A/N: Many apologies for my lack of updates, but, with very short notice, my stage combat team was asked to prepare for a performance this summer. We rehearsed hard-core the past two months, performed for a month and a half, and I did not have time to sit down and write. Also, I started substitute teaching, and as I need to earn money BIG TIME, I am putting all my effort into keeping my head above water. So, have patience with my progress, readers. Love you much for that.
Many thanks to twin03 for correcting me on the details of violins. The necessary changes have been made in the previous chapter to be more accurate. I will more than likely be asking for her assistance in the future. Thank you, sweetheart!
Short chapter here, and I apologize. I just wanted to get something posted.
Continuous thanks to Hannah, my co-conspirator and center of inspiration.
Lauren graced them with two additional instrumentals before she and Spock would prepare to depart. While she played her final piece, the elder Vulcan whispered something to his younger self. With a knowing look, Spock rose and made his way towards the kitchen area. Lauren did not notice, since her eyes were gently closed, her mind saturated with the sounds she created. For Spock Prime, it was intriguing to see her passion again. He could actually detect how much of her heart was poured into her stringed companion. It was an activity she continued to practice as she had aged in his time, though he wished he had been an audience for her more often.
When she pulled the bow across the strings on the last, smooth note, she opened her eyes and lowered the violin.
Spock Prime stood, hands joined in front of him. "Well done, Lauren," he proclaimed. "Many a year has passed since I last heard such splendid music."
She smiled, and mentally noted Spock's absence. "I asked Spock earlier about why he liked the violin. Think you'd give the same answer?"
He considered the question for a moment. "To respond truthfully, the violin creates notes that I deem very appealing and soothing to Vulcan ears."
Yes, the same answer, she grinned. Then she sighed. "I really don't want to leave now. There's a lot I want to ask you."
He momentarily cast his eyes down. "I understand your fathomless curiosity. However, your extended absence from home would raise further questions."
"I know," she said. "What should I tell Uncle Sarek when I do come back for visits?"
Spock Prime raised an eyebrow. "The truth, of course: you are seeking to become better acquainted with your host, which will allow both of you to feel more comfortable in each others' presence." With a faint smile, he continued, "In addition to this, as an ambassador, it is my duty to be receptive to methods of diplomacy amongst new races. Seeing how you have always had a natural talent for interacting with different peoples, I would find your input extremely valuable." She blushed modestly. "You will also assist the elder with scientific assignments, tasks that may only be performed by someone with a background in chemistry. Any experience in this field, no matter how minimal, will be beneficial. Seeing how your parents saw to this often, you would be an ideal candidate for such a position." Then he smiled with his old eyes. "And an occasional violin solo would be greatly appreciated by Prime."
She gave a short laugh. "Then what Prime wants is what Prime will get. That'll work. You've thought of everything."
"One trait of being Vulcan is having the ability to rapidly analyze a situation, and find an ideal and logical solution."
"You are logical…Spock," she breathed, feeling more and more at ease referring to him by that name. "Quite logical."
He smiled again. They verbally made arrangements to meet the first of every Earth month. Spock Prime asked a few questions about her violin, and she fired off answers without hesitation. Vulcans had a general knowledge of the structure of violins, but few of them were familiar with how to manipulate the instrument. Had it been a lute, it would have been different. Humans possessed more knowledge about this particular item, and he was pleased to have another inform him about it. He truly did have an affinity for its music. While they spoke, she gathered her items into her violin case, and Spock returned from the kitchen with hands clasped behind his back. The two Vulcans exchanged a knowing glance.
"Before you do go," Spock Prime said, catching Lauren's attention, "I asked…myself here," he could not deny the humor in the phrase, "to conjure something up in the replicator for you."
"Oh yeah?" She stood, looking to her younger cousin. "What?"
"Spock, if you would." At the prompt, Spock brought his hand forward and held out an item to Lauren: in his palm was a chocolate chip cookie. The sight of it immediately caused her to double over in laughter, the sound joyous to Spock Prime's pointed ears.
When she recovered from her giggle fit, she managed to inquire, "How in the world did you know I was thinking about this earlier?"
His aged, stoic face had an underlying light to it. "Some things, thankfully, never change."
Shaking her head, she smiled. "That I'm glad to hear."
"A food such as this," he went on, "is difficult to find in Vulcan society, as we adhere to a vegetarian lifestyle. While you are adapting to this, I find it only fair to treat you for your progress. As your parents would have done."
