A/N: So I just realized I could post an authors note. Shows what a noob I am... Anyway, the reason for the rating is for language for the first while, and some bow-chikka-wow-wow later on. I'm concentrating more on story than on sexy times, though, so if all you're looking for is smut, you may have to either wait or find another fic. The sex will only be where it fits with the story, sorry guys. Please R&R, this is my first story and I'd really love to see what people think of it! I am amazed, I just posted the first chapter last night and already 2 reviews, thank you so much to the two people who reviewed, it really validated me continuing to post! I'm starting to integrate some more canonical characters for your reading pleasure, so enjoy!
Part One: Fire and Ice
2239: Fire
The hard stone floors of the Academy hallways were not strangers to Spock. He frequently found himself sprawled upon them, feet swept out from under him or shoved from behind by an unknown assailant. Well, not entirely unknown. There was usually a list of likely suspects. However, his acquaintance with the floor didn't ever seem to make hitting it any less painful.
This time, a conveniently spilled bottle of water had caused him to lose his balance, slip and fall hard on his tailbone. Usually, he reserved the grimace of pain for later, as he walked towards home, unseen. But this time, he couldn't help himself from uttering a small yelp of pain and wincing as the shock shot up his spine. He heard a small crunch upon impact and groaned internally: another trip to the healer.
"Oh, I am deeply sorry, Spock! Did you just slip on my spill?" came a voice brimming with barely concealed contempt. Looking up at the origin of the voice, Spock's eyes met those of his classmate, T'Ven. She was sitting with a group of Spock's usual tormentors, who were gazing at him with unfriendly eyes. The corners of their lips were pulled up infinitesimally by humourless smiles, but their combined scorn didn't intimidate Spock anymore.
"His human blood must make him clumsy," piped up one boy, Vorret. "It is practically a statistical impossibility that he passed his kahs-wan test at all."
"Have you set a date to re-take your test, Vorret?" asked Spock politely, picking himself up, brushing some of the water off his trousers and addressing the boy. "The statistics are in favour of your passing on your second attempt."
The faint amusement on their faces dropped off like leaves from a dying tree. Spock inclined his head and started away, anticipating no further provocations from the hopefully silenced group. At least until tomorrow.
However, Vorret held onto his pride more than Spock had foreseen. The larger Vulcan leapt to his feet and grabbed Spock's shoulder, spinning him around and slamming him into a wall. Spock had always been rather small compared to the other boys, but no-one was able to tell if this was because of his mixed heritage, a growth spurt yet to come, or a mix of both. The other boy was much bulkier than Spock, whose whippet-thin frame, although deceptively strong, was no match for Vorret's early growth spurt. Spock, knowing he could not emerge victorious in a physical fight, simply gazed at him without reacting. He didn't want to give the older boy the satisfaction of knowing how much his tailbone hurt at that moment. He feared that something may be broken and dreaded having to explain his ailment to the healer.
"As I recall, you failed to even finish the course, half-breed," snarled the boy, his emotional control wiped away by his injured pride. The older boy was now so close that Spock was forced to turn his head to avoid being hit in the nose by the other boy's chin. His eyes drifted down the corridor, seeking an escape. He spotted a figure emerging from one of the classrooms a small distance away. Spock recognized her high ponytail and aristocratic features.
T'Pring's eyes widened fractionally, before she turned the opposite way and hurried down the hall. She was pretending not to see, but Spock knew she had. Perhaps she was ashamed further by her intended mate; not only was he half human, he was also the school punching bag.
"Did you hear me, mongrel?" Vorret demanded, shaking Spock. "Who are you to condemn me when you failed to even cross the finish line?"
"The judges are of a different opinion than you, Vorret, and it is their judgment that counts," Spock said quietly, too softly for the other children to hear. "I understand the disappointment of not passing, however…"
"You do not understand! How could you understand?" hissed Vorret, rage in his eyes. "The judges felt sorry for you. That is the only possible explanation for you passing. The compassion you exhibited should have caused you to fail."
"You could not have known that passing by the injured boy and I would lead to failure," Spock reasoned calmly. "In fact, quite the contrary; we were taught that the results would be based on individual achievement, and that teamwork was frowned upon. I had resigned myself to failure. If I had not aided that boy, he would have surely died. I could not abide having that on my conscience."
"Your conscience…" Vorret uttered the word like a curse. "Your humanity should have cost you the test. It is not logical. It is not fair…"
"Life is unfair, Vorret," Spock said, more than a little smugly, firmly pushing him away and tugging his tunic down, seemingly unruffled. "Become accustomed to that, and things will go more smoothly for you."
Spock began to walk away, then had a thought. He turned back to Vorret, who looked slightly stunned.
"As members of my mothers race would say," Spock said, locking eyes with the older boy, "Good luck with your test."
Without waiting for a response, Spock strode away. He did his best not to limp, as his injured tailbone was now throbbing most painfully. Spock had to bite his lip to keep it from quivering. He was ashamed of himself. He had exhibited far too much emotion in that encounter; he would have to do much better next time. It would not do for him to show his feelings as he had. The other children already had enough reasons to poke fun at him.
Spock's last three classes of the day, Biochemistry, Early Vulcan History and Elementary Quantum Mechanics, were both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because they were not physically demanding, requiring only mental acuity, a curse because he had to sit for four and a half hours with his weight on his tailbone. Somehow, he found the resolve to compartmentalize the pain and participate in the classes, but there were times, particularly in Biochem, while sitting on a lab stool, when Spock would have gladly amputated everything from the waist down to stop the pain.
