Gifts of the Dead

by CT

D/C: Don't own Star Trek.

A/N: This takes place after the opening scene of Generations. Yeah.

Spock's POV

I strode forward, my black Vulcan robe blowing back in the wind. It was nearly midnight, but I felt awake as if it was midday. McCoy was waiting for me, also without Starfleet attire. I didn't care at this point how casual or otherwise I looked. It didn't matter anymore- not if what they said was true.

"Doctor?" I asked him. "Has Captain Harriman spoken to you?"

"Yes." McCoy said, his face a mask of logic. How odd, for we had changed places. I was utterly submerged in emotion, while he seemed to have none.

"And?" I asked him.

"I don't...he doesn't...know." McCoy replied, but it was a lie. McCoy was on a distant planet, researching important medical data. He wouldn't come to Earth unless the rumors were true.

We went into a shuttle to arrive at space dock. McCoy told them he wasn't going to get his atoms scrambled across the galaxy. But this time, it meant nothing. He said it with pain in his eyes, the only emotion in his face. He only did it to get me more time. More time to not know, to hope. To hope that what I had heard was a horrible, foolish, lie.

"What are ya doing nowadays, Spock?" he asked me in the shuttle.

"I am on the USS Expedition." I said tonelessly. "As Captain."

"God, how can your senior crew stand you?" McCoy asked, but there was no humor in his voice. He had none of the usual laughter.

"And you, Doctor?" I asked after an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm on Qo'noS, the Klingon planet." McCoy said, tugging at the silver mail I just realized he was wearing. "I'm part of the first Alliance between the Empire and the Federation. A medical one, but it could be something more..."

"I trust you are not insulting the Klingons." I said.

"No, not like Jim-" McCoy stopped, and our conversation came to a grinding halt. "Well, here we are." He said, trying to sound cheery. "The Enterprise-B."

Captain Harriman was waiting for them. "Captain Spock. Dr. McCoy."

"Hello, John." McCoy said. "How-"

"Where is Jim?" I asked, cutting across the useless information.

"Spock-" McCoy began quietly, but Harriman stopped him.

"Captain Kirk saved my life...saved all of our lives. If it wasn't for him, the ship would be lost." Harriman said.

"But where is he?" I demanded, hoping...pleading with myself...he can't be, no, Jim would never die, never-

"He gave his life for the Enterprise." McCoy whispered. "Just like we knew he would."

I said nothing. There was nothing left to say. "Where?" I whispered.

"Deflector control." Harriman said. "I can show you."

"This is the Enterprise." I said fiercely. "I know this ship."

Harriman looked abashed, and embarrassed, and I regretted my words. But it was too late. I walked into a turbolift, snapped "Deflector Control." and watched McCoy and Harriman disappear.

Deflector control was a mess. There was smoke, and broken circuitry everywhere. I walked forward, slowly, to where Jim had taken his last breath. Did he know that? Did Jim guess that he would die? What did he think of? Of the Enterprise? A quick prayer? Did he think...of me?

No. Jim thought of saving the Enterprise- his ship, even if he was not captain. He thought of his duty. I imagined him, hurriedly hitting deflector controls, and then the hull breach. Silence. He would be thrown into space- his last sight one of beauty as he died from lack of air. I wondered what his last thought was. But again, I knew. It would be one of satisfaction. He had done his duty, and finished it. Jim would never have wanted to die after a long life. He would want to die on his ship- his only true home. He had gotten his wish.

I had never imagined a life after him. I knew I would, as a Vulcan, live longer than him- it was a simple fact of biology. But even then, I imagined I would be at his side when he died, and I soon after. Even with my own death, I was almost relieved that I would never have to live after Kirk. I couldn't. I remembered, suddenly, Edith Keeler's words: "And you? You belong at his side, like you've always been there and always will." How true. How utterly true. But now I had nowhere to belong.

I reached out to the force field control, an idea in my head. One switch and I would have the same fate as Jim's. The hull breach wasn't repaired; there was nothing but space beyond the forcefield. So easy- and I would be with him. Vulcans did have ritual suicide, but only at old age when one was deteriorating. I felt like I was deteriorating, however: as if Jim was an organ that couldn't be replaced.

I placed my hand on the control. Suicide, I thought. But I didn't care. There was no life for me after Jim. No life, no life...like Jim. No life. I closed my eyes and took in one last breath-

There was another hand on my own. I turned to see McCoy, tears in his eyes. "No." he whispered softly. "I won't lose another friend today."

I let my hand drop slowly. I looked at McCoy, who was carrying an oddly shaped sword. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I thought...I thought it would be nice if I had a...gift to give to Jim. After all he's given us..." McCoy trailed off. "To show him what he meant..."

"I will keep watch. A vigil." I said.

"Alright then." McCoy said. He knelt down and lay the sword on the ground, where Jim had last stood. He began speaking in a guttural, odd language that I realized was Klingon. My combadge translated, "Today, Kahless, a true warrior enters Sto-Vo-Kor, the afterlife. He had an honorable death. Today was his day to die." He then gave a loud, piercing yell that echoed off the walls. "It tells the gods that a warrior's coming." he told me. He grinned, a real one this time, and left.

