Warnings: spoilers for Into Darkness, vague emotionalism, mention of boyxboy
Note: I should have been studying, but I wrote this instead :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek
Spock feels her loss like an ice pick to this head. Mother. How his father must feel after losing his mate, the commander doesn't know. His own bond to T'Pring was infinitesimal and weak; he felt her die moments after appearing on the Enterprise's transporter pad. The snapping of their weak bond was enough to leave him breathless for a minute, his eyes burning and his hands shaking.
How Sarek managed to keep his face clear of the pain that must have filled him in the moment Amanda died Spock will never know.
Her absence is a physical pain, a mental handicap that pops up in Spock over and over.
When he blinks and finds his hands around Kirk's neck, the ensuing emotions are enough to make his knees weak. Shame wars with horror and fear, the rising tide of compromised threatens to stifle him. And all because she is not there.
The human's blue eyes are wide and fearful. Spock recalls Amanda's smile, her gentleness, her reassurance that she'd be proud of him no matter what course he takes.
There's no doubt in his mind that at this very moment she'd be ashamed of him, of what he had just done.
Sarek finds him meditating in his quarters later and despite their lives together Spock has never had a necessarily good relationship with the Ambassador. Still that does not stop them from sharing a moment in silence, a moment in which their shared bond pulses with sorrow. Sarek does not outright proclaim his desire to comfort and reassure his son, but Spock interprets the soft touch over his meld points as words enough. They meditate together for the first time in years and afterwards Sarek says seven simple words.
"She was always proud of you, son."
When the Enterprise defeats Nero and Captain Pike is safely in Starfleet's hands, Spock allows himself a moment of emotionalism. He stares out into the night sky and imagines that Amanda is among the stars, illogically hopes that she has the afterlife she sought.
It's a bitter despair considering he'd much rather have her here at his side. Safe and alive, but she is not. So Spock utters a prayer to the God his mother devoted her time to and hopes that the deity hears it.
He tentatively sends his request to be Commander on the Enterprise, well aware that Kirk might not accept it, half wishing he will not. But the request is received and approved and Spock feels – or does not feel, as he will deny it if asked – a measure of relief. Amanda would be delighted to see him as a Commander.
He and Kirk tiptoe around each other; they have an agreement made up of duty and mutual shame over the strangling-incident. A fact that leaves Spock ostracised on the Bridge despite Nyota's best efforts to close the gap. Not that the Captain seems to understand why Nyota and Spock are involved at all. He still attempts to flirt with her, although Spock has noticed the human's tendency to flirt with everyone.
Spock makes no effort to tell the Captain to stop, Nyota had expressed clearly that she did not need his protection. He knows this to be true, she is a strong and smart woman, yet that does not stop him from watching her as they face off the Kilingons. Their recent disagreements have Spock believing that the end of the relationship is in sight, yet he cannot abandon the desire he has to watch over her.
There's a moment during their capture of Khan that Spock wishes Amanda were with them on the Enterprise. Although he does not feel the need to prolong his relationship with Nyota unnecessarily, he does fear he will lose her friendship and it is one he wishes to keep.
Somehow the threat of Khan and the Klingons combined brings the tentative Captain-Commander relationship into new light. Kirk surprisingly smooths the rough edges of Spock and Nyota's – or rather Nyota's – disagreement. They form a proto-friendship; Spock even thinks it may work out.
But when Kirk stares at him from behind glass, his face red with exertion and his eyes burning, Spock nearly forgets the threat of radiation. His Captain offers a smile, his eyes eerily similar to Amanda's as she slipped away.
James's hand rests on the glass in the ta'al. Spock reciprocates the gesture, their hands perfectly placed atop one another.
His mind whispers what he cannot bare to say. "Live long and prosper, James Kirk."
Then James slips away and it is as if Amanda is ripped away from Spock all over again. There's a yawning emptiness in his chest and a stabbing pain in his head, he can barely move when Doctor McCoy comes running.
And he is handed his vengeance on a silver platter.
His places his pain over Amanda's and James's deaths behind his punches and is somewhat surprised when it is not enough to leave a gapping whole in the super-soldier's head. Spock is ready to try again, but then Nyota is there. Her eyes shine with her love for him and the promise that he does not have to lose another person he cares for.
James lives.
Amanda does not.
Spock will not pretend to understand the resentment he feels. He stares at a holo-photo of his mother laughing, while James sleeps on the biobed next to him.
When James wakes up, his smile is strained by the struggle for his life. "Spock. She'd be proud,"
Spock knows this is true.
