LadyFangs, thank you for your help on this. You saved this story when I was ready to just give up and call it a day. You're more than a beta. Co - conspirator, producer extraordinaire. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Readers - A warning - This chapter will deal with a difficult topic that was originally introduced during Ch. 6 discussion between Nero and Sarek. It's intense. It's adult. It's serious. So, skip it, skim it, but you've been warned. The inclusion is necessary to reach the end.
Chapter 7 – Final Assignments
The university campus was a buzz with Nero's condition. Spock found that he was now in the role of adjunct professor instead of his usual comfort zone of research and curriculum development. The students hid their conversations poorly.
He's dying…
Weeks to live…
No family…
What will happen…?
The whispers made Spock angry. Dropping his notes and removing the glasses on top of his head, Spock allowed his mind to reflect on the images of a young and viral man with a wide smile, arm thrown casually across the shoulders of his father Sarek as they stood on a European street. That was the man he thought he wanted to be, his role model. Another photo, Nero, young and lovingly smiling on the face of a woman who was hidden in the photograph Spock remembered from the cherished spot it held on Nero's desk in his campus office. At one time there had been another side to Nero, one that was brave enough to love.
Spock didn't know what prompted the late night drive to Nero's home. It unnerved him that he remembered the code to enter the gate. Even more disturbing was how it felt to retrieve the key from the lion perched outside of the front door.
It had been months since he'd been here, and mere days since the conversation with his father. He did not know what he should be expecting - but he expected nonetheless.
The house was dark, lit only by the softness of the moon illuminating the beautiful stain of the hardwood floors, creating beauty in spite of the evil laced in the very walls of the home. The stench of pending death cycled through the air as the spirit world fought for the fate of the soul of the single occupant of the house that was barely clinging to life.
"Nero."
Spock called out and received a series of strong coughs in response- the sound of phlegm and mucus mixing with a wheezing gag. The death rattle, that's what his grandmother had called it. Hesitation filled him. He followed the sound, to the bedroom located on the lower level of the mansion. The room was beautiful. Walls in delicate, matted shades of pink, a beautiful antique king sized brass bed. There the man sat, on the bed's edge, surrounded by boxes containing photos, some in color others in black and white. Hands that were once strong were now frail and feeble, and as Spock looked on Nero held one single photograph up for Spock's perusal. A beautiful woman with deep dark brown eyes that, even in an image, reflected the shadows of the young man's soul. His body went cold. The face he did not recognize, but those eyes…those eyes were familiar, so similar. He looked around the room. Pink was Nyota's favorite color.
"Come to finish what Sarek started?" The man's voice was empty, none of the usual fervor or fight.
"No." A simple and honest response is what Spock offered. He stepped further into the room, taking in the monster that once paralyzed him with fear. Now looking upon the skinny shadow in front of him, only sympathy rose as his eyes fell on the obviously ailing man.
"I must offer my sincere and deepest apology for the suffering I brought to your life." Nero took the photo from the young man's hand; allowing the tips of his fingers to grace the lines of his long dead wife's face.
"I sent her home that night." Nero pointed to the bathroom. "Because of those eyes…" Spock watched as Nero's lashes fell, shielding his tears from plain sight, "She pitied me. Even after the insanity my mentorship bred, her heart ached for me." The older man placed his hand directly above his heart, allowing it to linger, relishing in the faint beats felt under the skin. "Her eyes, they put me in a trance. Sending me back to days long gone when I first met my wife; I stole Mandana's innocence. I would have taken Nyota's, but Mandana's voice, it was so loud and clear. She loved you. I had no right…" The man's voice faltered until eventually only uncomfortable silence was left between the two men.
The ramblings had not made sense until Spock grasped that Nero was not reflecting on the love he lost years before, but the hand he had in ending the relationship Spock once shared with Nyota.
Nero was prey to a coughing spell that attacked him mercilessly. Spock watched helplessly, falling to his knees in front of the man. Unable to fight the compassion surfacing within him, Spock cleared the bed and helped Nero ease back in a position that would be more comfortable. Since entering the door, Spock noticed the welts on the side of Nero's face. He said nothing, but Nero read the question in his eyes.
