Chapter Four: No Connection

"Amelia. Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. We meet here, at the appointed place."

There was no turning back. I took a deep breath and said goodbye to everything I had ever known. "Spock. Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. I have received you."

We linked our fingers, but for me it was like a wave. A wave goodbye to Cassius, Octavian, Ardin, my mother, my father, my school, and Betazed.

When I had arrived on Vulcan, I had gone back to my quarters as soon as I could and cried. Betazed was a beautiful planet, with green grass, sunlight dancing off of lovely rivers, Andro trees, blue skies, the pearl waters of Rix, the bushes of Udu berries, the flowers and white and gold buildings, the birds and their calls. Vulcan was a dark desert of red sand and enormous, black, spiky buildings that resembled thorny bushes and claws. No flowers, no trees in site. I didn't see an animal anywhere that didn't have fangs and everyone wore ugly clothes and sour looks on their faces. When they looked at me, I could feel them judging me. There were no smiles or laughter, not even from the children. They don't have jokes on Vulcan.

I vowed to myself that no child of mine would be raised here.

Now, here I was, getting married. I was wearing clothes, I was saying strange words. The groom had only two guests and neither of them were his parents. There were weapons present and an old, stern looking woman was sitting on a sedan chair presiding. The man I was marrying was not Octavian or Ardin.

Ardin. Imzadi. The man I left back on Betazed with his dreamy eyes and his dirty jokes and his temper and his stories and his vows that I would never marry Octavian and marry him instead. Well, he was half right. My Imzadi, the history student who would someday be a teacher to students that would love him and everything he had to teach them.

I'm sorry. I should have mentioned him before now, but it was too painful.

Ardin who, when he heard what I had done, at first swore to kill my brother in an angry rage but ended up with my head in his lap, crying with me, his tears falling into my hair as he stroked it. Who said he was angry at me but didn't want that to be my last memory of him. Who made love to me for the last time as we swam in the pearl waters. Imzadi who's voice I still heard inside my head, who's face I saw every time I closed my eyes.

I turned in the steps of the wedding dance of Betazed. The Betazoid peacocks were released. They flew off, along with Ardin. I managed to keep all but one tear from falling. I looked into Spock's face and wanted to die. Oh please, make it stop. Make it stop. Let me wake up from this dream. Let me wake up in the arms of my Imzadi and have him wake up to and comfort me because I was having this awful nightmare. This one is old, he has pointed ears and upswept eyebrows. He does not smile or laugh or love me. He is doing this to make his mother happy. He does not even hesitate because that would be illogical. He wants everything logical logical logical. He would never tell a story unless it was useful in some way. He would never tell a dirty joke. He would never fuck me under water, he would fuck me in the bed, in some cramped space ship quarters and look at me with no emotion. I'd be 24 when he had wrinkles. He always wore the same clothes. He came from a desert planet where they leave their children out in the wilderness for ten days with no food or water. He kissed with his fingers and had stupid hair. He didn't have thick, wavy brown hair and black, dreamy eyes. This man had tiny eyes.

As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop thinking these things. He only had two friends with him. He didn't even think it was necessary for his family to come. But he had made sure this old, ugly woman was there to stare disapprovingly as we circled each other. I couldn't look at my family. I was too ashamed to look at them knowing that in a few hours this older pointy-eared alien would be thrusting his body against mine.

I tried not to think of Ardin. Good-bye! Good-bye! I love you, you wonderful boy! Please, leave me now. I can't think of you and get through this. Please go away, you ghost! I cannot compare you to this man who I am marrying! I must be strong, and you are my weakness!

I decided to stop looking at Spock and instead looked over at Kirk and McCoy. Kirk's face was expressionless, but McCoy looked shocked and fascinated, his eyes wide, his head pushed forward and his mouth a straight line.

And I couldn't help it, I started laughing. I laughed like you laugh at a funeral. I laughed so that as we finished the ceremony, I had a wild, crazy smile on my face.

