N'awlins Style

N’awlins Style
by Sunsinger



May 19, 2279


Leonard McCoy stared at the 5”x7” inch picture. A young man in a Starfleet uniform stared out at him. The markings indicated that he was a doctor on board the Minckle. The young man had his arm around an older man in a tuxedo. Frowning, he turned it over and read the back. ‘David Alain McCoy and his father, Alain Keith. June 22, 2219.’

Spock looked over his mate’s shoulder and read the note. “That date will be coming up soon. Is it significant?”

“Father’s Day. We humans have a day to celebrate each parent above and beyond the manner we celebrate them usually. Mother’s day has already passed. Normally, I would call or send father a gift but...” Leonard shrugged. “I remember when I was young; my father would take me to his father’s grave on father’s day. We would spend the day, tidying the grounds and he would tell me stories about our family.”

“A wonderful custom. A gift?” Spock raised one eyebrow interrogatively.

“Yes, flower for his grave or a bottle of his favorite liquor. It doesn’t have to be useful, just something to show respect for the man who raised me. Just one problem this year.” Leonard waved towards the porthole. Outside was a planet that was definitely not earth. And if McCoy couldn’t solve this plague by the time the medical vessel reached them, they’d be quarantined for three months.

“I see... perhaps something can be done in any case.” Spock said. He stepped closer and wrapped on arm around his lover’s waist. “Let me see.”

“I doubt it. First time in a while, I’ll do nothing for Father’s day. No big thing. Right now I need rest. Coming to bed?”

“In a moment, my Leonard. In a moment.”


* * *



May 25, 2279


Joanna read over the letter and nodded. This she could do. It was a good idea, though she had to admit most of Spock’s were.

Picking up the family phone book, she looked at the family tree and decided to call the youngest first... This would be a good thing.


* * *


Claude nodded. He could do it. He had all the equipment needed. In fact, if he needed to, he could borrow some more gear. He pulled down the floating lights and the controllers. Most of it would be done during the day, but who knew how long it would last?

Setting aside enough holorecorders for five days worth of footage. He called his assistant to cover for him during those three days. Next he reached for the family phone list and called his brother, Arthur.

“Hey, Arthur, the family needs you to clear your calendar for a couple of days...”


* * *


June tickled her daughter and picked her up. “Baby girl, do you know how this is?”

Agatha shook her head and reached out to touch it.

June nodded. “This is a Len’s father. He died a long time ago and Len still misses him. Just like you miss your other Mama... so we’re going to do something special for Len, ok?”

Agatha smiled and hugged her mother.

“Good... now, our job is to collect a bunch of flowers. Ready?”

Agatha laughed and wiggled down, running as fast as her six year old legs could carry her, she headed to the greenhouse.


* * *


June 2, 2279


Spock read over the reply from Joanna and his lips twitched. Satisfied, he stood up and prepared the bed for later.


* * *


Leonard stumbled into the room and stpped as a firm chest got in his way. Warm arm wrapped around him and held him close.

“You do know better than to work yourself into a state of exhaustion, Doctor.” Spock stared down at his lover.

“Shut up, pointed eared elf!” McCoy hugged him and just relaxed.

“I take it that the patients have gotten worse.”

“Nope. Jakers is better, though H’glka is worse.” Len rubbed his face on Spock’s chest, just taking in the smell of him.

“I see... very well.” Spock moved back slowly, knowing McCoy would follow. He led him to the bedroom, pulling his lover off him; he turned him to face the bed. The sheets were a dark blue to complement his eyes. Over them was a dark kelly green coverlet. On the night table, rested a bottle of massage oil.

McCoy turned back around, “Thanks.”

“But of course.”


* * *


July 18th, 2279


Leonard sank down into his chair and rubbed his temples. Thankfully, this plague was over with. Yawning, he queued up his mail. He frowned as he cycled down the list. Near the bottom was something interesting a short mail from Joanna, connected to several large files. Curious, he opened it.



          Happy Father’s day. When we realized you weren’t going to be able to come home, we came up with another solution. I think you will like it.



* * *


A shot slowly faded in, a headstone lay flush against the grass. A gray granite stone with a marble plate installed into it. Cut into the marble were several words.

David Alain McCoy

Of all his titles, his favorite was ‘Father’.


The camera’s focus pulled back to show Joanna seated next to the headstone, she was holding a lily. She smiled. “Happy father’s day. When Spock wrote home that you couldn’t be here, we thought that maybe it would be nice to do more than just put a bottle on grandfather’s grave. There’s a quaint New Orleans custom where the living family goes out and takes care of the dead family’s gravesites. They picnic and spend the day sharing memories. Since you couldn’t be here, we wanted to share it with you. We miss you. All of us.”

The camera pulled back to show the entire clan, each holding a lily.

Len downloaded the files to his PADD and headed for their quarters. Once in, he sat down and waited. He knew Spock would want to see their family too.

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