The BLTS Archive - Something in My Heart
by T'Aaneli (t_aaneli@hotmail.com)

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Archive: ASCEM OK.  Anywhere else please ask.

Feedback:  Please.

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters all belong to Paramount,
Viacom, and Rick Berman.  I'm just borrowing them for a little while.
Really.  Just a little while.  I do need to work.

I wrote this many months ago.  Isla and SamK saw a first version of
it.  I've been thinking about it ever since.  It was meant to be
incorporated into a longer story.  My Muse changed his mind.

My betas haven't seen this.  I'm drugged out on cold meds.  I'm
responsible for posting this without their blessing.  Blame me if you
hate it.  On the other hand, if you like it, drop by for some tea,
coffee, maybe a sauna if you're feeling under the weather.

---

The chronometer chimed softly.  If a chronometer were capable of
sentient thought, an observer would have suspected that it did not
wish to wake the room's occupant.

However, such consideration was unnecessary.  The room's sole
occupant had been awake for most of the night.  More precisely, 1.4
hours had been spent in a self induced sleep  trance; the remainder of
the night had been spent in silent contemplation of the upcoming day.

The room's occupant was going to a wedding.  In San Francisco.  It
was an opportunity to visit with his former shipmates; to say
goodbye.

The wedding was not a surprise.  Five weeks earlier, as it had neared
midnight, Jim had dropped by his temporary quarters at Starfleet HQ.
Jim had wanted him to be the first to know that he had proposed; that
she had accepted.

He had provided the appropriate congratulatory responses.  He had
queried Jim as to the details of the pending marriage ceremony.  He
had discovered that it was to be a private celebration; outside of
the immediate family and close friends, only the members of the
Enterprise bridge crew  were invited.  Their conversation had been a
cautiously choreographed dance of words.

Jim had known of his impending departure for Vulcan; that his
departure date was two days before the ceremony.  Jim had gently
suggested that he would understand if he was unable to attend the
service.  He had apologized for the short notice.

When the invitation arrived -- a piece of stiff card stock, sealed
with wax -- hand delivered by one of Jim's aides, he had not opened
it.  He had placed it on a table in his quarters, propping it up
against a glass vase.  Each time he passed the table, the scent of
the single white orchid, gracing the vase, had teased at his senses.

It was illogical; to refuse to open it.  However, he was not
concerned.  When it came to matters related to James Kirk, he had
long ago renounced the word logic.

Dr. McCoy had visited him that night -- ater the invitation had
arrived.  He had been ... beaming.  Yes, beaming was the appropriate
word.  Speaking ad infinitum about the wonderful woman Jim had
finally found.  How it was about time.  Was it not wonderful?

The jasmine tea had taken a particularly long time to brew that
evening.  As he had measured out the five teaspoons of loose tea
leaves, tested the temperature of the water, arranged the cups on the
lacquered tray, he had responded to Dr. McCoy's verbal barrage of
questioning.  No, he was not familiar with her accomplishments.  No,
Jim had not provided him with particulars as to how they had met.
Yes,  Jim appeared to be quite ... content.

Sipping his tea, he appreciated the scalding temperature of the
flavoured water.  It curbed his tongue.  There was no need for Dr.
McCoy to know.

---

He had found the building with no difficulty.  He had politely
refused Dr. McCoy's suggestion that they travel together by alluding
to a private matter he wished to deal with prior to the wedding.

It was an aesthetically pleasing building.  Old stone, leaded glass,
oak floors; it was a heritage building, designated as such by the San
Francisco Architectural Advisory Committee three hundred and twenty
years ago.  He joined Dr. McCoy  and the balance of the Enterprise
bridge crew in the second row of seats.

As they waited for the service to begin, they discussed the progress
of their individual career paths.  Although their mission had ended a
mere three months ago, each of the Enterprise bridge crew had been
immediately reassigned.  Only he and Dr. McCoy had chosen to resign
from Starfleet.

The buzz in the room suddenly increased.  He looked towards the front
of the building and saw Jim, stepping out from an antechamber.

