"That's the thing. I don't know," he admitted, not withdrawing from Spock, but not leaning into him. He knew if he did, he would break, he would fall utterly and he wasn't prepared for that, not yet.

The worlds he had made for himself continued to swirl and flow, his feelings undeniable to the depths of his psyche, the place represented here. It was a truth, a hard one on many levels, when he had spent so many years locking those things about himself away and ignoring them. It was easier than succumbing to them, to living through heart break and disappointment.

"I've... never really known. I just know I've never accepted it, because I was... I guess I felt I wasn't deserving of it," he admitted, and pointed out to the glimmering, pale-red jewel of his mother in the distance. "If I was, why is she so far away?" he asked him, then turned to look at Pike, and the pain hit new, the sun that was himself flaring as the pain of loss burned bright. "It just hurts..." He had loved, and it had been torn away from him.