A/N: Hi again! I'll be brief. There was a problem with the original Chapter 1 upload, and to fix it I had to make the site think I uploaded Chapter 2 when I didn't. But all is fixed now and hopefully we won't encounter that issue again (fingers crossed)! And as always thank you for reading and (if you feel so inclined) reviewing.
Enjoy!
Chapter 2
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.36, 1055 hours. Nyota watched patiently as Wendy readjusted the sheets around Spock and checked his vitals. When she finished the nurse flashed her a small smile before moving on so the couple could have their privacy. There wasn't anything her friend could say that she didn't already know: her husband's condition hadn't changed in the last four days.
"I don't know what to tell you," Len began. She and Kirk were sitting in his office a day and a half after Marks woke up. Up to that point she was still hopeful Spock would make a full recovery. "It's the same as when Rufus was in the coma, there's nothin' physically wrong. I've had his friends take him around to the comm. lab, the rec. room, his room, anyplace that might jog his memory but so far nothing. The last 9 days of his life are just gone."
"What does that mean for Spock?" Jim asked before she had a chance. If she thought she missed her husband she realized he missed his friend too.
"It could mean anything. I can't predict whether he'll ever wake up or what he will or won't remember anymore than I could predict it with Marks." Len sighed and turned to her, trying to remain optimistic in spite of himself. It was a hard pill for her to swallow but life with a Vulcan had prompted her to be a realist. "But the Commander's unique physiology makes anything fair game. Hell, for all we know he may come out of this completely intact."
"And he might not."
McCoy frowned at her perceived pessimism. "You're right, he might not."
The prognosis was disconcerting to say the least, and the longer he lay there the worse she suspected the damage was, even with his superior brain. With that in mind Nyota braced herself for whatever outcome might come. For better or for worse…
A flutter in her gut sent a hand to her stomach. But what about their baby? Spock didn't even know she was going to make him a father when he went down to the planet's surface. Would he wake up and forget that they'd even agreed to try again for a child?
"You should get some rest, Ny," an uncharacteristically soft, Southern drawl sounded from behind her. Some guardian I am, she thought with a grimace; she hadn't even heard Len pull the privacy curtain away.
"I'm fine."
"Is that so?" He pulled up a chair and turned it around, straddling it and propping his elbows on the back. "When's the last time you ate…"
"Christine brought me some yogurt a little while ago…"
"…in the Mess?" he finished, fixing her a look. "Or showered in your own quarters? Or slept in your own bed?" She didn't respond; then again she didn't have to. He'd spent almost as much time in sickbay these last couple days as she had so he knew what she was up to. "How's about the last time you sat in something more comfortable than this dang chair?"
Nyota turned a sharp gaze on him knowing even then the dark circles under her eyes would betray her and he scowled right back. "I want you to get out of here for a little bit. Go for a walk, go to the bridge, go home—I don't care, just get out of here and take a breather and recharge. There's nothing you can do for him right now but he'll sure as hell need you when he wakes up." Again she stayed silent and his frown deepened. "Do I have to make it an order? Go."
Angrily she picked up her shawl and stormed toward the door with no particular direction in mind. How could Len know that she had no place else to go? Her home was with Spock and he was lying there alone in sickbay on a cold hospital bed.
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.36, 1143 hours. Out of the corner of his eye Monty watched her progress as she trailed through engineering. With arms drawn tight around the shawl across her shoulders and her face set seemingly in stone she was the spittin' image of the ghosties from his grandmother's stories.
That thought alone was enough to make him shudder.
Nyota walked along, her wrap billowing out behind her, her mind anywhere but there as she ignored those in her way. Out of uniform she just looked so out of place on the Enterprise, especially wandering around in the bowels of the ship. The younger engineers tended to shy away from her like spooked cattle while the older ones knew well enough to simply keep their heads down. Monty had his very own "Jane of George Street"—or so his Gran would say if she saw her—and when Nyota looked his way with her sad, sad eyes a fresh trill ran down his spine.
