Future Imperfect (K/S) Pt 13 of 13
Jul. 2nd, 2011 11:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilda_eliseTitle: Future Imperfect
Fandom: Star Trek (TOS)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: In the ruins of one world, two men of different planets meet. One looks to the future, one to the past. But as their lives intertwine, they find that their happiness is dependent on the past one seeks and the future the other fights for.
Notes: Originally published by Kathy Resch as a stand-alone novel, July 2010. Artwork by Lorraine Brevig and Virginia Sky.
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
artconserv and cluesby4 for allowing me to post their beautiful artwork here.
Epilogue
“Look, there’s another one.”
Spock followed the path of Kirk’s outstretched arm. Too late, the streak of light had already disappeared. No matter. There would be many more. He leaned back into his lover’s embrace. The night air was warm but there was enough of a breeze that even Kirk was comfortable.
“It’s still too light,” Kirk complained.
This was true. The sun had barely set and the sky still glowed a faint yellow-white at the western horizon. Still, one must follow tradition.
Every year, no matter where they were, they would set aside one night to watch the meteor shower in remembrance of that first night together. Nothing was forever. Over the years they had lost many people but, as much as anything could be said to be constant, this was.
“Patience, T’hy’la, it will be dark soon enough.”
Kirk chuckled and hugged Spock close. “That’s one commodity I’ve always been sorely lacking in.”
Perhaps, Spock thought, but Kirk had been more than patient with him all those years ago when, in self-imposed exile, Spock had had to fit into the new life they were making for themselves.
The life, itself, had been the easy part. What they had created in those weeks together had bound them across the vast reaches of space; holding them together once they had reunited proved child’s play.
It was life on board the Enterprise that had proved a bigger challenge. He had started at the bottom, little more than a Ship’s Boy, no matter that he was a man grown. Within a year he had progressed to Seaman, taking on the added moniker of ‘able-bodied’ a few years after that. By the end of five years together he had made First Mate, Steve Matthews having been given a ship of his own, and had finally taken his place at Kirk’s side, their professional lives finally mirroring their personal ones. He would never forget that first time out. They had stood on the quarterdeck together, watching as the shore moved away and the ship slipped into the mighty river. Kirk had turned and smiled at him, his pride in his ship, and in their alliance, obvious to all.
It had been difficult at first, hiding who he was, what he was. But with time he had taken on the role he played so that he no longer thought of himself so much as Spock of Vulcan but more as an Earthling who just happened to have been born of an alien father.
Eventually, they’d let a select few in on their secret.
First to know had been Kirk’s mother, who had surprised no one by marrying Lester within a year of Spock’s return. They’d had seven good years before Lester had succumbed to pneumonia. Winona had grieved, as she had done for her first husband, and then carried on. Now, at eighty-three years of age, she ruled as the matriarch of the Kirk farm.
They waited another couple of years to tell Elijah. By then he was living in the farm house, being its legal heir. Finally, when he was twenty-five and starting a family of his own, Kirk had taken him aside and told him everything. He’d been quiet for a few days but then seemed to come to terms with it and carried on as if nothing had changed. Perhaps, because nothing had. With his wife and three girls, he’d taken over care of the farm and Winona whenever Kirk and Spock were away.
Gilbert, who had surprised everyone by marrying Alice and producing a passel of children, six at last count, was one of only a few of the town folk to be brought in on the secret. Sworn to secrecy, he’d even kept it from Alice, now a plump matron who ruled the cafe with an iron fist. No ladies of the night for her. She’d managed to turn Sandy away from her chosen profession but Yolanda would have none of it. She had left on a wagon going east and had never been heard from again.
And of course they had told McCoy, who had proclaimed that he had always thought Spock rather odd and took the news more calmly than anyone else. His marriage to Sheila had done that, softening his edges and taking the bite out of his often penetrating wit.
Life became a little easier in their area. They managed to clear out some of the marauders and the Old Union took back two more of the once united states. The next epidemic had proved more benign than any of the previous ones, though many lives were lost. Still, there was hope that, finally, they were building a resistance to whatever it was that periodically afflicted them. The Old South was still plagued with violence, both human and Nature’s, but it, too, was making slow but steady progress.
But not every place had done as well. The Plains, now empty of human life, was a formidable barrier, one seldom breached by those of the far West. Yet, from time to time word would appear from out of the desolation. Whatever else was said, people heard only one thing—the drought still held the area in its grip.
The years went by and during his fourth year on Earth he and Kirk would experience pon farr. Their sanctuary had been a pitched tent out in the forest, away from prying eyes. Nothing like his first, it had bonded them forever. More would come, never in any regular cycle, but each was seen by both as a gift beyond measure.
Ten, and then twenty years, would go by, and still Spock heard not a word from Vulcan. The people of Earth had made a few strides, but apparently not nearly enough to be considered for membership into the Coalition, yet he had continued to hope that it would relent and allow the planet some sort of representation.
What he had forgotten was how methodical his people were. No decision had ever been made lightly or without long thought. He had forgotten until one day a young man knocked on the door.
