Author: Francesca Vitale
Title: Runzani
Rating: PG13

Summary: Challenge response from KSOF-2002, wave one. "Jim and Spock have to pretend to be married while on a mission."

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all characters belong to Paramount and its parent company Viacom. No infringement on their copyright is intended. No money is being made from this. This has appeared in Side by Side.
Feedback addy: mandelbrotset23@yahoo.com

RUNZANI

Francesca Vitale

Please, let me not laugh, Jim Kirk prayed to himself as he prepared to beam down.

The Enterprise had received strongly-worded orders to open relations "as quickly and as thoroughly as possible" with the Senzarii, a little-understood race whose planet had only been discovered recently.  Both Kirk and the crew were quite excited about the assignment; though the mission was ostensibly diplomatic, little enough was known about this race that it was as much exploratory and anthropological. 

Even so, all the briefings in the world would not have prepared them for their instinctive reaction to the Senzarii.   Kirk had experienced dealing with alien races so foul and disgusting that crew had to wear special filtration devices in order to stand their presence for long.  He had dealt with aliens so fundamentally different that it was hard to establish even basic communication.  But he hadn't dealt with aliens so cosmically funny that it was difficult to interact with them without laughing.

A typical Senzarii stood only two feet high and looked something like a mixture of a perpetually confused family dog and a water balloon covered with springs.  It had multiple eyes that continually glanced in every direction at once, conveying an impression of ongoing inattention.  Its mouth, which could cover over 50% of its body size, had the disturbing habit of opening and closing without apparent reason or warning.  All of that was strange enough, but what really tested Kirk's control were the springy things that covered the body.  Because of them the Senzarii could bounce over huge distances and heights; but they continually vibrated, even when the being itself held still, making Kirk feel absurdly as if he was attempting to open diplomatic relations with a child's toy.

Strange as the people were, he knew perfectly well why Starfleet had developed such a sudden, overwhelming interest in a comparatively undeveloped race.  For though they were sophisticated in some ways – having a worldview which, as far as anyone could tell, readily incorporated the idea of alien species – they were unsophisticated in ways that Starfleet normally paid attention to: little industrial development or technology, no apparent complex social organization, and negligible scientific knowledge.  However, they were incredibly rich in dilithium.

It was Kirk's job to negotiate terms that gave Starfleet partial or complete access to at least the areas of the planet that were uninhabited but contained large reserves of the mineral.  A spate of revolutions and uprising on a few key Federation planets meant that it was growing increasingly scarce, so he could entirely sympathize with the desire to control these mines.  Starfleet's philosophy was not to be a conquering power; diplomatic relations were a necessity because they would not just take a mineral that belonged to another people, even if said people knew nothing of its value.

However, Kirk had been informed, the definition of "take" in this instance was understood to be very loose.  His orders were to use "all reasonable measures" necessary to secure the dilithium – and what constituted "reasonable" was purposely left vague. 

He understood that this was a situation where he was being set up for failure.  If he did not manage to secure Senzarii cooperation, then he would take the entirety of the blame and another probably far more ruthless negotiator would be assigned.  If he could only secure "cooperation" by getting them to sign a treaty they did not fully understand or agree too – which he wasn't sure he could ethically bring himself to do – and if this was later found out by activists on Earth or elsewhere, he would again take the fall.  The only way he could emerge from this situation with all parties happy would be if it really was in the Senzarii's best interests to sign. 

To make matters worse, Kirk didn't even understand fully why he and the Enterprise had been assigned this mission; there were more experienced diplomats at approximately equal distances, and the crew of the Enterprise was long overdue for some R&R.  But both he and Spock had apparently been asked for – by name, no less – as the only representatives from the Federation that the Senzarii would deal with.   It was beyond bizarre because he had no idea how the race could even have heard of them, much less formed a preference; only a handful of xenoanthropologists had even visited the planet, and that was the only contact with the outside universe that the Senzarii had so far experienced.  Starfleet apparently also had no idea why Kirk and Spock were specifically requested – or else they weren't saying – but they were clearly willing to do anything that might increase Senzarii willingness to allow Federation mining on their land.

So here they were.   It was a truly odd assignment, fraught with potential difficulties, and for a moment Kirk found himself wishing that it really was just exploratory.  This could turn out poorly in so many ways.  He glanced back at Spock standing by his shoulder as they waited in the transporter room for the rest of the landing party.   Well, at least he wasn't alone in this – Spock would be with him, as always, and that was no small comfort.

