Chapter four:

What brothers are.

Spock's P.O.V

T'Harauk looked incredibly child-like to Spock. Laying upon the sanatorium bed, draped in a loose medical shift, pallid and thin boned. As a child himself, eleven years old, when he had first been informed of his mother's pregnancy, he had been… Disinterested. Perhaps even a little inconvenienced by the whole ordeal. From his limited understanding of children at that current time, he knew them to be noisy, crying, selfish creatures. He had his studies to attend, duties to begin and a crying infant would have disrupted his well-organised routines. So, of course, as every studious Vulcan would, he had not been inclined to personally indulge in his mother's happiness, although he did nothing to hinder it.

However, the small babe his mother and father had brought back from the medical institute was anything but the creature he had self-informed himself about. She did not cry often, if at all, only when his mother or father would disrupt her own routine of viewing the stars each night. Most importantly, she had been a curious new-born, a personality trait even a young Spock could appreciate. She stared, watching, eyes large and unblinking, taking in as much of the world as she could. She would listen, aptly, if a child of her age could do such a thing, as if she was trying to soak up everything given to her. Sometimes, he would find himself reading to her, verbally going through his homework, as she laid in her crib, just to see her stare at him. Still, even then, in those first three days, he had not been… Fond, of the child. Tolerant, yes. Much more? No. Spock, at that age, did not know what brothers were. What they were for. What their role was.

Then his mother requested for him to hold her while she replicated some food for their morn meal, too busy with new motherhood to cook, and everything changed. There she was, a bald, green hued, pointy-eared, fleshy mass in his arms, wrapped safely in a thin blanket, staring up at him boldly. She had reached out then, enfolding her chubby little fingers around one of his own, tugged it closer and seemingly snuggled into the digit. He felt her, like an ember in his mind, soft and warm, curious and wonderous, safe and happy, and it clicked. Then it really came to him. He was a brother. This new-born, this child, was his sister. His younger sister. He did not relinquish his hold on her until father came to him, stating T'Harauk needed feeding too and only mother could provide that, and even then, as soon as sustenance had been gained by both children, he demanded to hold her once more while his mother washed and took rest, mumbling about the new algorithms he was learning at school to the wide-eyed babe.

Staring at her now, on this hospital bed, weak and frail, he was reminded poignantly of that time. It was illogical for him to see that babe, especially when faced with her grown counterpart, but see her in his mind he could, as if it was yesterday and not seventeen years ago. Mother, who had been reluctantly convinced by Spock's father, was taking sleep in the room adjacent to T'Harauk's med room. Sarek had left shortly after, to speak to the doctors and healers, and Spock took up sentinel-ship at her bedside. Naturally, he could denote all this, his reaction, his memory exploration, to instinctual imperatives.

It was genetic, in a way, that family structures be as they were, older thinking of and looking after younger, so the generations could continue one's genetic line. As a Vulcan, even one such as himself, was not above 'pack survival' as it were. And yet, she was here, alive, and all Spock could focus on was what he had seen. Her own memories. Her life. Those should not fraction into what Spock was feeling if it was simply a case of genetic survival, for she was alive, and so, it left him confused on why exactly he couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen.

Like her adoptive aunt and uncle. Like her walking to her death, scared, alone, but resolute in her decision. Like how that decision of hers, to give her life for many who wished her dead, who did not even know her name… Unsettled him so. It seemed unjustifiable, irrational, entirely based on emotion… In fact, from what he had witnessed, this 'wizarding' world appeared to fall into those contexts too. No, his assumption was correct. This wizarding world was unproductive for a Vulcan. Furthermore, his sister had been detrimentally damaged, killed, scarred and hunted in this bygone world. Best she was far away from it now, in capable hands.

"I feel like mush…"

The voice from the bed croaked, as T'Harauk groaned and pulled herself to consciousness. Spock's gaze slipped from the window besides her bed, a large pane that allowed the inhabitants of the room to seem more open than the boxed walls let them be. From her bed, if she were to look, she could see the stars outside. Yes, a good room for T'Harauk to regain strength in. From the mind meld, he knew she would find the stars comforting.

"Your body is intact. Do not sit up."

Spock ordered as he saw her try and heave herself up, only for her arms to violently shake under the pressure, and to inevitably give as her head lolled on the pillow, a breathy groan creaking from her lungs. Turning his attention to her bed display, seeing her heart rate splutter in spikes of red and green on her graph, Spock used the settings to manually lift her bed, bending the frame until it was at an agreeable 45 degree angle, allowing her to sit, but not to strain herself and her weak body any further.

