Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. The closest I can come is wearing a Spock hoodie while writing this.


Love

His father had loved his mother dearly, they had discussed this on the return to Earth after the...encounter...with the Narada.

"It was, as most would agree, a highly illogical choice I made. Humans and Vulcans weren't thought to be compatible. But I stick to my decision nonetheless. Do you know why I married your mother, Spock?"

"As you previously stated, you loved mother, and that is the sole reason for your marrying her."

"That is correct, my son. And no matter how illogical it may seem, I hope for you to have the same someday."

While they had not always agreed, there was one thing on which they were of the same opinion.

Humans were fragile, complicated, highly emotional beings with the most strangely brilliant of minds. And if that didn't make them blush a bright green, nothing did.

Not that blushing was a common occurrence in Vulcans. The notion of showing embarrassment such clearly on one's face was illogical and yet proved instinctively challenging to contain.

Perhaps he would research this some more.

...

Fear

He could feel his heart swell at the sight of the woman in front of him.

Dark eyes glistened in his all-too-Human eyes until a feeling of utter dread consumed him.

This...wasn't right.

"Spock…" the woman crooned, stepping closer.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

No matter how hard he tried he could not get his emotions under control.

"Why, I'm your mother, dear. At least...biologically. Why anyone would want a half breed hybrid for a son is beyond me, but I suppose Sarek needed someone to keep him company," a chuckle, "the old fool."

"Father loves you."

"I thought love was illogical."

"It is."

"Look, there is one thing that I have been waiting to say for a long time, and I am not about to lose the chance.

A real Vulcan wouldn't let a planet fall.

A real Human wouldn't put the lives of others in front of the lives of family.

A real son wouldn't let their mother di-"

"Ashayam! Please, wake up!"

Wide, emotion-filled eyes met soft, comforting ones.

"It was just a dream, Spock," the smooth voice soothed, "it was just a dream."

...

Loss

What could one compare to the loss of one's home? An entire planet destroyed in retribution for events yet to come, for events that may not even come, events that he caused, yet he himself did nothing wrong.

When the light swirled around them, a hand outstretched to catch what could not be caught, a scream erupted from his throat.

He didn't catch her.

The cliff fell.

The transporters just couldn't…

And yet the death of his mother was not the ultimate blow, the final strike that finally caused his heart to burst in a whirlwind of pain and fury.

Not until the fateful encounter with an augmented psychopath, the deadly warp core...an all-too-un-Vulcan hand struggling to make the Vulcan salute, striking blue eyes widened in fear, a tearful goodbye to once 'enemies.'

A friend gone forever.

A t'hy'la asleep, forevermore.

Rest in peace, James T. Kirk, but you will wake up again, and we will speak about your inadequate forming of the Vulcan salute when you do.