* * *

"What the heck happened down there?" Jim said in frustration as soon as they entered his quarters.  The two men had headed straight there after beaming back up and checking in with the bridge; it was completely inappropriate to vent his feelings in front of the crew, but as soon as he and Spock had some privacy, he let the command persona drop.  "I don't feel like we were understanding anything each other said."

Spock settled himself on the sofa across from Jim's desk.  He seemed unruffled, but Kirk's practiced eye could see the trace of tiredness and frustration he, too, shared.  The Vulcan met his gaze, and the calmness in the supportive dark eyes was reassuring.  Kirk felt something in his stomach relax for the first time since they had tried to introduce themselves to the Senzarii ambassador, and he let himself collapse next to Spock.

"I have sometimes thought that the facility of the Universal Translator can cause more problems than it may solve," Spock mused.  "The meaning of many words is so dependent upon cultural context, especially for species that are more alien, that even a 'translation' of a word into its approximate equivalent in Standard may render it nearly unintelligibly from its intended meaning."

Jim groaned, leaning forward.  "That makes some sense," he said. "There is just so much we don't understand about them, it's ridiculous for Starfleet to expect us to try to form a treaty with them."

"What I suggested is merely a hypothesis about why our negotiations were so ineffective."

"But it's a good one," Jim said.  "I felt like both sides of us really wanted to communicate, but whatever it was they wanted us to do, we certainly weren't doing it.  And getting a straight answer from them – about anything, including what each one's name was – was practically impossible."  He smiled wryly at the Vulcan.

"It would have been most amusing to have been, as you say, a 'fly on the wall', for our discussion."  Spock smiled his not-smile back, and Jim finally grinned fully, letting the humor in the situation get to him.

"You mean watching me bend down, trying to offer grave diplomatic courtesies to that being, as it kept asking to speak to my baby?"

"Or perhaps the moment that Lieutenant Wilson tried to approximate a handshake and her finger got trapped in the Senzarii's appendage."

"Oh, man, don't remind me!" Jim laughed.  "That has to go down somewhere in the book of bad diplomatic happenings.  We almost had to call a medical team down here to remove it.  God only knows what the Senzarii thought of the whole thing."

"Perhaps, given all that transpired, we should consider it fortunate that they still desire to communicate at all with us."

"Yeah," Kirk sobered.  "I just have no idea how to get past the impasse we're at.  What we really need is someone who can act as a cultural translator of sorts."

Both men looked at each other.  "What about –" Spock began.

"The xenoanthropologists on the planet!  I can't believe we didn't think of that before!"

"As I recall, there are currently only three, and at least one of those is out of communication range; she is undergoing a religious quest of some sort.  However, one of the remaining two may be willing to assist."

Kirk got up and pressed the communicator on his desk.  "Lieutenant Bradley here," came the voice of the third-shift communications officer.

"Lieutenant, I'd like you to get into touch with the xenoanthropologists currently available on Senzar.  We would like their assistance in communicating with the Senzarii.  This is quite important, so I'd like you to be as persuasive as possible.  Let me know if you need me to speak to them in person."

"Understood, Captain." 

Kirk depressed the button and flopped back onto the sofa next to Spock.  "Well, I'm beat.  I think that's about all anyone can do about this for now."

"Agreed."  Spock stood to go.

Jim waved him back.  "That wasn't my subtle hint to leave, Spock, unless you want to.  I just meant that I didn't want to talk business anymore."

The Vulcan reseated himself carefully, a silent contrast to Kirk's boneless sprawl.  "I have nowhere else I wish to go at this moment," he allowed, managing to sit stiffly and properly even on Jim's non-regulation overstuffed sofa.

Jim was watching him intently.  "You crack me up sometimes, you know," he said finally.

Spock met his eyes.  "Explain," he said, but amusement lurked in his dark gaze.

"I don't know... Just, well, you'll always be you, no matter where you are or what everyone else is like."

"I fail to see who else I could be."

"Oh, Spock, you know what I mean," Jim said.  "Look – look at how you're sitting.  You probably wouldn't sprawl like I am for 10,000 credits."

"I did not know you objected to the way I sit."

"I don't, not at all."  Kirk leaned closer, touching the other man's knee, emphasizing Spock's posture.  "I like how you sit the way you want, even if everyone else does so differently.  It's ... well, it takes a certain amount of integrity to do that.  And bravery."

Their eyes met again.  "I believe it is appropriate to say 'thank you' at this point," the Vulcan said.  "Though I had no idea that the way I sit was so important to you."

Jim smiled.  "I'm not talking about sitting," he said. "But you know that."  It was curious how Spock could get him to say things like that, just by being around – could make him drop the armor he normally wore most of the time.  He felt a wave of deep tenderness go through him.  "Never mind me," he said.  "I'm just making small talk."

