After supper, he stepped out alone onto the porch in the quickly darkening twilight. "Be out there directly son!" Horatio called from the kitchen.

He leaned against the rail, lost in thought. Then everything happened lightning fast. He was struck hard on the back of the head, and fell to the ground momentarily stunned. He arose unsteadily, clutching at his broken arm, and was confronted by a very drunk Moss Johnson, holding a very large Bowie knife.

"Now you'll get what's comin' to ya McCoy," snarled Johnson.

He edged away from the house, trying to draw Johnson after him. He dearly wished he hadn't chased Gabe off now.

"Moss you don't want to hang, do you?"

"Ha! Who'd hang me fer avengin' m'brother?"

He stumbled over a rock in the darkness, and almost lost his footing, "Well what about the army?"

"Th' army? Who gives a rat's ass 'bout the army? We're whupped."

Keep talkin'. Keep talkin'. Get him as far away from the house as you can!

"That's a hell of a thing to say!"

"Damn right it is!"

"We ain't licked yet Moss! We're gonna win this here war!"

"Who - you and Lee's Miserables?" snorted Johnson.

"Damn straight!"

"Y'all can all go to hell McCoy, and I'm a'sendin' you there right now…!"

Johnson's reply suddenly grew closer as he lunged with the knife. He braced himself for the blow, but felt another body seemingly appear out of nowhere to suddenly block Johnson and take the strike right in front of him.

"Damn…you…Moss!" came Horatio's strangled, outraged voice. "Gabe!"

Gabe came around the corner at a full run, carrying a lantern. He quickly dispatched Johnson with a beefy fist to the jaw, and then slid to his knees beside Horatio, trying to staunch the blood. "Good God! Cap'n what happened?"

He stared down, shaking uncontrollably, mute with horror. No! No! No! Not again! He dropped to his knees and managed to cry out, "Pa! Oh dear God, Pa! No!" He gathered Horatio in his arms, ignoring his own injury. "No! Not now! Oh God please…I just found you! Not now…please!"

"Son", Horatio gasped. "Remember what...I told you! Don't destroy y'self…over any…of this! I did…what I did…because I love you boy…"

He dragged a sleeve savagely across his brimming eyes, "Pa don't leave us!"

"Can't…help it…. Go back boy! You go back and live! D'you hear me? For…me. For your…pa. And son…know…that we love…you." Then came a final labored exhalation.

"Pa? Dad? Oh God! He's gone!" He collapsed in hysterics across Horatio's bloodied chest. Gabe enfolded them both in a tearful, compassionate embrace. He tried to comfort his friend, his Captain, his brother.

"Cap'n, Cap'n…listen t'me. I'm so sorry. Doc really loved you. And I know you loved him."

"Yes, yes, I did," he sobbed. He raised his head and screamed, "OH GOD NO!" He screamed and raged and screamed and raged again and again and again, until he was nauseated, until he was dizzy, until his throat was bloody and raw. He raged against the cruelty of life, the cruelty of death, the cruelty of losing his father all over again, the cruelty of loss, period. Then, exhausted, he collapsed senseless in Gabe's arms.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirk assumed his solitary daily vigil, head in hands. "Oh, Bones, how much longer?" he whispered to himself. Slight movement, and then a faint, choked cry came from the figure on the bed.

No! No! Dad….oh God no!…I love you. Dad! Do you hear me dad? I did what I did…because I love you…

"Bones? Bones!" Startled, Kirk leaned over McCoy, searching his face for any sign of recognition. Anguish-filled blue eyes stared vacantly into his.

"Oh God…he's…gone!" He began sobbing openly, heartbreakingly. Kirk took his hand, knowing better than to try to offer any words of comfort. He simply sat near, silently supportive, as McCoy wept uncontrollably.

Kirk vividly recalled his own father's death, even though he had not been present when it occurred, as McCoy had. He could no longer hold back. "Bones,...my friend," he said softly. "It's all right. Grieve. Grieve for as long as you need to. You loved your father, and I know he loved you."

"Yes…yes, he did." McCoy sobbed.

