McCoy rocked lightly in the comfortable chair. It was situated in his favorite spot on the veranda of the large, old home that had been in his family for generations. He studied the sky, as he did every day, the weather having become one of his more important pastimes. He didn’t study the stars at night though. Too many memories, too much pain.

The weather pleased him. A brilliant sun filled a dark blue June sky, feathery clouds floated free, and the smell of jasmine filled the air. Yes, all in all, a very good day indeed.

If Jim could see me now, he thought nostalgically, how he would tease me. He smiled to himself. It would be worth all the ribbing just to hear Jim Kirk’s voice again.

Sounds coming from the yard to his left brought him back to the present. A large group of his great-grandchildren, and some great-great as well, were playing their favorite game. Starfleet. Sounds of make-believe phaser blasts and cries of “Die, you Klingon!” filled the air. He knew that soon they would gather around him on the porch begging him for a tale of his days aboard the Enterprise.

His thoughts drifted again as he remembered the message he had received ten days before. It was inconceivable that after seventy-eight years, James Kirk had been alive. It was also almost unbearably bittersweet. To live long enough to save the universe once again but die in the doing of it.

That was why Picard was coming to see him. Did he have the strength to hear how James Kirk had died a second time? And this time, it would be without Spock’s solid frame of support to acknowledge and share the pain.

McCoy blinked back watery tears, cursing the foolishness of an old man. He missed Spock, too. Though the Vulcan was very much alive, the doctor knew that his current mission to Romulus was filled with danger and would take years to accomplish. When they had parted several years ago, they had both known that this would be their final good-bye.

Too damn many last moments.

McCoy forced his mind to happier memories. The tribbles. That was the ticket. He would tell the children about the troublesome little balls of fluff that had nearly taken over the ship.

He looked up, foolishly wishing he could see the great ship once more. Instead, a flash of something metallic caught his eye. It disappeared behind a grove of pecan trees that lay beyond the far pasture. Probably Picard’s shuttle though it was a little early for that. He wondered again why the captain had chosen to come by shuttle rather than beam in. Maybe he didn’t like having his molecules scattered about any more than McCoy did. After a few moments more, a figure clad in a Starfleet uniform emerged from the trees, followed quickly by another. This one wore what seemed to be white robes.

McCoy squinted, attempting to identify the second figure but it was too far for his dimming and uncertain eyesight. The two figures continued to walk toward the house and for one fleeting moment, the doctor let himself believe that it was Jim and Spock returning from a mission. The shorter figure was gesturing just as Jim would have been doing. The taller, darker one seemed to walk quietly at his side.

McCoy shook his head at his folly. If only . . .

A hand grasping his arm startled him. He looked up into the face of his eldest grandson, James.

“Are you sure you’re up to entertaining the kids today? You don’t want to tire yourself out before Captain Picard gets here.”

His coddling irritated McCoy, even more than it usually did. “For heaven’s sake, it’s not like I run foot races with them. I just sit here and talk,” he snapped. “Besides, Picard won’t be here for awhile.”

He looked back toward the pasture but there was no sign of the two men. They could have decided to take the road that ran alongside the field. There were trees and hedges that way that would have hidden them. Or had they just been a hallucination of his overly active imagination? Maybe all this talk of Jim having been alive had been more disturbing than he had been willing to admit.

Ten year old Jason came running up the steps, red-faced and out of breath from his games. “Grandfather, we agreed. Tell us one of your Klingon stories. Please?”

The rest of the children were right behind him, spilling onto the porch to settle at his feet. Little Sarah, his two year old great-great-great-granddaughter, was the last to finish climbing the steps, her pudgy legs working hard. Though shy, she did not hesitate to push her way through the other children and climb up into his lap. She nestled in happily and closed her eyes, obviously feeling safe and secure. By the time the others were seated, she was fast asleep.

He decided to tell them about Kang, about the crew fighting battles with the Klingons armed with only swords. How they could not be killed because the alien entity that was “running the show” was using them for it’s own enjoyment. Their eyes were wide and shining as they hung on his every word though he had told them the story many times before. Of course, he changed it a little each time, just to keep things interesting.

