TOS "Shadows of a Man" 3/4 (S/Mc, NC-17, h&c)

[syredronning]

*

When the Vulcan returned much later in the evening, he found McCoy already in bed, the slim figure covered by a blanket only, revealing the angular, bony body. The light was low, and Spock quietly stripped out of uniform, then, in a second thought, stripped out of his underwear too and went to the shower. Once he was refreshed, he went back to the main room. The man on the bed had moved and was now laying slightly sprawled on his back, eyes resting on Spock.

"You're looking good," McCoy said sleepily. "Alive."

"I am alive because of you and Jim," Spock said and drew close, going down on one knee next to the bed. He met McCoy's gaze as he captured his left hand. "It was a gift I could never repay. Instead, I was the cause of your doom again."

"Bullshit, Spock." McCoy lifted their joined hands and grazed his forefinger over Spock's chin. "Come to bed." Without a second thought, Spock spooned him and placed his hand around McCoy's chest, pulling him closer.

"I'm so glad you're here," McCoy whispered. "It feels like home."

"This will be home for us both, if you want it," Spock replied quietly.

"I'm not sure what I want. What you want. What's best for us." McCoy's fingertips drew lines on Spock's hand.

"I was so lonely, Spock. I had forgotten how lonely I'd been without Karon. I missed him so much. I missed everything; the talking, the companionship…and the sex."

Spock cradled McCoy from behind, understanding that his friend didn't want to make this confession eye to eye.

"And now that I'm here with you, I'm not sure it's a good idea what we're doing. What you're doing, Spock."

"What am I doing, doctor?"

"Holding me as if…"

"Maybe I want to," Spock said quietly.

"I don't want pity sex, Spock. Not from you. Not from anyone."

"When you came to me in the past, did you come because you pitied me?"

"Of course not, Spock. I came because I was your doctor and your friend." McCoy's hand covered Spock's. "But the emotions involved were clear, and I could deal with them. This here…it's different. Our relationship is different."

"Maybe I want it to be different, Leonard," Spock whispered. "I want you, in ways I have not wanted you before. I need you; being with you has become something more important the longer you were away."

"We're in an exceptional situation, Spock. We're not level-headed."

"I burn, Leonard. Not the burning of Pon farr, which always feels to me as if an external force is taking me over and turning me into something I cannot recognize. I burn for thee in a deep, emotional need." Spock placed his lips on McCoy's shoulder and kissed the rough skin. Between his legs, the sexual arousal he had been able to control for the last days won over his control and his penis filled with blood. It enlarged, touching the human's buttocks.

McCoy's breathing accelerated, and there was a slight pressure back against Spock's erection. The Vulcan took this as encouragement; caressing the human's chest in soft strokes, he slipped the erection deeper into the cleft, slowly rubbing along it, suggesting copulation. It was answered by a deep sigh from his partner and, becoming more bold, Spock slipped his right hand down McCoy's front to his groin. A detectable erection was to be felt; it quivered and grew in his hold as he closed his fingers around it.

"Spock…oh Spock." McCoy pressed back with ardor and folded his right leg, lifting the knee in front of him parallel to the bed. It allowed Spock to come closer to the presumed goal. His erection became slippery as his body involuntarily released some droplets of pre-cum. Something that had never happened in any pon farr. Nevertheless, lubrication would be necessary. He tried to reach for the body lotion that stood on the other side of the bed, on McCoy's nightstand. McCoy caught his hand.

"You won't need that. Go on," McCoy urged him. "You won't hurt me. I'm used to it."

"Leonard… I do not think it is sensible…"

"I'm the doctor. Go on, Spock." McCoy pressed back at him, and Spock gave in. He reached down to his large, full penis and placed it at the right point of entry - then he slowly pushed.

As predicted, McCoy's body was open and welcoming him. Spock could slip in to the hilt without effort. He halted when he reached the end.

"Told you it would work," McCoy murmured. "Klingons have ridges; believe me, you won't hurt me."

Spock clamped his hand on McCoy's upper leg. The human's body heat was unbelievable, and the situation was quickly slipping out of Spock's control. A strange mixture of feelings flooded him, especially regarding the unknown Karon; thankfulness for having been crucial in McCoy's survival, but also jealousy for having been the man invited into McCoy's life, bed and body in a way Spock had never been in the past. To think that McCoy had lain like this for years with the other man was both arousing and challenging. There was a deep urge that propelled Spock forward, demanding that his body act. To take the man in his arms and envelope him so completely that they would both forget about Karon, to merge body and....

"Leonard…I want to meld with you."

"I know," McCoy said muffled.

"I apologize -"

"Just get on with it."

Spock was surprised, remembering all too well that McCoy had never been in favor of melds. But obviously they both wanted this, wanted to succumb to this need that burned in them and between them. He placed his fingers on the melding points of McCoy's face, finding more bones than flesh, slippery skin that shifted away under his pressure. The nerve spots finally caught under his fingertips, Spock engaged in the first steps of the meld.

"My mind to your mind…"

"…my thoughts to your thoughts…" came an answering reply, an unusually strong resonance from McCoy. Effortlessly, their minds linked.

Wanted it too...so lonely, McCoy's mind said, before Spock tumbled into the dark.

Dark corridors, dark taverns; dark clothes, and the bleak of death. Red blood on the ground. Distant screams. Pain, so much pain…

Get out of there, McCoy's thoughts blurted, and shoved Spock's perception to another corner. There was need, arousal - sex. In hidden corners, in the quiet of the night - as quiet as Rura Penthe was, with the beds full of people who sneezed and coughed and even sent their last breath into the sleeping halls - two men united, sharing a moment of love away from the eyes of everyone else, finding a brief resort of comfort and love in midst of their brutal life.

What was he, Spock, really doing here, the Vulcan suddenly wondered.

We're both using each other, if you want to call it that, McCoy thought. Then a profound feeling of sadness flooded their connection. Missed you…missed Jim. So alone. So desperate...

So much loss, Spock thought. And so much emotion. He slowly pulled out of the meld, realizing that he couldn't deal with all the impact at once. He was still lying behind McCoy, deeply buried into the body in front of him. They still wanted it. McCoy still wanted it, although there was a slight doubt, a whispered, "Spock, everything okay?"

"Yes," Spock whispered. He took a deep breath, focusing back on his body instead of his mind. Then he pressed forward. McCoy's head sank back, a gasp in the motion's wake. "Yes, Spock."

