Spock had once heard the expression of having a 'reeling' mind from his mother. She and his father were reading the news from Earth in the kitchen when they came across an article about the extensive list of animals that were going extinct for various reasons.

"That sends my mind reeling, Sarek. Are you able to calculate how long before 90% of the animal kingdom is extinct?" She turned to his father who had focused look on his face (impassive but with a slight crease between his pointed eyebrows).

"At this rate, 23.57 Earth years unless action is taken to slow its progress." One elegant eyebrow arched at his wife's language, "But I do not believe there is any cause for dramatics. I will send word to my acquaintances on Earth for a recovery project to be put into place."

Spock couldn't see his mother but by the change of expression on his father's face, the relaxation of the arch and crease, and the release of the tension in his outer facial muscles, he knew his mother was smiling.

"Thank you, dear." Amanda gently kissed him, breaking the faux pas of their marriage in doing so outside the bedroom. However, being that they were alone, Sarek allowed this and graced her with one of his almost smiles, the one that was specifically for her.

The moment was soon over and Sarek continued to read while Amanda went to go start on dinner. Spock, with as must grace as he could muster (which wasn't much considering he was only 3), walked into the kitchen and right up to his mother.

"Ko-mekh, what is a 'reeling mind'"? His tiny face bore childlike frustration at the human term.

Sarek simply glanced over the tablet before continuing to read, the knowledge would only help him as the ambassador's son.

After a glance at her husband, Amanda knelt down beside Spock, who had yet to enter a growth spurt like his full-blood counterparts. "K'diwa, a 'reeling mind' is when humans are unable to grasp what has been told to them and their thoughts float around in their head, with no logic or reason. As though they're spinning in circles."

Her son's eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to understand such an illogical concept. When he was silent for an unusual amount of time, Sarek looked up from the tablet, "Spock, clear your face."

That seemed to shake him out of his concentration. The young Vulcan quickly cleared his face of any emotion. "Of course, Sa-mekh." And walked carefully back to his room, his parents watching him with kind eyes.

The memory was sudden and illogical, but it was fitting. Spock was unable to understand how or why the captain had a bond with him, or why it was broken. There were so many questions that he didn't have answers to, and without anyone to ask. Ambassador Spock was gone, his memories and knowledge gone with him. The loss was like an ache in his heart, twisting like a thorn.

Now he had a bigger problem to deal with than just an aching heart. With the bond broken, it was only a matter of time before they both felt the affects of the loss. Without a healer on board, they would soon lose the ability to function and that was dangerous, perhaps even fatal. As they had never consummated the bond, Spock was unsure if it would be treated the same as any other non-familial bond. However, he began to feel the dull pulse of a headache emanating from the snapped tendrils of the bond. He had to find the captain.

He was making his way to the med-bay, where he assumed the captain was receiving 'comfort' from Dr. McCoy. The thought caused the headache to flare, almost making Spock flinch. This was getting serious. In 20.6 minutes, the broken bond was having an affect on him and even with his controls, the pain and disorientation, it was slipping. he could imagine what the captain...Jim, was experiencing. Even when his bond with T'Pring stretched and weakened due to distance and the lack of sentiment between them, he only experienced a mild headache, nothing to this degree. The strength of this bond was startling, being that they had never melded, and that Jim was a human. He would get to the bottom of this, whether Jim cooperated or not.

The med-bay doors opened without the normal noises of the ship's door, being that med-bay needed silence for any patients that resided. Fortunately, the whole bay was empty, being that their recent missions have been peaceful and diplomatic. It was also unusually silent. Nurse Chapel was away and the doctor's rough, Georgian voice could not be heard. Focusing his superior hearing, muffled voices bled through the CMO's door at the end of the bay.

Standing away from the sensor so he could listen without altering them of his presence. What he heard inside only had his head pulse harder.

"Bones...I can't do it anymore. What he said hurt. How are we supposed to be a team when we don't even know each other?"

"Jim, you're a captain, and he's your commander. Despite what's happened, he will remain a reliable officer. That Vulcan training of his won't allow anything otherwise." Spock heard fabric rustling and Jim's sigh was more muffled, indicating that the doctor had pulled Jim in for an embrace.

"Just know that I'm here, Jim. You're stuck with me."

"I love ya Bones, I don't know what I would do without you."

Spock flinched as if he'd been struck. The words spun around in his head, pain flaring up around his temple, making his meld points burn. He quickly turned away from the door and stalked out, not realizing that his movement triggered the door and the two officers turned at the sound only to see the backside of the Vulcan disappear out the bay door.

Jim shook his head, leaning toward his friend in an uncharacteristic show of weakness.

"Bones, my head is killing me."