Lawful Obedience, Part Sixteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

There was something weighing on Spock's mind—Bones could guess that. And it had nothing to do with Uhura and Lee. No, if Bones didn't know better, he'd say that Spock was suffering from guilt. But that was impossible. He didn't think the Vulcan was capable of feeling guilt.

The lights blinked—the show would start soon. McCoy leaned over and whispered into Spock's ear. "What's wrong?"

Spock turned to face him, a brooding look on his face.

"Spock?" Bones prompted, still whispering.

Still the Vulcan said nothing.

"Spock, if you don't tell me what's eating you, I'll fret over it throughout the film."

"Eating me, Doctor?"

"You know what I mean!" McCoy snapped. Then he paused for a deep breath, so he could bring his voice back down to a whisper. "Tell me what's wrong before you drive me insane."

The Vulcan seemed to weigh that possibility in his mind. "I—I have much to tell you of Vulcan culture this evening, Doctor," he whispered back, so low that Bones had to strain to hear him. "If we should choose to bond, there will be certain…problems."

Bones narrowed his eyes at him. "The problems can't be insurmountable or you would never have approached me in the first place."

"That is true, Doctor," Spock confirmed as the lights dimmed.

Bones sighed in relief. "All right then," he whispered, dropping his own voice even lower. "I suppose I must have known that you couldn't just off and elope with a human. If this is a problem you can fix, I won't waste my time worrying about it right now."

"I can and will fix it, Doctor," Spock promised. "In fact, I have already begun inquiries on how best to do so."

"Good," Bones said with a smile.

The theatre was dark now, so Bones settled down in his seat. He let his eyes adjust as the screen came to life and a voice narrated the prologue of Romeo and Juliet. The scene rapidly morphed into a street brawl in old Verona between the servants of Capulet and the servants of Montague.

Bones frowned as he thought back to Spock's words. Vulcans, he knew, rarely married outside their own kind. As the son of a Vulcan father and a human mother Spock was, to the best of McCoy's knowledge, unique.

Bones sighed. He was sure there were plenty of people on Vulcan who would disapprove of Spock choosing a human mate. That was a depressing thought. He had no desire to cause problems for his…for his potential spouse. On the other hand, why should Spock's happiness be dependent on the whims of his culture?

McCoy grinned to himself. All right, 'whims' was probably the wrong word to apply to Vulcans. Call it their arbitrary customs, then. Was that why Spock had joined Starfleet in the first place? To escape those oppressive customs?

He settled back in his chair, determined to put the problem out of his mind at present. It would be much more fun, he decided, to enjoy the film and try to puzzle out Spock's likely criticisms of it.

Spock versus Shakespeare, after all, should prove quite interesting.

~

Uhura smiled apologetically at Lee, but there was no mistaking the glint of mischief in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought that'd be a thoroughly respectable film."

They were sitting in a different rec-room now, enjoying dinner. They room was crowded, but they'd found a quiet corner table.

"It was respectable," he assured her. "And the actors were perfectly cast. I'm glad such a youthful pair played Romeo and Juliet—I dislike seeing thirty-year-olds in the parts. And the 'movie' itself was brilliant. When I think of the advances made since the photography of my day—"

"But…" Uhura prompted, gently interrupting him with another mischievous look.

"I was just—unprepared for the…lack of clothing in that one scene," Lee explained as he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep himself from grinning at her expression.

She chuckled at that. "I never knew anyone could turn as white as you did."

"Well, I'm happy to have broadened your experience," he retorted. "Now kindly stop torturing me, Lieutenant."

Uhura looked taken aback for a moment at the sudden formality in his tone, but then she started laughing again. "Was that your 'General' voice?" she asked.

"Yes," Lee confirmed, smiling again.

"Impressive," Uhura owned. "Quiet, but filled with authority. How do you achieve that?"

He winked at her. "Habit. I never raise my voice."

"Never?" she asked.

"Well, not in anger," he specified. "I suppose I'd raise it if I were screaming for help. But I see no reason to raise it otherwise—a man should be able to govern his temper under all circumstances."

Uhura set down her fork. "In some ways, you are remarkably like Mr. Spock—has anyone ever told you that?"

"Oddly enough, Dr. McCoy mentioned it."

She laughed again. "Well, he certainly should know."

Lee nearly choked at that. He was still doing his utmost to think of the two men as dear friends to each other and nothing more. And no doubt that's how Uhura thought of them. It was unlikely that she was aware of any other aspect of their relationship. And, fortunately, it wasn't his place to enlighten her.

"Indeed," he managed. "Now, if you don't mind me turning the subject, I should like to know more about you."

"Then I suppose I'll give you my standard biography," she said agreeably. "I was born on Earth in the United States of Africa to a Bantu family."

Lee blinked. "I didn't realize that Africa is united now."

"Why, Mr. Lee, the whole planet is united now!"

He laughed. "True. I beg your pardon, please continue."

"Swahili is my first language," she continued. "But I learned English early on…"

As she continued, Lee couldn't help but compare her to the women of his day—and to one woman in particular. Uhura was so very different from his wife. It was not merely the color of her skin: it was, among other things, her education. His wife had been reasonably well educated, of course—but not in the sciences. Yet Uhura needed a great deal of technological learning to perform her duties. And she was an expert in linguistics as well.

Like his wife, however, Lee guessed that Uhura would prove to be a woman of strong opinions. But unlike his wife, he couldn't imagine the lieutenant raising seven children. In fact, her very presence aboard this starship seemed to indicate that she had decided against a family—or had at least put the possibility off for the next five years.

