Chapter Text
There is no message sent. There does not need to be.
Spock excuses himself from the bridge. It is a calm day for the Enterprise. It will go unnoticed.
He returns to his quarters. He attempts to meditate.
Three hours, thirty seven minutes and twelve seconds later, his computer terminal gives him a notification.
In the past, these notifications have been flagged news reports regarding speeches Captain - Fleet Captain Pike has given, or accolades in his name.
He knows this one is not.
He reads over the report, the description of the accident on the training ship. The cadets saved. The two cadets dead. Fleet Captain Pike -
Fleet Captain Pike alive, but in critical condition.
He sets the computer to flag further updates.
He extinguishes the flame on the candle meant to accompany his meditation. He has work to do.
---
Number One knows what happened the moment she reads the first cadet’s name.
Dusty Swender.
No matter how many years had passed, she had never forgotten the names Chris had read.
Dusty Swender was alive.
Ma’at Al Alcazar was dead.
As she reads through the report, she expects to find Christopher Pike’s name in the list of the dead.
She doesn’t.
Fleet Captain Pike alive, but in critical condition.
Her commbadge chimes. “Captain? You’re needed on the bridge.”
Right.
She takes a breath, directs the computer to route updates on Fleet Captain Pike’s condition to her chair.
In those few moments, she makes her face ice again. She has work to do.
---
He wakes up, and he is melting in fire.
He -
-
He wakes up, and he is melting in fire.
There is a surface, and there are voices, and -
-
He wakes up, and he is melting in fire.
“-ptain Pike - I’m sorr -- to speak -- work -- ative -”
-
He wakes up, and he is melting in fire.
He is on a bed, he can see and hear, though his mind is behind a wall of smoke.
How long passes before he recognizes the image reflected to him in the shine of metal as his own face, he couldn’t say.
But when he does, he knows everything he needs to.
He has done the work he needed to.
And he is still melting in fire.
---
---
Spock takes in the surface of Starbase 11.
He knows Captain Pike is here. He knows what will happen next.
He has spent much time planning. He can be patient as Captain Kirk speaks to Commodore Mendez.
“Commander Spock!”
He stops, turns. “Cadet.”
The cadet comes to a sharp halt and stands to attention. “Sir. I - ah - wanted to ask -”
“Proceed.”
“Are you here to see Fleet Captain Pike?”
A logical deduction. “Yes.”
“Oh, good. I’ve been trying to see him but nobody will let me and it’s been months and -”
“Cadet.”
“Ah. Right. My name is Dusty Swender. I. I was at the reactor accident. Fleet Captain Pike saved my life. Saved - saved our lives.” The cadet is turning over a data unit in their hands. “We - we really did try to get the door back open. We -”
“The engineering doors are programmed with safeguards specifically to avoid such overrides. If the door had remained open, more would have died or been severely injured.”
“I know that!” Swender says. “I know that. I - Maat and Kayla didn’t make it, just with that, and -” Cadet Swender shakes their head, clearly in distress. “But - we tried.”
Spock pauses. “Cadet Swender,” he starts. “No member of Starfleet would require thanks for sacrificing to protect others. Least of all Captain - Fleet Captain Pike. He has always believed, as sincerely as anyone, that Starfleet is a promise, to willingly sacrifice for each other.”
“You sound just like him, you know.”
Spock blinks. “That… is certainly a high compliment.”
“Yeah,” Cadet Swender says. “He talked about you a lot. Had a whole bit in his speech about how you were the best of Federation ideals. And half the stories he told …” the cadet turns the data unit over in their hands again. “It was a whole bit in his speech, ‘Starfleet is a promise, I give my life for you, you give your life for me, and no one gets left behind,’ you know, all rah-rah.
“But he - he really talked about it. Sacrifice, and facing it, and - the choices we make every day, and the choices we make in the moment, the ones - the ones we might not know we’re ready for. He talked about it like it was something real to him, and not just - something on a page.
“And not just that - that side of it. He talked about what it meant to - to see others sacrifice for you. To lose someone to sacrifice. It was -” the cadet shakes their head. “And the training crew - he brought us over for dinner that week, in groups. I thought -” they laugh weakly. “Maat always says I can come up with a cynical explanation for anything, but he thinks Fleet Captain Pike hung the moon, and…” they trail away. “Thought. He thought that.
“But -” they shake their head. “I thought it would just be an excuse to - pontificate more, tell good old stories. And he did tell stories, but - they were mostly funny. And he let us ask lots of questions about the speech, and his work, even if they weren’t easy questions.
