"Bones, Spock," came the voice of their Captain, jolting McCoy effectively out of the reverie, in which he currently found himself, as he stared at the portal. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to look over at Kirk.

      Something was wrong; Kirk could figure that much out. While he was trying to escape from that prison, his friends had been stuck in the ice age. And yet, they were warm; they were dry. There was no evidence of harsh exposure. And worst of all, they were acting strange, even for them. In fact, Kirk thought upon reflection, the only evidence of cold was in their behavior towards each other. He decided to keep his distance, falling back into the roll of Commander first, confidante later. Kirk removed his communicator. "Scotty, three to beam up, now." 

"Aye, Captain, not a moment to spare with you, is there?" came the reply. The three felt the tingling of the transporter's effects at once, and then they were gone, leaving the library completely abandoned before the sun went nova.

      Spock found himself shimmering aboard the ship, his own words echoing in his ears "It did happen. But it was five thousand years ago. And she is dead now, dead and buried, long ago." As he appeared on the transporter pad, he took a short step and began to stride from the room.  

      "Mr. Spock?"

      The Vulcan stopped and turned to face the Captain. "Yes, Captain?" 

      Kirk searched his features for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to go about this, and then he gave a smile. "Is there anything you want to talk about, Spock?"

      "My official report will be on your desk by 1900 hours, Captain. By your leave?" 

      Kirk nodded, and watched as the First Officer made a clean pivot and left the room. He turned around to face his Chief Medical Officer. "Bones?"

      McCoy didn't look up from his tricorder. "What is it, Jim?" 

      Kirk sighed softly. "What happened down there?"

      McCoy shifted his hands on the tricorder, still not looking up. "Nothing, Jim, it just took us some time to take shelter, and then a little more time to find our way back." 

      "You tried to come back by yourself, Bones."

      The Doctor's head lifted to stare at the Captain. "It was nothing, Jim, just trust me on that, please." 

      Kirk finally acquiesced to McCoy's words. "Are you guys on speaking terms, at least? I can tell this is worse than one of your normal arguments."

      It was McCoy's turn to sigh. "I don't know, Jim. I'm going to go talk to him later." 

      Kirk nodded in response. "You know if you need to talk, Bones, my door is always open."

      McCoy nodded as he took a step towards the door. "Yeah, I know, except when there are women prettier than me around." The words, though meant as a joke, sounded bitter. Before Kirk could reply, the doors slid open and the doctor disappeared. 

**********************************************************

      It was 1850 hours and Spock sat at the desk in his personal quarters, finishing his report of their mission. The door chime sounded and expecting it to be Kirk, he said, "Come." 

      Instead, the form of Leonard McCoy entered, having removed his duty shirt, and was clad only in his pants, boots and black tee shirt. "We need to talk, Spock."

      Spock did not turn around. "In 9.837 minutes, Doctor. I must finish this report as promised to the Captain." 

      McCoy was irritated, and still hurt, as he walked to the desk behind Spock, peering over his shoulder to look down at the words as they filled the screen. "Do you know how difficult it is to deal with you when you get like that? Every time you're not in one of your emotional moods, I'm 'Doctor.' Even when we're alone, like now."

      Spock did not turn around, simply continued his typing. Giving it a look-over, he sent it to the Captain's terminal.  

      McCoy had barely managed to finish reading before it disappeared from the screen. "You didn't mention Zarabeth in there." He said flatly.

      "Mentioning her was of little consequence." The Vulcan turned around to face the human. 

      "Little consequence? You don't think what happened down there was important at all, Spock?"

      Spock's fingers formed themselves into their familiar steeple configuration. "I do not. There is a line between duty and the personal." 

      McCoy sighed, trying to blow off a little steam before the hurt he had felt ripped through him. "You should have mentioned it, Spock! Don't you think that Jim, if nobody else, has a right to know what happened with his personnel?"

      Spock's eyes became a tad colder as he stared at McCoy. "Why should I have, when you, in the past, have not felt the need to do so?" 

      McCoy looked at him confused. "Spock, is this about Natira? I told you we hadn't gotten a chance for a proper consummation and that was in the report."

      "I refer to Planet 892-IV, Doctor." 

      "Planet 892-IV..." McCoy's brain began to wrack through his inner stellar mapping system.

      "Affectionately known to you and the Captain as 'Twentieth Century Rome,' Doctor." 

