Authoress' Note: I'm gonna warn you right away that some people are not going to like this chapter in the slightest. Some of you might even quit reading after this point, while others of you might scoff and rant and rave but still find it in your hearts to continue on. There are really only a few more chapters to go anyway. So, now that I've all set you up for hating me, please continue, and enjoy your read. :) Don't forget to review when you're done!
Sands of Time
Spock feels the burning of eyes upon the back of his head and neck as he leans in close to the glass windows of the shuttlecraft making its descent from space dock. He ignores the gawking and staring mix of Humans, Vulcans, and other space faring creatures in pursuit of looking out the window to better take in the new sights that his new home world affords him. It has been just past 2 years since he last visited this place with the Enterprise and her new captain in tow. He immediately notes how different the surface of the planet is.
Where there were once hundreds of thousands of tents stretching out over red desert sands, there are now tall stalactite and stalagmite like buildings cloistered together at the centre of a teeming city from which spreads smaller flat-roofed houses and residential buildings. He notices the Vulcan High Council's building as well as the Terran Embassy and the Halls of Ancient Thought and Memory. He looks past all of this, however, in search of one particular building. As the shuttlecraft descends further it finally comes into view sending shivers up and down Spock's spine.
Farther away from the city rest several ancestral homes, rebuilt to pay homage to their counterparts on Vulcan. Spock immediately recognises ShiKahr above the rest, barely visible from its place upon the outcropping of a rocky hill. He is even sure, if he squints, that he can see the mountains in the distance where he is sure that at their foot there may be found his family's ancient ceremonial grounds set aside for the purposes of betrothal and marriage.
The shuttlecraft lands with a slight thump against the landing pad, and Spock unbuckles his harness hastily, ready to exit the craft without a moments delay. As soon as the doors are opened to the front, he swiftly slips away and out of sight as others around him gather their belongings. He hails a hover cab waiting outside the terminal after showing his papers to several stern-looking Vulcan officials in the customs house. With one glance at the name on his passport they shepherd him along as though he were the saviour of the Vulcan people, no less than royalty.
Unused to such treatment and utterly unnerved by it, Spock slides into the backseat of the hover cab and does not meet his driver's eyes. The driver slams the front door shut behind him and turns in his seat to look at Spock. He is as Human as that particular race comes and seems unaware of who Spock is, much to his private relief.
"To ShiKahr please," he commands and settles back into the seat in order to have a better view of the city as they pass through. The cab revs and floats up into the air several feet before speeding off along the road. Buildings and Vulcans dressed in tunics and gowns with floating headscarves whiz by until they leave the towering city behind and pass the residential district. There are hundreds upon hundreds of clay and rock crafted houses, some sporting terraces and gardens teeming with life. He notices that one house they pass has a rose garden, and he immediately thinks of his mother, wondering if his father bothered at all to replace her garden at ShiKahr.
Soon they leave even these buildings behind and travel out into the open desert toward the outcropping of rock Spock first spotted while on board the shuttlecraft. Spock cranes his neck slightly to see, and suddenly his father's ancestral home materialises into view holding, Spock thinks, the same glory and splendour it once had those few years ago. Hastily, Spock pays the driver in Federation credits and begins his climb up the many steps to the imposing double door. He knocks as loudly as he can wondering if anyone is even at home considering he had not contacted his father to say he would be arriving.
The door clicks open seconds later, however, and a young woman who Spock does not recognize stands before him. She is not wearing the colours or tunic of his father's house, and so Spock assumes that she must work as a housekeeper of sorts, something that had not been needed when his mother was around. Silently, with her eyes cast down out of respect, the young woman leads him down the corridor to a set of double doors. She knocks, opens one side quietly, and says, "Someone is here to see you, Xcha'ala'at"
Spock barely hears the murmur of a reply before he is ushered into the room by the invitation of the open door. Upon entering he bows his head toward his father who stands up, his face impassive, yet his eyes alight with wonder and surprise. He moves toward Spock mechanically, unblinking, his eyes fixed upon his son's.
Words seem to tumble from his mouth of their own accord. "My son," he says quietly, as though not quite sure if it really is his Spock standing so tall and serene before him.
"Yes, I am here, Father."
"I was not expecting you. Why did you not contact me before your arrival?"