~-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~

We were in the new quarters. They were bigger. There was a double bed. There were two desks and dressers and the washroom had two sinks. Already Spock's decorations were up. I hated them. I wanted to tear them down and crush them. I fantasized about crushing everything he owned into little, tiny pieces and laughing my head off.

"Are you feeling adequately healthy?"

This was his way of asking if I was ready to have sex. I would never be ready, not with him.

"Your energy levels are satisfactory?"

I wanted to shoot him. "Spock you can go ahead and fuck me now, it's fine."

"I see. Since you are eager to do so, we will."

"I'm about as eager to fuck you as your mother, I just want to get it over with."

I couldn't believe I had said that. I had actually said something I would have said on Betazed. I had been truthful with him.

"Is it your desire to be celibate?"

"No, I just want to get this over with, please!"

He took off his clothing, I went busy on mine so I would not have to watch. I laid down on the bed on my back and spread my legs. To my surprise, he rushed to get on top of me and played with my breasts a bit. He took twenty-five minutes and to my absolute shock, he grunted and even moaned a couple of times. I looked at his hideous sculpture on the wall with its blinking lights, counting the thrusts along with the flashes of light. One, two, three. One, two, three. I let the tears flow silently, just grunted a few times. His dick wasn't huge, but it was sizeable. He finished inside me, pulled out, and rolled over to the side. I felt like I had raped myself with his penis. I was disgusted with myself.

There was an awkward silence. Then Spock leaned over and kissed my mouth. A little part of me tasted Ardin.

"Your face is wet." Spock observed. I wanted to shoot him again.

"I am sad, Spock."

"I do not believe you climaxed." No shit.

"I didn't."

"I apologize."

"Not your fault. I'm in another place."

"No, you are not."

I sat up and pulled a sheet around me. He was right. I was not in another place. I was there. I was sitting on the bed in the quarters in a starship orbiting the planet Vulcan. I wanted to be in another place more than I ever wanted anything, but I was not. I was a Vulcan's wife, and all I wanted was to be somewhere else. I didn't even need Ardin. I just wanted to be at home. I would be strong, but not now. Now I would yearn for home, for this not to have happened. Now I would cry and hate and pity myself and hate everything but home and everyone there. I said all this aloud.

"Why are you telling me this? I do not think you trust me enough yet to tell me such intimate things."

"I am telling you because I am a Betazoid. I am telling you this because before I repressed myself for fear you and your father would go back on the deal if I offended you and now you can't. I am telling you this because this is what is going through my head and you're going to know sooner or later. I am telling you this because you asked. I am telling you this because if I hold another thing back, I'll kill myself."

"I see. And who, may I ask, is Ardin?"

"Ardin is my Imzadi. He was my lover on Betazed. He told me stories from history and acted out some parts as he imagined they had happened. He first kissed me when I was fifteen. He plotted to find a way to end my arranged betrothal with Octavian. He had thick wavy hair and sometimes spoke in a very high voice to make me laugh. He cried tears into my hair and is now back on Betazed, hating my brother, you, your father, and, in a temporary way, me."

I stood up and walked to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and looked in the mirror. My hair had been neatly put into an elaborate bun, but now it was coming apart. My face was red from crying.

Mr. Spock entered the bathroom, his pants on again. Good. I didn't want to see his dick. "Your hair arrangement is coming apart. If you will allow me, I will undo it."

"Let me go sit down first. It's very nice of you, Spock."

"You seem to have much on your mind, whereas I have little to concern myself with right now in comparison. This would give you one less thing to worry about."

"You're not thinking about much? I'm surprised. Usually a man who just got married who has a new wife crying after sex would have a lot to think about."

"My concern is for you. You are dealing with emotional anguish. I have seen this exhibited by the Captain when he loses a crew member. It is debilitating and if you are like this for too long, you will not be able to go back to studying soon enough."

"Right."

