"If you are feeling rested, T'Vel would like to see you."

Elle finished the last of her breakfast. "Who's T'Vel?"

"T'Vel is now the matriarch of the Clan of Surak," Spock replied. "She is my father's eldest sister."

"She's your aunt," Elle said.

"Yes."

Elle tilted her head in thought. "Is she as scary as T'Pau?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Not quite." Considering that 'not quite' was on the level of Sarek or Spock himself, that was impressive.

"Why does she want to meet me?"

"She's your aunt," Spock replied dryly. "She did not get a chance to meet you last time you were here."

"Oh."

They got in the car. Spock drove them to the fortress-house, and they entered. The last time they were here, Spock was one of the youngest family members present. Now, he was one of the older ones, and everyone quietly deferred to him.

Elle stuck by his side, uneasy with the glances and the stares.

Spock did not have to wait to be announced to T'Vel - they went right in.

"Spock," she said, quite pleased. Like all the women of the clan, she was tiny, a couple inches shorter than Elle, but her sheer presence made up for it. "And Elle. You have returned to us."

Elle inclined her head. "I'm glad to be back," she replied honestly.

T'Vel waved them over to couches, poured some spiced tea, and they talked. T'Vel asked Elle about her studies, about her missions, if she'd been keeping up her Vulkhansu and her meditation. Elle told her about Satel and his parents and their poetry book club. "And they're not formal Vulcans, either," Elle added, wondering if T'Vel had her mother's sense of humor. "They're the regular kind of Vulcans."

The twich of a smile was there-and-gone, and T'Vel inclined her head. "They do not have the privilege, or the burden, of being so old-fashioned," T'Vel agreed. "Vulcan needs many more of these."

Elle smiled.

T'Vel sent her to wander the fortress' galleries and archive rooms with another cousin, Symel, while she stayed behind and spoke to Spock.

Symel was about Elle's age, scowly and excrutiatingly formal with 'Ambassador Spock' and 'Grandmother'. He also had reddish-blond hair, flopping around his ears in a dinstinctly shaggy look.

Elle suddenly had to resist the urge to lecture about early 2000's Earth boy bands. "Do you live here all the time?" she asked, wandering down the gallery to examine the woven tapestries on the walls.

"I am here for my studies," Symel replied shortly.

"Ah." Elle clasped her hands behind her back, refusing to allow herself to touch the artifacts and heirlooms.

"You are Ambassador Spock's ward," Symel said. "From the past."

"Yes," Elle replied. "Does that make us cousins?"

"No," Symel replied. "I am your nephew."

Elle stifled a smile. "A pleasure to meet you, nephew."

He inclined his head silently.

They walked further down the gallery. It was, technically, the archival museum of the Clan of Surak, open to Vulcan citizens who were looking for history and geneology, as well as answers to philosophy and 'cthia. There were no labels on anything, to appease the Vulcan need for privacy taboos on absolutely everything, because to get answers you had to already know what you were looking for, or you had to ask a mentor.

Elle paused in front of a shattered spear. From the looks of it, pre-establishment of clan alliances? That meant this spear was older than the city it was in. She paused a moment to let it sink in. "Captain Picard would love this place," she breathed.

"He would not be allowed to enter," Symel said sharply.

"I know," Elle replied, glancing at him. "But he would appreciate its history all the same."

Symel didn't reply, but his eyebrow took a mutinous turn towards his forehead mop.

Elle snorted. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"I attend the Shi'Kahr Institute of Learning," he replied, taking her question literally. "I am to enter the VSA in the new year."

"Congratulations," Elle replied. "What are you studying?"

"Epigenetics."

"Fascinating."

"Indeed."

After this purely Vulcan exchange, Symel lost a little bit of stiffness in his shoulders. He showed her the archives, where they had first editions of any and all poetry, dissertations, expositions, writings, and general musings upon logic and emotion and truth that any of the Clan of Surak had managed to produce within the last, oh, ten-thousand years or so.

"No wonder this fortress takes up most of the mountain," Elle muttered, "we need the space just for the doctoral thesis'." Great Bird, Vulcans were nerds.

As Symel rambled about epigenetics, Elle realized that this was just one clan's worth of information. All the other old, influential clans, all the smaller ones even whose works were housed with their protectors, there were archives all over the planet. And if anything happened to this planet (don't think of Nero, don't think of Nero, don't-), what would be left?

"Do you keep copies anywhere?" Elle asked. "Archive backups, anywhere off Vulcan?"

"Not that I know of," Symel said, insulted by the question. "Why would we?"

"Things happen," Elle replied. "What if we go to war one day?"

Symel's skeptical scowl met her gaze.

"I'm just sayin'," Elle pointed out. "Anything happens to this planet and," she spread her hands out, "poof."

He looked thoughtful at that. "I shall mention it to my mother," he said. "But I am going into medical science, not history."

"Think about it," Elle advised. "Since you'll be staying on-planet."

He tilted his head, gazed at her for a long moment. "Have you been out to the sands?" he asked.

Elle blinked. "The, sands? No. Why?"

He looked away. "You sounded so certain. As if you had received a vision."

"A vision?" Elle asked, stepping closer. "I didn't know Vulcans could get visions."

"We don't," he retorted. "The sand-dwellers do, and then they tell the ones who wander the sands."

Elle squinted, trying to remember... "The mythical sand-dwellers that look like rock pancakes that live in the deserts that all the heroes in legends spoke to for wisdom?" she asked. "Like the one that Surak spoke to when he was Wandering?"

"Yes. Those."

"They can tell the future?"

Symel shrugged. "That's what the legends say."