"Evidence – Sarek's wrath." A disarming smile graced the man's face, but there was regret hinging in the corners of his eyes. "Death has a sadistic way of forcing one to atone for their sins."
"Do you need anything?" The sincerity in Spock's voice surprised Nero as well as himself.
The old man reached for his hand and Spock recoiled, physically as well as mentally. Noting the reaction, Nero smiled again, but this time, the smile was laced with sadness and silent apologies. He dropped the extended hand.
Spock immediately regretted the action- but in such a short amount of time he had learned too much…
Nero began speaking softly and it took the younger man a moment to realize Nero was addressing him. The voice was feeble- nothing like the deep penetrating tone he was accustomed to.
"Your father said something to me during his visit." Nero began, bringing both of his free hands up to steeple his chin, "There were many truths he stated the other morning, one in particular: 'My son will rise above the seeds you've planted in his life,' You will rise Spock. Now sit. We do not have long. And there is much I have to tell you…
Nero's lips tenderly connected with the dimple on the girl's right cheek. She was shaking. The night air was cold, but the shiver overtaking her was not of passion, but of fear. His hand smoothed her hair as he delivered words meant to produce calm, while his free arm snaked around her waist- pulling her tightly against his chest. His nose brushed over her hair, inhaling the scent of thyme and oregano, along with the dull and fading fragrance of roses on her soft skin.
"You can trust me. I will never hurt you."
The tension in Mandana's body lifted. She was so tiny. Nero knew he was capable of snapping her in half without much force. He watched as her small hands gripped the rail in front of her. They were staring at the lazy river flowing through the middle of the town. The moon and stars mirrored in the black water. Oh what a little moonlight can do… the song drifted over the air from one of the small bars adjacent to where they stood.
Sarek's warnings flooded his conscience again. He had said she was just a child, incapable of understanding what it meant to be possessed by a man. But Nero didn't intend to possess her- he wanted her to be willing. He wanted to teach her. This would be lesson number one of many more to come. He would teach her about pleasure unparalleled. He would show her that love was an action verb.
Nero swept the dark brown locks of Mandana's head to the side. Leaving the base of her neck uncovered, his lips descended, caressing the skin and nipping at the delicate area lightly. He'd done this so many times before- deflowering a virgin. But tonight would be different. Tonight would be the beginning of his future. A hope for happiness. He prayed that Mandana could become the family he so desperately needed.
Yes, Nero had a father; a man that could have easily passed for his older brother with the same rare good looks and deep eyes. Still he was a man that held wealth and harlots in higher esteem than his own family.
There was the mother. The one who had only become a shell of the woman she was before his birth. Mental illness ran in the lines of her blood. Her life had been spared by his father because of the heir she bore him. Nero. The one his father watched, waiting for a sign of his mother's weakness. A shared frailty that would produce an individual incapable of sustaining all the evils that life could bring.
His eyes shut, blocking out the memories waiting patiently at home for his return. The pain and hurt he'd learned to mask from an early age. The women his father loved and kept under his mother's nose. The smacks instead of kisses constantly delivered to her face.
He had been told it was what men do. And Nero was a man…
His next nip at Mandana's skin was more forceful, breaking skin, and causing a drop of blood to pool at the opening. She whimpered at the action and he licked the wound and turned the girl to face him speaking words he'd never heard his father say- yet knowing in his heart for them to be true of what he felt for the girl in front of him.
"I love you."
Her face filled with affection and his heart took flight. She believed him. Even he began to accept that he was capable of nurture instead of destruction…
"It hurts."
Mandana's soft voice filled the air. Nero was dripping sweat onto her petite frame. She was under him, inviting his spirit to become one with hers. With one hand, Nero guided his member towards her opening. Pausing for just a moment when Mandana's eyes shut to stave off the initial pain. He pressed further, ignoring her cries, and the scratches she placed on every piece of bare skin she could reach.
