I should have told you…something. And now…it’s too late. My heart hurts so much. I can’t even breathe. I can’t even see past the tears. I feel so empty. Lost. Your face. Do you know? Do you even know what you were to me? I dreamed of tasting your lips. Touching your tongue with mine. Running my hands over your bare skin. It was not to be.
“Doctor, we’re losing him!”
“Damn it. Get out of the way. Get Spock out of here!”
“No. Jim! I want—”
Jim gasped as his lungs filled with air. He began to choke, leaning on the glass of the observation deck.
What the fuck was that?
“Captain? Are you all right, sir?” Ensign Davers was suddenly by his side, touching his arm.
Was he? He didn’t know. He’d never spaced out like that before.
“Yeah, fine. Thank you, Ensign.”
Davers looked uncertain, but he nodded, practically clicked his heals and saluted, and excused himself from the observation deck.
Maybe he was a little more apprehensive about the mission coming up then he’d thought. Which wasn’t exactly like him.
Shaking his head, he decided it was time to return to his quarters and get some real rest.
As he approached his door, he spotted Spock and Uhura in the hallway outside hers, a little ways down. She had her arms around his neck as usual. And his gut twisted, also as usual. Dumb, Jim.
She kissed Spock on the corner of his mouth and then released him, entering her quarters. Spock turned and headed down the corridor toward Jim.
“If you have time, I would like to discuss the parameters of the upcoming mission.”
Jim shook his head. “Yeah. I don’t. Not really. I’m a little tired and kind of spacey.”
Spock straightened minutely. “It will not take long.”
Jim accessed his door. “All right.”
Spock stepped in after him. “I recommend that you not be part of the landing party.”
Jim pulled off his gold tunic. “Why?”
“The mission does not require two senior officers. And since it is more a scientific mission, my presence is more logical.”
Spock stands in front of a native plant, scanning it. He begins to speak, “This is fascinating, Captain. The plant—”
Jim sees the plant turn its-its head or bud or whatever and aim its spores right at Spock’s side, where his heart is.
Jim pushes Spock out of the way and the spores hit him. He goes down.
Jim looked at Spock. “I think Lieutenant Commander Morse can handle the mission. I want both of us to skip it.”
“You have your orders, Commander.”
“Very well,” Spock replied, but he was not at all pleased. Even for a Vulcan. He turned to leave.
Spock turned back. “Captain?”
“Nothing,” he said softly. “Goodnight.”
And Spock was gone.
Jim touched his fingers to his lips.
I dreamed of tasting your lips. Touching your tongue with mine. Running my hands over your bare skin. It was not to be.
*also posted on the archive