Out Of The Big Black

Rae Trail

It was a routine day on a routine mission, and Picard was frankly bored. Q was gone on some sort of job, his bed was empty, and the space they were traveling through was unaccountably dull. He'd retired to his ready room on an excuse, leaving Riker tapping his feet on the bridge and trying to look busy, or at least interested. Jean-Luc was sipping tea with his feet up when two things happened simultaneously.

The intercom whistled, and Q flashed into the ready room with a broad grin on his face.

Accustomed to both occurrences, Picard smiled and put down his feet. "Hullo, love. Can it wait a moment?"

Q's eyes danced and he nodded. "Go ahead, I know how impatient he gets."

Jean-Luc snorted and tapped his comm. "Picard."

"Captain," Riker's voice came back. "We've picked up an anomaly on sensors. Relatively small, very short range. Request permission to change course and investigate."

Picard eyed Q suspiciously. "Specify, Number One."

"Appears to be a small vessel, sir."

"Out here?" Picard set down his tea. "Course deviation approved. I'll be out in a minute."

He tapped his comm again and stood up. "Well, Q?"

"Just don't say I never gave you anything, Johnny." Q was practically licking the cream from his lips, Picard thought. He smiled back.

"As if I would. But what is it, Q?" Jean-Luc crossed the room to stand in front of his husband. Q crossed his arms, still grinning. "A Preserver artifact?"

Q shook his head and bent to kiss Jean-Luc lightly. "You should recognize it when you see it. Or should I say, when you see him.... I think you'll like it. But just now I'm right in the middle of solving a major temporal anomaly, and he's just one small detail."

Picard laughed and pulled Q into a hug, patting the fine ass. "Off you go, then. Will you be home tonight? I miss you."

"For dinner. And dessert. And whatever else you like." The entity vanished in a dramatic flash. Picard considered that... it had been a while since Q had used such a pyrotechnic display in his presence. Q must be feeling extremely pleased with himself.

Picard paced onto the bridge, glanced around. His crew all looked a lot more vital than they had earlier in the day, having something to think about now. He turned to Riker. "Report, Commander."

"Sir." Riker lifted himself out of the centre seat and waved a hand at the forward view screen. "Not a ship, as we thought. Little more than a pod. Perhaps even a life-support unit. We'll be within tractor range in four minutes. Permission to bring it aboard."

Picard frowned. "Yes, but use every precaution, and have a medical team standing by." His executive officer nodded.

"But what would a life-support pod be doing out here?"

Picard glanced at the viewscreen, then back to Riker. "Q just made an extremely brief visit. He's been away for a few days, working on some kind of time anomaly, and he's found this in the course of his work. You know we don't interfere in with each other's jobs, usually. An exception inspires me to extreme caution." Riker's eyes widened.

"Yes, sir. Interesting. Q didn't indicate..?"

"Q referred to the object as *he*, Commander, and as something *we* had lost. He was in a bit of a hurry, and I have no idea what sort of *time anomaly* he was referring to. He seemed to think he'd be home this evening, and perhaps we can get some further information from him then. If there's one thing we know, it's that Q wouldn't knowingly endanger this ship or crew. However, it would be wise to use the usual bio-scan and weapons detection. Q was rather rushed." He headed toward the turbo lift. "I'll go down myself and see what it, or he, is."

"Understood sir." He turned to give the orders as the turbo lift doors closed behind the Captain. Glances were exchanged all around the bridge. The crew were well aware that their Captain's omnipotent husband could have brought home anything. That this was the first time since he'd been onboard that Q's information had been openly cited as the reason for an operational order wasn't lost on even the slowest member of the team.

*

The object *was* some sort of life-support pod, Picard decided, staring at it from behind the force field as it floated toward the deck in the grip of the tractor. Perhaps four meters long and just over two high, cylindrical. Matte black, certainly not designed to be noticed in the vastness of space. Beverly pushed up beside him. "You requested a medical team? What's the nature of the emergency?"

"I only wish I knew, Doctor," Jean-Luc replied. "It's a gift from Q, apparently. I'm to recognize it, or him, when I see it... or him."

Crusher stared. "And he didn't give you any more information than that?"

"He was in a bit of a rush, Doctor." Crusher sighed.

"Very well. Medical staff to full alert," she continued, tapping her comm. "Unknown trauma enroute. Stay on this circuit."

"Acknowledged," came the crisp voice of the duty nurse. Crusher fell silent beside Picard, waiting as the pod settled to the deck and the decontam team rushed forward. Several minutes passed while the crew checked for any kind of unwanted microscopic passenger, then the leader dissolved the containment field and hurried over to Picard, undoing his mask as he came.

"Captain, Chief Petty Officer Smith, Sir. There are no recognized radiations, viruses or bacteria on the exterior, and the interior scans show only one life form. Humanoid, but in extreme systemic suppression. Deep sleep, sir. The sort of thing we used to use..."

"I am familiar with the term, Chief. What is your procedure?"

"Well, we recognize the door mechanism, so... Full filter beam for the ship as we open it, sir, and medical... Oh. Hullo, Doctor Crusher. Medical team standby, sir."

"Very well. Open it. I will go in."

The Chief stepped back a pace. "Sir? That is unwarranted risk, sir."

"Noted. I will go in."

"I'm coming with you, Captain," Beverly said in her best tough-doctor voice. "My help may be required as soon as the seal is broken."

Picard hesitated, then nodded. "Let's go then. Filters on, Chief. Stretcher crew standing by, and secure corridors to sickbay. Doctor?"

As they strode to the ship Beverly tapped her tricorder on Picard's arm. "Q?"

"Yes. Apparently he, or perhaps they, 'found' whatever... whoever is in here, and brought it to us for a 'present'."

Beverly shivered. "Oh, goodie. A Q present."

"Doctor Crusher, please avoid disparaging my partner. He would do nothing to harm this ship." Beverly bit her lip and subsided.

Picard stood still as the door was fiddled with and at last opened. He noted the flinching reactions of the decontam crew as a wave of slightly steamy air shooshed out of the pod, and felt Beverly move beside him. When the retracting door stood full open he pushed out a breath. "Any contaminants?"

"Nothing showing, sir," a voice called. He nodded and reached for the slightly raised door frame. Pulled himself up carefully and listened before helping Beverly up into the dark interior.

It was tiny inside, he could tell by the muffled nature of the sounds from the deck rebounding on whatever was within. And so dark it seemed to eat any light from outside. Picard called for a hand lamp and waited while Beverly operated her tricorder by feel, peering at the little display. "Yes, one humanoid... can't tell if it's human with such low life signs. Right in front of us, Jean-Luc. Centimetres in front of us..."

Picard reached back into the bright shuttle bay for the lamp, and brought it up to shine around the interior.

// It's like being inside an egg// he thought. The walls were curved about them. No controls visible anywhere, no lights, no screens. In the centre of the space, a handsbreadth in front of them a raised pedestal, coffin shaped. The top of the coffin reflected the light back, and he moved closer.

"Oh, mon dieu..." he breathed, peering inside. "This man has more lives than a cat."

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly stepped forward and peered through the clear top of the casket. "Is that who I think it is?"

"It can't be... but it is. It's Kirk." Picard unconsciously pressed his hand against the glass. "James T. Kirk. And he looks about 18 years old."

2/6

"He's sleeping perfectly normally, Jean-Luc." Beverly waved a hand at the screen on her desk. "It's utterly impossible, but there it is. He's going to wake up soon, and if he is who we think he is, he'd going to be extremely confused."

Picard couldn't tear his eyes away from this miracle... the man he'd left so recently dead was sleeping in his sickbay, looking healthy, looking fit... "He looks so young." Not as young as he'd appeared, defenseless in the deep sleep unit, but still...

"He's barely thirty, according to all my tests. They match, almost exactly, with the scans on record from his first tour on the Enterprise." She fairly hissed in frustration. "It's not possible. It's some trick of Q's."

"Beverly." Picard drew a long breath and shook his head. "I know that you don't always get along with Q, and I'm sorry, but I do know that he wouldn't trick me about something like this. And if there's one thing I *have* learned from my time in StarFleet, it's that nothing is impossible. When will he wake?"

"I estimate in... two or three hours. Jean-Luc.. I'm sorry, I don't mean to insult Q. He keeps baiting me though... and I fall for it, every time."

"I think he still regards you as the enemy, Beverly."

She laughed. "Rather a compliment, I suppose. Captain, I think you ought to be here when he does wake up. You're the one person on board that he might recognize."

"Yes, I'd like to be here. I'll be in my quarters until then. Call me at once. And Beverly.."

"Yes, Jean-Luc?"

"Can we keep this quiet, for the time being? His identity. Until I've had a chance to talk to StarFleet. And others."

Crusher nodded agreement. "No one would believe it anyway, Jean-Luc. Not without seeing the medical evidence. Especially considering the source."

Picard began to bristle at the new insult to his partner, when a welcome voice replied for him.

"My dear doctor, I resent the implications of that remark." Both officers wheeled around to see Q leaning against the wall, dressed in a vintage Fleet uniform from a hundred years before: gold tunic, black trousers. He smiled and pushed himself upright, walked over to the bed. "Besides, I didn't do anything to him, I merely found him. It took me awhile to decide what to do with him, of course. I figured that you were the best people to bring him to... but I'm afraid I can't take all the credit this time."

"If not you, who?" Picard stopped himself before adding 'Q', flinching internally at the embarrassment potential of the rhyme. Q looked up from his inspection of the youthful face and beamed at his husband.

"It may have been the Continuum, Johnny. They're not talking, though I haven't stopped asking. You know we're not all working from the same agenda these days. And there are older, stranger things than the Continuum in the universe, Jean-Luc. Something decided that he didn't deserve eternal bliss in the Nexus, I expect. He pissed off more than a few of us during his lifetime." He smiled almost affectionately at the sleeping man. "Almost as many as you have. Or perhaps something decided that he deserved another chance to piss us off even more. Who knows? Perhaps he can tell us."

"It *may* have been the Continuum? What do you mean?"

"You know I'm no longer party to the politics, Jean-Luc. I help them when they ask nicely, if I think it's important enough to be away from you. I thought *this*" he waved a hand over the sleeping man, "would be important to you. So I helped."

