Amanda entered her son's apartment behind Harriet, wondering when the other had managed to convince Spock to give her a key and if either of them understood the typical significance of that action. Quietly wondering if Spock had a key to Harriet's home as well, she followed the other woman into Spock's kitchen, where Harriet placed the cat carrier down and released the catch on the carrier door. What emerged was not what she was expecting.
"Hari, dear, whatever is poor Smaug wearing?"
"Today, he's a Squirtle cat." As if that explained anything. "It's what he gets for causing so much trouble lately."
"… and what is a…squirl-tel?" Harriet, ever the dear, snickered before waving her hand in a dismissive motion.
"Squirt-tol. And it's not important… He is adorable though."
In an alien sort of way, yes, she supposed he was. Though she doubted Smaug agreed, if the way he waddled off was any indication. She did her best to bring her mind back to the task at hand, which was apparently making tea.
"Tea?" she asked. Harriet nodded but didn't elaborate. So, this was about making her comfortable then. Was Harriet aware she was assuming the role of hostess in her son's home?
"Yes, he usually keeps a good selection of Vulcan teas. I imagine some spice tea would not be remiss at the moment."
No, it wouldn't be. But was Harriet aware of what liberties she was taking going through Spock's kitchen in this manner? Without gloves on? Her poor, hopeful heart couldn't take too much more of this. She made a poor attempt at hiding a smile and, as Harriet moved to start the kettle, she decided she had a question she absolutely had to ask.
"Hari, dear heart, what are your intentions regarding my son?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible.
The poor dear nearly choked on thin air.
"Amanda!" she finally spluttered.
"Yes, Hari?" she answered serenely, casually removing cups from the cupboards for the tea.
"What makes you – why would you – !"
"Dear, you have a key to my son's home, you freely go through his cabinets, are entirely unapologetic about releasing Smaug into his space, and are perfectly comfortable playing hostess in his home. And don't think I didn't notice the cat feeder in the corner."
She knew of course that Harriet and Spock occasionally meditated together as well, which was equally telling for a Vulcan. Given that even she and Sarek did not meditate together? It was turning out to be quite the undersold love story.
"If I didn't know better," she continued, "I'd think it was you who lived here." She found and pulled the tea pot from a shelf, sneaking a sideways glance at her companion – whose face was beet red. "So?"
"That's not - ! We're not -!"
"You're not?" She turned to Harriet and raised an eyebrow her son would have been proud of.
If anything, the poor dear's face got redder. Deciding to give her a small break, she grabbed the assembled tea service and moved to the table, allowing Harriet to be flustered in peace.
Briefly.
When Harriet finally joined her at the table, she didn't say anything, simply set about mixing and steeping the tea. When she finally had her tea in hand, she broke the silence.
"I won't push the two of you, but well, you might wish to consider the question. Now that circumstances have … changed, I suspect my son will try to give up Starfleet soon."
Harriet looked at her, surprise temporarily overriding her embarrassment. "Why would he do that?"
With some amount of bitterness, Amanda admitted, "it would be the Vulcan thing to do."
Harriet's nose flared but otherwise she said nothing for a long while as they sat and sipped their tea.
"But would it be the right thing for him to do?" Harriet eventually asked.
This was an argument Amanda knew well; she'd had it enough times with her husband regarding their son. Even, sometimes, regarding her own actions. Still, it was better Harriet heard this from her.
"And what would be the right thing for him to do?" she asked.
Both of Harriet's eyebrows went up in mild surprise. "Surely you know how much he loves Starfleet?"
"Of course, he is my son." She poured herself a cup of tea and took a moment to savor the smell of the spice, the spice she may not have as many opportunities to enjoy as she once had. "However, as a Vulcan, he will see it as his duty to support the survival of our culture."
It was her duty now as well.
"Certainly, he can do as much as an officer," Harriet insisted.
"He can," she freely admitted. "But will he? Will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Will you follow him if he does?" It was a loaded question, and one that was perhaps unfair given Harriet hadn't answered her first question yet. But it was time for these two to move properly along, and she would be remiss in her duty as both a mother and an Elder if she did not … provide guidance.
