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laurajv"What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveiled secret of the father." -- Friedrich Nietzsche
Sarek threaded his way through the narrow corridors of the transport vessel. Spock -- his Spock -- would have been tucked away in some corner, reading; Sarek did not know where the other Spock was likely to be.
He finally located him in the ship's mess, reading from a tricorder screen and sipping a hot, dark beverage Sarek could not identify. Spock raised his head and met Sarek's eyes; Sarek stifled a wave of unease. "Ambassador Spock," he said, "may I join you?"
Spock's mouth quirked. "Of course, Ambassador Sarek."
Sarek took the empty chair across from this man who both was and was not his son. He steepled his hands on the table. "I have many questions," he said.
Spock set down the tricorder; Sarek tried not to notice how Spock's hands were the hands of one past his prime. "I will answer any questions you have, to the best of my ability. I cannot, of course, guarantee that the answers will apply, in this universe."
"No, of course not." Sarek studied the joint where his right thumb overlapped his left. "What are you drinking?" It was not what he intended to say.
"Raktajino. It is a Klingon beverage." He looked down into the cup. "Federation replicators of this time cannot routinely make it; I had to reprogram this one."
"Ah." Sarek returned to the contemplation of his joints. He could not think of any of the questions which had seemed so pressing only moments ago.
After a time, Spock broke the silence. "Sir. In my reality, you and I had a number of difficulties in our personal interaction. We never resolved them, and we were not close. Yet I would say, with only two exceptions, no one in this reality has a better right to ask anything of me, no matter how personal. Please do not think you can offend me, or that I--" He broke off, and Sarek looked up to see his not-son's mouth quirked again. "Well. Perhaps, here, in this reality, you and I can at least speak freely."
Sarek drew a deep breath. "How long did your mother live? How did she die?"
"She was killed in a shuttle accident shortly before her hundred-and-twelfth birthday."
"Did you marry T'Pring? Did you have children?"
Spock took a sip of his drink; over the rim, Sarek thought, his eyes were unreadable. "T'Pring challenged, at the place of koon-ut kal-i-fee." Sarek drew a sharp breath, unable to conceal his shock. Spock raised an eyebrow and continued. "With my t'hy'la, I had a long-term, occasionally sexual relationship. After he died, I married; we had three children. The woman I married likely does not--will not--exist here." He looked distant for a moment. "She believed strongly in Vulcan-Romulan reunification, but we were unable to bring it about. Perhaps, Ambassador, we should revisit the idea; in less than two centuries, the Romulans will lose their homeworld as well. Genetically, they and Vulcans are the same species; neither culture would survive intact, I suspect, but it is a discussion worth having."
Sarek carefully unclenched his hands; he could not even think "Romulan" without a blood-green film hazing his vision. Romulans had taken Amanda from him; Romulans had destroyed Vulcan.
"Not all Romulans," Spock said, as if they were melded. "One extremely troubled individual, and a crew sworn to him. You are a diplomat; you know you cannot indict a culture because of its troubled individuals."
"I know." Sarek searched his not-son's face, looking for he knew not what. Something of Amanda, perhaps; or something of his son's childhood. This man, older than himself, sure in himself, with dark eyes and hair lightened by age, must surely once have split his lip fighting another boy; must have chosen Starfleet over the Science Academy. "My son," he said slowly, "is all that I have left. What difficulties did you have with me? How may I resolve them with him?"
Spock took another sip from his drink. "It would take a great deal of time to list all the difficulties, Ambassador. We were too much alike, perhaps; it often seemed to me as if he objected to that in me that he allowed free rein in himself." He tapped one finger against the cup, his expression thoughtful. "I would suggest that you meld with him."
"We have never melded."
"Neither did my father and I. It was a mistake that only one of us lived to regret." He tapped his finger again. "Do you wish to know about health problems you may face?"
Sarek blinked. "I would not have thought to ask." He lowered his eyes to the tabletop. "I must remarry. I do not, at present, wish to, but that choice will be taken from me in less than two years. It would be best to know."
