The transport beam, is, thankfully, free of the disturbances which had heralded their ill-fated arrival in this star system. Clearly, their reset of the timeline has with it, settled the turbulence within, and the Guardian below seems content enough to lie dormant now.

It is but a moment before they are re-materializing on the transporter pad of the Enterprise.

Even before the shimmer of photon dispersal disappears, Montgomery Scott gives Spock a knowing look and now moves past him to the transporter console, ostensibly to check the transporter operator's work but in reality to take command in a move so practiced none of the red-shirted landing party members have yet realized an entire unspoken conversation occurred in the space of seconds.

Spock is, as ever, grateful for their Chief Engineer's perceptiveness.

"Scott to Bridge."

"Bridge, this is DeSalle, go ahead."

"Begin preparation to leave this star system. Use the information being transmitted from Lieutenant Uhura's tricorder to plot a path around any remaining temporal disturbances, and tell Engineering to batten down the hatches, so t'speak. We break orbit in ten minutes."

"Bridge to Scott, acknowledged."

Already having anticipated this, Uhura finishes transmitting her data and nods, herding the Security force out of the room and being followed shortly by Scott himself.

The captain has yet to step off the transporter pad, or even react to the dialogue - and Spock has unfortunately been part of enough landing parties gone wrong that he recognizes the humanoid physiological reaction known as shock. He can clearly see the man's hands are still shaking slightly, and he has rapidly paled over the last sixty-four seconds.

He also recognizes that the person most qualified to deal with said shock, is about to put a metaphorical match to the kindling which is likely Kirk's state of control. The fallout could be explosive, and is at the least, not something the captain would want to happen in public.

"Doctor."

His tone holds a clear warning, enough that McCoy glares openly at him, but unfortunately it is not enough to stop the oncoming storm.

Even in shock, however, Kirk is still a strategist, and so takes advantage of the distraction, small as it is, to try to leave the room – only to be held up two steps off the transporter platform by a firm, almost rough grip on his arm.

"You had better have a really, really good explanation for what you just did, Jim!"

Explosive it is, then.

"Doctor."

"I'm not talkin' to you," McCoy snaps over one shoulder, before turning back to the captain. Kirk seems unable to speak in his own defense, and even now, tries unsuccessfully to pull away, eyes flicking wildly around the room in what looks like the start of mild panic. "Jim, I swear to god –"

"Spock, please."

The words are so quiet, even his superior hearing might have missed them (especially under the vocalizations of their irate CMO), had he not been expecting them.

It is not an order, but he will make it one, as it is likely the only way he can help at this time.

"Doctor McCoy." He steps around the captain, and into the doctor's personal space, causing the man to look up at him in surprise, fingers loosening. "Remove yourself from this situation, or I will remove you."

The rare threat of physicality, delivered in a tone that is clearly anything but their usual banter, is enough for McCoy's grip to loosen instinctively. Jim does not so much as flick a glance over his shoulder as he literally flees the room, vanishing down the corridor in the space of seconds. Even so, his gratitude is palpable.

Spock steps back, but is irately followed in short order.

"What. Is going. On."

The tone is one of pure anger, and while it can be excused in light of ignorance, it cannot be allowed to continue.

"In short, Doctor: The actions you took from the time of your departure effectively erased our entire timeline, dating back to the evening in question which we have just left behind. The fixed point in your Earth timestream, being the death of Edith Keeler on that very night."

McCoy's eyes widen in shock.

"Your actions in that timeline prior to our interference, prevented her death, which in turn set off a chain of events resulting in the Allied forces losing your Second World War some years later. This resulted, centuries in the future, in the Enterprise and likely the whole of Starfleet no longer being present in the timeline. We lost contact with the ship shortly after you entered the portal."

"That's ridiculous!"

