Work Text:
It isn’t the blow where his head struck the floor that’s killing him. It’s the ruptured artery in his mesio-frontal cortex.
“T’lek.”
“I’m here, Ambassador.”
“Take it.”
Her fingers brush his skin as she removes the chain with the ring and holo-projector from around his neck. She gasps at what he cannot suppress.
His fingers slide in the slick, green puddle as he makes the familiar gesture.
“Live long...prosper...”
When the pain recedes, he isn’t where he was. The voice he hears is fond, masculine.
“When I said I’d find you anywhere, Spock, I wasn't issuing a goddamn challenge.”