Spock's voice was sharper than it had been when he spoke again. "You may have a serious undiagnosed heart condition. You may also, much later in life, be at risk of developing a neurological condition which will destroy your emotional control and eventually kill you. Do not ignore symptoms of either of these problems." He paused, and Sarek nodded, his eyes still on the table. Spock shifted and spoke again. "Your son is unlikely to take your remarriage well. Do not emphasize its logical necessity. Tell him, rather, that you will always treasure his mother; that you will not set him aside. If he is much like me, he has never been certain of his place with you, and believes you favor your elder son."
Sarek looked up at that, suppressing a flash of anger. "My elder son is criminally insane. How could Spock--"
"Your elder son is full Vulcan."
"Surely he cannot believe that matters to me!"
Spock raised his eyebrow again. "I did, for quite a long time. I had to die and be resurrected before I understood that I was not an inadequate, un-Vulcan replacement for my brother." Something flickered across his face and was gone, just as rapidly. "He tried to use that old fear against me once, to control me; he had learned much of the old mind arts."
"Die and--"
"I should warn Jim about Khan," Spock said, his face growing distant. "I do not know if the Elders of Gol survived; the fal tor pan that brought me back may be impossible in this reality."
Sarek laid his hands flat on the table. "Ambassador," he said, "are you telling me that my son will die?"
Spock stiffened and his eyes snapped back to Sarek's face. "My apologies," he said. "My own father has been dead for some time. There are things he had learned to live with that you have never experienced."
"We are much alike, I think," Sarek said, hearing the edge in the other's voice; feeling the same anger and swift cold pain under his skin. "You have also lost your wife and your world. Your universe."
"My children," Spock said. "Though I assume they go on, without me, in that branch of reality. Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive."
Spock stared down into his beverage. "I, too, must remarry. Though not for several years. I should much prefer if--if my other self were allowed to make his own choice as to mate. If you wish, I would even abide by your choice for me, in his place."
Sarek steepled his fingers again, to keep himself from tapping on the table. "I believe he would choose that human woman, the xenolinguist, given a free choice."
Spock's eyes crinkled up in open amusement. "Nyota Uhura and I were friends for many years. I would not be entirely surprised if he marries her; she is a remarkable individual."
"She is not Vulcan."
"The genes are the genes, whether they are in a child three-quarters Vulcan or one-quarter. And I am still here."
Sarek nodded, once. "Logical. I will leave him free. And I shall not require any promise of you to do so."
"Thank you."
"The Council may not see it your way."
Spock flicked an eyebrow up. "Jim Kirk -- my Jim Kirk -- would say 'The Council can blow it out their ass.'" He cocked his head. "Perhaps I should stop blaming Jim for every colorful metaphor I wish to utter. I have been blaming him for over a century; it cannot all be laid at his door."
Sarek frowned. "He was your t'hy'la?"
"Yes."
"You...loved him." He searched Spock's face, for Spock had gone still. "I do not intend criticism. I simply wish to know."
Spock, his face unchanged but his tone even, said "Profoundly. I hope my other self will have a friendship as rich with this Jim Kirk."
"Yes, of course." Sarek dared, then, to reach out and lay one hand on the arm of this man who was his son, and not his son. "I -- it pleases me, that in another universe, my son had a life so enriched." Spock placed his own hand over Sarek's. Sarek could feel the hum of the other's mind, even through their shields -- a sense of warmth, and strength, and flexibility. The link felt nearly as it did with one's close family, and yet not quite; this was his son's mind, as it might one day be, or might one day not be, for his son would have an entirely different life. He wondered what Spock sensed of him, through the almost-family link joining them.
After a moment, Spock tightened his fingers, then let go and raised his hand upright in farewell. "I will take my leave of you, Sarek, son of Skon. Live long, and prosper."
Sarek reached out and touched his palm to Spock's, as he would have touched his own father's hand, or the hand of his brother, or the hand of his son. "I would speak with you again, son of my other self. I would have us know each other."
"I shall not be difficult to find."
Sarek felt his mouth curve upwards. "No. I suspect you will not be. Live long, and prosper, son of my other self."
Spock pressed into his palm more firmly, then took his tricorder and his drink and departed.
Sarek sat for a long time in silence. Eventually, he stood and walked to the replicator. "Repeat last order," he told it, and it rewarded him with a mug of what appeared to be the same beverage Spock had been consuming. Sarek returned to his table and studied it, then took a tentative sip.
