Hey guys, yeah, I am actually alive still. I won't give excuses, but I *will* thank everyone who has been patient enough to wait for this because I seriously don't even have the words to thank you all. I know how shitty it is to find a story that you love and the author just poofs out of existence without finishing anything.
That won't be the case here. I have several chapters written, and it feels like everything is starting to come to a close. I haven't finished, but I'm getting there, and I promise you all that even if I disappear or it's just fucking *forever* between me updating and adding new chapters, I WILL finish this story.
Thank you so, so much for all of the comments, they have helped me build the strength to keep working on this. My plot just... died, to be honest, and I wrote myself into a corner I didn't know how to get out of, and then it was just too much and I couldn't think about it. But I read every single comment, and I loved them all, and they helped remind me why I love writing in the first place.
I am deeply insecure about my writing, so I feel like it won't be worth it, but I hope this chapter was worth the wait for you guys at least.
If you like it, if you don't, if you have any kind of feeling about it, please leave a comment and let me know. I cannot stress enough how crucial comments were to me not giving up on this story completely.
Let's give Spock and Piper a happy ending, yeah?
Despite the shortcomings of her humanity, there is an indefinable quality to his mother that Spock has difficulty cataloging but is admittedly a quality he admires. Something in the air around her, perhaps her tone when she speaks. A certain grace he was unaware humans were capable of wielding. It evokes feelings of calmness and safety within his katra that Spock guards fiercely against all others around him.
Even his father.
Spock knows his logic is faulty, and he should instead seek guidance on the ways with which he can purge these emotions from his mind. In the pursuit of logic and rationality, there is no space left for affection.
However his mother has been the only person to treat him with unconditional kindness on this planet. Granted, there is a certain kind of comfort in the cold simplicity of his fellow Vulcans - though their insipid offspring leave much to be desired. But when Spock is tormented relentlessly, made to suffer from punitive mind games and emotional ridicule, and physical abuse in some extreme situations… logic gives him no place of peace.
Amanda is what gives him peace.
His mother.
She has his eyes.
No, that is incorrect.
Spock has her eyes. Her patently expressive and human eyes. Even so, they look different on her than the eyes he sees in the mirror. His are clouded, confused, easily projecting the constant war he fights within himself.
Amanda's eyes are kind, and warm. They twinkle with some hidden secret Spock his been unable to discern. He has noticed 87 separate instances this past week where they even appeared to gain an effervescent glow when she laughed. He marvels that she hides nothing, even though she is shunned for such behavior.
She even seems to wear her emotions with pride.
It is astounding. And confusing. Spock can see how this treatment hurts her, how alone his mother feels on this planet. In this marriage. This life. He cannot understand why she subjects herself to this willingly.
And so one day he asks her.
His mother blinks at him in surprise before she wrinkles her nose in an expression he recognizes as amusement.
"Now what gives you the idea that I'm unhappy?" Spock clasps his hands behind his back neatly. What a silly question.
"I have watched you, Mother. You have shown expressions of displeasure the last three times we have visited with Lady T'Pau. You are greatly displeased with the inconsiderate names spoken in relation to both you and me. You also appear frustrated with what is expected from Father in his occupation, and the lack of physical affection he has reciprocated with you."
Amanda raises her eyebrows at her son, setting down the knife in her hand, dinner now ignored. She opens her mouth to respond, but hesitates, and slowly closes her mouth. A small frown pulls at the corners of her lips, and Spock purses his. He has never been a reason for her to frown before. He is unsure of how to remedy the situation, should he upset his mother. Being a human, she is prone to outbursts of great emotion when she is upset.
Silently, Spock allows himself to panic.
Amanda studies him for a second, her whole body turning to face him. He feels the full weight of her undivided attention settle around his shoulders and valiantly fights off the urge to fidget.
He is Vulcan.
He will not fidget.
Fidgeting would be illogical.
"Sweetheart, just because I am in a situation that makes me sad for a little while, that doesn't mean I'm unhappy with my life here. I have you and your father, and you're both worth more than every bigoted, snobby Vulcan in the universe."
Fascinating. Spock has upset her so greatly she has resorted to fits of hyperbole and misplaced delusions of grandeur. This was a bigger mistake than previously calculated.
"That is highly illogical, Mother. No one person is more important than any other in the universe, let alone an entire species."
At this, his mother smiles and lets out a soft chuckle. A breath of relief escapes Spock - quietly.
"You only say that because you haven't met yours yet."