His breath caught.  The late afternoon sun shone through the
clerestory windows, bronzing Jim's hair.  He had opted to wear a
black suit -- almost historic in its cut.  Although severe in style,
it accentuated his youthfulness.

He turned away and focused on Dr. McCoy.  "Chit chat".  What an
appropriate description for unproductive conversation.  Yes.  He
wanted to "chit chat" with Dr. McCoy.

His time sense became disorientated.  At some point, he heard the
string quartet shift from Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" to an unfamiliar
march.  As protocol dictated, he rose with the other guests to honor
the woman walking down the aisle.  He kept his eyes fixed on her as
she walked down the aisle and towards the altar.  He watched as Jim
reached his hand  outward -- towards her -- and as she placed her hand
in his.  The service began.  He sank down into his seat, grateful for
the fact that this ceremony required silence on his part.

As they exchanged vows, he glanced around at his companions -- at Dr.
McCoy's rapt expression, at Uhura's radiant smile, at Sulu's quiet
calm.  Were they all cognizant of something to which he was not
privy?  Was this woman truly Jim's great love?  Or where they merely
being polite, as  social custom dictated?

He felt a warm dampness in the palm of his left hand.  Looking down,
he saw a trace of blood where his fingernail had broken the skin on
the palm of his hand.  No.  This  woman did not belong with Jim.  But
he could no more say those words than Jim could not say "I promise to
honour you and cherish you" to the woman who stood before him.  It
was too late.  They had made their choices.  No.  He had made his
choice.  Jim had simply respected his wishes.

For better or for worse.  The words were bitter in his mouth.  Were
they bitter in Jim's?

The service concluded.  The congregation began their  exodus from the
building to greet the new couple, legitimized by Terran tradition.
He politely declined Dr. McCoy's  suggestion that they join the first
wave of congratulatory guests.  The doctor's sidelong glance at him
did not go unnoticed.  Nonetheless, Dr. McCoy's continued presence at
his side, rather than amongst the throng of bodies arranged on the
steps outside, was comforting.

As the aisle way cleared, he permitted himself to be led by the
doctor towards the entranceway.  Stepping out into the blinding mid
afternoon sunlight, he squinted and looked around.  They were gone.
With no outward sign of relief, he continued down the stairs towards
the groundcar Dr. McCoy had arranged for purposes of transportation.

They arrived at an elegant manor, shades of taupes and whites.  A
curved walkway led to a flagstone staircase, which they ascended.
Upon entering the front porch, they were greeted by the bride and
groom.

The bride was the first to greet everyone.  A kiss.  A firm
handshake.  A few pleasing words.  She was aesthetically pleasing.
She appeared gracious.  And why should she not be?  Jim would not
choose rashly.

And then it was the groom.  Content, relaxed, Jim radiated
satisfaction.  Until their eyes met and the look in Jim's eyes
stripped him bare.  It was a look of accusation, longing, grief.  In
the second it took to register, it was gone, replaced by a  smile.

"Spock."  Human and Vulcan stood face to face.  "I'm glad you're
here.  When I invited you ... I didn't know if you'd come.  I mean
... I'm just glad you're here."

Jim extended his hand towards Spock.  Without hesitation, Spock
reached for Jim.  As their hands touched, he felt the familiar glow
of Jim's presence, the brilliant sparkle of his mind.

For a moment, Spock closed his eyes.  When he re-opened them, it was
the Vulcan façade which gave him the strength he needed.  He
extricated himself from Jim's clasp.

"May I congratulate you both on your marriage.  May thy House have
always shade and cool water; may peace and prosperity follow thee
both, for all of thy days."  With a tilt of his head, Spock
acknowledged both Jim and the woman  standing next to him.

As Spock walked away, he blinked his eyes, once, twice, the brilliant
glow of Jim's mind fading away.  But the intensity of what he had
felt in Jim's mind -- of Jim's love for him, of Jim's grief at their
parting -- would be forever burned in his memory.

He quickly moved through the mass of humans, seeking solitude.  He
was a mere blur in their midst--they, who knew nothing of love.  And
the sacrifices that one must make for love.

---

The End