Finally, class let out. Spock gathered his things and rushed for the door. In his haste, he failed to watch where he was going, and ran headlong into a moderately solid object. Landing hard on his tailbone for a second time that day, Spock stifled a moan at the flash of agony that again blasted up his spine. Looking up, his dark eyes met another pair of brown eyes, these ones having seen much more than Spock's own. Wise and knowing, they gazed at Spock, awaiting the flood of apologies that were sure to come.
T'pau scrutinized Spock as he slowly, painfully stood up to face her.
"Are you injured, son of Sarek?" she inquired.
"It is repairable," answered Spock, skirting around actually answering her question. "Please excuse me. I did not see you."
"Obviously," replied T'pau, but she did not seem offended. "It is alright. I am uninjured."
"I am… gratified to hear that," replied Spock. "Now, if you will excuse me…"
T'pau nodded once and Spock hurried past her, towards the Academy's vast hospital facility. One of the doctors was a close colleague of his father, and usually patched Spock up after encounters with the other children that Spock did not want his parents to find out about. It isn't lying, Spock told himself, it is simply preventing them from learning of a truth that will cause them pain.
Sayul's office was, as per usual, spotless and gleaming. His instruments lay on the tables, aligned perfectly, and the coverlet on the examination table was as taut as a cadet's bed sheet. Sayul, however, was nowhere to be seen when Spock entered the office, now limping openly. Setting his school bag down, he waited in silence.
When the door finally opened, it was not only Sayul who came through it. He was accompanied by a very tall man whose hair was just beginning to be touched by silver. Spock stared at him in horror. It was his father, Sarek.
Spock swallowed audibly, which alerted his father to his presence.
"Spock, what are you doing here?" he inquired, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Your classes finished fifteen minutes, thirty-two seconds ago. Shouldn't you be on your way home?"
Spock had no idea what to say. How could he explain what had happened to his father? The shame would be unbearable.
"I… slipped on some water and fell onto my tailbone," Spock said at length. Although technically this was the truth Spock felt remorse at keeping the whole truth from his father. "I did not wish to trouble you with this."
"The health of my son is no trouble, Spock," replied Sarek, and for some reason Spock got the feeling that he was being chastised. "Carry on, Sayul. I shall see you when you return home, Spock."
Spock nodded and watched his father exit the office. Sayul motioned for Spock to sit on the table.
"With all due respect, sir, I would rather stand," Spock said, the prospect of sitting again making him want to grit his teeth. "Sitting causes the pain to worsen."
Sayul nodded, understanding, and got a medical tricorder from a cabinet. As he examined Spock, his brow furrowed.
"When did your… accident occur, Spock?" Sayul asked. Sayul was aware of why Spock kept getting injured, although Spock had never told him. The healer was a perceptive man.
"During the midday break," Spock answered. "As I said, I slipped on some spilled water."
"Spock, that was nearly five hours ago," the healer said disapprovingly. "Why did you not come then?"
"I had classes to attend," Spock responded icily.
Sayul just shook his head and set about repairing the broken tailbone.
When Spock strode out of the medical facility half an hour later, his tailbone repaired, the campus of the Academy was far emptier than during school hours. Only the Academy's staff, some full time students and visitors to the planet were in evidence. Spock felt a small surge of relief. He would not have to face his fellow students again.
As Spock hurried towards his home, he kept his eyes down. But he wasn't really seeing the ground, or anything else for that matter. All he wanted was to get home and curl up on his bed and hide from the world for a little while. It was a long way from the Academy's campus to his house, and he usually took a groundcar home from school. However, he opted not to take it that day. He partly wanted some time alone, and a deeper, more subconscious part of him wanted a bit of time to feel sorry for himself. When he finally reached the garden gate, the sun had all but set. He hurried through the gate and into his home.
The house still felt slightly empty without I-Chaya, especially when Spock first arrived home every day. However, there was someone waiting for him at the door this time. His mother.
"Your father called," she said by way of greeting, her hands firmly on her hips, a cloth slung over her shoulder. It looked as though she had been cooking. Sure enough, the aroma of her favourite dish, vegetarian curry, was wafting from the kitchen. Although it had taken Spock and his father some time to appreciate the pungent, spicy fare, they were both nearly as fond of it as she was now.
"He said he'd run into you at Dr. Sayul's office," she continued as Spock went into the kitchen. She followed him. "What happened?"
"I was clumsy," Spock replied testily. He had no desire to discuss the incident. "I fell and injured my tailbone. It was easily repaired."
"You fell, huh?" Amanda countered, disbelief clear in her voice. "Was this fall entirely your fault, or were there others involved?"
She was asking if someone had pushed him. While not precisely the truth, Spock knew how close she was to being right.
"I slipped on a puddle of water," Spock said. "Now if you don't mind, I have work to do for my Quantum Mechanics class tomorrow. When will dinner be served?"
"In about an hour," Amanda said, deflated. As Spock turned to leave, she added, "If someone did do this to you, you know you could tell me, right, Spock?"
"Of course, Mother," he replied over his shoulder. For a moment, he considered telling her everything; the names they called him, the names they called her, the shoving and hitting and prodding. For a few precious seconds, he thought about running into her arms and sobbing, as he would under these circumstances had he been a fully human boy. But he was not. And he could not do what a human boy would, as much as he wished he could.
Spock retreated to his room. Setting his bag down beside his desk, he collapsed heavily on his bed. His still tender tailbone protested this cavalier treatment, but Spock ignored the slight discomfort. Looking out the window, the stars that were just starting to show twinkled at him. He sighed. What he wouldn't give to be far away at that moment…