Souvenirs of a Madman

I don’t know where this came from, exactly, as I swore off writing Star Trek reboot slash long, long ago. Damn it. This is hurt/comfort pre-slash, though, so I haven’t broken my vow. Honest.

There are certain advantages to being dead.

One is, you don’t have to deal with tribunals. Hard to interrogate a corpse. As far as you know, anyway; there’s probably some weird Vulcan shit that could yank stuff out of a dead guy, and hell, you wonder if you’d even remember if anybody’d tried it, if Spock had, while you were, um, temporarily deceased.

Huh. Or if you’d want to.

What being dead also gets you is plausible deniability: you can pretend that gods, you doesn’t remember a damn thing that happened, what with the radiation torching your brain. There were no tears, no last-minute attempts at admission, no moment when you thought anything other than friend.

Nope. Radiation brain, you tell yourself. That’s why it all looked green there, at the end.

Best of all, being dead makes it impossible for anyone to ask, to pepper you with questions about your dying breath or what it felt like to stare your own fucking mortality in the face.

Because that would just be rude.

“You do realize a zombie tribble saved your life,” McCoy wheezes, pushing back from the console. “I mean, if you wanna get technical about it.”

Of course, not everyone defines rude quite the same.

Continue reading “Souvenirs of a Madman”

Never A Good Sign

Hey, it’s a Kirk/Spock story! I’ve missed writing for these two.

And for Bones. Because, man. He’s so damn much fun.

In this story, McCoy can’t keep a secret. Especially when he’s been drinking.

Continue reading “Never A Good Sign”