After a long meandering walk along the gangplanks over his head did she finally reach the exit and leave. He pitied the lass but there was nothing he or anyone else could do for her 'til the Commander woke up; with a sad sigh he returned to his work hopin' that that'd be soon.
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.36, 1304 hours. All they could do was patrol their current sector of space yet the strain on the bridge was palpable enough that even the aloof Ensign Riley noticed. Their XO was still down for the count, their Comm. Officer refused to leave his side, and their replacements—while doing their jobs ably enough—simply weren't Spock and Nyota and therefore couldn't fill the void.
Jim knew he depended on his command crew but he never knew just how much until a third of it was gone. Spock was the one that kept them all grounded while Uhura was the one that made them all a family—and now that family was broken. Looking out the viewport, eyes glazing over as the stars flew past, he thought what today might've been like if they were both on shift. Ordinarily on a boring run like this he'd try and boost morale with a game—something silly, like 'Never Have I Ever' or 'I Spy'. Chekov would always rush in and be the first to answer while behind him he'd practically hear Uhura's eye roll at their childish antics. Spock would attempt to reign them both back in with an impromptu briefing of their upcoming mission, though sometimes he'd surprise Jim with a dry joke or two. Around that time Sulu would swoop in and save the day and support the game and with that uncanny sixth sense of his Bones would burst out of the turbolift, call them all infants and refuse to take part.
Jim sighed. He missed those days.
Just when he thought he'd kick his chair clean off its post (if only to have someone do some work on the bridge) the comm. went off.
"Sickbay to bridge."
He pushed the button. "Go ahead, Bones."
"Jim, you're gonna want to get down here."
Well that wasn't good. If Spock were waking up he'd have just told him, right? He felt all eyes on deck turn toward him as if asking that very same question, and despite being a natural optimist he couldn't help but feel his gut clench. Why didn't Bones just come out and tell him what was going on and why he was needed?
And then it occurred to him; he had another 400-odd crewmembers aboard this ship. Perhaps Bones' summons had nothing to do with Spock and everything to do with one of them.
He doubted it.
Jim pushed the button again. "I'm on my way." Looking up he caught his pilot's eye. "Mr. Sulu, you have the Con."
"Aye, Captain."
It was a long walk to sickbay and when he finally arrived his friend was waiting for him at the door. The other nurses and doctors—who Jim saw out of the corner of his eye and who had inexplicably congregated in the far corner of the room—scattered at his presence and resumed their duties. McCoy led him straight to his office and away from prying eyes.
"So? What's the word?"
"There's some indication that Spock's about to wake up."
He wanted to let out a whoop of relief. Of all the times for Bones to get all cryptic and moody…wait a minute, this was good news, right?
"I want you around for Nyota in case things don't go well."
He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'don't go well'?"
Bones grimaced. "Exactly what I said. Marks was out cold for two days and came back losing nine. Spock's been out for nearly a week—who knows what he might've forgotten?" At that Jim quirked an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm hopin' for the best and preppin' for the worst here. With any luck he'll just wake up, see the three of us standin' around like idiots and tell us we're all being illogical."
Jim hoped that were the case…but he knew from experience things were rarely ever that easy.
M'Benga poked his head around the corner. "Doctor…"
"We're coming."
Slowly—painfully slowly—Spock felt himself rise through the layers of the deepest healing trance he had ever been in in his life. The sensation reminded him of his time on Acros VII when he was 13.28 years old; the gravity their made even his well-toned limbs feel encased in concrete the moment they set foot on the surface and for a full 22 hour day afterward.
The struggle to regain consciousness was one thing, but what was more troubling was the fact that he could not recall what sent him into a healing trance in the first place. He suspected that he had been gravely injured and yet the how, when, where or why remained to be seen. According to his internal diagnostics, however, he was in peak form.
Wake up, wake up, wake up!
The sudden assault of thoughts not his own and the stinging pain on his cheek helped pull him closer to the surface.
Wake up, wake up, wake up!
