A/N: Hey, everybody! Thank you for those reviews! On a happy note, today, and this posting, marks one year that I've had my account on fanfiction! Yay! I'm glad I got to internet-meet all you lovely people! I hope this chapter delivers because I'm going out of town tomorrow for five days, so posting won't take place until I get back. Until then, enjoy this!

McCoy slept for two more days. On the fourth day of his return, M'Benga was checking the monitors when he noticed a familiar pair of blue eyes watching him.

Relief flooded the doctor, and he put on a warm smile. "Good morning, Leonard," he greeted kindly. "Glad to see you back with us."

McCoy nodded, somehow more with his eyes than his head, and slowly raised himself up to a sitting position. The tug on his arm brought his attention to the IV, and he examined it as M'Benga adjusted the settings on the biobed to a comfortable incline for him.

"Is there anything I can get you right now?" M'Benga asked.

A wariness flickered in McCoy's eyes. Geoff picked up on it instantly and changed tactics. "I can quick order a chicken soup. I'll bet you're hungry."

The wariness quelled and McCoy nodded gratefully, a hesitant smile flickering over his features. Uneasy, but acting nonchalant, M'Benga left to go get the chicken soup.

McCoy ate eagerly, if slowly, for which M'Benga was grateful. It was a good sign that he was hungry but also knew enough to pace himself lest he get sick. When he finished, Geoff collected the bowl and spoon while checking the IV. McCoy relaxed against the biobed, looking around Sickbay, mildly alert.

And still didn't speak.

"Captain," M'Benga paged from the other room, setting down his dishes.

"Kirk here. What is it?"

"Leonard's awake." He could practically hear the smiles and sighs of relief from the bridge. "He's eaten some chicken soup and is resting. But if you want to see him…"

"I'll be right down." The channel clicked off and Geoff shook his head, smiling. He walked back into the ward to see McCoy standing up next to the biobed, fiddling with the IV, apparently trying to get it off.

"A doctor should know better than to suddenly pop up and try to remove a much-needed IV," Geoff scolded, pulling his hands away.

McCoy grunted and gave him a half-glare that he was famous for. Geoff's hopes soared again. He appeared to be acting normally, aside from not talking. With the captain coming, maybe Kirk could get him to talk.

As if reading his mind, the doors swooshed open and Kirk strolled in eagerly, with, surprisingly, Spock right behind him. Geoff glanced at McCoy and saw his eyes light up.

"Bones!" Kirk greeted, moving over. He spread his arms and quickly engulfed the doctor in a tight hug. McCoy coughed slightly as the air left him and awkwardly managed to pat Kirk's back with the arm that wasn't attached to the IV. Kirk broke away, grinning, and McCoy regarded Spock who stayed a few steps back. He inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Spock's eyebrows shot up.

"Bones?" Kirk asked, more puzzled. McCoy turned to him, face open and eyebrows raised, listening, as if to say yes?

"Ah, Captain," M'Benga intervened. "May I speak with you for a moment? Mr. Spock, could you please stay with Leonard?"

"Certainly," Spock nodded.

Kirk and M'Benga exited and went into McCoy's office. "What's going on?" Kirk asked. "Is something wrong with his voice?"

"Kirk," M'Benga placated. "Preliminary scans didn't show anything, and so far as I can tell he's not in any pain. I'll definitely run some more tests centered in that area before he's released, but I doubt anything will turn up."

"Why?" Kirk pressed.

M'Benga hesitated. "It's… he's very aware of it."

"What, do you mean he's choosing not to talk?"

"It's not that simple, but I think so," M'Benga answered. "I'd be careful when asking him questions; he becomes very guarded."

Kirk nodded slowly. "Alright," he exhaled. "But do you have any idea why he's doing this?"

M'Benga sighed. "Jim, he just got out of the custody of the Romulans. Aside from what physical injuries I've seen healed, who knows what's happened to him? Given more time I might be able to figure out what areas and topics are particularly taboo."

"Like questions," Kirk confirmed.

"Yes. We could just be in a readjustment period and he doesn't fully grasp that he's really here, now. Or it could be something more permanent." He shook his head. "It's going to take some time and discussion to figure it out."

"You've got him in counseling?"

"Standard procedure," M'Benga replied.

"But he doesn't talk."

"If you watch him closely, Captain," M'Benga hedged in quietly. "You'll see that he's found other ways to communicate."

Spock has always been a master of observation. He could recite every detail of every memory with precision simply because he noticed everything and remembered it. Often times while on the ship his skills for observation weren't needed, until they beamed down to a planet or other new or unknown location.

However, with McCoy, he found himself calling upon all his faculties for observation.