~-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~

Soon after the wedding I started to set up a schedule for myself. I woke up when Spock did at 630 hours, and would go down to the gym to work out and practice Tazmel (Betazoid Martial Arts) for an hour, then go have a shower back at our quarters and breakfast. By this time Spock would be out of our quarters and I would be free to bang the chime as I ate. I would then commence studying until lunch at 1200 hours, eat in the cafeteria with Lieutenant Uhura and Ensign Marie Foreman, who I had become friends with and didn't mind the chime. I had an hour of recreation, then back to completing classes.

Spock and I barely saw each other. We had dinner together (he refused to let me use the chime), woke up together, and usually went to sleep at the same time, though sometimes I stayed up late studying or going to the stargazing deck to be alone and think. I usually tried to keep myself busy so I would not have to think too much, especially not about him.

I tried to pretend he didn't exist, though at times it was hard. Spock had made an agreement with me that we would have sex if either of us was restless and could not get to sleep. I, of course, always pretended to sleep well, but if he had any restless energy, we'd go at it. The occasions were few and to my surprise, he managed to make me climax once in a while. Afterwards, everything was silent.

But it didn't take long for issues to arise. One morning as we got up, Spock asked me about something I had not even thought of since I was given my marriage chest.

"Wife?"

"Yes, Spock?" I asked, rolling my eyes at his use of the word "wife." I hated it when he called me that. I was too young to be called "wife" by anybody, even my husband.

"You informed me shortly before our marriage that your species forms a particular telepathic link with family, loved ones and spouses, yet we have been married three weeks already and we have not formed a particular telepathic bond as far as we have noticed. The logical conclusion is that there is something wrong."

The realization brought me out of my morning haze and woke me up quite well. I thought about it carefully. "Spock, I don't know why this is. It could be a number of things. Perhaps it has to do with you being Vulcan. Or maybe it's because I barely know you and feel no personal connection with you. On Betazed, even in arranged marriages, we usually feel a personal connection to the person we marry because we've known them since childhood. I knew Octavian since I was three. I only met you a little over a month ago and don't feel connected with you in any way other than the most traditional sense. I have stayed out of your head as you've asked me, and because you are the least personable, engaging, or forthcoming person I have ever met, I have had little to no opportunity to learn anything about you. I daresay I know more about Lieutenant Uhura than I know about you."

"If that is the case, then you have certainly failed in trying to fix that. Your schedule is such that our paths rarely cross during the day. As my schedule is set up by my work and you are in control of your own time, you are the one with a greater opportunities to make sure we are fully aquainted with one another."

I rolled my eyes. "Spock, you don't understand, I spend less time with Uhura or Foreman than I do with you each day, yet I feel I know more about them. It's not enough to be in the same place at the same time, you have to converse, have exchanges, volunteer things. I told you a great amount of things about myself, but you volunteer nothing of your own life. It makes it impossible to relate to you. There's a marriage on paper, but not of minds."

"I see. Well, I will try to rectify this problem if you wish, though I am not practiced well in relating to humans."

"I don't doubt that, but you've spent most of your time around human men. Human men don't talk much about their feelings or anything other than the most casual topics. I'm a Betazoid female. It's very different. You can't get away with the same nondisclosure with me. Unless, of course, you like to save yourself the trouble and let me read your mind."

"No thank you, Amelia," Spock said, "I am quite confident I can manage the situation without telepathy being involved."

"Fine, then at dinner tonight, you will start talking, and perhaps I'll be able to share more with you, as well."

At dinner that night, he arrived promptly at 7:00 and sat down to a meal of Vulcan leek soup and squash casserole. He gave me a quizzical look. "A Vulcan dish?"

"I thought maybe you'd like it." I said, shrugging. "That's just me, trying to be considerate. I don't know what your favorite food is, so I thought I would make a guess."

Spock took a sip, then shook his head. "I can see how you would arrive to the conclusion that I would prefer a Vulcan dish, but it so happens my favorite dish is Vegetarian Earth Lasagna."