There is no explanation he can think of to rationalize what Spock just experienced. He is bereft and without the normal faculties to even begin attempting to discern this… mess. And yet, despite how frozen he feels in this moment of grief, this absolute certainty that this is truly the end for him and Piper, there is no more after this…
Something within his katra violently rebels at the mere notion. Recoils from the thought so fiercely he finds his feet turned towards the door before giving the thought his express permission.
Still, he decides this is for the best when he enters the hallway and immediately breaks into a sprint. One turn, then another, through a large set of doors and he finds the waiting area. One more turn and the door to the hospital's stairwell bangs on the wall behind him. He might have chipped it.
He does not stop to check.
There is no time.
There is no time.
He has three flights of stairs to take and precisely no time to spare for the task. Spock hardly remembers running up them all, though when he stops his chest is heaving to gather air and his legs burn. There is a Vulcan woman standing in front of him, hair neatly tucked into place and a PADD in her hands. Her robes denote her as a mind healer.
"I require your immediate assistance."
She raises a delicate eyebrow in his direction and says nothing.
Spock barely suppresses a growl of frustration, dismissing this woman as helpful.
"Is Healer T'Paa available?"
For a moment, Spock believes she will refuse cooperation, and the thought enrages him to the point of incoherence. He feels tears prickling at the back of his eyes once more and drops his gaze to the ground. He cannot - will not - feel shame for the grief he is experiencing. There is never anything shameful about what he feels for Piper. But the rest of his kin would not be so quick to agree, and he worries any show of emotion will quash what chance he has of this woman helping him.
There is no time.
"She is meditating in the second room on the left." Spock's eyes snap up to meet hers. Her voice is quiet, respectful of the environment, but there is a softness that surprises him.
Spock only spares time for a brief expression of gratitude, foregoing the customary greetings and running past her.
When he steps into the aforementioned room, the healer is sitting on a cushion in the center of the floor. Her hair is done much the same as it was during his appointment weeks ago.
"Why have you interrupted my meditation, son of Sarek?" Spock's cheeks tinge a light green, but he quietly closes the door behind him and sits on the floor in front of her. She has yet to open her eyes.
"My t'hy'la is dying."
At this, her eyes snap open, and Spock takes a moment of quiet pride that he was able to get the words out with hardly feeling the burn of bile rise up in his throat.
"I suspect a medical physician would be of greater assistance, in that case."
Spock shifts uncomfortably. Healer T'Paa purses her lips disdainfully, and he stills.
"Not precisely. I require an Astral meditation."
Silence.
"You are perfectly capable of performing such a task without help. Speak plainly, son of Sarek, this conversation is illogical and tiresome."
Spock sits for a moment. He is not sure exactly how to explain this problem. Mainly due to him being ignorant of what the problem is. He has nothing more than a vague theory, his own futile attempt at staving off Piper's mortality. He has nothing more than some hope and the most powerful emotion he has ever felt in his life.
He does not have the words, nor the patience to find them.
"I need an Astral meditation into my broken bond, and I do not know if I can find my way back without someone on the other side to ground me."
Healer T'Paa's eyes widen for a moment before she catches herself and closes them completely. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly through her mouth before answering.
"What you ask of me is highly illogical. Your bond is broken, there is nothing on the other side to find. You shall only drift deeper into madness, and I cannot give you confidence that I shall be able to save your mind."
Spock clenches his fists on his knees.
"I realize what I am asking for and all the dangers involved. If you require legal protection from my father I am willing to sign the necessary documentation."
Healer T'Paa opens her eyes once again, half-lidded and heavy with some emotion swirling deep within that Spock cannot place. She regards him, her eyes taking in the tear stains on his cheeks, his trembling fists, and light sheen of sweat.
"Very well." She pulls a PADD up from the floor Spock had failed to notice, and quickly finds a legal waiver. Spock does not bother reading it before signing. Healer T'Paa does not quite sigh, but it is a near thing.
"Lay before me. Brace your mind against your broken bond, son of Sarek. Your grief will not be an easy burden to bear after such great time separated from it."
Spock flatly ignores the trepidation and lays himself prone on the floor. Healer T'Paa rests her fingers gently against his psi-points, her voice calm and collected in a way he is sure will forever elude him shall this not work the way he envisions.
"My mind to your mind -
My thoughts to your thoughts."
Spock opens his eyes, unsurprised by the chaotic nature with which his thoughts roll in front of him. He is grateful that Healer T'Paa does not remark on this distasteful appearance, instead dutifully following him to where his dead bond with Piper resides, encapsulated.
