"Forgive me, emotional transference is an effect of the mind meld."

He was referring, of course, to the wave of loss so strong I felt like I was suffocating. Even so, that was the biggest damn understatement of the century. Imagine feeling THAT, while at the same time feeling a wave of another emotion equally as strong, but totally unrelated and confusing. It was easy enough to ignore some of it. There were lives and planets at stake. It was only after the fallout, when everything had settled down, that I had time to think about that small but strong current that ran through the entire mind-meld, the brief glimpses of images and thoughts that I had pushed into the back of my mind, to the same place where Spock kept his.

I needed to talk to Spock, well, future Spock. Luckily, our first mission was to help scout locations for the new Vulcan colony, and we were to meet Ambassador Spock at Tytris, one of the prospects. I beamed down alone. My crew was surprise when I did not assign an away team to go with me, none more so than Spock, who was understandably eager to see Tytris himself. I understood his eagerness, but this was something I needed to take care of when no one else was around.

Immediately upon my arrival, I felt like my face was melting off. It couldn't have been any hotter if I had transported onto the surface of the sun. Future Spock simply stood there, eyes closed and face turned toward the sun, basking. Rather than interrupt, I elected to remain silent watching him in curiosity. Still as a statue, but far from lifeless, he exuded serenity and wisdom. The lines of his face gave him character. He reminded me of driftwood from the acid seas of Damara IV. The newer pieces can always be differentiated from the older ones by their texture. The crevices of the older pieces tell the story of their lives, of every current that has swept them along their destination, and every rock that has smoothed them in the process.

As I watched future Spock, I thought about the Spock from my own time. They were the same person, but they were different as well. Those pieces of drift wood seemed a good analogy to me just then. They are shaped by their journey, depending on whether they hit more or less acidic currents, and whether they are swept by more smooth or jagged rocks, but they are also shaped by the inherent characteristics of the wood. The softer inner cores of the grain are weathered away more quickly than the denser outer layers. The kinds of soils they grew in add different minerals to the wood, which react to the acid in different ways, creating a rainbow of metallic colors in the driftwood. In these ways, the pieces that wash ashore are always a product of the piece of wood itself, and everything that has happened to it before it landed at your feet. My Spock and future Spock were made of the same piece of wood, but they would be shaped differently by their differing journeys. Psychologist would love to study them, they would be a damn good source of fodder in that millennia-old debate "Is is nature, or nurture?" That was also the crux of my problem now-the whole reason I needed to talk to Spock in the first place.

As if on cue, Spock came out of whatever meditation he had been lost in, and turned toward me with that smile on his face. He greeted me in the same warm, friendly way, as if we had been best friends since forever. It was somehow less awkward this time, though our mind meld had been brief, it-and all the time I had spent with my current Spock since-sort of made me feel as if I had known Spock forever. I returned the greeting with an equal amount of fondness and warmth, and it felt natural.

"Well, it's certainly hot as an oven down here, will make the Vulcans feel right at home." I smiled at the older man.

"Indeed it will."

We made small talk for a while more, discussing his thoughts on Tytris and mine on my promotion. I beat around the bush as long as possible, but I knew I had to bite the bullet and get it out in the open.

"Say, Spock. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, old friend."

"I felt something during our mind-meld." Now that I was there, looking him in the eye, I was having trouble getting it out. I avoided eye contact as best I could, instead focusing down at the small pebbles and sand at me feet, kicking them about and watching how the stronger gravity on Tytris affected their decent along the drifts of sand we were standing on. I cleared my throat. "Your feelings for the Jim of your time…"

I heard a sigh, and looked up to see the old man looking down at me, almost sadly. "I had hoped you would not sense that…I held it back as best I could, but seeing my world destroyed, seeing you…I was…"

"I know, emotionally compromised. Your Jim has been dead close to 100 years now, hasn't he?"

"Very nearly. Seeing you was, needless to say, a shock. I did not intend those emotions to pass to you, I am sorry."

"No, don't be. Um, Did I, did he, did you ever tell him?"

"Never. I do not think he would have shared my feelings."

"He never gave you any indication….?"

"He never did."

"The thing is…" I let out a sign myself, "this is hard to say, especially to you." He merely looked down at me with that same inquisitive look I had seen on my Spock's face countless times in the past few months. I had to force it out. "What if he did share your feelings?"

"I do not understand."

"Well, Spock, that is, MY Spock…" I huffed in exasperation. Explaining this was not only emotionally hard, but logistically complicated "…I feel the same way."

He didn't answer for a while, his eyebrows went up and he got that look on his face, which I recognized it as the look my Spock got when he was puzzling over a particularly tricky logical dilemma. Finally, he spoke. "This…surprises me; the Kirk of my time was, well, he had been called a womanizer by many. Needless to say…"

"I sorta have that reputation too."

"Then why…?"

"Well," I laughed uncomfortably, "he…He's not a bad looking man."

"Surely, you…"

"Look, it's more than that, okay. During our mind meld…"

"You cannot base your feelings on my memories of events in a life that will never happen for either of you, memories clouded by an old man's love."

"I know that, but I know what's inside you, what's inside him. I know who he is now, I mean, who he really is."

He tried to interrupt, but I held up a finger. Now that I had started, I wanted to be sure I got this out. "You can't tell me that the Spock of my time is different, I've worked with him. The same things, the same basic core that I'm so drawn to, it's there, I've felt it. It feels like we were meant to be by each other's side, and I'm not just talking about on the bridge. He completes me. And there was"-I cleared my throat- "an attraction, even before I met you. Even when he was chapping my hide over that damned test. Knowing him like I do now has just strengthened it."

