Future Imperfect (K/S) Pt 10 of 13

[gilda_elise]

Title: Future Imperfect
Fandom: Star Trek (TOS)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: In the ruins of one world, two men of different planets meet. One looks to the future, one to the past. But as their lives intertwine, they find that their happiness is dependent on the past one seeks and the future the other fights for.
Notes: Originally published by Kathy Resch as a stand-alone novel. Artwork by Lorraine Brevig and Virginia Sky.

Many thanks to artconserv and cluesby4 for allowing me to post their beautiful artwork here.






Chapter 10

“It looks awfully dark to me, Jim,” McCoy remarked as he peered toward shore. “Are you sure this is safe?”

Kirk drew his gaze away from the same sight and gave McCoy a grim smile. “No, but if half of what we’ve been told is true, we won’t have to worry about coal for quite awhile.”

Kirk’s First Mate stood to their side, his telescope trained on the town that stood just down the river. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s on the dock, Captain.”

Kirk drew his coat closer around himself. It had been a brutal winter and it wasn’t even technically winter yet. But there had been a hard frost most nights and they were running low on coal. If they didn’t find some soon, they would have to start taking from the engine’s supply and he didn’t want to do that.

The ship drew nearer to shore and finally Kirk could make out the dock and some of the buildings that lined it. The place looked deserted.

“Matthews, I want three men to come along with me. I want them all armed and ready in five minutes. And make sure our guns are trained on the town.”

“Yes, Captain.” Matthews snapped a salute and hurried away.

“Don’t tell me, you’re going ashore, too.”

“I have to, Bones. Whoever these people are, they’re not going to trade with an ordinary seaman.”

“You could send Matthews.”

“Yes, I could but I’m not going to. This is too important.”

“It always is, isn’t it? McCoy groused. “So, how’d you hear about this place, anyway?”

“At our last stop. Word’s gone round that they’ve hit a good vein of coal near here and that the people of Quincy have been working it.”

“That’s it? That’s not much to stake your safety on, Jim. You know how many abandoned towns have been taken over by thieves and murderers.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “When have I heard that before?”

Kirk grinned and then went to join up with his men. Within minutes they were being lowered onto the water, the small rowboat sliding silently onto the river. Kirk had two men take up the oars, while he and the other kept a sharp watch on the approaching town. There was a slight bump as they reached the pier.

Kirk was the first up the ladder. With still no sign of anyone, he led his men cautiously toward the buildings that sat derelict along the dock.

“What was that?” one of the men asked.

Kirk froze and strained to hear, but the lapping of the water was drowning out whatever his man had heard. Just as he was about to start them forward again, the silhouette of a man appeared about fifty feet away.

“This is Captain James Kirk, of the U. S. S. Enterprise. Identify yourself,” Kirk called out.

Suddenly there were half a dozen more men, all armed, where there had been only one. When he saw them raise their weapons, he knew they had stepped into a trap.

“Back to the boat!” Kirk cried.

Before they could move, the other men began shooting. Returning fire, Kirk and his men slowly retreated. Foot by foot, they made their way back until they had reached the end of the pier. Luck had been on their side so far. As dark as it was, their assailants were finding it just as hard to hit them as they were their assailants. Two of his men had clamored down, the third at the top of the ladder, when Kirk felt the punch of a bullet high in his chest.

“Hurry,” he barked and then fired into the darkness before following the last man down into the boat.

He crumbled onto one of the seats, pain radiating out from his wound. He brought his hand away from where he’d pressed it against his chest. It was covered in blood. He grimaced. Pulling out a handkerchief, he used that to try to slow the bleeding.

“Captain, you’re hurt.”

He turned to the crewman. “I’m fine,” he hissed. “Just get us back to the ship.”

The other two men were rowing as hard as they could, while bullets whizzed by and buried themselves into the water. On the dock, their assailants were lined up firing round after round. From his ship, he could hear preparations to return fire.

He wished they’d hurry. Black spots were interfering with his vision and there was a rushing sound in his ears.

“We’re almost there, Captain.”

