Part II – Kerry
Saavik opened herself to his mental pull, giving back the same fulfillment he gave by touching their bond. Bondmates. The word worked where other past labels hadn't. Saavik was always bonded to Spock; always found him a part of her path in one form or another. They finally found their pathways led them here.
She stood in Sarek's cabin aboard her ship. "I am honored you take such an interest in my future. However, I will not discuss your idea for a potential bondmate."
She turned to leave, but his reply froze her steps. "What if it were Spock?"
She focused again on the garden. Spock knew to seek her out here. She crossed to the rose bushes where they grew in symbiosis with the reedy chakh' plants. The thin, bamboo like stalks sought the foundling roses as a starting point to reach for the sky, giving its partner flower the stiff backboard it needed to grow high. The colors of the roses – more than Amanda's favorite yellow – with the sleek black and brown chakh' formed compliments of each other. Their joined scent was heady.
In Saavik's ears sounded the wind off the desert and the burble of the fountain in the foyer off the garden. She relished these sensations as the breeze brought whiffs of other scents. She turned in their direction and found a tan stone table, newly set here or the plant bed beneath its legs would encase them, not be flattened by them. Three dark stone bowls lay on top, filled with a mixture of seeds and burnt incense. Life mixed with death, reflecting the gray hieroglyphics around the rim. Katra or Essence bowls; part of the ceremony.
As she watched, a breeze stole morsels from each bowl, stirring them into the main draft of desert wind as Spock intended. A dried rose petal, its edges crisp from flame with the center still unburned, lifted just above one rim, spinning in the air to settle back down when the breeze released it.
Saavik's sensitive nose identified not only the roses in the incense, but chakh', the magnolias Amanda cherished named Vulcan, the flowered yelas, and the slight hint of fruit from the savas and kasa leaves. Plus something else, something familiar but nebulous.
That was only the one bowl.
The second – Saavik knew none of the scents except for that coming from the white, sparkling granules. She was unsure, but she guessed by the total lack of Vulcan incense that this bowl was for James Kirk. The third, most likely Sybok's… the aroma rushed into Saavik's bloodstream like a fever, and she stepped back, her eyes wide. She stared down at the bowl, a delicious tingle still burning like a current through her body.
"Saavik?"
Spock stepped into the garden. Ten months had passed since they last saw each other, and she drank in the sight of him. His dark hair and eyes contrasted handsomely with his light beige robes as they draped along the long lines of his body. His eyes always drew her. His eyes with their deep expressions that let her in – his voice with its rich tones turning mundane words into something that caught her – his long fingered hands with their efficient, expressive gestures…
She paid attention to what he was saying.
"I thought it was your bag I discovered."
Curious that he spoke of something they both already knew. Then she understood. He drank in the sight of her.
He held out his paired fingers, and she touched them. The bond flared, enlivened, and settled again, connecting them as always even after they broke the physical contact.
"I began preparations for the ceremony." He went to a rniiktiho plant, plucking the dark red vegetable from its ground root.
"So I have noticed." She led his eyes with hers to the stone table where the three katra bowls sat.
"I have other preparations inside." His manner turned formal as he held out the rniiktiho in his cupped palms for her inspection.
She almost forgot the importance of meals and their preparation. Too many Starfleet galleys, too many meals ordered through a replicator. But now at home, she welcomed returning to their customs. Spock rolled the vegetable in slow motions, back and forth, giving her a good look at it. As the meal's preparer, he showed the female of the house that he choose the best ingredients. She nodded showing she accepted his choice, and he left the garden for inside.
"You were unsure of your arrival time." He looked back over his shoulder. "Join me?" She noticed the three floating candles in the foyer fountain as she did so. Flames living on a bath of water: life and death balanced again. The candles were used later in the ceremony during the mourning meditation, picked from the fountain with water still licking the candle's outer surface. The flames burned through the wax until nothing kept them separate from the liquid droplets. The light extinguished with a hiss, lost to an opposed environment as the lamented katras were. Looking ahead to where Spock ducked into the open kitchen area, Saavik missed the fourth candle that bobbed around at the back of the fountain.
