Title: The Only Certainty
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Spock is dead. That is the only certainty in Jim's shattered life, a fact which he drowns in alcohol and reminiscence.
Warnings: Alcohol, Angst, talking about Character Death
Prompt: Ain't no sunshine when she's gone (it's a song)

The Only Certainty

Today the sun wasn't shining for Jim Kirk. The clouds weren't chasing each other playfully through a blue sky like children at play in a park. Waves weren't lapping gently at the beaches of San Francisco, where lovers walked hand in hand searching for seashells. Everything wasn't, weren't, didn't, and wouldn't except one thing that was. Spock was dead. The only certainty in a decimated world which belonged to Jim. He wobbled toward the table like a planet with no sun and picked up his glass of Saurian brandy.

Jim had never been much of a drinker, but that had changed this night. Earlier today the Enterprise had docked, and the crewmembers were all warmly received, but as Jim was welcomed to his old position as Chief of Starfleet Operations he felt nothing but a dull chill. So he was to have nothing. Not the Enterprise, his ship, his home. Not Spock, his…

But what had Spock been to Kirk? They had certainly been friends, and… Jim would have been much more if it weren't for his damn cowardice. 'Yes,' he thought bitterly, pouring more of the mind numbing alcohol, 'James T. Kirk, former starship captain, is a coward. You've all learned of his great deeds, but he would be nothing… is nothing without his brilliant first officer.'

There must have been something he could have done differently, and Spock wouldn't have had to enter the radiation chamber. Kirk was painfully aware of all the little strings that held together the universe and time. Just one Tug could change the fate of a galaxy. 'A butterfly in China…' And at the moments when it really mattered he failed to tug, couldn't follow through. It seemed that conscience did make cowards of us all because Jim had lost the name of action at the very instant when it was most precious to him.

~*~

It was almost time for the journey to end. As the captain faced the end of the five year mission he felt a sense of great urgency colored by loss. Loss because he would miss his ship and the adventures he had basked in. Urgency because he was due to play chess with Mr. Spock for the last time in less than five minutes. Of course he couldn't be certain of the future and thus couldn't be certain that they wouldn't play chess again, but they would reach Earth in a day's time and Kirk was unaware of Spock's plans after they made space dock.

If only he could be sure he had more time. Five years seems to go by quickly when you're dreading its end, and since the moment Jim realized he loved Spock he'd been dreading the thought of parting. That moment had been roughly two Earth-years ago when he had had to fight Spock to the death on Vulcan because his intended had rejected him, which Jim didn't understand in the first place. Who would reject Spock?

The Captain felt a blush lick tendrils of fire up his neck and pulled at the collar of his uniform. He had encountered sex in a variety of forms and even been in love once or twice so he could hardly consider himself inexperienced but simply the thought of Spock made him feel giddy in a way that no man in his thirties ought to feel.

The chime of the door to his quarters startled him and he went to the table to begin setting the board as he called Spock in.

They began to play, lightly discussing recent events and generally making conversation. The mood changed when, after making a move to put Jim in 'check', Spock leaned back and stared forward intently, lacing his fingers together in the way he did when he was in deep thought.

"Jim," he said, his eyes almost imperceptibly darker than before, "I would like to discuss something of a somewhat… personal nature, if you are not adverse."

"Sure," the captain said in a forcibly light tone, making a move of his own, "in fact I wanted to talk to you about something too." His thoughts were racing, should he tell Spock now? Who knew when the chance would come again. It was now, wasn't it? He had no more time. Or did he? "Spock," he blurted out, "what are you doing after we get back to Earth?" He was flooded with relief. He'd probably hang out with Spock on Earth, Jim could wait until then to confess.

"Actually, Captain, it is of that decision I wish to speak," Spock answered, looking almost unsure of himself. "I had considered returning to Vulcan, to enter Kolinahr and purge emotion. This time, aboard Enterprise, I have experienced too much… felt too much." If the floor hadn't been falling out from under Jim he would have been able to hear the pain in his friend's voice. "Checkmate."

And then he was leaving and Jim was trying to speak, trying to say 'Stay with me, feel with me,' but it simply wouldn't come. For once in his life he had no words.

~*~

Kirk rose, coming out of his reverie, and crossed the room to the window. He looked balefully at the sun and pulled a curtain down, shutting its light out of his life. It had all been for nothing. The anxiety and the waiting. In that moment, when Spock was dying in the radiation chamber, he had pulled his glove off and pressed his hand against the glass. Jim may have been too ignorant to save Spock, but he still knew what a Vulcan 'kiss' looked like. He dared to hope, and then shook his head, pulling another curtain shut. After his cowardice…the pale cast of his thought, he didn't deserve to be loved by Spock. And in any case it was all over now. Spock was dead. The only certainty in his world. James T. Kirk closed the last curtain and slumped into a soft chair.

'There is no sunshine in my world.'