2366
Spock mounted the steps onto the veranda and crossed to the front door. Before he could even make his presence known, the door opened, and Tonia greeted him warmly. “I’m so glad you’ve come so soon,” she said. Despite it being only midmorning, she looked somewhat haggard, her fatigued appearance more than simply a function of her age.
“When we spoke,” Spock said, “I detected an urgency in your voice, in your words. I did not wish to arrive too late.” She had reached him on Vulcan, where he had resided for many years now. He still wished that he had seen Jim one more time before he had perished aboard the Enterprise, wished that he had paid one more visit to his mother. When Tonia had contacted him, when she’d told him of Leonard’s deteriorating condition, he knew that he could not wait. Though they had spoken several times recently, it had been months since Spock had visited his oldest friend.
Tonia held the door open for him, and Spock walked through the foyer and into the front hall. He stopped before the staircase, expecting to go upstairs, but Tonia pointed toward the great room. “Leonard’s in here,” she said. “He doesn’t like staying in bed, so he spends a lot of time either in here or out on the veranda.” She slid open the wooden doors and stepped inside, motioning Spock to follow.
When he entered, he saw Leonard sitting on one of the sofas, his back to the door. An antigrav chair sat beside him. Spock followed Tonia over and walked around to face Leonard. “You have a visitor,” Tonia said.
Slowly and with what appeared to be great effort, Leonard lifted his head and peered at his wife, then just as arduously looked over at Spock. “Is that you, you green-blooded hobgoblin?” he said. Despite the familiar spirit and good humor in what he said, his words came in long, labored breaths.
Spock nevertheless arched an eyebrow, responding to McCoy’s contrived irascibility. “Indeed it is, you irritable old quack.” Leonard sputtered out a laugh, his voice painfully thin, but Spock found the sound of his friend’s momentary joy more than welcome.
“Can I get anything for you?” Tonia asked, turning to Spock. “Something to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you,” Spock said.
“How about you, honey?” she asked Leonard.
“No, no, I’m fine, thank you,” he answered.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to insult each other in private then,” Tonia said. She bent down over Leonard and kissed him lightly. Then she left, closing the sliding doors after her.
“Well, don’t just stand there, Spock,” Leonard said. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you,” he said and he sat down on the other sofa.
“So, what’ve you been up to out on that desert of a planet of yours?” Leonard asked.
“I have been continuing my research at the Vulcan Science Academy,” Spock said, “as well as teaching a course from time to time.”
“Sounds fulfilling,” Leonard observed.
“It is,” Spock agreed. “And you? What have you ‘been up to?’”
“Not much, Spock,” Leonard said. “I’m getting a little long in the tooth to be up to anything.”
“What is it that ails you?” Spock asked.
“Nothing but the hundred and forty-one years under my belt,” Leonard said. “The body tires out.”
“Indeed,” Spock said. “Though Vulcans age at a slower rate than humans, I too have noticed the passage of time, the slowing of the body, the dulling of the mind.”
“It’s a terrible thing,” Leonard said, his chin dipping and his eyes closing as he spoke. “Just when I think I’ve got the hang of life, I’m going to be checking out.”
Leonard’s matter-of-fact mention of his own demise troubled Spock, though he knew as well as his friend the inevitability of death. “I would suggest that you ‘got the hang of life’ quite some time ago.” When Leonard did not respond right away, Spock continued. “You’ve had a distinguished career as a Starfleet officer, as a physician, as a researcher, and if I am to believe the words of your wife, as a husband. I am not saying that it is time to ‘check out,’ as you so colorfully put it, but by my reckoning, you have had a distinguished and happy life.” Again, Leonard did not say anything, and Spock suddenly grew concerned. He started to stand, but then Leonard spoke again, though without raising his head.
“So is that all you’re doing on Vulcan?” he said. “Research and some teaching?”
“It is a full schedule,” Spock said.
“I suppose,” Leonard said. “But it just doesn’t sound like enough for you.”
This time, Spock felt both eyebrows rise, impressed by his friend’s perceptiveness. He had never considered speaking to anybody about that with which he had recently become involved, but he chose to do so now. “That is a discerning observation,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I have begun having a dialogue with a man we both met seventy-three years ago.”
“Seventy-three years?” Leonard said, his head still hanging down. At Khitomer?”
“You’re memory and acuity are inspiring,” Spock said. “Yes, at Khitomer.”