"We.. I, appreciate it, Q. Who do you think might have made him so young? It seems like something a Q might do. If only for the entertainment value."

Q shook his head ruefully. "I might have done, but I didn't. As I said, the others aren't talking. I just hauled him out and brought him here. Are we still on for dinner?"

"Of course. You'll not give up on the Continuum, about him?"

"No, Johnny." Q cupped Jean-Luc's face and kissed him, then looked at him intently. "Are you mad at me? I interfered in your work."

Picard shook his head. "I'm not angry, but I would like some more information so that I understand the implications of what you've done. And so will he, Q. He's been dead a long time. We need to know who, or what, did this to him."

"I agree." Q stood back and smiled. "Au 'voir."

Q vanished. Picard shook his head and turned for the door. "Let me know when he shows signs of waking, Beverly."

"I will."

Picard strode along the corridor, thinking of the messages to be sent. And one message in particular. He wasn't sure where the ambassador was, but of all beings, Spock had the most right to this news.

He woke slowly at first. Picard watched the monitor closely, alternating between that and the still face beside him. Then suddenly the hazel eyes flew open and he was caught in the stunned gaze. One hand flew up from the bed - Picard grasped it and squeezed.

"You're alright, Jim. Do you know me?"

Kirk licked his lips, and the hand grasping his tightened. He opened his mouth to speak, swallowed. Picard reached for the cup of water, held it for Kirk to drink. When he set it aside again he saw the puzzlement, the confusion. "Do you know who I am?" Picard asked quietly.

"Captain..." Kirk cleared his throat and licked his lips again. "Captain Picard. How is this possible?" Kirk released his gaze, let his eyes roam the room. "Where is this? Is this your Enterprise?"

"Yes. How do you feel?"

He saw the patient assessment, the slow astonishment. "I feel.. fine. That thing fell on me... We're in the Nexus, then?"

"No, it's not the Nexus. It's going to be a bit of a shock to you. What's the last thing you remember, before the Nexus, and meeting me?" Kirk's hand relaxed, fell back onto the bed.

"I was on the Enterprise B - I was sucked out into space. I.. I died."

"History records that episode as well." The hazel eyes moved again, taking in the room, then rested on Picard.

"Then this is.. There's been some sort of .. temporal... twist?. "

"Well, yes and no.. According to all records you are dead, as recorded, saving the Enterprise B. Possibly existing in an alternate universe via the Nexus. You were found by a... well, a very nearly omnipotent entity. You were adrift in a deep-sleep pod that dates from approximately the time of the Nexus/Enterprise B incident. As nearly as we can determine, you traveled here in real-time, Jim. In deep sleep."

He watched the groping shock, the tight, shallow breathing. Then that tremendous courage reasserted itself and Kirk took a long, steadying breath. "When, exactly, is this?"

"It's beta watch of..."

"No. How *long*?"

"It's been eighty-nine years since you were reported lost."

Kirk grew so still that Picard almost summoned Beverly. Then, a low voice. "I feel fine."

"Jim?"

"Captain..." The hand flew up again, and this time it caught its owner's gaze. "What the hell..?" Kirk stared at his hand. Flexed the fingers experimentally. Muttered something low, and let his gaze drop to his arm. Suddenly he was sitting up, staring down at his arms. "What in *hell*?"

"Jim, take it easy." Picard caught one hand, distracting Kirk. "Whoever... whatever found you, however you were preserved so long in deep sleep, this is the side effect."

"I'm *young!*" He looked horrified. "How? *Who* did this?" He threw back his sheet and stared down at his chest and belly, then up at Picard. Jean-Luc's heart melted at the terrified look, and he squeezed the hand he still held.

"No one knows, not even the being that found you. According to the ship's doctor, your biological age is approximately... well, you're about thirty, Jim."

"Thirty.." Kirk's tension dissolved, and he slumped forward. "I don't understand. I'm..."

Picard watched as Kirk raised a hand and absently rubbed the bridge of his nose. Waited. Finally Kirk looked back up at him. "I need to ask you something. Personal. Confidential."

The hazel slid away as Kirk spoke, and Picard replied softly. "If it's about Spock, he's alive and well, and should shortly be en route to intercept us."

"Oh, gods." Kirk crumpled then, and began to cry. Very tidy, small, sobs that shook his shoulders. "You know, then."

"Everyone knows, Jim. Be easy. The rule is much more lenient these days. Now, how can I help you?"

It was a long time before Kirk looked up and stared around, brushing tears from his eyes. "Get me the hell out of sickbay. Can you do that?"

Ten minutes later, despite Doctor Crusher's protestations, Jean-Luc was strolling through the corridors beside the young Kirk.//Amazing// he thought. //They gave him the Enterprise when he was so young, as young as this...// "Ask anything, Jim. You must be curious."

"About... about Spock. How did anyone know? We were so careful. The fraternization rules in those days were strict about the first line, and after we retired he was still so cautious."

"Spock himself told us." He grabbed Kirk's elbow as Kirk stumbled, but Kirk recovered quickly, shot Picard a look of astonishment.

"*Spock* told you?"

"When you were lost, Spock published a book. I believe it was an effort to mitigate his grief in some way. It was called 'The First Five Years', and it was on the bestseller list for well over 5 years. It's still a very popular book, considered a classic. It details what wasn't in the ship's official logs over that long journey; your relationship with Spock, the other side of the dynamic for all kinds of wonderful adventures. It made it plain to everyone that the fraternization policy in Fleet meant that your genetic line, and Spock's, was forever lost to the humanities because of Fleet's backward looking policies. It did more to forward IDIC among humans than anything else since Nelson Mandela. All kinds of glass ceilings and invisible walls shattered with that book, and the pieces are long swept aside." Picard steered his charge into a turbo lift, requested the visitor's deck. "Well, now you can decide what to do, of course.

But be aware, no one on this ship, or in the Federation for that matter, has any false impressions of what your relationship with Spock was. The book is in the ship's computer. You're welcome to look it over."

Kirk stepped out of the turbo lift as the door opened, his face a strange shade of crimson. "Everyone knows?"

"I assure you. And no one cares. In fact, you'll find that most folks are still broken hearted that you couldn't declare your love openly. I know I am. In here, Jim."

He guided Kirk into the VIP suite and released his arm. Kirk glanced around and shook his head. "And... you say he's coming here. He's alive then, and well."

"Yes. He's been working on Romulus for several years as an ambassador. We're close to a treaty, because of him."

Kirk stared, then shook his head. "Spock hates diplomacy. If he joined the DiploCorp, he must have been nuts."

Picard grinned. "I believe he decided to show them how to do it properly. He's very famous, as a diplomat."

Jim moved slowly around the room, looking, touching. "And the Klingons?"

"The treaty not only holds, we have Klingons in Star Fleet. Thanks largely to you."

"He must be a hundred and fifty years old." Picard nodded, knowing Kirk wasn't referring to any Klingons..

"He must be. He still looks like a hale, middle aged Vulcan, strong and fit. In fact, if you are actually the age you appear to be, you and Spock have approximately the same life-span ahead."

Kirk whirled around, eyes huge. "You're making a lot of assumptions, Picard. I've been *dead* to him for almost a century. He'll be well used to living without me around." His voice was harsh, angry. He turned away and studied the viewport. "Why didn't he know I wasn't dead? We were *Bonded*, Picard! *Why didn't he look for me*?" His voice dropped. "Why can't I feel him now?"

Picard felt a wrench at the fear in that question. "To you, it must seem like just yesterday that you left him on Earth for that inaugural flight."

"Not quite. I do remember... something about the Nexus. A sense of... doing something. Like a dream. I remember being with you on Viridian 3, the bridge collapsing. It feels like perhaps... a few days. I can still see the look on his face when he turned down the publicity thing on the Enterprise..." A slight smile lifted Kirk's lips, then his face grew stern. "I would rather subject myself to a full day in a human shopping mall, James." The voice was a good imitation of the Vulcan. Picard smiled too.

"How can I help, now?"

"I need to think. I can't believe this yet... the Klingons tried to do this to me once, make me think I'd been in deep sleep for a long time. I woke up looking old, that time, though." Another long perusal of his arms, his torso. "You said some sort of being found me? What?"

"That's a long story too." Picard watched Kirk perch carefully on the edge of the couch. "And another reason I'm so sure you needn't worry about people being aware of your relationship to Spock. The entity who found you is my husband."

Kirk blinked rapidly, then gestured with one hand for Picard to continue.

"He's very nearly omnipotent, and he's trying to discover exactly what, or who, did this to you. He said he'd be aboard again in a few hours, and perhaps he'll have some more information for us."

"You're married to an... an alien man?"

"In every sense of the word. Words. Yes. You'll meet him, can ask whatever questions you like of him. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

Kirk shivered. "I need to think. I need some time alone, Captain. Do the replicators still work the same way?"

Picard pointed. "Right there, just ask for what you want. I'm going to send the ship's counselor to see you, if you don't object." The hazel eyes flashed.

"I do object. I don't need anybody messing around in my thoughts right now, Captain. I want to think, privately." There was an edge to the voice. Picard didn't accede, but persisted gracefully.

"Certainly, Jim. But with your permission, I'll send her anyway. She'll insist, of course, as a medical officer. Simply tell her you don't wish to discuss it, and ask her to help you with any more material needs you might discover. There are a lot of changes to the ship since you were last aboard her. Though even today, a ship's Captain must follow the rules of the medical department."

That earned him the snort of laughter he expected, and then a slow lowering of the shoulders. "The others will all be dead." Kirk looked up to see Picard's face. "McCoy. Scott."

"Yes, I'm afraid so." A pause, then Kirk nodded.

"I see. Give me an hour or so before you send your counselor, Captain. I'd like to shower, and shave. Is there gear for that?"

"Of course. I'll show you."

3/6

The shock slowly subsided on Troi's face as Picard briefed her on their guest. "Be warned, Counselor. He's not the youngster he appears to be. I would advise you to remember that he's an aging man, with a full life behind him."

"I'll bear it in mind, Captain. I expect the whole thing is very frightening for him."

"Bear this in mind, too, counselor. He's not one to admit fear to a lovely young woman, ship's counselor or not. Go carefully, or he'll shut you out completely."

