Thank you for all of the kind reviews. Each one is cherished.
3.
Zhu-tor Samekh Du Mafan
(Papa Hears You Crying)
Nyota rubs coconut oil over Selik's hair as she unweaves each braid, loosening the strands that have matted together. Perhaps she will give in to Selik's request to have her hair cut into a mohawk like Punk Storm. There would certainly be fewer tangles and knots to deal with—and hair is such a small, insignificant thing. If cutting it makes Selik feel an ounce more in control and empowered, then isn't it worth it? Shave it bald, for all Nyota cares.
Selik lies still on the mattress as Nyota undoes her hair, lips trembling as she attempts to calm her mind. This has become their nightly routine. Hair and gentle meditation.
When Nyota is done, she braids the wild bundle of coils into a single, frumpy plait. Hair done, Nyota lifts up the hem of Selik's sleep tunic and massages the tense muscles of her back. "Is this okay, S'yel'iki?" she asks, using the un-contracted form of her daughter's name. Selik relaxes back into her mother's touch, tiny body curling into a ball.
Nyota's cool fingertips cause her to shiver, but after a second, Selik is able to regulate her internal temperature to accommodate, a skill both of the girls have only mastered in this last year. Before, whenever the temperature dropped at night, neither of them could warm themselves. Amayel would warm herself by cuddling into Xerxes' side out in the shed, and Selik would slip into Spock and Nyota's bed, neither of them noticing until they awoke to find her wedged between them, a thumb in her mouth.
"I know it is not particularly logical, but would you sing my song for me as you continue your ministrations?" Selik asks. "The one that you wrote when I was born?"
Nyota tilts her head at her daughter's request, hiding a sad, half smile. Spock wrote that song, just like he'd written Amayel's, but Selik always assumed Nyota had because even though the song is in Vulkhansu and specifically speaks of fatherhood, it is written to the tune of the English lullaby 'Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star.' Spock instructed Nyota not to correct Selik's assumption because he wished to be a model of logic, and the song had a certain sentimentality that was thoroughly riolozhikaik.
He had been singing Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star to Nyota the day she'd come to after her surgery, playing the tune lazily on his lute, fussing around with chords and variations and arpeggios, translating it into Vulkhansu and then Swahili, then Traditional Golic. He'd tinkered with the words so much until he'd composed an entirely new song for Selik, the original melody intact, however.
"I will sing it to you onlyif you let your poor, tired mama climb into the bed with you," says Nyota, and Selik immediately repositions herself, sitting up so that her mother can climb behind her, and she can lean back into her chest.
Nyota nuzzles her face into the top of Selik's head, kisses her scalp, and starts by humming the tune for several measures before singing the words.
Sarlah du nu'etek i
Sasarlahn s'yel'iki.
Zhu-tor Samekh du mafan
Sarlah du vas-tor pi'kan
Sarlah du nu'etek i
Sasarlahn s'yel'iki
(You come to us now
Emerging from the soul of a star
Papa hears you crying.
I come to rock you, wee child.
You come to us now
Emerging from the soul of a star)
When Selik's breathing calms into a steady in-and-out, Nyota climbs out the bed from behind her. She runs her index down her daughter's jutted-out vertebrae. She does not possess the same psionic nerves in her fingers as Spock, who tends to be much better at this calming technique, but it still seems to soothe Selik when Nyota does it.
"Would you like it if Xerxes slept inside with you tonight?" asks Nyota.
Selik's ear twitches, but she remains silent and her eyes remain shut.
"Baby girl, I know you're not asleep yet," says Nyota, unable to help the small smile that appears on her face seeing her daughter's attempt at feigned slumber.
"I am nota baby," says Selik, eyes flashing open, and though she would deny it, there is most certainly an indignant pout on her face.
"I know, sweetheart."
"Nor am I a 'sweet heart,' as you put it. I am not sweet at all. I am like Storm. I am lightning."
"You are lightning, yes," says Nyota, and she doesn't have to struggle to parse through her daughter's magical thinking, because Nyota has had the exact same thoughts before, as an adult. I don't want to be nice! I want to be a bullet! I want to be a phaser blast!Those were the exact words she'd uttered to Spock the year they first met when he'd arranged a meeting for her with General Martin. He'd told her that if she wished to secure the original Skeleton Scrolls for the United States of Africa she should endeavour to employ every nicety possible when speaking to the General.
