Chapter 5

They settled into a comfortable daily routine: Spock was always up before the two of them, starting a pot of coffee before ascending the dunes to meditate. The doctor and Jim would take their coffee on the porch, Kirk heading down the steps when he was done, making his way toward the water. Jim would run into the waves and start paddling around, sometimes in serious swimming mode, sometimes just frolicking or lazing in the surf, at which point Spock seemed to rouse himself from his trance, descending from his vantage point to sit beside the water, waiting patiently for his captain to finish his morning ritual. The two would then spend the next hour engaged in some form of Vulcan Martial Arts or Terran wrestling while McCoy made breakfast.

This morning, before heading inside to start their meal, McCoy spared a glance at the two sparring in the distance, close to the waves as they gently caressed the shoreline.

As had been the norm for the last few days, McCoy noted with some consternation that they still weren't talking, at least not about anything important or personal – there was way too much activity going on for that: legs and arms flying, bodies being flipped through the air, torsos thudding against the sand, but at least they were connecting on some level. It's gotta start somewhere, he reminded himself, and neither one of them is known for his sterling interpersonal communication skills. He turned on his heel, disappearing inside.

***

After a quick breakfast of fresh fruit, French toast, bacon and coffee, they piled into the flitter, heading for Umilaro Island. It boasted the planet's largest aquarium, home to not only native Trianian marine life, but numerous other aquatic species from throughout the Federation.

During the thirty-minute flight Spock took it upon himself to enlighten them as to what they'd be seeing today. As he droned on an on about the various animals showcased at the renowned facility, McCoy turned to Kirk.

"Think the place is big enough that we can ditch him once we get there?" he whispered hoarsely. McCoy's look was panicked, excruciating, the look someone had right before succumbing to a phaser stun.

Kirk's hearty laughter echoed throughout the small craft.

***

It turned out to be even better than Spock had described, McCoy thoroughly enjoying himself despite Spock's know-it-all attitude. They spent several hours walking around, taking in most of the exhibits, before going to the Trianian Cetacean exhibit – representing the crowning achievement in marine mammal habitat technology.

In an unconventional approach, the larger animals were not kept in small pens; rather a significant portion of the sea off the coast of Umilaro Island was surrounded by an underwater sonar fence which kept the cetaceans from leaving the area. The frequency was tuned specifically for the mammals; fish and other species could come and go at will, allowing the animals to eat, live and breed much as they did in the wild.

Tours were conducted via an underwater shuttle with a transparent aluminum roof and side windows, allowing for a spectacular view of the larger seagoing mammals in their natural environment. As their guide explained what they were seeing, providing background information on the various species present, Spock continued to comment softly on this or that, expounding on what he perceived to be gaps in the young man's knowledge, until finally McCoy had had enough.

"What is it with you anyway, Spock?" McCoy asked in an agitated whisper, punctuating his words with the wave of a hand. "Why can't you just sit back quietly and enjoy something? Why do you always have to act like a walking data base?"

Kirk, who was seated between the two, let out a long-suffering sigh before casting a glance skyward and pinching the bridge of his nose. Here we go again, his body language screamed.

McCoy's inquiry was met with sincere surprise, but probably in deference to other passengers who had turned and were paying attention to this exchange, Spock summarily dropped the matter – along with his rolling commentary – returning his gaze to the view unfolding before them without a word.

At that Kirk turned to McCoy, a question in his eyes.

"Well, he asked for it," McCoy supplied by way of an answer.

***

An hour later, the tour completed, they were preparing to leave the building. As they passed the aquarium gift shop Spock hesitated, glancing in the window.

"Something catch your eye, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked, coming to stand beside his First.

"My mother has expressed a fondness for collecting small statues representing indigenous animals from the various Federation worlds she and my father have visited. A Tasarti would make a suitable addition to her collection." Kirk was sure the Vulcan had squirmed ever so slightly.

"We certainly have time to go in and look if you want to."

McCoy, who had been almost to the exit before realizing his friends were no longer with him, had doubled back and now rejoined them. "What's the hold up, Jim?"

