If Spock had been prone to think of such things in such terms, he would have thought it funny (if he had been willing to acknowledge such a human thing as humor) that a place so unlike his native Vulcan would most remind him of it. The meditation gardens were lush, greenery in abundance organized along classic Vulcan aesthetic principles of order,
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Spock had kept looking at him like he was a live wire or something.
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"I am not aware. That Pike, to my knowledge, returned to his own universe and then chose to return here - though to do so was only logical in his circumstance. Evidence suggests they reached some secret agreement with Starfleet."
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"They're dangerous men," he said casually. It had been obvious, though. "This Starfleet was either foolish or deceitful."
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"Fucking odd couple, that," he observed. "I don't get it." He looked at Spock. He didn't really get them, either. Was weird, looking at someone who was practically married to you in another life. Even if you hated that other you and vehemently denied you were anything alike.
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Spock had some familiarity with this James's universe - it had to be said that Pike and Spock's had seemed somehow even more brutal.
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"Well. They still chose to stay here," he said. "And I don't get that, either."
He said as much. But as he sat here, though his instincts were not entirely dulled, he had no fear of death. And he had, in the past weeks, drunk several things without fear of poison.
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"This isn't living," he said. "This is... stasis. Ask me when I've found something they'll let me do, that I'm good at. Not that... not that there's nothing I would miss."
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