DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are
the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2022 by Djinn. This
story is Rated R.
It's in the Spaces Between That We Fall in
Love
by Djinn
Part 11: How We Said Goodbye
Spock stares at the emergency
alert going across the monitors in the departure lounge.
Jim is dead.
He can feel the moment
Christine realizes it too, the sadness buffeting him as she opens up and
shares. Then his communicator pings.
"Where are you?"
she asks.
"Starbase four." He
keeps waiting for the ticker to change announcements. Say it is all a mistake.
But it does not.
"There's no body, Spock.
He disappeared before into that dimensional rift, but we got him back. Couldn't
it be like that?"
"Perhaps. Yes." He
feels hope surging through him. "Yes, I must go look for him."
"Jan commed me. Said Excelsior
was being sent. They'll be close—if you contact Sulu...?"
Not for the first time he is
gratified she spent so much time working emergencies. Even without her normal
access, she is ready with solutions. "Yes, I will contact him."
And a short time later he is
beamed aboard Sulu's ship, heading out at best speed toward the Enterprise-B.
Harriman seems useless and Spock wonders why Jim changed his mind and attended
the launch.
He cannot stand Harriman. And
Spock feels the same at this moment—Harriman has lost valuable time by
accepting that Jim is dead instead of merely lost and in need of rescue.
Harriman lacks experience. He
should not be in command.
But as he scans with Sulu's science
officer for any anomaly, he has to admit that there is nothing in the immediate
area that could be harboring Jim.
They follow the energy ribbon
but scans reveal nothing with a life sign.
Sulu walks over, his
expression saying what he seems incapable of verbalizing. The search is over.
Jim is truly gone.
"I'm sorry, Spock."
He sighs. "Where do you want us to drop you?"
"The middle of the
vacuum." He says it so softly that only Sulu can hear, and is not jesting
and he can tell the other man understands. "Wherever is convenient,
Captain."
"How about Vulcan?
Christine commed to let me know she is there."
He nods. "She is a great
comfort in times like these. I will be in my quarters until we arrive."
Quarters he has barely used other than to shower. He is exhausted but he cannot
risk lying down and letting his control slip. Instead he meditates until Sulu
comms him to let him know they are within transporter range.
She is waiting for him when
he materializes on Vulcan. She does not rush to him, does not hug him, lets him
walk to her, but from the moment their eyes meet, she is enveloping him with
her love through the bond. Not shielding in any way as her own grief over Jim
competes with her concern for him.
"Let's go home."
She turns and leads him to the family flitter—someone he does not recognize is
driving it. Probably a cousin newly in from one of the far provinces. His
father is always bringing in relatives to ensure family solidarity. "This
is Somla. Son of T'Kera."
A cousin he barely knows but
he greets the young man as genuinely as he can.
"I grieve with thee,
cousin," Somla says and is silent the rest of the trip.
Christine reaches down to
touch his hand but he shakes his head. He thinks he will break in this flitter,
in front of this new addition to the family unit, if she does that and she
pulls her hand away with a gentle nod.
Understanding flows to him.
She knows he is not rejecting her, merely trying to maintain control.
His parents are waiting in the
main room, his mother's look full of sympathy, her murmured, "Oh, my
darling, I'm so very sorry," almost undoing him.
Sarek shares a look with him.
"He was a man of outstanding character. The Federation has lost a
hero."
He is not sure his father believes
that, but it is exceedingly kind of him to say it.
"Are you hungry?"
his mother asks gently.
"Yes," Christine
says for him, "but he's exhausted. He needs sleep."
He is so exhausted he is
pulling her into sleep with him: the more support she send him, the more energy
he is siphoning from her. "We both will need sleep."
"Understood. We are in
no hurry to return to Earth." His father shares a look with Christine.
"If you need anything, you have only to ask."
Why is his father not asking
him, but then he realizes his eyes are drooping and Christine is nearly holding
him up.
"A little help,
Father," she says as Spock loses consciousness.
The concern running through
his father's hand to his is the last thing he feels before blackness claims
him.
He wakes in his bed but he is
unsure when—Christine has turned the chrono so she can see it and he does not
want to try to move it and risk waking her as she lies curled against him, her
breath that of deep sleep.
He closes his eyes, falls
back to sleep, and is suddenly on the ship, Jim calling him to check on
something as he laughs with McCoy. Spock looks down at his terminal but it is
in a language that he cannot read.
He turns back to Jim, who is
consumed by fire, screaming.
Spock runs to him, trying to
put out the flames but his hands go right through him.
"Help me," Jim says
and then he is gone.
McCoy glares at him.
"You gave up so damn fast, Spock. That's what I don't understand."
"Spock! Spock, wake
up!"
He struggles to stay where he
is. "I can find him. I can still find him." He dives deeper than
sleep, into the beginnings of a healing coma—he will solve this. He will save
Jim.
But then there is the smack
of a palm across his face and his eyes snap open.
"I'm sorry, but I had to
do that." She pulls him up, shaking him just enough to keep him from
trying to return. "You can't save him."
"You do not know that. I
gave up too early. I must go back."
"No." She is
holding onto either side of his face, her palms on his cheek a death grip.
"No, there is nothing to find, Spock. Nothing. He's gone." And then
she begins to cry and the pain is so immediate that he feels tears running down
his cheeks too. "He's gone, Spock."
He holds her and manages to
push her pain away enough to stop crying, but his own pain floods in then to
take its place. He prefers her pain because it is grief unencumbered by guilt.
His is not so untainted.
"You did everything you
could," she whispers, as she rocks them both gently. "He's gone. And
neither of us can do anything about that."
Hopelessness fills him. He
knows Jim was going to die eventually. But he was still vital—he proved that by
saving the ship. He should have had years left.
"Not yet," he
whispers. "Not just yet."
"Some things are beyond
our control."
He does not want to believe
that and pushes her off him, and she does not fight him. Just looks at him the
same way she did in that corridor, after he smashed the panel, infinite
compassion and understanding in her face.
"It's going to be all
right, Spock. It's just going to take time."
"It will never be the
same."
She tenderly strokes his hair
and he does not pull away. "No. No it won't."
##
He is sitting at the kitchen
table in the apartment when the chime rings and then the door opens.
Only his mother gives notice
she is at the door but then comes in anyway, so he gets up to say hello but
sees immediately that something is wrong by the look on her face.
He sits heavily without
intending to, almost crashing onto the armchair as she sighs. "How
long?" he asks.
It is a given that this is
bad. She would not come to him this way, with Christine gone, with his father
gone, the way she used to when he was a boy and she had a human secret to share
with her half human son.
He does not want this secret.
Not after Jim's death. Not after Scotty's only a few weeks later. He does not
want this.
She walks toward him and hugs
him, pressing his face into her belly, gently mussing his hair the way she did
when he was young and looked too perfect. "Not long," she whispers as
if giving the truth more volume would make it unbearable. "I've been sick
for a while now, Spock. We've tried a number of treatments. One of them seemed
to be working—but not anymore. We're out of options."
"You must talk to
Christine. She has contacts at Stanford who will help you."
"My physician has
consulted with the best on this world and several others. What I have—well, I
picked it up ages ago on a world that I probably shouldn't have been on but
back then I couldn't bear to leave your father, not even for a dangerous
mission." She lets him go and sits next to him. "It's not painful,
the dying from this. I'll get sleepier and sleepier until one day I just won't
wake up."
"Father knows?"
"Of course he knows,
Spock. We're bonded—do you think I could keep this from him? He feels when I'm
flagging. He'll...he'll experience all of this. But at least there won't be
pain." She turns to him and he sees she is crying.
And he holds her and murmurs
the things she used to tell him when he was broken inside. That everything will
be all right.
Even though it most
definitely will not.