"I did not wish to cause a disturbance," Spock says, meaning that he did not want any fanfare that would include meeting with the High Council or family elders.
Sarek seems to understand the meaning behind his simple answer and accepts it for what it is. He gestures for Spock to sit down and sits opposite of him as the young woman from earlier brings in a tray of spiced tea. She pours as they sit in silence and backs out of the room without a word, taking the tray with her again.
Spock watches his father as he sips at his tea looking much older, grayer, and thinner than he remembers him ever looking before his mother died. His eyes, devoid of excitement and life once more, stare at nothing in particular. He shakes his head slightly, startling himself from his reverie, and fixes his son with his gaze.
"Forgive me, Spock," he begins, his voice business-like and serious, " Would you explain to me why you are here? I thought you would have returned to Starfleet by now."
"My mission with Admiral Pike on Talos IV is indeed over, but I thought it would be more productive for me to come back here before embarking on another deep space mission that may take me far from home."
"You know you will need to meet with the High Council or T'Pau at the very least. They are keen to know any information on when you may return permanently to take up your marriage duties. As you may know, the repopulation programme will be put into effect soon enough. Already data has been compiled on those Vulcans most suitable to be bonded to one another."
Spock ponders this new information for a minute before responding carefully. "Do you know if a bondmate has been chosen for me yet?"
Sarek nods. " I have not seen her myself, but I know that if you go to the Council they will perform the bonding ceremony as soon as you may like. They are keen to have everyone properly bonded before biology has its own way with the system."
"I understand you, Father, though I must remind you that no Vulcan knows when biology will set in. I will undertake the bonding if she is so willing herself, but only under the circumstance of her knowing my duty to Starfleet and its priority right now."
"She has already been made aware of this fact I believe. It has been a topic of much debate. We may only hope that if biology should be the reasoning behind your return it occur after you have fulfilled the majority of your mission with Starfleet."
Spock nods, his mind captured by this unknown Vulcan woman who will someday be his wife. Has he seen her before? What is her name? Question after question race through his mind, and suddenly he finds himself thinking of Uhura.
"Father, is Nyota still on Vulcan?"
Sarek shakes his head, "No, my son. She left the planet only days ago to return to Earth. Perhaps she has a mind to join the crew of the Enterprise once more."
"Yes, perhaps."
Spock can only allow the half-Human part of himself to hope.
---
Spock's first impression of his wife-to-be is that she does not look how he expected. He concludes that such an illogical impression was made only due to the fact that she is the complete opposite of T'Pring, one of the few Vulcan women he has had contact with over the course of his short adult life.
The day seems to be one of surprises for Spock and serves to remind him of how far he has drifted from his people during his time at Starfleet. Having been away for some time has changed him more than he thought possible. Growing up in the household of Lady Amanda and spending time with Uhura has conditioned him to be used to Terran words and names. When his betrothed is introduced to him as T'Loriah he has to remind himself that all Vulcan women wishing to honour the T'Plana-Hath, the matron of Vulcan philosophy, name their daughters with a T followed by an apostrophe. The name seems foreign to him, and he wonders if it will ever roll of his tongue so easily as Nyota's once did.
There is some irony to T'Loriah's name, Spock notes, for though it means light, she herself does not exude such fairness. Of course, her skin is as pale and green-tinged as every other Vulcan, but it is her dark hair, swept back over her shoulders and held in place by a scarf wrapped and tied under her hair at the nape of her neck, and her shining dark eyes that seem to suck light into themselves that is ironic.
She is modest in every sense of the word as she stands with her parents before Spock and Sarek with her eyes downcast and her hands folded neatly in front of the exquisite floor length gown she wears. For the first time in a long while Spock has shed his Starfleet uniform and dressed himself in a long sleeved tunic and trousers bearing a complicated pattern of his father's ancestral crest within the weave of the fabric.
As usual, owing to the Vulcan sense of time and punctuality, there is time still to be had before the ceremony's scheduled beginning. Meaning to pass the time in conversation, Spock turns to Sarek to ask him a question and finds that he has moved in the direction of T'Loriah's parents to strike up a conversation, leaving Spock to stand alone, with his arms clasped behind his back, staring at the young Vulcan woman staring straight back at him unashamedly.
