"I don't know, I thought my rendition of "Leonard in Repose" was quite masterful," he chuckled under his breath, shifting his grip on Sam's hand to lace their fingers.

He had gone home. He was sure of it - he had gone home, for three whole years and experienced all those things. He had gone home and he couldn't remember a single time speaking of Sam to anyone on the ship. Not Bones. Not Spock. And those two surely he would speak to of Sam, of the man he spent so much time with on this crazy world. And that scared him. It scared him to the marrow of his bones, because as painful as it would be to leave Sam, it seemed even more painful to forget him. To live with that empty whole inside of his heart and not know whom had once filled it.

"Next I'll have to try doing a few portraits of you."