##
The memorial is packed. Spock
sits with Christine and Saavik and La'an. Manua sits on his lap, apparently
deciding he is the one most in need of her help.
Help that in this stage of
her development is minimal, but still he treasures that she is drawn to try to
comfort him. She is a sweet soul and he has never regretted letting La'an take
her, even if it was toeing the line across the Prime Directive.
The Prime Directive, in this
case, can go to hell.
He wraps his arms around her
and she cuddles into him, her head in the crook of his neck, murmuring words
that Saavik and La'an must use with her when she is upset. Saying them so
quietly, no one else around them will hear.
He reaches through the bond
for Christine and feels her pain, her sorrow. She loved his mother so much.
They were having so much fun with Manua. Her grief is true and powerful and she
tries to shield him but he lets her know it is all right by reaching for her
hand.
His father has a seat next to
him but is up and down, introducing speakers, talking for a brief moment about
his mother—his love coming through the Vulcan formality—and then, to Spock's
surprise, his father is providing time for others to get up and speak about his
mother. He does not expect many of them to. She followed his father, supporting
him.
But he is wrong. "I was
hurting and she was so kind." "I needed to get to my home planet for
a family emergency and she arranged for my shuttle to be prioritized at the
spaceport." "I was new to the Embassy, my first time on Earth, and
she helped me acclimate."
And the most common, "I
was afraid/lost/grieving/hurt and she took care of me."
He wishes Michael could be
here to talk about how his mother took her in, loved her as her own. But
Michael is gone and he has never felt her loss more deeply.
Christine gets up and walks
to the podium. She smiles gently at his father, then at him and the rest of
their family. "We are gutted at her loss. It will leave a hole in our
family I am not sure will ever be filled. She was the kindest woman I've ever
met and I will miss her beyond words. I know my children and my husband and my
father will miss her just as much." She takes a deep breath and he can
feel her fighting for control. "The best way to remember her—to honor
her—is to be like her. To be kind to others. To be generous with our time and
our attention. To love without reservation." She seems to want to go on
but her voice is giving out and her eyes are filling up. "I'll miss her
forever."
And then she is hurrying off
the podium and back to him, and Manua crawls over him to get to her, a low
singsong sound coming from her that Spock finds extraordinarily comforting.
And then the service is ended
with a final word from the chief of protocol of the embassy, directing them out
of the auditorium and to the gathering hall, where refreshments will be
provided.
Spock knows he should be
available but does not want to leave Christine.
"Saavik will stay with
her," La'an says as she rises and urges him out of his seat too.
"They'll come when they're ready."
He looks at Saavik and
realizes she is fighting for control. "Let go, if you need to, Saavikaam.
It is no shame to mourn."
Then he follows his other
daughter—and his friend—to the reception, to begin the final acts of officially
bidding his mother farewell.
##
The beach house isn't the
same without his mother. The life has gone out of the place for him but he
tries to find some pleasure in it as he walks the hard-packed sand with Manua,
looking for shells and sand dollars.
Christine walks out and joins
him, taking his hand and leaning her head on his shoulder as they walk.
"It's not the same."
"No, it is not." It
is not just his mother missing. He sees where Jim and Valeris surfed. Their
laughter in his memory a haunting reminder of what has been lost.
He remembers a reunion he
held here one year—at Jim and Christine's urging—for the crew. How Mister Scott
looked at Nyota, long before Sybok loosened their pain and fear and brought
them together.
"Is McCoy all right? He
was not at the service."
"He's off world right
now. Working with a physician's organization, helping in areas that need extra
medical hands." She sighs. "He'll be next, I bet. He's getting so
frail. When he told me he was off for parts dangerous and dirty, I was very
worried."
"He has always been
stronger than he appears." But silently he agrees with her. Leonard is the
most likely to be lost to them next. "I would like to put everyone I care
for in a padded room with a forcefield to keep danger out."
She leans up and kisses him.
"You and me both. Unfortunately..."
"Yes.
Unfortunately..."
##
Spock walks with Christine,
trailing behind his father as they tour the educational facility recently
constructed by the Lavarians.
It is state-of-the-art and
full of smiling children. Most of whom appear to be from the same ethnic
minority.
"They really want us to
believe they have no interest in subjugating the Khalee." She glances at
him. "Meanwhile they bomb their camps with drones. And the Khalee
reciprocate with suicide attacks. This was exactly the kind of place I hated to
be when I was in ops."
He can feel her unease
through the bond. "Hence our presence here to negotiate a true peace not
whatever this is. Although, these children look content."
"Looks can be
deceiving." She has the med kit she always carries and surreptitiously
scans the children they are passing. "I'm out of range. I'm just going to
wander closer."
He stays near her so her
activity will not stand out, and she says, "There, Jesus, happy-juice
city." She keeps scanning as they enter the main auditorium. Dignitaries
from all across the planet have gathered for this ceremony and Spock knows it
is to try to impress the Federation delegation.
If they did not have so much
dilithium and critical metals available, the Federation would not be interested
in talking.
There are children lining the
staircase and Christine walks over to several, scanning them and then crouches
to talk to them. He sees her load a hypospray and casually shoot it into the
arm of the child closest.
The girl's contented look
fades and she scans the room, a strange smile on her face.
"Hey, I just want to
talk to you." Christine touches her arm gently.
"You're going to
die," the child screams at her, then she dissolves into laughter that is
equal parts triumph and hysteria.
His father whirls, there is
general agitation from the dignitaries, and then the room erupts in noise and
fire.
Spock thinks it is missile
fire but then realizes from the way the floor is collapsing that it is more
likely explosives, buried under the—under the staircase.
He looks for Christine but
there is only rubble where she and the children were standing.
"Christine," he
yells but there is no answer.
He can feel her, though. She
is there—under there.
He pulls out his communicator
and calls the shuttle that is waiting outside, "Lock onto Commander
Chapel's biosigns and beam her to the shuttle."
"Aye, sir." Then a
moment later, "Sir, there is interference. I can't get a lock."
He scans the area as his
father joins him. "There is aranlan residue. Whoever made the bombs did
not want survivors beamed out." He meets his father's eyes. "They
must be dug out."
"She is alive?"
He nods. And then his
communicator goes off. "Spock, here."
"It's me." She
sounds calm. "I'm in some sort of air pocket. So beam me out please."
"We cannot. They used
aranlan."
There is a long silence, then
she softly says, "I hate fanatics. I really, really do."
"I will find you."
He scans and although the aranlan affects the accuracy of the tricorder
readings, it does not diminish it altogether.
She was near the top of the
stairway. As emergency crews rush into the room and start moving people out, he
slips by, heading for where she is.
He finds her, five to six
meters down—he cannot get more accurate than that. "I have you."
"It will take hours,
Spock, to dig me out. I don't have hours. The air pocket will be compromised in
forty minutes."
He meets his father's eyes.
"I will ensure you are
left alone to be with her, Spock." He takes the communicator from him,
holding it close as Spock sinks to the ground five to six meters above her.
Five to six meters—could he
not dig with his bare hands? He is about to try when he senses her saying Don't
through the bond.
"Christine, I must try.
I can do this."
"Things are shifting,
Spock. I don't want to be crushed." She sounds sincerely afraid—she feels
that way too. Is this her nightmare. "I've seen too many people die that
way. It's horrible."
"All right. I will not
move anything."
"Christine," his
father says. "Is there anything you want to say to Saavik? I have it set
to record."
"I love you, baby. I'm
sorry I won't get to see Manua grow up. La'an—take good care of Saavik, okay?
And Sarek—thank you. For saving me."
"I did not save you. I
was supposed to keep you safe."
"You did save me. This
time—well, if I hadn't been curious, I would have been safe with Spock."
She laughs and it's slightly hysterical. "See it really does kill
you."