"What happened? Did I die again?"

She was having difficulty on holding onto her consciousness, he knew. The way she blinked, unfocused and weary, to the twitch of her brows, showed sleep was tugging hard, but she fought it back with a soft shake of her head, eliciting another groan. Again. An odd word, to be sure. Used in any other setting or situation, it would not have stalled Spock as it did then. However, it did. There was the time when she was barely one, when the human known as Lily had given her life to revive her own. There was the time when she had opposed that malformed, twisted creature that was intent on domination and her death. And now, there was here, in Vulcan, cradled in his mother's arms.

"We believe the energy inside of yourself, the energy you call magic, is in fact, more of a power source than an energy. A power source you and your kind draw upon to use your mental abilities, rather than the energy creating the mental abilities like you believe. When father mind melded with you, this… Battery, as it were, amped up what should have been an event between just you and he. When he told you to not push out and you reacted by pulling in, what originally should have simply been pulling him in, with this battery, allowed you to pull the remaining people in the room in too."

It was all fascinating, really, from a scientific stand-point. From the scans they had taken from her while she was unconscious, under polarized proton lens, this energy had become abundantly clear. It was like another nervous system ingrained inside of herself, concentrated around the head, eyes, hands, and heart, that over lapped her own, pulsed and squirmed with hot white power. None the less, as a brother and there-fore viewing it from that stance, it was less thrilling.

"Mind melds are taxing upon each participant, even to well trained Vulcans. To simultaneously meld with another two was extremely damaging. Your mind, and I am sure any other should they have been in your place, was stretched too far and too thinly. This resulted in your Katra fracturing, this power cell inside yourself expanding and becoming unstable, which ended with you having multiple aneurysms and a break and purge of Cerebrospinal fluid."

It was less thrilling because that power cell inside of T'Harauk had turned a traditional Vulcan practice to a mental explosion that had swelled her brain, burst her blood vessels and created an expulsion of her brain and spinal fluid. This posed many risks, not only presently. Was she in risk of the same reaction should she become over stimulated again? Was this a simple one-off case, or could it repeat? There were too many variables to feel at ease with, and further experimentation to find limits could result in a duplicate, in which Spock was not inclined to allow to happen.

"So… I did die? How am I still breathing?"

Additionally, her Katra, the energy inside of all Vulcans, the soul as many humans called it, that allowed them telepathic capacity, was in tatters. Literal tatters. Shredded. This… Killing curse of theirs, the wizards, Spock theorized, did not stop the heart or brain, but, as these other humans had proved to be of similar disposition of Vulcans, attacked and destroyed their energy, their power cell, their magic. Harry, as she liked to be called, had survived two of these, as well as a mind-meld burst. Moreover, this whole Horcrux matter, Spock believed, was like their own Katra depositing. This Voldemort, while Harry was a child and with her own Katra frail and growing, had implanted his own katra, or their version of it, into Harry, fracturing her own in order to make room for that shard of himself.

Even more worrying was the bonds Harry had so freely made with her Katra binding them. From what he had witnessed, she was… Free with her touch. Touch, as a Vulcan, that had instigated these bonds to form, tying Harry mentally to these people. People who were long dead in her own time, long dead in this time, leaving an open, weeping laceration upon her end. Without proper cleansing by their priests and healers to stem this energy and mental bleeding, if she had of stayed on earth in 1990s… She would have died within six months, perhaps eight, Spock would give.

"Father melded with you once more, implanting his own Katra within yours to hold the pieces together. It is not a long-term solution, but it should hold together long enough for you to begin the proper healing process with our priests. However, you were dying long before you came to Vulcan…"

All this within mind, Spock could not help but question this Q being he had seen and heard from T'Harauk's memories. Omniscient, trans-dimensional, physic manipulation… It was an impressive species. An impressive being that had ultimately saved his sister, for reasons unknown. The ID chip the being had programmed for T'Harauk to run and hide with stated her own name, her real one, counterproductive to someone who is trying to hide. It had set her up to come here, to her family, to the only people who could stop her on coming death, though she herself was blind to what was taking place. And with such power as it had, it could have very easily killed the remaining Romulans, if that was the real threat it had told Harry to run from. No. There was only one conclusion.

