Disclaimer: Characters and situations owned by Paramount.

Timeline: Between Star Trek: Wrath of Khan and Star Trek: The Search for Spock.

Thanks to: My valiant beta Kathyh and her warp speed!

It was Commander Uhura who asked Saavik whether there were any Vulcan rituals Spock would have wanted them to respect for his burial. Admiral Kirk wasn't in a condition to talk to anyone just yet. Saavik, who had been observing the development of the new planet created by Genesis, shook her head. Uhura, who looked as grief- stricken as all the long term members of the Enterprise crew, then said gently: "Are there any Vulcan rituals you would wish to observe, Saavik? He was your mentor."

Saavik had not been born on Vulcan. Until her ninth year of life, she had had no idea of what it meant to be Vulcan, and though she had done her best to learn and transform herself thereafter, rituals dealing with death had not been part of either what Spock had taught her, or what she had learned through her own studies. There had been so many other things to learn. Besides, she was all too familiar with death. When Spock had found her on an abandoned Romulan colony, she'd been a starving, feral child among other starving children who had all killed more than once.

"I wish to gain knowledge", she replied, staring at the marvel the two Doctors Marcus and their fellow scientists had created. "Which he has taught me to seek. There is no logic in ritual, Commander." Her throat was dry. She wondered whether Spock, dying of radiation poisoning, had been thirsty during that last hour of life. Less than an hour. Perhaps only half an hour, from the moment he'd left the bridge to the moment Admiral Kirk had realized what he had done and had gone after him.

Saavik should have realized, too. Should have anticipated. She had been the one who'd prepared herself for the Kobayashi Maru these last months, after all, studying hopeless scenario after hopeless scenario. If she had realized what needed to be done in time, she could have, would have. She was younger than Spock, and faster.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Uhura said. "But please know that if you want to talk, I'm there."

Belatedly, it occurred to her that Uhura, who had known Spock far longer than Saavik had, and as communications officer had in depth knowledge of the language and culture of key Federation members such as Vulcan, had not really come for information about Vulcan rituals. She was exhibiting the human quality of kindness and offering comfort.

Unfortunately, Saavik did not know how to receive it. Years of observation at Starfleet Academy had taught her that "wanting to talk" usually led to behavior involving a lot of conversation about emotions, frequent physical contact and repeated consumption of alcoholic beverages, none of which sounded like anything she would either wish to do or be good at.

Then she remembered one of her early lessons. In order to teach her about music, Spock hadn't just demonstrated his own skill at the Vulcan Ka'athyra, he had sent her some data packages featuring Uhura singing. On one of them, Uhura had done so while Spock was playing. The combination of Uhura's voice and the Vulcan instrument had been compelling to listen to, an effect not really explainable by the intriguing mathematical possibilities music offered.

"Commander", Saavik found herself asking, turning away from the view screen which showed her the evolving Genesis matter, "do you still sing?"

If the question surprised Uhura, she didn't show it. "I do."

"It is not a burial ritual that I know of," Saavik said cautiously. "But Spock - Mr. Spock - has always considered your musical performances to be very instructive to me, and I concur with his judgment. I do not want to talk, Commander, but I would very much like to listen."

When Saavik decided to join Starfleet and apply to the Academy, she'd expected Spock to approve. Instead, he had been cautious to the point of making her wonder whether she'd done something wrong in his eyes. During his next leave, he'd come to visit her on Datomir IV, the planet where she spent her adolescent years, instead of just sending the usual subspace message.

"I will pass those entry exams," she said, wondering whether he thought she'd lessened in her quest for knowledge in his absence.

"I have no doubt," he returned wryly. "But a career in Starfleet, as commendable as I find it, is not the only path in which you could excel and find satisfaction." He hesitated a little. They were sitting opposite each other, drinking the unreplicated tea he enjoyed when not in space and which she'd been careful to organize for his visit. "Saavik, my father never doubted that his children would choose to join the Vulcan Academy. His assumption was not correct. This had... less than fortunate results. I do not wish to follow the same faulty logic. You may consider a career in Starfleet to be an aim you must follow because it is mine, and you do not see your other teachers as suitable models." Again, he paused, before continuing: "If you were to visit Vulcan..."

Instinctively, she shook her head, though she kept herself from interrupting, as she would have done not too long ago. In fact, she was very curious about Vulcan. But once she had fully understood what it meant that she was half Romulan and what requesting a genetic analysis, as most of the other children rescued from 872 Trianguli V. had done, to track down her Vulcan relations would inevitably mean to the Vulcan family of whichever parent had unwillingly contributed to Saavik's existence and had then been killed, she had decided she would not do this. She didn't want to live somewhere where everyone looking at her was bound to consider her living proof of a violation.

"I am choosing Starfleet," Saavik said, "because that is where I shall be judged on my own merits. Is this not so, Spock?"

They were speaking Vulcan, the language he had taught her. Spock didn't think she should rely on the Universal Translator alone, and so Saavik didn't. Besides, it allowed her to reshape herself into who she wanted to be. Sometimes, in her dreams, she still used the bastard Romulan she'd talked as a small child, and then she was stripped of all the wisdom of Surak and felt the overpowering urge to run, to hide, to snatch any edible thing in order to live another day again.

