Title: Rhapsody in Rain
Part 2/4


	He didn't remember his sudden escape. When he became aware of
himself and the things around him, he realised that he was 
running through the streets and that the rain had increased in
intensity. He needed to get his orientation back. He stopped at
the edge of a small park and watched for some seconds the
sparsely lighted path, which led inward, before he stepped on it.

	The silence of sleeping trees surrounded him. He went farther,
and farther, the old leaves from last autumn, now washed by the
rain, glittered on the stones. The widely spaced lamps shone
here and there, throwing their cone-shaped light down like
veils, revealing the fine, cold drops. The dark park, the
silence, the light cones, the surreal silhouettes of naked trees
made Kirk relax a bit. He moved, being driven by this urge to
simply go, which blocked anything else that might appear in his
mind. But this worked only for a while.

	How it could come to this? He asked himself bitterly. How could
it happen, that he was afraid of his best friend? Ten days ago
things were still all right. He was the captain and Spock  the
first officer. He was the emotional and illogical human, his
friend the calm, restrained and logical Vulcan. They were the
opposites of each other, the two sides of the same coin, two
acting as one, fitting together perfectly. He never thought that
this would ever be different. Kirk recognised that despite all
the losses in his life, Spock's presence had formed itself as a
constant, never changing, always here around him. Until this
madness came, the two hours of heat and old rituals, which had
changed, and perhaps destroyed, all that had been built between
them during the last years. Was it like that? Was it really like
that? Something in Kirk protested against this bitter
recognition. Lamely and uncertainly. But he was too tired to
even listen to those signals. So tired.

	He sat down on a bench near the lamp, his palms hanging
lifeless between his knees, staring into the dark emptiness in 
front of him, ignoring the dense rain falling onto his head, his
 shoulders. And so he was found by Spock, who remained standing
some meters away, keeping a polite distance, growing uncertain
at the sight of Kirk in this helpless posture.

	Finally the human lifted his head and turned in Spock's
direction. He didn't say anything, only looked exhausted. The
Vulcan came closer, never leaving Kirk's gaze.

	"Still not giving up?" Kirk finally asked in a quiet tone.

	Spock only shook his head. Kirk sighed. Slowly as if a heavy
weight were lying on his shoulders, he stood up and made some
steps toward the light-cone. Hesitantly the Vulcan followed him,
and Kirk wasn't surprised by it. 'He is always behind me', Kirk
thought, as if he had seen him for the first time. 'Always
following me, like a shadow...'

	"What do you want to talk about?" Kirk repeated the question
for the second time this evening.

	"About us. About, what ... happened."

	"Hmmm... a very interesting topic." He made a step aside and
then back, "and what do you want to tell me?" His voice grew
ironic.

	The Vulcan looked at his feet, swallowing uncomfortably,
struggling with himself and with all the rules of his Vulcan
heritage: "I'm sorry...", he said then in a barely audible
voice,  "I'm sorry..."

	And finally, after so many days Kirk's nerves exploded: "you
are sorry?" He shouted out. "You hid basic facts about your
state, and about the risk which I was taking when I decided to
beam down with you to Vulcan. I have never hidden anything from
you, I told you all about me, because I have always trusted you
and believed that you told me everything in return." He waved
his hand, as he had seen that the Vulcan wanted to say
something. "Of course you didn't have to," he continued
bitterly, "you could always to keep your secrets in the name of
your holy Vulcan  privacy."  His anger grew with every second.
"I was about to die, Spock! I followed you because I had always
believed that Vulcans cause no harm." He stepped closer to the
man, who didn't dare to move back even the slightest bit. "What
awaited me was a nightmare! And after so many days you come to
me and all you can say is 'I'm sorry'!"

	"Jim..."

	"Tell, me Mr. Spock, Vulcans don't apologise, do they?"

	"Jim, I ..."

	"It has been always your favourite sermon to the whole ship,
that an apology is only the conclusion of illogical failures of
an imperfect human mind. Then why this nonsense at last?"

	"Jim please...", this was like a sob and Kirk stopped, shocked
to hear this. The Vulcan looked as if he had been slapped. 
Shivering from cold he stood in front of the human, freezing in 
his inadequate thin coat -- soaked from water -- his hair
tousled, looking like a thin, wet, street cat awaiting its next
blow. 'And the whole time I was afraid of this man?' Kirk
wondered, feeling  suddenly disgusted by his own behaviour. He
stretched out his hand to put it on Spock's shoulder, but the
man shifted and turned halfway back.