This Q wanted his sister to live, knew the only way for that to happen was to get her home and to her people, and knew his sister well enough to manipulate her into thinking running was her only option to protect those she had left, for she would not run for any other reason. For what reasons it did all this, why it had taken such interest in his sister… Spock was not sure. Peculiarly, he was only thankful it had brought her home. A chuckle brought him out of his pondering.

"Didn't you see? I'm always dying. It's sort of my thing."

Spock stepped closer to the bed and spoke more briskly then he had intended to.

"I find no humour in this statement."

Finally, Harry seemingly won her battle against sleep and rest as her eyes stayed open, her gaze turning to him, Sarek green locking onto Amanda brown.

"I'm sorry… It was a joke… A poor joke, but a joke all the same. I… You're my brother, aren't you?"

Then she said his name, his real name that he had only ever heard his father say, the pronunciation too strenuous to the human tongue.

"Many call me Spock. Do you remember much from the mind-meld?"

Harry swallowed and grimaced.

"No, as I said, I feel like mush. Not entirely myself, in truth. When I try and think of it, to that… It hurts, something in my mind snaps like a rubber band and I try not to push any deeper, should my head explode again. I remember little things, your name, a balcony, Amanda's favourite flower; Favinit. Sarek's blood type; T negative. Certain rooms and faces… Most of it doesn't make sense and is hazy, mixed with other things, memories."

Spock made the remaining way to her bed, sitting on the edge, by her thigh. Humans often found peace and comfort in proximity, and having been raised human, or as close to as Harry could be, Spock concluded she too might share that trait.

"Your assumption is correct. It is best to leave what you can remember as it is and to not try and recall anything else. Further damage might be inflicted if pressed."

Showing obvious signs of discomfort, whether it be to the pain she was in or the matter of conversation, Harry quickly changed the subject.

"Mother and father-… Sarek and Amanda… Mum-… Are they alright?"

The mind-meld had evidently created bonds, as they often did, bleeding his mother's and father's feelings into Harry, and yet, they were strangers to her, people she had not known about until a year ago. It left her unsettled on exactly who they were to her, what to call them, how to feel. She had spent her life an alien, an outsider, something strange and different, foreign, and now, when she had finally made it home, everything around her was the foreign thing, the alien presence. Yet, even in this situation, she was not thinking of herself, but of others. Spock did not know whether he found that irritating or engaging.

"Mother is sleeping in the room just beyond that door. Father is conversing with your healers to set up a satisfactory schedule and medical plan."

Her face became blank, devoid, and Spock almost immediately realised his mistake. From what he had seen within her mind, she loathed any sort of medical attention. From early childhood, due to neglect and abuse and fear of Harry being different being discovered, medical care had been denied to Harry by her aunt and uncle. Spock would estimate that this early deprivation led to a seed of distrust and avoidance within her. Due to her… Life, accidents, injuries and near-death experiences had been, Spock thought with displeasure, common occurrences, instigating an impulsive notion that she would continue to survive, with medical assistance or not. He was proven correct by the way she slowly inched deeper into her bed, pulling away.

"Medical plan? That sounds… Long and unnecessary. I'm alive. Done. No doctors needed."

Spock's head angled itself to the side a fraction, allowing him to adequately scan Harry up and down with an attentive gaze. Of course, his posture and face gave nothing away to what was happening inside of himself. Despite popular opinion, Vulcan's did feel. They perhaps felt too sharply. It was why his people, their people, lent themselves to logic. Their emotions were chaotic, irrational, unpredictable, more-so than any human, and left unchecked led to very dangerous, very problematic telepaths.

Of course, there were some sects of Vulcan's out there who strived to completely eradicate all emotion within themselves, but they were few and far between. No, most Vulcans strove onto the path of logic to make order out of the chaos that was always swirling inside of them, to gain control over their own identity and to lessen the inner war most faced on a daily basis. It gave them jurisdiction over themselves. Nonetheless, just because they strived to be disciplined enough to understand their emotions and to control them into suitable reactions in situations, to become fully self-aware, did not mean they didn't feel them all the same. T'Harauk's own life was testament to all this. She felt and she felt strongly.

"I do not believe you have fully grasped that you are Vulcan, or the situation you are in."

Harry grinned, teeth white and smile cutting, but with no sense of malice, sarcasm or disdain in view. She meant well, she was simply uninformed, due to no fault of her own.