The air around his face blew back in prelude to a third blow and Spock reached up to catch the person's wrist. "You may desist. I am awake."
Eyes now open he had a bright penlight in his face. Judging by the man's tone Spock determined that his physician was human and had been upset by his illness. "How d'you feel?" He pulled himself upright without answer and examined the room. His TA stood behind the Doctor, along with a second physician and an unknown young man with piercing blue eyes. Their presence at his bedside was most…curious.
"If you are inquiring after the state of my physical well being than I can report that I am in optimum health. However, I have no recollection of what brought me to the Medical Center. I would also like to know why a Vulcan healer was not called in to consult on my case."
The doctor frowned and Spock again had to wonder at the curious assemblage of people in his room; perhaps they had a hand in whatever misfortune befell him. "All in good time, Mr. Spock, but first can you tell me the current stardate?"
He quirked an eyebrow. "I fail to see the relevance of your query, but in answer to your question the current stardate is 2257.135."
Cadet Uhura gasped and fled the room with the man in the gold shirt following right behind. The doctor set his penlight down and frowned. "You're certain?"
Why did humans always feel the need to ask questions twice when they were already given a satisfactory answer once? "Yes, I am certain that that is the correct stardate."
The doctor uttered a string of expletives under his breath. His language was very colorful. Certainly he had not been taught to speak that way while at the Academy?
"Geoff, do you mind getting him started? I need to see to…" his head jerked toward the door.
"Of course."
Remarkably Spock felt no apprehension at the hand-off; for the most part he trusted the medical professionals at Starfleet. While they were not Vulcan healers they were very capable in their own right and by and large treated him with more respect than his own people ever did. What did have him mildly concerned was the abrupt departure of both his attending physician and his teaching assistant so soon after he had woken up. Clearly something was amiss that he was not yet privy to.
The younger man pulled the curtain back more fully. "Commander, if you'll follow me this way…"
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.36, 1325 hours. Jim followed Nyota as Bones ushered them back inside to his office while Spock underwent further tests. None of them wanted to stir up the scuttlebutt until they had a handle on the situation.
Four years…four years! He just couldn't believe it.
And despite it all after her initial outburst Uhura was remarkably calm. He wondered if it wasn't a trick she picked up from her husband.
For the first time in a long time Jim didn't know what to do. There were no protocols covering this type of thing in any of the Starfleet manuals—not that he'd ever been a stickler for 'Fleet rules but he appreciated the general guidelines all the same. Now, though, he was flying blind…and the worst part was that the person he'd ordinarily turn to for advice probably didn't even remember his name.
Bones stood behind his desk, across folded across his chest, studying them both closely with his lips pursed in concentration. Apparently he was so upset he couldn't even speak.
Jim never thought he'd see the day…
"We always knew this might happen," Nyota began quietly.
"NOT FOUR YEARS! I know I've been preachin' it but dammit I thought he'd come back with only a couple missing months at the most! It wouldn't have been ideal but nothin' about any of this is! I didn't expect the man to lose some of the most important years of his life!" Bones started to pace and banged a fist down hard on his desk. "Jesus!"
Amen,Jim thought grimly.
Her first impression upon catching Spock's eye was that he no more than noticed her than he noticed the man at the Academy deli who used to make him his veggie wraps at lunch—and seeing how far she'd been reduced in his eyes made her cry out in spite of herself.
But now that the full scope of the situation was revealed Nyota also felt the tension drain from her body and be replaced by numbness. However faint there'd still been a flash of recognition in his eyes and after recalling the date she knew he remembered her as his teaching assistant and nothing more…and for that she was grateful. Another year or two gone and he wouldn't have known her at all and that would've stung even more.
Still, there was so much they'd have to tell him that the pity for her own predicament was short-lived. He didn't know a thing about the Narada, or Vulcan, or his own mother's tragic death. Hell, he didn't even know he was currently on board a starship. The news, if broken to him the wrong way, would completely devastate him.
