So this is how it's gonna end, Jim thought.
Despite his reputation (a womanizer, trouble-maker, Academy's golden boy and many, many others) Jim used to wonder about death, life… and stuff surprisingly often.
He always wondered what would dying felt like. Whether it would hurt, both physically and mentally. Whether he would see his whole life flash before him.
He was never quite able to answer any of these questions.
Until now.
Sitting on the ground, unable to move, Jim found himself… uncharacteristically detached. It was like being a puppet and having your strings cut by somebody. His mind was working, but his body felt numb.
Almost as numb as Spock's expression.
The Vulcan was looking at him, his dark eyes very close and yet so far away at the same time. At the moment, Jim wanted nothing more than to touch him and feel his thoughts like with the old Spock all those months ago.
Could it help? He did it for Chris, after all…
It was hopeless, anyway. He couldn't touch Spock any more than Spock could touch him. It was too late and Jim was doomed to die alone. He felt tears prickling in the corners of his eyes and tried to supress them. What good would it make to cry?
He opened his mouth instead.
However, „I'm scared, Spock," wasn't what he was planning on saying. Well, since the cat's got out of the bag already… „Help me. How do you choose not to feel?"
To his surprise, a traitorous tear escaped from Spock's eye and made its way down. The Vulcan's voice cracked, when he answered: „I do not know…" and Jim suddenly realised, that if Spock were human, he would be openly weeping right now.
Spock. Crying. For him.
It was hard, almost impossible to make sense out of things as his breath was slowly betraying him, but damn it if Jim Kirk was anything but stubborn and he had to try. He owned this to Spock. His first officer. His friend. His friend…
The answer came out of nowhere but Jim realised it to be true immediately after it entered his mind.
Spock loved him.
It was so easy. He must have been blind to overlook it. Spock was in love with him. Not Uhura. Him. He was in love with Jim.
It all made sense once he looked at it. The thing was… Spock never cried. Not in public, that is. Not even when his mother died, when he saw her vanish in front of him.
Yet, now he was crying for Jim. He loved him.
Jim felt ridiculously pleased by his newly discovered knowledge for a second but then he looked at Spock more carefully and realised something else which interrupted his sudden burst of joy.
The look in Spock's eyes… It wasn't indifferent nor numb.
It was heartbroken.
Immediately, Jim felt his own heart to break and he cursed himself for being so selfish and self-centered even while dying. How could he not have thought about this?
He couldn't do this to Spock. Couldn't let him watch Jim's death and blame himself for not stopping him or doing the inevitable instead of him.
He had to say something to help Spock, to ease his mind, be it a little bit… But what?
Suddenly, he remembered. Remembered, what set of events got them here in a first place.
Jim's throat burned, yet he spoke, determined to make his point. „Spock… Do you know why I didn't let you die? Why… I came back for you?"
„Because you are my friend," Spock answered softly.
„No," Jim sighed. This wasn't enough. He would get nowhere with this. He didn't have enough time to come up with something better, though. So he did the only remaining thing he could think of.
He raised his hand and pressed it to the glass in a gesture similar to Vulcan kiss.
Jim saw Spock's eyes widen in understanding and realised that the poor Vulcan probably wasn't even aware of the depths of his feelings towards Jim. Yet, Jim's gesture couldn't be mistaken for anything else and Jim held his breath while waiting for Spock's response.
He didn't have to wait long.
Spock pressed his hand against his. If there was no glass, their palms and fingers would be touching right now.
Funny, that it takes me dying to get to make out with a Vulcan, Jim snickered silently, trying to supress the pain which was dwelling in him.
The end was near and this, however bittersweet (and beautiful), still wasn't enough. It might be enough for the Vulcan half of Spock, but Jim had to make certain the human half of Spock understood as well.
„I…" he started but there was not enough breath left in his lungs, not enough life left in his body. It was too late.
It has always been too late and with one last look to Spock's beautiful eyes (for they were, even though Jim might not have acknowledged it before) he felt his breath leave him for good.
And then everything fell into darkness.