Spock changed his hold on McCoy's leg and reached around to lift it higher. It allowed for more movement, and he gathered speed. So warm, so welcoming. Nothing compared to the few copulations they had engaged in the past, of which Spock mostly remembered that McCoy had been reluctant and so tight that Spock had needed to hold back most of his impulse, which was hard in bouts of pon farr. This time he was welcome, oh so welcome, and he propelled them forward, his lips kissing the human's ear, his tongue licking the salty sweat that appeared on the neck. He felt McCoy reaching for his own organ and joining the rhythm.

Much too fast, they tumbled into the abyss of release, but it was not the explosive fire Spock knew from pon farr, nor the brief, cool collapse that humans usually showed. It rose like an earthquake lifting the ground, an unstoppable, endlessly powerful wave that took them and carried them with it. They rode the wave together, for a minute, another one; Spock lost track as the joined orgasms seemed to amplify and strengthen and gather even more speed and momentum. Their whole selves seemed to be carried along in the flood, not only body, not only soul, something beyond it, something stellar and universal and very old. It carried them out into a deep blue world and finally spit them out, allowing them to resurface to the real world - if there was any.

"Incredible," McCoy's voice reached Spock's ear.

Spock opened his eyes. He released the tight hold he still had on McCoy's leg and wanted to pull out, but McCoy's hand reached around and stopped him. "No, keep it there if you don't mind. Love the feel of staying together for a while afterwards."

"I do not mind," Spock said softly. "However, I would like to see your face."

McCoy's hand rubbed over Spock's hip, stroking him gently. "Okay. Gimme just a few more minutes."

Spock caressed McCoy's chest in return, and they remained in the position until Spock's deflating organ slipped out by its own soft weight. Spock took that as sign that the waiting was over, and pulled McCoy around to face him.

"Thank you," McCoy said earnestly. "Thanks so much, Spock." He leaned forward and kissed Spock - something they had never done in the past, and it took Spock by surprise for a moment. Then he joined in and soon explored the warm mouth. Their tongues sparred, and Spock felt a renewed arousal creeping up his legs like a million ants, collecting in his groin.

"It never felt like that with you before," McCoy said with very bright blue eyes when their lips separated.

"I agree."

"What's the difference?" McCoy asked.

"There are many possible reasons…" Spock said, for once unwilling to over-analyze the situation. It was unique; it was probably fleeting. And he didn't want it to end yet.

He crouched on his knees and gently directed his friend on his back, then started to massage and kiss all of the slim, famished body. Spock cherished every little area of skin; kneaded the feet, pulling the toes; kissed along the lower legs up to the knees and down again; massaged the hip and chest with loving, tender strokes. Finally he crouched over McCoy and kissed him again on the mouth, taking the lead in their joining. Between their bodies, two renewed erections rubbed against each other. Spock settled back on his heels over McCoy's body, gently stroking their organs with his hands.

"Usually I don't recover so fast," McCoy said with a light frown in his face as he watched Spock's action. "You're sure you're not in pon farr?"

"How does it feel to you?" Spock asked back. McCoy had been his companion twice in that situation; he might know better than Spock himself.

McCoy listened into himself, but finally shook his head. "No, it's not pon farr. There's a lot of…need. Want. Desire. But not pon farr."

"Good. I do not want this to be a hormonal disturbance," Spock said, his eyelids flickering as the stroking had a profound effect on his aroused body. He ceased it for a moment.

"We are disturbed, Spock." McCoy chuckled. "We are not within our right minds, my Vulcan friend."

"Not friend. Lover," Spock said.

"My lover," McCoy agreed. "At least for tonight."

"There is no tomorrow," Spock said, exhilarated beyond what he had thought possible in his life. McCoy, alive, here in this bed, and himself, not in the throes of spores or other means, but all himself and wanted and wanting, parted and never parted…

"Illogical," McCoy whispered, but stopped speaking when Spock bent down and tongued his straining erection, before swallowing it all the way.

*

The morning found them in bed, satiated and relaxed. Spock was once again spooning McCoy, one arm possessively draped over the human's chest, enjoying the heart beat that he could feel under his hand like a distant drumming. He took in the warm body, smelled the various unusual odors coming from them both - although they had taken a shower sometime in the night - and was as content as he had ever been in his life.

Nevertheless, he knew that if he wanted to go to his shift, this would be the time. The need of the night seemed burned out, substituted by a tenderness and compassion that filled him and would accompany him through the day; but there was a ship waiting for him, and still a war to end.

"You wanna leave?" McCoy's voice sounded gently. Spock lifted his arm, and McCoy turned around, facing him.

"Yes. I feel…restored to my usual self."

McCoy smiled and ran his hand over Spock's face. "Yes, I'd say you're pretty much back to normal… after this unusual night." His forefinger glided over Spock's lips, and the Vulcan captured it and sucked it in.

"Well, almost." McCoy chuckled, then sighed deeply as Spock proceeded with his ministrations.

Once the finger was out of the way, they kissed for real.

"You know what?" McCoy stated and slipped out of bed. "Let's see what my little machine says." He took the Klingon medical tricorder from the table and returned, waving it over Spock.

"Just dandy," he said after a brief look at the results. "You're ready for another great day as captain of the Enterprise."

Spock nodded, but found that he couldn't really concentrate on the idea of working right now - his eyes fixed on McCoy's hands, he remembered how the skilled fingers had stimulated him only two point three hours ago, gently and yet firm, with just the right pressure in the right moments. Were they that much in tune already, or did McCoy simply know how to read his cues…or was a Vulcan's curve of arousal so similar to a Klingon's? Spock frowned slightly, trying to suppress that last dishonorable thought. There had been no indication that McCoy had thought of anyone but him last night. And even if he had, that was to be expected - and none of Spock's business.

"Any problem?" McCoy asked, and Spock looked up from the hands. The human's face was creased in concern, a question in the blue eyes.

"I want you," Spock stated, surprised about his own words as they left his mouth.

McCoy raised a brow. "Not sure having sex now is a good idea for your hormonal levels."

"No, Leonard. I want you. With all of my Vulcan soul. I want to own you, and banish any thought and memory of anyone else from your mind."

"Ah." McCoy's eyes turned down to the screen of the Klingon tricorder in his hands. "That's a bit much to ask, Spock. Even though it's been an unbelievable night."

"I know." Spock quickly slipped out of bed. "I did not want to impose my needs upon you. I apologize for my loss of control."

