All That Is, All That Was, All That Will Never Be
Mary Stacy
Part One: From This side of the Glass
The first time it happened…
In a meeting with Selar and T'Pau, they were discussing the merits of a new trade agreement with Doltaurans. As usual, T'Pau was taking the isolationist stance, opposed to any changes in terms to an agreement more than 100 years old.
Sarek sometimes wondered how it was possible that she was related to him in any way, let alone as father-sister. It had seemed that his father had so embraced the idea of spending time among the various species of the then new Federation, that no desire was left for his sister to journey beyond the edge of their planetary sphere.
His mind had regretfully lingered on that point, trying to think past the next argument with his counterpoint when all of a sudden a shift in the air, and for a few brief seconds it was as if someone had made subtle changes in the room, the light that streamed from the large clerestory windows fell across the pattern on the floor at an odd angle, and the design in the floor itself had changed in hue ever so slightly. Then just as quickly, everything righted itself. It was such a barely perceptible moment, that had he been involved in some physical task, he might not have even noticed it. But seated in the council offices, hearing the same objections from T'Pau that he had been hearing most of his life, there had been just enough of a fraction of time where his mind had wandered for but a moment and been open to the anomaly.
"Sarek?"
He raised his brows in question, and then realizing that he had been caught in a distraction.
"It would be well that you practice more control,"
It sounded more like a hiss coming from his aunt, an elder chastising a younger family member, as she had all too often done when he was a child, but he had come to expect no less from this woman. She had never forgiven him for marrying Amanda and sought to reprimand him for every discretion no matter how small.
"It would appear that excessive time spent with outworlders has affected your ability to concentrate. "
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Selar move ever so slightly in his seat and he found himself regretting that the council member was subjected to this ongoing family feud. Quickly he moved to change the subject
"I believe that we were discussing the new trade agreement, " Sarek took the chance to step in before T'Pau could continue her attack on the agreement and proceeded into his defense of the hard-won concessions that had been made with the Doltaurans.
He gave it no more thought and the day continued as normal.
The second time…
This had always been his favorite time of day, when the sun sunk low into the sky, signaling the end of the day's heat. He stood on the edge of their terrace, overlooking the desert beyond the edge of the city's barrier.
The departing rays of the sun cast shadows among the rocks below and glanced off the quartz and crystals that were embedded in some of the stones, like stars ready to be swept back up into the sky at the first chance of nightfall.
His sharp eyes could see the flurry of activity amid the outcroppings, as the small furry cheerits awoke to the encroaching coolness of the evening, scurrying about in search of a meal of the insects that flitted about in the fading light. In the sky the night flyers started to circle, silhouetted in the setting sun, in search of any victims of the day's heat that could provide their evening feast.
The air had shifted from the heavy, hot winds of the day to the light cool bite of the night's welcome breeze as it whipped about his outer robes, fanning the light gauze ones he wore underneath. The breath of the wind was welcoming against the final gasps of the day's warmth and would be so until the sky darkened and the true cold of a desert's night took hold.
In the distance, he often thought it was if he could hear the cry of the desert as it came to life at these times, the only sound more dear to him at this moment, that of the soft hum of Amanda in the other room as she set about preparing the evening meal.
No matter how many worlds he visited and how many wonders he had seen, this to him was the most beautiful, his home world on the brink of Eventide. He took a deep breath, letting the brisk air fill his lungs, and then…
The peaceful scene before him melted away, and he gripped tight the terrace wall. What had been a gently falling twilight but a moment before was now filled with fire and smoke. The rocks and sand seemed to scream in agony, twisting and churning, his world now a mass of pain and suffering. It reminded him of nothing more than illustrations that he had seen of the human's hell, meant to terrify the viewer into mending their ways before they met some heinous fate in the afterlife. But here there was no life, only destruction.
Before his eyes, the desert swelled then opened up like some great mawling pit. The sky rained showers of stone and fireballs whistled all around him. All was now dense with corruption and death, and his eyes stung with…
"Sarek?"
Somewhere, he felt the gentle touch of an arm as it linked into his. Pulling himself back to reality, he almost lost his balance with the intensity of the shift. Beside him, Amanda stood, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Are you alright? The look on your face- it was as if –"
He took in a breath and composed himself before tuning to face his wife, "It is nothing. Come , your ni'ch'pa smells tempting as always."
