Fic: Three Times The Fairy Tales got it Wrong and One Time they got it Right
Title: Three Times the fairy tales got it wrong and one time they got it right - Ship Wars Prompt 5, "Fairy tale"
Wordcount: ~4000
Pairings/ Characters: Kirk/Spock/McCoy, TOS Universe
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild situational implication and some swearing from McCoy
Disclaimer: They aren't a canon triad, therefore they are not mine.
Summary: What fairy tales get wrong and why they still matter.
Beta: Mintcloud
Note: In this world, typical Vulcan mental bonds only link the consciousness while t'hy'la bonds link both the consciousness and the katra. This leads to much more intense bonds, including hte ability to hear one's t'hy'la from across great distances, but carries greater potential risks. Because of the higher risks and 'diminished returns,' few Vulcans tolerate t'hy'la bonds. Also, each story within is almost a stand alone.
Three.
Once, a long time ago during the days of the Great Wars, a prodigious warrior, T'ylok, was born to a powerful clan with many enemies. One night, young T'ylok and several of his young clan mates decided to disguise themselves and infiltrate a neutral clan's Remembrance Festival. In that house, on that day, no blood was to be spilled, no matter the cause. To do so would invite the host clan's wrath and every house had too many enemies to add another to the list.
While there, the young Vulcans witnessed an impressive demonstration of combat prowess from their enemies. Now, T'ylok, being more logical than his friends, managed to persuade them to not reveal themselves by attacking their enemies. Instead, he counseled them to gather information, any piece that could be put to later use in the war against the rival house, and left them (a highly illogical move, but this was before Surak's time) to their own devices.
As he wandered through the fortress, a female dressed in the blood green tunic of a general and performing a rather intricate Kata with her lirpa caught his eye. But when she turned to him, he was dismayed to discover that the vision of beauty before him was, in reality, one of the warriors he saw earlier - an enemy he'd never met but was doomed to fight. Nevertheless, he drew closer to her to watch her perfectly executed forms and the grace she exuded as she moved from one to another. Once she finished and the host's son thanked her for the display, she laid down her arms and approached him.
“You fight splendidly,” he told her. She raised an eyebrow.
“As do you, son of my rival house,” she returned.
“We have met in combat?”
“That we have,” she said, “Four times exactly, twice ending in my victory and twice in yours.” She grabbed a nearby helmet and placed it on her head, and suddenly T'ylok knew her to be the fiercest and most cunning of his foes.
“May I have your name?” he asked.
“Why learn the name of an enemy? It only makes combat harder,” she asserted and began walking away.
“I am T'ylok,” he called after her but to no avail. Years passed and T'ylok discovered the mysterious warrior was incorrect. Not knowing her name did not make combat against her easier; they traded victories as before. However, they attended the same Remembrance Festival each year and became uneasily closer because of it. During those festivals, they began sharing the briefest of mental contact through the battle demonstrations their hosts insisted they perform together. The year before the first fire, T'ylok met with her again, this time demanding to never be parted from her.
“You would doom yourself?” she asked disdainfully, “If you burned for me, I would not come. I would sooner die than betray my clan. And my clan will never accept you.” They parted once again, a link unknowingly created between them already.
Then the fire came and T'ylok burned, burned, with no relief. When the healer tried to bond him with the female chosen for him, the link made its presence known. Mind and katra entwined together created something too strong to be broken. In his fever, T'ylok told his father to leave him in the middle of the desert to protect the clan from his burning. His father did so, and T'ylok was left to die. But somehow, the warrior came to T'ylok anyway and together they cooled his flames, solidifying the link between them. She left before he awoke, leaving only a small amount of food and water for him, but T'ylok could sense her now, hear her every thought, know her every feeling. Sh'laya. Years passed once again, Sh'laya meeting him every Festival but only attending to T'ylok when he burned in the desert.