"Really?" I said, surprised. "I would have thought you preferred the Vulcan alternative every time."

"My mother was human, and she did the cooking at home. She preferred making Earth meals, and I grew to prefer eating them."

"Yeah?" I smiled, shocked at how forthcoming he was being. "What other Earth customs did you pick up?"

"Very few, save for an enjoyment of Earth Literature. My mother was a College English teacher and linguist, she brought many of her books with her to Vulcan."

"Any particular favorite?"

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray and Ayn Rand's Anthem were personal favorites."

"I've read those! I adore Oscar Wilde's work in particular. I took many classes in Federation literature in Secondary School and fell in love. So, no other Earth things?"

"I am very much a Vulcan," replied Spock before taking a bite. "I tried to avoid much of my mother's cultural influence growing up."

"It must have been hard, growing up in between those two worlds and not being able to express yourself."

Spock's eyes flicked for half a second. "There were difficulties. But I was able to work through them."

"Well, obviously." I replied evenly. "But that doesn't make what you had to go through any less of a hardship."

He said nothing more and I shut up and finished my meal. I knew I had gone far enough for one night.

It did not end up mattering much, whether we had our dinners or not. Spock withheld nearly everything. I asked him about his relationship with his father, all he said was, "He does not approve of my career choice." He refused to elaborate. I asked him about his mother, all I got was, "She is human." I asked him why he wished to join Star fleet. The answer? "It was a logical decision, as I was welcome and interested in cultivating a variety of new knowledge." All his answers were short, clipped sentences, no hint of humanity was present. He did not bother asking me about myself either, though I volunteered as much information as I could, I could not tell if he was listening. He merely kept his lips pursed, stared at me, and said nothing.

~------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~

One Month Later

I was in the middle of finishing my thesis and was cramming hard for final exams when one evening Spock had come into our quarters to find that his pile of dirty clothes had gotten very high. He had asked me why I hadn't done the laundry, and I replied that I didn't know I was supposed to. He had told me he had expected me to do it without asking since I was his wife and "didn't have much else to do." I lost it.

"You are being irrational, Amelia. Your anger is not warranted."

"I'm in the middle of finishing my degree! I'm trying to learn everything I can so I don't fail my exams! I'm trying to make sure the last six years of my life weren't wasted and you say I don't have much to do except clean your laundry?! Are you insane?! You inconsiderate bastard!" I railed at him, my eyes filled with angry tears.

"If I am inconsiderate, then you certainly are as well, since your efforts toward assisting me with our home are minimal at best." He just stood there, with that reserved expression on his face. It just made me feel worse.

"I don't owe you anything!"

"You are my wife!"

"Yeah, and why? Because I agreed to marry you. And I did. I didn't agree to clean for you, do your laundry, leave my home to live with you, have sex with you, try to get to know you or anything! I could have just had the wedding and gone home. But no, I wanted to do it right. And what has it gotten me? You don't take any interest in me or my life, and you are so withholding that I can't establish a link with you! That's not my fault, Buddy! You can't even connect with me and I'm supposed to be your wife! You call this a home? This is no home! I should have just gone back to Betazed, I'd be much happier there! All you can do is ask me why I'm not doing your laundry. Well, maybe it's because you're hardly my husband!"

Spock stared at me for a long moment. "You are correct in saying this is not home. We do not have the same home. Mine is Vulcan and yours is Betazed. I fail to see why you cannot do simple household tasks while you are not employed, but I will think over what you have said to me. I will take the dirty clothing to the laundry room and do them myself."

He left with a bag full of clothing, everything about him carrying a sort of finality that struck fear into my heart. What would he do? It was true—I could not connect with him mentally. I had been trying my best for over a month to poke and prod him for information about himself so I could establish a connection. I got nothing. Nothing at all. It wasn't working. He wouldn't let it. And that was what angered me.