vanhunks
03-07-2008, 11:30 AM
Title: "A World in a Grain of Sand"
Author: vanhunks
Series: TOS
Parts: 1/1
Rating: PG
Codes: K/S
Disclaimer: These characters - Kirk and Spock, wonderfully created by
Mr R, belongs to him. I make no money from this save the sheer
enjoyment of sharing my story.
NOTES: Written for Farfalla in the Summer Lovin' Fic Exchange on
ASCEML. The request was to write a story containing the words beach,
D-Day.
SUMMARY: Spock waits for Jim on a lonely beach. Set after the events
of the three TOS films in which Spock dies, lives again and is brought
home.
A WORLD IN A GRAIN OF SAND
<<I am no longer the same...>>
The awareness had crept into his consciousness, silently, without
warning. There was no precise moment of impact that he could clearly
say he remembered of his altered state.
<<And I should remember, for I am Vulcan. In me, in my observation of
entities, in computations too complicated for a human brain to discern
and consider, I make no room for error.>>
He told himself that, over and over, without words issuing from his
mouth. Perhaps in themselves, words would have been the verbal
confirmation, an explicit attestation that he was Vulcan, that his
very essence was uncompromised or untainted by any other human.
So the warningless tune of *I am no longer the same* kept telling him
of a difference, that he was different. He could not fault himself. He
could not fault McCoy. Spock had done what he had done given his
dictum that one life lost is nothing if hundreds or thousands could be
saved by that one life. He had done so without believing it
implicitly, acting only upon the belief that something had to be done
and that he could do it.
He lived. He died. He lived, but without his essence, his katra, his
very soul. That he had given to McCoy.
His katra returned.
I am no longer the same.
As if the world had changed colour, shifting into sharp focus, the
hills, the valleys, the mountains, the rivers, the landscape had met
him like a new dawn. He had wondered if, before, he had been wearing
blinkers, or whether his sight had been permanently blurred. It was
not so.
Everything was new, it seemed. Did something from McCoy's memories
reside in him now? Was there residue of human-ness that infiltrated
his being? What could be as insidious as a thieving snake, as
amorously invasive as love, as potently alive as emotion that could
enter him and occupy every cell and sinew in his body? What could
remind him more than anything in the universe that a part of him was
human?
Why could he hear a bird sing and feel joy at the wondrous melody? Why
did the water that rippled over cobbles in a stream fill him with such
awe? Even pain? Why did the sound of ocean waves make him think of a
thousand men speaking at once? He watched a bird cleaving the air, its
wings spread majestically and he had stared and kept staring until it
had become a tiny speck on the horizon.
Life and meaning.
His heart hammered. Another new sensation after his katra had been
restored.
His heart hammered. Its beats thudded in arrhythmic madness, refusing
to settle. What was this sensation that made him so afraid of meeting
the one person for whom he would willingly give his life? For whom he
had willingly given his life?
Bending down, Spock scooped up a handful of sand. Africa never looked
more beautiful under the stark, unforgiving sun, the beach glimmering
like a mirage. Straightening up again, he allowed the sand to sift
slowly through his fingers until only a fine film of grains clung to
his skin.
Once, Jim - how had "Admiral" and "Captain" come to settle so easily
in his conscious mind as Jim? - had read to him a poem.
"To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."
Even as he remembered the words now as Jim had read them, his voice
mellow, shaky with emotion, it had done nothing more than make him
admire the tone of Jim's voice. Just a voice that read old Earth
poetry. He remembered thinking that a few lines written hundreds of
years ago could affect Jim like they had done then. He remembered
thinking about human folly, of humans being driven by their emotions.
Nothing like Vulcan's love poems, imbued with order and restraint, a
pattern of words that metred, rhymed, had few cadences, that sought to
infuse rather than inspire.
He could see the difference, now.