It was a myth that Spock felt nothing, and one that'd been quickly dispelled by the crew as they grew to know and respect him. His control was precise because it had to be; one slip in the façade, as they'd all already seen, could be deadly. He felt and felt things deeply, and Nyota was one of the few people he'd ever allowed to see the true depth of his passions. In the aftermath of the Narada his grief for his mother nearly destroyed him and she could only imagine it'd be twice as difficult now because he wasn't even aware she was gone.
She'd been half-listening to Len's rant when she felt light-headed and sat in a nearby chair. Her movement caught his eye and he looked her over coolly, his fiery Georgia temper evident. "How come you're so calm and collected? Don't you even care!" The Captain winced; he knew better than most how hot her temper could flare.
"Don't you think for one second that just because I'm not tearing this room apart that I'm not angry! I'm furious, but getting upset won't bring my husband back!"
The captain, who was never one to avoid a fight, was conspicuously quiet. A fragile peace descended on the room.
"You guys," Kirk finally said, "How are we going to tell him about…everything?"
She spoke up before Len had a chance to. "You can't, at least not now. He'll be too overwhelmed."
McCoy quirked an eyebrow. "So what, you want us to break down four years of his life and spoon feed it to him whenever it's convenient? Sorry, but that ain't a better option, Darlin'."
Her annoyance with him was growing to epic proportions. "I didn't say that."
"It's not only him you're worried about when we tell him," Jim observed after staring hard into her eyes. "You're worried about you too."
She didn't demur. "I'd be lying if I said that weren't true but that's not the whole story. We've got to take this slowly and carefully and pick what we're going to say for his sake, not mine."
He looked at her quizzically. "Are you afraid of how he might react when he finds out about the bonding? Is that what you're worried about?"
Nyota let out a small gasp. Even after all these years it still surprised her how observant Kirk could be when he wanted to. All his swagger and bravado tended to blind people from the true intelligence that lay beneath.
"He'd be an idiot not to want that!" Len blurted out in a fury.
She wished she knew for sure that that were true. Looking down at her hands in her lap Nyota attempted to gather her thoughts. Now that Spock was awake it was a strange feeling being alone inside her own head. She wished she had his input now, if only to reassure her that she was doing the right thing. "It's not just the bond that I'm worried about," she admitted softly. "Spock's missing almost four years; he was still my professor back then and we were only just becoming friends. He won't remember me like that.
"But what's more is that that's a lot of time for anyone to lose. He's always secretly prided himself on having a flawless memory and now his slate's been wiped clean. Can you imagine how upsetting that's going to be for him?" Neither man answered her rhetorical question. "How would you feel if it happened to you?"
The look on Jim's face spoke of understanding but she could tell he still wanted her to come clean. How could she make this any clearer? She was trying to get them to do what was best for Spock, and right now that was protecting hisheart as well ashishead.
"You guys, he thinks he's still at the Academy! He's probably lying on the table in the next room going over his proctoring schedule in his head! How do you propose we tell him that that part of his life is over and has been for awhile? How do you tell him that he's XO on the Enterprise, that you're his Captain and you're his CMO, and all because of an incident that killed his mother, half the fleet and obliterated his home world? How do you think he'll react to all that?"
Both men looked grim, Kirk's more so with the knowledge of how lethal a reaction his friend might have. None of them liked to imagine the dark, dark place they knew he'd go to when he re-learned of his mother's death. Nyota in particular recalled the daily struggle he faced keeping his guilt at bay over losing her and it was only within the last year and a half, once they were bonded and started actively trying for a family of their own, that the pain had eased into a more bearable ache. She didn't want to burden him further with news of a bond that no longer existed and a relationship that, at least in his head, was little more than a professional friendship. Lying to him right now was a kindness.
Just keep telling yourself that, a niggling voice in the back of her mind chided. You were lucky to get him to love you once; it won't happen again.
"Jim, it's the emotional fallout that I'm most worried about. The loss of his mother, the loss of Vulcan…it's too much to ask anyone to cope with but especially him. He has great control but he'll need every bit of it to deal with this. I'm practically a stranger to him and telling him about the bond now when it no longer it exists might just push him over the edge."
