I don't own anything to Star Trek. It is all property of Gene Roddenberry and whoever has the rights to it. I don't make money with it. I'm writing fanfictions about Star Trek because I love this story. So I ask you not to sue me.

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A new chapter! Now it's about Spock and in the end he meets Jim.

If anyone is reading this and is familiar with the survival chapters from my fanfiction Short Treks, you must know that this story even takes place before these chapters. Jim and Spock develop a close relationship and learn to rely on each other. In the beginning Jim blames Spock for the whole disaster, but more on that in the next chapter.

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Thank you, Jilly90!

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The only World he has

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The walls were very cracked and with every step he heard the soft crack of the floor. Spock was sure they shouldn't stay in this building longer than necessary. There was a great risk that these would collapse and cause them life-threatening injuries. Still, he said nothing to Nyota, since he could imagine that she knew the risks. Instead, he let her keep stitching his wound.

There was nothing to be said, just a deep cut on the upper arm that he had made while climbing the facade. No fatal injury. But Nyota always insisted on dealing with it as soon as possible. In their last discussion, she had even convinced him that it wasn't just about his health, but that no one would recognized him as a Vulcan. His green blood would give him away, as would his pointy ears, which is why he wore a motorcycle helmet most of the time ... which he had initially thought unnecessary, but Nyota argued that a hat could be torn off his head or that it would slide too easily.

Spock knew that in their current situation, people didn't care whether they were talking about a Romulan or a Vulcan. The pointy ears and the green blood would be enough to make him an enemy. Nobody would listen to logical thinking. They just wanted to hurt him, to feel better for a moment.

Spock understood Nyota and he was grateful that she was still by his side after all this time. It would have been her right to go, join a group of people and not have to turn around to see if her partner was okay. He would have understood, because Spock wanted Nyota to be safe too.

... at least as safe as it was possible on earth. Her chances would be visibly better if she didn't linger around him, but like many people, Nyota proved to be stubborn.

"I'm not leaving my friend behind!"

Those were her words. Despite the end of their relationship and all the suffering, she stayed with him.

He felt her teeth against his skin and saw her bite through the thread. She was done.

"That will be enough for now. Try not to put too much strain on your arm," she said with a smile and rolled his sleeve back for him. "When we're not in town, I'll take another look at the wound."

"That won't be necessary. If I notice a change, I will inform you immediately."

"Really?" Nyota said, startled. "You didn't do it last time."

Had he been human, Spock would have sighed. He knew what incident she was talking about and knew that he would be hearing it all the time, even if she knew that Vulcans have excellent memories.

"That situation had other factors that I had to consider." When she crossed her arms, however, he added hastily. "It won't happen again. I'll let you know as soon as my injury changes significantly."

Sometimes he wondered how much he felt with Nyota like with his mother and said words that should just calm her down. There had been moments with his mother when he had to say the same sentence over and over just so that, as people would say, she would stop bothering him.

"I think we have more important things that need our attention," he replied, getting up again.

Nyota sighed but did the same. She knew there was no more time to waste. At least they had seen new patrols in Sector A along the way.

"Do you think it's just a normal routine check-up?" She asked worried, although he was sure she didn't believe it herself.

"Because of the noise, I wouldn't rule out a confrontation." They had clearly heard explosions and such explosions should not occur in a normal investigation. "Maybe someone is resisting too much and the patrols want to end it as soon as possible. "

"Are there still idiots like that?", Nyota muttered more to herself, but knew for sure that Spock heard her.

"I recommend leaving this sector. No matter how it ends, Sector A will be an example. "

"If not the whole city."

"That is possible. However, the chances are not in our favor of being able to leave the city on time."

"So let's see that we leave the sector and then start hoping and praying."

"As a matter of fact."

"The quickest way is right through the area with the explosions, right?"

"That's right."

Nyota sighed and Spock would have liked to do that too. The plan was risky, but they had no other. Every second they wasted put them in danger. The only way to keep the risks to a minimum was to use the sewers.

It didn't take long, of course, and when they reached their goal, Nyota immediately began to swear softly. The stench had worsened over the years when the Romulans tried to clean the streets of "garbage". Some bodies were simply pushed through the manhole covers. As a result, the two of them saw too many corpses floating in the slurry, and Nyota's breathing became more uneven with each step. Of course Spock understood this reaction, after all, he was no different. Only his Vulcan control kept him from vomiting, but he found himself averting his gaze in disgust.

All the dead were floating in a river of urine and feces ... There was no way to bury them. The Romulans had no respect for life. To his regret, there was nothing he could do about it. This world would not change so radically again.

