VARIATIONS ON A THEME 8

by

Sheila Clark and Valerie Piacentini

"Oh cruel was the snow that sweeps Glencoe
And covers the grave o' Donald;
Oh cruel was the foe that raped Glencoe
And murdered the House of MacDonald."

The sad, haunting tune echoed softly in McCoy's ears as he stepped out of the turbolift. Drawn by it, he changed his mind about his destination and followed the sound, to find himself outside Rec Room 3. The door had been secured open to accommodate all the bodies that filled it; the man standing in the entrance turned his head at the doctor's approach.

"Didn't expect to find you here, Spock," McCoy said, taking advantage of the silence that had fallen. "What's going on?"

Spock smiled faintly. "I came to collect Jim, but I did not care to interrupt. It seems that Miss Uhura is rehearsing a new song, and as usual she has gained an audience."

"Can't blame them - you know what it's like whenever Uhura decides to sing. Where is Jim?" he added, gazing in at the tightly packed crewmembers carpeting the floor. "I can't tell if he's even in there."

"I can." There was a hint of amusement in the Vulcan's voice. "He is sitting on the floor in the far corner, too tightly wedged to move - and Mr. Mitchell has just stepped on his hand."

"Now how on earth did you know that?" McCoy demanded. "Or are you making it all up?"

"Not at all. The bonding link is most precise at such close quarters," Spock said gravely.

"You really needed that full link, didn't you?" McCoy said sympathetically. "I know Jim's delighted - " He broke off as Uhura's voice took up the plaintive tune again.

"They came in the night while the men were asleep, The Band of Argyll, through snow soft and deep; Like murdering foxes among herdless sheep, They slaughtered the House of MacDonald."

Spock drew McCoy away from the door. "Jim cannot leave without creating a disturbance, and besides, he is enjoying the music. I was about to go to dinner - would you care to join me? Jim will know where to find us."

"I was on my way to a meal myself," McCoy replied. "I'll be glad to join you, Spock."

Over dinner, McCoy picked up his train of thought again. "About Jim. There's something I wanted to ask you."

"Yes?"

"You've said that Jim has a very powerful mind."

"Indeed. He is fully as strong as many Vulcans in this universe."

"But if that's so, how did... " The doctor hesitated, wondering how best to phrase the question.

Spock continued eating calmly. "You were wondering how the Captain was able to gain and maintain such control over him."

"Well... Yes."

"You must remember that he was cruelly tricked. Jim opened his mind in complete trust to someone he thought a friend. He was overwhelmed by the rape of his mind, which was as brutal and complete as the rape of his body. It is proof of his strength that so much of his bedrock integrity survived; although he had no choice but to obey, his heart remained uncorrupted. It was not easy for him to learn to trust again, but he has done so, and you have seen what he has become. It is his doing, not mine. I merely provided a safe harbour while he re-made his life."

McCoy nodded silent agreement. "Spock, while I'm asking damn-fool questions anyway... Do you ever compare him with the other Jim Kirk?"

"Compare?" Spock said slowly. "What would you have me say? How could I not? And yet it is not a comparison in the sense you mean. Captain Kirk was my friend. I respected him, and valued his trust. There was... affection between us. I mourned his death, and in my grief sought to deny it by seeking his alternate in another universe.

"But... I love Jim. Kirk taught me to value and express the emotions my world denied. He was my friend - but Jim is my t'hy'la. Does that answer your question, Doctor?"

"I guess so." The doctor grinned, returning to his meal. After a moment he looked up. "So what's all this I've been hearing on the grapevine? I'm told Jim's been seeing a lot of Janet MacLeod lately."

"Indeed? May I ask how you came by this information?"

"Gary Mitchell. And no, he wasn't gossiping," McCoy added hastily as Spock's eyebrows registered disapproval. "He was concerned. It seems some of the younger and less responsible crewmembers have been having a field day."

"And Mr. Mitchell was concerned for Jim's reputation? Gratifying, if somewhat unexpected. However, my bondmate's conduct is my concern, McCoy. If I am satisfied with his behaviour, I see no reason for anyone else to be concerned."

"And you can just get off your high horse with me, Commodore!" McCoy snorted. "I didn't say he was getting up to anything he shouldn't have been, you know that. I just wanted you to know what was being said. Suppose someone starts spreading stories off the ship, and that cousin of yours gets to hear them? You know it's practically his life's ambition to disgrace Jim."

"I apologise, my friend." Spock relaxed a little. "It seems so natural to me to be bonded to Jim that I forget that to Humans such a liaison is unusual. Naturally there is talk. They cannot realise that infidelity is impossible for one who is bonded. And you are correct, of course, about Sendak. However, Jim has good reasons for his actions." He nodded towards the door. "No doubt he will be only too eager to tell you."

McCoy followed the direction of his gaze and saw Kirk come in, deep in conversation with Janet MacLeod. Despite his often renewed promise to himself not to be curious, he couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Spock to catch the Vulcan's reactions. There were two or three bonded Vulcan couples on the Enterprise, and he was well aware of a certain... he could only call it possessiveness... in their relationships. It was not simply a male characteristic either, for the women exhibited the same instinctive watchfulness if another female seemed to be showing interest in their husbands. Spock, though, nodded politely to MacLeod, and greeted Kirk with his faint smile as he approached, coffee cup in hand, and took the empty seat at the table.

"Lord, it was hot in there. Spock, I'm sorry - I was so wedged in I couldn't leave without trampling over half the crew-. and besides, Uhura hadn't finished singing." He drained his cup, and grinned. "Won't be long now. Another two days and we'll reach Earth. By the way, confirmation of our bookings came through, so we're all set."

"All set? What have you been up to, Jim Kirk?" McCoy asked.

"Arranging our leave, of course. Spock and I have decided to tour the Scottish Highlands. Ever since the idea came to me I've been picking Janet MacLeod's brains for places to go and things to see."

"It is supposed to be a rest, Jim," Spock reminded his enthusiastic bondmate.

"Well, I know that. What I thought was, we'll have the first few days on the wander, touring about and taking a look at some of the places I've heard about Then we'll head for Loch Duich, where we'll stay at the Kintail Lodge - Janet recommended it very highly. It's not really as strenuous as it sounds, you know; Scotland's a small country, and nowhere's very far from anywhere else. I'm really looking forward to it." He turned to include McCoy in his enthusiasm. "Most of the country where we'll be was depopulated after the Eugenics Wars, but people are beginning to resettle the remoter areas now. There are still miles of open country, though, and the old wildlife has re-established itself, including several species that had long been extinct in the natural state. Most of them escaped or were released from game parks when there was no possibility of maintaining them, and with no-one to interfere, or even care, their numbers increased. A lot of the farm animals went wild, too, when the people left."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," McCoy said dubiously. "Wild country, scattered population, possibly dangerous animals roaming around... "

"Just like Vulcan," Kirk said cheerfully.

"Are you sure you don't want somewhere more lively? New York, or London, say, if you intend to spend some time on Earth?"

"That's just what I don't want," Kirk said quietly. "We'll have all the socialising we need - more than we need - when we get to Vulcan. This break will give us some time by ourselves, plenty of peace and quiet, and lots to explore. We'll have an aircar, Bones, and we'll take our communicators, so we'll be in constant touch with Starfleet, and the Earth Space Station can beam us up at a moment's notice. So what can go wrong?"

"Don't ask me," McCoy grunted. He was not convinced that this was entirely wise. "No doubt you'll enjoy it."

"We will. Oh - Spock, I meant to say... I'm afraid I've committed you."

"In what way, Jim?"

"Well, you know how much help Janet's been. I found out today that she'll be stuck in London for twenty-four hours, and she's desperate to get home to Argyll herself, so I offered her a lift part of the way. She can arrange to be met at a place called Crianlarich - it's on our route - and she'll get home much quicker. It won't interfere with what we want to do, either. The way you drive it's only a five hour run from London. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," Spock replied. "I am grateful that she was able to assist you."

"She really did. She loaned me a book too, and I've been making a list of - "

"Jim, I hate to say this, but you're a born tourist," McCoy sighed. "Some rest this is going to be - it makes me tired just listening to you."

Eventually the last lap of the journey was over, and the Enterprise hung in orbit above Earth. Her crew had already begun to beam down for their leave, but the Captain and the Commodore would be the last to go.

Kirk waited with rapidly mounting anticipation. It had been so long since he had last seen Earth. With the Captain always at his side there had been no chance to go - the Vulcan had loathed his blood-mother's world - and since Spock had come to the Enterprise there had always been so much else to do. It wasn't even as if he had any family to draw him home.

Home? No, it was no longer home. The desert planet claimed that place in his life now, giving him parents, a wife, children... and his t'hy'la. They had in fact intended to go to Vulcan first, but a change in orders had altered their itinerary; in many ways he was glad of it, as the new course would give him longer with his family.

Still, Earth was the planet of his birth. It would be pleasant to walk her green fields again, to feel the soft rain on his face, to see the star patterns of his childhood. Yet his memories were such a mixture of pain and happiness that he did not think he could bear to return to Iowa. Janet MacLeod's stories had kindled in him instead a longing to see the wild, ancient land she knew so well, to discover for himself a tradition as proud as that of Vulcan, but which offered all the magic of discovery. His head was full of names, places, legends... new experiences for both himself and Spock, untainted by any harsh memories.

At last the formalities were complete, and they were free to depart. Charlene Masters, who was remaining on board to oversee the engine modifications, beamed them down to the main Transporter Terminal in London. They stepped from the pads and merged with the crowd, no longer Starfleet officers but for a few short weeks merely civilians with no other considerations than their own pleasure.

Janet MacLeod was waiting for them at the exit, as arranged. "I collected the aircar you ordered while I was waiting, Commodore. There's often a queue, and I thought it would save time."

"Thank you, Miss MacLeod. We can leave at once."

The vehicle was more of a hover-car than the high-flying vehicles used on Vulcan. The tradition-minded Terrans still clung to their old road network, although the cars could at need travel over open country, and could achieve a fair height. The controls were similar to those on a Vulcan machine, so that it took Spock only a few moments' study to familiarise himself with their operation.

With no reason to delay they were soon on the road. Kirk relaxed in the passenger seat beside Spock, a map spread out on his lap. After a moment he nodded.

"The North Circular Road," he commented. "Funny how the old names stick. We're planning a fast drive up, Janet - there's a lot I'd like to see on the way, but we just don't have time."

"Another occasion, perhaps?" Spock suggested.

"Mmmm." Kirk frowned as he caught sight of a signpost. "That's odd."

"What is?"

"I'd never heard of this Crianlarich place until Janet mentioned it, but I've just seen it signposted. Must be a pretty big place to be signed this far south. I do know some of the Scottish cities, Glasgow, Edinburgh, uh, Dundee, Aberdeen - but I've never heard of this one."

