Authoress' Note: I'd just like to start out by giving a huge thank you to Aelwydd for having the guts to really speak up and state things she questioned and was confused about in the last chapter. It really helped me to realise some of the hasty mistakes I had made and enable me to correct. So please, if you read something that just doesn't sit right with you mention it in your review. As long as you're respectful I really won't mind taking what you have to say into consideration. It can only better my writing in the long run. :D Please note that I have made a few minor changes to the previous chapter. Don't forget to review when you're done reading! All characters, etc. © Paramount.
Rebuilding Hope
The Ambassador watches his younger self escape the heat of the sun by sitting under an open tent to pore over architectural plans. He wonders why the young Vulcan has not been sent off with one of the exploration parties to scan the wilderness for signs of plant and animal life. It would be more fitting for him to be out there than virtually cooped up in his own world of uselessness.
The young Vulcan does not hear the older man's stealthy approach, but as he comes into his younger self's line of vision, Spock looks up. He stands up hastily, absentmindedly pulling down the hem of his dark blue Starfleet uniform. It is illogical for the older Vulcan to feel a sense of amazement at this small similarity between them, for are they not one in the same? Yet, he does.
"You are not of the exploration party?" the Ambassador asks, motioning for Spock to sit down again.
The young Vulcan lowers himself into his chair, as Ambassador Spock pulls out one for himself.
"No, I have not been assigned to the first group of the day. The Captain insisted that he would not assign both of us in the same party in case some danger should befall the group. His logic is sound in that respect."
"But you would much rather be out there with the Captain than here?"
Spock almost smiles at his older self. It is amazing to him just how alike they are. It is almost as though his thoughts are being read aloud to him.
"Precisely."
The older Vulcan nods his head and clasps his hands in front of himself, gazing out over the barren tented landscape. Spock longs to ask the older version of himself a thousand questions at once, all of which sound illogical and ridiculous in his mind, but he fears, almost, that if he does not get them out now, he will never be at rest.
"Sir, I wonder if you could tell me," he begins seriously, "if- if my mother . . ."
"If our mother lived longer in my universe?" the older Spock finishes for his younger self. The amazement it seems does not end with him. It was the first question that Jim Kirk had asked him so innocently in the cave on Delta Vega, and it pains him to have to answer in the same way he had answered his closest friend.
"Yes, she did."
The young Vulcan hangs his head to hide the grief still visible on his face. He twitches slightly, startled, when the older Vulcan places a hand on his shoulder in a most un-Vulcan-like way. It's not that the contact makes him uncomfortable, it's just it reminds him of his mother again in more ways than he can count. Inside he wonders if someday, like this older counterpart, he will be able to accept the human side of himself so readily.
When the Ambassador takes his hand away Spock finds that he is finally able to speak again.
"Will you ever go home?" he asks, "I have done the research and calculations myself, and there are several options for time travel that are available to you. Surely there will be people waiting and wondering where you disappeared to."
The older Spock shakes his head, a glint of sadness in his eyes. "One thing you do not understand is that of all of your comrades alive now, in my universe, they have long since passed away. I am the only one left, and that is a lonely prospect when you think about going back. Disregarding emotion, however, there are other reasons I may not leave just yet. I set out to right a wrong in the universe and created more havoc than I had intended. I have changed too many lives, and I feel that it is my duty, or prime directive, to set things on a straighter path before returning home."
"That is most logical," the younger Spock says, nodding his head slightly.
"No, not logical," the Ambassador responds, and his younger self arches an eyebrow, "It is only right. You will learn in time that the needs of the many outweigh-"
"The needs of the few or the one."
The two Spocks, young and old, stare at each other, reciprocating the same look of fascination and near surprise on each other's faces.
---
Uhura sits alone under an open tent where Spock had sat only moments ago. It surprised her how quickly he had stood up upon her arrival and mumbled something about meeting the exploration party before hurrying off in the direction of the dust rising up from the building sites. She was not daft and knew quite well that Spock had not been included in the exploration party and that they would not be arriving for quite a few hours yet. She sighed, thankful for a moment that the atmosphere on the new planet was not so thin as it had been on Vulcan.
All morning and into the afternoon she had been hard at work translating between Terran English, Vulcan, and what seemed like hundreds of other alien languages that had cropped up overnight. Everyone had heard of the exiled people's plight, and everyone wanted to help. A large group of Terrans had brought seed packets and flora of all kinds to grow on the new planet, while a smaller group of Andorians was busy passing around some of their infamous ale to the non-Vulcan workers, which wasn't helping at all. Throw sympathetic Romulans, Argelians, and Denebians into the mix and chaos is wreaked.