When he finished, they applauded and then ran back to the garden, intent on continuing their games. He closed his eyes, continuing to rock Sarah gently.

Telling the story had brought back memories of Jim with an intensity that surprised him. Half-remembered phrases, shared laughter, even arguments all floated in his mind as if they had happened only yesterday. For a moment, he could even hear Kirk admonish him for embellishing his tale of Kang, though he would laugh as he did it. To hear Jim’s laugh again, warm, full of affection . . . McCoy frowned. He could not remember the sound.

Maybe seeing Picard was not such a good idea. He could feel his heart skipping beats even now. It was shocking to know that even after all these years, he still felt the same pain, the same regrets. Angry words had marred the last time they had been together. McCoy had told him what a fool he was for his latest daredevil stunt. Orbital skydiving, indeed. A man his age. Kirk had laughed in dismissal as he usually did when McCoy tried to mother-hen him. Then he had asked the doctor to accompany him to the launching ceremonies for the Enterprise B. McCoy remembered his words as clearly as if they were a recording being played back to him.

“For God’s sake, Jim, why would I want to do something stupid like that? I hope I never have to see another starship as long as I live. I’m past all that and you should be too!”

Jim had smiled at his caustic words but could not keep the hurt expression from his eyes. “You’re right, Bones, I know. I said I wouldn’t do it but then, something just . . . called to me...”

His voice had trailed off and he had shrugged his shoulders. A quick good-bye and he was gone.

Jim Kirk had died the next day, saving the Enterprise.

A piece of McCoy had died with him. Only Spock had truly understood his pain.

A light kiss on his forehead banished the memory. His daughter, Joanna, stood looking down at him, fondness mixed with aggravation on her face.

“Honestly, you are spoiling Sarah terribly. Jason said you were wading in the creek with her yesterday.”

“Jason is a little too old to be tattling on me. When did you get in? I thought you were still speaking at the conference in Australia?”

“I--finished early,” she hedged.

The doctor shook his head. They were all worried about how he would handle this visit from Picard. He remembered the trip he had taken aboard Enterprise D so many years ago. He had practically had to get a court order to force his family to let him go. Now that Enterprise was gone, too. Getting old was bad but surviving this long was hell...sometimes, he amended, as he looked down at the sleeping child in his arms.

Joanna reached out to take Sarah from him and for just a moment, his hands tightened around the child. Joanna knelt down beside the rocker and patted his arm.

“R’han says you’ve been grumpier than a Tellerite caught in a room full of Vulcans. This has been hard for you, hasn’t it?”

McCoy did not reply at first. His eyes met hers briefly, then dropped to hide the tears that he had to blink away. He looked at her again and retorted, “That husband of yours is an Andorian pacifist. He thinks everyone is grumpy because he’s too damn polite. Just once, I’d like him to yell back at me.”

“Grumpy,” Joanna commented as she squeezed his arm and stood up. She reached out her hands and McCoy reluctantly gave up his burden.

“You look tired. Sure you don’t want to rest before Captain Picard gets here?”

“I was resting until you interrupted me. Just let me enjoy the sunshine. I used to dream about being here, doing just what I’m doing. Now, no one wants to let me. Damn irritating.” He rocked a little harder for emphasis.

“All right. Let me put Sarah down and I’ll bring you some iced tea.”

“Don’t forget the---”

“Mint, I know,” she laughed lightly, turning toward the front door.

McCoy must have dozed for a few minutes. When he woke, the tea sat on the table at his side, the glass sweating in the warm air. He took a sip, rearranging the sprig of mint.

“Is that what is called a mint julep, doctor?”

McCoy looked up, squinting into the bright sunlight. Two figures stood on the top step of the porch. One was the white-robed figure he had seen earlier. Spock. At his side, stood a Starfleet captain. For a heart-stopping moment, McCoy believed it was Jim Kirk.

