Chapter two:

Ghosts of what was and what will be.

The door to her home swished shut as her husband left for his morning journey. Amanda stood on the balcony of their home, hands braced against the smooth tawny stone that stopped one from falling over the edge. A home they had created together. A home she had laughed in. A home she had cried tears of joy in. A home she had slept soundly in. A home she had raised her son in. A home she had taught him in. A home she had watched him grow with alarming speed, or the reluctance of passing time all mothers hated. It was also a home she had felt loss she would wish upon no other being in existence.

Her own gaze, mind lost far away to lands less visited, traveled down to her hands. With Spock, her son, she could remember the smallest of details, almost with eidetic clarity. With... With her, All she had was questions, phantoms of memories, perhaps too hurtful to pull forward to her mind's eye clearly unlike her son.

She remembered Spock's hands, small, newborn, chubby with indented knuckles. She remembered how they were the last she saw of him, six months ago, thin, strong boned, long-fingered, slender but holding a masculine strength to the digits that beguiled their feminine attributes. Amanda wondered if her's would be like Spock's, pale, nimble, like her fathers, like Sarek's. Or would they be like Amanda's, broader, no less delicate, but more rounded?

Amanda's eyes clenched as she swore she could feel a hand, small, so warm, fresh from callouses... A babies hand, wrap around her index finger and tug like it had all those years ago. Phantoms. Ghosts. Gone. Her back stiffened, her shoulders concaved on themselves and her head flopped down before she could regather her bearings. No. She would not cry. Not today. No more tears. What was done, was done.

Pushing more harshly than she anticipated away from the stone wall, Amanda straightened herself out and turned her back on the rising, boiling sun of Vulcan, slipping back into the refreshing shade of her home. Trying to rest her weary thoughts on things she could control, things that would not leave her sobbing, Amanda wondered into her kitchen, beginning to prepare the fresh vegetables she had bought the previous day for noon-meal. Of course, she could always use a replicator, but today... Today she wanted... No, she needed to do something with her hands. Cooking, as mundane, archaic and arbitrary as it sounded, was one of Amanda's favorite past times.

She remembered a time when her son would stand beside her, watching, absorbing all he could like he often did with everything and anything around him as a child, infinitely curious, despite the blank slate of a face only she seemed to be able to read so openly. He would stand just there, to her left, the very tip of his head just brushing past her midribs, hands clasped behind his back as he studied her movements with the knife or spoon or other utensils foreign to Vulcan she had brought with her from her home world. He was taller now, shoulder and head above her own measly height, probably even taller than his father by now.

How tall would she be if she was still here? Towering like her son? or tittering on the shorter side like her? Amanda didn't know... She didn't know and it killed her painfully slow. All Amanda could remember was the weight of a newborn on her chest, curled in her arms, staring up at the night sky, babbling away at the twinkling lights that shined down. Spock had never babbled, but her? As soon as the sun sank into the horizon, as soon as the first few pinpricks of white light glistened in the sky, it took all for Amanda and Sarek to keep her away from them. Who was she kidding? In the end, they always caved, or more aptly, Sarek would cave, pick her up and take her out onto the balcony, whispering under his breath to the babe, of what? Amanda wasn't sure, and more often than not, she would fall sleep babbling incoherently away in equal ardor to her father, staring at the sky in awe and wonder, perched safely at her father's chest.

She had loved those twinkling stars.

The knife she was holding clattered to the stone worktop of her kitchen, breaking Amanda from the spell of a treasured memory she couldn't often bring herself to indulge in. Odd, wasn't it? How precious memories are often the tools we used to hurt ourselves with? Fortunately, before the weight and hurt and sorrow in her chest could implode and supernova, the jangle of the door alarm flittered through the air, brushing passed the shell of Amanda's ear. Trying fruitlessly to swallow the charring lump trapped in her throat, Amanda brushed her hands off clumsily on her dress, skittering to the front door to answer the call and with a shaky hand, Amanda pressed the open key.

