Purgatories of Our Own Making

K/S Fanfiction
Title:	Purgatories of Our Own Making
Author(s):	Beth Scott
Date(s):	1994
Length:
Genre:	slash
Fandom:	Star Trek: The Original Series
External Links:
Click here for related articles on Fanlore.

Purgatories of Our Own Making is a K/S story by Beth Scott.

It was published in the print zine Way of the Warrior #7.

Summary

"Two years after Kirkʼs death, Spock begins to hear something outside the retreat he has created for himself."

Reactions and Reviews

Spock is alone on Vulcan in a desert retreat. There's an excellent beginning as he thinks he hears and sees something, someone, outside in the desert sandstorm. Some very moody, poetic writing including an insightful touch as Spock looks at the fireshrine with its "bloody glow" and "When had he begun to think of red as the color of blood?"

Spock's thoughts on having moved the heavy bed against the windows as a terrible mental lapse, bordering on shameful, were beautifully expressed. Moving the bed was such a small thing, yet spoke volumnes for his character and circumstances.

So well-written, yet ultimately unsatisfying because of its too short length and hopeless ending.

This was well written, except for one thing. One is left with the clear impression that Spock did not commit suicide because of the effect this would have on Kirk, The surprise ending, then, left me wondering if I had missed something. His reason to live needs to be a little more ambiguous to make the ending believable.

Oh god, how can I like this story? Kirk is dead.... Spock is alone in his desert dwelling on Vulcan, tormented. Beautiful, soulful writing. Spock's painful thoughts, contemplating his life alone.... His Jim is dead, and he never told him he loved him.... The end. What a deep, sad piece. I had to read it again to be sure I wasn't missing something, that maybe Kirk wasn't really dead. At another time I would have just "enjoyed" the beautiful pain of this story, but right now it's too sensitive an issue.

Just a haunting piece—my favorite type of angsty, rending-the-heartstrings tale. You'll need a tissue by the time you find out what has happened.

The story hesitates to tell us what happened—it veers and weaves away from the central truth—just the way the main character can't face his loss.

Yes, there's a loss but it's a beautiful read.