The More Things Change
I don't own Star Trek, any of the canon characters, situations or settings.
Summary: "How did you find me?" Spock asks.

It has been more than eighty years since Spock last saw James Kirk. He remembers the brilliant smile and the charisma with painful clarity, eidetic Vulcan memory more a curse sometimes than a gift; there are times when, in his loneliness and grief, he would have done anything to see his Captain again.

He thinks he understands, now, the tired, desperate hope on Jim's face as Spock had turned back to him on the steps of Mount Seleya, the dawning joy as Spock finally recognised him.

Even through death and rebirth, he had known Jim.

When he turns away from the snarling ice-monster to see what manner of traveller had stumbled into his shelter, Spock knows, with a terrible feeling of inevitability, what – who – he will see.

"How did you find me?" he asks. Some part of Spock has no difficulty in believing that Jim had followed him back in time and halfway across the universe. It is utterly without logic, but Spock has always believed James T. Kirk was not subject to logic or natural law. Surely not even death could hold him –

But then he looks again.

Younger, of course, but that was to be expected. What truly causes the aching sense of dislocation are the differences, so slight but so significant: the attitude, the flashfire temper that his own captain had learned to control and measure. The fierce will, barely restrained and lacking direction. The eyes, blue as a lightning storm in space.

Something in him breaks, and something in him begins to heal. Romulus and Vulcan are dead, he is exiled to a past no longer his own, and there will now never be a miraculous fal-tor-pan for his own Jim Kirk.

But for all that the timeline has changed, some things remain the same.

Some things are inevitable.