"Pointy ears, green blood, sensitive touch. I think I get that well enough. Give me a cup of tea and I'll be right as rain within an hour or two, just watch."

No. No she wouldn't. Without Katra therapy, in which his father was trying to arrange right this moment, the bleed out within her would continue and she would soon die. Even with the therapy, it would be a long and arduous journey to full health for Harry. Painful too. Perhaps it could take months, even years before her own Katra was significantly healed enough. Mayhap it would always be a little bit fractured. What that… Creature had done to her, the process of being a Horcrux, even Spock was not sure that could fully be reversed or healed. But they would try, and Harry would live.

"A cup of tea will not heal your Katra. Being a Vulcan is more than physical attributes. Your touch is more than sensitive. It binds us, telepathically, to those we hold or feel, and you have been free with your hands. Binds that, due to loss and war and the implementation of another's soul into your very being, your Katra, have been severed and have left you weak and vulnerable. You are malnourished. Your body is littered with old wounds and scars from battle that need attending. T'Harauk… You are dying. Without proper care or healing, you will leave this world shortly. A resolution I do not wish to see. A conclusion I will not see come to pass."

She blinked and then diverted her gaze down to her hands laying prone in her lap, fingers trembling just a mote. She inspected them, searched them, weary and adrift, as if they were not her own hands, but someone else's.

"I have a lot to learn, don't I? About what I am. About Vulcans…"

Her voice was haunting. Cold. Straying. Childlike and indelible. Like a frozen asteroid left to span the endless universe by itself. Then, in a reversal of all those years ago, Spock reached out, gently placing palm against her own free hand, feeling it tremble. Then he felt her, and despite her growing, her features maturing, her size extending, she was exactly as that babe had been. Warm. A spark of undiluted and unfiltered life, bright and shining. Most remarkably, despite the life she had led, the death she had weathered, the loss she had endured, she still held that burning ember of curiosity, that almost innocent glow of wonder about the world around herself. That optimistic, transcendental core belief that given time, given effort, given hope and love, things would work out in the end.

"Your family will teach you. I will teach you."

She turned away from him, gaze turning to the stars shining outside her window, but her hand flipped, fingers interlocking around his, squeezing tightly.

"Back on earth, I loved my stars. They were always there for me. They never asked me for anything. Never needed words, but they never left me, even to the very end, they were there. I look out now… And I don't recognize a single one."

It was not just a matter of stars and constellations to Harry, Spock knew that much. It was… The shift. Everything she had ever known, all that could have been, her home, her planet, everything, down to the littlest detail, had changed. Expanded. Altered. Become unrecognizable. Even herself, the truth of her heritage, her Vulcan blood, had been recent to her and she had had no time in coming to terms with this discovery before the Romulans had attacked. Could she adapt? Who was to say. Only Harry could accomplish that. However, she would not try alone. Not while he still had his voice and mind.

"It is all about perspective T'Harauk. Perhaps you have lost those old stars, but you have gained a new night sky to learn of. You see those three there?"

Deftly, keeping one hand upon T'Harauk's to seep in comfort, security and calmness to her, he used his free hand to point out towards the sky. Harry frowned.

"The ones that look like a squished ball?"

Spock nodded and let his hand fall, turning back to look at her.

"The three on the left end, they are Orion's belt from Vulcan's position of the sky."

This time, the smile reached her eyes, turning foggy, confused moss into excited and energized dilithium green.

"Really? That's Orion's belt? What about those ones there, that look like a spoon?"

Spock did not need to regard the sky outside to know of the stars she was questioning.

"That is the Skar-desh constellation. The one next to it, resembling a bowl, is Skar-ven. The Klingons have a unique mythos established about those two constellations consisting of…"

And that was how Amanda found the two a few hours later, sleep still crusting upon her eyelashes as she blearily stumbled into the room, pausing in the doorway at the scene before her. Spock, her brilliant son, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed, hands unfurled together, Harry, sallow and ashen, but sleepily smiling up to her brother as he told her of the stars. It brought tears to her eyes and a flutter to her heart as Spock heard the sound of the door and glanced over his shoulder, Harry's eyes flickering to her, as a twitch, just the tiniest curl upwards danced across Spock's mouth and Harry beamed a grin.

