McCoy could not sleep. Other than once more cursing Kirk for his snoring on the other end of the foldout bed, he could do nothing except spend the rest of the night in boredom. He had nothing to study, not even a medical journal to read, and he didn't have anyone he could boss around, not even Alyssa. He knew that she was upstairs awake, but he did not want to interrupt her time with her husband. She was a different person with Kurt Hemmingway, McCoy noticed, the happiest that she had ever been. He could never go between that.

Sitting up, McCoy looked around him, eying the shadows of the morning with apprehension. It was a new and horrible paradise, he knew, and one that he wasn't anxious to get to be acquainted with. As the sun rose maybe an hour later, he heard familiar footsteps on the stairs. He stood up with the new day, quietly passing Spock on the floor in the sleeping bag and tiptoeing to the kitchen. He found a seat on the bar stool next to the kitchen island, facing Alyssa as she too entered.

With Ryder in her arms sleeping, the mother was a different woman than she was as a security officer. Her black hair was loose and her robe displayed the usual nursing signs. Compared to the dour and depressed woman in a blue uniform who stood no chance of surviving on a starship, this one was more confident and snarky, although pulling less hours sleeping was taking its toll. She even wrapped an arm around her baby before realizing that the doctor meant no harm. It was instinct, McCoy concluded. There was no other way Alyssa would act as she did.

"Morning," McCoy offered gently.

Alyssa echoed the same sentiments inanely, distracted by the next tasks at hand. She wasn't paying much attention to him anyway, tired as she was from all of the running around. McCoy didn't know what to make of that yet. He only observed her opening some sort of kitchen gadget with one hand, allowing cool air to exit and grabbing some bottles from within. She then put them in an old fashioned pot that had been cleaned the night before and filled it with water from the sink. She placed the whole ensemble on what had been named as a stove (according to Kirk, the expert on some antiques) and switched the heat on.

Ryder remained solaced on his mother's shoulder, his squishy face reminding McCoy of his own daughter, now a young woman in medical school. Joanna was a beauty, the link that brought him and his now ex-wife together, and she had been the glue that stuck him to the two until he was betrayed and the glue cracked and broke away. Shaking away those memories, the doctor focused on the present. By then, Alyssa had disappeared upstairs frantically and the other two had woken up.

Kirk found a stool next to McCoy and Spock remained standing nearby. The three remained silent, listening to the early day's sounds, most of them around the family above their heads. Alyssa was randomly saying something to Kurt hysterically and he was reassuring her and trying to keep her calm. As their argument climaxed, the trio formed a circle and put their heads together to block out the drama and focus on their own.

"We need to do some major research," McCoy announced.

"How so?" Kirk did not expect this so quickly, groggy as he was. He didn't even have a decent cup of coffee yet.

"Spock can build a computer out of anything, right?" McCoy eyed the Vulcan with disdain. He was always annoyed by the alien race and wanted to take a stab at him if he could.

"I can do the best I can under the circumstances we face," Spock confirmed. "Yes, I can create a simulation out of any material."

"Good. Guess what you're doing, you green-blooded asshole?"

"Tempers and profanity do not get us anywhere, Doctor. Might I suggest –?"

"Nothing," Kirk interjected. "Now, Bones, what are you talking about?"

"Alyssa and I discussed the possibility of doing a little work, but we knew it was beyond our capabilities," McCoy continued, glaring at Spock in what he hoped was threatening. He did not want the first officer to think that he got off easy just because the captain was around. "She believes that some godly force is directing us to be here, not just Mycoff."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I never thought you to be religious, Doctor McCoy. It would be illogical to believe in invisible power would direct all lifeforms and would give free will."

Kirk was not fooled by the statement. "Synprilox's Grace Guardian, you mean."

"Right." McCoy nodded. "Whoever has the keys controls everything. What if the thing had a mind of its own though?"

"What makes you believe that?"

"How about a little conviction here, Captain? Let's just say the thing is linked to Alyssa and I think it's our ticket home."

"And Admiral Uriah would have no better control over it than the aide Mycoff?"

"Yes."