Kirk looked up. He found that he was lying in the man’s arms, almost in a horizontal position, the man’s face above him. But try as he might, he couldn’t respond, the words refusing to string together coherently. He thought to try again, but then the blackness shrouded over him.

~~~~~

It was a warm summer day. They lay together on the blanket they’d spread upon the grass. Kirk’s head rested on Spock’s chest, his body nestled against his side. Kirk realized that he was naked, the sun above almost burning his exposed flesh.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” he suggested.

Spock looked down at him and smiled. “Do you not enjoy the heat?”

“Not so much.” He wiped perspiration from his top lip. “I feel as if I’m burning up.”

Suddenly Spock rolled, taking Kirk with him until the Vulcan hovered over him, his hotter-than-human body pressing down on Kirk. “I wish you to burn as I do.”

Kirk realized that Spock, too, was perspiring, something he’d never seen the Vulcan do. “You’re burning?”

“Yes, I burn for you.”

With those words Spock pushed Kirk’s legs apart, taking him swiftly, filling him with his swollen shaft.

Kirk cried out, though there was no pain. Now he was burning, being set afire by the Vulcan’s thrusts in and out of his body. He clamped his legs around the Vulcan, calling out Spock’s name as the desperate emptiness that had taken him over was filled.

“I will fill your mind as I fill your body. I will bond you to me forever,” Spock whispered in his ear as he continued the ravaging of Kirk’s body.

Kirk moaned, realizing that was what he had wanted all along. Not knowing how he knew what to do, he grabbed one of Spock’s hands and positioned it on his face.


Kirk swam woozily into consciousness. He looked around. He was in his room, stretched out on his bunk. He felt like crying. At the desk, McCoy sat reading a book.

“Bones?” His voice was barely a whisper.

McCoy looked up and smiled. He pulled the chair over next to the bed, placing the book on the chest and filling a glass of water from a carafe that had been sitting there.

“Here,” he said as he held the glass to help Kirk drink, “this will help.”

Kirk finished off the glass but refused more when McCoy offered it. He lay back, amazed at how tired he felt. Only then did he notice the bandages that swathed his chest. “What happened?”

“You took a bullet.”

Kirk tried to think past the fuzziness. “I seem to remember something along those lines. How long have I been out?”

“Just over night. Once we got out of Quincy we made our way to Hannibal and have been here ever since.”

“Hannibal? Why Hannibal?”

“Because Matthews figured we didn’t have enough time to start the engines before they shot the hell out of the ship. Once we got off a few cannon shots, he opted for the first town downstream. According to the folks here, we’re not the first to be fooled by rumors of large coal deposits.”

“So Quincy’s a ghost town?”

“Pretty much, except for the hooligans who tried taking the ship.”

“We’re going to have to put out a warning about that place,” Kirk lazily noted. He needed information but he was having a hard time keeping awake. He gave McCoy another look. “You look like hell.”

“You would, too, if you’d had the night I did. It was touch and go with you for the first few hours.” He scowled. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again, you hear me? I think I’ve aged ten years.”

Kirk chuckled, then wished he hadn’t. He wrapped his arms around himself until the pain receded. “How long am I down for?”

“Ah, well, that’s up to you. You behave, get lots of rest, and you’ll probably be out of this bed in a week. If not....”

A week? He’d go crazy in a week. “Can’t I at least go up on deck once in a while?”

“Oh, you’ll do that. You’ll need to walk around a bit every day. But right now you’re not in charge of this ship. Matthews is and your First Mate has everything well in hand. Your only responsibility is to get better. Don’t kid yourself, you’re not going to bounce right back from this. In a month, maybe, you’ll be your old self again, but only if you take it easy.”

“That bad, was it?”

McCoy snorted, his expression somewhere between relief and annoyance. “We almost lost you, Jim. Another inch in either direction and I’d be writing your mother a letter.” He hesitated. “Listen, I know something’s going on with you—no, you don’t have to say anything, just listen. Right now you need to focus all your efforts on healing and that means you need to push aside whatever this thing is, forget all about it until you’re well.”

Kirk almost laughed. Push Spock out of his mind? What did McCoy think he’d been trying to do for almost five months? He doubted he could suddenly manage it now, especially with the man now invading his dreams. Nevertheless, he gave McCoy a nod of agreement along with his smile. “I’ll try, Bones. That’s all I can promise.”

McCoy patted his hand and then stood up. “That’s all I’m asking for. You get some rest now. I’ll be in later to check on you. And if you’re really good, I’ll bring you some broth for dinner.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Any time, Captain, any time.”

After McCoy left, he thought he would fall right to sleep, but the sound of the wind gusting about outside, trying to force its way past the windows, made him uneasy. What was that about an ill wind? So far, it promised to be an exceptionally cold winter. Kirk pulled the covers over his shoulders and closed his eyes.

~~~~~

“Spock.”

Spock turned at the sound of his father’s voice. When Sarek had been called away with a call from an associate and his mother busy with Haadok, Spock had taken the opportunity to slip out into the garden. His father had now returned and stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the inside light.

“Father.”

Sarek walked over and sat next to him on the stone bench. All around, the plants and the trellises they grew on cast much of the garden in shadows. But above, all was clear. Sarek lifted his head and joined him in his contemplation of the stars.

“You wish to return to them.” It was not a question.

Spock let his gaze wander over the sky. “They do hold a certain allure. But my desires will most certainly not be taken into consideration by the Council.”

“You speak of their rejection of your petition on behalf of Earth.”

“Among other things.”

“Ah, you grow weary of fact checking.”

Spock turned to his father. “I would have thought that enough time had passed that I would have been reassigned to survey duty. I do not ask to be returned to Earth; I know that would be inadvisable. But I believe my talents could be best utilized in exploration.”

“You are very likely correct. But the Council is aware of your lack of success in readjusting to your present circumstances. I cannot say that I do not agree with their reluctance to send you on yet another mission, not while you still display after effects from your previous one.”

Spock had suspected that to be the Council’s reasoning. He had not realized that Sarek had come to the same conclusions. He stood and stepped several feet away. To ask what he wished to ask, he would need space between them.

“Is that all it is, after effects? Will the connection I have to Earth eventually die?”

“If that is your wish.” Sarek appeared to carefully chose his next words. “The Vulcan mind will ever seek its mate; it is the way of our people. But it gives no thought to who or where. What it seeks is compatibility in all its facets: the mind, the body, the complete rapport which two people can sometimes share. Once found, our minds will cling to it, wishing that most perfect joining.

“But in this world we have created for ourselves, allowing that joining is not always possible, or desirable. If, for whatever reason, it is not desired, the connection can be severed.”

Spock looked at his father. “But at what cost?”

“Does not everything come with a cost, my son?”

“Did your decision cost so much?”

