McCoy yanked the carpe diem necklace off.

McCoy slowly carved into the wood using the pyrrha necklace.

"I love my exes," McCoy's tear ducts had gone dry.

He didn't have any more tears to shed.

How long he had cried, the doctor didn't know.

And he didn't want to know about how long he had been in this box.

Alone.

"I love my best friends, I love my daughter, I love my mother, I love my co-workers," his voice was emotionally trembling with each syllable. "I love Georgia, Atlanta." McCoy cleared his throat. "I love the suburbs. I love tall sun flowers, tendin' to them, and I love the color green. I love helpin' people. I love healin' people." He chipped away text into the wood as piecesof it landed onto his shirt. If there was a chance that he wouldn't make it should he be found, let it be that he left a admission. "I love my head nurse. I hate transporters. I hate anomaly and dangerous diseases that can leave one dyin' in agony. I hate diseases that leave me unable to help people. I hate bein' unable to live life to it's fullest. I don't like bein' alone. . . I love S'chn T'gai Spock."

McCoy smacked his glowing hand against the wood making sobbing sounds with his eyes closed.

He opened his eyes then looked toward the wooden wall. McCoy felt around for the text to see where he had left off then used the glowing ball to see where he left off. He scanned for what room he had left. He wrote small, tiny letters just to not take all of the room. A Vulcan could easily spot them upon closer inspection by being knelt down toward the wood. McCoy resumed to write finishing off what he had stopped. His brain thought faster than his hand could catch up. His fingers brushed against the wood. McCoy paused, briefly, then resumed writing it. His hand ached. He wanted to move around but he just could not. And he was thirsty. McCoy briefly closed his eyes then reopened them. He slid the carpe diem necklace into his pocket once finishing the text. He saw the light beginning to sink from the top of the sphere installed into his hand. Would Spock wait for him?

Would he?

McCoy doubted that.

Why would he wait for someone as hurt as him?

The ache in his head returned as his mind came back to earlier.

Spock, McCoy cried in his mind, I am sorry.