McCoy's gaze flitted over him and skidded away again. "No, it's okay. In the past, I'd have been happy to know I was the reason for making your control slip," he added, shedding a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"I will take another shower and ready myself for my shift." Spock left for the bathroom, strongly annoyed that he had said such unforgivable words. Owning was not a word to be used with a man like McCoy, especially not in such a situation. How could he expect McCoy to forget the person that had saved his life and probably his mental health on Rura Penthe? Arrogance and jealousy, two negative emotions let lose like beasts from a chain, and just as readily playing havoc. He sat down on the sole chair and buried his face in his hands, taking three deep breaths. Meditation was called for, but he had no time for that.

"I think I'll withdraw my first opinion."

Spock looked up to face McCoy, lingering in the bathroom door.

"I think you're not quite ready for duty yet, captain." McCoy drew close and went down to his knees in front of Spock.

"Please -" Spock said dismissively as McCoy gently guided his legs apart. "I insulted you. And him. Do not -"

"He would understand," McCoy said, one hand already on Spock's growing erection. "And maybe I like being owned." Spock closed his eyes as McCoy bent forward and took the blooming hard-on in his mouth.

*

They had just left the bathroom, freshly cleaned, when the intercom beeped.

"T'Vei to the captain," the doctor's voice came over the speaker. When Spock answered the call, she asked, "Is Doctor McCoy with you?"

"Yes, he is."

"Please report to sickbay together. There is a medical issue that we need to speak about."

"Can it not wait until the end of my shift?" Spock asked.

"No sir. In fact, you are temporarily on sick leave. Please report to sickbay immediately."

Spock's face was drawn into a frown, but he only said, "Of course, doctor," and switched off the line.

McCoy eyed the small medical bracelet at his wrist. "I guess the sensors picked up our nightly activity."

"This is likely. However, I do not see a reason why that should interfere with my command abilities," Spock stated.

They quickly dressed and went to sickbay together. It was largely empty, as most rescued prisoners could be moved to normal quarters. T'Vei and Miller greeted them, and the woman led them into her office. They took the offered seats, and the docter took her place directly opposite them, without a desk in between.

"Forgive me my intrusion into your privacy, but Doctor Miller and I could not ignore the data that was delivered from Doctor McCoy's medical transponder," T'Vei said.

"You set me on medical leave," Spock asked. "May I inquire why?"

"I wanted to assess your state first. You have participated in intimacies?"

"Yes," Spock conceded. There was no way around a healer's questions in Vulcan culture, and also no way around a Starfleet medical officer assessing the captain's state.

"If I may…" she said and lifted her hand, her fingers in the meld position.

"If it's got to be," McCoy said, shedding a gaze at Spock who sat at his side rather frozen. The healer started with McCoy. It was a quick, cursory meld, and she quickly moved on to Spock. Finally, she sat back into her chair.

"You are very much attuned. Your connection is similar to a bond between children," T'Vei said. "More than a betrothal, less than a bonding."

"A bond? Spock?" McCoy turned to the Vulcan.

"I did not foster a bond," Spock said defensively. At least he was rather certain that he had not done so deliberately. However…

"Your connection is something unique," T'Vei said calmly. "Sharing two pon farr without bonding was only possible due to your divergent biological heritages. Statistically it is much more normal that you now appear to start bonding spontaneously in your combined emotional relief over Doctor McCoy's return."

"Emotional relief…how true," McCoy murmured.

"How does she know about our shared experiences?" Spock asked, and stared at McCoy. "You put it into our medical files?"

"Of course, Spock," McCoy said. "I'm your doctor, and the first time happened in the course of duty. But I put it into the damnest little corner, and with the Vulcan word for it. No human would've known what it meant."

"I am no human," T'Vei stated the obvious. She folded her hands. "Captain, Doctor - there is a 78.6 % chance that your connection will become a full bonding if you resume sexual activity. It is important to consider this step very carefully. Given your history with the katra transfer and the shared pon farr, the chances for a successful future dissolving of the bond are minimal."

"You mean, if we bond, we're stuck together forever," McCoy rephrased.

"Yes."

The men accepted the news. There would be time for discussion later, in their quarters…but not here.

"Noted," Spock said formally. "Am I cleared for duty now?"

T'Vei tilted her head. "I will check you both for any side effects. If the results are negative, you will be free to resume your post, captain."

They all went into the main sickbay, where the healer first checked the captain. All data was within normal range, and Spock quickly left for the bridge. McCoy's data was normal compared to the nightly data, but also showed his still weakened state. T'Vei recommended a few additional shots and half an hour in a recreational energy field, and McCoy agreed. He soon dozed off in the comfortable chair, and they let him sleep until he woke up on his own.

Afterwards, he felt energetic enough to walk a bit through the ship. A few people greeted him, but most only gave this stranger a small nod in passing. It was fine by him.

When McCoy walked into the recreation room, he instantly spotted the small group of survivors - even in new clothes and with shortened hair and shaved faces, the unusually slim figures stood out from the usual Enterprise crewmembers. He walked to their table and greeted the three men and two women.

"Hello Captain Pori," he said and shook hand with the man who'd been his foremost liaison to the POWs.

"Doctor McCoy - please, take a seat," Pori said.

A young lieutenant brought another chair, and McCoy sat down next to Pori. The captain poured him a drink.

"Only juice," Pori said with a twinkle.

"A pity," McCoy said. "It's been ages since I had a good drink." He raised the glass, and everyone followed his lead. "To absent friends," he said.

"To absent friends," everyone repeated, lifting their glasses. McCoy downed the glass and took a second one.

"You're looking a lot better today than last time I saw you," Pori said.

"Thank you. Even though I can't quite remember when that was," McCoy said.

"When Captain Spock took you out of sickbay," Pori replied.

"Ah, yes." McCoy whirled his glass.

"Where do you stay? You aren't on the third level with us, are you?" one of the women asked. She was young and had been an engineer rather fresh from the academy before her imprisonment. McCoy faintly remembered her name. "No, I still co-habit in the captain's cabin, Lieutenant Roley." When he saw the slightly strange gazes passed around, he added, "We had a lot to talk about." We do exactly what you wonder about, he thought amused. And it was a strange, unreal thought.

"I know you're old friends," Pori said.

"I'm curious, Doctor McCoy - why didn't you reveal your identity to us?" Roley chimed in again. "Came to us playing an alien fool… what kind of subterfuge was that?"

