[ Those harsh twangs prompt laugh-lines before the tune settles into something sadder, his regret and commiseration during their first huge fight waning into outright sorrow for all that Spock lost. Jim felt it, secondhand perhaps but even so, he felt it from the older Vulcan and knew how it was to lose everything; to fail completely. It's a dim memory now, but it still pricks at him uncomfortably like a thorn under dust. Not knowing what to say when Spock broaches the topic of his lost mother, Jim remains obediently silent for the musical rendition. When the lute lowers, it's only then he looks up.

Leonard had been so hurt and Jim hadn't had the answer for him that he wanted. "I didn't mean to call Spock instead of you, it was impulsive, please forgive me." None of that could pass his lips. He wasn't choosing one above the other at the time, it was a matter of who he needed most urgently at his side, all of it on Jim. There's an inability to feel sorry or badly for that which becomes abundantly clear when he looks at his close friend, still bereft of a way to explain it. ]

He misses his home. [ Strangely, that's what he says now. It ties in with why Jim called for Spock and not Leonard and he hopes that's conveyed. This is a sensitive subject, so when he swallows and amends where he's going, Jim makes sure to look him in the eye so he can see there's no ill intent behind the segue. ] When I met the old guy on Delta Vega and we melded, I felt it. His crew.

[ The only one that mattered to him. Jim's smile echoes the resonating note of loss which had stirred a notion of twice lost, twice adrift in the elder Spock's mind. Blue eyes blink to stay rooted on his friend and it's like Jim can't feel the couch or see the room, only the understanding between them matters. Now seems as good a moment to air the details as any. ]

He missed the other me like I already missed you when Scotty couldn't open that door.