She knew she shouldn't have been surprised at who greeted her on the other side. He came every year, without fail, on this very day, no matter how busy his schedule must have been. And still, the sight of him, of her precious boy, so grown, so tall, so very much everything she remembers, always caused her heart to stuttered a beat. He was still here. Amanda had not failed him like she had her.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here today son."

Amanda watched the slight elevation of her son's left eyebrow. A tick he had since early childhood. She knew all of them by heart, she had to when these little twitches and micro-expressions were the only window into his mind, her only view into his thoughts. Yet, she would never change that, nor him, even for the brightest of earth children's smiles. Her son was just as emotive as any other, Vulcan's as a whole were she had found, you just had to look deeper. God knows Sarek could be a drama queen when he wanted to be. You just had to read between the lines.

"To believe I would not be present today would be illogical if you take into account my previous visitations on this particu-"

Amanda cut her son off with a soft palm on his broad shoulder. He didn't shake her off, nor did he embrace her. Oh, how he had grown. Each time he came back from the Academy, he was taller, broader... Older. What would that new life she and Sarek had created look like with time twisting and morphing her features? Would she have her father's jaw or- No. Those thoughts only lead to pain. Today was not for pain. Today was for reflection. Hope. Remembrance of what was important. Her fingers curled and clenched on her son's shoulder.

"I know Spock. I know. You'll have to forgive me... My mind often wonders around this date and my words fail me. I only mean to say it is good to see you son."

Good to see him when I am denied seeing her again... That... That was left unsaid, falling between the cracks and lines of her words, hidden, forgotten. She should move, should usher her son in, should begin mid-noon lunch and steam the tea. Sarek would be home soon, back from his visit to the place she would no longer go, no longer think of, a pilgrimage he would do each year, on this very day, with the strength she could not gather herself.

She knows she should go, she should face that dark memory, each year she promises, and yet when the sun rises, she fails... Once more she fails like that night many years ago. How many years now? Seventeen. A lump formed in her throat at the revelation. Seventeen years. Gone. Smashed. Destroyed. She should move but she can't. There was so much she should do, should say, should act, and yet it all fell in those damned cracks. Lost. Missed. Spock's hand came up to hers, palm stalling hair-breadth away from hers before it slipped on, his long fingers curling around her frail hand but not to move it, but to simply squeeze and hold it there. Such an act of affection, one so blatant, was not often bestowed upon her by her son and the sight, the feel, warmed her more deeply than the Vulcan sun ever could. Her vision blurred as Spock ushered her into the house, quietly closing the door behind him.

Her words and actions may fall short, may disappear in the back of her throat, may vanish in those horrid cracks, but her sons? Spock's was loud and clear, and so was her husband's actions, his pre-dawn trip each year on this day, all saying what she, the emotional human, never could bring to pass her lips. To know they felt the same, even when she couldn't speak of it, speak of that day, was all the comfort she needed. Yes, it was loud and clear.

We miss her too.

Noon-meal that day proved to be a short affair with an abrupt ending. It had started as it had every other day, the only difference being her son's presence. Sarek arrived home the exact time he had told her he would be back, the Plomeek soup bubbling and already in it's serving bowls on the table, Kreyla freshly baked and creating an aroma that Amanda found comforting, each bowl with their own side of T'mirak. Spock and Sarek had greeted each other politely, albeit, formally. An act that grew tenser each year since Spock's diversion of the Vulcan science academy to Starfleet. Amanda had ushered the two to their cooling food and the family had quietly sat and peacefully ate.

Of course, that had been up until the mid-way point of their meal. Normally, this time of year, that date to be exact, both Amanda and Sarek informed both their respective workplace, friends and family members, of their 'sabbatical'. If you could call a day of mourning and reflection a sabbatical. Thankfully, all those informed respected the day's tranquility, often pushing back workloads until the next day. It was a tradition at this point. A day for family. For her, Spock and Sarek and no one else, nothing else. A tradition that had been going on for seventeen years now. A tradition not broken... Until that day.

