An old woman sat on her porch, looking out at the Iowa fields that surrounded the few farmhouses of Riverside. She saw the hooded man materialize in front of the old Kirk house and stood up to get a closer look. She caught sight of the side of his face when he turned to pick the large object that had beamed down with him. She recognized him; he had lived in that farmhouse with James Kirk years ago.
She had been a young girl when they had moved in after the death of the woman who’d live there before, Kirk’s mother; her parents had told her they had served on one of the starships of Starfleet together. The two men had been quite famous; their relationship even more so.
She remembered watching them move their things in together; they had been so in sync and so very perfect together. She remembered how the Vulcan’s eyes never strayed too far from Kirk, how he was always watching out for his Human companion. She had been struck by how unbelievably sweet it had been.
No one really knew what had happened to the famous James Kirk, but she remembered how his Vulcan husband had holed himself up in their farmhouse for weeks before anyone had heard from him again. She had had no idea that Vulcans were capable of such love before seeing Captain Spock and Admiral Kirk together.
She knew she shouldn’t, but her curiosity was pushing her; as quickly and quietly as her eighty-eight-year-old body would allow her, she followed behind the Vulcan.
Spock led her to a large oak tree standing near the edge of the Kirk property. She watched him lower the large rectangular object to the ground and realized with a pang what it was; it appeared that they had finally found Kirk’s body. She realized that she was probably infringing on a very private moment, but once again, her curiosity got the best of her, and she stayed, rooted to the spot, kept out of sight by one of the trees on the edge of the property.
She thought about leaving again, but froze when she heard the Vulcan begin to speak.
Captain Picard contacted me; he wished to inform me of your death. You would find humour in the fact that I illogically held on to the hope that you would one day return to me. You have returned… but not in the way I had wished.
I ask myself if I would have been able to prevent your death if I had been at your side, as I should have been. If I had not been able to, then perhaps I could have died alongside you, as I should have done. I ask myself why I was not given the chance to do so.
You were my guiding light, my Golden One. I often believed you were the sole reason for my existence; and you did nothing that would discount my theory. Your love for me was like a lifeline, and I held on with all that I had. I noted with such pride that you did the same. I did not imagine my life without you, and I must admit to feeling relieved that I did not; my life is desolate without my Golden Human.
You often stated that you ‘loved’ this place. I felt that it should belong to you. You will rest for eternity under your tree. I hope to join you soon.
The woman stifled her gasp as Spock opened the coffin. He reached hand inside to stroke the face of his beloved, his T’hy’la.
I knew I would outlive you my T’hy’la, but I never knew that I would miss my chance to bid you farewell… I cannot let go of you. You are mine. I cannot have it any other way.
The Vulcan went silent in apparent contemplation or meditation and the woman felt tears rolling down her wizened cheeks. She had never seen anything more heartbreaking in her life. Quietly, she snuck away, leaving the silent and unmoving Vulcan on his own.
The next morning, she wished she had known what she was witnessing as she witnessed it.
They found the body of the Vulcan draped over the coffin containing the body of his dead bondmate after the Ambassador of Vulcan had been reported missing shortly after the time he should have returned.
She heard talk of severed bonds often leading to the deaths of the surviving mates due to the pain they inflicted. She could only assume the reality of a burial would enough to trigger that kind of pain, even for a Vulcan.
She also heard rumours that Vulcans had the ability to stop their own hearts at their will; a virtually painless form of suicide. She wondered which way Spock had died. No one would ever know.
They were buried together under the large oak; she noted with satisfaction that Spock’s last wish of having Kirk buried under ‘his’ tree had been respected by the man they called Picard, who had come to take care of the arrangements.
Those two deserved only the best, and Picard ensured they got it.
~~~
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