The home they had built, the objects they had collected, the flowers she had planted were no more. As she was no more. A light - a warmth - that had once been there. Suddenly removed.

She who was his wife.

Sarek carefully monitored the rhythm of his breath, as he lay on the bed. He held his hands tented over his chest and kept his eyes closed. On a nearby table sat three candles of the kolinahr. Replicated, of course. He had not been able to save anything that was his…

Their purpose was to intensify his focus. To remind him that he had purged himself of emotion and obtained the discipline necessary to be a solely logical being. His breathing deepened, and his concentration strengthened. Carefully, he grasped the threads of logic and the truth of the universe and began to weave them together in his masterfully complex mind. All things could be understood. He recalled the sands of Vulcan's Forge. Ever changing in the wind, yet bound by the unbreakable laws of physics.

The mattress was unsatisfactory.

It was too firm and an uncomfortable width. To meditate properly, he required his surroundings to accommodate his comforts. His mattress in ShiKahr had been less rigid and supported his back in a more agreeable manner. The sheets had been selected by his wife based on a statistical assessment she had made regarding the frequency with which he randomly selected the colour of gold. Over a period of three years, the fibres within the fabric had softened. As well, the entire bed had a unique quality that could not be recreated. No matter the improvements of replicator technology.

It was her scent.

Sarek took a purposefully deep breath and opened his eyes. He looked upon the unfamiliar ceiling. He stood and approached the viewport. The ship was drifting past the infinite stars of the infinite universe, though less than a fraction of zero percent of them could be witnessed from any given location.

Vulcan was no longer amongst those stars.

It was illogical that he should receive physical sensations from the examination of simple truths. And yet, he identified a sensation within his chest. As though something was compressing the organs within. Occasionally, the muscles in his throat would tighten as well and his hand would shake despite his efforts to restrain himself. It intensified greatly at times. He controlled it as thoroughly as he could, drawing on even the most rudimentary of meditative techniques. But he could not stop his thoughts from wandering.

He wondered if she had felt pain.

Search as he had, he could find no information that answered this uncertainty. She had been in the process of matter transportation when…

It was possible that being in such a state prevented her from experiencing any discomfort. Recalling this information reduced the frequency of Sarek's adverse physical sensations. However, it was illogical to assume that she had not been in an uncomfortable emotional state. Had she been frightened? She had expressed fear to him only very few times during their life together. He had always done as he could to comfort her.

Perhaps he had failed her.

Sarek looked away from the stars and returned to lay upon the bed once more.

For the forty-seventh night since the destruction of Vulcan, he would attempt to sleep alone.