"Well, that is interesting. Have you considered the possibility that the mind meld simply caused something in you that would normally never have happened otherwise?"

Shaking my head emphatically, I answered, "I've thought a lot about this, and I think the… intimacy of the mind meld only put me on a fast track to knowing and feeling something that would otherwise have taken me a bit longer to work out. Consider the fact that if there were nothing in there to be stirred, nothing could have stirred it."

He nodded. "Logical."

"Coming from you, Spock…" I didn't need to finish the sentence, the same comfort and understanding I felt with my Spock was there with his older counterpart. We shared a smile.

"I need to ask, well, I need your opinion on something."

"Anything."

"I was prepared to let this go. When Spock, MY Spock, mentioned his plans on helping establish this here Vulcan colony, I was upset, but I understood. His distance would have made these feelings, well not less painful, but I don't know, easier to cope with?" I looked to Spock to determine if he understood me, and when he nodded, I continued, "But then he came back, offering his services as first officer. I've been going over this again and again, since he came back. I've looked at it frontways and backways, and I'm not sure…" I wasn't even sure how to finish the sentence.

"Go on"

"You have very strong feelings for the man, even all these years after his death, you still love him."

"I do."

"But in your time, he gave no indication…I don't know. He may have felt the same, I sure as hell do, but if he felt the way I do, how could he have kept it to himself?"

"I did."

"Yes, well, you're a bit more…reserved, that I am." I can't seem to help grinning around Spock, both Spocks.

"This is true."

"I don't see how Nero, what he caused, could change something as integral to who I am as who I am attracted to."

"In humans, it is true that, especially among men, research has shown that sexual orientation is largely genetic in origin."

"Largely, not completely."

"It is difficult to separate nature and nurture in a topic as complicated as sex."

"Stlll, research indicates that, as you said, there is a very large genetic component. Which means your Jim had at least the capacity to feel what I feel."

"I would not worry on it too much, what happened in my time is of no consequence to who you are. You were born, or perhaps have developed, as you are now. What may have, or could have happened is inconsequential. It would be illogical to dwell in self doubt on your sexuality. It is what it is. If you are uncomfor…"

"Oh, no, no. That's not what I'm getting at. What I feel feels so right, I can't imagine having a problem with it. What I'm wondering is…By your account, and it sounds like many other's, your Jim Kirk was…heterosexual."

"Yes, as it sounds by many accounts you seem to be as well."

"Touché. But I know what I feel for Spock, and it's light years beyond anything I have ever felt for a woman." We both stood in silence for a time, but I was still worried about something else. "You never married."

"No, I never did."

"You never showed an interest in any woman."

"That is not true, I.."

"I mean, you never showed any interest in a woman that was not drug-induced, or spurred by some similarly uncontrollable force."

"This is true."

"See, that's my problem. The Spock of my time, he does show interest in women, well, A woman."

"Fascinating."

"What does the research say about Vulcan men?"

"Well, that would be a difficult subject of study. Many Vulcan marriages are arranged at a young age, and those that are not…as you know, Vulcans seek to control their emotions, and will try to base mate choice on logic rather than feelings. Just as I was conceived with the aid of scientific intervention since Vulcans and Humans cannot reproduce naturally, it is possible for two same-sexed vulcans to produce a child only through intervention. It is faster to reproduce the natural way, so the logical choice is often to choose a partner of a different sex, but there are some of the same sex, matched based on other factors. Also bear in mind, I am half human."

"So, is it possible that my Spock doesn't share your feelings about me?"

"I cannot imagine not loving Jim, but …it IS possible."

The weight of his words hit me like a blow, or perhaps it was the gravity and heat finally getting to me. I stumbled backward and nearly tripped over a dune of sand. It was only Spock's arm reaching out to catch me that prevented it. He was strong, like my Spock. Even at his age, he could easily kick my ass if he really wanted to. Even so, Spock-both Spocks-were gentle, amazing individuals. I felt privileged to know both of them, even if I was helplessly in love with one of them.

He kept a steadying hand on my arm as he spoke, "You might bring this up to your Spock. He would be able to answer the question better that I."

My mind filled with possibilities. All I could do was shake my head.

We went about what we had come there to do, and it was only as we were getting ready to leave that he spoke on the subject again.

"Jim, will you take some advice from an old man?"

"I welcome it, Spock."

"Tell him how you feel. Not a day goes by when I don't wish that I had had one more chance to talk to Jim, to tell him. Especially now that I know…"

He trailed off and turned his face back toward the sun, closing his eyes.

After a while of watching him bask, I turned away to contact the Enterprise to beam me up. Just before I had a chance to grab my communicator, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to find Spock reaching out to me, it felt like second nature to go into his open arms and return his hug. He only whispered, "Tell him," before turning back and heading for the cliffs in the distance, where he had landed his shuttle.

When I beamed aboard the Enterprise, I found my Spock standing in the transporter room at the tall thin window to the left that was facing the sun of Tytris, waiting for me. He too had his eyes closed. The light and heat from the star hit his face, which was smoother than his counterpart's, but held the same serene look. That is, until he turned his head toward me upon hearing my arrival, eager to hear all about Tytris.

"Tell him," I heard Older Spock's gravelly voice again as my own Spock approached.

The End