He had never seen McCoy so distraught, yet he fully understood his friend's deeply felt loss. He leaned down, eyes closed, and lightly touched his forehead to McCoy's, trying to impart some little strength. He felt the unrelenting sobs slowly ease. He lifted his head and whispered, "Bones? Are you going to be all right?"

McCoy looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. "J-Jim? Be…all… right…Jim…."

Completely drained, McCoy fell asleep, tears still streaming down his face. Kirk gently wiped them away, relinquished his tight grip on McCoy's hand and waved the medical personnel in, thankful for their consideration for his friend's privacy.

Chapel, wiping her own eyes, nodded to him as she began taking readings. "It'll take some time Captain, but I think he'll be all right."

"I hope so, Chris…I hope so."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The 'com whistled. "Bones?"

Kirk's voice. He tried to ignore the anxious concern Jim didn't bother to conceal. He had tried to ignore the anxious concern everyone had been so graciously showing him. They'd all been so worried, so understanding, so sympathetic. Uhura and Chapel had surprised him upon his release from Sickbay with a beautiful arrangement of florals and aromatics from the Botany Section. Bless their hearts! He knew everyone cared. Vague memories surfaced of all of them at one time or another by his side, talking to him, encouraging him, supporting him. But he was so ashamed. He imagined he could see an undercurrent of hurt beneath the solicitude in their eyes. Scotty. Uhura. Sulu. Chekov. M'Benga. Chapel. Spock. Jim. How could he have done this to them? He swallowed hard.

"Yeah Jim?"

"Just wanted to check on you. Haven't seen you on the bridge or anywhere else lately. How're you doing?"

He didn't know. He really didn't know. Released to quarters, on medication, still physically weak, under psychiatric care and not yet declared fit for duty, he had been introspectively brooding for the last few days, trying to figure out what had happened. It had been so real! Wasn't it real? Surely his mind wasn't that resourceful! Perhaps a merciful providence had seen fit to give him a hard lesson. A lesson he would never forget for the rest of his life. A lesson he would keep to himself. Never, ever, under any circumstances would he reveal the true nature of his father's passing. He swore to bear that heartache alone until the end of his life. How could he burden Jim and Spock with that, and the personal confirmation that he had been more than willing to end his own life because of it? To tell them to their faces that their friendship hadn't meant enough to him to keep him from permanently abandoning them? He just couldn't, and more importantly, wouldn't. He had unconsciously resumed his unforgivable behavior of before, avoiding them both like the plague. He would always deeply harbor the hurtful, overwhelming guilty feelings which would forever taint the happy memories of his beloved father. Hmmm, maybe of great-great-great-great-great-great-grandpa Horatio too. He smiled in spite of himself. He had deeply hated his middle name as a youngster and always told people the 'H' stood for 'hellion'. Boy, was I a smartass or what? Now he felt he understood why his father chose to honor the memory of this man from so long ago, and he was grateful to him for remembering, and for loving him enough to bestow that name upon him.

Oh yeah. Jim. The com. Enough brooding already! Dad wouldn't have wanted this for me! "Uh, Jim?"

"Yes Bones?" Jim was patient as ever with him.

"It's nearly shift change. Why don't you meet me on the observation deck? Just because I can't have any Saurian brandy doesn't mean you have to be deprived. I'll just sit there, sip my Altair water and drool, okay? Oh, and see if Spock will come with you as well. I think I could use y'all's company right about now, if you don't mind." After the briefest of pauses, he could feel the warmth of Kirk's smile breaking out over the 'com.

"You're on. We'll see you in a few minutes. Kirk out."

He knelt down to grab the bottle of Saurian brandy from the back of the lower cabinet, and his eye landed on the holo he had hidden away there when he could no longer bear to see it. It was of he and his dad, arms around each other's shoulders, taken on one of his last visits before his final illness. He found that he could look at it now without the overwhelming heartache, without the horrible gut-wrenching sensation of being pummeled in the stomach, without losing control, without bursting into desperate tears. The pain and guilt would always be there, deeply buried within his heart. But somehow, the hurt didn't seem to be as near the surface as it was before. He brought the holo out of the cabinet and replaced it on the desktop where it belonged. His hand lovingly caressed the frame, and then he slowly arose and headed to the observation deck.

Good-bye dad. I'll always love you!