Stardate 2260.42

Spock

His loss was immeasurable. He had visited his mother's grave earlier that morning where she rested peacefully under a tree in a family plot in Minnesota. It was illogical to speak to the polished granite, but he felt the phonemes of Vulcan rolling off of his tongue anyway. He spoke quietly of his impatience towards the Enterprise's upcoming 5-year tour; he needed to be busy again, to have work keeping his mind off of things. He told her of the improvements Sarek was making with the colony on New Vulcan. He described the planet's flora and fauna and eventually admitted how they would have pleased her. He bowed his head and a light breeze passed over him. When his emotions and senses were back under his control, he bent to place a bouquet of roses, the very ones she cultivated from her garden, against the headstone.

Idly, he straightened the green wrapping paper as he clutched his second bouquet of flowers on the transport back to San Francisco. Attempting to reform the decorative paper back to its original state was futile, he knew, but the distraction was most welcome. The transport reached its destination just outside the city and although Spock tried not to look, the gates above read "Starfleet Memorial Cemetery, The Battle of Vulcan". He was desperate to avoid reliving his first journey there; so instead, he forced his eidetic memory to remember everything but the thousands of markers in front of him. The cliffs were 16.98 meters high. He was exactly 33.15 kilometers from the Golden Gate Bridge. The temperature was a balmy 50.2 degrees. Finally, his gaze rested upon the memorial. It was a sculpture of Mount Seleya and when viewed at the proper angle, it seemed to be rising out of distant cliffs. He had an instant recall to the silhouette of the actual mountain, no longer in existence. Memories started to swell of his time under the landmark's shadow, and he quickly forced his feet to carry him inside where rows upon rows of white markers covered the ground. His destination was in the 57th row, the 89th headstone down.

He stood in front of the marker, as stoic as ever. Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, USS Farragut 2233.228-2258.42. His heart rate elevated 8.3%, his throat felt dry, and the hollowness left in the wake of their severed bond resonated within him. Despite thinking he had made peace with her untimely passing, the emotions of what she meant to him burst through his mental walls. He wanted closure more than anything, and by doing so, successful completion of kolinahr.

She was his most gifted student, and the most proficient aide he had ever had. He was surprised when she asked him to dinner the moment they were no longer teacher and student, and he was humbled by the love that grew between them. As if she were still with him, he could hear her hearty laugh, smell her jasmine scent, and feel the coolness of her body. Heat flushed his cheeks and he found himself crouching over her grave, a hand resting against the cool crevices of her name on the headstone in ta'al. Like a true Vulcan, his face never revealed the emotions warring beneath his fragile surface.

Theirs was a fledgling bond; he did not have the opportunity to declare koon-ut so'lik, and although he mourned the loss of what their tel could have been, he was grateful that his bond-sickness was not as debilitating as it would have been, had they been formally married. Allowing himself this last moment of weakness; he told her that he loved her, he missed her, and asked forgiveness. The bouquet of his mother's lavender roses were a stark contrast to the white marble of her grave. He bore the weight of his refusal to change her station on his shoulders. It was his decision that cost her life; one of which he will never forgive himself. In a deep breath, he rose and headed back to his apartment. He planned to complete his purge of emotions that night during his meditation.

He moved through the motions, walking down his building's hallway, opening his front door. His muscles guided him to where he needed to go, but his mind was elsewhere. He went to his closet, carefully removed, folded and hung his uniform, and donned his meditation robe. The strike of the match to light his asenoi was the only sound to break the silence. In some ways, Spock was grateful that he began kolinahr, he was able to face her grave without falling to pieces; on the other hand, he was hesitant to complete his training; to finally let go of emotions would also mean that he would purge the feeling of his love for Nyota and the tickle of her love for him. He would also have to let go of his guilt, but that was one thing the human side of him simply would not do.

He struggled for control and could feel his approach to the completion of his emotional cleansing. Slowly, feelings were fading away. Spock had been training for the last two years, and finally he would achieve completion. He held such discipline; there was no sense of satisfaction, just a logical acceptance that he had finally mastered—

His steady breathing hitched… A feeling, a connection—something he hadn't experienced since Va'Pak, The Immeasurable Loss—suddenly began to buzz within him. The sensation was so faint; Spock nearly rationalized it as a side effect of his logical enlightenment. It broke through his resolve, however; a peace settling over him, he felt… whole again. It fluttered within him, a deep sadness pulsing through his kolinahr. Spock was flooded with anguish for which he found no logical explanation. He came out of his meditation and concentrated on the feeling. A bond? Abruptly, his com alerted him to an incoming call.

"Mr. Spock."
"Yes, Captain?" He approached the terminal, hands clasped behind his back, and gazed into energetic eyes of Captain Kirk.

"There was a space anomaly- a lightning storm- recorded on the outskirts of Federation space near the Klingon Empire. And considering our history with such an anomaly, Starfleet has requested that the Enterprise investigate." A haughty smile played across the captain's face. "We leave at 0600 hours."

Spock glanced at his chronometer, it was 0530. "At what time was the anomaly reported?"

"Within the past ten minutes, Spock." Jim ran a hand through his hair. "Half an hour, will you be there?" One of Spock's eyebrows rose into his bangs. Interesting, he noticed that was approximately the same time he became aware of the mysterious sensation.

"Yes Captain, I shall meet you at the docks."

"Good. I'll see you there. Kirk out."

