A/N: And so we come to the end. Hope it didn't disappoint. Yesterday I was hit with an idea for a sequel to this that will tie into the episode 'The Enterprise Incident.' We'll see if anything comes of it. ;-) Thank you again for reading, reviewing and/or favoriting this piece-after all, feedback is what drives my virtual pen.

Chapter Nine

The buzzer to his cabin sounded, drawing his attention from the viewer on his desk. He switched it off. "Come," he called softly.

Kirk entered at his usual frenetic pace. Spock made a motion to rise but Kirk waved him back into his seat. The captain stopped before his desk, taking in the pile of multi-colored record tapes stacked neatly beside the computer interface. "Spock," he began, "Am I disturbing you?"

"Negative; please have a seat, Captain."

Kirk settled into the chair opposite his first officer.

"You look well, Jim."

Three days ago the lab had isolated the bacteria just over one hour after they had been given the sample. M'Benga consulted with the healers on Vulcan, and two hours later they provided him with the ingredients for an antibiotic cocktail which would both kill the pathogen and be compatible with Kirk's human physiology. Twenty-four hours after administering the first dose, Kirk regained consciousness, his Vulcan and human friends at his bedside. Spock merely gazed at his captain with a quiet satisfaction, but McCoy's relief manifested in quite another way: "You see what I mean, Jim? You two can't even do something as innocuous as ferrying a diplomat home without trouble finding you..."

Two days after that—this morning, in fact—Kirk had been released from sickbay after McCoy found he could stomach no more of Kirk's constant needling. The captain would need to be on the medication for another seven days, and still wasn't medically cleared to resume duty on the bridge for two more days. For now, handling routine paperwork from the relative quietude of his quarters entailed the extent of his responsibilities. Spock could see it was already beginning to wear on his captain. Kirk was a man of action, not one given to sitting. He looked as if he'd jump out of his skin at any moment.

"Yeah, well, someone needs to tell Bones that. He's been hovering over me all day like an Arcturian vampire bat, and sucking about as much blood from me, too. That's part of why I'm here—hopefully he won't be able to track me down."

"Jim, it is necessary. We must monitor the progress of the medication to ensure that it continues to be effective against the pathogen."

Kirk scrunched up his face. "I understand that. Doesn't mean I have to like it." He softened the delivery with an apologetic grin.

"Then perhaps you need a distraction, Captain."

"I thought you'd never ask. What do you have in mind—some sparring in the gym, a few laps around the outer ring of the saucer section?" Kirk's expression was hopeful.

Spock sighed inwardly. He really hadn't expected anything else. "Nothing quite so physical, Captain—it would be disadvantageous at this time to tax your immune system. I thought perhaps some intellectual stimulation would suffice." He rose to his feet and retrieved the chessboard from the shelf behind him, placing it on his desk.

"Again, not my first choice but I'll take what I can get," Kirk replied as he began setting up the pieces.

They fell into an easy rhythm, discussions of ship's business giving way to more personal conversation as the game progressed.

"I did it for your mother, you know," Kirk said offhandedly, not meeting Spock's eyes as he captured a belligerent knight with a bishop.

"And she appreciated the gesture," Spock replied just as casually as a rook dropped two levels, placing Kirk's king in check. The ensuing silence attested to the fact that neither man had been fooled.

"You know, I've thought a lot about what you said in the shuttle," Kirk said after a minute as the offending rook was done in by the captain's queen. "And you were right." Hazel eyes met the dark ones. "I can't call you on the carpet for something I'm guilty of myself."

"Indeed?" The raised eyebrow spoke volumes: I am pleased that you have reached this conclusion, Captain, although somewhat surprised that you would so freely admit it. Can I now expect a more responsible approach to dangerous situations from you?

The silent comment was not lost on Kirk. "And as it seems that neither of us is going to change anytime soon, we should both agree to be more careful, if not for ourselves then for the sake of those around us."

"That is always my intention, Captain."

