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When they make it back to Yosemite, the weather has turned, just cold enough that they really need the campfire to keep the chill out of the air.
And, by the last night of their stay, winter feels as though it has suddenly come to settle.
Jim watches his friends as they prepare for the evening. Watches them bicker good-naturedly over the food, over the fire itself, over the extra pair of socks that Bones insists Spock wear the moment the sun sets. Spock says his feet won't fit in his boots. Bones tells him to shut the hell up and be a damn stubborn Vulcan on his own time.
Spock puts on the socks.
And the gloves that Bones pulls out of nowhere after he's won that first battle.
“Gentlemen,” Jim says, holding his mug at arm’s length. “To family.”
“To family,” they murmur, and drink deep. Hot chocolate laced with brandy. A compromise, made after years of companionship. Hot chocolate for Spock. Brandy for the humans. Everyone happy.
You were never alone.
Spock's words ring in Jim's ears, as loud as if he had just said them at that very moment. Jim really did used to believe it; he’d faced so many no win scenarios that eventually one of them would have to be his last, and like any good captain, he’d fight like hell to make sure that his men didn’t go down with him.
But now. Now they've faced not only god together but their own demons too, and come out the other side.
Bones smiles at him across the fire, eyes tired, hazy with the brandy. His best friend, the very best he's ever had. Jim would fight a thousand false gods if it meant Bones would be safe.
And Spock. The other half of him, the missing piece of his soul. Jim would confront every Vulcan, every human, who ever made Spock feel anything less than the best person Jim had ever known.
He doesn't know if he's ever loved two people more.
“You okay there, Jimmy?” Bones asks, his drawl long and lazy. He only calls Jim that when he's at his most relaxed, his most deep in his cups. Jim has always secretly loved it. His grandpa used to call him Jimmy.
“Just wool-gathering,” he yawns. “You okay, Bones?”
“Swell. But before it gets any colder, I think we better get our Vulcan here tucked up in bed.”
Spock is watching them from his place across the fire, dark eyes warm and indulgent in the flickering light. He raises an eyebrow and sips from his mug. He's on his second cup of hot chocolate, not that anyone would know it. He holds his drink well.
“What do you say, Spock? Ready to call it a night?”
“I bow to the Doctor's superior knowledge.”
“Damn right you do.”
They bicker some more then, Bones energised enough by the thought of going to lie down that he's on his feet far more easily than his intoxicated state would suggest he's able to. Jim finishes his drink slowly as Spock retreats to brush his teeth, Bones to do whatever he needs to do in the bushes outside of camp.
He stays at the fire, keeping watch until they've returned. He stays at the fire, on guard, until they are safely in the tent.
Only then does he rise to rake the ashes and cover them with stones. Only then does he stash their food in the bear box and ferry it out of the camp. Only then, when they are safe, does he follow behind them.
The tent's big, big enough that Spock has space to meditate if he needs to, but Jim sees that Bones has placed their sleeping bags close together, with Spock in the middle.
“Don't want a frozen Vulcan on my hands,” Bones mumbles, already tucked into his bag. “No medical emergencies. I want to sleep in tomorrow.”
Spock just raises an eyebrow in Jim's direction, and Jim laughs aloud.
“You alright there, Spock? Not feeling too crowded.”
“The doctor is so afraid of my freezing to death that I dare not make any suggestion akin to that,” Spock says.
“Alright. If you're sure.”
“He's sure,” Bones says, his eyes closed. “Now shut up and lie down. Some of us old timers need our beauty sleep.”
Bones has been calling himself old since the day that Jim first met him, but lately when he's looked at his friend's greying hair and lined face, it's occurred to him that Bones is right. And when he looks in the mirror at himself, there's an old man gazing back at him. Even Spock, their ageless Vulcan, has lines around his eyes.
Jim can't bear to think of the day that Bones will be too old for trips like this, or the day that Spock decides he wants to spend his middling years and beyond on Vulcan. He is sure both things are coming.
He is sure that, soon enough, there will come a time when he slows down too.
It might already be happening.
“You're thinking awful loud, Jim,” Bones says, reading his mind. “Whatever it is, can you shut up till the morning?”
“I don't know how you do that.”
“I'm just really, really smart. Surprised you didn't know that already.”
Jim smiles and wriggles down into his sleeping bag. Spock is on his left, flat on his back, already dozing, or so it would seem. Bones’ deep and even breathing comes soon after.
There here. They're here, when it almost seemed for a while that they wouldn't be. And Jim knows that he has to take his wins where he can.
No one lives forever.
Nothing lasts forever.
But for every moment with his friends that the universe gives him, he will be grateful.
In the end that is the only thing he can do.