      McCoy stopped in the process of forming a reply as he heard that. *That* planet, he realized what Spock was talking about.

      Spock seemed that perhaps he was not fully recovered from the emotions of the planet, for there was certainly jealousy in his voice. "Yes, you need no reminders of that mission, do you?" 

      "Spock, now wait a minute, I-"

      "It was not mentioned anywhere in your report, Leonard. I reviewed the report with the Captain. Why?" 

Why indeed? McCoy's thoughts drifted back to that mission.

***********************************************************

      He and Spock had been fighting more than usual that day. Little did anyone know the reason, save themselves and each other. What had started as a work disagreement had managed to escalate itself into a personal matter and back into a duty-related one, causing them both to be irritated with each other for most of that mission.

      When they had been captured, Spock and Kirk had gone to speak with the leader of the "Brothers of the Sun," leaving him alone with the one who had captured them.  

      McCoy was hardly a eunuch, and since he had gotten together with Spock, although he had always remained faithful, he had found other people attractive, just usually they were women. But there was no doubt that there was something about this man that drew McCoy to him. As they had waited for the others to return, their conversation had turned to small talk.

      "You do not look like the one with the pointy ears; you look like the one you call Captain. What is your name?" 

      "McCoy, Leonard McCoy."

      "Makkovus, then. It is a good name." 

      McCoy had smiled a little then, "Thanks."

      About that time, the rest of the landing party and the Brothers had returned. It was decided that they were to be given safe passage and thus had to change their clothing. And although his eyes were glued to the Vulcan's body while they changed, he could not help but feel the eyes of the Sun Worshipper on him.

      All had gone well on their walk through the woods; the slave costumes were oddly comfortable. Spock and Kirk were engaging Flavius in small talk while McCoy kept quiet, his thoughts running strangely. And while hiding, once more, they were captured, Flavius too, this time by the enemy.

      Flavius had tried fighting and for once, Kirk and Spock were not injured in the takeover, and for that alone, McCoy found himself grateful.  

      The injuries Flavius incurred caused him to need medical assistance, and somehow, this, too, made McCoy grateful. In their prison cell, the good doctor bent over the injured warrior, healing his wounds and touching the Roman, in the name of Hippocrates, of course.

      Spock and he were still fuming at each other. And Kirk was trying to make talk with Flavius. A hard task to complete while he and Spock continued to argue, this time over the use of the word "fascinating." Finally, Flavius posed the question. "Are they enemies, Captain?" 

      Kirk, thankfully, didn't pick up on the hidden meaning in that question. A smile and an, "I'm not sure they're sure," was the response.

      McCoy turned his head to look at Flavius, who simply smiled back at him. Not sure what to do, he turned back to stare at his Vulcan, who was in an evidently foul mood. The guards came, took Flavius away, and McCoy had to consider himself grateful for that, too. He was unsure how much longer he could be in the same room as Flavius, before Spock would notice. 

      It came time for them to attempt an escape, and McCoy found himself playing the sick man out. Kirk's hands on him were convincing and friendly, but Spock's lacked their usual affection, and he was playing the supporter rather poorly. McCoy could tell he was still upset.

      And even with the three of them using their Starfleet training to knock out all three guards, more came, along with the Praetor and Captain Merik. And they found themselves captive for the third time that day.  

      They were questioned and taunted and Kirk was expected to order Scotty to bring the men down, of course, he refused. And throughout the entire time, McCoy and Spock were at each other's throats. This was hardly getting better. Finally, the Praetor grew angry, and ordered Kirk to stay, while he and Spock were taken away.

      While they were being led to their prison cells, one of the guards looked at McCoy and Spock. McCoy recognized him. He was one of the two who had taken them in the beginning. The man gave them a wicked smile. He shoved Spock into a cell, and then locked it, McCoy looked at the guard surprised. And for the first time that day, Spock actually looked concerned, as he saw McCoy being led away from him. 

      On their walk, the guard actually talked to him. "I can see you like that satyr. That's too bad. Our scientists have wanted to get their hands on one of them since Merikus arrived." He chuckled, as though McCoy's angered reaction was humorous. "Here we go." With that, the guard shoved him into another cell, and walked away.

      McCoy found himself staring at the back of the guard as he retreated, not certain what he should do. He heard a deep, questioning voice behind him. "Makkovus?" 