"I'll admit," Jim conceded after a long, telling pause. "It might be kinder in the short run not to overwhelm him with too many details—yet. But what about you? Where does that leave you and the…?"
She clasped a hand over her still flat stomach without even thinking. No one outside of sickbay even knew she was expecting and all the medical personnel were completely discreet. "We'll be fine until you three figure out what's wrong and come up with a cure."
Nyota could tell by the glance they shared that both men doubted her faith…but it wasn't as if it were unfounded. After everything else that had happened to them all since setting foot on the Enterprise Spock's amnesia was just par for the course. Now that he was awake Spock, Jim and Len could work together until they found a cure or were able to reverse whatever had been done; then she'd tell him that their family of two was expanding to three and they could prepare to welcome this new life.
She and Jim looked to McCoy, the last hold out of the Big Lie, and the Doctor let loose a long suffering sigh.
"Alright." Her eyes widened while Jim's jaw dropped in disbelief. "What d'you want me to say? I'm not happy about this but despite the absent head voo-doo you're still his wife—and let's face it, you know the hobgoblin better than any of us do. If you thinks it's best to," he searched for a more pleasant euphemism, "omit certain truths for the time being then I'll go along with it; but mark my words, this is all gonna come back and bite us in the ass before it's all over."
Without a word Jim took a seat behind Len's computer and started pulling up screen after screen. Sidling up behind him Nyota realized it was a good thing her Captain had her back: already she'd forgotten about the virtual trail that would disclose everything to Spock about his former life. As file after file was either redacted or squirreled away she reminded him, "Spock is a computer programmer, you know; he won't have forgotten that. What's stopping him from finding this wherever you've buried it?"
Kirk waggled his brow. "Don't let the good looks fool you; I beat the Kobayashi Maru, remember? I know my way around code. Trust me, he won't find this." In spite of herself she grinned.
Len stood by the door with a hand on his chin, oblivious to the banter. "We'll have to release him to his quarters when we're done with the tests." His eyes darted over to hers to gauge whether or not she really wanted to go through with her plan, but she'd anticipated as much and didn't waver. "I know it hasn't helped Marks but I'm still hopeful something'll come back after being in a familiar space."
"I'll see if Janice'll let me stay with her for a bit, maybe help me move out my things."
"Requisition whoever you need for moving but you're not staying with my yeoman," Jim announced, eyes never moving from the screen. "You can stay in one of the ambassadorial suites until this all gets sorted out."
Overcome by their generosity she leaned over and kissed the crown of his head. Who knew that the hick she met all those years ago would grow up to be such a thoughtful and generous friend?
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.37, 0915 hours. His quarters. It felt strange to be standing there. Surreal even.
Almost…alien.
Five weeks ago Captain Pike had offered him the position as XO on a ship that was still under construction in a shipyard in Iowa. Now he was standing just inside the doorway to a room that by all accounts should not exist let alone be flying through space.
"M'Benga." His primary physician walked out of his office escorting Cadet Uhura to the exit. "If you're all through Jim and I'd like to speak with the Commander a moment."
"Of course."
His TA left without a backward glance and a sense of foreboding crept over him. Wordlessly, he followed Dr. M'Benga into the next room. Behind the desk sat the man in command gold—Jim, he assumed—who was hastily finishing up a project on screen.
"Thanks, Geoff." The doctor nodded at his dismissal and left. "Computer, lock doors and enable sound-proofing, authorization code McCoy Beta 841."
"Acknowledged."
His apprehension grew yet his expression never wavered. The other man stood and took the seat to Spock's left while the doctor—Doctor McCoy he now knew—moved behind his desk. He discovered at a very early age that oftentimes humans talked simply to hear the sound of their own voice and yet these two men, who clearly had something to say, remained eerily quiet. Dr. McCoy cleared his throat.
