{.Somehow I'll Return Again.} [Spock .50 | Open]

[icanhaslogic]

[It had been some time since Jim (or one of them- he was more than positive that it had been .55) had shown up with the coloring books and crayons he had threatened him with before this whole…incident under the pretense of “improving hand-eye coordination after all that.” He wasn’t so terrible that he couldn’t see through it, but he also couldn’t

Comments

[jimeeena]

[ She'd heard Spock was back. And the thought made her happier than she'd thought she'd be. When she heard the news, relief washed over her and she'd made her way to sickbay as soon as she could.

As she looked at Spock from the doorway with a soft smile, she wasn't sure if she wanted to hit him or hug him. Or maybe both. ]

You had a lot of people worried, Spock.

[icanhaslogic]

[It had been a long time since he had heard that voice, and he found that somehow he still recognized it. It seemed that Jim was Jim no matter the incarnation. Even so, his eyes remained staring at nothing as he answered.]

I am aware.

[jimeeena]

[ She walks over to Spock and crosses her arms over her chest. She can't really believe that this is all over finally and makes a mental note to see Jim sometime soon. ]

How are you feeling?

[icanhaslogic]

I will recover.

[hippocraticly]

[McCoy was still in Sickbay from the last time Spock tried to escape, but was busying himself with doing something else. He had seen .55 briefly, but the purpose of his visit was lost on McCoy. Maybe he should check up on his patient.]

[icanhaslogic]

[He shifted his position ever so slightly- but it was enough to drop one of the crayons onto the floor with a disquietingly loud noise in the quiet of the room. Still, he seemed not to notice- or perhaps care- and he made no move to go after it.

There seemed now to be far too much else that deserved his attention.]

[hippocraticly]

[Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Spock, his failure to collect the errant crayon that had fallen from his biobed rolled away and was crushed under the heel of Leonard McCoy as he wandered around Sickbay. His eyes widened as he heard the audible crunch and lifted one foot.]

What the hell?

[He exclaimed as he knelt down and picked up the remnant of the crayon and twirled it in his fingers.]

[icanhaslogic]

[Somehow, the loud cursing seemed to attract his attention and pull him back into the real world; his response was automatic, though his eyes did not move.]

My apologies.

[logic_driven]

Is that supposed to have some kind of therapeutic value?

[Spock's tone was faintly curious as he approached his counterpart. He'd debated whether his presence would be helpful, but in the end decided that it was his own reluctance to face himself which had held him back. And so, he had come to sickbay. To see the man who'd faced death and returned.]

[icanhaslogic]

The captain seems to think that it does. I find that I do not have any heart to refuse.

[logic_driven]

And so you are humoring him.

[It wasn't a question. Though the next question which came to mind had likely been asked a dozen times.]

How is your recovery progressing?

[icanhaslogic]

Perhaps I am.

[The next questiong... he had a feeling that he was soon grow sick of hearing that question. Even so, he did answer, though it was simple and hardly revelatory.]

It is. That is all that can be said.

[icanhaslogic]

[He almost felt guilty hearing that voice. In that intangible, unquantifiable way, he knew it wasn't the one from his time, and yet, after his conversation with the doctor, he felt that he had betrayed them all.

He brought his eyes over to look at the man for a moment before dropping them to his lap once more.]

Well enough.

[icanhaslogic]

Not quite so. There are still a few things that remain beyond grasping.