“Mostly he asked us questions about ourselves. And actually listened to the answers. He talked to us, not at us. It was - it was really thoughtful. Fleet Captains don’t do that for a bunch of cadets. But - but I guess Maat was right.
“His - his speech, his advice, it was - I know it’s helped a lot of us. I know it’s helped me. That someone who sacrifices for you is really - reaching out for you. That he -” They take a deep, shuddering breath. “I just - I didn’t think we’d be - be putting it into practice right - right -”
The cadet swipes a hand across their eyes. “I’m - I’m so sorry, Commander Spock. I’m rambling. It’s just - we’ve been trying for months to get to see him and we can’t, so - I know thanks aren’t necessary, and probably not logical, but - we wanted him to know the difference he made. Not just keeping us alive but. Helping us - find our way to actually living, not just…”
“Not merely surviving.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Am I correct in surmising that the data unit you are holding contains said message from you and the other cadets?”
“Yes! Yes. Sorry. I probably should have led with that.”
“That is … fine, cadet.” He holds out a hand. “I will play this recording for Fleet Captain Pike, if he allows.”
“Thank you.” They set the data unit carefully in his hand, like it’s made of glass. “Really, I can’t tell you what that means to us. To me.”
Spock considers. “Captain Pike is … very important to me. His support and his words have held great meaning for me, and I am … gratified that they continue to do so for others.”
“Thank you. I…” they nod. “Thank you.”
The cadet turns away.
“Cadet Swender.”
The cadet turns back.
Spock holds up his hand in salute. “Live long and prosper.”
The cadet stares blankly, then blinks, stands to attention, and returns the salute. “Peace and - Peace and Long Life.”
Spock nods.
He holds the data unit carefully in his hand.
---
As he enters the room, Spock knows with clarity that this is what Chris saw and felt on Boreth. The pain, not as much the sharp sudden shock as in the accident, does not reach through his control, but this close he knows the weight of what is there.
He hears Commodore Mendez make his introductions, hears ‘two flashes mean no’.
“I thought you might make an exception for them.”
No.
Captain Pike will have worked out his intentions in coming here, he will know the risks.
But Spock is not ready to turn away.
He hears Captain Kirk’s voice, “Chris, if there’s anything I can do for you -”
No.
Captain Kirk - cannot be put at risk by this plan. That is for him alone. But - he believes Jim will understand why he would take on this risk for Chris.
And he will not give up his chance.
“Captain Pike, may I remain for a moment?”
Yes.
Captain Kirk and Commodore Mendez depart.
“You know why I've come, Captain. It's only six days away at maximum warp and I have it well planned.” I know what I am taking on. I am prepared.
No.
“I have never disobeyed your orders before, Captain, but this time I must.” Let me do this.
No.
“I know. I know it is treachery and it's mutiny,” I know the penalty it carries. I know the risk. “but I must do this.”
No.
“I have no choice.” Listen to me.
No.
“I understand if you are saying no out of concern for the risk I am placing myself in, but this is -”
No. No. No.
“Captain,” he says. “Chris. Will you allow me to attempt a mind meld? To try to understand -”
No.
“I will not attempt a mind meld if you do not consent. But if you are concerned about the effects of the experience on my mental state, please remember that I have had a range of challenging experiences from melds, and have successfully recovered from all of them. I am much more practiced at control than I was years ago. And,” he adds, “if your concern is solely for me, please know that I have weighed the risks, and I am much more concerned about being without the ability to understand your experience and state of mind. But it is your choice.”
A long pause.
Yes.
He splays his fingers, resting his hand on Chris’s temple as lightly, as gently as he can.
“My mind to your mind.”
It is like - smoke, trying to breathe through smoke, trying to see through smoke, to hear over the roar of fire -
“Captain?”
He can feel the presence of Captain Pike in the mind meld even as the smoke hides him from view.
“ -ey’ll kill you.”
It’s Captain Pike’s voice, hoarse, breaking, struggling to be heard over the roaring of flames.
“I know the risk,” he repeats.
“-nt die, Spock - Spock -”
“Captain -” he keeps trying to move through the smoke, even as it catches at his throat, even as it feels as though his skin should be melting in the heat.
