"You're on edge," Christine informed him as she straightened an already fitting uniform jacket.

Spock rose a brow, "I do not believe I have expressed any form of doubt or discomfort."

Her smile broke warmth through him as she shook her head and moved away, "As if I can't tell what you're thinking…"

It was true. While their melding had meant a chance to remain in contact and prepare for the end of the 5 year mission started after the V'ger incident, nothing was quite the same as living with his partner, on Earth, for the past 9 years.

Kirk had accepted the admiralty; the bridge staff had taken land-lock positions as the Enterprise underwent a change from a vessel of exploration to one of learning.

And Spock… chose to become a practical tutor and coach to those who studied aboard her.

Perhaps it had been sentiment that led to his decision... But he had not wanted to see Enterprise consigned to basic missions that let her fade into memory.

The opportunity afforded to him in his current role filled the corridors of his once home with cadets and gave the old ship a new chance to influence the future.

Yes; Spock acknowledged the analogy in his metaphor.

Mostly, his current work had been restricted to the solar system but there were occasions, such as today, where it had been necessary to take a trainee crew out with an experienced team of officers; a coffee-and-cake run, as it was more commonly known.

Starfleet would choose a minor mission and assess the cadets accordingly.

This test… this mission… was to reunite the Enterprise crew. Spock looked forward to this outing more than most.

Still… Spock felt the slightest pressure, "My cadets are entering a critical time. The Kobayashi Maru is a prerequisite for all cadets."

"She's going to pass, Spock." Christine intoned from the kitchen, "Now come and eat your breakfast."

"One does not pass or fail the Kobayashi Maru, Christine," Spock informed as he took his seat at the breakfast counter.

Her response? A bowl of fruit slid to a halt before him.

"Breakfast," she smiled, leaving the room.

The only logical course of action was to accept.

"It is a pivotal time in a command track for cadets…" he reminded his partner between mouth-fulls of kiwi and mango… "it defines the course of their career."

"Has Leonard agreed with your plans?"

Spock rose a brow… "He believed the idea was… a damned good one, if I have quoted him correctly."

Her laugh was as bright as the San Francisco dawn… "Sounds about right."

Having finished almost half of his bowl, Spock noted the other prepared food was untouched.

Given that it was a day of import for trainees across the whole of Starfleet, he was curious… "Are we now alone for breakfast, Christine?"

"Mandy's already left," she told him, walking back into the room, adjusting the beige collar of her maroon uniform. "She wanted to get some more time in the library ahead of finals."

The teenage years of his daughter's life were often perplexing to him but Spock found the last few challenges before her had been met with determination to prove her ability and higher reasoning.

Mandy had chosen to study psychology before moving on to her higher studies.

Ironic, given her heritage as a part-Vulcan decedent; learning to understand the emotions of others often evaded her father… but she, in her combined heritage, was perfectly attuned to emotion whilst holding the ability for clinical analysis.

Mandy had recently applied and been accepted to the exchange program on the newly accepted federation planet of Betazed, where a race of telepaths and empaths chose a freer path than the Vulcans of Mandy's past.

Emotions had been held as a danger and a weakness in Vulcan history… But Spock acknowledged that he found strength in the emotions around him where other Vulcans found such environments uncomfortable in the least… unbearable in the extreme.

Christine had already started her breakfast as Spock considered his lot in life.

The past few years had seen him reunite with his family; the last five year mission onboard Enterprise had been a thrilling expanse of Starfleet… but he had felt there was a more of him missing than duty could fulfil.

It was here, on Earth, that his questions to life and life beyond were answered.

It was with his daughter.

Spock had watched the early years of Mandy's life from across the galaxy for too long; being part of her days gave his time meaning.

His mother had past several years before his commission as an instructor… but Spock took comfort in the knowledge Christine had involved his mother in Mandy's life from the moment of her birth.

Indeed, his parents had known of their grandchild's existence before he, her father, had found her.

Spock had made a promise that he would never again choose mission before his parental duty.

And while Christine had assured him she was comfortable, even proud of his achievements, there were quiet times when he felt an absence and longing to speak to her when he spent weeks at a time away from home.

Amanda was a wonderful young woman, bristling with potential and wonder. And, regardless of his own desire, she did not require his assistance to attain her goals.

Much like Christine, their daughter was determined, focused and more than capable.

Perhaps that was why mentoring the young Vulcan/Romulan cadet, Saavik, had appealed to him. She often found traversing the intricacies of emotional humanoid relationships a difficult and frustrating experience… feeling their emotions as any telepath and knowing she could not indulge in their lack of control.

Christine understood that mentoring Saavik was almost cathartic to Spock; he had the chance to impart some of the struggles and compromises he had made over the years to someone with the potential to surpass him…

Something his own daughter did not require as, in his estimation, she could expertly transverse the divide of logic and emotion, even an as a child and more so as an older teenager.

Spock felt a glow of pride at the thought of her accomplishments.

Her magnificence was owing, not to him, to her mother; Christine finished her breakfast and placed their bowls without noticing his awe of her.

She was magnificent.

