[Is this mine to see? he asks, as he watches Sam leave. Jim is being ripped apart as the figure in the distance gets smaller and smaller, and Spock quietly smooths a hand over the rough edges. I'm sorry, he says, knowing it's too old a wound, too far away for him to touch, but he's there anyway, and he'll try. I do not believe this is a no-win scenario, just as Jim speeds past in the car.]
[Help me not to be, and Spock doesn't move his hand, doesn't move from where he is, not for a second. Time freezes, it all still hurts so much, but he and McCoy are in the hospital room, waiting for a miracle. Spock knows they don't happen, they don't exist at all but he holds on to hope as surely as McCoy does, because the doctor is giving it to him freely when he has none. Like this, they wait.]
[He's surprised, when it shifts again to Nibiru, and cautiously, he follows, filling in the gaps to form the complete narrative. He is in the middle of a volcano, somehow alive, knowing he's going to die to ensure these people have a chance where his own did not. It is all warm, and pleasant, and he thinks perhaps this is what being under Vulcan's sun felt like, on that final day, the day he escaped only by happenstance, and it feels fitting, somehow, to meet his end here. There is so much to be done, and part of him doesn't want to go, but the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few by far. He is simply... sorry, that he didn't get more of a goodbye.]
[There's a wrenching feeling in his stomach and he recognises it as a transporter beam. The next thing he knows Jim and McCoy are in front of him and he feels (illogically) grateful, and... angry that they have broken the Prime Directive, just for him. They're in the office and he is insufferable to Pike, because he wants the blame to be centred on him, not on Jim, never on Jim. You cost him his ship. And yet, he stands there and says he misses you. Nothing makes sense.]
[I'm sorry, he says again, as the memory rewinds, repeats that last argument they had with Pike before being demoted and reassigned. I did not intend to cost you our home. Our family.]
no subject
[Help me not to be, and Spock doesn't move his hand, doesn't move from where he is, not for a second. Time freezes, it all still hurts so much, but he and McCoy are in the hospital room, waiting for a miracle. Spock knows they don't happen, they don't exist at all but he holds on to hope as surely as McCoy does, because the doctor is giving it to him freely when he has none. Like this, they wait.]
[He's surprised, when it shifts again to Nibiru, and cautiously, he follows, filling in the gaps to form the complete narrative. He is in the middle of a volcano, somehow alive, knowing he's going to die to ensure these people have a chance where his own did not. It is all warm, and pleasant, and he thinks perhaps this is what being under Vulcan's sun felt like, on that final day, the day he escaped only by happenstance, and it feels fitting, somehow, to meet his end here. There is so much to be done, and part of him doesn't want to go, but the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few by far. He is simply... sorry, that he didn't get more of a goodbye.]
[There's a wrenching feeling in his stomach and he recognises it as a transporter beam. The next thing he knows Jim and McCoy are in front of him and he feels (illogically) grateful, and... angry that they have broken the Prime Directive, just for him. They're in the office and he is insufferable to Pike, because he wants the blame to be centred on him, not on Jim, never on Jim. You cost him his ship. And yet, he stands there and says he misses you. Nothing makes sense.]
[I'm sorry, he says again, as the memory rewinds, repeats that last argument they had with Pike before being demoted and reassigned. I did not intend to cost you our home. Our family.]