"Perhaps I should have waited until your arrival before filling the Essence bowls," Spock was saying.
"Unnecessary. You are more fluent with today's customs than I am." Neither mentioned she choose to be inexperienced. "And I would not delay the ceremony because of inefficient shipping schedules."
"Your ship moves forward on its patrol?"
She nodded. "I left them for a passenger ship on Keziah. I will rendezvous with a shuttle there as well when I leave tomorrow night." She looked over the other meal ingredients – thkyrh and assorted spices; he made her favorite meal. The small portion made the hospitable sample for a returned traveler. Dinner would be later, the starter for the life celebration after the mourning rites.
Music drifted in from the main room, adding to the ambience of being back with him. She studied him again, this time with the electrical current created by the third bowl dissipated. "You lost weight."
He nodded, dropping the spices into a small pot over a flame. "I am nullifying the effects of an ambassador's sedate life style, including an improved exercise regime. I also speculated we might spar tomorrow, although my reaction times have slowed from inactivity."
"I promise not to take advantage."
He peered up without lifting his head. An eyebrow elevated. "Gratifying to know I can trust my betrothed."
"Indeed."
He laid the round rniiktiho and the stemmed thkyrh on a small slab of black stone. The deep red and jade became vibrant in contrast to the slate. He cut a slit into both, and opened them so the nutritional core faced her as the child bearer.
She met his gaze, sharing his contentment. They both enjoyed some Terran meals as well as other alien repasts, but it was good to be home. The cooking and sharing of food was part of a tradition here, handed down from the Beginning -- an art and a discipline, one of the many in expressing the deeper self.
Spock used an airakho, a cross between tongs and chopsticks, to place the rniiktiho and the thkyrh in the small pot. The contained moisture from both vegetables moistened the sizzling spices, creating a new smell and sound. Saavik realized how hungry she was.
The scent brought something back to mind. "Spock, the Essence bowls outside – you chose the mixtures?"
He nodded. "I dried different plants for my mother's incense ashes. A few plants I picked from the estate's garden, since we do not have her favorite Terran agastache here."
That was the other smell she couldn't name before: the herb-licorice mint.
"Or any Vulcan waneti," Spock continued. "My mother was as much a hybrid as I am, if not more."
Saavik also finally understood why he chose to play this music. "Bemonim's Home Stars suite, a favorite of Amanda's." She watched his deep breath lighten his bearing. A good memory then. "I heard it for the first time when she played it for me. When I informed her I did not share her appreciation for it, she scowled and said there was no accounting for taste."
His head came up sharply.
"I was insulted. I asked her if I must agree with every one of her opinions. She smiled and said we would get along fine, now that I had learned that lesson."
Spock's eyebrow somehow climbed higher.
"I didn't know her well then as it was only two months since your fal-tor-pan. So I did not understand she was teasing." Saavik's voice grew dry. "For better or worse, I learned much about a human's concept of humor from her."
"In self-defense," Spock said in understanding.
She listened to the music some more. She had grown to appreciate it, which Amanda never failed to point out as if it was, in some incomprehensible way, a victory.
"You begin the life celebration early," she said, showing interest. She agreed to come home only to be with him. And yet, remembering Amanda this way softened Saavik's reluctance to the holiday.
"I saw no harm in it." He stirred the pot continually with the airakho. "I was unsure how much of tonight's ceremony you knew."
That was said carefully. "Understandable. However, I know the customs in general, despite my lack of practicing them. We begin with the mourning rites, using the fountain's candles I presume to enter the meditative state?" He nodded, but also watched her oddly. She put that aside for now. "As the flames extinguish -- marking the twilight -- we send the Essence mixtures into the wind like the katras themselves. That ends the first half of the ceremony. It is believed if the mind is opened through meditation, we are better able to absorb the symbols from the Essence." She vaulted her eyebrows. "Correct, so far?"
His eyes took on a spark. He knew she teased him.
