A/N: This one's short but it's a doozy. Thanks again for all the reviews left so far; I really appreciate them.

Chapter 4

U.S.S. Enterprise, 2277.129, 1806 hours. Spock emerged from his office to begin preparing a meal for the children. Se'tak stood in the kitchen leaning over the stasis unit; T'Alora and Selas were apparently out tending to their own pursuits. As his middle child straightened up along the counter with a slice of pizza in his hands Spock eyed the foodstuff critically.

"As soon as the family is gathered we will be eating dinner. You will return that to the stasis for a more nutritious form of sustenance."

Se'tak snorted as he walked away, the pizza in question still in his hand as he headed back to his bedroom. It was unlike him to blatantly disregard such a request and Spock stared after his son in puzzlement; he was not left waiting long for an explanation.

"Well we'll be waiting a long time if we're waiting for the whole family to get together." Se'tak took a large bite and chewed slowly, never breaking eye contact with him in a deliberate and purely human attempt to raise his ire.

To Spock's surprise his son's tactics were working.

"I do not take your meaning."

The boy tossed the pizza aside and folded his arms in front of his chest. "That's right, I forgot. We're not allowed to talk about her." Se'tak turned his back, missing the rage that Spock suddenly allowed to ripple across his expression. "You can go ahead and wait for T and Selas if you want; as far as I'm concerned we're not a real family anymore so I'll eat what I want when I want." His son grabbed his food and walked out.

His nostrils flared as he attempted to tamp down his fury. "Se'tak, you will cease this behavior at once. Dispose of your food. We will be having a family dinner in 11.6 minutes time."

Se'tak stopped cold, his back still turned. Suddenly he whipped around and marched straight at him, jamming a finger hard into his chest. "What is it going to take for you to get it? WE! ARE! NOT! A! FAMILY! MAMA'S GONE! She's what made us a family and now she's DEAD and you act like she never even existed!"

Each word sliced Spock apart like a lirpa. Not discussing—Nyota—was intentional only because it made living day-to-day more bearable. If he were to give in to his emotions as his son demanded he would live each hour like the quivering wreck his daughter saw only a glimpse of that day in Sickbay.

Clenching his hands tighter behind his back his posture went even more rigid. "God, you're such a freak!" Se'tak yelled, beating him against the chest.

He was seeing red—literally seeing red—and the bitter diatribe now spewing from his mouth was one that had been building for days. "You can't just sweep her away!" He ran over to the bookshelf and gestured at her urn. "Mama was a person, a real person! You can't just ignore her like you are everything else! I won't let you!"

Sa-mekh's face was the same stony mask it had always been and he stared intently at the urn. "You're so quick to get over her! You probably never even loved her, least not in the way that she deserved!"

With a splintering crack the kitchen table and chairs fell back and Se'tak watched in horror as Sa-mekh lunged at him with unbridled wrath, stopping centimeters from his face. His first instinct was to run but there was nowhere to run to.

He was cornered.

"You insignificant child!" Sa-mekh yelled. He never yelled, and the sinister tone in his voice made him quiver and threaten to pee his pants. Sa-mekh crept closer, one hand outstretched. "You know nothing of what you speak of! You cannot begin to understand the losses I have suffered!"

Instead of the blow he expected Se'tak closed his eyes and find himself drawn unwillingly into a meld, the electricity from Sa-mekh's fingers crackling against the skin near his psi points. Pulled into a burning desert he was consumed by flames that left him in unbearable agony. "You do not understand the bond we shared," Sa-mekh stated. "The grief I FEEL…it is nothing compared to your mere words!"

His father turned and walked away through the flames, hands as always clasped behind his back. "You feel that I have not honored your mother because I have not openly spoken her name, or endlessly extolled her virtues, or paid some form of daily lacrymal tribute. This is not true. This pain consumes me during every waking moment because I can think only of her. As you can see the intensity of my emotion is substantial yet this is the Vulcan way of dealing with grief—internally.

"However, you think and feel as a human. You believe that because I have not behaved in ways you deem appropriate that I did not love her as you did."

Trying to hold onto his anger Se'tak cried out, "Sa-mekh, you still don't get it…!"

"You believe she understood you in ways no one else ever has or ever will again. She was your north star, your constant, your advocate and supporter—and you loved her and she loved you in a bond that will never be replicated." His face fall open in shock. "As you can see I do understand."

How could he know—how could he possibly know that this was how he felt every hour since Mama's death?

And then it occurred to him, the one answer that would've been so obvious had he not been mired in his own grief.

Ko-mekh-il*.

That one word sent his father back and for the first time Se'tak saw his late-grandmother in a different light through his father's eyes. Gone were the indifferent observations and instead stood a beautiful woman, smiling and kind.

She was exactly like Mama.

He watched her encourage Sa-mekh's first steps. "Spokh! Come to Ko-mekh, Spokh! You can do it!"

He saw her calm him down after enduring endless taunts and assaults from bullies at school. "It's ok, Sweetheart—you're safe here. I've got you."

And he watched as she stood on the precipice witnessing Vulcan's collapse-and the fear in her eyes the instant she realized she wasn't going to survive. "My boys, love each other!"