"I will leave you, my
son." He hands the communicator back to him. When someone tries to get
past him, to move Spock, he says, "You will leave him in peace." He
sounds fiercer than Spock has ever heard him.
The man retreats.
Christine says brokenly,
"I'm sorry, Spock."
"Do not be. You have
given me life, Christine." He feels fear from her and sends all the
comfort he can to her through the bond. "I am here. I will be here with
you to the end."
"I'm so sorry, Spock. I
was supposed to die in bed. An old woman. Way too old for a hottie like
you." She laughs but it is a heartbreaking sound to him.
"It is in your nature to
try to help."
"And to interfere when I
should just mind my own damn business." She laughs again and this time the
sound is more normal.
"It would not be you if
you did not investigate anomalies. You are, to the end, a scientist.
"Yeah, I guess I am.
" The emotion changes from her. "You shouldn't be alone, Spock. If
you want to be with Nyota or anyone else, it's fine. I want you to be happy."
"Please, I do not wish
to speak of that now. Only of you—of us."
"But I don't want you to
be lonely."
"Christine, I will be
lonely to the end of my days without you. I wish no other."
"But be open to it at
least. You have a long life ahead of you. I won't mind if you want to share it
with someone else."
"Let us speak only of
our life, Christine."
"Okay," and she
feels defeated, as if she has failed in making him see reason. But he does not
want to entertain replacing her when she is his world and he still has her,
even if only for minutes.
Her words are harder to make
out. "I wouldn't do it differently. I know we made mistakes along the way.
But I love you so much. And I'm so proud to be your wife. To be the mother of
your daughters." She sobs and he feels the emotion through the bond too.
Her utter despair at leaving all of them. "Tell Valeris in person that I'm
gone. Don't make her hear it second hand, all right?"
"All right." But he
knows he will not keep this promise.
"I can feel that you're
lying." She is quiet for a moment but he can sense she is just trying to
calm herself.
"I will speak for a
while, so you do not use up your oxygen. I remember the first time I saw you,
Christine. That day in sickbay, when you were going to manipulate our genomes.
I was fascinated. I think—I think that was the moment I fell in love. Only I
did not realize it, of course."
"Because you're an
idiot."
"Yes, as you have told me
more than once. I, also, would not change a thing, Christine. With you, I have
known the kind of love I did not even know I craved until I had it."
He hears machinery being
started up, but knows it will not get to her in time—he can already feel her slipping
away.
She seems to be reading his
thoughts. "I just scanned. I was overly generous with my time estimate.
I'll be unconscious soon. It'll be gentle, at least. I'll just...slip
away."
It is the ultimate irony:
that this act of violence can end in a gentle death.
"Do you want us to tamp
down the bond so you won't have to feel this so much?" He can feel how
much she wants to protect him from further pain.
"No. I will not leave
you. Not even for a moment. We will take this last journey together."
Her relief is immediate.
"I love you, Spock."
"I love you,
Christine."
"Tell me more about us.
I want to fall asleep to the sound of your voice."
So he does, he tells her
every happy moment he can remember, tells her how proud he is to be her
husband, how beautiful and kind she is, how deeply intelligent.
And as he does, he feels her
slipping away from him. "Christine," he says, and he can no longer
see because tears are falling down his face, and he does not care who sees him
silently crying.
He reaches out for her, the
small spark, caressing it with his mind, sending I will love you until the
day I die to her.
And then she is gone.
He makes a sound, part moan,
part whine of protest. His father hurries to him, not touching him but
shielding him as he mourns, as he touches the floor and whispers her name over
and over.
But there is no one there.
She is gone.
##
The days that follow pass in
a blur. His father takes over, taking possession of Christine's body once the
emergency crews extract it, getting them off the planet and back to Vulcan.
Spock protests that she did
not wish to be interred and Saavik, who has come to Vulcan with La'an and Manua,
says she knows. That there is a place called Hurricane Ridge where they used to
run, that Christine said she wanted her ashes scattered there.
"But she can be cremated
here, Spock. It is fitting." She touches his sleeve, careful not to touch
him skin to skin, and he thinks she does not want to inflict her own grief on
him during this time.
He puts his hand over hers
and lets them share the overwhelming sorrow they both feel. She begins to cry
and says, "I heard the recording. It meant everything that she wanted to
leave me with her love."
"I will take care
of Saavik," La'an says, at his other side without him hearing her
approach. "And you. Which is what she didn't say but no doubt meant.
You're family, Spock. You always have a place with us."
Manua slips between them and
he picks her up. As always, he cannot read her and it is a blessing—to just be
close to someone, to feel the warmth of this sweet child, and have no idea if
she is sad or not. If she understands that her grandmother is gone or not.
"There should be a
service," he mumbles, suddenly so tired he can barely stand. "I
should plan it but I..."
"I can help you with
that, my son," his father says. "We all can."
Spock realizes his father
might relish doing it, working off his own lingering sorrow over his mother and
this fresh guilt that Christine died on his mission. It is time for grace so
Spock lets him do it.
It is what Christine would
want. She loved him too.
Once they are back on Earth,
after he accompanies Saavik to scatter the ashes, he goes through the pictures
he has kept all these years and picks his favorites of her for the service.
"I've never seen
those," La'an says from the doorway. "Are they too private to
share?"
"No. Please join
me."
She climbs onto the bed and
sits crosslegged next to him. "I remember this one." She pulls out
one of a party Erica threw for—he can't remember the reason. "I mean I
remember the party—I don't remember you two being quite so...close."
"I was in love with her
before I realized it. Craving her company. Feeling...whole."
La'an leans against him
gently. "I know. It's why I gave up on her. She was just as gone on
you."
She picks up one of Saavik as
a child, running with Christine. The two both red in the face since they were
racing for a finish that ended up a tie. "This is adorable."
"Would you like copies?
For you and Saavik and Manua?" He meets her eyes. "Would it be wrong
to keep her grandmother alive that way for her? With pictures?"
"No, it wouldn't be
wrong. It would be nice." She rubs his shoulder gently. "Your
instincts to honor her are good ones, Spock. Don't second guess yourself."
"She would have said
that."
"I know. Where do you
think I learned it?"
##
He gets calls from former
crewmates and ignores them. He knows he should answer but he just cannot. It is
all he can do to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, without her by
his side.
But he sends the information
about the memorial to people he knows will make sure it gets distributed:
Nyota, Leonard, Rand, Erica.
He wishes he could send a
message to Talos IV, let Chris know. It is because of him that he even met
Christine.
The memorial is packed. He
elects not to say anything, knowing it would be insufficient or misunderstood
as cold. But if he were to get up to speak, he would say simply, "She was
everything to me."
Would anyone understand how true
that was? How little interest he has in his life now other than the pictures
and the few people he considers family?
His father sits him down
after the ceremony and reception, once the others are asleep. "What will
you do now, my son?"
He shrugs and thinks it is
not a gesture his father will appreciate, but he ignores it.
"I suggest asking for
difficult negotiations. Throw yourself into the mission. The pain will not go
away but you may be able to ignore it somewhat if you have challenging
situations to finesse."
He nods. This sounds wise.
Starfleet has offered him several excellent positions at command but he finds
the thought of them exhausting without Christine to come home to. "You
speak from experience?"
"I do."
Full time diplomacy will
require only limited interpersonal interactions with his peers and he will have
just a small team to manage. His role will be to get others to talk to each
other, not to have to carry the conversation himself. "Yes. But Starfleet
wants—"
"I do not care what Starfleet
wants, Spock. If you wish to pursue diplomacy, I will make sure you are allowed
to."
"Thank you,
Father."
Sarek nods and then looks
down. "I feel guilty, Spock. I know it is illogical, but she died on my
watch. After I took her out of what was supposed to be a more dangerous
situation."
