"Captain, may I have a word with you?"
"Of course," he replied, sounding very distracted.
"You have been expressing a wide variety of negative emotion of late; you have been disinterested in your work and you have become very irritable. Is there anything I should know about?"
"N-no," Jim stammered, his eyes downcast.
"Jim," I pressed, "I am only trying to help."
He sighed, a tear dripping from his eye. "My mother just died, okay?" he choked, trying to hold back sobs and failing very quickly. He flung his arms around me, violently shaking. The left shoulder of my uniform had become soaked in his tears.
"You are not the only person to understand your feeling." Mindlessly, I put my arms around him, rubbing circles on his back.
"I know I tend to be overdramatic," he sniffled, "this is just the lowest point of my life."
"I understand, t'hy'la."
"Say something in Vulcan," he whispered.
"You do not understand Vulcan; what would be the purpose?" I asked him, confused by his request.
"I find it so soothing to listen to. Tell me something in Vulcan."
Planting a kiss on his forehead, I began to speak in my own native tongue. "Ashau nash-veh du; heh ni tushah nash-veh k'du."
"What does it mean?" He had stopped sobbing, but tears still ran in rivers down his cheeks. His wet face had turned a bright red color, and his eyes seemed to plead for mercy.
I tightened my embrace slightly, resting my head on his. "'I love you, and so I grieve with thee.'"
"Spock," he murmured, "I love you, too. I only wish this could last."
"There is no logical reason that it could not." His eyes closed with a smile, and I could not help but smile back.
