Historian's note: The events herein take place after Encounter at Farpoint, but before Scotty is discovered by the Enterprise D.
It was over. Once again they had emerged victorious over seemingly insurmountable odds. But Spock felt no joy in this. And not because it was un-Vulcan to feel joy. It had taken him many decades to get over that particular obstacle, the need to be more Vulcan than than any other Vulcan. Eventually he had; and was able to admit, if only to himself, that those victories had always brought him joy.
But now he did not feel the satisfaction of a mission accomplished that even a Vulcan would admit to. He felt nothing, just a hollow emptiness. Sitting in the jury-rigged sickbay he paid no attention to the commingled medical and engineering personnel that flowed around him. One group repairing the ship that had so valiantly carried them through the recent crisis, the other repairing the crew that had manned her.
But none of either disturbed the bed Spock stood beside. The beds gadgetry could not help if even in perfect condition, and there were other patients who could still benefit from medical aid.
"You know Spock," the voice, as well known to him as his own, was distressingly; but expectedly weak "you may be a green blooded pointy eared bastard, but you are also the best friend I've ever had. And I can't think of anyone I'd've rather spent my last days with. Thank you for dragging me out here."
"Tha-," Spock tries to reply, but for a moment his voice fails him. Emotion, once considered an enemy to be eradicated, but now an accepted companion; threatens to overwhelm him. "Thank you Doctor. The same is true for me." Then a bit of the old rivalry surfaces and he continues. "Though I must point out, my parents were married a significant period before I was born, so that part of your statement is in error."
McCoy actually manages a brief laugh before a fit of coughing overtakes him. "Always have to have the last word don't you? I hate to admit it, but you're going to get it this time." The Doctor quiets and the minutes pass.
Eventually he falls into unconsciousness, and then death. Slowly the awareness of McCoy's death comes over Spock. He thinks he should make a note of it. Or inform somebody. But he does neither. Instead he stands there saying farewell to the last of those who had become even closer than family to him.
The crew continues to work around him, not disturbing the pair. And if any notice the tears rolling slowly down a Vulcan's face, none say a word about it.