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gilda_eliseBecause I really hate what "Generations" did to our boys...even if Spock wasn't actually there.
Originally published in Kindle My Heart, March 2004
Waiting For Night to End
By Elise Madrid
The ship was a reconfigured Federation type 10 shuttlecraft, perfected over the years until he had exactly what he needed to travel alone amid the wide expanses of space. It was large enough to comfortably live in when the need arose, but small enough, at a little less than ten meters, to hide from the curious.
He’d christened it the Gnut,* after another spacefarer whose story his t’hy’la had once related to him. His father had not approved the naming, seeing it as yet another manifestation of his uneasy grasp on reality. But the loss of a beloved companion was not unknown to Spock, and he’d remembered the sorrow in his lover’s voice as he recalled the tale.
How many years ago that had been. Sarek, the symptoms of the illness that would take his life not yet manifested, had attempted to sway him into remarriage. The ship had been an escape in more ways than one. Often, he would seek its comforting interior and attempt to still the emotions stirred to life by his father’s insistance. The war that still raged within him had its roots in that time.
But the Gnut was a good ship. It had served him well for many years when escape into space was his only respite. Now that he was planetbound, he particularly enjoyed his time spent within its sturdy shell. He could, for a while, lose himself in his work as he tested its systems and restocked its supplies. He’d learned the hard way that a reliable means of escape was essential for anyone who dared live among those not his own kind. So this task, done once a fortnight, was one of his small pleasures.
While the computer ran a check on the navigational systems, he worked on the water filtration equipment. The water had a slightly metallic taste and he wanted to have it corrected by day’s end. An hour later, satisfied with his work, he powered down the ship. In the semi-darkness of the emergency back-up lights, he made his way out.
The wind had kicked up and clouds were building to the south when Spock exited the large barn-like structure that housed his shuttle. He glanced at the darkening sky. It would rain soon. With a tug, he pulled his cloak tightly closed and headed for his dwelling. The breeze brought the smell of the tillanta bushes that edged his property, their bright yellow blooms waving briskly in the fast-rising storm. They reminded him of the gladiolas that had once grown along his Terran home so many light-years away. Light-years in distance, black years in time; how far he had come from that bright and shining past...even Spock didn’t know. He turned away from the spot of color and hurried on.
Mizar Two was a beautiful planet, very Earth-like. And the climate in this particular location was much like that of San Francisco. He’d often thought that was why he had picked it. But times like these made him long for a desert-dry wind that could seer away any thought of what he had lost. The planet did have one thing in its favor: its inhabitants were Vulcanoid, so his appearance did not betray him. But it was not a member of the Federation. Its technology was such that it would not be for centuries to come.
When he had left Romulus, almost three years before, he had vowed to forever remove himself from the sphere of intergalactic intrigue. Unwilling to return to the Federation, he had pulled up the star-charts and looked for a place of exile. He had found it on this pre-industrial planet. Its people were barely beginning to pull themselves from their own dark ages. Here, he strove for the serenity, if not the happiness, which had eluded him since his bondmate’s disappearance.
He pushed back the sadness that engulfed him whenever he thought of Jim. After seventy-eight years it had become habit, and almost easy. For what was sorrow compared to the black shadow of bitterness and despair that was his constant companion? Kirk had often remarked at Spock’s innocence of the darker shades of human, and Vulcan, nature. He wondered what his lover would think of his solution to escape the ever-present reminders of that lost innocence.
It had been the very last of that innocence that had allowed him to refuse Picard’s offer of a way home. Though Spock had a ship, Picard’s presence would have made re-entry into the Federation easier. But Spock had still believed in the cause he worked for. Romulans and Vulcans had once been one people. They could be again. But after his betrayal by Senator Pardek, his Romulan contacts had turned against him, afraid to be pulled down in the same trap as their government slowly tightened the noose in their quest to capture him. His features were different enough that going his way alone would have been impossible, and Spock had barely managed to escape with his life. But innocence had not been his only loss, just the last of many.
So he had settled on this planet. The people of the area accepted him as a strange but harmless dabbler in the medical arts. They came to him for the remedies he created from the herbs and minerals he gathered. McCoy would have been amused, he was sure.
He checked the sky once more and realized the clouds were moving in a bit more rapidly than he had first supposed. When he looked back down, off in the distance, where the hills gave way to a small pass, he could make out a couple trudging toward his house. The woman carried a small pail clutched close to her body. The man held a more bountifully packed basket. As they neared, he recognized the couple as being from the neighboring village. He had treated their son for the wasting sickness that had decimated the area.
He waited patiently for them to approach. When they reached the wooden fence that surrounded his home, they stopped and bowed respectfully.
“Welcome,” Spock called out as he advanced toward the couple.
Almost timidly, the man collected the pail from his wife, opened up the gate and walked the ten steps to Spock’s side. “These are for you, Master Spock, in gratitude for our son’s life.”
He took the food willingly. The aroma from the pail made his mouth water. It would make a most fitting meal with the fresh-baked bread Spock could see nestled within the basket. “Thank you. I hope he is doing well.”
“Yes, Master. Very well,” The young man eagerly replied.
“Do you require anymore of the elixir I prepared?”
“No, thank you, Master.” The man glanced up, worry tightening his features. “We must be on our way. The rains come and night is falling.”
“You may not make it in time.”
“We will make it.” He turned and grasped his wife’s arm, hurrying her along. “Come, Malina. We must hurry. Goodbye, Master Spock. Many thanks,” he threw over his shoulder as he and his wife scurried away.
Spock gave them a dubious look but did not argue. He did not relish the company, anyway. He had little in common with these people. As the years had passed, he’d noticed his withdrawal from life, but had been unable, or unwilling, to do anything about it. And there were still those that feared what they did not understand. They were not the first of his clients to avoid his presence when not needed. With his packages of food, he turned toward the house.
He reached the porch just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Entering, he hung his cloak on the peg behind the door and deposited the food on the kitchen table. He lit the lantern placed on its surface and, with the darkness chased from his small abode, set about restarting the fire that had burned down in the stone hearth.
He found the embers still glowed within its depths and the flames caught with little effort. Spock dusted off his hands and moved to stand before one of the tiny windows that fronted the dwelling. The glass was ill-made, the procedure to create flawless panes not yet discovered. It made the outside look dim and blurry and Spock felt his aloneness that much more. Yet he continued to stand there, watching the way the water streamed down the window, and failed to stay the memory of a similar view he had shared with his lover so many years past....
*********
Cool arms encircled his waist from behind. “Is it raining again?”
Spock clasp the human’s hands with his own, but didn’t turn from the view that mesmerized him. “Does it not always?”
Kirk chuckled. “Isn’t that the reason we live here? Come on, Spock, admit it. You love the rain.”
“Never.” It was a running joke between them. Who would have believed that a man born and bred on the furnace that was Vulcan, would have such a fascination with rain? Spock turned in his lover’s arms. “I was under the impression that we lived in San Francisco because of Star Fleet.”
“Hmm, no.” Kirk reached up to begin lightly kissing Spock’s lips and face. “That’s not it at all.”
“No?” Spock returned the labial caresses and his hands settled on Kirk’s buttocks. He gently squeezed through the soft fabric of his lover’s robe, at the same time pulling Kirk’s body against his own.
“No. I just like what the rain does to you.” Kirk pushed open Spock’s gown and brought his head down to gently nip at his lover’s neck and chest.
Spock drew in his breath when Kirk’s tongue flicked out to lick at a nipple. “And what does the rain do to me?” he gasped.
A cool hand insinuated itself under his robe and settled on his quickly filling cock. “This.”
**********
The crash of thunder startled him. He mentally shook himself and damped down the sudden stir of rage that threatened to slip its traces. He often wondered who or what it was that had so angered him, that had started the inferno growing; the Federation, his father...Jim? Or perhaps, the universe that had conspired to find him alone. Whatever its cause, it frequently rose to inundate him at the slightly provocation, destroying the hard-won calm that was his only weapon against despair.