No, not dead. He cannot believe it to be dead else he has already failed.
There is no physical appearance to the barrier, but Spock can feel it all the same. Thick and uncompromising, diligently upheld through the meditations recommended to him on his previous visit. The walls are more rigid than before, and while Spock has been ever grateful for their assistance in maintaining the composure needed from him, he now has no use for them.
Without reservation, he walks up and presses his hands against the formless sphere. It is hard, and cool to the touch, resistant to his intent. Spock grits his teeth and with a hard push from his hand shatters it completely.
He falls to his knees, his hands splaying out on the ground in front of him as an overwhelming wave of nausea distracts him. He shivers against the emotions running through him.
He is consumed.
Spock bites back a scream of pain as the full weight of his loss wraps around him in a macabre reminder of his greatest failures.
"You must calm your mind and focus."
Spock does not acknowledge her, so deep is he in the sea of his grief that he remains unaware of her presence.
Piper is gone, he cannot feel her. She is nowhere and he is lost. His soul has been squandered because he was too proud to realize the gift before him and now all hope is lost. How can he ever think of returning to life as if there is still beauty to behold in the galaxy around him? His t'hy'la is what gave the world beauty, without him even knowing, and now his life is awash in different hues of grey and black. There is nothing.
There is nothing.
Nothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothing-
A weight settles on his shoulders, startling Spock. He whips his head around and regards the mind healer. For a moment he is outraged. How dare someone bear witness to his suffering. How dare this woman have knowledge of his deepest shame.
Her eyes soften.
"You did not believe her to be lost when you began, Spock. Remember what you came here for."
What he… what he came here for. Yes, he came here for something. Something to help Piper and himself by extension.
He came here to save her.
Spock's mouth sets in a grim line of determination, and with great effort, he stands to his feet. The healer drops her hands and clasps them neatly in front of her, her eyes bright and watchful.
Spock regards the empty chasm ahead of him, now feeling less sure of himself. He is not confident that he is Vulcan enough to undertake this task, nor human enough to see it through.
But he is willing to try.
For Piper he would do whatever is required, no matter the cost.
Spock does not look back as he walks forward into the dark abyss, his shadow quickly consumed in darkness.
In the background, Healer T'Paa begins to chant in low tones of high Vulcan, closing her eyes for concentration.
He stands alone upon a golden beach. The sand is warm and soft between his bare toes, and a lazy breeze drifts across the ocean providing the perfect cooling on his skin to the unrelenting sun hanging bright in a cloudless sky. The waves crash in a rhythm known only to mother nature, but if he allows his focus to drift he feels reasonably certain he can hear the song.
He blinks slowly, his eyes hazy and glazed.
This is a place of peace.
Of rest.
And he is so very, very tired.
He takes a great lung full of air, the scent salty and sweet. He can think of no better place for his soul to be allowed to finally -
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
He startles at the voice next to him, sure there was no one there moments ago. He blinks down at the woman at his side. Her hair catches the light from the sun in such a way as to make him think it to be spun gold. He has the nearly unbearable urge to run his fingers through it, if only to see that the curls will fall the same way after.
She blinks her attention away from the ocean at his extended silence. He feels the breath leave his body in a rush and a swooping sensation drop in his stomach when her cerulean eyes sparkle up at him. Secrets and laughter glitter in the blues of her iris. He is sure he has never seen a shade of blue such as this, and is equally sure he never will for the rest of his years.
And yet the rest of her face is just as captivating. As equally distracting.
The way her bangs fall into her face just so as to make him long to brush the locks away and tuck them behind her ears. A light spattering of freckles so light he would not have noticed them if he were any further away. He wonders briefly whether they would be more pronounced if she were to blush.
"Are you okay?"
He blinks precisely three times before her questions register in his mind. It takes him two more before he realizes he has to formulate a response.
He feels his face heat at the embarrassment.
Her lips twitch at the corners, and he suspects she is suppressing a smile.
"Y-yes, I am content at the present moment."
She finally grins.
He is bewitched.
"What's your name?"
He blinks.
Something at the back of his mind screams in such agony his knees shake and nearly buckle. He locks them at the last second and grabs his head at the swelling pressure building behind his eyes. It is excruciating. He feels rent in two, a bottomless hole oozing a miasma of grief and longing and such utter hopelessness. How is this ever supposed to end when she is lost, and there is nothing for him anymore, nothing nothing nothing nothingnothingnothing -
He blinks, and the pressure is gone, his arms hanging casually at his side. He frowns.
"I am unsure. I find my memory fails me."
