Parts Fourteen and Fifteen and Epilogue posted together. Be certain you have read Fourteen and Fifteen first!

Closing his book, James Kirk set it atop his bed covers and crossed his cabin with the desire for a glass of something to help him sleep. He had been released from Sickbay with the explicit order to rest for twenty-four hours. As he glanced at the wall chronometer on his right, the man noted grimly that fifteen of those twenty-four hours were still left.

The three days under the watchful eyes of McCoy’s staff had been tortuously boring. Jim knew he should be ecstatic to be back in his own quarters; yet he found his boredom was not alleviated simply by the change in venue. He missed McCoy’s fussing, and he missed the tireless campaign of the neighboring Vulcan who tried to convince Leonard to let him return to duty. Leonard had ignored both Spock and Kirk’s demands with a bullheadedness that only physicians had.

Perhaps the stay in Medical had been entertaining after all.

Before Kirk reached the cabinet that housed a single bottle of brandy (the expensive kind typically reserved for celebratory events), someone knocked on his cabin door. Only one person in particular ever knocked instead of using the comm system. He pressed the button to activate the door speaker and said, “Come in.”

The door slid back but Dr. Leonard McCoy hesitated on the threshold, holding a tray of drinks in front of him. “Hi. Mind having some company?”

Jim came forward, pleased that Leonard hadn’t waited too long to visit. “Never if it’s you.” He smiled as he took the tray and placed it by his desk. “Am I allowed to have this?”

“Only if it’s a recommendation by your doctor.” Leonard uncorked a carafe and poured two glasses. Handing one glass to Kirk, he warned, “Drink slowly.”

Jim obligingly took a sip. He enjoyed the liquor’s burn on the way down. Securing an arm around McCoy’s back, he led the man to the nearby couch. They settled there side by side. Jim let his fingers linger on the bare skin of Leonard’s arm. As much as he enjoyed the drink, he could think of a better way for them to warm up.

But McCoy had a pensive twist to his mouth which meant he wasn’t visiting just for a drink and a cuddle.

Jim retracted his hand and sighed as he leaned back. Draining the bourbon in one swallow promptly set him to choking.

Leonard tsked and took the glass away from him. “Can’t even follow doctor’s orders.”

“I was just thinking I might need to fortify myself.” Jim coughed one last time and cleared his throat. “What’s on your mind?”

It was Leonard’s turn to sigh. “I was debating on whether or not I should talk to you.”

“You came here.”

“Point taken.” The doctor tapped the ring on his pinky finger against his tumbler. “Nothing’s changed. Spock stopped talking to me after I released him to active duty.”

Jim waited a moment to think on that before questioning, “Same issue?”

Leonard glanced sideways at Kirk. “Not sure.”

“Should I speak with him?”

Leonard leaned forward and set both their glasses on the coffee table. “All along it’s me he has been avoiding, not you, Jim. I was—still am—the problem.”

“I take full responsibility,” Jim said. “I should have addressed this before Tassos III. It wasn’t right of me to leave you two behind knowing you were at odds.”

“You had other things on your mind.”

“None as important as you,” Jim replied, placing his hand on McCoy’s arm.

Leonard ducked his head a little and smiled.

Jim stroked the man’s arm. “Bones… I’ll handle it.”

“That’s all right, Jim. This is personal, not professional.”

“Personal issues can undermine professional relationships. We don’t want it to come to that.”

“It won’t. At worst,” Leonard said more quietly, sadly, “I’ll lose a friend.”

Jim had a different opinion on the significance of that cost but didn’t think McCoy was in the right frame of mind to listen. So he waited without saying anything, aware that Leonard was working up the courage to tell him what else, beyond Spock’s distance, truly bothered him.

The man sighed. “Spock was kind enough to leave some things out of his report on Tassos III: my insubordination, my lack of willingness to compromise or cooperate, and my inability to separate the personal from the professional.” He stared down at his hands. “I was emotionally compromised, Jim. He knew it, I knew it, and yet there have been no repercussions.”

Jim was surprised. “You expect a reprimand.”

Leonard looked at him. “How can I be your chief medical officer when I can’t remain impartial under pressure?”

