Semantics

"Yes, Doctor, I shall," Spock sighed softly, looking very quietly downtrodden. Kirk had to beat back an impulse to pat him on the shoulder.

"Well, all right then. I'll talk to you again in eight hours." Bones still sounded sharp over the line. Jim watched Spock hesitate over the kill switch, saw his logic waiver a moment.

"And, Doctor..." Spock said, the words nearly spilling out in spite of him, "my...thanks. For your discretion."

Kirk covered his mouth. There was a silence on the other end of the line.

"Well now," Bones said finally, much more gently. "Well now. That's just fine, Spock. That's...that's just fine."

Kirk rubbed at his eyes and Spock turned to him. He gave Spock a weak smile.

"Just tired," Kirk assured him. He shook his head. "I've slept more in the past day and a half than I did all last week and I'm still tired."

Spock looked uncomfortable. Kirk frowned at him.

"Is this one of the side affects of that...resonance you were talking about?" He asked.

"REM sleep has been noted to aid in the forming of new neural pathways in the brain." Spock said somewhat evasively. Spock looked exhausted too, but then Spock had just woken from the first few hours sleep he'd managed in weeks.

"You mean you're not really sure." Kirk prompted.

"We have been unusually physically active," Spock pointed out frankly. Kirk stared at him for a second and started to laugh. He caught Spock looking pleased with himself and took a moment to memorize the way it changed his face. Spock, cheering him up. Wonders never cease.

"What I mean is, you aren't really sure about any of this, are you. Our situation...it's got to be a bit different than your traditional Vulcan..." he paused, "well, you know." He sure wasn't certain what to call it. He shook his head. "Are you certain this...this connection between us is there now?"

Spock looked away from him, and he caught his arm at the elbow.

"I just...I don't feel anything, Spock. I was sick before, I felt you before, but now..." Kirk frowned, searching himself for a moment. "I feel like myself," he said, almost absently. Then, more firmly, "If there's a change, I can't spot it." He shook his head.

He watched Spock's jaw clench, as if he'd said something very different.

"I realize this was not your choice. If you wish, we may seek out help to attempt to dissolve it later." Spock replied, looking carefully at the bedcovers.

Kirk stared at him.

"Spock..."

Damn.

He tightened his grip on Spock's arm, pulled him halfway around. "Open it up." He ordered. Spock blinked at him.

"I beg your pardon?" He replied, startled.

"A resonance, right? A connection, your mind, my mind. Open it up. See if it works," he said swiftly.

"It is undoubtedly still forming..." Spock said, drawing his eyebrows together.

"Try." Nearly a growl. Spock tilted his head at him, as if they were both in the briefing room and Kirk had asked him an odd, off-topic question. But they'd been working together for quite some time now, and Spock knew, like everyone else, that those kind of questions were the ones that usually led to the break they were looking for. So, as he had been doing since Kirk's second month on board, after a token protest Spock packed up his reasonable objections in a little box and just did what Kirk was asking him to. The man...the Vulcan....was nothing if not adaptable.

Spock shut his eyes and lifted his chin a little, tilting his head back. Making it look like he was doing something else entirely. Kirk swallowed. After the last day or two, Kirk found his reaction to the sight was immediate and devastating. He shifted on the bed and thought for the first time about maybe putting some clothes on.

Then he felt...

Spock took a breath, shivered a little and Kirk felt...almost like a warm draft, a brush of air across the back of his neck. Gooseflesh raced down the backs of his arms and he licked his lips.

"Spock, do you-" He never got to finish.

He'd experienced a lot of weird things in the time he'd been in Starfleet. He'd never been grabbed by a memory before. It was like the pieces of it, the scents and smells and colors welled up, bleeding into the present and dragging him away.

He hadn't been able to really see it. The west Rose window was partially blocked by the pipes of Notre Dame's huge organ. He'd charmed one of the grad students working on restoration, a little blond with a sweet mouth and big brown eyes to take him up on her antigrav lift. She'd seen the look on his face as they got higher and stopped the lift just out of reach.

"Non," she'd said with a smile in her voice, "You must not touch." He hadn't bothered to deny it. The impulse had caught him unprepared. He'd put his arms around her instead, watched the slices of colored light play across her face.

This time he was alone, and moved the lift closer to the stained glass. He hadn't expected the faces to be so detailed. He hesitated, a hand out. A slice of ruby light pooled in his palm. He paused, let it warm his fingers until he could almost imagine he was holding something alive.

He heard cloth shift and smiled, knowing before he turned.

Spock was looking up at the glass in quiet appreciation. The muticolored light kalidescoped across his shoulders.