Then, he knew that it was not, and never would be again. Unwanted tears formed and McCoy blinked them away rapidly. He would have given anything, up to and including his very soul, to have seen Jim once more where he belonged, at Spock’s side.

He tried to say the Vulcan’s name but no sound would come out. Spock, as always, sensed his distress. He crossed the intervening distance and touched two fingers to McCoy’s temple.

‘Peace, my friend.’ The doctor heard the gentle words in his mind. His disorientation eased and his heart began to beat more normally. The sense of affectionate warmth that Spock had shared in the brief mind-touch eased his aching soul.

The Vulcan stepped back and McCoy looked up at him. “I’ve missed you, Spock.”

Shifting in his chair, the aged doctor prepared to rise. “Captain Picard, it’s very kind of you to come all this way. I must say though that you bring the most unusual aliens to Georgia.” He sent a teasing smile Spock’s way and was rewarded with the expected lift of an eyebrow.

Picard waved him back into his seat. “No need to get up, please. However, I find I must check in with Starfleet. Do you have a com unit I can use?”

McCoy nodded, pointing toward the front door. “Through there. Someone will be glad to show you.”

As soon as they were alone, McCoy rose to stand at Spock’s side. The Vulcan stood staring up into the bright sky. “It is very beautiful here, unlike Romulus.”

“Yes, it is. However, I seem to remember that you were planning on spending the next several years of your life there. I thought I would never see you again. Want to explain what you’re doing here, besides giving an old man a heart attack?” The doctor was grateful for the steadiness in his voice, steadiness that had not been there until a few minutes ago.

Spock turned to look at him. No, more into him, as if seeking his soul. “You have heard the news about Jim?”

McCoy could only nod.

“I was . . . am concerned about you.”

The doctor smiled slightly. After all these years, all they had shared, Spock still had trouble at times verbalizing his feelings.

The doctor took a deep breath. “Well, I won’t deny that it’s shaken me up. After all this time, you’d think it wouldn’t hurt quite so much.”

Before Spock could respond, McCoy had a sudden thought. He did not want this most important of conversations to be interrupted, even by his beloved family. And though he was quite certain that Picard had fabricated his sudden need for a com line in order to give them some privacy, it was not enough.

“Come on, Spock, the coast is clear.” He started down the steps, the Vulcan on his heels.

“Where are we going? Are you certain you should be going anywhere in this heat?’

“Don’t be a spoil sport,” McCoy grumbled. He led the way through the garden and onto a little-used path at the back. Dodging branches and brambles, McCoy cursed as a thorn ripped at his arm. His skin was fragile, nearly transparent. Simple abrasions were proving a nuisance to heal. “Joanna’s gonna kill me,” he muttered under his breath.

After a few minutes, they arrived in a clearing. A small pond, ringed in an array of multi-colored flowers lay before them. A wooden bench rested invitingly under a tall magnolia tree, offering shade and a respite from the heat.

“Welcome to my hiding place,” he laughed. At the sight of another raised eyebrow, he sank onto the bench with a sigh. “Oh, don’t worry. Everybody knows where I am. They just know that when I’m here, I don’t want to be bothered. One of the perks, the few perks, of old age. You get to the point where they just pat you on the head and pacify you. They’d like to wrap me in cotton batting. At least here, I can escape.”

He found himself whispering as he looked around. “I can lose myself in the memories here.”

The Vulcan joined him on the bench. “It is very beautiful.” He reached out to take McCoy’s arm, frowning at the blood that seeped from under the torn skin. “Perhaps they are right to want to protect you. You should be more careful.”

McCoy jerked his arm away in annoyance. “Hell, I bruise in my sleep. It’s called getting old and I don’t recommend it. What do you suggest I do, stop living?”

The Vulcan smiled slightly. “Not at all. I am merely suggesting that you watch for thorns in the future.”

McCoy harrumphed. “Can’t have roses without thorns, Mr. Spock.” He chuckled softly, “Every time I look at these roses, I remember Jim trying to seduce Miranda. I---,” his voice trailed off. “It seems I can’t stop thinking of Jim lately.”

