The end is here. Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to read this!

A few weeks later…

It was time for shore leave again, and McCoy was more than ready to beam down for a drink and some air that wasn't recycled. His other half, however, wasn't too keen on the idea. And that proposed a problem, because McCoy didn't relish the idea of taking leave without Spock.

It wasn't that he was afraid to face the crew, or anything like that. The gossip had died down, for the most part, ever since Scotty and Uhura had gotten caught kissing in the transporter room. The spotlight had shifted pretty quick after that, and McCoy and Spock's relationship was no longer breaking news, thank God.

So, it wasn't fear that made him reluctant to leave without Spock. Hell, a star could go supernova and he'd take it in stride, at this point. The problem was, he didn't see much use in having fun if Spock wasn't there to benefit. No amount of alcohol and fresh air could compare to the companionship he'd recently grown accustomed to.

"You have to go," McCoy insisted as he changed into street clothes. He was headed for the transport room after this, but Spock had made it clear he intended to hole up in the lab for the foreseeable future. Goddamn workaholic.

"Your terminology implies it is not optional."

"That's because it isn't." Jim had, once again, imposed a mandatory shore leave. Why anyone would refuse leave at all was beyond him.

"As I am still standing on the ship with no intention of departing, it clearly is."

"Come on. The last shore leave wasn't so bad, was it? And you didn't want to take that one, either. But it all worked out in the end." Though his words suggested frustration, McCoy was feeling downright gleeful at the moment. Goddamn, he loved these arguments. Winning, which he knew he would, was merely the icing on the cake.

"You suggest history repeats itself."

"What if I could promise you that it will? In the best sense, of course."

"The concept is not unappealing."

"Yeah, I didn't think so either. So, how 'bout this: I go down there, make an excuse for you so Jim doesn't freak out too much. Then I'll come back up here so we can spend some quality time together."

"A compromise." There was a slight lilt to his words that almost sounded like surprise.

"Do you accept? Or am I gonna have to drag you by your hair?"

"That sounds quite primitive."

"Well, if you're into that kind of thing…" Several ideas sprung to mind, none of which sounded bad at all.

"As you wish. I will be here when you return. Ready to…take my leave, as it were."

"I'm counting on that." McCoy shrugged into his jacket. "Now, tell me the truth, does this outfit look ridiculous?" It was all brown leather, and made him feel like he should be starring in some sort of old western movie.

"Negative."

"Really?"

"Leonard." Spock closed the distance between them, ran his fingers across the Doctor's ensemble. "That outfit is a great many things. However, none of them hold negative connotations."

"You could just be saying that."

"I do not lie."

Wasn't that the goddamn truth. And, judging by the way Spock's eyes were practically glued to his chest right now, he wasn't about to start. McCoy couldn't help himself; this moment was too perfect. He crushed his lips against Spock's.

And it was like someone sucked the air out of the room. There this was this gap inside his chest that seemed to get wider and smaller all in the same moment, and, God, he couldn't form a coherent thought. Really, he didn't need to, because this, right now, was more than enough.

Enraptured in the intensity of the moment, he pushed Spock down on the bed, the rest of the world ceasing to exist. He looped his fingers around the waistband of Spock's pants, the entire concept of shore leave a distant memory, but then Spock rolled away from him.

"Don't make me stop."

"You are running quite late." It was a reasonable statement. A little too reasonable, in fact. Although Spock's tone wasn't as clipped as usual.

"You know, I could stay here instead." He'd get an earful about it later, sure, but right now it seemed a small price to pay.

"I believe we have already established the fact that you cannot."

He rolled his eyes at having his own words thrown back in his face, but he knew Spock was right. Leaving now would only make things sweeter in the next few hours. It wasn't possible to miss someone without spending time apart from them. He knew that, and yet he already felt the separation despite it not having happened yet. "You are such a goddamn tease."

"It's only logical." Spock climbed off the bed, and straightened up.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Evidence suggests sexual encounters are more satisfying when one has to wait for them." Okay, so maybe that was true, but he didn't have to sound so smug about it.

McCoy shook his head, unsure of whether he should laugh or just say screw it all and insist on finishing this right now. "I can't even with you," he finally said, the hint of a smile threatening to overtake his expression.

"I do not understand what that means."

McCoy dismissed him with a wave of his hand, stood up, and tried to compose himself. Damn these tight pants. "All right, I'm going now. Happy?"

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I never said I wanted you to leave."

If this was how he showed disappointment, McCoy couldn't wait to see what begging him to stay would look like. "So, I'll see you later, then?"

A beat of silence passed, and then Spock said, "I'll walk with you."

Now it was McCoy's turn to feel smug. He knew he had an effect on Spock, but it was rare to see it manifest like that. It was nice, really, to feel wanted and know he'd be missed, even for a short period of time.

They made their way down the hall, which was quieter than usual, at a somewhat languid pace. Inside the lift, McCoy kissed Spock once more, but the doors slid open before he could get much further than that. Later, he promised himself. Later couldn't come soon enough, that was for damn sure.

