From these same strings came music from another world. Not that other worlds were anything particularly rare around the place these days, but nevertheless, from some place special.

It was wooden, something that was particularly rare considering the ecology of that world. Dry and parched, a challenge that life had managed to overcome for the most part, yet in places still only held on by its teeth. Dry, parched and red. A little ironic that its life blood contrasted so deeply. For on this world, green meant danger more so than ruby.

Soft notes, vibrations against his fingerprints.

He wasn't a xenobiologist or some fancy scientist interested in the bloom of life on another planet. He was not an anthropologist hovering over interspecies interactions. He was simply a starship captain, despite his admiralty, and his brain be damned if he understood half of it.

But he understood enough.

And he listened to the music strung from an instrument light years from its home.

He was no musician himself. His drive as a youngster had left little room for what he considered leisure activities. That drive had led him here, far sooner, far younger than many had predicted, but it had had its sacrifices.

Strings can sing.

Damnit, Spock, why you?!

The wood was smooth, but his fingers caught in the decoration, following its trace blindly. Following the trail...

His head throbbed and his fingers left the instrument to rub at his temples. How many starship admirals broke into a captain's quarters to sit on the floor and mourn, he wondered.

Spock was gone.

Gone. Giving his life in order to save others.

As he had always wanted.

His fingers blurred before his eyes. Fingers that had tried to touch, but...

Spock.

Damnit, why did it have to be you.

He inhaled, but found his throat clogged by misery.

He struggled with himself, but memory surrounded him.

Where he thought he'd find solace he only found pain. Out. He had to get out.

He stumbled to his feet, wavering a moment as his equilibrium fluctuated, and fled the room.

He didn't see the harp teeter as he knocked it. Didn't hear it fall.

Wasn't there when the strings broke.

And the twang echoed in the silence.