~*~Logic offers serenity humans seldom experience: the control of feelings. Logic serves as guide past emotions and feelings that traverse towards the 'what ifs?' and 'what might have beens' after contrite actions. It is illogical to dwell on actions already committed and to wish for a different path, because wishing is a human thing to do… ~*~
I watch Grandfather storm towards his home, his pet galloping behind him; tail between the legs. Kirk and McCoy, wide-eyed and confused, follow his movements as Grandfather motion with his hand for the sliding door to open and shut behind him, as the with the rest of the windows and blinds are slammed shut.
"Spock," Kirk cries, "what the hell was that about?"
"How was he able to create lightning? From his own body?" McCoy wants to know.
I stand there, facing the two people I consider my best friends, myt'hai'lu, and I am at a loss. I straighten my spine and hold my hands behind my back, and my face is free from any expression; but my eyes, my human eyes, betray the emotions I am feeling. "It would be best if we converse at another location," I finally say. "I have come to the conclusion we are no longer welcome here."
I see Kirk's expression soften. He nods, "Sure, buddy. Let's get outta here, we can come back in a few hours."
Whatever food left on the table lay to waste in the late August heat as we make our way around the house towards the shuttle station. At my side, Nyota links her middle- and index-fingers to mine, but instead of the usual array of emotion felt through the bond-nothing. She is attempting to block her emotions from me. With a quick glance, I look over to her and our eyes meet but she looks away and I briefly feel something. A luke-warm feeling, leaving my cheeks flushed and a lump forms in my throat, I have come to sense as shame.
What does Nyota have to feel shameful for?
"Nyota," I whisper. "What transpired between you and Gabriel this morning?"
"Nothing happened."
"His anger seems to suggest other wise," I say. "Did he attempt to harm you in anyway?"
She shakes her head, "No, nothing like that. It is more of what he is capable of doing but won't."
"So something did happen, as opposed to the 'nothing' you proclaim," I say with a raised brow. "It is imperative that we understand what it is exactly Gabriel is capable of doing. He is still a man; he must be treated as such."
"You're right," she says. During this time, we have boarded a shuttle and I wait for the sign that Kirk and McCoy are ready to step off at a currently unknown destination. We are silent for the duration, until I notice Kirk motion to McCoy. We have reached the destination.
We were in Golden Gate Park. In the distance I see the silhouette of Starfleet Academy, and not far from it, the near finished construction of the memorial for those cadets and officers killed in the line of duty in Vulcan's orbit.
"So," Kirk begins, as we settle ourselves around a picnic table overlooking the bay. "Mind telling us what happened back there?"
"I am unsure where to begin," I tell him.
"Well, you can start by tellin' us who this Gabriel person is," McCoy says.
"Just remember, I'm not here as your captain or as your commanding officer," Kirk says, "I'm here as your friend. If there is something going on, you can tell us."
I look over to Nyota and she gives me an encouraging nod, and I turn to look at my friends. "Gabriel Gray is my biological, maternal grandfather," I say.
Kirk and McCoy are confused. "Uh, shouldn't grandparents be..I dunno….old?" McCoy asks.
"He is quite old, in fact," I respond. "He is 281 Standard years old."
"How is that possible?" Kirk wants to know. "Unless he's been in cryo for some time, let out to father a daughter, then put back in cryo, then re-released."
"He was born in 1977, with a genetic mutation that allows him to do many things with only his mind..." I tell my friends, almost verbatim what my grandfather told me, about where he truly came from: how he started as a simple watchmaker who knew how things worked and how to apply others' abilities to his genetic code. How his reign of terror cost him his family in the end; and his oath to my grandmother to watch over my mother and then me. It took longer than expected to take, even after adding the statistical likelihood the questions I knew Kirk was going to ask.
"…so in order to find out how their abilities worked," McCoy asks, "he just points to their head, and mentally slices open the skull?"
"That is how he described the process to me," I tell him.