When they entered the transporter room, McCoy turned to face Spock. "Okay, well, just comm me if you need help."

"Leonard, I am a science officer. I assure you, I can handle my work alone."

"It's a euphemism, Spock. Kind of like the one you used earlier."

Spock looked somewhat miffed by the notion. A second later, he nodded. "Indeed."

"You know, I have a life too," said the lone redshirt currently manning the transporter room. "For now, anyway. And I'd like to get back to it, so either stay or go, but stop flirting and pick one."

Good God. Someone needed to get laid. Glaring at the redshirt, McCoy pressed his fingertips against Spock's in farewell, and then, defying every desire that warred within his mind, he stepped onto the transporter pad, and said, "Energize."

When he rematerialized on the planet's surface, there was a hollow ache within him, which he tried to shove away, with little success. The bar he walked into was crowded, probably because he'd taken so long in getting here. He found a secluded spot at the side of the bar, and sat down. An hour or so of relaxation should be plenty, and then he could get back to the place he really wanted to be.

"What'll it be then?" the bartender asked.

He never got a chance to answer.

"A shot of Jack, for the both of us." Jim sat beside McCoy, flashing him an easy grin.

Surprise filled McCoy. He and Jim hadn't been hanging out much recently, for obvious reasons. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're trying to get me drunk."

"Always." Jim handed him his shot, clinked their glasses together. "Cheers, Bones."

McCoy took the shot, but it didn't quite ease the wariness that crept along his spine. "So, what brought about this change of heart? All I've heard out of you for the past couple weeks are orders."

"I've been a dick." Jim nodded to the bartender, earning them both another drink. "Truth is, I always kind of thought that if either you or Spock went for anyone on the Enterprise, it would be me."

McCoy laughed. "You would think that."

"This whole thing caught me by surprise, is all. And then I was pissed at you for the shower malfunction. I'd have done the same in your shoes, though. Hell, I might've done worse. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry. Time to let bygones be bygones, and all that."

"Here, here." McCoy drained his glass, more than happy to accept the apology.

"You're going to get rid of that picture, right?"

"Consider it done." Not on his life. That shit was priceless.

"Great. I'm really glad we had this talk." Jim glanced around. His expression sharpened. "Where's Spock?"

"Working, unfortunately." About a second after the words left his mouth, he remembered he was supposed to make an excuse for Spock. He cleared his throat. "On real urgent stuff that couldn't wait, of course." One quick glance showed him that Jim didn't buy it for a second. And now McCoy couldn't remember why he ever thought he would.

Jim shook his head, sighing in defeat, disappointment, or both. "I thought I made it clear that everyone was required to take shore leave."

"Did you order him to take leave?"

"Not in so many words."

"Well, there you go."

"I just figured you'd take care of getting him down here."

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker. And I'm not his goddamn keeper. Besides, I'm going back up to the ship in a bit, and I assure you, he won't be doing any work." Not in the official sense of the word, anyway.

Jim made a face. "Okay, I'm going to need another drink. And maybe some brain bleach."

"Better order that in bulk, 'cause this isn't going away."

The Captain's expression softened. "All right, give it to me straight. Are you happy?"

He didn't even have to think about it. "There aren't words to describe how I've been feeling lately. Better than I have in a long time, that's for sure. That pointy-eared bastard stole my goddamn heart, and I couldn't even begin to tell you how it happened." A smile stretched over his face, bliss radiating within him. "So, yeah, I think I am."

"Good." Jim acquired more drinks, which disappeared even faster than the last round. "You know, if you hurt him, I'll have to kill you."

"Me? What makes you think he won't break my heart?"

"Then I guess I'll have kill him, too."

"I appreciate the sentiment but I'm pretty sure he could take you." The statement was something of a lie, since he had no doubt that Spock could, in fact, kick Jim's ass. Still, he had to let the man have his pride.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Somehow, I don't think it's going to." It's not like he was psychic, or anything, but he couldn't deny the gut feeling that told him this was going somewhere. Right now, that's all he needed.

Spock couldn't deny the emptiness that swarmed within his chest once McCoy left. For a moment, he didn't move at all. His eyes stayed locked on the empty transporter pad, and the eyes of the testy redshirt remained fastened on him. The silence between them was almost palpable.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was so reluctant to leave right now. It wasn't like Leonard was coming back right away, although part of him wished he would. The solution to that was simple: he could follow. There was always work to do, but it didn't have to be done tonight. Refusing shore leave was more a habit than anything else; an opportunity to seize the solitude he reveled in. So, why did he feel as though it would now swallow him whole?

Turning to leave, Spock caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Uhura walking down the hall. Her pace was languid, and when their eyes met, she beckoned for him to join her.

"Hello, Nyota."

"Hey." She smiled. "How are you?"

"Adequate."

"Not taking leave tonight?"

"I could ask you the same question," Spock said.

"Oh, well, Scotty got slammed with a bunch of work. You know how the Captain can be about that."

"Indeed." Jim's frequent suggestions that Mr. Scott do the impossible were not at all logical, but somehow, the engineer always found a way to pull it off.

