Part Two

If he had left it to Starfleet channels, it might have been days or even weeks before they would have received any definitive notice. This was the one time in his life when truly felt no guilt at "throwing his weight around" as Amanda would put it. He had requested, no demanded, immediate answers, even before the word had made it through the proper channels. What Star Fleet had heartily denied at first was later admitted to with "sympathy". And when that occurred nothing would have satisfied him but full disclosure of all facts, including Genesis. He had lost his only child and Starfleet was to blame.

He now stood alone in the empty shell of a bedroom, long abandoned for other, more desirable surroundings light years away. The trappings of a lost childhood laced the edges of the room, star charts and the remains of long forgotten "experiments". For the most part it had taken on the atmosphere of a little used guest room, for a guest that all too rarely visited. Now its owner was gone from them to return no more, and the room echoed with memories, both pleasant and painful. He picked up a neglected book, left on the bedside table after one last visit home, and a scrap of paper fell to the floor at his feet. It made him think of Amanda, always stuffing scraps into the pages of her books, to hold her place or to mark a passage that she planned to return to. He bent to pick it up, his hand brushing against another object hidden in the shadows of the bed. He grasped the object, bringing it into the light, recognizing it as part of the T'eish'taveh totem that had been given to Amanda a great many years ago by a shaman in the Western Hills, to help ward their child from danger. It had always amused him how after Spock's birth, she had so readily accepted Vulcan's goddesses and gods, even adopting T'eish'taveh as her own personal protector. When he had questioned her, she had smiled and kissed his cheek, telling him she would have deities that looked like those she loved, what more could she ask for?

Had she come into Spock's room and in her anger at T'eish'taveh's inability to keep that long ago promise, to protect their child, flung the piece against the floor? Turning it his hands, the broken image even now still held the rage that she had vented here alone, and he realized that she did it to protect him from the outburst that she could no longer control. Gently, he placed the now forsaken goddess by the bedside. It had been a source of consolation to his wife for many years, and he would honor it for that. He sighed and turned back to the paper, still lying on the floor. Sarek bent to pick up the stray fragment of his son's life, his attention now drawn to the section of parchment in his hands. The ceremonial script was elegant, but the contents still had the ability to elicit a response from him. It was Spock's acceptance as an acolyte into Gol…

…It had seemed to Sarek that just as he and Spock were settling into a comfortable dialogue, father and son once again, the scales were tipped with such a sudden and unexpected shift that they sent any normalcy "out the door" as it were. It was as if their only son was wasting his life on a seesaw of first indulgence and then total denial, with no logic or reason Sarek could discern.

If Spock's first choice had run counter to all his father stood for in a public life, this was like a slap in Sarek's face to his private one. He had tried for so many years to teach his child the difference between suppression and denial of emotion. Why had that lesson been so difficult in a household where both parents obviously cared not just for their child, but also deeply for one another? Now Spock sought to toss all remnants of that lesson aside.

To go to Gol meant the severing of all ties, the breaking of all connections, the denial of all that is material, the total eradication of all emotion.. And this time, this time it was his son's decision to put aside the relationship between father and son which had so slowly and carefully been mended and nurtured over the last few years. And while Sarek would, as a Vulcan have to accept this, Spock's new choice was far worse, for it would also sever ties with a mother whose heritage it had seemed at one time had finally been accepted and but which would now be totally erased.

Where it his choice, he would have refused to attend the severing ceremony. Some of his people took it as an honor to release an acolyte to Gol. To Sarek, it seemed an affront to what he had spent his life trying to show -that a middle path was possible. But he came for Amanda's sake, not able to deny her the last time she might see their son before he abandoned all on the path of the initiate.

"Xcha'ala'at Sarek, es bein ta…"

"… look upon he who you have called son one last time. He is no more."

"Che un et Xcha'ala'at Sarek…"

It had been a long time since he had heard his wife addressed as someone devoid of status, and he bristled at the designation. But these were the old ways, and there was no acknowledgement of anyone or thing that was not Vulcan.

"…He is no more."

Amanda was keeping her "brave face" as she called it, hoping right up until the end that their presence there would cause a change of heart in Spock. But it was not to be. They watched as the massive gates to the sanctuary swung close, leaving an impenetrable barrier between them and their only child…

…A sudden thump from down the hallway pulled him out of the past. Calmly, he walked toward the source of the noise, which seemed to be coming from his own bedroom. He entered the room to find not only his own clothing, but his wife's as well, scattered across the bed as Amanda stood struggling with the clasp of her traveling bag.