I tried to decipher McCoy's gift, as it seemed to have more meaning that what he had said. It showed Jim's honor, which he certainly had had enough of. But McCoy knew that Jim had rarely trusted Klingons...and giving him a Klingon funeral would be quite ironic to both McCoy and Jim. McCoy showed Jim's honor and humor- two traits the good doctor had himself.

I stood vigil for a few minutes, before Sulu arrived with his daughter Demora. "Hello, Captain." Sulu said to me. I nodded back. "I can't believe...he was...he should be alive." Sulu whispered. "Dem, if you'll mind leaving for a moment..." She nodded, and left. Sulu took his hands from behind his back, showing pure white tulips. I remembered that the Japanese took white as a symbol for morning.

"A tribute to Captain Kirk?" I asked.

"He...always, every day, asked how I was doing." Sulu said. "He...asked me what hobby I had this week. The captain...Jim, always seemed so interested, even when I thought I was boring him. I thought he'd like if I got him flowers. He knew I liked botany- once he even took some flowers from me for Janice Rand." He grinned sadly, and lay the flowers next to the Klingon sword. "Goodbye, sir." Sulu whispered, before quietly exiting the room.

Which trait had Sulu shown, I wondered. I believed his compassion. He cared for his crew and his ship more than his life- which was why he was dead, I knew. The sword and the flowers- who would be next?

Uhura walked up to me, quiet as ever. "I understand now." she said.

"I...do not." I replied.

She smiled. "Remember? I was angry at you, because you didn't react over a crewman's death. But I understand now. Sometimes...you can't react. You can't let yourself cry because you'll never stop. Do you understand, Mr. Spock?"

I wished, at that moment, that I was anything but a Vulcan. I wished I could tell her how much I understood her words, how much I knew about repressing emotion. But I had to say what a Vulcan would- "I have no emotion, Commodore."

"I wouldn't say that." she said.

Neither would I, if I were not a Vulcan. "Have you come to pay your respects to the captain?" I asked her. Uhura nodded, and showed me a wreath of laurels.

"This was the wreath the captain wore when he kissed me." Uhura said. "I kept it. I don't know why- perhaps young girl fantasies." She laughed. "I thought I should return it to him." She kissed the gold leaves, and set it down by the flowers. Uhura turned, and left the room.

Her gift was easy to decipher- love. Jim's love for females, love for the Enterprise. Jim loved many a woman- perhaps Uhura had been one of them. I did not know- humans had an odd fascination with the opposite sex. It wasn't very...logical. Then again, I thought wryly, neither was pon farr.

Chekov walked in, brushing soot from his face. A woman was with him, an El-Aurian survivor, I realized. "This is Guinan." Chekov introduced. She nodded. "She vanted to see...vhere Keptain Kirk..."

"Saved our lives." Guinan finished. Chekov nodded, and took out a large Federation flag.

"On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I vould like to present Keptain James Tiberius Kirk with the flag of the Federation. He... vas an active member who saved the Federation numerous times, and... kept the velfare of the Federation above all else." He draped the flag over the deflector controls. He closed his eyes tightly to keep from crying, and left with Guinan.

Kirk's dedication to the Federation had been obvious since the day we left space dock. He showed it, not only by obeying Starfleet, but by disobeying it to help everyone. Including me. Jim had risked his career all to resurrect me. He had risked the Enterprise to stop V'Ger, Khan, Chang, and Sybok. Only to help the Federation. His dedication was one of his defining features.

Mr. Scott was the last senior officer to come. He walked slowly, as if to try to stop the moment from happening. Instead of talking to me, like Uhura and Sulu, or praying, like McCoy, Scotty addressed the Federation flag as if it were Jim itself. "I...can't believe that ya are gone, Cap'n. Ya always seemed constant, as constant as thruster power. But...I was wrong. Ya were one hell of a man, Cap'n. One hell of a man... I thought I should give this to ya." He took out a phaser, one of the old models, the phaser pistol. "I told ya that the best diplomat was a fully activated phaser bank. Well, ya were a damn good one too. Maybe not with Klingons..." he chuckled softly, "but with most species, anyway. Goodbye, Jim. I'll...miss ya." He turned and left the room.

Diplomacy from Mr. Scott. Dedication from Chekov. Love from Uhura. Compassion from Sulu. And honor and humor from McCoy. What could I give Jim that was not already shown here?

I knelt down, wondering if a Vulcan chant would suffice. But then I thought- everyone had given a gift that reflected themselves as well as their relationship with Jim. But my relationship with Jim was so much more...complicated. Illogical. What would Jim say about me? What had Jim said about me?

It was as if he was right next to me, whispering in my ear. "Of all the souls I have encountered, his was the most...human." "Isn't that a human emotion, Mr. Spock?" "I believe you're getting more human all the while."

Humanity. I was part human. All the while, all during his life, Kirk had tried to get me to accept my human half, but I had denied him all but once. I would not do so any longer.

Tears began to stream from my eyes. They were hot and wet against my face, and dripped onto the floor. Once I had smiled for him- now I cried. The one thing Jim had wanted to see was the one thing I could not give him in life, but in death. The tears came thick and fast. I gave Jim the gift of humanity in his death- the one gift that I had denied Jim during life.

McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and Mr. Scott all came down in a few minutes. We stood vigil for our captain, our friend. We looked at the gifts- the sword, the flower, the laurel, the flag, the phaser, and the tears. The gifts for the dead: for Captain James T. Kirk.