…One week later…

Spock's P.O.V

The sound of the med rooms door opening and closing alerted Spock to his father's arrival. His mother and Harry were currently with their healing priests over at ShiKahr temple, Harry undergoing her first cycle of Katra therapy. No doubt, she will be tired and sore when she arrived back, and so, to ease the work load upon his mother and father, Spock had taken to cleaning out the room, tidying and making the bed. The mundane, thoughtless tasks simultaneously helped him to focus his mind on other pursuits. From his continued discussions with his sister, Spock had learnt many things, namely her… Impediment when it came to grasp new subjects. Her language skills were underwhelming. Her mathematical abilities nearly none existent and she held little regard for any of the founding sciences, although she had showed an exuberant interest in the medical field and alien physiology and care. Of course, she had been trying, but her efforts were fruitless.

The problem here was, if she was to ever fully integrate into this time, to find mindful employment in something she enjoyed, she would need to get a good grounding in all of these subjects to make a career. Currently, Harry had shown proficiency in one subject alone, navigation, but even then, she flooded those with theoretical and illogical jumps of, what she called, gut intuition. Baseless and redundant… Even if she begrudgingly got the majority of the questions right. The sound of his father's voice pulled him away from his thoughts as Sarek lifted the data padd left discarded on the table besides Harry's med bed, flicking through.

"I did not know you were undertaking the chief helmsman tests, Spock. Are you planning a transfer from the science division in Starfleet?"

Spock straightened his spine and turned to face his father, hands folding behind his back as he brought his gaze down to the padd in Sarek's hands. It was the padd he had given to Harry on their first night, so she could read and learn while they slept, or she found herself idle and in need of mental stimulation. Spock, himself, found when he took ill, as rare as it was, mental exercises were the best remedy, and hoped Harry would find the same results.

"I have done no such thing father. Nor do I have any future plans to do so."

Sarek cocked a brow and held out the padd for Spock to take.

"Then why have you been completing the simulations?"

Spock frowned.

"The simulations?"

He muttered as he took the padd from Sarek. Connecting the padd to the display on the bedside table, Spock searched through the data given. His father had been correct, someone had been going through the simulations for the helmsman exam in Starfleet. They had already completed four of the five tests, all with high, nearly perfect scores. The only marks down given had been attributed to unknown or unaproved Starfleet manoeuvres. Even then, the person who had completed the simulations would have, if they were the real exam, passed with stellar scores. Confused, Spock stood once more to speak to his father when the door to the med room opened once more.

His mother, wheeling Harry in on a hover chair, likely his sister was too weak from therapy to stand or walk, greeted them with a warm smile and a quick hello. Spock did not miss the slight twinge in the corners of her eye, nor the forced upward twist of her lips. Harry's first therapy session had been more intense then expected, slow with progress. Before Spock could question the exact nature of the therapy session, Harry spotted the lit display near her bed, the padd open on controls and began to wheel herself over, grin lighting up her tight and pained face.

"Hey, don't delete my file! I've nearly made it to the last level of that game."

Before any intervention could be had, Harry had pressed down on the simulation five button, turning the padd into a ships control panel and the display into the ships view and was aptly flying a Starfleet vessel. The Klingon birds of prey were upon her immediately, unforgivingly, and yet, she was gracefully dipping and diving, skirting, almost playing with the other vessels, taunting.

"Game?"

Spock asked as he saw the simulation order flash on screen. Evade and rendezvous with Starfleet at Gagarin IV. Do not engage with Klingons. Harry scanned the message before she set in a navigational prompt, taking off, swerving, spinning. Not a single Klingon photon skimming the hull of her ship. Then… Then she looked up at him, over her shoulder, still flying, dancing as it were, without her gaze on the simulation. And still, she evaded.

"Game, simulation, same thing, isn't it?"

The simulation caught her attention once more as a bird of prey began to advance on her, and she, in retaliation, dropped the ship down, killed her engines and chuckled as the Klingon ship flew overhead, to close to the planet Harry had taken towards, falling into its gravitational well. Before the others caught up, she set the ship into warp six and was off once more, using manoeuvres Spock had never seen in action before. Fascinating. Sarek spoke up from behind them.

"Who taught you to use these controls?"

Harry shrugged as she lost three of the four remaining Klingon ships.

"Spock told me the basics, and then I found this game. It isn't that complicated once you realize that impulse and warp are like gear and pedal. Plus, I love flying. I've been flying since I was eleven. It's in my blood. Given, a ship is different from a broom, but the fundamentals are the same. 12.57 steradian manoeuvrability. Agility being paramount. You just have to believe you are the broom, you are the ship and bam… Yes! Get in there!"

