TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE

It is rumored that Vulcans cannot lie.

I say rumored, because I know for a fact that it is not true ... it is simply an ideal that we strive for. In reality, complete and unconditional truth can, at times, be more harmful than the occasional stretching of the truth or lying by omission. And of course, there are always times when complete honesty is called for, no matter how painful the truth might be, yet we simply cannot bring ourselves to be so blunt.

This is a 'truth' that I have learned the hard way, as the human saying goes. It is a truth that came to me rather late in life, when perhaps it was too late to make a difference ... at least for those I cared deeply about.

But there's the rub ... in order for this 'truth' to have made a difference ... when it could have actually counted for something ... I would have had to have been honest with myself first, and that was by far the harder thing for me to do.

I was not alone in my inability to be truthful with myself. Had I known then what I know now, perhaps I would have been more forthcoming. I am quite certain he would have been. But we spent years circling around one another, sniping and debating. Everyone who knew us then had been certain we hated one another, when in fact, it was just the opposite.

If only we had been honest with ourselves all those years ago ...

******

flash-back six months

******

I have been on Romulus for many years, and now it is time to return home. It is strange that I say home, for it is actually Earth that I am returning to. I have learned that an old friend is dying, and I must see him one last time, to tell him how much his friendship over the years has meant to me.

The thought of admitting my feelings to him startles me slightly, and makes me realize just how much I have changed ... I wonder if he will notice the changes in me, and if he does, will he appreciate them. Has age mellowed him, as it has me, I wonder ... or has it made him even more irascible?

As I sit here contemplating our final encounter, I realize that it doesn't matter ... all that matters is that I have been granted one final chance to see him ... one final chance to be completely honest with him, no matter the consequences of my honesty.

******

McCoy was sleeping when Spock arrived. According to the private nurse, he spent most of his time these days sleeping. At one hundred and forty three years old, he was entitled to his rest. Spock asked if it would be permissible to sit with him, and the nurse agreed, so long as Spock did not try to wake him, for he needed his rest.

Spock agreed, and was admitted into the bedroom, where a very sophisticated monitoring system was in place, to watch over the aged doctor. Spock noted that he looked peaceful in sleep. His face was heavily creased, but Spock knew that the deep furrows around his mouth and eyes came as much from laughter as from tears.

McCoy had lived a good life ... outliving almost everyone he had associated with in his long career, including his ex-wife and daughter. The only one left, as far as Spock knew, was himself, and even he had lost touch with the good doctor nearly twenty years ago, when he had gone to Romulus.

But prior to that, they had shared much ...life and death struggles on a global, as well as universal, scale. They had been part of a legendary team of explorers who had been there for each other, no matter what, through good times and bad.

In the intervening years, their reputations had become legend ... and as Spock sat here watching his old friend sleep, he fervently wished that there had been more to their personal relationship than those legendary debates everyone remembered them for.

Thinking this, he gently took hold of his friend's hand. His shields were down, as he let his own feelings and emotions flow through him, hoping somewhat irrationally that McCoy would sense his presence, and open his eyes. Of course, he knew better -- McCoy had always been mind-blind -- or so Spock thought. But just then, Spock noticed a change in McCoy. He could sense a feeling of excitement in his old friend, as he shifted slightly on the bed and flexed his fingers, as if trying to grip the hand that held him. His eyes fluttered open, and as they focused, a smile lit up his face. "Spock?" he whispered, half statement, half question.

"Yes, it is I, old friend," Spock replied with a small smile of his own.

With his free hand, McCoy searched for the button that would raise his bed, then sputtered, "Where the hell is that damned thing," when he couldn't immediately put his hand on it.

Realizing what he was looking for, Spock stood, and quickly ascertained that it had slipped down beside the mattress. "Here it is," he said, handing the small device to McCoy, who slowly raised himself to a sitting position. Spock remained standing, wishing he could do more.

Once McCoy was sitting, he said, "There's no need to stand on ceremony with me, you know," then he gave the side of his bed a pat, saying, "have a seat, and tell me where the hell you've been all these years." He noticed a slight hesitation on Spock's part, and added, "sit, I said ... I'm not about to break, or anything ... and it's easier to see you and talk with you if you're beside me, instead of way over there."

Seeing the logic of McCoy's command, Spock complied, trying not to jostle the bed as he sat. He wanted to reach out and take McCoy's hand once again, but refrained from doing so ... it was one thing to have done so when the doctor was asleep ... yet another while he was awake. "How are you, Leonard?" he asked; an insipid question, under the circumstances, but Spock could think of no other way to start their conversation.

"I'm dying, is how I am," McCoy sputtered, then added with a sad smile, "but of course, you knew that already." Seeing that he had guessed right, he asked, "Who told you? And for that matter, *how* did they tell you ... for the love of me, I've been unable to contact you for nearly twenty years ... haven't even been able to figure out where the hell you've been."

"You've tried to contact me?" Spock asked, surprised to hear McCoy say such a thing.

