A/N: Inspired by a piece of fanart I saw on Tumblr.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of its wonderful characters.

The Brightest Stars

He heard it before anyone else, a collective silence heavy with grief and a nameless dread that he would never name. As a Vulcan, his hearing was much better than that of his human companions. It was inevitable then, that he was the first one to hear the quiet that replaced the flurry of activity that had been going on in the trauma room... Ultimately, he was also the first out of all the senior officers beside him to realize the end of something vital.

Spock kept his expression carefully blank, not wishing to alert the others to the desperation threatening to overwhelm him and he was crumbling under it, breaking apart because – Part of him wanted to run, to leave the room before his fears were confirmed. But another part of him wanted to stay and-

The doors to the trauma room slid open with a hiss and everyone but Spock- because he already knew and did not want this to be their reality... his reality -surged forward slightly in barely restrained anticipation. McCoy stepped into the waiting room, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast. His hands were shaking, but no one cared about that. Not now. For a long moment, no one moved, no one so much as breathed... because everyone knew, just as Spock already knew.

Khan's blood had not worked.

~o~

Humans tended to seek comfort and support from others in times of distress, Spock knew this, but he had never been so intimately acquainted with the behavior prior to Jim's...to Jim's... – It wasn't supposed to be like this!- He stood off to the corner of the waiting room and watched as the tears flowed freely from Nyota's dark eyes as she buried her face against Scotty's shoulder while Chekov and Sulu sought comfort from one another. Across the room, McCoy held a distraught Carol in his arms as his shoulders shook with unchecked emotion. Spock -he felt more alien than ever- did not begrudge the humans their propensity to express emotion even more freely during times of stress, though he wished he had the same luxury. These people, his comrades would not judge, of course, if he were to reveal the pain agony anger guilt anger anger why emotions that were threatening to suffocate him. But Jim was the only person that could easily get him to show emotion, the only person that he was (apparently) able to shed a tear in front of and not feel ashamed. And now Jim was...Jim was...

No.

Spock's hands clenched involuntarily at his sides as anger flared, burning- for the second time that day- through his veins and everything within him rebelled against the very thought of Jim being...

No.

Blinking to clear the haze of fury that had descended over his eyes, Spock redirected his focus to the room. He would not allow these emotions to control him, could not allow his control to fail. At least, not here. Across the room, McCoy lifted his head for the first time since he stepped out of the trauma bay. The raw anguish Spock saw in the doctor's eyes nearly broke his already crumbling control because the pain in McCoy's eyes was a reflection of the emotions that Spock was trying to suppress to no avail. Subsequently, it was Spock who first tore his gaze away from McCoy's. He could not lose control. Not here. Not now.

He had to leave, not just because he did not wish to let the others in the room see him reveal the overwhelming emotions. But because he could not stay here. He had to get away from the emptiness on the periphery of his senses, had to get away from the still body on the trauma table ...because Jim had been alive just yesterday.

And Jim- "you understand why I went back for you?"- had been his friend.

In the single moment that Spock decided to leave, Nyota appeared in front of him. She had approached him without him realizing and he found himself gazing down into her watery eyes with little more than a sort of frigid distance that would be slightly unsettling had he been aware of anything but the turbulent emotions suffocating him. "Spock," Nyota said, voice soft and compassionate and pained as she reached out to embrace him. Her touch made him flinch violently, however, and he used her surprise to make his escape. He was Vulcan. He did not need human comforts. And though McCoy and Uhura both called after him, no one tried to stop him.

Spock ran out into the broken city, not knowing where he was headed but not having the capacity to care. Eventually, he slowed to a stop on a nearly empty street where he had a clear view of the area that had been damaged most extensively by the Vengeance.Smoke from burning buildings had begun to choke the air as waves of rescue workers worked to find survivors amidst the rubble. Spock watched them work, watched them pull out bodies both alive and dead, trying to find comfort in observation because he was a scientist and cataloging facts eased his mind. For all the time that he spent observing the scene, never once did he look up into the sky because he knew that the color would only serve as a reminder of Jim's eyes, eyes that he would never see again because...

Because Jim...

Jim was dead.

~o~

To be continued