He returned to the kitchen area. From the cupboard he removed a small bowl and some utensils. He carried the pail over to the fireplace and settled himself on the raised seat of the hearth. Carefully pulling out the fireplace crane, he slipped the container onto it by its handle.
The heat felt good after the outside chill. He leaned against the warming stones of the chimney and let his head rest against the wall. The years and his half-Terran biology were finally beginning to tell. He tired more easily now. And his joints hurt when it was cold or damp. It would ease his aching body to relax a few minutes while his dinner heated.
The blast of white light that tore through his mind dropped him to his knees. He felt his consciousness expand out as the blaze laid bare the shadowy corners of his soul, and in that dark place where Jim had resided a beacon now called to him.
Jim? JIM? He could feel his lover, alive and well across the light-years. But why did he not answer? Spock stumbled to him feet. He managed to grab his cloak as he made his way drunkenly out the door and into the rainy night.
He slipped more than once in his haste to get to the ship. The darkness made the path treacherous. But wherever Kirk was, Spock’s only thought was to get to him. As he pulled open the large back doors of the shelter, a surge of adrenalin ripped through him. Kirk was afraid or excited, Spock couldn’t tell which. The bond was gathering strength now that its long sleep was over; but, oh, so slowly. Kirk could not hear him; did not know that Spock was on his way. Spock fought against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him and managed to get inside the ship. He slipped into the pilot’s chair and the engines came alive at a touch of the controls. He was airborne and heading out into space within minutes.
Once away from the planet, he set the controls on automatic. His hands were shaking as he plugged in the coordinates that he unerringly knew would take him to his bondmate. But he needed the concentration of meditation to reach his lover. He sank to his knees and, head bowed, spiraled inward, trying to send his thoughts down the dusty path that was their bond.
Jim! Jim, please, t’hy’la, you must answer me. Jim! Spock’s eyes rolled back as he pushed himself to the brink. The distance was so far. Time dragged as the ship raced across the galaxy, yet Spock remained fixed on his objective. The light was slowly getting brighter. Soon, Jim would hear him. Soon, they would be one once more.
The agony that flared through his mind and body caught him unaware and he toppled over to come to rest on his side. He doubled up into a fetal position, fighting the pain as he strove to reach his lover. He could hear noises, now. A voice, not his own or Kirk’s. He desperately tried to pull Kirk’s attention away from it. Jim, I am here. You must hear me!
Spock grabbed his head with both hands. The pain was getting worse. And he was getting so cold. Sorrow and pain and a dread barely held at bay flooded through their bond. Do not be afraid, t’hy’la. I am here. Oh, Jim, please! Suddenly, he was there, inside his love; in that place he thought never to know again.
Spock? The thought was weak as Kirk’s side of the bond slowly opened and allowed the lovers to once more meet.
You must come with me, t’hy’la. It is time. I have been so alone. You cannot leave me now.
Where are you, Spock?
Spock pulled back, leaving the glowing filament of their bond to lead Kirk to him. Stillness, and then a slow permeation of his senses as the essence of the cherished human filled his soul. Jim, I have missed you so much. Welcome home, beloved. With those thoughts, his mind closed in on itself and its precious burden.
Surprise, and then overpowering joy as James Kirk let go of the last ties to his broken body and two words slipped past his lips.
“Oh, my.”
**********
Spock opened his eyes and became slowly aware of his surroundings. The cabin lights had dimmed when no motion was detected for a length of time. He struggled to a sitting position. The movement made him dizzy and he closed his eyes until the room stopped spinning. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet. He stumbled over to the controls and checked that he was still on course. Everything was as it should be. They would make Veridian III in two days.
They. Such a simple word. And yet one Spock found himself savoring. He had always known Kirk wasn’t dead. But where he was Spock had never been able to ascertain. Wherever it had been, his lover was miraculously back. But Spock could not hear Kirk. Unfortunately, that had lasted only seconds as Kirk’s katra had leapt from his own body to Spock’s. But it was sufficient. He knew that Kirk was with him, their souls one. His lover’s thoughts were a subtle tune that played in the background of his mind, and the place that had been a cold, dark emptiness just hours before was now filled with the light that only one such as James Kirk could emit.
With a satisfied sigh, Spock turned to more pressing matters. He was coated in mud from his mad dash and subsequent fall into the morass that had surrounded his home. He began unbuttoning his tunic as he headed toward the back of the ship. It had originally held a complement of four, so Spock had been able to be generous in his allotment of space for the sleeping quarters and facilities. Entering the bathroom, he slipped out of his clothes and into the shower stall. It had been years since he had used it. On Mizar, he had kept strictly to the lifestyle of the planet. The scalding hot water felt good on his body.
Afterwards, dressed in a black tunic and pants, he settled himself at the control consol and reestablished the computer’s link to its host on Vulcan. He waited patiently for any new data to download before starting his task. In three years the Federation had added a multitude of newly discovered worlds to their database. It would take time, but he would find what he was looking for.
So many worlds. He discarded those too close to the Federation. He needed one far from the prying eyes of Starfleet. Nor could it be inhabited. A dead, airless world would be ideal, but he would take what he could get.
The data continued to scroll by and Spock felt an odd calm settle on him, an almost happiness that seemed to fight against the man he had become. Light and laughter had been missing from his life for so long, it was as if he feared its return. He would ever be Jim Kirk’s bondmate. But what else was he now? And could the embittered old man of Mizar Two ever again be Spock of Vulcan?
He frowned, rejecting the idea. Kirk was with him. He could do anything. He concentrated once again on his work while several hours passed. He was surprised when the automatic course change kicked in. He looked up and, noting the time, realized he was hungry. He never had gotten to his meal on Mizar Two. The galley was large and contained everything one would need for an extended space voyage. He put together a meal and returned to his seat to continue his perusal of Federation star-charts.
By the time he prepared for sleep, he had found the perfect place.
**********
The small craft rode the currents of air as it skimmed barely above the surface of Veridian III. Spock did not wish to be discovered by the swarm of Federation ships that hovered over the broken remains of the Enterprise-E’s primary hull, looking for all the world like worker bees around their dying queen. He waited until planet nightfall before approaching the site of Kirk’s grave.
He landed the ship as close as he could to the cairn of rocks that marked Kirk’s resting place. Minutes passed as he sat staring out the ship’s forward window. During the trip, the still new presence deep in his mind had been enough to push away any thought of what Kirk’s body might now look like. Memories of the last time he had seen it, vibrantly alive, would now be replaced with those of its shattered remains. He didn’t know how he would get through the next hours.
Taking a deep breath, Spock forced himself to rise, to disengage the door lock and wait as it swung silently open. A cool night breeze rushed into the small spaces of the ship and Spock shivered. He grabbed the tarp he had placed next to the door and resolutely started toward the gravesite.
He carefully made his way through the darkness. He hadn’t brought a light, but Verdian III’s moon hung bright in the sky. His steps faltered as he drew close, but at last he stood before the makeshift sepulcher. He felt a tightness in his chest. He gasped as his legs buckled and he found himself on his knees in the dirt. Hesitantly, one stone at a time, he began to uncover his lover’s body.
It was harder than he had ever imagined it to be.
Tears coursed down his face by the time Spock slowly walked back to the ship. With each step he fought to keep upright, trying to find a counterbalance to the precious burden in his arms. He held it tightly against his body and no longer felt the cold. The chill that had swirled around him as he pulled Kirk’s body from its place among the rocks was no match for the sorrow that had scoured his soul as he went about his sacred duty.
It is only the wrecked temple that once housed his indomitable spirit. He could almost believe it, but for the pictures that would not stop their macabre dance across his mind’s eye; Kirk, as he had appeared on the day he had taken command of the Enterprise; the many times they had worked out together and Spock had become aware how very fine his captain’s body was; the night Spock was finally to know what it was to hold the human close as their bodies rocked to a shared passion. But more, the gentle touches that had proclaimed Kirk’s affection as friend, desire as lover, love as life’s companion.