Sarek's pad bleeped and rang of an incoming comm communication. Amanda, spoon halfway paused to her mouth, had shaken off the sense of... Unease. Perhaps there was a new trainee at the embassy, one who didn't know of their day of solitude. That was all. Or, rather, that was all it was to her until her own pad sang a tune of annoyance. She had promptly dropped her spoon into her bowl and snatched her pad up, confusion drawing her eyebrows close, puckering, when she saw the transmission was from the security division ShiKahr docking bay and, more worryingly, she had seven missed comm's from T'Solik.

Her heart had frozen, crystalizing in her chest, scarring her lungs and shrinking her organs. T'Solik. He was the chief investigator of her daughters... Case. There would be only one reason he would be trying to get in touch, and so urgently at that. Funnily enough, for a teacher who had taught for over two decades and xenolinguistics who prided herself on perfectly remembering exactly 24 languages and all their nuances, she couldn't fully remember nor compute how she had exactly gone from her home, eating something as ordinary as noon-meal, to standing outside ShiKahr's security division, her husband and son already in the tall building's belly, shadowed and free from the blistering sun. Why was she outside again?

Air. She needed air. She needed to breathe. She foggily remembered Sarek answering his comm rather courtly, bordering on rude even in human standards. She remembered a conversation, fragments, words that didn't fit or wouldn't squeeze into her mind. An alert, something about a D.N.A sample and a request for their presence. Then she was here, waiting outside the building, Sarek asking her if she was sure she wanted to wait outside, her numbly nodding, not able to bring words to pass her lips.

Amanda wearily blinked, stumbled away a step or two from the main entrance and tried to breathe. Simply breath. She felt dizzy, off edge, her insides a knot of squirming leeches sucking the very life from her. After all this time...

The world around her just began to swim, her vision blurring around the edges, seconds away from fainting when two hands, long fingered, thin, gently grasped her biceps and steadied her when she was sure it was the planet moving and not her feet.

"Hey... Hey, breath. That's it, nice and easy. In and out. Do you want to sit, you're looking unsteady... Wait. There's nowhere to sit... shit. Are you with anyone? Someone I can bring to you? You're really pale."

Amanda couldn't focus, not fully in the beginning moments. However, the voice was genial, husky around the edges, a voice that didn't order you to follow, but one that made you want to. A teasing lilt tuned the stranger's voice, a melody that spoke of friendly banter with a heavy earth accent, one of the heaviest she had heard in a very long time. British, if she was correct. Ah. Another human. That would explain their ease with coming to her aid rather than letting her drop to the floor or ordering her to lay down with a two-minute long spiel on how it was the best course of action.

Regaining her bearings, the stranger let her go once she was steady enough, but from the radiating warmth of their hands, they stayed close just in case. Strange. Human's weren't normally so warm. Amanda pushed the incessant thoughts back. She had more important, life changing things to focus on right now. A strangers temperature was at the bottom of that list, or, should be in any case. Running a tired hand down her face, Amanda started speaking, rambling more like it, only looking up and into the kind strangers face once her own hand slipped back to her side uselessly.

"I'm fine... I'm okay... Just a dizzy spell from the heat. Thank you. You really didn't have to-"

Amanda's tongue flopped in her mouth. Sarek. That was her first thought... Her only thought when she looked into the stranger's eyes. Green, a shamrock spring circled in emerald and speckled with flecks of ripe pear. She would know those eyes anywhere. She had stared into them during their bonding. She had glared at them during their numerous arguments. She had gazed into them only moments prior, assuring him she would be fine alone, to go in without her because she wasn't sure she could ever gain the courage to either get confirmation of her nightmares, or a spark to her long dead and withered hope.

like pieces of a long forgotten memory, or dream, Amanda slowly and ungracefully jammed together the rest of the stranger, but her focus was never far from those eyes... Those damned eyes. The stranger was irrevocably female, taller than Amanda by a good half a head, perhaps a full one by the way Amanda had to angle her neck. She was dressed simply, plainly, burnt beiges and amber creams, almost blending her into the rocky, mountainous landscape of Vulcan itself. The style was Vulcan, a basic set of silken collared tunic that skimmed thighs and thin trousers tucked into sehlat hide boots. Airy, light, embroidery kept to a minimum.

