When you finally regained consciousness after the horrific Klingon attack, you looked over at me with eyes full of pain. And gratitude. You endeavored unsuccessfully to disguise the pain, protecting me, as always, more important to you than protecting yourself. The gratitude was all mine, that which I felt for having you still with us, and that which you were expressing for my presence.

The pain I saw in your eyes, on your face, was not disturbing to me. Because you had survived the injuries that the Doctor warned us might finally be too much for even you to overcome. Never before was he so glad to admit to being wrong, rejoicing in your return to us.

I knew that you would ask for the ship’s status. If I had not been so Vulcan in my training, I could have succeeded in lying to you. Your eyes told me that to withhold the truth would not be a kindness. Hiding my reluctance, I revealed as much as I was allowed. The question about the number of crew who had died could not be answered. Even as you lay in sickbay, the general mess and the observation lounge had been transformed into temporary medical facilities. All the surviving crewmembers with any medical knowledge or temperament capable of assisting the wounded were reassigned to Dr. McCoy. That so few of the injured died is something few of us can believe. Chief Scott is not the only miracle worker on your crew.

Our soft voices drew Dr. McCoy to your bed and he frowned at me in accusation. Perhaps I should have told him as soon as you woke but the few stolen moments we shared were worth the annoyance I caused him. He will forgive me. He always does.

I knew he was not as angry as he pretended when he allowed me to stay. He did not even attempt to send me away as he tended to the broken bones he could not mend until you were stable enough to withstand that part of the ordeal. When he mended your broken ribs, you held tightly to my hand, using my presence to supplement your strength. Mending your hand and arm were even harder on you, and I silently waited for you to request the relief that was one hypospray away. Still you could not admit to the need, to be released from the pain. I knew you wanted to be strong for us, we who turn to you for strength when our weakness threatens to overcome our resolve. But it was not possible to witness what the healing technology was doing to you. That is why I ordered that you be sedated before the Doctor continued. We needed to be your strength. We did not need you to suffer in a valiant attempt to allay our fears.

As you began to slowly recover, Dr. McCoy was reluctant to release you to quarters. My promise to remain with you convinced him to allow you the time and privacy you needed. It was a relief to me that I was permitted to tend your needs away from the curious stares of your crew. Perhaps my stoic Vulcan exterior, the face I present to all of the world save one, made them believe I was incapable of compassion, of sympathy, of assisting you in healing your body and your soul. You knew the truth of what I offered and that is all that concerned me.

As we concentrated all of our efforts on restoring your strength, I knew you felt you were a burden to me, the guilt reflected in your expressive eyes. The true burden would have been to be anywhere but with you. What did it matter if I stayed awake through the night in your quarters? I would not have slept in my own. Concern for you outweighed all other considerations. Not because you expected me to devote myself to you. But because I could devote myself to no other responsibility. You feared you would be weighed and measured and found wanting. You judged yourself pitiable when in truth you were our standard. You showed us who we needed to be to survive.

When Dr. McCoy released you to finish recuperating away from his concerned and watchful eyes, I knew that returning to Earth would provide solace to your body and your soul. Arranging our transport from the Starbase was simple. In truth, I did no more than contact Starfleet. All arrangements were made by an efficient and skilled ensign. All expenses were taken care of by Starfleet although I assured them I had every intention of paying myself. A Starship Captain must be allowed to recover in his own time, they informed me. He is ultimately our responsibility.

I would have argued but was willing to allow them their incorrect assertion. For you were my responsibility. One I accepted without hesitation or reservation. Hawaii seemed the natural destination. I have always known of your love of the ocean. I know that if you had not made a life among the stars you would have had one at sea.

On more than one occasion, you tried to express your gratitude to me. I knew my refusal to accept would make you laugh. Your laughter was a balm to the rough edges of my soul. When we had thought you were taken from us, we could not contemplate the idea of never seeing your smile, never hearing your laugh. To hear you laugh and to know I was the reason was a gift. One you shared with me selflessly and openly and I rejoiced in it.

The night of your worst nightmares was a time I will never be able to clear from my memory. Throughout the night you fought to save your ship and your crew from certain doom. Your shouts were loud but not with the terror a lesser man would have allowed to overcome him. Still you fought. As you slept, you gave orders, commanded your crew, did all that you knew to preserve our lives at the risk of your own. The medication Dr. McCoy had provided was not as strong as your need to save us all. In exhaustion, I lay down next to you, to rest, to gather my thoughts and my calm. And that was all you needed. As soon as I was on the bed next to you, the dreams released their terrifying grip over you. You slept peacefully and soundly. When I was certain you slept, I could sleep as well.

The next morning…the first morning of our new beginning. I opened my eyes to find you watching me, studying me. All I could see was the love in your eyes. Love which said all that needed to be said. Love that I had hoped to be returned but had begun to believe existed for me alone. How glad I was to be wrong. How wonderful it was to know that I was one half of the whole. And I had finally found my other half. When we joined, we were finally complete. And I knew I was home. For I could be no place else.