"It is factual, Doctor. We discovered this only after following you into the timestream, and we have been waiting for weeks in an attempt to circumvent your understandable but disastrous decision to save Ms. Keeler. Had we failed, the remainder of the landing party had been instructed to make the same attempt – and had we all failed, your actions would have caused the cessation of our lives as we know them." Spock raises a eyebrow. "Do you understand what I have said, Doctor?"

"I'm not stupid, I understand just fine! But there had to have been –"

"But nothing, Doctor," he interrupts, sharply enough that McCoy blinks in shock. "The captain did what he must, to ensure the timeline was reset correctly. He accepted the personal consequences for that decision. There was no other way."

"There's always another way, Mr. Spock." Only slightly subdued, McCoy shakes his head. "But I guess you wouldn't have told him that, now would you? It's a human thing, after all, love. I take it Jim was her 'young man' that she talked about, right before she walked in front of a moving vehicle. While you just watched!"

Spock does not rise to the bait, on any count. If Jim chooses to disclose the more personal matters, that is his business and no one else's.

He has seen the captain fall, and fall unexpectedly quickly, for various beings of their acquaintance over the few years they have served together, but never one in such a short span as this, and not to such a visibly emotional degree. Kirk does, as the Terran expression goes, wear his heart on his sleeve to all appearances, but rarely does something deeper, more indefinable, accompany that. This was…different, and as a scientist, he is trained to notice anomalies, even if he does not quite understand how they are formed.

It is at its heart unsurprising, for Keeler was clearly insightful and a leader beyond her time, and had circumstances been different, would have flourished in their own century, without question. He briefly considers the likely possibility of her possessing rudimentary psychic abilities, a very rare occurrence in those dark Earth days but not entirely unheard-of.

They will never know for certain.

"So you both decided to let an innocent woman die, on the gamble that it would reset whatever changes I made?"

"A certainty is not a gamble, Doctor. Despite your convictions to the contrary, I do not take joy in ending life, or in causing another being emotional pain." Especially the being in question, he does not add aloud.

"Well you certainly did both, regardless. Without a second thought!"

"Doctor." Spock shifts his weight to an attention stance. "Out of scientific curiosity: What would you have said to one of your nursing staff, had they been careless enough to leave a cordrazine hypospray in manual dispensing mode while in the middle of severe gravitational disturbances on the primary Bridge?"

McCoy freezes in the act of pacing a tight circle around him, and fairly wilts in horror on the spot.

Whatever his flaws, this human is remarkably quick to change, both mind and behavior, when he realizes he is in the wrong – far more likely to do so, than most humans of Spock's acquaintance. It is one of the very, very few characteristics Spock respects in the doctor's personality.

This is no exception.

"I…my God, Spock, you're right. An official reprimand for professional negligence, if nothing else, and a mandatory medical safety refresher. There's really no excuse." McCoy's face turns pale as the walls of the transporter room. "No excuse. This is my fault."

Spock shakes his head, moving toward the transporter room doors and motioning for the human to follow.

"Come, Doctor. I do not believe assignation of blame is the correct or most effective method of assimilating these events. I merely would ask that you not lay that blame at the door of the man who was required to right the events put in motion by you."

"You are more human than you let on, Spock."

"Your anger is not sufficient reason to insult me, Doctor."

A snort, but no further verbal volley, as neither of them is inclined to it at the moment. They reach the turbolift, and the doors close on an awkward silence. Finally –

"Computer, Sickbay. No debate, Lord knows what you two picked up back there. You get a full physical while I still have you, even if you're probably inoculated against anything in that period. Last thing we need is for some unlucky crewman to be resistant to the polio vaccine, or something."

"Doctor, I believe –"

"That Jim needs at least a few minutes to himself." McCoy elbows him gently, and he does not move away. "I'm thinking clearly now, Spock, I promise. And…I'm sorry. For what I said just now, and for what I apparently did. This can't have been easy for you, either. I was pretty out of my head most of the time, but you've been dealin' with this for days."

"Seventeen point four days, Doctor. You arrived nearly ten days later than we had projected."