Sarek looked as if he was going to refuse to answer but eventually he gave a reluctant nod. “Amanda was the first, and often only, human most Vulcans had ever seen. At first, there was fear within the family that she would somehow disrupt my behavior. But once they saw that this was not the case, most came to see her as a welcome addition.”

“It is unfortunate so few would say the same of her son.” Spock looked up, focusing on that area of the sky he knew held Earth. “I wonder, would my life have been better served if Earth had been brought into the Coalition? If Terrans were familiar to them?”

“Perhaps, but then, perhaps not. Most Vulcans know nothing of Earth, or of its people. Those who know your mother cannot but have a positive impression. But if they were to know Terrans with all their faults displayed, it could be that their behavior toward you would have been worse. You are an enigma to them, Spock. And our people as a whole do not care for anything they do not fully understand. But it is my belief that that is all they hold against you. Not that you are half Terran, but that you are only half Vulcan.”

Spock raised an eyebrow and looked at his father, unable to completely mask the bitterness he felt. “How unfortunate that there is nothing I can do about that.”

“You are my son, and I am certain that you will find a satisfactory solution to the circumstances in which you find yourself. Do not let others infect you with their doubt.”

“If only I could be as certain.” It had been five Terran months since he had left Kirk, to the day. It could have been yesterday. He firmed his stance, knowing of at least one situation that he could resolve right now. “Because of my circumstances, I have decided to reject the bonding with T’Meni. It would not be the most optimal of beginnings, that I would still be joined to another.”

“And what of your Time?”

“I should have many years before I need think on that. Surely by then I should be free of any other...entanglements. If not, then I will do what I must to survive.”

Sarek stood and approached him. “Perhaps you are correct. I, more than any other, am well aware of what compelling a nature the people of Earth can possess. It will be a difficult task, but I believe it is one you have the strength to see through to its end.”

After so many months of struggle, Spock was no longer so sure. But he nodded in hopeful agreement. He did not know how he felt about the matter, knowing there was a fledging bond between him and Kirk, knowing that his return to Vulcan had meant its ultimate demise. The ache within him throbbed but he did his best to ignore it.

They remained standing, watching the stars overhead until called in to dinner. Then Spock followed his father in to where Amanda waited patiently for them.

~~~~~

Spock was closing up his station when the call came through.

“I wish to see you before you leave for the day,” Sonak said, his image as inscrutable as ever over the vidscreen.

“Would now be acceptable? I was preparing to depart just as you called.”

“I will expect you shortly, then.” With that, the connection was broken.

Spock gathered his things and took the walk over to Sonak’s office. The door was open so he walked in. Sonak sat behind his desk. He motioned Spock to the empty chair across from him.

“How may I be of service?” Spock asked after taking his seat.

“I have been advised by the Academy’s council that they have received a request from Starfleet, a request regarding your reinstatement into that organization.”

Spock’s brow knitted. “I have not requested reinstatement into Starfleet.”

Sonak nodded, as if the information was expected. “Nevertheless, a requisition has been forwarded soliciting your return to Starfleet, specifically your return to the Sh’Raan.”

“Indeed?” This was totally unexpected, though not necessarily undesirable. “May I ask who requested my return?”

“It was Captain Vorik. He remembered your work as exceptional and believed your departure from Starfleet precipitative.”

Spock had always respected his former captain. It was gratifying to know that, at least to a degree, that respect was returned. “To what capacity would I return?”

“As science officer.”

“Science officer? What of Muroc?”

“Muroc was killed during an attack on the ship.”

Spock remembered the man as being an excellent officer, though somewhat narrow in his thinking. Still, his death would have been a great loss to the ship. “Where is the ship now?”

“It is at Starbase Eleven for repairs. Given how extensive the damage was, it is estimated that those repairs will take sixty standard days. Once fully operational again, the ship will journey to Vulcan for personal rotation. You would take over the duties of science officer at that time.”

“And if I do not accept the position?”

“You will be assigned to another survey duty.” Sonak turned his viewer so it faced Spock. “At this time, there are no postings available on Earth, but this planet has been recently discovered. It is a Class M planet, approximately the size of Earth, yet with only a quarter of its mass. Seismic activity has been registered but has left no aftereffects.”

“Fascinating. And life forms?”

“There are none, which is why we have decided to send a scout on a sixty standard day survey. You would live out of your ship and gather as much information as you can regarding the vegetation and mineral composition of the planet. It may be suitable for colonization.”

Spock stared at the screen. He felt no interest in what he was being shown. And where once sixty days of solitude would have attracted him, it did no longer. He looked at Sonak. “I believe I shall accept the position on the Sh’Raan.”

Sonak nodded and spun his viewer back around to turn it off. He folded his hands on his desk and faced Spock. “The VSA will regret the loss of your talents, but I believe the choice you have made is a logical one. Not all are suited for the often insular and prosaic work of a scout. Will you wish to remain with us until you commence your duties on the Sh’Raan?”

“That would be desirable.”

“Very well, I shall notify Starfleet of your decision and begin procedures regarding your departure from the Academy.”

Spock stood and prepared to leave; he knew a dismissal when he heard one.

As he left the building, it occurred to him that his life appeared to have come full circle. He would return to the ship he had fled two years before, again having denied the bond which tied him to another. But this time the ship would be his refuge. Spock could not but notice the irony of the situation.

~~~~~

Kirk sat on one of the few real chairs in the galley, his legs propped up on a short barrel someone had found for him. It was his first full day back on duty and he wasn’t sure he was up to a night of revelry.