She shrugs.
"That's okay, I don't remember mine either. Do you know what brought you here?"
T'hy'la.
He jumps when her fingers brush against his cheeks. He is shocked when he realizes that she is wiping tears away. Despite her best efforts, they do not stop.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me."
He takes in a shuddering breath and grabs her hand. He is sure he is using too much strength, he must be hurting her but she does not complain. She merely looks up at him with concern, her blue eyes dark and stormy. She is so beautiful even in her distress. He wishes he could find somewhere to hide her, preserve her, covet her, so that none may tarnish the precious gem that she is. So that none may ever try and harm her or steal her from him.
"I…" He chokes on the rest of a sentence he could not even remember. The worry washes off her face, and she smiles shyly at him, her cheeks darkening to a wonderful shade of pink.
He was correct in his earlier assumption. Her freckles are indeed more pronounced.
He promises himself he cannot rest until he has counted and cataloged every single one.
"Yeah, I know," she whispers hoarsely. "I feel it too."
"What is this?" He does not know whether he means the spell he feels cast under merely by being in her presence, or the beach he stands upon, or the glaring lack of memory.
She shrugs, placing her free hand lightly on his chest. The skin beneath her palm blazes with warmth and spreads out until his fingers tingle. He changes the grip on her hand from crushing to cradling, twining their fingers together in a way that has his face flaming for reasons he cannot… remember…
"I don't know, but if I have you here with me, I don't really mind so much."
A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
"I feel much the same, I must admit."
Her blush returns. She lets out a soft giggle and playfully swats his chest. He grabs her hand and pulls it up to his mouth. A gentle brush of his lips over her skin, and he suddenly realizes how starved he is for her skin against his. It is the only thought in his brain, all other queries are obliterated under the singular focus of how he has not yet felt the ways he can trace the sweat as it falls down between -
He blinks out at the ocean, dazed. He looks down to his side.
Empty.
His eyes inspect for… something… footprints?... in the sand, but the pale ivory remains unblemished.
Something at the back of his mind wails.
With a shuddering breath, he turns away from the emptiness beside him and walks along the water, the sound of the crashing waves no longer musical, and this beach no longer peaceful.
Spock's eyes snap open and he sits up, taking in great gulps of air. He chokes on a sob building in his chest, and thrashes against the tangle of sheets. He cannot stand the feeling of the cloth rubbing against his skin. He is too exposed, a singular nerve open to the elements and everything within his katra is breaking. He can never hope to be whole again. How can he ever know that kind of peace? How could he forget Piper? How could he simply ignore the signs?
What is life without Piper? Why is he subjected to this… this…
"Spock? Sweetie, is everything okay?"
Spock freezes and turns to his side. Piper blinks at him, her eyes bleary but aware enough to be concerned. Her hair is falling out of the messy bun he knows she favors for sleep, a trail of dried saliva down to her cheek from drool earlier in her sleep cycle.
Spock lunges at her and wraps her in his arms, falling back against the sheets. Piper squirms until she can tilt her head up and look at him, her brow knitted together in worry and her eyes much more alert.
"Spock, you're scaring me. What happened? Are the kids okay?"
Everything within him grinds to a screeching halt.
"It was… a very unpleasant dream, nothing more." He murmurs, his voice hoarse with sleep. Piper relaxes marginally, though the concern in her eyes does not entirely dim.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Wordlessly, Spock shakes his head.
"I simply wish to hold you."
Children? There are children. There are children? Why can he not remember his… his children?
He finds he is wholly incapable of containing his growing panic. Piper wiggles out of his arms and sits up in bed, looking down as Spock lies on the bed on the verge of hyperventilating.
"Spock, sweetheart, you're having a panic attack. You need to take deep breaths and calm down. Remember your meditations. In through your nose, hold, yes just like that, and out through your mouth. Can you give me another deep breath?"
Numbly, Spock follows her instructions. Her voice washes over him like a balm, and he finds that even though his heart is nearly thudding out of his side, he indeed feels more relaxed. More capable. No less confused, unfortunately.
"It… it seemed so real. And I seem to have been so shocked by my dream that I do not even remember I am a father. Piper, I cannot… I cannot remember anything. I cannot remember anything."
He cannot remember anything except the pain, and the loss, and her death, his t'hy'la, she died, she died and she left him and how could he ever hope to recover from something like this?
Piper's hand stills as she brushed it through his hair. Spock cannot look at her, cannot bear to see the horror in her eyes. Above all else, he cannot stomach the thought of disappointing his t'hy'la.
