Nostalgia

A Spock Prime FanFiction

Hurt
by Johnny Cash

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything

What have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
beneath the stains of time
the feelings disappear
you are someone else
I am still right here

What have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

if I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way.

The lights of recreation room three flickered intermittently as the Enterprise passed through the Nolor nebula on route to Reimers I. Captain James T. Kirk didn't let the unsteady illumination break his concentration as his hazel eyes locked onto his opponent's queen. "You know, I think you're going easy on me this time Spock." The man moved his rook to take the target and smirked as his First Officer furrowed his brow.

"I am Vulcan Captain. I do not repress my skills; to do so would be illogical." Spock looked over the board with a sharp analytical eye, his forehead now smooth as he calculated his next tactic. Gently the Vulcan plucked Kirk's pawn from the board, and with a grace that demonstrated agility bred from hours of working with delicate devices, he then switched the piece with his bishop.

Kirk smiled at his Science Officer with a fondness that made a small part of Spock feel at ease, while the other portion couldn't help but squirm. Their eyes locked as Spock settled back into his proper sitting posture. There was a moment where Spock felt as though he were tettering on the edge of a cliff, and it was not the first time. Those warm hazel orbs were drawing him in like the gravity of a large sun. Would he let himself fall?

"Of course. Logic fits into any equation when it comes to you, Spock." The Captain leaned back, crossed his arms and took a moment to look around the room - a maneuver he often did to mull over his next move. Spock relaxed and used this time to study his Captain; a habit that seemed to have evolved now that the chess matches were sinking into routine. Just what was it about this man that skewed all logic?

Was it the confidence? One had to possess the trait to be a starship Captain, so such a quality was only a fraction of what made the man. Perhaps it was the way those lips were always ready to warp into a smile? Or the way his hands always seemed to want to touch and to manipulate… to be a part of something greater. Spock slowly shifted his gaze to the chessboard to get his mind back onto the game. It was too easy to wax poetic about his closest friend, and if Spock wasn't too careful the man would drag out his human heart and make it bleed; after all, Humans had that effect on each other. McCoy was a prime example.

"Checkmate in ten."

Spock looked up from the hands that just finished their move. He was about to comment cooly about his Captian's arrogance, but a shock of blue distracted him. The eyes that were greeting him across the table were bright blue, and that wasn't right, his captain's eyes were the hazel he was used to, not this... not this at all.

The Vulcan put a hand to his angular face as if to rub away the illusion before glancing back to the Captain in awe. The color was gone. It must have been a trick of the lights.

"Spock? Are you alright?" Concern laced Jim's words as he set his hands on the table, ready to rise at the first sign of trouble - as always.

The First Officer attempted to recover by shaking his head in a very human gesture, which only preceded to make the man more worried. "Merely preoccupied Captain. For a moment I thought I was experiencing a hallucination. In retrospect it may be the effect of the shifting lights... I would not waste time concerning yourself with the issue." Spock blinked a few times then turned towards the board, "I do not believe you have the upper hand in this game Captain. I challenge your prediction." Spock made his move, but it was a bad one, and they both knew it.

"If you insist Mr. Spock.." His First Officer's bravado did nothing to wipe the worry playing across Kirk's face. His tone wasn't even hiding his intentions of watching Spock like he was expecting the Vulcan to drop dead any second. He didn't have long to wait, for as soon as Kirk finished moving his pawn to another level, Spock's eyebrows shot to his hairline.

His hands. They were old.

Wrinkles made a fleshy network over arthritic knuckles. Spock could see the deep green veins criss-crossing beneath his own pale papery skin. The sight made his fingers twitch and his eyes slide out of focus. "What- what is happening to me?" The Vulcan went to look up into the eyes of his best friend, but what awaited him there made his breath catch.

"No…"

The table, the game, James T. Kirk, were all frozen as if someone poured down liquid nitrogen from the heavens. The Enterprise had dissolved into an endless plain of snow and ice; a world that was his own personal hell. No Vulcan sun warmed his withered face and there was no one alive to smile for him, to feel for him, to understand him. Only the silent statue of his dead best friend and a melting planet high in the hazy blue sky… a home that never was.

The shock of a billion kindred souls screaming out in agony, that was just a dagger twisting into his gut. Ice sculptures of Vulcan children with faces full of unsuppressed fear ruptured the ground, creating a circle around the frozen form of his captain. Soon millions of others joined the silent graveyard standing the frigid landscape of Delta Vega. His kinsmen, slaughtered in a genocide brought about by his mistake. Lost lives that would haunt him to the end of his days. All because of him.

"NO!"