New Year’s Eve. Another year gone. He mentally brushed away the depression that threatened to settle on him. After five months, it was getting easier to do.

He watched as his men enjoyed themselves. They were safely in port, having anchored in Davenport, just up the river from Muscatine. The day after tomorrow they would load the hold with the solid furnishings which had become the town’s specialty and then sail for Burlington. But tonight was theirs, with no responsibility waiting for them in the morning. They’d earned it.

He rubbed his chest. The wound still ached from time to time; more, it itched like crazy. But his stamina was, for all intents and purposes, back. It had felt good to walk the deck of his ship and know she was his once again.

“Hey, Captain Kirk, you up to a swig of Smithy’s surefire cure for what ails you?” Terrance McCullough, one of his gunners, stood before him, a slightly befuddled look on his face. It was obvious that the man had been sampling the potent mixture made by their cook.

“No, I think I’ll pass, Terry. Dr. McCoy would have my hide if he knew I was dipping into that stuff. I’m afraid a glass or two of wine is my limit for now.”

The mournful look on McCullough’s face was almost comical. “That’s too bad, Captain, what with it being New Year’s Eve and all.”

Kirk laughed. “I think I’ll survive. Now, off with you, go have some fun.”

He watched the man stumble slightly as he returned to where several of his shipmates seemed to be trying to outdo each other in tall tales. Gathered around one of the tables, their voices rose and fell with shouts and gales of laughter. Nearby, Matthews and Dunn were deep in conversation. Probably not too deep, Kirk thought, seeing that they appeared to be guarding the punch bowl. Or emptying it.

Reaching over, Kirk grabbed his own glass from the nearby table and took a sip. He’d acquired a taste for Madeira while still a Seaman and still kept a couple of bottles handy; its ability to survive extreme temperature undamaged had made it a favorite of ship’s captains and crews.

That got him thinking about McCoy. Where was the doctor, anyway? He’d been sent into town to pick up a few more supplies, couldn’t have them running out of liquor tonight of all nights, and should have been back well before now. Kirk hoped he hadn’t run into an old flame. The man had made a mission out of making sure there was a girl in every port and wasn’t above taking time to get reacquainted.

The commotion right outside the doorway caught his attention. From the sounds of it, McCoy had finally returned and had done well, if Kirk were to go by the cheers emanating from the companionway. Men stood aside, making a narrow pathway from the door to the table where the goods had been set up. From where he sat, all Kirk could see as someone walked in was the top of their head. His breath stuttered to a stop and his sight narrowed down. For perched on that head was a coal gray woolen cap.

He looked away, drawing in breath and forcing himself to calm down. He cursed himself for being so affected by a stupid cap. He looked back and could now see that it was only McCoy, his arms filled with a very large box from which the tops of a couple of dozen bottles peeked out. Trading quips with the men, he unloaded the box on the table before pushing through to join Kirk.

The smile on McCoy’s face faded as he approached Kirk. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Kirk gave him a weak smile, his control still not what he’d like it to be. “I’m fine. Maybe a little overheated.”

“Really?” McCoy looked over at the stove, the coals inside gleaming red hot through the slits in its door. “Feels mighty fine to me. It’s freezing outside.” He pulled up the end of a nearby bench and sat down, nodding in thanks when a crew member brought him a full tankard of beer. “Not my usual stuff but I’m trying to keep relatively sober.”

“And why’s that?”

“Unlike everyone else, there’s no such thing as a day off for me. I tie one on, and I can just bet some clumsy fool will fall and break his arm.”

“Then you know how I feel.” Kirk picked up his glass but then gave it a second thought and put it back down. His hand had still been shaking slightly.

“Yeah, I imagine a captain’s work is never done. You planning on going into town at all?”

“No, we’re not going to be here that long.”

McCoy rubbed his chin. “Seems to me it’s been awhile since you’ve spent any time off the ship. That’s not good, Jim.”

“There’s been the little thing of being shot, Bones. Don’t worry, I’ll be giving you a run for your money any day now.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The doctor beamed. “It’s been too long since the two of us went on a tear.”

Kirk closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be sociable, didn’t want to have to sit here with a smile plastered on his face and pretend that he was just fine, thanks for asking; the very picture of hail fellow well met, he thought derisively.

He stood, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to pull this off. He needed to be alone, to be somewhere where he could let go and rail against what life had thrown his way. To curse the day he’d ever met Spock yet wish with everything he was that he could see him once again.

“Where’re you going, Jim?”

McCoy tilted his head up, his manner almost casual. Kirk wasn’t fooled for a minute.

“I guess I’m not as up to this sort of thing as I thought I was. It’s been a long day. I think I’ll head back to my cabin, maybe read a while.”

“Sure, Jim. Sounds like just the way to spend New Year’s Eve night.”

