A Brother's Gift


The signal at the Captain Kirk's door woke him from a light sleep. He had dozed off at his desk again. For a moment he was disoriented as images from the past few days spun in his mind. He had not really slept since the nightmare that they found on Deneva had begun. Now that the crisis was over, a mountain of reports threatened to deprive him of sleep for the foreseeable future. The door signaled again. He lifted his head off his desk, conscious of the ache in his neck and straightened his tunic.

"Come"

Mr. Spock entered the captain's quarters. His eyebrow lifted at the sight of his commanding officer, still sitting at the desk where he had left him eight hours before. Kirk had clearly not been to bed at all that night. Spock was uncertain whether to express his concern about his friend's inability to rest. Humans sometimes took offence when questioned about their health, yet if one ignored their difficulties they might also take offence. Human behavioral norms remained a puzzle to the Vulcan, even after his years of service among them. And, it was very important to Spock that he did not offend this human.

The captain searched the face of his first officer. He could still see traces of the UV burns that had marked Spock's forehead and cheeks. Kirk shuddered at the memory of those burns. How close he had come to loosing his first officer and friend, too. He didn't think he could stand another loss.

"What can I do for you, Spock?" the captain asked.

"I have come to report that the ship has left Denevan orbit, sir. The relief ships are well along in their work on the surface and the colonists are all being attended to. The medical and psychological teams from the Enterprise have completed their reports and the ship is operating within acceptable parameters."

The captain looked at his friend carefully. He was well aware that Spock could have made that report from the bridge.

"Something else, Mr. Spock?"

A rare hesitation seemed to keep the Vulcan from speaking. After a pause, he spoke softly, almost reluctantly.

"Jim, I am unfamiliar with the customs of death and grieving in your family, however, I wish to convey my sympathy at the death of your brother." Another pause. "On Vulcan, at such a time, it is customary for those who had knowledge of the deceased to share a memory of that person with the family. Unfortunately, I did not know your brother and find myself at a loss"

The captain was moved by the gesture of support from his friend, but found he was reluctant to speak of his brother. Jim Kirk was by nature a private person, and the pain of his loss was very raw. But, as he looked into the face of his friend, he realized how difficult it had been for Spock to make this gesture. He knew that his first officer found human reactions to be confusing and often choose to ignore them rather than offend. He did not want to refuse the gift that the Vulcan had offered him.

"In my family, Spock, we mourn in much the same way. Usually friends and family gather and remember the good times that we all shared together. It helps us to begin to put aside the pain of the loss that humans feel with a death. I won't be able to return to Earth to be with my mother for Sam's funeral. It means a great deal to me that you are here now with me." The captain smiled a small, sad smile as he reflected with wonder that his friend, who supposedly renounced emotion, had offered to assuage his grief.

Suddenly, Kirk knew that he wanted to talk to the Vulcan about Sam. Perhaps if he shared a part of that life with Spock, he could hold on to his brother just a little longer.

"You know, Spock, Sam and I were nine years apart. Growing up, we really didn't have much in common. By the time I was old enough to be interesting to him, he was off at school. But, there was one summer that I remember, I was fourteen and he was twenty-three. He was home from college and I had just come back from Tarsus. As I think about it now, I guess my mother must have asked him to come home to be with me. It was a really tough time and I must have driven my mom and Sam crazy. I was wound up so tightly that I could barely speak. I just walked around, going through the motions, afraid to feel or think about anything. Sam tried to talk to me, but I couldn't. He tried to get me interested in something, anything, but I was so closed down that nothing reached me."

The captain looked at his friend, searching for some indication that his words were making the Vulcan uncomfortable. Seeing only interest and acceptance in his face, Kirk continued.

"One night, I went to bed early and lay tossing in my bed. Sleep was hard; the dreams of Tarsus were so vivid. Sam came into my room, put his arms around me, and carried me outside as if I was a baby. I struggled, but he was much bigger than I was and I was still pretty weak from Tarsus. It had started to rain that soft summer rain that's so gentle, you only realize that it's falling after you see the drops on your body. We stood in that rain, Sam holding me tightly in his arms until we were both soaked, and he said to me 'Jim, let the rain take away the pain. Let it go. It can run off you and wash away if you'll only let it. I'm here with you. I won't leave you.' I started to cry. I hadn't cried in all the time since I'd been home. As we stood there, I really did feel the pain start to lessen. For the first time in months I felt safe. Sam's strength and his love helped the healing to start. I've always been so grateful to him for that. And, since that day, I've always loved to stand in the rain. It's helped me to feel closer to my brother, even when we were separated by so many light years."

The captain's voice drifted off. For a moment, Spock thought that he might have fallen asleep, but he saw that he was just lost in the memory of his brother, Sam.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. I hadn't thought of that time for years. You've brought Sam back to me, and I am very grateful."

"Captain, again my condolences on your loss," the Vulcan responded, "and now if you'll excuse me." Without another word, the first officer rose and left. Kirk sat back in his chair, unsure whether his outpouring of emotion had embarrassed or pained his friend. He continued to wonder for some time to come.

After leaving orbit, the ship was ordered to report to Starbase 11 for supplies and new orders. The crew was very weary from the mission to Deneva and the mood of the ship was affected too, by the undercurrent of sadness that they sensed in their captain. Everyone was aware of the terrible loss he had suffered. At night, after his duty shift, instead of chess games in the rec deck, instead of concerts, vids or other activities that the captain had once participated in, they observed a lonely man, more often than not standing motionless, staring out of the star ports.

On one such night, Mr. Spock approached his captain who was leaning against an open view port, seemingly lost in thought.

"Captain, Jim... I wish you to accompany me to deck 18."

The captain straightened and responded. "Is something wrong, Spock? Is there a problem with the ship?"

"No, sir. I simply ask that you accompany me."

"I really don't..."

"Please, captain."

Kirk couldn't remember the last time that the Vulcan had made a request of him. In fact, now that he thought of it, he had seen very little of Spock, other than on the bridge, since he had talked to him about Sam, five days before.

"Very well, Mr. Spock."

The two men headed to the turbolift and down to deck 18. The captain wondered why his first officer wanted him to go to the storage area. They walked silently down the corridor of the lower deck, until they came to a large closed storage room. The Vulcan keyed in his privacy code and the door opened. As Kirk entered, he smelled a familiar smell. He barely heard his friend instruct the computer to begin the program, when gentle moisture, more mist that rain, began to fall on the two men. The smell was an Iowa cornfield in the middle of a warm summer rain. The captain's face grew wet. He wasn't sure whether it was from the moisture falling on him or from his tears and it didn't seem to matter. He only knew that he was once again standing in the rain with his brother. The captain smiled as he felt his pain begin to wash away.

The End.