Time passes around him in a blur, beyond measurement and slipping through his fingers. All times are the present, and yet he does not lose track of himself. Leonard is taken by a near-frenetic energy, suddenly bursting with things that Spock has to know. And yet, it occurs to him, that there is something he wants to know himself.
"Why, Mr Spock," McCoy asks, carefully, "I don't suppose I could see any of your memories, could I?"
"It is possible. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no particular reason… I just thought you might introduce me to that teddy bear I've heard so much about?"
Up goes Spock's eyebrow, and he takes on a look of patient long-suffering. "His name was I-Chaya."
The deserts of Vulcan wrap around them, and McCoy sees a small Vulcan boy (even better than baby pictures, this melding business) and… and…
"My god, Spock, that's a bear." The horrifying creature turns to face them and… "A sabertoothed bear. You lived with that thing?"
The young Spock moves to pet the abomination's head, and the thing seems quite pleased at the attention.
"I-Chaya was a loyal family pet for many years. Sehlats teach responsibility - they are not fully domesticated and if their needs are not met they can become… dangerous."
McCoy takes a moment to consider this. "I don't know why I ever thought you'd have any sort of normal animal, Spock. It's just as horrifying as I should have expected."
Spock's lips twitch. "Thank you, Doctor."
Leonard considers the landscape around them, taking everything in. "Well, I must say, I appreciate the Vulcan experience much more without the blistering heat and thin air. Your doing, I assume."
"This is how such a day would be experienced by a Vulcan," Spock informs him.
"Hm. Much nicer this way. Let's see… what's a really good Earth atmosphere for you to experience… ah, I've got it."
McCoy takes one last look at Vulcan, and then it is gone. Time and space stretch into a perfect spring day in an unending field of flowers.
"I don't suppose I could get you to really understand a good mint julep?" McCoy wonders mischievously, reveling in Spock's disconcerted twitching. "Ah, don't get your ears in a bunch. We'll let the joys of human intoxication continue to elude you."
"I suppose there must be some mysteries left in the universe," Spock concedes.
"Yes, of course." McCoy murmurs, running his fingers over the smooth petals of flowering aloe. "Vulcans usually suppress their olfactory nerves, don't they? Because they're so sensitive."
"Indeed," Spock agreed. "The sensations are much more… pleasant to the duller human palate."
McCoy snaps his fingers, of a sudden, turning to grin at Spock. "I know what I want to do. Put it… put it in here. Without any visuals."
Immediately disembodied music begins to play, banjo strings plucking from the air. "Now this is music!" Leonard laughs, tossing his head back in abandon. "This is the kind of music you can dance to!"
Spock tilts his head, clearly fascinated by this new perspective on a form of music he had never appreciated before.
Leonard dances through the field of flowers to the strum of the banjo, and it is ridiculous, and he is alive.