Why was she reacting so? Did she not love him? Did she not desire him?
Nero could hear Sarek, fighting to get beyond the locked door. Sarek's screams mingled with the gurgled tears of the young girl beneath him. But Nero continued - despite the pleas for him to stop - the flesh ripping apart to accommodate his length and girth - or the feelings of hopelessness filling him. With every thrust he grew angrier at her tears…this was not how it was supposed to be…she was meant to love him…accept him…he could not take her tears…they tore at him. The hurt and fear in her eyes wrapped around his soul- squeezing…No. She was his. He had made it so. If she did not love him now- she would learn to.
Nero walked out the room, an hour later, naked, disheveled, and adorned in both his blood and Mandana's. He allowed the shower to drown out the wailing girl. The suite was empty when he finally exited the bathroom.
Spock barely heard the whispered last words of his former mentor as the old man faded into sleep. It was quiet. And he was left alone. He did not know what to say or what to think. He only knew to do. And so he did. Rising from his seat on the floor besides the bed, he reached down, gently pulling the blankets up to Nero's chest- watching it rise and fall slowly. He knew the man would be dead by morning. And he did not know how he felt about that truth, as well as the others revealed to him, either.
Nero was haunted by her. She followed him endlessly, whether asleep or awake he could not escape her- a reminder of what was to become of him.
Through the haze of semi-consciousness he saw her. She stood at the foot of his bed, those large dark eyes filled with something a kin to hatred and he felt his throat go tight. She was his soul- the physical manifestation of who and what he was…. Nero struggled to turn on the light. The illumination erased the vision before him, but he knew what he had done. Just as Sarek had spoken during his visit; death was proving to be especially painful. These last hours were occupied with past recollections.
Mandana…
As his death drew closer he realized that alcohol no longer kept her at bay. The TIME was creeping closer like a bride walking the aisle to join her groom. Mandana was the flower girl- tossing the dried shards of a life unfulfilled to the rotting ground beneath her feet. His latest vision found her crying tears of blood and murmuring about the children, all of which she had named- the ones who never lived in this world. They surrounded her like a small barricade, protecting her from any further damage he could possibly inflict upon her. All had dark, wide eyes like their mother- those eyes stared relentlessly at him. The children stood silent… the ghosts of the past a testament to his sins…
He had awakened screaming, tossing the lamp to the floor, and causing darkness to encircle him yet again. But she was back, caressing his cheek in the same manner he had done to her the night he'd taken her body the first time. She'd kissed him and it felt real. He felt complete, whole, and alive. Yet when the kiss ended, the face of a fourteen year old Mandana stared back at him. Her cherubic features tainted by pain and fear. In her eyes, a monster was reflected. She was scared and that created immediate arousal in the man. His stomach turned because of the disgust he felt at himself. Who was he? A man at war with himself…
I would have given you anything.
The spirit of Mandana whispered. Those were the last words she had spoken before raising the gun to her temple. Now that was the image before his eyes. The woman he had broken – physically, mentally, and spiritually. He had been too much of a coward that day to pick up the same weapon and end his misery. Instead he stood as his personal staff ran in circles, calling for help and covering the scene. He had sat in the blood, her blood, for hours. Long after her body had been removed from the home. Empty. Mourning the loss of the one person who loved him unconditionally…and he had taken that love- and choked it.
And then…then…after a night of horrors and truths he felt it begin. In his sleep he could feel himself leaving this place…
Now after so many years, merciful death, would finish what he could not. Nero fell back into the pillows, going softly to the darkness calling.
The man seized, falling backwards, as he violently began to shake. The noise startled Spock waking him from where he slept in the chair across the room.
EMS arrived in what seemed like a matter of minutes; Spock rode along in the back of the ambulance with Nero, clutching the man's hand the entire time. He had maintained a vigil through the long hours of the night- only to be awakened by this. His hand was white and lacking feeling by the time he raced alongside the gurney in the emergency room corridor. There he saw Dr. McCoy. The doctor's eyes locked with Spock's and then fell to the incoherent patient. The doctor lifted an eyebrow, shook his head, and immediately went to work.
