Work Text:
A piece of glassware in the shop caught Spock’s eye, and he was tempted to cradle it in his hands. It seemed to call to him with its singularity and its simplicity. His hands seemed to reach of their own volition, and Spock felt a sense of triumph when he at last claimed possession of the beautiful artwork as his own for the moment.
Spock held the slender fluted vase and marveled at its design. It was barely five inches tall, but had stood out from its surrounding companions by its dark coloration. The length of the vase was slightly indented as it swooped upward and ended in a cascade of five crystal petals. Then those petals looped out and then folded down on themselves again. All in all, the design was exciting and fulfilling.
The color was a deep blue, a cobalt blue, a color that arrested the attention and bid the onlooker to gaze deeper and longer into its crystal depths. It was as if infinity existed inside its dark blue interior, and all of the wonder of the universe was contained inside it.
The glass itself was clear. It could be seen through if Spock held his hand behind it. Yet the blue was so deep in color that it seemed to stop light itself, or even to swallow it. The whole effect was soothing and haughty and spellbinding. And Spock was mesmerized.
“What do you have there, darlin?’” McCoy asked at his elbow.
The spell was broken, and Spock set the glassware down. “A pretty piece of glass that caught my eye, Leonard. Nothing more.”
McCoy frowned. “Are you certain?” He picked up the vase and turned it around in his hands. “Lovely to behold, isn’t it? Cool to the touch. Alluring in its simplicity. I can see why you liked it so much. The glassblower who created this vase was a gifted artist, indeed.”
Spock did not want to think of the vase as once being a hot glob of molten fluid. And before that, it had been nothing but sand. And eventually, it would return to nothing more than sand. Much as a man starts out as dust and eventually returns to it. Sand and dust, common to any world, but for awhile they had existed as a man or as a beautiful work of art. The wonder of life was not lost on Spock.
With every turn of the glassware in McCoy‘s hands, Spock felt himself growing more agitated. It was as if the vase was being tainted by being handled by anyone other than himself, even if it was only McCoy.
“It’s like a woman,” McCoy murmured after some time, then frowned. “Someone I wanted with me forever, but it wasn't possible. A woman I have known. Somewhere. At some time.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Your mother,” Spock muttered. “My mother. Especially my mother.”
“You’re right,” McCoy muttered back in agreement. “It’s more than just a woman, it’s THE woman.“ He set the vase down gently. “It’s something sacred, isn’t it?”
“It is why I admire it, but I cannot possess it. It needs to be here for others to discover and revere.”
“You would be giving it a home if you purchased it.”
“No, Leonard, it would not be right to try to possess it. For it is indeed like our mothers. Yes, they are ours. But there is something intrinsic about even a mother that cannot be fully possessed. For a mother is still a person and should retain something of herself aloof from even the ones she holds the dearest. No one can ever completely possess another person, Leonard. No matter how much that is wanted.”
“I know. Because there is something about you that I know I’ll never completely own.”
“And that is the way it should be, Leonard. For I know that you will never completely be mine, either. We have had different experiences. We even remember events differently that we have shared together, so how could our distant pasts be similar? There is no way. No two people walk the same road, not even twins. And is it not marvelous that we have that uniqueness in the universe?”
“We can come close, though, can’t we?” McCoy asked wistfully. “Give me the illusion that I own you.”
“I can give you the illusion, Leonard. And know also that I would give myself to you completely, if I could.”
“I have a lot of you,” McCoy said, then his face gentled with a soft smile. “And it is enough, because I know that it is all that you can give. You are sharing yourself with me, and I will be eternally grateful.”
They could not embrace the Earthling way, not out in public like this. But the Vulcan way of exchanging heartfelt sentiment was perfect. Spock reached out two fingers, and McCoy rushed to answer with his own two fingers. It was almost as good as a kiss on the lips to McCoy because he knew what it meant to Spock. And down through the time that they had spent together as lovers, the passionate gesture with the fingers had grown to be something very precious to McCoy, too. For McCoy understood what the gesture meant to Spock and particularly what it did for Spock’s sensibilities.
McCoy watched as Spock reached out and laid his fingers gently on the vase again. “The glass is cool, as the touch of my mother was. Most people appreciate a warm touch from someone they love. But on my hot planet, a cool touch was valued. My mother was gentle, wise, and calm, just as this blue vase. It is a sanctuary, just as she was.”
“It reminds me of my mother’s blue eyes. Of course, the color wasn’t as deep, but it was as true.”
“The vase reminds us of our mothers, but many things do. They are everywhere for us, and that is as it should be.”