So I was reading Kirk's bio on the Star Trek wiki - google it; it's called Memory Alpha and it's amazing - and I came across where he dies and stuff and I was wondering how Spock would take the death and presumed death of James T. Kirk. So, yeah. I wrote out what I thought would happen, lulz.

Star Trek doesn't belong to me or the new movie would definitely have an X rating :D


Legends Love

Years. Seventy-eight long, achingly lonely years. It had been that long since I had last seen my friend, my t'hy'la. I was having another restless night, one of many nights through those years where even meditation did not assist my torment. I had been pacing back and forth, not looking up at the dark night sky… There was no moon on Vulcan, no "beacon of hope" as my t'hy'la had often referred to the moon as. I often contemplated making a permanent move to Earth so that I could have at least a partial link to him…

But it was entirely too impractical.

My eyes closed, not a single tear escaping. My Vulcan training, ingrained in me since birth, allowed me that much. Though it couldn't erase the feelings I had, it couldn't allow me to take another when my love had gone.

It had been the earthen year of 2293, Stardate 9715.5, when it had happened. The ceremonial cruise of the USS Enterprise-B had reached what was referred to as a semi-success. How could the death of Starfleet's greatest captain – though he had been promoted to Admiral, I would always see him as my captain – be seen as a success of any measure? He had been mine and, while I had been at the Khitomer Conference negotiating peace talks, he had been torn from me.

The hero as always, my t'hy'la had modified the ship's deflector rays in order to successfully pull the ship from the Nexus and its gravitational pull. He had managed it, of course, but he had not been able to avoid a blast of energy that had penetrated the ship and taken him with it.

And now, seventy-eight years later, I still mourned. My final words to him before Captains Montgomery Scott and Pavel Chekov picked him up had been fond ones, but my mind had been occupied. I had assumed, as I had always assumed, that he would return to my arms soon enough. But when Scotty and Chekov had returned without him, along with all of members from the original Enterprise's bridge, I had known that my assumptions had been… incorrect. When even Dr. Leonard McCoy, affectionately referred to as Bones by my t'hy'la, had given me a hug, I had known that my world had been shattered.

I hadn't attended the funeral. I hadn't wanted to see those people, so many who didn't know him, staring. I hadn't wanted to hear the murmurs and whispers from them, whether they uttered condemnations or praises mattered little. I simply hadn't wanted to hear it. I wanted to mourn in private and so I did. So I continued to do…

I didn't allow it to affect my work, of course. I was a Vulcan, after all. Working despite, or in spite of, unruly emotions was part of being a Vulcan.

And then I received a call. Seventy-eight long years later. My t'hy'la was… alive and aboard the USS Enterprise-D under Captain Jean-Luc Picard. I had heard of the Captain; he had beaten Chekov's long-standing Starfleet Academy marathon record and was just as successful as an Enterprise captain was expected to be. Nowhere near my t'hy'la, I thought in a small, petty, human section of my mind.

I stared at the communicator screen, unable to control the range of emotions that passed over my features. He only smiled that quirky, half-grin I had fallen in love with so many long years before. "Captain Picard tells me that my mission has lasted seventy-eight years. I decided that I should call and let you know how I was doing."

"Jim," I breathed. We spoke for hours while they were traveling to a planet in danger. He was interrupted every now and again, but he would always return until it was time to get beamed to the surface.

"Spock," he said to me, "the life we shared was a great one. We had a grand time, didn't we?" And his smile was warm and giving. "Whatever happens today, don't forget what we've done, what we've accomplished. But don't spend the rest of your life missing me. Live long, my love, and prosper."

And when he was killed on Veridian III, for certain this time, while being the hero yet again, I was finally able to let go. Picard buried him atop a mountain, which I was thankful for. And I'm told that his final words were, "It was fun." So like him.

Sixteen years later, it was with him in mind, with all that we've accomplished in mind, I accepted the mission of swallowing the exploded star and rescuing Romulus from complete obliteration…


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