"Mr. Spock, first and foremost I want you to know you're safe here. If you feel the urge to say or do," he glanced at his companion wearily, "…something, you can do it here. We won't think any less of you." If he were not so curious to hear what they had to say Spock would be insulted—they were expecting an untoward show of emotion. He was Vulcan.
It suddenly dawned on him what might have sent him to the medical center with no memory of the event. There were stories on Vulcan of men caught unaware by Pon Farr and plunged so far into the madness before they realized it that when their mental balance was restored (assuming they did not die in the process) they had no recollection of the biological imperative ever taking place. He was of the proper age even though he hoped his human heritage would spare him; if he had undergone Pon Farr than he might have done any number of untoward things in his lapse.
Had he unintentionally injured a colleague? A cadet?
Had he hurt Cadet Uhura? Was that why she had been waiting at his bedside, waiting for him to wake up so justice could be served?
"I'm afraid we have some rather upsetting news. There was an incident six days ago that left you and a colleague in something of a coma. We discovered shortly after each of you awoke that it's left you both with amnesia." The Doctor studied him closely as he imparted the news with what seemed to be a permanently pained expression on his face.
Spock considered the situation carefully. Amnesia was an almost unheard of condition on Vulcan and, as far as he was aware, he had not been involved in any recent incidents that might result in that kind of traumatic brain injury. Spock thought over the diagnosis some more before recalling what Dr. Puri had told him during the first command staff meeting. "Keep an eye on him," he said, motioning to Captain Pike at the head of the table who was laughing with one of his engineers, "The man's a big practical joker."
The Doctor went on to share a number of anecdotes of Pike's larger pranks as the meeting wore on. By and large the concept of 'joking' went over his head until Dr. Puri explained that the captain's intentions were to amuse himself as much as to take the measure of a man. Only when you were subjected to one of the Captain's tricks did you know you were truly a part of the crew.
Judging by his current surroundings this was one of Captain Pike's more elaborate schemes. Later he would have to discover how it was all brought about.
Standing up Spock tugged out the wrinkles in his shirt looking as dignified as possible. "Thank you, gentlemen. Your efforts are commendable, however, I believe that will be all for today." His exit was cut off by Jim.
"Commander," Dr. McCoy called out, "I'm afraid we don't follow."
Spock turned on his heel and clasped his hands behind his back. The actors the captain had recruited were certainly playing their parts well. "I understand that it is a favorite pastime of Captain Pike to engage his subordinates in practical jokes in order to test their character and bond them with the crew. Recognizing this as one such attempt I believe I have 'passed muster', as the human expression goes, and would like to return to my duties. I have final examinations to prepare for my students."
The other man shot the doctor a worried glance. No matter; he would acknowledge their adequacy when he next spoke with the Captain.
McCoy was incredulous. "You think this is all some kind of joke?"
"Affirmative."
The Doctor scoffed and rolled his eyes before sharing a pointed look with his partner-in-crime.
"Bones!"
"Well Jesus, Jim, what do you want me to say? He thinks we're pulling his leg! I wasn't expectin' this!"
"I can assure you that I am well aware that you are not pulling my leg as both my feet are firmly planted on the ground." Another round of eye-rolling was all he got from the physician.
"Mr. Spock," Jim said, entreating him to take his seat. Seeing that there would be no escape until he took part in this charade Spock sat back down. "I'm afraid this isn't a prank. It's the truth. Six days ago we beamed down to the surface of a planet called Anguillida. While we were there you and Lt. Marks were taken and returned to us comatose. You've both since woken up missing portions of your memory." Spock quirked an eyebrow in disbelief but said nothing. "You still don't believe us, do you?"
"That would be correct."
"And that's because you don't know me from Adam, isn't it?" He tilted his head at the unfamiliar idiom until the man rephrased. "I mean you have no idea who I am and therefore have no reason to believe me. Is that right?"
"That would also be correct."
The man sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. "My name is James T. Kirk and I'm Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Captain Pike is now an Admiral working out of Headquarters in San Francisco. This is our Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Leonard McCoy. You are the First Officer as well as the Chief Science Officer, and we're currently two and a half years through our first five year mission."