The last Klingon ship had been dissuaded from following by the asteroid field Harry had taken the ship through, before she shifted into warp eight and pulled up along Gagarin IV's orbit, the screen fading to a simple message of Pass, before listing her score. Perfect. Spock resolutely denied that this flying was… In her blood, as she said, genetics played no part in piloting ability, but she did have a gift, that was undeniable.

"Perhaps I should inquire about a personal piloting tutor for you."

Spock agreed with his father. However, this interesting revelation was pushed back when Harry broke off into a wet bout of coughing, wheezing and tremors. The Katra therapy had taken more of Harry's reserves then she had displayed, and that was worrying indeed. Amanda pushed through, gently tugging Harry from her chair.

"You are not well. You need to rest Harry. You shouldn't be doing simulations, not in your condition."

Harry leant heavily against their mother, arm wrapping around her shoulders as Amanda led her to the bed, only a few steps away, but the journey somehow seemed longer than possible as Spock watched her tremble and fight to get her legs to cooperate with her mind.

"I'm fine, don't worry."

Even to Spock, it was evident she had said this more for their mothers benefit than herself, as she slid onto the bed, only wincing when Amanda turned to fetch a blanket and Sarek stalked to the replicator to bring Harry a much-needed drink. Even Harry could not be so self-unaware as to believe she was fine. So, why lie? Did she believe their mother and father were unintelligent enough to not see what he did?

"Spock?"

Spock crossed the distance between them, peering down. Her gaze was foggy once more, dark green dusting under her eyes, lips pale and dry.

"What are Klingons again?"

And then he realised. She was not unaware, nor did she think their parents were less than intelligent. Distraction. She was searching for a distraction, for all of them, to take their minds away from the obvious pain she was in. He knew so because he had already told Harry about Klingons the first night, when discussing the constellations, and by now, he knew enough of his sister to realise she didn't let information slip from her mind easily. If she was trying to ease their tension, to pull their minds away from the harsh truth of Harry's condition, he could take her own mind away from the pain she was in, if but for a little while. It was the least, as a brother, he could do.

"You know of Klingons already. I thought to inform you of the Andorian race today. I believe you would like them, they deplore dishonesty and have-…"

It worked. Before ten minutes had passed, she was comfortable enough to drift off to slumber, exhausted and pallid, but sound.

…Two weeks later…

Spock's P.O.V

Spock hit the disconnect button on his comm device, ending his call to his Starfleet Academy superior. Harry and his mother and father were back in the med room behind him, Spock having taken privacy in the hall for his call. Harry was recovering at an acceptable, but slow pace. She had stayed conscious today for a total of eight hours and seven minutes. Her longest yet. She, too, was beginning to move unaided, taking to walking the length of her med room before taking rest. It was an arduous process, but she was recovering.

However, she was far from fully healthy, and that was what troubled Spock. His leave of absence from the Starfleet Academy had come to an end a week prior, and although he had pushed back returning a further week, his superiors would not wait much longer. He had lectures to attend, classes to hold, students to pass or fail. He could not abandon his work for much longer and yet… And yet he refused to leave his sister until he was sure she was adequately well enough. Which, as of yet, he had not witnessed. In short, his superiors had given him a further week, insufficient time Spock knew, and then demanded he return to the academy.

"I assume you are being requested back to your post on Earth soon?"

Sarek drawled as he stepped out of the room, giving Spock the barest of glances inside to see both Harry and his mother sleeping before the door slid shut. Spock nodded.

"I have already been absent longer than acceptable. I am taking my leave three days next."

Since his joining of Starfleet, this had been the longest his father and himself had kept close company. Perhaps even the longest they had spoken too. It was not that he did not care for his father, Spock kept up to date with Sarek's accomplishments, his career record, his diplomatic negotiations. However, their relationship was not one of ease or understanding, not since Spock had chosen Starfleet over the Vulcan science academy.

"Four days is tolerable."

Spock felt a twinge in his chest, unamiable and unpleasant. He had the distinct feeling he was being dismissed. Nonetheless, he would not be easily disregarded. Not when it came to his sister.

"I will request mother to comm me with updates on T'Harauk's health and as soon as acceptable, I shall return to Vulcan once more to visit her."

