Veronica drew in a deep breath and felt herself relax. It had been three days since they arrived home and Leonard was still going on and on about the experience.

He had accompanied her to the doctor the day they landed. Sally had been extremely discrete, but honest, about the damage that was done. In short, yes it had done some damage to her internal system, but it wasn't irreversible.

"Yeetchchh!" Leonard sneezed into his hands as they were enjoying dinner.

She put down her fork immediately. "Bless you?" she said in a confused, concerned tone.

"Yeetchchh! Hetchheh!" he continued to sneeze.

"Leonard? Too much spice?"

He sniffled and coughed, blinking rapidly as he shook his head. "I think – Heptschhoo!"

He paused and she handed him a napkin.

"Bless again. A cold?"

He nodded as he blew his nose. "I thought the headache was from the atmospheric changes, but apparently not." He coughed again.

"I guess, we're going to bed early," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah, but I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"What?" she asked, unable to mask her surprise.

"You can't get sick – you're still not healed. I do wish you told me how much pain you were in – by the way."

"What? In space? What would have been done? It would have taken us at least two days to get back anyway – so it wasn't like it was causing more damage."

"Heeachhoo!" He was thrown forward with the force of the sneeze.

"Okay, to the bath with you – nice and warm. I'll set up the … couch." A pang of guilt stabbed at her. She couldn't believe that she was letting him sleep on the couch – but she knew he wouldn't allow her to take the couch while he had the bed.

Within the hour he was in his flannel pajamas and tucked into the couch.

"You know I would have made you tea or something for the headache," she said, handing him a cup of mullien tea.

He smiled as he took it. "It's only a cold – you've been dealing with worse."

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied with a smile.

"Something I want to handle with you," he replied sleepily. He drank the tea quickly and handed her back the cup. "Heeetchheoo!" the sneeze rocked him forward and he forced out a cough.

She ran a hand over his forehead and through his hair, surprised that his temperature was higher than hers. "Rest now. I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow."

But, he didn't feel better the next day – or the day after that. In fact, the cold was developing into a nasty flu.

"Here, try to eat something at least," she said handing him a bowl of soup. She quickly picked it back up as the sneezy expression crossed his face again. "Heetchh! Etccheew! Reaschhoo!" The sneezing gave way to husky coughs that brought up some of the congestion in his chest.

"I'm going to call in a doctor," she stated, when the fit had passed.

Too exhausted to argue, he nodded as the world faded to black.

The next time he came to, Veronica was talking to Sally in hushed tones. "Do I get to weigh in?" he asked, surprised at how rough his voice sounded and how raw his throat felt.

"You have one heck of a flu, Dr. McCoy," Sally answered. "I've given you a script for an anti-viral. It should knock the flu out of you – but it'll leave you extremely exhausted for the next few days."

"I know the drill," he whispered as he fell back to sleep.

She wasn't sure exactly how she wound up on the floor, but she was there – no denying it. Twenty-four hours into his anti-viral treatment she had developed a cough – one that was producing blood again. Thinking that she was coming down with his flu and exasperating her internal injuries, she started on the medications that Sally had left for her. But, then the dizziness started and the hallucinations… and the pain.

She had tried to ignore it all. Leonard was in no position to care for her. And, it wouldn't be fair anyway – he spent so much of his life taking care of her. Finally, she was able to care for him the way he did her. Finally, she felt like she could possibly earn some of his love. Finally, she felt deserving.

But, now she was sprawled, crippled on the floor with no hope of pulling herself up and no memory of getting there. She needed him – no matter how much it pained her to admit it.

"Leonard!" she called for him. No answer. She didn't expect there to be. He was in a drug induced stupor. "Leonard please!" she called louder. Nothing. "It's okay," she whispered as she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up again, she was in the hospital. She recognized the ceiling and walls around her – and the familiar sight of Leonard asleep in the chair beside the bed. Her heart ached – he deserved so much better than this. "Hey," she croaked out.

His eyes opened immediately. They were bloodshot, and his color was still too pale. He smiled bitterly. "You kept your illness from me." It wasn't a question.

"You were sick."

He shook his head. "I knew the pressure of space was causing you breathing difficulties. I didn't know that you were coughing up blood. I didn't know that you were in crippling pain. Why didn't you tell me?"

She looked at her vitals. He never asked such questions of her. But, when she saw the vital signs, she knew why. She was dying.

She took a staggering deep breath. There was no reason to hide anymore. "You were happy."

He blinked rapidly. "What are you talking about?"

"Leonard, you were alive in a way I haven't seen since the decommission of the Enterprise –A. You were happy – I couldn't take that from you."

"And this," he said gesturing wildly, "elates me."

"No…" she whispered.

"I never thought I could love or be loved – and I love you."

"Did I make you happy?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation.

"Not content, Leonard. Happy – alive and embracing life."

"Of course."

"No…" she thought of another way to put it. "When is the last time you laughed with me the way you did on the Enterprise B?"

He thought about her question and winced as if she had struck him. He couldn't remember a time when he'd laughed like that.

She felt as if a weight had been placed on her chest. "Smile for me," she said.

"I can't," he gasped as tears started to flow down his face.

"You can… for me…" Darkness started to creep into her vision.

"I can't," he said. She could hear him sobbing.

She reached for his hand and felt him squeeze hers. "Don't forget how to smile, Leonard. You once told me I taught you to smile. Remember how – remember how to laugh… remember how to love…"

"I love you," he whispered. But it didn't matter – the ominous continuous beep of the failed heart filled the room. He waited for a few seconds, hoping her second heart would kick in. But, unlike Spock's it never did.

The crew of the Enterprise A was together again. He was surprised how quickly they had come. He watched the scene play out before him as if it was a strange dream. Nothing felt real – not the funeral speech or cremation ceremony. He was grateful that Spock had come and had not left his side. He didn't want to talk – and he knew Spock would understand.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Spock told him after the cremation ceremony.

"Sorry, huh?" he had teased at the play at emotion.

"She wasn't a model Vulcan, but she was a model woman," Spock replied. "And she made you happy."

"She made me complete, Spock."

Spock nodded. "It's good that she knew that."

"She didn't know. She died because she didn't' think she made me happy."

"You just said she made you complete. Not that she made you happy. She was still part Vulcan. She understood the difference."

Dr. McCoy choked back a sob.

"I shouldn't tell you this. But, she placed your happiness above all else. She loved you in a way that it shouldn't be possible for a Vulcan. You made her happy."

For the first time in his life Dr. McCoy couldn't feel anything. He was numb. He wondered if this is what it felt like to be Vulcan.