T'Laua was young and pretty, but even more strict with her emotions than Spock was. While he would at least frown or raise an eyebrow every once in a while, her face was about as expressive as a brick wall. It almost irked McCoy, since he could never tell what her attitude was when she was saying something. Spock seemed to act more stiff around her as well. It was all just strange.

"Since the remaining katra cannot be retrieved, the only logical course of action is to simply wait and observe any changes taken upon either of you." T'Laua suggested, and McCoy nodded.

"Seems simple enough." He said, glancing over at Spock, who didn't acknowledge him. The three were all sitting around a small table in T'Laua's quarters, and he was starting to get a little uncomfortable being in such a small proximity with two different hobgoblins. He felt like a damn ant in a room full of people ready to stomp on him.

"It will be acceptable for you to meet with me every two weeks to observe your mental health." She said, and McCoy had the urge to tell her no right then and there.

"Couldn't M'Benga just do some scans on me or something?" He asked, really not wanting to see this pool of cement of a woman more than he had to.

"No. That would be illogical." T'Laua said, looking over at him with her dark brown eyes. He waited for her to elaborate on why it would be illogical, but she said nothing more. He sighed.

"Alright." He gave in, knowing fully well that he hardly had a choice if he wanted to live. "I'll see you in two weeks, then." He nodded to her and stood, Spock standing as well.

"Pen-nil-bek." T'Laua said, and McCoy turned to see her looking up at Spock.

"Ki'ar'kada." Spock answered, looking indignant. She continued to look at him for a while, and McCoy felt a bit awkward. Should he go? Should he stay?

"Fa-wak tor du ra karthau." T'Laua said, and Spock looked over at McCoy.

"You may go, Doctor. She requests that only I remain." Spock said, sitting back down in his chair.

"She couldn't have said that in the standard language?" McCoy asked, glaring at T'Laua briefly before walking out. Damn Vulcans, so secretive about everything. Why would she have said it in Vulcan if Spock was just going to tell him what she said anyway? Prideful hobgoblins...

McCoy stalked back to the sickbay for work. It was still morning, so he had a lot of work to do. Spock would be returning after his little private meeting with T'Laua, and he didn't want him here if there was going to be the chance of someone spewing all over him. The last thing either of them needed was Spock getting an illness or infection on top of his extensive wounds. Damn Vulcan was lucky that McCoy even let him out of the 'bay in the first place. It's not like it would have hurt T'Laua to just come down and talk to them in one of the private rooms in sickbay. But no, they had to commute all the way up to her damn quarters.

While McCoy busied himself with his patients, several hours passed by before Spock returned to sickbay. When McCoy noticed him getting onto the biobed, he strode right up to him.

"Damn it, Spock, I told you to be back soon! It's been five hours! In your condition you're lucky you didn't keel over and die somewhere." He said, probing the Vulcan with a tricorder and observing his erratic readings.

"On the contrary, Doctor, I feel fit enough for duty." Spock said, looking up at him. "I-"

"I don't care how you feel, considering you tend to block out everything that matters. You died yesterday, Spock. You'll be here for as long as I say so." He ordered, setting the tricorder down and eyeing the other man. "If you wanna work, have someone bring you some that you can do here. But you ain't leavin' until I'm convinced that you can run a mile without kickin' the bucket."

He walked away, satisfied about having gotten the last word in, and started treating patients on the other side of the sickbay. It wasn't too much of a busy day, but out of a few hundred people, quite a lot tend to be sick (or at least, think that they are sick). It was enough to keep him occupied so that he didn't really have to think about the current events.

However, he couldn't stop the persistent thoughts from coming up in his mind. What would this piece of katra mean to him? He didn't feel any different, and as far as he could tell, he wasn't acting any different. He hardly even remembered how it felt when he got all the katra before Spock died. It was all a rush of memories and impressions before he passed out. Then all of it was taken away again, like it had never been there in the first place. Nothing changed.

It was difficult to believe that there was any piece of Spock left in him. It was strange that it even transformed into something physical. By T'Laua's explanation, the katra was the living essence of Spock- as if his DNA had been held in McCoy's body. By his understanding, since it was an energy, it was able to convert itself into actual matter. But for what purpose? It wouldn't kill him, it wouldn't hurt him, and it wouldn't benefit him. It was just... there. T'Laua even said that it could be anywhere in his body. When people think about someone's spirit they might picture the brain or the heart, but in all reality it could be anywhere inside of him.

What if it lodged itself somewhere important and would eventually kill him? No, he couldn't think about that. He had a life to live (for now) and work to do. He couldn't treat patients while simultaneously thinking about his own death. It wasn't practical.

McCoy, and Jim sat together for dinner in the mess. It was all silent for the first half, which made McCoy incredibly uncomfortable, but Jim eventually tried making conversation.

"So, Bones, you gonna be ready for that pandemic on Trena? You all vaccinated and everything?" Jim asked, twirling his fork around in his noodles. McCoy half-shrugged.

"I'll start vaccinations tomorrow. It'll give enough time for it to get through our systems effectively before we get to the planet. Nine days, right?" He asked, looking over at his captain and best friend.

"Ten. It'll take longer than expected to load the medical supplies up from the Starbase." Jim replied with a drink of his water. "I'll figure out who all wants to volunteer to help first before assigning people to the job. I'll make sure to send them all to you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jim." McCoy said with a nod. He nodded back, smiling. "I'd better grab Spock some grub, even though he probably won't eat it."

"Yeah, he can be pretty stubborn. Take care of him, Bones." Jim told him with a smile, and McCoy nodded. He got up and grabbed a replicated salad and soup, and carried the tray back to sickbay.

He almost felt like some goddamn wife, bringing food to the guy that he spent his whole day with. Although he didn't really talk to him all day- he was just kind of there. Still, it was strange. He hated it.

McCoy handed the tray to Spock, who took it carefully and placed it in his lap. For some reason, other than the wounds on him, Spock was beginning to look different. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something just wasn't the same as before. Maybe his hair was smoother, or his eyes were a lighter brown, or...

"Can I help you, Doctor McCoy?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He shook his head.

"No, you can't. M'Benga will look after you now. Try'n sleep." He ordered, and walked off. Maybe it was even Spock's voice that was different... He'd figure it out at some point.