He himself felt the relief as they reached the end of their path, opened the manhole cover, and the fresh air replaced the smell of rot. They had ended up in the back yard of a... coitus shop.

Nyota walked past him and through the door. "If we weren't in such a hurry, I would definitely think of a few more jokes."

Spock followed her. "I never understood how people can make fun of a natural act that should only be private."

"Because it's private, people love to annoy others with it."

"Illogical."

The shop, like everything else, was trashed and in poor condition. The shelves had been overturned, the windows broken and the goods strewn across the floor. This is what it looked like in any store that was looted even when there was no food to be found. The survivors always hoped for a small supply of something useful. Spock could understand that. He and Nyota had found some surprises after searching room by room. It didn't save their lives just once.

"Spock," he heard Nyota calling nearby.

He went to her and found her standing in front of a door that said "Storeroom". But Spock suspected that his partner hadn't called him for this. In the lower part of the thin wooden door there were names and - after he looked closer - handprints.

"Can you open it?" Nyota asked him with furrowed eyebrows.

He didn't think it was a good idea. "We don't have time for that."

"Please." At her pleading tone, Spock turned his gaze back to the door. It wasn't a good idea, but for some reason he took a step back and kicked the door down with one kick. It was so light that even his footprint was easily immortalized in it. They only stood there for a moment to let the contents of the room sink in.

Corpses were thrown in the sewers to keep them off the streets. There was no funeral. No respect for the dead.

Here someone scratched the handprints with the names of the deceased to give them a tombstone. There was no time to bury the dead, so they were wrapped in sheets and locked in a room. This was no longer a storeroom. It was converted into a crypt.

Nyota turned away and he heard a slight sob.

He would have told her that she wanted to look inside, but that wouldn't have been right, instead he closed the door as best he could and examined the names. Mary, Bill, Quentin, Susan, Sevin, Lyan, Anna ... Somebody had brought all these people here, had done the job of a funeral. Was that someone alone now?

Spock shook his head slightly. It was illogical to think about it. He wouldn't get an answer.

"We have to go on," he said finally and led Nyota outside.

She took a deep breath and hit her cheek with both palms. "I'm good."

Before Spock could react to her illogical act, there was an explosion and the two felt thrown to the ground by the shock wave. Fragments of the outbuilding missed them. Screams echoed in Romulan and Standard. It wasn't long before both realized they had stepped straight into the existing conflict.

"Helmet on!" Nyota ordered him sternly while she helped him to his feet. He did it without objection, even if the motorcycle helmet severely obstructed his view. Now was not the time to discuss it because in the end everyone would shoot everyone. Instead, the two fled back to the store in the back yard to escape through the sewer system. Unfortunately for them, there was a fallen tree on the manhole cover that had not withstood the explosions. Now they needed a new plan!

Spock calculated their best chances in seconds and pulled Nyota on without another word. Even if it wasn't the best idea, they had to sneak past this fight. Their escape route was blocked, they were easy to spot on the street and they had no time to escape deeper into Sector A, as they could expect a retaliatory strike from the Romulans at any time. They just had to flee forward.

Both sought refuge behind whatever they could find to continue on their way. Behind trash cans, bushes, rubble, broken walls and much more. Spock even saw the irony. The destruction offered them ideal opportunities to hide from the watchful eyes of their enemies.

... It was even a warm summer day and at another time Spock would have used such an opportunity to meditate. His mind was out of balance for a long time ...

A cry of pain reminded him to concentrate again, and in their hiding place both had to watch as a Romulan grabbed a rebel in a duel and broke his neck. The lifeless body slumped to the ground and the Romulan cursed, apparently his opponent had bitten his hand to escape, but it had brought him nothing. The soldier continued to swear as he spoke through his communicator. As Spock understood, they had already eliminated large numbers of rebels and were ready to go deeper into Sector A. If so, it would only be to Spock and Nyota's advantage. It would make it easier for them to escape to the next sector without attracting attention. But that factor would depend on their luck and Spock wanted to rely on it as little as possible.

With a simple wave of his hand, he motioned for Nyota to follow, which she did quietly. She only stopped once on the way to put a dead rat in her backpack. Spock looked at her questioningly and even without having to see his face, Nyota knew that.

"After all the excitement, I'll definitely need something to eat," she replied, putting her backpack back on. Spock nodded to her. If they could get through safely, the next problem would be their next meal. It seemed inappropriate, but Nyota was right. The only supplies they could still call their own were four candy bars. It wasn't the best for taking in nutrients, but it was more effective than surviving on an empty stomach.