She was thin, not grotesquely so, but more willowy than curvy, but those soft swerves and scoops still hinted through her plain clothing. Her hair was black, inky, a mass the woman... Girl, she looked young, so very young, had somehow managed to wrangle into a french braid that swung between her shoulder blades, ending in a puff of curls as well as a few locks escaping to twirl around her face. Amanda felt like laughing, deliriously, she had never seen a Vulcan with curls before and really, if what she saw in other parts of the girl's features weren't so pronounced, she would take the girl for the human she spoke and acted like.

Nevertheless, she saw them. How could she not when they were so pronounced? The plains of her face were sharp, angled, carved from marble, a set of cheekbones that even human models found hard to biologically acquire. The upturn, button shape of her nose the only sign of softness on her face, the rest screamed feline. Even her brows, while thin enough for the shape of her face, were still arching, slicing lines. Female Vulcan's, most at any rate, had a softer brow than their male counterparts, more delicately swooping. This girl's eyebrows were very, very much Vulcan. She could give her son Spock a run for his money.

If that wasn't enough to scream of her heritage, then the soft green blush dusting her cheeks did, as wells as the hint of green ghosting along the bridge of her nose, a hint of sunburn, blending into the green-hued blush. It was definitely Vulcan blood that ran through her veins.

And her ears... Back in the time before Surak, Vulcan's would take the length and sharpness of one's ear points as a bold statement of one's standing in society and by the way this girls points, thin and sweeping, softly curled slightly around her head, but still stood proud, she would have been nobility. Then she smiled, wide, toothy, blindingly, dimples appearing on her cheeks and Amanda felt like fainting again.

"Right, well, if you're sure you're okay. Hey, I don't suppose you can help me out? Do you know where the human embassy is? I was told it was in ShiKahr and I've been wondering around for hours and I'm pretty sure I've got sand where there should never be sand. Stating I'm bloody lost is putting it mildly."

Amanda's mouth opened... And closed. Then, only to repeat the action once more, twice more. Thrice.

"Mother, they wish to speak to you now."

Amanda's neck twinged by the force she used to snap around to see Spock behind her. Dazed, Amanda turned back to where she was facing and was greeted with... Nothing. Gone. She was gone. The Vulcan girl with Sarek's eyes and Amanda's own nose and Spock's eyebrows was gone. Where before words refused to come, now they rippled out of her mouth like a babbling brook. Where she was once frozen, she now leapt into action with energy she didn't know her aging bones still housed. Spinning around, she searched the area, trying to peak through the small crowds going about their business. Nothing. Vanished.

"Did you see her? Did you see her Spock? She was right here! She was here... Right in front of me. T'Hara-"

Just as she was about to run down the steps of the building and into the crowd to search, a strong hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her to a stop, Spocks face bearing down on her, worry and weariness rippling under the stone surface.

"I saw no one. Mother, are you well? Your pallor has considerably paled and your pulse is beating faster than required in these conditi-"

The rest of what Spock said was lost on her. She felt numb. Jaded. Cold. Had she imagined it? Just like that hand upon hers on the balcony? Like the phantom of a baby pressed against her breast? Today... It was today playing tricks on her. It always did. Granted, this was a flamboyant turn and trick of mind but that was all it was. All it could be. A trick. Amanda tried to swallow back the tears, tried to straighten her spine, tried to compose herself, but trying never meant success. So, with all she had left, she nodded, smiled at her son and made her way back to the entrance of the security division.

"I'm fine Spock... I'm fine. I thought I saw... It looked like T'Har-...Well. Just ghost's son. Just ghosts. Shall we go then? In my time here I've learned how poorly Vulcans take to waiting."

She couldn't bring herself to look into her son's eyes, to lie straight to his face. She was far from fine. But, perhaps, if she pretended enough, it would one day be truth. By the underlying tinge to Spock's voice, he bought it as much as she had. Not at all.

"That would be wise mother."

"I... I don't understand..."