"So, anyway, I'm going to take him dinner soon, and keep him company."
"That's thoughtful of you."

"It's the least I can do." She pressed a finger to her lips, a playful look overtaking her features. "Let me guess, you're working too."

"Affirmative."

She glanced toward the end of the hallway, as though contemplating an exit. Instead she stayed rooted in place. Her expression warmed. "You look really happy right now. It's nice to see."

Why did everyone suddenly presume to know the extent of his feelings? He couldn't even put them into words half the time, and yet Leonard was able to translate them, and now Nyota, as well. It was not logical. In fact, he was tempted to call it infuriating, except that would mean admitting frustration, which he was not experiencing. Not at all.

"You're glowing," she said by way of explanation.

He stiffened. "I do not glow."

"Yeah, you do." Something unidentifiable sparkled inside her dark eyes. "It's okay, Spock. I'm glad things are going well for you. We've both moved on, and that's good. Just…" She bit her lip. "If this relationship is what you really want, don't be afraid to admit that. Hang on to this, no matter what it takes."

"Nyota, I…" Words evaded him. He had no desire to let this relationship fall by the wayside. That didn't mean it wouldn't happen. Experience had taught him that much.

"You'll figure it out. I know you will." She laid a tentative hand on his forearm. "We should do this more often."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Unexpectedly meet in the corridor so you can give me unsolicited advice?" The words themselves sounded somewhat contemptuous when voiced like that. However, Nyota must not have taken it as such, because she laughed.

"I meant we should talk more. I miss this." She flashed him another smile. "Now, I've kept you long enough. Have a good night."

After returning the farewell, Spock walked away, not entirely sure about what had just occurred. So unsure, that he spent the rest of the night thinking about it while he worked.

It wasn't that things had ever been bad between him and Uhura. It was more that they stopped being anything. After the tragedy on Vulcan, he withdrew even further into himself than before. Nothing seemed to help, and Nyota had simply drifted away.

He did nothing to stop it.

The last thing she said to him before leaving on the final morning they spent together was, "If we're meant to be, we'll find each other again."

The statement was so illogical; he hadn't even tried to form a response. He wasn't destined to be with anyone, except perhaps T'Pring, and obviously not because she was dead, and he was still here. Not to mention, another survivor who'd known her claimed she'd wanted very little to do with him, if anything at all.

Fate was clearly not a factor, at least not in this situation. Nyota was happy now. Spock was…not unhappy. Still broken, maybe, but no longer shattered.

He'd told Leonard all of these things, in fractured pieces here and there. None of them had sent him running. And when Leonard told Spock all the details of his past, he hadn't been inspired to cut and run, either.

So, perhaps this relationship wasn't destined, per se. It was something, though. Something that felt akin to having a gamma-ray burst occur in the center of his chest, and it would not go away, no matter how long he meditated, or how many times he tried to suppress it.

Regret was an emotion Spock did not wish to feel again. More than once, he'd considered he was fated to be alone. But, as the events of last year proved to him, fate had the potential to change.

His communicator beeped. "Spock here."

"Get to your quarters stat," McCoy said. And that was the extent of their conversation.

It didn't take him long to comply. When he arrived, a very glassy-eyed doctor was waiting for him.

"Are you drunk?" Spock inquired.

Leonard pinched two fingers together, smirking slightly. "Little bit."

"I do not believe that is possible. You either are or you are not."

"Then, yeah, I am." Reaching out, he grabbed Spock's shirt and reeled him in. "Did you miss me?"

"Your absence was noted."

"Good, 'cause I missed the hell out of you."

They stumbled into the room, a tangle of lips and limbs as they fell back on to the bed, their clothes coming off in quick succession.

"I love this." Leonard traced his lips along the hollow of Spock's throat. A pause, and then he said, in a tone not as confident as usual, "And you."

Spock lay perfectly still, not even daring to take a breath. The burst of light and warmth in his chest returned. It threatened to consume him, but the feeling was not altogether negative. He knew what it was and more than anything wanted to express it.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," McCoy said quickly.

"No, it is quite all right." Despite being unable to say the words, Spock could still express his feelings. He could give Leonard something he didn't hand out freely: the thing that got them into this situation in the first place.

"May I try something?" he asked, pulling away from the embrace.

Leonard laughed. "You don't gotta ask. I'm lying here, naked in bed with you. I'd say that means I'm pretty much down for anything."

"Very well." He straightened up, and motioned for Leonard to do the same so they were facing each other.

He traced his fingers along the edge of Leonard's jaw, then across his cheekbone, until finally bringing them to rest at the meld points. Very slowly, he pressed his lips to Leonard's. He held back for a second, keeping things rather chaste. Once he parted his lips, his control peeled away, layer by layer. There was a languid spark rolling up his spine, a heat burning in his blood that grew more intense by the second. Closing his eyes, he let go of everything, allowing their minds to be one and together.

A thousand feelings no language could ever hope to translate flowed between them, as well as perfect clarity. In that moment, Leonard McCoy knew both everything he needed to know, and a few things he never realized he needed at all.