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Story Notes:

This assumes life continued as we know it from ST VI forward, without Generations or XI happening.

Author's Chapter Notes:

I can claim no ownership of the wonderful characters contained herein. They belong to Gene Roddenberry, and CBS, and Paramount, and various other people definitely not me. No infringement intended.

He is dancing. He is alone, in our living quarters, listening to music only he can hear, and he is dancing. His hands are above his head, and his face is pure light. I remember my father asking me many years previous what, precisely, drew me to him. I was young and impetuous then, and I gave some half-thought-out answer. Certainly my words then did no justice to the magnitude of the feeling I have for my mate, my partner, my “better half”.

 

He is dancing, mouthing the lyrics to his song, and something catches his attention. Perhaps he can smell the scent of the incense that clings to me. Perhaps it is pheromones. But perhaps it is something so much deeper, something you would have to experience to understand. Perhaps he simply knows. Regardless, those soft hazel eyes open and the smile I thought could grow no brighter suddenly blazes. The motion slows and the hands come down halfway, now reaching for me.

 

 

It has been forty five years. Our time grows shorter with each passing moment, but mornings like this remind me of the boy I fell for so long ago, how he captured my heart and taught me the meaning of true love. He says he is the lucky one, but I beg to differ. Many decades from now, when I am alone, I will look back on this morning and remember how he made my life worth living.

 

 

He gestures to me – come here. I pause, drawing out the inevitable, but he knows how to play this game we started as young men. He gestures again, giving me that half-smile he knows drives me wild. No, come here! he insists. I shake my head slowly. To entice me further, he looks up at me through his lashes. Then he raises his eyebrows – oh really? – and turns the music back on. The dancing resumes, but now the steps are leading him across the room in my direction.

 

 

He dances up to me and begins to rub his shoulder against me. I know the next action in this little play. I turn and wrap my arms around his shoulders, immobilizing him only temporarily so that I may place a single kiss behind his ear. He hums, kind of a content sound, and leans his head back against me.

 

 

He is not dancing anymore, but my heart is now.

 

 

We are one.

 

 

 

9/15/1967 – 9/15/2012 K/S Forever

 

 

Chapter End Notes:

This is dedicated to my parents, who will celebrate 48 years together, madly in love, this year.  I draw my inspiration for Jim and Spock from them.  Thanks, guys, for a wonderful life.

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