McCoy looked at her. There was trouble coming, and it took him somewhat unexpectedly. But on the other hand…

"I admit that I'm curious too," an older man next to her stated. Namarra, also from engineering. He'd been chief engineer on a smaller cruiser. "Why did you get transferred to our mine? I've heard you had a good life on the other side."

"You did?" McCoy asked with a rising brow.

"Yes, we've talked to Til'ala. You worked as a doctor. Seems you didn't have much trouble surviving for more than two years."

McCoy whirled the liquid in his cup around again, wondering what to say. "The conditions in the first mine weren't comparable to yours," he said evasively. "It was a prison camp, and they actually needed its output. Your camp was more of a death camp than anything else."

"So why did you get transferred? Did you fall out of favor?" Namarra asked bitingly.

"I wanted to get transferred," McCoy said.

"Why? It's not as if you've been of much help. People kept dying anyway."

"Stop it, Namarra," Pori stated annoyed. "You know that nobody could do anything about that. But McCoy did as much as he could, helped some of us to survive and others to die at least in peace."

"Yeah, the great Maqoch," Namarra said bitterly. "Even the Klingons treated him differently. What did you do to achieve that?"

"I just did my job as a doctor," McCoy said.

"Did you treat them too?"

"I treated everyone to the best of my abilities and available means."

"Then why didn't you just kill some of them when you could? Sabotage their work? You had enough time, didn't you?"

Another of the men chimed in, with an apologetic gaze at McCoy. "Who told you he didn't try something like that?"

"Thanks for the try," McCoy said, "but Namarra is right. I never did something like that. What good would it have done? I was the convicted killer of the Klingon Chancellor trying to clean his slate by doing something better - saving lives!" McCoy felt his anger slowly rising. It might be better to leave the room, but he didn't want to make it look as if he couldn't stand the discussion.

"You hooked up with the enemy to save your skin," Namarra said sharply. "And then you played an alien to everyone, even to us."

"Namarra!" Pori snapped, but McCoy waved the captain off.

"I guess that's basically a true assessment," McCoy said.

Namarra stared at him, "That's all you've got to say about it?"

McCoy leaned back, all eyes resting on him, the faces torn between weary and hostile. He shook his head. "You're not the ones I've got to explain my actions to. I'm sure there will be enough hearings for all of us."

He looked around, taking in their expressions. Memories overshadowed the present; their faces, as he had seen them first in the second mine, won over and the past crept into his vision.

He had known extermination camps only from reports and pictures, but never for real. Everyone looked like the living dead - starved, often feverish and sick shadows of the men and women they had been. In the declared daytime, forced to work fifteen hours in the mines. In the night, forced to sleep a hundred in a room that had really only space for twenty, on the naked, cold, ground. Every morning there were frozen figures that didn't get up again.

There wasn't much McCoy could do for the suffering people, the Klingons saw to that. He had a special position; they didn't want him to sleep in the room with the others, but had given him an 'office'. At least, that's what they called it, with a spiteful grin. It was the room where they collected the dying and dead, a tomb of decay. The dead were carried outside every evening, by a group of prisoners condemned to the job. And every day, more of them died, and there was little McCoy could do to prevent the people from getting killed by the cold, the illnesses and Klingon brutality. Most often McCoy's last duty was to hold the hand of a dying kid, fresh out of the academy, and speak soft, gentle words of hope all the while knowing that the last breath was only seconds away. But everyone died, sturdy man or tough woman, and the illnesses spread with the lice that grew in the almost purely human group. In the other mine, the many alien races had actually led to a better health situation regarding infections, as illnesses rarely were trans-racial. But in the second mine, amoebic dysentery was spreading and McCoy was helpless, as the Klingons didn't give him the necessary medicine for treatment.

Every week, everyone had to strip and take a shower under the surveillance of Klingon guards and McCoy, and those who weren't fit enough to do that on their own were instantly pulled out and killed. Other potentially ill prisoners were pushed in front of McCoy and he was forced to assess their fitness. He knew that the verdict "unfit for work" was a death sentence, so he lied through his teeth as much as he could. The Klingons weren't stupid, however, and in the outright obvious cases, McCoy didn't have a chance to save the person. He hated the position he was forced in - he hadn't considered that he'd be misused like this.

But even worse than shower days were the days with new arrivals, although Pori told him they had gotten much less since the war started to turn against the Klingons. New arrivals were forced to strip and their uniforms torn and spit on, then they had to stand in lines in the cold, hands on their head for a first check. The Klingons left them waiting like that for hours before anything happened; only then was McCoy allowed to walk through the lines. Usually, the unfit had by then already collapsed from the cold or from the dehydration they had suffered on the transport; as brutal as it was, it spared McCoy from deciding their fate. The others were given thin, rough clothes and the obligatory fur mantles. Nobody bothered to give the POWs fur boots like McCoy had, instead of the thin Starfleet issued ones. Frostbite was common. And on really bad days, the commander came down from his residence and selected one or two good-looking - by his standard - women or even men and took them up for his fun. They weren't ever seen again after that.

The situation went downhill all the time, and McCoy wondered if a mass execution and exodus would soon take place, as the Klingons seemed overly nervous and agitated. There was much activity on the upper level, and his suspicions were confirmed when he was called into the commander's office.

"We're leaving," the man spit out. "You come with us, Maqoch."

"Is that an order?" McCoy asked.

"Only a fool would say no to this offer," Kreita said.

"Then I'm a fool," McCoy replied solemnly. "I don't want to leave with you."

Kreita laughed darkly. "They will all die."

"You'll see to that?"

"Yes. It's the last order from Qo'nos."

McCoy stared him right in the eyes. "You could misinterpret it. Or a little technical glitch may happen and leave a way to escape."

"It's an order I have longed to fulfill for a long time, Maqoch. None of them will leave this mine alive. But you - I give you the chance to be spared!" Kreita slammed his hand on the table. "Don't be stupid. Don't try to be a hero, old man."

"I never tried."

"Liar. The food…you made them fight. Something I feared all along. I'm glad you didn't come over earlier. We would have had to kill you."

"So let me go back and you'll get rid of me," McCoy said, tired of this discussion.

"So you really want to die with them?" Kreita asked. "I thought you were clever. Didn't you save your life in the mine by bedding a Klingon? Come with me, and I'm sure we'll find other sexy boys for you."

"Fuck off," McCoy snapped, accepting the Klingon's instant slap in his face with ice-cold control.

"You are a fool." Kreita waved his men. "Bring him down again!"

