Alekhine's Gun
Chapter 11
Three days later, Amanda had her first lesson in nashan-ir. And by the time it was over…her body hurt in places she hadn't even known existed.
"Again. Bend, hand-left. Thrust- higher…yes…Draw down…"
Her arms were currently moving in an agonizingly slow, undulating pattern, her legs crossed and slightly bent. Her leg muscles burned with the tension and she was now in a full sweat after an hour with Sa'taan. At this point, his name was QUITE fitting.
Finally, her legs gave out and she hit the mat with a thud.
"Up," said Sa'taan.
"Oh god! No more! I can't! My legs are jelly!" she moaned, too tired to even try to get up.
Sa'taan looked down at her placidly.
"Very well, Dr. Grayson. We shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening."
Noticing the grimace across her face, he raised a brow.
"Is there a problem?"
Amanda rose slowly.
"No…I asked for it, I suppose. I just didn't think it would be this hard."
"With time comes refinement. You are a beginner, still."
"Yes, well…this beginner is heading home for a swim. I'll see you tomorrow."
She grabbed her towel and began moving to the exit.
"Dr. Grayson, we do have a comparable facility here, for your use."
Of course you do,Amanda thought wryly.
Just as she opened her mouth to politely refuse Sa'taan's officer, she turned to move to the exit when her muscles screamed in protest, silencing the words about to come out of her mouth.
"Okay," she breathed weakly. "Let me get my suit. It's in my hover."
II
The muted rumble of thunder rolled through the embassy, as the rain beat a steady cadence down the windows. The room was chilled, the sounds echoing through the high walls…moaning, and desolate in their dreariness.
The weather matched the hollowness he felt inside.
Sarek turned and walked across the floor of his living suite. It was late afternoon, and apparently the Earth was in one of her tempers, bringing an afternoon shower which blanketed the sky, silencing the normally loud colors and sounds of San Francisco and painting a muted gray across the city.
Inside, the heavy curtains were drawn shut, dimming and filling the room with silence, save for its lone occupant, who walked in a slow, unseeing circle, weaving aimlessly in and out of the furniture which designated the profession of each partition of the segmented space.
It seemed that even this separate Earth-mother could feel his grief…
"My wife. Explain." Sarek stood at the entrance of the citadel. He had rushed back to his home from his office in Shi'Kahr, after feeling the bond snap.
The normally quick trip back had seemed endless, and he had feared the worst. So when he arrived, and saw his mate alive and well, he was confused.
T'Rea walked towards him slowly, her hands clasped together in what he knew was the ot'ill—a posture he recognized as used by the adepts at Gol.
Gol...
He looked at T'Rea and her eyes met his evenly.
With her voice devoid of even the [smallest traces of emotion, and their bond severed, he could not discern what she was thinking. But the hollows of her eyes brought the realization that this would more than likely be the last time he saw his mate again.
"I have chosen the way of the Kolinahru."
He stepped back, away from her, his jaw clenching and unclenching, matching the action of the hands behind his back.
"I have done away with all worldly things."
"And our bond?"
"It is irrelevant. I have released you. You are of a strong position. The probability that you will find a new mate is—"
"You are my mate; I do not require a new one. You are behaving illogically."
"It is you who is behaving illogically. You speak with a passion, unbecoming of your house. I have chosen this path. My decision is my own."
She moved past him and began walking into the midday Vulcan sun.
And though he wanted to run to her, to bring her back to him and hold her and keep her—he could do none of those things. His last view T'Rea was her hair, billowing down her back in dark waves as she strode away.
The knock on his door took Sarek out of the memory. After several seconds of silence, the door opened.
Silek — his brother was the only person with the override code to his quarters. Silently, he walked across the room to stand before him.
"Your pain is evident, sa-kai." Silek bowed his head. "I grieve with thee."
He turned and walked out, leaving Sarek to his darkness.
-xxx-
The Vulcan embassy's Natatorium also functioned as a meditation garden. To many, a "pool" might seem quite illogical for a people who seldom swam and were from a planet where such a resource as water was so scarce; however, the facility, with its aerating fountains and burbling water supply, allowed the Embassy's occupants a place to calm their minds. Gardens surrounded the swimming pool, creating as natural a form as possible.
It was here where Sarek chose to attempt to meditate. His favorite place was behind a wall of Terran ferns, secluding him from view. It was currently empty as he sank down to his knees on some grass, and lowered his head to the ground. Within minutes he had slipped into a state of complete immersion.
-xxx-
First came the sound—the gentle swish of the water, once placid now disturbed.
Then the awareness that he was not alone.
And finally, sight.
Sarek slowly sat upright, unfurling his tall frame as he tilted his neck back to raise his eyes to the gray, but now still, sky.
He breathed deeply, then exhaled.
He moved to rise, but then stilled, choosing instead to peer through the foliage to learn the identity of the pool's occupant.
The water rippled gently as one hand, then another, and back began to break its placid surface. The near silence of the natatorium and the elegant movements of the swimmer lulled Sarek's mind, for a moment, into the place of peace he had sought.
His breathing stopped.
The movements were sure and steady, graceful in their simplicity as she slipped through the silken water. Her eyes were closed, and her face…
Suddenly feeling as if he had intruded upon an intimate moment, Sarek stood and began making his way back to the exit.
She continued to swim, apparently lost in her own thoughts. But it was no matter. He had seen her. Sarek swallowed thickly- a new, unfamiliar sensation ebbing at the edges of his mind.
The ice around his heart began to thaw.
Author's Note:
This chapter has been edited by SpockLikesCats. The Vulcan martial art of nashin-ir first appeared in The Prince: Degeneration. That story is currently undergoing major edits in an effort to better align it with Alekhine's Gun.
I have also started experimenting with a new way to format, including the use of both Roman numerals, which denote major scene shifts within chapters, the use of the -xxx- to denote character POV's within scenes, and the horizontal periods (. .) which are used to represent elapses in time. Hopefully, this site will not reject my new system of formatting.
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