Hello Goodbye

Spock's reaction surprises Amanda. When they call him to the study and play the recording for him, his expression flickers a shadow of hurt and then returns to a mask of Vulcan propriety.

"Are you experiencing pon farr?"

Sarek is clearly uncomfortable asking, but Amanda is grateful that he has. Spock seems to go inside himself briefly, as though he is holding an internal conversation. Amanda recognizes this as his typical stall tactic, one that had made her impatient with him when he was younger.

"Well?" she says, and Spock comes back from the distance and shakes his head.

"I do not believe so," he says, "though something curious did happen to me on the shuttle here."

"On the shuttle?"

"I was approached by a young woman who offered me assistance. At the time, I thought she was responding to my….need for rest. It may be that she assumed—"

Sarek's eyebrows are in his bangs, Amanda notes. Extreme surprise from him, then.

"Spock," Amanda begins again, "if you aren't—if you haven't-then why did you contact T'Pring? Have you been in communication with her?"

Amanda feels Sarek stiffen—and she gives him a quick look that dares him to stop her from questioning their son. From the corner of her eye she sees Spock watching their silent communion. Perhaps this is what he wants from T'Pring right now—what he should have already had with her—a connection to anchor him while he finds his way at Starfleet.

"We have not been in communication," Spock says softly. "We…do not…I have not been aware of our bond for some time."

Amanda sucks in a breath and feels a new flash of anger. But it is Sarek who speaks next.

"It may be that this bond is incomplete—or broken—or that T'Pring is not suitable."

"Or I am not suitable," Spock says with a bitterness that makes Amanda's heart ache. Here again is the familiar burden that he has carried all his life, his uncertainty about who he is—and yes, Amanda knows that as hard as he struggles to conceal it, to beat it back, his anger with her, too, and Sarek, for giving him a life that he does not know how to navigate.

Spock looks up and meets Amanda's eyes.

"I wanted to meet with her to see if…the connection was still there. Or if I should seek elsewhere—"

Spock looks down and Amanda steps closer to him and reaches out her hand to touch his wrist.

"Are you happy at the Academy?" she asks, and behind her she senses Sarek's impatience. He will think this is an unnecessary line of questioning. Spock will, too, she knows, but she decides to ask anyway.

"Do you have friends there? Are you lonely?"

And finally Spock's mouth quirks up a fraction and he looks at her.

"Do not worry yourself, Mother," he says, gently pulling back his arm. "My work is on occasion less than interesting, but I have many colleagues who make it worthwhile."

Amanda starts to speak again but Spock stops her with a slight motion of his hand.

"And I have companions who make life less lonely, less….dark."

With that, Spock asks his parents to excuse him and he goes to his room. As his footsteps echo down the hall, Amanda feels the warmth of Sarek's body as he moves beside her and gently takes her fingers in his own. When they were across the room from each other, she had felt his sorrow like a boulder on her own shoulders, but now it presses into her so hard that she gasps. And somehow her gasp relieves his pain—fractionally, to be sure, but relief nonetheless—and she leans into him and sighs.

X X X X X X X X X X

"Don't forget the plomeek and fori," Amanda says, handing Spock two small packages of vacuum-packed vegetables.

"Mother," he says, and Amanda waits to hear the touch of impatience in his tone—and is surprised that it isn't there. Instead, Spock stops rifling through his duffle and pulls himself upright, looking at his mother while he accepts the packages. Something has changed inside him, Amanda thinks, though she cannot imagine that this short visit home has done more than give him some time to rest.

Unless, of course, being freed from the bond with T'Pring has also freed him in other ways. That may be possible, Amanda thinks. After all, he did say that he wanted to see if he should look elsewhere—at the time she hadn't pressed him to explain, though now she wishes she had. He'll tell her eventually, she hopes—and she remembers that other odd thing he had said, that his acquaintances have made his life less dark. A metaphor from Spock—not the way he usually expresses himself. He has changed, is changing. She reaches up and hugs him, and he leans forward slightly and puts his arms around her back.