Spock's eyes twinkled.  "Perhaps I shall have to 'sprawl', just to show you that I am capable of it," he said, relaxing his long legs minutely.  He raised one arm to rest on the back of the seat behind Kirk, then folded the other loosely onto the armrest.  He lifted an eyebrow challengingly.  "Is that adequate?"

Jim leaned back slightly, letting his eyes pass over every line of the other man's body.  Spock found it difficult not to squirm under that intent gaze.  "You need to relax a little more," Jim said slowly.  "Maybe – lift one leg, and put the arm around it.  And... spread them out more; don't keep them locked together like that."  He paused.  "It – it, you – look good."

Spock followed the other man's suggestions, keeping his eyes locked with Jim's.  Sometime during the exchange their teasing mein had evaporated, to be replaced with something that made the air heavy, every action fraught with some kind of significance.

The captain leaned back, unable to take his eyes off the sight of Spock – relaxing – and in doing so brushed his head against Spock's outstretched hand.  Both men drew a breath, and Kirk slowly shook his head back and forth, enjoying the feeling of the other man's fingers barely touching his hair.  "That's better," he whispered.

Spock dared to move his fingers through the soft hair, and Kirk leaned his head fractionally farther back.  "Is it?" the Vulcan asked, scarcely aware why he was asking, only desiring to say something.

"Yeah...  that's – that's great," Jim whispered, and his eyes were brightly, humanly hazel, and the unreality suddenly struck Spock, making him feel oddly like it wasn't him sitting here with his hand touching Jim's hair, it wasn't him sprawling in this alien way on the sofa – and it was perhaps that unreality that made him continue doing what he had never imagined doing except in the recesses of his dreams.  He stroked his hand through the other's man's hair again, this time slowly and sensuously, and Jim closed his eyes.

"Jim..." the word was barely audible, and carried so much emotion Spock could hardly identify it as his own.

For a long moment Kirk didn't do anything, but the atmosphere tensed minutely, and Spock had the absurd impression that Jim was delaying opening his eyes, trying to delay time from moving forward, as if by force of will he could stop the next moment from coming.  But time cannot stop, not even by the will of a Jim Kirk, and finally he opened his eyes and said with difficulty, the words flowing like molasses, "We should not do this, Spock."

The Vulcan slowed his fingers but didn’t stop them, didn't pretend to misunderstand what Jim was talking about.  "Why?"

Kirk's eyes were bright.  "You know – you know – there's so much potential to mess things up, so many ways I can hurt – I don't know ... I mean, it's just not a good idea – I can't take that risk – "

Spock frowned, trying to make sense of the marginally coherent statement.  "I have never known you to not take a risk."

"I – listen, it's just not a good idea.  I've realized that for years – no matter how much I want it, or you want it, it's not."

"You are making very little sense, Jim. Why is this not a good idea?  I feel this way, as I am finally able to admit it to myself – and clearly you do too, as has become obvious recently – what more is there?"

Jim bowed his head forward, moving it from Spock's touch.  "A lot."

At his vulnerable posture, something twisted inside Spock, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to make Jim stop hurting – as he clearly was, for some unknown reason – and nothing made Spock himself hurt more than the fear that he had somehow caused that to happen.  "Jim," he said softly.  "I do not mean to press for something that you do not wish; if you do not want this, then that is – not fine, but at least acceptable – and nothing need change between us."

It was an utterly unasked for pardon, and Kirk marveled at his luck that this man was by his side.  "It's not that I don't want you, or don't –"

"I know."

"I'm sorry I – I flirted with you, made it so obvious how I feel, because I didn't intend for us to be ever having this conversation –"

"Apparently not," Spock said, and the words could have been harsh, but there was a wry edge to them that made Jim feel with a rush of relief that things would be okay after all.  He mustered a slight smile.

"Spock – can we forget these last minutes ever happened?  I've felt like this about you for – for a long time, really, and managed to not act on it for that whole time.  And I think I can continue to do so if we just forget about this."

Spock tilted his head.  "I cannot 'forget' anything that happened," he said.  "And, truly, I question the need to 'not act' upon it.  But I do not desire anything that you do not want as well, and as I said before, it has not changed anything important between us."

Kirk sighed in relief.  "Thanks."

The Vulcan stood.  "I must go," he said.  "I must meditate."

"Spock – I'm sorry – "

"Do not say anything more; it would not change anything."  He turned to leave, then hesitated.  "Jim?"

Kirk looked up from where he still sat on the sofa, head still bowed.  "Yeah?"

"Perhaps you will soon explain to me why you feel the need to not act upon this – this emotion between us.  I would like to know."

