McCoy opened the door to his house with his duffle bag on one shoulder feeling lethargic. His fingers were sore.
His eyes felt heavy, prepared to close, and have a good nights rest.
Ten years in space, one after the other, had taken a toll.
He closed the door behind him.
His home was based in a cul-de-sac that had the same design in most of the housings.
Different from the large tower structures called 'Gates' starting from the millennium gate that had several apartment complexes that automatically cleaned behind the residents. McCoy enjoyed a home that he could clean after not with the familiar automatic doing the work for him. He closed the door behind him. The door clicked. Old fashioned 21st century doors, made clicks depending how the door was closed, and had locks unlike most now-a-day doors.
The fight had left him once nearing Earth. Hearing news that something had gone wrong between Spock and Kirk, both going their separate ways, was distressing. Let alone from Chekov, more heartbroken than anyone, that his role model was leaving Star Fleet. Effectively immediately. Spock to Vulcan, and Kirk to planet side as a Vice Admiral. Trapped in a desk duty that he would hate. McCoy figured he would get around to protesting against it after a quick nap. The tension in his muscles, the exhaustion, and the slow pace he lead down the hall letting the duffle bag collapse to the floor with a soft thud. A part of him couldn't believe it was over. Two five year missions.
Making sure that his found family was live to see another day. Making sure that two lovable nerds got together, wooed each other, and attempted dating one of them upon the other's encouragement after they had been wooed. Successfully. That crashed and fell because of touch. Vulcan's courted through touch. And McCoy, as a doctor, had to touch others. McCoy ended the courting after the Capella away mission and they remained close colleagues. Spock had indicated that he had understood the doctors choice. Frankly, McCoy was happy to see the two together.
Aside from the occasional abduction, the sometimes imposter, and medical science being weird with historic first contacts, the missions were historic. Historic enough that he felt honored to have been part of it. The energy that he once had from the beginning of the second five year mission was gone. So tired. To think that he believed Spock and Kirk would continue to serve in space without him let it be the neutral zone. A part of him should be angry. But he didn't have the energy for that, either.
McCoy opened the door to the bedroom.
The brightness from the window briefly blinded him.
The well made, kept bed that didn't look any different from the last time he had seen it before joining Star Fleet and taking on xenobiology courses after the big divorce. He slipped off his shoes then collapsed into bed. The tension in his shoulders began to fade. His heavy eyes closed and he fell asleep.