They've worked out the compromise, but nothing's been officially settled yet, and Kirk is still stuck in his supervised house arrest, being all noble martyr-y and emo, when McCoy stops by on a visit..

He has, of course, brought a bottle of something, and they don't even bother pulling out glasses, just pass the bottle back and forth.

"Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we, Mr. Kirk?" McCoy asks, and Kirk replies, "I'm still Admiral Kirk to you until tomorrow morning, <i>Commander</i>," mock-stern, and then he shakes his head.

"I'm just thinking about having civilian spouses, and maybe even children someday, on starships. How different my live would've been if Mom and us could have actually gone out with Dad."

"Nice thoughts?"

"Hell no," Jim replied. "They probably would've gotten divorced before I was even born. If they didn't kill each other first. Distance was the only thing that made it work. And you joined up to get <i>away</i> from Jocelyn, don't deny it. It'll change things. But all the same... not <i>having</i> to choose between having a ship and everything else..."

McCoy took the bottle back and gave him a long look. "You did a good thing, here, Jim. If I could have even considered the possibility of having Joanna... It'll take a while to settle out, but we'll be better for it in the end."

"I know. I'm just sitting here wishing I could be on the <i>Enterprise</i>, watching it with you. It's--" he gave a humorless bark of laughter, "Typical, that's all. We've turned the Fleet in a whole new direction, and I don't get to be there to enjoy it." He noticed the very odd look McCoy was giving him, and added "Don't worry about me, Bones, I <i>can</i> manage civilian life. Maybe I'll buy another sailboat."

McCoy sighed, long-suffering. "Great Bird of the Galaxy, has all that caffiene made you soft in the head or something?"

Jim stared at him quizzically.

McCoy gave him back the bottle. "Dammit, Jim, if Spock won't finally man up and marry you, I'll do it myself. Hell, tell him that, and that'll probably be enough to make him do it."

Jim started laughing, softly and weakly.

"And I'm sure between the three of us, we'll come up with <I>some</i> kind of make-work to keep you busy on board," McCoy added, with an overdone leer. "How do you feel about doing housecleaning in high heels and pearls?"

"God. The obvious solution all along, and I didn't even see it. If you can't win the game, change the parameters of success..."

"And someday," McCoy said, pointing at him, "I am going to finally get the details on that story. Not now," he added, cutting Jim off. "Save it for the wedding reception." He reached into the medical satchel he'd brought with him and pulled out a familiar insulated drink bulb, and handed it to him. "Here."

Jim put down the whisky and turned it in his hands. "What's this?"

"Commodore Katha'sat passed it to me to give to you, with its congratulations on getting out of Starfleet alive. It's Hestv savn'ch. I checked it out for you: apparently it's a stimulant and concentration enhancer for the Hest; for humans it's a mild euphoric. Never let Katha'sat bring this out when it's playing poker with you, but it's supposed to taste pretty good."