The baby's cries flood the communicator.
For a moment he manages to numb the feeling of resignation, the swelling of pride spilling over when they discuss what name they want to call him. Even as this happens, even as he wishes that he could hold his baby and his wife, the sirens and alarms remind him of-
"-I love you so-"
When he opens his eyes, he's sitting in a plane of white. The place is vast, empty, endless and white but not so blindingly white that it hurts his eyes. For the most part, he seats himself next to a faceless female statue with a worn down face and watches the occasional passerby walk by.
Once in a while, the walkers stop and ask for his name. He tells them. They shake his hand and thank him for saving them or their sons and daughters. He doesn't quite understand but thanks them for talking to him.
It seems like only minutes when he notices a human woman in Vulcan garb slowly make her way through the plane. She stops by the statue and laughs at him with her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" She asks, as the people around them move forwards towards their destinations.
"I'm waiting," He says without thinking before pausing to reflect on his statement. "I'm waiting," he repeats again, finding that he has no real way to explain his answer.
"I'm waiting too," she says before sitting down next to him. Curling her knees to her, she stares into the plane.
They sit for a while as the plane becomes empty of the mass of people that had previously passed through.
"Were they there?"
Sadly, she shakes her head but looks relieved anyways. "I'm glad."
"George," extending a hand, he looks at her in the eyes and finds that she's oddly familiar. "George Kirk."
Taking his hand, the woman responds, "Amanda Grayson."