Two of the men brought him down the long metal stairway. They lifted it up after him. His eyes followed it as Pori joined his side. "They're leaving, Maqoch?"

"Yes," McCoy said.

"And they're making sure we won't get out?"

"Yes." McCoy nodded slowly.

"Did they ask you to go with them?" Pori mused.

"Yes."

"You should've done that. You have no reason to stay -"

McCoy frowned at him. "That's not your business, Pori." Eyes drifting up to the top of the hall, he added thoughtfully, "I've lived a lot longer than anyone would've thought. And we're not dead yet." But he knew they were as good as, because none of them was Jim Kirk with an ace in his sleeve and a great idea in the back of his mind…and there was no Enterprise that would come and get them in time.

In the distance, there was the roar of an explosion, followed by a ground-moving tremble.

"They sealed the entry to the mines?" Pori asked, face paling.

"Obviously," McCoy said. He turned towards the corridor, walking between the men and women who slowly registered what had happened and what that meant for their existence. Horror and panic sharpened the angular lines that the hunger had cut into their faces. He closed himself against the emotions that were flaring around him and quickened his steps. Useless, he thought. The only thing they could do was to live long enough to be rescued by the probably approaching Fleet ships. He was the one to bring up the dreaded word 'cannibalism' in the crisis meeting, because it was a logical solution. They all stared at him as if he were an alien.

"You can't mean it," Pori said. "Are you going to do that?"

"No," McCoy admitted. "But I wouldn't want to be the one to keep anyone from making his or her own decision." He went up from the stone floor and stretched his hurting body. "I'll be in my office, with the dead."

He hadn't ever really belonged to the POWs, he realized at last. Somewhere in the past years, he'd taken a step back from his past and had become Maqoch, a man who had learned to play along with the unwritten rules of Rura Penthe to survive. Jim would've been proud of him, even if he didn't make it home in the end. But if he were to die, he only wanted the memories of his friends to be his companions, not these people who shared nothing with him but the same tattered uniform. He huddled himself into a corner of his office, emotionlessly estimating how long it would take him to die.

But against all odds, the Enterprise had arrived, and Spock with her…

He was torn out of his memories by Namarra's voice, "Doctor, I want an answer!" The words were overly shrill in his ears. He looked at the man, who had little in common with the half-dying figure McCoy had seen last, but before he could say anything, someone else jumped in.

"It's unbelievable. How dare you insult Doctor McCoy like that, after what he suffered through on Rura Penthe - for Starfleet and for you!"

The speaker was one of the younger nurses; she's had been in McCoy's department for only three months before his conviction. McCoy went up. "Nurse Chi, please -" he said and put his hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down, but she would have none of it. She leaned over the table, and her voice attracted more of the Enterprise's crewmembers in the recreation room, who had already given more than one ear to the discussion.

"How dare you! Didn't you read the note on Captain Kirk's death? Can't you imagine how Doctor McCoy must have felt after that? And didn't he get transferred to your death camp at his own request, almost dying with you in the attempt to help you? If it hadn't been for the captain desperately looking for his friends, none of you would've been found! Nobody knew of that camp. You all would have been dead."

"Enough, nurse," McCoy ordered. "Please," he added gently. "I can fight my own fights."

"I'm sure you can, sir," she said and turned her face to him. "But I found it was high time that someone told these folks off. They're spreading some bad rumors about you, and while I'm sure you see no reason to deal with any of that, I've had enough of them." She glared at the seated rescued round.

"If you want to insult an officer of the Enterprise, you better do that on another ship," she sniped. The handful of crewmembers that had gathered around the table by now nodded in agreement, deepening frowns on their faces.

"Please," McCoy said, spreading his hands as he turned to the Enterprise personnel. "I'm moved by your intervention, but there's no reason to be so hostile to our comrades. Rura Penthe has been hard on us all, and we're just starting to deal with it."

"I agree," Pori said. "And I apologize for what's been said." He glared at Namarra, but the engineer only pressed his lips together. The atmosphere was loaded, when the recreation room door opened and Spock walked in.

Everyone straightened as the Vulcan assessed the situation with a serene gaze. "Any particular reason for this gathering?" he asked.

"No, sir," several crewmembers replied. "We're just on our way." The crowd dispersed and most of the men and women passed the captain to leave the room. Spock's gaze briefly turned after them, then he looked back at the table.

"Captain Pori, we have finally received official orders from Starfleet Headquarters regarding the future of the rescued POWs and the other prisoners. A briefing will be held for all at 1500 in the mess hall. Please relate this news to all of your comrades."

Pori nodded.

"Doctor McCoy, would you please join me for lunch?" Spock said.

McCoy was anything but hungry, but it was an agreeable excuse to leave this room. "Sure, Captain," he said. "Goodbye, everyone," he said to the people at the table, and left with Spock.

When they were in the corridor, Spock shed him a gaze. "I originally wanted to eat in the mess, but considering the latest situation, I think my quarters are preferable."

"I agree," McCoy said, suddenly rather tired as the adrenaline flow ebbed.

In Spock's quarters, McCoy sank down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. "Damn," he whispered.

"What incited the discussion?" Spock asked.

"Can we order first and discuss later?" McCoy said tiredly.

Spock turned around and sent their orders to the kitchen, selecting a meal for McCoy without asking. McCoy didn't care - all food was perfect to him after the mines.

McCoy looked up when the bed moved. Spock sat down behind him, and massaged his shoulders. A wave of concern lay in the touch.

"Will you answer my question now?" Spock said.

McCoy sighed. He should've known Spock wouldn't give up. "I'm not quite sure. I think Namarra asked me why I didn't disclose my identity to them."

"Did they not accept your explanation?"

"I never got to that. He told me that they'd heard from the prisoners of the first mine that I had a 'good life' there." McCoy sighed again. "Well, compared to the second mine, it was heaven. Compared to everything else…still hell." He leaned back, and Spock took him into an embrace. "Oh, and they wonder what I'm doing here…and alluded to knowing about my relationship with Karon."

"Is that important to you?" Spock asked quietly, as his hands caressed down McCoy's chest.

"No. Though it may be bad for you reputation, to side with a traitor like me." There was some bitterness in the sentence.

"Did you do anything that could be seen as traitorous?" Spock asked.

