Undaa, Hakar, Senes Stardate 2281.74

Losha put the mug down and pushed it back toward the center of the table, his lips curled. The taste of the tea in his mouth made him feel as if he were going to vomit. Had there been anything in his stomach, he was certain he would have thrown up. But that's how it was with sur. For about two days after taking it, you had no appetite. Even the smell of food could make you feel sick. The only thing you could ingest was water. Anything with flavor, even a liquid, was unpalatable.

"You don't like it?" Sybok looked at him from across the table.

Losha shook his head.

"It will make you feel better. Soltar tea has many beneficial properties."

"I remember you saying that."

"It's true."

"Well, now I know why mother never drank it."

"It's a bit of an acquired taste. But once you acquire it, you'll want it all the time. And you'll feel its benefits."

"Then why aren't you having any?"

"I bought it for you. I had some blal earlier this morning. I figured I'd enjoy it while I can. It's difficult to find outside Undaa."

Undaa was known for its blal, a tea made from roasting the bark of the blaltaal tree. Losha didn't care for it either.

"You haven't touched your food." Sybok looked at the plate of toast, jam, and beans that Losha had pushed to the side.

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat. You hardly weigh more than when I left. And I know because I carried you home last night."

"I know." Losha stared at the mug, not wanting to look his father in the eyes. The previous night, in a fit of anger, he had shoved him, hard. But Sybok was heavier and stronger than he was, and he had promptly subdued him and rendered him unconscious using the nerve pinch.

He was ashamed that his father had seen him when he'd been high, and that he'd actually shoved him, but he was also too embarrassed to apologize. He had come to in his bedroom in the apartment, the sur having worn off, suffering from the anxiety and depression that always came in the aftermath. The door had been locked from the outside - his father had apparently reversed the knob while he'd been unconscious.

Sybok had informed him that he'd be locking him in the room at night and whenever else was necessary until he'd proven himself trustworthy. The lock was easy enough to pick, though, so he'd said nothing.

"Where did you get this Vulcan tea anyway?" He made eye contact with Sybok again, wanting to change the subject. "I haven't seen anything Vulcan here since before the war."

"The same shop I used to buy it at the last time I lived here, the one I went to when we were on Marhilfan Street three days ago."

Losha remembered their trip to Marhilfan Street, but hadn't paid attention to what his father had purchased. He seemed to be having more and more difficulty paying attention to and remembering details.

"So," Sybok pursed his lips and continued, "yesterday we talked about leaving Senes. Is that something you still want to do?"

Losha was taken somewhat aback - his father hadn't even mentioned the fact that he'd shoved him. He had been unusually calm this entire morning. Actually, it was nearing midday - he'd been unconscious most of the morning.

They had discussed it yesterday evening, before he'd gone off to the Maysal. Before he'd gotten high and shoved his father. He'd said he'd wanted to leave, but he hadn't really given it much thought. He looked down at the mug again, resting in front of his hands on the table. They were shaking.

"Yes." As comfortable as Undaa had become for him, he knew he needed to leave. There were too many unpleasant memories, and it is was too easy to continue down the destructive path he'd been on if he chose to stay.

"I agree that you are overdue for a change in environment. But one should move on when one is ready to explore a new place and learn new things, not to escape from emotions and self-created problems."

"So you think we should stay here?" Losha looked at Sybok quizzically. He had been certain he would want to take him off Senes as quickly as possible after what had happened last night.

"What do you think?"

Why did he always have to answer a question with a question?

"This place isn't good for me. I know that. But…" He turned his head to the window in kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

"But?"

"I don't know."

"You are afraid to leave this place. You have become comfortable here and you are afraid of change."

"I told you not to read my thoughts!" He had never liked his father's ability to know his feelings, but now that he was an adult, it was particularly aggravating.

"I am not reading your thoughts. I only read the emotion that you project out and you project very strongly. And yes, I can block out everything you project, but you refuse to communicate with me. How can I help you if I don't know what you are experiencing?"

"There's nothing you can do to help me." Losha sighed.

"It is true that change must come from within. But that doesn't mean that I can't also help."

"I don't want your help."

"What kind of father would I be if I let you go through this alone?" A expression of sadness passed over Sybok's face.

"You left me alone for eleven years. Why don't you just leave me alone again?"

Overcome with anger, Losha stood up from the table and stomped towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

He lay on the bed, taking several deep breaths. He felt overcome with sadness, and yet he had just pushed away his father, who was probably the only person who truly loved him. Why had he said those things to Sybok? Why was he trying to push him away when that was the last thing he actually wanted? He was angry at himself, at his juvenile behavior, stomping away and slamming doors as if he were a child throwing a temper tantrum. Yet he had been unable to stop himself.

It was the sur. He was responsible for his own actions, he knew, but he also knew that he would not have behaved in that manner had it not been for the drug. He hated feeling this way, this terrible aftermath when the drug had worn off. Before, it hadn't mattered who had been around for it. But now his father was here to see it and he was ashamed.

Sybok had been right. He, who used to love the excitement of discovering a new place, meeting new people, learning new things, had become of afraid of change. Undaa was comfortable - he knew it like the back of his hand - and the idea of going someplace else brought on a feeling of extreme apprehension. He didn't want to get to learn a new place again. Rationally, he knew that he would eventually get used to it, that wherever he went next would one day seem as comfortable as Undaa, but he didn't want to take those first steps. He was tired and it was easy to stay in relative comfort when he was only half-awake most of the time. He would need to get past his addiction and his fear before he could move on.

He sighed. He had already lost his telepathic abilities and now he noticed that he was losing his memory, having difficulty concentrating when he never had before. He may never be able to recover those things and if he continued using sur and kenal; the memory and concentration loss would probably get even worse. It was not going to be easy, but he had to stop using it. He couldn't let it be a temptation anymore. He would not disappoint his father, or himself. He would do it. And then he would be free to leave and finally do something with his life.

A few hours later, he was struggling with the loneliness brought on by the withdrawal. He didn't want to remain by himself in the room, but he was embarrassed by his behavior earlier. He knew he would eventually have to come out, so he forced himself to stand up and open the door. Sybok had been about to knock on it.

"I was just going to ask if you wanted to join me on a trip to Marhilfan Street?" He seemed as calm as he had been earlier.

"You're not going to buy more of that awful tea there, are you?"

"No. I thought you might want to get out of the house."

"Yes. I do need to get out of the house."

"We can get something to eat there, if you're hungry."

"Alright."

"And perhaps I should pick up a lock that can't be picked?" There was a slight grin on his face.

"Perhaps."

Author's Note:
Thanks again to Texas Cow Girl, LORIOVER50, Guest reviewer, and my beta reader, TomFoolery. Guest mentioned reactions among adoptees/adoptive families reuniting. One thing that crossed my mind when writing this chapter was a friend who was adopted and who has never had any desire to meet his biological family. He feels they have no relevance to his life. I also thought about how genealogy lost its appeal for me when I realized what I enjoyed was the history itself, not that these people shared DNA with me. But what was foremost in my mind is many people's inability to move past either what their ancestors did or experienced. Rather than looking at what is positive now, or to progress, they are stuck emotionally because they can't let go of things that in some cases didn't even happen to them personally, but to an ancestor they never met. There is a video on YouTube where Will Smith talks about this a bit - it's called Fault Versus Responsibility. Check it out :-)