THE GIFT

                               
Image copyright Paramount Pictures, all rights reserved.

3rd place --Kirk/Spock pairing


Title: The Gift
Feedback Info:  starshadow AT starshadow DOT net
Author: Starshadow
Pairing:K/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Set after Kirk is presumed lost in the Nexus. Don't read if you don't like tears or sex between men.
Disclaimer: Characters owned by Paraborg and Viamount. If you think I'm  making money off them, I've got a great bridge on Vulcan to sell you. Small
unmarked credit chips only, please.
Beta: Tony Pearson and Idget , though all mistakes my own.


----

One.



It was over. The interminable memorial had seemed never ending, and had been the most grueling trial of Spock's life. The crush of bodies, of arms grasping his, the pain, the grief, that had washed over him,
unbidden, from his friends, whose touch he could not deny, not after  all they'd been through. Surprisingly, Sarek had stood by, quiet and calming, seeming to understand his son's turmoil, carefully hidden,
and not disapproving. A quiet touch on his arm, a whisper like dry leaves in autumn,"I grieve with thee," and Spock was able to keep his mask on, and somehow get through the hours of speeches and eulogies.
His, he kept short, and though he hardly trusted himself to speak, somehow did. In later years, seeing the vids of that day, he was always surprised that the raw emotions he felt were not on the surface, as he'd felt they were.

But it had come to an end at last. The others moved on to a wake. That, Spock approved of, but could not participate in. He managed to convey both his approval and his need to be absent, and alone, for the
storm he feared he'd have to ride soon.

It came. He sagged against the door of the apartment they'd shared, as it had hissed shut, and tears ran, unabashed, down his cheeks. He staggered through the apartment, for the first time, feeling its emptiness, and undressed as he went, uncharacteristically uncaring
about the garments he left in his wake. Somehow he found himself sprawled on their bed, and gathered the bedclothes about him. They were scented with his beloved's musky smell, and the scent of their last lovemaking. Their last. Sobbing, he somehow fell into sleep.


Two.


He was dreaming. He knew with crystal clarity that although the scene appeared real, it was yet a dream. He did not want to wake. He was lying in his childhood bed on Shi'Kahr, which somehow had grown large,
and his mother and his husband were seated on the edge of the bed.

Without speaking, somehow, Amanda spoke to him. She looked as she'd looked when he was a child, not the frail woman he'd come to know in her last years. *Spock, son, darling, we wanted you to know that we
are all right.*

Spock half sat up. *Mother? Jim? How?*

*Sssh* His mother brushed his bangs with her hand, in the ages old intimacy between child and mother. *We don't have long. I love you, son. Always remember that.*

*I love you, too, Mother* Somehow the words he'd never said in her life came easily to him.

She rose. *You two need time alone. Do not grieve overly much, my son.Love is eternal. Remember that.*

*Jim*...his beloved lay beside him, and suddenly, was unclothed. It did not seem unusual, just another dream aspect. Spock drank in his husband's beauty. *You were gone..and..*

*Not now, Spock. We don't have much time. I needed to see you again. My husband. My Vulcan lover. My own.* Jim's lips caressed Spock's neck and his hands gently touched Spock's sensitive palms, then roved over the slim body. *Spock, husband, remember what Lady Amanda said. I will always love you, even though I can't be with you.I'm sorry to have to leave you, but we have now, let's not waste it.*

*Yessss* the sibilant hiss may have come from either of them, for their minds were once again forged into the One, as their bodies responded to each others caresses. Dimly, Spock pushed the knowlege
that he was dreaming into the recesses of his mind. He did not want to wake.

Then his husband's lips were on his shaft, glistening and hard as it emerged from the sheath, and a hot tongue was running over his double ridges, and tasting the pre-ejaculate beginning to lubricate it.

Spock's own hands were not idle, and he used them to build his love's desire, now tangling in the curls around his shell-like ears, now tweaking the hard nipples on the warm body arced above his own. Lips released their hold on his burgeoning sex, and quested upward, meeting the Vulcan's mouth and devouring it. * I need you inside me, Spock*

The shaft was at the doorway, and with a quick thrust, gained entrance to the depths within, while Jim's rock hard penis strained in turn at the Vulcan's belly hollows. Spock wrapped his hand round the shaft,glistening with the slickness of the fluids they both leaked.
And the old rhythm asserted itself, as they rocked together, helpless, in its need.
 
