It was good that Jim was at school. Spock hadn't heard much about Earth's education system from his mother, but given her academic success he assumes it was, at the very least, adequate.
What was less good was the fact that it had been two hours since his departure, and Spock was still in his bed.
Spock looked inward, to analyse what he was feeling. Something he hadn't had to do since infancy; the first step of the way of Surak. Analyse what you are feeling, and then decide whether these feelings, and the actions resulting from these feelings would benefit society and the Vulkhansu race (in doing so one admits they have currently unrestrained feelings, so it is exclusively practiced by children). The consideration of the works of Surak, T'Plana-Hath, and other relevant, peer-reviewed sources were encouraged. This step leads all (most) young Vulcans to the enlightenment of logic, and the purging of emotions for the most dedicated followers. If Spock had not blocked their bond, Jim would have most definitely said something revolutionarily human and sarcastic about the whole thing.
But Spock had blocked the bond. Because he had already failed in one bonding ceremony, and he would not do so again. T'Pring's clan had extended a second offer, now that both children were more educated in the ways of Surak. It was illogical for T'Pring to hold a bias for Stonn, and he for Jim Kirk.
And bias did not benefit any scientist.
(Even though Spock, at times, saw himself more akin to the experiment than the experimenter.)
This was illogical.
He repeated that thought until it was the only thing remaining in his mind, and then it, too, disappeared. Spock's mind was empty. His schemas and shields were intact, and functioning as they should. There were new shields erected around the bonding site, but those were only temporary; he will have regained mental control of his feelings by the time subspace communication was back online. Everything is as it should be, in all its infinite diversity.
When Spock opened his eyes again, it was hours later.
There was rustling downstairs; footsteps pacing, bowls clinking against one another, the fridge door opening. Spock looked at the digital clock on Jim's nightstand. 1 pm. That was not Jim.
An instinctual spike of panic shot through Spock before it was quickly controlled and rationalised. There was no need for adrenalin. He had survived this before when the threat was much closer. Here, all he had to do was walk outside and open the attic.
Spock took a deep breath, and calmed his thoughts. Ideally, he would have had another hour or so to reflect upon what went wrong with the ship yesterday, but alas. He had to move.
Keeping his ears trained on the noise downstairs, Spock carefully opened Jim's bedroom door, thankful that it did not squeak unlike several of the other doors. He crept down the hallway on the balls of his feet, absorbing the force through his knees and ankles so as to remain silent. A skill well-practiced by avoiding Spock's peers when dismissed from the Learning Center.
He made it to the attic without issue.
Spock was aware that Frank's movements were highly variable and largely unpredictable, so he resigned himself to staying up here for the foreseeable future. The gap on the floor he had previously found was the only place he was able to sit comfortably, and so he crawled over silently, and resumed his meditation position. There was little else he could do but meditate.
Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Hold.
Breathe in.
Hold.
Breathe out.
The most pressing issue was that the ship's engines could not power the communicators. Parts of the engine had been knocked loose when he crashed, and there was very little on Earth that would be able to function as a substitute. There were no nuclear power plants near Riverside, and on Earth they are very heavily guarded, as they were in military possession and still considered highly dangerous for the general public.
Earth could be very… frustrating.
For a moment, Spock entertained the wish of crashing on a warp-capable planet. But there were things to be found on Earth that he would not have given up for a warp drive.
Spock opened his eyes. He was restless.
There was little else to be gleaned from the house in terms of power sources, which was why it was… disappointing, when their attempt failed. Because it meant that it would require a lot more than what was accessible on Earth to reach his parents.
He could feel his shields straining. The events of the last few days combined with the lack of sufficient meditation was slowly getting to him. He would have succumbed had he not been Vulkhansu.
Logic would provide an answer. His mother would not leave without him; of that he was certain. Her previous patterns of behaviour show that she would be able to convince father that staying was the most logical thing to do. And if that failed, Spock could only hope that his parents really were… fond enough of each other, and of him, to stay anyway. He could not dismiss what Jim suggested without evidence, but the more he thought about the explanations given to him as a child, the more he could find their flaws.
It had been more than five days. Protocol suggested that it was likely Spock was already dead. Additionally, by inexpertly blocking the bond he had with Jim (which was still there, behind the walls), he had also dampened the familial bond shared by his parents. It did not stretch as far as space, but if they had landed on Earth recently, he would not be able to tell unless they were close enough to touch. However, as stated; his mother would not leave without him. This line of thought is unnecessary, as blocking the bond was important.
He could not continue the way he had. T'Pring was his betrothed; the logical choice for both their clans. Their union was to strengthen both individuals for the betterment of the whole. She was the logical choice. Jim would not be able to help him when the blood fever hit; he would be on Earth, alone.
(As Spock would be, on T'kasi).
Spock stood up abruptly, and then regretted the action when he knocked over a box on his way up. He paused, stock still, for a moment. Neurons buzzing and firing up nerves and muscles, just waiting for a half-balding head to pop up through the trapdoor.
Nothing happened.
The box's contents had spilled out onto the floor, but it was only once he kneeled down that Spock realised what they were: baby pictures. His own mother had a rather unflattering portrait of both him and his brother as children hanging up in the hallway. He always made a point to avoid it.
These pictures were laid out more like a timeline. It was Georgie's first pyjamas and Georgie's first laugh; Georgie's first steps; first tooth; first friend; and then:
Jim and Sam, Jim's first birthday.
That was the only other picture - everything else in the box just seemed like scrap paper. Both boys in the photo had enough cake spread across their faces to make Spock's teeth hurt, but they were both smiling. It was still quite the culture shock to see such unabashed emotion, such illogical behaviour. Jim prided himself in his emotion, in his ability to feel, and recognise, and emit emotion.
And Spock, in an effort to hide from his (for he is only half Vulkhansu), had hurt Jim, and had ignored certain truths.
Someone knocked on the trapdoor, and Spock ducked behind a box.
Jim poked him head through the trapdoor, smiling and Spock's mind went oh. We cannot run away from this. The light from beneath rose up around Jim and danced as he laughed. "There you are," Jim said, "coast is clear - Frank's out. School was shit, thanks for making me go."
"You are… welcome," Spock said quietly, and stood up.
Jim rolled his eyes, no doubt interpreting his words as a misunderstanding of human humour. Spock did not correct him, but instead followed him down the ladder. They stood shoulder to shoulder and Jim pushed the rickety stairs back into the trap door, and Spock knew that even if he was suddenly transported back to T'Kasi right this second, there would still be some of him left on Earth.
They would be parted, but together. Spock would never and always be by Jims shoulder, pressed together in that tiny bed, on the floor of his barn, hands on his psi points.
There was no running away from this.