A new clan then arose, this one more powerful than their two combined, determined to rule the lands. But unfortunately, their clans did not join forces. Too many years of bad blood and distrust won out. When the clan attacked Sh'laya's clan, T'ylok could not stop himself from riding to her aid. The image they made in battle together was astounding, even more astonishing than their demonstrations. They were one being, one mind, one spirit. Never before had anything like it ever been witnessed. But alas, the enemy clan's sheer numbers overwhelmed them and T'ylok gave his life so Sh'laya might escape. They say her wail of agony echoes across the desert to this day. Her katra tore apart, its strength depleted without her other half-
Spock shut off the PADD with a sigh, decidedly not giving into the frustration that attempted to overwhelm him. Weeks of research, of pouring over the Vulcan databases yielded nothing good. T'hy'la, as the bond between Sh'laya and T'ylok was later named, never ended well, only in death and destruction. Stemok and Svent- one assassinated by a rival clan and the other dead of a 'broken heart-literally-' as humans would say not two months later. T'lenna and Starok- she felt his death, went insane, and very nearly killed twenty people. The very last open t'hy'la were separated at the time of the burning, and it is said their pain consumed the other. All throughout history, he could not find one single example to counter the long held belief his people were taught and he feared because of it. As if responding to his thoughts, the t'hy'la bonds he'd unknowingly created with his captain and the doctor flared to life. There was no other choice.
He sent his resignation to Star Fleet Headquarters and booked the earliest shuttle to Vulcan. With any luck, the fact he was a half human bonded to two humans would make the bonds weak enough to break. He refused to contemplate the possibility that the bonds couldn't be severed. He would not subject Jim and Leonard- no, Kirk and McCoy- to the dangers of these bonds. He left without saying good-bye.
If only the Vulcans knew Sh'laya was, in fact, T'Para, mother of Surak. If only they knew Svent had been ill for some time before his bond mate's death. If only they knew T'lenna simply hurt and only verbally lashed out at the Vulcans around her because they, enveloped in their logic, could not understand the joy of meeting the one who completed her and the pain at their parting. Perhaps then they would not teach their children to fear soul-encompassing love so easily.
Two.
There are times when being a father definitely has its perks. However, one of them was decidedly not reading fairy tales. Oh, Bones enjoyed the closeness sitting beside his little girl and reading the night’s story brought but the downside to that was that children have favorites. When Jo was six, she requested that only Beauty and the Beast be read to her every night for three months. Only Beauty and the Beast. Bones complied with the request each and every time she asked but now, years and years later, he still knew the story like the back of his hand. Better, in fact. And in an attempt to preserve his sanity back then, he told her the different versions of the story that had cropped up over the years, not that it helped. He remembered those perfectly too.
Jocelyn called him all matter of things when they split, brute and beast among them. And it struck him, in that second, how much like Joanna's favorite hero he actually was. With everything going on, it was a strange thought but once he thought it, he couldn't un-think it. And Bones laughed bitterly at the connection. He really was the Beast, hard to like, even harder to get along with, but ultimately not as bad as everyone thought. He clung to that last idea like a life preserver throughout the divorce proceedings. He was not as bad as everyone, especially Jocelyn, thought.
A part of him now wonders why the story held so much appeal for Jo and when he asks her, she laughs and says, “Dad, it's the only fairy tale I know where the lovers argue, disagree, and grouse like you do. Can you blame me for holding out hope that even you can find someone to love again?” He doesn't answer, mostly because he can't, and Jo only laughs again.
So, Bones knows the story well. He just never thought he'd actually live it. Only instead of the Beast that he's come to identify with and his daughter typically casts him as, he's the Belle for not one, but two Beasts. Jim Kirk and Spock are the loneliest men he's ever met, one isolated by choice and the other by circumstance. Spock is the more tragic figure he associates with the Disney cartoon, a kid with strength to spare, a heart he just doesn't know what to do with, and internal explosions to rival the character's external ones. Plus, he's just a brat sometimes. So Leonard interacts with him the same way the heroine does. He snipes, goads, and tests the man at every turn. He accepts what gifts, little and large, the man is able to give and tries to help Spock out by getting him to use that brain of his when he just can't understand his own heart. They start out about as well as the story's protagonists but quickly move into the comfortable territory where jibes are the ways they express what they really want to say but at the end of the day don't (or can't in Spock's case).
Jim, on the other hand, is closer to the 'true' fairytale being. Gracious, welcoming, determined, and warm, yet ruthless and merciless when wronged. The Beast's appearance sets him apart, Jim's rank and abilities do the same. Neither holds out much hope that the world will stop a moment to try to look beyond their differences and as such both are separated from the very things they need: companions and love. Sure, Jim has his flings but they both ultimately know they're fleeting, a temporary bandage for his bleeding heart. So, again, he acts as the story's Belle. He plays the dutiful friend, counseling Jim, providing him with the human companionship he desperately craves, and gently rebuffing him when the man casually suggests taking their relationship to another level. No way is he putting himself at risk while this is all a damn fairy tale and while Jim isn't taking him seriously. Bones and Belle don't do casual.