"You don't… remember the children?"
Wordlessly, he shakes his head.
After a moment of silence, Piper withdraws her hands, and the core of Spock's very being shatters into millions of pieces.
"You really are remarkable, Mr. Spock. Normally souls wouldn't have this much… resilience."
Spock freezes at the very foreign voice next to him in the place where Piper should have been. Slowly, with growing fear, he turns his attention back to the bed and finds not his t'hy'la, but a woman, her pale skin shimmering with an opalescent sheen. Her piercing silver eyes unsettle him in ways too complex for his mind to comprehend. He feels very much like a small prey sitting in front of a large predator, waiting and dreading to see if it is hungry.
"What's different about you?" Silver eyes narrow as she examines him, and Spock suspects this is what his specimens feel in his experiments.
After a couple of moments he realizes the silence is because she is waiting for an answer.
"I… am unsure how I am anomalous without access to the rest of the data."
One slender eyebrow raises in an expression of unconcealed derision.
"Such a very logical answer, Spock. How admirable. Holding on to the faith of logic before the endless nothing of death. Is that what drives you? No, I don't think it's anything so formulaic as that. But what else…"
Gratefully, Spock keeps his council and allows her the space to ponder these things without any input. Surreptitiously he looks around the room for any signs of Piper and stands to his feet, though he suspects she was never truly here to begin with.
"She isn't here, Spock."
His eyes snap back to her and narrow. Did she possess telepathic abilities? The sharp gleam in her eyes made him feel highly suspicious.
"Is that what it is? But that's too simple. Really? All this for… for love? That's almost disappointing with how cliche it is."
Spock clenched a fist against his thigh.
"I am unable to follow your reasoning."
The lady barked out a sharp laugh and stood. She paced back and forth in front of him, muttering under her breath in a language Spock had never heard before. For the first time since waking up in this bed, Spock's fear started to fade and a warm feeling of anger started burning low in his stomach. Intimidating as she was, this strange woman would not stop him in his task. He had to find Piper, and had no idea how long he had been in this dreadful place, nor where to begin looking for the exit or his t'hy'la.
The lady stopped in front of him, dreadfully close, and Spock startled a step backwards.
"You know… I like you, Spock. So full of so many fun contradictions. Too human, and too Vulcan, but not really enough of either. Too emotional, too logical, too torn between them to feel whole. Watching you has always been a great source of entertainment for me and mine. It's such a shame you're dying."
He blinked, completely rent in two by her assessment of his character. Then his brain processed the rest of her statement and he paled.
"I am dying?"
"Well how is a body supposed to live without the soul, dingus? For someone so smart you're pretty dumb sometimes."
Spock frowned.
"Since my time is running short and such a precious commodity you will excuse my rude behavior, but I must depart immediately." Spock moved easily around her with purpose, determined to spend his final moments in his pursuit of Piper.
"I can help you, you know."
He froze mid step.
Very slowly, every muscle in his body tense and shaking, he turned to face her.
"I fail to see the motive behind such altruism."
A grin that was not completely benign curled her lips unnaturally. Spock tensed the muscles in his legs instinctively, preparing to run away from the growing threat.
"Do you really care why I'm doing this if you get to see your star-crossed lover again?" Spock blinked, thrown by her question, and dropped his eyes to the floor. He was ashamed to admit that he did not care as to why she offered the help, only that it made the journey easier to traverse. He could feel the hole inside of his soul, empty and black, and how it grew every minute he continued in this universe without Piper.
Alas, had he not already sworn there was no price too high to keep Piper safe?
Slowly, he shook his head. The strange woman trilled out a delighted laugh and clapped.
"I didn't think so. In that case, I can show you the right lifeline, but you have to find the right Piper. Once you do, well… I'm sure you'll figure it out from there."
Spock frowned, perplexed.
"The correct lifeline? I am not sure I understand your meaning."
The woman rolled her eyes.
"Well I mean that this version of you isn't meant for Jim, you're meant for Piper you absolute infant. Now through the door behind you, quickly, before I grow bored and change my mind."
Spock needed no further convincing.
He turned and ran.
Please excuse any and all errors. I have written, re-written, scrapped, written again, scrapped again, and finally ended up with this. It's gone through so many revisions that I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something, despite how many times I've read this stupid chapter. It took me so long to get right and I super hate it, but only for the fact of how difficult it was to be satisfied with it. I'm happy with the writing itself, so I hope you guys are too after waiting 5,000 years.
Much love to you. I hope you enjoy the rest of the ride.