For her part, Harriet did not respond, only stared at the tea pot in likely bewildered thought.
"I do not expect an answer today Hari, but before you make your decision, I would like for you to consider this: we will neither of us ever be Vulcan enough. And yet, we will be, we are, more Vulcan than most humans care for. Can you accept that?"
It was something she herself struggled with every day. It was something she knew Spock struggled with every day.
The issue of identity and belonging however was not unique to just them. She knew Harriet also struggled with her identity, with trying to appear human when Amanda was pretty certain at this point Harriet wasn't entirely human, with her desire to fit in when she didn't quite know what it meant to fit a society she wasn't raised in. It was one of the reasons Harriet and her son were such a good match for each other; they understood one another's struggles, even if they probably didn't explicitly discuss them.
But this was an issue dear Harriet would have to address head on if she wanted to remain with her son. Whether he chose to leave Starfleet or not.
Spock quietly reflected on how astonishing it was humans could so quickly go from imminent catastrophe to the monotony of daily routine. As a Vulcan, he understood that it was the logical thing to do. But then again, there was much to do. Final courses so rudely and urgently interrupted still required completion. Personal matters left unfinished demanded the attention of the hastily dispersed. Seminars paused in a convulsion of emergency were resumed. At the Academy, orders of mundanity swiftly and smoothly replaced the desperate attempt to save a planet.
The individual upperclassmen and women who had been hastily assembled to crew the Enterprise were no exception. Yet, having gone from students to saviors back to students again in the space of days, certain leeways were granted when a newly promoted officer was a little late completing an assignment, or another pleaded a date with a counselor as an excuse for missing a simulation.
Naturally, no such handicaps affected him.
As on previous mornings, he was busy in the main Academy hangar supervising the allocation of supplies. Any demons tormenting his soul were held tightly in check, forced into the darkest depths of his psyche until such time as Harriet forced him to confront them in private as he had once forced her to confront her own emotions. That did not change that both inwardly and outwardly, he was in complete control of himself.
Or so he thought.
A glance across a delivery path revealed the presence of another Vulcan in the hangar. His dress was unusual for a Vulcan, especially for one as elderly as this individual appeared to be.
Heading toward the figure who stood quietly surveying his surroundings, Spock tried to determine who the individual was solely from their profile. He knew of only one other who might logically be so clad as well as present in the hangar at this moment in time but was certain his father was elsewhere.
"May I assist you?"
At the sound of his voice, the figure turned. He was understandably surprised to behold what could only be his own aged countenance. Thoughts rose and fell with the speed and force of wave crests in a storm. Chief among them were thoughts surrounding Kirk's words about an alternate Spock, one whose character was so different from his own that he considered Kirk his friend. So. What to say?
Then he wondered: why was he worrying?
"Fascinating." He cocked his head in silent inquiry. "I presume you are the Spock that spoke to cadet Kirk?
His senior self nodded in agreement. "There are so few Vulcans left. We cannot afford to ignore one another. The knowledge each of us carries must be treasured and shared. I intend to devote the remainder of my life – not yours – to committing for posterity everything that I know."
"If you know so much, then why did you send Kirk back onto the Enterprise when you alone could have far more persuasively explained the truth to its crew? To me?"
The elder Vulcan turned reflective. "Because of so many things that happened and so much that transpired in a future that you will now – perhaps for the best – never know. A future that will remain forever closed to you, now that the past has been altered. In that future, James T. Kirk and I developed a personal and working relationship that resulted in many achievements, in the doing of great things. All such now lies open before you, in ways and along paths neither of us can imagine."
A working relationship with Kirk? That resulted in many achievements and the doing of great things?
"In that, you are correct. I cannot imagine the development of such a relationship."
"All good things come only through the passing of time," the elder Vulcan replied.
What could he mean? That through the passing of time, he and Kirk would achieve said working relationship? Why did this conversation revolve around Kirk? Was it about Kirk?
… or was it about Harriet? Kirk said he'd mentioned her to his alternate self and had received no acknowledgement of their relationship. Perhaps the future, as Harriet insisted, was indeed already irrevocably changed. What then?