"Somehow, your good intentions and stark reality don't always mesh, Spock."

They were interrupted by the insistent buzz of the door chime. Someone seemed to be trying to shove the button right through the bulkhead. "Spock, are you in there? I can't find Jim anywhere."

"He is here. Please enter, Doctor."

The look Kirk bestowed on his first officer could have triggered a supernova.

McCoy burst into the room in a huff. "Jim, where the hell have you been? It's time for your next blood draw."

Kirk's voice was pure silk over the softest cashmere. "I swear to God, Bones, if you stick me one more time I'll blow myself out of the nearest disposal chute into the vacuum of space."

"Seriously? You don't need to be so melodramatic." The doctor sighed, puffing out his cheeks. "Well, I suppose I could just use the scanner to see if the level of the organism in your blood is continuing to drop, but an actual sample tells me—"

"Am I likely to drop dead in the next ten minutes without one?" Kirk interrupted.

"Well, no, but—"

"Then just do a scan, please. I'm starting to feel like an Edosian dartboard."

"Okay, okay. It's your funeral." The scanner materialized in the physician's hand as if it had been plucked from thin air. "You know, you don't need to be such a wuss," the doctor intoned, scanner whirring steadily.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Playing cat and mouse with Romulans doesn't faze you, you pick fights with mugatos and giant reptiles and then try to beat them to a pulp with your bare hands, and you don't even blink when letting a highly advanced, scare-me-half-outta-my-wits, non-corporeal energy being borrow your body, but someone tries to take a little blood and all of a sudden you get as freaked out as a tribble in a room full of Klingons. Just seems kinda weird…and wussy."

Kirk's head snapped up at that, fury seething just below the surface, but the cunning gleam in the doctor's eyes, the devilish grin on the surgeon's face brought forth a belly laugh instead.

McCoy chuckled as well. "Okay, Jim I get it. The levels are still decreasing, so we'll cut the blood draws to every two days unless scans indicate we need to do otherwise. Friends again?"

"Do I have a choice?" Kirk countered.

"C'mon, how long do you think you can stand to be without this bundle of Southern charm?"

"Don't tempt me."

McCoy managed to look hurt. "You'll miss me the next time shore leave rolls around. Who'll you go bar-hopping with—that guy?" he asked, pointing at Spock. "That'll be about as much fun as a burst appendix."

"Quite preferable to being subjected to a constant stream of your mindless chatter, Doctor," the Vulcan quipped.

"At least my 'mindless chatter' doesn't revolve around mnemonic memory circuits, proper database management and the latest software updates."

"Which in this case is most advantageous—one can only imagine the sheer illogic the ship's computers would spew forth if you were responsible for their programming and maintenance."

"Well, at least they'd have a sense of humor."

"Yes, an ideal quality to possess when tasked with making life-or-death decisions."

"Now wait just a damn minute—" McCoy began hotly, eyes flashing as he waggled a shaking finger at the imperturbable first officer.

"At ease, gentlemen," Kirk interrupted, chuckling and waving his hands in surrender. "I'm just starting to recover from one life-threatening battle; I don't need to be thrust into the middle of another one."

McCoy clamped his lips closed on his vitriolic retort, but continued to glare menacingly at the Vulcan. Spock merely gazed back with cool, detached disinterest.

The doctor visibly quelled his desire to continue the argument, turning his attention to Kirk instead. "But seriously, Jim, glad you're on the mend."

"I know you are, Bones. Thanks for pulling me back from the brink—again—and thank you, Spock, for figuring out the solution to our 'problem' and getting me back here so McCoy could work his magic."

Spock acknowledged that comment with a raised eyebrow, a slight dip of the head.

And yet it was McCoy, as ever, who couldn't hold his tongue. "Just ease up on the adventures for once, okay Jim?"

"Seems to me it's not like I always have a choice. Once again, not my fault this time."

"Agreed, but when you do have control over a situation you could just take half a second to evaluate it instead of charging in with guns blazing and that cocksure Achilles complex of yours," McCoy pointed out.