"I – I don't know if I can explain... But you deserve to know – I'll try. Someday"

"Very well," Spock said, and then he was gone.

* * *

Jim knew as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning that the day was going to be horrible.  He remembered an old children's book his mother was fond of reading to him when he was little – titled something like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day – and thought that his would undoubtedly have poor Alexander beat.  He wondered what Spock would think if Jim told him about his "terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day" – probably he'd say that all the adjectives were redundant – and just as Jim caught himself grinning at the image, he remembered their conversation the previous night in all its painful detail and stopped smiling.

No, he wouldn't say something like that to Spock.  No sense in poking at a wound – and Jim knew that his rejection had to hurt, on some level, even though the Vulcan undoubtedly understood that it wasn't about him. 

Still, the memory of the conversation left a sour taste in his mouth, reminder that it was that he couldn't have what he wanted, that Spock wanted him – Spock wanted him! – and he had been forced to deny him.  He had a brief flash of sense memory, back to the utterly right feel of Spock's fingers in his hair, and Kirk quashed it down ruthlessly; he couldn't afford to pine.  Life would go on, and Spock would remain in his life in the comfortable role they had settled down to after V'Ger, and that would be enough.  It would have to be, because to try for anything else was to lose what they already had.

Damn, he had to stop thinking about this.  He needed to start thinking about the mission, the Senzarii, the shit he was going to be in if they couldn't pull something out of their hats.  Maybe today one of the xenoanthropologists would be able to help them.  Maybe the Senzarii would offer to give Starfleet all their dilithium.  Maybe the universe would flip on its axes and the world where he and Spock could be together would be the only universe that made sense.

Yeah.  Maybe pigs would fly.

This was going to be a horrible day.

* * *

"So you're saying that you won't help us?"

The man Kirk was interrogating shifted a little uneasily in the uncomfortable chair of the briefing room.  He was short and scruffy, and somehow managed to give the eternal impression that he was a rag doll that someone had flopped carelessly around.  But his blue eyes were solid and Jim was willing to be that the man had plenty of steel hidden under that careless exterior.  After all, he was surrounded by Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, had just been on the receiving end of the patented Kirk glare, and still only shifted slightly.  "I'm not saying that," he said now.  "I'm saying I only will if you manage to convince me that it's in the best interests of the Senzarii to do so."

Kirk closed his eyes in frustration.  "I don't see how I can do that, knowing as little about the Senzarii as we do.  That's what we need you for, Doctor Voss – to find that out."

"You can't tell me that if what I tell you shows you that the Senzarii would be better off if Starfleet got its ass out of their system, that you'll just leave quietly."  The words were heavy with skepticism.

Spock spoke up.  "We have no more wish to do harm to the Senzarii than you do, Doctor Voss."

"Oh yeah," the man said sarcastically.  "No disrespect intended, but I know the military mind.  Even if you personally don't want to do any harm to them – and I believe you about that – I somehow doubt that your superiors will be so open-minded if it means it will cost them large amounts of dilithium."

"Look," said Kirk heavily. "I sympathize with what you're thinking, and I can't honestly say you're far wrong.  But look at it this way – Starfleet wants this treaty, and if we don't get it, they'll send someone else to get it.  And that someone might not be nearly as interested in the welfare of the Senzarii as we are."

"That someone wouldn't even get to speak to them.  They'll only deal with you two."

"Why?" asked Kirk in frustration.  "I'm working in the dark here.  We don't know the first thing about these people – the more we know, the more chance we have of coming out of this situation with everyone satisfied."

The xenoanthropologist sighed heavily, then appeared to come to a decision.  "Okay," he said finally.  "As the best of bad choices, I'll help you as much as I can.  But there's still a lot I don't understand, and if I think it will hurt the people of Senzar, I reserve the right to withhold information."

"Fair enough."

 

"Okay, then.  I think it would be a good idea if I was around for your future negotiations; no matter what I tell you up front, nothing beats having someone with firsthand experience right there."

"That's a good idea.  But you can tell us a lot up front right now, too."

"Fine."

Kirk spread his hands.  "Maybe you can start with why they will only deal with me and Spock."

Voss shifted uncomfortably again.  "I can't say I understand fully," he said.  "It has something to do with the way the Senzarii conceptualize the world.  It's a much more integrated viewpoint than most Terran worldviews – at least in most of the cultures that still survive on Terra.  In the Senzarii view, everything is a network."

"Explain."

"Well, roughly speaking, most of Starfleet – and most of the worlds that are in the Federation – see the social and physical worlds, implicitly, as a sort of hierarchy: X subsumes Y, Y is better than Z, and so on."

