"No-one knew Spock, she didn't tell me….she didn't even tell me.." his voice trailed into the echoes haunting sickbay
Spock remained seated, oblivious to the doctor's hand on his shoulder. In his palm a small piece of torn fabric, pale blue. Transfixed he rubbed it between his fingers, slightly coarse – still warm.
"She had to go, you had to let her go"
"Had to let her go" his first words since she left, since she turned to him, tears blurring her perfect blue eyes. 'I had to let her go?" this time a question, to no-one as no-one could answer.
He shifted to stand, McCoy's hand falling to his side. Unable to find further words that may console his friend, he went to his office, shutting the door, the sound of glass on glass followed.
Spock remained in the room alone, continuing to grasp the material, his fingers tightening, knuckles whitening, the faintest hint of green began to merge into the strands.
"I can't let her go"