"Indeed." He studied her, and while his posture and expression projected calmness, she thought his eyes still showed that something was troubling him. This did not make sense to her. Yes, she understood what he had been saying about his father the Ambassador, and about not wishing to blind himself to the possibility she could wish other paths. Still, hadn't she made it clear this wasn't the case? Belatedly, she registered a detail in what he had said before that did not seem to fit with the information she had of him, and the old curiosity which in previous years had caused her to bombard him with questions whenever she saw him made it past her newly practised self- restraint.

"Children? Do you have siblings, Spock?"

Once he'd promised her to answer all her questions, and so far, he had kept his promise. Since then, however, she had learned about the concept of privacy, and this usually applied to matters connected with his family. But he had brought up his father and "children" in the plural first, so she did not withdraw the question.

"Yes," he said, no more than that.

"Did they also choose Starfleet?"

"One of them did, though in fact the choice was partly made by my father for her. This is why I want you to be sure, Saavik, and to know that you have other options beyond Starfleet. Beyond Vulcan, too, for that matter. Some of the Federation's most respected scholars do not belong to any..."

Suddenly she knew how she could end this strange inquiry into her motives.

"But I know all this, and I have made my decision," she interrupted him , deciding this return to old manners was necessary, or he would not understand that she meant what she said. "If you do not accept this, you are implying that it is not my decision to make but yours, and that is faulty logic."

His left eyebrow rose. "Very well, Saavik."

In the end, the Admiral had chosen a human style space funeral for Spock, similar to the ones that had been conducted for the dead cadets. Afterwards, the younger of the two Doctors Marcus, David, pulled Saavik aside and said: "Listen, I've talked with my mother. We can't leave the Genesis project unsupervised, not when it has finally become reality. Now, there's a science vessel on the way, it'll rendezvous with the Enterprise, and I'll transfer then. She wants to stay with - with the Admiral for a while longer, plus she wants to talk to our team's families on Earth and make a complete report. Kirk can't do that. He wasn't there."

Carol and David Marcus were the sole survivors of the scientists whom Khan had murdered. There had been a lot of space funerals before Spock's these past few days.

"I see," Saavik said, understanding that they didn't want to let the project of a lifetime out of their sight, yet also felt a responsibility to their dead fellow scientists, but somewhat mystified as to why he felt compelled to state these facts to her.

"I thought that maybe you could join me," David Marcus said. "I could use another scientist, plus your observations won't be influenced by expectations, unlike mine. If you apply for transfer, I'm sure he - the - my father, that is", he corrected himself, as if wanting to try out the designation he had shown such marked reluctance to use before on her - , "he'd grant it."

It was a startling offer. Saavik couldn't deny the Genesis project fascinated her. But for some reason, she had assumed she would stay with the Enterprise for now. In fact, when envisioning her future, she had imagined serving with Spock first and foremost.

But Spock was dead. And whoever commanded the Enterprise next, it wouldn't be the Admiral, who wasn't on active field duty anymore. That he had done so this time had been by sheer accident.

Before she could reply, the ship's computer told her there was a request for her presence by Dr. McCoy in the med lab. She told David Marcus she would consider his offer and for the first time was glad to visit a medical environment. It would provide her with more opportunity to think, away from David Marcus and his expectant face.

As it turned out, Dr. McCoy had no medical matter in mind. At least he did not speak of one. She knew the Doctor had known Spock as long as the Admiral had, and during her few encounters with him, she had formed the impression that he was a highly emotional individual, so perhaps she should not have been surprised that he wished to discuss feelings. Unfortunately, the feelings in question he wanted to talk about were not his but hers.

"Look, young lady," he said, "none of that Vulcan stoicism with me. I've seen you at the funeral. You cried. And that's how it should be. He was your teacher, after all."

She had cried, it was true. She hadn't done so for years. To Saavik, tears belonged to the Romulan part of her, though Spock had always said no one could divide a person this way, that assigning qualities to particular parts of one's genetic heritage was not logical, and besides, the children of the Raptor were more than the guards she'd known in her early childhood. But then, Spock was the son of a human teacher and a Vulcan diplomat who both had chosen to give life to him, not the result of rape and a failed experiment.

Had been. He was no longer.

"I do not see the purpose of telling me facts I already know, Doctor," she replied tersely, then reconsidered. Presumably, like Uhura, McCoy wanted to offer human-style comfort. It occurred to her that between taking care of the Admiral, taking care of the wounded and recording all those deaths caused by Khan in recent days, McCoy himself could do with some rest. That certainly was what Spock would tell him right now. But Saavik was a junior grade Lieutenant, and McCoy was her superior officer. She could not make such a recommendation.

"Sometimes, the purpose of a conversation has nothing to do with facts," McCoy said, and there was something odd about his voice and speech rhythm. "It took me a while to learn this, Saavik."

He had to be very tired, sounding more formal and without the regional accent he usually favored. It was almost as if he was trying to imitate Spock's way of speaking. She decided that it was in the interest of the rest of the crew to not let Dr. McCoy treat any more patients in this condition. Still, she would have to trick him if she wanted him to rest, since he would refuse an outright suggestion on his own behalf.

