2.35 days since he beamed down. 1.63 since he called. Nothing out of the ordinary, it is a perfectly normal away mission. Some peace talks, requiring the presence of the captain. Yet there is something beyond logic in the way everything seems different. Emotional, almost, though it is perhaps more akin to a physical deprivation. The bridge seems bereft, without his infuriating and intriguing presence.

"Status?"

"Ship still in orbit,and our shields are counteracting the close range sun's radiation."

"Any communications from Starfleet received?"

"No, Commander"

"Very good."

For the first time, I understand the human tendency towards a fluid perception of time. Hours spent overseeing the progression of nothing stretch on. The conferences on Alchiba are part of an important drive for Starfleet, the first of their kind in the Corvus system. They require the personal escort of ambassadors, and the presence of the Captain. There are no immediate threats, yet it is advisable to keep the ship on standby, while denying requests for shore leave until the conference has reached its conclusion. With the ship in orbit, there are few matters requiring attention. A 'waiting game', to use an earth phrase. We have played them before, but...

Something is different. The Captain. Strange how an emotional connection can seem to produce a physical manifestation. In humans, yes – it would not be the most illogical reaction I have experienced. But I can feel it – darkness, as though the light was gone. Yet we are in such close proximity to the local star. It does not make any logical sense.

I make my way to the bar after my shift. Taking refuge in old habits. Weird, I know, but this whole place just doesn't feel right. It's like an empty house. But everyone's here. Everything's as it always is...

I can tell when the bridge shift ends. It's not like the place floods with people- observation decks are much more popular – quite a pretty star system, and its good for people to see the sun once in a while. Feels bare even in the thick of things. I tell myself it's only shock, the sudden change from overwork to boredom. I gave most of the nurses the day off – seems pointless to have an army of them standing around with nothing to do.

A quiet voice behind me nearly scares me to death.

"I had thought you might be here, Doctor"

Spock. I know they don't show emotions, but he's looking like the Vulcan equivalent of a lost puppy. A very stoic, emotionless puppy.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Silence. Who in the world needs to think that long about what drink to get?

"Yes, please. Just water."

The barman's used to strange requests, and we sit there in silence, our drinks clasped in our hands.

Outside the local star shines fiercely into the room, as the ship passes it again.

"It's weird, ya' know. I got used to space, and I never really missed the sunshine. But now that the damn stuff's staring at me through every window and I can't feel it, it's getting to me! Kinda stupid huh?"

"..."

I didn't think you could knock back water. Not the first time he's proved me wrong, though.

"I..I don't understand"

Almost a whisper, but its hardly like there's much noise in the bar. Even if there was,I think I'd still hear him. Sometimes I'm not even sure we are talking out loud.

"What don't you understand?"

"It is a simple, short absence, for logical reasons. That it may provoke an emotional response in humans is understandable, but..."

"Not in Vulcans, huh?"

"Not only that. But... as you stated, it seems almost a physical manifestation. The absence of light." A pause, and an almost unheard sigh. "How can a person seemingly affect perceptions of sunlight, and of time? It is completely illogical."

"Ah, the wonders of the human heart. We're obviously rubbing off on you!" A brief smirk. I know its not really the time, but old habits die hard.

His forehead creases into a frown. I brush his hand , still gripped round the glass of water. "He'll be back soon. Duty calls."

"I know the reasons for his absence, Leonard. It's the emotions that seem out of place." I sigh. Something feels right about the semi-argument, but I remember how much it bugs Jim. Pretty sure it used to cheer him up sometimes too. But without him either smirking or grouching in a corner somewhere, it just doesn't feel right. Like everything else, pretty much.

"It's just how we deal with it." He looks up. We're far more similar than we would have thought, and that's become pretty obvious in the last year. Still makes me laugh though.

"Would you be advocating reason over emotion, Leonard?" Smirk back in his eyes. I sink back into the seat. I decide to shrug it off. I'm not really in the mood for insults.

"I see what you mean, though. 'Nd 'm actually glad we usually go with him, however idiotic that may be. Whenever it's only him gone... well, it just seems too long before he's back on that transporter pad"

Our room just seems too quiet and empty tonight, and neither of us even tries to sleep. Chess board lies empty on the side. I don't offer. I don't reckon I'd be much good, and right now it's best not to bring it up. I find myself hoping again that the conference is lacking in pretty women. Call it insecurity, call it psychological trauma, but I'm always worried he'll stay there. Looking across the room from the two of us, I eye the regulation furniture and the empty chess set; it doesn't seem like much.

Morning finally comes round. Spock and I are the first ones down to the transporter when we get the message. The atoms whirl into view, and I swear I can see sunlight forming round the smile already.

"Miss me?"