A deep chuckle came from the back seat. "I won't let you miss it," Janet promised, a hint of laughter in her voice. "I think you'll be... surprised."

"Sounds interesting." Kirk settled deeper into his seat "I refuse to tantalise myself with all the places we're passing, so I'm going to get some sleep. I was up half the night with last-minute reports. Wake me when we get there - I'd like to see the city on the way in."

"I'll wake you," Janet said, still with that hint of laughter. "I know the landmarks to look out for."

As Kirk settled back, Janet relaxed in her own seat She was grateful for the lift, but she had to admit that she felt somewhat of an intruder. It was not something the two men did deliberately - indeed, she was sure they were unaware of it - but as Gary Mitchell had said enviously, there was a rapport between the Commodore and his Human bondmate that made others feel... not unwelcome, exactly, but that they were being excluded from something very real and vital that lay just beyond their understanding.

And yet, when it came down to it, they were much more sociable than they used to be. When he first took command of the Enterprise, Spock had never been seen in the Rec Room. Now he came most evenings, if only for a brief visit, and it was on his instructions that when he did so the crew dispensed with formality, though they still treated him with the respect he had earned.

As for Kirk, the First Officer had always been shy, had for a time seemed almost a recluse in his off-duty hours, rarely mixing on a social level with the crew. Janet thought for a moment, wondering just when it had begun to change. Perhaps, she chuckled inwardly, with their 'courtship'? Certainly both men had begun to appear more sociable at about the same time. Maybe Spock's self-assurance had given Kirk confidence, while the Vulcan had shared his bondmate's unsatisfied need for Human contact. In common with most of the crew, Janet MacLeod had a thorough - though well-concealed - curiosity about this unusual pairing, but ruefully admitting that it was none of her business she dismissed the questions that would never be answered even had she dared to voice them, and settled back to enjoy the drive.

Spock's hand on Kirk's shoulder aroused him from his doze. "Miss MacLeod informs me that we are approaching Crianlarich, Jim."

Kirk stretched, yawned unashamedly, and sat up, peering ahead for his first view of the unknown city. His jaw dropped as the aircar settled to a halt.

"This is it? All of it?" He looked round at the hotel, the cluster of houses, the soaring hills beyond.

Collecting her bag, Janet laughed. "Everyone falls for it, especially if they've driven up from the south, seeing it signposted all the way," she said with satisfaction.

But why bother?" Kirk scrambled to retrieve Janet's case. "It's barely a village!"

"Crossroads," Janet said briefly. "North to Fort William and then Inverness, south to the Clyde, east to Perth - or east and a little south to Stirling - and west to Oban. It's the starting point for anywhere you want to go. And the hills - climbers have been coming here for centuries." She gestured around her. "Ben More and Stobinian are the highest mountains in Britain south of Strathtay. Over there's Beinn Laoigh, and in front of it, Ben Oss and Dubhchraig. Then forby the climbing and the walking, there's fishing in the summer and skiing in the winter, so it makes sense to let people find it easily." Glancing towards the hotel she added, "There's my transport. Thanks for the lift, Commodore, Captain. Enjoy your leave."

She walked across to a car parked outside the hotel, and Kirk slid back into his seat, glancing at his bondmate.

"I didn't grudge her the lift, but it's good to be on our own at last," he said with satisfaction, moving closer to his companion than he had done before.

"Indeed." Spook set the car in motion.

Spock had been anticipating this leave, unusually for him. He was, in fact, more tired than he or McCoy had allowed Kirk to guess. The longing for the completion of the bond-link had drained his reserves of energy, and there had been no time - until now - for his mind to relax from the strain of maintaining the shields that had kept his need from his brother, a strain aggravated by the need to prevent Kirk from realising that he was shielding anything at all. Moreover, he was not certain that he had as yet fully adjusted to the differences the change of universe had made. The awakening and training of his telepathic potential by Commander Spock had been traumatic enough, and since then life here had been one crisis, one set of problems, after another. It was stimulating, challenging, a life rather than the lonely existence he had endured in the other universe, but it was tiring, and there had been so little time simply to relax and be at peace. Perhaps this leave would give them the time they needed to allow the bond to complete its work of healing.

It was pleasant to indulge Kirk in this enthusiasm. The Human seemed enchanted by this ancient land, and the Vulcan too found much to intrigue him on this world so different from his own. As the late summer days unfolded leisurely his faultless memory filled with images and impressions of his beloved bondmate's company.

A glorious sunset delighted them one evening as they headed for the small village of Spean Bridge where they were to spend the night. Against the burning sky a starkly simple outline reared in silhouette. Even before Kirk's soft exclamation was uttered the car was slowing to a halt, and the two men walked along what had once been a well-trodden path to the stone base of the monument.

It was evident that someone still tended the memorial for although the path was now greatly overgrown a clear passage was still possible, no encroaching weeds had taken root between the stones, and the structure itself showed no signs of damage or decay. Three figures cast in bronze gazed out over the moor towards the Ben Nevis massif, and Human though they were, the resolute faces reminded Spock of the long-vanished S'Kanderai of Vulcan - he did not need to read the inscription to know what these men had been.

"'United we conquer'," he murmured. "As we have, Jim."

Kirk nodded, tilting his head to look up at the faces. "So long ago," he said quietly. "One of the twentieth century wars. This reminds me of the R'ley'va carvings."

"You feel that too? Indeed, the S'Kanderai would have called them brothers." Spock's gaze ranged over the landscape that the inscription said had been their training ground. "It can have changed little since their day," he observed.

"Maybe we have, though," Kirk said thoughtfully. "Humans, I mean. I don't know much about the period, but combat was more... personal, then. You saw your enemy, not just a shadow on a sensor screen. I wonder, were they more ready to kill, or less? I used to think I could imagine a few things worth dying for, but not a lot that was worth killing for. Oh, I did it when I had to... but it was duty, not conviction. Except once." He turned, his eyes on the Vulcan's face. "You remember?"

"Yes." It was one of his earliest memories of this universe - the beaten, terrified, tormented wretch who had summoned up the resolve to destroy his master.

"I knew nothing about you, I'd barely spoken to you, but even then I knew that I couldn't let Him kill you. If I'd hesitated..." Kirk shuddered. "But in a very strange way, he represented... security, too. In all my life, He was the only person who ever wanted me, and would go to any lengths to keep me at his side. I needed that - it was better than being alone. You must have seen that when you touched my mind."

"I saw it... and I understood."

"I've never known how - or why - you chose me. You must have seen others, stronger, better, wiser than I. You'd just seen me kill... And however you look at it, whatever excuses you make, it was murder, Spock. - I knifed him from behind."

Spock remained silent. There was one last secret he had hidden, a thing he had never spoken of in the other universe, nor in this. He had always known, though, that one day he would tell Kirk, and it seemed that the right time had finally come.

"Jim, you know that I loved your alternate. You know how he died."

"The mindsifter. Spock, you don't have to - "

The Vulcan shook his head. "I must. When McCoy and I found him in that Klingon cell he was a terrified, unreasoning creature who tried to hide from the friends who would help him.

"I caught him, held him while McCoy took his readings. The physical damage, though severe, could be healed; but as he took the brain scans, McCoy wept.

"I would not believe it. I told myself that whatever the mindsifter had done could be undone with time and care. And if not - if all that was left to him was the mind of a child - then I would care for him. There was a place for us on Vulcan; and for the first time I was glad that I would outlive him, that he would not be left alone.

"Then McCoy told me. There was no mind left."

Lost in his memories, Spock swallowed convulsively, and Kirk was horrified to see tears in the dark eyes. He slipped an arm around the thin shoulders and pulled the Vulcan down to sit on the stone platform of the memorial, offering silent comfort for this terrible grief.

"I had to accept that I could do nothing," Spock continued dully. "Had I possessed then the abilities that the Commander later gave me, I could perhaps have given him the future that I had planned, but even so little was too much. He would never know anything but pain and terror. The very people who tried to tend him would be merely another threat. The conscientious doctors of Starfleet would keep him alive for another sixty or seventy years - and in all that time, nothing but fear. No life, no dignity... My friend, a helpless, terrified creature, to be tended like an infant.

"I broke his neck.

"McCoy must have known, then or later, but he said nothing. We comforted each other as best we could, and buried him on Vulcan. It was finished - or so I thought.

"But guilt had not ended for me. Not for what I had done - I knew that had he been capable of choice he would have asked it of me - but for what I could not do.

"Then, when I parted from the Commander, I had all the powers of Vulcan in my hand - but they came too late to help the one person I cared for. You I could help. You needed me as he had done, and this time I could give what was necessary. Perhaps I saw it as an expiation of sorts... I sought to atone for failing Jim, and found my t'hy'la. But I killed my friend."

Kirk lifted the Vulcan's hand to his lips in an act almost of homage. "You were right," he said roughly. "Don't ever doubt that. When you touched my mind that night, I knew you - I felt your gentleness, your compassion, your... goodness. That's why I killed Him, you know. I hadn't dared to dream of freedom for myself; I only knew that nothing must harm you. Then, when you stayed with me... Spock, I feel I know your Jim Kirk. If he could have known how things would turn out, I think he would have been glad for us."

"Yes," Spock said slowly. "He would have been content."

They remained sitting close together until the last of the colour faded from the sky and the evening chill deepened, grateful that no-one else came to disturb them; only when twilight lay across the wild countryside, and Spock began to shiver, did they walk slowly back to the car, memories flowing with gentle sadness from mind to mind, to be eased and comforted in the acceptance of the other.

In the morning, as they headed for the car, Kirk paused, his head tilted to one side as he surveyed the mountain range dominating the little town. "That's Ben Nevis," he said thoughtfully. "The 'mountain with its head in the clouds'. There's a marvellous climb up the north wall, I believe."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Do you wish to attempt it?" He was perfectly willing to make the effort if his brother was keen.

Kirk shook his head. "We're not equipped for it," he said. "There is a path though - Janet said the 'tourist route' takes you past cliffs that are among the most impressive in the country - two thousand feet high, stretching for two miles. I'm tempted... but no. It'd take us about three and a half hours up plus another two back, and it's cheating to use the path, anyway. Let's do our climbing in the L'Langdons when we get to Vulcan. Anyway," he chuckled, "today, I promised myself a walk along a beach."

"A beach?" Spock slid into the driving seat.

"Just drive," Kirk instructed. "I'll guide you."

Following the Human's directions, Spock began to feel puzzled as the roads climbed higher up the side of the valley a signpost had identified as Glen Roy. "Jim, are you certain of your direction?" he ventured at last. "This does not seem..."

"Okay, this'll do," Kirk broke in as the car swung round a bend into an open area. "A beach, as I promised - and no sand to get into your boots, my fastidious friend."