He has used mind-melds to communicate with those seriously injured, officers fevered or life forms in severe distress. This - this steps beyond those experiences in how punishingly oppressive, how all-consuming the environment of pain and fatigue is. The techniques that would normally allow him to assist in stabilizing, calming another’s mind appear to falter - even steadying his own mind from absorbing the pain is a test of his training.
“ - knew.” There is a muffled noise, between a scream and a sob, before the voice manages to resume, hoarse. “I knew … had… to happen -”
Finally, he sees Captain Pike -
- Teeth gritted against another scream of pain, flesh melting away in the heat, slumped against a wall -
Spock moves towards him quickly. “I know. I know that you knew. But - ”
“Knew - the end. Not - to fix -” Chris grits out.
“This may have to be a part of your life. But it is not the end.” Spock reaches out, lays a hand along the side of Chris’s face, against bubbling flesh, and focuses with all the dedication he has on drawing some of the pain away. “It does not have to be the end. I refuse to let it be.”
Chris takes in a deep breath of air that is momentarily free of smoke. “Not - you. Not … not if you die.”
“Chris -” he can feel the effort draining him, reflex overtaking training as he gasps for air and catches only the rapidly returning smoke.
He can see the toll the effort is taking on Chris, as well; even with the moment’s breath Spock could give him, he is slumping against the wall.
He can feel the mental space closing in on them, smoke and fatigue pressing in until the space will be impossible to hold.
“I know you would not, do not ask me to do this,” he says, pressing his forehead against Chris’s, pressing in as if he can shield him from the encroaching smoke. “But I asked you once, to believe that I would sacrifice for you freely. For any part of you that survived.” he says. “This choice is not a debt. Nor a duty. Simply something I must do, or I would not be - Spock.”
Chris looks at him, and he can still see fear and concern in his eyes, but there is no time left to say anything as -
- his face is damp. Sweat and tears, both.
It appears he has briefly lost consciousness after the mind meld had broken. He lifts himself back to his feet.
Captain Pike also appears unconscious, but there appears no alarms from the medical monitoring equipment, and he can sense through the lingering connection that he has simply drifted into unconsciousness from the exertion.
He still has the data unit, from the cadets. But it can wait.
He has to move forward.
He cannot, will not, leave Captain Pike to what he has experienced.
---
---
The first thing Captain Pike’s illusory form does is sit down on the rocks next to where his wheelchair had just been sitting - where his wheelchair is, in actuality - and then lies back against the rock.
Spock sits down next to him, cross legged, and waits.
“She was right,” Chris says, eventually, then lets out a chuckle.
“Captain?” Spock starts, and then adjusts. “Chris?”
“The pain… is gone.”
Spock lets out a sigh of relief.
Chris stretches out his limbs, experimentally. “There’s no fatigue in my … body.” His expression is a bit wry, like he’s aware of the strangeness of referring to this as his body. “But I suppose even the Telosians can’t pull mental energy from where it …doesn’t exist.”
“I…” Spock starts, and then clears his throat. “I believe I may have glimpsed some … small idea of what might have caused such … mental exhaustion.”
Chris chuckles, not unkindly. “You know, there are some things you never really lose from being a test pilot. Being able to get into the cockpit of a new ship and figure it out quick, get something moving at full impulse and have it feel like it’s an extension of yourself in - a day. But after what happened…” he shakes his head slightly. “It’s like trying to fly a ship I don’t know, that’s not like anything I’ve flown, but the ship is filled with…”
“Fire and smoke.”
“Yes.” Chris says. “Exactly.” A pause. “I’d say I’m sorry you had to see that, and… I am, but you did put yourself there, Spock.”
“And I would do so again.”
Chris looks at him. “... Spock, when I thought they might execute you after we got here -”
“Yes, you made that very clear. With the limited means you had, ‘No.’ is still obvious.”
“...You know the only damn reason I voted for conviction was because stopping the trial before we crossed into Talosian space would mean you were only court martialed and not -”
“Executed, I know,” Spock says. “Very - logical.”
Chris lets out a huff of laughter.
“Now that Starfleet has seen fit not to execute me, and - you’ve arrived on this planet.” Spock tilts his head. “Would you prefer not to stay? To return to the Starbase?”
“Go back into that ship filled with fire and smoke, trying to operate it while on fire, with my teeth, after being awake for a week and recovering from Tarkalean fever?” Chris says. “I’d do it in a second to keep you from execution.”
“Chris,” Spock starts. “I - hope you have never been given reason to think I would not do the same for you. Without hesitation.”