Kirk looked askance at Spock, who nodded imperceptibly, before answering. "Spock wants to find a gift for his mother." McCoy's head snapped to the Vulcan, a look of total disbelief plastered on his face, his mouth falling open of its own volition.

The doctor drew a breath, but Kirk interrupted before he could begin speaking. "And I'd like to look for something for Peter, and mom. Maybe you could look for something for Joanna?" Kirk's sideways glance plainly said tread carefully.

McCoy had managed to rearrange his face into something that bordered on normal. "You know, I was thinking the very same thing. Well, what are we standing here staring at each other for? Let's go," the doctor announced, leading the way into the store.

***

On the trip back, they compared their purchases.

"So Jim, what did you find for your mom and Peter?" McCoy asked.

"Mom's easy. She loves those cheesy, touristy things that scream 'I-was-on-vacation-at-x-location,' so I got her a coffee mug with an aerial picture of this island chain on it that says, 'I went island hopping on Triani Prime' in Trianian and Standard, along with a collection of Trianian sea shells. As for Peter, mom says he's been talking a lot about joining Starfleet lately, so I got him a model of a traditional Trianian sailing vessel."

"I thought he wanted to be a scientist like his daddy. Why the sudden fascination with Starfleet?" McCoy glanced quickly at Spock. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Your vocabulary is improving doctor. I am impressed," Spock commented, the model of cool, calm, collectedness.

Kirk ignored the exchange. "Even though we arrived too late to save his parents, we did manage to kill off the parasites on Deneva in time to save most of Peter's classmates and their families. You know, in a letter he wrote me several months later, he actually thanked me for helping his friends, for keeping them from suffering the same fate he had."

Kirk paused, taking a shaky breath. "Not once has he ever blamed me for Sam and Aurelan's deaths. Mom says he talks non-stop about how 'Uncle Jim's ship' saved the lives of most of the colonists. In light of this, he wants to join Starfleet so he can save lives, too, and keep other children from losing their parents the way he did." The captain stopped, his face clouding briefly.

McCoy traded a surreptitious glance with Spock. Yep, Jim was still hurting all right, but the psychiatrist in him recognized that this was not the right time or place to discuss it. He tried to keep the focus on Kirk's nephew. "How's the boy doing, Jim?"

"He's doing okay, all things considered, but still has nightmares sometimes. Mom said that no matter how hot it gets during the summer, he still absolutely refuses to sleep with either his bedroom windows or door open." Kirk's look was unreadable.

"Don't worry, Jim, he's a tough, resilient kid, and still very young." McCoy's gaze softened as he turned compassionate eyes on the captain. "I'm sure he'll do fine."

Kirk's answering look was heavy with sorrow, but gratitude as well. "Thanks, Bones. He really is a great kid. Sam and Aurelan would've been proud." The darkness revisited his captain's face, and McCoy quickly changed the subject.

"Okay, your turn, Spock. Can we see what you bought?"

Spock flushed slightly, lowering his eyes and reaching into the bag at his feet. He pulled forth a small Tasarti and her calf, both sculpted from glossy, naturally-pigmented stones. The fine details were painted on by hand, giving the figurines a remarkably lifelike appearance.

"Wow, those look so real," McCoy commented, reaching out for the small statues, thinking of the animals they had seen in person only a few days before. Spock deposited them gently in the surgeon's hand. McCoy turned each over several times before returning his attention to the Vulcan.

"Why these, when there were so many things to choose from?"

"My mother has amassed quite a collection of animal sculptures procured from the various worlds she has visited with my father. I only wished to add to her eclectic ensemble."

"Really?" McCoy was impressed. "What other types does she already have?"

"Examples from Earth include a Chinese Panda and African giraffe. Off-world species are represented by a Centaurian Ceil Cat, a Berengarian Dragon, and a sehlat from her adopted homeworld, among numerous others. These Tasarti should prove to be a complementary addition."

"They are nice, Spock," Kirk chimed in, examining the small carvings McCoy had handed him. He returned them to his First.