Finally, the ship became more than just a ghostly form in the night. The door to the vessel opened at his approach, and he was moving towards the small storage area that would house the body when he heard his name called from outside.
“Mr. Spock, we know you’re in there. Please don’t make it anymore difficult than it already is.”
He knew that voice. Resigned, he gently deposited Kirk’s body and then returned to the doorway. Just outside, Captain Jean Luc Picard waited, two security men, phasers drawn, at his side.
**********
They sat facing each other in the ship’s galley. Though Spock had been forced to confront the Enterprise’s captain outside, Picard had been gracious enough to continue their conversation away from the curious stares of the guards.
“Do you know what you’re doing, man?” Picard chastised.
“I do what I must.” Spock stared toward where his lover’s body was housed. He could not see it, but was very aware of its presence. He locked down the wave of resentment that crashed over him.
“But you won’t tell me why? Why you need his body?”
“It is mine, Picard. By any law known to the Federation. Vulcan is very explicit in regards to the rights one bondmate has over the other.” Again, a flare of anger tugged at his controls.
“Starfleet may not see it that way.”
Spock turned sharply. “I do not care how Starfleet sees it. It is my right to claim the body of my bondmate.”
“Then why sneak in here like a thief in the night?” Picard’s manner was almost hostile.
Spock studied him a moment. There was something here he had not counted on. It seemed the human had formed an attachment to Kirk. Spock almost smiled. He should have known. It took much to withstand his t’hy’la’s magnetism. Off hand, he could think of no one who had successfully done it. For good or ill, Kirk had always managed to affect all who met him. “Whatever you may think of me, you must know that I could never do anything to...that man. I could sooner do it to myself.”
“Wouldn’t you? You forget, I was at your wedding.”
“Wedding? I don’t know what it is you believe you attended, but it was assuredly not my wedding.”
“It was thirty-five years ago. But I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was surprised after reading how you continued to insist that James Kirk was still alive. I was just a lieutenant, but I had been assigned as attache to Admiral Kirk.”
“Admiral Kirk?” Spock was momentarily baffled. “Ah, you speak of Samuel.”
“Samuel? Well, yes, though I would have found it difficult to think of the man in terms of his first name.”
Spock rose and went to stand by the opening of the shuttle. He looked out onto the darkened landscape. Dawn was still hours away. “As the son of Jim’s nephew, he became part of my clan and therefore allowed attendance to all clan functions. But he was not there for my wedding, Picard.”
“I saw you there, standing next to the bride.”
“Yes, as my cousin’s representative. It was his daughter you saw standing next to me. Since my cousin was unable to attend, I stood in his place.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What you saw was the wedding only under Terran terms. On Vulcan, there would have been a private affair with only those essential to the ritual present. But because my cousin’s daughter was to bond with a human, it was decided, as it had been for my parents, that Terran custom would be upheld. Their true uniting was many months later.”
“All right. It wasn’t your wedding. I suppose I could have been mistaken. It’s not as if your marital status would be bandied about. But that doesn’t change the fact that you want to hijack the body of a hero of the Federation, but you don’t want to tell me why.”
Spock turned to look at Picard. “Have we not both given more than our fair share? Was his death not enough to fulfill any obligations we might have still owed? I have lived without him for over seventy-five Terran years. I will live without him no longer.”
“He’s dead, Mr. Spock,” Picard gently responded.
“I am well aware of that fact, Picard,” Spock answered as he returned to his study of the desolate area outside. A wistful smile crossed his face and then was gone. “He lives in me. As long as I live, so shall he. Do not deny me this, Captain.”
“I may not have a choice in the matter.”
“I think you do. You are, as I noted at our last meeting, very much like him. He would have found a way. I am confident you can also, if that is what you wish.” Spock returned to his seat, ready to use his final card. “I remember the meld we shared when you allowed me the chance to touch my father’s thoughts. I am willing now to return the favor.”
The human looked suddenly wary. “What do you have in mind?”
“The man you met, yet knew for such a short time, is here.” Spock touched his forehead. “Everything he was, everything he knew. I would give you the opportunity to truly know him. Perhaps then you will realize how much of this would be his wish, as well.”
Hesitation slowly gave way to excitement in Picard’s eyes and Spock knew he had won. In this, also, Picard shared a likeness to Kirk. For a certain type of human the meld was addictive, an irresistible journey to yet another place unknown. Kirk had reveled in them. Another taboo I break. How many more will there be?
Spock settled his fingers on the meld points of the human’s face and for the first and only time, allowed another the precious gift of his bondmate’s thoughts.
**********
The planet Vulcan slowly filled the viewing screen of the small craft. Strange how little this place now meant to him. Once, it had cradled everyone he held dear. Now, all were gone; either dead, or scattered through the galaxy as each discovered their own destiny.
Spock powered down the engines as he waited for verification from Vulcan Central. His people would not ask where he had been for the last three years. Nor would they ask what had instigated his return. For probably the first time in his life, he was thankful for their studied indifference.
He used the time to check his level of supplies. It would save a great deal of time if he had a list prepared when he landed. But what did one take into oblivion?
Ten minutes later a flash on his board signaled his flight path. He put aside his work and grasping the controls, eased his ship down into the atmosphere. The dark of space slowly gave way to the reddish hues of Vulcan. Before long he was flying past the city of Shi’kahr and onward to the house of his ancestors.
He cut speed until he was hovering over the fortress-like structure. No one came forth to greet him as he lightly landed the ship within its high walls. Its master was home, but the large edifice was as dispassionate in that regard as the rest of the planet. Unhooking himself from his seat, Spock opened the door to the shuttle and walked out.
He was alone. He knew that, instinctively. Yet plants still lived in the pots and flowerbeds first brought to life by his mother over a century ago. Spock brushed his hand against the roses that lined the walkway, their scent reinforcing his memory of her. And the setting sun was yet another reminder, for evenings had been her favorite time. Everything was as it had been when he had left three years before. And when he reached the front door, it swung gracefully open at his touch.
“Lights, lowest setting.”
A soft glow suffused the house as Spock made his way to his father’s study. He opened up the double doors and was brought up short in surprise. He walked to the center of the room, slowly turning to take in the room’s metamorphosis.
Sarek had always been partial to the dark richness of yon-ek’zerpan, the mahogany-like wood of the northern regions. Balanced by heavily draped windows and a deep-pile carpet, Sarek’s study had always reminded Spock of a dark cavern, the quintessential Hall of the Mountain King. Taken by his mother to a production of Grieg’s Peer Gynt when he was but six years of age, forever after that vividly brought to life scene would revisit him whenever forced into his father’s den. But all that had been banished from this room.
Walls of a soothing cream surrounded the cushioned sofas and furniture made from Earth’s lightest woods. Linen sheers diffused the garden lights turning on outside, giving the room an aura of warmth. Pictures were scattered throughout; of himself, as a boy and as a man, of his parents, as they had looked in his childhood and in those days when he still knew joy, and of Jim.
Spock approached the large, neat desk tucked in one corner of the room and lowered himself onto the chair. To one side of the desktop was the first picture he and Kirk had ever taken together. They had been on shoreleave and newly lovers. Kirk had insisted and Spock had been unable to refuse. Dressed informally, they gazed out of the picture, their shared happiness readily apparent.
Who had done this? With a shaking hand, Spock turned on the computer terminal. Immediately, the screen was filled with the image of his mother. Her hair was pure white, and the dress she wore Spock remembered as one from her last years. She smiled the smile that had never failed to enchant, and began to speak.
“Spock.” The image seemed to look right into him, dredging up resentments and pain best forgotten.
“I hope it has been a long time since we last saw each other. I hope it’s been many, many years, and that your father has had a long and fulfilling life. I’d hate to imagine that he would follow me too soon. Because, since you’re watching this, it means that I am dead, that he is...dead.” She seemed to stumble over the last word. “And chances are, you’re alone; that your beloved Jim is gone, too.”