Kirk gave him a sour look and then started for the door. It took awhile. Waylaid by one man after the other, all of them wanting to wish him well, saying how sorry they were that he wasn’t staying, he finally managed to leave the room behind. He hurried up the companionway, fleeing to the safety of his cabin.

~~~~~

The soft knock on the door pulled Kirk’s attention away from his contemplation of the shoreline. He had a pretty good idea who it was.

“Come.”

McCoy peeked his head in. “Mind if I come in?”

“Would it do any good if I did?”

“Not a bit.” McCoy entered the room, Kirk’s forgotten bottle of Madeira in one hand, a couple of glasses in the other. He pulled the chair over from Kirk’s desk and settled into it. “You left before the festivities were in full swing,” he commented as he filled both glasses.

“I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate,” Kirk responded, though he took the glass McCoy handed him.

“What’ll we drink to?”

Kirk glanced at the clock on his night stand. “How about ‘Happy New Year’?”

“Sounds good to me.” McCoy tipped his glass before taking a drink. “So, you get any reading done?”

“No, once I got here I found I wasn’t in the mood for that, either.” Actually, other than stare out the window, he’d done nothing at all, suddenly too tired even for anger.

“Oh, before I forget.” McCoy stuck his hand into his jacket and pulled out a letter. “When we stopped for supplies yesterday this was in the mail.”

Kirk took the letter, checking the return address before ripping the envelope open and pulling out the one-page letter inside.

“Who do you know in Harrisburg?”

Kirk continued scanning the letter, not bothering to answer McCoy until he was finished. He folded the sheet of paper back up and reinserted it into the envelope. “No one. It’s from the National Archives. I, uh, stumbled across a cache of books I thought they’d better know about.”

“What, you mean you didn’t try to keep them for yourself? You feeling poorly, or something?”

“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted but even Winona would put her foot down if I tried hauling home fifty thousand books.”

“Fifty thousand? Where did you find fifty thousand books?”

“You remember that friend I told you about?”

“As if I could forget.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind, get on with your story.”

Kirk eyed him suspiciously for a moment but then continued. “The two of us found them in a deserted city north of Riverside. I figured there was no way we could store that many on the farm and I know the main archive is always looking for more.”

“Didn’t there used to be a national library of some sort with a bunch of books? Why don’t they get those?”

Kirk snorted, “Because that part of the city they were stored in is under several feet of water. Besides, there were so many riots, people trying to find food and water, or just trying to get out, that a lot of the city was destroyed. I don’t know if anyone’s gone back there recently. It’s certainly not inhabitable. In any event, they wrote back and thanked me for the information and to let me know that they’re sending a convoy of wagons out there to get the books.”

McCoy nodded and took another drink, then refreshed both their glasses. “Can I ask you something?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes on the bottle as he poured.

Kirk picked up his glass and rolled it slowly between his palms, watching the liquid swirl around. “You can ask.”

“What in hell happened to you while you were home?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how the well-adjusted, content captain of this ship went home and then came back a morose, discontented man.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m the same man I was before I left.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Jim. You’ve changed and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

Kirk took a deep breath. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to hide the way he felt. “Are the men talking?”

“No, well, not a lot. Mainly, they’re concerned about you. It’s not like they think you’re not as efficient as you’ve always been or that you’ll cave during a fight. It’s that they’ve noticed how withdrawn you’ve become. I think tonight was the first time since you’ve been back that you’ve spent time with them away from the running of the ship. That’s just not like you. You’re distant, humorless and, well, just not very pleasant to be around.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, that bad.” McCoy smiled. “But no one on this ship would trade you for all the tea in China...if they still have tea in China. So, what is it? You finally going to tell me what’s got you so down?”

“It’s a long story, Bones.”

McCoy leaned back in his chair. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

Kirk took a drink and then began his story. Of course, he left out that Spock was from another planet and that he had left in this nifty little spaceship. And that he had discovered the truth about the man when he’d seen Spock’s green blood. But other than that he pretty much stuck to the truth. It was a relief to talk about Spock, to finally release all the pent up anger and hurt he’d felt since riding away from the Vulcan. But just as much, it felt good to be able to say his name, to talk about their time together and how much he missed the man. By the time he was done, he felt drained but maybe a little bit better than he had.

McCoy was silent for awhile before finally asking, “So what’s the hat got to do with all this?”

“What hat?”

McCoy pulled the wool hat out from his coat pocket. “This hat. I saw you glancing at it afterwards.”

“Oh, that hat.” Kirk shrugged. “He used to wear one like that all that time at first. He had, uh, a mutation that had affected his ears. I was finally able to talk him out of wearing it all the time but, still, when I first saw you walk in with that thing on, well, it dredged up a lot of memories.”

McCoy refilled Kirk’s empty glass. Then clearly feeling he needed it, topped off his own, too. “I kind of figured it was something like that.”

“You did?”

“Sure. I remember when you first told me about your time at home. There was something in the way you spoke about him, about the entire time you were with him. And there’s been a couple of times since when you’ve brought something up that happened while you were at the farm. You wouldn’t say who you were talking about, but it was clear to me that it was someone you felt strongly about. And then, of course, there was your saying his name after you’d been shot.”

“I did?” Kirk had no recollection of that at all.

“You sure did. I told you something to the effect that he’d be right back. It seemed to calm you down. After that it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. I just didn’t know that he had left you.” McCoy took a drink. “The bastard.”

“No, Bones, he’s not that. We both had our reasons for ending the relationship. His weren’t any less valid than mine.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it? What can I do about it?”

“I don’t know, you could go looking for him.”

Kirk almost choked. That would prove somewhat difficult. “And do what? Beg him to come back to me? No, it’s done. What I have to do is figure out some way to get over him and get on with my life.”

“It’s been, what, five months?”

“Yeah, about.”

“That’s not all that long, Jim, not to get over someone who made the impression this man obviously did on you. Give it time. It really does heal all wounds. But until then, you might try to be a little more animated, at least around the men.”

“And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Think cheerful thoughts.”

“Gee, thanks for the advice, McCoy.”

The doctor grinned. “That’s what I’m here for.” He drained his glass and then stood up. “I better be getting myself off to bed; another long day tomorrow. But anytime you feel like talking, you know where to find me.”

After McCoy left, Kirk turned down the lantern. Alone in the dark, he watched the lights of the town as its citizens continued their celebrating. From time to time, there was even the flare of fireworks. But mostly, he sat and listened to the water lapping against his ship, the sound rising up to fill his room.