She gazed at him, nearly glowing in delight. Leaping forward, she wrapped her arms around Spock Prime for the first time. He readily welcomed her, enclosing her in a sweet embrace and feeling incredible warmth overtake his heart. Finally, he was able to feel her love through her actions again. A few minutes ago, she had still been unsure about hugging this person, only because she was still accepting how real this was. But with his statement, any reservation fled her veins, and she breathed in the scent of him. He smelled a great deal like the earth, like the surroundings of his mountainous dwelling. Comforting. Lauren inhaled sharply, but quietly. God, it was like hugging Spock. Pulling back slightly, she cupped his face in her hands. She smiled shakily. Initially, she thought the flesh would feel as dry as parchment, but she was wrong: beneath her palms, his matured skin was wrinkled but soft, very soft to the touch. Someday, she thought, Spock's face will feel just like this. They remained that way, looking into one another's eyes trustingly.
"I know you wish to stay," Spock interrupted from behind, "but we ought to return home before darkness settles across the region."
She knew he was right. Reluctantly separating from Spock Prime, she lifted her case in one hand, and accepted the cookie from Spock. She raised it to take a bite, but paused, looking at her cousins. "You guys want some?"
Both versions of Spock held out their hands to decline her offer. "Thank you, but no," said Spock. "Chocolate has an undesirable affect on the Vulcan digestive tract."
It was not an explanation she had expected, since she had never asked about Vulcans eating chocolate. Come to think of it, she realized she had not ever seen Spock eat it. "You'll have to fill me in later."
"That can certainly be arranged on the journey home."
Nodding, she happily ate her treat, smiling at its sweet flavor.
Escorting his guests to the entrance, Spock Prime felt his heart sink, despite the elation of being with Lauren. Finding her at last only to…No, he was not going to lose her. Not this time. This would only be a temporary separation.
His younger form turned to the child, whose eyes shimmered, though he knew she would not shed tears. He brushed the back of her cheek with one hand. "I will wait for you," and he turned to step outside the door.
Again, they stood facing one another, not saying anything, but words were not a necessity. The usual quiet of the girl descended on her once more. Lauren felt the familiar urge to smother him in a hug and, much as she had done when Sarek had come to retrieve her from Earth, kept herself carefully restrained. Hold onto yourself, she thought, just for a little longer. You don't have to bombard him with affection in one day. Feeling her breathing calm, she allowed herself to step forward and wrap her arms around Spock Prime a second time. He held her quietly.
Gently, she snuggled against his shoulder. "You have me," she whispered. "Don't forget that."
He stroked her hair. "Impossible." It was all he needed to say, and pressed her head to his chest. She could hear the steadiness of his heartbeat against her ear. Steady and strong. As Aunt Amanda always said he was: strong.
Following the embrace, he offered the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Cousin Lauren."
In turn, she spread her small fingers. "I'll see you soon. I promise."
"Until the first of the next Earth month, then," he bowed his head to her.
With a final smile, Lauren rejoined Spock outside, taking his hand. The younger pair descended from his home, while Spock Prime stood and watched as they became smaller and smaller in the distance. Every so often, Lauren would turn back, to see if he was still there. He did not remove his eyes from her. It pained him to see his beloved cousin leave, but his joy was renewed when he remembered she would return for future visits. How grateful he was for that promise, and how grateful he was to simply see her again.
When they had disappeared from sight, he turned went inside, traversing his long hallways in silence. In his time, Lauren Grayson-Reed had died at age ninety-four, her grown children by her side. When he received the news from Corey, it shattered his heart. He had waited too long after her marriage to be reunited with the one he called his best friend in youth…It was not information he desired to share with Lauren, nor with his past-self, and intentionally avoided the subject. He deemed it unnecessary to discuss. What purpose could it possibly serve, after all? No logical purpose. In a sense, this felt as though she had been brought back from the dead, something that pleasingly overwhelmed so much of his heart and mind. He would not repeat the past mistake of becoming too absorbed in his work to neglect seeing her. His psyche could not handle it.
Returning to the comfort of his chair in the parlor, he said, "Computer, relocate and play 'Sophia,' by The Cruxshadows." The computer chimed in acknowledgment, and the initially sinister sounds of the song filtered into the chamber, transitioning into the familiar melodies of conquest he had heard earlier. Closing his eyes, he imagined Lauren standing before him as she merrily played her violin.
"'…Then thou whose shadow shadows doth make bright
How would thy shadow's form, form happy show,
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would (I say) mine eyes be blessed made,
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade,
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.'"
Spock finished reciting the sonnet, remembering the familiar prose he had read years ago. Shakespeare certainly had a talent for poetry in his century, and he found enjoyment in reading it, the rhyming scheme flowing and smooth as he read. This particular sonnet seemed, coincidentally, incredibly fitting with the events of the past week. In his hands, the book still felt quite old, the binding coming loose from the pages he turned. The condition of it caused him to cradle the book carefully in his hands.