McCoy snorted softly.  "I don't think that's very accurate for everyone."

"It's a generalization, to be sure – but by and large it's very true.  It's as obvious as the scale of ranks aboard the ship and as subtle as the automatic social referencing people do as soon as they walk into a room, trying to identify who is the one with the power, who are the people like yourself, the ones who are less important.  Humans – and Vulcans, and most of the powerful races of the Federation – are social, hierarchical animals.  That response is ingrained in us, and as natural as breathing."

"Okay," Kirk prodded. "Let's say I agree with you; it seems plausible, at any rate.  How are the Senzarii different, and what does this have to do with my question?"

"They are social, but not hierarchical in any sense, " said Voss.  "Rather they see the world – especially the social world – in terms of who is connected to whom, what is the nature of the connection, and how that changes over time.  It's as if they have a continuous web in their heads, where each person is a node in the web, and they think by rearranging nodes."  He paused.  "I think.  It's pretty hard to understand what's going on, but I really think the way they think is just fundamentally different, and that's one of the main dimensions it differs.  They conceptualize everything this way – the world, the universe, their place in it – everything."

"Fascinating," Spock said.

"Yeah, it is."  Voss grinned, his enthusiasm lighting up the room. "It's exceedingly complicated, but so fun to try to figure out."

"That still doesn't explain why they only wanted to see me and Spock."

"Like I said, I'm not sure," said the xenoanthropologist.  "But near as I can figure, they are – not telepathic, exactly, but extremely attuned to both emotional emanations as well as simple, physical emanations that are beyond the range of most sentient life-forms – things like subspace signals."

"Okay..."

"So since we first discovered Senzar, we've been bringing our subspace receivers with us – the first teams, and now myself and the other scientists studying them.  I think they've managed to 'tap into' these, as well as our feelings about what we receive, and from that they've constructed a pretty detailed view of Starfleet – and, by extension, people in it; including you two, as you're sort of famous."

Kirk frowned again.  "I'm still not following.  They somehow naturally tap into subspace – which has definite implications we'll have to consider carefully at some point, by the way – but that still doesn't explain this preference for myself and Mr. Spock."

Voss sighed.  "I'm guessing here, you understand – but it has to do with their 'network' view of things.  In their minds, since everything is a network, the individual nodes of the network are very unimportant.  Only occasional 'hub' nodes matter on the individual level, but they see that as very rare.  Short of that, what matters is groups of nodes; nodes that go together to form some sort of unit.  There are such groups on all scales – Starfleet is one such group, the crew of the Enterprise is another, etcetera – but they will only consider speaking to groups or collectives, not individuals."

"So they want the Captain and Spock, together, because by themselves they're just single nodes, and unimportant," McCoy said.  "It makes an odd sort of sense."

"It is most strange that two 'nodes' have so much more importance than just one," Spock mused.  "I would not imagine it would make such a difference."

"It doesn't, not by itself," Voss said.  "They care about the strength and nature of the connection between the nodes as much or more than just the quantity of them."

"So they want to talk to myself and Spock because our... connection... is somehow more suited to their tastes?" asked Kirk.

"Well, yeah," said Voss.  "I should think that would be obvious.  First of all, you clearly have a strong connection among the crew on the Enterprise – that much is clear from the news, and I'm sure they've picked up on that even from the planet.  Otherwise, quite frankly, I'm sure they wouldn't be still speaking to you."

"But they don't want to talk to the entire crew – just us."

"Um, I sort of doubt that," Voss said.  "I'm sure they want to speak to your entire crew, starting with the lowest ensign – hell, they'd like to start with your youngest children, if you had children on the ship with you.  But you're right in thinking that that's less important to them than that they speak with you two.  Because, like I said, they're generally less interested in quantity than quality; they'd much rather speak to two people with a connection like yours than to two hundred with poor or weakly formed ones.  It's not preference, strictly speaking; they just think that it'd be a waste of their time."

Jim rubbed his forehead.  This whole talk about his and Spock's 'connection' was verging uncomfortably close to the conversation they had had the previous night, close to the things he'd tried not to think about this morning.  But it was hardly the same thing – it couldn't be the same – and he needed to understand this as well as possible, so he made himself ask the next, inevitable question.  "I guess I don't understand why they think that Spock and I have this connection that no one else does."

It was Voss's turn to frown.  "Um, I don't understand why you don't think you do."  He paused uncomfortably.  "I don't want to overstep my bounds or anything, but it's pretty obvious, even to a civilian to me, that you two are far more – together – than any other command team in Starfleet – hell, more than most couples anywhere.  It stands to reason they'd come to the same conclusion from the news networks as well as what we think.  And, again quite frankly, if you weren't pretty solidly together, the Senzarii wouldn't still be trying to speak with you after the debacle that you say your last encounter with them was."

