They told him Jim was dead.

Spock was in the middle of negotiating the treaty that the Federation was trying to make with the Klingons when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Quietly, politely he excused himself and walked outside of the conference room.

"Message for you, Ambassador Spock," said the young man who had come in to get him, "It's from Starfleet."

Spock raised his right eyebrow. What could Starfleet want with him so urgently? He had spoken to them about how the talks were going and received instructions not an hour ago. Spock was concerned. His bond with Jim had felt strangely empty all morning—it was not dead, but he sensed none of Jim's thoughts. It was as if his mind had become still. Could something have happened? Spock turned to the screen on the wall and pushed a few buttons. "Spock here," he said.

Two familiar faces popped up on the screen. "Gentlemen," said Spock, "I understand that you and the captain were to see the Enterprise off today."

Scotty bit his lip and Chekov looked away. It was then that Spock noticed the looks of deep sadness on their faces, which were made so small by the screen. Scotty nodded. "There was an accident. Nobody knows wha' happened. Jim's gone, Spock."

Spock put his hand on the wall to steady himself. Reigning in his shock, he straightened up. "I shall of course come back at once. When…" He swallowed. "When is the funeral to be?"

Scotty looked somewhat surprised. "Well, that's your decision, as his next of kin, isn' it? But I've got ta warn ya, Spock, there is no body."

"What do you mean?" asked Spock, trying to raise his eyebrow again but finding this casual gesture hard to pull off.

"We are not sure what happened," piped up Chekov. He and Scotty then began to relate what had happened. Spock cleared his throat. "Perhaps later, gentlemen," he said, "I must go now."

He turned the screen off.

In a daze, Spock excused himself from the conferences. He made his way back to Starfleet.

They gave Jim a hero's send-off. To Spock, as illogical as the idea seemed, something didn't feel right. The conspicuous absence of even a piece of the man who everyone had known and loved so well weighed heavily on Spock's mind. It was as if he was not dead at all. Spock had very little grief to master—it was as if a massive bottle of it was sitting uncomfortably in his chest, but it was corked so that he could not access it. He looked around at the funeral's attendees. He seemed to be the only one who was having this experience. Chekov, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu and Chapel were all standing with tears streaming down their faces. McCoy had his head bent low, and Spock could not see his face. Spock's mother, who had grown quite fond of Jim over the years, was crying. Carol Marcus, mother of Jim's only child, was there as well. Poor David. Had Spock known that his life would be sacrificed in order for Spock to be saved, Spock would never have wanted saving. He occasionally found himself wondering if Jim would have come after him anyway if he had known what the outcome was going to be. Spock had never had the courage (or tactlessness) to ask. But such speculation was useless.

McCoy spoke. "People always used to ask Jim what advice he could give to up-and-coming Starfleet officers. He always said something like 'Surround yourself with the best people you know and you should be all right.' Well, the man may have had a point." Some people smiled. McCoy continued. "But what he didn't realize was that this only works if the person in command is willing to listen to and value what the people around him have to say. It only works if his crew respects him and is devoted to him. Jim inspired the people around him to be the best they could be. He knew how to reason with people. People say he was a man of many passions, but he knew when and how to leave these passions behind. He was an open-minded thinker and a natural-born leader. He saved my life more times than I care to remember, and I wish…" McCoy cleared his throat, "I wish that I could have been there this time to return the favor."

Whatever had been keeping Spock's grief in check burst. He should have been there—it was his responsibility to be there.

At the same time, Spock realized that he was being illogical. His work was important, and he had had no way of knowing what was to happen to Jim. All the same, he had let the man he loved die alone. Jim had always said he knew it would be like that, but it was supposed to happen years in the future. He and Jim could have had so much more time…

Spock declined to speak.

Later, Spock's father walked up to him. Looking uncertain, he said, "I am…truly sorry…for what has happened."

Spock inclined his head slightly, somewhat surprised at his father's unusually emotional words. His mother, who was clearly fighting both the urge to cry and the urge to embrace her son, tried valiantly to smile.

***

For Spock, life became a series of firsts since Jim. Spock's first meal without Jim came almost a week after Spock first received the news. It was not until he began to grow physically weak that it occurred to him to take food. Jim's birthday passed a couple of months later, and a couple of months after that the first Starfleet class to graduate without Jim graduated. Spock noted the first anniversary of their bonding ceremony for which Jim was not present. A couple of years later, Spock had his first ponn farr without Jim. In the years they had been together, Spock's ponn farr had been a time of heat, energy and joy. Now, with Jim's death still so near, Spock barely even felt the normally devastating effects of it. All Spock had to do to make his feelings of urgency go away was think of Jim. In a few days, he was back to normal.

The treaty with the Klingons had gone well. Spock's was once again a household name throughout the Federation. They kept him busy, sending him around the galaxy as a representative. Spock kept busy, and all in all it was not unpleasing work.

However, there was something nagging at the back of his mind. He couldn't figure out what it was that was making him think this way, but he had a feeling—an illogical, unfounded feeling—that Jim was not lost forever.