"Nothing that's in the reg book," McCoy said, eyes closing. The touches felt wonderful, and it surely wasn't by chance that Spock's hands slipped much further down. He spread his legs a little further. "But there are things that don't look good on the outside -"

The door bell chimed, and it took them two signals before they were presentable again. Spock went to the door, but it wasn't the expected food - instead, Pori stood in the frame.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, Captain - I actually wanted to have a brief word with Doctor McCoy, if that's not too much to ask."

Spock stepped aside.

"Captain Pori?" McCoy went up from the bed.

"Maybe…alone?" Pori asked, slightly flustered.

"I don't have any secrets from Mister Spock," McCoy said. Well, guess I couldn't have found a better way to confirm the rumors, he thought as he saw Pori's gaze flutter over the single, large bed.

"I apologize for Namarra," Pori said. "I have told them that you weren't allowed to divulge your identity, but not everyone seemed to have understood. As for Karon…" he shed a brief glance at Spock, "when you came to the mine, you had a fever and spoke a lot in your sleep. You mentioned him quite often. I realize now how much you must have given up for us. It makes the wrong accusations all the worse."

"They weren't all wrong," McCoy said. "I guess it could be said that I sided with the Klingons enough to compromise my Starfleet oath."

Pori shook his head. "You weren't in a war with them; you were a prisoner and trying to survive. And your survival surely helped many people."

"Never enough," McCoy said sadly.

The doorbell chimed again, and Spock opened the door for the food.

"Thanks for coming, Pori." McCoy offered his hand. "Your statement means a lot to me. I wish I could've done a lot more, but I couldn't… Well, good luck with the upcoming transfers."

"Thanks for everything, doctor." Pori shook his hand and took the hint to leave. "Enjoy your meal, gentlemen," he said and left.

Spock placed the tray on the table. "Lunch?" he asked McCoy.

McCoy sat down on the bed again and shook his head. "I'm not hungry." His hands were shaking, and he felt dizzy. Next thing he knew, Spock was at his side with a large glass of warm, sweetened tea.

"Drink," the Vulcan ordered, and McCoy obeyed. The liquid dispelled some of his weakness, but he wanted nothing more than to lie down. Spock accepted his wish and, ignoring McCoy's resistance against getting undressed like an invalid, helped him out of the clothes and put him to bed.

"I'm not that bad off," McCoy said annoyed.

"You are," Spock said from the office corner, where he briefly consulted his computer. "I need to attend the briefing of the POWs. Rest; I will join you after that."

"Don't I have to attend that too?"

"No, your case will be handled differently." Spock came over to the bed and placed a kiss on McCoy's forehead. "Sleep, Leonard," he said softly.

"I await thee," McCoy murmured and cuddled into the warm blankets, falling asleep on the spot.

*

The sleep, however, wasn't restful. Images invaded his dream, memories of the past. The ice-cold torture room, the day when Karon came to get him out of it… McCoy awoke, and in the blurred area between dream and full awareness, he whispered, "Oh, Karon. I miss you. God, I miss you."

In the past, he'd never understood it when people told him about being in love with two or even more different persons; today, he was in exactly that situation. He had known Spock for so long and in some ways so intimately that coming together now felt like a completely normal development. It was wonderful and he loved being with him, and didn't care if all the world learned about them. Probably only shows my mental instability, because by all rights it should be complicated and mind-boggling to jump from death's shovel into a Vulcan bonding, McCoy admonished himself. But it still feels…right.

But on the other hand, there were still his feelings for Karon, and he couldn't just push them out of an airlock. He missed him so badly that it hurt. He had missed him every single day in the second mine. If he hadn't gone, the POWs would've been saved anyway because they could've told the rescuers about their position. What had McCoy wanted to prove to himself by going to them? That he hadn't been a traitor to their cause, after all?

He rolled around in bed, placing his head on Spock's pillow. He really wished Spock were here and would put his mind on something else. Having nothing to do was a concept he had never been able to deal with well in the past, and after the strict regime on Rura Penthe, it was even worse. Spare time meant time to think. Time to think meant time to re-think decisions and regret past things…never a good road to go down.

He rolled on his back again and stared at the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he fondled his genitals. Could be lucky he still had them, after all…he'd seen a few bad things over time. With the exceptions of interrogations and the occasional beatings from the Klingon watchdogs, what prisoners did to prisoners was often worse than anything the Klingons could come up with. There were brotherhoods and gangs that ruled in all the areas that the Klingons showed no interest in. As long as the mine produced dilithium, the prisoners largely organized themselves. There was a group controlling the food distribution; if a prisoner had the wrong species - for example, one that was in a conflict or despised by one member of the controlling gang - he could be sure to receive only the worst, inedible vegetables or the most watery part of the soup. One gang controlled the messages to the outside; only few species were accepted by them, and humans, McCoy soon found out, were on the bottom of everyone's list of favorite species. If he hadn't been one of the two only doctors in the camp, he would've had a hard time surviving. But even the most brutal gang leader made an exception for them; the doctors were part of no gang and no group, only kept to themselves, and treated everyone in the camp as long as they were treated well in return. Only few aliens, usually newcomers, thought they'd achieve anything by threatening them; the last one who ever tried to lay hands on McCoy was made short work of by one of the gang leaders and had to undergo surgery afterwards.

'For you, Maqoch,' Malazz the Breen hissed and wiped the blood off on his pants. The Breen's white, slightly furry face with the large, opaque eyes and the blue retinas made it always look like twin seas in the middle of an arctic ground…but it was a dangerous sea of blue, McCoy knew. The Breen were possibly the only species that was comfortable on Rura Penthe, and they were thriving in the challenging atmosphere, all of them at the top of the food chain. McCoy always kept away from these dangerous hunters, but on this day he had been thankful for the protection. Though later, he was forced to pay back the favor...

McCoy turned to his left side, trying to halt his running thoughts. He coiled and rubbed over his groin again, slightly stimulating himself. Sex sure had been a good, even vital, part of his survival, and the much younger Klingon had been a spurring factor. But the real magic had laid in their love for each other and the will to make their relationship work on all levels, for all their biological differences. They were astonishingly compatible in their work, with McCoy in the lead due to his long career and experience; but in bed, it was clear who had more energy and persistence.