"And what did you buy, Bones? Any luck finding something for Joanna?" Kirk asked.

McCoy glanced down at that, nervously reaching for the bag containing his daughter's gift. His hands trembled slightly as he withdrew his prize from the bag, lifting the lid on the satiny, hinged box.

"Why Bones, they're stunning," Kirk admitted, admiring the sparkling necklace and earrings, each encrusted with a single, polished, teardrop-shaped stone. They were multi-hued, having a shimmering, iridescent quality about them, heliotrope being the predominant shade, with darker, rich tyrian starbursts visible depending on the lighting, much like a cross between Terran opals and star sapphires.

"Kaliani," Spock supplied. "While in and of themselves the gemstones are plentiful, byproducts of the Erudali plant, only one in a thousand produces stones of that color. The marine florae only grow on certain types of coral found in the cooler waters near the planet's poles. A symbiosis develops between plant and coral, and when a portion of the plant's host is damaged, either through natural causes or as a result of predation by marine life, the damaged portion is reabsorbed into the plant where it is chemically altered to form these 'stones.' Once the plant has extracted all the necessary nutrients from the broken piece of coral, that which remains – the Kaliani – are secreted as waste. The gems sink to the bottom of the coral reef, where they are harvested by divers sifting through the sand. The most common color is orange, followed by blue, white, and red, with the rarest and most valuable type being the vibrant shade of violet purchased by the doctor."

"Well, the lady who sold them to me said that each color is given for a specific reason. The orange – friendship, blue as a 'thank-you,' white to family members and red symbolizing love."

"Yours are purple, Bones. What does that mean?" Kirk asked, his curiosity piqued.

McCoy compressed his lips into a thin line, hesitating slightly before answering. "The purple ones are traditionally given as a peace offering or something – used as a way to apologize or make amends for something you've done." He dropped his eyes to the floor of the flitter.

"And lord knows, I have a lot to apologize for where she is concerned," he muttered softly to himself.

"What Bones?"

McCoy hastily cleared his throat. "Nothing. I said, 'I'm getting airsick from all these twists and turns.' It seems Spock is no better a pilot than he is a comedian."

The Vulcan was formulating his verbal riposte, the thrill of the challenge sparkling in the dark eyes, when a look from Kirk silenced him as surely as if the captain had laid a hand on his shoulder.

Kirk's gaze then shifted back to McCoy, and while he knew the captain hadn't been fooled, thankfully Jim refrained from any further questions. His stomach in a knot, McCoy was sure Spock's Vulcan ears had picked up every syllable of his original comment.

After exchanging another indecipherable glance with the captain, Spock's expression changed ever so slightly, the Vulcan abruptly launching into yet another dissertation, this time quietly explaining the geological formations visible below them. Kirk responded to the Vulcan's observations as if on cue, all talk of gifts and family suddenly forgotten. McCoy gave silent thanks to Jim for not pursuing the issue further and after a few minutes, got in on the game of denial.

***

By the time they returned to their rented beach house, the air of tension that had surfaced temporarily in the flitter was gone. As had become his habit during this leave, Kirk started thinking with his stomach, and McCoy decided tonight would be as good a night as any to grill the steaks and other Earth foods they had purchased. A 'good, old-fashioned, Southern barbecue' he had called it.

After the huge meal, Kirk and Spock set up the chessboard on the dining room table, McCoy retreating to the couch with his deck of cards. After only one match however, Spock rose to his feet, announcing rather loudly, "Thank you for the game, Captain, your style of play was, as always, illogical chaos, but I find myself unusually fatigued this evening." His First's eyes drifted briefly to the form of the CMO before returning to his captain, Kirk sure he had seen concern settle there for a moment. Turning on his heel, the Vulcan headed down the hall toward his own room.

"Good night, Mr. Spock. See you in the morning." Kirk smiled slightly to himself. In all the years he had spent among humans, Spock still hadn't learned to lie convincingly – at least not to his captain. Maybe the delivery was a bit off, but Kirk appreciated the sentiment behind his First's actions. His gaze shifted to McCoy who was grousing under his breath, at nothing in particular as far as the captain could tell.