"Huh," McCoy grunts. "What I wouldn't give to have that kind of surgical precision."
Kirk only shakes his head, "The short time I've spent around the guy, he just doesn't come off as the guy that would do that. Maybe I'm biased because he's your grandpa and all, but maybe it's because it's been such a long time, that he's mellowed out. It's just hard to judge him for something that happened over a century ago." Kirk shrugs, his eyes piercing into mine, "He's one of the few members of your family that's left, I don't want to be the one that takes that from you."
I give a slight nod, "Your concern is most welcome, Jim. I am, however, most concerned about his sudden change in behavior." My gaze, followed by Kirk and McCoy, turns to Nyota.
She blushes, "That's my fault. We were just talking, and I asked him if he had the ability to, would he change it to make things better. Then he tells me that can manipulate time and space. That is how we were at the table one second then the other side of the yard the next. I..uh..suggested that he could fix it…" Nyota just trails off.
I tilt my head, "The ambiguity of the idiom is most illogical. What is it that Gabriel could fix?"
Kirk and McCoy groan. "What she means is that Gabriel is capable of moving through time and she wanted him to go back and make it so that the whole situation with Nero and the Narada incident never happened," Kirk explains.
"Although," McCoy begins, "we-" he motions a finger to indicate the four of us-"all know that what happened wasn't suppose to be."
"But at what price?" I ask of my friend. "Yes, this path of time, from the moment the Kelvin was destroyed to this very second, was never meant to be. But the fact is that it has happened. What we are asking of my grandfather is to play god. Vulcans have always followed the belief that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few or the one, but even I am at a loss of this."
At this revelation, Kirk answers for me, "As you said, we'd be asking Gabriel to play god, and from what you told me, he learned the hard way that isn't the right way to live. Yeah, I'd give anything to grow up with my own father, but the knowledge that in the other life, he lived to see me become captain is enough solace for me. The Ambassador told me that."
"About him," Nyota interrupts, "why did you tell Gabriel that we were never together in that other timeline, but you never told me about it?"
I quirk my brow, "I never told you because the topic never arose, and had never told Gabriel because I did not consider it to be his business despite being my grandfather."
At this admission, McCoy rolls his eyes, "Yeah, sounds like he's not playing god."
"I must speak with him," I say, standing.
"What's the rush?" Kirk wants to know, following my steps to the shuttle station.
"My mother told me once when I was young that behavior is not all universal," I say. "Behavior within a race is not all same. To truly understand someone's behavior is by asking them why."
"We're coming with you," Nyota says.
"I apologize, but I do not require assistance or a chaperone," I say.
"Too bad," I hear Kirk say.
Illogically, the ride to Grandfather's neighborhood seems longer than usual; the distance from Gabriel's home to the park is the same as the distance from the park to his home. However, when we arrive at the shuttle station and make our way to Gabriel's, something is amiss.
"Is it just me," McCoy says, "or does this place seem off to you guys?"
"I agree that the upkeep is not the same as we last saw it, and it has only been a few hours," I say.
"This guy is really starting to creep me out," I hear Nyota say. We have reached the destination, but Gabriel's home is not as we had left it. The lawn is overrun with weeds and withering plant life, the windows are boarded up and the paint is faded and chipped.
"Is there something I can help you with?" a voice from behind us says. We all turn and see an older woman, gray streaking across dark hair.
"Yes," I say, "what happen to the person that lived here?"
The woman shrugs, "I really couldn't tell ya. It's been empty the last five years or so. One of them big banks owns it now, haven't been able to find a buyer. So it just sits there, as empty as a hollowed out pumpkin on Halloween."
I raise a brow and look at my friends, who look just as confused as I am, and then back to the woman, "No one?"
"Other than the occasional squatter, no one's owned the home in five, six years," the woman shakes her head. "You'd think we didn't hafta worry about things like whether or not someone could afford to keep their home, or put food on the table. I'm history teacher at a high school in the next county, and looking back, we haven't come that far in that regard. And with the cost of living, a teacher's pay isn't enough, not like those living out east." The woman shakes her head again, "If I could go back, and accept the teaching position with higher pay and the cost of living is lower over in Indiana, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Sorry I couldn't be of more help." Without another word the woman turns away and heads toward her own home.
