Late guest

      – Hello, my dear. His voice sounded like drops of water falling down into a tin bucket, somewhat rich and hollow at the same time.       – Oh, no need to get up for me! - he added with soft chuckle, obviously enjoying his own joke. She didn't even flinch, of course. Her wrinkled hands laid still atop the blanket. No surprise there, they all can't move until... Well, until they finally can. Her pale watery eyes were open, but her gaze was still unfocused for now. Her silver hair weren't shining anymore. She looked so tiny and fragile and helpless, that he couldn't resist his next words.       – Hush, my dear, I'm here, I'm right beside you. I know, I know, you still need some time. This might seem scary now, but I promise you, I will be here, with you. I ain't going anywhere. You can count on me, my dear. With these words he moved closer to her bed. So close she might have felt it. He saw her eyelids flutter and her face muscles tense in fear. He hastily withdrew himself to the window.       – I'm sorry, my dear, it was too early, I know. You need time and I can wait. Big city on the other side of the glass was covered by soft purple night. 'Nice texture', he thought, 'should make great carpet for my study.'       – Well, I'd prefer us to spend this time with pleasure. Let's speak about you. You've accomplished a lot since I met you last time. What was the occasion, by the way? No, don't help me, I can do it on my own. It was your husband, right? Oh, no! Now I remember! It was Tommy, your grandson. No, he was you grand-grandson. It's Amelia, his mother, who is your granddaughter, right. She's here, by the way, did you know? So, Tommy, poor little child. Your father couldn't save him, yes. Such a famous doctor, who treated hundreds of diseases, saved millions, literally, who even brought some back from the dead, your father couldn't save poor Tommy, his own flesh and blood. Did you know it wasn't the first time? I wonder, if he told you about his own father. Just imagine, he plugged him off the apparatus just a week before the cure was found! Isn't life ironic in it's very core? I must admit, I find it ever amusing, my dear. Turning from the window he glanced at her and noticed the first signs of change. From now on everything will become easier for her and, obviously, for him.       – Now you go, girl! Good job, my dear, – he cheered her up with enthusiasm. Her eyes now followed him throughout the room and her lips trembled, as she was trying to speak with no success.       – Sorry, my dear. You still need a little time before you can speak to me, but no worry, you are doing great. Just relax and let the process continue. Now she could see him, so he took a chair and set next to her bed.       – Well, where were we? Ah, your father and his brilliant career. Have I mentioned, that he brought several people back from the dead? Quite an accomplishment, I tell you. You may say, that I'm bias in this case and you will be right, of course. But still. I don't count all this apparent deaths, it's not a true resurrection. But that strange case which happened with one of his best friends still bothers me. My specialty is humans, as you might guess. For a very long time it was the sole field of my work, but now everything have changed. I'm forced to leave Earth to perform my duty and I must admit to you, I'm not very fond of space travel. More so, I now have to try and figure out all of these half-humans, quarter-humans, eighth-humans and so on. For now I at least figured out human-klingon hybrids, they are totally not my responsibility. That was a relief when I found it out, but the process of acquiring that knowledge happened to be quite disturbing, I must add. Since that first incident I don't go even close to Klingon hybrids. But that friend of whom I've spoke he wasn't Klingon, no. Well, he isn't Klingon, to be correct. Do you understand what I've just implied? Yes, he was dead once. Totally, completely dead. Dead as a doornail. You might not know the phrase, but you sure will catch the meaning. And yet, there he is on that Romulus world, drinking hot tea at the same time as we speak!       – He's 'live, – soft voice interrupted his passionate speech and he momentarily turned all his attention to her.       – Yes, my dear. He's alive, – he replied with tenderness, oddly fitting to his grim stature.       – That's g'd news, – she now spoke with more ease with every passing moment, – we've been all worried 'bout him after uncle Jim's death. He was stone cold with grief, you could cut a finger on his misery.       – Well, my dear, this isn't entirely true.       – No, not you of all... umm... things repeating all these bullshit about 'Vulcans do not feel', please!       – Language, lady! And I'm not a thing, thank you very much! And not, I wasn't so stupid to argue existence of anyone's emotions. I was trying to tell you, that it isn't exactly true that James Kirk is dead. She became numb for a moment.       – But how? We all know, that there was a blast somewhere in Engineering and he was there at that moment. How could he survive?       – Well... I don't know.       – You? What do you mean 'you' don't know? You are the... the... Aren't you the?..       – Let me save you from pronouncing that. Yes, I am. But I still don't know what happened to him. He just vanished. And it wasn't his time, by the way. So I kind of owe him now. At least he doesn't resurrect inappropriately like his husband, of whom I just spoke.       – You must tell him! She now was strong enough to sit in the bed and clutch the blanket in her hands, while she spoke in full vigor. It must be really soon now.       – Tell whom? And what exactly? – he asked her nonchalantly.       – Tell Spock about uncle Jim.       – Well, of course I'll tell him. When his time comes.       – His time? Oh. No, you must tell him now, he will find the way. I know, he always did.       – What way, my dear?       – To bring back uncle Jim, of course. Haven't you told that you owe him and that it wasn't his time to go?       – I have and it wasn't. And may be, just may be, I'll think about it. But now, my dear Joanna, it's certainly your time.       – Oh.       – Yep.       – Will it hurt?       – Have it hurt?       – Oh. Am I?       – Yes, you are, my dear.       – So, I guess, I should go.       – You definitely should. Grab my hand. Little girl jumped from the bed and ran to him. Her tiny fingers got lost in his pale hand.       – By the way, – he stopped on the threshold, turning to her once again, – what is it you were trying to tell me that first time?       – I was gonna ask you, why don't you sound like, you know, in Caps Lock? He laughed wholeheartedly for a whole minute. And then he answered. But that's another story.