The first few hours after Spock's surgery were blurred in Amanda's mind. She functioned on auto-pilot. And she had little re-collection of everything that had taken place on Artois after the procedure.
Now they were back on the T'Paari, warping through space to Vulcan.
Even though it was unusual, she was sitting on Spock's bio-bed with his head in her lap.
Her son was still asleep. He looked a lot better now. She just hoped that he would be able to put this ordeal behind him. But she knew it wasn't going to be easy.
Spock's eyelashes twitched. Amanda did not notice at first.
A moment later, a low, keening sound came from his throat.
"Spock," Amanda asked tentatively, wondering if her son was supposed to come out of sedation now. She pressed the button beside the bed to alert Healer Sefan.
"Mo..Mot..Mothe…r," His words were slurred, and his voice raspy; from screaming probably. Martha shuddered to think that for the last few days, that was all he had done in his rare lucid moments.
"I am here, Spock. You are safe now," she gently whispered.
XXXXX
For the longest time he had felt that he was floating away in vacuum. It had been a frightening sensation, even more terrifying than being locked in that room with just a keyhole for company.
Now the sensations were very different. It felt like the real, material world. He could feel fabric under him. He could tell that his head was slightly elevated and that it was resting in someone's lap. He was also aware of dull throbbing in his back, buttocks, thighs, and hands. He was exhausted. And it was a struggle to even open his eyes. His eyelids felt too heavy. And a part of him just wanted to sleep indefinitely.
But the dull throbbing was starting to turn into a simmering fire. And it wasn't letting him slip back into slumber.
He wondered if the person whose lap his head was resting on, was his mother.
He tried to form the words.
They were there in his head, but frustratingly, nothing came out of his mouth. His jaw felt like cotton wool. And that's when a sense of panic set in. What if he was actually back in the dark room? There was no way for him to know that this wasn't another elaborate trapping of his mind.
He tried harder.
Something came out. It was garbled and messy. Not quite what he had wanted to say.
He was about to try again, when a familiar feminine voice responded.
Who was she? Was this how his mother spoke?
It took Spock a moment to realize that this was indeed his mother.
But then, how?
Where was the young prince? Had something happened?
The last thing he clearly remembered was a brand that was pressed to his side.
Just then, the said injury twinged painfully.
He winced at the memory. And he tried to grab onto the numerous disconnected thoughts swimming in his mind.
But everything felt scattered. And it felt like too much effort to hold onto any one thought.
"Ishok, that was the name of the other child," he thought.
Spock made another sound in his throat. Suddenly, he felt a sharp, stinging pain in the back of his head.
And suddenly, he could feel bright light behind his eyelids.
XXXXX
He opened his eyes slowly. At first they seemed glassy and unfocused. A minute or so later, awareness seeped into him.
"Spock, my baby," Amanda said, her words completely choked because she was so overwhelmed. The last time she had seen her child awake, had been when she had seen him off to the seminary on that fateful morning almost a week ago.
And between then and now, he had been forced to endure unspeakable terrors; to experience the savage brutality some beings were capable of for the most illogical reasons.
"Mo..mother," his voice sounded clearer and stronger now.
"What..ha..ha..happen..happened? Ishok?" Spock asked haltingly, tired after speaking even two sentences.
"Ishok was crowned the heir of his planet," Amanda responded. "He tried to take care of you as much as he could. And when we came for you, his father said he was sorry. Everything is okay now, Spock. Don't worry about anything."
"I wish I could have said… said farewell. He wanted to be my friend. I did not let him. But he was my friend," Spock said, his voice so very human in its childlike uncertainties
Amanda's heart broke on seeing her son hurting. But she needed to ensure that he wouldn't tax himself.
She glanced towards the door, only to notice that Sefan was standing there. He had probably witnessed the entire exchange.
"Lady Amanda, Spock must consume a meal," he said. "Do you wish me to bring you a serving of Plomeek soup?"
