"It'll work, Spock."
It hadn't.
There was a commemoration service in which the names of all those serving the other six ships were read, along with the casualties from the Enterprise. He was standing beside Uhura and could feel her stiffen as Spock's name was read. A lump formed in his throat. He had already given his speech, thanking the survivors and preaching glory for those who hadn't. They died fighting for what they believed in, he had said. He can't help but wonder if that was a good enough excuse. So many innocent, lively lives had been taken.
The Academy had never felt emptier.
When it's all over and he's had enough being polite and Captain-y, he seeks out Uhura. She's retreated somewhere in a corner, hiding in the shadows. He can't blame her. In fact, he's surprised she's stayed. He once again stands beside her, as silent as they were in the service. But he needed to tell her.
"He loved you, you know" His voice is dry and he swallows furiously. It doesn't help. Uhura's gaze slides over to him and he can't help but squirm under her inspection. He doesn't know what he expected; tears, anger... anything but stoic silence.
"No, he didn't," She whispers after a minute of studying him. Her eyes slide to the floor and he can't tell whether she's simply bored of him or if she's hiding watery eyes.
"Yes he did." He insists, fervently needing her to understand. The Vulcan's last words had been for her and she was denying them.
"Maybe a little bit," She shrugs, "but he was never fully mine. I know that." Her voice holds such resignation that the response dies in his throat. He realises reassuring won't help. Nodding slowly, he drifts off, unconsciously heading towards McCoy. Uhura would heal with time. After all, it wasn't like he could make any accurate assumption about the Vulcan's true feelings. He didn't even know him.
But yet... somehow... he feels like he should've.