Deep Space V

Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy hesitated outside the Captain's Quarters, wondering whether he should enter. Kirk hadn't summoned him, after all, nor had he complained of any lingering ill effects from their recent journey. For that matter, McCoy himself felt fine, as did, as far as he could tell, Scotty and Lieutenant Uhura, and all four of them had been pulled together through whatever space/time fabric separates parallel universes. Thorough medical workup left him with no reason to doubt their fitness for duty and yet, Kirk's behavior worried him. They had been back for days now, but Kirk continued to seem uneasy. More than once McCoy had seen him tugging at the neckline of his uniform as if unable to get enough air, looking shiftily around to see if anyone had noticed, then abruptly exiting to his quarters, leaving a slightly baffled Spock in charge of the bridge. Now, Spock informed him, the Captain hadn't been seen all day, only sending occasional orders via communicator. McCoy could only conclude that, while physically fine, Kirk's journey to that dark and dangerous parallel Enterprise had left a more insidious type of scar. Well, if that was the case, McCoy wasn't the finest doctor in the Fleet and an expert in Space Psychology for nothing. He braced himself for the worst as the doors slid open with their usual swoosh and squeak.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but nothing could have prepared him for what he found. Every surface of Kirk's room was littered with fabric, greens and golds, some shredded to bits, some in large swaths, and some still vaguely resembling the uniforms they used to be. In the midst of the cotton and chaos stood the captain himself, shirtless, calmly modeling a glittering golden sash tied about his waist.

"Bones!" Kirk roared, grinning at the speechless doctor. "Come in, come in. See what I've made. I think I've finally gotten it perfect!"

McCoy gaped but stepped in towards Kirk, allowing the doors to slide shut behind him. After all, it wouldn't do to let the crew see their captain in the throes of a psychotic break.

"Captain," he said as calmly as he was able, "the crew needs you on the bridge. Spock tells me we're nearing Gamma Trianguli VI but he is unsure how to proceed once we reach it."

"Ahhh Bones, you and Spock are nothing but two sticks in the same puddle of mud. Can't you see what I've done here?"

"No, Captain. What is it you think you've done here?"

"The uniforms! The uniforms, Bones! It's taken me a few days but I think I've finally got them right! I've just got some stitching left to do on the shirt, it's much easier to make without the sleeves, of course, the crew's uniforms will still have sleeves and much deeper V's but we'll cross that bridge when we get there..."

Kirk trailed off, muttering to himself and rooting through a pile of clothes on the floor.

"Captain, if I may, what exactly is happening with the uniforms?"

"Aha!" Kirk straightened, holding up a gold, sleeveless shirt, as shiny as his sash, holding it up to his broad chest and moving from side to side so it glinted in the light. "Isn't it magnificent, Bones? I think I've finally got it right. The fringe on the shoulders was a bit tricky but once I got the bio-matter resequencer to create the right thread it all came together!"

"Captain, it's very nice, but do you think maybe you could get dressed and come to the bridge?"

Kirk stilled, letting the shirt fall to the floor. His dark eyes sought McCoy's blue ones.

"Captain? Why so formal, Bones? Is... something wrong?"

"Dammit, Jim, you know perfectly well something's wrong! You haven't been to the bridge all day. You've been neglecting your duties. You've essentially left Spock in charge of the Enterprise since we got back. Some of the younger crew are starting to wonder if you're fit to captain! And frankly, so am I!"

The excitement seemed visibly to drain from Kirk. He sat heavily at the foot of his bed and put his face in his hands.

"I know," he said, his usually strong and sure voice forlorn and muffled through his fingers. "I know I've been... it's just that... since we returned nothing has felt... the same."

Swiftly Bones crossed the room, kneeling beside the Captain and gently placing a hand on his knee.

"It's all right, Jim. That's why I'm here. Just tell me what's wrong. It's been happening since we crossed back from the mirror universe, hasn't it?"

Still not looking up Kirk nodded, his shoulders hunched in misery.

"What is it, Jim? Have you been feeling ill?"

Kirk shook his head.

"Did they get in your head somehow? Is that why you've isolated yourself? Are you afraid you'll be driven to do something to hurt the crew?"

Again, Kirk shook his head. Bones was becoming increasingly alarmed.

"Jim, you're still you, aren't you? There wasn't somehow another switch? You're not... the other Kirk?!"

"Oh god, Bones, don't be insane. Of course I'm still me!"

"Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor not a mind reader! I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong!"

Abruptly, Kirk stood up and strode across the room. For a moment he stood will his back to McCoy then, just as quickly, turned, eyes blazing, and stared McCoy full in the face.

"It's the uniforms, Bones! Ever since I've been back I've felt so... constricted! These uniforms with their sleeves and their shallow V's! Why, one of my regulation tops is a crew neck. A CREW NECK, BONES!"

Kirk shoulders slumped and he sighed, looking vaguely ashamed of himself.

"I know it seems silly, and I know that that other Enterprise and its crew embodied everything we've fought against. And, god help me Bones, I would never sign on to such a bloodthirsty crew with such an unholy mission but... my god, in that uniform I felt like a CAPTAIN, Bones! My arms unencumbered by sleeves, my chest bared like a Greek legend of old, my sash swinging as I walked! And oh! How the whole thing caught the light! We use that sort of glittery gold for detailing but there's something you have to admire about men who will use it for the whole damn top! Once you have a taste of that life, how do you go back? Now I just walk around feeling constricted and weak."

Kirk collapsed into a chair as if he hadn't the energy left to stand. McCoy took a seat at the foot of Kirk's bed and gazed across the room at his old friend, smiling gently.

"Well dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a fashionista. Look, I know they say clothes make the man, but in this case I think the opposite may be true. You'd make any old rag look like a captain's uniform, no matter how dull the color or long the sleeves. Because you're James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise, the best damn starship in the fleet. Moreover, a starship with the best damn crew in the fleet. And they need you Jim."

Bones rose and crossed to his friend, laying a hand on his shoulder and looking him straight in the eye.

"I need you, Jim."

For a moment the two men stood still, looking at one another, the warmth of their friendship palpable between them. Then McCoy grinned and the moment was broken.

"Now how about throwing on something regulation and getting to the bridge before Spock goes out of his mind trying to impose order and logic on the rest of these vagabonds?"

Kirk smiled.

"Yes, of course. And Bones? Thank you."

"Any time, old friend."

He turned to leave, but paused just shy of the door.

"Oh and Jim? Hang on to that gold shirt, will you? It may not be regulation according to Starfleet Command but you're not on duty all the time. Surely you can get some... recreational use out of it."

And with a swoosh and a squeak, he was gone.