They came to the precipice at the same time, and drowned in its depths. And collapsing on each other's torsos, stayed, the quiet after the storm. But all too soon, Jim pulled himself away. *Let me look at
you one last time* A touch on his face, and a quiet whisper,  *Remember. Do not grieve over much, my love. Somehow, know that I will always be with thee. Never and always, touching and touched.Remarry
when you must. The new love will not deny the old. Be happy, for my sake*

And he was gone. And Spock woke, to the late afternoon sun, slanting into the room, and somehow, it was all right.


Three.

The apartment was nearly empty. A box or two, destined for Peter, Jim's nephew, and that would be picked up by courier after Spock's shuttle had come and gone.  

"Leonard. I cannot express to you my gratitute for your help." The Vulcan stood, austere as always, in his robes, ready for his journey. His eyes were, for once, unhooded, as they turned to his old friend.

"Ah, Spock. What are friends for? Besides, you would have wasted that good Saurian brandy in your cabinet.Probably poured it down the sink or something." McCoy's eyes misted.

"Negative, old friend. He wished you to make use of the contents of our liquor cabinet. And there is one box that was sent to your home, in Georgia. I advise you to be alone when you open it. Or at least--have no Federation agents present."

"Were you keeping something from your old country doctor, Spock?" McCoy's voice was teasing, though his hands yet trembled, as they touched the Vulcan's sleeve. Spock not only allowed the touch, he, in
turn, grasped McCoy's arm, briefly.

"Old friend. Yes. No, you've shared similar ...gifts...many times, over the years. This last is for you. From us." His voice, up to now warm, turned serious. "Do not grieve overly much, my friend. And, further, my home is your home. Come and visit whenever you will."

"You, too, Spock. I'll be at my granddaughter's place--well, I suppose it's really mine, but she's lived in it most of her life, and it'll be her's someday...anyway, it's a big place. I'll keep a room for you. Do you have to go?"

"I need to walk the sands of my home again, Leonard. Bones. Do not be concerned. I am not running from life. We...knew this day would come. Vulcans live so much longer than humans. Every day...was a gift. I
shall not waste the ones remaining.I had to sell the apartment, though. Perhaps it is illogical, but there were too many ...ghosts, if you will."

McCoy chuckled. "I always knew you were a romantic at heart, Spock."

"Indeed. It's another ..gift...from my t'hy'la. And his
...human...friends."

"Your friends, too, Spock. Never forget."

"That, Leonard," Spock sighed, almost wistfully, "I shall never do." He forbore to add that as a Vulcan, his eidetic memory woud not allow forgetfulness. It did not seem the right moment.

Spock took one last turn around the apartment. Taking a small velvet box from his robe, he slipped it into the built in cupboard in what had been their den.

Illogically, he wanted to leave a gift to those
who had bought the place, who would soon fill it with their own memories.

Then he and McCoy took their leave of one another, and were gone.

Four.

"Mama, Mama, look what I found! Can I keep it? Can I?" The small girl  had already claimed her bedroom, and furniture and boxes had been placed within. She'd gone through it, claiming every nook and cranny,
and found the small velvet box. She handed it reluctantly to her mother.

"It may have to be returned to its owner, Nan. Let me see." She touched the clasp, and the box opened. A slip of paper fell out, with ordered, precise script in both Standard and Vulcan. The Vulcan she could not read, though she recognized it, but the Standard read, "This
belongs to the person finding it. It is a housewarming gift. Do with it as you will."

Inside was a dazzling medallion. "Nan, this is quite valuable. It's a Vulcan IDIC. It means...well, look it up, tomorrow, when your tutor program is set up. I think it's yours, darling. Take good care of it."

"I will, Mama. Do you think I'll ever visit Vulcan?"

"Nan, darling, one day you'll go where ever you wish. But for now, you must tidy your room." The mother turned back to her unpacking. She'd already located one play center within a half block of the place, and
from the terrace, the view was spectacular. Nan and she would love it here. And when Alex came home, he'd find the place warm and as inviting as she knew how to make it. This would be home for many years to come. She sighed happily.

And somewhere, an austere Vulcan breathed in the scents of the desert, and allowed himself a half smile. Life would go on.

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