Pairings: OMS Kirk/Spock
Timeline: Post-TSFS and pre-TVH
Rating: T
Summary: Spock forgot something important. If only he could…
Wooden oars rolled against an onyx ocean littered in stardust, sending gentle ripples toward an infinite horizon. Spock lifted his chin. Stars above, stars below. Stars in the darkness, stars in the sea. Stars and stars, endless and everywhere.
This was…where, though? And how did he come to be in such a place?
Where were the others? Others… Were there others? He could almost remember…
The oars fell limp upon release and Spock sat back, swallowing hard with a furrowed brow and observing the smooth curved floor of the celestial rowboat he inexplicably found himself in. It was made of Shi’Kahrian lumber, a dark and strong wood. And in the air, a distant hint of spice hung—something akin to traditional Vulcan incense, but the scent was also markedly different. Familiar, foreign…everything here was each of these things at the same time.
But he was wearing white. And he never wore white.
Spock lifted his hands, studying the lines creasing slender palms and then curled his fingers into fists three times for good measure. Dark eyes rose to their surroundings once more and slowly, his hands fell back to his sides. He had the sensation of touch, the ability of free thought, and the curse of sentient will, all while surrounded by a prison that had no bars or walls. No guards, no sentences, no exits or endings. He felt no hunger or thirst, no pain.
All there was were stars. Stars above, stars below…
Though there was no real sense of time in this place, a precarious impulse had been imprinting on him for what he’d deemed too long now; it was a notion that he should rest: rest, let his lashes fall, give up on all these questions for the meantime, and simply allow this boat to take him where it willed.
Over and over, the word reverberated in the depths of his mind.
Remember? Remember what? If it was so important, how could he have forgotten? What he needed was right there however, right there, just beyond the range of recollection. It was so close, and the only thing standing between him and peace.
Spock jerked forward suddenly, reaching for the oars and beginning to row again. To where? Anywhere, or nowhere at all. Anything to keep him moving, because he had a strange, albeit unfounded suspicion that if he did close his eyes, they might never open again.
Vulcans didn’t experience hunches.