Amanda's voice quivered, a shake that seemed to be stubborn enough to stay with her all day at this rate. Amanda had always prized her 'human' emotions. Her openness to feel and be. There was a certain strength to it, to face one's own feelings and weather them, to be strong enough to stand tall under their weight. Right now, however, she would do anything, say anything, to have even but a fraction of her husband's, Spock's, Vulcan's iron grip and restraint on their own inner turmoil. To be able to compartmentalize and lock away the storm inside her, for just a second or two's rest bite... But she couldn't, and so she would face the storm inside herself... She had never felt so alone.

She was sitting in a secured office, glass doors locked and artificially fogged for privacy. Javin, the senior officer that had been the one to call them in sitting behind his own desk. Sarek was seated in the chair beside her, back straight, hands folded in his lap, perched in the only other seat free and Spock was standing behind them, tall, hands clasped behind his back, as if ready to take orders from a Starfleet admiral. And here she was, slumped, worn out, hands cradling her face, staring resolutely at the shiny, polished tiled floor. She could feel the bags under her eyes, feel the quake to her bones, the sting to her eyes, the gnawing on her bottom lip.

She was barely holding it together and Sarek looked ready to set out for another diplomatic meeting upon a split second notice. Javin gave no indication of understanding the emotional tsunami he had just unleashed upon them, upon her, as he answered her rhetorical question.

"I shall repeat myself. Today at 1100 hours a passenger aboard the frigget known as Wind-cutter passed through our security system on visitation to Vulcan. The guard ran through protocol as regulation dictates. However, when her I.D chip stated she was already a citizen of Vulcan, coupled with her... Peculiar behavior of one of our race, he ran through a simple D.N.A match to secure the knowledge she was, in fact, the person she was claiming to be and not an infiltrator from Romulan space as been known to happen in the past. When the D.N.A sequencing passed, he let her leave. However, the system has been lagging this past week due to upgrades being done on the hub in Raal and the alert to report she was a missing person was delayed before her inevitable departure. We-"

Amanda was trembling. Not the shiver from a nip in the air. Neither was it a shake that rattled through muscles when over-worked. It was a deep, tumultuous tremble that rattled her very core. Her soul. Before, she could not settle on one emotion, flittering between all of the spectrum. Yet, here she was, finally able to lock onto one and it burned. Anger. Wrath. Rage.

"Are you saying my daughter... Our daughter... T'Harauk is here... Now? Right here and you let her walk away because the alert was too slow?!"

Javin's expression didn't change a fraction, not one twitch and it only made the fire inside of her burn hotter, brighter, faster, a black hole of undiluted flickering flames that threatened to not only eat her, but Javin too, this office, this building. Before she could lose the small grip on restraint she had left, however small that restraint was compared to the company of this room, Sarek chimed in.

"Amanda. Now is not the time for-"

"How... Sarek, how can you be so calm? Our daughter, She's here, alive, after all these years and you're just... you're just sitting here! We need to search, she could leave any moment... The Romulans... They could grab her again! We need to go, we need to go now and-"

It was almost like there was a mirror between her and Sarek, for just as she scrambled out of her chair to dash for the door, he regally stood from his own. Yet, their actions were the only similarity between them in that moment, the only thing that linked them, to the man who she had always believed to be her soulmate, standing up was the only thing they echoed as one in a situation where they needed to be together, not apart.

"Wife, please be calm. Searching the street is an inadequate way to find her. She could, in the time it has taken for us to convene, be anywhere, be on any transport. Yes, while your euphemism stating they simply 'let her walk away' is more than adequate for this situation..."

Sarek paused only to cut a look at Javin before slowly turning to face Amanda once more. To all people who didn't observe Vulcan's on a day to day basis, Sarek would seem serene, calm, blank, but she knew, she knew. She could see it as clear as day in that one, minuscule action. Sarek was pissed. Maybe they were on the same page after all.

"Simply walking around and, as you humans would say 'trying to bump' into her is equally a ridiculous notion."