"Teaching your grandmother to suck eggs, Captain?" It was said with a smile, and Picard responded in kind.

"Merely reminding her that appearances can be very deceiving. Let me know how it goes."

Kirk was stepping out of the bathroom as the door chimed. He was deep in thought, considering the implications of this new, younger body. His own body, he certainly recognized it. It's responses were the same, its ticklish and tough areas identical. He hadn't tried to pleasure it, though; he feared surveillance. The thought of the erect cock on the monitor screens of sickbay had withered any erection before it began. After all, he knew nothing about this culture, nothing at all.

And that was terrifying. He'd better adjust fast, he decided.

The door chimed again. Kirk hurried to the couch and perched lightly, trying to look casual. "Come in."

The door opened. Kirk shifted slightly as a young woman walked in, a smile on her face, dark hair piled up high on her head. "Captain Kirk? I'm Deanna Troi, ship's Counselor."

"And I doubt I'm *Captain* Kirk now, Counselor," he replied cooly. "You may call me Jim."

"Then you may call me Deanna. May I sit down? Can I get you anything?"

"No. Thank you." Troi settled on a chair and crossed her legs. "How awfully shocking this must be for you."

"It's a shock, certainly. I'm fairly adept in dealing with shocks, Counselor." He looked at her more carefully, something subtle about her sparking his sixth sense. "Pardon my asking, but are you human?"

Troi sat up straighter. "As a matter of fact, I am half human. My mother is Betazoid. May I ask how you knew?"

He considered. "Something about the eyes, I think. Aren't the Betazoid people telepaths?"

"Yes, they are. I am telepathic, with pure Betazoid people. With others I am empathic. Please don't worry though, I can't read your thoughts, Captain."

He noted the return to Captain and smiled. "I'm not worried about that, Counselor." The talk of half-humans and telepathy filled him with a sudden longing. He bolted it to the deck, fast, but not before he saw the Counselor wince. So, very empathic.

Kirk summoned a half smile. "Perhaps you'd give me hand with something, counselor. It's a strange new world to me, and I'd very much like some assistance in adjusting. My main dilemma is one that I'm sure you can guess at."

"It is a different world, perhaps you'd like some advice on customs, and so on." She sat forward and waited. Jim matched her body language carefully.

"Actually, my problem is that I despise powder blue."

He smiled and waved a hand at the sick-bay issue lounge wear that was his only outfit. "I haven't the faintest idea what people here and now wear, or if I have any credit, or how to shop for clothes on this Enterprise."

Her jaw dropped, and she blinked. "You want me to help you shop for clothes?"

"I'm only trying to prioritize my return from the dead, Counselor. Dead heros coming back to life ought to be decently attired, don't you think?" Kirk shot her the cocky smile that had endeared him to many a pretty female in the past, and she smiled warmly.

"Of course, Captain. It would be my pleasure."

It was some time before Troi left Kirk at the door to his cabin. About four hours, a general tour of the ship, a lot of chat about Star Fleet and life on Earth, a dozen new outfits that he was very pleased with and a light lunch later. Not a word had been spoken of the trauma of dying and resurrection, of love, of Spock, of the future. Nothing of the confusion of this new, younger Kirk, though Deanna often felt the confusion coming from him in waves.

Not a word about the loss of all his friends and contemporaries. Deanna debriefed to Picard with a sort of disgruntled admiration for their foundling, and suggested that the Captain invite Kirk to dinner.

"Yes, I shall. Visit him again tomorrow, Counselor. Perhaps I'll have some word from Star Fleet by then about announcing his identity, check with me first."

Picard dismissed Deanna and keyed in Kirk's quarters.

It was a long several seconds before the voice came back. "Kirk here."

"Sir, Captain Picard. I wonder if you'd join my husband and I for dinner. I'll pick you up at 1900, if that suits you."

"Fine. Sure, that's fine."

"Picard out."

Kirk released the button on the intercom that no one had thought to show him how to use, and stepped back, shaking his head. So much to learn. So many changes, some subtle, some so broad that they could hardly be called *changes* at all, but wholly new. This vast city in space, full of civilians and even *children*, aliens of many species... Picard was more of a mayor than a starship captain, Kirk thought. Or perhaps a bit of both.

Spock. The name came to the front of his thoughts again. Kirk paced over to the small corner desk in his living room and sat down. Considered how to make this piece of technology work.

"Computer?"

"Working." Hmmm. Same response as in the bad 'ol days, but a much more human voice.

"Computer, I am not familiar with the working of this type of remote access. Can you give me a basic tutorial?"

"Affirmative. Please specify your main area of interest."

"History of the last century, emphasis on Earth and the Federation, condensed format to begin with."

"Access panel is now illuminating in the desk top..."

Kirk spent several hours learning the intricacies of accessing information from the ship's mainframe, and in the process got a good, broad picture of major events over the last century. He was forced to revise his estimate of "Picard as mayor" after noting the Captain and the Enterprise as directly responsible for several pivotal moments in the recent history of the Federation. //So what else is new?// he found himself thinking, smiling. Enterprise was Enterprise, after all.

He also noted that most familiar of names appearing again and again in the doings of the Federation.

Spock negotiating a treaty, Spock proposing a complete restructuring of Star Fleet hierarchies, Spock publishing papers on this and that scientific enquiry, Spock receiving various awards for various intellectual and diplomatic accomplishments, Spock publishing a book...

"The First Five Years: the true story of the maiden voyage of the Enterprise 1701." Kirk read the reviews first, wincing at this very public discussion of his very private life. Then, reluctantly, requested a paper version of the book itself from the computer.

"It is not my purpose to aggrandize or embellish the accomplishments of either James Kirk or myself in these pages. Rather, I wish to show for posterity that the events of that seminal voyage were the work of a team, a complex and interconnected group of people with myself and James Kirk at the hub. I further wish to demonstrate the fallaciousness of the argument preventing intimate relationships between persons in the same line of command..." Kirk got over his initial embarrassment at the Vulcan's straight forward and unemotional writing, and settled into an armchair to read his lover's words.

The door chime startled him into leaping to his feet.

He remembered Picard's invitation to dinner, and relaxed, setting the book aside. "Come in." The door opened and the Captain strode in.

"Good evening. Ah, I see you're reading it. What do you think?"

Kirk glanced at the book, felt himself blushing. "He writes well, of course. I'm enjoying it. I wonder, did Sarek ever read it? I suppose I'm assuming that Sarek is dead..."

Picard nodded. "Yes, yes, and... let me think, I'd like to tell you his exact response." He pondered a moment, recalling the proud, hard face, the still hands. "Though I could not publicly approve at the time, I appreciate my son's choice of partner. It was eminently logical, given the lives they had chosen. The book is adequately written, though somewhat over-zealous in praise of the emotional aspect of the relationship. My son is still very young."

"Spock! Young!" Kirk began to laugh, and then was suddenly sobbing. This posthumous acceptance by Sarek struck him as almost tragic. He sank into the chair, hands covering his face. "I'm sorry, Captain, I can't seem to help it," he gasped. Picard knelt by the chair and set a hand on one shaking shoulder.

"No apologies, Jim."

"Did Spock know? That Sarek..."

"Yes. He knew. They were reconciled." He refrained from talking about the meld, Sarek's illness and slow decline, and Picard's later meeting with Spock. Kirk slowly got himself back under control, and stood up.

"I.. beg your pardon, Captain. I'll just wash my face. Excuse me."

A few minutes later they were walking companionably along the corridors of the ship, Kirk drawing startled gazes from many passers-by. "Rumours of your identity are going around," Picard said, noting the looks.

Kirk shrugged.

"Bound to happen. Only other person I know of who returned from the dead was... Spock. Oh, dear, if he does still want me, what a topic of dinner conversation."

"Painful, I agree." The door to Picard's quarters shot open and he waved his guest through. "I happen to know that he took no other partner after you vanished."

Kirk faltered, then took a deep breath. "Thanks for that, I think. I hate to think of him lonely for most of a century though."

"Please, have a seat. Can I offer you a drink? Brandy?"

"Thanks."

Q chose that moment to flash into existence, and Kirk lept from the couch in shock. "What the..."

"Q!" Picard smiled. "I should have warned you, Jim. He does come and go rather quickly. Welcome home. Q, Jim Kirk. Jim, my husband, Q."

Kirk reached out a tentative hand, and seemed relieved to find Q's hand warm and human in his own. "A pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine, Captain Kirk, I assure you." Q released Jim's hand and turned to kiss Picard's cheek. "Good day at the office?"

"Other than Jim's arrival, fairly normal. Brandy, Q?"

"But of course." Q flopped onto the couch and ran his fingers through his hair. Kirk studied him with interest, speculating about what had brought this creature into Picard's ship and life. He settled back onto the couch and accepted the brandy from Picard.

"Were you able to find out anything further about who, or what, preserved Jim in that pod?" Picard pulled a chair closer to the couch and sat down.

"The Continuum isn't talking. Or at least, not to me, Jean-Luc. I listened at all the right event horizons, but not a squeak was to be heard. It's all a bit complicated for a simple human mind to grasp..."

"Don't tease, Q. He was the Captain of the Enterprise, you know, and we're a pretty bright lot."

Q pouted. "You never let me have any fun."

"That's a blatant lie." Picard sipped his brandy.

"Tell us what you do know."

"Very well. The energy being, which you folk refer to as the Nexus, moved through this sector recently." He snapped his fingers and a miniature multi-dimensional model of the Nexus ribbon was suddenly floating above the table, surrounded by stars. "The ribbon is a primitive creature, a form of energy that's very like Q energy, but completely disorganized. Not sentient, you understand. Or not very. It may even be some predecessor to Q, though Q has never managed to establish any sort of communication with it."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused. You're Q, aren't you?" Kirk asked, puzzled over the being's strange use of language.

"Q is one of many, and they're all called Q, and what they are is also called Q," Picard sighed. "And yes, it is confusing."

"Not to Q, it isn't. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Q drawled, waving his hand over the model.

"He's rude to everyone, Jim. Pay no attention."