	"You are right, captain", he said in a quiet voice, "there is
no excuse."  And Kirk watched, helplessly, the forbidding
profile of Spock's face, the growing distance between them, much
greater than the half meter of space between their forms.

	The Vulcan took a deep ragged breath. The white steam of it
formed a contrast against the black darkness around them. The
sound of falling rain softened to a whisper. "There is no
excuse," he repeated again in a small voice, "but perhaps, an
explanation."

	The struggle was even more visible this time, the difficulty of
speaking about things most intimate for him, this together with
the enormous will to continue farther made Kirk's heart crack.

	"It is forbidden to talk about it. Especially to non-Vulcans.
Because we are ashamed about the time, when our behaviour gets
out of our control and all we have learned about discipline
fails, against the total disaster. My whole life I have never
regretted my choice to became a Vulcan. But still secretly I had
hoped, that my human half would spare me this madness..."

	In the light of the lamp, Kirk had seen fine green shadows on
Spock's high cheek-bones. He realised, shocked, that the Vulcan
was blushing.

	"It was like a green fog around me. It possessed me, and
nothing helped to ease this urge in me. At last, I wished to
gain release at any cost... Jim, I ...wanted to kill you,...
because you stood between me and her... Although all in me
screamed against it. But I wasn't able to hear, for the desire
for release was too great. I couldn't control myself. I was an
animal, nothing more..."

	No, you weren't, Kirk wanted to say, but he didn't, because
what the Vulcan said was the truth. A honest, brutal truth.

	"But I swear, that I didn't know, that all this would ever
happen. The whole time I was sure, that the ceremony would only
end what my family started in my childhood."

	Kirk swallowed, realising, that his throat was dry: "Was it...,
was it really her right?"

	"Yes it was. Kalifee is an old custom, which allows the women
to choose another partner, when they declare the first one
unworthy for their future breed. It hasn't been used for
centuries."

	"Not with a legend..."

	"No!" The Vulcan interrupted him, a bit loud. "She meant it
differently..."  He stared at an invisible spot in the darkness.
 "She didn't want to mate with a half-breed..."

	Again this merciless truth. He really didn't want to spare
himself a thing.

	Finally the Vulcan forced himself to look at Kirk. "I don't ...
I'm sure..., that..."

	"That I will never forgive you?"

	Spock nodded. "However. I will do whatever you wish me to do."

	"And, what do *you* want Mr. Spock?"

	"That is irrelevant."

	"Really?" Kirk's voice grew ironic again, "do you really want
to have it like that? A command to go away, which you will obey?
To order you to leave me, the Enterprise and perhaps Starfleet?
Is this what *you* want?"  He stood now close to him.  So close
he had never been before. "Spock, answer me!"

	"No."  The Vulcan was visibly shaken, "but whatever you wish to
do, even if you will end our friendship here, it is your right
to do so. It would be illogical to expect anything  else."

	Kirk had to step back. This was unbearable! Who was this man 
in front of him? Seeing Spock in his current state, so
exhausted, fragile, vulnerable and totally bereft of his
restrained attitude, revealing all and hiding nothing, made him
almost scream. He couldn't deal with it, he hadn't ever imagined
that he would ever witness this Vulcan soul so totally stripped
out and exposed to him. This look hurt! More than the worst
injuries in his past. He wanted to turn and run away, and
simultaneously to step up to him, to embrace him, to hold him
tightly, while telling him that he is worthy -- more than
everything in his life.

	Somewhere around them, space switched onto another level.

	"I have to tell you something." And saying those words, Kirk
stepped closer again. "I had never thought that I would be
afraid of you, beaten by you, be outgunned by you. My friendship
with you was the only clear thing in my life, because I thought
that there, nothing would change. And now, the circumstances are
different, more complicated, and I have to deal with them... The
 second truth is, that I have never told you, that my decision
to fight with you was made not only from necessity, but from
vanity, too." Spock's eyes widened, unable to believe what he
had heard. "Yes," Kirk smiled a little, "from vanity. From fear,
not to embarrass myself in front of T'Pau and the others. I
represented Starfleet. I had the stupid idea that you in your
state would be unable to beat me. You proved me wrong. You gave
me  a lesson. And a damn painful one."