Amanda stalled in her pacing, only realizing she had been moving when the movement halted, eyes growing wide when what Sarek had said sank into her brain. Trying to bump... Bumping. The Vulcan. The brilliant smile and dimples. The button nose that she had seen in the mirror reflected each morn. The strong jaw she had traced on her husband's face, the same eyes she stared into each day reflected back from a stranger... But that woman... Girl, was no stranger.

T'Harauk... Amanda would waste no more time. She had lost seventeen years, she wouldn't loose seventeen more. Faster than Sarek had ever seen Amanda move, she bolted for the door, smashing the button for it to open frantically. However, just as the swoosh rang out, as Amanda's calves tensed in preparation for a run, Spock was in front of her, in the doorway, blocking her way out, barricading her in.

"Mother, please, sit and breath. If this behaviour persists, an abrupt drop in consciousness is sure to follow-"

Amanda heaved herself away from the door, shaking her head in desperation. They were running out of time. Sarek had been right. She could be anywhere by now, with anyone, she could be going off world and here Amanda was, standing in a room, discussing what they should and shouldn't do. Now was not the time for words, it was the time for action. She wouldn't loose T'Harauk again. She couldn't. She wouldn't survive it, not now when hope had been offered.

"I... I saw her! Just outside this very building! I... I thought I was seeing things... Today being what it is... I thought... But it was her, I know it! And I... I let her walk away. Me. I let her leave... The human embassy! I know where she is!"

Amanda never thought she would ever praise or give thanks to the embassy's long queues, hour long waiting times and overall Andorian snail-paced schedule they kept. Yet here she was, beyond grateful. Today seemed a day of many firsts.

"Amanda, you are lacking chronological sense and bearings. Breath."

Amanda gave a shaky nod to Sarek's request, sucking in a deep breath, only then realizing her breath was coming in short pants, panic ridden. Slowly, ever so slowly, she managed to compose herself.

"While I was waiting outside, I felt faint. A Vulcan girl-... T'Harauk steadied me as I lost my balance. She... She said she was lost, looking for the human embassy and smiled Sarek. Smiled and I... Her eyes, they look just like yours and I thought I was seeing things, my mind playing tricks on the day she was taken from us. She asked where the human embassy was and I, confused, couldn't speak. Please, believe me, I thought I was seeing things. If I knew it was really her... Spock came and said you requested my presence. By the time I turned back around she was gone. She smiled Sarek. She smiled so brightly and I just let her leave. But if we hurry, if we go now she may still be there and I won't have failed again-"

Sarek cut her off, swivelling to face Javin still sat behind his desk, as if he was made from the very stone this building was.

"Comm through commander Javin. Relay the situation and ask for all Vulcans within the embassy at this time be held in comfortable situations until we can arrive. A simple gene test upon our arrival will either disprove the D.N.A sequencing as a faulty glitch or... Well. It's best we pursue all avenues and if this proves true, best she is in a safe situation until retrieval. Now, please, if you and Spock would indulge me, I need to talk to my wife alone. We will meet you at the embassy promptly."

Spock, her blessed son, never questioned, never stalled, sensing her own desperation for quickness, simply bowed and left through the door to go to the embassy, knowing time was not in their favor. Javin stood up and with a quick swipe of his cloak, marched for the door, paused, bowed to Sarek and spoke.

"Of course, Ambassador Sarek. I will endeavor to comply straight away. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life, commander Javin. But please... Make haste."

As he left through the door, just before it glided shut, she heard him comm through, passing along the orders. Then the door was shut and all was silent.

"Wife... Amanda. I could not help but hear you say you had failed like before. I do not understand this turn of phrase in accordance to this situation. Is it an idiom I have not yet understood?"

Amanda chuckled. The noise was clanky, cloggy, moist. She was crying. The tracks hot and sticky upon her cheeks.

"No... No Sarek. I... That day, you told me to stay indoors. You warned me to stay inside. Romulan infiltrators had breached the city and what did I do? I left. Not only did I leave, I took our infant daughter with me. And for what? To see the sunset on T'Paal Canyon? They took her and all I could do was watch. Watch as they snatched her out my arms, boarded a ship and left with her. The one thing I remember clearly about our daughter is her crying face as she reached for me. As they took her onto their warbird and the doors closed shut. They took our daughter and I couldn't stop them Sarek. If that is not what failure is, I don't know it's definition anymore. So, yes. I failed before and I refuse to fail again."