~~~~~

Kirk took the steps up to the quarterdeck. Up here, the breeze was stronger so he drew his coat closed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to ward off the chill. He’d been back on duty over a week, slowly building his strength. So a cold, or worse, pneumonia, was the last thing he needed. His breath created wisps of white in the cold night air as he looked out over the river, the only light the full moon overhead. He joined Matthews at the railing, who lowered his telescope at Kirk’s approach.

“The ice seems to be building fast, Captain.”

“I was afraid of that. How soon do you figure before the river freezes closed? I don’t want to get stuck away from home.”

Matthews narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t wait more than a week. Even then, we might be pushing it. If you want to make sure we get to Muscatine, I’d start back as soon as possible. We finished unloading this morning, so that’s not a problem.”

“I’d like to see if the wind turns in the next day or two. If not, we can use the engines but if we don’t have to I’d prefer we didn’t.”

Matthews scanned the trees on the other bank, then looked up as if he could pull the information out of the sky. Kirk had often thought that that was almost what his First Mate did. Matthews had an uncanny knack for guessing the weather.

“We could always try tacking,” Matthews finally responded.

“It may come to that, but a day or two either way shouldn’t matter.”

“I guess I’m just being impatient. It’ll be nice being home.”

“How’s Faith doing?”

“Well enough. We lost her father about eight months ago. She took it really hard, but she’s better now.” He chuckled. “The four keep her too busy.”

“Four?” Kirk looked at his First Mate in surprise. “When did it become four?”

“Six months ago.”

“But that’s—”

“As long as we’ve been on the ship. I know, why do you think I’m so impatient? He was born and I left three days later.”

“It must be hard, being away so much. Don’t you miss seeing them grow up?”

Matthews shrugged. “Sure I do, but you do what you can to survive, right? If my being gone eight to ten months out of the year means my kids will always have a roof over their heads and food on the table, well, then that’s what I have to do.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Kirk thought about what he’d heard, the words reinforcing what he already believed. If Spock had stayed, how much harder or easier would the last six months have been? Knowing that Spock waited for him at home, he could pretty much bet it would have made his time on his ship almost unbearable. “Has it gotten any easier over the years?”

“It does. There are some nights I miss Faith something fierce but then there are days when I don’t think about her at all, or the kids. Maybe that’s how you stay sane; you just don’t think about it.”

Was it really that easy? Kirk certainly hadn’t found it to be. “Let’s hope luck is on our side and we’re home soon, then.” He shivered. “I think I’ll be going in. I’ve had enough of the night air.”

Matthews smiled. “Have a good night, Captain.”