"Amanda would love this," he said, to the empty room, then lowered his head and wept.
end.
Sarek threaded his way through the narrow corridors of the transport vessel. Spock -- his Spock -- would have been tucked away in some corner, reading; Sarek did not know where the other Spock was likely to be.
He finally located him in the ship's mess, reading from a tricorder screen and sipping a hot, dark beverage Sarek could not identify. Spock raised his head and met Sarek's eyes; Sarek stifled a wave of unease. "Ambassador Spock," he said, "may I join you?"
Spock's mouth quirked. "Of course, Ambassador Sarek."
Sarek took the empty chair across from this man who both was and was not his son. He steepled his hands on the table. "I have many questions," he said.
Spock set down the tricorder; Sarek tried not to notice how Spock's hands were the hands of one past his prime. "I will answer any questions you have, to the best of my ability. I cannot, of course, guarantee that the answers will apply, in this universe."
"No, of course not." Sarek studied the joint where his right thumb overlapped his left. "What are you drinking?" It was not what he intended to say.
"Raktajino. It is a Klingon beverage." He looked down into the cup. "Federation replicators of this time cannot routinely make it; I had to reprogram this one."
"Ah." Sarek returned to the contemplation of his joints. He could not think of any of the questions which had seemed so pressing only moments ago.
After a time, Spock broke the silence. "Sir. In my reality, you and I had a number of difficulties in our personal interaction. We never resolved them, and we were not close. Yet I would say, with only two exceptions, no one in this reality has a better right to ask anything of me, no matter how personal. Please do not think you can offend me, or that I--" He broke off, and Sarek looked up to see his not-son's mouth quirked again. "Well. Perhaps, here, in this reality, you and I can at least speak freely."
Sarek drew a deep breath. "How long did your mother live? How did she die?"
"She was killed in a shuttle accident shortly before her hundred-and-twelfth birthday."
"Did you marry T'Pring? Did you have children?"
Spock took a sip of his drink; over the rim, Sarek thought, his eyes were unreadable. "T'Pring challenged, at the place of koon-ut kal-i-fee." Sarek drew a sharp breath, unable to conceal his shock. Spock raised an eyebrow and continued. "With my t'hy'la, I had a long-term, occasionally sexual relationship. After he died, I married; we had three children. The woman I married likely does not--will not--exist here." He looked distant for a moment. "She believed strongly in Vulcan-Romulan reunification, but we were unable to bring it about. Perhaps, Ambassador, we should revisit the idea; in less than two centuries, the Romulans will lose their homeworld as well. Genetically, they and Vulcans are the same species; neither culture would survive intact, I suspect, but it is a discussion worth having."
Sarek carefully unclenched his hands; he could not even think "Romulan" without a blood-green film hazing his vision. Romulans had taken Amanda from him; Romulans had destroyed Vulcan.
"Not all Romulans," Spock said, as if they were melded. "One extremely troubled individual, and a crew sworn to him. You are a diplomat; you know you cannot indict a culture because of its troubled individuals."
"I know." Sarek searched his not-son's face, looking for he knew not what. Something of Amanda, perhaps; or something of his son's childhood. This man, older than himself, sure in himself, with dark eyes and hair lightened by age, must surely once have split his lip fighting another boy; must have chosen Starfleet over the Science Academy. "My son," he said slowly, "is all that I have left. What difficulties did you have with me? How may I resolve them with him?"
Spock took another sip from his drink. "It would take a great deal of time to list all the difficulties, Ambassador. We were too much alike, perhaps; it often seemed to me as if he objected to that in me that he allowed free rein in himself." He tapped one finger against the cup, his expression thoughtful. "I would suggest that you meld with him."
"We have never melded."
"Neither did my father and I. It was a mistake that only one of us lived to regret." He tapped his finger again. "Do you wish to know about health problems you may face?"
Sarek blinked. "I would not have thought to ask." He lowered his eyes to the tabletop. "I must remarry. I do not, at present, wish to, but that choice will be taken from me in less than two years. It would be best to know."
