a mental battle on behalf of Jim.

Leonard wasn’t going to allow that to go on. He covered the hand on his shoulder with his own, not needing to look at Kirk to know how much the knowledge of Spock’s sacrifice hurt him. “I feel like I am close to finding a combination of drugs that can counter the influence of the poison but one missing piece continues to elude me. Geoff, send me the medical logs from every field assignment from the start of the five-year mission that involved brainwashing.”

Jim said in a manner half-serious, half-joking, “That could be most of our ship’s library, Bones.”

“Then I’ll read the whole damn library,” Leonard retorted. “Unless you want to tell Spock through that link to stop being a goosehead. Just because the team said they needed their captain didn’t mean they needed Spock any less. He was a fool to do this.”

“Spock says he assumes ‘goosehead’ is a derogatory remark.”

Leonard sat back, surprised.

Hurriedly, Jim amended, “That was another joke.”

Leonard eyed his captain. Somehow he didn’t think it was. “Also tell Spock I’m still pissed at him for firing me.”

“What?” Kirk and M’Benga cried at the same time.

“Gods,” lamented M’Benga, “does this make me Acting CMO?“

Leonard said a bit smugly, “The Captain’s going to reinstate me.”

“Consider it done,” Jim agreed quickly.

“I’ll continue to send you Spock’s readings,” Leonard told his second-in-command. “I also found a stabilizing solution for the ergot infection. I have enough doses for the crew here but it couldn’t hurt to make extra for us.”

“Will do, Dr. McCoy.“

They ended the call.

Leonard found himself stroking the back of Spock’s hand and had to still his hand. The time had come. He stood up and turned to face Jim directly.

Jim drew in a tiny breath, held it, and after a moment opened his arms.

Leonard didn’t hesitate.

The way they held each other was somewhere in between hugging and clinging.

“I missed you,” Jim said into the crook of Leonard’s neck.

Leonard admitted his worst fear, “I thought you would die. I was such a coward, I couldn’t face it.”

“I’m here.”

He drew back and said, “I’m sorry,” wondering if Spock could hear the apology.

Oddly, Jim gave him an understanding look. “You didn’t give up. That’s all that matters.”

“Jim…” Leonard stepped back, hating to be the one to do this but knowing no one else could or should. “It’s far from over.”

Jim closed his eyes briefly. “I thought as much.” His fists clenched, then relaxed. “I can recognize a lockdown when I see one. Medical?”

“Yes. The symptoms you experienced in the silo were caused by the diseased grain—ergot, only deadlier, more difficult to treat. We’re all carriers, if not outright infected.”

Jim swayed slightly on his feet at the mention of the rotting grain. “What else?”

There were so many things to explain, with one in particular that Leonard knew had to be said. “Jim,” he coaxed, “sit down.”

Kirk did, dropping heavily to the edge of the biobed next to Spock’s outstretched legs.

There was no good approach.

Jim paled slightly in response to Leonard’s long hesitation. He also said with a hint of temper, “Just say it, McCoy.”

“Tarsus IV.”

For a long minute, and not unexpectedly, Kirk clammed up. Then, as if trying to convince himself more than Leonard, he argued, “A fluke.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Jim gripped his knees. “The people of Tassos III aren’t dying, Bones. They’re not being executed in the streets. Don’t tell me it is the same as Tarsus IV.”

“The disease is the same.”

All at once, Kirk folded in on himself, gripped his head. “Of course, of course. The rot. I recognized the smell.” His voice grew smaller and smaller until it petered out.

Leonard knelt in front of him. “Jim…”

“I can’t do this,” the man moaned.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Leonard replied. “Jim, look at me.” He waited until Jim steeled himself and met his gaze. “You are not Kodos. You will never be Kodos. Tappan planned this deliberately to hit you where you’re weakest—or where he thinks you are. But he doesn’t know you like I do, Jim. Tarsus IV didn’t make you weak. It made you strong, strong enough to see past all the smoke and mirrors. This is not and will not become another Tarsus IV.”

“How can you be certain? How can you know I won’t—”

“Because you would never let that happen.”

Jim reached for him.

Leonard linked their hands, giving Kirk the contact he needed. “Contrary to what most people think, you know I can’t easily express how I feel, so believe me when I say I love you, James Tiberius Kirk.”

Jim’s hand tightened on his. “Bones.”

Leonard swallowed down heavy emotion and finished, “Fight for us, Jim.”

Jim let go of him, dropping his hand to Spock’s leg, which he squeezed as if reassuring Spock. Jim said, “I will do my best… for both of you.”

Jim had known he meant Spock. Leonard himself wasn’t certain why he meant to include Spock but, again, Jim seemed to understand.

Jim retracted his hand, then, and slowly came to his feet. The captain Leonard served had returned.

“Tell me everything,” Kirk ordered. “Leave nothing out.”