Spock cleared his throat, sounding a bit strangled, and Kirk couldn't quite bring himself to look at the Vulcan.  "What exactly do you mean by 'together'?" McCoy finally asked, his interest clearly piqued.  Kirk found himself evading the doctor's eyes as well as Spock's.

Voss looked back and forth between the Kirk and Spock, now sitting stiffly before him; in the space of a minute, the discomfort level of the room had risen astronomically.  "I apologize if I said something I shouldn't have," he said cautiously.

"Never mind that," Kirk said, feeling like a teenage idiot, but still unable to bring himself to look at Spock or stop the flush that he felt creeping up from behind his collar.  "It's ... fine.  But perhaps you should specify, so we know exactly what we're dealing with."

"Well, okay," said the xenoanthropologist slowly.  "What the Senzarii mean, at least, when they talk about you – well, they use the word runzani to refer to you two, which translates to – hmm, I guess it translates best to 'life-mates', to two 'nodes' or people who are connected for life.  I guess the closest Terran translation would be 'married couple', but that's not exactly right.  There is no sense of official ceremony attached to the word, just the nature of the connection."

Now it was McCoy's turn to sound slightly strangled, though Kirk was sure it was equal parts suppressed laughter and shock.  He heard his own voice saying tightly, "The Senzarii will only deal with Spock and myself, then, because they think we're married."

"In essence, yes," Voss said.  "Is that really so inaccurate?"

* * *

"I just cannot believe it," Kirk said tightly, staring down at the bottle of amber liquid Bones had mixed up for him.  It was late into gamma shift, and after a hectic day of trying to learn all they could about the Senzarii in preparation for another diplomatic meeting the next day – and, mostly, trying to ignore all the emotional bombshells that had fallen in the past 24 hours – Kirk found himself completely unable to sleep. After tossing and turning fruitlessly for an hour, he dragged himself down to Sickbay, where McCoy, also still awake, had only said "I thought you'd be here eventually," poured him a glass, and led him into his office.

"What can't you believe?" the doctor asked now, swirling his own brandy lightly around his cup.

Kirk spread his hands.  "The whole thing.  First, that this race of pseudo-telepathic, subspace-reading, bouncy little – thingies – somehow thinks that Spock and I are ... are married, for God's sake.  Then that apparently Voss and half the Federation thinks so too, even after we told him not.  Then that – that –" he abruptly ran out of steam, and subsided to staring blankly at his glass.

"Then that what?" McCoy wanted to know.  "Somehow I don't think those things are what's really bothering you.  I mean, you know that gossip makes the universe go round; you and Spock are a natural target for the tabloids, especially since V'Ger.  Hell, even the reputable news agencies assume things all the time – and people who get their information from them, like Voss, are bound to as well.  You know that.  And you've had to pretend to do far worse things than be married to that green-blooded Vulcan in the line of duty.  That can't be bothering you that much."

"No, it's not," Jim said after a moment.  "That doesn't bother me at all – I mean, it's not like we set out to perpetuate a fraud. And Voss said it himself; clearly the Senzarii sense some kind of emotional connection, and we couldn't fake that anyway.  If they want to call it marriage, whatever, I have no problem with it.  Knowing this, and knowing about them, has suddenly made my job much easier, in fact."

Bones nodded; he knew all this, but he also knew that part of being a good psychiatrist – hell, part of being a good friend – was knowing when to let people say what they needed to and come to their own conclusions themselves.  "So what is really bothering you?" he asked after the silence stretched out.

Jim studied his hands.  "Do you think Spock and I are – together?" he asked finally, nearly inaudibly.  "Or should be?"

McCoy took a deep breath. He had thought this conversation might head this direction, but hadn't prepared himself for that question.  "It hardly matters what I think, Jim," he said.  "It's really between the two of you, what you feel."

"Well, clearly we have a strong enough emotional connection that the Senzarii think it means we're life-mates," Jim said, and it came out sounding slightly bitter.

Bones raised an eyebrow at the tone.  "Are you saying you don't?" he asked cautiously, unsure of what minefields he was treading across.  "I would have bet my life savings on that same thing, though I don't think I would have called it 'marriage.'"

"Marriage..." Jim said softly, still staring into his glass.

Bones reached his hand out towards the other man.  "Jim, help me out here," he said.  "What's going on in your head?  Is there something wrong between you and Spock?  Is there something between you two, period?  What is it that you're beating yourself up over?"