He asks for leave – it's unnecessary since the Federation gives the whole Enterprise crew leave while their ship gets repaired and the necessary paperwork seen to. But he asks anyway and James offers him a grudging smile from the biobed – there's a 'come back' somewhere in the midst of his speech about heroics and Spock ignores it because he doesn't know if he can comply.
New Vulcan leaves him hollow. He sees T'Pring's parents and uncharacteristically avoids them, he has nothing to say to them – perhaps if he and T'Pring had completed their bond he could sympathise. All he can do for them now is spare them the reminder of their daughter.
Spock invests himself in assisting with data collection, it's better than categorising the dead and makes use of his mind in a way he can only describe as soothing.
This also means he comes across what little information the other Vulcans have on Amanda Grayson. It's despairingly little, but when he reads over it he cries for the first time over how every bit of it is cold and impersonal. With a sense of misery he cannot explain he adds, without permission, something essential to her file.
'She loved without condition.'
It solidifies his resolve to leave New Vulcan.
When he returns to Terra Nyota is waiting for him and, despite the termination of their relationship, she wraps her arms around him.
"I'm glad you came back."
And he is back. He is not sure what his mother would say about it, but he knows she had always supported him. He throws himself into preparing to return to the Enterprise.
He is not sure who is more surprised by James Kirk's grin when they meet again. McCoy rolls his eyes and Sulu snickers. Spock ignores them in favour of congratulating his captain on his full recovery.
"I'm glad you came back." Kirk says, his eyes alight with galaxies of joy.
Spock is perplexed at this, he knows he deserves the questioning of his loyalty, but in that moment cannot imagine why he would not come back to the Enterprise and her captain. So he says, "Of course I did, Captain."
And James Kirk smiles in a way that confuses Spock as much as it makes him want to roll his eyes.
"Of course."
They nearly die again, and again, and again. Some actually do die, but never them.
Jim cries in his quarters where he thinks no one can hear him and Spock watches on replay a holo-vid of Amanda laughing.
He takes his strength from the twist of her mouth and wonders why she isn't there now. When he needs her. When he wants her burnt attempts at cooking to colour his pallet, when he wants her off-tune singing to play in his mind. He drags his fingers over her timeless face and let's his soul weep – because if there's anything Amanda Greyson beat into him, it's that he has a soul. He's still not sure of the scientific implications of such a hypothesis, but it's never one he's wanted to disprove.
Their missions drag on, so do their shifts. That is until Jim brushes his fingers over Spock's during Alpha shift. All the Vulcan can do is stare at his captain, Jim stares back.
Sulu interrupts the moment by pointing out a upcoming debris cloud.
They navigate it successfully and there are no lives lost. Spock counts it as a good day.
It's a week later that Jim brushes his hand against Spock's again. The commander recalls his mother and father out on a terrace, hands entwined as the red sun is sucked beyond the Vulcan circumference. At the time he frowned at the action – now he understands it.
When their shift ends Spock follows Jim into his quarters and without pause offers the human a very non-Vulcan kiss.
Their hands entwine every time they are alone and Spock isn't entirely certain whether it's unconscious or planned. He does not remember reaching for Jim's hand and Jim sometimes looks just as shocked by the intimacy.
They are on the observation deck and Jim idly traces the point of Spock's ear. The Vulcan's eyes droop at the feeling, but he does not allow himself to close them. He has learnt that moments such as these are lost easily and too often.
"I wish I could have met your mother," Jim whispers into the darkness and Spock finds that his mouth is dry. "I mean, she raised you. She must have been amazing. Just look at how you turned out."
Spock's eyes must have somehow collected all the moisture from his throat.
"I loved her." He tells Jim, softly. Softly. It's a secret and the words burn across his body like fire ants and McCoy's attempts at curing frostbite.
"I know," Jim presses into his neck and his breath is warm. His hands find Spock's. His lips offer reassurance to his collarbone. "I know, and she knew too."
There's no surprise now when Spock crumbles under emotion, Jim simply holds him. They hold each other.
When Spock again speaks to his father he initiates the same words. "I loved her." He tells the weathered and weary face before him. "She loved us."
The Ambassador takes a heavy breath. "I loved her too."
"She would not want us to mourn." Spock has to speak carefully because he's afraid of this. Of letting her go. "She would want us to live."
There's a lengthy pause and a sigh. "She would be proud of the man you have become."
There is no bitterness that she is not there. It aches, but Spock shoves the pain under the memory of her smile, of her joy for life. He would prefer her to be there when he Bonds with Jim, would prefer to not feel alone when Jim is not around. But she is gone and he is not. She cannot talk him from his fears as she once did for a terrified child. Spock knows this and accepts it now.
She's not there, but this does not mean that she is gone. Merely that he cannot see her physically, cannot hear her or smell her perfume. But he remembers and it must be enough.