      He turned sharply. Flavius was sitting there, back against the far wall of their cell, his eyes on him. "Flavius, are you all right?"

      A nod came from the warrior. "They weren't hard on me. Are you well, Makkovus?" 

      McCoy nodded too, coming to stand beside Flavius. He moved over, giving McCoy some room beside him, and the doctor slid down to sit. He leaned his head against the cool stone of their cell. "I thought they were taking you to fight."

      "They changed their minds. The Praetor is very fickle. I'm glad he will not make me break my oath to the Sun." 

      "I can understand about oaths. Being in the military isn't easy on a doctor."

      "Being a Healer is a noble thing, Makkovus. You would make a good Brother of the Sun." Flavius reached out to lay a hand on McCoy's arm. Blue eyes met hazel ones as he felt the touch. Not asking him to move it.  

      "Thank you," McCoy whispered, not certain what else to say under these circumstances. The temptation was so high, and Flavius felt right to him.

      "Where are your friends?"

      The question surprised McCoy, shocking him out of his thoughts temporarily. "Merik kept Jim with him; I have no idea what they're going to do with him, probably some military game. Spock's been taken to another cell. The guard said something about scientists and experiments." 

      "Do not worry, Makkovus. He is a capable fighter, I am sure. They won't be able to hurt him." The hand clenched on his arm, comforting.

      "I can't help worrying, sometimes, Flavius. You know how it is, don't you?" 

      "Yes, Makkovus. I do. I've felt it before, and I've felt it recently." The words that followed were left unsaid, but the meaning was there all the same.

      McCoy was tired, and he nodded again in understanding. He closed his eyes and leaned back a little more against the wall, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. "I think I'm going to try to get a little sleep, Flavius. I'm exhausted." His eyes closed and he drifted. 

      McCoy wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep. He awoke to a strangely familiar touch, fingers running through his hair. Flavius had removed his tunic, showing off his bare chest. Although McCoy found something a bit awkward with the situation, he had to admit that the Roman was virile in every sense of the word.

      "How long have I been asleep?" The doctor stretched a bit, trying to work the kinks from his back.  

      "An hour or two, maybe a little more. You slept very peacefully. You look angelic when you do." Flavius was no poet, but he was trying.

      "That's right kindly of you. I can't say that I hear that a lot." 

      "Then those around you are blind, or they are fools." Flavius placed a hand on McCoy's shoulder.

      McCoy tried to change the subject. He was growing very concerned about the safety of the away team. "Do you think they're going to kill us?" 

      "I can't be sure. So far, they have only threatened, but that could change." Flavius' voice had grown a bit harder; he was committed not to fight, even if it would involve giving his life in the process.

      "What about the medical experiments they threatened Spock with? Do you think they'll go through with those? I don't want him to be hurt." 

      Flavius managed to not grunt at the mention of the Vulcan. It was obvious that he was the competition for the man before him. "Hopefully not. The First Citizen can be cruel, but even he has his weaknesses."

      McCoy nodded, glancing up towards the window of their cell, contemplating a form of escape. 

      Flavius shook his head. "I tried to break the bars, Makkovus, but I failed. They will need to let us go, or we will stay here."

      McCoy nodded and continued to stare. 

      It was a few minutes later that the sound of a guard speaking into his telephone set McCoy's heart to ice. "Green blood? You're kidding me. I'll be right there; don't let him bleed out until then." Then the excited footsteps of the armed man sounded, rushing past the cell.

      McCoy was at once panicked. He had an idea of what was happening, but he felt completely helpless. He rose to his feet and charged for the bars of their prison. 

      Before he could make contact, he felt himself picked up and held fast by strong arms. "No, Makkovus. The Sun will come for him if it is his time, and if not, then the Sun will come and protect him from their dirty hands."

      Flavius pulled McCoy back to the wall of their cell, managed to settle him down in his lap, and held him still. He listened as McCoy ranted about barbarians, and when he sensed the doctor was finished, he looked him straight in the eye and kissed him, a deep and passionate kiss.  

      McCoy's eyes flew open, but he relaxed. When the Roman finally let him breathe, he pulled away. "I wish I could say I hadn't seen that coming."

      "You feel it as much as I do, Makkovus." Flavius attempted to prompt McCoy into another kiss. 

      "Yes, although I wish I didn't." McCoy looked away.