"She died on her own
watch, Father. And I do believe you saved her when you got her out of ops. We
would have lost her well before now."
"You truly believe
that?"
"I do."
Sarek looks visibly relieved.
"I did not want you to blame me for her death."
"I will never. I may
blame myself however. If I was closer to her when it happened..." He would
have saved her or he would have died with her. Either would have been
preferable to this. He looks down. "I am so tired."
"Sleep, my son."
He nods and goes to his
bedroom, preparing slowly for sleep, thinking as hard as he can about
Christine. Hoping for a dream, even if it is a nightmare.
He just wants to see her
again. Loving or angry, forgiving or blaming him. He does not care. Just one
more look, one more conversation.
His sleep is dreamless.
##
His father is right,
diplomacy is the thing to help him focus—to quiet the pain until he is alone
again.
His bed never seems as
welcoming now, even if that is illogical since they were separated much of the
time with him on the ship. But still...that is how he feels.
He focuses on the mission at
hand, pouring all of himself into preparing, into running the scenarios
Christine used to do for him, trying to imagine any outcome and how he will
react.
Days turn into weeks turn
into months. Soon half a year has gone by and he is—if not thriving—surviving.
He walks into the embassy,
another mission handled successfully and sees a woman with white blonde hair
walking into his father's office.
For a moment, he cannot move,
cannot even breathe.
Then she comes back out and
he sees it is not Christine. Of course it is not Christine.
She sees him and smiles,
standing at the door to the office that used to be Christine's. Unsure why she
is there, Spock moves closer.
"Your father said I'd
meet you today." Her voice is nothing like Christine's. And she is much
younger—sixteen perhaps? "I'm Perrin Landover. I won a competition for
high schoolers, the prize was interning here, with the ambassador."
"What kind of
competition?"
"An essay, on the value of
peace, the cost of war, and the challenges of diplomacy."
"A broad topic."
"Indeed. The challenge
was condensing it all into a cogent piece."
"But you did it."
"I was determined to
win. Your father is a hero of mine."
"Ah, Spock, you have met
the newest addition to our team." Sarek meets his eyes, his expression
gentle.
"And the youngest."
"It is the young who
inherit the future. She will keep us honest. I will let you read her essay—you
will understand why she is here." He gestures for Spock to come into his
office and close the door. "I wish to speak to you of other things.
Dangerous things."
Spock nearly frowns.
"The Romulan you met
during Khitomer. The one who keeps showing up where you happen to be."
"Pardek?" He has
shown up exactly three places Spock has been over the time since the Khitomer
Conference. For a fellow diplomat, that is hardly unusual.
And the man has intriguing
ideas—about unification between Vulcans and Romulans. Ideas Spock finds he
supports. "What of him?"
"Has it occurred to you
he may be Tal Shiar?"
"I assume any Romulan
outside Romulan-controlled space may be Tal Shiar."
"Then you must be careful
how you deal with him. Discrediting you—trying to show you as a Romulan
mole—may be his goal."
"Or he may be interested
in more positive things, more...unified things."
"You cannot be serious.
They left Vulcan for a reason. They stay away for the same reason. They are not
Vulcans."
"No, and we are not
Romulans, but we started out as one people. Terrans came together ultimately,
why not us."
"Terrans stayed on the
same planet and did not diverge genetically as much as we have from the
Romulans. Spock, I understand a cause such as this must be attractive after
losing Christine, but please take care."
"I will take the care I
normally take as a Starfleet officer. I am not going to be duped by the Tal
Shiar, Father, the way I once duped them."
"Do you think they have
forgotten that insult, Spock? How do you know this Pardek is not a relation to
the commander you humiliated?"
"I do not. Perhaps time
will tell." He wants to get out of this office, start prepping his next
mission. "Was there anything else?"
"I know Perrin looks
like Christine did when she was younger."
"From the back, at any
rate. Her face is quite different."
"There were no visual
images of the entrants. Seeing her—I was thrown initially. I imagine you might
have been as well. I regret that."
"It is nothing."
Besides, the girl will be gone eventually. Internships last only so long.
##
Spock is wandering around the
kitchen in the apartment, trying to decide if he wants to cook or just order
something, when the chime rings. "Come," he says moving to see who is
at the door.
La'an comes in, holding Manua
with one hand and a bag from his favorite Chinese restaurant in the other.
"Saavik is at some science seminar. We were hungry for Chinese and figured
you might be too."
Before he can agree, she is
moving past him into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter.
Manua hugs him tightly.
"Grandfather."
As ever, he cannot resist her,
and picks her up—she is growing so much, too heavy at this point for La'an to
pick up. He is satisfied to see her thriving so. "Hello, little one."
The food smells wonderful and
he realizes he was hungrier than he thought.
La'an pours herself and Manua
glasses of water and nods toward the table. "So sit."
The food is as good as he
remembers and he eats more than he intended to. As he helps La'an clean up
after they set Manua up in the living room with her toys, he says, "Thank
you."
"You may not want to
thank me once we're done here. But I made a promise so..." She hands him
an old-fashioned envelope with Christine's handwriting. "It's been over a
year since she died."
He nearly frowns.
"Read it. I promised her
I would watch you read it. But you don't have to read it out loud." She
turns a little, he thinks to give him some kind of privacy.
Spock, I don't know how I
died but obviously I did. And if you're reading this now, it's because you're
alone. I don't want that for you. It also means Nyota is alone too. She loves
you—she's always loved you, Spock. Give it a try. Love again. I'm so sorry I
left you. I love you enough to want you to be happy with someone else. -
Christine.
He looks at La'an.
"Nyota is not alone. She is seeing someone. He was with her at the reunion
McCoy held last month."
"The one I had to drag
you to? Yeah, but they're on and off. So in my book she qualifies. And anyway,
I had to make sure she was free-ish before I gave this to you by, you know,
asking her."
"Did Christine have an
alternative if Nyota had been otherwise engaged?"
She shakes her head.
He puts the envelope down.
"I understand you promised to do this. But you must understand that I did not,
ever, promise I would seek another partner."
"I know. And I get it. I
waited for Saavik even though there wasn't much hope—and I had Jim after me,
which I have to admit was hard to say no to. I get not wanting to move on. But
what can it hurt? Nyota is a wonderful person. The worst you get out of it is a
lovely dinner."
He is about to protest but
she says, "It's what Christine wanted, Spock."
He nods, capitulating despite
himself. He feels little excitement at the idea but if this is what she wanted
for him, he will honor her wishes—at least as far as one dinner. He promises
nothing more.
"You are in favor of
this, clearly, but what will Saavik say?"
"Oh, she'll be pissed as
hell—at first. But she'll get over it. I will help her get over it." She looks
fierce. "Christine was right, Spock. You shouldn't be alone. There has to
be more to life than just mission after mission."
"I have goals—dreams
even—I am pursuing." Pardek has reached out and Spock has responded—with
appropriate caution. But he is not worried: no Tal Shiar would speak of
unification with the reverence Pardek does. "They just do not happen to
involve romance."
She crosses her arms over her
chest. "I've seen reports of some of the people you meet with in your free
time. Be careful, Spock. Not everyone in Security thinks you're a hero. Some
think you might have been part of the conspiracy."
"I know. I am bemused by
this attitude."
"You were the only one
in Valeris's mind. It was deemed too dangerous for any other Vulcans to go back
in given the damage a second meld of that nature might do."
"Damage that resolved
quickly." T'Pring has told him this: Valeris's headaches disappeared
quickly and any cognitive decline was temporary. Do they think T'Pring is
lying, that she is also part of the conspiracy? The suspicion is exhausting and
he has learned to ignore it. He knows he is occasionally followed and does not
care.
