Title: Wish You Were Here
Series: TOS
Author: Teh Oboe
Email: theoboefreak at yahoo dot com
Codes: S/Mc, K/Mc
Rating: R
Summary: Love is lost, love is found. A/U off of Star Trek VI.
Beta readers: Thank you, Janet and Birgit (Acidqueen)!
Disclaimer: Nuh-uh, I don't owns 'em. Don't own Pink Floyd, either, and their album fueled the writing of this fic, and a portion of their lyrics is at the end.
Archive: Ask me via email. I'll probably say yes.
Warnings: Uh, majour angst. Death. H/C. Slash, dur. :)
Feedback: Will be loved to absolute death.
Author's Note: This was actually going to be a K/S + K/Mc, but it ended up as S/Mc + K/Mc. How did that happen? Nobody knows …
…
Love can be really painful, sometimes.
I can remember the taste of your lips. Stale, even at our first kiss. That was when you were still alive. Even at the time, your lips tasted like death. The last of life has since been drained from you, leaving for a place that I can't find. I wish that I might have tasted what kept you alive, what made you a man: the taste that made you weep and laugh, growl and whimper, argue and fall in love. I wish I could see the blue fire that lit in your eyes when you bickered and laughed, if only for one more time. You are cold now, too cold. This coldness I have often felt before. It is the essence of death, and it drains life away from me. It makes me feel unbelievably old. Is that all I am in the end?
Sometimes, it's too much to watch the sun go down. As the final slip of purple drains away, I feel alone.
You aren't entirely dead yet, I suppose. I don't know why I inwardly weep every time I see you. I wish that you could wipe away my guilty tears and tell me that it's okay, but I know you can't. You have lost the ability to assuage my fears when everything seems to go astray. I won't ever forget the feeling of your hand against my shoulder that day we met the Romulans. I can't forget how you told me that I needed to carry on, even when I didn't want to. I wish that I could once again see that glint in your eye when we laugh together; but that, too, has died along with your soul. I miss you terribly.
We both love somebody who's dead.
You don't respond to what I say. You can't even respond to what I'm saying right now. Your gaze is glued to the floor, eyes unmoving and blank, but you are still very much alive. Physically, anyway. I call your name, and you wilt away from me. You flinch at my touch. Your lips are still dead, and your face is greying as well. I suppose this is because of your dying heart. No matter how hard I try, I can't find a cure for your increasing depression. I whisper against your ear to please snap out of it, please come back. You just sit there and stare at the wall, silent tears still on your cheeks. You repeat his name, as you often do, voice quivering, and that is all.
I guess we were never meant to be.
I loved you from the start, and I guess you loved me, too ... as a friend. But he got in the way of anything that might have happened. That's okay, though, because he made you happy. He loved you, and you loved him back, equally so. I was glad for you two, I really was. Despite the fact that you seemed to be at each other's throats in public, I could tell that there was always chemistry between you, and that you would live happily together. I was overjoyed when I was invited to your bonding ceremony.
True love always has to go awry, though.
The illness. An incurable, genetic disease befell him a few years after you bonded. I watched you wither with him with disbelief. The life in your eyes and your voice faded and dimmed. Your hair tainted grey. Life slipped away first from your voice, then your posture, and, finally, your perfect blue eyes. I watched in dismay as you started crying more than laughing, holding him as he died instead of trying to live, giving up your arguments for silent passiveness. The illness was unbelievable, but what happened to you was throughly depressing.
It hurts much to love somebody who's as good as dead, but there is a slight chance that they might come back as long as they're still breathing. A chance, however slim.
Long after he died, you held his body and wept. I tried to ignore your tears to perpetuate my idea of what you were before: a smiling, passionate man who loved, argued, and lived happily. I met your empty, darkening eyes, and I wept upon them, hoping my tears would clear the dust away from them. No luck yet. I remember kissing you, trying to make you better. All in vain. You are as emotionless as he was. You let me kiss you, however, your eyes closed and your heart open ... at least at the time. You let me use you when you needed somebody to love you. You needed somebody to hold and tell you that you're okay.
You're beautiful.
I can remember what you felt like beneath me. I remember how, tears in your eyes, you cried out his name as I made love to you. I didn't care. I wanted to be with you, to comfort you, to hold you, to tell you that it would be okay. You had done the same for me many times. I felt as though it was my obligation to return the favour. You were always a very beautiful person, especially when you laughed. I always wanted you to be happy. Love always seemed to elude you, and ... you seemed like a man that needed love to live. He treated you well and loved you a lot. I would be overjoyed if he was alive today.
But he's not.
You have reminded me of that before. As I slid my hands up your shirt, and as you sat on my bed, shivering, you told me that I could never be him. He was dead and gone. That was the first time I saw Death in your eyes, even though you have confronted her many times and won. Even when Spock died for the first time, you weren't as deeply affected as you are now. Losing a person that you have dedicated your life to for the first time is depressing, but the second time can be, as you prove, devastating. They were, and still are, unfeeling, not a chipper blue like they used to be. Something within you is gone and will probably never come back.
I can't stay much longer.
I can't stand looking at you the way you are. I hate to see the shell of the man that I cared for, the man that comforted me without any inhibitions before. Now, you can barely look at me without being thrown into tears yourself. Your eyes reach mine for a brief minute. My heart surges with hope, but then you look down again. You're crying. The word that you repeat over and over again that is starting to drive me crazy. I never thought it would annoy me before the past month or so.
"Spock."
Part of me wants to slap you. I hate it when you cry over things that we can never change. I'll admit, I have done it, too. It doesn't solve anything. You've told me that, and I'm telling you now. There is nothing you can do about it. There is nothing I can do about it. I wish I could, Len. I would bring him back to you, if that made you stop crying like this. There are only so many things a man can do, though.
I wish you were here again.
Foolhardy wishing is ridiculous. I know this. Just like you can't bring Spock back, I can't bring you back, Len. Only you can bring yourself back. You need to find something that would make you want to come back. You've saved so many lives. You don't need to die this early. Life means more than that, doesn't it? The world needs you, Len ... I need you. Think of all the people you could save if you came back! Please ...
"Jim, don't talk like this. You don't need to die as well."
Len, are you talking to me after all this time? Are you responding to what I've been saying? Can you actually hear me, Len? Len! Please, I don't want this to be a hallucination. Are you back, Len? I can hear your voice. "You're right. There's no use in suffering over it any longer." I look up at you and you're staring at me, your eyes still somewhat teary. "I'm sorry I put you through that. You didn't deserve it."
"It's all right." I pause. "Will you be okay, Len?"
You break our stare and gaze at the ground again, but I can already see the life seeping back into your eyes. "I can't be sure."
"Well, let me tell you." I sit down next to you and put a hand under your chin, tilting it towards me. You look at me with a somewhat confused expression on your face. "You can be sure that I'll be here to help you if you need help, okay? I know this is very hard for you."
You brush away my hand and nod to me, finally giving me a small smile. "Thanks, Jim."
I smile back at you and I close my eyes in contentment. After an uneasy pause, I feel your lips against mine. This is surprising, but not at all unwelcome. I kiss you back, feeling you shiver slightly under my kiss. I feel your arms wrap around my shoulders, and you slowly lean into me. My arms wrap around your waist, and we slowly melt together.
Maybe there is some hope for us, after all.
"So, so you think you can tell heaven from hell, blue skies from pain How I wish, how I wish you were here.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell? ...
We're just two lost souls, swimming in a fish bowl, year after year
Running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears
Wish you were here."
Pink Floyd, "Wish You Were Here"
Finis