He does not acknowledge the apology, welcome though it is; he has been unable to properly meditate for more than two weeks now, and it is showing in his own very precarious emotional control. He requires solitude almost as much as the captain, at this time, but he must keep McCoy's attention for a little while longer.

"Weeks, then, in a time period where you had to hide who you are and I'm guessing, had to build technology out of nothing. That's a horrible part of Earth's history to be stranded in. We weren't exactly open-minded back then, on any count." A shake of the head, and the human pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand. "What a mess."

"Bridge to Commander Spock, come in."

He steps to the wall-comm, and presses the comm-link. "Spock here. Go ahead, Mr. Scott."

"Aye, sir, we're ready to break orbit."

"Acknowledged." He is about to continue, when Scott interrupts him, smoothly enough the Bridge crew likely have no idea it even happened.

"And I've taken the watch, sir, as I figured you an' the Captain would be in Sickbay for at least the next hour or so. Standard procedure."

Their Chief Engineer is vastly underappreciated on this ship. Spock makes a mental note to put a commendation in the man's file, and returns the comm.

"You are correct, Mr. Scott. Please inform me when we have successfully resumed our course through this system, and send a communiqué to Starfleet stating that they will have my complete report on the events within twenty-four hours."

"Forty-eight," McCoy hisses at his elbow.

"Forty-eight hours," he amends with a silent sigh, and hears a stifled laugh from the other end of the connection.

"Understood, sir. Bridge out."

"Say, Spock. Did I – did anything else happen, while I was, you know." McCoy waves an impatient hand to encompass the whole of the event. "The side effects of cordrazine overdose that I know of are severe paranoia and hallucinations, and that's at minimum."

"You did render the transporter chief unconscious with far more scientific efficacy than I have before observed in your self-defense training, Doctor. Outside of that, the only damage I know of which was inflicted by you, was upon yourself. Granted, I believe you went through the Guardian's portal in possession of a Starfleet-issue phaser, which you did not have on your person when we met this evening." (1)

"I can't remember a thing, not until this afternoon. Guess I dropped it somewhere, or maybe it disappeared because of a time paradox." McCoy shakes his head. "I'm lucky I didn't do more harm than that."

"You are at the least, quite fortunate to be alive, Doctor."

"Not arguin' that point." The doctor leans against the wall of the lift with a sigh, head tipped back. "So…can you tell me what exactly happened?"

Spock does not pretend ignorance of what is being referenced. "It is not my story to tell, Doctor."

"No, I guess it isn't. I'm guessing I won't get it from the source, though."

He considers the likelihood of this for a moment, and agrees; but it is not his decision to make.

"That may be true, Doctor. But you must ask your questions of the Captain."

"Well, the centuries don't change that Vulcan loyalty, at least."

The doors open to deposit them on the Sickbay deck, and they move in silence through a mostly deserted corridor. Below their feet, Spock can hear the change as the engines are taken from idling mode into preparation for impulse power. They will soon leave this planet and its dangerous contents far behind.

"We need to make sure the 'Fleet knows this place is off-limits," McCoy states the obvious as they enter Sickbay.

"I had already planned to make the recommendation accordingly," he replies. "In addition to that, I –"

He stops, actually surprised to see that rather than retreating to his cabin or the aft observation deck, Captain Kirk has apparently decided to come to Sickbay, and is calmly submitting to a full set of medical scans.

Granted, it is standard procedure when returning from an away mission of atypical parameters, but Spock had not expected it to be followed in this case. Although, now that he considers, it is actually most likely that Kirk planned to be in and out, as it were, well before McCoy returned. Given that both he and McCoy can be classified as immovable objects at times, this is not an unreasonable assumption.

The doctor in question halts, off-balance, for just a fraction of a second, before continuing into the 'Bay as if it were a normal evening aboard. "You're next," he says pointedly over one shoulder, indicating the flexiglass-windowed examination cubicle. "Take a number, take a seat, I'll be with you in a couple minutes. Might as well clear myself first. Nurse!"