Q glared at Picard, then beamed widely. "The Nexus is stupid. A sort of emotional paramecium. Witness that after bumbling around this universe for the last several million years, it didn't manage to avoid the Ras Aleghi singularity. Q could have steered it away, of course, but they wanted to see what would happen. If the Nexus had survived, I assure you that Q would steer it away next time." He waved a hand over his model and the Nexus exploded dramatically, dwindled and vanished.

"It entered the singularity?"

"You should be seeing the residual radiation in a few weeks, Jean-Luc." He sat back and sipped his brandy.

"The wreckage was impressive, a tear in the fabric of space-time that could have easily expanded to cause a premature end to this universe. Q mended the hole, of course. And found the most amazing things spewed out by the Nexus in doing so. To my knowledge Jim here was the only thing that came out alive."

"But how?"

Q shrugged. "Speculate. One, Q rescued him for some reason. It would be very anti-policy for them to do so. Non-interference and all that. Two, Kirk rescued himself. Tell me, Kirk... were you happy in the Nexus?"

Kirk blinked, then looked down at his brandy. "I remember so little of it. It's like a dream."

"It's well within the realm of possibility that you found that pod yourself, inside the Nexus, and put yourself to bed. In fact, it seems the most obvious possibility." Q sat up and snapped his fingers, refilling all three brandy glasses. "I'm starved. What should we eat?"

"Jim? Any preferences?"

He looked up again then, and shook his head. "I'm not particularly hungry. Anything."

"Wait till you taste my cooking, Captain." Q shot off the couch and crossed to the table. Stood silent for a moment then gave a dreamy smile and snapped his fingers. "Earth food. Lobster, pasta aglio e olio, baby green salad. A nice chardonnay from your farm, Johnny. Come, eat before the warm stuff gets cold and the cold stuff warm."

Seated and eating, Picard brought up his next topic.

"I had word from Star Fleet about you, Jim. Politely worded, but asking me to double check my facts, considering the involvement of a certain semi-omnipotent being..."

"I resent that. I'm very omnipotent."

"I didn't know one could qualify an absolute," Kirk said, smiling at the strange entity. "Spock would argue that one is either omnipotent or one is not, and there is no room for degree."

"I think I hate Spock. Well, Johnny? How do you propose to double check your facts?"

"I don't think I need to." Picard cracked a lobster claw and began to extract the meat. "It was a 'welcome back, we think' message. And I received a second message, regarding Ambassador Spock."

Kirk set down his fork and clenched his fists in his lap. "Yes?"

"He's on course to intercept us. We should rendevous in approximately 70 hours." He didn't add that at Star Fleet's order the Enterprise had changed course to intercept the Vulcan's ship. The Brass all wanted the Vulcan's confirmation that this really was Jim Kirk, and not a Continuum hoax.

"Three days." Kirk closed his eyes briefly. "God, that makes me feel sick. So many questions, Captain. I must have been dead or he would have known."

"Not necessarily, Kirk." Jim's eyes flew opened and fixed on Q's dark ones. "I don't think any sort of mortal telepathy, not even the vaunted Vulcan bond, could penetrate the Nexus energy. Now don't bristle at me, I am very easily offended."

"You are very frustrating." Kirk picked up his fork and forced himself to eat.

"Yes, I know. That appears to be my idiom. But, to continue; Jean-Luc here is the only mortal I've ever met that could retain a sense of purpose once inside the Nexus. For everyone else it's as if nothing existed before. As Johnny pointed out earlier, it takes a certain type of person to Captain the Enterprise... Perhaps you saw the pod as a means to eventually escape, physically. Furthermore, there's no proof at all that you actually died on Viridian 3, despite what Jean-Luc saw..."

"But I remember it. I remember being there."

"A construct of the mind is not the same as a physical body, Kirk. You should know that one. And while telepathic energy cannot penetrate the Nexus, there is no barrier to telepathy within the Nexus itself. The very energy that causes the Nexus to seem like paradise to most people, acting directly on their minds, means that minds inside the Nexus can interact with one another. Ergo, you and Jean-Luc met and saved the Earth." Q twirled his fork in his pasta and raised the fork with a flourish. "However from Spock's point of view, the moment you entered the Nexus you ceased to exist."

Kirk paled and took a gulp of wine.

Picard cleared his throat. "I checked up on what happened to Spock right after you vanished. He wasn't seen for almost two weeks, and when he was he went immediately to Vulcan, to Gol. Reports say he'd lost considerable weight, and moved like an invalid. He refused medical treatment on the transport vessel. A year later he returned to Earth and wrote the book, then carried on with his life."

"Oh, Spock." Silence fell as Kirk struggled for control. Picard refilled his glass twice before he managed to raise his head and blink at him. "I needed to know that. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Picard surveyed his guest carefully, trying to decide what would be best for the sorrowing man. More wine, he decided. Light talk, and a lot more wine. He met Q's eyes over the table and smiled. "Why don't you put on some music, Q, and tidy away the dishes. And another bottle of wine would go down well. Jim, let me tell you about how I met this big, handsome, semi-omnipotent entity..."

4/6

Jim woke with reluctance, forced himself into almost-sleep a dozen times before he acknowledged the thirst and the full bladder. He hauled himself, queasy, to the edge of the bed, and set his feet on the floor. "I haven't felt this bad since my last shore leave with Scotty," he mumbled, and was surprised by a chuckle from the doorway. He looked up and saw Q leaning against the wall. Belatedly he reached for the sheet.

"I've seen it before, Kirk. Think of me as your little helper. Now, how about a nice drink of water?"

He snapped his fingers and was instantly holding a litre jar. Kirk took it and drained it in six long gulps. Snorted as he finished and held it up. Q grinned and took it.

"Thanks. Sorry about last night."

"Nonsense. You needed a good drunk. Jean-Luc sends his greetings. I am also to offer you breakfast."

"I... thanks. I'd better get cleaned up."

Jim stumbled into the shower and set it for hot, spent several minutes with his face turned up into the spray. As the numbness slowly left he soaped up and washed his hair, then rinsed thoroughly and shut the shower off. He dried roughly and tied a towel around his waist, then padded out to the bedroom.

Small noises from the other room alerted him that Q was still here. Jim hurried to dress before peering into the front room.

Q looked up from perusing "The First Five Years" and smiled. "Now you look more like the famous Captain Kirk. I revise my estimate of Spock - I can't hate anyone who writes this well. Are you a kippers and toast man, or bacon and eggs?"

"I could eat a.." Kirk suddenly remembered his host's abilities and sense of humour, and the word 'horse' died in his mouth. He smiled. "Bacon and scrambled eggs and toast and coffee, please. Did you carry me home and put me to bed?" Q stood up and breakfast appeared on the table.

"Most discreetly. Eat your breakfast now, and the cure will be complete. If you can't handle your liquor, you'll at least recover with the speed of that young constitution." Kirk, still grinning, sat down and waved a hand at the other chair.

"Join me?"

"Thanks, but I have work to do. See you around, Kirk."

He wolfed down most of the food, and sat back in amazement; Q was right, his hangover was vanishing at a tremendous rate. Once full he dropped the various dishes into the recycle slot below the replicator and stretched out on the couch to continue reading Spock's book.

He was well into year two when the comm chirped at him - he stood up and crossed to the desk. "Kirk here."

"Good morning," came Picard's rather distinguished voice. "I trust you've recovered?"

"Fully, and my apologies for the display. Disgusting at my age, but what can you do?"

Picard chuckled. "No apology required. I'd like to send Counselor Troi down to you again. She suspects you might like a more thorough tour of engineering. Doctor Crusher would also like to see you in sickbay, when you have time."

"I appear to have nothing but time, Captain. Thanks for the heads up. Kirk out."

Picard stared at the intercom in bemusement, then looked up at Deanna. "Well, I must say, that's the first time I've been dismissed on my own ship. Off you go, then, Counselor."

Deanna, smiling, nodded. "He's used to being deferred to, of course. Only natural; old habits die hard, Captain."

She spent the morning with him; a complete and exhaustive tour of engineering. He surprised Geordi with the insight his questions showed, with how quickly he seemed to understand this new and complex technology. Deanna waited patiently while he crawled up Jeffries tubes with LaForge, discussed engine schematics with Data and generally acted like a man in love with a starship. He was reluctant to be dragged away from the main engine room for lunch, and even more reluctant to be shown into sickbay for a check-up. When Deanna, at his insistence, left him alone with Doctor Crusher, he grew shy.

"Doc, I've got a question. A worry, actually."

"Not surprising, Captain. Go ahead, I'll help if I can."

"Am I aging normally?"

Beverly blinked, then smiled her best bed-side smile.

"A perfectly understandable concern, considering what you've gone through. And one I can't answer properly today. I'll do a full survey though, to compare to our original reading from when you first came aboard. Another reading every day for two or three days, and I should have your answer."

He sighed relief. "Yes, thank you. I'd like to just ignore my fears about this, but considering that every time I look in the mirror... it's a shock. It's a wonderful gift, if it's real... but it's..." He waved a hand at himself, at a loss for words. Beverly nodded.

"It's a worry, and a valid one. Hop up on the bio-bed and let me get my readings, and then show up here after lunch tomorrow and the next day. I should have an answer for you by then. Alright?"

"Good." Kirk marveled at how easy it was to lift himself to the bed and lie down. "It's amazing, being so limber again after feeling my body slowly tighten up over the years."

Crusher smiled, pulling a monitor forward. "I can't imagine."

"No. Uh, doctor, I'm not familiar with practices on board starships these days. In my day, all the cabins were monitored for physical... well, norms. Is that still the case?"

Beverly was busy scanning her monitors, recording the data. "Yes, of course. In case of a cardiac arrest, an allergic crisis... things of that nature. Why?"

"Well... you don't... do you have cameras, audio sensors, these days?"

She stopped dead and stared. "Certainly not! I didn't know that *those* were in use a century ago. What a horrific invasion of privacy! Cameras, indeed! What a notion. Your Star Fleet was certainly a lot more invasive than mine is, Captain." She went about her work with abrupt, angry movements. "I can't believe it. How demeaning."

"Well, it was very rarely used, in my time," Kirk offered, by way of appeasement, propping himself up on one elbow. The doctor glanced up, eyes glittering.

"I should hope so. That's spying, pure and simple. A tremendous invasion of personal privacy. No wonder you and Spock had to be so care..." She stopped, staring. "I'm sorry."