"Yes, I have," McCoy confirmed, then angrily added, "so ...are ye goin' t' tell me, or what?"

"Forgive me, old friend," Spock said, "I've been on Romulus, working with a small faction there to try and initiate a reunification between our people."

"OK, that explains where, and why I've had no luck findin' you," McCoy said, then reached out and placed his hand on Spock's knee, as he continued, "but it still doesn't explain how you found out about me."

"I have recently been in contact with Captain Jean Luc Picard," Spock said, and seeing no recognition from McCoy over the name, he added, "the Captain of the Enterprise." This statement brought recognition to his eyes, and Spock continued, "He and one of his officers, a Lieutenant Commander Data, covertly sought me out on Romulus, in an effort to try and coerce me to return to Vulcan when my father died. It was not possible for me to leave at that time, but I promised to return as soon as the situation there stabilized."

"But how ...?"McCoy started to ask, but Spock continued his story, as if he didn't hear the interruption.

"Before Picard left, he offered to meld with me ... you see, he had shared a mind meld with my father some years ago, and learned that he and I had never ..." Spock paused to control his sudden surge of emotion. As if suddenly changing the subject, Spock placed his hand over McCoy's where it rested on his knee, and asked, "Do you remember when you held my Katra?"

"How could I forget?" McCoy replied with a hollow laugh.

"How, indeed," Spock said, then continued, "I do not believe I ever thanked you properly for that ... or apologized for causing you so much pain. I do not believe I realized just how difficult it had been on you until after I melded with Picard, and saw, through him, what he endured while helping my father through a very difficult time."

McCoy's eyes got misty as he said, "As difficult as it was, I would do it again, if it meant saving your life," then McCoy wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, and added, "when I thought I was going crazy, all I could think was that it didn't matter ... without you, there was no reason to continue living anyway."

Spock lifted a brow at this statement, his mind spinning out questions left and right, but first, he said, "While Picard and I were connected, I saw you in his mind ... you had been on his ship when he first got command."

"Yes, I was ... that Data fellow reminded me a lot of you ... except he didn't have pointy ears," McCoy recalled with a smile. "He was an android, if I recall."

"Yes, he is," Spock answered, then continued, "I could tell that Picard had been impressed by you, so I asked if he had any current news about you ... where you were, or how you were doing. He did not, at that time, but told me that he would see what he could find out, and get the information to me, if at all possible." Spock paused, then added quietly, "It was quite apparent from his reaction that he could see how important you were to me ..."

Spock's word's trailed off as McCoy lifted his hand from his knee and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of the long fingers. "I always knew you cared," McCoy drawled, then added, "I just didn't realize how damned much ... had I known ..." but his words trailed off as the tears flowed.

"Hush," Spock whispered, brushing the tears away with his fingertips. "Why did you not tell me?" Spock asked, even though, deep down, he already knew the answer.

"I always believed that, if you were truly capable of showing me your feelings, you would have," McCoy said, then reached over to the bedside table for a tissue. After a moment, he continued, "After the re-fusion, I could tell that you were ... changed ... and your memory of our past was, to say the least, fuzzy ... but I had hoped ..."

McCoy's emotions seemed to overwhelm him once again, and Spock was touched. Suddenly, he realized that the truth that he had denied for so many years had not only hurt himself, but McCoy also. "Forgive me, old friend ... I did not know ..." and with that, he gently cupped McCoy's face with his hand, and leaned forward to kiss him.

"Sleep with me," McCoy said, as he reached up and caressed Spock's face.

"I do not think that is wise," Spock replied, adding, "and I seriously doubt that your nurse would approve."

"I don't give a damned about whether she approves or not," he said, adding, "and this is my house ... my bed ... and if I want to share it with you, so be it. I'm one hundred and forty three years old, for god's sake ..."

Just then the nurse entered the room, saying, "Is there something wrong ... his heart monitor is spiking."

"Get out, girl," McCoy said irritably, while Spock was trying to calm him, saying to the nurse, "Forgive me, we were having a discussion, and he got a bit agitated."

She gave Spock a stern look, saying, "I told you not to disturb him, he needs his rest."

But before Spock could reply, McCoy cut in, "I said get out ..." and then he turned to Spock, and said, "get me out of this damned biobed, and into my bedroom upstairs ... I want to sleep in your arms tonight, and every night for the rest of my life."

Spock could see the resolve in McCoy's eyes. For years, he had denied himself a life of happiness ... no longer. For whatever time that remained, Spock would be there for his friend ... his only regret being that he had not been honest with himself, or McCoy, a lifetime ago ...

*****

present

*****

To thine own self be true ... I had these words carved on his headstone. I truly believe that my t'hy'la lived these words every day ... and taught them to me, albeit late in life. Had I learned them in my youth, or even my early middle age, we could have had far more than six months together ... but I cherish these six months that we had. He lived an exceptionally long life for a Human; apparently, I will live a relatively short one for a Vulcan. Soon, I will most likely join him in whatever sort of afterlife there may be ... and then we will be together ... forever.