Spock looked around. There were several other cars parked in what was clearly a prepared viewpoint. People could be seen scrambling over the hillside, but there was no sign of Kirk's beach, with or without sand. Puzzled, he stepped out of the car and followed Kirk up the grassy slope, idly noting that there was no sign here of the ubiquitous heather. When he caught up with Kirk at last, his bondmate was standing on an almost-level terrace which seemed to have been cut into the hillside.

"Well?" Kirk asked. "Like my beach, Spock?"

The Vulcan was beginning to wonder if his brother's sense of humour had got the better of him at last. "Jim... Where?" he asked at last.

Kirk chuckled. "You're standing on it, oh former Science Officer." Then, taking pity on the Vulcan's confusion, he relented. "Look over there," he said, indicating the farther side of the glen.

Traversing the heather-covered side of the hill opposite, three parallel lines of vivid green stood out clearly, forming terraces identical to the one on which they stood. Tracing their path, Spock saw that the lowest would converge with theirs when the Glen bent eastwards.

"They call them the 'Parallel Roads', Kirk was explaining. "They're something of a geological curiosity. Apparently they were formed at the end of the last Ice Age, when a glacier dammed the outlet from the Glen and the mountain waters formed a deep lake. Those terraces were the shorelines - as the ice retreated the water level sank and new beaches were formed at successively lower levels. So this is a beach, Spock - it just doesn't have any water left."

"Jim, you have a weird sense of humour," the Vulcan sighed; but the formation was interesting, nevertheless.

From Glen Roy they retraced their route through Spean Bridge, halting beyond it while Kirk consulted the book he had borrowed from Janet MacLeod.

"Fancy some treasure hunting?" he asked idly. "If we take the road along Loch Arkaig to Murlaggan, Locheil's gold is supposed to be buried somewhere along there."

"If we had brought tricorders, it might be possible," Spock replied drily. "Lacking them, it seems rather a large area to search after all this time."

"Okay," Kirk agreed. "Take the Invergarry road, then. It runs through the Great Glen, and we can have a look at the Caledonian Canal as we go."

It was a quiet road, and both men enjoyed the scenery as the route followed the eastern side of Loch Lochy. There was a short delay as a swing bridge over the canal opened to allow a procession of boats to go through - a proceeding which both watched with interest, although they could have avoided the delay, had they been so minded, by taking to the air. Then the road continued along the western shore of Loch Oich. About half a mile over the bridge. Kirk leaned forward.

"Stop along here somewhere," he ordered. "There's something I want to see."

The 'something' proved to be a rather curious monument. Spock eyed it resignedly. "There is a story, of course," he remarked. He was secretly amused by the obvious preparation Kirk had made for this trip, and it had to be admitted that the legends he had memorised were both curious and interesting.

"Of course," Kirk replied. "The monument marks the site of the Tobar nan Ceann." He stumbled slightly over the pronunciation. "The well itself was lost when the road was widened back in the twentieth century, but - "

"I suggest you begin at the beginning," Spock interrupted. "The Tobar -?"

"Nan Ceann. The Well of the Heads."

"Aptly named." Spock eyed the tall pyramid set on a square column, which bore a cluster of seven heads on its peak. "It is not an aesthetically pleasing artifact, but it is certainly striking. What does it commemorate?"

"Vengeance," Kirk said ghoulishly. "Back in the middle of the seventeenth century, I think it was, MacDonald of Keppoch and his brothers were murdered in the castle in Glen Spean by guests. The Highlanders used to take a pretty dim view of abuse of hospitality, and the High Chief of the clan of which Keppoch was a sept ordered punishment. The murderers were found, killed and their heads washed in the well here before being presented to the chief in Glengarry Castle. It's a bit weathered now, but originally the column described the incident in Gaelic, English, French and Latin, but since it wasn't erected until 1812, apparently they ascribe the action to the wrong chief and the wrong century."

"A not uncommon problem where legends are concerned," Spock commented. "It is fascinating how much the clansmen had in common with the Warriors of Vulcan. This legend reminds me of the fate that befell the murderers of Sley'ev and S'Torr."

"I've never heard that story."

"They were slain by members of a rival tribe during a truce. The guilty men were executed by their own Warleader, and their sword hands fixed to the cliff face at the entrance to the Truce Lands as a warning to others."

"Brr." Kirk shivered. "You're right, though - the Highlanders were as bad as the Vulcans when it came to claiming vengeance."

They had made no real plans for this part of their leave, wandering as the fancy took them, even occasionally retracing their route to inspect something they had missed. It was a confusing but restful method of travel as they had no deadline to meet except their booking at Kintail Lodge, and until then they could linger or move on as they chose.

One place that Spock remembered clearly was the brooding valley of Glencoe, for it was there that a shadow marred his bondmate's enjoyment. The day began well enough. They had left the car at the head of the Glen, at a place picturesquely called 'The Anvil of the Mist', having passed the equally fancifully named Devil's Staircase, an old military road that cut across the hill to Kinlochleven. Kirk commented that although the four-mile road was easily travelled in fine weather, it was treacherous in winter. He had read that when the Blackwater Dam above Kinlochleven was built in 1903, many workmen died of cold and exposure walking to - or more probably from - the Kingshouse Inn where they had gone for a drink, and their bodies were only recovered when the snow melted the following spring.

Below their stopping place the River Coe plunged through a gorge under a high waterfall, carving for itself a series of translucent green pools as it tumbled dawn to the confluence known as 'The Meeting of the Three Waters'.

Glencoe itself had nothing of the beauty of the other glens they had seen. It was bleak and desolate, with no heather or trees to soften the precipitous slopes except where a thin line of birches followed the tiny stream that trickled from the Hidden Glen, but it had a wild, majestic grandeur that made the more obviously beautiful glens seem tame by comparison.

They had decided to walk through the glen, then return to where they had left the car. A halt became necessary when they passed Loch Achtriochtan where the glen began to widen at the foot of the Aonach Dubh, for Kirk was distracted by the rich variety of bird life - indeed, he was so amused by the antics of a cormorant that Spock had to touch him on the arm to remind him that time was passing.

On the upper face of the great north cliff of the Aonach Dubh was the dark entrance to Ossian's Cave. Kirk looked at it longingly, but as he had been told that the only feasible access was by rope from above, they could not make the attempt to reach it.

They continued their walk, coming at last to the Clachaig, where Kirk pleaded for a coffee break. Although a designated visitor's centre it was early enough in the day for them to be the only ones there. As the morning was warm they carried their cups outside, walking away from the road until they could find a place to sit, looking around as they drank their coffee.

Somewhere far in the distance a piper was playing, and Kirk tilted his head in recognition. "I've heard that before. It's called 'The Battle's O'er'. Now where... Oh, I remember. It was when I was serving on the Farragut. One of the Security Guards, a Scot, was killed, and Captain Garrovick thought it'd be a nice gesture to play a recording of pipe music at his funeral. He went through some tapes the guy had in his quarters, and selected a tune called 'Amazing Grace', I think it was. Well, the Chief Engineer was just about climbing the walls when he heard about it. Said it was about as appropriate as playing Argellian dance music at the funeral of the President of the Vulcan Council. Garrovick was a bit upset - he'd intended it as a tribute - so the Chief said that while the thought would be appreciated, that particular tune 'would remind any properly-brought-up Scot of chucking-out time in a Glasgow pub on Saturday night'. He went through the tapes himself, and that - " Kirk nodded towards the unseen piper - "was the tune he finally chose. It was originally a pipe tune that had been a popular song too, in its day, but the words were still a lament... 'Rest in peace, my soldier laddie, rest in peace now, the battle's o'er..."'

"The music does seem to fit the atmosphere," Spock said hesitantly; it seemed to him that the plaintive notes spoke of grief for the troubled history of this haunted land.

"Yes, it does," Kirk replied shortly. "Glencoe is sometimes called 'the Glen of Weeping'. That song Uhura was singing - you remember? - is a lament for the massacre. It was a terrible thing - mass murder coldbloodedly planned as a matter of political expediency. No wonder that it has never been forgotten."

"I do not know the story," Spock admitted, "but the song has remained with me. I should like to hear about it."

"Well... " Kirk set down his empty mug. "The Macdonalds of Glencoe held their lands from Stewart of Appin. When King James lost the British throne to William of Orange, William proclaimed a pardon for the rebel clans provided they took an oath of allegiance before January 1st of the following year. That gave them four or five months. However, the chief here wouldn't swear without the permission of the man he considered his true king; he got it, but not until the day before the amnesty ran out. He went immediately to the Governor at Fort William to swear allegiance, only to be told it had to be sworn to Campbell, the Sheriff of Argyll at Inverary."

"But surely he could not reach there in time."

"The governor knew that, and gave the chief a signed certificate stating that he had pledged verbal allegiance within the given time. The chief set off immediately for Inverary, but he was delayed; it took him two days to get there, and then Campbell was away, so the oath was not administered until January 6th, and was sent to Edinburgh with an explanation for the delay."

"Surely that was sufficient?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? It wasn't. The Secretary of State for Scotland had already ordered the destruction of the clan, and although he heard of Glencoe's submission two days later, he was persuaded by the Campbells, who were hereditary enemies of the Macdonalds, not to countermand the order.

"On the first of February, a hundred and twenty of Argyll's men arrived in Glencoe under the command of Campbell of Glenlyon. He explained that the garrison at Fort William was overcrowded and the men must be billeted in the glen. More, he gave his word of honour that they had no hostile intention.

"They stayed there for almost a fortnight. Glenlyon's niece had married the chief's younger son, and he visited them every day...

"On February thirteenth, in the early hours of the morning, the soldiers had their orders to kill the occupants of the houses where they were billeted. There is some indication that some of the soldiers gave their hosts a clue as to what was to happen, and even turned a blind eye to the escape of some of the women and children, but there was a blizzard - which prevented more soldiers arriving, certainly - and many of those who escaped the actual massacre died of cold and starvation in the hills."

"But surely those responsible were punished?"

"Not so's you'd notice. Parliament denounced the massacre as 'murder under trust', a crime so heinous in Scots law that it carried the quadruple penalties of hanging, disembowelling, beheading and quartering, but all that actually happened was that the Secretary of State temporarily lost his position - with a pension as compensation - and was later reinstated. The Campbells escaped justice, though their name in the West Highlands was execrated for a century."

"Was the glen never resettled?"

"Oh, yes. The MacDonalds came back. They fought twice more for the Stewarts, in 1715 and 1745; their numbers even grew. But sheep rearing became profitable. Tenants were evicted, cornfields turned to grass, the clachans left derelict. By 1820 the clan that had survived massacre went down before sheep - and this time their own chiefs were responsible."

Spock stirred. "Such ancient griefs, yet still remembered. Will we ever learn? But it is time we were moving on. Wait here, Jim - I will return the cups."