Spock's voice was sharper than it had been when he spoke again. "You may have a serious undiagnosed heart condition. You may also, much later in life, be at risk of developing a neurological condition which will destroy your emotional control and eventually kill you. Do not ignore symptoms of either of these problems." He paused, and Sarek nodded, his eyes still on the table. Spock shifted and spoke again. "Your son is unlikely to take your remarriage well. Do not emphasize its logical necessity. Tell him, rather, that you will always treasure his mother; that you will not set him aside. If he is much like me, he has never been certain of his place with you, and believes you favor your elder son."
Sarek looked up at that, suppressing a flash of anger. "My elder son is criminally insane. How could Spock--"
"Your elder son is full Vulcan."
"Surely he cannot believe that matters to me!"
Spock raised his eyebrow again. "I did, for quite a long time. I had to die and be resurrected before I understood that I was not an inadequate, un-Vulcan replacement for my brother." Something flickered across his face and was gone, just as rapidly. "He tried to use that old fear against me once, to control me; he had learned much of the old mind arts."
"Die and--"
"I should warn Jim about Khan," Spock said, his face growing distant. "I do not know if the Elders of Gol survived; the fal tor pan that brought me back may be impossible in this reality."
Sarek laid his hands flat on the table. "Ambassador," he said, "are you telling me that my son will die?"
Spock stiffened and his eyes snapped back to Sarek's face. "My apologies," he said. "My own father has been dead for some time. There are things he had learned to live with that you have never experienced."
"We are much alike, I think," Sarek said, hearing the edge in the other's voice; feeling the same anger and swift cold pain under his skin. "You have also lost your wife and your world. Your universe."
"My children," Spock said. "Though I assume they go on, without me, in that branch of reality. Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive."
Spock stared down into his beverage. "I, too, must remarry. Though not for several years. I should much prefer if--if my other self were allowed to make his own choice as to mate. If you wish, I would even abide by your choice for me, in his place."
Sarek steepled his fingers again, to keep himself from tapping on the table. "I believe he would choose that human woman, the xenolinguist, given a free choice."
Spock's eyes crinkled up in open amusement. "Nyota Uhura and I were friends for many years. I would not be entirely surprised if he marries her; she is a remarkable individual."
"She is not Vulcan."
"The genes are the genes, whether they are in a child three-quarters Vulcan or one-quarter. And I am still here."
Sarek nodded, once. "Logical. I will leave him free. And I shall not require any promise of you to do so."
"Thank you."
"The Council may not see it your way."
Spock flicked an eyebrow up. "Jim Kirk -- my Jim Kirk -- would say 'The Council can blow it out their ass.'" He cocked his head. "Perhaps I should stop blaming Jim for every colorful metaphor I wish to utter. I have been blaming him for over a century; it cannot all be laid at his door."
Sarek frowned. "He was your t'hy'la?"
"Yes."
"You...loved him." He searched Spock's face, for Spock had gone still. "I do not intend criticism. I simply wish to know."
Spock, his face unchanged but his tone even, said "Profoundly. I hope my other self will have a friendship as rich with this Jim Kirk."
"Yes, of course." Sarek dared, then, to reach out and lay one hand on the arm of this man who was his son, and not his son. "I -- it pleases me, that in another universe, my son had a life so enriched." Spock placed his own hand over Sarek's. Sarek could feel the hum of the other's mind, even through their shields -- a sense of warmth, and strength, and flexibility. The link felt nearly as it did with one's close family, and yet not quite; this was his son's mind, as it might one day be, or might one day not be, for his son would have an entirely different life. He wondered what Spock sensed of him, through the almost-family link joining them.
After a moment, Spock tightened his fingers, then let go and raised his hand upright in farewell. "I will take my leave of you, Sarek, son of Skon. Live long, and prosper."
Sarek reached out and touched his palm to Spock's, as he would have touched his own father's hand, or the hand of his brother, or the hand of his son. "I would speak with you again, son of my other self. I would have us know each other."
"I shall not be difficult to find."
Sarek felt his mouth curve upwards. "No. I suspect you will not be. Live long, and prosper, son of my other self."
Spock pressed into his palm more firmly, then took his tricorder and his drink and departed.
Sarek sat for a long time in silence. Eventually, he stood and walked to the replicator. "Repeat last order," he told it, and it rewarded him with a mug of what appeared to be the same beverage Spock had been consuming. Sarek returned to his table and studied it, then took a tentative sip.
"Amanda would love this," he said, to the empty room, then lowered his head and wept.
end.