Oak Tree

By: Bert

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Gees, if we don't know by now Paramount/Viacom owns Trek then we never will.

"I'm not incapable of being passionate, Amanda." Sarek again spoke the words that reached his lips the first time he was here. He rested upon his elbow, on his tan cloak. His silky black hair coiled from the soft spring breeze and gentle showers. The Vulcan mask, clouded by the passion he had for his beloved wife. Fragile emotions pounded at him demanding to be released. He was Vulcan though, breed to suppress such things. Of course he had them, all Vulcans did.

For a moment he sat and wondered, would it have hurt to once tell his wife, "I love you?", even if it would have been in the closeness of their bond? She did unleash passionate emotions within him but he always maintained control, outside of pon farr.

Her passing had been only six months ago, and he promised to scatter her ashes in this very field. The field, she played in as a child.

Where he first took a human bride in the heat of a passion so intense it was illogical not to surrender.

He looked along the horizon; a rainbow, with its vibrate colors stood against a mixture of blue and grey. Rays of sun danced through the clouds casting a celestial glow upon the Earth. "Were I human, I could believe that is your smile, smiling down upon me, the sparkle in your eyes, gazing upon me in your `loving' manner."

He stood and set out to finish his task, time for the bittersweet memories to be productive. Ever so gently he removed the top to the crystalline urn her ashes had been placed. Slowly, he sifted some of the fine grains into his palm. "For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul." Softly, he whispered a quote that fit quite well for what he always left unspoken. With a deliberate action he dragged his open hand in a scooping pattern across the horizon, watching the ashes fall to the ground, drowning the wildflowers in thin smoky blanket.

This was a final testament of what his wife truly meant to him.

Alone and wet, Sarek of Vulcan, mourned his wife. With her ashes scattered, he returned to the aircar and retrieved a shovel and small seedling. The tiny oak tree would some day provide shade and would serve as a silent marker of his wife's being.

End