"Aren't you going to be late?" Christine asked; having moved to be at his side.

Spock looked to her with a raised brow, "I believe I am ahead of schedule…"

"Don't you want to check Scotty has polished all the surfaces?"

"if I had no evidence to the contrary," Spock turned, choosing retaliation to his mates teasing, "I may think you were wishing my absence."

In a motion so fluid it seemed grace itself should pause, Christine moved to place herself in his arms… it was a place which suited her, in Spock's opinion. "Hey," she said, ducking to meet his eyes, "I like you… right here."

A wave rushed through him, pushed by the pulse of his heart and rushing through his lips as they pressed on hers.

There was a great passion he had read of in the verse and sonnet across countless species; they didn't compare.

Perhaps he didn't have to leave that moment, with her in his arms. Perhaps he didn't want to…

Christine drew away, with closed eyes and a content smile… she sighed, "I only want you to go… so you'll come back to me sooner."

"That does not seem logical," he admitted, "but I am hopeful our time apart will be brief."

And with a final kiss, he left their home.

()()()()()()()()()()

There had been only one course of action; he had only one choice to make.

The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few… or the one.

It was logical.

And in that moment, as Spock reached into the brilliant light of the antimatter chamber, he found himself thinking of her radiant smile… how he would never see it again.

All the lives he was saving; lives of his friends; lives of his crew; lives of his cadets… Spock knew he would choose this course of action time and time again should the circumstances call… and still.

Spock regretted the choice he made in only one way… that he should be ripped from his family once more. Time had never been on their side.

Time…

The needs of the many…

There was not enough time…

He could see the fault in the anti-matter system and had soon repaired the problem; but soon, it would seem, wasn't fast enough.

As he rebuilt the containment module and flushed the room of the escaped particles of irradiated anti-matter, Spock could sense the Enterprise move to warp speed and knew he had saved the crew.

It had only cost one future… not the future of hundreds.

Somehow, he hoped, Christine and Mandy could forgive him the selfish comfort of pride.

Moving to the control panel, Spock keyed in the commands for thorough decontamination and lurched forward as his legs gave way.

And so, it begins.

The room had begun to darken, strength left his muscles; Spock crumpled to the ground and briefly wondered if this was how all beings felt when they were dying.

In the eternity it took for him to finally hit the floor, he supposed it was the first thought he had had of dying…

There was an obvious consequence to his actions; a consequence he was fully aware of when he had made the journey from the bridge to engineering. Curious…

Death had meant nothing to this point. Perhaps he had thought, like his friend, he was immune to that experience. He had never truly faced death… but his final way to cheat it, to defeat the Kobayashi Maru… had meant an end, of a sorts.

Part of him would always live on; with his family and with his friends.

"Spock," he heard the mournful cry, knowing instantly it was Jim… and, as was his nature, the sound of his Admirals voice fought-back the darkness.

Spock hadn't anticipated goodbyes and yet… his muscles found power and he pulled himself upward, habitually straightening his uniform…

Jim stood at the threshold; unable to move closer. McCoy and Scotty looked on, their sorrow cutting into his mind… or was that his own?

He was sorry it had come to this. But there had been good reason…. Jim had to understand… this was to ensure that the… "Ship…" Spock forced the words, "Out of danger."

Kirk curled inward; pain visible as he cried, "Yes."

Spock felt his energy ebb; it was hard enough to die without having to see the suffering he was inspiring. His body began leaning on the glass separating him from his friends… it was, perhaps, the first time he had felt apart from them.

It was because they thought this was the end.

Spock knew it was only movement from one state of being to another.

They wouldn't understand if he were to attempt an explanation… and so there was only one way to tell them… "Don't grieve, Admiral," he said slowly… the formation of words became a struggle as light faded from his eyes… "...it is logical. The needs of the many ...outweigh…"

"The needs of the few," Kirk supplied… trying to understand… hurting not to be there, in the containment chamber…

"Or the one."

Knowing that his friend was only finishing a thought and still denying what his eyes were showing him… that he may finally have to face what he considered to be 'death', Spock rallied the strength to explain… "I never took the Kobayashi Maru test ...until now. What do you think of my solution?"

But Kirk looked away; finding the thought unbearable.

When Jim turned back to him he seemed to plead, "Spock…"

It was in his tone… in the way he pressed the glass with his whole being, his whole soul… Spock… please don't go… please don't die…

Death of the body was something that could not be avoided at this point. He could already feel his system shutting down… his strength fade… his heart begin to falter…and it was no good…

Feeling himself slide toward the ground, he fought to have these last few words with his Admiral… with his friend…

"I have been ...and always shall be," Spock drew in a painful breath to finish "...your friend."

And if he could offer nothing else… he forced himself to move and spread his hand on the glass in one final salute… "Live long ...and prosper."

It was so dark now… but he could see his friend mirror his gesture… trying to be closer to him by pressing his fingers against the glass…

There was nothing else to be done…

No time to ask him to take words to his family… no time…

He sank to the floor, feeling heavy and dark…and as the hum of engineering faded into the background, Spock saw one spark in the darkness…