"Cool." Elle made a mental note to ask Spock about them later. And if Spock didn't know, Satel was sure to have some information. He probably knew exactly which poem to reference. Were these sand-dwellers like the Organians or the Metrons? Were they like the Horta? The Horta didn't time travel though, to Elle's knowledge.

Spock came and got them a few minutes later. Symel and T'Vel bid them farewell, and Spock ushered Elle to the hovercar. "Did you have an interesting talk with T'Vel?" Elle asked.

"Yes, I did. What do you think of Symel?"

Elle shrugged. "I don't know. He asked me if I had met a sand-dweller."

Spock stilled. "Ah."

"Are they real?"

"They are very real," Spock said. "There are approximately fifteen thousand of them on Vulcan. They rarely show up on sensors long enough for us to know an accurate count."

"You have cryptids," Elle said, and giggled to herself.

Spock gazed at her fondly. "Indeed we do."

That raised another interesting question. Would the sand-dwellers go extinct with the planet if it ever blew up?

"They are found on two other planets, they would not go extinct, but they do not acknowledge us very often, so we do not know," Spock replied. "Why are you asking, Elle?"

Elle blinked. "Did I, say that out loud?"

"You did."

"Ah." Elle bit her lip.

"Elle?"

"I don't know." She turned to look out the window, the desert hills blurring past. "Thinking about the alternate timeline that happened yet didn't, it kind of brought up this other timeline that might happen, or might not. Even if it never happens, the kind of thing that happens might happen here too."

"I see. And what happens, in this timeline that might not happen?"

Elle grimaced. She'd already warned Ael on the Romulan side of things... might as well go all the way. "So you know how Romulus might be destroyed?"

He eyed her warily. "Yes..."

"Well, I'm not saying it'll happen to this Vulcan, in this timeline, but it might happen. Elsewhere. And if it could happen there it could happen here, you know. This is only the 24th century."

"I see," Spock said gravely.

Elle figured he definitely saw the possibilities of everything she wasn't saying, much better than she would have been able to imply them herself. "Good," she said firmly. "That's all."

He accepted the close of the conversation. "Would you like to see your tribble empire?" he asked, after a moment.

Elle grinned. "I would love to."

The tribble empire was run by ex-Commander Satel of the Intrepid. Like most Vulcans, he had a second career post-Star Fleet. His chosen career was tribble husbandry. Not that they needed much encouragement or direction to increase their population.

The front of the building, to Elle's eternal delight, was a tribble cafe. There was a good mix of Vulcans and other species sitting at the tables and sofas, drinking tea and other things and petting tribbles. It was heart-warming.

There was an older Vulcan sitting behind the counter, weighing newborn tribbles. He looked up when they entered, glanced down again, and then shot back up. "Ambassador Spock," he said, standing. "And Elle."

"Commander Satel," Elle said, pleased. "Hi!"

"It is agreeable to see you again," Satel said. "I was, surprised, when Admiral McCoy contacted me to send a tribble to you."

Elle smiled. "Me too. I'm glad you were able to keep them from extinction."

Satel invited them to the back office, which hosted a swell of tribbles and computers. "What brings you to Vulcan?"

"Temporal shenanigans," Elle replied.

He raised an eyebrow. "I see."

They spoke about tribble raising, exports, and a conservation order included in the treaty with the Klingons, which was way more hilarious than it should be. Elle snickered into the nearest tribble's fur as Satel and Spock reminisced about the time Klingons had come aboard the Intrepid and received tribble-shriek before the intruder alert.

This Satel was also pleased to learn that Elle had a friend her own age named Satel, which was the Earth equivalent of meeting someone named 'John.'

Elle and Spock left the tribble cafe after a few hours. They got dinner in the Federation district near the embassy, which led to checking in at Spock's office, which led to... it was dark by the time they went home.

They meditated together in the quiet of the living room, and then Elle went to bed.

-/\-

Elle stayed on Vulcan another week. Spock worked with her every day, reinforcing her mental sheilds, her sense of self, her memory storage. "If you do not object, T'Vel would like to offer her assistance," Spock said, in the tone of my-aunt-is-embarrassing-ye-olde-gods-whyyyy.

Elle stifled a giggle. "Is this a matriarch versus rogue boy nephew thing?"

Spock sighed. "There is a reason telepathic talents are counted through matrilineal descent. It would be for the best."

T'Vel, after sweeping through Elle's mind with the gentle force of an aunt interrogating you at Thanksgiving, grudgingly admitted that Spock had done a good job. "Do not forget, young one, that you have more than just your a'nirih at your side," she scolded Elle gently, and then left with Symel and her two guards in her wake.

Elle blinked, still dazed. "So by not as scary as T'Pau you mean like, by one and a half degrees."

"Yes."

The next day, Spock took her to the Star Fleet base, and helped her find the transport. "You'll be meeting the Enterprise at Starbase 91. They've been requested to attend the cybernetics conference, and you will arrive in time to listen to T'Risa's panel on quantum crystal storage, which will be fascinating. Take notes of the lecture, please, and send them to me."

"Okay."

He adjusted her jacket - it was always cold on passenger liners - and handed over her duffel bag. "And message me when you have arrived safely."

"I will," Elle promised, hiding a smile. She hugged him tightly. "I'll be fine, a'nirih, I promise."

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head for a moment. "I know," he said. "But I worry. I have spent far too much time with Dr. McCoy."

Elle gave him a crooked smile as she pulled out of his arms. "I know. I love you."

"I love you too. Be safe." He gave her a tiny smile. "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life."

They exchanged the ta'al, and Elle went into the processing bay. She waved at Spock, and he waited for her until she'd passed into the terminal proper.

Elle told herself she wasn't going to cry. She wasn't.