Kirk managed a sheepish grin, then motioned his friend to share the bench. As the first officer complied, Kirk slipped the ring from his finger, clutching it in the palm of his hand, though he suspected Spock's keen eyes had already seen it.

"What brings you down to the bowels this early in the morning, Spock?" he asked, attempting to mask his own inexplicable guilt with curiosity.

The Vulcan studied Kirk compassionately. "I thought perhaps I would find you here, Captain," he replied. "Doctor McCoy has informed me that the dreams appear to be dissipating." He paused. "However, the doctor also made it clear that you did dream last evening. I … believe he was concerned."

Kirk shrugged. If anyone else had questioned him, he might have been angry; but the Vulcan's casual approach warmed him. "Guess I'm just a diehard, Spock," he said lightly, turning the ring over in his hand without realizing it. He looked up. "Bones also mentioned that you eluded his professional grasp again. Any particular reason, or are you just keeping in practice?"

One eyebrow arched as a moment of pleasant surprise peeked through the firm control. But Spock quickly regained his composure. "I … wished to discuss the matter with you before fueling the doctor's curiosity," he stated.

Kirk nodded with a gentle smile. "What is it, Spock?" he asked.

The Vulcan glanced away for just a moment, then took a deep breath. "In my dream last night, I … sensed that you and I were … engaged in a meld when …" The sentence trailed off. He'd watched Kirk die in that dream, watched him fade to nothingness. And despite the fact that he had accompanied him on the journey, he still found it difficult to conceive of his friend's death.

Kirk met the dark eyes steadily. "You dreamed that you and I were linked in a meld when we died," he said, completing the sentence and surprised himself when he didn't flinch from the memory.

One long brow climbed beneath neatly combed bangs in a moment of surprise. "Indeed," Spock murmured.

Kirk smiled fleetingly. "It's all right, Spock," he assured his friend. "I wouldn't have mentioned it either, except that … I've had a feeling ever since I woke up that something … happened. I want to say something happened last night;but I'm not sure how that works." He shrugged almost in frustration. "I know this might sound illogical, Spock," he confessed, "but I feel like I've been asleep for thirty years!" He laughed, trying to break the tension which had settled in the air. "Now if I'd been out on shore leave all night, that wouldn't be so strange. But I went to bed early and woke up with one hell of a hangover this morning!"

The Vulcan nodded, then absently checked the wrist chronometer. He glanced curiously at Kirk. "Perhaps it would be wise to discuss the matter in more detail later this evening," he suggested. "Since we are both due on the bridge …" He let the sentence trail off, unfinished.

Kirk nodded, grateful that Spock recognized his need for time, his need to re-establish himself. For a moment, he wondered precisely what that was supposed to mean. He'd only been off duty for a little over twelve hours; but it seemed like years, centuries … perhaps longer.

He rose from the bench, slipping the ring onto the fourth finger, almost without thinking about it.

Settling into the command chair, Kirk found his mind wandering. He glanced occasionally at Spock's back, trying to imagine what particular research project held the first officer's attention this time. He'd suspected for years that the Vulcan's eyes remained glued to the hooded scanner simply because it made him appear busy when he was, in fact, irrefutably bored. He smiled to himself, trying to picture the Vulcan reading Alice in Wonderlandin machine language, or perhaps watching some ancient Tom and Jerrycartoon to amuse himself.

As he sat there watching the Vulcan and gazing at the unchanging star pattern on the viewscreen, his attention was diverted when the doors opened onto the bridge, revealing Lieutenant Richardson. For a moment, Kirk thought that the young man seemed different, not quite as naïve and innocent as the captain had originally pegged him. But as the lieutenant made his way to the navigator's chair and slumped behind the controls with an exaggerated sigh, Kirk knew it was the same man who was beginning to gain quite a reputation as the ship's resident Romeo.

"What's the matter, Jerry?" Sulu asked, interrupting the silence with a smile. "Been out tomcattin' again?"

Richardson shrugged, checking the controls, then leaned back in the chair. "Nothing so dramatic," he complained with an overacted sigh. He leaned closer to the helmsman, unaware of Kirk's curious scrutiny. "Dreams again," he grumbled. He gave a manufactured shudder.

Kirk felt himself stiffen, unconsciously leaning closer.

"You'll get over it," Sulu was saying. "Chekov'll be back on first shift in a week, then you can go back to sleeping in again." He smiled. "Just boredom, my friend," he added reassuringly. "So far, you're the only one I know of who had rotten dreams last night. And hell, I almost envy you. The rest of us seem to be settling back into the old routine of doldrum."

"I could use a little doldrum," Richardson remarked with a grin, indicating the star pattern with a nod of his head. "Even that painting out there seems like nirvana in comparison to what I remember of last night!" He set his eyes to the screen, then gave up the pose of interest, leaning closer to Sulu in a conspiratorial manner. "There's only one redeeming quality to nightmares," he confessed in a hushed tone. "The Praetor has gorgeous …" He let the sentence trail off, his hands forming into an hourglass with a somewhat exaggerated top.

Sulu elbowed the other lieutenant, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

Kirk managed to avert his eyes before being caught in the distasteful act of eavesdropping.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Sulu muttered, "the Big Man's on the bridge! And besides, I thought you had your eye on S'Parva this week."

Jerry shrugged, slipping back into the old routine. "There's no such thing as too much of a good thing, Sulu," he replied. "I have to play the field, let the galaxy know I'm out here. I have to give more than one woman a chance for true and lasting happiness."

Sulu's eyes rolled as he shook his head. "One of these days, Jerry, one of those innumerable women is going to take you up on the offer. And if my suspicions are correct, you won't know what in all the galaxy to do about it!"

Jerry shrugged. "True," he confessed with a groan.

In the Vulcan's quarters, Kirk sat slowly on the ornate meditation pillows, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room. Against one wall, the Watcher held the Fire of Vulcan, his demonlike appearance somehow soothing. A faint scent of incense drifted through the room, and Kirk was pulled from his reverie as the first officer returned to the living area.

Without speaking, the Vulcan lowered himself to sit at Kirk's side, then allowed the cool mask to drop. Somehow, it seemed cumbersome, unnecessary. "Jim," he began carefully, "I have given the matter further consideration, and I … believe there may be a way to discover the meaning of these dreams." He looked into the eyes of the Watcher, choosing a neutral focal point. "I do not know if what I suggest will work, but it is a method to discern what reality—if any—these visions possess."