Kirk swallowed his laughter and shook his head. "Don't be. I'm afraid I've led you on... we didn't use those things in my day, either. But I was afraid, because I'm a... a *curiousity*, that you might be monitoring *me*." He ducked his head. "It might've been embarrassing. If you were."

Crusher paled, then flushed from her collar to her hairline. "Well, we're not. You could conjure up a flock of geese and dispatch them by hand, if you wanted to... you can pretty much do what you want in your cabin, Captain, and no one will be the wiser. Now lie down and let me finish this."

Kirk thanked the doctor when she had finished, and returned to his quarters alone, over Deanna's protests. He managed to shut her out with various excuses of tiredness, and threw himself onto the couch.

So strange. So many new things, too much to learn.

"Computer."

"Working, Captain Kirk." So. The computer now called him Captain". He grinned and sat up.

"How would I go about sending a message to Captain Picard; not an urgent message, just a memo."

He listened to the instructions, then crossed to the desk and tapped the intercom. "Kirk to communications."

"Lieutenant Salvos, Sir. Go ahead."

"Lieutenant, will you leave a message for Captain Picard that I would like to speak with him, at his convenience."

"I'll inform him immediately." Kirk grimaced.

"No, just prioritize with his normal messages, please. There is no urgency about this."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

Kirk tapped the comm again, sighed when it beeped almost immediately. "Kirk here."

"Jim? Jean-Luc. Now don't be too hard on the comm officer, I wasn't busy, and he's very young. What's going on?"

Jim smiled and stroked the desk. "I was wondering if I rated a tour of the bridge, sir. I'm dying of curiousity."

A chuckle sounded back over the comm. "Just don't get any ideas, *Captain*. This one's taken."

"I know. I wouldn't presume... I wouldn't know where to begin. Besides, it looks like the Enterprise has the best Captain she could have... if they stuck me in charge I'd just pick a fight with someone and screw everything up."

Another chuckle. "If you want to come up now just go to the turbo lift nearest your quarters and ask for the Bridge. You're fully authorized. I'll meet you at the door."

Jim checked his appearance, then ducked into the bathroom to comb his hair. Weird, having all this blond hair again. He'd have to pay attention. He decided he looked perfectly respectable, the dark wine and grey tunic and trousers suited him. He squared his shoulders in front of the mirror and then gave himself a salute. "Captain, to the bridge. Aye-aye."

Jean-Luc was just striding up the walkway when the door opened, giving Jim a wonderful view of the busy Bridge of the Enterprise. He stepped out slowly, accepted Picard's hand in greeting. "It's lovely, Captain."

"Yes." Picard turned slightly as Riker paced up behind him. "James Kirk, my first officer, Commander Will Riker."

"An honour, sir," Riker said, shaking the offered hand. "Welcome home."

"Riker? Any relationship to Bill Riker?"

"My grandfather, sir. A family legend."

"Hmmm. We'll talk. Captain, can I beg a tour?"

He tried to take it in, as Picard showed him around. Ops, Nav. Comm, and the officer blushed purple. Environment and Sciences. At Weapons a glowering Klingon who spoke in very complimentary tones, for a Klingon. Jim managed to summon a phrase of thanks in the officer's own language that made him flush darkly, and execute a half-bow. As he followed Picard away he heard the Klingon rumble "what nice manners he has.." and stifled a snort of laughter.

"Jim?"

"Nothing. Please, show me more."

"Not much more to see, but you're welcome to observe. Pull up a chair."

The men settled, Picard in the centre seat, Riker on his right and Kirk on his left. "Where are we now? What is your current assignment?"

Picard straightened his tunic. "We were on a restocking run out along the neutral zone stations, showing our strength, as it were. I'm afraid we were rerouted when your recovery was relayed to Fleet. We're on route now to intercept Ambassador Spock. He was working undercover on Ch'Rihan."

"They rerouted Enterprise, for me?" Jim felt his emotions drop into turmoil. "That's not right."

"I'm afraid it is," Riker piped up. "Although we are all convinced of your veracity, it'll take a certain Vulcan's opinion to prove it to Star Fleet."

"Commander!" Picard snapped, as Kirk paled. Kirk didn't move, though his eyes narrowed. After a moment he turned to Picard.

"La plus ca change, hmmm?" He shook his head. "Well, in my time they'd have thrown me in the brig until I could prove my identity. So some things do change."

"I'm sorry, I meant no insult." Riker shifted uncomfortably. "Please accept..."

"Nonsense." Kirk sat back. "Though one should be careful about insulting the company one works for, whether it's the corner clothing store or Star Fleet, commander. In fact, this waiting might be easier if I were in the brig, Captain Picard. It would certainly be less confusing."

"Well, the accommodations there are hardly what we'd call adequate for a visiting VIP, Captain." Ah, now even Picard was calling him Captain in public, and without any sarcastic emphasis. "Did you enjoy your earlier tour with Counselor Troi?"

"Yes. She's a very interesting person, and well informed about your ship and crew." Kirk let Picard turn the topic to the ship's facilities, and a few minutes later let himself be taken off the bridge to the Captain's ready room.

"Lord! Wish I'd had one of these! An office right off the bridge." He glanced at the view, then back at Picard. "Your first officer's a little quick off the mark."

"A valuable trait, to me. I also wish Star Fleet would accept the evidence and declare you outright. It's not fair to you, or to my crew, to have this ambiguous 'maybe' hanging over us all. I'll be glad to have Ambassador Spock aboard, and the last doubts removed."

"I understand. As to seeing Spock, I am looking forward to it... and dreading it. What sort of partner will a sixty-something make for a man almost 150 years old? I dread even more him walking up to me and... rejecting me. Being all Vulcan, and cold. The tremendous life experience he's had since I... since I left."

"Since you died. Yes. Can I offer you brandy? Or tea?"

"Brandy. A small one, and water it down, please. I think I learned my lesson about that last night."

Picard ordered the drinks as Kirk prowled the small room. He stopped before the fish tank. "Lion fish. Interesting."

"Yes. One of the loveliest of tropical reef fishes, and one of the most deadly." Picard handed Kirk his brandy. "Tell me about dying."

Kirk sipped the brandy and gazed at the fish, then turned back to the viewport, gestured toward the stars. "It's like that, Jean- Luc. Like hurtling through the stars without fear, toward something wonderful. Only I never got to the wonderful something. I stopped in the Nexus and... I don't know. I don't know what happened there. Then I was with you... and then, again, hurtling through space until I woke up in your sickbay."

"No feelings? No emotions?"

Kirk sipped the brandy again, then swung himself down onto the couch. "A tremendous sense of loss," he whispered. "Like I was tearing myself in half, with my own hands."

Silence fell, Picard perched on the edge of his desk, Kirk slumped on the couch. When Kirk looked up at last his eyes were huge, overbright. "I'm frightened, Jean-Luc. What can I do if he rejects me? I'd rather be dead. Or... God, I almost wish he were dead..."

"So you could mourn him in turn, and you two would be even?"

Kirk nodded, eyes falling back to the amber liquid he held. "I feel so guilty."

"But you've forgotten; you did mourn him once already, Jim. So you two are even, if you care to apply competition to such tragic circumstances. He died saving the Enterprise. In case you've forgotten, you did too. Don't you think he will understand the logical necessity of that?"

Kirk snorted and shook his head. "You could teach rhetoric to a Vulcan, Captain. But rhetoric can't tell me why this happened. Is there a god, Jean-Luc? Who, what, is doing this to us?" He stood up and began to pace. "Is it possible, what Q said, that I put myself into that pod?"

"You describe a sense of loss. Anything is possible."

He watched Kirk pace. Imagined him doing this a century ago on the bridge of his own Enterprise when presented with a dilemma. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Kirk stopped and stared at him. "Did you read Spock's book?"

"Yes."

"It never stopped, Jean-Luc. It never got less, never got boring, never became stale. We made love the morning I went to the Enterprise B... We loved each other like people in a romance novel. Intensely. Completely. I'd rather jump out an airlock now than have him reject me." He snorted as if rejecting his own romantic turn. "I'm a complete idiot, where Spock is concerned. That's probably why they wrote the damned rule to begin with."

"Possibly. But it never hurt your command."

"It changed it. Hurt... no. We didn't think so. But changed it, certainly."

"You're getting into symantics. Or worse, semiotics. Let it go."

Kirk snorted again and shot Picard a look. "You're right. Again." He swung himself back down onto the couch and sipped his brandy. "You know another thing that bothers me. I look so awfully young. How will anyone take me seriously?"

Picard chuckled. "Are you forgetting you were about that age when they first gave you the Enterprise? Youngest ship's Captain ever. Good god, Jim, I was studying battles you fought, and strategies you pioneered, at the Academy when I was in my twenties. Things you did in your early thirties, during that first mission. I don't think you need to worry about people taking you seriously."

"I can't believe they did, now. When I look in the mirror, I think; who would listen to the opinion of such an obvious tyro? How are people going to know, looking at me, that's I'm well into my sixth decade?"

"They'll know. Get used to the idea, Jim. You're a cultural icon."

"Now who's getting into semiotics?" Jim sighed and drained his brandy, then set down the glass. "You'll have work to do. Captains always have work to do. And I'm hardly fit to be company. I think I'll go back and... finish the book."

Picard stood up and offered his hand, which Kirk took automatically. "If it's any help, I do understand that it's very hard for you. Come and talk to me anytime. While we're on our way to meet Spock, well," he snorted, thinking of how bored he'd been just the day before, "it's unlikely anything in this sector of space is going to require my attention before we meet him. And Captain... perhaps you'd like to go riding."

"Pardon?" The sheer irrelevancy of the question brought Kirk up short, his hand falling to his side.

"Riding? Horses?"

"Horses. Yes. I take it Deanna didn't show you our holo-decks."

"Hollow decks? You have empty decks to ride horses in?" Kirk looked so lost that Picard almost reached out to hug him.

"Holographic projection decks. I'd be more than pleased to take you for a horse-back ride. Tomorrow morning. You'll like it, trust me. I'll pick you up at 0900; it's my normal day off. Q may join us as well."

Kirk's brow furrowed. "Alright. But I've no gear. No riding clothes."

