Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the rights to Star Trek or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Thank you to all who read Fracture and encouraged me to write a sequel! That said, I'm doing something I've never done before and releasing Closure in chapters (dropping 1-3 to start). Yikes! This makes me nervous as I generally go back and forth between chapters before posting…so I can't guarantee little details here and there won't change in posted chapters, but no major plot points will be altered. That said, I am almost done with the story but wanted to start posting in early 2022 as promised…plus this way you get to start reading as I work on finishing the final parts. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

He watched the small bead of water cling to the old stone wall. Watched it expand until it was too heavy to support itself. Slowly, it started a trek down the rough gray stone, increasing its speed before eventually splashing into the small pool created by the other droplets that had previously made the journey before.

Turning his gaze towards the ceiling, he sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe if he could just get a few hours of sleep he would be able to think more clearly, and if he was able to think clearly…maybe he could figure out how to get out of this god-forsaken situation, off this planet, and make his way to the place in his heart he knew was safe. The place his mind only allowed him access to in quick, useless glimpses.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly in frustration, feeling the pressure in his head increase as he did so. How long had he been here? His memory was a blur. Minutes bled into hours, which bled into days. How many days? God, how many weeks? How long had it been since he had been engulfed in the warmth of the sun and felt the breeze brush across his skin?

His thoughts were now reeling. The urge to sleep once again pushed far from his mind. Standing abruptly, he started to pace the small space that had become his refuge, the sound of the antiquated springs underneath him protesting at the movement.

One, two, three paces, turn. One, two, three paces, turn.

His patience was wearing thin, as was the soft dirt from his daily pacing. Pausing, he placed his hands on his hips as he glanced around the tiny room, which was simply a small stone cellar under an equally small farmhouse he had fortuitously stumbled upon in the middle of nowhere. Aside from a small cot and wooden crate the space was bare, which told him he wasn't the first person to call this space a temporary home. On the wall near the narrow steps that led up to the door was a small rectangle window, which was his only visibility to the outside world.

Sighing once more, he shook his head. He wanted nothing more than to leave this place. Leave this life and never look back, but it wasn't safe to leave. Not yet.

He simply knew. Something in him knew he shouldn't leave the safe haven he had been granted. For the life of him he couldn't figure out how, but he knew. It was a sixth sense he had come to trust and rely on since as far back as he could remember, which these days wasn't very far. However, it was a sense that had recently proven to save his life on more than one occasion, and he had no reason to believe this time would be any different. The stakes were high, and he needed to ensure he was as careful as possible if he was going to come out of this alive.

Sitting once more he ran his hands through his short, brown hair as the cot sank under his weight. He desperately needed to figure out a way to shut his mind off and get some sleep.

The sudden knock on the door pulled his focus back, saving him from spiraling into a pit of anxiety. Though he knew who it would be, a part of him could not help but remain completely quiet and still until he was absolutely certain he was safe.

"Evening." He watched as the young girl peaked her head around the door, then made her way carefully down the stairs balancing a small tray of food. Potato soup, crusty bread, and a glass of water…what he had come to know as his standard dinner, though he couldn't complain. Not after what he'd recently been through. He released his breath and made his way over to help her.

"Thank you." He smiled sweetly at her as he placed the tray on the crate, and she returned the gesture. She was young – fourteen he thought she had told him when he had first arrived…all bloody, broken, and starving. Seeing her always made his memory tingle, though no matter how hard he tried he could never place who she reminded him of. "Any news?"

Tucking a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear she looked at him knowingly with bright sapphire eyes. "Not yet. Father wanted me to let you know he's traveling to the capital tomorrow to meet with some his associates and hopes to return with the information you are looking for. Try to have a little more patience, okay? These types of requests have to be handled with extreme care, which takes time."

He smiled at her care-free tone. "Yes, thank you, Talia – and please thank your father for me as well. I owe your family a great debt for all you have done for me."

Nodding, she made her way back up the steps. As she pushed open the door she glanced over her shoulder, sincerity shining in her eyes. "I really hope you find what you are looking for, Drew."

The sound of the wooden door closing echoed through the cellar as he slowly made his way back to the cot. Taking a bite of the bread, he closed his eyes as the warmth and flavor danced over his tongue. Another memory tickled the edge of his mind at the savory taste but faded away just as quickly as it had come.

Perhaps if he could remember exactly what he was looking for, it would be easier to find.