“Bones, I don’t want you to be impartial. I wouldn’t survive a day if you were.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Jim shook his head. “Should it be? This crew is a family. It’s inevitable that we matter to each other at least a little.” He wrapped his hands around the man’s shoulders. “If you think you can’t always be objective, how do you think I feel about you? What should I do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Part of me wants to beg you to take early retirement or a research assignment on some nice, quiet planet.”

Leonard snorted.

Jim smiled wryly. “But I know you wouldn’t.”

“Who else would keep you alive?”

“Exactly. You’re needed here. I need you. Spock knows that, Bones, and he would never fault you for it.”

Leonard complained, “Then why in blazes is he being such a pain in the ass?”

“It must be something else,” Jim said, for he already had an inkling as to that answer. He drew McCoy closer. “I have a theory we can test. I am going to kiss you now, Bones.” Jim covered Leonard’s mouth with his own before Leonard could refuse.

When the door to Kirk’s cabin buzzed, the couple found it difficult to separate. “Ignore that,” McCoy urged, sliding a hand under his lover’s tunic.

The person pressing the buzzer became insistent.

“Come in,” Jim called.

Leonard scrambled to make himself presentable.

Jim was leaning back on the couch cross-legged and relaxed when Spock entered his quarters. The Vulcan’s stare upon him was intense enough to be considered a glare.

“Is something the matter, Mr. Spock?” he inquired innocently.

“Captain, I am not amused.”

Negligently, Jim waved a hand. “Since you’re here, why don’t you join us?”

“Jim,” Leonard hissed.

Jim deliberately reached out and dragged a thumb across McCoy’s lower lip, then hooked the man by the back of the neck and made as if to pull him in for another kiss.

“Jim,” Spock spoke in a strangled voice, “that is enough.”

Jim released McCoy and sprawled back against the couch cushions in victory.

Silence enveloped the room as Leonard looked between the flushed Vulcan and smug captain. “What am I missing?” he asked them at length.

Time to force the truth. “The connection worked both ways. I have no doubt Spock learned some interesting things about me—as I did about him.” He kept his gaze centered on McCoy. “I know what you think of Bones, Spock. What you think about Bones.”

“Jim, give me a clue here,” Leonard begged.

“Sadly it isn’t my secret to tell—although I did gather the impression that one or two confessions were interrupted.” He chuckled. “McCoy won’t figure it out on his own, Spock. One of his shortcomings is failing to notice how much he is appreciated—” He flicked his gaze to the Vulcan. “—so tell him.”

Spock approached the couch, locking his hands behind his back, which Jim now recognized as a sign of Spock’s attempt to restrain himself. The Vulcan wanted to touch McCoy that badly. It was an instinct of Spock’s half-human nature, something that greatly disconcerted Spock as a Vulcan. While he chose restraint, that Jim could and did touch Leonard easily and vice versa was a source of envy and a sore point.

Jim, who could be a bastard now and then, had no qualms about capitalizing on such knowledge. He had decided that the three of them had danced around each other long enough. Since the moment Jim had glimpsed Spock’s secret, he had known what he wanted.

And it looked like it was up to him to get them there. “Spock.”

It was the push that the Vulcan needed. Spock lowered his hands to his sides. He sounded like he might be in pain when he said, “I fully apologize for admonishing you for your affection for Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy. I did not understand until I felt the same.”

“For Jim,” Leonard surmised in his simple way.

“For you,” Spock corrected.

Oh, the look on Bones’ face. Jim placed an elbow on the couch arm and propped up his chin. “Go on,” he told the Vulcan.

Spock slanted a look at him that promised retribution later. Jim just smiled.

It was McCoy, pale as a ghost, who looked from Spock to Jim and back again. “This isn’t a very funny joke.”

Spock stiffened slightly. “Doctor, I told you that Vulcans do not have a sense of humor.”

Leonard snapped, “Vulcans also don’t do coy very well!” He visibly struggled against something else he wanted to say and in the end apologized.

Spock’s exhale signified resignation. “Why would you apologize?”

