Title: Lully Lullay
Fandom: ST XI
Characters: Spock, Kirk
Warnings: Mild angst.
Notes: Anonymouse asked for Spock singing a lullaby to Jim. The song in this piece is a variant on the Corpus Christi Carol, which is my lullaby of choice, in most situations.
From this prompt:
Spock sings Jim a lullaby. Can be established relationship, pre-slash, friendship, deaged Jim, etc.
im lay strangely still. It was, of course, as the doctor had said — he needed to be kept on his side, until the drug wore off, at which time he’d likely be just as well as he’d been, before, but all the same, Spock was somewhat unnerved by the pale and unmoving form of his captain, head and shoulders in his lap.
He’d tried to meditate, just to take his mind off things, but though he’d never admit it, Jim’s breath against his leg was distracting. He’d done his work. Then, after twenty minutes, he was restless again, so he’d filed all those reports Jim had been lazy about, this month. It was wholly Vulcan to be concerned for one’s family, but it was entirely human to worry, as he did, now.
One hand toyed idly with Jim’s hair. He remembered how his mother used to sing quiet songs to him, sometimes, when she would come sit by his bed, late at night. Nyota had done something similar, when he’d had the Betalian flu, last year, and he began to wonder if it wasn’t some human way of coping with this sort of worry.
"Lully lullay, lully lullay / the falcon hath borne my make away," he sang, softly, the words starting deep in his chest. "He bore him up, he bore him down / he bore him to an orchard brown."
As he repeated the refrain, hand still unthinkingly tracing the line of Jim’s cheek and shoulder, he felt the worry begin to spin out of him, carried on the words of the sixteenth-century Terran song.
"And in that orchard was a hall / and it was hanged in purple and pall / Lully lullay, lully lullay / the falcon hath borne my make away."
Spock could feel Jim’s heartbeat, steady and strong, in his neck, but the worry remained. Would he wake? If he did, would he be the man they remembered?
"And in that hall there was a bed / And it was hanged in gold so red / Lully lullay, lully lullay / the falcon hath borne my make away."
He wondered about the human tendency to surround the comatose and the deceased with aesthetically pleasing things. Was it to draw attention from the visible lack of activity in the subject? Was it to comfort the subject, when they woke? That couldn’t be right, since he’d heard the adjective ‘funeral’ used to mean ‘uncomfortably sombre’. Either way, it didn’t apply, here. They were in Jim’s quarters, with a portable monitor that would notify the doctor if anything was amiss.
"And in that bed, there lay a knight / whose wounds did bleed through day and night / Lully lullay, lully lullay / the falcon hath borne my make away."
That was something for which Spock could be somewhat grateful: the captain was not bleeding, for a change. He was concerned, though that the injury to Jim’s mind might be more severe than blood loss might have been. The doctor had seemed pale and unnerved, but that usually happened when Jim came in, unconscious. It was difficult to judge how bad this really was.
"And at the bedside lay a hound / that licked the blood as it ran down / Lully lullay, lully lullay / the falcon hath borne my make away."
Again, there was no blood, but Spock had stayed at Jim’s side through all of it, stubbornly and, according to Dr. McCoy, obnoxiously loyal. He could only hope that his faith and determination gave the doctor some peace. It would not be an easy night for either of them.
"And at the bedside standeth a stone —"
Jim’s voice stopped him, a dizzy slur. "Spock, ‘m right here." There was a long pause. "Are you singing?"
"Yes, Jim. Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you." The last line was proof again that, despite all rumours to the contrary, Vulcans could, indeed, lie. He was not sorry at all. In fact, if he were fully human, Spock might have wept with joy, but no self-respecting Vulcan would waste water in such a fashion.
"Go back to sleep, ashayam. I’ll be here when you wake," Spock whispered, but Jim had already faded out, again. The doctor was right. Everything would return to normal in just a few more hours.