What could Starfleet security
possibly do to him that would be worse than losing Christine?
La'an seems to realize she is
getting nowhere. "Okay, so let's go play with your granddaughter. I've
given you Christine's message and now it's up to you."
"I do not play."
And yet he finds himself on the floor with Manua, lost for the moment in her
simple world. Every so often she takes his hand and smiles at him in the most
loving way possible as she tells him about the game she has made up. "Her
empathy has not diminished." There was fear that it might if she was not
among her own people.
"Yep. Too bad she can't
make whatever's wrong better."
But Spock thinks she does,
just by being there with her lovely eyes, sweet smile, and whimsical rules for
games he barely understands.
##
The restaurant is packed but
the tables are arranged so conversation can be easily heard at normal speaking
levels. Nyota looks lovely but uncomfortable.
"That wacky Christine
and her ideas, huh?" she said when he picked her up in a flitter.
"Indeed." He found
himself unsure what to say to this woman he has served so many years with.
Just as he is now.
"Would you be here now
if she hadn't told you to be?" she finally asks, reminding him of how
blunt she was when he first met her—how she learned to temper that tendency
over time, as she grew into her role and rank.
"I am not sure. Perhaps
I—"
"No, bullshit, Spock.
Would you have asked me out of your own accord?"
He looks down.
"No." He allows himself to sigh. "Would you have wanted me
to?"
"I've wanted you to ask
me to dinner since I met you. But unfortunately she was all you could
see." She sees the waiter coming and leans in. "Do you even want to
be here? I'll tell him we've been called in if you want to flee."
"No. I am hungry. And
she wanted us to do this."
"Yeah, that's not so
comforting on my end. That this is all for Christine, not for me. But I get
it." She smiles up as the waiter arrives at their table. "I'll have
the ribeye, medium well, and a side salad, lots of blue cheese."
He orders something off the vegetarian
side, barely paying attention.
Once the waiter leaves, she
takes a long sip of her wine and then says, "Maybe if we'd had a chance to
get to know each other before you met her. Maybe then we would have worked.
Were you at all interested in me?"
"I was not. I did,
however, find you attractive and engaging."
"So if she hadn't been
in the picture...?"
"I was still engaged at
the time."
"Oh, yeah. Her. The
captain killer." By her tone he can tell Christine did not share all the
things T'Pring did for them after his death. Does she even know about the baby?
Christine loved Nyota but she
did not share confidences with her the way she used to, on that first voyage.
"So imagine a world
where there is no fiancée and no Christine to hook you before I even get a
chance? Would I have had a shot?"
He senses she needs to hear
she would. He thinks back to the cadet he first met. "You were far younger
in the service than I was. Perhaps if we had met when we were closer in
experience."
"Yeah. That's what I
think too." She smiles gently. "Although I used to flirt. God, I used
to flirt." She laughs softly.
"Also with Jim."
"It's possible to have
two impossible crushes, you know." She takes a deep breath. "So if
I'm reading the room right, we're going to take a big old pass on romance,
right?"
He nods.
"There's a certain
fellow I've been seeing who's going to benefit from that. I may have been
holding him at arm's length waiting to see if there was any future for you and
me."
"And he stayed
anyway?"
She shrugs. "He loves
me."
"Do you feel the
same?"
"There are all kinds of
love, Spock. I think I'd have rather explored romance with you than him. But
it's not like I don't enjoy spending time with him. Stringing along someone you
really don't care about just so you aren't alone is a horrible thing to
do." Her smile is gentle. "Don't you get lonely?"
"I miss her very
much."
"That's not exactly what
I asked. But I think it's the only answer that matters. That you interpret the
question to lead you back to her instead of forward to someone else."
"Logical."
"May I ask you something
deeply personal and none of my business?" When he nods, she says very
softly, "If Jim were still here—would you be with him?"
"Jim and I were never
lovers, Nyota."
"But you loved each
other."
"They are not the same
thing. As you well know. He was the brother I wished I had. The friend who
taught me most how to prosper in the world past Vulcan—along with Chris Pike,
of course."
"He died," she says
so softly he almost misses it.
"Pike?"
She nods. "Don't ask me
how I know. I have weird access in this new job. His body was buried on Talos
IV."
"The Talosians could
have kept him alive indefinitely."
"The report said he was tired
and asked for release." She takes a deep breath. "I liked him so
much. He taught me so much."
"Indeed. He was one of
the finest men I have ever known." He meets her eyes. "There was a
woman on Talos IV with him."
"Vina. She asked to die
too. They were buried together. He sent a note to Commander Chin-Reilly. He
never knew she died, I guess." She swallows visibly. "So much
tragedy."
"Indeed. Too much."
He feels more alone than ever—the idea that Chris was out there, living his
illusory life, always comforted him. "Have I hurt our friendship, Nyota,
by my...rejection of Christine's plan for us?"
"No. I don't think being
a couple was ever in the cards. But in some alternate universe—maybe even that
crazy one where you have a beard and the uniforms are much more scanty—I choose
to believe we're together."
"I am sure that Spock is
very happy."
She smiles, probably because
he has chosen such a human word. "I'm sure that Uhura is too."
##
Spock walks with T'Pring down
the corridors of Ankeshtan K'til. "It has been years," she says,
"since I have been in this section."
She is no longer an
administrator, has become a council member, in charge from afar of this
facility and other, less drastic rehabilitations.
"I did as you asked,
Spock. I did not tell her that Christine died. But I cannot verify that someone
on the staff might not have told her. There is...resentment that she was part
of this."
He nods. He should have done
as Christine asked. Should have come here immediately after her death to let
her daughter know she was gone.
Their daughter. Since the conspiracy, he barely thinks of
her as his niece, much less his daughter.
He took such pride in her
accomplishments but always felt the prickling of fear over her character. And
he was right. Could he have stepped in—were he and Christine "absent
parents" as Cartwright had said?
Cartwright is still alive.
Spock sometimes wonders if Christine put something else in the pill she gave
him. Something that would ensure he stayed healthy enough to suffer a long,
long time.
He finds he would not be
averse to that. Would Christine have been looking for conspiracy the day she died
if it had not loomed so large in her mind? If her mentor had not proven to be a
traitor?
Would she be alive now? Would
he be holding her?
Useless avenues to go down.
"Are you all
right?" T'Pring asks softly, no judgment in her voice.
"I do not think
so."
"She has left a hole in
your life."
He knows she is not referring
to Valeris. "She has. And...and she thought I should not be alone. Left a
letter encouraging me to pursue a mutual friend."
"Will you do it?"
"No. The mutual friend
was also encouraged to pursue me, but she wants to come first, to be
everything."
"With the exception of
your mother, second wives rarely are everything." She stops him. "If
Stonn were to die, I would not seek to replace him in my life. Not unless you
were interested."
"Truly? After all I have
done to you?"
"Some feelings do not
abate, no matter how much we beat them away with logic and meditation."
She half smiles. "Fortunately for me, Stonn is in excellent health and in
a field that has little inherent danger. Because I do not think you would want
me."
He considers that. "I
believe we make better friends than we did romantic partners."
"You are no doubt
right." She walks on, turning, then turning again, until they hit a row of
rooms that are guarded by two burly men and have forcefields instead of doors.
"Her father is to blame for the introduction of more stringent security
measures. I do not agree with the forcefields—they create too much of a sense
of punishment when we are supposed to be here to rehabilitate."
"It is hard to
rehabilitate a patient if they have escaped."
"Ultimately the winning
argument." Her tone is wry.
"And how does Valeris
fare in the rehabilitation effort?"
"She is resistant."
He nods and walks alone to the
cell T'Pring points him to.
Valeris does not even look
up. This is no doubt the only power she can claim for herself in this place.
Who she will acknowledge and who she will not.