Kirk leaned back against a large boulder, closing his eyes as he heard the footsteps dying away, enjoying the sunshine as he listened to the distant music. The rhythm had changed now, seeming to call to him of ancient battles, of a land red with blood...

"An old and weary tale you told, stranger."

Kirk sat up abruptly, surprised that he had not sensed anyone approaching. An old woman was sitting on a rock a few feet away, her sad eyes fixed on his face.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. "I didn't know you were there."

"How should you, when I did not choose that you should? Aye, there are ghosts yet in the glen, and your gentle heart weeps for their suffering. Those with the Sight can see much, my child, and your eyes are not wholly blind. Ghosts in the Glen... aye, and one new-come, who stands at your shoulder."

"What do you mean?" Something about this harmless old woman filled Kirk with fear. He didn't think she meant to harm him - how could she? - but the way her eyes seemed to follow something just behind him made him uneasy. He looked quickly over his shoulder, but there was nothing there.

"It is not clear to me. I sense no evil in you - and yet the blood calls out. The ghosts of your past have not done with you. Closer he comes, and closer. You have seen him as you sleep; soon your waking eyes will behold him. Payment is asked, and will be taken. Blood calls for blood. Yours? Another's? I cannot see. The Sight fails... but it will come... Aye, it will come - and soon."

"Stop!" Kirk was an his feet, shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. A cloud passed over the sun, and it was suddenly cold. A moment longer he stood, meeting the old eyes that gazed at him with compassion, and he had the strangest feeling that she was far older than she looked - then his nerve broke and he turned, running blindly down the path Spock had taken, running until he collided with a warm, solid body, and was caught in his bondmate's arms.

"Jim! What's wrong? I sensed... " Spock broke off, aware that his bondmate was not listening, but was lost in terror. Without hesitation he reached out mentally, absorbing the incident and lessening its impact. His brother had always been sensitive, responsive to atmosphere, and in this haunted place the idle words of an old woman had struck a chord of guilt Kirk had not quite been able to forget. The terror lasted only a moment longer, then Kirk pulled away slightly. "I'm sorry - it's been ages since I did that," he said disgustedly. "A few general gloom-and-doom pronouncements, and down I go. She might even have some degree of telepathy - I wasn't expecting it, and so wasn't properly shielded. Do you think she's supposed to be some sort of weird tourist attraction? You did see... what she said, didn't you?"

"I saw, and I think you are correct. One thing I do know about this part of the world is that some degree of telepathy - what she called 'the Sight' has existed for centuries. No doubt she picked up enough from you to guide her words."

"Well, she certainly goes with the atmosphere." Kirk managed a faint grin as he looked back along the path. "No sign of her now - perhaps she was as scared as I was when she saw the effect she had."

"No doubt." Privately, Spock was surprised that a woman as old as the one he had seen in his bondmate's mind should have vanished so quickly; perhaps she had simply turned off the path? He added, "Shall we go back to the car? We have seen all that we can see here unless we undertake some serious climbing. The owner of the cafe offered to hire us equipment, but I declined gracefully. Actually, that was why I took so long to rejoin you."

"Lazy Vulcan," Kirk teased, his fears already forgotten in the reassurance of Spock's presence.

At least the old woman's words had no lasting effect on Kirk's spirits, Spock was certain of that. What McCoy had described as his 'fit of tourist fever' showed not the least sign of abating - he wanted to see everything, and was interested in everything he saw. Even Spock's well developed sense of direction began to be confused as they set off on each day's exploration, their destination decided by Kirk's curiosity and his previous night's reading in the guide book that was never far from his hand. It seemed that the only thing troubling the young Human was whether it was physically possible to fit in everything he wanted to see. Spock's tentative suggestion that they plan a more logical itinerary was dismissed out-of-hand - the impulsive wandering, so different from their ordered life on the Enterprise, was as much part of the holiday as anything else, Kirk declared, and even although they did follow an approximate route round the often narrow Scottish roads, his suggestions for each day often caused them to double back on that route.

"But how do you know, Spock?" Kirk picked up the argument they had been pursuing before lunch. As he spoke he stretched out on the sun-warmed grass below the walls of Castle Urquhart, allowing his gaze to roam over the stretch of water in front of him, hoping that he just might see...

But no. It was only a legend, after all. Still, it was fun to tease Spock - and the Vulcan was so very willing to be teased.

"Jim, after - what? Two thousand years? - and in two universes, if there had been anything to discover, it would have been discovered by now." Spock took up his side of the discussion with all the seriousness he would have devoted to a briefing on the Enterprise.

"You can't be sure. Loch Ness is deep, and the water's so dark that even today cameras can't penetrate more than a few feet. And if there are tunnels down there leading to the sea, who knows what could be hiding? That exhibition was pretty impressive, you must admit."

"Yet each picture is capable of a rational interpretation. Surely you will admit that?"

"I'd love to come back with a full Starfleet survey team some day," Kirk mused. "Sensors, the lot. Then we could eliminate currents, dead sheep, floating logs, the wakes of boats. One way or the other, we'd know."

"I can visualise Nogura's face if you requested the assignment," Spock said drily.

"So can I." Kirk sat up, hugging his knees. "Still, I wish I could see something myself."

"Is that why we have spent so long here?" Spock enquired.

"Well, this is supposed to be the most successful viewpoint for sightings," Kirk said defensively, "so why not? We planned a lazy day, anyway."

"And we have had it, studying a stretch of admittedly aesthetically pleasing scenery for traces of an ancient legend."

"Oh, just because a legend's old, there can't be any truth in it? What about the burial ground of the S'Kanderai? That was always thought to be a legend, until S'Tref and his team discovered it last year," Kirk countered with the air of having scored a point

"Ah, but we had independent evidence of the existence of the Warriors."

"Evidence? What about...?"

The good-humoured argument continued until the sun began to dip towards the west. Spock rose with an air of reluctance, and pulled Kirk to his feet.

"We will agree to differ," he said firmly. "But Jim - I have enjoyed today."

"So have I, Spock."

Shoulder to shoulder, Human and Vulcan turned away from the shimmering waters of the loch and headed up the hill towards the road. Neither looked back. Which was perhaps a pity - for at the moment they turned away... something... broke the surface of the dark water, crystal droplets flashed fire in the setting sun as the sinuous shape coiled and rose and sank again; but by the time they reached the road and cast one lingering glance behind then, the placid surface of the loch stretched unbroken to the far shore.

The change was doing them good, Spock decided as he watched his bondmate lean out from the precarious-looking observation platform that clung to the almost vertical north wall of the Corrieshalloch Gorge. One of their fellow guests at their hotel in Ullapool the night before had mentioned over dinner that the Falls of Measach were worth a visit, and nothing would do but that they must make the trip.

Spock stirred restlessly as Kirk edged forward for an even better view of the spectacular Falls. It was not that the platform was dangerous, he told himself firmly, but still...

As though sensing his companion's unease, Kirk glanced round with a faint smile; he said nothing, but returned to solid ground - and if Spock gave a faint sigh of relief, the Human affected not to hear it.

They walked along a wooded path towards the bridge that spanned the Gorge just where the River Droma burst from a chasm to arch into the Falls. Kirk was a few paces ahead, and Spock noticed with some astonishment that he was waving his hands in front of his face, and that the words he hissed under his breath were certainly not comments on the scenery.

"Jim, is something amiss?" he enquired after a few moments.

"Blasted insects. Midges, I think they call them around here. They're biting me," Kirk said plaintively.

"Indeed?" Spock locked around; the air did seem to be full of tiny flying bodies. "I cannot say they are troubling me."

"It's your green blood," Kirk accused. "It'd probably poison the little... perishers. Serve them right, too," he finished uncomfortably.

"Perhaps we should return to the car?" Spock suggested gravely. Not for worlds would he wish his bondmate even the slightest discomfort, but the flapping hands and the muttered curses were faintly amusing. "Since you do not have the advantage of my superior Vulcan constitution... "

"Superior Vulcan smugness, you mean," Kirk snarled. "I'll remember this, you know."

Nevertheless, when they stopped for lunch it was Spock who disappeared into a chemist's shop, and that night he solemnly presented his red-blotched and distinctly uncomfortable companion with a tube of cream - "To take the sting out of the problem," he said sympathetically.

They made one stop that Spock did not wholly enjoy - although he was careful not to spoil his bondmate's pleasure in the visit - when they came to Inverewe Gardens near the village of Poolewe. They had headed south, passing the Corrieshalloch Gorge again, driving from Strath Beg across the desolate moors of Dundonnel Forest, following the aptly-named Destitution Road, built during a time of famine in the nineteenth century to give work to desperate men. Following the coast road, they had paused high up to admire the sweep of Gruinard Bay below them, its pink sand a startling contrast to the turquoise water.

"Another legend, Spock," Kirk said, indicating the island that lay just offshore. "Apparently nobody ever goes there - it's considered unlucky. It's been left alone for at least three hundred years. My guidebook mentions the taboo, but gives no reason."*

"Why should that be?" Spock asked. "It looks pleasant enough."

Kirk shrugged. "The reason - if there ever was one - has been lost. But it was serious enough that even today no-one ever goes there."

"Then we will not attempt it either," Spock said firmly as they made their way back to the car.

The road brought them at last to the gates of Inverewe, and as far as Kirk was concerned anyone and anything else ceased to exist. Spock was mildly interested to hear how the gardens were begun on a barren, rocky headland where only one dwarf willow grew. He could appreciate the love which had created a wild, sub-tropical garden in a rocky desert where all the soil had had to be carried in in baskets, the dedication that had preserved it ever since even through the upheavals of the Genetic Wars and the subsequent depopulation of the area. It had become famous again only some thirty years earlier, but in that time visitors had come in their thousands to marvel at the work of construction and conservation. He even enjoyed the beauty of the landscape, relaxing in the warm sunshine, resignedly aware that for this day at least he had totally lost the attention of his companion.

Kirk, however, was in his element. Within minutes of his arrival he had sought out the head gardener, and Alasdair MacDonald, recognising an enthusiastic and knowledgeable colleague, had taken the visitor firmly in hand, showing him over parts of the estate not normally open to the public.

In one of the experimental greenhouses, Kirk looked around in delight. "My mother would love this," he said enviously. "Alasdair, I was wondering... Would you be interested in trying to grow some Vulcan species? T'Pau is an acknowledged expert, and I know she'd be delighted to write to you, to exchange seeds and cuttings."

"Why, that'd be grand." Highland courtesy did not permit MacDonald to express surprise at an obvious Human who called a Vulcan woman 'mother'. "I did try to arrange something a while back, but it fell through."