"Sound medical advice. I'll remember to do that next time a black hole or an ancient alien superbug tries to eat me alive," Kirk retorted facetiously.

"Good Lord, there's just no pleasing some people," McCoy answered just as tetchily. He switched gears. "Well, Jim, I should go—we still need to catalogue and stow the latest batch of supplies we got from Starbase Four. Right now, everything's sitting on pallets in the middle of my office, and you know how cranky I get when things are in disarray."

Spock cleared his throat at the comment, to which McCoy replied with an ominous look, just daring the Vulcan to say something. Spock thought better of it, for Jim's sake if nothing else.

"Well, I'll leave you two to your game," McCoy said, eyes returning to Kirk before they flicked to the board on Spock's desk. "Just see to it that you don't do anything more strenuous than this for the next few days, and be in sickbay at 0800 sharp tomorrow for another scan."

"Scout's honor," Kirk replied.

"Yeah, right, like you were ever a Boy Scout," McCoy muttered under his breath as he turned to leave.

As the door closed behind the surgeon, the two men focused on the game once again. It was Kirk who broke the silence. "Some adventure. I really don't remember a whole lot about our time there, especially toward the end." Kirk's look turned mischievous. "Remind me to stay away from Vulcan in the future," he joked. "Seems it's bad for my health."

His captain was not the only one who was well-versed in doublespeak. Spock let that understanding shine in his eyes for a moment. Kirk grinned his approval. It seemed both men were continuing to make progress with respect to banishing their demons.

Kirk's look became serious now. "I do remember that a young boy was helping us somehow. Did you ever find out who he was?"

"Negative. I would not even allow him to tell me his name. The names of all of those individuals who were instrumental during the time of the Reformation are well-documented in Vulcan history. I did not want to take the chance that by knowing his identity, if he were to become one of the prominent figures later in life, that I would somehow influence that, and perhaps irrevocably alter my planet's future."

"A logical choice, as always Mister Spock. It merely seems a pity that we'll never know who he was, or what happened to him."

"Affirmative, sir."

"That's checkmate, by the way," Kirk finished, hemming in Spock's king with a remaining knight and his queen. "Thanks for the distraction." He rose to his feet. "Well, now that I finally got Bones to stop using me as a phlebotomist's practice dummy I'd best be off, and let you get back to…," his eyes fell to the pile of tapes, "…whatever it is you were doing."

Spock stood as well. "Goodnight, Jim. I shall see you in the morning."

Kirk turned and made for the door. As it swished closed, Spock reseated himself and activated the viewer once again. He too had been plagued by an irrational need to know the boy's identity, as if that would somehow alleviate his concern as to what had become of his young friend. The boy had been dissatisfied with the course his society was taking. It was only logical to assume that he had supported the revolution, but as to whether or not his "nephew" had been an instrumental figure, or one of the tens of thousands killed in the skirmishes leading up to the Enlightenment, Spock could only speculate. Certain that he would be unable to discover the answer he had nevertheless called up numerous holos from the ship's database of those individuals who had had a hand in changing his planet's fate. He'd reverse-aged each one in turn, shocked when at last the face of the mysterious youth materialized before him. Kaiidth, indeed. Even then, the boy had been wise beyond his years.

It was fortuitous that he hadn't known who the child was, or wiped the boy's mind clean of the time they had spent together. This knowledge did put into perspective for him some of the more ambiguous elements of Vulcan history, however. It was said that during his forty days of fasting and meditating in the desert the solution to Vulcan's ills had come to the father of modern Vulcan culture in a dream: a nameless, faceless stranger had told him non-emotion was the key to the planet's salvation. Spock was stunned. Although he had never mentioned the philosophy outright, the child was quite perceptive. The boy had kept his word, for he had not divulged the true nature of the events he had experienced during his childhood in the desert. Spock's eyes drifted to the computer screen once again. The face gazing back at him was that of a ten-year-old Surak.