"C'mon Bones, let's go out on the balcony. The fresh air will do us good." He reset the chessboard before rising to his feet and heading for the door, stopping to accost the doctor with a questioning look.

"Sure Jim. I'm getting my ass kicked anyway," he said, tossing the cards he was holding onto the table and gathering the deck into a neat pile. "Just gimme a minute, okay? I need to grab something and I'll be right out."

"Okay Bones, whenever you're ready." The captain opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air.

***

Kirk had already assumed his customary position, slouched down in one of the chairs, his bare feet resting on the railing when McCoy made his appearance.

"Here," McCoy said, handing him a small, clear bottle filled with a vibrant blue liquid.

Kirk glanced up, startled. "Romulan Ale? Medicinal or purely recreational?" he asked appreciatively, reaching for the potent drink, dropping his legs briefly so the doctor could pass.

"For tonight, whatever you prefer, just don't tell Spock," McCoy replied, winking conspiratorially, seating himself in the chair next to Kirk. "Just see that you finish it – Doctor's orders," McCoy intoned, unscrewing the cap from his bottle.

They both sipped at their drinks, watching the moonlight dance eerily on the waves, the cool night breeze rippling the long grasses growing in small, erratic clumps along the dunes.

McCoy was the first to break the silence. "Boy, that cookout sure hit the spot; I'm still stuffed," the doctor mused aloud, patting his stomach appreciatively. "There's nothing like honest-to-goodness fresh, non-reconstituted food."

"Those steaks and chops were damn good," Kirk agreed readily. "And while the Trianian vegetables were delicious, that corn on the cob brought back memories of the lazy summer days of my youth growing up on the farm. Thanks, Bones that was a nice touch."

"Don't thank me – Spock's the one who found the corn. And the peaches," his CMO mused quietly. "I didn't see either of those at the market. Must've been what he got when he disappeared," McCoy muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's not important." Kirk saw the spark of a question form in the clear blue eyes. "Jim, where do you suppose Spock learned to make peach cobbler like that?"

"His mother is human, Bones," Kirk reminded him with a smile.

"Thanks for enlightening me, Jim, I really had no idea," McCoy countered facetiously. They glanced at each other, erupting into spontaneous laughter.

"But seriously, that tasted almost as good as the cobbler my momma used to make, and nobody does peach cobbler like Georgians," McCoy declared with no small measure of pride. "Didn't Spock's relatives hail from Seattle?"

"The Stemples did, but we really don't know where the Graysons were from. Spock never mentioned it to me, anyway," he added as an afterthought.

"Well, I'm still impressed. The cobbler and peaches were both excellent."

"Gosh Bones, that's high praise coming from you. Don't tell me you're developing a soft spot for our resident Vulcan?" he asked incredulously. McCoy's only response was a crude, wholly human gesture that made Kirk grin.

"Aren't you going to let him know how much you enjoyed it? You didn't heap nearly this much praise on it at dinner."

"And contribute to his already swelled head and gigantic ego?" McCoy retorted in mock derision. "Not on your life."

"Well if you ask me, that was a nice gesture on his part," Kirk commented. He fell silent for a moment. "It seems our enigmatic Vulcan is just full of surprises. And so are you," he added, saluting the doctor with his bottle before raising it to his lips. "I was impressed when you refrained from teasing him about buying a present for his mother this afternoon."

"You know me Jim, I enjoy giving it to Spock as much as the next guy, but somehow even I can't fault the man for wanting to do something nice for his momma." McCoy was starting to relax, his cheeks ruddy with the heat created by the strong alcohol.

