It did not take long for Spock to establish that both Kirk and McCoy were in the hospital canteen eating dinner, since although it was the middle of the night in this part of the globe it was mid-evening on the Enterprise. An orderly took him down to the large room, which was thankfully quiet and mostly deserted at this time of night. Spock could hear the murmuring of a few people and clatters from the serving area and where people were seated, but it was all muted and sporadic noise.

He wondered who was here, eating at this time of night. Kirk and McCoy's problem was obvious. Were there other visitors here at the hospital who had come from different time zones, or just visitors who had been so bound up with their loved ones that they had not had a chance to eat until now? Were some of those eating, medical staff who had been so busy they had not noticed the time? Were there relatives of those stricken by Alunan's virus here in the canteen? Spock admitted to a moment of disquiet as he remembered Billy's reaction. He was not afraid, but he was wary of the human propensity to lash out during times of high emotion. He did not wish for another scene to unravel.

'Spock!'

Spock turned his head to the welcome voice. It was Jim, perhaps no more than thirty feet away. There was a scrape of chairs and colourful movement across the room as both Kirk and McCoy came swiftly over to greet him.

'Thank you, I will be fine now,' Spock told the orderly who was guiding him, and the man left.

'Spock, you son of a – ' McCoy began gladly, clapping a hand onto his arm as he reached him.

'Doctor, would you not agree that drugging a person without their consent is quite unethical?' Spock cut over him, a degree of sharpness in his voice which he did not honestly feel.

'I guess you've been talking to Christine then. But in your case, no it's not,' McCoy told him firmly. 'My ethics are as high as any doctor's, but I pulled medical rank there, Spock.'

'I told Bones you were off duty, but he wouldn't listen,' Kirk said with laughter in his voice. 'He said you were always on duty, and I'd tend to agree, Spock.'

'Damn right I did,' McCoy nodded. 'Spock, you were clearly exhausted and it was obvious that you wouldn't stay in bed for long enough unless compelled to do so. So I compelled you.'

Spock lifted an eyebrow but made no further protest. This kind of exchange with McCoy was traditional, and the doctor would have been quite disappointed if Spock had said nothing.

'All right, Spock,' the doctor said, taking hold of his arm and walking him back to the table. Spock did not protest the mode of guidance for once. It was good to be back in the company of his friends.

'There's a seat there, Spock,' McCoy said, putting Spock's hand to the back. 'But tell me about your eyes,' he urged. 'When are you going to let me give you the final treatment?'

Spock waited until he was seated at the table and Sacha was lying at his feet before responding. The scent of fried meat and fried potatoes was strong in the air, and he wondered exactly what his friends were eating and whether it corresponded with McCoy's on-ship diet specifications. It certainly did not suit Vulcan taste.

'With all due respect, Doctor, since I am here on Earth and within reach of ophthalmological specialists, I was going to let a properly qualified candidate undertake the work,' he told McCoy in a level voice.

'Oh,' the doctor said, sounding momentarily put out. He cleared his throat then said, 'Of course you're right, Spock. Want to let the specialists do this. It's your eyes, after all.'

'You are not offended, Doctor?' Spock asked.

'No. No, not at all,' McCoy replied, with more warmth in his tone. 'Not at all. Of course I'd do it if you wanted me to, but if it were me I'd be looking for the best qualified guy out there.'

'I think we all would in these circumstances,' Kirk nodded. 'It's not like we're on the Enterprise parsecs from specialist care.'

'Yeah, just a little dent to my medical pride,' McCoy grinned. 'Don't worry about it, Spock.'

Spock watched him, fascinated at being able to see the distortion of his lips in the blur of his face. He could see the colour of McCoy's hair and even the pink of his hands against the cream of the table, and the smudge his plate of food made against that cream.

'First I would like you to tell me about the other patients infected with Dr Alunan's virus,' Spock told him. 'My grandmother, my cousin's wife – '

'All fine,' McCoy assured him. 'All undergone treatment and improving as quickly as we could hope. We've sent the specifics over to London too and all reports so far are very positive.'

'My grandmother,' Spock prompted him.