If only Jim would come. They had agreed to meet here, on a lonely,
pristine beach on the shores of Africa. It was important to him, as it
was to Jim. His friend had become quiet in the last months, never
speaking about that period of Spock's life when he had been nothing
but a shell, with no memory, no remembrances, no soul... Jim had
watched him die. Jim who had been demented in his sorrow. He, Spock,
had not understood the depth of that sorrow until McCoy returned what
belonged to him.
Therefore now, as he rolled a grain of sand between thumb and
forefinger and saw Jim as a small speck in the distance making his way
towards him, he was desirous of sharing what he knew. What he
understood, what he discovered, what made him gloriously...human.
Spock looked about him, the untouched sand, the endless vista of beach
that stretched before him, the sound of the ocean, whales with their
young... Mostly just sand and the sound of waves.
Our Dunkirk...
His heart raced.
Suddenly, without warning, he felt that sharp warmth that spread
through him like a welcome entity, not for a single moment doubting
its presence or doubting himself...
It was a day again, of saving lives.
Jim stood in front of him. Today, like no other day in which they had
been friends, master and commander, Enterprise officers who traversed
the universe and thrived on its bounty of adventures, he needed to
know what he desired to know, to say what he desired to say. As
important as it had been for Jim to fight for his return, to accept
demotion because of it, as important as all their adventures had been,
this moment in time Spock wanted to engrave on his memory forever.
And eternity in an hour...
Jim looked...beloved, came the thought to Spock. His face marked with
lines of concern, of hiding, of suppressing his innermost feeling.
Mostly, exposed...
"Jim..."
"Jim?"
The name stalled on Jim's lips, understanding dawning. It had come to
this. He knew what Jim was thinking. There were no boundaries of
protocol, chain of command...
"I am now what you dreamed of me being."
"What is that, Spock? I am just your lifelong friend."
"You tried to tell me many times in the past of your feelings. Knowing
that I would find such an expression as excessive and uncontrolled,
you held back."
"I have n - "
"Dying, Jim, was the best thing that happened to me."
"But not to me, Spock."
Spock noted the heightened colour of Jim's face, the sudden animation.
The pain.
"A far, far better thing I do than I have ever done... I did it so
that I could live again, to understand the meaning of all things. I
never understood fully. I do now."
"Come on, Spock, you brought me here to this beach to tell me you were
glad of dying? Have you any idea what it did to me? To me?"
"I did not understand before. But now I see life and beauty in all
living things, and experience wonder. McCoy gave me back more than my
katra, Jim."
"If you know that's how I feel, is that all? That we both walk away
from here? That once again you will negate everything as human folly?"
"A world in a grain of sand... Do you remember reading it to me once
and I did not understand fully the import of the words?"
Jim nodded. Spock looked at his hands again.
"You lifted your damned eyebrow in scepticism." Jim said, his voice
tinged with a little sadness.
"I understand now. I understand how in all things great or small,
however insignificant looking, that one might contain an entire
universe in the palm of one's hand. All by just looking at a grain of
sand. Seeing heaven in a wild flower. Holding eternity, treasure it
for all time. One look. Just one look and life has meaning."
Jim gave a sigh, gazed at the ocean for endless seconds. Spock waited.
Then Jim looked at him again, the cynicism gone, long gone.
"No one knows," Jim said almost on a note of defeat.
"No one needs to know, Jim. Just the two of us exploring,
understanding and experiencing beauty, our shared bond."
Jim stepped closer and touched Spock's hand, rubbing idly at the sand
still clinging to it. His eyes though, remained fixed on Spock..
"Love. It pains. It pleasures. The day you died, I have not known so
much pain."
"Then maybe saying it will make it easier, lessen the pain. I have
much to learn and who better to learn from than one to whom I
willingly wish to be bonded?"
"You understand that?" Jim asked. "You understand that friendship was
useful to conceal my deepest feelings for you?"
Spock smiled. He felt free. He silently thanked McCoy again for
knowing what Jim felt and giving him the gift of that knowledge.