There was no reason to complain - Karon took care to not let his Klingon strength and drive reign unguarded, and McCoy could deal with the bites and scratches that seemed to be an inevitable part of any Klingon mating ritual. For a while, they mostly indulged in handwork and oral gratification. It allowed McCoy to explore the Klingon's organ in detail. The head was formed like an egg and had one hard circular ridge around its thin base, from which three ridges ran down to the broad base at the groin in a triangular pattern. The sperm-producing centers were hidden left and right in the groin, so that the erect member looked like a piece of art when it came to life. Fluid was secreted in large amounts when the erection was sufficiently stimulated by strong manipulations at the edge of pain - Klingon-strong, which wasn't an easy thing to match for McCoy at times. Generous appliance of teeth worked wonders, though, and generally resulted in a formidable orgasm. With his hands, lots of scratching and heavy pumping did the job, and somehow the old rule of sex education was right - if you want it to work bad enough, you'll make it work.

There was only one thing McCoy didn't feel comfortable with, and that was penetration. His few past experiments had been with a not exactly empathic Vulcan in the lighter phases of pon farr and he'd been too stressed and nervous to enjoy it. And while he'd escaped real rape so far, the pain sticks hadn't done much good at that part of his body. It took the very gentle reminder of Karon's half-erect organ pressing against him once in a while, when the Klingon spooned him, that McCoy started considering trying it again. Nobody completely undressed for the night on Rura Penthe, but they used their fur mantles as mattress covers and blanket. It made some things easier…

One night, he gently pressed back. "Would you like that?" he whispered.

"Too large," Karon whispered back. "Don't want to hurt you, jupoy'na." Beloved one. McCoy smiled. One considerate Klingon. Probably the only one in this universe. He was damn lucky.

"It will work, Karon'oy." McCoy opened his pants and, with Karon's help, removed them. Karon pulled down his own pants, and for the first time, these two body parts came together without impediment.

"Don't want to hurt you," Karon said again, but his hand was already on McCoy's ass, caressing and kneading the flesh.

On his bed, alone, McCoy stroked his erection, feeling the warmth flooding him from the memory. Oh god, how he had wanted it that night. And every night after that.

The mattress moved, and, confused, he opened his eyes. "Spock?" The light was dimmed, and yes, there was Spock behind him, a hot, fiery body.

Spock pulled his head around for a kiss, then slipped his long fingers into McCoy's underwear to pull them off. He discarded the garment quickly, and Spock's erection pressed against McCoy's ass, just the way McCoy liked it the most.

"Tell me," Spock said.

"What?"

"You were thinking of him. Of your first time like this. Tell me the story while we join." Spock placed kisses at his neckline, while his finger stroked down McCoy's side.

After a short moment of hesitation, McCoy spoke. "I wanted him to do it," he whispered. "He thought he'd hurt me but I was sure he would be careful enough to avoid any damage. We didn't have lube or anything. It was only his fluids to make it easier. I put my hand on his erection and scratched over it, trying to coax some precum out." He reached around and stroked Spock's member. It was hard and long, more than ready for action. As he stimulated its curved head, his thumb glided over sudden wetness.

"What then?" Spock's voice asked hoarsely.

His breathing harder, McCoy resumed his story. "I did that for a while, until I thought we were ready for the next step." He lifted his upper leg and tilted it. His fingers guided Spock's erection to his entry.

"He was really very careful. The head was easy. It was round and slick and slipped right in."

The head of Spock's dick wasn't much broader in its current state, and slipped in just as easily. McCoy closed his eyes, clenching his cheeks together to get more friction.

"Then he pressed a little more, and damn, those three ridges that ran down his dick weren't meant to fit in a human's ass. They slowly spread my ring muscle. I don't know how he managed to control himself so much. Once in a while, he pulled out and then pressed in again. I wanted him so much inside of me, I didn't feel any discomfort. But my body just didn't want to let him in very deep."

Spock slowly thrust into McCoy, one hand on his hips. Their motions developed into a rhythmic little dance.

"I told him that it was great and that we'd have a lot of time," McCoy whispered, his voice unsteady. "It would be no problem in a few weeks. Humans could take a lot. He reached around and clamped his fingers around my dick. I could feel how aroused he was, not just from the insertion, but also from the resistance. Klingons just thrive on a little fight and pain. He pulled everything out but the head, then fucked me with short, little thrusts, while his hand clamped around my dick like a tight sheath. It was spectacular."

Spock did just the same, and McCoy couldn't keep from arching into the warm, tight grip. "Yeah, fuck me, Spock. Fuck me like he did."

"I will," Spock whispered in his ear, the lips brushing over the lobe. "And when I fuck you, I want you to think of him. To remember how he held you, how he wanted you."

"Yes," McCoy groaned, joining the pushing rhythm. "Oh yes. Don't stop, don't stop." His mind blurred, and everything seemed to come together, the memories of the past and the truth of the here and now and it was Karon - no, Spock, behind him, wanting him, fucking him like there was no tomorrow, and he wanted to melt and burn and die and go to heaven like this, never have it stop yes yes yes…

He came, and it was so explosive and harsh and overwhelming that it robbed him of all air. For a while, all he could do was trying to learn to breathe again.

At last, he turned around. "Spock…you're wonderful. Thank you." He captured the Vulcan's hand and pressed a kiss on it. "This was a wonderful gift. How did you come up with that?"

"When I entered the room, I caught on to your thoughts," Spock said.

McCoy looked at him in concern. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but I can't help thinking of him."

"I am the one that should apologize, Leonard," Spock said. "Why would I want to steal your memories of the man who saved your life and protected you because he loved you?"

"Because you want me for yourself?" McCoy said with a small smile. "You know… considering that I've lived most of the last decade like a celibate, Rura Penthe had done something good on that front. I haven't gotten laid so often in all my life. Partly because it was like a drug, I think, to forget about everything else at least for a little while. But it feels wonderful being wanted…and by two such wonderful men to boot. I'm a lucky guy." He stroked Spock's face, drawing his forefinger along the sloped eyebrow. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

The eyebrow climbed as expected. McCoy smiled. "And how predictable you are?"

"We both are, to each other - because we know each other so well," Spock said solemnly.

McCoy leaned in for a kiss, and the Vulcan didn't disappoint him. They only parted when McCoy's stomach made a demanding noise.

"You haven't eaten yet?" Spock said, slightly admonishing.

"No, sir. I have been sleeping and dreaming. But I guess I'd like to eat now."

Spock nodded." The food is cold. We can order something new."

"No, please." McCoy said. "It's just cold food, it's fine."

"This ship has a full recycling circle, as you well know," Spock said. "Your resistance is illogical."

McCoy sat up. "It's very logical to me," he said, but when he went to the table and saw the cold, rather sad-looking leftovers, they didn't appeal to him at all.