'Mrs Grayson is weak, of course. She's very old. But she's recovering very well. She still on life support but her organs are starting to heal. That meld you did kept her going long enough for us to get the treatment into her. Without it – '

He trailed off, but Spock understood the implications. He nodded, placing his hands palm down on the table, remembering the feeling of his grandmother's paper skin against his fingertips, and the rich, vibrant thoughts he had found inside. Even if he regained his sight he would never see her as he had in that meld.

'Spock, your eyes,' Kirk insisted with a degree of impatience. 'How are they? What do you see?'

Spock blinked, considering the confusion before him.

'Colour, form, all blurred of course. The Enterprise uniforms make very distinct patches of colour. I can make out windows if there is light behind them or they are reasonably differentiated from the wall, light sources inside rooms, movement, large objects. Obviously I cannot see any fine detail.'

'Spock, that's wonderful,' Jim grinned, and McCoy chimed in with, 'It's more than wonderful. Spock, I never thought we'd get to this point.'

'My intention on coming to Earth was to recover my sight,' Spock reminded the doctor.

'Well of course, but that doesn't always mean it's going to happen, no matter how much Vulcan stubbornness you put to the problem. But come on, Spock,' the doctor said impatiently. 'The crisis is over, the cure's discovered. Get yourself booked in with an ophthalmologist, for God's sake! There isn't any reason for delay!'

'I intend to do some research to discover where is best for Vulcan patients, but as soon as I am pronounced medically fit and I have chosen the correct surgeon, I shall undergo the procedure,' Spock assured him. 'It is quite certain that I am just as anxious to have my sight restored as you are to see it done, Doctor.'

'I've already done the research, Spock,' McCoy said. 'I suspected you might not want to come up to the Enterprise for it, and there's a place just down the coast with a world-class surgeon with specialism in xeno-ophthalmology, specifically Vulcanoids.'

'Then as soon as I am cleared by a doctor – ' Spock began.

He heard the warble of the medical scanner, and asked, 'Doctor, must you do that outside of proper medical appointments?'

'Yes, I must. I took the opportunity to give you a dose of that serum along with the sedative, Spock,' McCoy told him. 'You're completely free of the virus. You're tired, but you're well.'

'Then as soon as normal business hours resume and the time is convenient I will book myself in,' Spock nodded. 'Thank you, Doctor.'

'I'll send the details to you online. Meanwhile, why don't you think about getting some more sleep?' the doctor asked.

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'Really, Doctor. You saw to it that I have had quite enough sleep recently. I certainly don't need any more.'

'Well, in that case, I'll leave you in Jim's tender care,' McCoy told him. There was the sound of cutlery scraping on a plate, and then the doctor stood. 'I want to go check on how the patients here are recovering.'

The two waited until McCoy had cleared his tray and left the room, then Kirk turned back to Spock.

'Well, Spock,' he said. 'How do you feel after all of this? It's been a hell of a ride.'

'I am not off the 'ride' yet, Jim,' Spock reminded him.

'But you're close to the end,' Kirk insisted. There was a clattering and scraping as Jim piled up his things on his tray. 'I'll just take this over to the stack and then we can get out of here,' he said.

Spock stood, murmuring to Sacha to come to him and taking hold of her harness. He reached down and pushed his fingers deep into the dog's fur. If the treatment for his eyes was successful then it was likely that he would leave Sacha on Earth and not see her again. He did not care to examine his feelings too deeply over that eventuality. He would, of course, take his sight over the companionship of an animal, but Sacha had given him such excellent companionship.

'Do you have a coat, Spock? It's cold out there,' Jim said as he came back to him.

Spock removed his fingers from the warmth of Sacha's fur and straightened up.

'Are you planning on leaving the hospital, Jim?' he asked curiously.

'Well, it's half past one in the morning and I don't think they exactly encourage people at this hour unless there's real need,' Kirk pointed out. 'You've got an apartment, haven't you? It might be best to go back there for the night and visit Miss Chapel and your grandmother in the morning.'

'Agreed,' Spock nodded pensively. He was not entirely sanguine with leaving the hospital, but Jim was right. 'I believe my coat may be in my grandmother's room,' he recalled. 'Along with my other things.'

