Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor have I made any money off this.

Warning: Angst and self-editing.


Spock had successfully avoided his mother's family for approximately 12.38 years, since the infamous "Prom Incident" that had resulted in his cousin Marcy's immediate break up with her long time boyfriend, and Spock being forcibly made to dance.

The memory of that incident had never failed to send his mother into gales of unsolicited laughter.

At the time such blatant emotional displays had unnerved Spock. He now found that the loss of such outbursts, was in fact detrimental to his quality of life.

If he wasn't a Vulcan, Spock would go as far as to say that he missed his mother's laughter. A lot.

Staring now at the door bell to his aunt's house, he wondered if she missed that too. Perhaps she did. She was human after all.

*****

"And where precisely is Sarek?"

Spock blinked, analyzing his aunt and the strange mixture of human emotions that ran across her face. There was sorrow there, a look that Spock had to come to identify these past few months with far more ease then he was truly comfortable with. There was also anger, overshadowing the sorrow and any other pertinent emotions.

"He is on New Vulcan." Spock kept his voice even, as he carefully considered his aunt. Her anger confused him. Surely she know that Sarek was in no way responsible for Amanda's death. To believe otherwise would be illogical.

"He didn't think it was necessary to come to his own wife's funeral?" At this her voice rose shrilly, an unpleasant shade of pink coloring her cheeks.

Spock was distinctly reminded of why he avoided interacting with his mother's family.

"He had already attended a funeral for my mother on New Vulcan, I believe he found that one was sufficient."

This did not appear to be the thing to say. Beside him his cousin Marcy blanched, and his aunt seemed to swell with fury. Spock simply wished to leave.

"Mom..." Marcy began, with more then a hint of trepidation coloring her words."I'm sure that Spock didn't mea-"

"No." The word slashed across the funeral hall like a phaser beam on high, cutting off the somber chatter and leaving behind a hushed silence.

"He did mean, Marcy. He did mean." With a turn that allowed her to face the family and friends that had gathered his aunt continued.

"Sarek has never considered us worthy of his presence, has never wanted to rub shoulders with us humans. Even with Amanda all he wanted was to change her, suppress her, until she fit his perfect version of an obedient Vulcan wife. "

Now she turned again, facing Spock with an accusatory look on her face. As she spoke her voice trembled.

"Years...years she could have been with us, but it was always 'Sarek doesn't want me to leave', 'Sarek thinks it would be best if I stayed', and then... then you were born."

Had Spock been able to feel at that moment he would have been surprised at the loathing in his aunts voice. As it was he found himself illogically tired.

"You were just like your father, so cold, so uninterested in anything that didn't fit into your little world. And now you stand here and tell me that your father didn't see fit to come to his wife's funeral. Amanda is dead. Amanda is dead, and he didn't see fit."

His aunt's face was curled into a snarl of such rage that she scarcely seemed recognizable. She did not look like his mother now. And that made Spock's answer far easier to give.

"He's dying." Spock's tone was still even, still steady, but only just.

"What?" His aunts features were now drained of all emotion. Her face white, she looked as tired as Spock had been only moments before.

But he wasn't tired any more. The thin layer of control that his last attempt at mediation had only just managed to bring up was now gone. And Spock found that he was angry.

"He's dying. That's what Vulcan's do you know, when their mate dies." His tone was cold now, harsh and bitter.

"That's impossible, Amanda was Sarek's second wife, right? So wouldn't Sarek be dead already?" Marcy flushed, cheeks turning red at the sudden attention aimed at her. "Umm, or not?"

All Spock could feel was anger. They would not take his word? These people who claimed such closeness to him. Who demanded answer after cold, painful answer, but gave nothing but disbelief in return. They would still ask for more?

Fury flushed through Spock, leaving only a frozen clarity in it's wake. His family had asked for answers, and for once he was going to give them some.

"His first wife was adun'a. Wife. Nothing less, nothing more. My mother, your Amanda, she was bolayek. Necessity. Do you understand? Can you possibly understand?!"

Around him Spock found only confusion. In him, his rage only grew.

"He did not marry her on a, what would you call it? 'a lark'. He did not marry her for money or beauty or convenience. He could find all those in other far easier places. But he was dying, slowly yes, for his first wife had been only adun'a, but dying still, and he did not want to try and change that. He thought his time had come.

But then he met her. Chance, that's all it was. But it brought his mind to hers and they became one. He did not choose to do it. It was not the most the logical choice. It was the only choice. For He was hers and She his, as it always was, and would ever be.

Do you understand?"

Beside him Marcy gaped, mouth wide open like a puffer fish. Around him others looked much the same.

All but his aunt, who looked small now, and worn, too fragile to have been yelling only moments before.

"He loved her." His aunts voice was quiet, cracking once in the middle of this pronouncement, before soldiering on. "He loved her and now he's dying."

"Yes". Spock whispered, his voice somehow quieter then his aunts. "Yes."


I have no idea where this came from....It sort of wrote itself. (Which means I can't be blamed for how angsty it turned out...XD).

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed.

Please review!