"I'll bring some. Good afternoon, Captain. And try not to worry to much. What will happen, will happen."

"You're right. I'll be okay, Captain. It's just angst, or something. Thanks for the drink."

5/6

Kirk lay on his bed three afternoons later. He'd just come back from appointment with Doctor Crusher. "To all appearances you are aging normally, for a thirty year old human male, Captain."

Captain. They all called him Captain. He wasn't even capable of captaining a garbage scow in this universe... and they knew it. The skills it took to Captain this Enterprise were far removed from the ones he had. Oh, Picard could have Captained his Enterprise, certainly. But Kirk lacked the finesse, the sheer charm... Damn. He'd had that conversation with Picard on their second ride... miraculous, what these people could do with holography. He'd felt the horse beneath him, felt the wind on his face and smelled the trees and flowers and grasses...

He turned over and punched the pillow. Only a little while longer. And he'd know. The comm chirped and he felt his flesh shrink. "Kirk here." He'd learned he didn't have to push the buttons. Just talk. Picard's voice came back.

"Captain, Ambassador Spock's ship is within tractor range. Shall I meet you in the shuttle bay?"

Jim almost squirmed. "I'm not going. I'll... I'll wait for him here."

"Jim..."

"I can't do it, Jean-Luc. Not in front of people. I can't."

On the bridge the crew fell silent and still, all of them aching at the pain in that voice. And of course, Kirk didn't know anyone was listening... Picard stood up. "Understood, Captain. Picard out." He wheeled to his crew. "Not one of you heard that. Is that clear?"

Little nods, acknowledgments. Picard sighed, knowing it would be all over this ship in minutes. They were fascinated by Kirk, and all as anxious about Spock's verdict as Picard was. "I'll be in shuttle bay 2. You have the bridge, Number One."

"Yes sir."

Picard took the lift down to Kirk's quarters and pressed the call. "Jim, it's Jean-Luc. Please let me in."

It slid open, and he stepped inside, saw Kirk standing in the door to his bedroom. He looked fine: compact, complete, in control. Unless one noted the distinct tremor in his hands, and the way he was licking his lips. "Yes?"

"Jim... please come down and meet him. There won't be a crowd, just me and a couple of technicians. Please."

Kirk turned abruptly away, grabbing the doorframe to steady himself. "Jean-Luc.. What if I'm not me? If this is some kind of trick?"

"We've talked about that before." Picard paced into the room and grasped Kirk's shoulder. "It's something you owe to both of you, Jim. Come and see him. Come and see for yourself." He squeezed the shoulder, and went on in a lighter tone. "Besides, who are you to argue with the Captain of the Enterprise?"

A laugh that was almost a sob, then Kirk straightened.

"Yes. Alright. Only promise you'll kill me, won't you? If he doesn't acknowledge me?"

"Don't be daft, man. Come on."

Jim couldn't later recall the short walk and turbo-lift ride to the shuttle bay. He was standing still, shaking, as the tidy black ship was tractored in and settled on the vast floor. Picard, beside him, had a reassuring hand on his upper arm. Or perhaps the hand was restraining him. He felt like running.

Jim stared at the door of the shuttle, and waited.

Metal ticked as it warmed up. Silence fell. After an interminably long time the door of the little yacht swung open.

He was there. Dressed dark in Romulan finery, his cape swinging nearly to the ground. The face: older, harder than Jim remembered. Black eyes fixed on his own as the Vulcan crossed the floor. Jim heard Picard speaking, heard him falter and fall silent. His whole world contracted to that beloved face, inches from his own. Older, a few more lines. Harder. Cold.

Spock raised a hand and brushed his cheek, and Jim felt as if his knees would give way.

"Spock... I'm so sorry." Still, there was nothing. No inner connection, no flame of recognition. "I didn't mean to leave you alone so long..."

And that was ludicrous. The dark eyes were matte, unreadable. "Do you have chambers? I do not wish to talk here, before these people."

"I... yes." He turned like an automaton. "This way."

Kirk remembered even less of the walk back. Aware only of the footsteps of the man beside him. When the door to his cabin closed he merely stopped moving, frozen in place. A rustling behind him, and then Spock was there, his face anguished.

"Are you Jim? Even here, even now, I feel no... no thread..."

Jim was near fainting, forced himself to breath. "I'm so sorry. I left you, and I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Are you Jim?"

Jim reached out and grasped one hot hand, held it up to his face. "Come, feel me, feel for yourself. Come to me, Spock, I can't stand it another second."

The Vulcan features hardened again and the hot hand closed on his face, the grip vise-like. Jim felt the sudden and oh-so- welcome loss of Self, the swirling universe dancing around him, and then the shock of recognition, the awareness of Other...

//It is you// Soft. Wondering. //It is you.// And no gentle first probing Meld, this. The whole of Spock burst in on him, surrounding him, filling his being with overpowering joy and love, and then a fierce, undeniable lust... Sense fled, and Kirk crumbled to the floor.

"Captain!" Picard turned at the urgency in Crusher's voice. He'd come to sickbay after that extraordinary reunion, worried. And obviously rightly.

"Doctor?" Crusher was staring at the emergency monitors, knuckles white as her hands clenched into fists before her.

"Jean-Luc, Kirk's collapsed, he's completely unconscious. Could Spock have attacked him?. I have to go... oh god." She swallowed, grew still as the monitors from Kirk's cabin changed again. "I'd say you have your answer as to whether Kirk's genuine, Captain."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Spock's bio-signs show every indication that he is spontaneously entering Pon Farr. Captain, that cabin is officially under medical seal until this is over."

"I beg your pardon? We've ample experience at dealing with..." Beverly shook her head.

"Captain... spontaneous Pon Farr is extremely rare, and the most dangerous form of the phenomenon. No warning, no thought. No stages. One moment the Vulcan is perfectly in control and the next he's gone straight into 'Plak Tow'. The only recorded cases are ones in which a full mating bond was accidentally initiated between grown Vulcan males."

Picard shot to his feet. "But... he could kill Kirk."

"Easily. Though this isn't the first time either of them have been through it... I'll keep an eye on the life-signs, Captain. Meanwhile, that door is locked and I want a guard on the corridor. Keep everyone away from them. Lord." She shook her head, staring at the monitors. "Talk about your classic dilemma."

"Doctor?"

"If Spock isn't careful - and Vulcans in Pon Farr are not careful, Captain - well, as you said, he could kill Kirk. There's a reason they refer to the Plak Tow as 'the madness'. But if I beam Kirk out, it would kill Spock. Which of the two lives do you value most, Captain? Which do I value most? Which does the Federation value most?" She swallowed. Picard stared, then glanced at the monitors. They were gibberish to him, flashes and sparkles and waving lines.

"Let us pray that it doesn't come to that, Doctor. And if it does..." He shivered, and made his decision. "Can you imagine either of them would be sane, if the other died *again*? You're not to interfere. No matter what."

"But I might be able to drug Spock, if Kirk..." She pushed her fingers through her hair. "I could flood the cabin and knock out Spock, if Kirk needed care. I *might* be able to save them both, if... if it comes to it. Permission to... damn."

"Damn?" Picard took her shoulder. "Permission to monitor the situation is granted, obviously. Permission to drug the Ambassador and beam out the human... you'll have to give me more information."

Beverly turned to him, face pale. "I'd only do it if I saw that he'd killed Kirk, inflicted a deadly injury on him. I could probably beam Kirk out, assist him, and beam him back in before Spock suffered too badly from the drugs. But no promises, Jean-Luc."

He shook his head. "Then no permissions, Beverly. Watch, and let me know if that sort of intervention is even likely. But don't do it without my express permission. I'm sorry, Doctor."

She shook her head, but not in disagreement. "Why does this have to be so damned hard for them? They've earned a little peace."

Spock stooped and felt his human's life force, then scooped him up in his arms. Of course, Jim had fainted. No mental contact in how long? Spock felt the heat building in his body and his grip on his human tightened. He let his head roll back, easing the growing tension in his shoulders, then carried his burden into the bedroom.

So young. He surveyed the limp form on the bed, then bent and began to tear the clothing off of Jim's still form. Boots first... there. Looked again. Young.

Spock tore the thin tunic. Jim didn't look a day older than he had when he'd taken the first Enterprise out... Spock tossed the shirt aside, undid the pants and yanked them away. He stopped then, the torn garment in one hand, and stared.

The scars were gone, some faint voice said. The scars from that first Pon Farr...

Spock settled on the bed's edge and traced the taut abdomen almost lovingly with one finger. Such a gift, he heard himself think. The thought came from far away. Hunger overwhelmed him. He would have this man. He would...

"Spock."

Faint voice. He looked up and found the hazel eyes gazing fearlessly into his own. The hunger moved back slightly. "Jim." He felt the rut, the total abandon of Plak Tow, bearing down. "Jim, I'm sorry, I can't help it."

"Don't." The strong hands came up and cupped his face. "Don't hold back, Spock. I welcome it. I welcome you. I give myself to you. Freely. Quench the burning in me. I am yours."

Spock felt relief wash over him, even as the hunger built. "I will hurt you. And I don't wish to hurt you," he gasped, his voice harsh. The hazel eyes smiled.

"I don't mind. As long as it's you. Remember that."

And then the burning overwhelmed Spock and he rose, tearing the clothes from his body, in a fever to possess the man on the bed...

Jim gasped as Spock grabbed his shoulders with tremendous strength and turned him, dragging him to the bed's edge. There was no foreplay, no tenderness.

Just a hard, hot pressure at his ass and then searing pain as the Vulcan tore into him. He heard himself cry out, but the pain and the pounding were all he could think about as Spock's harsh breath thundered in his ear. He struggled briefly, trying to find a way to make it hurt less, but the Vulcan's grip was unbreakable, unbelievably strong. Jim closed his eyes and whimpered; his knees burned from the floor, his hands ached where he clutched the bedspread. He tried to relax, tried to make that burning, tearing pain inside him ease...

The Vulcan screamed in truimph as he came, and came, and Jim's breath was forced in and out by the strength of the Vulcan's thrusts pushing him against the bed's edge. A sudden scorching pain in his shoulder, then an audible *snap* as one hand closed tightly on his clavicle... Jim forced himself to relax utterly, head swimming at the new pain, trying not to lose consciousness.