Spock turned his head to look up at his lover. He remembered the look on Kirk’s face when the young man had entered and removed his hat. He had just met his second Vulcan. The visit would be the first of many.
It would also allay one of Kirk’s biggest fears. Hanging over their heads had always been the possibility of something happening to Spock, something that couldn’t be fixed with the healing trance. Now they knew that, if something did happen, there would be a way to get in contact with Vulcan. For himself, he would learn with both relief and joy that both his parents still lived. Since then, there had been many messages between them—of the paper variety, of course.
“You’re not suppose to be looking at me, you’re supposed to be looking at the sky,” Kirk remarked, slightly vexed.
“Mm, this view is more to my taste.”
“Flatterer, you say that every year.”
“And every year it is true.”
That brought a snort from Kirk. “Your eyesight must be going. I’m just an old, gray sea captain.”
Spock smiled. Kirk’s dream had finally come true, though not in the way he’d ever imagined. They had managed to sail down the Mississippi and out to sea in a small sail boat which they had sold before their return home by wagon. They had not gone far from shore, but Kirk ever after could say that he was, indeed, a sea captain.
Spock wondered, sometimes, how long it would take to bring this world back to a point where civilization could once again flourish, where Kirk, or someone very like him, could put out to sea and sail its vast distances. There were signs, small ones, that the planet was beginning to heal, yet there were still deep scars. Time, as they said, would tell.
Still, the Coalition had allowed those individuals who studied the planet to begin working together and together with the planet’s people they were attempting to restart Terra’s aborted quest for the stars. It would not happen in Kirk’s, or even his lifetime, but it would happen. Already, as the word spread as to how this conflagration had been brought upon them, people were attempting to leave behind the habits that had proved so deadly. They would not make the same mistakes twice.
Turning back to the stars, Spock watched as yet another meteor flashed across the sky and disappeared. It was gone, but it had left a lasting impression; not the worst of epitaphs. Perhaps that was all anything, or anyone, could hope for. He felt the weight of Kirk’s arms around him, holding him close as they watched the celestial pageant, and was content.
Finis
(1) Cadillac Desert: The American West and Its Disappearing Water by Marc Reiser. Penguin Books (June 2003)
(2) A Shadow and a Song: The Struggle to Save an Endangered Species by Mark Jerome Walters. Chelsea Green Publishing Company (1992)
(3) The End of Nature by Bill McKibben. Random House (1989)
(4) The Long Emergency: Surviving the Converging Catastrophes of the Twenty-First Century by James Howard Kunstler. Atlantic Monthly Press (2005)
(5) Who Walk Alone by Perry Burgess. Henry Holt and Company (1940)
(6) The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne (1850)
Fandom: Star Trek (TOS)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: In the ruins of one world, two men of different planets meet. One looks to the future, one to the past. But as their lives intertwine, they find that their happiness is dependent on the past one seeks and the future the other fights for.
Notes: Originally published by Kathy Resch as a stand-alone novel, July 2010. Artwork by Lorraine Brevig and Virginia Sky.
Many thanks to
artconserv and cluesby4 for allowing me to post their beautiful artwork here.“Look, there’s another one.”
Spock followed the path of Kirk’s outstretched arm. Too late, the streak of light had already disappeared. No matter. There would be many more. He leaned back into his lover’s embrace. The night air was warm but there was enough of a breeze that even Kirk was comfortable.
“It’s still too light,” Kirk complained.
This was true. The sun had barely set and the sky still glowed a faint yellow-white at the western horizon. Still, one must follow tradition.
Every year, no matter where they were, they would set aside one night to watch the meteor shower in remembrance of that first night together. Nothing was forever. Over the years they had lost many people but, as much as anything could be said to be constant, this was.
“Patience, T’hy’la, it will be dark soon enough.”
Kirk chuckled and hugged Spock close. “That’s one commodity I’ve always been sorely lacking in.”
Perhaps, Spock thought, but Kirk had been more than patient with him all those years ago when, in self-imposed exile, Spock had had to fit into the new life they were making for themselves.
The life, itself, had been the easy part. What they had created in those weeks together had bound them across the vast reaches of space; holding them together once they had reunited proved child’s play.
It was life on board the Enterprise that had proved a bigger challenge. He had started at the bottom, little more than a Ship’s Boy, no matter that he was a man grown. Within a year he had progressed to Seaman, taking on the added moniker of ‘able-bodied’ a few years after that. By the end of five years together he had made First Mate, Steve Matthews having been given a ship of his own, and had finally taken his place at Kirk’s side, their professional lives finally mirroring their personal ones. He would never forget that first time out. They had stood on the quarterdeck together, watching as the shore moved away and the ship slipped into the mighty river. Kirk had turned and smiled at him, his pride in his ship, and in their alliance, obvious to all.
It had been difficult at first, hiding who he was, what he was. But with time he had taken on the role he played so that he no longer thought of himself so much as Spock of Vulcan but more as an Earthling who just happened to have been born of an alien father.
Eventually, they’d let a select few in on their secret.