Kirk made his way to his cabin, in his bunk just minutes after arriving. He slept soundly through the night and by morning the winds had changed.

~~~~~

The ship slipped into the harbor at Muscatine four days later, and even then Kirk knew it had been a close call. The ice had built faster than they had thought it would and the last ten miles especially had been a struggle. Twice they had had to reverse their course, the way ice dammed. But finally their home port had come into view, its lights at night a welcoming beacon.

They had used the night to ready the ship for dry dock, so Kirk hadn’t got to bed until almost three in the morning. The bells of a fellow ship had woke him at sunrise and he’d been busy ever since. Only after everything was done that needed to be done and his men were on their way, dispersing to their respective homes for the winter, did Kirk finally return to his cabin to start his own packing.

As he did so, he couldn’t help but feel relief that they were home once again, this time with no casualties. He thought about the men he’d lost, either from misadventure, like Faraday, or by their own choosing, as was the situation with McCullough. Sometimes, a man just got tired.

He had thought to lose Matthews as well. He knew his First Mate wanted his own ship and, truthfully, the man deserved it. But ships were hard to come by, as building them took precious resources and even rarer talent. There had been only three built in the last five years. At the same time, they had lost two. So, Matthews had re-signed, willing to give his talents over to Kirk until that day when he could be his own master.

Just as he finished packing, he heard a short, familiar rap on his door.

“Come in, Bones.”

The doctor strolled in, his bag over his shoulder, his eagerness barely contained.

“Hurry up, Jim. The dock crew is just waitin’ for us to get off this tub so they can get to work.”

“I’m just about ready.” He grabbed the last remaining items and stowed them in his bag. “Okay, let’s go.”

It was a cold January morning and the dock was slick with frost. They carefully walked the short distance from where the ship was moored to the ladder that would take them up to the street. The wind tugged at them as they climbed, the metal railing freezing even through their gloves. Once above, McCoy took the lead.

“Where are we going?” Kirk glanced at the restaurant McCoy had passed by.

“It’s just a few more blocks. You’ll like it, Jim, I guarantee it.”

Kirk followed his friend, hoping they got wherever they were going soon. The wind was blowing off the river and he was doing his damnedest not to shiver. Luckily, between the brisk walk and leaving the dock behind, he warmed up enough to start enjoying himself. It was then that he noticed that he was in a part of town he’d never visited before.

“There, right up ahead.” McCoy pointed up the street. About fifty feet away, the sign hanging over the door proclaimed ‘The Spicery’ in large ornate letters.

It had obviously been someone’s home at one time. A lot of the businesses were like that, the old crumbling buildings that had once been the center of commerce too expensive to keep up. As in most towns, ‘downtown’ had shifted and now sat in the middle of where people lived so as to be in easy walking distance.

They followed the walkway up to the porch and entered the establishment.

Right away Kirk was impressed. There was a look about it, simple yet comfortable, that made one feel right at home. A young girl stood behind a small counter.

“Good morning, Gentlemen,” she said with a smile.

“‘Morning to you, too, little lady. Any chance one of the tables in the large dining room is available?” McCoy asked.

Kirk gave him a look. Since when did McCoy care where he sat?

“I’m almost certain there is. Let me go check.” The girl hurried over to the doorway leading to a room off to the right. After scanning it, she returned.

“I have just the table for you. If you would follow me, Gentlemen?”

They were led to a table next to a window, the busy street of Muscatine their backdrop. After offering them menus, she left, with the promise that a waitress would be over soon.

Kirk looked around the room, opening his menu at the same time. He noted that the place was doing a brisk business. “How do you know about this place?”

“It pays to get out and about sometime, you know. So, what looks good to you?” McCoy motioned toward Kirk’s menu.

“Just about everything,” Kirk noted appreciatively.

“You’re back.”

Kirk looked up. Standing next to their table was a woman, probably about his age. Pretty, with long blonde hair and a figure the apron she wore did nothing to hide. She was looking directly at McCoy.

McCoy stood, his smile wide as he took the woman into his arms. “I told you I would be.”

She returned the embrace with one arm, her other encumbered with a silver carafe. “It’s so good to see you again, Len.”

Pulling back, McCoy took the carafe and settled it on the table while wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist.

“Sheila, I want you to meet Captain James Kirk, my boss and good friend for many years. Jim,” he turned to Kirk. “This is Sheila MacDonald.”

Kirk stood, taking the woman’s hand. “Miss MacDonald, I’ve heard so much about you.” He slid a look at McCoy.

She laughed, a nice genuine show of pleasure. “I’m sure you have.” She shooed at McCoy until he sat down. “We better stop being so friendly or the rest of the customers might get ideas.”

“Let them think whatever they want, “ McCoy stated. He looked up at Sheila. “God, it’s good to see you again.”

“When did you get back?”

“This morning. The ship’s in dry dock until the river thaws—which could be a couple of months,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That’s wonderful, and I’d love to be able to sit and talk with you, but....”

“I know, I know, you’re busy right now. What about later? Say, around four?”

“That would be perfect,” she answered as she filled their cups with coffee. “So, why don’t you two figure out what you want to eat and I’ll be back in a few minutes. I might even be able to sit for a moment or two.”

Both men watched her receding figure and then Kirk turned to McCoy.

“So that’s Sheila, huh? She’s not at all what I imagined.”

“Yeah, well, I never figured you two would meet.”

Kirk looked at his quizzically. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” McCoy began toying with his napkin, “I didn’t think I’d miss her as much as I did, I guess.”

“Do you think you’re in love with her?”

“Beats the hell out of me. It’s been so long since I’ve been in love, I’m not sure I remember what it feels like.”

“Don’t worry about that, Bones,” Kirk responded ruefully. “You’ll know.”

“That’s right, you know all about how that feels now.” He peered at Kirk. “How’s that going for you, anyway?

Kirk gave a halfhearted shrug. “About the same. Like you said, it’s going to take time.”

“It’ll get better, I—uh oh.” McCoy made a motion with his head at Kirk’s look of confusion.

Sheila had reentered the room and was approaching them. Another woman walked by her side, maybe slightly younger, definitely prettier, with long chestnut colored hair and the greenest eyes Kirk had ever seen.

“I thought you’d like to meet a friend of mine. Her name’s Deannie and she’s also my boss so you better behave.” She turned to the other woman. “Deannie, meet Leonard McCoy and James Kirk.”

Both men started to rise.

“Oh, no, don’t get up. I only came over because Sheila’s told me so much about Leonard. I can’t even stay to talk, it’s been so busy today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ma’am. Maybe some other time,” McCoy responded.

After Deannie walked away, Sheila turned to both men. “Well, what do you think?”

Kirk and McCoy looked at each other.

“What do we think about what?” McCoy finally asked.

“About Deannie! I mean, don’t you think it would be nice if the four of us could get together later on?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss MacDonald. I’m leaving town in a couple of hours,” Kirk said.

“Oh.” Sheila made a face but then shrugged. “Oh, well, it was worth a try.” She turned to McCoy. “You don’t mind if she tags along tonight for awhile, do you, Leonard?”

McCoy hesitated, clearly not liking the idea. “I guess not, but why would she want to? Won’t she feel, well, like she’s in the way?”

“Just to dinner. Afterwards, I’m sure she’ll want to go home.”

“I should hope so,” McCoy groused.

“You’re a dear.” Sheila bent down and gave him a quick kiss. “Now, are you two ready to order?”

“Uh, sure,” McCoy stalled, picking up his menu and quickly scanning through it. “I guess I’ll have the number three special.”

“I’ll have the same.” Kirk smiled and handed his menu back to the woman.

After she left, Kirk leaned back, his coffee cup in his hands and scrutinized his friend. “Odd how her boss just happened to be free.”

“She wanted to meet me. Can’t condemn the woman for having good taste.”

“She would have met you later. You’re taking her to dinner, remember?”

McCoy glared at him. “I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so hell bent on rushing home right away.” He leaned forward, his arm resting on the table. “You could stay overnight, you know. Nothing says you have to leave today.”

“And where exactly am I supposed to stay?”

“Sheila has a spare room. If you even came back with us.”

“Oh, no, McCoy, I’m not going that route.”

McCoy sat back, raising his hands as if to ward Kirk off. “Okay, no one’s saying you have to spend the night with her. But you’re the one who’s saying it’s over between you and this guy, Spock. So what’s the problem with you spending an evening with a woman? Come on, Jim, it’ll do you good.”

Kirk rubbed his chin, brooding over McCoy’s words. It would be nice to spend a night out on the town, to be the way he used to be before he’d made the gargantuan mistake of falling in love with Spock. He glanced at McCoy, seeing concern, maybe even a little bit of worry. Finally with a sigh he nodded in agreement.

“That’s my boy.” McCoy beamed. “It’ll be fun, just like it used to be.”

“Yeah,” Kirk responded without enthusiasm. “Just like it used to be.”