However, there is one key fact that reminds Leonard that he is, in fact, not living a fairy tale, despite the universe's constant attempts to star his friends and him in one. Unlike the stories, there is no sudden revelation, no grand light bulb moment where suddenly he knows these men are his and he can't be without them. There is no near death experience that abruptly makes it clear to Bones that he loves these men and refuses to imagine life without them. There is definitely no true love's first kiss either. Instead, it is a gradual, slow thing, cautiously building their lives around each other even as they all pretend they don't know what is happening between them.
When Spock leaves and Jim turns his back on him, Leonard is the Beast once again. It's the first time in five years. He wonders briefly if this is how the Beast felt, like his guts were ripped out of his body and his heart suddenly didn't have the strength to keep beating. In that moment, Bones understands how someone could die of a broken heart. Not that he does die, mind you, or even tries or wants to. But he does feel a yawning chasm, a hole where those two idiots are supposed to be but aren't and the first few weeks especially, it takes so much energy just to get out of bed in the morning. Too much, actually. It's like something is physically trying to remove a part of his spirit and he fights against it with all his might.
Three years later, he's back on the Enterprise and saving the world again with the dynamic duo where he once again becomes the Belle figure. Not because Jim and Spock need him to be, no this time it's because they want him back and he's definitely wary of putting himself in that situation again. They pursue him with single-minded determination rivaling the original Beast and he resists far longer than he expected. But, as the fairy tale goes, Belle is eventually won by the Beast who is transformed into a prince by her love. Now if only his Beasts would turn into princes and remember that some people had work at five o'clock the next morning. Jim nibbles his collarbone as Spock strokes his flank.
On second thought, he prefers the Beasts.
One.
Jim grew up with fairy tales. His mother, rest her soul, had been a rabid history buff and the ancient stories always held a special place in her heart. The greatest material gift Jim ever received from her was a hard back, embossed copy of the Grimm Fairy Tales when he was six, complete with hand painted, brightly colored pictures and old style cursive writing. From that point on, until Sam left for college, their family came together each and every possible night to read one of the stories, however long or short (and some were ridiculously short). He still owned that book, now lovingly kept on a shelf in his San Francisco apartment. So, he pretty much knew every story in it back and forth, inside out, the works. Often times, when he was bored or angry, he'd randomly pick a story to read and dissect. It gave him something to do or think about and always managed to calm him down.
The one story he never really understood was The Pied Piper, also known as the Rat Catcher of Hamlin. The townsfolk asked for help, stating they would pay any price asked. They received it in the form of a mysterious Piper, and instead of upholding their end of the bargain, they refused to pay the Piper. They then lost something infinitely more precious than mere gold or silver. That sequence never failed to jar Jim. It went against his very being to just go back on his word like that and understanding why gold was more precious than living, breathing people was beyond even his vast capabilities. But he didn't understand the Piper either. If he really had all that power, why not just play a tune that forced the town to pay him? Why steal their children instead? Sure, money could be made on the slave markets at the time but that involved a lot of time and money put into the children to ensure they reached the markets alive, money which the Piper still didn't have. Holding them for ransom seemed more reasonable but then, why did the story end with the children being taken? Why not with the Piper demanding his payment or else killing the children? No doubt about it. The Pied Piper was one tale whose meaning eluded him.
Spock caught him reading the story once when he was supposed to be working. Jim had decided to take a break to save his sanity - sending death certificates always got to him - so Spock related the Vulcan version of the tale. A great drought overtook the land, worsening the already harsh planetary conditions, when a traveler appeared to a small settlement. The traveler promised to make it rain in exchange for half the town's crops. The town didn't believe he had the power to do so and dismissed the traveler. He played his lute and sure enough, it began raining. The traveler was then employed for the remainder of the growing season but when the end came, the town elders realized they would not have enough food to get through the winter if they paid the traveler his promised price. So, instead, they housed him with the town's leaders for the winter and when the time again came to plant, the traveler played his lute once more for the same price. The town gave him half of the crops, promising to complete the payment the following year. This went on until the traveler's disappearance. After all, Spock concluded, it was logical to keep such a person 'coming back for more' as the saying went.
At the thought of his fallen lover, Jim's breath hitched before he brought himself back under control. He would need all his powers of persuasion if he was going to convince Morrow to allow him to return to the Genesis planet one last time. Every remaining remnant of his life depended on it. But as the conversation unfolded, Jim barely restrained himself from shaking the man.
