Sorry about the delay folks, but here it is, the final chapter. I want to say a final thank you for all the positive reviews and support you have given me to help towards its completion. Even if you haven't said anything, it was nice to know that it was still being read.

Following a comment on one of my other stories, I just want to remind people that I am british and as such strictly use the british spellings, not american ones. My spellings are not incorrect.

I've got a couple of new stories in the works but I don't know when they're going to go up yet, so stay tuned.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please don't forget to rReview and Favourite. Your support is greatly appreciated.

See previous chapters for warnings and disclaimer.

Picking up the pieces

McCoy watched the stars glide by outside the window.

So many stars.

Years ago, back when he'd first joined Starfleet, he'd been so pre-occupied with the dangers of space. To him, it had been disease and danger, wrapped up in darkness and silence. The Enterprise had been a death sentence wrapped up in a metal tin can. Leonard had been afraid of those stars and what they represented, so focused on the dangers outside the ship that he hadn't given thought to those within.

He knew, now, that there were worse things out there, both in this universe and the next; those stars suddenly weren't that scary anymore.

McCoy laughed out loud at the irony. The sudden noise startled both himself and the nurse in the corner. The doctor hadn't made a sound in days, let alone laughed. It was a commotion that sounded alien to him.

He turned his head and went back to the stars.

When he'd picked up the hypospray that day, there must have been a small part of his brain that had still been acting rationally. In all probability, Leonard would have been dead if it hadn't.

It was a relief to finally think without wanting to scream. Spock was still in there, McCoy could feel it, but he was muted, like the rest of the world around him. He still had trouble concentrating but it was in a good way, not like before. His thoughts were all fuzzy and disconnected, not overwhelming and chaotic. Most of it all just passed him by. He couldn't even get himself worked up about the babysitter he'd gained.

An annoying whirring sound right next to his ear startled him back out of his reverie a short while later. Leonard turned and frowned at the offending object. How had Geoff snuck up on him like that? He hadn't heard the other doctor come in.

'How are we today?'

How was he supposed to answer that question, when he didn't know? Shouldn't M'Benga have answered that one for him? Couldn't the doctor tell with that blasted tricorder?

If Leonard was truthful to himself, he was calmer than he had been in days but that probably had a lot to do with the overdose of antipsychotics still working their way out of his system. It was going to take several days for the effects to wear off. Until then, he was content to sit by the window and watch the stars zoom by.

M'Benga wandered off to the other side of the room to confer with Chapel and the other nurse, when it became clear that he wasn't going to get an answer.

McCoy turned back to the stars once more but kept getting distracted. M'Benga and the two nurses were being noisy. He could hear them all talking over in the corner and it was irritating. These were his quarters and, suicide watch or not, he had the right to have some damn peace and quiet in them, if that was what he so desired.

'Y'all can be done discussing me like I can't hear you.' He snapped. 'It's damn rude.' His explosion has the desired effect of them all stopping but now they were all looking at him and that was infinitely worse.

Suddenly embarrassed by his outburst, Leonard focused his attention on picking at a loose thread on his pyjamas. Geoff smiled and shook his head but they did stop talking about him.

M'Benga and the nurse from the previous shift left, while Christine came over to him. The disapproving look she gave the previous nights untouched dinner didn't pass Leonard by but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she just disposed of the old tray and replaced it with a new tray, closer to him.

McCoy was poised to push the tray away when the bowl of grits caught his eye. It didn't look like the same bland wallpaper paste that the replicator usually spat out; Christine always joked that you could use that in sickbay for setting bones. This bowl looks more textured and less grey, almost like it was homemade.

Leonard finds himself tentatively picking up the spoon.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Christine smile approvingly. He takes another bite automatically. When he's done, there's still more than half of the food on the tray left but he'd eaten more than he'd thought he would.

Setting the tray back down, Leonard is about to stare back out into the void but he hesitates. He finds himself getting up and before he knows it, the legs underneath him are carrying him towards the bathroom. Splashing water onto his face, McCoy stares at his reflection in the mirror. His face looks haggard and his eyes haunted.

What day was it? How many days had it been? He'd lost track of time as all the days had blended into one.

His hand ran across the build up of scratchy stubble inhabiting his jaw. He hadn't looked this rough and unkempt in years. The look uncomfortably reminded Leonard of the dark months that had followed divorce and that had had alcohol involved. It disgusted him that he'd let himself go so much.

Subconsciously, McCoy reached for the shelf next to the sink, only to find that his goddamned razor had disappeared. Sighing, he decides to take a shower instead.

When he emerges, Christine is still in the same seat he'd left her in but she's set a clean set of his uniform out on the bed. On top of the stack, in a gesture of trust, lays his razor.

He mumbles a quiet thanks before returning to the bathroom to change.