"Please, allow me to order food for you," Spock said gently as he approached him from behind, placing warm hands on his shoulders. "I had no late meal either; we can share one, if you feel like."

When the food was ordered, McCoy put on a robe and sat down on the table. "So, what about the POWs?"

"The Enterprise will reach Starbase 10 within eight point three hours, where we will meet the Yorktown. She will transfer the POWs and rescued prisoners to Earth."

"Good," McCoy said. Maybe with the exception of Pori, he didn't feel like saying goodbye to any of them. "And what about me?"

"When your health is cleared, you may return to duty onboard the Enterprise. Not as CMO for now, but I assumed that this would not be paramount to you."

"Nope," McCoy said. "But I would've liked to be asked, at least, if I wanted to stay here."

"I apologize," Spock said serenely and sat down opposite to McCoy. "I have not considered that you may decide otherwise. Would you please stay onboard, doctor?"

"Yes, sir. I will." McCoy nodded.

"And would you consider staying in my life as well?" Spock asked.

"Do I really have a choice?" McCoy asked. "If I understood T'Vei correctly, we're already bonded."

"More than a betrothal, less than a bonding," Spock said. "This is the current status, although our prolonged sexual activity will deepen the bonding."

McCoy smiled. "So I could still say no? Do I have to challenge you to a fight or something?" He laughed when he saw the momentary alarm in Spock's eyes.

"Sorry, Spock, couldn't help myself teasing you." McCoy took Spock's hands. "I want you. I just, uh, would want to wait a little for anything official, okay? Just in case we suddenly find out within the next weeks that it was only a 'hormonal imbalance', after all, and we'd rather not gotten stuck together for the rest of our lives. Could you live with that?"

"Yes, Leonard. Although I do not believe that our decision will change, I agree that there is a minimal chance for this situation being a unique, emotionally exceptional circumstance."

"Good."

The door bell chimed, and Spock got up to open for the food.

"Spock!" McCoy shouted and waved. "Don't you want to put on something before shocking your yeoman?"

*

On the next morning, the day of their scheduled arrival at Starbase 10, Spock was on his way to the bridge when someone called after him. It was Pori.

"Captain - may I have a brief word with you?"

"Of course," Spock said, reminded of a similar encounter two days ago when Til'ala had stopped him, feeling the need to entrust that he had been able to raise old contacts on Earth. Since Spock had by then found out that Til'ala had been convicted for shipping illegal drugs, the man's future was irrelevant to him. Pori, however, probably had something more important to say.

They drew into a quiet corridor. Spock laced his hands behind his back, waiting for the man's statement.

"I don't really know how to say it…," Pori started cautiously, "and it's certainly none of my business, but I'm glad that Doctor McCoy seems to be so much better off, now that he's with you."

Spock lifted a brow. He had no plans to discuss Leonard or their relationship with an outsider, but his curiosity won over his sense of propriety. "Better off?"

Pori hesitated. "When he came to us, he wasn't in a good shape. And he was behaving rather strangely. Talked a lot to himself, kept largely away from us. Spent most of his time in the room with the dead and dying."

"I gather it was his sense of duty as a doctor keeping him there," Spock said.

"Maybe, yes." Pori shrugged. "I'm a military man, not a psychologist. All I can say is that he didn't seem quite in his right mind at that time, but that's changed extremely over the last couple days, since he's been here. So whatever had caused his behavior in the mine, it seemed to have had no lasting effect on him."

"He appears very normal and rational to me," Spock said. "Almost more so than in the past, in which he was prone to emotional outbursts."

"Good. As I said, I'm glad that whatever it was, it seems to have gone since he's with you. I wish we all had such good friends waiting for us when we come home." Pori's face looked shadowed.

Spock nodded, aware of the other man's slight distress, but not wanted to intrude in the man's privacy to find out the reason. "We will reach Starbase 10 in twenty three minutes," he said instead. "I suggest you return to your comrades and prepare for departure from the Enterprise."

"Of course, Captain," Pori said and straightened. "All my best wishes to you and Doctor McCoy," he added, then turned and left.

On the bridge, Leduc was once again waiting for Spock with a PADD in her hands. She recited the current ship status, and he half-heartedly listened to her, his eyes on the main screen, on which the starbase showed prominently. It was satisfying that the POWs and the other former prisoner were leaving his ship here. The Enterprise was not prepared for passenger transport. But Pori's words resonated more within him than he had expected. Had there been an oversight on his part?

"Thank you, Commander," he said at last. "I can see that all is well under control. I will release the center seat to you for the time being. You can contact me in sickbay." He left the chair and went to the turbolift, feeling Leduc's eyes on his back until the doors closed.

*

T'Vei was out of sickbay, so Spock went to the CMO's office. "Doctor Miller, may I have a word with you?"

"Of course," Miller said and waved towards a chair. "What can I do for you?"

"What is your opinion of Doctor McCoy's mental status?"

Miller frowned. "Did anything unusual happen? T'Vei informed me about your connection -"

"This is irrelevant to my question, doctor," Spock assured him. "I am asking because someone mentioned to me that his behavior has remarkably changed from the mine to how he behaves now. Did you find any changes in his behavior or mental capacity since he came onboard?"

Miller turned to his screen. "I took a brain scan when he arrived, and a second one when he was in here yesterday." He called them up, colorful patterns that showed little divergence between them.

"They aren't normal by human standards, but I compared them with older scans and the distribution seems to be normal for him ever since the fal-tor-pan. So if he showed any unusual behavior on the planet, it doesn't reflect on his brain scans. But of course, they never tell the full story." He punched a button and the pictures faded into the Starfleet logo.

"The only thing I noted about his behavior was that he actually seems to be barely stressed by the last years. Most of the other POWs reported post-traumatic depression syndromes, but he neither reported anything nor does he seem to experience it."

"For most of his imprisonment, he was in a relationship with another prisoner. I presume it had a stabilizing influence on him," Spock said.

"That's possible," Miller agreed. "And you definitely have a very stabilizing influence on him as well. He is, if I may use such a colorful word, positively flourishing since he moved in with you. His state is improving twice as fast as that of the other POWs. So for the moment, I don't see any reason to be nervous about him."

"Thank you," Spock said, experiencing a surprisingly profound feeling of relief over the news. "I shall take my leave of you." He rose from the chair when a call from the bridge came in.

"Captain, we've got visitors," Leduc said. And from the inflection of her voice, Spock instantly knew that another challenge was facing him.

*

Part 4/4

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