"Why do they have it now? Why are we here, of all places?"

"Mind control, I would assume, since the…thing…is supposed to fool one and help another. I think Spock would be better fit to find that out than we would have. With his knowledge of electric consoles, he might make something up and find us information about it."

"From where we are now? Come now, Doctor, let's be real."

"He was able to see the two futures that Edith Keeler had. Tell me how that happened logically, Captain."

The name stung Kirk, but he set that aside. The image of watching Edith die was too much to bear at the moment. "I see your point. I would assume there are more parts in this decade than there are in the nineteen thirties."

"A correct assumption, Captain," Spock said. He did not appear to have been fazed by McCoy's rudeness. "If my working theory is also correct, then I could, as they call it in this time, make do with the items presented to us."

When the fight stopped and heavy footsteps came in their direction, the three separated and pretended to be doing normal things. Spock retreated back to the living room and began folding his sleeping bag and pillow, storing in beside a recliner before folding the mattress back into the couch. McCoy and Kirk parted ways, chatting about the chilly morning and how the sweaters Alyssa picked up the day before worked out perfectly in keeping them warm. By the time Spock had finished his tasks and the captain and doctor drifted into talk of the warming weather, Kurt appeared in the kitchen.

The former Air Force officer sensed some tension in the air and it wasn't just between him and his wife. He had just dealt with her irrational, hormonal rantings and calmed her enough to seduce her to bed without the rage. Now, the opposite faced him as his family slumbered. Three men, one still wearing a hat in the house (which confused even him), created a façade that even Kurt could see through. He was again suspicious and on guard. Whatever it was, it involved danger. When that occurred, he would be ready.

"Is anything the matter?" Kirk asked him, pulling the drawer out from the side of the island and pulling a deck of cards to the surface. He played with them until he grew tired of the solitary game he pursued. "We heard some noise upstairs."

"Nothing to worry about." Kurt relaxed, keeping his own shield up. "My wife is very tired from the trip. I suggested she get some sleep."

"A good idea," McCoy replied. He believed in the same conclusion. He never thought Alyssa got enough sleep to begin with anyway and liked her husband instantly for pushing her that way.

"There isn't much we can do today," Kurt said awkwardly. He thought about plowing the back fields and formed an idea, working out a plan. "I thought we might do a few chores around the place. There's some wood we can chop up and store. The fire pit needs some cleaning and the stove in the basement could use the work. We also can plant something for the next group that shows up. They might not be here until August, but it would also give time for the crops to grow and be harvested. It would also keep us busy and maybe give Alyssa some space. What do you think?"

"I'd love to join you," Kirk announced. He grew excited to be getting dirty, something he missed as a starship captain away from the Earth. "I grew up in Iowa. I'm very familiar with farming. I love working with my hands."

McCoy did not share the same enthusiasm. "I'll stay here and watch Alyssa and the baby, if you don't mind. If I haven't told you before, I am a doctor and I attend on keeping everyone alive."

Kurt looked at the Vulcan who just entered the kitchen, appreciative that one person was at least taking an interest in more people than his wife. "Spock?"

"I have some other activities in mind, but I will join you when the time permits," Spock offered politely. "I find that some things are more worth mending than others when time is pressing."

Shrugging his shoulders, Kurt looked at Kirk. "I guess it's just you and me then. Now, I think the wood should be cut up first. What do you think?"

"As a source of heat and for our survival, I agree," Kirk responded. By then, he had gotten up and talked with Kurt out the door and into the yard. Breakfast and coffee had been forgotten.

McCoy and Spock watched them disappear around the corner. The former looked at the latter with amusement. While the Vulcan did not share in the doctor's fun and the jokes, he did feel obligated to begin his search for parts for a computer to calculate his findings assigned to him. McCoy was right, Spock reflected. If they found out more information about the Grace Guardian and how Commander Elma was connected to it, then it might go better for them. He also would no longer have to hear about their collective deaths from the doctor.