“Indeed, that is understandable.” Spock paused, his hesitation telling McCoy that even the Vulcan was being careful about what he said to the doctor.

“Dammit, just tell me. Quit pussy-footin’ around. I may be old but I’m not senile and I’m not at death’s door...yet, anyway.”

“I did not say that you were.” McCoy watched the faint smile flicker across the stern features once more. “Grumpy old sawbones. Yes, I understand now.”

The doctor felt momentarily dizzy. “What did you say?”

“I was remembering a story Jim told me once, about when he met you. He had occasion to call you a grumpy old sawbones. That was when he began calling you ‘Bones’, I believe.”

The affection lighting the brown eyes turned to concern. “What have you been told about Jim?”

“I got a brief message from Picard. Said that he had brought Jim back from something called the Nexus. Said it was sort of an alternate universe. There was a madman who was using the Nexus for his own ends and destroying whole worlds in the process. He said that Jim . . . died . . . stopping this madman. There was more but he couldn’t discuss it over an open channel. He said that when he could, he would come to see me and tell me the whole story.”

Spock nodded. “Jim was successful in stopping the madman, Soran, from his plan.”

The Vulcan stood suddenly and walked a short distance from McCoy. He stood fingering one of the red velvet roses. Bending to inhale the fragrance, he turned back to look at McCoy.

“When Picard brought Jim back from the Nexus to our universe, I felt his presence.” He stopped and studied McCoy’s face, looking for his reaction.

“You felt his presence? You knew he was alive? How---” He could not go on. Feelings of disbelief and wonder were all mixed up with feelings of envy that Spock had been allowed to experience something so wonderful. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the bench, trying to make some sense of what he was hearing and feeling.

Spock’s hand on his arm forced him to open his eyes. The Vulcan was once more seated next to him. “If you are willing, I have come here to share what transpired with you.”

“Share?" The doctor peered at Spock in irritation. "Thought that's what you were doing. Go on. Quit worrying that I can't handle it."

There was silence. McCoy glanced at the Vulcan's face again. Spock seemed to be waiting for something. "Well, what is it?"

"I will need your permission, Leonard."

"Permission?" McCoy shifted irritably on the bench. He was too old for mind games. Mind. Suddenly, he understood. "You want to meld with me?" For a moment, he felt pure joy at the thought of sharing Spock's experience with their friend, Kirk. Then, fear and shame flooded him and McCoy argued, “I can’t . . . my mind . . . wanders. It would be too confusing for you.”

“I am willing take that chance. After all, it is not as if I have not endured your confusion before.”

McCoy ran a trembling hand over his forehead and ignored Spock’s jibe. That had been years before. It was embarrassing enough for his family to witness his confusion which he could, at least sometimes, cover up. That sure as hell wouldn’t work with someone inside his mind. Spock would see every mental anomaly he was experiencing.

The Vulcan waited, as always, with perfect patience. Finally, tempted by the thought of seeing Jim again, McCoy nodded. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

He leaned back against the warm bench and tried to clear his mind of any fear or trepidation. After all, this was Spock. Warm fingers touched the meld points and...

...he was in a cave on Romulus. The air was cool and slightly musty. Panic began to crawl up his throat and McCoy found himself barely able to breath.

‘Do not fear, Leonard. You are safe here. These are only memories.’

McCoy drew a slow breath and nodded. They were sitting around a table, several Romulans filling the other chairs. A council of some sort. Then, he felt it. Light. Affection. Warmth. Laughter. Loneliness. Jim. He was reaching out to Spock. The Vulcan rose to his feet, ignoring the irritated inquiries from the council members.

Almost blindly, Spock retreated from the others until he was alone in a dark tunnel. He attempted to reach out, to connect more fully with that presence but he could not. McCoy sensed Spock’s quandary. Leaving Romulus now could jeopardize any future hope of detente between Romulans and Vulcans. Spock knew equally that he could not ignore the voice that called to him across space and time, against all sanity, for him to come to a place called Veridian III.

McCoy felt all that Spock had felt, the misgivings, the doubts, the guilt. But all the negatives faded away in the light and promise of what lay ahead. Jim.