Glancing down, he saw Lauren was fast asleep in his lap, her body stretched out across the davenport they occupied. His recitation of her favorite poems had lulled her to sleep, much like the days when he had visited her home on Earth. After the events of today, she had earned this rest. This was good, though, since night had arrived; she would sleep heavily through it. He cocked his head as he looked on, noting the steady rise and fall of her lower torso as she breathed. He was unashamed of being in this position with her again. Seeing her there, even more quiet than she normally was, Spock realized he had an increased desire to stop time, if only to preserve this moment, to freeze her face in its sleeping contentment. Closing the book, he ran a hand over her peaceful cheek. There was no stirring or indication of disruption in her countenance, so he continued the physical contact.
"You are strong, Lauren," he whispered. Usually, whispering was not considered a logical action in Vulcan culture, but logic was the farthest thing from his mind right now. How did she always accomplish deterring thoughts of reason from him? Even he would not take the time to seek an answer to the question. "You will find your place here."
"That she will, Spock," a steady yet hushed voice announced. Spock looked up as Sarek entered the commons room. When he came close to the davenport, he halted. "She sleeps?"
Spock nodded. "The events of the day have left her fatigued," he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
Sarek had been informed of the success of establishing a haven several miles from home, and the news had been more than welcome. Due to the distance, he had promised to instruct Lauren on the operation of his shuttle. Not only would this allow her to transport herself independently on Vulcan, but it would begin to familiarize her with technology from the Vulcan Science Academy. She had smiled at his offer.
Tilting his head, his attention joined Spock's as he looked upon his slumbering niece. Sometime later, he broke the silence again by saying, "This is a visual reminiscent of visits to Lauren's former home."
"Old habits die hard, Father, especially for her and me." His statement was warm with subtle adoration, hand still tickling her skin. Then he looked up at Sarek, who locked eyes with him in a lingering gaze. The mere action was one that communicated a desire to speak privately. Spock raised an eyebrow in response.
Again, Sarek spoke aloud. "She should be put in her room."
"Yes, of course," Spock agreed, "she would appreciate her own bed," and prepared to shift his position on the davenport.
But Sarek's raised hand stopped him. "Allow me," he said quietly, coming close and bending beside Lauren. "I have never had a chance to do this."
Understanding the request, Spock almost smiled. With great care and ease, the Vulcan scooped the child into his arms, who did not wake during the transition. She was greatly fatigued. For a moment, he held her there, watching, and then proceeded to exit the commons room.
He carried Lauren to her room, not bothering to activate the lights when they entered; his vision often adjusted quickly in darkened areas. Though he tried not to wake her, when her head touched the pillow, her eyes opened. Through the dimness, she eventually made out her uncle's face, the face of someone she loved and trusted. Giving a sleepy smile, she lay back onto the pillow with a sigh. Asleep once again. Sarek pulled a thin blanket over her stomach, knowing she would become overheated if he covered her any further. He waited for a time, arms clasped before him, and when he was satisfied she would not wake, he turned and walked from the room.
Outside her door, Sarek found Spock, who was waiting patiently for his father. The two made eye contact, then positioned themselves side-by-side as they walked down the hall, away from Lauren's room.
"A strange thing…" Sarek offered.
When he did not continue, Spock believed he might have spoken aloud by accident. Highly unusual. "To what do you refer, Father?"
Even though his eyes remained forward, there was a hint of sorrowful reflection. "How much watching Lauren sleep reminds me…of watching your mother sleep."
They paused at the same time. Neither looked at the other, but appreciated the pregnant silence filling their ears. Spock felt pleasant warmth spreading from his chest, grateful for the simple words of his Father. Eventually, they moved onward through the hall. "Father, you looked as though you wanted to speak with me. Am I correct in my assumption?"
He straightened himself slightly. "Yes. I have news, Spock," Sarek started, and his son listened. "I have received word from the High Council."
The mention of this held his attention captive, but also made his stomach lurch at the same time. To go before the Vulcan High Council was of great importance for Vulcan and human alike, and this would potentially decide Lauren's fate on the planet. Her fate in their hands. That was what made his stomach uneasy. "Is this so?"
He nodded. "They have agreed to meet with us in eight days time to discuss Lauren's citizenship."
Discuss. Curious choice of words, Spock thought. He wondered if "debate" might be a more appropriate option. "Are you confident they will rule in her favor?"
There were several moments that passed before Sarek gave an answer. In this time, the pair returned to the commons room, and turned to face one another. "She will belong here," he stated very matter-of-factly. As he said it, his posture seemed to straighten even more, almost defiantly. "In one way or another."
It was all he needed to say, and in his heart, Spock promised those words would come true. For Lauren. For them. For their family.