“Well, I think if I didn’t know that before, I would now. But time seems to have decided … which way that’s going to go,” Chris says, and then pauses. “I do know, Spock. Thank you. And,” he adds, “now that you’re safe … no. No, I don’t want to go back to that.” He shakes his head. “I don’t even know if that way of describing what it was like makes any goddamn sense. Like I said, I’m very tired.”
“Of course, Chris.” Spock says. “I am only surprised that you did not use a horse related metaphor.”
At that, Chris actually laughs. “No horse has ever been as damn mean to me as that chair,” he says, and leans his head back against the rock. “You know, I think I'll be able to sleep. Really sleep.”
“You have not been able to?”
Chris shakes his head. “Snatches. Half-sleep. I don’t know how it makes sense to be… numb and in pain at the same time, but it doesn’t help sleep. And when you get back, tell Starfleet to put a head rest on the next iteration of those chairs.”
“Mm. I will.”
Chris looks at him. “You spent a lot of time planning this, didn’t you?”
He contemplates the question for a moment. “I have been considering it for some time. But only since finding out the details of the accident you foresaw,” after it happened, as Chris had deliberately held back the details before, “was I able to begin to put the pieces together.”
“You might have tried to prevent it,” Chris says, like he’s heard the unspoken words. “Or… spent time wondering whether you could have.”
“You had said it was unavoidable and necessary.” He does not say and you implied that if you were to avoid it I would take your place, but they both know. He also does not say I would not have considered trying to prevent it, I would not have wondered, because those would be lies and they are far past that.
“Still.” Chris doesn’t have to say I wanted to spare you any pain, that has always been the truth of Spock’s experience at his side.
He dips his head in acknowledgement. “The Talosians and Vina believed they would be able to give you an experience that minimized your suffering, while maintaining your freedom.” Spock considers. “I did not know if you would accept it, upon reaching here. But it was necessary to me to try.”
Chris tilts his head, looks at him. “I wish you hadn’t risked yourself. But… knowing that the Talosians helped you, having spoken to Vina… even just experiencing this - and knowing what the alternative is…” he trails away for a moment. “Do you remember Ash Tyler?”
Spock nods.
“Back on Discovery - he said something about how I was pushing myself to try and prove my bravery. He wasn’t entirely wrong. But now… I’ve faced this. I’ve done… what I needed to do, because I know who I am. I don’t need to prove something to myself by making this harder. I just want to be able to sleep.”
“You will.”
Chris lets out a long breath. “I think … I think I can live here. Not just survive.” He turns to look at Spock. “Spock, are - are you happy? Or - I guess that’s probably not the right question.”
“I understand. You are asking about my well being, and my - satisfaction with my life and work, on Enterprise.” Without you captaining it. He nods. “I am well, Chris.”
“You don’t just need to say that to keep me from worrying, just - I know I can’t do much, but you can talk to me.”
“You are still, technically, Fleet Captain.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. And - it’s not that I don’t want to be able to help, but - it’s more important to me that you can talk to me, if you want.”
“Vulcans cannot lie,” Spock teases.
“Oh, of course.” Chris says. He looks at Spock. “You really are well, aren’t you?”
He considers. “Yes,” he says. “I think I am.”
“Good.” Chris is looking at him, something slightly strained in his expression.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah. I’m happy for you. Just thinking. You know,” he adds, “I’ve always thought he was a good man, Jim Kirk.”
“I know.”
“He talked to me, back on the Starbase, and back on Enterprise. I wasn’t sure … Not everyone does that. He listened to me, and advocated for me to be treated as - as an officer.”
As a person, Spock hears. As Fleet Captain Christopher Pike.
“ You didn’t listen to me, when it came down to it,” Chris adds more wryly, “but I know that had nothing to do with my physical situation, you’re just stubborn.”
“Stubbornness would be… illogical,” he deadpans in return, and Chris smiles. “And I was not the first officer to disobey orders in order to come here.”
Chris chuckles. “I can’t argue with that,” he says. “I had a feeling he would make a good Captain for Enterprise. Jim, I mean.”
“He is not you,” Spock says. Chris is - Chris is not replaceable.
“Well,” Chris says. “I’ve always been of the opinion that no Captain - including me - actually deserved you as an officer. We were just lucky enough to have you, for a while,” he smiles, a bit sadly, even as his voice trails away. “Well, maybe Number One as Captain might. Do you know - how is she?”
“Serving as Captain with the highest of honors, still.”
“Of course.” Chris looks away, as if that could hide the downcast eyes above his smile.