“I'm talking about loyalty and sacrifice,” he asserted, “One man has died for us, another with deep emotional problems-”
And still Morrow refused to listen. Jim didn't expect him to understand, he'd had a Vulcan in his mind for the better part of twenty years and he didn't understand completely, but the three of them had given the Fleet everything. Everything except each other and this was how they were thanked? Well, if Morrow wouldn't listen, Jim wouldn't either. He held himself in check as he left, as he, Sulu, and Chekov began hatching their plot, as word came that Bones had been incarcerated. Not until he was alone did he indulge in the too human need to punch a wall and scream. He punched the wall once, twice, three times, hoping the physical pain would overwhelm the mental agony of being alone in his own head.
Apparently, he punched the wall too hard because the old shelf he'd never gotten around to properly refastening came tumbling down. He cursed as the contents crashed beside him and knelt, mindful of the shards of broken pottery. The blood drained from his face as he spotted the worn pages the Grimm book had opened on. A man dressed in yellow and red garb, a pipe at his lips, and laughing children at his back.
What will you give, he seemed to ask, what price will you pay? Anything, he swore, and the figure almost gave him an ominous look. Jim felt foolish but meant it. He would do anything to save Bones, to send Spock to his proper rest, pay any price. He was nothing without them.
Fate first demanded his career and he easily gave it. He felt a twinge of guilt at his friends' insistence at losing their own careers but it quickly faded when he realized he couldn't do it all by himself.
What will you give? Anything. Next, fate dropped her bombshell and suddenly raised the stakes higher than he ever imagined.
What will you give? Anything. She took his son next, the boy he'd never known but loved all the same.
What will you give? Anything. Then she demanded his ship and he traded her without a second thought and never once questioned his own sanity.
What will you give? Anything. Fate held up her end of the bargain, but Jim forgot one key fact: fate was a bitch. Spock lived but everything that made him Spock was gone, locked away, perhaps never to be recovered. Not even their now weak bond could penetrate that haze beyond the initial soul deep recognition.
What will you give? Anything. Fate gave him a small reprieve from his debt when Sybok and the Klingon affair arose but he should have known then it wasn't over. How could it ever be over when the prize he'd won was priceless?
What will you give? Anything. Fate next demanded his happily ever after and though he wouldn't realize it for seventy years, he happily handed it over because Spock was alive, Bones was alive, and together they helped him live.
What will you give? Anything. Fate finally claimed his dying breath, alone but for the anguished echo in his mind, and as he attempted to soothe it, he gladly paid the price.
What will you give? Anything.
Paying the Piper his due didn't guarantee a fair trade. But it did guarantee keeping safe that which was most precious.
Zero.
--In summary, James T. Kirk, Spock, son of Sarek, and Leonard H. McCoy are believed to have first joined to each other during their first five year mission, somewhere between the fourth and fifth years. They did not join in the traditional Vulcan manner - instead their souls entwined together in the bond known as t'hy'la. Spock is said to have traveled to Gol to break the bonds, as per the values and beliefs he was taught. Whether he managed to break them or not is known only to the dead but one thing is certain: after V'ger attacked, the triad once again reformed. They lived the next several years just as any other partnership: loving each other, working together, creating one life from three, despite the pressure from without.
When duty and love, yes, love, demanded Spock's life, he willingly and gladly gave it. And when Vulcan tradition demanded the remaining two return to a forbidden planet to take their beloved's body to Mount Selaya so his katra might have peace, they too gave everything they had to accomplish the quest. The very bonds Spock's people denounced were the reasons he became the first individual to ever successfully complete the Fal-Tor-Pan. Try as the healers might, they could not turn Spock from his mates, could not keep him from realizing, once again, the true meaning of T'hy'la.
As they did before, the men lived in an equal partnership, saving countless lives, until Kirk's disappearance into the Nexus. Records show that McCoy and Spock spent years trying to track Kirk down, to no success. They never once gave up hope that they would see him again before their deaths and while we all know that didn't happen, this story is not a tragedy, gentle beings.
It is a triumph, a tale of ordinary men, special in their own ways, yes, but ordinary, who came together and became better because of it. It is a tale of differences combining in amazing and beautiful ways to create something extraordinary. Is this not the very ideal upon which the Federation itself was founded?
However, this story is, most importantly, a sentient story: these were real people with real issues, with real thoughts, and with real feelings, not vague archetypes few can relate to. Their story has inspired generations past and continues to shape the galaxy today.
It is for these reasons, among others, gentle beings, that I humbly request their story be placed into the Federation Anthology of Fairy Tales. If this is not a fairy tale, then I cannot fathom what is.
