ON HAVING DIED
Title:"On Having Died"
Author: Starshadow
Rating: G
Pairing: None
Warnings: a little angst, with hope mingled.
Disclaimer: Some Borg-like entities known as Paramount and Viacom own
Spock, Kirk, and McCoy. I don't know if they own Spock's katra.Too bad
I'm afraid to test this, so I'm only going to borrow it for a while. I
promise to put it all back, and not exchange real money for it. Damn.
So all copyrights that belong to them, belong to them, and the rest
belong to Starshadow Productions, Ltd., which is me. Copyright
November, 2005 on any bits that aren't reserved for Paramount, etc.
Beta: Tony Pearson. All mistakes mine.
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At first I felt only darkness. I could not move, and did not seem
to be breathing. Gradually I became aware of being enclosed,
enfolded—but in what,I could not say. Then memory surfaced. My
hand,on his face. "Remember". I have memory of what transpired
afterwards, but from another perspective. I see my—his?-- body
slump over. I see but do not feel the standing up, the approach to the
shielded transparency. I see as I—McCoy?-- holds back
my—his?-- beloved. I see the hand, mottled with leaking emerald
fluid and I feel the thought—alien, alien, yet somehow
loved—from the one holding him back. I see and hear the plea as
they try to touch through the tranparency, and bid one another goodbye.
I see myself—for I know now what has happened,in retrospect---bid
my t'hy'la to not grieve.
I am inside McCoy's mind. Suddenly, I'm aware of my body, but I
know it is only a memory of that which I was. I am cradled in
comfort,and I see the compartments of this beloved friend's mind. I see
him as he sees himself, and I know that he is not aware of me at all.
Perhaps I should not have placed this essence of myself inside him,but
he was the only one near me.
It has been weeks, objective time, though I feel as though I've
been a part of this mind for many years. I've carved out a niche too in
which to reside.I try not to intrude. Human minds are disorganized,
though,and this makes it difficult. Stray thoughts intrude. He is still
not aware of me but seems to have picked up some of my personality
traits in life. How peculiar. Though I learned the techniques of
placing my katra after undergoing the kah'swahn, as all of our kind do,
it was always assumed that it would be given to another Vulcan, until I
met my bondmate. Perhaps I should have told him, but the habit of
keeping
quiet about Vulcan's secrets is deeply ingrained. And in my
hubris, I believed he would die before I would. Pride is a fascinating
trait to find in myself. Perhaps if my katra survives to get to the
Hall of Ancients, I shall spend a few centuries examining it and its
place in me. I no longer feel shame at the emotions I bore in life.
Death has its privilages—and what is, is.
But another emotion intrudes. Worry? Not for myself. Perhaps I
will have to dissolve this link myself, and let my katra shred on the
winds. I had thought that my father would have found me by now.Perhaps
he has gone to my bondmate and found him lacking my essence.Logically,
would he look elsewhere, or assume I was lost for ever?I do not have
much time. McCoy's thoughts are becoming contaminated with mine. I do
not wish to intrude. No Vulcan would. But the body I seem to be in is
only an illusion, an artiface, to work with until I am used to my
physical death. And my essence does not reside wholly in it—but
in all the neurons in my old friend's brain. I cannot avoid seeing
memories he would not wish to share with another. That I regret. I
cannot give him the privacy he would wish for—but it works
both ways. He cannot grant me mine, either. And we are so unalike
in so many ways. Our affection for one another in life made no
difficulty of this. But in death—I may drive him to madness. That
I will not allow.
He knows! My bondmate knows! I felt his touch today. What he
plans is madness. But it is so like Jim. I felt his thoughts for a
moment as he touched McCoy's hand today. I don't know if he was aware
of mine. He did not speak of it. And I am having to pull back within
myself to keep McCoy sane. He thinks my physical body may have been
regenerated by the Genesis planet. And further, somewhere, somehow, he
has learned of the Fal Tor Pan, the ceremony to unite katra and body
again. It's
only legend. It's madness. Yet—my impossibly human
lover—he plans to try. I know I should shred myself. It's an
impossible dream. But I cannot. Am I so weak that I would allow these
beloved humans to risk their all for one person? Apparently. I will
stay, for now. Perhaps it will be truly impossible. At the very least,
I should be able to be placed where I should be, in the Hall of
Ancients. But perhaps---I allow a shiver—perhaps soon I will be
able to touch my beloved again.
Because of this, and because McCoy seems stronger, now that he is
aware he carries me, on some level, I will stay. I will risk it.One
last touch will be enough.
Then I could go, content into the night.