"My wife, what if the difficulty?"

"It's this damn bag, I can't manage to get it open."

He bent down to inspect the latch, first calmly testing it, then a bit more intensely, before declaring his prognosis.

"It seems to be broken, Amanda."

"Yes, I know that, but I thought maybe…"

She went to reach for the bag again, then suddenly, and without warning she burst into tears. He caught her his arms and pulled her near.

"I'm sorry."

"Amanda, my wife, the cause is more than sufficient."

He held her tight, feeling the fragile weight of her body, a delicate cage for such a strong spirit. He had always marveled at the endurance she could wring from that slight frame, and he feared one day she would push it too hard. He smoothed the hair from her brow gently kissing the crown of her head, as it lay nestled on his chest. Taking the corner of his sleeve he brushed it against her cheek to catch the tears that she struggled to control.

"I know, I'm just going to have to get over this before we leave. It wouldn't do for me to break down in the shuttle."

"Amanda, perhaps it is best you remain here at…"

She pulled back the tear-stained eyes suddenly filled with fiery determination.

"Xcha'ala'at Sarek of Vulcan, don't you dare think you are going to Earth without me!"

He started to speak, but thought better of it. When she was like this, there would be no reasoning with her. He sighed in resignation.

"Amanda…"

"Don't Amanda me, Sarek " she responded pulling from his hold, "I am going. End of argument."

He opened his mouth ready to offer his logical reasons for why she should stay, but was stopped before a single word was allowed to escape, by the firm set of his wife's chin and the dogged determination in her eyes. Sometimes, the only logical thing to do was to give in.

'"We will need to leave as soon as possible," he finally replied, leaving her to resume the packing, As he reached the door, she called to him and he turned to meet her eyes.

"Sarek, I love you, you know that don't you?"

He sighed, not in resignation but in the pleasure of hearing those words that it seemed had been not said enough in the last few days.

"Amanda," he said her name quietly, in the way she knew he was not just repeating the syllables, but the meaning of the word behind it.

"I know," she replied back and he could see that she had come close to tears again. Before that could happen she quickly shifted the subject, " Find out when your shuttle will be ready."

…"Sir?"

The seesaw was once again "back in action", as Amanda would say. He looking out of the large expanse of windows in his office, across ShiKahr to where his home lay, then to the desert beyond, wondering what new twist of fate was in store for them. Amanda had always held out hope, and it seemed she had been a better judge of her son's disposition. But as happy as she would be, how many times could either of them be expected to go through losing and gaining a son?

"I respectfully request the use of your shuttle."

Sarek let a deep sigh of resignation escape from within. He set his shoulders back and ramrod straight turned to face his only, much prodigal son.

"Does this mean you have turned away from the way of the ascetics? You have found no answer in Gol?"

"Xcha'ala'at Sarek, if it is possible to discuss Gol at a later period. Time is of the essence. I need to leave as soon as possible."

The use of his ceremonial title, made Sarek wonder just how much of Gol Spock had left behind and how much he the brought back with him. He punched the com unit. Whatever the source of this unexpected conversion, he would welcome it if for no other reason but Amanda's sake. Right now, it did seem best to give into the request, before another sudden change of heart occurred.

"Ready my shuttle for my son's use. Give priority clearance for a departure as soon as possible."

"My gratitude-"

"Father?" Sarek suggested.

"My gratitude, Father," Spock responded…

…Sarek stood staring at the com unit for several moments, his mind still refusing to relinquish the hold of memories. He had truly tried again and again, but each time Spock seemed to throw a new hurdle in front of him, drawing a new line in ever-shifting sands, and as Sarek closed in on each one, his son would move back and draw another. Now the line was drawn that he could never cross until his time in this life had been spent.

"The shuttle?"

Like a sleepwalker trying to awake from too deep a slumber, Sarek pulled himself out of his thoughts with much effort. There was no point in regretting what had or had not been between father and son. He had a final task to complete for all of three of them before any could hope for peace.

"Dear? Are you alright?"

Amanda drew next to him and gently stroked his arm in encouragment. He looked down at her softly and grasped her hand, holding on tightly and squeezing it in reassurance.

"It will be ready by Nighttide," He replied, "We will depart for Earth after the evening meal."