Spock withdrew, shuddering. Jim sagged against the bed's edge, knowing what was next. Knowing it was a long way from over. He wasn't disappointed, for the Vulcan suddenly hauled him upright and pressed him face first against the wall. Jim screamed as his broken clavicle sent its message of distress, and the Vulcan's hands drew his arms up over his head. He thought he was going to faint again. Then...

"Mine," came the low voice. "You're mine. Mine. Don't move. No, don't move..."

Spock rose up beneath him, impaling him... though this time it was easier, his ass wet with the Vulcan's semen. And his own blood, he realized. The pain in his shoulder and neck made him struggle against this new assault and he kicked out, only to be slammed against the wall, and the pain made him scream again as his wrist twisted too far in the Vulcan's grip.

Then, without warning, he was in the air and falling face down onto the bed...

He lost consciousness many times, only to waken again to the relentless driving body, the harsh breath, the incredible grip. He was a moving sea of pain. It seemed forever before he woke to silence, and stillness, and a distant soft noise that might have been crying...

"Spock?"

Scrambling in the dark, then a low light came on. A quiet moan. "Jim. I'll summon the doctor. Lie still."

"No."Jim tried to move from his position, curled on his side, but his body shrieked rebellion. The cabin stank, he stank. He knew he had broken bones, he could feel them moving with his breath. "Not yet. Are you okay, love?"

Spock made a queer choking noise, and Jim winced as the bed sagged. "You can ask that? You can care?"

Jim drew a shallow breath, another, feeling his broken clavicle, the dislocated shoulder, the snapped bones in wrist and ankle. The searing agony that was his anus and colon. He managed a chuckle. "Of course I care. I love you. Can you clean me up?"

He felt Spock's astonishment through the Bond, and relished the feeling. "Jim?" Spock's hands were on him then, stroking gently. "It wouldn't be wise. I might injure you worse..."

"Oh, Spock." Kirk sighed. "How long have we been here? I'm awfully thirsty."

"I don't know." A rare admission for the Vulcan.

"Un.... the wall calendar says it's been almost three days." He heard the hope and fear in Spock's voice.

"Three days. No wonder. Spock, would you bring me a drink of water, and get some warm water to clean me up before we call in the medics? I don't see any reason to give them more to gossip about, and it really stinks in here."

The stroking hand moved to his cheek, and Kirk turned his head to capture one finger and suck on it weakly.

Spock made a low, rumbling sound, then rose. "You... I don't deserve you. Very well, lie still and I shall bring you water, and clean us up."

He was back in moments, holding a straw up to Jim's broken lips. Jim sipped the water until the cup was empty, then relaxed again. "Thank you. And Spock... Anything. I'd do anything for you, you know that."

A soft hand smoothed his hair. "Why don't you sleep awhile, my own, while I clean us both up?"

"Slept enough. I missed almost a century of you."

Jim opened his eyes and smiled up into the dark eyes above him. "Besides, I don't want them to think this is all your fault, you Vulcan! Though I have to admit, it didn't occur to me that I'd be dealing with Pon Farr right off the bat. Are you really okay now?"

"Perfectly. And suffering the usual guilt, magnified tenfold by raping you almost to death after not having seen you in nearly a century." Jim felt the suffering under that comment and shook his head, gasping as his

shoulder protested.

"I won't have it. Use our Bond, pay attention Spock. What do I feel?"

A moment's silence. Then Spock's low voice. "Love."

"Exactly. I long ago learned about Pon Farr, Spock, though that's the first time I've gone through it without lube.... So if, of your goodness, you could clean the blood and shit off me, I'd be obliged..."

"Jim." Spock bent and kissed him, very gently. "Lie still now, while I fetch the water."

When Spock returned Jim insisted on being lifted off the filthy bed onto the couch, and managed not to black out again at the pain. Spock cleaned him gently, all over, then covered him with a blanket and went to change the sheets and wash the blood and other body fluids off the walls. It was a small penance, but Jim knew from experience that it made Spock feel better to do these menial tasks. He waited until the Vulcan knelt before him again, clean and in a fresh robe. "Does it smell okay now?" he asked, tracing the strong jaw with his good hand. Spock nodded.

"Yes. Thank you for your patience." Then a sudden deep, exploring kiss, Spock capturing his head in both hands. "Thank you for coming back to me. I was half a man, without you."

"I love you. I'm sorry I left. I didn't mean to, really."

"I know. I know." Spock rose and straightened his robe. "Spock to Sickbay."

"Doctor Crusher here." The voice was tentative, careful. The two men exchanged looks and Kirk sighed deeply, content.

"Doctor, Spock here. I request your assistance in Jim's quarters. Anticipate multiple broken bones and some internal injury. I assure you that you and your staff are in no danger."

Picard entered with the medical team, saw the gentle way Spock stroked Jim's hair as the human was lifted onto the anti-grav stretcher. Saw the way Crusher's recriminations rolled off his back as the Vulcan watched Jim carried carefully away. Saw the sweet smile that the Vulcan tried to hide. He walked over after the medical team was gone, and caught Spock's attention. "Ambassador?"

"Hmm. I apologize, Captain, for putting your crew through that waiting period." He sighed softly. Picard could only imagine the physical relief that came at the price of Kirk's broken body. "If I had known that would be the result of seeing him again, I would have requested he beam out to my ship." He straightened up and the smile was carefully hidden. "In answer to the Federation's question, that is definitely Jim Kirk."

"We signaled them the moment Beverly realized you'd gone into Pon Farr, Ambassador. Everything is well, then?"

"More than well. And with your permission, I'll join him in sickbay. Captain Picard, you can't imagine the gift that man is to me."

"It'd take a lot before I'd put up with... that."

Spock turned and nodded, not disagreeing.

"It only takes love, Captain, for a human. That's what always astonishes me. For a Vulcan it takes so much thinking, so much analysis, so much nonsense... so much work. For a human, at least for that human, it only takes love. If there is a more blessed people in the galaxy, I can't name them. Excuse me."

Picard stood stunned, as the tall, dignified Vulcan swept out. To hear such a thing from a Vulcan, to hear a Vulcan speak of blessedness... To hear such a thing from a grown male of any species, especially after what had happened in these rooms over the last few days... Picard realized that he was near tears.

And not from sadness or pain. He brushed his eyes and strode from the room. He very much wanted to see Q.

Spock eyed the rather flamboyant entity across the conference table, going over the facts as presented.

"It would seem illogical that a human being, even James Kirk, would be unhappy or unsatisfied in the Nexus. From all reports the state one enters is one of ... bliss."

"Vulcans know a lot about bliss, I'll bet." Q leaned back and put his feet up on the table. Picard made no move to interfere, fascinated by the interaction of that powerful Vulcan mind and the endless knowledge that was Q's vast history.

"Vulcans, in general, do not, Q. I am not most Vulcans." He steepled his elegant hands and considered. "I have studied the reports from this ship regarding you, Q. I am aware of your propensity for... fun. However I do note that your actions over the years have been rather more helpful toward the Federation, and this ship in particular, than otherwise."

Q gave a half bow toward the Vulcan. "My fan."

"I therefore choose to believe your assertion that you did not compass Jim's release from the Nexus. I find it less easy to believe that you had nothing to do with his apparent age."

"But, Spock, *why* would I make him young? I *like* older men." Q grinned mischievously at Picard.

"It occurred to me that the Continuum, or you personally, might have had something to do with Jim's being lost in the first place. At the time it would have meant little to you, or any other Q, that you were destroying one half of a bonded pair. However, since you have come to discover the value of such a bond yourself, the act could have been one of... remorse."

Picard knew, as the colour drained from Q's face, that Spock had pushed the right button. He waited. Q took his feet from the table and rested his arms on it instead. "You're a clever old Vulcan, aren't you?"

"Q? You did do it?"

"No." Q looked over at Picard. "I didn't. Q did. Amanda, actually."

"Amanda wasn't even born when Kirk was lost, Q. Make sense," Picard countered.

"Q was aware of the Nexus when it collided with Enterprise. They considered diverting it, but... well, several Q at the time weren't fond of Kirk. They thought it best to let it continue on course."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "In those days Q was still very wary of humanity, Jean-Luc. It was decades of your time before Q sent me to FarPoint, remember. Kirk was... not a threat, but a challenge that Q didn't like. I wasn't even in the neighborhood at the time. Amanda found out about this after she'd already rescued Kirk."

"And Amanda is the one who changed Jim's age? Made him young? Why?"

"Amanda was in love with love, Jean-Luc. When she realized who we had in the pod, she couldn't bear the idea of Kirk waking up a sixty something man for Spock to lose all over again in thirty or forty years. I think she grew up with a copy of Spock's book under her pillow. I didn't know it when I first brought him here, she'd done her work before I took over the pod. And I didn't put him in the pod, or cause the Nexus accident. We found him after the Nexus imploded, as I told you."

Spock sat back, nodding. "And is Amanda... I assume that is the Q who was raised by humans?" Q nodded.

"Is Amanda prepared to undo what she did?"

"Why would you want her to? Good god, Spock, you've got your man back, intact, with a lifetime ahead of him. I'd say Amanda did you a favour."

"Ambassador." Picard leaned forward. "I know Amanda quite well. I'm sure she meant her action as a gift, and not as a mischief. I would urge you to accept it in the spirit it is given."

Spock was very still. At last he nodded. "I will discuss it with Jim. If he is willing, I will accept his current physical appearance.

"James."

Jim Kirk stirred in his bed, and woke. Recognized the voice that was calling his name, and smiled. "Spock. Hey...."

"Good morning." A gentle hand pushed the hair off his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Jim drew a long breath and released it, checking his body's reactions. "I feel fine. I feel good." He forced his eyes open, felt them sag again. "I can't quite seem to wake up though."

"Doctor, the antidote drug, please. He's perfectly well."

There was a short pressure against his neck, and the leaden feeling in his lids went away. He blinked up at Spock. "Hey, you're a handsome man. Have I ever told you?"

"Occasionally." The dark eyes twinkled. "Do you still feel good? Check and find out, the doctor's standing right here waiting. Arm, leg, neck, ribs? Be sure. You've been two days undergoing regen."