They lapsed into a companionable silence once again, Kirk beginning to feel a pleasant tingling permeating his fingers and toes as well. Yet inexplicably, despite the soothing warmth seeping through him, his thoughts turned to Miramanee and his unborn child. It was tragic, but could there have been any other outcome? Had she survived, Miramanee would not have been able to accompany him, and he certainly wouldn't have taken the child from her. It would have been like Carol and David all over again, his career once again taking center stage. What the hell was wrong with him? Was there nothing in his life that meant more to him than his ship? To his surprise, he found that notion strangely disturbing. He tried to steer his thoughts out of this sudden dark turn they had taken. "That was a nice gift you bought for Joanna today."

McCoy scoffed, his good humor instantly evaporating. "I haven't seen her face to face in over five years. I'm not even sure she wears jewelry, or whether or not her ears are even pierced." McCoy paused, swallowing deeply from his bottle. "Maybe I should have gotten her one of those animal statues that Spock bought."

"Taking a leaf from Spock's book?" he teased, attempting to keep the mood light. "Now I know you're upset – or that ale has definitely gone to your head already," Kirk replied wryly. Glancing at the doctor's dejected face however, his tone grew serious. "Well if she doesn't, this will give her a reason to get them pierced. Besides, don't all women love jewelry?" Kirk asked uncertainly. McCoy snorted in reply. "I'm sure she'll at least appreciate the sentiment behind the gift," the captain added helpfully.

"Well I'm not," his CMO retorted dourly. "She might be more like her mother than me at this point. After all, Jocelyn was the one who had the greatest influence on her during her formative years, and God knows, I could never please that woman no matter how hard I tried." He took another healthy pull at his drink. "What is it with me, Jim?" McCoy's speech was slurred, his eyes distant. "I had it all – Jocelyn was a beautiful, intelligent, exciting woman, Joanna a joy, and I screwed it all up because my career was more important to me." Kirk blinked, a shiver running down his spine. It was unsettling, how closely McCoy's thoughts were paralleling his own tonight.

"Bones, don't beat yourself up," Kirk soothed, his eyes searching the doctor's face. "You did what you felt you had to, and so did she," just like Carol did, he added silently, resting a sympathetic hand on McCoy's forearm.

"You'd think I'd have learned though, Jim. I was given a second chance with Natira, and I was willing to take it, to give up everything for her when I thought I only had a year left to live." He paused, compressing his lips into a thin line before lifting the bottle of alien liquor to his lips, draining the remainder of the powerful liquid. "But the minute I was cured, I jumped at the chance to abandon it, abandon her, and for what?"

"Maybe she just wasn't the right fit for you Bones. Maybe, as selfish as it sounds, we need you more, the Enterprise, Starfleet, the medical profession, needs you more. And maybe," he added, suddenly inspired, "you realized this yourself on a subconscious level."

"Well, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's being selfish, putting my needs before those of the people I supposedly care about," McCoy commented darkly.

Kirk carefully evaluated the doctor's bitter self-accusation before answering. Despite his gruff exterior, McCoy was one of the most compassionate, peaceful people he knew. His vision dissolved into an image of McCoy gently cradling a screaming newborn, rapidly followed by others: haunted eyes filled with almost inconsolable anguish as the doctor haltingly explained Peter's possible fate; the bleak, empty stare that touched his CMO's face as he squarely shouldered the blame for Spock's accidental blinding; the desperate, forlorn timber to his voice as he begged Parmen to spare Spock any additional humiliation. And, of course, the doctor's quick thinking on Spock's homeworld that saved both his friends from the savage, uncontrollable violence of Vulcan biology. Not the acts of an unfeeling, uncaring, self-centered man.

"Not so fast, Bones. I don't believe that for a second, and neither do you, really." He squeezed the forearm he was still holding. "Bones, look at me." Red-rimmed, glassy eyes, bright with unshed tears, stubbornly met his. "On the Enterprise I've seen you put everyone's needs above your own, on a regular basis."

"The Enterprise?" McCoy was adamant. "I'm not you, you know. To me, the ship's just a hunk of metal. It's the people I care about, but why should they matter more to me than my little girl?" He looked away suddenly, but not before Kirk glimpsed the self-loathing, the remorse, flaring sharply behind the ice-blue eyes.

"That's exactly my point, Bones. Right now, at this moment in your life, maybe we need you more."

