Not going to lie, I was crying as I wrote this, so maybe tissues would be a good idea.
I wrote this to kind of tie in with the song "Who Am I to Say?" by Hope, which I think is so perfect for Spock and Kirk. This song could easily be used for the original pair when Spock died or when Kirk did. I've been having a rough month and I think this fic was a perfect way to get it all out. I do not own Star Trek or any of the characters whatsoever.
I hope that you'll review and enjoy.
It was supposed to be a simple mission.
Jim once said that no mission was simple no matter how many times Starfleet assured him it would be. The crew of the Enterprise was infamous for being given the short end of the preverbal stick when it came to dangerous missions. If someone didn't end up in Sickbay then it was a miracle and deserved a party of sorts, which was then interrupted by an unwarranted attack on the Enterprise thus injuring half the crew.
Jim often commented on the fact his crew couldn't catch a break and Spock, along with the entire bridge, would agree with him.
Spock could faintly hear the sounds of nurses and doctors moving from patient to patient, but he refused to open his eyes. Although illogical, a part of Spock retained the idea if he kept his eyes closed then the events that had transpired leaving him in a healing trance would not have occurred and he would be able to spend another night with Jim: His t'hy'la.
It was not in Spock's nature to partake in daydreams or fantasies, but in this case it was something he could not help. He was falling apart at the seams: His mind was collapsing in on itself in desperation and sadness that eclipsed the loss of his planet and his mother. His soul was being ripped apart and it took every ounce of Vulcan strength he had not to burst into painful sobs he knew would never cease.
Spock heard Dr. McCoy's gruff voice, hoarse with unshed tears, tell Nurse Chapel a Vulcan healer by the name of T'Ara was on her way to help Spock's mind cope with the loss of his bondmate. Spock inwardly flinched as his mind cried out in protest. He didn't want to lose his pain: He needed it. That was something Jim taught him long ago in the beginning stages of their relationship.
If he no longer felt the all-consuming pain in his heart then it would be as if Jim never existed and Spock would rather suffer a million deaths then lose the feeling of Jim no matter how illogical and impractical it was.
Spock replayed his last night with Jim in his head in an attempt to heal the void in both his mind and soul, but the phantom touches of his lover burned instead of soothed, leaving Spock in more pain than before. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to breathe… Spock just wanted it to end.
He heard the curtain move and felt Dr. McCoy's presence next to him. "I'm so sorry Spock," he said and suddenly Spock felt a sharp pain in his neck.
'No!' he mentally cried out as his senses dulled and the specific drugs did their job rendering Spock's mind a starless sky. He faintly recalled Jim's face before he was thrust into a dark abyss and knew no more.
Days passed.
Spock was released from Sickbay three days after T'Ara arrived on the Enterprise and managed to heal his mind. However, due to his human heritage Spock could still feel the echoes of his lover's mind mixing with his, but he refused to say anything. He didn't think it would cause him any harm and on those endless nights Jim's shadow was more comfort then nothing.
He withdrew into himself and became who he once was before Jim opened him up. He meditated more than he had in his entire life and was haunted by the various memories he had created with Jim. Their first meeting, their fight on the bridge, the first time Jim saved Spock's life. Spock could recall their first kiss towards the end of their first five year mission and when they bonded to ensure that they would never be separated. His blissful years with Jim passed by so quickly it seemed that Spock could not fathom how they had managed to secure almost 25 years together. His memories left a brand on his heart and his mind. His suffering, though shielded quite well, was obvious to the entire crew of the Enterprise.
They all walked on eggshells around Spock before and even after Jim's funeral.
It was a large ceremony held outside on a cloudy earth day. Friends and family came from all around along with people who had never known Jim to mourn the loss they all felt. Spock remained completely composed and stoic on the outside, as a Vulcan should be, but his eyes betrayed his outer calm. His human eyes clouded with grief and moisture of tears that would not fall. He watched Jim's mother cried on her other son's shoulder as the reverend spoke of heaven.
Chekov leaned against Sulu and tried valiantly not to cry despite the fact Sulu let a few stray tears fall down his face. Uhura clutched Scotty's hand and could barely see through her tears that fell like spring rain. McCoy stood beside Spock in an effort to both give and receive comfort and bit his tongue to stifle his own cries. He was not a man who cried in public, but Spock could clearly see the doctor's red eyes and concluded he had cried his fair share before the funeral.
Spock looked across the way and saw his father and his older self standing respectably to the side of Jim's mother. He was not surprised that they had attended Jim's funeral, but he could not bare to look into his own eyes and see the understanding and familiar undertones of grief that once burned as his did now.
