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Fic: Observations, Ch 160
Star Trek
anon_j_anon

Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God; where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.

--

Jim almost died.

Death cannot have him.

These past months in my relationship with him, I have been constantly suppressing the fire within me.  I have been lying to myself, afraid and unprepared to face the truth.  I have hidden from myself and from Jim, riddled with doubts and unable to escape the bone-deep distrust I have had of emotions—a distrust that was indoctrinated in my youth.

In the face of death, none of that matters.  It suddenly loses all importance.  Death renders it irrelevant.

My mother died mid-transport to the very same pad.

Had I known—

If she could be brought back to life for just one day—

There is so much I regret, so much I did not do—

I never told her—

—.

Those very same insecurities that interfered with my relationship with Jim prevented me from being open with her.  My desperate pride would not allow me to express or even acknowledge anything I felt.  As a result, I distanced myself from her.  She was the only person in the universe who unconditionally accepted me and loved me without restraint and I sought to minimize my association with her by totally denying my human heritage.

I never thought she would die.

I never thought she would disappear right before my eyes, falling, dissolving, my hand reaching out to touch her, catch her, save her, before death in the form of gravity in the form of a singularity, took her.

There was no body at the funeral.  All our possessions destroyed, the only holograph we had of her at the ceremony was the one taken for her Starfleet identification files.  Our personal electronic records were hosted on servers physically located on Vulcan.  We never thought to back up those files to memory banks on another planet.  There was nothing physical or digital that we could use to remind us of her life, of the place she filled in minds and hearts.

It was as though she had disappeared.

No trace.  No ashes.  No dust.  Nothing by which we could remember her or focus our grief, save a low quality holograph that could do no justice to her memory.

Later, going through his office at the Embassy, my father found a few small objects that belonged to her.  A scarf.  A single glove.  A small, empty bottle of perfume.  A slim notebook and a half chewed pencil.  There were a few pressed flowers in the notebook.

How is it possible that one woman who changed our lives so much can leave so little behind?  How is it possible that one event caused by one madman can reach so far into our lives, to the point where an empty bottle of perfume caused my immovable father to break down in helpless tears?

He gifted me her scarf.  After we bid one another farewell, after my first shift on duty, I went back to my quarters to organize my personal belongings.  Wrapped in tissue paper, tucked away between the folds of my dress uniform, I discovered the soft length of cloth that smelled faintly of my mother.

I never told her—

There is so much I regret, so much I did not do—

If she could be brought back to life for just one day—

Had I known—

—.

I will not make the same mistake with Jim.

In the face of death, against that complete and utter darkness, this fire in me burns.  It lights the whole of my being.  It is as brilliant and beautiful as the Milky Way Galaxy, as unknown and deep as the universe.  A fire and light that burns and blinds, a name that shines in the darkness, in the face of death I do not shrink from that flame.  I choose to burn, I choose to be consumed alive, rather than lose everything in the darkness.

Better that, than regret once more.

Better that, than have a life filled with —.

Spaces filled with silence and sorrow, uncertainty and thing unfulfilled, words unspoken.  Yawning emptiness a vacuum a chasm, a life of “what if” and “if only.”

Nothing is certain, I am still terrified.  But before death, before a life of —, it is not relevant.  I will take my chances, make a gamble.  Risk everything.

“I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have ( ) and lost, Than never to have ( ) at all.”



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Yes. This.

I will not make the same mistake with Jim.

In the face of death, against that complete and utter darkness, this fire in me burns. It lights the whole of my being. It is as brilliant and beautiful as the Milky Way Galaxy, as unknown and deep as the universe. A fire and light that burns and blinds, a name that shines in the darkness, in the face of death I do not shrink from that flame. I choose to burn, I choose to be consumed alive, rather than lose everything in the darkness.


This chapter is everything I believe about Spock and why/how/when/where he loves Jim.

YES.


I amend my earlier statement.

THIS chapter takes the cake. ^^

I know I'm probably hysterical right now and I need to sleep and my shirt is damp with tears and I'm frantically going between the last 5 or so chapters reading, rereading, reading backwards and forwards and sideways and I need to continue or else I will never be able to sleep

Oh, Spock. This was so intensely him. So sad to think they had nothing but a few random pieces left of his mother's life.

Awesome. That's all I can say. Every time I think you've blown me out of the water I read a little more and am rendered quite speechless.

Bravo!

Wow, when I read that Sarek cried over the empty bottle of parfum you mad eme cry!!
Just beautiful!!

I... it never quite hit me, the extent of what happened to Vulcan. They didn't just lose all the people. They didn't just lose all the buildings, or the books, or the statues. They lost anything and everything related to every citizen of Vulcan that ever lived. It's... damn. It's hard to imagine losing a whole fucking planet. Nothing on the Vulcan internet's still there. Nothing in their house, not a single plant, not even dirt. No corpses. Only shit that accidentally got left off-planet. If Spock's mother were better-organized, they'd have absolutely nothing.

Preeetty horrifying stuff. This chapter was intense, and very well-done. I'mma go see WTF happens next now.

This may seem strange, considering that Spock is the main character, but his description of his father sobbing over a tiny EMPTY bottle of perfume... I almost cried.

Scent is a strong memory. And a perfume, obviously used and loved, is as personal as it gets in terms of scent.

Bravo.

I love (no pun intended) the usage of parentheses for the poem. It's almost as if he can't even think of the word love until he's verbally (or perhaps, through a meld) told Jim. I wonder if later on we'll see that again with the words filled in.

Amazing.

My heart just broke for Sarek. That was unbelievably emotional. Great chapter.

oh gods, here have my heart I didn't need it.

now excuse me while I go lie on the floor again crying so more.

but seriously well done, there was only one other time I have cried reading, I am a book worm and a bitter person. So, well done on reaching to my emotions. This is the highest complement I can offer.

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