"More than my daughter needs me? You're off your rocker, Jim." McCoy was more upset than he'd realized, the hurtful words continuing to spill forth like a rain swollen river overflowing banks no longer able to contain it. "And I suppose you're fine with Carol keeping David totally out of your life? Doesn't bother you at all, does it?" McCoy's tone was harsh, biting.

Kirk looked away, his face clouding suddenly. "Of course it bothers me, but I have to consider what's best for him. Carol's there full time. I'm not, and never can be."

They listened to the sound of the waves breaking against the shore for a few moments, each of them thinking about what could have been, what might have been, what should have been. McCoy spoke first. "You know, that sounds more like her argument than yours, Jim," his CMO countered softly, the compassionate side of his personality reasserting itself.

"And just what would you have me do, Doctor?" Kirk shot back, turning eyes ablaze with frustration on McCoy. "It's not like I can bring him with me on the ship, and you of all people are aware how infrequently we get back to Earth." He stopped abruptly, willing himself to regain his composure, to beat down the anger that had suddenly surfaced, downing the last few swallows of his drink as well. "At least I know he's safe, living in her world, and for right now, that's enough for me," he said with more than a hint of resignation audible in his words.

McCoy considered that silently for a moment before answering. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm supposed to be cheering you up, not dragging you down with me." A stifled sob escaped the doctor's lips.

"It's okay, Bones." Kirk's tone had mellowed as well. "You miss Joanna – that's understandable. Even when a father isn't directly involved in his child's life, he still cares, thinks about that child, worries whether or not that child misses his presence in their life." He paused unexpectedly, thoughts of David consuming him, absently twirling the empty bottle in his hands.

McCoy's voice was laced with sadness. "It's a bitch, isn't it, the not knowing, the wondering…? We're a pretty pathetic pair, aren't we? Wallowing in our self-pity." The doctor sighed heavily. "I think I'll turn in, Jim; I've opened quite enough festering wounds for one night." He rose unsteadily to his feet, heading for the door, but paused briefly to pat Kirk's shoulder with a trembling hand. Kirk glanced up quickly, a thin, contemplative smile on his lips that did not reach his eyes.

"Thanks, Bones. See you in the morning."

Left alone with his thoughts, Kirk considered the doctor's words. Yes, it was awful, the worst kind of personal pain, to be separated from his child. But what's best for David? Is it really better that he has no part in my world? Was Carol right, making that decision for him? And was I a coward for not fighting her on it?

His career caused him to be away from his family for extended periods of time, but that didn't mean he didn't care, did it? He thought of Sam, the two-year anniversary of his brother's death rapidly approaching, and was surprised at the amount of pain the memory brought on, a chaotic amalgam of sorrow, emptiness and guilt.

His nephew, mom and his absent son were the only blood relations he had left, yet he didn't feel their absence as keenly as he'd expected, realizing with a jolt that the Enterprise and more specifically her crew was his family now, McCoy and Spock his brothers, and they were more important to him than any material possession or prestigious career path. He had come a long way from his virus-induced declaration that he would never lose his ship. He had already been prepared to sacrifice the ship, disobey orders, do whatever it took to ensure their continued survival. Spock had said it best: "Captain, there are some things which transcend even the discipline of the service." If Spock could realize this and be willing to put it into practice then so could he. In a sudden flash of insight, it occurred to him that each of them had already done so for the others, and he understood fully that there was precious little he himself wouldn't do if it came down to a choice between his friends' lives over anything else.

We're an interesting bunch of misfits, he mused silently. We're not as pathetic as we think, we've just traded one type of family for another, but we love them just as fiercely, just as loyally as the families we left behind. It made him view his friends in a whole new light. And he was eternally grateful to McCoy for insisting upon this leave. This might be the last time the three of them were ever together in this type of situation. He decided then and there to savor every remaining moment of this trip; to enjoy thoroughly what the universe had seen fit to give them. He rose to his feet and after a momentary bout with dizziness, a side-effect from the Romulan Ale no doubt, he made for his own bed.