Amanda hesitated, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing. “Are you all right, Spock? Have you learned to deal with that loss? I hope so, my son. I don’t think Jim would want you to grieve too long.” She shook her head. “This is so strange. I saw the two of you this morning at breakfast. Yet here I am, as if I was already dead and buried. But I wanted you to have something to remind you of me, something that only I could give you.”
Remind him of her? How could she have thought he could ever forget her? Had he failed so completely to convey his love and gratitude for what she had done for him? For the love she had so generously granted not only to him, but also to the man he had taken as his own?
“Your father and I argued about this, you know.”
Her words recaptured his attention.
“Well, I argued, at least. Your father just listened, told me I was being illogical, and then allowed me to do exactly what I wanted. It’s an old tradition on Vulcan. As on Earth, women tend to outlive their husbands most of the time, so it became a custom for the widow to redo the home to the heir’s liking. Do you? Like it, I mean? I’ve only done the plans for the study so far. But I have the rest of it all in my head. It will be the first thing I do as soon as I get back from visiting your aunt.” She smiled again. “I think your father will probably say I’m leaving a lot of work for the executor, but I don’t care. It’s your house now, Spock. I want you to be happy here.”
Spock stopped the recording and closed his eyes. The study was all that was ever done. Amanda never made it to her sister’s, much less back to Vulcan. The explosion that had torn the ship apart as she traveled to Earth had left nothing to bring back.
And so had begun the disagreements that had finally built an insurmountable wall between Spock and his father. Because when her body had been lost to them, so had her soul.
He clenched his fists and brought his head down to rest against the cool surface of the desk. Do not give in to this. Not now. It is too late, too late for any of it. She is gone, so many years gone. And now, so is he.
Slowly, his hands opened and he straightened into the chair. He hit the button to restart the message.
“But whatever you do, don’t hide from the world. You have so much to give, so much still waiting to happen to you. Don’t give that up. I love you, Spock. Don’t ever forget that. Wherever I am, here, or in that silly rock with your father, I’ll always love you.” She pressed her lips together and he could see her eyes fill with unshed tears. “Goodbye, my son. May you live long and prosper.”
The screen went dark and all Spock could do was sit there as his fingers gouged marks into the wood of the desk. It took everything he had to finally stand up and walk away without turning the computer terminal into a pile of rubble.
He began to pace the room. No, mother. No ‘silly rock’ for you. Sarek had other plans.
From the day he discovered that his mother’s katra had not been retrieved, his anger at Sarek had only grown. Jim tried to help. At first patiently trying to reason with Spock, his lover’s forbearance had finally run out. They had argued terribly. And though it had only caused a temporary rift, it was one more thing he had laid at his father’s feet. Jim’s disappearance eight months later had destroyed any chance of Spock and his father ever making peace.
**********
Spock sat in the middle of the bed, his breathing deepening as he drifted up from his meditation. He had needed it, desperately. His mother’s tape had been difficult, to be sure. But the worst had been reentering the room he had shared with Jim.
After completing his tour of the reconfigured study, Spock had left for the kitchen and a small meal. Packing the supplies into the shuttle took most of the evening, and it was only after receiving word that the rest would not be delivered for several hours did he decide that there was only one place he would wish to spend the remainder of the night. Yet it had been hard. The room had once held so much joy.
It had been the room of his childhood, made over by his mother for his and Kirk’s frequent visits. After her death, they had stayed on. Spock had wished to return to their home on Earth, but Kirk convinced him to remain. For some reason, his lover believed Sarek needed them there. And though Spock hadn’t seen it, he acquiesced.
It was here Kirk received the invitation to be a guest aboard the Enterprise-B on her maiden voyage. Spock wanted to accompany him, but once again his lover had put Sarek’s supposed needs above their own. He insisted that Spock remain on Vulcan. After all, he would be gone for only six days.
Spock slowly ran his hands over the soft comforter and remembered the last time he had seen his lover as Kirk prepared for his departure to Earth. Just as now, the sun had yet to start its rise above the distant horizon....
He opened his eyes as his hand met empty space across the wide expanse of the bed. The light in the bathroom was on. Spock sat up and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. His time-sense told him it was three-thirty.
“Did I wake you?” Kirk asked as the door opened and the human walked out, already dressed.
Spock gave a slight shrug. “Your absence did. It always does.”
Kirk approached the bed and sat next to him. “Can’t be helped. If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to miss you just as much.” He ruffled Spock’s bangs, playfully. “Tell you what. I’ll bring you something from Earth. What would you like?”
“Only your safe return.”
“You’ve got it. Nothing else?”
Spock thought a moment. “Will you be staying at our home?”
“Of course. Let me guess, your lyre.”
“Though that would be appreciated, I was thinking more of my work. There are several discs on the left hand side of my desk...” he trailed off.
Kirk gave him a troubled look. “I thought you were going to let that go.”
Spock bit his lip, his head lowering. “There is no reason for your disquiet.”
“No reason?” Kirk bolted up and began to pace. “Isn’t it being illegal reason enough? Besides the fact that it’s downright dangerous?”
“I would never do anything to jeopardize the safety of the Federation. Surely you realize this.” He looked up and followed his lover’s progress from the bed to a nearby chair and back again.
“I know that. But do you honestly believe that would make any difference if they were to find out?” Kirk stopped at the foot of the bed. “Why do you insist on continuing to study this? Spock, it’s been ten years.”
He looked away, unable to hold Kirk’s gaze. The pain was still there, for both of them. “I do not totally understand my...obsession with it. Perhaps because it is so much a part of who I am now, what I am now.”
Kirk was suddenly again sitting at his side. The human’s hands grasped tightly around Spock’s biceps. “Don’t say that! You make it sound like you’re some sort of freak. You’re the same man you were before, the same man I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.”
“No, Jim, I am not the same. Yes, I remember everything that happened...before.” He brought his hand up to gently touch Kirk’s face. “I remember you. Us. But there is a difference, one I cannot define. Perhaps that is what draws me back to the research time and again. I feel there is something there I must know.”
Kirk brought his hands up and took Spock’s in his. “In every way that matters, you’re the same. Don’t you think I would have noticed?” He smiled and leaned forward to look up into Spock’s eyes. “Hey, I live up there, too, you know. ‘My thoughts to your thoughts.’ Remember?”
“Then why do I feel that there is a difference?” Spock felt as if he were pleading with his lover for reassurance.
“I don’t know, love. All I know is that I wish you’d at least think about what I’ve just said. It’s dangerous. And I don’t want you hurt.” Kirk sighed and released Spock’s hands. “I really have to go. I’ll call you after the ceremonies and we’ll talk about it then, okay?”
Spock nodded reluctantly. “Very well.” He hesitated. “You do trust me, do you not, Jim?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then know that I have never thought to use this information.”
Kirk gazed at him for several seconds before drawing forward and covering Spock lips with his own. The kiss was deep, almost frantic, as they reconnected in this most elemental way. But it did not last long; just long enough to leave Spock breathless when his lover pulled away.
Kirk quickly rose and started out. He stopped at the door and turned to wink at Spock. “I’ll be back before you know it.” With those parting words he let himself out, the door closing quietly behind him.
The sound of the tone from the front entrance pulled Spock from his reverie. He swung his legs off the bed and quickly stood, though he took the time to straighten the slightly disheveled covers. Whoever would inhabit this house next would find it as he had.
It was his supplies from the VSA. He signed for the delivery and once alone he immediately packed them safely aboard his ship. He was almost ready to go. There was only one thing remaining. Spock returned once more to the house and grabbed the picture of himself and Kirk from the study desk. He walked out without a backward glance. As the shuttle took flight he could see faint streaks of light attempting to chase away the night.
Later, as he sat at the controls of the ship, his destination only days away, he thought about that last conversation. His and Kirk’s relationship had been built on trust from the very beginning. It had lasted through the almost thirty years as, first fellow officers, then friends and finally, lovers. The irony was not lost on him. Though neither would know it at the time, both their parting words had been a lie.