He was tempted to ask her what she thought about marriage and children, but stopped himself. That would be unpardonably forward of him—he had no right to ask her such a question. Nor did he quite understand what would cause him such curiosity on the subject.

It was, perhaps, best not to examine his motivation too closely. Not at present.

Uhura paused suddenly in her narrative. "Look," she said. "They're moving the tables to make room for a dance floor. Let's help—and then you can treat me to the first dance."

Lee had to stop his mouth from falling open. He had not realized that it was a custom aboard ship for a woman to ask a man for a dance. Fortunately, however, he had enough sense to keep his shock to himself.

"Very well," he managed, as he stood up with her. He didn't precisely mind the notion of dancing with the lieutenant. But he prayed that he would recognize whatever the crew aboard this ship considered 'dancing.' He had a feeling that he should not expect the waltz.

~

McCoy behaved himself quite well on the walk over to Spock's cabin. But he took Spock's hand in his own as they reached the cabin door—he could only stand the distance between them for so long. Spock stiffened slightly at the Doctor's touch, but raised no objection to it.

The door slid open and the two men stepped inside. McCoy's eyes widened in delight—Spock had gone all out to make the room soft and romantic. His desk was serving as a table, complete with a linen table cloth, candles and a centerpiece consisting of lilacs and hyacinths.

Now why those two flowers? McCoy wondered. He would have to ask Spock if they had any particular meaning.

Spock walked over to the makeshift table and pulled out one of the chairs for McCoy. "Please sit down, Leonard," he said.

Bones smiled. He was touched—both by the romantic, old-fashioned gesture and by Spock's use of his given name. "Thank you," he said as he took his seat.

Spock nodded and took the chair opposite of him. McCoy watched him as his face clouded—apparently he was trying to find the right words for something.

"Would you like to tell me the difficulties we're going to encounter when it comes to bonding?" Bones invited.

Spock cocked his head at him. "You're making it sound as if our bonding is a forgone conclusion."

"I suppose I am," Bones admitted. "That's because the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. But I'll rephrase my question: if we decide to bond, what problems will we face?"

"My father will likely object," Spock began. "He has already arranged a marriage for me—I was seven years old, in fact, when he selected my bride."

Bones let out a low whistle. "I see. So you are…betrothed?"

"It is stronger than a betrothal, but not quite a marriage," Spock explained.

McCoy took a long moment to digest that. "Do you—do you like the girl?" he asked.

"I neither like nor dislike her, Doctor. My father and her father arranged the marriage because they reached the conclusion that T'Pring and I are well suited."

"But you have not reached that conclusion yourself?" McCoy persisted.

Spock sighed. "No, Leonard, I have not. I do not, unfortunately, know T'Pring's thoughts on the matter."

"What will happen to her if you break the…the betrothal?"

"She would be free to select another mate."

Bones nodded. "Good. So—are you willing to go against your father's wishes?"

"Yes," Spock answered. "I have already done so by joining Starfleet—my father wished me to follow his footsteps at the Vulcan Academy of Science." He paused. "However, breaking the bond I have with T'Pring will not be a simple matter. And while I have begun making inquiries, I am not yet sure how best to handle it."

He paused again—and blushed. Bones stared at him. Spock was actually blushing.

"While Vulcans exercise logic, Doctor, in selecting a mate, there is much that is…illogical…when it comes to the betrothal and marriage. I cannot, at present, tell you more than that."

Bones swallowed. "Spock, I have to know that you're free to bond with me before we tumble headlong into something."

"I agree, Doctor," Spock said with a definite note of approval in his voice. "Rest assured that I shall break the betrothal, even if it costs me my standing on Vulcan."

Bones stared at him. He couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. "Spock—I don't know if I could ask that of you. I—I had no idea you'd be willing to break with your home world just to bond with me."

Spock's blush deepened. "Doctor, a marriage bond is not to be taken lightly. I wish to form it only with someone whom I know to be a suitable companion."

He paused again, apparently struggling to articulate his thoughts. "As I have said, your challenges to my logic force me to rethink and refine it. Your dedication to your patients incites my highest admiration. And, even in the midst of our quarrels, your presence fills me with…peace. It would be illogical of me to deny that we are quite compatible."

It was McCoy's turn to blush. He knew what a high compliment he had just received. And he knew something else—Spock might never bring himself to say the words, but that damned green-blooded, pointy-eared, Satanic elf loved him.

It wasn't the head-over-heals-falling-for-someone kind of love. Perhaps the General had been right to draw a distinction between that and the love that was an action: the act of love that caused a man to be faithful and respectful to his spouse. And it was the same act of love that would motivate Spock to hold his spouse higher even than his home.

McCoy stared at the Vulcan, wondering suddenly if he would give up Georgia for Spock's sake. The answer was surprisingly easy: yes, he would.

But he didn't want to give up Georgia—and he didn't want Spock to sacrifice his standing on Vulcan except as an absolute last resort.

Bones reached across the table and took Spock's hand again. "I want to bond with you, Spock," he said. "And I want you to do everything in your power to extricate yourself from your betrothal without making yourself a pariah on Vulcan. I will do anything in my power to help you."

Spock stared at him from across the table. He seemed to understand that McCoy no longer needed any emotional declaration from him. In fact, he needed no words at all.

But McCoy could see that Spock understood how much he needed the Vulcan's touch. And so the two men remained as they were for a long moment.

Neither saw any reason to let go of the other.

LINK TO PART SEVENTEEN