"I don't know how to answer those questions, Bones," Kirk said.  "I don't know what's between Spock and me – I don't know what I want to be between us, I don't know what should be.  I'm still reeling over the shock of having what Spock means to me spelled out in utter, exact detail by a total stranger, based on what he heard from the news and pieced together with the help of an alien race of springy little beings."

"So you do think he's your... life-mate, or whatever he called it."

"Well, yeah.  In a way, at least.  I've known that since – since before he went to Kolinahr.  At least on some level I knew it."

"What do you mean, 'on some level'?"

"I'd envision the future, and I couldn't see one without Spock in it.  That still happens whenever I think about who I want to be or what I want to be doing."

Bones nodded.  It was extremely rare to get Kirk to open up like this, and he didn't want to say anything that would disturb the unusual openness.  "Have you talked with Spock about this, Jim?" he asked finally, certain he'd receive a negative answer.  Neither of them were anything but reticent when it came to discussing personal things.

But Kirk surprised him, saying, "Yeah.  Sort of."

McCoy raised his eyebrow.  "What do you mean by that?"

Jim sighed.  "I told him that I didn't want that kind of relationship with him, that we shouldn't do it."

Bones' eyebrow raised higher as he imagined that conversation, trying to imagine the circumstances it had come about.  "A sexual relationship, you mean," he said bluntly.  "You're hetero, of course. You might have a really good connection with Spock, but that doesn't mean you want it to be sexual.  That makes sense to me."

But Kirk was shaking his head.  "No, that's not what I meant," he said.  "I've been with guys before – not many, but I've always known it was a possibility for me."

The doctor thought that if he had any more shocks, his eyebrow might permanently be affixed to the top of his forehead.  "Excuse me?" he asked.

Jim smiled ruefully.  "I'm saying that the thought of a sexual relationship with Spock doesn't bother me in the slightest," he said, his turn to be blunt.  "I just – I can't just have sex with him – he means too much to me to do that.  We'd have to do the whole thing – the whole shebang – bonding and life-long commitment and such."

"But you said you already see him that way.  As a ... a runzani."

Kirk shook his head.  "Yes – but in a sort of non-commitment kind of way.  The thought of actually having him count on me to be there all the time, to never let him down – I can't do that to him, Bones.  I can't let anyone count on me, not like that.  I'm going to die sometime – with this life we lead, probably sooner rather than later, but at any rate far before him.  Danger seems to follow me everywhere I go.  And even if I don't die or disappear, I'm a lousy one for relationships, Bones – you know that.  I survived losing Lori, letting her down.  I don't think I could survive letting Spock down, or having him find out that I'm not the man he thinks I am.  And I think that'll inevitably happen sooner or later.  I'd love to know Spock will be with me for the rest of my life, to count on him always, but I can't promise him that he can always count on me."

It was the longest speech McCoy could remember Kirk making about such a personal topic.  "Why do you think you'll let Spock down?" he asked finally.  "Certainly he knows you well enough that I don't think he's wants anything more than what you can give."

Jim shook his head.  "I let down everyone I'm in a relationship with," he said.

"Jim, that's irrational."

"It's true," he said stubbornly.  "I know it sounds irrational, but it's true, and I am so afraid of doing that to Spock."

"You should talk to Spock."

"I already did."

"Did you say that, or did you just tell him 'no'?" asked the doctor, and the captain fidgeted uncomfortably.  McCoy pressed his advantage.  "Listen, he deserves to hear the whole bit – especially after that scene in the briefing room today."

 

"You're right," Kirk said reluctantly.  "I know that; I've been trying to figure out how to talk to him for a while now."

"Just do it.  Spock isn't some stranger you have to impress.  Just say what's on your mind."

"The thing that stops me now is this whole runzani thing, though."

"What do you mean?"

Jim ran his hand through his hair.  "Voss kept saying the Senzarii could sense our emotional connection, and that that – aside from the subspace and whatever else – was what made them still want to open relations with us."

"Yeah..."

"So – they called that connection runzani, Bones.  Life-mates.  Committed to each other.  They felt the connection, and that's what they called it.  What if it really is that – what if we're already truly committed, at least in the emotional sense?  What if I'm worrying over nothing?  What if I'm just depriving us of something wonderful?"

* * *

The second round of diplomatic negotiations went amazingly better than the first – so much so, Jim thought, that it was as if they were in two parts of a textbook: the first part being instructions on how not to open diplomatic ties, the second being instructions on how to do so effectively. 