Tears welled up and bile rose in the back of his throat. It was bad enough losing Mama but if he'd had to watch her die too…

Sa-mekh quickly recovered from his lapse and they were once more back in the burning desert, their heads tilted up toward the inky black sky. For the first time Se'tak noted that there was no moonlight and now, even more tellingly, there were almost no stars; the light was gone from Sa-mekh's world save for three small pinpricks.

Since Mama died he had felt the exact same way.

"I previously stated that you could not begin to understand the losses I have suffered." Here he turned and Se'tak saw the unshed tears brimming in his father's eyes. He must've heard his previous thoughts. "I now see I was…mistaken."

The meld ended as abruptly as it began and the cool air was a welcome relief against his sweaty face. Panting heavily he looked over at Sa-mekh through half-lidded eyes and saw him also sitting with his back against the wall, knees drawn tight to his chest as he tried to regain his composure.

"I apologize for my lapses. I should not have entered your mind so forcefully, nor should I have left your emotional needs and concerns unaddressed for so long."

Se'tak leaned over and rested his head against his father's arm, squeezing out a few more tears when he thought he had none left to shed. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said those things. I should've known…" a strong arm drawn around his shoulders stopped him mid-apology.

"No, Se'tak. You have nothing to ask forgiveness for."

He smiled a small smile. "No offense where none is taken, right?"

Looking up he saw the corners of Sa-mekh's mouth tic up as well before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "That is correct, sa-fu*."

T'Alora had encountered Selas in the hall not far from Uncle Leonard and Aunt Christine's residence. He had taken to spending much time there as of late. Judging by his relaxed attitude their company appeared to be helping him through his grief. Her own methods for handling her emotions were no longer working at optimal efficiency, yet she would make do.

Hand in hand they walked in through the door of their quarters only to stop short at the sight of the broken kitchen set. Her heart instantly began to race. She could not decide who to be more anxious for, Se'tak or Sa-mekh. Pushing her younger brother behind her she crouched into a defensive stance and took a small step further into the room.

Selas groped about for her hand. "T? T, what's going on?"

She pushed his hand away. "Shhh."

He ignored her. "They're over there."

Her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting she followed to where Selas pointed in the far corner and saw Sa-mekh and Se'tak slumped against one another underneath the bookcase holding Mama's ashes. Noting their tear-stained cheeks as she checked their pulses she found them to be fast asleep.

"T? Is everything alright?"

Standing up she brushed aside the hairs plastered to her sweaty face. She had felt the last vestiges of spent emotion from each of them as she looked them over and was grateful; whatever crisis she might have imagined had been averted, at least for now. Looking at them as they slept she only wished she could also be afforded the same release.

"Yes, Selas. All is well." Moving back to the doorway she took his hand and guided him back out into the hall. Tonight it would be prudent of them to have dinner in the Mess.

He listened to the sounds of the other crewmembers and their families as they entered and exited the room, carrying on conversations with one another and eating their meals. The Mess was quite crowded tonight as far as he could tell; T'Alora had not allowed him to borrow her sight once since meeting him upon leaving Rebecca's.

Thinking of Rebecca reminded him of the progress they had made. Independently they came to the conclusion that there at one time had been more then one tribe of people living on Unohdettu; in fact, there were three. What happened to them, whether they annihilated one another, escaped to another solar system or simply went extinct remained to be seen. If only he had more access to the files the rest of the crew compiled…

"Are you in need of more sustenace?" his sister inquired.

Selas turned in the direction of her scent. She had been on her way back from the gym when they met and faint traces of sweat still clung to her clothes. "No, thank you." Setting his fork down he took a sip of water and listened closely. His sister did not stir in her seat or make any movement of any kind. Suddenly and without warning he darted his hand out toward where her dinner plate should have been only to be met with the cold steel of the table. "T'Alora, you are not eating."

"I do not require nourishment at this time," she replied tersely.

"You did not consume anything at breakfast time either."

This time T'Alora offered no reply. Surely he could not have been the only one to notice her change in appetite? Wordlessly he slid his plate toward her and held out his fork; as she took hold of it (in an attempt, no doubt, to appease him) he grabbed hold of her wrist. Selas had learned a long time ago that borrowing another's eyesight without their permission was wrong but in this instance he felt no qualms about violating her privacy; he believed her health was in danger. Catching her reflection in the nearby viewport proved him to be correct and simultaneously made him shudder.

She looked as if a strong breeze might blow her over, and the dark circles under her eyes appeared as if drawn on like in the cave paintings of Unohdettu. Flinging his hand off of her Selas' world went back to black yet he could not help but feel the heat of her glare on the back of his neck. Still, he did not back down. The scrape of a chair announced her swift departure and he was all alone at the table. The Mess was nearly silent after witnessing the siblings' argument and he found he did not want to be around long enough to listen to their whispers. Gathering up his tray he headed for the recycling chute and exited the room with his head held high, worrying how best to help T'Alora without getting her into trouble.

*ko-mekh-il = Vulkhansu for Grandmother

*sa-fu = Vulkhansu for son