"Ok, how is it that, just a few hours before, this place was the epitome of a family home?" McCoy wants to know. "I mean, we are at the same place, we didn't get off the shuttle too soon or too late?"
"This is where we were before," I say, before remembering something. "It was all an illusion."
Nyota nods, "Yeah, he said he could create illusions…but this is one big illusion. But is this the illusion, or is the perfect family home the illusion?"
"One way to find out," Kirk says, moving towards the home.
"Jim, I do not think that is wise," I say, not following the captain.
"Do you want to find the truth?
"Yes, of course-"
"No one lives here, apparently, so we're not breaking and entering."
"The property is owned by the bank, we would be trespassing."
Kirk rolls his eyes, "There's no sign saying no trespassing and by the state of the home they obviously don't care."
It is evident that any attempt to persuade Kirk from entering the home is futile. Following him to the front door, Kirk pries off the control panel housing the wiring. He searches for the mainframe that will allow him access. After several refusals at my attempt to point out the fact that, as no one lives there and there have been homeless people temporarily residing there, logically there would be no need to check for an activated security system, I simply grab the handle, and though rusted, successfully open the door, leaving a guffawed Kirk in my wake as I step into the empty home.
I gaze about the empty home. Behind me, I feel Nyota wrapping her arms around my midsection as she lays her head on my back between my shoulder blades. "What are you thinking?" she asks. "Tell me what is going through your mind."
"Why," I tell her. "Why go through the trouble of hiding himself." I am silent once more; however, my sensitive hearing picks up soft music playing in the distance. I am not the only one to hear the soft music, as McCoy walks into the foyer from an adjacent room with something in his hands.
"Hey, Spock," he says, handing me the object. "This was in the other room."
Upon closer inspection, it is a music box. There is a figurine of a fairy dancer, twirling in circles to the soft, sad tinkling tune I recognize as Cristofori's Dream. In the music box, there is a photo.
Looking over my shoulder, Kirk asks, "Is that…?"
"Yes." It is of Grandfather and my mother, who looks approximately seven years of age.
"There's something on the bottom," Nyota notices.
I turn over the box and see a 'Property of' sticker. A child's handwriting is scrawled across it, Princess Amanda Grayson. "My mother told me about this music box. She was telling me about an argument she had with her father, what it was about she couldn't remember it was that trivial. She had thrown it against the wall and told him she hated him. He just picked up the box and she just assumed that he had disposed of it. He had died the next day.
"According to the data logs for the USS Indianapolis, the plasma regulators had just been installed and that day was the last day for inspections. So I assume that would have been the only opportunity Gabriel would have at staging his death. He was trying to tell my mother good bye the day of the fight."
"Wow," McCoy says. "I really don't know what to say."
No more words are spoken and we make our way back to Starfleet. We part ways and Nyota and I make our way to my quarters. We have a silent meal of alfredo pasta and plomeek soup. I attempt my meditation before joining Nyota in bed. But after several restless hours, meditating deems futile. I glance over to the music box, still playing its sad song, and I realize what I had to do.
My packing awakens Nyota. "Spock? What is it?"
"I am going to see my grandmother, in Minnesota," I say.
"What? Why?" Nyota asks, fully awake.
"To get a better sense of my grandfather," I tell her. "Grandmother may not have known about his abilities, but she would have a better understanding of who Gabriel is.
"It is the only way I know how to grieve," I finally admit. I had not realized before now that I have not fully grieved my mother's death. As a Vulcan, our culture teaches us that death is a part of life, whether naturally or by force. It is illogical to 'grieve'. The person is still dead. Humans may find this cold, but it is fact. We pay our respect and we move on. As it is possible to retain a Vulcan's katra, after death they are not considered 'gone'.