"An excellent example of Gothic architecture," he said, approving. Jim grinned at him. Spock's eyes trailed to his outstretched hand, up to Jim's face. There was a slice of blue rippling down Spock's cheek. The Vulcan's expression...softened...and Jim wondered what he was seeing.

"It is a memory, Jim. You may touch, if it pleases you."

Kirk looked at the glass for a moment, then shook his head. "It's not real." He said, pulling his hand back. "It's not real it...wouldn't be the same."

Spock looked like he was weighing that. The slice of blue slid a little further down his neck. Kirk reached out with his light-warmed hand and touched the slice of color. Was it getting brighter? Spock's eyes widened a little, and it was getting brighter, the sun was streaming through the window, it was blinding-

For a moment it was almost like he spread out, for an instant he was the lift, the brown-eyed grad student, he was the light streaming through the western rose window on a sunny afternoon in Paris almost twenty years ago...he poured out into himself like water into a cup.

He was kissing Spock on the mouth. Spock was pinned under him on the bed, arms snaked around his waist. Sending little shocks up his back with every movement.

If he thought about it, he was still...feeling...Spock, like light shining through stained glass. It was...warm. It felt good like a morning stretch felt good, a kind of body-pleasure that lifted the spirits. Kirk pinned him to the bed with his hips, feeling Spock's little gasp of pleasure in every organ he had.

"You want to get rid of this?" Kirk asked him. "Are you mad?" Disbelieving. Spock arched into him and he swore even his kidneys basked in the glow. He pushed himself back, away, waiting for an answer and it HURT not touching him...

He watched Spock's eyes darken, something animal and hungry flashing past. With a swift movement, Kirk found himself on his back, panting at his first officer's rarely shown strength.

"No," Spock murmured softly, very close. Kirk could feel the puff of air on his face as he spoke. Intense, and not quite sane. "No."

Kirk reached up and grabbed his forearms, tried to give him a shake. The tendons were like steel cables under his fingers. Spock pressed him down into the bed, eyes glittering. Kirk swallowed a gasp as he felt a warm erection press into his thigh. Spock leaned in to kiss him and he blocked with a forearm, speaking through gritted teeth.

"You, and me." He said fiercely. "Is that what you want? Is it?" He'd used that tone of voice on the bridge once or twice to intimidate minor gods. Like them, Spock listened.

The look his friend gave him in response was wide open and he relaxed a little, to see it.

"Jim..." Soft. Spock pulled back a little.

"I want the truth, Spock. If you'd told me, hadn't lied-"

"I spoke no falsehood." There was a snap in his voice, a hint of indignation. Kirk grinned dispite himself, a bubble of amusement welling up.

"Don't pester me with semantics," he replied, almost lightly. "I might have thrown my career away." His tone sharpened. "It would have been nice to have all the facts. I committed to keeping you alive the moment I cut orders and went off course."

Spock's eyes went bleak. "You have been poorly repaid." He made a motion to get up, looking sick with himself. Kirk once again failed to cooperate. He grabbed onto him with legs and hands and pulled him down with an expert twist of leverage. Spock didn't want to look at him, so Kirk lifted a hand and got hold of his chin. Spock's eyes flared wide. The imposition was something Kirk had never done, had never even come close to. It did startle Spock into looking at him.

Strange. He almost seemed to...settle...at the touch. Calmer. Kirk took a breath, offered a smile.

"We seem to have come to a mutual agreement about dying for each other, Spock. The least you can do in the future is give me a little information so I'll know ahead of time what I'll be forced to do to keep you alive." Kirk relaxed. That was his best shot. That was as clear as he could make it, and he could tell Spock had heard him. Not just the words. All the things he hadn't said. He lifted his hand from Spock's face and almost fancied he felt resistance, like pulling his hand out of a swift-moving stream.

Doubt and regret swirled through Spock's eyes, like clouds through clear sky. Hope. Wanting to hope. Not daring to hope.

"There are some things," Spock paused, his voice catching, "As a Vulcan I-"

"I know you're a Vulcan, Spock" Kirk said, exasperated. "But you know me." His voice thickened with intensity. "You know me."

Spock went still, looking at him, at his eyes. Somewhere inside Kirk felt something give a little. He didn't know for certain who the feeling belonged to.

"Yes..." Spock said softly, almost absentmindedly. He touched the side of Kirk's face and shot tingles all down the back of his neck. They gasped together.

Kirk knew there was something else. Some brilliant turn of logic to twist home. He'd nearly put it together when Spock kissed him. After that it was hard to think.

"Yes..." he didn't know who said it. It didn't matter.