Then she felt it, not sure when he had snuck up on her, not sure of much this day. His hand, warm, soft, grazed her cheek, uncalloused thumb stroking away a tear track. It wasn't often Sarek touched her, but when he did, no matter how small a gesture, it always took her breath away. No. She wasn't alone this time. Not like that night so many years ago. She had Sarek this time. She had Spock. She wouldn't lose her daughter again. She looked up into his eyes. Eyes their daughter had. The sob wracked her chest in its brutal escape from the prison of her lungs.

"Amanda, your conclusion is illogical and faulty, as well as your perceivance of events and judgments of those around you. Yes, I asked you to stay inside, but no reason did I give to such a task. Only now, in hindsight, do you know it was because of Romulans. From my recollection of events and the med reports, you suffered grievous injury trying to keep our daughter away from such conditions. Four broken ribs. One dislocated shoulder. One disjointed kneecap. One sprained ankle. Five fractures, to the jaw, cheekbone, and skull. Severe Concussion and 10 bruises and cuts in total. All indicating the struggle you gave to an outnumbered fight with seven Romulan's. Do you know why I visit T'Paal canyon each year upon this day, barefoot?"

Amanda shook her head.

"It is a long arduous journey, totaling 4 hours and 27 minutes in walking distance. The same distance, while injured, exactly seventeen years ago, barefoot from losing your shoes in the fight, you walked alone, at night, to alert the authorities of the abduction... All the while I was in my office, working. It was not you who failed that day Wife."

Amanda's eyes slammed shut. Her breath jagged and cutting the soft tissue of her raw throat.

"You didn't fail Sarek. You couldn't have known-"

Sarek voice overrode her own.

"And neither could you. It is illogical to follow this thought pattern any further and a more pressing matter requires our undevided attention."

Sarek pulled away, the warmth was gone, the shadows of his mind ghosting over her own melting away from the break of contact and with resolve her husband was renowned for, he straightened out.

"Now, it is unproductive to ponder and question what has already been, when what will come to be is more important. The gene test needed is simple enough in equation, but requires both ours and Spocks blood to adequately receive a high percentage of probability-"

Now it was Amanda's turn to slice her voice over his.

"It's her Sarek. It's her. I saw her and if you did too, you would know also."

Sarek gave her a gentle nod as if expecting what she had said all along, before he even spoke himself.

"I know this. It is only a legal requirement to have T'Harauk's case filed away on the database. Otherwise, a large segment of time would be required to delegate to the closing of the case without the test present to assist in its closing. Time better used to reacquainting ourselves to and with T'Harauk and any other time needed in the healing, informing and gathering of-"

Amanda smiled brokenly through her tears. Sarek wasn't running the test now to prove the girl was his daughter, he trusted Amanda and the D.N.A already run on that face. No. He was doing it now to get it out of the way, to stop it from interrupting time he would better like being around his daughter. But first... First, they had to actually get to her in time.

"Oh, Sarek... Don't change."

The slight pivot of Sarek's head was the only indicator to his confusion.

"I do not understand why I would deny the option of change when change itself has been proven to be beneficial to not only oneself but that of civilizations-"

Amanda's laughter bounced off the stone walls, echoing slightly, making it feel like she wasn't the only person laughing but the universe joining in that little slice of happiness she had found. Or, idly Amanda thought, the bit of happiness that had found her. After all, it had been T'Harauk who had ran into her, not the other way around. Life, indeed, was a funny thing like that.

"Let's go get out daughter, shall we?"

Sarek paused from his permanently twirling and dancing thoughts before nodding, heading towards the door with Amanda not far behind him.

"Yes. We shall."

NEXT CHAPTER:

"Here you go."

A bowl of liquid... slightly bubbly, like dish soap, same colour too, was placed on the table in front of her. Harry cast a quick glance between the woman who had recently entered, followed by two men, one obviously older than the taller of the two, and the bowl, with no further instruction. Without much thought, Harry dipped her hands in, beginning to scrub at the day's dust that had accumulated on her skin. A guffaw broke her out of her concentration and intense scrubbing.