With Voss's help – and their new understanding of how the Senzarii viewed themselves and Starfleet – he and Spock were able to forge a treaty allowing Starfleet nearly unlimited access to the dilithium on the other side of the planet in exchange for a continuous influx of Federation visitors for the Senzarii to talk to.  "They basically live to experience the flow and ebb of relationships in the world – ecological, technological, but most importantly, social," Voss explained.  "They've been very frustrated that so far they've had so little contact with the important 'webs' of the Federation.  This will, hopefully, rectify that.  They're more than happy to give up some of a mineral that has no value to them in order to meet people."

As they prepared their final good-byes, Kirk couldn't help thinking that it would be nice for the Enterprise itself to be assigned as one of the ships to 'talk' to the Senzarii.  It had been a long time since they were on a truly exploratory mission – and he didn't think Starfleet would mind cutting him a few favors after the speed they had come up with the treaty. 

He mentioned as much to Spock after they returned from their last visit to the planet's surface, as they headed towards their quarters at the end of the shift.  The Vulcan's eyebrow went up at the comment.  "You wish to return, in spite of the fact that the Senzarii still labor under the belief that we are married?" he asked, half teasingly, but with an undertone of something serious in his dark eyes.

"Yeah, about marriage thing," Jim said softly in response.  "Maybe we should talk about that bit."

The teasing glimmer vanished from Spock's eyes as he sobered completely.  "Right now?" he asked, and Kirk nodded, meeting his eyes, communicating his seriousness.  They reached Jim's quarters and the captain waved the Vulcan in, heart beginning to pound.  The door shut behind them, and he was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of the presence of the other man. 

"Well, what I have to say – it's like this," Jim said after a moment of silence.  Spock's eyes had dilated in the low light and the pupils were so large they appeared almost completely black.  Dressed in his standard uniform, he should not have appeared different than normal, but Jim finally let himself look openly on the long, clean lines of the Vulcan's body, letting – finally – all the emotions he was feeling show in his eyes.  He slowly closed the distance between them, feeling Spock's body heat long before they touched.  Spock stood still, completely unmoving.

"It's like this," Jim repeated softly, almost whispering now, but it didn't matter because he was only inches from Spock.  He had met Spock's black liquid gaze – couldn't look away – and was hyperaware of all his other senses: the brush of the fabric of his shirt across his chest, the soft sound of Spock's breathing, the oh-so hesitant whisper of Spock's exhale floating across his cheek – he was aware of it all, but he didn't have attention for anything but the man in front of him.  He leaned in the rest of the way, pausing for an aching second, breathing the same air that Spock breathed, and then he kissed him.

At first it was hesitant, tender, Spock's lips yielding under his but not responsive, and then something shifted and the Vulcan had brought his arms around Jim and was kissing him back.  And it was so good, just the taste of him, just the knowledge that this was Spock he was kissing, and he felt like he might explode with the rightness of it.

At last the Vulcan pulled away.  "Though I am not complaining," Spock said a bit breathlessly, "I was unaware that this constitutes 'talking.'"

Jim smiled and couldn't resist another kiss – sweet, non-urgent, thorough – and when he pulled back again, said, "It doesn't.  But I decided I was wrong – when we talked earlier – I was completely wrong."

Spock smoothed his hands over Jim's forehead.  "You have felt for years that we could not 'act' on this, and you changed your mind in a span of two days?" he asked.  "Forgive me, Jim, but I am ... uncertain... that this represents a well-considered action."

Kirk touched his forehead to Spock's.  Their mouths were now only centimeters apart and, barely resisting the urge to kiss again, instead whispered, "I've considered for as long as I've felt this way about you," he said.  "I just didn't think I could be what you need me to be."

Spock slid his hands down to Jim's waist.  "I do not need you to be anything to me other than who you are, t'hy'la," he said hoarsely.  "Please do not change your mind again.  I do not think I could take it."

Jim felt his heart crack at the vulnerability in the words.  "Oh, Spock, I won't ever stop feeling this way," he said.  "I'm just so scared that I'll hurt you – I'll die, or leave, or just screw up – I couldn't stand it if I hurt you.  That's what stopped me.  What still makes me nervous, to tell you the truth."

"You will not hurt me," Spock said, and Jim leaned forward and kissed him again. 

He felt the Vulcan's warm hands, still at his waist, and whispered, "Take my shirt off.  Let me feel you on my skin."

Spock dragged his fingertips lightly under the material, barely stroking Jim's skin, and suddenly the kissing that had been sweet and slow and tender was replaced by a wash of need that struck him so strongly his knees almost buckled.  "God, Spock," he whispered. "I need you with me, I need you so much."

Spock caught him in another kiss, this time deep and increasingly passionate.  "T'hy'la," he whispered.  "Life-mate."

"Yes," Jim answered.  "Runzani."