The sounds of battle diminished in intensity the closer they got to the next sector. It was only a few miles, according to Spock's calculations, and then they would be safe for the time being. All they had to do was cross a couple of backyards, a street full of old shops, to a crashed Starfleet spaceship that could already be described as a visible boundary between the sectors. When they get there, they could move on to the next problems.

So far everything has been successful, even if they encountered single Romulan patrols along the way, which surprised Spock. He really believed the soldiers would go deeper into Sector A. Were they looking for someone special?

He and Nyota were already out of the backyards and hiding in an old clothing store while Romulans patrolled the street. It was impossible to get past them. Their only chance was a detour that would cost them a lot of time, but they had no choice. They had to use side streets to get to the other end of the main street, and as soon as that one soldier was not in front of the store window they would leave again. Until then, they held their breath, trying not to make the slightest noise.

But for some reason glass broke on the wall next to Nyota's head and the same thing went through their minds in the same second. What the?!

The bottle had burst too loud to hope the Romulan hadn't heard. Instead, he raised his phaser rifle and stepped firmly into the shop. Spock knew they would die if he hesitated now. He couldn't imagine the damage he would do if he attacked a Romulan. Now the only thing that counted was who got the upper hand at that moment.

Before the soldier could react, Spock jumped out of cover and rammed him into the wall. The gun between them. His plan was to snatch it from him and hit him in the face with it, so that his opponent fell to the ground unconscious. But there was one crucial factor that Spock hadn't considered. He would have succeeded in this maneuver while in Starfleet. But now he was hungry and weakened from the constant struggle to survive. His opponent, however, was trained for wars and fed regularly. This led to Spock losing the upper hand after a short time and was thrown to the ground with a targeted kick. It was only thanks to Nyota's quick action that the soldier hadn't shot him immediately. When Spock attacked, she had quickly moved aside to attack the Romulan from the left when he had toppled Spock. She rammed her knife into his throat and stabbed him again and again, even when it was clear that her opponent would not get up anymore, she continued to stab him. There was no longer any reason behind it, just the fear that he might get up again.

"Nyota," Spock spoke calmly and waited until his partner looked at him. Only then did he get up and slowly walk towards her. She stared at him before turning her gaze to her bloody hands.

"That's not good," she whispered, stunned. But Spock didn't get around to answering her in any way.

"Wow! I wouldn't have thought that."

When he tried to turn around, someone slammed a foot into his knee, causing him to lose his footing and get back on his knees. While another took advantage of the surprise to pull Nyota up by the hair and threaten her neck with her own knife. Spock wanted to attack this guy, but the man behind him pressed him lightly against the floor with his foot on his back.

"Don't even think about it! My ax is faster in your back than you can see!" He threatened and Spock didn't doubt his words. Instead, he raised his hands so the situation could calm down a bit.

Still, he couldn't avoid saying his emerging guess aloud. "You threw the bottle to get the soldier's attention to us."

The man with Nyota shrugged. "Nothing personal, but I've been thinking more about him turning you off and withdrawing satisfied. Who would have thought you'd kill a Romulan."

"That was a bad plan too, Gary!" The man behind him cursed and something about his voice sounded familiar. However, he did not dare to turn around. Any wrong move could escalate.

"The plan was good!" His buddy defended himself. "These guys were looking for an fight with the Romulans anyway, why spoil their fun?"

"We're not the troublemakers," said Nyota through clenched teeth. Her head was painfully pulled back to expose her neck so that she could only stare at the ceiling. "We just wanted to leave the sector!"

The foot on Spock's back suddenly disappeared and he heard the man behind him change his position. "Wait a moment! Uhura?"

At the name, time seemed to stand still for a moment and after his buddy loosened his grip on her hair, she could look at him. Spock saw her face change from confusion to surprise. And she spoke a name Spock hadn't expected.

"Kirk?"

Spock didn't know why his heart stopped for a moment or why he was foolish enough to turn around so he could see it for himself. Any wrong step could have escalated, but at that moment Spock wanted to see the man who was with him on the Enterprise. He wanted to see the man who knew he had made the wrong decision.

And when he saw those bright blue eyes, he couldn't help but whisper. "James Tibirius Kirk."

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Actually, nobody reads this anyway, so I can actually write what I want.

I will write Short Treks in parallel. I like the idea of Warmth for the Living very much, but I don't think I'm skillful enough for a long story. It annoys me the way I write. I don't like it and can't post it weekly. I feel like at some point I'll delete it and fix it completely. However, I bite my butt and say to myself, "Finish it first!" I can still hit my head on the desk afterwards.

* sigh * Chapter 3 and I think so. This is what happens when I think too long about a story. My inner critic is corrosive ...