Her hands were precious to her, though that sentence must sound odd, after all, weren't limbs precious to everyone? But her hands, well, even the slightest dirt, smudge or irritation would grind on her mind all day until she had a chance to scrub. Idly, her thumb ran over the scar Umbridge gave her. I must not tell lies. Without her meaning too, her hands clenched in the bubbly liquid. Looking up, trying to escape one of the many memories that haunted her, she saw the woman, red in the face, eyes wide, failing at holding her laughter in, or the shock dancing in her eyes.

"What? Is it rude to wash your hands too?"

The woman regained herself quickly and went back to the table in the far corner, pulling another bowl free and using a jug to pour more liquid into the bowl before snatching up a piece of cloth too. All three were dumped in front of Harry, a teasing look tugging at the corners of the poorly concealed smiled on the older woman's face.

"Oh, no. Not at all. But this is broth... Food. We don't normally wash our hands in food."

Harry felt the heat of a prominent blush sizzle the skin of her cheeks and neck. Glancing down at the new bowl given to her, the other taken away by the woman, Harry reluctantly picked up the cloth and tried to dry her hands off discreetly. Well, so far integrating seemed to be going stellar. She seemed to be in a quarantine of some sort and now she was basting herself in food. Well done, Harry. Well. Bloody. Done. The woman turned to face her full on, eyes wide, watching intently, scrutinizing her like the two men had since their eyes had landed on her from the get-go and for the first time since setting foot out of the cryo-pod, recognition struck.

"Well, that makes sense. Look. I don't know why I'm being kept here but if it's about that stall of... Fruit? I want to say fruit, that I knocked over, I promise, I'll pay for it. Wait... You're that woman I bumped into, aren't you? Well, if this is about that, if I've crossed some line or taboo in... Our... Mine? In Vulcan culture, I really didn't mean to and I apologize. Surely I don't need to be locked in here for much longer?"

A.N: We are boldly going where even the writer has no clue where XD. So here's chapter two. I felt like a bit of a diversion from Harry's P.O.V and well, this popped out. Don't worry, Harry's back next chapter but I will likely switch between P.O.V's later on.

About This Chapter: Harauk is actually a Vulcan name, meaning 'Amazing life'. I found it quite fitting, close to Harry's name and nabbed it XD. The places mentioned in this fic are all real Vulcan places, however, I'm not sure whether T'Paal really has a canyon or not, but hey, waving creative liscence here! Also, I know it's likely Vulcan's are actually cooler than human's, rather than warmer, and the change would only be slight, hence how they comfortably live on a hot planet and can withstand cold tempretures, but, again, I just wanted them to run hotter rather than cooler. I think it fits more with their characterization, because let's face it, they're hot-headed and blooded when they let go off all that logic. All this being said, I've only watched the films, done miniscule research and beginning to watch star trek next generation, so my facts and points in this story maybe a little off, but I'm trying my best to keep in cannon as much as possible with a fic where Harry turns out to be a Vulcan. I mean, come on, give me a little leave way here to make that seem it. makes a lick of sense XD. As for when Jim comes into play, it won't be for a little while yet. I want Harry established in this universe before even more whacky stuff starts taking place. But! But he is coming, soon!

I have no Beta so all mistakes are mine, I hold my hands up, that grammar mistake you saw? That misspelling that made you frown? It was my hands that did it. I promise I try to catch them all like some weird game of pokemon, but some do slip past me. I hope this doesn't bother too many.

TO ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE: Thank you so much to those who reviewed, you're why I'm carrying this on and why I likely will continue to do so. A huge thank you to all those who followed and favourited. Are you guys likeing it so far? And to those simply reading, hugs to all of you! As always, please, for one review you will feed this poor fanfic writers muse. So, donate today ;) Any questions, ask away.

That's all for now, I'm done rambling, Scotty, beam me up! Until next time! ~GoWithTheFlo20