“Because I’ve handled this incorrectly.” McCoy avoided looking at Jim. “I should thank you, Mr. Spock. I know how difficult it is for you to admit to an emotion. I appreciate what you said, and I think you meant it.”

“Obviously I meant what I said, Doctor, otherwise I would not have said it.”

Leonard met the Vulcan’s gaze. “But do you understand what you said?” he challenged gently. “It’s true there is a certain affection between friends, Spock—”

Oh, Bones, Jim thought.

“—but it isn’t the same affection between lovers. Pardon my saying this, but you may not be experienced enough to know that difference.”

Jim almost broke his silence, but he knew that Spock and McCoy had to own the outcome of this discussion.

“Leonard,” Spock sounded uncomfortable, “it was you who asked me when my feelings for Jim changed. You accepted my admission then. Why can you not accept it now?”

“I’m dating the man you love. I’ve told you that we’re happy. Isn’t it possible that you are projecting what you feel for one of us onto the other in error?”

“Anything is possible,” Spock stated.

Jim held his breath.

“But there has been no error. The only proof I can offer you is our history. Do you know precisely when I became your friend? I do not. It was a transition that eluded me until the moment I discovered any dislike I might have once associated with you no longer existed. In the same vein, I once again experienced a startling realization, more recently. To be exact—” Spock paused, and his dark eyes glinted. “—less than one solar day ago in the Brig. I had known in advance that you would attempt to protest the circumstances through a show of solidarity. What wasn’t obvious to me, and what I had to ruminate upon, was why I made no attempt to stop you beforehand. The answer became clearer as events progressed. You tried to force my hand; I lent it to you instead. You tried to push me away so I offered to come closer. You tried to leave, and I followed. I did these things willingly and without shame. I can give no explanation for this phenomena beyond that there is one other person in this universe who inspires the same reactions—and we both agree that what I feel for him is extraordinary. Therefore one must conclude the same applies to you.”

Jim couldn’t stop smiling. It was obvious Leonard was taken aback.

Spock cocked his head. “In the spirit of full discourse I will add that it has been terribly disconcerting to learn insubordination can be attractive.”

Jim covered his mouth.

Leonard choked. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Consider it as a testament to your ability to sway me against logic.”

After a moment, McCoy’s mouth curved. “I suppose I like the sound of that.”

Jim groaned. “You two! I’m trying to be patient but you’re killing me here. Why don’t we skip to the good part?”

Leonard rolled his eyes in Jim’s direction. “What good part would that be?”

“The part where you convince Spock to share the couch with us.”

“Jim Kirk—Casanova,” McCoy retorted dryly. “Spock, take my advice: stay far away from this man if you want to preserve your dignity. He’s generally up to no good.”

“Bones,” Jim said, both amused and chastised.

“You’re the one who can’t hold your horses, Jim. Not everybody operates on Kirkian time.”

“I tend to agree.” Spock came around the couch and took a seat in an adjacent chair.

Jim eyed the distance to Spock, supposing he had shot himself in the foot.

“Jim wishes he had not been so brash,” Spock remarked.

Leonard perked up. “Not surprising. But, Spock, how can you tell? I thought the—” He tapped his forehead. “—was gone.”

“Technically the connection was severed at the time I broke the meld.”

“I still feel a presence,” Jim admitted. “It isn’t Spock, per se. I would call it a residual awareness of when our minds were joined.”

“Will the effect fade?” Leonard wanted to know.

Spock considered them with a grave air. “Under normal circumstances, that should be the case. However, I fear our meld was far from average. During the time Jim and I were connected, the link periodically grew stronger and began to… seal itself.”

Jim recalled those instances. “I had wondered if I did something harmful to you.”

“I assure you no harm was done. On the contrary, if I had allowed it, we could have permanently bonded our minds—”

Leonard looked alarmed. “That sounds harmful to me!”

Spock concluded, still watching Jim, “—on the condition that we convinced Dr. McCoy to join us.”

Leonard’s mouth opened and stayed open.

Jim crossed one knee over the other. “That’s interesting. Is it because we both love him?”

“Jim!”