"Hello." His voice
comes out more ragged than he means it to. Will she look at him? After what he
did to her? The violent way he tore through her mind—the anger that accompanied
the action.
She looks up immediately and
her expression changes. "I have heard about Christine. One of the guards
seems to hate me. Perhaps T'Pring should have her checked out as far as logic
goes. I am sorry for your loss."
"It is your loss,
too."
"Is that so? Because it
is over a year later that you deign to visit, to tell me in person. I think
this is not my loss—not as far as you are concerned. But I imagine that you
told Saavik immediately." She walks to the force field. "I loved
Christine. You owed me more than this." She practically spits the words at
him. "Send me to Rura Penthe. I do not thrive here and never will."
"It is not my
choice." He looks around for a stool or chair, something to indicate that
he will stay longer than a brief visit, but there are none. Do these prisoners
receive no visitors who wish to tarry? "Christine told me to tell you in
person, right away, not now, a year later. But I did not."
Her face changes.
"Even in death, she was
looking out for you." He takes a deep breath. "If it makes it better
for you, I feel as if I am half a person without her."
"Makes it better for me?
You think I want revenge on you? I loved you—and her, and even Saavik. I would
have thrown myself in the way of the weapon that took her."
"It was a bomb. She was
trapped in the rubble. She died from lack of oxygen. I could not get to her in
time. There was no saving her or I would have done it."
"So the person who told
me lacked facts." She moves even closer to the forcefield, the static from
it making her hair move slightly. "Will you tell me more of her last
day?"
He does not want to, but he
moves just as close to the field and begins to talk, telling her of that day,
of Christine's curiosity and skepticism, of the steps she took to prove she was
right, of how those steps put her in danger.
Of how she died on the comm
with him. Of how his voice telling her only good things was the last voice she
heard.
Valeris is weeping silently
as he finishes. "I am so sorry, Spock."
He is suddenly empty of the
rage and resentment he has felt for her—sees only the young girl he so wanted
to save. The bright mind—the effervescent spirit. Why must she be here? In this
dismal place with no chairs for visitors?
"You must cooperate
here. You must work to find out why you were so easily led. You must be
freed."
"Why? I have no career,
no friends, no one to love me."
"You have me."
"This is your first
visit to me since I was sent here." She shakes her head, a small smile
playing. "This is you trying to save me to give you something other than
Christine's loss to focus on. I won't be your mission, Spock. I've been that
and look how it turned out."
"You had such promise.
You still do. I would like you—I would like you on my team." He meets her
eyes. "I...I was obviously not there for you when you needed me.
Cartwright groomed you and we did nothing."
She backs away, but there is
no anger in her face. He thinks instead it is some form of compassion when she
says, "He did not groom me, Spock. His anger for the Klingons was an
abstract thing, made of equal parts fear and loathing but nothing he would ever
have done anything about."
"I do not
understand."
"Do you think I didn't
see Angel fuck with someone's mind? Do you think I didn't see how my father
could lead a person to do bad things in the name of good? Do you really think
that I couldn't have pushed him the way I wanted? You stopped your meld too
soon. You stopped when you saw him telling me what to do, but had you gone
further, you'd have seen me suggesting to him what to do."
He steps back. One step, then
another.
"I was the mastermind, Spock.
I was the manipulator, not the manipulated."
"Why?"
"Because they killed my
mothers and ruined my life. Or do you mean why him?" She seems to see his
confusion. "Because he was the only thing that was truly mine. And in a
way that I never had to worry would turn sexual, unlike the people I grew close
to on Angel's crew. He would never try to force me and I would never have to
stop him by laying a phaser on stun against his forehead—did you think he
taught me that trick? I learned it from Angel. But he was safe; he only loved
me as a kindred intellect."
The words she used with him.
He remembers the ceremony they shared. How sure he was of her.
When it was clear only one
man could be sure of her. Another man she used.
He backs up even more.
"I am sharing this
because you shared her death. It is my gift to you: so you can live your life
and stop worrying about me now. Stop making plans you and I both know will
never come to fruition. You can stop this train of guilt you seem to be on. You
can walk away and never see me again." She turns her back on him. "I
thank you for all the times you tried to help me. But your assistance is no
longer required. I am where I belong—unless you wish to send me to Rura Penthe,
where I can be with the man I betrayed even more than I did you."
"To atone to him?"
She nods.
"Or to help him
escape?"
"Both options have
allure."
"You will remain
here."
"As I suspected."
She sits on the bed, her back to the wall, her knees pulled up. She does not
look at him. "Live long and prosper, Spock."
"Peace and long life,
Valeris." He turns and walks away from her.
He knows he will probably
never see her again.
He can live with that.
##
Months have turned into years
and he counts the passage of time by how tall Manua is growing, by how many
missions he has been on, by who he is training and how long they stay on his
staff.
He makes no effort to engage
with old friends or to befriend peers, to add new names to the list of those he
considers close.
He cultivates his
relationship with Pardek, the cause of reunification more appealing than
opening himself up to feeling affection—or pain—again.
Eventually, La'an retires and
decides she and Manua will accompany Saavik on the Communidad, a concept
mission, the first ship to include families. It does not surprise him that
La'an is quickly reeled in as a security consultant for the families—spouses
and partners who have not been trained in the Starfleet way or children who are
too young to be mindful of security practices. She prospers as does Saavik, who
becomes first officer.
They comm him regularly but
it is not the same as having them near. He is often off world when they call,
often cannot speak to them in real time, only watch the video messages.
He misses having Manua
around, the only person who seems capable of reading him anymore, who makes his
spirits lift when he sees her.
He begins to feel isolation
creeping in.
He begins to welcome it.
He feels as if he is back at
Gol, peeling off his emotions like the skin of an onion.
But without Christine, with
his children gone, with his father bringing Perrin back as a fellow now, even
though she is only an undergrad—breaking all the rules for her and Spock knows
why.
He can see the worship on her
side and the need for a replacement for his mother on his father's.
And that is all Perrin will
be. She deserves better. He tried to warn her when she first showed back up at
the embassy.
He remembers when he walked
into the embassy and again saw white-blonde hair Anger filled him—both at her
and at his father. He knew the way she moved, the almost imperious way she was
talking to the interns.
He strode forward. "Are
you visiting, Perrin?"
Her smile was guarded.
"No. I'm on a fellowship. I'm at Berkeley. Did your father not tell
you?"
"He did not."
She shrugged and in her eyes
was something he did not like. Power—she thought she had it.
He went into his father's
office but it was empty.
"Is my presence so
unnerving for you? I know I look like your wife."
"You actually do not.
Other than your hair." He did not turn to look at her, stood at the window
staring out. "I will wait for him."
"You will wait a long
time, then. He is at Starfleet Command."
He turned to study her.
"There is no fellowship position here for Terrans."
"Not until now, no.
Sarek created one. I am useful to him." Her defiant expression eased.
"Spock, please. Be welcoming. I could be of use to you too. I'm ready to
be put to work—to make a difference. I know you worked with Christine."
"You may refer to her as
Commander Chapel."
She frowned deeply.
"That's how you want to do this?"
He moved past her but she
stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Spock, please give me a
chance."
He stared down at her hand on
his sleeve. "You know better than to do that in this place."
"I would like us to be
friends."
"Why?"
"Because when I'm old enough
for this not to be of note to gossips, I intend to marry your father."
He knew his eyebrow was
rising.
"I see no reason to
pretend. I am in love with him. And he needs me."
"Need and love are not
the same thing."
"Need can grow into
love."
He saw something he
recognized. The desire to be, just once, first in Sarek's heart.
"Sit."
She did and he took the seat
next to her. "My mother cannot be replaced."
"She is gone. Of course
she can."