"It won't this time." Kirk grinned. "Let T'Pau just hear about what you're doing here, and all of Starfleet wouldn't stop her picking your brains. My brother and I are going home in a few weeks - I'll get her to write to you." Guiltily, he looked at the time. "I'd better be getting back to Spock. He's not really interested in gardens, and I left him sitting on the lawn enjoying the sun. We still have quite a way to go."

The two men rejoined the Vulcan, who smiled affectionately at his bondmate's apology. "You were enjoying yourself. That is sufficient reason to linger."

"May I ask where you're heading?" MacDonald enquired as he walked with them to their car.

"We'll be staying at a hotel on Loch Duich," Kirk replied. "We're expected tonight, and we don't want to be too late."

"It won't take you that long - possibly three hours. Mind you, watch out for the wolves."

"Wolves?" Kirk looked up, interested. "Are there some in the area?"

"Aye, at least two packs. They'll no' do ye any harm - there's enough wild game in the area to keep them well fed and content - in the summer, that is. Likely enough ye'll no' even see them, but you'll hear them in the hills of an evening." He chuckled. "It's been known to put the fear of God into travellers who werena' expecting it."

"I can imagine. Thank you for your time, Alasdair. I'll have T'Pau write you as soon as I get back."

"Enjoy your holiday, gentlemen, and I'll be glad to see ye any time. A safe journey to you both."

Kirk settled into his seat as Spock turned the car south. "That'll please T'Pau," he said in a tone of satisfaction. "There are some pretty rare species there, and in return she can help them begin a collection of off-world plants."

To Spock's unadmitted relief he dropped the subject after that, and instead divided his attention between the scenery and the map. As they reached a signpost marked 'Kyle of Lochalsh' he directed Spock to turn that way.

"It's a little off the route, but I'd like to go there," he said.

Soon a sign announced their arrival at Kyle of Lochalsh, and Kirk turned in his seat. "Stop along here, please," he said suddenly, a note of puzzled laughter in his voice.

He was out of the car almost as soon as Spock brought it to a halt in the designated parking area, and was hurrying across to the wall that bounded it. Spock, following him, was startled to find that his bondmate was almost doubled up with suppressed laughter.

"What is so amusing, Jim?" Spock looked round in vain for the cause of such extreme hilarity. The bustling little port below, the bridge spanning the narrow stretch of sparkling water, the land on the other side, seemed to him a pleasant and normal enough scene.

"Oh, Lord!" Kirk wailed. "What a let down! I mean, look at it!" He gestured vaguely at the scene below.

"I am afraid I do not understand, Jim."

"Sorry..." Kirk mopped his streaming eyes. "It's another of the songs Janet was teaching Uhura, all about how Charles Edward Stuart escaped the Redcoats with the aid of the faithful Flora MacDonald. They fled through a storm, rowed by loyal Highlanders - 'over the sea to Skye'. Romantic, huh?" He chuckled again, pointing to the island scarcely half a mile off shore. "Well, that's Skye. Given a favourable wind, practically spitting distance. Sort of spoils the drama, doesn't it? I did wonder, when I saw the map - that's partly why I wanted to come along here now, though the main reason was wanting to see the island the song was all about. We can come back later and have a better look."

Spock surveyed the narrow stretch of water. "It does seem to be making rather a fuss about very little," he agreed solemnly, the slight curve of his lips betraying his amusement. "Still, perhaps the crossing took place elsewhere, over a greater distance."

"I should think it must have done," Kirk said, adding with another chuckle, "that's the trouble with legends. Janet says there's some story about a cave one of the old heroes was supposed to have hidden in - well, from what she told me, it was either the first peripatetic cave in history, or the hero had a return-to-the-womb complex and kept hiding in them. Apparently there are dozens of sites that claim the honour."

"When the site of a celebrated historical event is unknown, local pride will always provide a candidate," Spock said, adding quietly, "Jim, forgive me, but could we continue this a little later? I confess to feeling somewhat tired, and... "

"Of course. You should have told me." Kirk studied his bondmate anxiously. "I've been letting you do all the driving, too. Would you like me to take over from here?"

"That will not be necessary. You have studied the country, I have not - it is logical for me to drive and you to navigate. We cannot have much further to go, and I become anxious to arrive."

Despite his words, it was Spock who eased the car to a halt on the lochside road a short while later without any request from Kirk, but the Human did not need to ask why as he followed his bondmate's gaze. Arising from the water where three lochs met soared a castle that was a fantasy come to life. The water burned like fire, reflecting the sunset that blazed on the Cuillin of Skye; from the shore, a triple-arched bridge and causeway stretched to the towering battlement walls that stood out black against the vivid colour of the sky.

Kirk studied his map, then looked up. "Eilean Donan," he murmured, answering the unspoken question. Then he touched the Vulcan's shoulder. "We'll come back," he promised. "Let's leave it for now, Spock. We'll reach Invershiel before dark, and tomorrow we can take our time to come back."

Spock nodded, and with the fiery beauty of the loch for company as twilight crept over the water they came at last to the village of Invershiel, and to the forecourt of the Kintail Lodge Hotel.

Kirk stepped out of the car, stretched, and eyed the warmly-lit windows of the hotel longingly. He was just about to make some comment when a lean grey shadow emerged from the open door and paced majestically towards the new arrivals.

"Dileas, wait."

The great dog sat obediently as a tall, broad-shouldered man came swiftly forward. "Welcome to Kintail, gentlemen. I hope Dileas didn't startle you? He's inclined to be curious, and not everyone feels confident with an animal this size."

"He's beautiful," Kirk said, extending his hand to be sniffed. Not for worlds would he have said that having a sehlat around the house made even this magnificent creature appear small. "A wolfhound, isn't he?"

"Aye, he is. The Lodge has been in my wife's family nigh on three hundred years now, and there have been wolfhounds here fully as long." He held out his hand. "I'm Douglas MacIntyre. "You will be Captain Kirk? And this is Commodore Spock?"

"Please ignore the rank - we're an leave." Kirk added quietly, "And please don't be offended, Mr. MacIntyre, but Vulcans don't shake hands."

Their host treated Spock to a long, appraising stare. "I'll ask your pardon, Mr. Spock," he said with quiet dignity when the Vulcan lifted an eyebrow at the scrutiny, "but you'll understand that you are the first off-worlder to come here. Our people will be curious."

Spock inclined his head. "Understandable."

"Come away in." MacIntyre lifted their bags and ushered them into the reception area, where a small dark-haired woman was waiting to greet them. "My wife Mhairi."

"You are very welcome, gentlemen." Her voice held the soft lilt of the land. "I hope you will be comfortable here."

"I'm sure we will be." Kirk glanced round the pleasant hall, exchanging a fleeting smile with Spock at the sight of the house plants that climbed and hung and coiled around every available surface.

"An indulgence of mine," Mrs. MacIntyre said, aware of their glances. "Douglas will show you to your rooms. We've nearly finished serving dinner, but you have time to freshen up and have a drink first if you want. If necessary, we will be pleased to wait for you."

The two men followed MacIntyre up a short staircase. As they reached the landing he turned with an air of embarrassment.

"I'm afraid we've had a wee problem with your room," he said. "You specified adjoining rooms, Mr. Kirk, and I'd intended to put one of you in here." He opened a door, ushering them into a comfortably-furnished double bedroom, and indicated another door leading onto a tiny hallway. "The other room I'd intended to give you is next door, a single, and there is a bathroom opposite - with the hall door closed you would have been very private. Unfortunately, we only this morning discovered a wasp's nest outside the window, and I dare not let you use the room until it has been removed. There is no risk, as I sealed the door, so there will be no unwanted visitors for you. The thing is, unless you would be willing to share the double room, the only other I can give you is at the far end of the corridor."

Kirk looked round the large comfortable room with its twin beds. "This will be perfect, thanks. We've frequently had to share a room."

"Aye, service life canna' give you much privacy, I should think. Well, I'll leave you to settle in. You can bolt the door if you wish, and this is the key to your room." Handing the key to Kirk, he left quietly.

"You go first for a shower, Spock," Kirk suggested, returning from bolting the hall door as MacIntyre had suggested,

While the Vulcan was occupied, Kirk busied himself unpacking for them both. He laid out fresh clothing for the evening, and distributed the rest in the wardrobe and the drawers. When he had finished he drew the curtains, shutting out the half light of the Scottish summer twilight, switched on the lamps, and carefully tested the beds. Finding them both equally comfortable, he chose the one nearer the window and shook out his sleeping robe. He had just finished when Spock. returned, looking slightly ruffled.

"No sonic shower?" Kirk hazarded, eyeing the damp fringe with amusement.

"No shower at all," Spock said gloomily. "Only a bathtub."

Kirk bit back a chuckle. "Only to be expected, I suppose, out here. Still, look on the bright side," he added, gathering up his robe and toilet things. "At least you've got warm water. Remember the Fornan Colony, and those bathing huts built over a mountain stream?"

The Vulcan shuddered. "Only too well. I fear I have little taste for the primitive life, Jim."

"Oh!" Kirk looked conscience-stricken. "I didn't think... I'm sorry; I went ahead and arranged all this just assuming you'd enjoy it. I should have thought - "

"Jim." Spock touched his bondmate's shoulder. "Now you are being foolish beyond permission. Does it seem to you that I have not been enjoying this? I meant no criticism of your arrangements, truly. In fact, a bathtub is something of a novelty - and as you said, the water is warm, and there is plenty of it. My only objection would have been to water as cold as it was on Fornan."

"That's okay, then," Kirk grinned. Just before he edged out of the door, he added, "If you're very good, I'll see if I can find you a floating duck for your bath."

"A duck?" Spock frowned at the closing door. "Now why should he believe I would wish to share my cleansing routine with an aquatic fowl?" Coming - inevitably - to the conclusion that this remark was yet another manifestation of his brother's sometimes deplorable sense of humour, Spock dismissed the ludicrous image and began to dress.

Kirk ran his bathwater with a satisfied expression. No doubt a shower was a more efficient and more sanitary method of cleansing, but he did enjoy a long leisurely soak occasionally. Tonight he was too hungry to linger, but promising himself the indulgence at a future time, he hurried over his bath and went back. to dress.

MacIntyre was presiding over a well-stocked bar when the two men walked into the lounge. Several other guests were sitting over drinks, and Kirk had to stifle a grin at Spock's half amused, half resigned expression as all heads turned towards them. It was, both men agreed, a very discreet and restrained curiosity... but nevertheless, curiosity it was, and directed at both of them, the tall exotic alien and his shy but obviously content companion. In all fairness they could hardly be blamed, Kirk conceded, and after all, he and Spock were used to it by now. In more sophisticated areas, a Vulcan and Human together were no novelty, but two such male bondmates were. Spock, at least, seemed untroubled by the interest showed in them.

"What's your pleasure, gentlemen?"

