So, this is my second Star Trek fic. Sometimes when I hit a writer's block on one story, I find that If I work on another one for a while, I can go back to the first with new eyes and renewed modivation. So, I'll probably be going back and forth between this one and The Time Trekker.

This is a continuation of the storyline I created in Just Like Jesse James, Not as Alone as You Think, and Gift of a Friend.

Probably one of the most famous peoples in literature are Tolkien's beloved hobbits. For those who don't know, it is customary among these fine, little, literary folk, that presents be, not just recieved, but given by the one having a birthday. Since it is my birthday this week, I am posting this new story as a present to all of you. I hope you all enjoy.

Today was the day. The U.S.S. Enterprise under the command of Captain James T. Kirk was heading out on its five year mission, and as the CMO and Head Surgeon, Leonard McCoy, laid in bed at five o' clock, thinking about getting up so he could make it to the launch site on time, he could not help but wonder why he did not feel more excited about it. Scratch that, I know why, he thought, I hate being in space, and I'm leaving with being able to even tell her I won't be back for five, long years.

The her he referred to was...well...a friend. What more could you call someone whose name you do not know? Yeah, McCoy and his...friend had known each other since the first semester of his second year at the Academy. Four years; they had known each four years, he still did not know her name. It was one of the charms of their friendship. She called him Leo, a name no one else had ever called him, and he just referred to her as "Honey" or "Hon".

He picked up his personal comm from his bedside table. Flipping it open, he switched on its hologram setting. An image of himself and a dark-skinned woman with blue eyes glowed into existence. It was from the last day he had actually seen her in person. She wore a red sweater and a sheepskin coat. On her head, her black cowboy hat sat, her hair loose and ruffled in a breeze, the white feathers tied in the raven strands flying around her face. He was wearing a black coat over his cadet reds. They were at the Starfleet public park, sitting on a bench. His arm was wrapped firmly around her shoulders, a wry grin on his lips. He had been humoring her for the picture. Her smile was wide, but there was look of sadness in her eyes.

It had been taken a month after the passing of her son, Wohali, and she only returned to San Francisco to collect her things from her apartment and move back to Texas. When he had recieved the message from her saying she was at the park, he had grab his coat and ran out the door, leaving his roommate, Jim, wondering what was happening.

His eyes traced her bittersweetly smiling features. He usually called her "Honey" (oddly intimate to him yet she did not seem to mind it.), but he could not help but think of her as a Cherokee princess, and was how she signed all of her correspondence. He had received several PADD messages from her until the aftermath of the Vulcan's destruction. After that, nothing. A little over two years of silence. He feared that she was somehow on Vulcan, or near the drill the Romulans lowered into Earth's atmosphere. He could think of no reason for her to be at either location, but there was always the dark, sickening seed of doubt. The thought that she might be gone was...heavens, he could not even go there. The mere idea was...excruciating.

If he were honest with himself, she was far more than just a friend to him. She was there for him on one of his darkest days, and he had returned the favor when she received word about her son. They had grown closer through sending e-letters back and forth. She sent him a picture of herself and her son, Wohali, a physical copy of which currently resided in his wallet with his favorite picture of his daughter, Joanna. Occasionally, she sent him an audio file of her singing and playing her guitar. He had all of them saved as an album on his PADD, and played it via earphones regularly. At her request, he sent her many of his research projects. He did not know why she wanted them; he could only guess the half-Cherokee cowgirl liked to read medical papers in her spare time.

His alarm interrupted his musings, and he rolled over on to his side to set his comm back on his bedside table. His heart ached dully at the memory of waking up the evening after Wohali died. He had fallen asleep barely touching her, but by the time he had leave for his night shift at the Starfleet hospital, he was holding her snugly to his chest, a feeling of utter peace and belonging filling the room.

He sighed, dispelling the fog of memory and got up, dressing for the departure ceremony. He donned his dress uniform and packed a bag of last minute essentials. Everything else was already on board the ship. With one last glance around the apartment, he locked the door and headed to the launch site.

Well, what do you guys think? Should I stick with it or start over with Chekov instead? He did tie with McCoy in the pole...