"We observe the remaining ceremony at night, symbolizing the loss of light from those being mourned. However, in spite of that, the life celebration is a time of exultation. In it, we experience favorite items of those lost, our opened mental state once more absorbing a presence of the vanquished katra. If our own souls reach the Hall of Ancient Thought, we take a spirit of them with us." She gave the nod she gave her captain. "Is my report satisfactory?"
Deadpan, he acknowledged her with a proper, "Quite."
She glanced about, taking in the kitchen and peering into the main room. Another katra pot with its lid sat on the other end of the counter -- a spare, no doubt. She saw nothing else in the sparse brown and white kitchen, its design along more universal lines than the traditional one at the estate. But then, the townhouse was built originally as a possible home for aliens.
Nothing was different in the main room either, from what she could see at first. The usual furnishings and Spock's lytherette leaning against the large overstuffed chair that used to be Sarek's favorite here. Amanda's old favorite, the loveseat, was easy to pick out with its multi-colored pillows integrating the two shades of terracotta on the walls.
But... by going to the archway, she saw the far corner: models for each ship named Enterprise. Spock chose well again.
She returned to him, watching his smooth movements as he turned the cooking pot over its flame, mixing the contents with the motion. The symbol of a person's inner elements forged into their core. "What else have you chosen for Amanda's celebration?"
"You," he said. "She loved you. You needed to be here."
Amanda leapt from memory, and Saavik's eyes closed, savoring the answer. Amanda's voice, the way she said everything with her eyes, the mind that embraced Vulcan disciplines, and the laugh that was so human.
Saavik never felt a lack of parents. On Hellguard, the concepts of father and mother were strictly biological especially after the colony was abandoned. All traditional views of family disappeared, and never were a part of a discarded hybrid's life. After that nightmarish planet, anything was a paradise. The sequence of teachers gave her all she needed: instruction, medical care, and wisdom. And if they and their Institutions came in rapid series, what of it? Saavik needed the swift pace, first to get civilized before even stepping foot in a school, second to catch up with her agemates. She grew used to the pace and demanded it be kept up. She lacked for nothing from the carefully selected Vulcans and non-Vulcans who prepared her for life in the Federation and entering the Academy.
Still, meeting Amanda all those years later on Vulcan -- at last, Vulcan! -- satisfied a hunger Saavik hadn't known she carried. But being an adult when she met the older woman brought special benefits. They met as equals and it gave them a special sharing in their relationship. Saavik could and did stay totally open to Amanda, and vice versa. Amanda found some things could only be shared with the outsider who becomes family. For all the closeness between mother and son, it was something Amanda didn't have with Spock. Not better, but different and an unknown hunger Amanda hadn't known she had.
The quiet stayed warm in the room, broken only by the sounds of the meal cooking in the pot and the everyday noises of home.
"The other bowls," she asked at last. "What do they contain?"
"I obtained different grains from Jim's Iowa. I mixed those with lihril and ii'ilo, but for their colors, not their fragrance."
Of course. Lihril, when burned, turned into the sparkling granules – for the stars in which James Kirk served and died. And ii'ilo, if heated instead of burned, turned hazel.
Which left the mystery her curiosity really needed to know, that scent that traveled like lightning along her nerves. "It is the last bowl that made me… more curious. I could not place the elements you used for the incense ashes."
His glance up was rapid and intense. "You smelled it?" She nodded; he obviously knew the affect it had on her. "It is my fault for not warning you. The scent is vi'rhati."
She had only heard of it. In ancient times, it burned while enemy Houses prepared for battle. The warriors inhaled it, creating a stronger blood fever.
Spock explained, "The incense is used in Reformed times for advanced Gol students. To test their mental disciplines as they study for Kolinahr."
She knew Spock must have passed that test. After all, he was almost awarded the Kolinahr symbol. Except…
He finished the thought for her. "An interesting note to my character, is it not? That I passed such a trial, and yet my curiosity became my failing."
"A fortunate event for me," she said. "For you as well."
