It was. It was on Nero for thinking that revenge would make things better. That making innocents suffer for something Spock and the people of the future could not control was right. But it didn't take away his sense of duty, the bit inside of him that said he could have stopped it, saved them all. That if he realized sooner what was waiting on the other side he could have told Pike to hail the other ships, that his friends, his classmates wouldn't have lost their lives for nothing.

"Maybe," he acknowledged, but it wouldn't stick. He licked his lips, looking down at his hands, his next failure bubbling up, running through his very veins.

He shook his head, the old instincts rising up.

"Sorry. This is all heavy enough without me throwing shit out there too," he said, a part of him lashing out at himself, telling him it wasn't fair to expect Whiskey to share in these burdens he carried. Bones did. But Whiskey was not him and it was not fair to ask that of him.