--Commander Sher-Khan L. Smith, Historical Researcher for Star Fleet, The Vulcan Science Academy, Year 2434.
Wordcount: ~4000
Pairings/ Characters: Kirk/Spock/McCoy, TOS Universe
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild situational implication and some swearing from McCoy
Disclaimer: They aren't a canon triad, therefore they are not mine.
Summary: What fairy tales get wrong and why they still matter.
Beta: Mintcloud
Note: In this world, typical Vulcan mental bonds only link the consciousness while t'hy'la bonds link both the consciousness and the katra. This leads to much more intense bonds, including hte ability to hear one's t'hy'la from across great distances, but carries greater potential risks. Because of the higher risks and 'diminished returns,' few Vulcans tolerate t'hy'la bonds. Also, each story within is almost a stand alone.
Three.
Once, a long time ago during the days of the Great Wars, a prodigious warrior, T'ylok, was born to a powerful clan with many enemies. One night, young T'ylok and several of his young clan mates decided to disguise themselves and infiltrate a neutral clan's Remembrance Festival. In that house, on that day, no blood was to be spilled, no matter the cause. To do so would invite the host clan's wrath and every house had too many enemies to add another to the list.
While there, the young Vulcans witnessed an impressive demonstration of combat prowess from their enemies. Now, T'ylok, being more logical than his friends, managed to persuade them to not reveal themselves by attacking their enemies. Instead, he counseled them to gather information, any piece that could be put to later use in the war against the rival house, and left them (a highly illogical move, but this was before Surak's time) to their own devices.
As he wandered through the fortress, a female dressed in the blood green tunic of a general and performing a rather intricate Kata with her lirpa caught his eye. But when she turned to him, he was dismayed to discover that the vision of beauty before him was, in reality, one of the warriors he saw earlier - an enemy he'd never met but was doomed to fight. Nevertheless, he drew closer to her to watch her perfectly executed forms and the grace she exuded as she moved from one to another. Once she finished and the host's son thanked her for the display, she laid down her arms and approached him.
“You fight splendidly,” he told her. She raised an eyebrow.
“As do you, son of my rival house,” she returned.
“We have met in combat?”
“That we have,” she said, “Four times exactly, twice ending in my victory and twice in yours.” She grabbed a nearby helmet and placed it on her head, and suddenly T'ylok knew her to be the fiercest and most cunning of his foes.
“May I have your name?” he asked.
“Why learn the name of an enemy? It only makes combat harder,” she asserted and began walking away.
“I am T'ylok,” he called after her but to no avail. Years passed and T'ylok discovered the mysterious warrior was incorrect. Not knowing her name did not make combat against her easier; they traded victories as before. However, they attended the same Remembrance Festival each year and became uneasily closer because of it. During those festivals, they began sharing the briefest of mental contact through the battle demonstrations their hosts insisted they perform together. The year before the first fire, T'ylok met with her again, this time demanding to never be parted from her.
“You would doom yourself?” she asked disdainfully, “If you burned for me, I would not come. I would sooner die than betray my clan. And my clan will never accept you.” They parted once again, a link unknowingly created between them already.
Then the fire came and T'ylok burned, burned, with no relief. When the healer tried to bond him with the female chosen for him, the link made its presence known. Mind and katra entwined together created something too strong to be broken. In his fever, T'ylok told his father to leave him in the middle of the desert to protect the clan from his burning. His father did so, and T'ylok was left to die. But somehow, the warrior came to T'ylok anyway and together they cooled his flames, solidifying the link between them. She left before he awoke, leaving only a small amount of food and water for him, but T'ylok could sense her now, hear her every thought, know her every feeling. Sh'laya. Years passed once again, Sh'laya meeting him every Festival but only attending to T'ylok when he burned in the desert.
A new clan then arose, this one more powerful than their two combined, determined to rule the lands. But unfortunately, their clans did not join forces. Too many years of bad blood and distrust won out. When the clan attacked Sh'laya's clan, T'ylok could not stop himself from riding to her aid. The image they made in battle together was astounding, even more astonishing than their demonstrations. They were one being, one mind, one spirit. Never before had anything like it ever been witnessed. But alas, the enemy clan's sheer numbers overwhelmed them and T'ylok gave his life so Sh'laya might escape. They say her wail of agony echoes across the desert to this day. Her katra tore apart, its strength depleted without her other half-
Spock shut off the PADD with a sigh, decidedly not giving into the frustration that attempted to overwhelm him. Weeks of research, of pouring over the Vulcan databases yielded nothing good. T'hy'la, as the bond between Sh'laya and T'ylok was later named, never ended well, only in death and destruction. Stemok and Svent- one assassinated by a rival clan and the other dead of a 'broken heart-literally-' as humans would say not two months later. T'lenna and Starok- she felt his death, went insane, and very nearly killed twenty people. The very last open t'hy'la were separated at the time of the burning, and it is said their pain consumed the other. All throughout history, he could not find one single example to counter the long held belief his people were taught and he feared because of it. As if responding to his thoughts, the t'hy'la bonds he'd unknowingly created with his captain and the doctor flared to life. There was no other choice.
