In the end he decided that he must leave her, return to their encampment, pick up the medical supplies all survey missions carried. Starfleet was scrupulous in its regulations regarding the safety of its personnel, it might call upon them to sacrifice their lives, but it never sought to squander them. He would need shelter, lighting, food and water. He climbed out of the gulley and started to run, he did not jog or pace himself, this was a sprint. He ran because this was a race, he ran because he was Vulcan and even in this heat he could, he ran because the woman he loved needed him to.
He reached their encampment breathless, he grabbed the supplies he needed, bundling them up into a pack and slinging them over his back, securing them there. Then he ran back, blood pumping, muscles protesting, driven on by his fear for her. She was still unconscious when he returned, she hadn't moved. He tore at the medical supplies, finding field splints and dressings and pain relief. Putting her back together again as well as his training allowed.
Then he turned his attention to the shelter, setting it up where he judged no further fall of rocks would reach it. He made up a bed for her. Then he returned to her side, kneeling beside her. Gently he took her in his arms, tender of her splinted limbs, mindful of her other injuries, praying to his deities and hers that she would not be harmed by this. He had been the cause of enough harm, surely the universe would heed him now and keep him from blundering further. He carried her to the bed and set her down with care. She would be cooler here, the shelters were flimsy but efficient. They had not had a chance to test the water so he had brought some from the camp. He set a bottle near her bed in case she woke and settled down to keep vigil.
He was a Vulcan, he did not need sleep as humans needed sleep, even under stress, even in distress, he would watch over her every hour until the Enterprise returned. Willing her to live, not to bleed or fit or die. Hoping her eyes would open and stay open, that her injured brain would not seek refuge in coma.
He sat as the large yellow orb of the star that lit this world sank below the horizon, as the dust particles and other impurities in the atmosphere caught its fading light and turned the sky orange and pink and purple. He sat as the gathering twilight turned everything deepest blue, then to darkest black scattered with the light of a thousand other stars warming thousands of other worlds. He sat through the long night, watching over her, blaming himself, punishing himself, lonely and alone. She did not stir, she made no sound. Her brain was hurt. Her dazzling, disciplined, logical brain was damaged and he had damaged it. He sat as the bright yellow star slowly returned, burning the air with its heat. He sat as the small flying creatures of this world began their morning chorus; it was beautiful. She had thought it beautiful, waking him so they could listen to it together. It had been beautiful then, but it was melancholy now. He was melancholy now. He sat as the bright day warmed, full of the promise of life but it was an empty promise for she was not able to share in it.
He reached for his communicator, setting it to automatic. The Enterprise would be returning soon, his vigil would be over. But not his disgrace. Not his pain. Not his unbearable sadness. These would remain as they should. He had hurt the woman he loved; what mitigation was there for that? He sat staring at her beautiful face, it was beautiful to him as he was beautiful to her. How had they found each other in all this vast universe? How much better might it have been if they had not, for she was only broken because of him. She was only dying because of him. How much better that they had never met, that she was safe and well and whole?
His communicator bleeped its alert and he contacted the ship informing them of the emergency, of his stupidity, of her injuries. They were beamed up immediately, she was rushed to sickbay, he returned to his duties. He did not visit her, he did not ask Dr Boyce for updates, he did not tell anyone that he walked in sadness. He was Vulcan and Vulcans did not do these things, he ate because it was logical to eat, he slept because it was logical to sleep. He had nightmares alone in his bed because he was human and he told no one because he was not.
