McCoy is watching the sunset from his favorite park bench overlooking the Bay, when Spock comes up behind him. He doesn’t hear Spock approach, but he stops feeling the breeze against the back of his neck, and his skin prickles. McCoy hunches in his windbreaker, his elbows on his thighs, and stares at the water. The waves are black and bronze in the dying light. There are no whales to be seen, but he imagines the two of them swimming along together, crooning to each other as they try to figure out what the hell just happened to them
( ... )
Reply
Leave a comment