They shared a look. Her statement was a true fact, but its undertones meant more. "Agreed. My studies at Gol gave me much that I use to this day. However, Kolinahr does not suit me, and I pursued it for the wrong reasons. As for the vi'rhati, I thought the wildness to it was good for Sybok's bowl."
"If that scent represents Sybok, I am more curious than ever about your late brother. Have you chosen any other symbols for him?"
"I reserved two khu'unla for later--" the only hard, naturally armored survivors from the common ancestor with the vlaittlya, the loyal mounts taken into battle and driven into extinction by the ancient era of the House Wars. "--When we start the life celebration."
"Anything else?"
"You, again."
Her head cocked to the side. "Spock, you are well aware I never met Sybok."
"No, a fact I regret. You are someone he would want to know." His eyes rested on her in utter satisfaction. This night and having her as a part of it meant more to him than she first thought. It never occurred to her he tied so many personal links between the ones he lost and her. Amanda, yes, but Sybok? She suddenly felt his same satisfaction that his brother would have approved of their betrothal.
In fact, he was saying, "Sybok reminded me that Vulcan's heart has always been represented in its bondmates. It is why I said you are a part of his celebration."
Spock lifted an aromatic bite from the pot, touching it to the bowl of chilled keit grain, the two temperatures balancing each other so the bite may be immediately eaten. He held it out to Saavik. She reached for the airakho utensil, and was surprised when he lowered her hand with his free one.
In the manner of those betrothed or married, he gently fed her. His softened voice turned the formal words into something deeply personal. "Be welcome on your return to our home."
Something in this simple gesture made Saavik believe it rivaled the most intimate in her life. She took his offering, the barest level of moisture from the vegetable and spices lying on her lips. The tip of her tongue drew this in with an unwitting sensual gesture. Spock stopped her again, putting down the utensil and cupping her cheek with one hand. With the other, he once more paired his first two fingers and 'kissed' her lips with them.
Every nerve in her body sang. Breathless, she learned knowing certain customs was vastly different from experiencing them.
A lesson he discovered too when he completed the action by bringing his fingers to his mouth. The spiced moisture went from her lips to his. Bonded: what fed the one, fed the other – what sustained the life of one, made the other live.
And the touch was exhilarating.
When Spock found his voice, it was roughened. "I believe … I must once more acknowledge Sybok's wisdom, aduna."
Being called wife, after such warmth in his touch... this was why their language had two words for it. Why the word to explain their relationship to others wasn't enough to be used between them. "Agreed, adun."
They shared the small meal at their table, one communal bowl between them. The intimacy was still new to them, so she did not feed him since custom didn't demand it. Years later, once they were married and such closeness was a part of them, she would without thinking. But now… Spock was the food's preparer, he gave to the others what he made, not vice versa. She resolved to make the next meal herself.
Being bonded is a fascinating experience.
Eventually, he picked up their topic about Sybok's celebration. "I was able to discover the Academy orchestra rehearses tonight in their practice hall, the one on the outskirts before the desert. They will play S'Inte's Modern Nomads. It makes the perfect accompaniment for a khu'unla ride."
Saavik thought of riding along open ground in the starlit darkness next to Spock... The orchestra playing rousing music that brought the ancient songs into modern day… The drums and bass striding with the same fevered beat as their mounts made in their ears.
"I was unaware you rode," she said. She did. She learned when she first lived here after his Refusion.
"I did not until my last visit home. It will be at least one celebration of Sybok. And Jim always had a fondness for horses. It makes a strong beginning for the evening. From the khu'unla, we can move to a variety of places the three we honor enjoyed in ShiKahr. Music again – if you wish -- in a variety of styles, friends they made if we want a crowd, dance--"
He kept amazing her tonight. "Dance?"
"Yes. Amanda, after all, taught us both. It is something to celebrate her life, although I suggest it may be a more private thing."
She regarded him tenderly. "I give you fair warning. I am out of practice. I have not danced since that night with you at the ShiKahr ball."
"Nor have I. This makes a good opportunity to re-learn, does it not?"
She agreed it did. "Your plans intrigue me. I never expected so much, especially the insights they give." She leaned across the table. "Especially regarding Sybok since we never met. Will you tell me more about him?"
