****

Nyota felt as if she were moving through a thick, murky mist. She could feel the cold fingers of death pulling her down, deep into the abyss of nothingness. It was a place where there was no pain, no light, no feeling. There was a time she would have rejoiced in this; she would have gladly gone down into the dank, cold, hardness of that darkness, reached for it even, but now she wanted desperately to live.

She thrashed against the bonds that held her, determined to push through the encroaching numbness. She had worked too hard, worked through too much pain and suffering for it to be for naught. She pulled through layers, swimming through the ether and trying to find a means of escape.

She fought. The murky ether became light amber and she could feel the mist grow thicker and she grew groggier. Whispers of voices filled her and they soothed her, telling her to let go, to remember how much pain life meant to give. No, she thought, it was the pain that taught her how to live, to prosper. She would not let herself die.

She would live. And not just to for anyone, but for herself. She pulled, pushed and kicked, trying in vain to reach beyond the darkness. Jagged splinters of light pierced the inky ether and she reached for them, willing herself to move through the ocean of nothingness and merge with the light.

*******

Spock sat on the floor, trying in vain to meditate and push away the swirl of emotions inside him.

He opened his eyes; they were tired eyes, and dark circles had appeared beneath them.

Though he needed less sleep than most humans he had not slept in the three days since Nyota had been injured and he had kept steady vigil, often beside her lover, willing her to survive.

He closed his eyes once more, thinking of all he had done. He had been selfish and cruel. He had selfishly decided he would follow what he had believed was his destiny. He had pushed her away and yet, expected her total dedication to him. And when she decided to follow her own path, he had conspired to keep her away from the one person who had dared to heal her.

He thought of the scientist--Dimitri, he reminded himself. Dimitri was not a—bad person. He cared much about Nyota, that much had been obvious from the tireless watch he kept by her bedside. Spock did not want to keep her from happiness. If her lover was what she wanted, he would not stand in her way.

Though, a feeling akin to pain wracked his body when he thought of a life without her. How could he have dared to live without her voice, her scent, her love? He had been—a fool. And now, perhaps she would never know how much she meant to him. He felt a sob threatening to escape from him. He had not cried since his mother had met her end on Vulcan. But as the tears escaped he let them fall, and did not fight the tide of emotion welling up within him.

******

Dimitri was afraid. For the first time in his life he felt genuine fear. That had always been his greatest flaw—he never allowed himself to really feel genuine, honest-to-goodness fear. He was a perfectionist that never dared to feel fear. Until he met Nyota. Then, he constantly feared for her safety, wanting her to be by his side so he could protect her, treasure her.

He had always thought that to fear was to be inadequate. He believed in facing the world with strength, courage and dignity, but vulnerability—it was a new and uncomfortable sensation. He had felt sadness many times, but fear? Rarely. And now he was afraid. Terribly afraid.

He had battled hostile aliens, jumped out of planes, scaled mountains, enjoyed the rush of adrenaline surging in his veins and had never once stopped to think if any of was worth the risk. It was a feeling that brought back memories of his mother's untimely death, of his own hidden feelings of inadequacy. With all of his accomplishments, his intelligence and his sense of vigor, he had been unable to keep his mother from dying, and he felt powerless in that he could not keep this wonderful woman from slipping away as well.

He felt as if he had failed Nyota somehow. If he only he had watched her back better, he thought, she would not have been hit by that drone. If only he had been better, he thought as he hung his head in shame. He should be able to help her. But he couldn't. All he could do was hold her hand and wish for her to live. He had always prided himself on the ability to do anything. Yet now, as he sat next to Nyota's bed, the tubes and machinery making her body look frail and small, he began to feel a sense of despair. He couldn't make her open her eyes, he couldn't save her. He held his head in hands and felt the sting of tears he hadn't felt in many years.

*******

Nyota was determined. She was strong. Yet, the tides were even stronger. They pulled her under, and the eddying current of the mist pulled her even deeper. They wrapped around her form and sucked the force from inside her. The rush and pull of her blood seemed to still in this place, and she felt cold.

Night appeared to fall in this between land and the ether changed; the skies became indigo dotted with slits of ethereal light. The lush swirl of darkness moved and pulsed and Nyota was held in its grip. She was alone in this place, pulling and pushing through the layers that held her, trying to find her way home.

********