But I am only half Vulcan, and my mother is only human.
"There is a transport flight to Saint Paul in a couple hours," I say, sealing my duffle close and taking Nyota's PADD. "I'll be there approximately at 700 hours. I have programmed my grandmother's contact information should anyone need to contact me." I sit on the bed and lean my forehead against hers. "All will be fine," I whisper, before placing a kiss on her lips.
A cab is outside, waiting to take me to the airport. As I am still hailed as a hero, I try to blend in by covering my Vulcan features with a knit ski cap Kirk had forgotten about, and civilian dress of faded jeans and sneakers and a gray UCLA sweat shirt. No one would recognize me as the Vulcan who saved Earth.
The flight itself is uneventful. The transport arrives in Saint Paul on schedule, and in the early hours of the morning, there are little people around, so spotting Grandmother proves unproblematic.
"Hello, Spock," Grandmother says, a tired smile crosses her face. I lean over her minute frame to allow her easier access in wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Like with my mother, I have come to accept their need in showing their affection for me.
"I apologize for the hour, Grandmother."
She only snorts and flips her hand, "Nonsense. I haven't seen you since Mandi's service, I'm just happy to have your company. Though I am curious, it isn't like you to do something spur of the moment. Mandi always told me you like to plan things out so far into the future….no matter. You're here, so what is on your mind, grandchild of mine?" With one hand carrying my duffel, Grandmother links her arms around my free one as we cross the terminal towards the exit.
"I would like to know more about Grandfather," I tell her. Her step falters for a moment, but it is only for an instant.
"I take it you don't mean Henry," she says, indicating her second husband who had divorced her ten years prior.
"Correct."
"You never had any questions about him before," Grandmother notes. "Why now?"
"Mother had always spoken of him," I say.
Grandmother nods, "Ah." As if that answers for everything.
The drive to her home is peaceful, classical music is playing softly in the car. I close my eyes, lack of sleep and meditation taking its toll on my body. Soon after I close my eyes Grandmother is calling my name.
"My apologizes, Grandmother. How long was I asleep?" I ask, taking my duffle from the back seat.
"Oh not too long, twenty minutes at least," she says. I follow her into her home. It is of a simple design: it lacked the technologies of this era I have come to realize. Like Gabriel's home had been, it lacked a home's main computing system, only limited to the security system. I see a dial that had to be manually turned to work the lights and in the kitchen there is no synthesizer I could see. Grandmother guides me to Mother's old bedroom. On one of the bookshelves, I see a picture of my mother. I go for a closer inspection.
Noticing my actions, Grandmother says, "Mandi's high school prom. You can't tell in this picture, but she was in tears because she had gotten stood up at her own prom."
I tilt my head, "I am unfamiliar with the term 'stood up'. And Mother had mentioned 'prom' but never went into detail about what it was."
"Being stood up is when the person fails to arrive at a predetermined time and place without any concern for the other person. And the prom is a social gathering held by the school, almost as a rite of passage, and the girl gets all prettied up for her prince charming to arrive and sweep her off her feet," Grandmother says with a sigh.
"But Mother's prince never arrived," I concluded. Grandmother nods, "Gabriel-your grandfather-was so furious. A furious Gabriel is a force to reckon with, though he tended to take whatever abuse Mandi and I threw at him with a smirk on his face. He convinced Mandi to go to the prom with him as her date. Turned out, Mandi's date took another girl to the dance."
I pick up my mother's picture, "I cannot imagine someone preferring another's company over Mother's."
"Yeah," Grandmother agrees. "When she married your father, she couldn't bare to have the traditional Terran wedding, because Gabriel wasn't there to give her away."
"If I understand correctly, that means the father is giving his blessing by relinquishing his parental rights and passing her over to her intended."
Grandmother nods, "Yes, though I reckon your father found it 'illogical' to have such a fuss over a Terran wedding. She would have made a beautiful bride."