Without a word, Spock randomly exited to the next chamber. McCoy followed him, only to be hit in the face with a cold draft and chilling cement under his socked feet. He backed into the kitchen and shut the door behind him, believing the first officer deserving of this fate. What he would give for some sunny Georgia weather! McCoy missed his home planet, most of all the so-called state he grew up in. The South was the most comforting place he could be, he mused dreamingly. With some home hospitality, a pitcher of cold sweet tea and some watermelon or fried okra, he would be in heaven.

And have a heart attack.

Feeling left out and a little homesick (after all, he was several hundred miles away from the Georgia border), the doctor decided to check up on Alyssa. He stepped through the winding stairs and stopped on the top landing. Behind him was a full bathroom with a shower, the steam thinning out from a previous encounter with hot water. He made a mental note for a later washing and glanced to the window on the right and then to the left. It was an opened room, dark and forbidding. Gulping, he decided to move on, stepping down into another space.

This one was unique. It wasn't quite a bedroom, but more of a sit-in area or an entranceway to another bedroom. Around him were bookcases stacked with dusty tomes, a lot of them old paperbacks with cheesy science fiction names to them. Some of them McCoy recognized, others he did not. He ran his fingers through a few of them, pulling them out arbitrarily, and then pushing them back into their respective places, chiding himself on pleasures. No, he was not ready to sit back and unwind with a book. That luxury was beyond his reach now.

Instead, he rushed through and knocked on the next door. The only answer he received was a sigh. He could not tell who it was from since Alyssa and Ryder slept in the same space, but he assumed them the source and most likely fine. He entered anyway to give himself the physical evidence. Indeed, he was right. She was sleeping on the bed, breathing out contented noises every so often. The baby was awake though, gurgling and smiling.

"Well, aren't you a cutie?" McCoy drew closer to the child he hardly saw, reaching into the portable crib and picking the boy up. He was a solid muscle, that one, and resembled his mother more than his father. The only betrayal of Kurt were the brown eyes, bright and light. "No wonder your mother can't leave you alone. You're a magnet!"

Ryder drooled down his chin, raining the thick mucus on McCoy's shirt. The doctor did not mind. Considering how many times he had all kinds of liquid on him, he considered this a saving grace. Delighted with innocent life, he walked out, thinking that he would give Alyssa a break and sit outside with the baby. He was well fed and burped and would not cause any trouble for a few hours. However, that opinion changed when he again stopped at the top of the stairs. He looked at the room he did not like and thought it silly of him to avoid it.

What could be in there that would scare the hell out of me? I've faced death. There's nothing worse than a violent mercy.

Ryder did not seem to mind either. He made a happy sound, encouraging McCoy to move forward. When he did, he went straight for what appeared to be windows, following the sunshine to the edge of the curtains. He pulled them aside with one hand (forgetting how difficult it was with a baby that was a few months old) and found that this place used to be a playroom for children anyway. Toys were scattered all over the carpeted floor, left in a hurry, and more boxes were left behind, colored in with wax crayons and dried markers.

In the far corner of the room, McCoy found a rocking chair. It was drawn on and even dented by thousands of little hands (and maybe a knife or two by the way some of the indents crossed), but it was perfect. He settled into it, propelling himself back and forth. Ryder was a sincere comfort to him at this time, snuggling closer into the crook of his arm. It was like the baby knew how upset the doctor was and, even though he needed adults to survive, would have done anything for the man who was friends with his mother.

It was in no time flat that both doctor and baby fell asleep together, warmed by the presence of the other.

It's must have been over a year since I've updated! I am so sorry to everyone for the inconvenience. It has been four years since I started this story and I intend to finish it. Previous chapters have been edited and updated and reflect what the story is intended to be. New plots and subplots have been formed. I have everything planned out!

There are a few reasons why things have kept me away. I mean, writer's block, school, work and family are the main factors. However, finding an appropriate ending is another. I felt that this story was on its last leg and I wasn't going to delete it had I not thought out another story to accompany it. Making this a part of a series now and hoping to update it more often is making it more appealing to me.

In what started as a story to calm myself in an emotional move, this has turned into one that has gone full circle. I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter and are looking out for more. I sure am pushing myself for it!