“Chris,” he asks, “Do you believe you will be - happy here?”
Chris smiles, a little sadly. “Well, I suppose only time will tell for sure. But… I think I can be. I think there’s a much better chance that I will be than before. And… thank you for that. Even though -”
“You wish I hadn’t risked myself.”
“Yes,” he says, ducking his head before looking back up at Spock. “I am a bit of a broken record.”
Spock looks at him. There is still that same strain in Chris’s expression. “Chris. There appears to be something else you wish to say.”
Chris chuckles. “Can’t get anything past you, Spock. You know me too well.”
“I disagree,” Spock says. “I believe I know you precisely the right amount for eleven years, four months, and five days of shared service and friendship.”
“I love you,” Chris beams. “You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“I didn’t - huh. Don’t,” he corrects the tense, “say it enough.”
Spock doesn’t say the last time you said those exact words was two weeks and three days before your accident, and you must have known. Instead, he says, “I believe that one can convey the sentiment without saying the precise words. By that measure, you have said that far more times than could be counted as ‘enough’.”
Chris smiles, a sad tinge to it. “Just thinking about how I probably won’t get many other chances to say it, from all the way out here.”
“That does not change the fact that I will know it to be true. Just as I know the same is true for my part.”
Chris takes a breath, just looking at him for a long moment. “I’m - glad. Even…” he trails off. “I really am happy for you, that you’re well. I’m glad. It’s … good to know.” He smiles. “It’s a relief that you’ll be alright after bringing the ship here, but I don’t expect that Starfleet will change its mind and start allowing travel to Talos IV willy-nilly. I signed that report, after all.”
Spock nods, slowly. “But you will always be able to reach me.”
Chris tilts his head. “The Talosians’ telepathy only reaches so far, Spock. You’ll be off to strange new worlds on Enterprise,” he says, wistful, “well beyond that.”
“That distance does not matter. If you are - in distress, and trying to reach out, I will know.”
A pause. Chris blinks. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?”
“...” Spock says.
“...?”
“...” Spock continues. “... Do you remember the events on Illus?”
He blinks. “That was the colony dispute, right? It was on the verge of a shoot out, and then there was the rockslide - you were there.”
“You sustained a serious head injury and several major injuries to your spine and lungs as well as several major breaks in your legs and right arm in removing several civilians from the path of the rock slide.”
Chris nods. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant memory, rocks colliding into him as he’d pushed a group out of the way of the disaster, but he’d take it over being back in that chair. “And you managed to keep me stable long enough to get us both transported up to medical. Joe said it was something of a miracle that I pulled through.”
“It was not.”
Chris looks at him.
Spock continues. “When we were young, my sister was severely injured in an attack. My father transferred a portion of … the energies of his katra, to restore her life and stabilize her. It created a lasting connection. That event was how I knew such a process could work for a human recipient.” Though he had held a shred of doubt that it would work from someone who was only half Vulcan - it had not stopped him trying.
“That - that’s what you did? To save my life?”
He nods.
Chris smiles. “Well. I knew I had you to thank for getting me out alive, but … I guess I didn’t know how much.”
“No thanks are necessary.” He had no regrets about his choice, indeed, the connection and knowledge it allowed was something he harbored a great deal of gratitude for.
“I know that - that sort of thing is very private, but you could have stood to mention it to me before.” Chris sounds amused. He pauses, leans back, and a shadow crosses his face.“That was - was that even two years ago? It wasn’t that long before I left the Enterprise.” He frowns. “Spock - did you - did you think that was what I saw on Boreth?“
“I did not … consider it to be out of the realm of possibility. As the only details I had on the event were that the ‘nearly a decade’ from when you told me, the vagueness of the year range did not indicate that it could be ruled out, and the experience suggested that the range may have been ‘rounded up’ with the intent of not causing undue distress.” Spock says. “As it has only been seven years, two months, and four days since you told me, that assumption was not inaccurate.”
Chris chuckles fondly. “I suppose that’s true. If it helps… I think I kept rounding it up after I heard it for my own sake.”
“I understand. I did not consider it to be an… ill-intended deception. Though perhaps the possibility that you would … avoid the exact details to avoid troubling me with the possibility of preventing your fate.”
“You tried to save me. Hell, you did save me.” Chris says. “With part of your soul, which I think counts as something of a miracle.”
“I made a choice.” Spock says. “The same choice I would have made had I known nothing of what you had seen on Boreth.”