Spock ripped off his sheets and vaulted from his bed, forgetting in his disorientated state that he was an old man and not meant for such theatrics. His knee stiffened and he barely managed to throw out his arms to catch himself as he tumbled to the cold floor. He laid there shivering and confused, until some part of his mind informed the rest of his consciousness that he was suffering the after effects of a terrible nightmare.

He was in the process of pulling himself off the floor when a very gentle and rhythmic knock come from the direction of his door. Spock didn't even feel the need to wonder who it could be. Beyond that door could only be one person. The elder's voice tried to keep itself from trembling as he permitted the figure to enter.

Young Spock looked to his older counterpart with eyes full of emotion. No words needed to be spoken, for both Vulcans had the same discoloration beneath their cold brown eyes. The First Officer sat down with a clumsy sort of grace that hinted at the turmoil he was facing within, while the Ambassador merely wandered like a ghost over to the replicator and croaked for a glass of water.

"I heard… or rather, felt your mind as I was passing." The younger Spock whispered as if ashamed to admit it. He glanced to Spock Prime and watched as the man slowly drained his glass. When the Ambassador made no move to interject, the officer continued. "I-I…was..." - or at least he tried to continue.

Spock Prime sat across from his alternate self, feeling better now that he was awake and in control of his surroundings. "You wish to speak to me. It is written on your face - or should I say my face?" His lips twitched into a sagely smile that made the younger look away.

"This is an anomaly I do not think I could become accustomed to."

The Vulcan elder tilted his head slightly, a fleeting memory of watching himself cry over the death of his pet sehlat I-chaya made him murmur, "Do not worry so much Spock, you will have practice." This was not the first time Spock had been sent back in time; though when he utilized the Guardian of Forever, that had been only a visit to the past – not a one way ticket. Then he only had to save his younger self, and he killed his childhood companion in the attempt. This time he nearly murdered an entire race. How could he justify his existance in this strange new world? His presence has caused nothing but pain.

"Your mind touches mine every time I close my eyes." The younger Spock started. "I see the destruction of my home over and over again as if stuck in a cycle of horrors that will not end. It affects me so… so terribly. I cannot meditate, nor can I attempt to suppress these emotions that terrorize my defenses." He looked up to the elder and silently pleaded with his eyes. "You need to keep your thoughts to yourself."

Spock Prime bowed his head, "I am older and wiser my young friend. My mind has many forces keeping it in check. This night is one of three instances on the Enterprise where my mental shields have failed to encompass the pain held deep within." He held out a shaky hand to gently touch the bags under the first officer's eyes. "That is not enough to cause you this insomnia you're encountering. Tonight is not the first night you have stalked the corridors like a ghost in the night. I do not need to touch Uhura to hear the worry her eyes spell out when she looks at you. Our pain stems from two hearts, not one."

Obviously this was not what the First Officer wished to hear. "I keep seeing her… my mother… falling." His voice was level but his face was wavering between ultimate sorrow and the Vulcan mask he usually wore.

It was difficult trying to find the words to say; even for an experienced diplomat. "She would be proud of you Spock. You know more then anything that she would not think her death as your failing. She would have seen it as a reassurace of your survival. You saved your father and those responsible for keeping the essence of Vulcan alive and well. She witnessed you save an entire culture. A culture she loved as she loved you and Sarek."

There were no tears, but there was a tightness that wouldn't abate in young Spock's throat. "You knew her well. Did she die an old woman in your time?"

"Yes."

Spock nodded and took a long deep breath. Spock Prime hesitated, uncertaintly making him appear momentarily frail before he stared his younger self in the eye and asked, "Would you like to see her as I knew her?"

There was a moment of tension, as if both parties knew that what was asked was wrong. The memories offered were of another time and place that no one would ever see or touch again. It was a long while before the young Vulcan broke the silence. "I thank you for the option. It means… a lot." He stood from the chair, stretching himself to his full height. He seemed less worn out then when he had entered, as if he sapped some of the strength from his elder form. "Perhaps I will take you up on your proposal in the future - out of scientific curiosity. I am content remembering mother as I knew her..." The young man's lips twitched into a very small smile. "She would have wanted it that way."

Spock Prime echoed his own young smile and repeated a statement the First Officer never thought he would hear again.

"Spock. As always, whatever you choose to be, you will have a proud mother."

Author's Notes

So... by the looks of things, this is developing into a series of ficlits that revolve around Spock Prime. The song used is pretty much perfect for Spock, if you look it up on YouTube you might be lucky to find the Star Trek Music video using it. I'm developing quite the Spock Prime playlist! I have another song that I'm thinking of using... I just need to make a story that goes along with it.

Reviews will be appreciated! If there's anything off, please tell me. I don't think this chapter is as emotional as the others... so I'll have to make up for it next time.