"No. I shall get it," she said, placing Spock's head on the pillow. She got up and made her way towards the replicator.
She could sense Sefan's disapproval at the fact that she wasn't discouraging of her son's occasional human emotionalism. However, the man was a healer for a reason. He knew that this was not the time or the place to talk about this matter.
She took the bowl of soup back to the room, hoping that things would get better now. Her family had seen too much in too short a time, and they all needed some time to find their equilibrium again.
XXXXX
Sarek was on the bridge when he received Sefan's message.
"Helmsman Sabar, I need to attend to some business in the medical bay," Sarek said as he turned to leave.
He was apprehensive about meeting his son. He hadn't spoken to him in days, even before he had gone missing. And now he was awake.
Sarek did not want to wonder about it, but it bothered him that he did not have the easy, comforting manner of Amanda when it came to Spock.
Sure, the child looked very Vulcan. He was certainly much less emotional than a human. But it was in his mother's love that he found comfort, not in the severe disciplines of logic that were the very basis of the average Vulcan's life.
His feet carried him to the medical bay subconsciously.
He had been so lost in thoughts that he did not remember reaching his destination.
Slowly, he entered inside.
He took a deep breath before surveying the room.
His son's bed was obscured by a curtain. He could see Amanda's silhouette. It looked like she was feeding Spock.
A tiny bit of disgust came over him. How low had his child been brought that he couldn't even feed himself?
Sarek wanted to hit something, as illogical as that was. And he was determined to do everything in his power to ensure that the students who had hurt Spock's already injured hands would be punished.
A flicker of anger also came into his mind.
Why couldn't his son just be more Vulcan? Why did he have to react to them? Why did he impulsively seek the services of Sulok to teach him to master emotion? Why did Sulok take his revenge on a small child? Why did T'Pemal not inform them of Spock's constant harassment?
Why was it such a crime to bond with a human woman?
"You are being illogical," a harsh voice commanded him inside. Sarek stiffened and quickly closed his mind to the jumbled questions.
He made his way to Spock's bio-bed. He could hear Amanda's laughter and Spock's quiet giggles. It seemed like she was entertaining their child with terran stories again.
The minute he opened the curtain, all the sound stopped. Spock's smile vanished in an instant. He shrank within himself.
"Greetings, Father," he said formally. There was no trace of humor in his voice. The Vulcan in Sarek was impressed with his son's ability to compose himself so quickly. However, the father in him ached to listen to the innocent and carefree sounds of his child's laughter.
The quiet, unemotional, and resigned way seemed unnatural almost, considering that only now Spock was starting to recover from the effects of his captivity.
"Are you well, my son?" Sarek asked.
"I am functional," Spock replied. "I shall be adequate in three weeks, two days, five hours, and nine minutes according to healer Sefan."
It was eerie hearing Spock talk like an adult Vulcan. Sarek was surprised, because Spock never spoke with such precision. Most Vulcan children never spoke with such precision at this age.
This ordeal had obviously changed him greatly.
"Do you wish me to get you something, son?" Sarek asked, hoping he would exhibit a normal, childlike desire like other Vulcan children occasionally did.
"Negative, father," he said. "I have everything I require. I thank you for rescuing me and for all the effort you had to make in this endeavor."
"Son, you do not need to thank me," Sarek said roughly, unable to keep the emotion from his voice this time. "I am your father. And you are very dear to me. Rescuing you was not just a matter of my duty."
"I thank you all the same," Spock said, still not betraying any emotion.
"Very well, Spock. I must return to the bridge," Sarek said.
He nodded to Amanda, who had been silent through the entire conversation between father and son. He knew she would wish to discuss it later. It was clear that she was as alarmed as he was by the change in Spock.
And it looked like it was something she hadn't seen earlier. Maybe it was going to be a longer road to recovery. And Sarek hated to admit it, but Amanda's wisdom was proving to be correct again. Wounded relationships were a lot harder to heal than wounded bodies.