      Flavius would not stand for it and reached for his hand, kissing the back of it. "Is it so unnatural for you to have desires, Makkovus? I am a brother of the Sun, so too could you be. And together..." Flavius allowed his voice to trail off, leaving the rest to McCoy's imagination.  

      "Flavius..." McCoy began, trying to collect his bearings.

      "Hush," Flavius pulled McCoy in again, kissing him deeply, his hands beginning to remove the doctor's tunic, enjoying what he saw thus far. 

      A deep, rumbling laughter interrupted the activity and caused Flavius to let go. The guard had returned with Spock at gunpoint. He ordered the Vulcan into the cell, before calling Flavius out.

      Flavius, with regret, released the doctor and found his own tunic, putting it on, as he walked to the door. As Flavius was led away, the guard ridiculed his beliefs, and his now obvious attraction to one of the barbarians. 

      Spock kept his eyes on the Roman, giving him an undecipherable look. Only when he was gone, did the Vulcan allow his gaze to fall on McCoy. He said nothing, only drew back into the corner.

      The doctor came closer to him, under the guise of medical attention. "I heard they bled you. Are you all right?" He reached for Spock's arm. 

      "I am undamaged. Do not touch me." Spock drew back.

      McCoy returned to his corner, respecting his wishes, but with regret in his mind. 

      It was no coincidence that later that day, McCoy and Flavius were forced to fight each other, and that they both found themselves unable to make an adequate performance. Once the guard had reported the scene he had witnessed, it was agreed that making lovers fight would help boost the ratings.

      Thankfully, Spock stepped in and made quick work of Flavius, pinching him into unconsciousness in an attempt to save McCoy. He was angry and jealous, but that would not stop him from protecting the doctor. 

      The situation between them remained awkward. Unable to speak of the real emotions they were facing, they spoke of their Captain and their mutual worry for them.

      Before another fight could take place, Flavius was killed, and they managed to escape, returning to their normal lives. 

***********************************************************

      "And you finished by saying that you would miss that 'Big Sun Worshipper.' None of that appeared in your report, although I am certain you could explain to me just why you would miss him, and his enormity." Spock's glare was cold.

       McCoy looked down at his boots. The fight after that particular mission had been bad enough, but rehashing the subject as a way of steering clear of this mission was making matters worse. "All right, Spock? You want me to do it that way; we'll do it that way. I missed him because he was a good man. Hell, he'd have made a damn good officer. He was also built like a linebacker. Did I find him attractive? Yes. Did I kiss him? Yes. Did I sleep with him? No. Why not? Because I was, and am currently, in love with you. Happy?"    

      Spock looked up at McCoy, searching his face for expression and finding only earnest. He should not have brought it up as a defense for his own actions. "I wish I could say the same."

      McCoy was somewhat taken aback. "You don't love me?" 

      Spock rose from his chair, reaching out a hand for the doctor. "That is not what I meant, Leonard. I wish that I had your self-control and could say that my adoration could have prevented my lust."

      McCoy let out a deep breath, looking at his lover. Somehow, the discussion they had managed to calm him down quite a bit. "I'll admit I was upset about that, Spock, and jealous, but I realize that the time period was affecting you strongly. The part that was bothering me was how protective you got of her to the point of nearly killing me. And I don't know what subconscious desire you were projecting there or what, but it bothers me." 

      "I was not in my right mind, Leonard. It is you I wish to protect." Spock quieted for a moment, his cheeks flushing slightly. "And although I was threatening, I was not going to strike you. I was about to...force myself on you."

      McCoy coughed, not quite sure what to say to that. "I think...that might be a good thing. I'm not sure. For a truce, we agree to never speak of this or of the other mission again?" Spock nodded in agreement, quite prepared to put it behind him. 

McCoy glanced at the chronometer. "Jim's going to burst in here in a few minutes to yell at us for fighting. Want to scare him off?"

      "Elaborate and I may agree." Spock quirked his eyebrow provocatively at McCoy. 

      McCoy leaned over and pulled Spock close. When he heard the door chime, he called out, "Spock, harder! Just like in the cave, Spock!"

      Outside of the first officer's quarters, since the soundproofing was not effective and everybody knew it, Kirk removed his hand from the buzzer. Whatever had been bothering his friends was certainly over now. As he walked away, he vowed to himself that he would never bring this mission up again. Some things were better left unsaid. 

Finit