	"Jim...?"

	"Spock, I'm a vain brat, who thinks too much of himself. Don't
pretend that you have never thought that."

	The Vulcan shook his head. A gesture almost childlike, which
made Kirk smile again. "Do you wish to leave, my friend?" Again
the shake of the head. "Neither do I, Spock, neither do I."

	The world around them settled itself in another dimension, the
universe took a different direction, the rain sang in a soft
voice, songs about falling water. The words took on different
meanings.

	Kirk stood so close to Spock, that he could feel the heat of
his body. The scent of old leaves mixed with the one of spice.
The Vulcan bent his head down a little, awaiting what would come
next.

	"We should begin anew then... What ever it might bring, we
should try..."

	"Yes."

	"It's too late to search for an another room. You can stay with
me." The Vulcan nodded.

	"Do you have a bag?"

	"I left it at the main train station."

	There was again the silence between them, but neither found it
uncomfortable this time. And then Kirk asked for the third time
during this evening: 

	"Tell me one thing, Spock, why did you come to me?"

	"There is no one else..."

	Hearing this, Kirk couldn't resist it any more. He took the
thin body into his embrace, feeling the Vulcan giving up,
letting himself be held, his head resting on the human's
shoulder.  The rain glittered like tears on their faces.



	The hotel room was drowned in semidarkness, the street lamp
threw some light through the window, and the neon sign hanging
on the house on the opposite side painted it with blue,  which
frequently changed into green. The rain gently drummed on the
glass panes of the window.

	The first thing Kirk did as soon as they were in, was to turn
the central heating up several degrees; then he rummaged in his
bag for a while, until he found a towel.

	"Here," he handed it to the Vulcan and then he pointed at the
closet: "You'd better put your coat in there." Spock obeyed and
Kirk felt something like relief. A Vulcan freezing in wet
clothing caused only sorrow. He turned back to the heater and
checked the temperature. Still not at the right level, but it
was already pretty warm here. 

	He went to the closet and put his own jacket there. The corner
of his eye caught an almost funny picture of Spock drying his
wet hair with a very resolute gesture. 'Like a cat which got 
wet,' he mused secretly, while his mind noticed the remarkably
fine bones of Spock's fingers...

	He headed for the bed... And then he stopped at its side:

	This piece of furniture with thin, white sheets, shone in the
corner of the room, being halfway lit by the blue-green neon
sign outside the window. It was narrow, for one person only, or
for two lying tightly in each other's arms. An indefinable
feeling shot down into the ends of his fingers, his half closed
hands. He took a breath. He felt the Vulcan; he was aware of his
calm, solid presence although there were two meters of space
between them.

	Slowly, like in a dream, he crossed those two meters of
distance, feeling the temperature of the air rise, filling with
the scent of rain, spice and musk. He reached for the white
towel which hung down, hiding Spock's face, and touching those
slender fingers, he stopped their motion. Carefully he put the
cloth aside, while his other hand slid into the wet hair and
pulled the head a bit closer.

	The kiss was the most shy and tender he'd ever had. Awkwardly
two pairs of trembling lips met in a feathery touch, then parted
for the tiniest bit, to return again, slightly opened this time,
tasting. The Vulcan hummed quietly - a sound which made Kirk's
grip around the wet towel and the Vulcan's hand tighten. He let
him go, a little, and looked into his eyes, seeing the depths of
the night in them, the calmness of space, the glittering
presence of the rain.

	Kirk turned away, then took a few steps, then he only stood
there, motionless like a statue, his arms drooping beside his
body, listening to the faint sounds of drops hitting the window.
After a moment, as if in a trance, he started to undress
himself. Slowly he pulled down his sweater, unbuttoned his shirt
and let it drop down onto the floor.

	Spock watched the muscles which tightened across the human's
shoulders and back, never daring to make either a sound or a
motion, which might stop the scene in front of him. The pale
golden beauty of the human seemed to increase, with every piece
of clothing falling down. The man took off his boots and socks,
his hands reached to the fastening of the pants, which then were
dropped down to the small pile on the red carpet.

