Spock had lost friends every way he knew how: to old age, to missions failed, to disasters of technology that should never have happened, and very few gave him the chance to say goodbye as they passed, most losses coming as a surprise, and at times the news was delayed for months. He had thought of what he wanted to say to everyone of them if he had had the chance, and no words seemed adequate. Perhaps it was fitting then that he should die alone, so far away from the few friends he had left, unreachable: another missed goodbye.