Fic: Inevitable (1/1)
Title: Inevitable
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 627
Summary: It had always seemed inevitable, except that it wasn't. Not quite. For the comment_fic theme: “Emo Song Titles,” prompt: “"I Will Follow You Into The Dark" (Death Cab For Cutie).” Spoilers for Star Trek XI (2009).
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: Just... because.
Inevitable
Inevitable. That’s what people would say, when this was over. History might be prone to repeating itself, but he’d chased it like a falling star -- desperate and eager and hell-bent to the very end, aching to touch the last flames of his blaze of glory as they died around him, fed upon him, consumed his soul before it had a chance to remember; to run.
Like his father, they’d say. Like his father, that sense of duty.
Like his father, they’d never say; that depth of feeling, that heart-breaking depth of feeling -- that searing, fucking painful love coursing through his veins, keeping him rooted, steady even as the countdown nears its end.
How many times had he whispered it, said it in the heat of the moment, at the rush of his peak before he fell, before he collapsed against warm skin and steady touch and racing heart, breathing against that frantic pulse with the promise of everything; everything.
I’d die for you.
He’d meant it, he realizes now in a way he’d never quite grasped before, when the words were merely words, the oath like a flame against his ribs; he’d meant it.
But amidst all the promises he’d made -- the one promise what was all that mattered, now -- he’d forgotten the ones that were sworn to him, in kind.
It’s the hazel -- amber like the harvest moon -- that catches his attention, stark in the harsh glow from the collision sequence blaring around him, flashing its warning; the hazel, followed by the harsh pull at the center of his chest as his breath catches and the beat below stutters just enough; it wasn’t supposed to be like this, but Jim suspects he shouldn’t be surprised.
I’d follow you anywhere, Jim. To hell and back.
The lighting gives, and when it flickers back, Bones is there, the distance swallowed, and Jim reaches for him, pulls him close in a way that only the damned can manage, tight against his body until they bleed around the edges, already fading away. And Bones, he clings back just as tightly, just as strong -- and this, he knows; this was written before they’d ever had a chance to change it, to think twice. This was how they were always going to end, and it would be a lie to say it wasn’t a bittersweet relief, to know he’d never have to rattle out his last alone; to know that the last sight he’d ever see would be eyes he loved deeper than anything, more wholly than the world -- that loved him back something fierce, unending.
And his mind shifts only briefly to the image he’s built in his mind of his father. He wonders what his final thoughts were. He wonders if his mother would have stayed by his side, just like this, if it hadn’t been for Jim.
He closes his eyes and he breathes, listens to the cadence of life as it thrums, crests before its close, the crescendo just before the end; lets the scent of his lover permeate him, lets the feel of the man against him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulder blades, fill the gaps of what if and might have been where they yawn beneath his feet.
Together, then. Like always.
Inevitable.
Not quite.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 627
Summary: It had always seemed inevitable, except that it wasn't. Not quite. For the comment_fic theme: “Emo Song Titles,” prompt: “"I Will Follow You Into The Dark" (Death Cab For Cutie).” Spoilers for Star Trek XI (2009).
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: Just... because.
Inevitable
Inevitable. That’s what people would say, when this was over. History might be prone to repeating itself, but he’d chased it like a falling star -- desperate and eager and hell-bent to the very end, aching to touch the last flames of his blaze of glory as they died around him, fed upon him, consumed his soul before it had a chance to remember; to run.
Like his father, they’d say. Like his father, that sense of duty.
Like his father, they’d never say; that depth of feeling, that heart-breaking depth of feeling -- that searing, fucking painful love coursing through his veins, keeping him rooted, steady even as the countdown nears its end.
How many times had he whispered it, said it in the heat of the moment, at the rush of his peak before he fell, before he collapsed against warm skin and steady touch and racing heart, breathing against that frantic pulse with the promise of everything; everything.
I’d die for you.
He’d meant it, he realizes now in a way he’d never quite grasped before, when the words were merely words, the oath like a flame against his ribs; he’d meant it.
But amidst all the promises he’d made -- the one promise what was all that mattered, now -- he’d forgotten the ones that were sworn to him, in kind.
It’s the hazel -- amber like the harvest moon -- that catches his attention, stark in the harsh glow from the collision sequence blaring around him, flashing its warning; the hazel, followed by the harsh pull at the center of his chest as his breath catches and the beat below stutters just enough; it wasn’t supposed to be like this, but Jim suspects he shouldn’t be surprised.
I’d follow you anywhere, Jim. To hell and back.
The lighting gives, and when it flickers back, Bones is there, the distance swallowed, and Jim reaches for him, pulls him close in a way that only the damned can manage, tight against his body until they bleed around the edges, already fading away. And Bones, he clings back just as tightly, just as strong -- and this, he knows; this was written before they’d ever had a chance to change it, to think twice. This was how they were always going to end, and it would be a lie to say it wasn’t a bittersweet relief, to know he’d never have to rattle out his last alone; to know that the last sight he’d ever see would be eyes he loved deeper than anything, more wholly than the world -- that loved him back something fierce, unending.
And his mind shifts only briefly to the image he’s built in his mind of his father. He wonders what his final thoughts were. He wonders if his mother would have stayed by his side, just like this, if it hadn’t been for Jim.
He closes his eyes and he breathes, listens to the cadence of life as it thrums, crests before its close, the crescendo just before the end; lets the scent of his lover permeate him, lets the feel of the man against him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulder blades, fill the gaps of what if and might have been where they yawn beneath his feet.
Together, then. Like always.
Inevitable.
Not quite.