He takes a few steps toward her, afraid of how much she knows about him since he hardly knows anything about her. She bows her head as he nears and then lifts her eyes to meet his when he stops in front of her.
"It is good to meet you, Spock," she says, and he is secretly relieved to hear none of the arrogance and vanity in her voice that T'Pring once possessed. Realising he has been silent for too long, because T'Loriah is gazing at him intently, he clears his throat to speak.
"Yes, well met, T'Loriah. I trust you are well?"
She raises one eyebrow at him, an action that reminds him painfully of Uhura and fixes him with an even gaze. If he knew her better he would swear that a smile was tugging at the corners of her lips.
"If I did not know you to be half-Human, Spock, I believe I would think you a very odd Vulcan for asking such a question," she says, smiling at him with those dark eyes of hers. He is intrigued.
Never before has he met a Vulcan so unlike the stifling men and women of the old Vulcan High Command or the new Council. To use one of the good Dr. McCoy's favourite phrases, Spock believes he could refer to her as a "breath of fresh air". He studies her closely. She seems completely content with their silence and makes no move to break it. He wonders if she is evaluating him as well.
Seeing the curious look in Spock's eyes T'Loriah takes up the volumes of her dress and sits down, motioning for Spock to sit next to her, although not so close as to be disgraceful. He does so, unclasping his hands, and setting them stiffly on his knees. He has never felt so doubtful and unsure of himself as he does sitting next to her. Their future together stretches out before him as a blank slate clouded in uncertainty. She seems to sense this as well.
"What is it like being the only Vulcan in Starfleet?" she asks.
"Lonely," he admits quietly, and then wishes he could take it back.
She barely acknowledges his confession, but seems to urge him to continue with the way she looks at him.
"Do not misunderstand me," he corrects himself hastily, "Starfleet is a career, and I know my colleagues well. I am comfortable around them. However, it is jarring to come back and realise how little I know of my own culture anymore. If it were not for this repopulation programme . . ."
He cuts himself off abruptly before straying into territory he shouldn't be straying toward. T'Loriah doesn't blink however and seems to know immediately what he meant to stay."
"You wouldn't be here," she finishes for him, a bitterness curdling the edge of her voice. "I thought you, of all our people, would know the meaning of sacrifice. We all have to do it, or is that something they don't teach you at Starfleet?"
Spock puts up his hand to stop her, and she closes her mouth firmly, setting it in a straight line.
"I did not mean to offend you in any way. That is no way to build a relationship."
"And what do you know of building relationships?" she hisses, her voice hard and unforgiving.
Uhura materialises in his mind's eye. He can still see her in that black dress and precarious heels, her ponytail swinging with the movement of her lithe body. It sends shivers up his spine at the thought. He must force himself to return to the present.
"There was a Terran woman, Uhura. She and I were on the Enterprise together, and I taught her at one time. . ."
T'Loriah's face softens slightly at the change in his voice and demeanour. Suddenly, the High Priestess arrives, right on the hour. The two families file into the chamber where the priestess has begun to light incense in nooks set into the walls. The two young Vulcans kneel at the altar, placing their hands in each other's. Her hand is small and smooth in his, and Spock is only vaguely aware of his father's gaze on his back.
"Do you love her?"
The words escape T'Loriah's lips like a sigh, carried to him on a sudden draft of wind that washes over the two of them. He glances at her and finds her staring at him intently, the brightness of flighty, winged hope within her eyes.
"Yes," he whispers back, his mouth barely moving. He looks back at her and is surprised to see that the gleam radiating from within her has not been snuffed out. She squeezes his hand gently and speaks quickly as the High Priestess moves to take her place before their assembly.
"I only wish that in time you will love me half as much as you love her."
Spock is silent, his head bowed. So the ceremony begins, a distant echo from a distant life on a destroyed planet from long ago. Each binding vow resounds across the sands of time as though the two of them, man and woman, are being pulled back to the time of Surak.
"Parted and never parted. Never and always touching and touched."
"Parted and never parted. Never and always touching and touched."
"Parted and never parted. Never and always touching and touched."
Authoress' Note: Well, I suppose I sort of left it open to interpretation. *shrug* Go on then, hate me. I don't mind it as long as you review. :P