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It turns out that the best reason for climbing a mountain is not "Because it's there" and there is no cure for grief.
To believe otherwise has always been foolish, though Spock knows his mother would say otherwise. Perhaps it's the endlessly shifting blue planet beneath them, or perhaps it is the synthehol that flows like water, or the Klingons and Federation terrans drinking it side by side, but Spock wonders if a little foolishness isn't necessary from time to time.
He takes in the entirety of the forward observation deck and sees Dr. McCoy standing by himself at the helm. His face is pale in the light of the planet below.
"You must think I'm pretty stupid," he says as Spock joins him.
"I think you are one of the finest doctors I have ever worked with."
McCoy blinks in surprise and opens his mouth as if to argue, but instead takes a sip of his drink.
"Emotional, perhaps. Illogical from time to time."
"Thanks."
"Extremely stubborn."
"Coming from you I'll take that as a compliment." McCoy folds his arms and taps a finger against his half-empty glass. "First with Sybok and then with whatever the hell that Sha-Ka-Ree alien was. Somebody offers me answers and I'm the first to believe."
Spock sips his own drink--Idanian spice tea--in silence.
"I really thought we'd found Him, Spock. Everything we've seen and I still believe that somewhere out there is a god. Illogical."
"I suppose so."
McCoy gives him a wry smirk. "Thanks for your support."
"Allow me to finish, doctor. Taken out of context it is indeed illogical. But nothing exists in a vacuum. Not even a starship."
Behind them a Klingon roars with laughter and the Romulan joins her.
"While I will admit I failed to reach the same conclusion, you and Sybok each followed a logic of your own. My brother was many things, but he wasn't a fool." His throat is parched like the Fire Plains. Spock finishes his tea. "It... it is not a failing to hope for..." His throat remains sore. "After what you relived today..."
McCoy sighs.
"I am sorry about your father."
"I'm sorry too." McCoy clears his throat and looks all the harder at the planet below. "I, uh, don't know what you've gone through with your father. I probably won't ever understand it. But if your being human--half-human, sorry--is the only thing he can see about you, then he's even more of a fool than I am. You're a hell of a Vulcan. You're a hell of a friend."
"As are you, Leonard."
They stand in silence for a while, watching the swirling mists of Sha-Ka-Ree.
"Let's not tell Jim about this," McCoy says at last.
"I was about to suggest the same."
They listen and they canhear him, talking with Klingons, of all things. There is much more that Spock wants to say but verbalizing it seems impossible.
"D'you think there really is a god out there, Spock?"
"I don't have sufficient information to say."
"I still feel like a damn fool. 'One voice, many faces.' 'Share your pain and gain strength through sharing.' Load of bull."
"There is a Vulcan lullaby that says wisdom is gained by sharing it with others. I think perhaps we are both wiser now."
"'Still unfulfilled he journeyed home, told stories of the lessons learned, and gained true wisdom by the giving.'"
"I did not realize you were familiar with Falor's Journey, doctor."
"What can I say?" McCoy smiles and takes a final sip of his drink. "I'm well-versed in the classics."