"I can't believe he would just leave like that," Jim admitted to McCoy, who sat across the table for him in the soft lighting of the bar in San Francisco. He took a gulp of his third Romulan ale of the evening, setting the glass down with a clink.

"He's a Vulcan," McCoy observed, studying the blue alcohol in his own glass. "Politeness isn't exactly his thing." He gave a short laugh. "Though apparently he's still not Vulcan enough in his opinion. No, he wants to become some kind of brainwashed computer or something." He took a sip, pursing his mouth before swallowing it. "Sounds healthy to me." The sarcasm in his voice was evident.

Jim let out a sigh. "I don't know, Bones," he said. "Usually I'd think Spock knows what he's doing, but I was never expecting this. Him leaving in the middle of the mission? I thought we were closer than that. As a crew."

McCoy looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know," he admitted, "I was actually considering leaving too, for a while. But I decided against it."

"You'd better not leave," Jim declared. "You don't have Spock's diplomatic immunity. I'd find a way to draft you."

"Draft me?" McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Since when did Starfleet ever have a draft?"

"I'd find something," Jim said, grinning confidently. He suddenly grew serious. "But no, really. Why were you going to leave? And what made you change your mind?"

McCoy snorted. "God knows living in a tin can in the middle of a black void isn't really my thing. But, then, I kind of realized that the Enterprise is more of a home than anything I have on Earth. I figured I could live with space for a couple more years."

"Yeah, well, I guess I thought Spock thought about it more like that too," Jim said. He finished his drink in a gulp and got up for another one. He ordered a Scotch at the counter and brought it back to the table.

"Don't drink too much, Jim," McCoy warned him as he sat down, eying the glass. "We have the meetings with those admirals tomorrow morning, and I'm sure as hell not going to give you an anti-alcohol shot because you got yourself wasted over a Vulcan's lack of feeling."

"Don't worry, Bones, I'm never going to ask for one of your shots," Jim said with a smirk. Then, more seriously, staring into the amber liquid, "I'm fine."

McCoy harrumphed a bit at that, but said nothing. The two of them lapsed into a pensive silence.

Jim swirled the liquid in the glass and took a sip. It burned a little, which was fine by him. He set the glass down, glancing around the room. He noticed Uhura standing at the counter, and watched as she picked up her drink and turned, scanning the room for a seat. He waved her over.

"The girls were too busy to come, but I needed a drink anyway," Uhura announced as she plunked down at their table. She took a long pull at her Saurian brandy.

"I'm sure they'll come another evening, we have a few days of shore leave yet," McCoy assured her. He gave her an appraising look. "You ok?

"Ok?" Uhura snorted. "I'm pissed."

"How did that even go down?" Jim asked. "With Spock. If you don't mind me asking. I mean, with us – well, it wasn't much of a goodbye."

"Mine wasn't much better," she said. "He just went on about the kolinahr thing and how he couldn't stay, and how he couldn't be in a relationship during it anyway." She shook her head. "He dumped me just like that."

"I'm sorry," McCoy said. "That sucks."

Uhura sighed. "I mean, we had problems for a while. We were fighting before Khan – you two knew about that. And it got better after we had that whole talk back then in the shuttlecraft. But even later, after the nebula incident – I feel like he didn't really understand me. And, I don't know, maybe our relationship was doomed from the start. We hadn't been dating long before the Narada happened, and Vulcan was destroyed – we got a lot closer after that, but maybe that was just because he was, as he put it 'emotionally compromised.' Maybe I was just a rebound – for Vulcan." She laughed a little as she finished her brandy. "I don't know if that even makes sense. Sorry for the rant, guys."

"It's ok," Jim said. "I get it."

"Well, Jim and I should head out pretty soon," McCoy said to Uhura, glancing at the chronometer on the far wall. "Early morning admiralty meetings, all that lovely stuff. You ready to go?"

"Not even close," she said. "But you go ahead."

"Ok then," McCoy said, standing. "Jim?"

"Yep, coming," Jim finished his Scotch and stood up.

Scotty, who had just entered the bar, meandered over. "You people staying a while?"

"We're not," McCoy told him. "But Uhura is."

"Well, can I buy you a drink, lass?" Scotty asked her.

Uhura hesitated a moment, then nodded. "You know what? Sure. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he said. He nodded to Jim and McCoy. "See you tomorrow, sir. Doctor."

"You too, Scotty. Good night, Uhura," said Jim.

"Good night, she responded. McCoy nodded to both of them, and he and Jim headed towards the door.

They exited into the chilly drizzle of the San Francisco night, and walked in silence across the street to their hotel.

"Try to get some sleep, Jim," McCoy advised once they were inside and on the hallway where both of their rooms were.

"I will," Jim promised. "There's just – a call I have to make first."

McCoy's brow furrowed a little but he didn't press the issue. "Goodnight, then," he said.

"Goodnight, Bones," Jim said. He unlocked the old-fashioned door, but before going inside he turned. "Oh, and Bones?" he said.

"What?" asked McCoy, stopping with hand poised on his doorknob.

"I know you care about him too."

McCoy looked about to retort, but before he got a chance, Jim swung open his door and went inside his room.