**********
* “Farewell to the Master” by Harry Bates 1940
Originally published in Kindle My Heart, March 2004
By Elise Madrid
The ship was a reconfigured Federation type 10 shuttlecraft, perfected over the years until he had exactly what he needed to travel alone amid the wide expanses of space. It was large enough to comfortably live in when the need arose, but small enough, at a little less than ten meters, to hide from the curious.
He’d christened it the Gnut,* after another spacefarer whose story his t’hy’la had once related to him. His father had not approved the naming, seeing it as yet another manifestation of his uneasy grasp on reality. But the loss of a beloved companion was not unknown to Spock, and he’d remembered the sorrow in his lover’s voice as he recalled the tale.
How many years ago that had been. Sarek, the symptoms of the illness that would take his life not yet manifested, had attempted to sway him into remarriage. The ship had been an escape in more ways than one. Often, he would seek its comforting interior and attempt to still the emotions stirred to life by his father’s insistance. The war that still raged within him had its roots in that time.
But the Gnut was a good ship. It had served him well for many years when escape into space was his only respite. Now that he was planetbound, he particularly enjoyed his time spent within its sturdy shell. He could, for a while, lose himself in his work as he tested its systems and restocked its supplies. He’d learned the hard way that a reliable means of escape was essential for anyone who dared live among those not his own kind. So this task, done once a fortnight, was one of his small pleasures.
While the computer ran a check on the navigational systems, he worked on the water filtration equipment. The water had a slightly metallic taste and he wanted to have it corrected by day’s end. An hour later, satisfied with his work, he powered down the ship. In the semi-darkness of the emergency back-up lights, he made his way out.
The wind had kicked up and clouds were building to the south when Spock exited the large barn-like structure that housed his shuttle. He glanced at the darkening sky. It would rain soon. With a tug, he pulled his cloak tightly closed and headed for his dwelling. The breeze brought the smell of the tillanta bushes that edged his property, their bright yellow blooms waving briskly in the fast-rising storm. They reminded him of the gladiolas that had once grown along his Terran home so many light-years away. Light-years in distance, black years in time; how far he had come from that bright and shining past...even Spock didn’t know. He turned away from the spot of color and hurried on.
Mizar Two was a beautiful planet, very Earth-like. And the climate in this particular location was much like that of San Francisco. He’d often thought that was why he had picked it. But times like these made him long for a desert-dry wind that could seer away any thought of what he had lost. The planet did have one thing in its favor: its inhabitants were Vulcanoid, so his appearance did not betray him. But it was not a member of the Federation. Its technology was such that it would not be for centuries to come.
When he had left Romulus, almost three years before, he had vowed to forever remove himself from the sphere of intergalactic intrigue. Unwilling to return to the Federation, he had pulled up the star-charts and looked for a place of exile. He had found it on this pre-industrial planet. Its people were barely beginning to pull themselves from their own dark ages. Here, he strove for the serenity, if not the happiness, which had eluded him since his bondmate’s disappearance.
He pushed back the sadness that engulfed him whenever he thought of Jim. After seventy-eight years it had become habit, and almost easy. For what was sorrow compared to the black shadow of bitterness and despair that was his constant companion? Kirk had often remarked at Spock’s innocence of the darker shades of human, and Vulcan, nature. He wondered what his lover would think of his solution to escape the ever-present reminders of that lost innocence.
It had been the very last of that innocence that had allowed him to refuse Picard’s offer of a way home. Though Spock had a ship, Picard’s presence would have made re-entry into the Federation easier. But Spock had still believed in the cause he worked for. Romulans and Vulcans had once been one people. They could be again. But after his betrayal by Senator Pardek, his Romulan contacts had turned against him, afraid to be pulled down in the same trap as their government slowly tightened the noose in their quest to capture him. His features were different enough that going his way alone would have been impossible, and Spock had barely managed to escape with his life. But innocence had not been his only loss, just the last of many.
So he had settled on this planet. The people of the area accepted him as a strange but harmless dabbler in the medical arts. They came to him for the remedies he created from the herbs and minerals he gathered. McCoy would have been amused, he was sure.
He checked the sky once more and realized the clouds were moving in a bit more rapidly than he had first supposed. When he looked back down, off in the distance, where the hills gave way to a small pass, he could make out a couple trudging toward his house. The woman carried a small pail clutched close to her body. The man held a more bountifully packed basket. As they neared, he recognized the couple as being from the neighboring village. He had treated their son for the wasting sickness that had decimated the area.
He waited patiently for them to approach. When they reached the wooden fence that surrounded his home, they stopped and bowed respectfully.
“Welcome,” Spock called out as he advanced toward the couple.
Almost timidly, the man collected the pail from his wife, opened up the gate and walked the ten steps to Spock’s side. “These are for you, Master Spock, in gratitude for our son’s life.”
He took the food willingly. The aroma from the pail made his mouth water. It would make a most fitting meal with the fresh-baked bread Spock could see nestled within the basket. “Thank you. I hope he is doing well.”
“Yes, Master. Very well,” The young man eagerly replied.
“Do you require anymore of the elixir I prepared?”
“No, thank you, Master.” The man glanced up, worry tightening his features. “We must be on our way. The rains come and night is falling.”
“You may not make it in time.”
“We will make it.” He turned and grasped his wife’s arm, hurrying her along. “Come, Malina. We must hurry. Goodbye, Master Spock. Many thanks,” he threw over his shoulder as he and his wife scurried away.
Spock gave them a dubious look but did not argue. He did not relish the company, anyway. He had little in common with these people. As the years had passed, he’d noticed his withdrawal from life, but had been unable, or unwilling, to do anything about it. And there were still those that feared what they did not understand. They were not the first of his clients to avoid his presence when not needed. With his packages of food, he turned toward the house.
He reached the porch just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Entering, he hung his cloak on the peg behind the door and deposited the food on the kitchen table. He lit the lantern placed on its surface and, with the darkness chased from his small abode, set about restarting the fire that had burned down in the stone hearth.
He found the embers still glowed within its depths and the flames caught with little effort. Spock dusted off his hands and moved to stand before one of the tiny windows that fronted the dwelling. The glass was ill-made, the procedure to create flawless panes not yet discovered. It made the outside look dim and blurry and Spock felt his aloneness that much more. Yet he continued to stand there, watching the way the water streamed down the window, and failed to stay the memory of a similar view he had shared with his lover so many years past....
*********
Cool arms encircled his waist from behind. “Is it raining again?”
Spock clasp the human’s hands with his own, but didn’t turn from the view that mesmerized him. “Does it not always?”
Kirk chuckled. “Isn’t that the reason we live here? Come on, Spock, admit it. You love the rain.”
“Never.” It was a running joke between them. Who would have believed that a man born and bred on the furnace that was Vulcan, would have such a fascination with rain? Spock turned in his lover’s arms. “I was under the impression that we lived in San Francisco because of Star Fleet.”
“Hmm, no.” Kirk reached up to begin lightly kissing Spock’s lips and face. “That’s not it at all.”
“No?” Spock returned the labial caresses and his hands settled on Kirk’s buttocks. He gently squeezed through the soft fabric of his lover’s robe, at the same time pulling Kirk’s body against his own.
“No. I just like what the rain does to you.” Kirk pushed open Spock’s gown and brought his head down to gently nip at his lover’s neck and chest.
Spock drew in his breath when Kirk’s tongue flicked out to lick at a nipple. “And what does the rain do to me?” he gasped.
A cool hand insinuated itself under his robe and settled on his quickly filling cock. “This.”
**********
The crash of thunder startled him. He mentally shook himself and damped down the sudden stir of rage that threatened to slip its traces. He often wondered who or what it was that had so angered him, that had started the inferno growing; the Federation, his father...Jim? Or perhaps, the universe that had conspired to find him alone. Whatever its cause, it frequently rose to inundate him at the slightly provocation, destroying the hard-won calm that was his only weapon against despair.