“In a manner of speaking. One might say our affections… resonate. The harmony which is created is the basis of a permanent joining.” Spock looked to McCoy. “Of course, I am only speaking of theory. It would not work if Leonard cannot reciprocate adequately.”

Leonard looked ready to argue but all of a sudden turned his attention on Jim. “Jim, is it true?”

He couldn’t take anything back now, nor did he want to. “Yes, I love Spock.”

Leonard was unfazed. “I already knew half the story. I just wasn’t certain if you felt the same as he did—no, that’s not entirely true. I had an inkling that you did. He means so much to you, Jim. I hope you know if you asked me to stand aside, I would.”

Jim sat up. “At what point did I say I didn’t want you?”

“You didn’t but—”

Spock interrupted. “Both of you are as frustrating as you are endearingly human.”

“Whoa there,” Jim said. “I am hardly frustrating!”

“Jim, it is you who insisted on this confrontation,” Spock countered, strangely serene. “Do you regret it?”

Jim’s eyes flashed. “Not if it gets me what I want.”

Spock inclined his head ever-so-slightly. “And what do you want?”

“McCoy, you, and myself.” He grinned. “Just like this.”

“Then, please, assist me in my seduction of Dr. McCoy, not hinder it.”

“I thought I was!”

Leonard stared at them like they had lost their minds. “Now hold on. Y’all can’t spring this…this threesome on me and expect that I’ll go along! I need time to think things through.”

Jim sighed and shook his head in mock-sadness. “How much time should we give him, Mr. Spock?”

“As little as possible,” Spock advised. “Another of the Doctor’s shortcomings: he thinks too deeply when matters are simple.”

McCoy sputtered.

Jim laughed.

Spock’s eyes gleamed at them. “If my proposition seems offensive, you should consider an appropriate punishment.”

Jim began laughing so hard he almost rolled off the couch and to the floor.

Leonard pursed his mouth. He glared first at the Vulcan then at the laughing Kirk before he pointed his finger to the empty spot next to him. “You both deserve punishment. Get over here,” he ordered Spock. “First things first. I’m going to show you why Jim isn’t in charge of this relationship.”

Spock gracefully rose from his chair.

“Finally,” Jim said. He glanced at the chronometer. “Bones. Spock.” He offered them his most charming smile. “I have a feeling we are going to accomplish great things in the next fifteen hours.”

Leonard turned to Jim, mischief in his eyes. “Lesson one,” he declared as Spock settled by him, “how to thwart Jim Kirk’s ego.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Shall I take notes?”

Jim took a moment to wonder if he had overestimated his ability to handle McCoy and Spock at once. Then he decided he would survive regardless, for the only ability which mattered was being able to love them both—and love them, he truly did.

“Hey,” said Andy as he set down a tray on the cafeteria table and took a seat among colleagues, “is it always like this?”

“Like what?” questioned the officer opposite him, Danson, as he bit into a breakfast sandwich.

“Life goes on like we didn’t nearly die on that colony.”

“You get used to,” Danson replied at the same time that Olivares rolled her eyes.

Her “Welcome to Team Red-shirts” had a bite of sarcasm.

Joran, next to Kolarski, sipped coffee. “Some of us don’t wear red shirts.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” mused Andy. “We’re all crew, so we all face the same dangers. I understand Mr. Scott’s ‘space is dangerous’ speech a lot better now.” He poked a fork into his scrambled eggs. “What’s Sandeep staring at?”

Blanca snorted. Danson grinned. Sandeep started, muttered, and hunkered over his plate.

Andy twisted around at the waist, casting about for the person or persons that had been of interest to his friend. He spotted a group across the hall that he personally found entertaining. “Oh, hey! It’s the Captain, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy.”

Danson leaned forward and whispered, “Notice how they’re sitting so close to each other.”

Sandeep jabbed the lieutenant with his elbow. “Shh! Don’t announce it!”

Andy didn’t understand. “Announce what? They’re eating together. They usually share their meals.”

The woman among them shook her head. “Andy, you will learn.”

“I want to learn now. What am I missing?”

As the other red-shirts laughed, Joran transferred a small plate of fruit to Kolarski’s tray, saying in his good-natured way, “Glad you survived your first run, kid.”