"Mother had told me she had an argument before his death," I say. "Do you recall what it was over?"
Grandmother's eyes grew dark, "I didn't realize she told you about that. Gabriel had become depressed by that time. Something was wrong with him but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, and his moods were interfering with Mandi's social life. One day she finally had enough. His incessant need for space compounded with equal need to spend time with her became more than what she could handle.
"She smashed the music box he had given her for her seventh birthday. He died the next day, and she mourned that he had died believing she hated him."
"He did not die believing such things," I say, causing Grandmother to look at me with a curious stare. "Parents always know the love their child has for them," I feel a warm liquid slide down my cheek. I wipe it off and look at the liquid on my fingers-tears. My eyes start to itch and my throat begins to tighten.
"Oh, my dear child," I hear my Grandmother say. She guides me to the foot of my mother's bed and we both sit down. I wrap my arms around my grandmother as she cradles my head at the crook of her neck and I begin my process of grieving my mother's death.
I cry.
After momentarily dispelling my grief, I light up some candles Grandmother had provided for me so I could meditate. I take several deep breaths before I found myself in another place…
I find myself on a beach. It is night and the moon is full, giving enough luminosity for me to see that I am not alone.
"Grandfather," I say. "How did I get here?"
"You forget," he says, "I can enter dreams. I can also induce sleep in others if I have to."
"It is fortunate that you caught me in my meditative state, and not during my daily activities."
Gabriel rolls his eyes, "As if you could call flying to Minnesota as part of your daily activities. I can sense your movements to determine if you're moving about or just lounging around or 'in a meditative state'. So you mind my asking what you're doing here."
"I had come here to know where my mother came from," I tell him without looking at him. I stare into the fictional water as its mist is sprayed across my face. "I had come to realize that there is more to her family than I had previously known. And I need to know how it all fits together."
Gabriel humorlessly laughs, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that sounded human."
"My mother's human," I point out. "Therefore that makes me part human." I look at the beech around us. "Where are we?"
"A beach in Costa Verde, California," Gabriel says.
"Why did you leave? We came back, but the neighborhood we came back to was not the same as we had left it."
"Neat trick, huh?" Gabriel shrugs. "I wasn't sure it was a great idea for me to stick around. So I left. Then I tracked you to this place, so I decided to make my presence known, so to speak."
"So you are no longer in San Francisco?"
"Nope," he says. "I went back to New York." Gabriel looks as if he is about to say more, but his whole demeanor changes suddenly. "Something is wrong, don't you feel it?"
I try to respond but I am struck with vertigo.
My eyes open and I collapse forward, coughing blood. I try to stand but I am struck weak. I fall forward, crashing into the bookshelf near the door. The noise I made causes Grandmother to run to the room.
"Spock!" She cries. I am unable to answer as I am still coughing up blood. She rushes to my side, trying to support my taller frame as she guides me to the bed. Then she hurries out of the room and I can hear her speaking into a comm. unit, urgently commanding that a medical unit come to her home.
I try to put myself into a healing trance, but my body is burning with pain that I cannot do so, and I am all too aware of the medical unit rushing me to the hospital. They silently curse the fact that they were unaware of my Vulcan heritage upon arriving at Grandmother's home. Hours go by as doctors hurry to find the cause of my illness and as they try to contact the Vulcan embassy for any Healers that might be within reach. Soon, Grandmother informs me that Nyota, Kirk, and McCoy are on their way and will arrive within the early hours of the following morning.
I am being kept in isolation within the ICU. It is dark and I am alone. The pain is disrupting my control and fear is rising inside my mind. I sense movement on my right.
"Who's there?" I call out, hoarse.
"It's me, Spock," Gabriel replies. "It's me, I'm here now." He takes my hand, and through the contact, the temporary bond, I feel a type of strength that of which I had never felt before, surge my mind; calming my thoughts despite the pain.
"It'll be ok, Spock, I'm here now," he repeats.
"I'm here now."
AN: God I know I'm evil.