His wife gave him a hard stare, trying to will him into a confession, but he would give no hints of the chaos he had seen. Trying as hard as he could to dismiss it, it cowered in the dark corners of his mind, a fear of a foreshadowing. He looked down at his still shaking hands, their palms bruised and scraped by the force of his grip on the stone wall, quickly hiding them within the folds of his robe, away from his wife's all too sharp eyes.
And that night the dreams began- he would not allow them the power of calling them nightmares, though that might be the better description…
They were in the Katric Ark? And then suddenly, the world started tumbling about them, walls giving way, and they started to run, fast and hard, through the dark caves, dodging remnants that seemed to be directed at them from every crevice and crack along the way. Stumbling over outcroppings, some ancient and some newborn of the violence that seemed to be occurring under each footstep. A few steps in front of him, Amanda struggled to hold her ground alongside Spock (Spock?) racing away from the terror- or was it into it? He tried to catch up with her, but she always seemed to be just beyond his grasp, head cast down to avoid the debris that came from all angles. And as each night went by, the race to safety somewhere, somehow, became more and more furtive.
He would awake each night, with a feeling that he thought was all too closely allied to terror, reaching out as he pulled away from the dream, to assure himself that he was in his own bed, his wife by his side. And as in slumber she moved closer to him, subconsciously spurred by his touch, he allowed himself to settle back into a sleep. But with each night, it seemed to take longer.
The final time….
The fears of the night had begun to creep into his waking hours. He would find himself listening for any suspicious sound, watching for any sudden unexpected moment. Too often he found himself reaching out for Amanda, as if to verify that she was really here and they were both safe.
Then finally, a night with no dreams, or at least none he could remember, but which found him upon waking with a new unwelcome sense of dread that he could not stop, something that might change all things beyond mending. He had managed his morning meetings, but with mid-day break, and the weight of some unknown and illogical dread bearing upon him with more urgency each minute, he cancelled his appointments, seeking refuge at home, hoping that meditation would calm, and allow him to examine the source of his anxiety.
The meditation room was always kept clear of any outside influences. Without windows, there was no time of day, and the ambient light from strategically placed firepots, softly played against draped walls. From each of the corners came the soft music of water spraying over stones, and the air was cool with the barely perceptible scent of the ha'lei'ha plant, known for it's abilities to ease one's mind into a relaxed state when all else might fail.
Sarek had already changed from his street robes and into the loose fitting house ones, and he allowed the incense to fill his lungs and put him at ease, before he settled onto the straw mat below.
He willed the tension out of his body, down through the flooring, into the ground deep below, anchoring himself, letting the welcome energy of Vulcan's life force purify and transform it. With each breath, he allowed his heart to slow and his mind to release the tensions of the day. Gradually, he allowed all conscious thought to drift away, slowing the internal dialogue of the mind until it was no more than a distant hum. He was at peace…
But he was not. Once more was running for his life, in a frantic reliving of the dream. But here and now it was not a dream, it was as if he were in the shadow world of a doppelganger, someone who was him, but not him. His lungs filled with the sulphur that spew from the cracks as they stumbled and faltered, trying to reach safety even as the ground beneath them fought their effort with all it's might.
And when finally, they stopped, ground seemingly solid beneath their feet, it happened. He had turned to look at Amanda, it was an Amanda who was not his Amanda, with brown eyes dark filled with fear, and then---
She was gone forever in a beat of a heart.
And the Sarek who was Sarek, safe in his own time and place, let the world pass away from him in protective blackness.
"Sarek, Sarek?"
There was a great urgency to the voice that sought to rouse him, slender arms that sought to hold him tight and pull him out of the abyss. He allowed his mind to follow the sound of that voice and back into the world as he had left it, tranquil and still. His hand reached out to grab Amanda's, eyes still closed. What would he find upon opening them? A sudden fear rushed through him, and he steeled himself to look.
They were as they had always been, those eyes blue like a jai blossom. This was his Amanda, and he stroked the contours of those beloved eyes gently with his fingertips, willing himself to forget the horror that had played out before him a universe away.
If there were another Sarek out there somewhere, it was a Sarek that was not him, mourning an Amanda that was not his Amanda, but one with bright dark eyes, lost now forever. For him, the dreams and visions would cease, and eventually he allowed them to fade from conscious memory …