"Just wait out here." McCoy said gently, removing Spock's hand from Nero's and pushing him away from the door of the room.
Spock held his phone tightly, contemplating on whether or not to dial his father's number or to inform Christine of Nero's condition. Instead he waited. His mind whirled with unfocused thoughts about the conversations of the past few days, Nyota's unspoken words, his father's heartfelt apology, and Nero's warning.
McCoy held true to his word and found him waiting quietly in the corner of the waiting room.
"Does he have family that should be called?"
Spock shook his head. "His parents died years ago. His wife committed suicide before I was born. He has no children."
McCoy nodded, "We've stabilized him. Made him as comfortable as possible, he's not going to make it through the night. His body is riddled with cancer, as far as we can tell, he was receiving no type of treatment for it. He's literally been eaten alive."
Spock kept his sights on the pattern of colorful splotches in the tiled floor. He would not become a man destroyed by bitterness and guilt. His fate would not mirror Nero's.
McCoy's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Do you have somewhere to be?"
"No…doctor." His response was terse and he regretted the tone.
McCoy ignored it, "Give me a few minutes. I need to finish some paperwork. We need to talk."
Thirty minutes later the two men were poised over steaming cups of coffee in the doctor's lounge. McCoy spoke first, "I know Nero was a part of what went wrong with Nyota. I know everything. I swear if you're planning something, anything I will hurt you before you can even touch one hair on her head. You're a sick bastard."
McCoy's eyes were full of disgust as he looked on Spock's face. But as Spock met the doctor's glare, steady he remained - his voice calm and controlled without a trace of hostility. "I only want what is best for Nyota. That is not me. I do not know what she has shared with you-"
The doctor interrupted again, "Everything. And I could strangle you right now. But I took an oath to save lives. How dare you twist love and its meaning into something filthy?"
The words hit fresh wounds that had not yet closed and Spock fired back with venom.
"How dare you cherish a bottle more than your wife and child?" The words stung when they connected with McCoy's heart. He saw the man cringe.
"I owned up to my shortcomings. I never…"
"Allowed the blame to rest on another's shoulders," Spock's words caught McCoy off guard and the two fell silent before he continued. "You love her. I recognized that long before what we had ended. I trust you doctor, with Nyota's heart and happiness."
"Until I take my last breath…"
Spock envied Leonard McCoy. Yet he was thankful that a man filled with love greater than what he felt in his heart for that beautiful brown-eyed girl had walked into her life.
Spock stood from the table, gazed at the untouched cups of coffee and walked towards the door. "I will make arrangements for Nero's remains."
The doctor lifted both eyebrows in response to Spock's words; however both fell immediately when his phone buzzed with the notification that Nero's life had ended.
As he began the funerary process, Nero's last words echoed in his mind. The warning the older man had issued…
"Christine is tainted goods, if you are to achieve some form of peace and happiness in your life, it will be necessary to end your relationship."
"If Christine is such damaged goods- why the attraction – why the prolonged association?"
Spock was growing tired of the man's riddles and attempts at sharing wisdom.
The question made Nero laugh, "Misery loves company. You are not Sarek. You are not me. That woman will suck the life from your very veins."
The old man's eyes had been filled with seriousness.
The conversation with Sarek had been necessary for father and son to begin to mend the tattered fibers of their relationship. Nero's words now were the assignments given to a man with only days, hours, minutes, and seconds left on this Earth.
"Do not allow the guilt of your mistakes to rule the days of your future. Learn from each and every moment of the past." Nero had pulled Spock closer, grasping both sides of the young man's face, "Gain wisdom, move forward, and never walk backwards."
As he sat making calls, and forming lists to dispose of Nero's estate, Spock knew there were still more issues he would have to resolve before he could even begin moving forward. The doctor's words on Nyota and Nero's words about Christine were at the forefront of his thoughts, and once again, in his own systematic way, he pushed the thoughts back, to concentrate on the task at hand.