Spock…Spock…
The darkness of Spock's mind was unsettling; closed, confined, smothering in its absolute emptiness, an endless wasteland of shattered ground and swirling dust. It was obvious to Sarek that this destruction had been growing within his son for some time, encroaching upon the bright caverns of intellect and purpose that had once filled the younger Vulcan.
The desecration was painful, agonizing in its completeness. The merest threads of life twisted through the haze, minute echoes of the bonds tying Spock to life — his love for Nyota, his attachment to his father, his loyalty to the Enterprise and Captain Kirk. They drifted through the air, appearing and disappearing, wavering in and out of sight like light catching on wisps of smoke.
There was order to the flickering tendrils, though; they all came from the same source, spreading out from a central point, guiding Sarek to their nexus, the manifestation of what remained of his son.
Spock, he called, his eyes alighting on a darker patch amid the swirling dust. The mass gained shape as Sarek drew near, coalescing into the form of Spock, sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them like a frightened child.
On the cracked earth before him lay his own eviscerated heart.
The scene was symbolic, a representation, and thus, not particularly gory. There was no blood, only a lump of flesh and a dark hole in Spock's flank where the organ ought to reside. Spock was trembling, staring at the heart, watching in near panic as it continued to beat sluggishly, unnaturally rhythmic, as though pumped manually, driven by an unfeeling hand instead of the reactive systems of a body.
It was visceral, wrenching, and Sarek found himself deeply moved by his son's pain.
Spock, he murmured, sinking to his knees by the other, dust billowing up around him. My son…why have you done this?
For the crime of which I am guilty, there can be no forgiveness.
Your companions disagree. They struggle fiercely to save you.
I know. Spock gestured absently at the beating heart lying at his feet. It lives on, though I have no part of it.
Regret is an emotion, Spock, and as such contrary to your upbringing as a Vulcan. You are emotionally compromised and reacting in an illogical manner. To heal your mind you must first heal your body. It is imperative that you enter a healing trance immediately. Your companions agree that it is not right that you should die.
Regret may be illogical, Father; however, forgiveness is essential, and there can be none for me.
The fire of pon farr cannot be underestimated nor can it be controlled. No Vulcan is culpable for what he does in the throes of its passion, and no Man can be held to account for actions beyond his control.
I have killed my captain. Whether by intent or not, the deed was done by my hand, and there must be consequences.
Captain Kirk yet lives.
There was a flare of hope on Spock's face, a slight settling of the swirling dust clouds, a leveling of the cracked earth.
Indeed?
While your Dr. McCoy surgically repaired the physical wounds, the captain's mind remains damaged beyond his abilities. Captain Kirk remains in a deep coma.
The landscape splintered worse than before, the hope crumpling into anguish.
For such an act, death is an insufficient punishment.
Spock, your crewmates have suffered a great loss and yet offer you their forgiveness. In their eyes you are absolved of any guilt. They, and I, wish for you to continue to live. Does that mean nothing to you?
They are driven by obligation, by duty, as are you. It is their responsibility to attempt to save my life, as it is yours to protect your offspring.
You undervalue yourself. Our actions are not the product of obligation, but of a desire for you to be whole and well and part of our lives.
I have no value. I am a violent creature, one filled with murder who leaves failure in his wake.
I fail to comprehend that statement.
Mother died. Vulcan died. I assaulted Khan. I killed — I as good as killed — my captain. I am a pitiful excuse for a Vulcan, the worst example of a human. I am no credit to either race from which I came.
How long has this guilt plagued you, my son? Have such illogical thoughts been in your mind since your mother perished?
I attempted to give my life then, to crash the jellyfish into the Narada. Jim saved me.
And what does that tell you?
That my companions do not see my value clearly.
Perhaps it is you who has a clouded vision. You are yet able to heal yourself, Spock. Regrets are illogical, mistakes the past. Were your mother here with us, she would no doubt point out that she is proud of everything you have accomplished, and insist that you survive and continue those efforts.
How can I live when my captain, my friend, lies forever in death that is not death?
Would he not desire your continued existence?
He desires nothing. He has no mind with which to desire it.
That was not what I asked you.
It is, however, the truth.
The ground between them began to crack open, a rift forming before Sarek that turned the inches separating him from Spock into feet, and then yards. A chasm yawned before him, growing rapidly wider, until Sarek was being thrown backward through the smoke-filled air and out of the meld entirely.
"What happened!?" a female voice cried, large, warm hands seizing his shoulders as he crumpled toward the Medbay floor.
"How the Hell should I know?" a male voice replied from just behind him. The male was the one gripping him, guiding him into a sitting position, keeping him from striking his head. Smaller, but just as warm, hands patted his cheeks, giving him sharp little slaps that helped guide him back to his senses. Shrugging out of the man's grip, he rose to his feet, casting a weary gaze on the doctor and lieutenant, who stepped back to give him space.
"Spock is within, however he has no desire for healing. He threw me from the meld."
"It cost him," McCoy said quietly, his face drawn. "Even with the life support, his heart just about failed. I'm worried about its effects on you, Ambassador. Please, let me check you over."
Sarek complied, settling onto Uhura's abandoned chair while McCoy scanned him. He examined the bio-readout above Spock's bed, noting the appallingly low numbers.
"You've got the vitals of someone who just ran a marathon, but I think you'll be all right. They're already stabilizing," the doctor concluded after a minute. He snapped the tricorder shut. "So. What do we do about Spock?" he asked.
"I believe he would need to be absolved by the Captain himself for Spock to agree to healing," Sarek replied, his sadness tightly reined in so that none colored his voice.
McCoy cursed. Uhura hung her head, tears stinging at the backs of her eyes. If the Captain was Spock's only hope, then there was truly no hope to be had for him.
"I wish to meld with Captain Kirk," Sarek said suddenly. Uhura's head snapped up, eyes flicking between the bewildered McCoy and the serene Vulcan.
"What good would that do?"
"Perhaps the damage to his mind can be healed in another way than through conventional human medicine. Additionally, if there is even a spark of the Captain's katra within him, it may be enough to give Spock his absolution."
"You're saying that maybe you can heal the captain - and if some part of Kirk is still functioning in there, some part we can't measure or reach, maybe he could give Spock a message, tell him to get better?" Uhura felt her heart racing and tried to breathe slowly, fighting against the crushing weight of hope.
"Affirmative."
McCoy looked hard at Sarek, judging him, examining with his doctor's eye. The Vulcan was showing the barest, most minute signs of fatigue and stress; a line by the corner of his eye, the hint of a shadow below, the merest bend in that rigid spine. He sighed.
"All right, you can try." Sarek stood in one smooth motion. "BUT, I want you to rest first. Half an hour of meditation, at least."
Sarek raised one eyebrow at the doctor, but nodded after a moment. "I will do so here, then, if that is acceptable."
"Go for it." McCoy gestured Uhura out of the room, leaving Sarek to sink gracefully into a sitting position by his son's bed, falling deeply into a restorative meditation that would hopefully strengthen him enough to find Captain Kirk's soul inside his broken mind.
TO BE CONTINUED:
This was my favorite chapter to write so far. The next one is will my beta, so hopefully you'll continue to have updates for a while.
BTW...if someone wanted to be awesome, they might make me some fanart of Spock in this scene...the bit with him and his heart on the ground...I would be eternally grateful.