More words were said about Jim's ability as a fine Captain and that was that. People gathered around one another to offer comfort, but Spock stayed by the hole in the ground in which Jim's body now rested.
"I grieve with thee." Sarek said softly once he approached his son. Spock looked at his father and realized just how much his mother's death had affected him. It was as if his father's eyes had dulled and the lines that graced his face had deepened. Spock briefly wondered if he looked any different and found he didn't care.
Spock nodded and looked away from his father's piercing stare. Sarek said nothing more for there was nothing he could say to ease his son's pain.
Minutes passed and soon Spock was alone, standing in a green field littered with gravestones of fallen comrades and Starfleet's finest.
He saw a familiar shadow stand next to his and braced himself for words that would surely be his undoing.
"I had hoped you would be spared the pain of losing him so soon. However, you had more years with him as your bondmate than I had with my Jim. You were not afraid of a relationship with him, unlike myself." Spock Prime spoke with a steady voice though Spock detected a sorrowful tint in it.
"How long will I feel this way?" Spock asked not caring for a second the fact his question held little logic and would be constituted as a human's response to grief.
"It is hard to say. I still feel the pangs of loss when I think of my Jim and it has been many years since his passing. I believe you will never stop feeling his absence, but it will lessen in time," his future self said quietly. Minutes passed and Spock said nothing.
"Jim once told me that it was destiny…" Spock Prime began and Spock turned to face him, his brow cocked in question.
"He told me that being by his side was as much my destiny as his was being a starship Captain. That if there was any logic to the universe… we'd end up on that bridge again someday."
They stood in silence, soaking up the truth of what both Jim's essentially believed.
Spock closed his eyes as a warm breeze played with his hair and the green grass he stood on. He could almost hear Jim saying those words with a playful tone coloring his voice. His blue eyes sparkled in sincerity and his lips quirked up in a familiar smile. Spock let lose a silent sigh and felt his throat constrict and his chest ache as he realized he'd never again see his lover or hold him in his arms.
It was almost too much for Spock.
Spock Prime spoke once more before leaving his younger self.
"It is in my experiences with death that taught me that as long as you remember him and treasure the moments you had together… Jim will never truly be gone. He was a part of you before you knew he existed and he will continue to be so long after this universe has been destroyed. T'hy'la is forever and it goes beyond the physical world Spock. This I can promise you."
Spock looked once more at his older self and saw traces of moisture in his eyes. "Peace and long life." Spock Prime said saluting his younger self and turned to leave once Spock repeated the motion.
Spock watched the figure retreat into a crowed of people slowly leaving. He saw the faces of his crew… of his family waiting patiently for him to come back with them. Spock turned back to the grave and placed two fingers on the cold marble in a Vulcan kiss as if saying goodbye. "Jim…" Spock whispered and as if that were a magic word, the gray clouds parted and a brilliant band of sun feel upon Jim's grave in something humans would call 'a sign.'
Spock felt a warmth course through his body and it took all he had not to fall to his knees and dry sob. It felt so familiar, it was almost as if he could feel Jim embrace him one last time before flying off into the sky with the sun.
Spock steadied himself and amazingly, felt lighter than he had in weeks. A faint stirring in his back of his mind caused him to pause and reconsider his older self's words. Perhaps, Jim was not truly gone in the exact sense of the word. Spock turned away and walked over to the remainder of the crew that had waited for him.
Uhura gave Spock a watery smile and Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov watched the clouds dissipate as the sun shone brightly upon the various graves. Spock met McCoy's eyes and saw the traces of tears on his weary face and was startled to see a faint smile on his thin lips.
"Let's go home," McCoy said and everyone nodded before trekking up the hill to rejoin the others.
Spock took one last look at Jim's grave and didn't flinch when he felt a quick brush of phantom lips against his. Spock blinked his eyes quickly in an attempt to dispel the moisture that made it almost impossible to see and felt his lips quirk up in an almost smile before deciding Jim was never going to leave him.
That was more than adequate for Spock.
"Parted from me and never parted,
Never and always touching and touched."
I feel so awful for killing Jim: Seriously, I was practically bawling at the end.
Portraying grief in a species like Vulcan's is actually not that easy, but I think I did a fairly decent job of making Spock seem like he was grieving while at the same time maintaining his Vulcan traits on the outside. Vulcan's feel with an intensity humans rarely can accept, so I feel better about his feelings of emptiness and pain.
Again, I hope you enjoyed it (how do you enjoy a fic about death exactly?) and I would love some feedback.
LL&P