The hired car has to be returned by mid-day so Sarek has said his farewells before leaving for work. When Spock loads his duffle in the transport, Amanda feels tears well up—this is a surprise. Most of the time she can master the quietude necessary for living among Vulcans—aware that beneath their implacable behavior, the people of this planet find the display of her emotions distressing, uncomfortable—reminders of their own need for stern control, perhaps, or, in her uncharitable moments, Amanda imagines that they are jealous of her ability to laugh and smile and cry—or not at her ability to feel them, but at her ability—her willingness—to show them.

If Spock sees her tears he will be just as uncomfortable, Amanda knows, so she brushes her face quickly and snuffles into her sleeve. She watches him as he places his duffle in the front seat of the hover—he is still pale, and too thin, and slightly more distracted than usual, but he looks less careworn—and she is certain that the secret of his lightened mood lies in the subspace video logs.

Two nights ago she had heard him in a lengthy conversation with someone on Earth—through the closed study door she could hear his voice, muted at times, at other times more animated, punctuated by long silences and quiet words, and then when the call was over, he came from the study with a brighter look and a quicker step.

"You were able to get in touch with someone?" Amanda had asked as he had joined her in the kitchen where she was cleaning up from the evening meal.

"My lab assistant," he said. "She did not go home for the break and has been without power until today."

"She's okay?" Amanda asked, watching Spock as he gathered up the plates and set them in the dish sink.

"Some of the consoles in the lab were overturned, but everything else appears to be undamaged."

"I meant your assistant. Is she okay?"

Spock sprayed water over the plates and said nothing for a minute. Finally he turned off the water and said, "If by okay you mean that she is physically unharmed, then the answer is yes. However…."

Amanda wiped the table with a dishcloth, careful not to look at Spock—he had been skittish about revealing much about his personal life lately, and something about the way he said lab assistant—some pitch or tone in his voice—had alerted Amanda to a hidden story.

"Mother," he said suddenly, "is it typical of humans to express anger even when they are happy?"

This was not the comment Amanda had expected, and she was momentarily nonplussed.

"No, not generally," she said, and then Spock added, "My assistant sounded as though she were angry with me—because she was unaware that I had come home. And yet…she also said that she was pleased that I had not been hurt in the earthquake. This appears to be a contradiction—"

Spock started at Amanda's laugh, and she quickly put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

"Oh, Spock, yes, in that case, it is quite logical—or at least typical—to be angry and happy. She was worried about you."

"But why angry? Particularly now that she knows that I was not there during the earthquake and am unharmed."

Instead of answering, Amanda had circled his waist with her arm—and he had not, as he often did, pulled away.

This morning he leans down to take her hands in his. Again she feels that bubbly effervescence that is Spock's own consciousness—his delight in learning, his need to prove himself—and she knows he senses her sorrow that he has to leave.

"Don't stay away so long," she says as he steps away and opens the hover car door. And then, feeling impish, she says, "And bring some of your companions with you next time. I'd like to meet them."

Spock flushes—she can tell from the distance that she has embarrassed him. So, the phone call—the lab assistant-the relief he had shown when Sarek had arranged a healer for the annulment from T'Pring-something's up. She knows it.

"Be safe!" she says as he sits in the transport and pulls the door shut. "Good luck!" she shouts. And then in a cloud of red dust he is gone.

A/N: One more chapter in this story—look for it on Tuesday.

To everyone who was waiting for Spock to "spill the beans" to his parents, he's not ready yet—in this story he's in that funny limbo stage of falling in love without realizing what is happening (or am I the only one who's gone through that!)….but that doesn't mean that Amanda isn't clever enough to have figured it out.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm also the beta for StarTrekFanWriter, and your reviews keep up working for you! Check out her current story, "The Native," for more Amanda/Sarek goodness.