"If you agree that I am lightning, then why am I not allowed to go on my kahs-wan, Mama?"
Sighing, Nyota squeezes Selik's shoulder.
"I'm not arguing with you tonight, Selik. I'm not," says Nyota.
"I only asked a question."
"Uh huh," Nyota says but doesn't rise to the bait.
"Do you wish you had a different daughter than me?" Selik asks.
"No."
"Do you wish I was more like Amayel?"
"No."
Selik pulls her blanket over her shoulders and turns to face the wall. "Samekh does."
"No."
"He does, Mama."
"Swee—Selik. No. You know that. It may feel that way right now because you're upset, but you know that's not true," Nyota says.
"Everyone else gets to go on their kahs-wan. When I melded with Amev, he—"
"Excuse me?" Nyota crosses her arms over her chest.
"I said when I mel—" and then Selik is silent, realising her lack of discretion.
"You melded with someone, Selik?"
Nyota can see the wheels turning in her daughter's head, as she tries to come up with a lie that she can reason herself into believing is not a lie.
After a few seconds pause, Selik surprises Nyota by saying, "Please do not tell Samekh. Amev only wished to share with me what happened on his kahs-wan in an efficient manner, and so we joined minds during our recess period behind the shi'oren."
Nyota takes a calming breath that doesn't really calm her at all, a sharp inhalation that ends up riling her up more. Biting her lip then closing her eyes, she sets her hands into her lap.
"You know better than this, kidege.Melding with someone is considered very intimate and not something you do just because you feel like it or if you're curious," says Nyota, stopping herself before her words turn into a lecture.
"I know that in most instances it is not appropriate. However, Amev is my sa-kugalsu."
"Excuse me?" asks Nyota, again lost for words upon hearing her daughter apparently has a fiancé. There's a curious nudge from Spock in the bond. He is deep in meditation, as he is most evenings these last several weeks. She sends him a reassuring ping, but she can tell he's ignoring it, rising back up to a more wakeful consciousness to investigate what's going on.
"Amev and I are engaged to be bonded," Selik explains. "He proposed to me after returning from his kah-swan. He said that it was a transformative experience and he was able to properly assess his values over the course of that ten days. Because we both appreciate comic books, animal biology, and table top roleplaying games with highly complex mechanics, we are well-suited as bondmates."
"Was that—was that his proposal? Like, is that how he did it? Is that what he said?" Nyota asks, the gossip in her briefly supplanting the mother.
"And I quote," says Selik. "I experience a confusing paradox of sensations when around you: both an inner emotional peace and a highly excited sense of fascination. Given this, and our similar interests in comic books, animal biology, and table top roleplaying games with highly complex mechanics, I conclude that we are well-suited as bondmates. Would you consider me in this capacity, Selik, Daughter of Spock, of the House Surak?"
Nyota is laughing and crying—all internally, of course. The boy is smooth. She'll give him that.
"Does anyone else know about this?" asks Nyota.
"Amayel, of course," says Selik. "She is supportive of my union with Amev."
Right, union. Okay. Lord Jesus. "Have you and Amev done…anything other than kash-nohv?" she asks hesitantly. "Kiss…or touch fingers? Or anything?" Nyota goes on.
Selik releases a heavy breath, her mouth slightly agape before she starts to speak. "Do not be alarmed, Mama, but I frequently give him half of the desert you pack me, as his komekh believes such nutritionally-deficient food items are illogical. Do you believe it is too soon in our engagement to share meals thus?"
Nyota grins widely. "No."
"Are you going to tell Samekh?"
Nyota shrugs because she truly doesn't know. It's the kind of thing Spock might totally overreact to—or something he might find properly fascinating.
"I think Samekh has enough on his mind at the moment," says Nyota.
"Yes. Like ruining my life."
Nyota is too tired to engage with this topic anymore, so with a parting kiss to the top of Selik's head, she stands. As usual, she checks the settings on the envirostat to make sure she doesn't need to make any adjustments. Spock has already programmed the controls to accommodate Selik's lungs, as he does every day, multiple times a day.
"One last question, Mama," asks Selik.
Suppressing a sigh, Nyota turns toward her daughter's bed. "Yes?"
"What is the probability that Samekh will change his mind on this matter?"
Nyota thinks about lying to her daughter, but instead goes with the truth. "Less than 5%, pi'yel."