He sent his resignation to Star Fleet Headquarters and booked the earliest shuttle to Vulcan. With any luck, the fact he was a half human bonded to two humans would make the bonds weak enough to break. He refused to contemplate the possibility that the bonds couldn't be severed. He would not subject Jim and Leonard- no, Kirk and McCoy- to the dangers of these bonds. He left without saying good-bye.
If only the Vulcans knew Sh'laya was, in fact, T'Para, mother of Surak. If only they knew Svent had been ill for some time before his bond mate's death. If only they knew T'lenna simply hurt and only verbally lashed out at the Vulcans around her because they, enveloped in their logic, could not understand the joy of meeting the one who completed her and the pain at their parting. Perhaps then they would not teach their children to fear soul-encompassing love so easily.
Two.
There are times when being a father definitely has its perks. However, one of them was decidedly not reading fairy tales. Oh, Bones enjoyed the closeness sitting beside his little girl and reading the night’s story brought but the downside to that was that children have favorites. When Jo was six, she requested that only Beauty and the Beast be read to her every night for three months. Only Beauty and the Beast. Bones complied with the request each and every time she asked but now, years and years later, he still knew the story like the back of his hand. Better, in fact. And in an attempt to preserve his sanity back then, he told her the different versions of the story that had cropped up over the years, not that it helped. He remembered those perfectly too.
Jocelyn called him all matter of things when they split, brute and beast among them. And it struck him, in that second, how much like Joanna's favorite hero he actually was. With everything going on, it was a strange thought but once he thought it, he couldn't un-think it. And Bones laughed bitterly at the connection. He really was the Beast, hard to like, even harder to get along with, but ultimately not as bad as everyone thought. He clung to that last idea like a life preserver throughout the divorce proceedings. He was not as bad as everyone, especially Jocelyn, thought.
A part of him now wonders why the story held so much appeal for Jo and when he asks her, she laughs and says, “Dad, it's the only fairy tale I know where the lovers argue, disagree, and grouse like you do. Can you blame me for holding out hope that even you can find someone to love again?” He doesn't answer, mostly because he can't, and Jo only laughs again.
So, Bones knows the story well. He just never thought he'd actually live it. Only instead of the Beast that he's come to identify with and his daughter typically casts him as, he's the Belle for not one, but two Beasts. Jim Kirk and Spock are the loneliest men he's ever met, one isolated by choice and the other by circumstance. Spock is the more tragic figure he associates with the Disney cartoon, a kid with strength to spare, a heart he just doesn't know what to do with, and internal explosions to rival the character's external ones. Plus, he's just a brat sometimes. So Leonard interacts with him the same way the heroine does. He snipes, goads, and tests the man at every turn. He accepts what gifts, little and large, the man is able to give and tries to help Spock out by getting him to use that brain of his when he just can't understand his own heart. They start out about as well as the story's protagonists but quickly move into the comfortable territory where jibes are the ways they express what they really want to say but at the end of the day don't (or can't in Spock's case).
Jim, on the other hand, is closer to the 'true' fairytale being. Gracious, welcoming, determined, and warm, yet ruthless and merciless when wronged. The Beast's appearance sets him apart, Jim's rank and abilities do the same. Neither holds out much hope that the world will stop a moment to try to look beyond their differences and as such both are separated from the very things they need: companions and love. Sure, Jim has his flings but they both ultimately know they're fleeting, a temporary bandage for his bleeding heart. So, again, he acts as the story's Belle. He plays the dutiful friend, counseling Jim, providing him with the human companionship he desperately craves, and gently rebuffing him when the man casually suggests taking their relationship to another level. No way is he putting himself at risk while this is all a damn fairy tale and while Jim isn't taking him seriously. Bones and Belle don't do casual.
