As always, standard disclaimers apply to this and all other fan fiction. Not mine, Creative Commons, all that.

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3) Reminiscence

McCoy found it slightly unnerving to talk to the older Spock. Time-travel, alternate dimensions; it was like something out of twentieth century literature class. Or was it unsettling because this Vulcan actually seemed to have a sense of humor? At a rare loss for words, he took an appetizer off his plate and popped into his mouth.

"Good food," he said, and then cringed mentally. Trying to make cocktail party small talk with a Vulcan? He really was a mess.

"An old friend of mine once said that all of his people's holidays were based on the phrase, 'they tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat'," Spock said.

McCoy looked at him askance. "That sound's vaguely familiar."

"My friend said it was a very old saying." Spock studied McCoy closely.

"Will you be staying with the Enterprise, Doctor?"

McCoy looked up at the old Vulcan sharply. He had told no one, not even Jim, that he was considering resigning his commission. The fleet had reluctantly offered to release any cadets who felt emotionally compromised by the Nero incident. He was still having nightmares (when he got any sleep at all) that featured half of the medical team on the ship dying in Nero's first attack. And a planet falling in on itself. Damn it, space was disease and death, wrapped in endless, suffocating darkness. Spock continued to look at him calmly.

"I..I..," he trailed off, then took a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess so. Someone has to watch Jim's back. Well, assuming we're assigned to the same ship, and assuming they don't just throw me out on my ear tomorrow. I've never seen anyone who can attract trouble like he can. Jim and a whole damn ship load of kids" McCoy gave a mirthless laugh. "Though I suppose we all look like kids to you."

"Younger, of course. Children, no. Not even Mister Chekov. And, under the circumstances, I believe the odds of you being thrown out on your ear, or any other part of your anatomy, vanishingly small," said Spock with that odd almost-smile, the smile that faded so quickly that McCoy wasn't even sure he had seen it.

It was full dark now. The Moon, a day or two past full, was rising in the east. It cast everything in a harsh silver light, highlighting the bones of Spock's face. McCoy felt a sudden pang of compassion for the elderly Vulcan. This Spock had unbent enough to admit feeling friendship towards at least some Humans. And what had those ungrateful Humans done? Grown old and died, leaving him all alone. All of the Vulcans had lost their planet; many were the only surviving member of their families. But this Vulcan had lost his entire universe. And then, to his great consternation, McCoy let out a great yawn. "I beg your pardon, sir."

"Overworking, Doctor?" McCoy could hear the unspoken 'again' in Spock's voice. It was just so odd, to think that this stranger knew everything about him or at least a version of him. As was his bad habit, he took refuge in irritability.

"Only out of necessity," grumbled McCoy. He stretched out his back and rose from the bench. He tucked the data discs into his medkit and picked up the plate and glass. He noticed that he could now see his breath; it did get cold in the high desert country once the sun set. He wondered if elderly Vulcans were as sensitive to cold as their Human counterparts.

Spock seemed to anticipate him. "Would you like to move indoors, Doctor? I find I do not tolerate cold as well as I once did. And the McCoy I knew was not overly fond of cold weather either."

"Yeah, lets go inside. Jim invited me to Iowa once, for Spring break. Visiting with some old friends of his. I thought April wouldn't be too bad. You know it snows there in April? Positively indecent."

They walked into the old park lodge, and stood a little bit away from both the doors and the crowd inside. A few hardy souls, such as Scott, had stayed out on the terrace. McCoy cynically thought that Scott would rather face the cold temperatures outside rather than the icy reception he would get from Admiral Archer inside.

The doors opened, letting in a cold draft. A young Vulcan woman stood there for a moment, her eyes sweeping the room, til they came to rest on a knot of people that included young Spock, Uhura, and Ambassador Sarek She sweep past Spock and McCoy, heading right towards the grouping. McCoy noticed Spock was looking at her with perhaps a hint of surprise in his expression.

"Who's she?"

Spock considered a moment before answering. "To employ one of your Earth folktales, Doctor, I believe that the evil fairy has come to the christening."

McCoy digested that for a moment. "So, are you saying we should round up all the spinning wheels in the Federation?"

"Only metaphorically, Bones." That really did get McCoy's attention. Jim Kirk was the only person who addressed him by that peculiar nickname.

"Is she anything else to you?"

"In my former timeline, she was what you would call my ex."

McCoy nearly choked on his drink. "I didn't think your people had divorce."

Spock got a distant look in his eye. "It is rare among my people, true. Ours was an arranged marriage, decided between our families when we were children. But we never completed the ceremony. She chose to challenge the arrangement."

Curiosity won out over politeness. "What happened?"