“Romulan?” Leonard asked.
“Again, yes,” Spock said. “A senator back then, who still serves today.”
“I see,” Leonard said. “And why would you be speaking to a Romulan?”
“As you know, Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry,” Spock said. “Lately, on Romulus, the notion of the reunification of our two peoples has begun to spread.”
“Reunification,” Leonard said, seeming to mull the concept over in his mind. “Might be a good thing. Might calm those arrogant, hot-tempered Romulans down, and might bring a little life to you arrogant, cold-hearted Vulcans.”
“Your poetic notions of peaceful coexistence are well considered,” Spock said dryly. “I wish I could be as sanguine.”
“You mean you’re not sure about reunification yourself?” Leonard asked.
“I think it is a laudable goal,” Spock said. “But I am uncertain if there’s any significant possibility that it can actually happen.”
Leonard lifted his head before he spoke, and his reply surprised Spock. “If you think it’s a good idea, but you’re not sure if it can happen, then isn’t it your responsibility to try to make it happen?”
Spock contemplated this. “It is gratifying to know that you still wield your advice as deftly as you once did your medical instruments.”
“Thank you, Spock,” Leonard said, and then lowered his voice and added, “Do what’s best for you.” He held Spock’s gaze for a long, meaningful moment before continuing in a more conversational tone. “So, tell me what research you’re involved with these days.”
Spock did. He spent the rest of the day with Leonard. Tonia brought in a selection of vegetarian foods at noontime, and then a tray of tea and snacks in the late afternoon. Between the two light meals, Leonard drifted off to sleep for an hour and a half, and then as night descended, he tired again. Spock knew that the time had come for him to depart and allow Leonard to retire for the night.
“I want to thank you for your hospitality,” he said, standing. He walked around the table and over to the other sofa.
“I’m glad you came to see me, Spock,” Leonard said. “I know it’s a long way to come. I appreciate it.”
Spock considered a response, and then he said, “Forget it, Bones.”
McCoy blinked, then smiled. Spock reached down and squeezed his arm in a gesture of comradeship. Leonard’s body felt insubstantial, as if held together only by memories.
Spock left the great room and found Tonia sitting out on the veranda. “Are you leaving?” she asked, rising from a rocking chair as he exited the house.
“I am,” he said. “I have an appointment in the Federation Council chambers in the morning, but I thought I would come back tomorrow afternoon if that is agreeable with you.”
“That would be wonderful,” Tonia said, and she reached forward and took his hands. “Thank you for coming, Spock,” she said. “I know it means a great deal to Leonard to see you.”
“It also means a great deal to me,” Spock said. “Thank you for contacting me when you did.”
Tonia nodded, then stood on her toes and kissed Spock on the cheek. “Good night,” she said.
“Good night,” Spock said. He padded down the steps and along the front walk, toward the airpod he’d flown here from the transporter station. As he settled into the pilot’s seat, he thought that today had been a good day, and he felt…happy…that he had been able to spend time with his old friend.
But as he operated the controls of the airpod, lifting the craft into the air, he feared that he would never see Leonard McCoy again.
“I can smell the honeysuckle,” McCoy declared, delighted by the sweet scent. He sat in a rocking chair out on the veranda, peering out at the vibrant green of the lawn and the majestic forms of the white oak trees that bracketed the front walk. As best he could with his failing senses, he took in the beautiful Atlanta morning.
Sitting in her own chair beside him, Tonia inhaled deeply. “Smells wonderful,” she said.
They sat quietly, comfortably, for a little while, and McCoy’s mind drifted back to yesterday. “It was nice to see Spock,” he said.
“I’m glad,” Tonia said. “I know I’m not supposed to say it about Vulcans, but he seems happy.”
“Don’t ever let him hear you say that,” McCoy said. “But I think you’re right.”
“We’ve got some very nice friends,” Tonia said.
“And we’ve got each other,” McCoy replied. He reached for her, his arm trembling with the effort, and rested his hand atop hers. “I love you,” he said, gazing over at her.
“I love you,” Tonia said.
He peered back out at the yard, at the trees, and thought that no matter how it had started, he’d had a wonderful, happy life. He’d done good work, had enjoyed the company of close friends, and had shared much of his life with a loving partner. He knew that he could not have been more fortunate.
And then he closed his eyes for the last time.