Kirk became aware that Macintyre was speaking, and turned his attention to the array of bottles on the gantry. He rarely drank spirits, but he remembered... One night, years ago, before the Captain joined the Enterprise...

"A friend of mine used to say you couldn't beat a good malt whisky," he said, "but I don't know anything about it. What do you suggest, Mr. Macintyre?"

Their host ran an experienced eye along a shelf, and reached for a bottle. "I must admit to a personal preference for Glen Grant," he admitted, "and this is a particularly fine one, matured in the barrel for forty-five years. It's a mite expensive, but it's smooth as silk. You'll do well to try this."

"That'll do fine."

Macintyre poured two measures and returned the bottle to the shelf. He seemed to be waiting for something. Kirk suddenly realised what, and grinned, shaking his head.

"You'll not catch me like that. My friend told me that there's only two things you put in whisky, and I don't want either of them, thanks."

"What might those be, Jim?" Spock asked curiously.

"One of them's water." Kirk's grin broadened. "The other is - more whisky."

"You've the right of it there," Macintyre chuckled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll away and give Mhairi a hand in the kitchen. Maybe you'd like to look at the menu and the wine list? Morag will come in a wee while to take your order - if you want anything meantime, just ring."

Kirk and Spock moved to armchairs before a log fire. The other guests had gone, and the lounge was very quiet. They sipped their drinks, finding the malt as excellent as had been promised, and studied the menu. Kirk was pleased to see an unexpectedly large vegetarian selection - with Spock in mind he had particularly asked about the menu, but had not anticipated such a wide choice. He had sometimes thought that in deference to his bondmate's preference he should also adopt a vegetarian diet, but Spock had dissuaded him, pointing out that the Human metabolism was geared to an omnivorous diet, whereas the Vulcan system could not cope with large quantities of animal protein. Seeing the logic of that, Kirk ate normally most of the time, only turning to vegetarianism on Vulcan - he certainly would not expect T'Pau to cook meat for him, even if it had been readily available.

They gave their order to the softly-spoken girl who came to take it, realising from her resemblance to Mrs. Macintyre that this must be a daughter of the house, and were discussing the wine list when Macintyre reappeared behind the bar.

"If you'd like a suggestion, Mr. Kirk... "

"You have something to recommend?"

"Morag mentioned that you were trying out local dishes, so I thought you might care to taste a Scottish wine."

"Scottish wine?" Kirk looked puzzled. "I didn't think the climate was suitable for grapes."

MacIntyre laughed. "It is not, Mr. Kirk. This is rather unusual - a wine made from the sap of the silver birch. It's been made near Inverness for centuries, and we've always stocked it at Kintail."

"We'll try it, then." Kirk said, looking to Spock for agreement.

"Fine. Go in when you're ready, gentlemen."

A few minutes later they made their way to the dining room, where several other guests were already eating. The first course was served immediately, fresh salmon for Kirk, a clear vegetable broth for Spock.

"Fresh-caught in the loch," Morag commented as she served the fish. "We always supply our own."

"And the venison?" Kirk asked; he had been unable to resist the temptation. "Do you hunt, too?"

"Why, no, sir. Not in these parts. We kill for the pot, not for amusement. The herds must be culled, and the meat isn't wasted, but it seems a cruel sport to kill for fun."

Both men enjoyed the meal. Spock's vegetable casserole was an intriguing combination of flavours and textures, subtly seasoned with herbs; accustomed as he was to bland and unimaginative dishes off-Vulcan, Spock found food was as welcome as it was unexpected. The wine, too, was a pleasure, crisp and clean, surprisingly powerful, unlike anything either man had ever tasted. Spock made a mental note to enquire about obtaining a supply to take back to the Enterprise.

"Meringues, sir!" Morag tempted, appearing to clear their plates. "Filled with Chantilly cream and served with fresh strawberries."

Spock smiled inwardly as he saw Kirk's eyes glisten. His bondmate, he had discovered, was possessed of a sweet tooth. Such small indulgences had been forbidden by the Captain - yet another petty cruelty - and Kirk had the innocent greed of a child for confectionery. Unlike his counterpart, though, he never over-indulged - McCoy had never had to inflict one of his counterpart's infamous diets on this Kirk.

"For both of us, I think," Spock told the girl; the Human factors in his metabolism allowed him to digest small quantities of dairy produce, and he would enjoy sharing Kirk's pleasure in the treat.

When they had finished eating they returned to the lounge for a coffee, and another glass of the fine whisky. Some of the other guests had returned there as well, and for a time there was general conversation as they compared notes. Like Kirk and Spock, most of the visitors were interested in the history of the area, and in walking; from their comments, Kirk filed several suggestions for things to see.

As they had been the last to leave the dining room Kirk and Spock eventually found themselves alone in the lounge as the others retired for the night - MacIntyre had disappeared into the staff quarters of the hotel, suggesting they ring if they wanted anything else; the room was warm and softly lit, and after a time, Kirk found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

Spock eyed the drooping head indulgently. He finished his drink, and was just about to suggest that they go upstairs when Kirk suddenly sat up in his chair, staring over Spock's shoulder towards the door.

"Jim? Is something wrong?" Spock turned to follow his bondmate's gaze, but all he could see was the open door and the dimly lit hall beyond.

"N-no," Kirk said slowly. "Just... Last time I looked I was sure that the door was shut. I was almost asleep, then as I looked again I could see that it was open... and I'm sure that there was someone in the hall looking in at us. You know that feeling you get when you're being watched? It was like that."

"You are tired, and as you said, were half asleep. Besides, if there was someone there it was probably only one of the hotel staff checking to see if we were still here so that they could clear up."

"You're right, of course," Kirk said with a soft laugh. "It just... startled me for a moment Come on - let's go up."

As he lay in bed later listening to Spock's quiet breathing, Kirk found he couldn't quite forget the unease he had felt in that moment of wakening. For an instant the face of the old woman in Glencoe flashed into his mind, and he gave a sigh of relief. Her words must have been preying on his mind, and in the disorientation of the moment he had translated an innocent, natural happening into something menacing. He was tired, and his over-active imagination had done the rest. Lord, but he'd better not let Spock know he was still brooding about nothing! Determinedly, he settled down and closed his eyes; within minutes, he was asleep.

In the morning, the uneasiness Kirk had felt was not even a memory. He woke to a bright, fresh day and hurried over breakfast, eager to explore the castle they had glimpsed the evening before.

Eilean Donan. Even the Vulcan fell under its spell. It reminded him of the fairy-tale castles in the picture books Amanda had treasured and shared with her young son until the stern Sarek of the other universe had discovered and forbidden such unbecoming frivolity.

Kirk, of course, was enchanted. There were times when, alone with his bondmate, the quiet, efficient young Captain of the Enterprise showed an endearing, almost childlike quality - the result, Spock knew, of his lonely, loveless childhood in an orphanage where every material need was met but where the emotional needs of one small boy, unnoticed in any case by overworked staff, had become lost in the routine application of regulations. Knowing himself only a duty to his guardians, he had learned not to ask for something they could not give; but the longing for affection was still there, and when he had thought it offered to him he had reached for it eagerly. He had been easy prey indeed... More cautious now, he gave his trust less readily, but when he chose, he captivated everyone.

As for Spock... He was sometimes astonished when he looked back and realised how much he had changed since his first days in Starfleet. It had been the other Jim Kirk who had taught him first to admit, then to express, his need to love and be loved; he had gone on learning in the lonely years after his Captain's death, so that now he could give his t'hy'la whatever he needed.

And it seemed that now Kirk needed the freedom to play, to enjoy himself without worrying about either his image or his position, a freedom that had been denied him for far too long. His counterpart had also possessed something of the same playful nature - though Spock was well aware that his t'hyla's pleasures were very unworldly compared with those of the more sophisticated Kirk. It was unexpected that one who had seen and endured so much should have remained unspoiled; the evil that had surrounded him had never touched him, so that for all his experience he had retained an innocence that was unusual in a Human male of his age.

Still, it was for the best, Spock thought with a tinge of amusement; he couldn't quite see himself sharing same of the amusements that the first Kirk had enjoyed, even to please his bondmate. This form of recreation, as a form of historical study, would have been acceptable even to his own father - though that sternly-controlled Vulcan would certainly never have approved the romantic speculation Kirk brought to his exploration.

Spock followed his eager companion from cellars to battlements, listening as Kirk related the history of the castle; the Human had a retentive memory, and had studied his book carefully. In one of the rooms, the Vulcan paused to examine a painting showing men in Highland dress dancing on the roof of the castle.

Kirk came to peer over his shoulder. "I saw that performed once," he said quietly. "It was at Captain Pike's farewell party - everyone who could gave some sort of performance. Scotty wasn't exactly 100% sober when it came to his turn, but even then I remember thinking how formal the steps were. He tried to teach some of the younger officers to do it, but they got hopelessly mixed up - they just couldn't remember the order of the steps." He grinned as he spoke, remembering, then led the way out onto the battlements of the castle.

For a time both men stood in silence, enjoying the views up Loch Duich to the Five Sisters of Kintail, and down Loch Alsh to where the Cuillin of Skye loomed, cloud-crowned.

"Glorious," Spock commented, and Kirk nodded agreement.

"What a place to live," he said enthusiastically. "You could shut yourself up here and glower out at the world if you wanted to."

The Vulcan lifted a sceptical eyebrow. "I believe you would find it rather cold and damp in the winter time," he suggested. "All this stone and water... most uncomfortable."

"Sybaritic Vulcan," Kirk accused. "What happened to all that disregard for personal comfort, then? Still, I dare say you're right. Perhaps people were a lot hardier in those days."

After one last look at the view they descended a flight of stone steps that led to the lower level of the castle. Kirk gave an exclamation of surprise as his foot struck something on the step, sending it skidding across the flagstones.

"What on earth...?" Kirk bent down and picked up a sharp-bladed knife, its black handle bound with silver.

Spock felt a shiver of illogical apprehension. "A knife thrown down and picked up is the symbol of a challenge offered - and accepted," he said uneasily.

"On Vulcan, perhaps," Kirk grinned. "Not here, surely? One of the other visitors must have dropped it - we didn't come up this way, remember. I'll give it to the custodian on our way out."

Spock said nothing further, but when Kirk handed over the knife he watched the custodian's face.

"It's a sgian dubh - a Highlander's stocking knife," the man said in a puzzled tone. "This one is quite old, and I think valuable. I'd have thought the owner would have missed it at once. Still, I'm sure he'll be back for it."

The knife safely disposed of, the two men returned over the causeway and bridge to where they had left the car. This time Kirk took the controls, and Spock sank into the passenger seat. "Where now?" he enquired."

"Glenelg," Kirk replied briefly. "There are a couple of brochs there I want to have a look at, and - "

"Jim," Spock interrupted patiently, "you may have studied this area, I have not. What is a broch?"