~~~~~

“And then we hightailed it out of there like the devil himself was chasing us!”

That drew gales of laughter from the two women. Even Kirk, who had been seriously wounded at the time now found the story funny. But McCoy had that knack; take any serious situation and he’d find the humorous side of it.

Kirk turned and smiled at Deannie, whose return smile was warm without being coquettish. He liked that about her; she appeared to enjoy his company, yet he’d felt none of the expectation from her that he’d feared.

“It’s good to see you smile,” she said.

“I smile,” Kirk responded, surprised at her words.

“Not with your eyes. Or, at least, not often.” She glanced at McCoy, who had drawn closer to Sheila and the two were now in a deep and obviously private conversation. “Have you known him long?”

Kirk thought back. “About ten years.”

“And have you served together all that time?”

“No, not all of it. I had barely made Seaman when we met and he had just come up from the Old South. We served together for a time but then I transferred over to another ship. Never forgot him, though, or what a great doctor he was. So, when I got my own command, I looked him up and offered him a posting. That was, oh, three years ago.”

“It surprised me when Sheila first told me about him, that he was on a ship. Doctor’s have just about the pick of where they want to be. Any town would be more than happy to have him.”

“I imagine one day he’ll settle down somewhere, buy a house and maybe set up a small practice.”

“But not soon?” she asked with a smile.

“No, not soon. At least, I hope not.”

“He’s a good friend, isn’t he?”

“The best.” He picked up his glass and took a sip. The wine was exceptionally good. Not a surprise considering the cost, Kirk mentally groused. But he had to hand it to McCoy. He’d led them to a surprising elegant establishment. And the meal had been exceptional.

“Well, Sheila certainly thinks so.”

Kirk followed her gaze to the couple across the table. It certainly did appear as if the two had hit it off very well. “She’s made an impression on him, too.”

“I’m glad. She deserves to be happy.”

“Don’t we all?” He studied the woman by his side. “What about you? What would make you happy?”

She rolled her eyes. “How long do you have? No, seriously, I’m pretty happy already. I have a successful business, I’m healthy and I have a select handful of friends who are very dear to me.”

“What about love?” Kirk could have bit his tongue. Here he was not wanting to give her ideas and he goes and asks a loaded question like that.

She studied him a moment, seeming to see right through him. “I’ve been in love and I imagine I will be again. But I’m in no hurry. When the right man comes along, I’ll know.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I knew the first time, why wouldn’t I the second?”

He frowned. “The first time?”

“I was married before. He died two years ago,” she said with no obvious pain or hesitancy.

“I’m sorry. It must have been hard on you.”

“It was at first. There were times that first year when I thought I’d never make it.” She smiled then. “But I have so many wonderful memories of him. I suppose they gave me enough to hold on to, to keep going even when going on was the last thing I wanted to do. But life goes on, doesn’t it?”

A year? Kirk thought with distress. Did it take so long?

“Can I ask you something?” Deannie asked. “You don’t have to answer if you feel it’s too personal.”

Kirk mentally shook himself and brought his mind back from where it had wandered. “What is it you want to know?”

“You’ve lost someone recently, haven’t you? But not through death, I don’t think.”

His eyes narrowed, not liking being read so easily. “How can you tell?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I doubt most people would notice. It’s just that since I’ve been there myself the signs are pretty obvious. How long has it been?”

He shrugged. “About six months.” He looked at her. “Can I ask you something?” He continued at her nod. “How long did it take before you felt, I don’t know, normal again?”

“I don’t know if you ever do completely. When you lose someone who’s such a part of your life, who’s the other half of you, it’s like losing an arm or a leg. You learn to live without it but you never get used to it being gone, do you?”

“I suppose not. Yet you seem open to doing it all over again.”

“It’s better than the alternative, isn’t it? Locking away your heart so that you’ll never be hurt again, but at the same time making sure you’ll never feel the joy you once felt. No, I’ll take my chances with the pain.”

He smiled, liking her even more. He looked over, noticing that McCoy and Sheila had stood and that the doctor was leading his lady fair out onto the dance floor. A string quartet was playing a waltz, Chopin, he thought.

“Would you like to dance?” he turned and asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They stood and Kirk walked her out onto the dance floor. With easy grace, as if they’d done this before, she stepped into his arms.



onto Chapter 11