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Spirk (with a small dose of Pinto)

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Memorial Day

Memorial Day 2022

No matter how many times Jim came to the Starfleet Memorial Cemetery in San Francisco, it never failed to not only fill him with sorrow but give him the chills. So many lives lost and each year more appeared.

He went to his father’s memorial first. It was a plaque only, there’d been no remains to bury or cremate.

He didn’t linger there long as he’d never known his dad, really. Just the idea of a dad and stories his mother told him.

Pike was next. There he stayed longer, but he didn’t speak. Really, he never spoke much when he came here. It was just, when he was in the city, he came, to honor those he knew and came before him.

He stopped at others…Gaila, Chekov, both far too young.

Komack.

And then finally, Scotty, Sulu, Uhura.

Bones.

Having super blood meant you outlived everyone else, Jim guessed. There were some things that were not worth it.

Jim turned to face Spock, who accompanied him. His dark eyes were soft, warm, and likewise filled with sorrow.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he whispered.

“I always will. Our transport to New Vulcan awaits.”

Jim nodded and touched his fingers to Spock.

There were some things that were.   

Flash Fic, May 25, 2020

The first person familiar to him in the crowd that gathered was Nyota. She was gesturing to him, her face somber, her attire that of their dress uniform, hat firmly in place.

Spock stepped up to her and allowed her to lean forward and kiss his cheek. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “How are you holding up?”

“I…well enough under the circumstances.”

She nodded, sympathetically, and then drew him forward. “The others are seated already.”

He followed her to where Lieutenant Sulu, Ensign Jayleh, and Lieutenant Commander Scott were seated. There was a spot left for Spock. A few aisles away he spotted Carol Marcus. He looked away quickly and took the offered seat.

Admiral Morrow walked up to the podium. “Thank you for coming on this day to remember those from Starfleet we have lost, not only in the last year, but in all our years.”

Then to Spock’s amazement, Morrow turned to the side.

“We welcome, Captain James T. Kirk, who has only just gotten out of the hospital this very day to attend this ceremony honoring those who have fallen.”

Doctor McCoy wheeled Jim out in a chair toward the podium. Jim wore a dress uniform but looked shockingly pale. Spock was half out of his seat before Nyota gently pushed him down.

“Did you know he was going to do this?” she asked.

“No.”

“I don’t think the captain should be out of the hospital,” Sulu spoke up.

“He should not,” Spock said curtly.

Jim stopped at the podium and then was helped to stand by the doctor. Spock’s jaw tightened as Jim swayed.

“Today, we are gathered to remember our fallen brethren, including a member of my own bridge officers, Ensign Pavel Chekov.”

***

“Captain!” Nyota rushed at him after the ceremony. “You shouldn’t be out of the hospital.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” McCoy grumbled. “Damn fool insisted. And he’s going right back.”

Spock dropped to his knees beside Jim. “T’hy’la. Why? We talked about this and decided you would stay in bed.”

“You decided,” Jim said softly. “For Pavel. I had to.”

Spock inhaled, counted to ten, and then nodded. “Very well. But you will not leave again until you are well. Promise.”

“I promise.”

Spock stood and took control of the wheelchair from McCoy, ignoring the doctor’s rolled eyes, as they all followed behind as Spock brought their captain back to the hospial.

For those lost…we remember

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