Sarek frowned, just a slither, a slight crinkle at the joint of his arching brows, but Spock saw it all the same.

"There is no need."

As half human, Spock had always had more difficulty in replicating his father's Vulcan restraint. And it was in this moment, that he found it tested almost brutally, as his jaw clenched, and he stiffened. He counted to ten mentally, evened his breathing and tried to hold on to all his Surak teachings.

"She is my sister father, as much as you may… Disagree with my life choices, you cannot disagree with this fact. I wish to know her progress and-"

That slight fold in Sarek's brows eased as something flickered in his eyes. On any other person, on a human, Spock would have called it guilt or remorse, but this was his father.

"I only say there is no need because you will witness the progress for yourself. Me and your mother have decided to come with you. To go to Earth. As ambassador between Vulcan and Earth, my work can travel with me. Your mother has applied and been accepted to teach a few xenolinguistic lectures at the Starfleet institute you currently work in, and the private tutor I have managed to assign to T'Harauk for piloting is stationed there too, while he is on leave. Four days is acceptable because it will give me and your mother enough time to ready our belongings and settle our affairs here temporarily."

Spock, for the first time in a very, very, very long time, felt unsettled. Unseated. Confused.

"You are coming with me?"

Sarek blinked, and that was all Spock had to garner on any inner workings of his father.

"Yes, of course. It is only logical. While Vulcan is T'Harauk's home, and always will be, the familiarity of humans, along with their multi species population, allows some stability to T'Harauk that she cannot find here, while also allowing her to become accustomed to this new age she has found herself in."

Spock had not thought of it in such a way. Earth would hold just enough reminders to Harry to feel comfortable and stable, and yet enough changes had taken place for her to begin to adapt to this era and life.

"The Romulans-"

Sarek swiftly cut him off.

"Are not a problem. I am dealing with them as we speak."

At the mention of the Romulans who had abducted Harry and perhaps still posed a threat, Sarek's voice betrayed him, taking on an edge of bite and frost that Spock had not heard before. However, he schooled himself back to impassiveness quickly enough for Spock to question whether he really heard that tone or not. And then, to further befuddle his son, Sarek placed a hand upon his shoulder, holding him steadily and surely.

"Spock… Son."

It had been years, perhaps back to his childhood days, since Sarek had called him son. There was a slight ache within his chest, a spasm or cramp. Had he strained his solar plexus? Spock did not remember doing any moves which could possibly result in an injury to the chest, and yet, it hurt… In a very peculiar good way.

"I have been remiss in my duties."

Spock shook his head, trying to ignore that pleasant ache.

"You are a well-respected ambassador and diplomat to the federation. I do not understand."

Sarek's hand slipped from his shoulder as the older man nodded and straightened out, beginning to stroll down the hall, silently requesting Spock to accompany him. Which Spock did, with a quick glance to the med room to insure it was locked and safe.

"Yes, but not all duties come from work. You will learn this when you begin to establish a family of your own. I have not been the father I should have been. T'Harauk's arrival home… What I saw in her mind… It has made me see our time is precious and best not waisted, for we do not know what will come tomorrow."

The pace was slow and easy, but Spock's mind was in disarray, disorientated, whirling.

"I repeat, I do not understand. Mother is happy, my career is well and T'Harauk is recovering-"

Sarek abruptly stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Spock.

"When was the last time we conversed Spock, before T'Harauk's arrival home?"

Spock did not need to recall much further into his mind.

"The previous year, when I came to our annual familial gathering of mourning Harry's abduction."

Now that he had spoken the words, he realised just how far he and his father had drifted. Of course, Spock comm'd his mother each week, for he was sure she would hunt him down and demand to know why he didn't love her enough to ease her worried mind, but with his father, it had been different. It had been different for a long while. Sarek carried on walking.

"A family should not operate in such a way. I, as your father, should not conduct myself in such a manner. This is not a family dynamic I wish for T'Harauk to acclimatize herself to. It is not a family structure I wish for any of us to keep. I will admit, Spock, your selection of joining Starfleet over the Vulcan science academy seemed illogical to me. I believed, originally, that you would realize your mistake and revert your path back. But I was wrong to ever believe or hope for you to do such a thing. I should not have let your choices and my own confusion over such choices affect our relationship. I, unwillingly, have lost many years with my daughter, and willingly, have lost time with you. I cannot regain those years back, but I can ensure that it does not repeat itself. Our family has been fractured for too long. I will not allow it to continue."