However, there is one key fact that reminds Leonard that he is, in fact, not living a fairy tale, despite the universe's constant attempts to star his friends and him in one. Unlike the stories, there is no sudden revelation, no grand light bulb moment where suddenly he knows these men are his and he can't be without them. There is no near death experience that abruptly makes it clear to Bones that he loves these men and refuses to imagine life without them. There is definitely no true love's first kiss either. Instead, it is a gradual, slow thing, cautiously building their lives around each other even as they all pretend they don't know what is happening between them.
When Spock leaves and Jim turns his back on him, Leonard is the Beast once again. It's the first time in five years. He wonders briefly if this is how the Beast felt, like his guts were ripped out of his body and his heart suddenly didn't have the strength to keep beating. In that moment, Bones understands how someone could die of a broken heart. Not that he does die, mind you, or even tries or wants to. But he does feel a yawning chasm, a hole where those two idiots are supposed to be but aren't and the first few weeks especially, it takes so much energy just to get out of bed in the morning. Too much, actually. It's like something is physically trying to remove a part of his spirit and he fights against it with all his might.
Three years later, he's back on the Enterprise and saving the world again with the dynamic duo where he once again becomes the Belle figure. Not because Jim and Spock need him to be, no this time it's because they want him back and he's definitely wary of putting himself in that situation again. They pursue him with single-minded determination rivaling the original Beast and he resists far longer than he expected. But, as the fairy tale goes, Belle is eventually won by the Beast who is transformed into a prince by her love. Now if only his Beasts would turn into princes and remember that some people had work at five o'clock the next morning. Jim nibbles his collarbone as Spock strokes his flank.
On second thought, he prefers the Beasts.
One.
Jim grew up with fairy tales. His mother, rest her soul, had been a rabid history buff and the ancient stories always held a special place in her heart. The greatest material gift Jim ever received from her was a hard back, embossed copy of the Grimm Fairy Tales when he was six, complete with hand painted, brightly colored pictures and old style cursive writing. From that point on, until Sam left for college, their family came together each and every possible night to read one of the stories, however long or short (and some were ridiculously short). He still owned that book, now lovingly kept on a shelf in his San Francisco apartment. So, he pretty much knew every story in it back and forth, inside out, the works. Often times, when he was bored or angry, he'd randomly pick a story to read and dissect. It gave him something to do or think about and always managed to calm him down.
The one story he never really understood was The Pied Piper, also known as the Rat Catcher of Hamlin. The townsfolk asked for help, stating they would pay any price asked. They received it in the form of a mysterious Piper, and instead of upholding their end of the bargain, they refused to pay the Piper. They then lost something infinitely more precious than mere gold or silver. That sequence never failed to jar Jim. It went against his very being to just go back on his word like that and understanding why gold was more precious than living, breathing people was beyond even his vast capabilities. But he didn't understand the Piper either. If he really had all that power, why not just play a tune that forced the town to pay him? Why steal their children instead? Sure, money could be made on the slave markets at the time but that involved a lot of time and money put into the children to ensure they reached the markets alive, money which the Piper still didn't have. Holding them for ransom seemed more reasonable but then, why did the story end with the children being taken? Why not with the Piper demanding his payment or else killing the children? No doubt about it. The Pied Piper was one tale whose meaning eluded him.
Spock caught him reading the story once when he was supposed to be working. Jim had decided to take a break to save his sanity - sending death certificates always got to him - so Spock related the Vulcan version of the tale. A great drought overtook the land, worsening the already harsh planetary conditions, when a traveler appeared to a small settlement. The traveler promised to make it rain in exchange for half the town's crops. The town didn't believe he had the power to do so and dismissed the traveler. He played his lute and sure enough, it began raining. The traveler was then employed for the remainder of the growing season but when the end came, the town elders realized they would not have enough food to get through the winter if they paid the traveler his promised price. So, instead, they housed him with the town's leaders for the winter and when the time again came to plant, the traveler played his lute once more for the same price. The town gave him half of the crops, promising to complete the payment the following year. This went on until the traveler's disappearance. After all, Spock concluded, it was logical to keep such a person 'coming back for more' as the saying went.
At the thought of his fallen lover, Jim's breath hitched before he brought himself back under control. He would need all his powers of persuasion if he was going to convince Morrow to allow him to return to the Genesis planet one last time. Every remaining remnant of his life depended on it. But as the conversation unfolded, Jim barely restrained himself from shaking the man.
