Spirk Drabbles

Sweet Dreams

        I was devastated to see my dearest captain lying in a bed in sick bay. His tousled blonde hair was streaked with dried blood (although the flesh from the wounds had been regenerated thanks to Doctor McCoy), and his hazel eyes were covered by pale eyelids in a deep sedated state. The thought of myself never getting lost in those eyes again washed over me like a tidal wave. According to Doctor McCoy, there was damage to his brain that could be permanent, even though the tissue was fully intact. This thought and many others flooded my mind, breaking me down inside. But on the outside, I remained my Vulcan self and stood next to him calmly, resisting the urge to open the floodgates and cry a river of tears for my one true love.

        "Spock, how long do you intend on mourning over your captain who isn't even dead?" a gruff voice asked from some distance away.

        A small spark of anger rose inside, but I still restrained myself from showing it. "I will stay until I wish to leave his side," I calmly replied, the first words I had spoken in six hours.

        "I understand how you feel, Commander, but keep this in mind; you're in command now. You have duties to attend to as well."

        "I am aware of that, Doctor, but for the time being, I wish to remain here," I persisted, "I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone."

        He folded his arms in front of him. "You know, Spock, I'm a psychologist, too. If there's anything you'd like to talk about, you can always come to me. What you say in this room stays in this room."

        Everybody else on the ship was probably asleep; after all, it was 0200 hours. Now that I had the opportunity to vent, I took it. "Nobody knows this besides myself and the captain, but we are in a romantic relationship."

        His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Spock, I never knew you were gay." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. If you feel like you should come out of the closet, do it. If not, don't. Do what makes you comfortable."

        "I appreciate your advice, Doctor. Thank you."

        "I'm going to go get some rest. Good night, Commander."

        Shortly after Doctor McCoy left the room, a familiar voice mumbled my name. "Spock..."

        "Jim, you need rest." I held his hand in mine, and I felt three short squeezes in my own: I love you.

        "I am... proud to call myself yours, and to call you mine," I said finally as he shut his eyes once more, falling into a deep slumber.

        Placing my hands on his head in a mind-meld position, I allowed all pleasant thoughts I had in my mind to flow into his: images of us with a beautiful family, our children playing in the distance as the two of us watch the sunset on Vulcan, feeling the desert sand around us, taking in the warm air as his head rests on mine.

        "Rest well, t'hy'la."