'Well, let's go and pick up that and anything else you need,' Kirk suggested, 'and then get the hell out of here.'

'You do not like hospitals, do you, Jim?' Spock asked curiously as they walked out into the corridor beyond.

'They give me the heebie-jeebies,' Kirk said honestly. 'Too much sickness. Too much death. I far prefer life.'

'Hospitals also give life,' Spock pointed out. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a baby crying. There was surely a maternity ward in this vast institution. While in places, in closed off rooms, there were perhaps people gravely ill and dying, there would be one place where the newest of life was brought safely into the world, and other places where the sick were getting well.

'Let's get gone, Spock,' Kirk said uncomfortably, not conceding the point.

Spock walked along beside his friend, not pressing him further. Jim was a man who lived for health and strength. He had never been comfortable with incapacity.

Spock's grandfather was still in his grandmother's room when Jim went in, on tiptoes so as not to disturb the old woman. Spock waited outside in the corridor, conceding that Jim would find it far easier to locate his things quietly. He heard Kirk moving about inside, then a murmur of voices, and two sets of footsteps moving toward the door.

'Well, Spock, this is your captain, he says?' his grandfather said quietly as they came out of the room. The ward corridor had an odd churchlike air at this time of night, the light dimmed and every word spoken softly.

'Yes, this is Captain Kirk,' Spock nodded.

'I thought Mr Grayson might be more comfortable in his own bed,' Jim said in a low voice, closing the door quietly. 'All your grandma's signs are stable, Spock. She's doing well by all accounts. But Mr Grayson was trying to sleep upright.'

'I'd be fine upright,' Spock's grandfather muttered.

'The captain is quite right,' Spock agreed. 'You must rest properly, or you will be of no use to grandma when she is awake. Let us call a cab and take you back to your house.'

'Don't be a fool, Spock. I can walk back to the house,' he said quickly.

'We are, by my estimation, one point seven three miles from your house,' Spock pointed out. 'The temperature is very likely below freezing. You are ninety seven years old. I would be a fool were I to let you walk that distance, in the dark, and in such temperatures.'

There was a brief silence, then a hand touched his arm and his grandfather said gruffly, 'Well, I guess I can't shake you off long enough to turn round and come back here, Spock. They don't call Vulcans the brains of the galaxy for nothing.'

Spock raised an eyebrow. 'Perhaps I should introduce you to Dr McCoy, grandpa. Your approach to life seems somewhat similar. Nevertheless, it would be irresponsible of me to allow you to stay when you are clearly exhausted and in need of sleep. Grandma will thank you for it in the morning.'

'McCoy? That young doctor who came round and gave your grandma the injection that turned everything around?' Mr Grayson asked suddenly.

'Yes, that is Dr McCoy,' Spock nodded.

'Well then, I've met him. Nice young fellow,' he nodded. 'Very nice young man.'

'Here's your coat, Spock,' Jim said, putting the thick fabric into Spock's hands. 'If you and Mr Grayson are all right alone, I'll go on ahead and call that cab.'

'That will be fine, thank you, Jim,' Spock said, shouldering into the coat and taking hold of Sacha's harness again. 'Grandpa, I should not need direct guidance,' he said as Jim's footsteps rang away down the corridor, 'but I assume you know the way to the main entrance?'

'Yes, I know it, Spock,' he nodded. 'Do you mind if I take your arm, son?'

'Not at all,' Spock told him.

His grandfather's hand closed on his arm, with not a little weight being put through the grip. Spock could sense how very tired the old man was and he was grateful that Kirk had thought to make sure he came home.

'Would you like us to stay at the house, grandpa?' he asked as they moved off towards the elevator. He was not entirely comfortable with leaving him alone in such a tired and distracted state.

'There really isn't any need, Spock,' his grandfather began. He hesitated, and through the grip Spock could feel his emotions moving like muted colours. 'There isn't any need, but I'd welcome the company. It's a big house for one man on his own. Grandma always has the guest beds made up. There'll be plenty of room.'

'Then we shall stay,' Spock said decisively. It would be pleasant to return to the apartment that he had rented with Christine, to be amongst his own possessions and in a more familiar space, but the change of plan was logical and necessary.