“I'm talking about loyalty and sacrifice,” he asserted, “One man has died for us, another with deep emotional problems-”
And still Morrow refused to listen. Jim didn't expect him to understand, he'd had a Vulcan in his mind for the better part of twenty years and he didn't understand completely, but the three of them had given the Fleet everything. Everything except each other and this was how they were thanked? Well, if Morrow wouldn't listen, Jim wouldn't either. He held himself in check as he left, as he, Sulu, and Chekov began hatching their plot, as word came that Bones had been incarcerated. Not until he was alone did he indulge in the too human need to punch a wall and scream. He punched the wall once, twice, three times, hoping the physical pain would overwhelm the mental agony of being alone in his own head.
Apparently, he punched the wall too hard because the old shelf he'd never gotten around to properly refastening came tumbling down. He cursed as the contents crashed beside him and knelt, mindful of the shards of broken pottery. The blood drained from his face as he spotted the worn pages the Grimm book had opened on. A man dressed in yellow and red garb, a pipe at his lips, and laughing children at his back.
What will you give, he seemed to ask, what price will you pay? Anything, he swore, and the figure almost gave him an ominous look. Jim felt foolish but meant it. He would do anything to save Bones, to send Spock to his proper rest, pay any price. He was nothing without them.
Fate first demanded his career and he easily gave it. He felt a twinge of guilt at his friends' insistence at losing their own careers but it quickly faded when he realized he couldn't do it all by himself.
What will you give? Anything. Next, fate dropped her bombshell and suddenly raised the stakes higher than he ever imagined.
What will you give? Anything. She took his son next, the boy he'd never known but loved all the same.
What will you give? Anything. Then she demanded his ship and he traded her without a second thought and never once questioned his own sanity.
What will you give? Anything. Fate held up her end of the bargain, but Jim forgot one key fact: fate was a bitch. Spock lived but everything that made him Spock was gone, locked away, perhaps never to be recovered. Not even their now weak bond could penetrate that haze beyond the initial soul deep recognition.
What will you give? Anything. Fate gave him a small reprieve from his debt when Sybok and the Klingon affair arose but he should have known then it wasn't over. How could it ever be over when the prize he'd won was priceless?
What will you give? Anything. Fate next demanded his happily ever after and though he wouldn't realize it for seventy years, he happily handed it over because Spock was alive, Bones was alive, and together they helped him live.
What will you give? Anything. Fate finally claimed his dying breath, alone but for the anguished echo in his mind, and as he attempted to soothe it, he gladly paid the price.
What will you give? Anything.
Paying the Piper his due didn't guarantee a fair trade. But it did guarantee keeping safe that which was most precious.
Zero.
--In summary, James T. Kirk, Spock, son of Sarek, and Leonard H. McCoy are believed to have first joined to each other during their first five year mission, somewhere between the fourth and fifth years. They did not join in the traditional Vulcan manner - instead their souls entwined together in the bond known as t'hy'la. Spock is said to have traveled to Gol to break the bonds, as per the values and beliefs he was taught. Whether he managed to break them or not is known only to the dead but one thing is certain: after V'ger attacked, the triad once again reformed. They lived the next several years just as any other partnership: loving each other, working together, creating one life from three, despite the pressure from without.
When duty and love, yes, love, demanded Spock's life, he willingly and gladly gave it. And when Vulcan tradition demanded the remaining two return to a forbidden planet to take their beloved's body to Mount Selaya so his katra might have peace, they too gave everything they had to accomplish the quest. The very bonds Spock's people denounced were the reasons he became the first individual to ever successfully complete the Fal-Tor-Pan. Try as the healers might, they could not turn Spock from his mates, could not keep him from realizing, once again, the true meaning of T'hy'la.
As they did before, the men lived in an equal partnership, saving countless lives, until Kirk's disappearance into the Nexus. Records show that McCoy and Spock spent years trying to track Kirk down, to no success. They never once gave up hope that they would see him again before their deaths and while we all know that didn't happen, this story is not a tragedy, gentle beings.
It is a triumph, a tale of ordinary men, special in their own ways, yes, but ordinary, who came together and became better because of it. It is a tale of differences combining in amazing and beautiful ways to create something extraordinary. Is this not the very ideal upon which the Federation itself was founded?
However, this story is, most importantly, a sentient story: these were real people with real issues, with real thoughts, and with real feelings, not vague archetypes few can relate to. Their story has inspired generations past and continues to shape the galaxy today.
It is for these reasons, among others, gentle beings, that I humbly request their story be placed into the Federation Anthology of Fairy Tales. If this is not a fairy tale, then I cannot fathom what is.
--Commander Sher-Khan L. Smith, Historical Researcher for Star Fleet, The Vulcan Science Academy, Year 2434.