"I'll save the lecture till we get there," Kirk grinned.

The road led high over the hill overlooking Loch Duich, and near the top they stopped at a viewpoint to admire the magnificent panorama exposed to view. At one time much of it had probably been hidden by trees, for the remains of a one-time forest could be clearly seen by eyes that were able to recognise the signs, but the few trees that grew now were relatively small, and only added to the grandeur of the scene. After a few appreciative minutes Kirk drove on.

The road dropped again to sea level, and as they passed a house where two children were gathering peas in the garden Kirk commented, "They must be totally cut off during the winter - I imagine there must be quite a lot of snow on the high ground, even if there isn't much at sea level."

Spock nodded agreement. "These must be hardy people, to live here so far from civilisation."

Finally Kirk slowed the car to a halt near two stone towers close to the road. "Dun Telve and Dun Trodden," Kirk said. "Come on, Spock - Dun Telve is closer, and one will do to get an idea of the building."

As they approached the tower details became clearer. The unbroken, unmortared concave surface rose in places to a height of some thirty-three feet. They entered through a doorway set in the thickness of the wall; to the right was a chamber just big enough for a man, possibly a guard post. Within the tower was a circular, unroofed courtyard, and here the double construction of the walls could be clearly seen, as could the galleries that spiralled up between them.

"Somewhat cramped, but a safe shelter," Kirk commented. "The brochs date back to the Iron Age, Spock, and none of the experts can agree on their purpose. It's one of Scotland's mysteries - there are about five hundred of them, mostly in the north. One school of thought contends that they were defensive posts used by sea robbers, while another claims that they were built by the Picts as a refuge from Viking raiders. You can see that they'd be easily defended - there's only one way in, and originally the walls would be even higher, about fifty feet, with no way to climb up the outside. Even if an enemy did win through the gate, he'd be trapped in the courtyard, and the defenders could attack him from the galleries above. These two brochs were partially restored in the twentieth century, but there's another not far from the hotel, at Totaig, that has never been touched - interestingly enough, it was supposed to have belonged to the mother of Telve and Trodden, who owned the ones here. We can walk up to it one afternoon, but I thought these would give us a better idea of what a broch looked like."

They spent some time clambering about the walls and galleries, then sat for a while in the warm sunshine, talking idly, until the setting sun warned them that it was time to return to the hotel.

The evening was spent in general discussion with some of their fellow guests, then they retired to their room, discussing how to spend the following day.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to go back into Inverness - and I'll drive," Kirk suggested. "There's some shopping I'd like to do." They had spent a night in Inverness on the way north, but had arrived late, after the shops closed, and left early, before they opened.

"As you wish," Spock agreed, aware of, but ignoring, the laughter in Kirk's eyes - his bondmate was no doubt planning some sort of surprise, and he would do nothing to spoil it.

"Thanks, Spock." Kirk had no intention of mentioning that one item on his shopping list was a small toy duck.

Their plans for the day were doomed to disappointment, however. Kirk was first down to breakfast, but Spock, who had been almost ready when Kirk left the bedroom, was very late in joining him. He had almost decided to go in search of his bondmate when the Vulcan appeared at last, and at the expression in the dark eyes Kirk felt his high spirits vanish.

"What's wrong, Spock?"

"I am required at Starfleet Headquarters, Jim. I must be there within the hour."

"What do you mean, 'I'? We'll go together," Kirk said at once.

"It is not necessary for you to interrupt your leave, since you are not required - this is a meeting of senior officers, with nobody below the rank of Commodore attending. I will be gone two days, three at the most - I would prefer to think of you resting here rather than kicking your heels at Fleet headquarters." He smiled faintly. "Half the world away it may be, but you can have yourself beamed over in minutes should the need arise, and fully bonded as we are, you are only a thought from my side. You must admit, it will be more pleasant for you here, t'hy'la."

"Well, yes," Kirk admitted. "I'll miss you, though. Damn Starfleet."

"Indeed." The Vulcan finished his meal, and rose. "Come and bid me farewell," he asked. "I will beam up from our room. Perhaps it would be as well if you were to inform Mr. MacIntyre that I have gone, but that I will be returning."

"Okay."

Kirk waited as Spock contacted the orbiting transporter station. "We'll have plenty of time still when you get back," he said suddenly. "I think I'll just take it easy till then - I wouldn't enjoy sightseeing without you, anyway."

"As you wish, Jim." Spock seemed about to say more, but the voice of the transporter operator interrupted him.

"Ready to beam you up now, Commodore Spock."

"On my command." He closed his communicator long enough to say simply, "Farewell, t'hy'la." Then he gave the command, "Energise."

Kirk watched the shimmering column fade, fighting back an overwhelming feeling of depression. Lord, he was acting like a spoiled child! He grinned in self-disgust. Whining because he'd been deprived of his friend's company - they'd shared the last few days, and there were more to come - anyone would think he and Spock were Siamese twins, for heaven's sake! Smiling at the thought, he ran downstairs to tell MacIntyre that he would be one guest short for dinner.

That evening Kirk returned from a walk to the loch just in time to change for dinner. He had a quick bath, dressed, and was halfway downstairs when he realised that he'd left his window open and it had looked like rain. As he turned back he caught a flicker of movement in the reception area, but was already in his room before the strangeness of what he had seen really registered.

Someone had been leaning over the reception desk; he hadn't been able to see clearly because of the plants reflected in the glass, but he was positive that the figure was familiar - and that it had not been one of his fellow guests.

When he came downstairs again, reception was empty. Mhairi MacIntyre was behind the desk, and he smiled at her.

"Who was that you were talking to?" he asked casually. "I caught a glimpse from the stairs, and I'm sure I should know him, but I can't just place - "

The woman looked faintly surprised. "There's been no-one here, Mr. Kirk. I've been at the desk since you came in - I saw you go up - and I've been alone here ever since."

"But I was sure I saw someone... "

The woman smiled. "The reflections in the glass can be deceptive, Mr. Kirk. Sometimes I've come downstairs sure that there was someone waiting at the desk. Perhaps you were thinking of your friend, saw one of the reflections, and your imagination did the rest."

"Perhaps," Kirk said doubtfully. The stocky, broad-shouldered figure he thought he had seen could never have been Spock. Still, the woman had been certain, and there was no reason for her to lie. He was tired, seeing things... Shaking his head ruefully, he went in to dinner.

After dinner Kirk went back upstairs. His fellow guests were pleasant enough, but he didn't feel like sitting in the lounge without Spock. He was a little tired anyway, and an early night would do him no harm.

Once in bed he spent an interesting half-hour poring over the book he had borrowed from Janet MacLeod, promising himself he would try to obtain a copy before he left Scotland. Then, feeling pleasantly sleepy, his head full of the ancient legends of this land, he switched off the lamp and settled down to sleep.

He woke in the early hours of the morning, disturbed by the sound of the bedroom door opening. About to challenge the intruder, he bit back the words as the light snapped on.

"Spock!"

The Vulcan came into the room, closing the door behind him. "Jim, I... I should not have come, but... Forgive me, t'hy'la - I could not resist... "

He stumbled as he spoke, clinging to the end of the bed. Kirk took one look at the anguished face, and was on his feet in a moment, his arms reaching out to offer support, comfort. The bond-link was firmly blocked, but the Vulcan's torment seared him like molten lava. Kirk clenched his teeth. Anything - anything - to wipe that expression of shame and agony from his bondmate's face. Instinctively he slid his arms around the thin body, pulling the trembling Vulcan into his embrace.

"Ah, no, Jim, do not touch me. Let me go, I beg thee - "

Kirk tightened his grip, lifting his head to smile reassuringly into the dark eyes. "Spock, it's all right, I promise. Don't look like that - it can't be so bad that we - "

Whatever he had meant to say was lost as a warm mouth closed over his, taking his lips in a kiss that struck terror to his very soul. The hands that had so eagerly held the Vulcan now pushed uselessly against the rigid body as everything in him fought to be free. This was... horror unspeakable, a buried nightmare walking again, the chained demon he had never totally exorcised free once more, ravaging his mind, blinding him with sheer terror as the tremors of revulsion shuddered through outraged mind and flesh, threatening his very reason...

On the verge of madness a clear cold shaft of sanity pierced the turmoil. This was Spock, his friend, his brother, his bondmate. He did not know why this was happening, but there was a reason - and a reason that outweighed the breaking of every spoken and unspoken promise between them.

With that certainty, panic ebbed. He would wait, would learn, understand and accept. Deliberately he ceased struggling and stood passively in the Vulcan's embrace, neither avoiding the kiss nor returning it as he waited with perfect trust for his bondmate to regain control.

As though his stillness had been a signal, the Vulcan released him; the eyes that met his own seemed dull with misery.

"Jim, forgive me. I must leave you... "

As Spock turned away, Kirk caught his wrist and pulled him back, his mind registering the higher-than-normal temperature of the alien flesh. "Don't be a fool - you can't leave in this condition. You need something from me; I think we've got to talk about it. Come and sit down, and tell me what's happened."

Unresisting, the Vulcan allowed Kirk to push him down onto the bed. As the Human sat beside him, he took the cool hands in his own.

"T'hy'la, let me tell you quickly, then you will understand why I must leave you. At Starfleet Headquarters I became disturbed, and sought a Healer. With her aid I shielded, for I thought it a minor affliction, and did not wish you to be concerned. But it is not. The transfer... too often... too many changes... The imbalance in my body has corrected itself, and my Time is very near. I thought I could control... came to you to sever our bond... but when I saw you... "

"Sever our bond?" A desolate coldness filled Kirk at the thought. "But why? I know it's difficult for you, but if we stay apart until it's over... "

Impatiently the Vulcan shook his head. "Fortunately the Healer did not interpret the readings correctly, attributing them to my mixed blood, but I understood their significance. Jim, we are death-bonded... and for me an unconsumated pon farr is fatal."

"We'll die?"

"Not you! Never you. But you see now why I must sever the bond and leave you. I am... resigned. I have had these years with you, t'hy'la, and I will not take you with me into death." One hand rose to the Human's temple. "Do not fight me, Jim. It may hurt, but you will not be harmed, and when I have... gone... the pain will cease."

"When you've gone? You mean when you're dead!" Kirk said harshly. "Do you think I'd contemplate that, even for a moment? How little you know me, my bondmate!" He licked his lips nervously. "There's... another way." He spoke very quietly now, his voice following the train of thought, as he spoke as much to himself as the Vulcan.

"What options do I have, really? To let you die? To go back to Vulcan, to tell Sarek and T'Pau, 'Spock's dead because I was afraid'? Or face Uncle Selek? What's the punishment on Vulcan for a man who fails his mate at his Time?"