"You are, and always will be... my beloved."
end
vanhunks
written 2007
Author: vanhunks
Series: TOS
Parts: 1/1
Rating: PG
Codes: K/S
Disclaimer: These characters - Kirk and Spock, wonderfully created by
Mr R, belongs to him. I make no money from this save the sheer
enjoyment of sharing my story.
NOTES: Written for Farfalla in the Summer Lovin' Fic Exchange on
ASCEML. The request was to write a story containing the words beach,
D-Day.
SUMMARY: Spock waits for Jim on a lonely beach. Set after the events
of the three TOS films in which Spock dies, lives again and is brought
home.
A WORLD IN A GRAIN OF SAND
<<I am no longer the same...>>
The awareness had crept into his consciousness, silently, without
warning. There was no precise moment of impact that he could clearly
say he remembered of his altered state.
<<And I should remember, for I am Vulcan. In me, in my observation of
entities, in computations too complicated for a human brain to discern
and consider, I make no room for error.>>
He told himself that, over and over, without words issuing from his
mouth. Perhaps in themselves, words would have been the verbal
confirmation, an explicit attestation that he was Vulcan, that his
very essence was uncompromised or untainted by any other human.
So the warningless tune of *I am no longer the same* kept telling him
of a difference, that he was different. He could not fault himself. He
could not fault McCoy. Spock had done what he had done given his
dictum that one life lost is nothing if hundreds or thousands could be
saved by that one life. He had done so without believing it
implicitly, acting only upon the belief that something had to be done
and that he could do it.
He lived. He died. He lived, but without his essence, his katra, his
very soul. That he had given to McCoy.
His katra returned.
I am no longer the same.
As if the world had changed colour, shifting into sharp focus, the
hills, the valleys, the mountains, the rivers, the landscape had met
him like a new dawn. He had wondered if, before, he had been wearing
blinkers, or whether his sight had been permanently blurred. It was
not so.
Everything was new, it seemed. Did something from McCoy's memories
reside in him now? Was there residue of human-ness that infiltrated
his being? What could be as insidious as a thieving snake, as
amorously invasive as love, as potently alive as emotion that could
enter him and occupy every cell and sinew in his body? What could
remind him more than anything in the universe that a part of him was
human?
Why could he hear a bird sing and feel joy at the wondrous melody? Why
did the water that rippled over cobbles in a stream fill him with such
awe? Even pain? Why did the sound of ocean waves make him think of a
thousand men speaking at once? He watched a bird cleaving the air, its
wings spread majestically and he had stared and kept staring until it
had become a tiny speck on the horizon.
Life and meaning.
His heart hammered. Another new sensation after his katra had been
restored.
His heart hammered. Its beats thudded in arrhythmic madness, refusing
to settle. What was this sensation that made him so afraid of meeting
the one person for whom he would willingly give his life? For whom he
had willingly given his life?
Bending down, Spock scooped up a handful of sand. Africa never looked
more beautiful under the stark, unforgiving sun, the beach glimmering
like a mirage. Straightening up again, he allowed the sand to sift
slowly through his fingers until only a fine film of grains clung to
his skin.
Once, Jim - how had "Admiral" and "Captain" come to settle so easily
in his conscious mind as Jim? - had read to him a poem.
"To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."
Even as he remembered the words now as Jim had read them, his voice
mellow, shaky with emotion, it had done nothing more than make him
admire the tone of Jim's voice. Just a voice that read old Earth
poetry. He remembered thinking that a few lines written hundreds of
years ago could affect Jim like they had done then. He remembered
thinking about human folly, of humans being driven by their emotions.
Nothing like Vulcan's love poems, imbued with order and restraint, a
pattern of words that metred, rhymed, had few cadences, that sought to
infuse rather than inspire.
He could see the difference, now.
