Authoress' Note: I think I'm finally getting into the swing of things with this chapter. There are lots of ST09 references to references in other ST movies in here, so be on the look out. I like doing that kind of thing. So, I was planning on making this a bit longer, but the part I wanted to add on the end (with Spock Prime and his younger self) felt like too much, so you'll just have to wait till the next installment. :D Oh, and because I haven't done one of these: All characters, etc. © Paramount.
More Than Words
"Spock, may I speak with you my son?"
Spock looks up as his father enters the flap of one of the rudimentary shelters that have been set up across the dusty sands of the foreign landscape. Thousands of them stretch outward toward the dunes of hills in the distance over which a sun, much like that of their own on Vulcan, rises every morning. In the opposite direction where mountains rise up majestically architects and builders are already hard at work recapturing the very essence of Vulcan life in stone structures.
Spock bows his head in response and sets the charts he has been looking over aside to signal his attentiveness. Sarek tucks his hands into the broad sleeves of his tunic, a garment that must have been more splendid in earlier times when the harsh elements could not so easily prey upon it.
He clears his throat before looking at his son pointedly. He has never been the type of Vulcan to "beat around the bush", as Amanda used to say, and so, with another step forward, he speaks.
"You must forgive me for the illogic of this question, but I believe your mother would insist I ask it of you. Spock . . . How are you?"
Spock looks down trying to clear his mind of the rush of memories that seem to surface unbidden with the statement of such a question, each one more painful than the last. The one he remembers most vividly is his mother, looking like a goddess in her Vulcan dress, telling him before his meeting with the Vulcan High Command that he would be fine. It breaks his heart to remember the cold reply he gave her; that fine would not be acceptable. More than anything he wishes he could tell her that things are fine right now.
When Spock speaks his voice is quiet and taut with underlying emotion that he dare not show.
"I am. . . fine, Father. I trust that it is appropriate for me to ask the very same illogical question of you?"
Sarek nods, and for an instant all the pain and grief he feels welling in his heart displays itself openly upon his face. For an instant. Then all is calm, cool Vulcan intellect once again.
"I am here to inquire upon another matter," he says, turning back to the business and situation at hand as though nothing had occurred. Spock can still feel the raw emotion crackling in the air between them. It sparked with the same intensity as the feeling that had emanated from Uhura in the turbolift only a day ago. "That of your connection with the young Lieutenant."
"Do not speak just yet," Sarek continues, as Spock opens his mouth to offer forth an explanation, "In the end, there may be nothing you need to defend."
Spock nods, clasping his hands tightly behind his back, the only outward sign that his nerves are fluttering again. Sarek glances at his son momentarily before continuing in a straightforward and monotone voice.
"She is an altogether pleasing young woman, and I have no doubt that your mother would have loved her. I admit that I would have no disagreement with her or your relationship considering my own personal history. It would seem hypocritical to deny you of such a right. However, times have changed. Vulcan finds itself in a very different position, and I must implore you to remember your people and the duty you have to them. It will be important to do so now more than ever."
He looks at his son grimly, who stares back, unblinking, before lowering his eyes and opening his mouth to speak.
"As of the beginning of this week any connection I may have had with the Lieutenant is null. It is perhaps debatable whether she will ever wish to extend friendship to me again. I broke none of our laws or customs while in her company, and would wish to remind you that I am your son, a Vulcan, and therefore my first duty has always been to my people. I would not have you forget that."
"I am sorry to have doubted you."
"There is nothing to forgive. You are my father."
Silence falls between them, and Spock glances back at his star charts, unsure of the present course of action. The abrupt end to the conversation hangs like broken threads between the two Vulcans, waiting to be reconnected. Suddenly, the young Vulcan remembers his apprehension over another young woman, one who has not seen in many years.
"Is T'Pring alive?" he asks, anxious to hear of his bride-to-be's fate. He is ashamed to even think about her dying, but at the same time a small bubble of hope expands in the deepest recesses of his chest.
"No, my son, she is not. There is no need to worry yourself on her account," Sarek says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. If he had to admit it, he had never been fond of the young woman himself.
"It is illogical to feel worry over such a thing, Father. I merely wished to inquire as to her state of being."
"Yes, I understand."
Despite his stoic response, Spock is relieved beyond belief. The idea that he may be bonded in the future to someone worse than T'Pring does not even cross his mind at that moment. Sarek senses his son's relief and does not bother chastising him for it.
"Have you any more questions, Spock?"
"No, I do not believe . . ." Spock stops mid-sentence, lost in another train of thought. Sarek pauses before the tent opening, waiting.
"I- Have you- Have you spoken at all with the Ambassador?"
Sarek's trained face shows no hint of surprise at this question, but inside he wonders why his son did not ask about it before.
"Yes, I have spoken with him on numerous occasions since our arrival, concerning plans for rebuilding, amongst other things."
Spock nods, and Sarek knows that he wishes to ask more. "Speak your mind, Spock."
"Is it not odd," the young Vulcan asks, "to be speaking to a much older son? I admit I cannot fully comprehend just how much the two of us have in common. It has all been illuminating and disconcerting at the same time."
"No, it is not odd. Together, you are my son, and apart, you are still my son. It gives me a certain amount of peace knowing that you will be in his place someday, that you are a part of a self-fulfilling prophesy. I would remind you though, that your mother and I would not want you to be defined by such a thing. We- I will be proud no matter where your choices lead you."
"Thank you," Spock says quietly. As Sarek makes to exit the tent, his son rises and holds up the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Father."
"Live long and prosper, my son."