He should have known better than to think he was safe from intruders.

Leonard shifted his backside, trying to get comfortable on the well-worn campstool. Sighing languidly, he peered around the edge of the wet canvas, looking for a better angle through the early morning haze. The clear blue freshwater lake stretched out as far as the eye could see. Sweeping pine trees surrounded its banks, their long dangling branches lazily poking the air. Across the water, a faint glimmer of sunrise twinkled a dreamy purplish blue-gold.

Behind the wooden pier he now perched on the edge of, a wooden sloped roof lake house sat, its dark walls and high windows blending with the forest behind it. French doors lead to a small deck which jutted out over the water like a figurehead on a ship. There, a pair of Adirondack chairs extended an invitation to curl up under a throw blanket with a hot cup of tea and watch the loons that glided slowly by. Every now and then one would release its signature cry so reminiscent of insane laughter.

It was a nice place. For a holographic program, that is.

He chuckled softly to himself, setting down his palette on the dock to give the old fishing hat he wore a good tug. Maybe I am crazy. Painting a picture of a holo-simulated location… Picking up the palette again, he reached for a soft horsehair paintbrush and dabbed it in a deep lavender color. This would be the cloud that now rested just to his left, a rather feathery oval. He wisped the bristles gently across the canvas, leaving a faint suggestion of vapor, before blending a little light gray with the underside.

Perfect. I think I captured it. He had been working on this painting for a solid 3 months now, whenever he could find the time between having to resuscitate Jim – again- or find some cure for a brand new breed of nasty malevolent viral infection. It was a hobby that Spock had suggested to him in one of his less guarded moments. Well what do you know? He actually had a good idea this time. He found himself oddly soothed by the way the brush danced across the page, calling into reality a miniature version of the scene approximated before him.

Since most of McCoy's experiences with nature didn't leave him near enough time to appreciate the scenery, he'd decided to experiment with this program, based on a lakefront lodge he'd briefly considered buying in the early days of his marriage. Considering how long that had lasted, he figured that in retrospect, it was probably a good thing he hadn't. Something else she would've gotten. At least Pam can't take this from me…

He stroked his chin, studying the interplay of light and color on the water. Hmmm…have I got the reflection exactly right? It was hard to tell for sure, the way the program was constantly changing. He'd tried pausing the program, but ironically, despite the fact that his finished work would freeze one moment in time, using a still shot for inspiration seemed wrong. If I could just get across that sense of time passing, constantly changing…but in one painting… Leonard rubbed his forehead, squinting.

He opened his eyes as a whisper of shadow passed overhead. A lone goose soared through the fog and disappeared, its wide wings flapping in a steady rhythm. Leonard smiled. Sometimes the randomness of this program surprised even him.

Dipping his paintbrush in an old coffee mug with the handle broken off, he cleaned the tip, swirling it around. He pressed it against the edge. Smoky purple water ran down the edge over the words "Starfleet Medical". He raised the palette and selected a muted gray for the goose's silhouette.

Just as he was about to stroke the avian into pigmentary existence, "WHOO-HOO HOO!" A loud loon call echoed from behind his head, shattering the stillness of the lake.

"WHUH!" McCoy jumped up from the stool, knocking over his easel with a loud clatter and sending paint and dirty water splashing all over the pier. His brush rolled away, dropping into the water with a quiet ploop, followed by the palette, which had landed on its edge and spun in circles before taking a swan dive of its own. The stool tipped to one side, but fortunately, remained high and dry.

He stepped over the easel and gingerly approached the edge of the dock, swearing under his breath. His canvas lay flat on its back, covered in splattered droplets of paint water. Peachy. Bending over at the waist, he grabbed the work in progress by the edges and set it down behind him. He straightened up again, hands on hips. Retrieving the palette and brush would be as easy as saying, "Computer, end program." But something defiant in him didn't want to leave just yet.

"WHOO-HOO-HOO!"

"AHH!" Leonard gasped, whipping his head from side to side as he tried to identify the source of the sound. It didn't take him long.

Jim materialized out of the mist, his face a boyish mix of brat and frat boy. He approached Leonard with a mischievous grin on his face. "Did I scare you, Bones?" he chuckled. McCoy said nothing, letting his "I am not amused" frown speak volumes.

Jim appeared not to notice, though, but merely clapped Leonard on the shoulder before cupping his hands around his mouth and imitating the cry once more, "Whoo-hoo-h-" before giving in to laughter again. A single tear ran down his cheek and he brushed it away. "Heh, heh, heh…oh man… need some help? Let me just…" His voice trailed off as he stepped around Leonard and headed towards the end of the pier, stooping next to the collapsed easel.

In that moment, something snapped inside McCoy. Without thinking, he stomped over to the captain and planted his boot in the seat of the captain's pants. Kirk let out a yelp and lost his balance, flying into the frigid water headfirst with a loud SPLASH!

"That'll learn ya!" McCoy barked.

For the next two minutes, he stood there watching Jim sputter and cough as he thrashed about in the lake. His blond hair was plastered to his head, while his lips had turned almost as blue as his eyes. "B-bones! What did you do that for!?" He reached up one hand and wiped his eyes, squinting, before resuming his shocked expression.

Ha! You want to be a loon, you're going to have to swim like one…

Eventually, though, he took pity on Jim. Or maybe his doctor instincts kicked in. Real or imagined, the chilly lake could still induce hypothermia or pneumonia. The last thing he wanted was to have to officially document his part in this whole fiasco.

Five minutes later, they were up on the deck, Kirk cocooned in a plaid fleece blanket pulled up over his head. His shaky hands poked out of an opening, gratefully accepting a mug of hot, strong tea. He took a sip, sighing before setting it down on the table between them. He drew the blanket tighter and met Leonard's concerned but amused gaze. "I-I c-c-could have you court-martialed for th-th-this, y'know," he threatened without malice. "D-didn't you take an oath or s-something?"

Leonard regarded him for a moment before speaking. "Really, you had it comin', kid. Don't deny it."

Kirk let out a slow breath. He smiled. "Maybe I did. But-hachoo!" He rubbed his nose, sniffling. "I'll get eben wit you if it's de last thig I do. Hachoo!" He buried his snotty face in the folds of the blanket. Ew.

McCoy sighed deeply, looking out over the water again. The mist was dissipating, giving way to a gorgeous blue sky. Memorize it, Leonard. Something tells me you're not gonna see this place for at least a week...maybe longer…