First to know had been Kirk’s mother, who had surprised no one by marrying Lester within a year of Spock’s return. They’d had seven good years before Lester had succumbed to pneumonia. Winona had grieved, as she had done for her first husband, and then carried on. Now, at eighty-three years of age, she ruled as the matriarch of the Kirk farm.
They waited another couple of years to tell Elijah. By then he was living in the farm house, being its legal heir. Finally, when he was twenty-five and starting a family of his own, Kirk had taken him aside and told him everything. He’d been quiet for a few days but then seemed to come to terms with it and carried on as if nothing had changed. Perhaps, because nothing had. With his wife and three girls, he’d taken over care of the farm and Winona whenever Kirk and Spock were away.
Gilbert, who had surprised everyone by marrying Alice and producing a passel of children, six at last count, was one of only a few of the town folk to be brought in on the secret. Sworn to secrecy, he’d even kept it from Alice, now a plump matron who ruled the cafe with an iron fist. No ladies of the night for her. She’d managed to turn Sandy away from her chosen profession but Yolanda would have none of it. She had left on a wagon going east and had never been heard from again.
And of course they had told McCoy, who had proclaimed that he had always thought Spock rather odd and took the news more calmly than anyone else. His marriage to Sheila had done that, softening his edges and taking the bite out of his often penetrating wit.
Life became a little easier in their area. They managed to clear out some of the marauders and the Old Union took back two more of the once united states. The next epidemic had proved more benign than any of the previous ones, though many lives were lost. Still, there was hope that, finally, they were building a resistance to whatever it was that periodically afflicted them. The Old South was still plagued with violence, both human and Nature’s, but it, too, was making slow but steady progress.
But not every place had done as well. The Plains, now empty of human life, was a formidable barrier, one seldom breached by those of the far West. Yet, from time to time word would appear from out of the desolation. Whatever else was said, people heard only one thing—the drought still held the area in its grip.
The years went by and during his fourth year on Earth he and Kirk would experience pon farr. Their sanctuary had been a pitched tent out in the forest, away from prying eyes. Nothing like his first, it had bonded them forever. More would come, never in any regular cycle, but each was seen by both as a gift beyond measure.
Ten, and then twenty years, would go by, and still Spock heard not a word from Vulcan. The people of Earth had made a few strides, but apparently not nearly enough to be considered for membership into the Coalition, yet he had continued to hope that it would relent and allow the planet some sort of representation.
What he had forgotten was how methodical his people were. No decision had ever been made lightly or without long thought. He had forgotten until one day a young man knocked on the door.
Spock turned his head to look up at his lover. He remembered the look on Kirk’s face when the young man had entered and removed his hat. He had just met his second Vulcan. The visit would be the first of many.
It would also allay one of Kirk’s biggest fears. Hanging over their heads had always been the possibility of something happening to Spock, something that couldn’t be fixed with the healing trance. Now they knew that, if something did happen, there would be a way to get in contact with Vulcan. For himself, he would learn with both relief and joy that both his parents still lived. Since then, there had been many messages between them—of the paper variety, of course.
“You’re not suppose to be looking at me, you’re supposed to be looking at the sky,” Kirk remarked, slightly vexed.
“Mm, this view is more to my taste.”
“Flatterer, you say that every year.”
“And every year it is true.”
That brought a snort from Kirk. “Your eyesight must be going. I’m just an old, gray sea captain.”
Spock smiled. Kirk’s dream had finally come true, though not in the way he’d ever imagined. They had managed to sail down the Mississippi and out to sea in a small sail boat which they had sold before their return home by wagon. They had not gone far from shore, but Kirk ever after could say that he was, indeed, a sea captain.
Spock wondered, sometimes, how long it would take to bring this world back to a point where civilization could once again flourish, where Kirk, or someone very like him, could put out to sea and sail its vast distances. There were signs, small ones, that the planet was beginning to heal, yet there were still deep scars. Time, as they said, would tell.
Still, the Coalition had allowed those individuals who studied the planet to begin working together and together with the planet’s people they were attempting to restart Terra’s aborted quest for the stars. It would not happen in Kirk’s, or even his lifetime, but it would happen. Already, as the word spread as to how this conflagration had been brought upon them, people were attempting to leave behind the habits that had proved so deadly. They would not make the same mistakes twice.
Turning back to the stars, Spock watched as yet another meteor flashed across the sky and disappeared. It was gone, but it had left a lasting impression; not the worst of epitaphs. Perhaps that was all anything, or anyone, could hope for. He felt the weight of Kirk’s arms around him, holding him close as they watched the celestial pageant, and was content.
Finis
(1) Cadillac Desert: The American West and Its Disappearing Water by Marc Reiser. Penguin Books (June 2003)
(2) A Shadow and a Song: The Struggle to Save an Endangered Species by Mark Jerome Walters. Chelsea Green Publishing Company (1992)
(3) The End of Nature by Bill McKibben. Random House (1989)
(4) The Long Emergency: Surviving the Converging Catastrophes of the Twenty-First Century by James Howard Kunstler. Atlantic Monthly Press (2005)
(5) Who Walk Alone by Perry Burgess. Henry Holt and Company (1940)
(6) The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne (1850)
