Now it was finally over. Done. He had brought her back after five years. His beautiful ship and most of her crew (don’t think about the ones you lost!). He sat at his computer reading the messages welcoming him home. The youngest ever captain. The most successful ever captain (if the brass were to be believed). The messages that hinted at promotion. They should have made him happy; content of all he had achieved. And yet . . .
In the quiet darkness of his cabin all his failures danced before his eyes. The people that had died. The missions they (he) had screwed up. And most of all – the unresolved business with his first officer. Spock. His friend. He was thankful for the friendship, for the unquestioning loyalty that was in large parts responsible for his success. And yet . . .
He remembered moments. Conversations. Quiet times. Chess games. Meetings. Dinners, breakfasts, lunches. All normal parts of a working relationship between a captain and his first. And yet . . .
He knew there was more to it than that. He couldn’t be the alone in feeling it. Maybe, just maybe, now was to time to act on it. After all, they were no longer commander and subordinate, they could freely choose were to go from here.
His mind made up he reached for his padd to send the most important message of his life. But before he could even start he heard the ping of an incoming message. Spock. He had been right! Spock knew why he had been waiting to make the first step. As always his first had anticipated his needs.
He opened the message. Amidst the polite, meaningless phrases one word stood out that shattered his heart into a million pieces: Gol.