His eyebrows drew together, the lines in his forehead deepening, and his voice turning grave. "I do not know if you are ready to hear the most important thing about him."
"Shaka-Ri?"
"I stand corrected. One of the most important things about him." He paused, and at length quoted, "Each of us hides a secret pain."
He made no sense, and the reluctance in his voice confused her more. But Spock, once committed, followed through with his choices. He waved a hand towards the fountain in the garden foyer, the same odd expression he had earlier. The three candles still floated in the large, bottom level – safe from the upper three tiers, which cascaded water downward. Slight ripples creased the surface, making – her eyes widened – a fourth candle drift from around the rear.
Her eyes swung to the fourth Essence bowl on the counter. She nearly ran to it, and with a quick motion, opened the lid. The captured scents escaped into the air. Not a spare bowl after all.
She turned back on him, eyes hardening. "Who is this one for?"
He raised an eyebrow, calm in spite of the edge in the words. "It may be for one or many. It depends on you."
She expected the answer; it didn't make it easier to hear. "Do not ruin the evening, Spock!"
"The fact that you could say so points to how deeply you keep this pain with you. Your Vulcan parent died on Hellguard. So did other Vulcans as well as hybrids like yourself."
The seeds and incense from the opened bowl smelled strong. With a small portion of her mind, she identified the main ingredient as the fragrance used for tranquility, even burned for couples during pon farr. The essence symbolizing peace. She turned her back on him and walked away. You knew not to pursue this topic, Spock!
He followed her from the dining table to the main room. "I am not arguing this, nor do I force you. But I do believe you must face this, and not for me."
She looked at him over her shoulder. "Do you believe I am here for any other reason? I already celebrate this ceremony for you."
He stepped closer. "I know. However, if you go any further in this particular mourning, it must be for yourself."
"What would you have me do?" Unfortunate for him that the greater controls she learned over time never included keeping from him exactly what she thought. "My parent died brutally far from home, tortured with the worst possible shame for my creation. And I killed some of the people you'd have me mourn, Spock. Am I now to be a hypocrite in this rite?"
"Mourn that you and they existed in an environment where such violence forced your actions. For once, see that you are excused from any guilt for those days."
She remembered the dying light in her victims' eyes. Forgiveness never existed in them. "And after the mourning? How do I celebrate their lives? I knew none of them!"
"You do not believe your life is not already a celebration? Whoever your parent was, he or she explored space, challenged and curious by what they may find. You do the same."
"That exploration caused their rape and death."
"The people of Hellguard caused it. A crime is never the fault of the victims or the bystanders."
She spun on him in a slow circle, hushed now. "Given that, I ask you again. How do I dare celebrate those I murdered?"
He let out a long, deep breath, and his eyes shut. "I thought you had learned the difference."
The worst thing was, she had. Long ago, she released herself from the guilt of surviving Hellguard. But this night brought it back, buried but never gone.
She wet her lips, and moved close to him, her voice still hushed. "Let me celebrate this night for Amanda and the others you mourn." The rest… let me put it aside for now.
He stared into her for a long silence, before answering with same muted tone. "As you wish."
She glanced out the window. Dusk settled in an hour. She needed to get ready. "I will return shortly."
He let her go, watching as she crossed the kitchen instead of taking the main staircase. She reached up, removing the pins keeping her hair swept behind her ears per regulations. The mourning rites specified no adornments. Later, after the first half of the ceremony, she planned wearing jewelry Amanda once gave her -- a necklace, arm cuffs, and a ring -- as well more vivid colored clothing. Attire better suited for the life celebration.
"Saavik?" Spock's hand rested on the fourth Essence bowl. "Should I empty this?"
Her intent look moved from it to the candle in the fountain. "Leave them."
She went to shower and change from her Starfleet clothing to appropriate dress.
The gesture of Spock touching paired fingers to Saavik's lips was inspired by Joanna Bordelon's "Vulcan Kiss" art piece. It can be found on the SpockandSaavik web site.