"For all that my people pride themselves on their logic and reason, some of our customs have not changed since before the days of Surak. She wanted another, so she chose the kal-i-fee, the challenge." There was a pause as the older Spock seemed to consider his words. "In this case, the challenge was a fight to the death."

McCoy could feel the blood drain from his face. "Damn it, that's barbaric! That's..." The ambassador raised his hand.

"Believe me, doctor, your counterpart said all of that, and more. And seeing as this happened in my timeline when we were several years older than you are now, he had more time to develop a truly impressive vocabulary of invective."

"Sorry, Ambassador," muttered McCoy.

"I rather think not," said Spock. "As I said, she chose the challenge - but she did not send Stonn, her preferred mate, to do battle with me. She chose Jim."

"But, but..." sputtered McCoy.

"Indeed. Neither of your counterparts understood the implication. Jim accepted the challenge, thinking he could knock me out, or surrender if necessary. He was afraid that I would be forced to fight Stonn." There was a long pause.

"And then?" prompted McCoy, riveted.

"And then, Doctor, I tried to kill him. My captain, my best friend. I was deep in the Plak-tow, the blood fever. Mate, kill, or die."

McCoy thought back to the fight on the bridge of the Enterprise. An enraged Spock had nearly killed Jim. Only Sarek's intervention had saved Kirk. He had to force himself to ask the next question.

"Then your Jim...died?" he said softly.

"No."

"But you're here. Then how?"

"You. Or rather, your counterpart. He was being forced to watch one friend kill another. It seemed to be a no-win situation; his own personal Kobayashi Maru. He passed it much in the way Jim passed his."

"I, he cheated?"

"He changed the conditions of the test. He looked T'Pau of Vulcan in the face and lied. He said he was giving Jim a tri-ox compound to compensate for Vulcan's thinner air, to 'even the playing field' as Humans say. In fact, the drug was a neuro-paralyzer. Jim collapsed, I thought I had killed him. McCoy beamed immediately to the ship with Jim's body, to give him the antidote. T'Pring and I had words,"

"I bet," muttered McCoy.

"I came back to the ship, prepared to resign my commission and surrender myself to Star Fleet authorities. To say I was both surprised and pleased to discover that Jim was alive and well would be an understatement."

"In your usual restrained way, of course." said McCoy.

"At the time, I was still trying to prove that I was more Vulcan than pure-blooded Vulcans. Therefore, I did not report to my McCoy that I had badly strained my levator labii superiorus, and other associated muscles."

McCoy thought about that a second, and found himself unconsciously using the named muscle himself. "That would have been something to see," he said.

Spock nodded towards the group around his young counterpart. Young Spock looked stiffer than usual. Sarek had allowed a slight look of displeasure to cross his face. Uhura, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with outrage. They could not see T'Pring's face from this angle.

"Do you know Uhura?" asked Ambassador Spock.

"Yes. Jim has been flirting with her, unsuccessfully I might add, since day one."

"What do you think Uhura's reaction will be to T'Pring?"

McCoy considered the grouping across the room. Uhura had moved forward, so she stood slightly ahead of Spock. "I think," he drawled, "that if T'Pring is planning on laying claim to young Spock, she had better have some backup. A platoon of berserker Klingons might do the trick."

"Indeed, that is my assessment of the situation." Again, McCoy wondered at the hidden humor in Spock's tone.

A young Vulcan came up to the Ambassador. "Sir, it is time for your shuttle to depart."

"Very well. I shall be there in 3.4 minutes." The young man gave an abbreviated bow and walked away.

"Doctor, I must leave now." He lifted his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Leonard."

McCoy tried to get his hand into something approximating the same position, and said, "Ah, you too."

The elder Spock started to turn away but then halted. "I do not know if events will unfold here as they did in my own time. But I will still leave you with two pieces of advice, Doctor. The black knight is quite real, but the gunslingers are not." And with that he strode out the door and towards the shuttle landing site.

McCoy looked after him in bafflement. "What the blazes did he mean by that?"

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Spock's old friend and the quote "They tried to kill us..." is a reference to the character David Rabin, a kick-ass Israeli from the novel "Star Trek: Vulcan's Forge" by Josepha Sherman and Susan Schwartz.

Spock's parting remarks refer to the TOS episodes "Shore Leave" and "Spectre of the Gun"

Ah, weather in the Midwest. I lost a shipment of nursery plants that way. Delivery guy left it on my porch the first week of April - said shipment was covered by 8 inches of snow by the time I got home from work.

What to work on next? I have two rather angsty stories in the works, one post "Mirror, Mirror" and one post "Plato's Stepchildren" - but I fear my talents do not lie that way. But I was at a talk at a science fiction convention on writing fan fic, and the importance of stepping outside one's comfort zone. We'll see how it works out.