But what he saw was a grave, a mound of stones on a barren, desolate mountaintop. No, he could not bear this, did not want to see . . . why had Picard done this? Left Jim alone in this god-forsaken place?

'No, doctor, he heard Spock say, it is not as it seems. There were many survivors of the crash of the Enterprise D who had to be seen to, other priorities that had to be taken care of.'

'More important than a dead body, you mean,' McCoy forced himself to admit. First order of business, take care of the living.

'There is more, Leonard. Look!'

McCoy watched as Spock stood over Jim’s grave, felt his grief as he mourned the loss of the only being he had ever allowed himself to call friend. And he felt Spock waiting for him, waiting . . . no, not Spock, a presence within his mind. A veil parted and McCoy was suddenly innudated with the golden essence of Jim Kirk, pulling his eyes from the cairn of rocks.

'I’m not there, Bones, I’m here!'

'Jim?' It was true! Somehow, Jim was with them, alive in Spock’s mind and now in his! Confusion swirled and McCoy fought dizziness. 'How? I don’t understand---'

'As you carried my katra, I now carry Jim’s,' Spock supplied. 'Something in the Nexus allowed his soul to remain on Veridian III until I could get there.'

McCoy allowed himself to finally believe and the acceptance was almost more than his mind could absorb. He felt himself begin to fade from the meld, overcome by what was happening.

Suddenly, Jim was there. He could feel the loving support as if his friend had put his arms around him and lifted him up.

'I’m sorry, Bones, to have upset you like this. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, ever.'

McCoy felt no irritation as the protective note in Jim’s voice. It was right. And very different from when his family tried to coddle him.

He became aware of something else. The wall of solid strength he associated with Spock was beginning to falter.

Jim was way ahead of him.

'Carrying a katra around isn’t easy, Bones.'

'You’re telling me that?'

Jim laughed and the sound was as clear as the last time he had heard it. Now he remembered. Now he would never forget.

'We must end the meld soon,' Jim commanded. It was good to hear that authoritative voice once more.

'Yes, sir, captain, sir. But what happens now? When the meld is over, is that it? I’ll never talk to you again?'

He could almost see Jim and Spock sharing ‘that’ look before Jim answered.

'Spock’s going to put me in a rock.'

'A rock?'

Spock interrupted. ' The captain, as is his wont, has exaggerated what is to happen. We are returning to Vulcan. I have arranged with the elders that he be allowed to reside in the Hall of Thought. There he will be able to commune with the great Vulcan minds of the past.'

'Sounds damn dull to me.'

Kirk laughed. McCoy decided he liked the sound very much.

'Not quite that bad, Bones. I’ll be there, waiting for both of you.'

McCoy still did not fully understand. 'If I die on Earth, how will I---' suddenly, he knew.

Spock explained. ' We want you to go with us to Vulcan, doctor. To participate in the ceremony and to remain there, with me, until it is time for us to join Jim.'

'In a rock.'

Spock sighed. 'If you must persist in calling it that, yes, in a rock.'

'Sounds damn good to me, Spock. When do we leave?'

He felt Jim begin to fade and Spock as well but it was all right, it was only for now...

...now he was back in the garden, the smell of the flowers strong about him once more. He watched as Spock pulled back and opened his eyes. The Vulcan looked exhausted.

Tears once more filled McCoy’s eyes but this time they were tears of joy. He felt truly happy and at peace for the first time in more years than he could remember.

“You are not afraid to come to Vulcan with me?” Spock asked quietly.

“Hell, no. Where else would I be but with you and Jim. There is one thing, though, Spock.”

“Yes, doctor?”

“You have to convince my family to let me go.”

McCoy could have sworn he heard Jim laugh somewhere deep in him mind.

“Look at it as getting past the thorns to the rose.”

At Spock’s raised eyebrow, McCoy laughed, too. He knew Spock would manage it. For him. For Jim. What had begun between them all of those long years ago was only a step, a small step in the journey they would share into the unending future.