McCoy was punctual, so he walked into Sickbay three minutes before he was to start his shift. Chapel, who was more than punctual, was already at her desk, setting up for the day's routine. He stopped first at the synthesizer and ordered coffee, black and strong.

" Chris, I'd like for you to make some schedule changes."

"Well, good morning to you, too," Chapel said, shuffling some items around before looking up. She rose from her chair in alarm. "Leonard, what's wrong? What's happened?"

McCoy grimaced, holding up his hand. "Nothing. Stop hovering, dammit!" he snapped, much sharper than he intended. Immediately he was filled with remorse. He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, Chris. I'm such a damned bastard." He reached across and touched her hand, trying not to see the sting of hurt in her eyes, knowing he had caused it. "Please forgive me. I did have a bad night last night, but it's nothing. I'm sorry."

Chapel blinked and smiled weakly. "Forgiven," she said. She gave his hand a quick squeeze, which he returned before letting go. She put on her professional voice. "What kind of schedule change?"

"Cover my afternoons and evenings for a few days."

Chapel looked at him in surprise. It was far more common for her CMO to work a double shift rather than a half day. "Really? You never take time off..." She broke off and sat with her PADD and stylus. "Never mind. I will be glad to do that, Doctor."

McCoy sat across from her, sipping the strong coffee. "Christine, I didn't mean it." He looked down and swirled the liquid in the cup, sighing.

Chapel looked at his face, drawn and weary, and put the stylus down. "At the risk of being bitten twice," she said gently, "I am going to ask if I can help."

McCoy sat silently, studying his cup. She waited. Finally he spoke.

"Do you still wrestle with Roger's ghost?"

Chapel understood immediately what he was asking.

"Not often, not any more. I did, at first. Sometimes the regret still creeps in, in my weak moments." She took a deep breath. "I give myself that moment of weakness, then lock it away. It gets easier to lock him away every time. I'm winning."

She saw him swallow. He did not look up. "You're stronger than me. Women usually are the strong ones. And you're called the weaker sex." He gave a short, mirthless laugh.

"Leonard...I have found that ghosts are as strong as you allow them to be."

"Yeah, maybe."

He drained the last of his coffee and stood. "I'll be in the office." He turned away. "Chris," he said, without looking at her, "I don't want to lose."

"You're strong, too. You won't lose."

He shook his head, and continued into his office, closing the door. Chapel looked after him, worried and afraid. It was a long time before she picked up her stylus.


T'Phol had also spent a restless night, thinking some of the past, but more of the present. McCoy's reaction had surprised and dismayed her, although she had been careful to hide most of her concern from him. His anxiety at hearing the song was troubling, but spoke to an underlying irrationality that she could not have anticipated. His perception that she was "inside" his mind was more disturbing and perplexing. She searched her own mind, looking for an indication that she had telepathically projected more than a usual amount, but came up empty. She wondered if she was more her father's child than she previously believed.

She thought about Spock pushing his agenda that she and McCoy should meet. Spock insisted that McCoy would teach her about being a whole person. She argued that she had always integrated her Human side into her personality, unlike some people she knew. He rejoined that they both existed as a dichotomy. And so it went.

She did not tell Spock that she already planned to seek out McCoy on the journey. She viewed him as a friend, although they had never met. Her grandparents both held the doctor in high esteem, Sarek because he was a gifted surgeon who had saved his life during the Babel conference, and because the ambassador admired honest men of substance and honor. Amanda, too, was grateful for that, but her regard went far deeper. She loved him because of her son. McCoy had quite possibly saved her son's life along with his captain's during the disastrous marriage battle over T'Pring, freeing Spock from a lifetime shackled to the woman Lady Amanda privately, and in a most un-Vulcanlike manner, referred to as 'that egotistical bitch.' And she sensed that, despite their ongoing squabble, the two men, along with Kirk, shared a deep affection and brotherhood that Spock would find no where else, even with his biological half-brother.

T'Phol had not been prepared for the reality that was actually Leonard McCoy. She immediately realized that she had been under the sway of a type of hero worship. The man was nothing like she expected. He was neither ten meters tall, nor did he seem to shoot bolts of wisdom like lightning from his aged brow. Instead he was younger and smaller than she had pictured, a stick figure with a thick mop of hair, animated features, laser eyes, and an easy smile. He looked too frail to withstand the rigors of Starfleet. He exuded healing warmth and contentiousness simultaneously, and the force of his personality was undeniable. She had never met anyone like that outside of her father, and possibly Amanda. But her father was disturbed, and Amanda was genteel and gracious, the wife of Vulcan's ambassador to Earth, thus her fire was banked. McCoy burned.

Her meditation did not go as well as it might. She spent most of the night on the Moog, softly visiting the twentieth century.