Never before, not even at Starfleet, had she been given the chance to work with so many alien languages in one setting before. She couldn't even begin to comprehend just how many she still had yet to learn. Even after a trying conversation with a rather drunk Andorian she felt proud of herself for being one of the few who could understand the man in the end.
She had hoped to seek out Spock and speak with him about an idea she'd had just that morning. It was one of the most important decisions she felt she could make for herself, and as she watched him walk briskly away she felt the pride and usefulness from only minutes earlier ebb away and drain her of energy along with it. The empty tent begins to feel like an oasis after being out in the heat for so long, and she closes her eyes as a slight breeze tickles her face.
"Would you care for some water? I can imagine you are not used to the temperature of the planet just yet."
Startled from her reverie, Uhura snaps her eyes open to take in the tall, thin older Vulcan. She takes the glass of water from him without a word, drawing her delicate eyebrows together in confusion. She feels nonsensical in admitting to herself that he seems terribly familiar though she cannot place where she has seen him before. In a way, he looks almost like Sarek, though she knows that it is not he.
"Forgive me for speaking out of turn," she says in the Vulcan tongue, "I do not believe we have met before. What is your name?"
The Vulcans lips twitch upward, and if she squints, Uhura can almost make out a smile. She sets the glass of water down, as the older Vulcan clasps his hands behind his back and surveys the landscape.
"I thought perhaps Spock would have told you about me, but I see that is not the case."
"No, I'm afraid Spock and I have not spoken much as of late," she responds politely, wondering how on Earth he could know of their relationship.
The Ambassador gazes upon the young woman before him lamenting many things at once: that his younger self gave up one such as her, and that he had never, in his own universe, taken the time to truly know Uhura himself. They never were close, though he remembers refuting her early attempts at flirtation. It saddens him now to think of the way he had shunned her, how he had shunned nearly every woman such as she in his life.
"I am Spock," he states simply, "albeit, a much older version. But, we are one in the same."
Her eyebrows shoot up at this confession, and she crosses her arms, eyeing him beadily. "Oh really? You're sure he didn't send you over here to mess with me so that he could sleep peacefully knowing I would not bother him again?"
Spock is surprised at how cold her words sound, and he catches himself almost frowning.
"I do not understand the nature of humans to goad and prank one another. The logic behind those particular actions escapes me. I assure you, I am telling the truth."
"Prove it."
Her eyes are challenging, and Spock is almost afraid that he has bitten off more than he can chew, to coin a phrase of his mothers. He had expected to have an enlightening conversation with this universe's Uhura, but now he finds himself accepting the challenge she offers. When he has finished giving the details of his connection with Nero and their travails into the past, she stares, dumbfounded, her hands sliding loosely into her lap.
"I-I had no idea," she says, her eyes wide and unblinking, "He, I mean you, didn't say anything about it to me. Although, I suppose we weren't on speaking terms at the time. I just- I just don't believe it."
Tentatively she reaches out a hand, and he lets her brush her fingertips against his cheek, as though that will reassure her of his obvious existence. She takes her hand away, and stares at her fingers for a moment, her mouth slightly open in utter amazement. She meets his gaze, and laughs at herself for acting in such a manner. Questions tumble out of her mouth, one after the other, before she can stop them.
"What am I like in your universe? Was I ever involved with you? Where am I now?"
The older Vulcan holds up a hand to stop the barrage as Uhura gasps for air. She can see that he is amused by the twinkle in his eye, a look she is not sure she has ever seen in her own Spock.
"No, you were never involved in any relationship with me in my universe, not as you are involved with me here. That is all I shall say on the matter. It seems I have polluted enough minds with visions of the future already."
Uhura's shoulders droop, and she looks down at her hands. Spock lifts her chin with one finger, a gesture she finds to be familiar. "You must understand that you are your own person. You still have your whole life and all the decisions that come along with it ahead of you. I would not wish to influence you in any way."
She nods, understanding, but also saddened by his words. He senses her unhappiness with his response, and does something he had not expected he would be able to do. He takes one of her hands gently in both of his, holding it there between the two of them. He looks her in the eye, and for the first time realises just how deep and brown they are. It is no wonder that his younger self had fallen in love with her in the first place.
"Do not lose heart yet. Go and speak with him. Do not let him remain the stubborn Vulcan I know him to be."
She smiles now, radiantly, and he lets her hand fall from his grasp back to her side.
"Thank you," she says, unbridled excitement seeping into her voice in a rush.
He bows his head in response, and when he looks up again she is hurrying away, her silken hair swaying to and fro in the dry wind.