"The future clearly is not what it used to be," he settled on saying. "In the face of possible extinction, it is only logical that I resign my Starfleet commission in order to contribute all my efforts into helping to rebuild our species."
It was an action he had put much thought into. And, logically, it made sense. He was now a member of an endangered species; committing himself to the rebuilding effort, if only to pass on the knowledge he had learned as a member of Starfleet and utilize his skills as an instructor, was the rational action to take.
His elder self looked thoughtful. "And yet, you are in a unique position. You can be two places at once. I urge you to remain in Starfleet. In discussion with other Federation science departments, I have already located a suitable uninhabited world on which to establish a Vulcan colony."
Spock hesitated. While that was true, it did not absolve him of his duty as a Vulcan.
His elder self pressed on before he could delve too deeply into his thoughts. "Spock, in this case, do yourself a favor. Put aside logic. Do what feels right."
What feels right? Were his feelings truly of importance in this particular matter? And yet the only clear thought that seemed to come to him was Hari's voice telling him that they did. A second, more insistent thought asked if Hari would follow him if he did resign his commission. Considering her opinions on Starfleet, he was certain she would. And yet …
Perhaps this was about Harriet after all.
"I believe I understand you."
"Then since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I shall simply say good luck."
Luck? Why would he wish him luck?
Amanda quietly surveyed the breakfast table before her. There was no gespar, no redspice flavorings, just the last of her stash of plomeek tea here on Earth. She imagined she would be able to get more eventually; Vulcan was not the only place where plomeek was grown. But it would be some time before the seeds could be tracked down, grown, and harvested on the scale she or Sarek was used to.
Nonetheless, it was time for her to have a serious conversation with her son and she felt this little touch of home was necessary to calm both their nerves. As her son settled across from her at the table, she decided she'd made the right choice as he sipped his tea and his shoulders seemed to finally relax in that way that only those who knew him could truly recognize.
"You wished to speak with me mother," he said after he put his cup down.
"Thank you for joining me, my son." She placed both her hands around her cup and studied her son for a moment.
He was worn. Not too visibly so, given her son's meticulous habits. Yet that was the only way she could think to describe the bone deep wariness that seemed to shadow his brow and put the faintest of dark circles beneath his eyes. She couldn't imagine he'd been sleeping well. Her own dreams were… well, less than pleasant. What were they like for her son, who she had found out was specifically targeted by the mad Romulan who had destroyed Vulcan? One who claimed to know her son but didn't? Who took so many, many lives for revenge against her son, a man she still saw as her little boy and always would?
How would they recover from this? How could she be strong for her family? Her son? And yet do her duty as an Elder to an endangered people?
"I wished to hear how you are coping with … our losses."
Her son did not readily reply, a telling sign in and of itself. Internally, she sighed. Perhaps if she admitted this was as much for herself as it was for him?
"I confess I am not adjusting well. For better or worse, young Hari has convinced me to start speaking to a counselor." Spock's gaze darted back to her, surprised and not attempting to hide it. Interesting. "We spoke a bit on the Enterprise, while she was recovering." And afterwards, in his apartment, but that was neither here nor there. "And while I do not agree with all of her points, I cannot counter argue we did not try to send her to a counselor for less."
She took a sip of her tea and waited. She had just as much, if not more, patience than her son.
"Is this an attempt to convince me to do the same mother?" he eventually asked.
She put down her tea, rather fondly exasperated despite herself.
"No, not necessarily. Have you at least spoken to Hari about how you're feeling? About everything that's happened?"
"I do not understand. She was there." Bless him for his confusion. And his obstinance.
"Yes, which means she will likely understand if you share your feelings with her." Well, that's not perhaps what she meant to imply but the words were already spoken.
Her son looked down into his tea, brow furrowed.
… This was not the reaction she was expecting. Had he already spoken with Harriet? Was he worried about speaking to her? Surely not.
"Does something in particular disturb your thoughts, my son?"
"No," he said a little too quickly.