He's always been bad with what humans term 'small talk'. Spock preferred companionable silence. Normally, whenever he was with McCoy the doctor always tried to engage him in a conversation or debate. His penchant for chatter occasionally grated on Spock, to the point where he would request for silence.

Not so today.

The doctor sat perched on the biobed, tracking the room with eyes, and sometimes closing them and relaxing. The quiet was so incongruous with McCoy that for once Spock found himself wanting to say something.

He cleared his throat. "I trust you rested well, Doctor."

McCoy opened his eyes a fraction and nodded.

Spock was unsure where to continue. How did humans manage to keep up a conversation, much less for hours on end? Wouldn't they run out of things to talk about?

McCoy was looking at him fondly, and suddenly Spock realized that their roles had been reversed. Instead of McCoy talking and Spock listening, McCoy was listening to Spock talking.

Well, he should probably say something.

"Your presence has been missed, Doctor," Spock said smoothly. "Particularly in Sickbay. You were not replaced, Dr. M'Benga was given a temporary field promotion."

McCoy listened attentively, nodding his approval. Observing the doctor, Spock found that he could read quite a lot. The eyes moved back and forth and one finger hesitantly tapped, as if asking a question.

"The reason this promotion was temporary, Doctor," Spock replied. "Was that, despite your uncertain condition and despite Starfleet's insistence on leaving the matter alone, Jim was still determined that there would be some way to find you."

McCoy absorbed all of this, with a rather open expression. He inhaled and breathed out, nodding. He looked back up at Spock with a soft smile and a crinkle of his eyes. Thank you.

"One does not thank logic," Spock answered.

McCoy waved him off with a dismissive snort and hopped off the biobed. He started finagling with the IV again, working to get it off.

"I am uncertain if you should be doing that, Doctor," Spock mentioned.

McCoy grumbled intelligibly and continued mucking with the IV. He finally got it off and crossed the room, freed from being attached to the biobed. Spock followed him to the synthesizer as McCoy keyed in some more food. Seconds later, a grilled cheese sandwich popped out on a plate with some sweet tea.

McCoy picked up the tray and faced Spock, both eyebrows raised and head slightly indicating the synthesizer. Want something?

"Negative, Doctor, I am fine at this time." Spock hesitated. "Did you not just eat chicken soup?"

McCoy narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously and nodded. What about it?

"I did not mean any sort of offense," Spock tried hesitantly. "I simply do not wish for you to make yourself ill."

He relaxed in understanding Spock's meaning, and gripped his tray stubbornly. Spock could practically hear I'm hungry, dammit!

"As you wish," he conceded. McCoy looked satisfied and sat down to eat. Spock joined him at the small desk and began to update the doctor on all of the ship's activities, running through what he missed as McCoy listened on.

Two months ago…

McCoy had to admit he was surprised when instead of being brought straight to an interrogation room he was brought to the Bird-of-Prey's version of Sickbay. It was much smaller and cramped, and the Romulan "doctor" did not seem any different from Jencius and his guards.

McCoy halted. "Why am I here?" he demanded, not moving any further.

He was nudged in the back by a disruptor. "Move."

"No! Not until someone explains what's going on!"

"If the doctor does not want to participate, then he can leave," the Romulan doctor said impassively.

McCoy twisted to face his captors. "There. Y'see?"

"However," the doctor continued. "That will make acquiring a healthy baseline for you very difficult. But no matter, even if I have no knowledge of human anatomy to repair I'm very good at guessing."

McCoy started feeling nauseous as those words settled in. "Wait," he said as the guards moved to take him away.

"You wish to stay?" the doctor posed.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Why not? A little's better than nothing." He swallowed his shakiness and walked over.

The Romulan doctor dismissed the guards and started scanning and poking him, taking blood samples and doing a full physical. "Interesting. You really do have red blood," he mused.

"And you have green, so it's a Merry Christmas all around," McCoy snapped. The Romulan gave him a cold look that McCoy just glared back at.

Then, strangely, the doctor sighed. "I hope you hang on to that stubbornness and gall. They go quickly, but you seem to have more than most."

"What do you mean?" McCoy asked.

"Come now, Doctor," the Romulan said seriously. "Why am I getting such an extensive baseline? You and I both know what's going to happen soon."

Yes. McCoy knew very well what fate awaited him. "Or I could cave and save us all a lot of trouble."

"You could." The Romulan looked at him. "But I can tell you're not the kind of person who does that." He set down his chart and extended a hand. "I'm Retril. I imagine we'll be seeing a lot of each other if Jencius has got you."

McCoy slowly shook his hand. "Leonard McCoy." He gave a resigned sigh. "Well, if you'll be patching me up each time I'm too close to death, there are a few other things you should be aware of…"

They moved on with some more forms, collaborating on which drugs to use and which to avoid. They talked extensively, both knowing that their next visit would not be under such pleasant conditions.