Sarek's voice dropped.

"T'Harauk is weak and unwell."

Spock came to a stop, forcing Sarek to mirror him.

"The healers have assured mother Harry is healing. Have they been keeping information away?"

Sarek glanced away.

"Yes, her body is healing satisfactorily, however…"

Sarek made his way to a window in the hallway, peering out to the cityscape below. Spock did not move, too focused on the discussion and subject at hand.

"You saw what I saw Spock. She has never assimilated to humans, not fully, and I doubt she ever will. She is not one of them. Furthermore, she will have great difficulty in accustoming herself to our culture and ways, she is too emotionally run to let go and follow only logic. Her energy, her magic as it were, is ran by emotions, controlled by emotions. Here we find the problem. She is too alien to be human, and too human to be Vulcan, and something else entirely to be either. She must find a balance. Something to bridge this human, witch and Vulcan nature she holds. What she has lived through has left scars, not just physically. Her Katra flares widely, untamed and broken. She has trouble controlling herself. She feels deeply and does not try and control those feelings. She trusts too easily, and she has felt loss many could not begin to imagine. She is brash, headstrong, and hot tempered, and yet, she is emotionally detached from many things, composed and reclusive."

Sarek began to walk back to the med room, Spock trailing behind him, listening.

"She is alone. Perhaps the last of her kind. That is a heavy burden on such young shoulders. Amanda is human. I am Vulcan. Both of us can understand parts of her, but never the whole. I fear you will be the only one who can fully understand her. To understand the struggle of coming to terms with what and who you are. You who can help heal those wounds unseen. To teach her how to navigate the two worlds in which the two of you are born into. To help her find that balance she so surely needs to find."

They made it back to the room, but before Sarek could scan his ID chip and enter, Spock stalled him with his own hand on Sarek's forearm, bringing Sarek's gaze to his own steady and determined one.

"I have no plans on abandoning her. I am her brother."

Spock was sure now, as sure as he ever could be, that there was a quick flash of a smile on Sarek's face. A glimpse. A shot. But it had been there. Sarek scanned his chip and they both entered the dim room, but not before Sarek could speak for the final time.

"Good. Because she needs you now more than anyone else."

There was a rustle of blankets moving coming from the bed, and as if to emphasise Sarek's point, a sleep riddled, croaky voice echoed in the night air.

"Spock?"

Spock made his way over to Harry as she blinked to consciousness.

"I am here."

And he would be. Always. For that is what he would be. A constant. A helping hand. A guide. For that is what brothers are.

Next chapter- Do I… Yes.. No… Yes… I think I hear James Tiberius Kirk…

Few notes on this chapter:

From my calculations, which can be way off, (I study history, not maths dammit) Spock was born in 2230 and the beginning of Star Trek 2009 is in 2258. That makes him 28 at the beginning of the Star trek film, which this fic is set right before, and as Harry is 17, that gives them a total of eleven years difference. Quite a gap, but me and my oldest sister have a total of sixteen years difference (I'm the youngest of four children), so I think it's pretty plausible.

I've been battling with exactly what I wanted Harry to be good at in this fic. Of course, I'm trying to keep the characters as close to their original sources as possible, so I had to try and transfer what Harry Potter was good at into something that fit into the Star Trek verse. Looking at his grades, his top classes were care of magical creatures, defence against the dark arts, and if it had of been marked, he would have aced flying. I ruled out defence against the dark arts because while Harry could join the Security division, the way I have her now, she is sick of war and violence and given a choice, I just don't see her choosing that… And then I remembered Sulu! I adore him and wished he had a bigger role in the Star trek movie, and so, flying won out! I just really want to see tutor/teacher Sulu and a distracted, emotional Vulcan student… So sue me lol. So, expect to see our dear Sulu coming in quite heavily!

Writing from a Vulcan perspective turned out to be a lot, A LOT, harder than I originally believed. Lmao. I'm trying to keep the characters as close to their original counterparts as possible, but at the same time, from a written point of view, to draw empathy and sympathy to a character, you have to display their emotions in a plausible way that resonates with the reader… AND THESE ARE VULCANS, lmao. So, this chapter was a bit of a monster to get right, and I still don't feel like I captured Spock correctly, but I'm hoping he improves over time and I can nail his complex character.

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS, this chapter is for you! Really. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

If you can, please leave a review they fuel this fic :).