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reparative (write another story, we're fine)

Chapter 3: epilogue

Chapter Text

i.

Joe hugs him so tightly.

“If I hadn’t been in the middle of a public health crisis on Ganymede, I would have been -”

“I know,” Chris smiles. 

“You said it about a hundred times, while we worked on the case,” Una says, also smiling. Spock has no comment, just a raised eyebrow. 

Joe shakes his head slightly and chuckles. “It’s good to finally be here.”

He hugs Joe again. “It’s good to have you. I’ve missed you,” he adds, quieter, and feels Joe hug him back tighter.

When he looks up, Una adds, “They’re still being fairly restrictive, and there are a lot of hoops, or more people would be here, but -”

He turns and sees new faces coming out of the shuttlecraft.

“Who -” Vina inhales sharply, one hand flies over her mouth. “No - those - those aren’t my cousins?”

Una smiles and nods. 

“They were so tiny when I last saw them… but they look so much like their parents.”

“They’re very excited to see you.”

Vina stares up at her. “Captain Chin-Riley - Una. Thank you.”

And Chris smiles.

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ii.

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Spock is alive.

Not the fresh messages from Starfleet, even from Spock himself - not months of hoping - 

None of that compares to seeing him here in the flesh.

‘In the flesh’ carries its own ironies, of course. He is not in the flesh as he looks at Spock. He knows where his body sits; knows from the last time he saw it that it carries the marks of how he’s aged. He knows he looks the same as he looks at Spock, while Spock’s face carries his own lines of age.

He wants to absorb every detail that tells him that Spock is really here, really alive. 

“I am here, Chris.”

“I felt it … I knew you were reaching out.” Chris reaches out, rests a hand on Spock’s uniform, over his chest, where he can feel his heartbeat. Not the cold press of glass. “They told me what you did - to save everyone on Enterprise. They told me you were gone. But,” he puts a hand over his own heart. “I thought I could - could still feel it. Different, but not - gone. I was so sure I must be fooling myself with wistful thinking -”

“You were not,” Spock says, placing one hand over Chris’s on his own chest. “I am here. My body was dead, but … Dr. McCoy carried my katra.”

“Spock, I - I’m just so grateful you’re here .” He grips Spock’s uniform and pulls him into a desperate hug.

It is a relief when Spock hugs him back tightly.

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iii.

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Lying out in the grass, the vista of Montana sky his mind has conjured up above him, Chris looks over at Spock. 

He can’t muster the energy to think through standing up, it’s an effort even to bring Spock’s face into focus, keep his eyes open.

But he wants to see Spock. 

“You came,” he says. “It is you, isn’t it?”

“Of course.” Spock is - well, Spock. And something - something at that point where he had felt - had felt Spock’s pain in his death, had felt that continuing presence even afterwards, he can feel that this is Spock, that Spock is here. 

He is grateful, relieved, when Spock sits down next to him. He knows there is not a lot of time left; he wasn’t sure if the Talosians would be able to help him hold on for long enough, if Spock would be able to come at all. 

“Thought you would be busy, Commander - no, it’s Ambassador now, isn’t it?”

“Leadership does allow me to - delegate.” He sits down beside Chris. “I do not consider any of my tasks at hand to be more important than my presence here.”

He smiles. “You have things to do.”

“And you are very important to me.” Spock adds, “As I believe I have said before, Chris.”

His smile widens. “I remember.” There are more words he wants to say, but they’re a jumble. He knows that once, he’d had no words. He’s been trying to think about these. There are enough farewells he hasn’t had a chance to say. He echoes, “you are very important to me.”

He takes a deep breath. He is very tired. 

Spock is here. Just … “Could you… give me a hand?”

Spock understands, and he feels a gentle hand brushing away hair from his forehead and resting on his temple. 

There is more clarity, space for his words now. There is also grief, in the touch.

“Hey,” he manages to lift a hand, rest it on top of Spock’s. “I’m okay. I’ve had… so much good. Thank you. For everything. You’ve been… I’m so glad you’ve been in my life.” 

“As am I.”

He takes a breath. None of the words could possibly be enough. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“As -” Spock’s voice catches. He nods.

“Can you…” he trails away before coming back to himself. “Can you stay here for a little while?”

“Of course.”

“I might end up falling asleep for a bit.” He smiles, small, wry; Spock clearly recognizes the echo. Knows that this is not the same. “I could use a nap.”

“I will stay here with you.”

“Thank you, Spock.”




fin.