Spock's human side was acting up again.
He was trying not to feel excited. After all, he had no idea if this was going to work. This whole trip was one of the least logical things he had ever embarked upon. Picard had provided no evidence to confirm his theory about what Jim had meant—it was pure speculation.
On the other hand, Spock had had a feeling that Jim was out there somewhere. When you were as close to someone as he was to Jim, you just knew these things.
Spock inched closer to the Nexus in his one-man vessel. He was entering visual range. The swirling cloud undulated temptingly in from of him as he moved closer, steering the craft so that it stopped just short of the gigantic ribbon that seemed to extend endlessly in both directions. Spock wondered how he would be able to leave the Nexus once he had entered. Would he simply have to want to leave? And would Spock even be able to convince himself that he wanted to leave? He was needed elsewhere. He had to leave eventually. How much time would pass before he found his way out? Would time pass the same way inside the Nexus as out?
Spock banished these thoughts. Jim had saved Spock's life at great personal loss when Spock had asked. He could not question Jim now. He steered the craft into the Nexus.
Almost instantly he found himself on the bridge of the Enterprise. It looked exactly as it had during Spock's first five-year mission under Jim. He could almost see Uhura, Scotty, Chekov and Sulu at their stations. McCoy would have been standing over there, next to the captain's chair. And Jim would be sitting in that chair, smiling.
But the bridge was empty. Spock was perplexed. "Jim?" he inquired.
"Right here," said someone from behind Spock.
Spock spun around. Jim.
Spock grabbed him and held him tightly to his chest. He was forcibly reminded of his (at the time) rather embarrassing emotional reaction so many years ago, when, returning from Vulcan after his first ponn farr, he found out that he had not killed the captain. Such memories no longer bothered Spock. It had taken him years to realize it, but in moments like those—moments like these—Spock was more alive than at any other time.
Kirk had been caught slightly off guard by the intensity of Spock's greeting, but now he moved his arms from his sides where Spock had pinned them to return the greeting.
"Spock," he murmured, "how long has it been?"
"Eighty years."
"So Picard told you soon after he met me. Good."
"Jim…" Spock said, breaking away and looking into Kirk's face, "is this really you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you really Jim Kirk, or are you some fantasy that the Nexus created for me?"
"It's me. Do you want to prove it? Mind meld with me."
Spock hesitated, then obliged.
At once, he felt as though he had sunk into a tub of warm water. It was Jim in there, all right. His consciousness was so familiar. There could be no mistake.
"I became a part of the Nexus when my body died," Kirk said as Spock withdrew from his mind, "I am always here, and will always appear if someone in the Nexus is thinking of me. I don't sense time, nor do I age. I can look any way I want, any way you want me to look." Kirk had appeared the way he did the last time Spock had seen him, but now his image blurred. After a moment it grew sharper again, and this time Kirk looked the way he had when he was 35. "See? I am like any other part of the Nexus, appearing and disappearing when you want. The only difference is that I am really who I seem to be when I appear."
Spock could not stop staring. Jim looked so young and so beautiful. And yet…
Kirk must have sensed his uncertainty, because all of a sudden he was sixty again. "Good choice, Spock. Let's not delude ourselves." He looked at Spock critically. "You know, since I stopped aging 80 years ago, we finally look the same age again. By now, you've got to be…my god…"
"143."
"143. You look good, Spock. We would have looked ridiculous at 100, wouldn't we? I would have looked old enough to be your father by then." *
Spock didn't smile.
"Hmm. Not a funny joke, I suppose," said Kirk, "Let's go somewhere more comfortable to talk, shall we?"
The two suddenly found themselves in a grassy field. There was a tree about 20 meters away that they headed towards to shelter from the hot sun. Spock was in shock. After his initial greeting, their meeting had taken on a level of intimacy such that one would expect from a dead fish.
"How is everyone?" asked Kirk, as though they were simply out to lunch, "the old crew, you know?"
"Dead," Spock replied, "All dead. McCoy died about five years ago and Chekov died a year after that, but everyone else has been dead for at least fifteen years."
Kirk exhaled grimly. "I should have known." They sat down under the tree. "And your fath—"
"Dead," said Spock, "Around the same time as the doctor."
Kirk shook his head. "It's hard, outliving your friends."
Spock nodded. "We all had to outlive you." The tears that Spock had not shed when Kirk died (or since, for that matter) were threatening to form in Spock's eyes. Kirk looked devastated.
"Spock…" He grabbed Spock's hand. "Spock, I'm sorry it had to be this way. I'm sorry I left you to spend most of your life alone. I'm sorry. So sorry."
Spock nodded. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when it happened. You shouldn't have died alone."
"I always knew I would, Spock."
"Yes, but some day, Jim, you will realize that your splendid intuition does not always triumph over logic." Spock smiled as he spoke.
"Logically," said Kirk, "You had no way of knowing you had to be there, Spock."
"I still might have saved you. I should have been more intuitive. All those reporters, that incompetent failure Harriman…something had to go wrong."
"Speaking of captains of the Enterprise," said Kirk, "how is that Picard fellow doing? He seemed to know what he was doing."
"He does."
"Good." Silence fell. "He told me you remarried." Spock looked up from his hand, which was still lightly touching Kirk's. "He just mentioned it in passing. You know how it is."
The frigidity of the situation made sense now. "I had to, Jim," said Spock, "You know how Vulcans work. I waited 37 years."
Kirk nodded. "How much does she know about us?"
"Everything."
"Does she know where you are now?"
Spock paused. "I travel frequently and have spent much of my time on Romulus recently, so we seldom see each other. But yes, I think she has some idea. She senses my consciousness the same way you used to. I didn't tell her, but I don't need to."
Kirk nodded. "Do you love her?"
"I love you, Jim."
Unbelievably, Spock had never said that before. He had always just responded to Jim's professions of love with 'yes' or 'and I you.' He realized that just coming out and saying it was a completely different story, and one of his biggest regrets after Kirk's death was the he had never simply looked Kirk in the face and told him that he loved him.
Kirk seemed to glow. "I love you, Spock."
"I missed you."
Their lips met as they pulled each other close. It was as if they had never parted as they ran their hands up and down each other, remembering the feel of every surface and relishing that these memories were becoming reality. It didn't matter that they were older, it didn't matter that death had twice separated them. Jim's warm weight pressed close to Spock's chest seemed to warm that place deep inside of him that had felt so cold all of these years.
To Spock, it was well worth the eighty year wait.
***
"I have to go," said Spock, "I will miss you."
Several days had passed, or perhaps several months. Neither Kirk nor Spock was sure.
"Spock," said Kirk, "when you are very, very old and think you are dying, do you think…" he paused, "Do you remember when you took Pike to Talos IV after he was injured?"
"Yes. And you want me to do as Pike did and come here when everything is done and I am old and dying so that we can be together forever, correct?"
"Something like that."
"Of course, Jim."
After one final kiss, Spock stepped away from Kirk. He thought about his little shuttlecraft, and all of a sudden he was there. He looked at the clock. Only half an hour had passed since he had entered the Nexus. "Goodbye for now, t'hy'la," he said to the empty space.
* Vulcans live longer, so I'm assuming they also age more slowly.