"Sarek is aware - "

Kirk gestured impatiently. "But Selek isn't. And even if I convinced him, what then? If I took your Enterprise, as you took her from the first Jim Kirk, what d'you think I'd do? I'm a Science Officer, as you were; what you did once, I can do again, especially with the benefit of your knowledge. I'd be the one searching this time... Remember how it was, Spock? All those long lonely years... Would you condemn me to that? Could you?"

He paused for a moment, then answered his own question. "No, I don't think you would. Spock, I was prepared to do this once before, when you were almost a stranger. Now you are my pledged bondmate. I love you. One last step... it's not so very far, after all." One deep breath as he formed the words in his mind and spoke them quietly, calmly, with no trace of fear or reluctance, love and trust shining in his eyes.

"T'hy'la, za v'rain ca'hall. Foranna dhu'carman - za 1'aran t' meranu." (Bondmate, I serve your need. Take what you must - I offer myself.)

It was an offer no bonded Vulcan could resist or refuse from the lips of his mate. Spock nodded once, slowly, his eyes closing in acceptance. The long-fingered hands rose to cradle Kirk's head, seeking the meld points.

Kirk waited patiently, his shields totally lowered. He felt the Vulcan's presence just within his mind, but Spock was still barriered against him. Gently he reached out, all his love and trust offering a welcome, freely, willingly, anticipation rising in him as he waited for a reply...

The fingers pressed firmly against his skull; the lowered head lifted; the dark eyes blazed with savage triumph; and mocking laughter spilled insanely from the suddenly sneering mouth.

"You little fool! A few soft words, sentimental promises, and you are charmed again to my hand as a hawk to the lure. Ah, this is truly victory - that you come willingly to serve my need, and feel my chains close once more about you."

"S-Spock?" Kirk could not believe what his own mind was telling him.

"Aye, Spock! Your Captain and your master, little whore! You could not bear to speak my name, but you gave it to the Other."

"What have you done with him?" Fear for his bondmate overrode all personal considerations. "If you've hurt him..."

"Fool, he never existed! Not since that first night in your quarters when he dared to interfere and I slew him for his presumption. Since then your mind has been under my control, even when you thought yourself free."

"Why? Oh, why?" Kirk's world was crumbling around him; it was better to listen than to think, for insanity hovered very close.

"I had intended to force a bond on you - do you remember? - but learned that I could not. A bond can only be freely granted, never forced. I sought a way to deceive you, and that vr'shan gave me the chance. He died, and I allowed you to think it was I, clouding your mind so that you did not question. Your own desires blinded you - wanting me dead, I became so in fact for you. Under the guise of the impostor I set out to win your trust, and you gave to that weakling what you denied to me."

"No!" Kirk clung desperately to the last fragments of hope. "I saw the other universe..."

"Illusion!" his tormentor countered brutally. "I was superb, was I not? I even delayed the full bonding lest in the moment of realisation you succeeded in denouncing me. Now I have everything. I stand well with the Family and the Clan, I have given through you children to Vulcan, I have advanced my career with Starfleet. And I have you again, my slave, now bound to me with chains nothing can break."

"The other?" Kirk begged. "Dead? He was never here?"

"Never in life. I forced his mind as he died, and took the mask I wore from his pathetic weakness. You thought you had found the courage to kill me, and by setting that illusion in your mind I led you to think yourself fit to be a free man. Captain of the Enterprise? You only hold that rank so that I can keep you by my side at all times as I rise in Starfleet - I may even permit you to become a Commodore, perhaps even Admiral, if I achieve my ambition. But enough of this. I hunger for your surrender. Open your mind to me."

No! Illusion it might all have been, but the Captain had perhaps been too successful. The dream was more precious than reality, and Kirk clung to the little that remained, fighting with the fury of desperation to rebuild the shields he had learned to raise, resisting his tormentor with every ounce of strength and will he possessed.

It was useless. In that first moment of acceptance he had dropped all his barriers, opened himself completely, and the Vulcan was already over the threshold. An icy blast of hatred, contempt and lust seared deep into his vulnerable mind, and although Kirk fought on he knew himself defeated.

Cruel fingers closed around his arms, forcing him down onto the bed. An impatient hand tugged at his sleeping robe, finding its way inside to paw at the shrinking flesh. Avid lips fastened on his; the heat of an alien tongue filled his mouth; his senses were overwhelmed with the sight, the taste, the feel of the Vulcan; and his mind screamed in outrage and fury at the betrayal. With a desperate strength he did not know he possessed he threw his last effort into the battle and tore himself away, ripping the invader from his mind, knowing as he did so that it could mean his death - but rather that than live with the knowledge that everything he had loved had been a lie.

A dear and familiar presence moved close, and unquestioningly he accepted the offered support, but it was his own determined rejection that dissolved the clutching hands, turning them to phantom bonds that he slipped easily, denying the nightmare that still sought to hold him in its lingering coils.

Kirk opened his eyes. He was lying on his bed, the Vulcan kneeling beside him, one hand resting lightly on his temple. Kirk moved his face against the gentle caress.

"That was some nightmare, Spock," he said, his voice still shaking from the effort he had made.

"Indeed." Spock helped him to sit up, sliding a supporting arm around his shoulders. Kirk leaned gratefully against the Vulcan's strength, amazement filling him as he realised what he had just accomplished.

Reading his thought, Spock smiled. "It was your victory, Jim. Yours alone."

"I really thought He was here." Kirk was surprised, now, at how completely he had accepted the dream as reality. "I thought... you... were an illusion, a creation of my own longing... How could I have believed that, even for a moment?"

"There is no logic in dreams, t'hy'la. Do you think He would have given you the strength to defeat him even as a trick to win your confidence? It was your own achievement, your strength, as real as the image you destroyed seemed to be. He has gone, and you are free - by your own efforts. You faced your greatest fear, and overcame it."

"Not my greatest fear, Spock." Kirk touched the Vulcan's hand. "My greatest fear has always been that I would lose you." His eyes glowed suddenly as for the first time he gave thought to the reason for his bondmate's presence. "Have you finished at Starfleet already?" he asked eagerly. "You don't have to go back?"

"I fear that I must, Jim." Spock sounded as reluctant as Kirk felt. "In fact, I have almost finished with the matter that called me there - it would have been completed tonight, but that I sensed your need of me and left Nogura's office at once. I fear he must have been somewhat puzzled as to the reason for my abrupt departure."

"Then Nogura will - "

"Ste'ron was also present, and could not help but be aware of the nature of the summons I answered. He will have made a suitable explanation to Nogura," Spock replied indifferently. "However, now that I know that you are safe, I must return."

"But you mill be back tomorrow?"

"If you command it, t'hy'la."

At first delighted with the instant agreement, Kirk hesitated. "There's something else, isn't there? What is it? I have the right to know, I think."

Spock bit back the instinctive denial and reassurance that rose to his lips. He studied his bondmate's face carefully, aware that the bright eyes were watching him with love and concern.

"There is something wrong - I knew it," Kirk said quietly.

"Yes, Jim, there is." Now Spock realised that continued concealment would do more harm than the truth - Kirk was strong enough to accept the situation as it was, confident enough that he would not blame himself for the damage neither of them had realised was being inflicted.

"T'Rasa, the Healer, was at Headquarters," the Vulcan continued. "I consulted her. I think you must have been aware of her mind touch, and wove the encounter into your dream. I am not," he smiled faintly, "in pon farr, or likely to be so, but I do need the aid only a Healer can give."

"Are you ill?" Kirk's hands framed the thin face. "No, not ill - but there's something... "

"The Commander warned me, when he woke my telepathic powers, that should I ever choose to bond, it must be fully. My mind would demand the completion of a partial bond, and if it was denied there would be great mental and physical stress. Since the day of our bonding I have fought against the instinct to complete our bond, Jim. You know now how greatly I have longed for it."

"Yes, I know. But you waited until I was ready. Now you are suffering because of me?"

"No longer, my brother. But the stress has been great. It is T'Rasa's judgement that I should enter a healing trance to ensure my full recovery. She is prepared to remain on Earth a few days longer to monitor me in the trance, should I accept her advice."

"Of course you'll accept it!" Kirk said briskly. "Think how much more we'll both enjoy the rest of our leave when you're fully fit."

"But you do realise we will be out of contact," Spock said worriedly. "A bond as strong as ours might break into the trance, but I cannot be certain. Should you have need of me... Jim, perhaps you should return to Starfleet with me."

"If you wish it, I will," Kirk said slowly, "but I'd really rather not. There's no danger here - and I refuse to cling to you like a whimpering child because of a bad dream."

"The dream itself troubles me, Jim. What triggered it, I wonder?"

"I'm not sure." Kirk thought for a moment of the half-familiar figure he had imagined he had glimpsed from the stairs, but dismissed it as too trivial. "Perhaps that old woman... I did kill Him, after all. I think it must've been on my mind, and surfaced like that. No, go back, finish up with Nogura, let T'Rasa guide you through the trance, then come back to me here. I'd be bored out of my skull hanging around at Headquarters without you, anyway. I'd only get in the way. At least here I can relax. Do you know, I haven't even been for a swim yet?"

"As you wish." Spock took Kirk's hand, and held it. "Jim, you know that 1 could not avoid knowing of your dream... "

"It doesn't matter," Kirk said, surprised. "How could it?"

"When you thought the dream-Vulcan was I, and that I was in need... you wished to give... "

"Of course." Kirk's free hand touched the Vulcan's cheek lightly. "You know that I don't want or need a physical relationship with anyone, but if you needed or wanted it - why, I'd want it too. I wouldn't be afraid, or worried, or ashamed. I love you, and that makes it easy to give you anything you need. You know that, don't you?"

"I know it, t'hy'la. It is so for me as well. What chance led me to your side, I wonder? When I remember... a fleeting expression on your face... Had I missed it... But I did not, and we are here." Spock leaned forward and kissed his brother's cheek. "Now I must leave you. Will you be all right, Jim?"

"Of course. Just come back as soon as you can."

Kirk watched as Spock rose to his feet. Their eyes held, smiling, as the transporter beam sparkled into life, then Kirk turned out the light and settled back into bed.

Kirk slept dreamlessly for the rest of the night and awoke in the morning refreshed and alert. Over breakfast he chatted idly with some of his fellow guests, then wandered out into the warm sunshine planning how to spend the day. A couple at the next table had invited him to accompany them on a walk they had planned, but he had declined. He wanted to be on his own, knowing that sometime in the next few hours Spock would enter the healing trance; he was not too sure how he would react to the cessation of contact with his bondmate, and it seemed better that he adjust to the feeling in privacy.

Perhaps a drive along the lochside, he thought, and headed for the aircar, an inquisitive Dileas at his heels. The hound eyed the vehicle with some curiosity, but retired to the edge of the path as Ki