For the first time in a long time Spock found himself speechless. The man spoke with such conviction that it was clear he expected to be taken seriously and yet Spock found he still had his doubts; after all, the implications if such news were true were too awful to consider.
"Earlier I was asked to give the current star date. It is still 2257.135," he said, consulting his internal clock.
The Captain shook his head. "No, Mr. Spock. It's 2261.37."
Now he understood why they had taken the precautions that he had. Spock felt the sudden and overwhelming urge to scream.
He had lost three years and 267.45—now 268.22—days of his life. The scope of that loss was almost incomprehensible.
And just when he was starting to get a handle on things they broke the news to him of his mother's death and the destruction of Vulcan.
It was worse than he could have imagined.
As the men spoke he tried to reach out through the bond for his mother only to find a big, gaping, ugly black hole where the link used to be. In all the confusion surrounding his awakening he had somehow overlooked her absence. How had he allowed that to happen? Very easily, apparently. He had simply taken for granted that she was and always would be there. Now, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a holoimage of his mother sitting innocuously on a bookshelf. She was standing in her garden in their home just outside Shi'Khar.
Mother.
She was the only person in the world who ever accepted him for who he was, who never forced him to choose sides. Even Sarek had passed judgment on him, as none of his accomplishments ever made him quite Vulcan enough, but whenever his mother looked at him it was only with love in her eyes. Throughout the two turbulent worlds he was forced to navigate she had been his one constant and now…
…now she was gone.
Sitting in McCoy's office yesterday he felt himself start to quiver with rage, an age old primal blood lust triggered seeking retribution. The struggle to contain such raw emotions did not go unnoticed by his human companions; in fact they appeared to have almost anticipated as much.
"I understand that you'd probably like to have a little time alone right now to process everything, but I'm afraid I'm goin' to need you to stay here overnight for observation. It's standard procedure," the doctor stated, cutting off any protest he might have made. "But I promise you first thing in the morning I'll release you and show you to your quarters."
True to his word, the Doctor had done just that, using his medical override to let him in until he could reset the pass code. As they strode down the hall side-by-side crewmembers paused to let them pass while congratulating him for getting well.
Most illogical. The state of his health in no way necessitated congratulating.
He took another step forward and continued to survey his quarters. The rooms were exactly as he remembered from the ship's schematics; however, instead of being bare bones of steel they were now filled with his belongings and remnants of a life he no longer remembered.
There were a number of paper bound books lined up on a shelf, both in Standard and Vulkhansu. He recognized several titles from his days at the Academy while there were a few new ones that he must have picked up along the way. His ka'athyra case sat propped up in the corner beside the sofa while on the opposite side of the room sat his meditation mat and firepot. On the far wall hung an artist's representation of the IDIC, a piece his mother had presented to him upon his graduation from the Academy. He hurried toward the bedroom so as to turn his back on yet another reminder of his loss.
The bed sat in the middle of the room and was neatly made, and his uniforms were pressed and hung in the closet along with four pairs of boots polished to a shine and lined up on the floor underneath.
Everything was in order. He alone stood out in the scene.
Spartan as his personal quarters were he still found the room to be wanting, as though objects had been removed without his permission. It did not help that a fine layer of dust had settled over the space during his illness and on the bookshelf, coffee table and bureau Spock found several voids to confirm his suspicions. There were too many empty spaces present for them to be merely coincidence.
This meant that there was more to the story than Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk first told him, and while he had suspected as much before Spock was almost certain of it now. Sparing a glance at his workstation he felt a split second of worry. Surely they would not have restricted his access when they placed him on inactive duty?
The screen sprang to life at his touch as he went to investigate the matter but he did not proceed further. Knowing that he had access to the answers he sought Spock decided that some heavy meditation was in order first. He quickly lit the firepot and settled himself down in the old familiar pose; if he could simply quiet his mind for a few hours then he could reconcile all he knew with all that he had been told…
…and perhaps he would even find a little peace in a senseless tragedy that was three years gone.