Chris smiles wryly. “So I wouldn’t have been wrong in thinking you would have tried to prevent it.”
“Mm.” Spock does not comment.
After a long pause, Chris starts, “So…” he says, contemplative, “so if something happens here to me, you would know? That’s - that’s what you were getting at.”
“Yes.”
“I suppose,” and the level thoughtfulness of his tone cannot quite hide a wistful note of sadness. “That goes both ways. If you run into trouble out there with the Enterprise… will I know? Not,” he adds, sadness more thoroughly permeating his voice, “that I’d be able to be much help.”
“I … believe that Michael was once able to sense Sarek’s distress upon - a serious injury he sustained.” He had never asked Michael for more details of the experience. Now he never could. “It is… possible. It is a lasting connection.”
“A lasting connection… huh.” There’s a sudden sharp intake of breath. “Spock - you - you felt the accident?”
He pauses for a moment, but - there is no way to temper his answer. “Yes.”
Chris looks down. “I’m sorry.”
“It is not something you need to apologize for.”
“I …” he shakes his head. “I’d never wish that pain on you.”
“I know.” Spock says, and then adds. “This would always have been my choice, Captain. Chris.”
Chris looks at him, and Spock can see This is why you didn’t tell me almost ready to be spoken, but he doesn’t. They both know.
“With regards to the accident,” Spock continues. “Upon arriving on Starbase 11, I encountered one of the cadets you saved during the accident, Cadet Swender. They provided me with a recorded message that they and the rest of the surviving cadets wished to share with you.” He holds out the data unit to Chris. “A small module able to play this recording has been beamed down as well, if and when you choose to view it.”
“They…” Chris’s eyes are damp. “You - you saw Dusty?”
“Yes. They expressed … great gratitude,” Chris’s head drops. Spock continues, “for how your advice and counsel had aided them and their fellow cadets in recovering from this tragedy. They indicated that giving you this message was of great importance and meaning to them.”
“I wish I had been able to save them all.”
“I know.”
“Thank you. For bringing this to me.” He gives something of a chagrined smile. “I’ll watch this later, I already can tell,” he wipes the corner of his eyes, “that I’ll end up crying. But - I deeply appreciate it.”
Humans shed tears for many illogical reasons. He may not fully understand this one, but he can certainly appreciate the weight it carries.
“If you see them - tell them that, please?”
“Of course.”
Chris lets out a long breath. “You’ll have to go back to Starbase 11 eventually.”
“Yes.”
That leaving will mean not seeing him again hangs over them both.
After several long moments, Spock says, “I can comm Captain Kirk. Ask him to transport down.”
“No. Not… right this minute.”
“I know you are tired. I could depart.”
“No - no. Let’s just … stay here for a little while, if you can.”
“Of course.”
“I might end up falling asleep for a bit. I could use a nap.”
“I will stay here with you.”
Chris reaches towards Spock, pats the back of his hand. “Thank you, Spock.”
---
There is a gentle rustling behind him.
“Oh…”
Vina has a gentle smile on her face when Spock turns to look at her. She is looking at the sleeping Chris, and when she turns to look at Spock, she raises a finger to her lips and nods - a common human indicator for silence. She will not disturb Chris while he sleeps.
She sits next to him, and asks in a low whisper. “He … decided to stay?”
Spock nods.
“I’m glad.” She says quietly. “I am sorry for what he’s been through, and what he will have to leave behind. But - I felt his pain, and I am glad he no longer feels it.” She looks at Spock. “Thank you for bringing him here. I know it was a great risk for you.”
“No more than what he has already risked for me,” Spock says. “And far less than what I would freely risk for him, regardless.”
“He will miss you,” she says. Spock does not reply. “I look forward to getting to know the real Christopher Pike, as you have.”
Elven years, four months, five days.
Chris has much longer than that left to live.
He nods. It’s important that she appreciates the real Christopher Pike.
“You’re sure they will not allow you to return here?” Vina asks, as though she has picked up on his illogical grief and even more illogical jealousy.
He nods.
“Federation rules. And Starfleet.”
“I will know if he is not well here.”
“Even far away, on your ship.” She smiles, a little wistfully. “Do you need to return? To your ship.”
“I will stay,” Spock says. “I informed him that I would be present when he woke.”
There are duties that remain. He cannot stay until he is ready to leave - he cannot imagine how long that would be.
But he will stay until Chris wakes, and he can say goodbye.