Starbase twenty-eight was a mid-size space station in orbit around a barren rocky planet near the Ursae Majoris system. The station contained a food court, a couple of bars, some simple hotel facilities, a shop, and a supply station.

McCoy sat at a table in one of the bars, placed where he could see the concourse just outside, staring out at nothing. The Arachnid Nebula hung off the port side, its diffuse tendrils glowing softly. A glass of some sort of Whiskey sat in front of him, mostly untouched. His shoulder bag lay next to him on a chair. It was almost empty. He was not allowed to keep personal items at the Healer's Academy. He had taken his medical kit, emptied of all drugs, but he had not gone anywhere in over twenty years without it. It defined who he was, even if it was locked in a cabinet on Vulcan he felt better knowing it was there. The Irhid-Ohmefrai tear was in his pocket again. He kept the robe he wore and a couple of interesting rocks. And the paper Amanda had placed in his hand.

The Enterprise was a few minutes away. He waited with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. It had been just under six weeks since he had seen or spoken to his shipmates. It felt like another epoch, a time so remote it was barely within memory. He was a different person now. He hoped his identity was merely restored and not altered. The Vulcans assured him that at his core he was who he had always been. The combination of the damage done by the mind-sifter and the arduous road to recovery gave him more reason to question his authenticity. That line of thought always turned out to be counterproductive, leading him down wild, deep rabbit holes of insecurity and doubt. He quashed it immediately.

The next minute the Enterprise was there, hanging like a jewel with the Nebula as a backdrop. She glided into position in a synchronous orbit so she appeared to be motionless. He stared for a moment, heart in his throat. He shouldered his bag and moved toward the beam down location.

Soon a single column solidified into Captain Kirk. He glanced around, his eyes lit upon spotting him.

"Bones!" Kirk hurried over, extending his hand for a shake, but ending with a strong hug about his shoulders. Kirk grasped his biceps, holding him at arm's length to have a look. His smile was genuine. McCoy relaxed, a tension dissipating he didn't realize he was holding.

"Jim. I am glad to see you."

"Let's go sit a minute and talk."

They sat at the same table, the drink still there. McCoy gestured to it. "You can have it if you want."

"No thanks. Im on duty. We are only here long enough to get you and pick up a few supplies. I wanted a chance to see you alone. There are some things I need to say."

"Jim..."

Kirk held up a hand. "No, hear me out. Let me finish.

"I owe you an apology. I was hard on you. I'll tell you why. I have always believed what you tell me. When you insisted the Birds were not controlling your mind, I believed you. The landing party thought otherwise. T'Phol thought otherwise. But you were so certain...I have never doubted your honesty."

Kirk took a deep breath. "My official report indicated that you were compromised. I filed that report, which i believed to be false. I thought I was saving you from a court martial. I didn't know what happened to you down there, but I was angry. Resentful. Worried.

"I thought when Spock brought you back, I thought you were OK. You'd be back to normal, we'd finish the five years. And you'd be OK. But you weren't. M'Benga tried to tell me. Then when you- before you went to Vulcan, I realized how off track things had gotten."

Kirk's mouth tightened in a thin line. "I talked with your healer, T'Charda, shortly after they began the intensive treatment process. At first, they didn't think it would work. She told me you had catastrophic damage. She warned me that you were in a spiral going down, and recovery was 'unlikely'.

"I was afraid you would die with this thing between us. But then you started responding. This stubbornness inside you. I've cursed it before. I won't again. I wanted you to know. I'm sorry I almost let you die before realizing you needed help. That will never happen again. Forgive me."

McCoy blinked away tears. "Nothing to forgive, Jim. These things that were happening in my brain, I didn't recognize what was going on either. On Aminta, before the mind-sifter, maybe I was influenced, I don't know. The Healers seemed to have no doubt. Apparently the Birds are one of the most powerful telepathic species they have ever encountered."

"Yes. The Federation has quarantined the entire Nu Pheonicis system. The Birds declined Federation membership. It's probably just as well. Starfleet finished the cleanup and left with no further contact with them. I know they saved your life and you are fond of them. That doesn't mean they're not dangerous."

McCoy thought of the gentle and cheerful essence that was Little Birdy, but he nodded. "You're right. The Tribe deserves to have their world without outside interference. The Salortog have done enough damage already."

"It was hard getting through without you. I'm glad you're back. Everyone missed you. Spock has done nothing but mope for weeks."

"I'll bet," McCoy said drily.

Kirk's communicator chirped. Uhura's voice came through, the supplies had been beamed aboard, the transporter room was standing by.

"Acknowledged." Kirk got to his feet. "Are you ready?"

They walked together to the beam up point. Kirk flipped open his communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise. Two to beam up."

The transporter effect tingled against his skin, and he was on his way home.