"Physically, yes. You
can fill her role, her space in his life. You can perform her duties. But you
will not find your way into his heart, which is, I think, what you most
desire."
"You don't know that he
doesn't—or won't in the future—love me."
"I do."
She studied him. "You think
just because you can't let go of the woman you lost that he can't either. But
you're wrong. I'll prove it."
"I would rather you did
not try. It will hurt you both." He took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. "You are very young, Perrin. When I was young, for a short time I
fancied myself to have feelings for an officer who mentored me. But it was not
real. It was..."
"A crush? You think I
don't know what I feel?"
"I do think that. But
this is your path to walk. Just do not embarrass him in public and keep your
plans to yourself and I will leave you alone." This was not his business.
His father never mentioned
bringing her back. So Spock sat back and watched it happen.
He stays away from the
residential part of the embassy now; he sent a gift for their wedding but was
off world for it, and sent another when she bore Sarek a son—perhaps the one he
has always wanted—but his brother Setek holds no interest for him.
It irritates his father that
this is so—Sarek tries to hide it but he cannot. With the girls gone, with
Manua gone, his father has no allies other than this woman who does look too
much like Christine for Spock's comfort.
And at his core, that bothers
him. Makes him pull away more and more from his father.
Did his father feel more for
Christine than he should have?
Did he relish having her to
himself on those missions?
If he did, Christine never
knew. Spock would have felt it from her. Some sense of unease if Sarek pushed
anything or new love if she had felt the same.
But his father could well
have been in love with her. Too honorable to do anything about it, of course.
But now, when faced with a woman he might see as Christine's replacement—with
her energetic intellect and ability to spot anomalies—and his mother's kindness
and care, why would he not make her his wife?
Two birds, one stone, as the
Terran saying goes.
It should irritate Spock more
than it does, but he has never confronted Sarek about it. What good would it
do?
And he does not want to
dredge up old feelings—either good like his love for Christine or negative like
his ancient resentment of his father—that he is burying deeper and deeper every
day.
##
He is at Starfleet Medical, sitting
with Saavik and Manua as La'an breathes with effort.
The ship was in danger, she
locked herself in a chamber with leaking gas so the others would be spared,
while two engineers fixed what was wrong. The gas will kill all three of them
but not immediately.
The other two lie in comas on
ventilators. But she is still awake—her genes once again serving to keep her
conscious when others might succumb.
But not forever. Just long
enough to say goodbye.
She has said she was only
paying her brother's sacrifice forward. But he can see that brings no comfort
to her wife and daughter.
La'an motions him over.
"Do you remember the meld you did with me when we were fighting the
Gorn?"
He nods.
"I would like another
one. I am losing Christine, Una, all of them. I would like to take a walk
through my memories as I did that time with you when we searched for Manu and
the codebook. I think it would be good for you too."
He stiffens. "Good
how?"
"You are so distant,
Spock." Saavik comes up next to him, her hand on his sleeve rather than
his skin. "Would it not be beneficial to experience Christine as you first
did. The woman who made you whole?"
"Am I not whole to
you?"
Saavik looks down, which is
an answer in itself.
"I can't read you
anymore, grandfather. There is so little of you left." Manua gets up and
walks out. As if his journey toward his own internal Gol is a personal attack
against her.
"Please do it, Spock. I
will leave you alone for privacy." Saavik leans up and kisses him, but on
the hair, not on the cheek.
Does she not wish to inflict
her emotions on him or is it that she finds his own sense of logical purpose
repugnant?
And why does he not care
more?
He sits with La'an, but does
not reach for the meld points, does not take her hand to feel her need—whether
it is real or if she is just worried for him.
It does not matter. He is not
going to relive the only time he was happy. Not now when he has found
equilibrium. Even if it is one that pleases no one but him.
"I will not meld with
you."
La'an's eyes are forgiving.
"I told them you wouldn't. They don't understand. Even though Saavik went
through all the things she did, she still has such a capacity to love in
her."
"But you and I do
not."
"If they were taken from
me, I too would become the robot you seem to be heading towards." There is
a note of realism in her voice as well as a slap.
She does not approve but she
also understands.
"Who will care for your
daughter and granddaughter when I am gone, Spock, if you will not embrace the
ability to love that I know is in you?"
"Saavik will find love
from her new grandmother. I may not wish to associate with Perrin, but she will
welcome them. If only because it will seem like a victory over me. And Manua
will find her great uncle Setek intriguing—his mix of human and Vulcan will be
an empathic puzzle for her just as she will be an interesting influence in his
life as he matures. Point your family to Sarek's house, not mine."
"My family? You
would disown them?"
"No, not disown. Is it
not care to send them on a better path than what they would get with me?"
She sighs. "Yes. It is
care. But, I think, a selfish one." She begins to cough, and he waits as
the fit subsides.
"I have upset you."
"You have not. You are
who you are, Spock. Will you come to my memorial?"
"If I am on Earth,
yes."
"Will you plan to be off
planet if you can?" Her eyes hold his, making lies impossible, even if he
could tell them.
"Yes."
"You are wasting time
and love with your family."
"I am progressing,
La'an, the only way I can." He feels something, an old spark: it is
pain—he does not want it.
He starts to get up, but she
reaches out, her skin on his, her emotions flooding him. Love and irritation,
pain but acceptance that it is her time.
He is breathing too hard. He
is feeling too much.
"I love you, Spock, but
do not come visit me again." Her grip tightens as he tries to pull away.
"I will contact Perrin, and I will use this time to get to know her, to
determine if I will bequeath her my family. Because you are not going to be
there. No matter how much I think you should."
She finally lets him go, and
he retreats a few steps.
"I am sorry, La'an.
I...I cannot."
"She would not want
this, Spock. You have to know Christine would not want this."
"I cannot find my way
without her in any other manner."
"Do you still have the
pictures?"
He nods. But he no longer looks
at them, even if they travel with him on each mission, buried in the false
bottom of his satchel.
"Thank God for
that." She meets his eyes, hers kinder than he deserves. "Goodbye,
Spock. I wish things were different."
"But they are not."
"No, they are not."
She closes her eyes, her last gift of mercy, letting him slip away without her
watching.
He hears weeks later that she
has died.
He ensures he is off world
for the memorial.
He seeks out photos from the
event and sees Saavik and Manua sitting next to Perrin.
Perrin is holding Saavik's
hand. Saavik is crying—free to express herself with her grandmother.
He lets go of the last
vestige of care—his daughter has a new source of love. His granddaughter will
grow up with his brother.
He is free now to pursue the
only thing that interests him.
Unification.
##
It stings, that Spock was
played so effortlessly by Pardek and Sela.
Even as he stays on Romulus,
even as he tries to muster his old enthusiasm for working with these people,
for the cause that became the only thing in his life, a part of the shell he
has built is breaking apart.
The meld with Picard was a mistake.
Feeling the love and regret his father had for him was like a pickaxe hitting
over and over again on snow waiting to turn from a sheet safely covering a
mountain to an avalanche. The more it rolls, the larger—and more powerful—it
becomes.
Especially when he learns Jim
was not dead after all. That he was right. That he was in the energy ribbon—if
Spock had just searched harder, as his dream had told him, he might have
rescued him.
Everything might have been
different. Including losing Christine.
And he has started dreaming
of her. Now, when he no longer wants to see her, she visits him in his dreams.
But not directly. She is just
out of sight, her white-blonde waves disappearing around a corner, her laugh
ringing back to him.
She is across the room at a
Captain's Breakfast, smiling at him in the way she did from the beginning,
coaxing him to dare to be human.
She is on the deck of a villa
on Risa, when he is on the beach below. He can see her leaning over, the
chiffon of her sarong blowing in the soft breeze. She motions for him to come
up, but there is no path.