It was only as he was putting them on that the choice of clothes struck him as strange. It would be a while before he returned to duty and if he was just staying in his quarters or sickbay, pyjamas or sweatpants would do. The uniform just didn't make sense. Something important was obviously happening today which he'd forgotten.

The clothes and a shave made him feel more human though.

Returning to the other room, McCoy found himself standing in the middle of the floor, fidgeting uncertainly. He's not ready to go back to watching stars but equally doesn't know what to do with himself. Sensing his unease, Christine sets her book down.

'Jim will be down later.' She tells him. 'We should arrive at New Vulcan in a few hours.'

Vulcan. Leonard remembered now. They were going to New Vulcan, to see a mind healer. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. McCoy briefly remembered Jim saying something about that when he'd come to visit the other day but Leonard had still been pretty out of it then. The event hadn't been happening right then and there, so his brain had just pushed it to one side and forgotten about it.

It would have been so easy to sink back into his thoughts but now that he knew what was coming he couldn't settle. He kept sitting down only to stand back up minutes later.

'Do you want to go for a walk?' Christine eventually suggested after watching him pace back and fourth across his quarters. Instinctively, Leonard goes to shake his head when he suddenly changed his mind, his fear of leaving the safety of his quarters overwhelmed by the need to disperse some of the restless energy that now plagued him.

Out in the corridor, it's the middle of the shift but the few crewmen that they encounter thankfully keep their distance from the pair. They didn't venture far but walked around and around the deck several times. The change of scene and exertion helps to clear McCoy's head. He was grateful for the distraction.

When they returned, Jim was waiting for them outside the door. He looked relieved to see McCoy up and about but Leonard could't bring himself to meet his friends eyes.

'Ready to go?'

No, but he was unlikely to ever be. It was something that needed to be done.

Only Scotty and M'Benga were in the transporter room when they got there. McCoy was grateful not to have an audience. He managed to spare a polite nod of greeting to the two men before turning towards the transporter.

He froze at the edge. All he had to was step on. That was how the whole situation had started, with the transporter going wrong and it wasn't like he'd had a whole lot of faith in the blasted things beforehand. His feet were stuck like glue. He couldn't do it. He couldn't take that chance. He couldn't...

The sharp sting of hypospray at his neck made him jump.

McCoy turned to glower at the other doctor for blatant disregard of protocol. You were supposed to ask.

'Better?' M'Benga challenged, daring him to deny otherwise.

The nod McCoy gave was reluctant. As annoyed as he was, it was only now that Leonard thought about it, that he realised how heavy and fast his breathing had become. He'd been well on his way towards yet another panic attack. It was getting ridiculous.

He was being stupid.

Sheer stubbornness carried him forwards onto the platform and before he could change his mind, Jim was saying Energise.

The swirling lights formed a cocoon around them and then cleared again just as quickly as they had formed.

In Scotty's place, a single Vulcan stood ahead of them, who Leonard could only presume was the healer that they had come to visit.

The Healer greeted the party but McCoy couldn't bring himself to speak. The sedative in his system let him stay standing where he was but McCoy couldn't stop himself from shaking.

Trying to calm himself down, Leonard ignored the Vulcan and looked They stood in a well kept garden. The warm sunshine was comforting. It reminded him of home. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing himself to once more pay attention to the Vulcan.

'I will not harm you, Doctor.' The Healer said but made no move towards them. Instead, the Vulcan sat down on the ground where he stood, gesturing to the space in front him.

Glancing at Leonard, Jim started towards the Healer and sat down to one side, deliberately leaving the space directly in front of the Healer free. He looked back expectantly at Leonard. 'It's okay, Bones.'

Jim was there. His Captain hadn't left him alone this time; his friend would keep him safe and make sure that nothing happened. There was plenty of space to run.

Eventually McCoy had covered the short space and warily sat down.

'Ready?' The Vulcan asked.

That was the same question Jim had asked but despite the truth remaining the same, McCoy found himself nodding once more.

The Healer twisted his hand into a familiar shape that started moving towards him.

He needed to do this, dammit. He needed to get better.

McCoy closed his eyes, forcing himself to stay still and waiting for the inevitable to come, only it never did. He tentatively opened his eyes to see that the fingertips had stopped, hovering just a centimetre away from his face.

The healer just watched him, his hand unwavering. When the Vulcan made no further attempt to move, the message was clear.

The engagement was on McCoy's terms.

McCoy hesitated, the two halves of his head at war with each other. The healer had never forced himself upon the other man, always waiting for the doctor to come to him. He'd never once shown hostility towards him or given reason for Leonard to distrust him. He was afraid though.

The hand waited in invitation for McCoy to make his move.

Leonard leaned forward.

The fingertips connected with his skin.

I am not afraid.

I am Leonard McCoy.

I am one.