If only Jim would come. They had agreed to meet here, on a lonely,
pristine beach on the shores of Africa. It was important to him, as it
was to Jim. His friend had become quiet in the last months, never
speaking about that period of Spock's life when he had been nothing
but a shell, with no memory, no remembrances, no soul... Jim had
watched him die. Jim who had been demented in his sorrow. He, Spock,
had not understood the depth of that sorrow until McCoy returned what
belonged to him.
Therefore now, as he rolled a grain of sand between thumb and
forefinger and saw Jim as a small speck in the distance making his way
towards him, he was desirous of sharing what he knew. What he
understood, what he discovered, what made him gloriously...human.
Spock looked about him, the untouched sand, the endless vista of beach
that stretched before him, the sound of the ocean, whales with their
young... Mostly just sand and the sound of waves.
Our Dunkirk...
His heart raced.
Suddenly, without warning, he felt that sharp warmth that spread
through him like a welcome entity, not for a single moment doubting
its presence or doubting himself...
It was a day again, of saving lives.
Jim stood in front of him. Today, like no other day in which they had
been friends, master and commander, Enterprise officers who traversed
the universe and thrived on its bounty of adventures, he needed to
know what he desired to know, to say what he desired to say. As
important as it had been for Jim to fight for his return, to accept
demotion because of it, as important as all their adventures had been,
this moment in time Spock wanted to engrave on his memory forever.
And eternity in an hour...
Jim looked...beloved, came the thought to Spock. His face marked with
lines of concern, of hiding, of suppressing his innermost feeling.
Mostly, exposed...
"Jim..."
"Jim?"
The name stalled on Jim's lips, understanding dawning. It had come to
this. He knew what Jim was thinking. There were no boundaries of
protocol, chain of command...
"I am now what you dreamed of me being."
"What is that, Spock? I am just your lifelong friend."
"You tried to tell me many times in the past of your feelings. Knowing
that I would find such an expression as excessive and uncontrolled,
you held back."
"I have n - "
"Dying, Jim, was the best thing that happened to me."
"But not to me, Spock."
Spock noted the heightened colour of Jim's face, the sudden animation.
The pain.
"A far, far better thing I do than I have ever done... I did it so
that I could live again, to understand the meaning of all things. I
never understood fully. I do now."
"Come on, Spock, you brought me here to this beach to tell me you were
glad of dying? Have you any idea what it did to me? To me?"
"I did not understand before. But now I see life and beauty in all
living things, and experience wonder. McCoy gave me back more than my
katra, Jim."
"If you know that's how I feel, is that all? That we both walk away
from here? That once again you will negate everything as human folly?"
"A world in a grain of sand... Do you remember reading it to me once
and I did not understand fully the import of the words?"
Jim nodded. Spock looked at his hands again.
"You lifted your damned eyebrow in scepticism." Jim said, his voice
tinged with a little sadness.
"I understand now. I understand how in all things great or small,
however insignificant looking, that one might contain an entire
universe in the palm of one's hand. All by just looking at a grain of
sand. Seeing heaven in a wild flower. Holding eternity, treasure it
for all time. One look. Just one look and life has meaning."
Jim gave a sigh, gazed at the ocean for endless seconds. Spock waited.
Then Jim looked at him again, the cynicism gone, long gone.
"No one knows," Jim said almost on a note of defeat.
"No one needs to know, Jim. Just the two of us exploring,
understanding and experiencing beauty, our shared bond."
Jim stepped closer and touched Spock's hand, rubbing idly at the sand
still clinging to it. His eyes though, remained fixed on Spock..
"Love. It pains. It pleasures. The day you died, I have not known so
much pain."
"Then maybe saying it will make it easier, lessen the pain. I have
much to learn and who better to learn from than one to whom I
willingly wish to be bonded?"
"You understand that?" Jim asked. "You understand that friendship was
useful to conceal my deepest feelings for you?"
Spock smiled. He felt free. He silently thanked McCoy again for
knowing what Jim felt and giving him the gift of that knowledge.
"You are, and always will be... my beloved."
end
vanhunks
written 2007