The transmission ended, and Spock turned. He resumed his cross-legged position in front of his fire pot, palms together at his chest. He could make it to the shuttle in 10.78 minutes; he decided to use his spare time to test his hypothesis. His gaze was far away as he reflected on the idea that the feeling could be a bond. He began to prod the connection, lowering his mental shields so that he would only be on the receiving end. Yes, it was a bond, although feeble, it puzzled him greatly. He had not bonded with anyone in 2.64 standard years, thus he could not reason the source of the connection or its sudden occurrence. Such a thing was impossible to form without his participation. He continued to explore the fragile connection; it opened readily to his advances. Unexpectedly, he was in an immeasurable amount of agony and heartbreak. As soon as those painful emotions crossed into his psyche, he severed the connection. The emotional transference caused his eyes to burn, and Spock realized he was on the verge of tears. With a few ragged breaths, he regained control over his body. The occurrence was similar to the tel-has-mar he experienced two years ago, but this was much more damaging. It nearly caused him to cry. Sensing the time, Spock ignored the bond and quickly packed his things.

Stardate 2264.155

Nyota

"Nyota, ashayam, the needs of the many out-weigh the needs of the few." She buried her face in his chest, trying to hold back her hiccups. Spock's chin came to rest against her head, and his warm fingers brushed against her cheeks before they met her psy points; instantly, Nyota could feel the calm he sent her, his comfort, his acceptance, his love.

"Adun, do not leave me. I need you." His sorrow seeped into her, but she could feel his resolve.

"Nyota, the ship has been compromised, Captain Kirk is dead… As Acting Captain, it is my duty to ensure the safety of the crew and their families. The trajectory of the Enterprise is heading towards an unstable container of volatile red matter. The possibility of debris colliding with the material is 99.87%. Implosion is imminent. If you do not jettison within the next 65 seconds, it is likely that your pod will be caught in the gravitational pull of the singularity."

She felt numb. Explosions, alarms, and screams had her ears ringing. She couldn't think straight. These were her last moments with her husband; she was in a fog. "I do not want you to die alone." A lump rose in her throat and she choked. Nyota hadn't realized that Spock was gently guiding her into the open pod until her back came in contact with the soft padding. He began to secure her safety straps, placing delicate kisses on her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth. She didn't have the energy to fight him so she could stay by his side.

"I am never alone, my Nyota. Your katra and mine are one. Dahshal s'ash-veh heh worla dashal.(1)" Sensing that their time was swiftly dwindling, his mouth found hers in passionate heat. His left hand trailed through her hair, and joined their minds, while his right hand linked with hers in the ozh'esta. His love poured into her, giving her courage.

"/We will meet again, in this life or another./" Nyota began to calm, finding her strength as his hand left hers and began caress the ticklish planes of her abdomen.

"I love you, Nyota." His words were rushed, and their last kiss was quicker. She was shocked by his admission. He began to back away, and all she could do was stand frozen in front of him, eyes searching his, tears starting anew. He let go of her hand and triggered the doors. When she registered the deafening silence of the pod, she broke apart. Crying freely, she placed her hand against the small window where she could still see Spock's face. Tears threatened to stream down his green-flushed cheeks as he placed his hand in the ta'al to hers. /An unparalleled linguist, and I have rendered you speechless. I shall take pride in that./ She felt his musings and gave him a weak smile. The pod jettisoned, and though she could feel their bond stretching with their distance, his calm continued to flow to her. Space was quiet. Cold. Lonely. She watched the ship through the door's tiny window. A blast from behind the Enterprise propelled her capsule towards the bridge. The noise was odd; like being underwater and listening to the crackling of someone jumping into the pool. As she passed by, Nyota felt comforted in being able to see the light coming through the viewing panel. The silhouette of his frame gave her solace.

As she drifted with the refuse of battle, she mourned. She mourned the loss of her friends, of her fellow crewmates, of the people she had held dear during their five year mission. Yet, she did not mourn Spock. She refused to. He was still here. She could still see him. Instead, as she drifted farther away, she mourned their future, the family that they would have had. She mourned the feeling of excitement they would have shared at being first-time parents. She doubled over at the loss. She wanted more than anything to experience that with him, to see him become a wonderful father to their children. She was determined to carry out the rest of her days to her best ability. She knew that he would want that for her, would want her to be happy. But there would never be another.

Suddenly, she felt a panic and broken thoughts flowed to her. /The red matter./ Through their bond, she was able to figure out what he had meant. In the explosion that propelled her forward, the red matter now rested between her pod and the Enterprise. She didn't understand the need for his worry, until movement caught her eye. Slowly, but surely, debris made its way through the wreckage; silently bumping through scattered parts and scrap pieces. Her heart pounded in her ears as she watched it creep towards the container. Their bond churned a sickening acceptance, an emotional bracing for what was about to come. Her eyes shot towards the bridge where Spock's shadow sat in the captain's chair, and suddenly…

White. Everything was so blindingly bright around her. The pod lurched as a wave of energy pushed her deeper into space, farther from the red matter.

Instantly she felt it. Pain. Agonizing Pain. She screamed and screamed, squeezing her head, desperately trying to make it go away. To make it stop. Desperately wishing to go back in time and change their fate. She could feel the blood running out of her nose, hot liquid dripping over her lip. Their bond had severed. She was overwhelmed by his death and Nyota succumbed to the pain of his loss, slipping into unconsciousness. As she slumped against the restraints, she was unaware of the blackness beginning to surround her.

(1)Dahshal s'ash-veh heh worla dashal- Parted from me, but never parted.