Selik's face falls into a visible frown before becoming unreadable again. Nyota flips off the main light and flicks on the glow light.
"I wish that I could be like Ororo and not have any parents. I wish I was an orphan," Selik whispers, voice further muffled by her pillow. Tucked under quilts and afghans, she looks so incredibly fragile. For once in her life, Nyota wishes she didn't have such incredible aural sensitivity.
How is that Selik, who's still so young that she spends all of her tiny credit allowance on comics and Storm figurines, who still has not lost all of her baby teeth and has a missing canine at this very moment, who has the slightest of difficulties pronouncing her R's—how is it that she, this tiny girl-child, could be so deeply unhappy?
Nyota remembers a book called Makh-tor Yonal-kan (Parenting the Emotionally Volatile Child), written twenty-six years ago by an acclaimed Vulcan child psychologist named Surev. She perished along with her wife, children, and grandchildren during Va'Pak, something Nyota learned after seeking out Selik's paediatrician for suggestions on how to improve Selik's behaviour. Healer S'Laron recommended that Nyota read Makh-tor Yonal-kanbecause she'd known Surev personally back on Vulcan and had witnessed first-hand her intervention techniques in practise.
"All Vulcan adolescents have the potential to be emotionally volatile at various points in their young lives, as they do not have the experience necessary to rein in powerful emotions," Surev wrote. "Yet there remains a percentage of children whose lack of control extends beyond occasional emotional upset. Every minor frustration is an assault to their entire psyche. These yonal-kan—fiery children—cannot reason through their more difficult feelings, and need extra guidance so they may navigate the path of Surak."
Nyota had read through the entire five hundred page text in a matter of hours two years ago, when Selik was five. Spock, Sarek, and even T'Pau, spent several hours each week teaching Selik various meditative techniques and coping mechanisms, and though it helped, she was still a—difficult child, certainly more difficult than Amayel.
Selik had made great strides in the last two years, but there was no soothing her sometimes.
Nyota closes Selik's door behind her and heads to the bedroom, not surprised to find Spock still meditating in the corner. When he goes as deep as he has been lately, it takes him up to fifteen minutes to rise to wakefulness.
#
As Nyota readies herself for bed, she lingers over the conversation about Amev and Selik's 'engagement.' She can't help but think of Spock's own spontaneous proposal. When I am with you I experience an illogical, unprecedented, and chemically overwhelming desire to join with so that we may be of one mind for eternity. Are you amenable, Nyota?
That was a long time ago. Nyota knows she's no longer the woman her husband married. But that's the nature of things—she is stronger now than she once was. What doesn't kill you, etc etc. Lungs expand. Bones reinforce. Hemoglobin de-concentrates. She has survived more than most and it shows.
Her body has evolved into a new thing entirely; ass rounder, thighs thicker. Increased muscle mass accounts for the bulk of the changes, but there's no denying her metabolism clings to fat on New Vulcan in a way it never did on Earth or on the Enterprise. Her curves have softened and become more rounded over the years, and though Spock is quite capable carrying her as he once did, he no longer does, no longer wishes to. Years ago, she stopped straightening her hair, the strands a messy mix of curls, kinks, waves, the strands unable to decide on a texture. She knows she is not beautiful to him anymore, and she has too much laundry to do to care, honestly.
And what of her feelings? If anything, she has it worse for him now. Nyota's love is a network of rivers; flowing this way then changing course, pooling here, emptying out there, foamy, white, icy and dangerous. Any semblance of calm, quiet affection is an illusion of her own making. In truth, her love is turbulent.
#
"You are upset," Spock says, walking in on Nyota in the bathroom as she brushes her hair.
"Of course, I'm upset, Spock. Our child's in pain. Can't you see how much she's hurting?" Nyota asks, pulling the brush roughly through tangles, a wad of hair coming out. "Fuck it," she says, and tosses the brush onto the counter. She splashes water onto her face from the bowl then dries off.
"You blame me for her emotional distress."
"That's not what I said." Nyota's not really ready to have this conversation, so instead she thinks about what she needs to do tomorrow: go over T'Ona's calculations to improve subspace communication range with compressed radio wave messages then actually redesign the comm relay so communiques don't get bottlenecked—that would take four hours at least, half her day.
"Perhaps you did not say that you blamed me aloud, but I am not unobservant. Your actions suggest you believe I am being unfair."
I am not unobservant.