Andy patted the man’s back. “I’m happy you did too.”

Everyone at the table exchanged smiles then, and in charity with one another resumed eating.

one week later

Leonard walked onto the Bridge at precisely the right moment. His captain beckoned him to the lower platform and handed him a small padd. “The results of Nogura’s investigation,” Kirk said.

Leonard took in the open missive. It was to the point, which was no surprise. The admiral who had written it didn’t like to mince words. But as Leonard read the last sentence, he frowned. To the officer who had joined him by Kirk’s chair, he questioned, “Have you read this?”

“Affirmative, Doctor.”

Leonard handed the device back to his captain. “Violations of the Code of Conduct? To say I’m appalled would be an understatement. There isn’t even mention of this bastard’s trial date! Am I to assume we won’t need to be there?”

Kirk and Spock exchanged a quick glance.

“There won’t be a trial, Bones.”

Leonard had to grab the top of the captain’s chair. “What!” he blurted out.

“Tappan has been committed. Leta was exonerated at her court-martial hearing.”

“Jim…!”

“I know, Bones, I know.”

Leonard had a horrifying thought. “Is this because of my assessment? I know I said Tappan presented the appearance of mental instability but…”

“Every action he took was very clearly calculated,” Spock finished. “Doctor, this is through no fault of your own. We underestimated the network supporting his—and likely Ambassador Leta’s—ambitions. Moreover, Legal’s recommendation to close the case quietly was tantamount to a command.”

“They can’t shut us up! Tell Nogura to extend the investigation!”

“It’s over, Bones,” Jim said gently. “I don’t like it, but I can’t argue with it unless I intend to present hearsay to Command and my head along with it.”

“What about the infected grain? What about—?” He swallowed the word Tarsus.

Jim sighed through his nose. “There were no security breaches in the Archives—no documented ones, anyway,” he pointed out. “If I had the authority to take this further, I would. I’m sorry.”

Leonard shook his head. “It’s not your fault either, Jim.” He looked at the tiny planet in the center of the main viewer. “What happens to Tassos III now?”

“Once the on-site medical personnel complete their triage response, the colony will be evacuated and discontinued,” Spock replied.

Leonard’s shoulders rounded down. “In other words, this all goes in an incident report and sits inside someone’s desk drawer. No one cares if one man’s ambitions destroyed a thousand dreams. Damn it, nothing good came out of what happened down there.”

Kirk and Spock stared at him strangely.

“On the contrary, Dr. McCoy,” Spock said, “you created a viable treatment for the Claviceps purpurea strain. In the future, no one need suffer from such an affliction again.”

“Then why do I still feel like we lost? The bad guys walked away thinking Starfleet is in the business of overthrowing governments.”

“They think that way because they have no understanding of who we are,” Jim said. “Don’t worry, Bones. Another opportunity will come along to prove them wrong.”

Spock inclined his head ever-so-slightly. “Indeed. One or two agents within the organization have made it known they would gladly volunteer their efforts in a private investigation. When the next opportunity arrives, we shall be better prepared.” He paused. “I took the liberty of briefing my father. The Vulcan Council was greatly offended to learn that people of Tassos III could be so misused and discarded. They reviewed the productivity reports from years past, concluded the colony had a sustainable profit despite poor management, and have offered to sponsor a replacement colony.”

“That seems logical, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said with a tiny smile.

Leonard’s eyes blazed as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Logical, Jim? As if those people haven’t endured enough… Now they have to pay their taxes to the Vulcans!”

Spock merely looked at the doctor, who waggled his finger with the claim, “Nosiest race I ever did meet!”

The Vulcan pivoted on his heel and returned to the Science station.

Leonard followed him. “Where’re you going, Spock? I’m winning this argument!”

Uhura shook her head. She and Mr. Scott shared a smile.

Jim faced forward in his chair, drawing everyone’s attention to the center of the Bridge once more. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “we have our next assignment. Chart a course for the Regula system. Warp factor three.”

The helmsmen replied in unison, “Aye, Captain!”

The starship Enterprise sailed on.

The End

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