Not Mine, Never Mine, Usual Disclaimers.
Spock paced back and forth, it was illogical, he knew, but he was extremely worried. Most of the exploration crew was present and accounted for, but there were still people missing, the captain included. They had all been flung about by the "earthquake", some furthers than others, the distance from where you ended up from where you begun, had as of yet, no real pattern. Spock hoped that the captain was simply further away than the others. Logically there was no real reason to suspect otherwise, but something was telling him that the captain was in trouble.
An hour later and it had become clear that the captain had disappeared. All the other crew members had been located, with the shuttle having done a fly over of the area and turning up nothing, the captain was simply gone. There was a jungle to the north, but the shuttle had been damaged, they were lucky it hadn't malfunctioned and crashed during the fly over. The hull was severely damaged, taking space travel out of the equation and the communications panel was fried. They were just going to have to wait for the Enterprise to miss their scheduled check-in and come looking for them. Spock may not like it, but the search for his friend, and somewhat lover, was going to have to wait. The idea did not entice him, as he felt ill over his last words to the man he loved.
Spock hadn't meant to say that he regretted their union, the way that he did. Kirk was everything he could want, need or ask for in a partner, but Spock suspected that he wasn't the right kind of partner for Kirk. Their minds were compatible, the bond wouldn't have formed if they weren't, but their personalities seemed to be taken into play. He knew that he had hurt Kirk during their first union, and he was disgusted at himself for it. He had let Kirk take the lead in their sexual relations from then on in, and it had become obvious from their first time, what Kirk had enjoyed most. Spock regretted not telling Kirk from the start, maybe it would have been smoother if he had. He should have logically told McCoy about the rituals of Pon Farr when he had first felt the urgers, not waited until it was too late to return to Vulcan for him. But he had waited, illogically hoping that his friend the captain, to whom he held feelings for, would come for him in his hour of need and discover everything he ever needed. Wishful thinking was ever rarely productive.