It is an incredibly unsubtle directive to assess the situation, but Spock follows it, as he has the same end goal in this case. Nurse Chapel exits the cubicle as he approaches, and gives him a curt nod before she continues toward the now-closed office door.

He is uncertain of his welcome; but the fact that Kirk remains, is as much an invitation as he is likely to receive.

The man himself looks up as Spock enters. While still clearly showing signs of physical and emotional exhaustion, he appears to be slightly less pale than he had been in the Transporter Room, and even half-smiles when Spock hesitates in the doorway.

A tilt of the head. "How bad was it?"

"Not at all," he assures quite truthfully, because in light of past…altercations, between himself and the doctor, this ranks fairly calm in comparison. "I believe I have clarified matters sufficiently."

"I almost feel sorry for him, then. But thank you."

"Thanks are –"

"Illogical, I am aware. Frankly, I am not exactly at my logical best, so you get them anyway."

"As you wish."

Kirk's lips twitch slightly. "Think I can sneak out of here before he comes gunning for you?"

"If that is your intent, I will assist however I can."

The captain's eyes glint with momentary emotion, before it's visibly pulled back under that almost Vulcan-like mask of self-control Spock usually respects (when it is not cause for concern of a most unVulcan kind).

"Of course you will." But rather than accepting the offer, Kirk simply lies back on the sickbay-issued bed, and sighs, eyes closing. "But I might as well get it over with."

"You have done nothing which requires justification to Doctor McCoy, Jim."

"Maybe not." The man's eyes open a fraction, weary beyond expression. "But you, my telepathic friend, are in dire need of meditation, unless I'm losing my ability to read you properly. And I don't particularly want to be alone with my thoughts right now."

Spock is about to protest, for indeed his own mental state is not a medical emergency, merely…discomfiting. But Kirk gives him a look, and it may simply be the strain of the last two and a half weeks, but whatever the reason, he is quite helpless against it.

"Are you certain –"

"Yes, I'm sure." Kirk smiles at him, although the gesture does not reach anywhere near his eyes. "I'm fine, Spock." Doubt is clearly obvious on his face, because the statement is amended quickly. "Well, I will be, anyway."

"The chances of reaching that mental state are likely to decrease dramatically in the presence of Doctor McCoy."

A low but genuine noise of what sounds like amusement, and Kirk closes his eyes again, one arm listlessly draped over his eyes. Spock is unsure if that is due to weariness, or a desire to hide emotional instability, but he will not comment on the fact.

"Well, if you must referee the match, at least have a seat, Commander."

"Yes, sir."

He seats himself in the single chair the cubicle contains, and settles into a vaguely meditative position to assist in ordering his thoughts prior to Doctor McCoy's medical examination.

The various noises, chirps and beeps and distant voices and the sound of the engines accelerating as they go to full impulse, all assist to create a blend of white noise which is strangely soothing after the consistently jarring sensations of that tumultuous period of Terran history. Here, the difference is obvious. A sense of familiarity, of home – as if the recent events are fading into a dream.

Perhaps that is an after-effect of traveling rapidly back through centuries to their own time period; perhaps their perception of events will continue to become even more blurred. For the captain's sake, Spock would prefer this to be true.

Some minutes later, somewhere in that half-drowsy, half-meditative state, his mind vaguely registers that Doctor McCoy has foregone his typical noisome bedside manner, as Spock never heard him actually enter the cubicle. The hum of murmured voices at the edge of his consciousness is the only indicator of the drama within.

The storm is passing, and all is as it was before.

(1) One loose end for this is I don't see them ever addressing the fact that some poor man obliterated himself with McCoy's discarded phaser. Clearly the man wasn't a fixed point in time, just a convenient plot device.

(2) The last line is one of the last things the Guardian said at the end of the episode, does not belong to me, etc.