He returned to the kitchen area. From the cupboard he removed a small bowl and some utensils. He carried the pail over to the fireplace and settled himself on the raised seat of the hearth. Carefully pulling out the fireplace crane, he slipped the container onto it by its handle.
The heat felt good after the outside chill. He leaned against the warming stones of the chimney and let his head rest against the wall. The years and his half-Terran biology were finally beginning to tell. He tired more easily now. And his joints hurt when it was cold or damp. It would ease his aching body to relax a few minutes while his dinner heated.
The blast of white light that tore through his mind dropped him to his knees. He felt his consciousness expand out as the blaze laid bare the shadowy corners of his soul, and in that dark place where Jim had resided a beacon now called to him.
Jim? JIM? He could feel his lover, alive and well across the light-years. But why did he not answer? Spock stumbled to him feet. He managed to grab his cloak as he made his way drunkenly out the door and into the rainy night.
He slipped more than once in his haste to get to the ship. The darkness made the path treacherous. But wherever Kirk was, Spock’s only thought was to get to him. As he pulled open the large back doors of the shelter, a surge of adrenalin ripped through him. Kirk was afraid or excited, Spock couldn’t tell which. The bond was gathering strength now that its long sleep was over; but, oh, so slowly. Kirk could not hear him; did not know that Spock was on his way. Spock fought against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him and managed to get inside the ship. He slipped into the pilot’s chair and the engines came alive at a touch of the controls. He was airborne and heading out into space within minutes.
Once away from the planet, he set the controls on automatic. His hands were shaking as he plugged in the coordinates that he unerringly knew would take him to his bondmate. But he needed the concentration of meditation to reach his lover. He sank to his knees and, head bowed, spiraled inward, trying to send his thoughts down the dusty path that was their bond.
Jim! Jim, please, t’hy’la, you must answer me. Jim! Spock’s eyes rolled back as he pushed himself to the brink. The distance was so far. Time dragged as the ship raced across the galaxy, yet Spock remained fixed on his objective. The light was slowly getting brighter. Soon, Jim would hear him. Soon, they would be one once more.
The agony that flared through his mind and body caught him unaware and he toppled over to come to rest on his side. He doubled up into a fetal position, fighting the pain as he strove to reach his lover. He could hear noises, now. A voice, not his own or Kirk’s. He desperately tried to pull Kirk’s attention away from it. Jim, I am here. You must hear me!
Spock grabbed his head with both hands. The pain was getting worse. And he was getting so cold. Sorrow and pain and a dread barely held at bay flooded through their bond. Do not be afraid, t’hy’la. I am here. Oh, Jim, please! Suddenly, he was there, inside his love; in that place he thought never to know again.
Spock? The thought was weak as Kirk’s side of the bond slowly opened and allowed the lovers to once more meet.
You must come with me, t’hy’la. It is time. I have been so alone. You cannot leave me now.
Where are you, Spock?
Spock pulled back, leaving the glowing filament of their bond to lead Kirk to him. Stillness, and then a slow permeation of his senses as the essence of the cherished human filled his soul. Jim, I have missed you so much. Welcome home, beloved. With those thoughts, his mind closed in on itself and its precious burden.
Surprise, and then overpowering joy as James Kirk let go of the last ties to his broken body and two words slipped past his lips.
“Oh, my.”
**********
Spock opened his eyes and became slowly aware of his surroundings. The cabin lights had dimmed when no motion was detected for a length of time. He struggled to a sitting position. The movement made him dizzy and he closed his eyes until the room stopped spinning. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet. He stumbled over to the controls and checked that he was still on course. Everything was as it should be. They would make Veridian III in two days.
They. Such a simple word. And yet one Spock found himself savoring. He had always known Kirk wasn’t dead. But where he was Spock had never been able to ascertain. Wherever it had been, his lover was miraculously back. But Spock could not hear Kirk. Unfortunately, that had lasted only seconds as Kirk’s katra had leapt from his own body to Spock’s. But it was sufficient. He knew that Kirk was with him, their souls one. His lover’s thoughts were a subtle tune that played in the background of his mind, and the place that had been a cold, dark emptiness just hours before was now filled with the light that only one such as James Kirk could emit.
With a satisfied sigh, Spock turned to more pressing matters. He was coated in mud from his mad dash and subsequent fall into the morass that had surrounded his home. He began unbuttoning his tunic as he headed toward the back of the ship. It had originally held a complement of four, so Spock had been able to be generous in his allotment of space for the sleeping quarters and facilities. Entering the bathroom, he slipped out of his clothes and into the shower stall. It had been years since he had used it. On Mizar, he had kept strictly to the lifestyle of the planet. The scalding hot water felt good on his body.
Afterwards, dressed in a black tunic and pants, he settled himself at the control consol and reestablished the computer’s link to its host on Vulcan. He waited patiently for any new data to download before starting his task. In three years the Federation had added a multitude of newly discovered worlds to their database. It would take time, but he would find what he was looking for.
So many worlds. He discarded those too close to the Federation. He needed one far from the prying eyes of Starfleet. Nor could it be inhabited. A dead, airless world would be ideal, but he would take what he could get.
The data continued to scroll by and Spock felt an odd calm settle on him, an almost happiness that seemed to fight against the man he had become. Light and laughter had been missing from his life for so long, it was as if he feared its return. He would ever be Jim Kirk’s bondmate. But what else was he now? And could the embittered old man of Mizar Two ever again be Spock of Vulcan?
He frowned, rejecting the idea. Kirk was with him. He could do anything. He concentrated once again on his work while several hours passed. He was surprised when the automatic course change kicked in. He looked up and, noting the time, realized he was hungry. He never had gotten to his meal on Mizar Two. The galley was large and contained everything one would need for an extended space voyage. He put together a meal and returned to his seat to continue his perusal of Federation star-charts.
By the time he prepared for sleep, he had found the perfect place.
**********
The small craft rode the currents of air as it skimmed barely above the surface of Veridian III. Spock did not wish to be discovered by the swarm of Federation ships that hovered over the broken remains of the Enterprise-E’s primary hull, looking for all the world like worker bees around their dying queen. He waited until planet nightfall before approaching the site of Kirk’s grave.
He landed the ship as close as he could to the cairn of rocks that marked Kirk’s resting place. Minutes passed as he sat staring out the ship’s forward window. During the trip, the still new presence deep in his mind had been enough to push away any thought of what Kirk’s body might now look like. Memories of the last time he had seen it, vibrantly alive, would now be replaced with those of its shattered remains. He didn’t know how he would get through the next hours.
Taking a deep breath, Spock forced himself to rise, to disengage the door lock and wait as it swung silently open. A cool night breeze rushed into the small spaces of the ship and Spock shivered. He grabbed the tarp he had placed next to the door and resolutely started toward the gravesite.
He carefully made his way through the darkness. He hadn’t brought a light, but Verdian III’s moon hung bright in the sky. His steps faltered as he drew close, but at last he stood before the makeshift sepulcher. He felt a tightness in his chest. He gasped as his legs buckled and he found himself on his knees in the dirt. Hesitantly, one stone at a time, he began to uncover his lover’s body.
It was harder than he had ever imagined it to be.
Tears coursed down his face by the time Spock slowly walked back to the ship. With each step he fought to keep upright, trying to find a counterbalance to the precious burden in his arms. He held it tightly against his body and no longer felt the cold. The chill that had swirled around him as he pulled Kirk’s body from its place among the rocks was no match for the sorrow that had scoured his soul as he went about his sacred duty.
It is only the wrecked temple that once housed his indomitable spirit. He could almost believe it, but for the pictures that would not stop their macabre dance across his mind’s eye; Kirk, as he had appeared on the day he had taken command of the Enterprise; the many times they had worked out together and Spock had become aware how very fine his captain’s body was; the night Spock was finally to know what it was to hold the human close as their bodies rocked to a shared passion. But more, the gentle touches that had proclaimed Kirk’s affection as friend, desire as lover, love as life’s companion.