"If you wish to talk of Mr. Spock," Saavik said, taking care to use the human designation of "Mr." this time, "I would prefer to do so in his quarters. Not here."

"Sure thing, kid," McCoy said, sounding like himself again. "Jim will have those quarters sealed once we return to space dock, but we can go there now. Should have figured you'd want to say goodbye to him there."

Her wishes had nothing to do with it. But there had always been something soothing in Spock's quarters to Saavik. This was only logical, since he used them primarily for reading and meditations, and the environment was configured to be congenial to these activities. Once he was out of the bright lights of sick bay, chances were an exhausted McCoy would fall asleep there.

On their way there, McCoy rambled on about how it was normal to miss one's parents and teachers and yet at times wanting to punch the latter for "being insufferable know-it-alls" who would rather martyr themselves than ask for help, and how this was one example Saavik should try not to emulate. "Grief, denial, anger, bargaining - these are all normal reactions, Saavik, don't let anyone tell you differently. If you want to yell, yell!"

It was all so very irrational that she had to conclude he was not talking to her at all.

"Do you want to yell, Doctor?" Saavik asked as the doors to Spock's quarters opened. The light setting was still as he'd left it, simulating the late afternoon on Vulcan which she had never experienced on the planet itself. Only with Spock, on ships and on Datomir IV. He had been Vulcan to her.

He blinked. "You know," he said, "I think I do." After the doors had closed behind them, he actually did just that, taking a deep breath, then shouting: "You green- blooded son of a bitch! Knocking me out with that goddamn nerve pinch, dying in front of Jim and me, how dare you! Goddammit!"

As soon as he'd finished shouting, he slumped on to the chair Spock had sat in when playing chess and said. "Now you, Saavik."

If she refused, he would undoubtedly keep insisting instead of falling asleep as she wanted him to. Saavik told herself that it was a performance, a trick, much as Admiral Kirk's exchange with Mr. Scott to fool Khan had been, not a betrayal of all Spock had taught her to be.

She could not form words, though. Instead, the sound that forced itself out of her throat was that of the child on a long destroyed world , shrill and without any sense, rhyme or dignity. Saavik screamed, and when it was over, she found herself trembling.

McCoy didn't say anything, surprisingly enough. He was just sitting in the chair, no longer collapsed but with an amazingly straight posture. When she had regained control, his continued silence worried her, and she went to him to see whether he was still breathing. He was.

"In accepting the inevitable, one finds peace, Saavik," he said, again in a manner not fitting his usual speech rhythms.

"But it is not peace I seek, Doctor", she said softly. "It is knowledge. It has always been."

"Vulcans," McCoy snorted, and something in his body loosened again.

They said nothing more, but there was something comfortable in the shared silence that Saavik had not anticipated. At least, that was how she explained it to herself when at some point between this thought and the next, she fell asleep.

Telling David Marcus she would accept his offer and asking the Admiral for a transfer to the USS Grissom, which would rendezvous with the Enterprise and take over the observation of the new Genesis planet went without further obstacles. She did not have much luggage to take with her; but she found herself approaching Commander Uhura on the bridge before she left.

"I still would like to listen, Commander," Saavik said. "Do you have a recording I might take with me?"

It was not a logical request; Saavik was already in possession of a number of recordings featuring Uhura which Spock had sent her in order, and since Uhura, as communications officer, would have been the one to forward those data packages through subspace, she might even be aware of that. But she nodded, smiled, and handed over a data crystal. In return, Saavik gave her a Ka'athyra, not Spock's, which wasn't hers to give, but the one Spock had made for Saavik so she could practice when he taught her .

"It's beautiful, Saavik", Uhura said, touching the strings with the expertise of a true musician. "Are you sure you don't want to keep it?"

Saavik could have said that while she enjoyed listening to music, she never had been more than average when trying to play it. She'd learned it because as a girl, she had been eager to learn anything Spock had to offer, but it had not provided her with the same satisfaction it seemed to give him. While all of this was true, she did not consider it a truth that needed to be shared at this moment. Besides, it was not the point.

"I am," she confirmed. "I also wish you to have it, as you are the most gifted musician I know. It is a logical choice. "

"If you put it like that," Uhura said, and surprised Saavik by parting her fingers to form a Vulcan salute.

"Peace and long life, Saavik. And stay in touch."

Of all the human sayings, this was one of the most irrational, given it seemed to be extended on occasions where one was sure to be parted by large distances, making touching of any kind thus impossible. But Saavik had learned these past few days that McCoy was right: there were conversations with a purpose that had nothing to do with facts. They weren't the worst ones to have.

For a moment she looked from Uhura to the science station, where a new science officer would soon take Spock's place. But not yet. Not yet.

"I shall try," Saavik said, and returning the salute, she wondered for the first time if she would visit Vulcan after all. Not to find some people genetically related to her. She still had no intention of doing this. But to learn more.

If you do, it will be your choice, Saavik, she could hear Spock saying, as if he was still in the room. It will always be your choice.