Jim summoned some order to his thoughts, checked his body carefully with both hands and all his senses. "I feel fine, Spock. Doctor. And more awake by the moment... and very, very hungry."

Spock's face twisted slightly, the way it always did when he was trying not to smile in the presence of a stranger. "Would you care for some plomeek soup?"

"I'd rather be drugged back to sleep. But if there's a good chicken salad sandwich on the menu..."

"I give up,"Beverly said, laughing. "Take him away, Ambassador. Captain Kirk, you'll report back here tomorrow for a checkup, otherwise you're free to go."

"Sure." He sat up, letting Spock steady him. "Do I have any clothes, Hephaistos, or are you gonna just drape your shield in front of me?"

He saw Spock's jaw working as he fought not to smile at the reference. "Your clothes are here. If the Doctor will excuse us, I will assist you in dressing."

 "Sure. Just one thing, doctor?"

Beverly paused in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Am I cleared for the full gamut of adult inter-relations?"

Beverly blushed and smiled, and then nodded. "Use lube, boys. Lots of lube, or doctor's gonna spank. Okay?"

Kirk's stiffness wore off as he walked sedately beside Spock. Back to the cabin. "Spock, I'm sorry."

"What exactly are you sorry for, now?"

"Everything. Nothing. Leaving you for so long, and then subjecting you to this as soon as I see you again. I know that you dislike having others..." He trailed off, feeling shy. Spock set a light hand on his shoulder.

"The mystique regarding Vulcan mating has almost totally vanished since last you woke up in this universe, James. Mated Vulcans routinely serve together on long voyages. Pon Farr has been accepted, both on Vulcan and off Vulcan, as a biological necessity. It is treated as such. I have no shame regarding what occurs between us when the madness comes. My only wish is that I hadn't hurt you so badly."

The door to their quarters opened, and closed behind them. Kirk turned to face Spock and smiled, lifted a finger to Spock's lips. "I'm not hurt now."

Spock kissed the finger, and shook his head. "No, but you are hungry. I am hungry. We will eat, first, James."

Jim let his hand drop. "Very well. But after that, I'm following doctor's orders."

"Pardon me?"

"About using lots of lube." He wandered over to the replicator and considered. "What's your poison, Spock?"

"Pasta. The carbohydrates will assist in your continued recovery." Spock settled at the table, marveling at the sight of Jim ordering and serving their meal. "If I were more human, I would wonder if this was a dream. I did not think I would ever feel this... happiness. After you died."

"I know exactly what you mean." Jim set a bowl of salad on the table, ordered bread. "So fill me in, Spock. I've read a sort of overview of what you've been doing. And I read your book."

"Ah. And? You approve?"

"It was brave of you. Yes, I approve." He settled at the table and began to eat. "You joined DiploCorp, that was a surprise."

"I felt uniquely qualified to assist in bringing the Romulans into the Federation. I managed to sow several small pockets of discontent among the common folk of Ch'Rihan. Over the last decade those small pockets have grown. There has been major reform in the Senate and the armed forces, and the population is edging toward a constitutional democracy."

Kirk knew that the casual tone was a mask. Spock was hugely pleased with his success, it echoed in the bond between them. //Well, done, Ambassador.//

"I have resigned my Ambassadorship, James. While you were still unconscious. I have no desire to be parted from you, nor do I desire to place either of us in the sort of danger my missions to Ch'Rihan included." He paused. "I have been talking to Q. Let me tell you what we have discovered."

When he was done Jim was silent for several minutes, eating slowly. At last he looked up. "I met Q. Picard's Q, I mean. I... kinda liked him. I think... they meant well, this time. I'd prefer to keep this new body, if you don't mind. I'd hate to be old again and know that I was going to leave you soon..."

Spock reached over and took one hand, brought it to his lips. "As you wish, love. I do not know how you plan to spend this life so miraculously granted to you, but I hope your plans include me. And therefore I resigned."

"How could they not? But, are you sure? You're a pretty good Ambassador, by all accounts."

"I am also a 'pretty good' swimmer, James, but have no wish to devote an entire life to it. What do you think you'd like to do? Another career in Star Fleet?"

"No." Jim spoke without thinking, then looked up in surprise. "No, I don't want another career in Star Fleet. I don't want us serving opposite watches, or being separated by the bureaucracy, or god forbid, dying out of time, again. I couldn't bear to lose you. Not now. Not ever. But what else am I fit for?"

They ate in silence for several minutes, and Spock finally pushed his plate away and sighed. "You needn't be fit for anything, Jim. I am an extremely wealthy man. I could easily support us both."

"Do you mean retire? You? You'd never be happy without some sort of important work to do, Spock. Spend the next seventy or however many years..." Kirk pushed his own plate away. "I just can't see it."

"We have plenty of time to make a decision," Spock responded. "Enterprise has resumed her normal patrol. It will be two weeks before we are close enough to Earth to divert there, or to take my little ship. The Federation did request our immediate return, but I thought that you and I had many things to discuss before we returned to Earth."

"It'll be a circus, won't it?" Jim stood up and picked up his plate, walked over to the disposal chute. "I'm not looking forward to that." He turned back to the table to find the Vulcan right behind him, and startled. Amazing how someone his size could move so silently. He smiled up into the serious dark eyes. "I think I'm looking forward to something else, though."

Spock cupped Jim's chin with one hand, bent to kiss him lightly. The jolt that shot through Jim was all out of proportion, and he gasped. "Lord, Spock," he whispered. The hot lips moved down to his neck, and Spock's hands began roaming over his body, stroking his flanks, circling his ass.

"I have been celibate a long time, James." Spock's voice was a low rumble. "The madness... that was madness. Now, I want you slowly, and carefully, and gently."

Jim's knees trembled, and he leaned into the hot body.

"Anything."

"I didn't explore this part of our lives enough, before. This time, James, I want to learn all there is to learn about human sensuality." He kissed Jim again, while the human's mind was still reeling at that admission. Kissed him deeply, exploring with his tongue, pressing against him, arms wrapped tightly around his back.//This time, I will not waste your lovely body.//

//Spock.// Jim's thoughts were whirling. He felt the Vulcan's growing erection pressing into his. Then Spock was lifting him and carrying him carefully into the bedroom. Set him on the bed and knelt before him on the floor. Jim raised his hands to undo his tunic, but Spock captured his hands and held them.

"Let me. Let me learn you, all over again." Spock raised Jim's hands to his mouth and kissed them, turned them over and kissed the palms. Then released them and bent down to remove Jim's shoes.

Jim's trembling was out of control by the time Spock had undressed him, kissing and stroking every bit of flesh as it was revealed. Spock pressed him back on the bed, the Vulcan still fully clothed, and knelt astride his legs. Bent and tasted the throbbing cock.

Jim cried out as Spock's tongue explored the hard length of him, then swirled lower to take first one, then both balls in into his hot mouth. Massaged them gently with his tongue, kneeding and sucking, until Jim's hips were pushing involuntarily upward. Jim was uttering soft little cries of astonishment and pleasure. Spock released the heavy scrotum and turned his attention back to the hard cock, plunging his mouth over it almost to the root. Jim's back arched and he cried out, his hands coming down to tangle in the Vulcan's black, grey-shot hair. Spock chuckled silently, enjoying the pleasure rippling across the bond from the human. He sucked gently, moving his head slowly up and down the shaft, until Jim was thrashing, his orgasm close. Then slowly, gently, he released his lover and stood up.

"Spock." Protest, hands groping for him. A fine sheen of sweat covering the youthful body. Spock paced into the bathroom and searched the cabinets, finally finding a tube of water soluble lube. When he returned Jim was still on his back, his knees raised, a look of pure hunger in the hazel eyes. "Spock?"

"Doctor's orders." Spock climbed back onto the bed and knelt between Jim's legs. He uncapped the lube and took a generous amount on his palm. Spread it with his other hand between his lover's legs and over his own fingers. Jim was panting, little tremors rushing over his skin. Spock gently pressed one long finger against the tight anus and felt a shock from his crown to his belly at the gasp of pleasure.

Pressed further, and felt the tense muscles relax. He withdrew and then pushed forward again, this time with two fingers, until they were buried up the knuckle.

Began to stroke, from the inside. Jim cried out and his hips began to move, pressing against Spock's hand. Spock's other hand trapped Jim's erection and began to stroke the velvet skin.

He was close. Spock pulled away, resting one hand on Jim's belly and undoing his own trousers with the other. Jim looked, saw what he was doing and swallowed.

"Yes, please. Please, Spock."

Spock released his own straining erection. Lubed it carefully, enjoying the feeling of his own hands. Then he set the tube aside and moved up between Jim's legs. Very carefully positioned Jim's legs over his shoulders and pressed himself against the well lubricated opening.

Jim cried out as he entered, and Spock heard himself groaning as the wet warmth enveloped him, welcomed him. He moved slowly, gently, in and out and Jim matched his rhythm, the two moving as one. Now almost retreating, now buried to the hilt, Spock felt the wave of his orgasm approaching. He plunged in and held, and Jim began to writhe, twisting the sheets in his hands.

"Oh, please, Spock! Now, please come in me, come inside me!"

Spock abandoned care and began to thrust fast and deep, eyes closed, immersed in pleasure. Then Jim cried out and the muscles of his ass contracted.

Spock's eyes flew open and the sight of his beloved arched beneath him sent him over the top, and their orgasm crashed down on them together, sending both spinning into oblivion.

Spock came back to himself, sprawled over Jim's belly. Jim's breathing had slowed, his heart thudding back to a normal pace. Spock freed himself gently from the tangled legs and disrobed quickly, then slid back onto the bed and took Jim in his arms. Jim turned into the embrace and began to sob. "It's you, it's really you," he managed, and Spock sent a wordless reassurance down their bond. He understood now, as he hadn't before, the purely emotional release that this moment brought for Jim. Brought for himself now, too. "I've missed you, lover," he whispered, feeling a hot tear run down his own face and marveling at it. "I've missed you more than you can know. Stay with me, Jim. Live with me, share this new life with me."

"Whatever you want, Spock. Everything."

To be continued...

Rae

Archivists Note: I simplesment adore it, and hopefully the adventure continues on and on...