Nyota doesn't miss the fact that Spock's words mirror the ones Selik used at bedtime exactly. If Spock notices the peculiar similarity, he reveals nothing of it on his face. He and Selik are so much alike.
"During our previous discussions, you agreed to trust my judgment in this matter, did you not?" says Spock.
"Well, maybe I've changed my mind. She's hurting. I don't know. Are you sure you're making the right decision by holding her back like this?" she asks. It would be a lie to say she's not just as worried as Spock, but at some point, they have to let Selik test her boundaries.
"Perhaps you are thinking that Maresh would allow Selik to attend her kah-swan?" says Spock, a statement so out of left field Nyota is temporarily dumbfounded.
"What are you even talking about?" she asks.
"This afternoon, after your meal with Maresh, you spoke candidly about how much you and Selik enjoyed your time together. "
Nyota's not remotely sure where this conversation's going. "Yes? And?"
"I believe the Standard expression is that you were 'glowing.' You are taken with him."
Nyota shakes her head and tries to still the contortions surely playing out on her face right now.
"You spend a significant portion of your time with him," says Spock.
"We work together. He's my superior," Nyota counters.
"Wasn't I once your superior?" he asks.
Nyota moves past him toward their bed, pulling off her t-shirt and her trousers so she's in just her underwear and bra. Flipping off the lantern by the bedside table, she crawls under the covers.
"You would ignore me like this?" asks Spock.
"It seems I would," Nyota says, eyes rolling.
"You are being illogical, adun'a."
Nyota puffs up her pillow, lies back.
"You are deliberately disengaging from this conversation," Spock says.
So observant, Spock.
"After I departed from your company to meditate, I noticed you experienced feelings of shock when speaking with Selik. I desire to know what you discovered or what she said that alarmed you so."
Nyota relaxes into the mattress, presses her nose into the sheets. They smell like Spock. So good. She squeezes her thighs together and rolls to face away from him.
"I don't want to talk about this right now," she says.
"Is there anything you do wish to speak of?"
Whether or not he still desires her, loves her. Likesher. These days, every word out of his mouth is a criticism or an accusation.
"Not really, Spock."
She thinks she hears him sigh, but she can't be sure. He removes his shirt and slides next to her in the bed, far away from her on the king-sized mattress.
Was she thatrepulsive to him?
"Nyota, you are crying," says Spock.
"I'm not," she counters, even as she wipes the tear from her cheek using the fabric of the pillowcase.
"Nyota."
"I'm fine. Just tired."
"Crying is not one of your typical reactions to fatigue," he says, "which suggests you are being untruthful."
She's about to answer him when a painful sensation rushes her chest, making it hard to speak. Nyota sits up and swings her legs onto the floor, stands. "Do you feel that?" she asks, and places her hand against her chest.
Spock sits up abruptly. "Yes."
He opens their bedroom door and jogs into the hallway toward the girls' room, without bothering to put on his shirt. "Selik?" he calls. "S'yel'ki, are you all right, daughter of mine? Selik?"
Nyota goes after him, pulling a t-shirt on before grabbing the backup inhaler they keep in a chest of drawers in the corridor. They are careful about refilling the one she keeps in her bedside table, but she frequently loses it.
Spock doesn't knock before twisting the knob of the door open to Selik and Amayel's bedroom.
"She is not here," he says, slipping past Nyota. She scurries after him in the hallway toward the side door that leads to the shed where Xerxes usually sleeps.
"Spock," Nyota says. Her voice cracks.
Spock opens the door of the shed to find Xerxes gone, as well.
"Selik!" he calls, looking out past the fence that surrounds their property.
"Where is she?" Nyota asks, like he could possibly know.
Spock heaves breaths, panting, but stands mostly still as he probes the bond.
"Far," he says. "I cannot hone in precisely, as she is intentionally distancing herself."
Good.Good in that it meant at least she hadn't been taken.
Tears that were falling modestly before unleash themselves in a torrent now, and Nyota struggles to catch her breath, experiencing the breathing attack secondhand through Selik.
Spock comes to her, helps her to sit on the garden bench. He is much better at separating his mind from their daughter's so as not to vicariously live through her every episode. "I'm fine, Spock. Go find her. Go find my baby," she says.
"Nyota," he says as he kneels in front of her on the ground.
"Go. I'm fine."
He nods his head takes off, running at a speed that leaves Nyota breathless just watching.