"Then is there something regarding Harriet that concerns you," she tried again.
Her son looked up and considered her for a moment before replying.
"It was previously my intention to resign from my position at Starfleet in order to contribute all my efforts into helping to rebuild our species."
"And now?"
"Now, I am not certain that is the most logical option."
"What other considerations are there?"
Again, her son hesitated. It was honestly a bit concerning.
"Harriet."
Ah. Well, this was a promising development.
"I am certain Hari would respect your decision either way."
Here, again, her son was not quick to respond. She suspected this was actually quite a difficult conversation for him to have. Nonetheless, it was good for him to say the words aloud. Just to be certain…
"Do you think she would not?"
"No," he said decisively.
Ah. "Then the fact she will follow is what concerns you." The expression on his face said she had hit the nail on the head. This time she allowed herself to actually sigh. "You and Harriet have a deep connection Spock, one I do not think dear Hari shares with any other. Are you truly surprised she would choose to follow you?"
He furrowed his brow. "She has spoken with you," he stated.
"Not expressly on this, no. But I am confident in my assumptions." She took another sip of her tea, enjoying its flavor. "Do you doubt her feelings on this?"
"I – "
She interjected before he could properly answer. "Or do you doubt your reciprocation of them?"
Her son momentarily froze, then shut his mouth with an audible click. On the one hand, she was happy he understood the various levels and insinuations behind the question. It showed a level of emotional growth she had previously not expected him to reach. On the other, she was reminded her son was more Vulcan than other Vulcans gave him credit for.
'Oh dear.'
Spock was quietly staring at one of Harriet's homemade meals, elbows resting on his office desk, hands steepled before his face. It was filled with some of his preferred foods and he didn't quite know what to make of it. She had rather distractedly dropped the meal off in his office that morning before leaving for a class.
As they had all been reminded, classes still needed to be completed, regardless of their … recent field experience.
In the safety of his own space and mind, he reflected that he was perhaps more affected by the experience than he would like to admit. Following his admittance to Captain Pike that he knew perfectly well the ramifications of his actions both as Captain and as an individual against Nero, he had anticipated both the censure and likelihood of consequences. Afterall, he had not denied either the lengths he was willing to go to in order to resolve the problem set before him nor the number of protocols he had knowingly broken in doing so.
His actions against Nero should have resulted in a full review and a loss of rank. Instead… Instead, his captain had supported him and recommended him simultaneously for commendation and counseling, reminding him that while he was indeed Vulcan, he was part human too, and no human could have left that situation unscathed.
Any other thoughts he may have had on the matter were interrupted by his door opening. As it was technically his office hours, he was not disturbed but not entirely without surprise. For some reason, even his most inquisitive students had refrained from resuming visits to his office after lessons had resumed. That was not entirely the reason for the surprise however.
"Kirk."
"Spock."
He raised an eyebrow, the only concession he was willing to give the man in front of him in acknowledgement of his presence.
Finally, after an unnecessary amount of time considering his person, the cadet … Kirk he conceded, spoke.
"Look –," he ran a hand through his hair, "I'm not going to apologize for being honest." Spock was unimpressed. "But I also know well enough when to say…" he trailed off, clearly unsure of where he wanted to take the conversation.
"To say what?" Spock was not interested in completing this conversation. However, as he could not think of a logical reason to request Kirk leave, he was inclined to keep the conversation as short as possible.
Kirk took a step forward, then another. "I think we should start over."
And how was one meant to do that, precisely? As if you could simply forget and forgive all that had been done and said! He –
Spock caught himself before his mind could continue further down that path.
"The other you said we had potential to be great friends; that we became great friends," Kirk continued.
A 'personal and working relationship' does not equate to friendship, he reflected silently. But then, Harriet had set the bar rather high, hadn't she?
"I may not agree with you – or your test – but … I think we can at least settle on mutual respect," Kirk finished.
Surprisingly minimally sentimental of him. Spock's eyebrow came down but neither his hands nor his body relaxed. What was one to say in such a situation?
Prompt: Reddit: Vulcan Food; Squirtle cats (poor Smaug!)
