Gods Title: Gods Author: Jazz Man Rating: PG Summary: McCoy's dead (I seem to kill people a lot) and Spock goes to visit his grave. Disclaimer: I own Jack (I really do, he's a cat) Gods Jazz Man The bells of another man's religion toll around me. I wonder idly what purpose they serve. Perhaps they are calling the faithful to prayer. Perhaps they are merely ringing the hour. I do not know. It does not matter to me, but it distracts me from why I am here. Any distraction would be welcome, even the distraction of another man's gods. They say Vulcan has no gods. That is not true. We had gods once. We cast them out of the heavens and made them live on the hot sand of the desert. We made them part of us. We bound them to the sand and would not let them leave. They were of Vulcan. I am not of Vulcan. I am not of Earth. Or perhaps I am of Vulcan and I am of Earth. It did not matter to me until ten days ago. It did not matter to me until Leonard died. He did not believe in his gods. He wished that he could believe in them, but all he could do was curse them. He did not believe and yet here he is. He lies deep in the earth. He was of Earth, but he was also of the Universe. He saw beyond the unfamiliar outside and found what lay within each individual he met. He saw what lay within me. He needed nothing more than his two sharp eyes and his sound heart to find all my secrets. He knew me better than I knew myself, yet he never held it over me, never used it against me. He said he loved me and I never had cause to doubt. It was not him who doubted, it was not him who ran. It was him who waited patiently until I returned. He forgave me. He said that I did the only thing I could do. He said that I had returned and that that was enough. I could not give him what he deserved. He said it was enough that I gave him what I could. I could not tell him how I felt, because part of me did not believe that I could feel. I could not tell him, but I knew he knew. I knew he understood. He always understood. I was not with him at the end. I had not the strength to watch him die. He understood. He forgave me. I wish that I had been strong enough. I wish that I had stood by him as I know he would have stood by me, as he had stood by me. He forgave me, but I wish that I did not have to be forgiven. I enter the church yard. It is not difficult to find his grave. The stone is simple, as he always claimed to be. 'Leonard H McCoy, MD.' I wonder if he wanted it to say that or if someone else wanted that. I think his name would have been enough for him. It would have been Joanna. There would have been no one else. I wish that I could have been the one to decide. I wish that I could have been here. I wish that I could have told him what he already knew. I touch the chain at my neck and slip it over my head. The ring glints merrily in the bright sun light. He gave it to me. This band of gold. He gave it to me even though I could not take him. He said it was his promise to me and that the offer would always be open. I could never take up his offer because I could never tell him. The ground is soft. It is not difficult to make a small hole. I take the ring off the chain. It does not weigh much but I can feel that I am no longer wearing it. I put the ring into the ground and cover it in the dark rich soil. I put the chain back on. I have worn it for so long that I cannot imagine being without it, but the ring is his. It was always his. I am returning his promise. I am freeing him from his promise, or perhaps I am taking him up on it. I do not know. The sun is warm, but I find no comfort in it. I rise from my knees and enter the church. It is cool and smells comforting. There is no one here. I sit in the rearmost pew. This is the house of his gods. I wonder if they would hear me. I am not of Earth, but I am not of Vulcan. Or perhaps I am of both. No. I am of neither. I am of him. He was of Earth. Does that make me of Earth? I pray to his gods. My gods? Our gods? I pray that he will hear me when I tell him what he already knew. I pray that he will hear me when I whisper it. I know that he will understand. I know that he will forgive me. I pray that he will hear me when I whisper in the darkness. I pray that it will be enough. It will be enough for him. It will have to be enough for me. "I love you." End