Finally, the ship became more than just a ghostly form in the night. The door to the vessel opened at his approach, and he was moving towards the small storage area that would house the body when he heard his name called from outside.
“Mr. Spock, we know you’re in there. Please don’t make it anymore difficult than it already is.”
He knew that voice. Resigned, he gently deposited Kirk’s body and then returned to the doorway. Just outside, Captain Jean Luc Picard waited, two security men, phasers drawn, at his side.
**********
They sat facing each other in the ship’s galley. Though Spock had been forced to confront the Enterprise’s captain outside, Picard had been gracious enough to continue their conversation away from the curious stares of the guards.
“Do you know what you’re doing, man?” Picard chastised.
“I do what I must.” Spock stared toward where his lover’s body was housed. He could not see it, but was very aware of its presence. He locked down the wave of resentment that crashed over him.
“But you won’t tell me why? Why you need his body?”
“It is mine, Picard. By any law known to the Federation. Vulcan is very explicit in regards to the rights one bondmate has over the other.” Again, a flare of anger tugged at his controls.
“Starfleet may not see it that way.”
Spock turned sharply. “I do not care how Starfleet sees it. It is my right to claim the body of my bondmate.”
“Then why sneak in here like a thief in the night?” Picard’s manner was almost hostile.
Spock studied him a moment. There was something here he had not counted on. It seemed the human had formed an attachment to Kirk. Spock almost smiled. He should have known. It took much to withstand his t’hy’la’s magnetism. Off hand, he could think of no one who had successfully done it. For good or ill, Kirk had always managed to affect all who met him. “Whatever you may think of me, you must know that I could never do anything to...that man. I could sooner do it to myself.”
“Wouldn’t you? You forget, I was at your wedding.”
“Wedding? I don’t know what it is you believe you attended, but it was assuredly not my wedding.”
“It was thirty-five years ago. But I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was surprised after reading how you continued to insist that James Kirk was still alive. I was just a lieutenant, but I had been assigned as attache to Admiral Kirk.”
“Admiral Kirk?” Spock was momentarily baffled. “Ah, you speak of Samuel.”
“Samuel? Well, yes, though I would have found it difficult to think of the man in terms of his first name.”
Spock rose and went to stand by the opening of the shuttle. He looked out onto the darkened landscape. Dawn was still hours away. “As the son of Jim’s nephew, he became part of my clan and therefore allowed attendance to all clan functions. But he was not there for my wedding, Picard.”
“I saw you there, standing next to the bride.”
“Yes, as my cousin’s representative. It was his daughter you saw standing next to me. Since my cousin was unable to attend, I stood in his place.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What you saw was the wedding only under Terran terms. On Vulcan, there would have been a private affair with only those essential to the ritual present. But because my cousin’s daughter was to bond with a human, it was decided, as it had been for my parents, that Terran custom would be upheld. Their true uniting was many months later.”
“All right. It wasn’t your wedding. I suppose I could have been mistaken. It’s not as if your marital status would be bandied about. But that doesn’t change the fact that you want to hijack the body of a hero of the Federation, but you don’t want to tell me why.”
Spock turned to look at Picard. “Have we not both given more than our fair share? Was his death not enough to fulfill any obligations we might have still owed? I have lived without him for over seventy-five Terran years. I will live without him no longer.”
“He’s dead, Mr. Spock,” Picard gently responded.
“I am well aware of that fact, Picard,” Spock answered as he returned to his study of the desolate area outside. A wistful smile crossed his face and then was gone. “He lives in me. As long as I live, so shall he. Do not deny me this, Captain.”
“I may not have a choice in the matter.”
“I think you do. You are, as I noted at our last meeting, very much like him. He would have found a way. I am confident you can also, if that is what you wish.” Spock returned to his seat, ready to use his final card. “I remember the meld we shared when you allowed me the chance to touch my father’s thoughts. I am willing now to return the favor.”
The human looked suddenly wary. “What do you have in mind?”
“The man you met, yet knew for such a short time, is here.” Spock touched his forehead. “Everything he was, everything he knew. I would give you the opportunity to truly know him. Perhaps then you will realize how much of this would be his wish, as well.”
Hesitation slowly gave way to excitement in Picard’s eyes and Spock knew he had won. In this, also, Picard shared a likeness to Kirk. For a certain type of human the meld was addictive, an irresistible journey to yet another place unknown. Kirk had reveled in them. Another taboo I break. How many more will there be?
Spock settled his fingers on the meld points of the human’s face and for the first and only time, allowed another the precious gift of his bondmate’s thoughts.
**********
The planet Vulcan slowly filled the viewing screen of the small craft. Strange how little this place now meant to him. Once, it had cradled everyone he held dear. Now, all were gone; either dead, or scattered through the galaxy as each discovered their own destiny.
Spock powered down the engines as he waited for verification from Vulcan Central. His people would not ask where he had been for the last three years. Nor would they ask what had instigated his return. For probably the first time in his life, he was thankful for their studied indifference.
He used the time to check his level of supplies. It would save a great deal of time if he had a list prepared when he landed. But what did one take into oblivion?
Ten minutes later a flash on his board signaled his flight path. He put aside his work and grasping the controls, eased his ship down into the atmosphere. The dark of space slowly gave way to the reddish hues of Vulcan. Before long he was flying past the city of Shi’kahr and onward to the house of his ancestors.
He cut speed until he was hovering over the fortress-like structure. No one came forth to greet him as he lightly landed the ship within its high walls. Its master was home, but the large edifice was as dispassionate in that regard as the rest of the planet. Unhooking himself from his seat, Spock opened the door to the shuttle and walked out.
He was alone. He knew that, instinctively. Yet plants still lived in the pots and flowerbeds first brought to life by his mother over a century ago. Spock brushed his hand against the roses that lined the walkway, their scent reinforcing his memory of her. And the setting sun was yet another reminder, for evenings had been her favorite time. Everything was as it had been when he had left three years before. And when he reached the front door, it swung gracefully open at his touch.
“Lights, lowest setting.”
A soft glow suffused the house as Spock made his way to his father’s study. He opened up the double doors and was brought up short in surprise. He walked to the center of the room, slowly turning to take in the room’s metamorphosis.
Sarek had always been partial to the dark richness of yon-ek’zerpan, the mahogany-like wood of the northern regions. Balanced by heavily draped windows and a deep-pile carpet, Sarek’s study had always reminded Spock of a dark cavern, the quintessential Hall of the Mountain King. Taken by his mother to a production of Grieg’s Peer Gynt when he was but six years of age, forever after that vividly brought to life scene would revisit him whenever forced into his father’s den. But all that had been banished from this room.
Walls of a soothing cream surrounded the cushioned sofas and furniture made from Earth’s lightest woods. Linen sheers diffused the garden lights turning on outside, giving the room an aura of warmth. Pictures were scattered throughout; of himself, as a boy and as a man, of his parents, as they had looked in his childhood and in those days when he still knew joy, and of Jim.
Spock approached the large, neat desk tucked in one corner of the room and lowered himself onto the chair. To one side of the desktop was the first picture he and Kirk had ever taken together. They had been on shoreleave and newly lovers. Kirk had insisted and Spock had been unable to refuse. Dressed informally, they gazed out of the picture, their shared happiness readily apparent.
Who had done this? With a shaking hand, Spock turned on the computer terminal. Immediately, the screen was filled with the image of his mother. Her hair was pure white, and the dress she wore Spock remembered as one from her last years. She smiled the smile that had never failed to enchant, and began to speak.
“Spock.” The image seemed to look right into him, dredging up resentments and pain best forgotten.
“I hope it has been a long time since we last saw each other. I hope it’s been many, many years, and that your father has had a long and fulfilling life. I’d hate to imagine that he would follow me too soon. Because, since you’re watching this, it means that I am dead, that he is...dead.” She seemed to stumble over the last word. “And chances are, you’re alone; that your beloved Jim is gone, too.”
