The corridors of the Enterprise were hectic. Men and women ran from section to section in a blind frenzy. But when Spock and his mother entered the hallways the bustle seemed to part and make way for the small family with reverence. Not everyone knew what transpired or what it meant for the mixed race pair. But everyone could sense the grief that wafted through the air, and the aching sadness that everyone felt for any remaining Vulcan.

Though Amanda was wholly human, her first instinct was to hold back any emotion in public. And though the majority of that public was also human it didn't stop her from redirecting all facial expressions to the tight grip she had on her son's arm.

Spock stopped beside a blank door and programmed a private entry code.

They parted and Spock's mother seemed to draw inside with an unbearable need.

And when the doors closed.

She screamed.

Spock winced. He'd felt the scream in his mind and the duality of it all was painful.
Her screams turned into sobs. And her sobs birthed pure agony from the torn bond that carved her from the inside out. The emptiness, the silence, the finality of death with no katra settled within her a cold and dark foundation.

Spock reached out for her, scared for a minute that the loss of a bond could reach her in the same way as a Vulcan. That she might die in front of his eyes from the lack of a telepathic link.

"Mother, please. Let me join with you." Spock requested his voice soft and his hands open to her.

She shook. She shivered. She fell to the floor and curled in, gripping her hair as the emptiness between her hands persisted.

She continued to cry. Her heaves were dangerous and her state of shock critical.

"Please." Spock reached his fingers toward her face. She flinched but did not move away.
He cupped the soft curve of her face, forcing her eyes to focus before he cradled her cheek and temple in the spindly meld position.

Spock touched her mind lightly.

The sound of her son's mindvoice threw her for minute. The cadence and the tone so much like her husbands. She clung to that voice. Sobbed into it. Eventually the embrace of a mind settled her frenzy of emotion.

Then memories attacked.

Amanda young and beautiful with flowing brunette hair stepping off a shuttle craft to Vulcan with such wonder in her eyes. Wonder melted into love as her gaze settled on Sarek's form approaching to greet her. Flash forwards of hands touching. Heat and madness. The feelings and emotions of a new bond. A trip to Earth. The awkwardness of Sarek's face as he interacted with her human family. The frustration and time put into engineering their genes. Vulcan healers and scientists working and working. And finally two hands touching over Amanda's belly. Happiness, joy. Love. Love. Love.

There was so much of it Spock almost drew back. But fear would not stop him. His mother was crumbling before his eyes. Fear would not keep him from piecing her back together. He would not lose her.

Spock enforced his shields and continued. Spock let his own youth pass him by. He'd seen this part. He knew the arguments the pain the couple endured while they implemented conflicted parenting. He saw how it tore them apart and brought them together. He watched his mother's lonely nights when she'd left Sarek for two months after Spock joined Starfleet.

He saw their muted apologies. Mostly from his father. Saw the begging the dullness in his father's eyes. He saw them kissing without the blood fever but he saw heat none-the-less. Their coupling was beautiful, Spock admitted, once he realized the extent of his father's emotions though the meld. He felt an echo of his father's mind. And once the memories started to filter down to the end, Spock took hold of them. He collected them and bundled them up in warmth of his own and gently put them back into place.

Finally, Spock began to withdraw. He took hold of his mother's arm with his other hand and squeezed, giving her a physical anchor while he let go of her mentally. Slowly her eyes fluttered open. Tears clung to the rim of her eyes. Her breath stilled and her brow furrowed.

Eventually she let go of a heaving breath and showed the first signs of her regular calm.

"Spock." She said in recognition rather than greeting.

"Yes mother?" Spock knelt in front of her and took her hands.

"Sarek is dead." She said. Her voice cold and unfeeling. All emotion had been stripped from her breakdown.

"Yes mother."

"Show me what you feel." She requested, her hands settled on Spock's encouragingly.

"That would be unwise."

"What is necessary is never unwise." She chided.

"You will not... appreciate my view. I do not... I did not love him as you did. I believe the experience will be painful." Spock admitted.

"You loved him, Spock, I know you did. Let me see."

"No. I will not hurt you. You are not ready. Perhaps when you have recovered from the severance of a bond."

"And you... what of your bond? Doesn't it hurt?"

"No. It does not."

"Who is it?"

"I do not understand the question."

"Who has replaced T'Pring?"

"No one has replaced our bond. I merely do not feel the effects of its loss."

"Spock."

"Her name is Nyota. She is aboard this vessel. And she is human. But... we... are not

bonded."

Amanda smiled, for the first time. Spock's bashful admission earned it. And together they began to mend.

"Mother... I must go to the bridge. I am the Captain now of this vessel. I trust you will be alright?"

"I have lost my husband and my bondmate. I will never be alright." She said as two small tears dripped from her eyes. "Never the less, I will live." She added in a quiet whisper.

"That is all I ask. We will see to your happiness later." Spock said, reaching forward he brushed the tears from her cheek. Spock pressed a kiss to his mother's forehead.

He grabbed her hand and felt out the parental bond they shared.

~I do not wish to regret any longer. I've always wanted you to know that… I love you.~ Spock didn't stay to see her reaction. He couldn't. He already felt too exposed, but without his father's careful Vulcan eye, he found a sense of liberation with his emotions.

Maybe soon, he could bring himself to say it out loud.