	Kirk turned and Spock caught his breath. The light of the neon
sign moved, and projected the shadows of the rain drops onto the
pale golden skin and onto the red, sickle-shaped scar stretching
itself across the broad chest. But this lasted only for a second
or two, because suddenly the human stood near him, taking the
wet towel off his hand. Kirk's eyes were shining, tender, the
corners of his mouth serious, almost sad and hurt. But Spock
didn't want to turn away, he couldn't.

	Never leaving those hazel/green eyes, his hand shifted to the
buttons of his own shirt. Hesitantly at first, then growing more
sure, he opened them and let the garment fall down, together
with the rest. It was as if with every dropping piece, the
remaining doubts in his mind changed to dust.

	Revealing all, hiding nothing. Naked truth, naked mind, naked
bodies. Fragile, vulnerable, tender. 

	He stood undressed in front of his friend, aware of this moment
with every nerve-ending in his body. And then, passing him by,
he went to the narrow bed and sat down on its edge, looking at
Kirk, calling him with his eyes.

	Slowly, he had to move slowly, Kirk reminded himself. This
beautiful, naked Vulcan here was like the shyest being, who
might disappear with the first unexpected move.  He sat down on
the white sheets beside Spock and took his hand.  For some
endless moments they remained in the same position -- halfway
turned toward each other, hips and knees touching, their faces
so close -- the one golden, soft, fair, all muscles on the
compact body, the second pale, dark-haired, full of planes and
angles, fine-boned and slender.

	They kissed again. Gently, slowly, tasting each other, the
mouths open, tongues touching.

	The Vulcan moaned again. The human was holding him in his arms
now, those cool hands exploring his body, searching for the
sensitive places, touching them and making Spock react in ways
he had never thought to do, while those soft lips moved down
from his mouth, to kiss his throat, to lick at its veins, to
slide farther, behind the earlobe. He arched his back, when
those skillful fingers parted his thighs and touched him at his
groin. The signals of growing lust shot down into his flanks,
urging him to spread his legs further apart, to allow this
access. There was a loud sound, and he realised that it came
from him.

	He sank down onto the white sheets, losing any sensation of the
world around him.

	Kirk knelt down beside the bed and put Spock's legs up. But
then the Vulcan turned his back to him, the thin body curled,
the knees drew up almost touching the chest. 

	Kirk panicked for a moment. 'I have pushed him too far,' shot
through his head, while he hovered above the Vulcan, putting his
hand on the thin shoulder, feeling the fine tremor under his
fingers.

	"Spock...?" He whispered...

	The Vulcan's face turned to him ... 

	...and Kirk felt something like relief.  Spock wasn't crying,
he wasn't even trembling from cold. Then why...? 

	"Shhhhhhhhhh...", he smiled slightly, soothingly and then moved
his hand down to the arm, to the chest. The touch of his palm
worked like a spell on the slender body. The Vulcan turned
slowly onto his back, moving his chest at first, then his belly,
at last his hips. And then the human caught his breath:

	He was aroused.

	The green-jade hardness pointed upward, with swollen ridges, a
single drop of moisture glittering at the tip.

	As if he was hypnotised Kirk moved his hand toward the cock,
feeling himself react in the same way. Slowly he bent down and
took him in his mouth, tasting salt and cinnamon and something
specific he couldn't describe. The Vulcan sobbed as the human's
tongue touched those ridges and the sensitive spot between them
- a sound that made Kirk suddenly, painfully, hard. He lifted
his head and looked at Spock. A pair of black eyes watched him,
mirroring an open soul.

	"Jim...", he said and stretched out his hand.

	To sink into his arms was like laying down in the fire, or
savouring the sun. He felt warm, so warm. He didn't remember a
time when he had experienced anything similar. And silk, smooth 
pale olive silk covering a hard surface. 

	They kissed again, open-mouthed, breathtaking kisses. While
their palms wandered over each other's bodies, to pinch the
green bronze nipples here, to mark the back with the fingernails
there, to slid into black hair to feel the sensation between the
fingers, or to grab the curves of the butt.

	Their movements grew into a rhythm, their cocks rubbed against
their bellies. Their eyes never leaving each other's gaze. Spock
threw his head back, feeling the waves of pleasure crashing over
him; and with his green-flushed cheeks, tousled hair and mouth
half open he grew more beautiful in Kirk's eyes with every
second.  Finally something within him exploded. Dimly he heard
the human crying out, felt the friction spread out between them,
the last thrusts slowing down, a body collapsing into his arms,
peace...

	...release...

	Rain...