elliewood | Fic: Companion, Chapter 26: Jim and Spock

Man, this is nice. I love the ocean, love the beach in the evening, love the feel of sand between my toes, love the sound of the surf when it's calm. The sky is perfect, red and blue and purple, with only the brightest stars visible overhead, but it's so clear out tonight and I'm so far away from the city that I know there will be a million stars once it gets totally dark. And it's cool but not too cool, the breeze is gentle in my hair and against my bare skin, and the sand is still warm from the earlier heat of the day. I breathe in and feel my lungs expand endlessly, smell the sweet salty air, and goddamn, it's so fucking excellent.

And there he is, farther down along the shore, his feet in the water, looking down at the surf as it rolls up over them. So I start running, and it's great to use my legs again, great to feel their strength again, to hear my feet go crunch-crunch-crunch in the sand as I sprint effortlessly toward him. And he hears me coming, looks up and over at me, and I see him smiling in the dimming light, holding one hand out to me.

I slow to a walk and cover the last few meters between us, reaching out with my hand as well. And he takes it and clasps it between both of his, then places it on his cheek and holds it there while he touches my face with his other hand.

This is what is real

I'm impatient, eager for more, so I surge toward him, but he twists away from me as the smile fades from his face. And now I see there is sadness in his eyes.

I am sorry

I seize him with both hands, spin him to face me, pull him in to me, and he is cold, his flesh like ice. And I press him to me, trying to warm him, but his body is cold in my arms, and he won't look at me.

Parted from me

How is this real

And it's completely dark now, the sun is gone, no light except that faintest glow from the millions of stars overhead, so dark that I can't see him anymore except for the silhouette of his head against the stars, and he is so cold that I start to shake, and the shaking won't stop.

James

And it's not just the shaking, there's a physical pain too, like the cold slice of a knife between your ribs that twists and scrapes hot bone, like the dull aching in your head once it hits the floor, shredding itself on broken glass.

James please

And now I'm screaming, too, screaming at the pain, screaming at him, at the unfairness of it, at this stupid fucking reality that I don't understand.

Beloved please

And suddenly he's warm again, warmer than me, and his arms are wrapped around me, I feel the biobed beneath me, and I pull back to see the silhouette of his head against the stars outside the window of my hospital room.

It is all right all right I am sorry

And I don't believe, don't trust, so I push into him again, and this time he waits for me, lets me meet him, lets me feel his heat beneath my mouth and hands as I make sure he's alive, make sure his mouth and cheeks and eyes and forehead and throat are warm and alive, before he lays me, gasping with fear, back on the pillow.

I am sorry

And I cling to his hand, not letting go, not letting him go, until my grip weakens and my hand opens, until I fall fitfully back to sleep as his other hand sifts through my hair.

and never parted

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