always have been and ever shall be

"There are many different ways of shaking the universe by its foundations."

"Too many, I'd say," Cole answered with a chuckle.

His way was tender, lavish history, which transformed the landscape of the world and all those within who knew it, subtly but powerfully. Not lies. Not truths, either. He was but a person, this crooked Sir Cole, and he batted back against the real iron fist in the most innocent way he knew how.

Had it worked? Perhaps. Perhaps the memory had stayed, in a wonderful way. Of course, his aim had been not only to preserve fondness towards his Driver, but also the wonderful ways of that golden country. And all taken together, Cole was not, it turned out, a failure.

Spock's way was work, as it had always been. To help people, to ambassador cultures with grace and with science, to stand as a barometer that shook not against the cosmic wind; to age purposefully and with all years behind him, a proud star among the many.

Maybe he'd get to see Jim again. Maybe he wouldn't. Time, music, and deities all brought with them unimaginable possibilities. Thus, Spock's aim continued to be a staunch presence that grounded itself within the fabric. He would be ready, whenever there did come a time.

But then there were politicians; researchers; those who made weapons, and pretended those deities. Those who organized movements. Those who inspired others, and those who were inspired, and then didn't do quite what everyone expected with it.

And then of course, there were Blades. Lifeforms by which, however unfortunately, power could be grasped. Interfaces to the universe like wrapping your hand around a star and wrenching. Each individual could do so much, with the lives around him. This magnificent, indeed infinite diversity put a tremendous fear in those old enough to understand it.

"We have always simply...been here," Spock noted. His head was inclined with a slightness that deepened and lessened almost sinusoidally, year over year, but never would approach the same comfortable inquisitiveness that he had had with Jim.

Addam had inspired the same, in Cole - in Minoth, of course. They never had reason to speak of Selek, but Cole had shared eagerly from that past time. It had taken much to transform Minoth from the metaphorical son of Amalthus to the independent wanderer attempting communion with others who fought for what they saw as good. And at the same time, it had taken very little; the noble soul within had always been there, just below the surface. His guardedness, and where he let it down, was of particular interest to Spock.

"You were...bonded?"

Cole was now, in a sense, a living scar. Not quite open, but only because time had healed, and again tender; raw, bare. Quite open, emotionally.

"As all Blades are meant to be - except, that's not how we were bonded. No, it was a different thing."

Spock shook his head. "All the same, I find. There is no question of difference, when you are meant to be."

"You think they would have liked each other?"

"I know it so." The Vulcan tapped his temple, just above wrinkled, pointed ear. "He is telling me so, as we speak."

Cole stroked his chin. "Wish we had that."

"I would not be too wistful. From the sound of it, like my Jim, your Addam can be...quite loud."