Safe Harbour

He was running. In this place there was no light. There was no path to follow and even the air seemed to have vanished. He ran through nothing, feet making no noise. Every emotion had vanished except the sinking feeling that if he turned back, he would miss it.

He heard phantom voices spurring him on, a whisper even to his imagination. The dread within began to ebb away as urgency took preference. There seemed to be a shimmer ahead, a doorway to a better nothing. He ran, his lungs screaming in protest and his eyes stinging from unknown winds. Slowly colours began to bleed into his vision, the world springing to life in a whirl of reds and blues. The shades converged, painting a landscape of a desert, barren and boiling.

Suddenly he tried stopping but his moment threw him to the ground. He grunted as blood began to see from the scrapes over his knuckles. The sand choked him while blurring his vision. Something moved ahead of him. As his vision sharpened, he realised the figure walking towards him radiated a bright white light. He began running again when a loud crack shoved him forward. The ground beneath him began to crumble even as he pushed every muscle fibre in his body. The figure was within reach but the ground was not. A thunderous noise split the ground in two. As he fell into the nothing, he saw the figure dart forward, its outstretched hand a lost salvation as the darkness leached his vision once again.

James Tiberius Kirk shot up in bed, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. He slumped back down, willing his heart to calm down. The dream felt too real to be a product of a sleeping mind. He rolled onto his side. He vaguely registered the bed emptied of its other occupant. He slid his hand over the sheets, any previous heat in them lost long ago. Spock must have some experiment to tend to, he thought. He blinked, trying to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleep. Slowly the sounds of a sleeping starship filtered through his room.

"Lights to 15 percent," he whispered. In the dim glow, Jim allowed himself to think about the dream. As he retraced his actions, it slipped from his mind. All he could remember was the panic of not reaching the mysterious figure in time. His brow furrowed as he thought about the stranger.

They seemed too tall to be female but their coat seemed vaguely familiar. Jim suddenly remembered the hand that reached for him. He settled, willing his mind to shut down. "Come on Jim. It was only a dream and Spock will kick your ass if you fall asleep in the chair again." He ignored the voice in his head, quipping that if Spock cared about him resting, the Vulcan would still be in his bed.

As he was about to tip into sleep, he was startled by wetness on his sheets.

"Lights to 60 percent." Jim's' eyes widened as the smear became clearer. The blood stood out starkly on the white material. He wiped his eyes, as if to erase the image when the wetness rubbed onto his face. Slowly he lowered his hand.

Oozing sluggishly from his right hand, he had found the injury. His knuckles were bleeding.

Thousands of kilometres away, ambassador Selek gazed at the life of New Vulcan from his balcony. A large sprawling building lay at its centre, a testament to the logic and value of science. Despite the hardships, the colony had exceeded expectations after the Nero incident. They had managed to build an already impressive city. His house had been built on the higher planes, his position giving him a bit of an advantage. As he turned, the desert greeted him. The scene was not unlike his original planet. Had he been more human, he may have sighed.

No matter what, this world was still not his own. A flash of gold caught his eye and he surveyed the sand more intensely. Whatever had caused it had vanished. Another wave of nostalgia lapped against the barriers in his mind as the gold reminded him of his past.

Though this world shared the same lives, the people who lived them were not so. A prime example would be his former captain, James Kirk. In any world, James was a dedicated leader and fearless protector. In this time, James seemed even fiercer, a sharp contrast to his stoic counterpart.

A gentle tug at the back of his mind made Selek pause mid-thought. Blue eyes flashed in his mind, as he remembered the meld on Delta Vega. It was not the first time that his mind had met a Kirks' however something was different. When Selek melded with his Jim, even if only for information exchange, he had been greeted by friendship.

This time had been different. While showing his memories, Selek felt the undeniable urge to wrap his entire being around Jim's'. The younger had sent out golden tendrils, latching onto every available emotion and soaking it with warmth. Even when the meld ended, he felt a little of the warmth settle in his mind.

He had been surprised to find that the young captains' mind embraced his as freely, when he had discovered Jim and his counterpart to be in an intimate relationship. He himself had never wanted such a bond with his captain but thinking back to the glow of the mind meld, he could see how it could happen in this life.

"Ambassador Selek, your mind is troubled." He had been so enraptured with his thoughts, that he had missed his father's footfalls. Selek looked to the side to see Sarek gazing at him, a hint of curiosity glimmering faintly. Despite the joy at seeing his father, Selek knew that they were too different to truly connect.

He opened his mouth to answer when Sarek fixed him with an even sharper gaze.

"Spock." Whatever reply Spock had thought of died at the sound of his name. The last person to call him that had been the very man occupying his thoughts. Sarek seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil as he stepped closer. "Why have you not tended to you injury?"

Spock raised his eyebrow at the question. "I see no reason to do so as I am clearly uninjured."

He was sure that his father was about to sigh when Sarek turned away. "Your hand speaks of another story. I shall prepare tea while you tend to it."

The ambassador watched as his father continued walking, tempted to question the man's sanity. Sarek was a mysterious Vulcan and regardless of the world, Spock always had some difficulty understanding his mannerisms. It was as if there was always something Sarek left unsaid. He was shaken from his musings when he felt something drip down his fingers and onto his robe.

Spock had not undertaken any physical duties and had not venture out to explore the desert again. Also, despite his human half and advanced age, his skin could withstand many hits before breaking and bleeding. For these reasons, he visibly frowned as he turned to enter his dwelling. For seemingly no logical cause, his knuckles were bleeding.