Amanda hesitated, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing. “Are you all right, Spock? Have you learned to deal with that loss? I hope so, my son. I don’t think Jim would want you to grieve too long.” She shook her head. “This is so strange. I saw the two of you this morning at breakfast. Yet here I am, as if I was already dead and buried. But I wanted you to have something to remind you of me, something that only I could give you.”
Remind him of her? How could she have thought he could ever forget her? Had he failed so completely to convey his love and gratitude for what she had done for him? For the love she had so generously granted not only to him, but also to the man he had taken as his own?
“Your father and I argued about this, you know.”
Her words recaptured his attention.
“Well, I argued, at least. Your father just listened, told me I was being illogical, and then allowed me to do exactly what I wanted. It’s an old tradition on Vulcan. As on Earth, women tend to outlive their husbands most of the time, so it became a custom for the widow to redo the home to the heir’s liking. Do you? Like it, I mean? I’ve only done the plans for the study so far. But I have the rest of it all in my head. It will be the first thing I do as soon as I get back from visiting your aunt.” She smiled again. “I think your father will probably say I’m leaving a lot of work for the executor, but I don’t care. It’s your house now, Spock. I want you to be happy here.”
Spock stopped the recording and closed his eyes. The study was all that was ever done. Amanda never made it to her sister’s, much less back to Vulcan. The explosion that had torn the ship apart as she traveled to Earth had left nothing to bring back.
And so had begun the disagreements that had finally built an insurmountable wall between Spock and his father. Because when her body had been lost to them, so had her soul.
He clenched his fists and brought his head down to rest against the cool surface of the desk. Do not give in to this. Not now. It is too late, too late for any of it. She is gone, so many years gone. And now, so is he.
Slowly, his hands opened and he straightened into the chair. He hit the button to restart the message.
“But whatever you do, don’t hide from the world. You have so much to give, so much still waiting to happen to you. Don’t give that up. I love you, Spock. Don’t ever forget that. Wherever I am, here, or in that silly rock with your father, I’ll always love you.” She pressed her lips together and he could see her eyes fill with unshed tears. “Goodbye, my son. May you live long and prosper.”
The screen went dark and all Spock could do was sit there as his fingers gouged marks into the wood of the desk. It took everything he had to finally stand up and walk away without turning the computer terminal into a pile of rubble.
He began to pace the room. No, mother. No ‘silly rock’ for you. Sarek had other plans.
From the day he discovered that his mother’s katra had not been retrieved, his anger at Sarek had only grown. Jim tried to help. At first patiently trying to reason with Spock, his lover’s forbearance had finally run out. They had argued terribly. And though it had only caused a temporary rift, it was one more thing he had laid at his father’s feet. Jim’s disappearance eight months later had destroyed any chance of Spock and his father ever making peace.
**********
Spock sat in the middle of the bed, his breathing deepening as he drifted up from his meditation. He had needed it, desperately. His mother’s tape had been difficult, to be sure. But the worst had been reentering the room he had shared with Jim.
After completing his tour of the reconfigured study, Spock had left for the kitchen and a small meal. Packing the supplies into the shuttle took most of the evening, and it was only after receiving word that the rest would not be delivered for several hours did he decide that there was only one place he would wish to spend the remainder of the night. Yet it had been hard. The room had once held so much joy.
It had been the room of his childhood, made over by his mother for his and Kirk’s frequent visits. After her death, they had stayed on. Spock had wished to return to their home on Earth, but Kirk convinced him to remain. For some reason, his lover believed Sarek needed them there. And though Spock hadn’t seen it, he acquiesced.
It was here Kirk received the invitation to be a guest aboard the Enterprise-B on her maiden voyage. Spock wanted to accompany him, but once again his lover had put Sarek’s supposed needs above their own. He insisted that Spock remain on Vulcan. After all, he would be gone for only six days.
Spock slowly ran his hands over the soft comforter and remembered the last time he had seen his lover as Kirk prepared for his departure to Earth. Just as now, the sun had yet to start its rise above the distant horizon....
He opened his eyes as his hand met empty space across the wide expanse of the bed. The light in the bathroom was on. Spock sat up and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. His time-sense told him it was three-thirty.
“Did I wake you?” Kirk asked as the door opened and the human walked out, already dressed.
Spock gave a slight shrug. “Your absence did. It always does.”
Kirk approached the bed and sat next to him. “Can’t be helped. If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to miss you just as much.” He ruffled Spock’s bangs, playfully. “Tell you what. I’ll bring you something from Earth. What would you like?”
“Only your safe return.”
“You’ve got it. Nothing else?”
Spock thought a moment. “Will you be staying at our home?”
“Of course. Let me guess, your lyre.”
“Though that would be appreciated, I was thinking more of my work. There are several discs on the left hand side of my desk...” he trailed off.
Kirk gave him a troubled look. “I thought you were going to let that go.”
Spock bit his lip, his head lowering. “There is no reason for your disquiet.”
“No reason?” Kirk bolted up and began to pace. “Isn’t it being illegal reason enough? Besides the fact that it’s downright dangerous?”
“I would never do anything to jeopardize the safety of the Federation. Surely you realize this.” He looked up and followed his lover’s progress from the bed to a nearby chair and back again.
“I know that. But do you honestly believe that would make any difference if they were to find out?” Kirk stopped at the foot of the bed. “Why do you insist on continuing to study this? Spock, it’s been ten years.”
He looked away, unable to hold Kirk’s gaze. The pain was still there, for both of them. “I do not totally understand my...obsession with it. Perhaps because it is so much a part of who I am now, what I am now.”
Kirk was suddenly again sitting at his side. The human’s hands grasped tightly around Spock’s biceps. “Don’t say that! You make it sound like you’re some sort of freak. You’re the same man you were before, the same man I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.”
“No, Jim, I am not the same. Yes, I remember everything that happened...before.” He brought his hand up to gently touch Kirk’s face. “I remember you. Us. But there is a difference, one I cannot define. Perhaps that is what draws me back to the research time and again. I feel there is something there I must know.”
Kirk brought his hands up and took Spock’s in his. “In every way that matters, you’re the same. Don’t you think I would have noticed?” He smiled and leaned forward to look up into Spock’s eyes. “Hey, I live up there, too, you know. ‘My thoughts to your thoughts.’ Remember?”
“Then why do I feel that there is a difference?” Spock felt as if he were pleading with his lover for reassurance.
“I don’t know, love. All I know is that I wish you’d at least think about what I’ve just said. It’s dangerous. And I don’t want you hurt.” Kirk sighed and released Spock’s hands. “I really have to go. I’ll call you after the ceremonies and we’ll talk about it then, okay?”
Spock nodded reluctantly. “Very well.” He hesitated. “You do trust me, do you not, Jim?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then know that I have never thought to use this information.”
Kirk gazed at him for several seconds before drawing forward and covering Spock lips with his own. The kiss was deep, almost frantic, as they reconnected in this most elemental way. But it did not last long; just long enough to leave Spock breathless when his lover pulled away.
Kirk quickly rose and started out. He stopped at the door and turned to wink at Spock. “I’ll be back before you know it.” With those parting words he let himself out, the door closing quietly behind him.
The sound of the tone from the front entrance pulled Spock from his reverie. He swung his legs off the bed and quickly stood, though he took the time to straighten the slightly disheveled covers. Whoever would inhabit this house next would find it as he had.
It was his supplies from the VSA. He signed for the delivery and once alone he immediately packed them safely aboard his ship. He was almost ready to go. There was only one thing remaining. Spock returned once more to the house and grabbed the picture of himself and Kirk from the study desk. He walked out without a backward glance. As the shuttle took flight he could see faint streaks of light attempting to chase away the night.
Later, as he sat at the controls of the ship, his destination only days away, he thought about that last conversation. His and Kirk’s relationship had been built on trust from the very beginning. It had lasted through the almost thirty years as, first fellow officers, then friends and finally, lovers. The irony was not lost on him. Though neither would know it at the time, both their parting words had been a lie.
**********
* “Farewell to the Master” by Harry Bates 1940