And finally, he begins to
dream of her with the family he abandoned. Her arm around Saavik as they cooled
down after a run. Her holding Manua when the child first came and was uncertain
that love could come from so many strangers.
And then he sees her standing
with La'an and his mother, a soft glow around them. Disapproval rife on her
face. You've forgotten how to love and that's not okay.
He wakes to those words.
Wakes in the caves on Romulus, a place he no longer wishes to be but has no way
to escape at the moment. It will take months to put together an exit plan that
will not endanger those he has worked with.
And he does not want to
endanger them. He...he cares for them.
"Are you all right,
Spock?" the women guarding the door asks as he wanders the main area of
their "dwelling," seeing it with fresh eyes.
He pulls out his satchel,
suddenly desperate to see the pictures he has not looked at in decades but has
never abandoned.
Emotions flood him as he
holds first one, then another. And he looks up at this woman whose name he has
not bothered to learn because it is safer that way for both of them, and says,
"These are people I loved."
She looks shocked. "Love?
An emotion?"
"I am leading you down a
road that must be moderated. Emotions are not the enemy. Pure logic is not the
ideal." He meets her eyes. "The truth lies somewhere in the middle,
where both are in balance, an everlasting exercise in discipline and
openness."
"That sounds more
attainable than pure logic, Spock." She actually sounds relieved. "I
have to admit, I was about to leave your service."
"Why?"
"I do not wish to detach
the way you appear to have." She sits in front of him and smiles gently.
"I would like to see your pictures."
So he shows her. He tells her
of the people. And then he picks up the picture of Jim and Valeris surfing.
"You have shown me Kirk
in other photos but who is she?"
He touches Valeris's face on
the picture. "My other daughter."
"You have two? Is this
then a daughter you regret?"
"No, I regret abandoning
her."
"Just as she regrets
betraying you. Father."
He looks up quickly. Realizes
this woman's guarded smile and willing eyes are familiar. A mixture of confidence
and seeking approval. "Valeris?"
"Christine's disguises
still work. With some tweaks to make them last longer and muddy features
more."
"Valeris." He is
unsure how she is here. Is it for revenge? Will she turn him in?
Does he not deserve that for
giving up on her?
He drops his head and says,
"I am your prisoner."
"Don't be stupid."
She moves the pictures aside almost reverently and takes him in her arms, holding
him tightly, sobbing as she tries to tell him something. But all that comes out
is, "I love you."
And he finds himself
clutching her, holding her as if she is the only thing that will save him, the
only thing left to him. And he says, "I love you, too."
"Put your pictures back
and pack anything you want. It is time to go."
"Go...where?"
"Trust me." She
points to the pictures and he dutifully puts them in their airtight package.
He looks around and says,
"I have nothing here I want other than these."
"Okay, then." She
pulls out a communicator that looks but does not sound Romulan when she
activates it. "Cousin, two to beam up."
Cousin?
The cave disappears and he
and Valeris materialize at the back of a small craft. It smells of too many
cargoes that were not terribly fresh when they were delivered.
A smuggler's vessel?
Valeris leads him out of the
cargo bay and he is immediately embraced by a woman he cannot read.
"Manua?"
She is lovely. Her smile
almost angelic as she says, "I was sensing you this whole time. So
detached. I got amost nothing, nothing, nothing and then...a spark. And then an
ember. And finally...a fire." She touches his face so gently he closes his
eyes. "You were ready, so we came."
"Who is we?"
"Way too many people who
don't really get along," she mutters, then laughs. "You have no idea
how awkward a trip can be when you feel everything. But it was for you
so..."
He follows her to the small
bridge. Saavik is there along with two Vulcan males he does not recognize.
"Are you the Spock I
knew?" she asks, her look so wary it hurts him.
"I am not. I am
paritally that Spock and now some new one, with all the experiences since. But
I am a Spock who loves you. Saavikaam." He holds his arms out and she rushes
into them.
He meets Valeris's eyes over
her shoulder and he mouths, "I love you, too, Valerisaam."
She looks down, but he sees
the tears begin.
Saavik eases away. "So,
uh, there's no way to say this that isn't weird. Our exceptional transporter tech
here is Solem. He...he wanted to meet his biological parents."
"And T'Pring allowed
it?"
The boy gives him a look that
reminds him so much of T'Pring it almost makes him smile. "Allowed might
be stretching the truth. But after I successfully worked with my cousin, how
could she say no?" He gives Valeris a look of approval that is open and
lacking any sign of wariness. "She is now free to live as she wishes, and
she wished to help us retrieve you. Spock."
He understands that this man
will never call him "Father" and that seems fitting.
"Saavik perhaps would
wish I was not here but as she gave me no choice in where my future went, I am
giving her no choice in where I go."
"Obviously, he and I
don't get on as well as he does with my sister. Perhaps I lack the villain gene
he loves so much."
"Jealous brat,"
Valeris says, and there is a joy in her tone, as if this is a game they now
play.
"Rehabilitator's
pet." Saavik goes to stand by the other Vulcan. "And this is
Commander Setek. He is here because he did not think any of us had the skill to
sufficiently pilot this piece of shit ship to Mars much less all the way to
Romulus."
"That is indeed the truth.
Also, Brother, I represent Starfleet and the Federation. They have work for you
to do with the Romulans, but on their terms, not yours. I am here to pre-brief
you and ensure you understand your role—and your restrictions."
"I have no role—or
restrictions. I am retired."
"Ah, I see that you,
like so many other of your generation, failed to read the reserve activation
clause before you entered the Academy."
"The what?"
Although he remembers McCoy grousing about such a thing during the encounter
with V'ger.
"A common failing. Your
human side perhaps, lacking the caution a Vulcan would show."
"You are human, too,
brother."
"Yes, but I wear it
better." And then he smiles, ever so slightly, the way Valeris used to.
He has integrated the same
way she did. Perrin and possibly Sarek have shown him the way. As Jim might
say: the third time was the charm.
Spock looks around at his—at
his family. "I am...somewhat overwhelmed at seeing all of you."
"Again, a human
failing."
"Oh, shut up, Setek.
You're so fucking pompous." Manua takes Spock's hand. "Ummm, please
don't be freaked out by this but I can talk to him that way because he's my
husband."
"Of course he is."
Spock sits down in the chair Valeris points too.
"They're not
related," Saavik says.
"Which is a good thing
because they have two children," Solem says with a trace of the same
dismay Spock feels. "I must admit I had to draw a family tree to chart the
relationships here."
Spock may have to do the same
thing. "Kaiidth," he finally says.
"Indeed," his
son/not-son says.
"So I am to work with
the Romulans in an official capacity?"
"Not everyone in this
space is cleared for details, Brother."
"Again, so fucking
pompous." But Manua looks at his brother the way Christine used to look at
him.
And the look Setek gives her
is full of the love Spock once no doubt showed Christine, even if he thought he
was hiding it from outsiders.
He feels as if they have come
full circle.
He feels as if a future lies
ahead of him that is not in a cave, alone, teaching people who want to learn
but can only do so much.
He feels anticipation, at
getting to know this brother who is so confident, this son who seems to want to
get to know him on his own terms, this granddaughter who reminds him of the
love he has lost. And to once again interact with his stepmother and T'Pring,
both of whom have raised his family in his absence.
And most importantly, he
wants to become reacquainted with the daughters he so selfishly abandoned. Both
of whom appear to have forgiven him.
Both of whom he loves—he has
always loved them, even when it was too painful to let that love be anything
but buried under the rubble of his own—egocentric—pain. He wants to reach out.
He wants to love them fully
again. He no longer wants just a cause to engage him. He had his cause and it
left him empty.
He can imagine Christine
saying: Progress. You're learning, as she so often did when they began.
He feels—he feels hope.
And it feels good.