It all began with me shouting into my friend HEY DIDJA KNOW QUINTO LOOKS LIKE AN OTTER (no offense, otters are nice) and him replying LOL WHAT THAT'S CAMBERBUTCH WHO DOES WAIT YOU RIGHT. Dammit man, I'm a ficwriter, not a zoologist! So here it is. For Franky, and for my significant otter who liked it a great deal :D
When Spock meditates, he must have the calmest background of everything he can imagine. And, no matter where he is, he often happens to imagine that there is water around him, making him want to lie back and drift away. The feeling is irrational, yet distinct almost to the point of being convincing, since his emotional human half, though subordinate to the control of Vulcan logic, does not always leave him alone on request. And it is not uncommon for one's soul to go wild in the wish of finding the mate once promised.
Spock is raised on a desert planet, which he later gives up for a space tin can and wanders from one world to another in it, far from any but replicated water. In space, away from any elements, it is harder to hear the call of one's nature and easier to hide your true self. The Vulcan's thirst for the others' blood is much more important here, as well as the Doctor's liking for alcohol or the Captain's gift of making trouble. Maybe no one even knows whether Spock is supposed to have a soulmate.
They beam down on a planet where there is dilithium and other things that are of interest for the Empire, but what they find first is a completely uninteresting young agricultural colony. Spock orders not to interfere and to feel around only in the spoken way. There is no need to bother themselves searching for the crystals yet if they can inquire that of the local people.
The colonists are cordial but downright busy, so they welcome the strangers and disappear immediately, leaving only one young man with them "to answer all your questions". Well, when asked if the locals know anything about the properties of dilithium, he does give an answer; a negative one. Spock asks politely if the people are from the Stone Age and where they are from in general, as the planet was never supposed to have any, if it may be called so, intelligent life on it.
"We arrived in a spaceship. Two hundred years of flight in a freezer. Before that, our kind had two or three terrible wars within no time, and someone decided to send the most peaceful and sensible people into the sky, so that they make everything right in a new place. A dream about the perfect world, you know," Khan smiles, tossing his long dark hair back. "The planet was called Earth. Does it sound familiar? I think we'd contact them, to tell that the mission went well and stuff..."
All the Vulcan says is that his home planet is called differently. It does not help; water murmurs around him, and he himself does not look at his companion too much but is aware of the gaze of the attentive grey eyes on him. Something deep can be seen in this look: a feeling or knowledge only Earthlings and their descendants possess; that of connection above kinship, of destiny. The phantom warm waves support the two of them, making it easier to stand what they've suddenly discovered.
Khan feels younger than the guests and is embarrassed by that. In a way, he is right. Centuries in anabiosis are more like a leap, a time travel, rather than an indeed great age. He is of a younger and more innocent people that does not exist anymore, and the Empire is now populated by people of other ways, but the settlers are not even aware of the existence of the Empire. Shyness makes Khan talkative, and he stuffs the landing party with the information about anything they see on their way. Some of the newcomers stay in the village, others fall behind little by little to probe the soil and the air or to examine flora and fauna, and Spock has no one (the bodyguard does not count) to hide his shock from when Khan shows him a river. How can there be so much water? And why does it make so much noise?
They stand on a steep bank, the air shifts slightly from the midday's heat, and this is probably the most peaceful corner of the Galaxy.
"I like this place, really," Khan says. "A bit farther, there's a path down, and it's great to swim there. The water is warm..."
The water is warm, your body is little and furry, there is another little creature like you floating next to you, and you hold paws, so that the flow won't set you apart. Is this what you want to say?
Their bond is obvious, and, as far as Spock knows, it is easy to sweep away what's left of scepsis by touching the other's skin. Spock thinks about it while returning to the settlement, and holds some distance from his guide just in case. The latter does not notice, nor probably knows that the two of them have their only chance in their hands right now. One soulmate in the whole space is not much. It is too easy to get lost in the vast emptiness and never see each other again.
The landing party beams aboard, and the Captain orders to wipe the colony out. Specification: it must be done manually because the phasers can disturb the place's nervous magnetic field and harm the useful supplies. And when Spock returns, he does touch Khan; once and unintentionally. It is more difficult to cut someone's throat without touching them.
The blood staining the sleeves of Spock's uniform is quite like that of the billions of other red-blooded creatures, there is almost nothing special about it. And the piece of skin touched does not burn, or shine, like in dozens of Earth's tales. The imperials' thankfulness for the excursion is expressed in the way they let the man die – it is fast, without much agony, and with his last heartbeat the thought of warm water and peaceful floating leaves the Vulcan forever.
A soulmate? Not in this life.