Thank you, lovely people, for the reviews. :) It is very nice to know that someone is reading this.

Pyro; That Falmer-bit was my fault. :( Sorry for the confusion. Psijic-Spock calls Snow Elves by their old name, Falmer. From now on I'll just use "Falmer" to refer only to the Falmer as they appear in the game. Snow Elves will refer to the... non-crazy above-ground sort-of-extinct Elf-people. And thank you so much for noticing that Spock calls him Dragonborn! :D I don't know exactly why, but that makes me so happy...

SkoRn3d; haha, well, thank you very much for taking a chance on this crossover. They can be fun, I think. Kind of awkward sometimes, though, I guess. But fun.

Chapter Fourteen : Force

"Fus ro!" It was really hard to describe exactly what he felt, using a Thu'um. It was a feeling of ultimate power, and in something so small as his voice.

Spock probably felt that power now, flung away from the fire surging toward him like a child's ragdoll. He landed in the crunchy fall-leaves and James had no choice but to assume he was okay. His sword was still stuck in the dragon and that Snow Elf—that Snow Elf. James picked him out of the white-barked trees a distance away. Was he… smiling?

He didn't have time to think about it.

James sprinted to the dragon and jumped for his sword, successfully yanking it out of the dragon just before the thing took off and soared off, roaring as it went. James watched for a moment to make sure it wouldn't come back and then turned back to the village to check the damage.

There was no more village. It was as though an enormous black crater had opened in the ground here and swallowed everything up. Little fires burnt on the edge of the ring of ash. Bones had made it into the village and was kneeling beside a sprawled Breton, his hands not glowing with the light of healing. Maybe it was too late… it was too late for them all…

Spock wandered into the black circle and looked around. He looked confused. Maybe lost. In pain. James ran over to him and stood there, silently, for a few seconds. "Spock." The Altmer flinched slightly and then looked over his shoulder at him. "Hey, are you okay? I didn't… I mean, I didn't have a choice." James looked up toward where the dragon had flown off.

"It's safe to say," Spock said, "that you saved my life, Dragonborn. I am in your debt."

James didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Spock took a deep breath as though steeling himself against a blow, spun, and moved off toward the woods. James stood there in indecision, thinking that the dragon could come back… The Snow Elf was nowhere to be seen, and it wasn't as though James could just run off without Bones anyway. He'd be helpless without him.

James jogged after Spock, knowing if he didn't move now, it would take forever for him to get anywhere when he crashed from the adrenaline rush, but skidded to a stop when he saw what Spock saw. Amanda, drenched in her own blood and covered in burns from the dragon's breath. Nyota sat beside her, her head and arms resting on one knee. Exhausted. From running, from fighting, from seeing someone die. Because Amanda was dead, James was pretty sure… He slid one foot in front of the other and then backed up.

"Are you sure you're all right?" James asked.

"I am—I am fine," Spock assured him. James was about to object to his vague word-usage when he spun back toward him and said, "You did not kill the dragon?"

"It flew off before I could," James said, but he wasn't sure if he could have killed the thing even if it had stuck around longer. It seemed that the dragon had come with one goal only: to destroy the village. Once that was done, it didn't need to stay around much longer.

It seemed like an age went by while they stood about quietly until Nyota looked up, laid one of her lean, delicate hands on Amanda's and sighed. "We should as Sarek where they're burying the others, shouldn't we?"

Spock seemed truly pained at that notion, but only for a moment. "Yes, we should. Would you mind, Nyota?" Anything, James guessed, other than having to face the truth of death and Sarek's reaction. Oblivion's gates, James realized. Would there even be a reaction?

Nyota slowly pushed herself up from the ground, staggered slightly on unsteady feet, before sheathing her knives and walking toward Sarek and the others. James wasn't sure how he'd break that news himself.

"Do you have something to say, then, Dragonborn, because I would—" James couldn't think of anything else he had to say, but he didn't want to just stand there stupidly. Neither did Spock. "I would appreciate… something. We should probably follow the dragon and finish the job."

"Well, I don't know…" James said quietly. Spock narrowed a glare at him and James wasn't sure, for the moment, if he wanted to cross him at the moment. "I think the best thing to do is… wait. There's something that you don't know yet, and I'm not even sure if it applies, but… It seems to apply." That was probably the worst way to introduce the subject, but he couldn't think of a better way. Maybe it could have made more sense, he allowed in thought.

Spock looked confused. "Please repeat that," he said. "I do not understand."

"I saw a Snow Elf."

"A Snow Elf," he repeated, his brows furrowing over his dark amber eyes which only seemed to grow darker the more he thought about this mysterious Snow Elf.

"I thought they were extinct…" James said, still waiting for Spock to, perhaps, say something useful. Anything. It would be nice. He did a quick once-over of the history of Skyrim that he remembered his mother teaching him back in the day. The race of Mer known as Falmer had been here before everyone else and once attempted the genocide of Bretons and Nords. They almost succeeded, but the one warrior they missed would spell their death: Ysgramor, the famed warrior, would later return and drive them to their own extinction. Seeking refuge with the Dwemer, the Falmer went underground where, subjugated as slaves, driven to blindness and madness, they became the Falmer that James knew of today.

James guessed, though, that any living Snow Elf these days wouldn't appreciate being called a Falmer, as their ancestors were called, anymore. "You're not telling me something."

Spock sighed, shook his head, but James wasn't convinced. "Isn't there, Spock?" James prodded.

"If he has—His name is Nero," Spock said after switching from whatever else he was going to say. "We were both found near the Throat of the World, robbed of our memories and clearly not where we belonged."

"You mean, out of time?" James asked. The appearance of a Snow Elf practically necessitated it. That would also explain a lot… seeing as, as far as James knew, Spock was also much older than he was now. Nevertheless, he had already started thinking of this Spock as the "real" Spock.

"I do not know," Spock admitted. "It seemed the likely case, considering that Snow Elves are extinct. Through years of care, mostly from Amanda and Sarek, neither of us seemed to regain our memories."

"Seemed?"

Spock shrugged. "Nero only ever tolerated my presence and left for Winterhold as soon as he was able. As far as I remember, we were nothing to each other. Nero had no reason to hate me… barring his knowing something I didn't. But you say you saw him here? Today?"

"Yes." James's mind raced but, unfortunately, was going nowhere. Nowhere but in circles. "Winterhold?" James repeated. "Is that where he lives."

"I told you, I do not know!" Spock suddenly shouted and James found himself jumping back slightly, involuntarily. "I apologize," Spock said in a hurry. "I do not know where Nero is—I expected to never see him again. But…" Suddenly Spock's eyes glinted with realization and… perhaps, the hope of revenge. "But he is the only known Snow Elf in Skyrim. He cannot be that difficult to find."