ST: Moments At Gol:
Sarek
by *Aconitum-Napellus who has given permission for it to be archived on the S&A story site.
Rating: G
Series:
Summary:
Sarek visits Spock after the fal-tor-pan.
Moments At Gol
Sarek
He had stood in the doorway for some time before his son noticed his presence.
Spock was sitting near the window in this case a roughly square hole hewn out
of the rock with his hands held together before his face in a perfect attitude
of meditation. The dying light of 40 Eridani (for so it would be in his
space-faring son's mind not Nevasa, not the
light-bringer) caught his face with a golden-red brilliance. The colour was
streaked in a pure beam across his temple and cheek, highlighting the sparse
contours of his face, highlighting the slight furrow between his brows that
indicated that all was not calm in the mind beneath.
'Spock,' Sarek said flatly. No logic in such human devices as clearing the
throat or shuffling the feet to announce his presence.
His son lowered his hands with the slowness of one remembering how to use his
muscles. *Sakak* Sarek thought. Sakak,
who fell into a thousand year sleep under the spell of an angry sorcerer, and
when he awoke had to relearn the thousand muscles and ways of moving. Perhaps
the tales from the old time were relevant after all
The son turned his head towards the father, and the beam of light travelled
over his face, and was lost, casting his features into deeper shadow. There was
the smallest narrowing of the eyes, the smallest deepening of the furrow
between his brows and then he said in a steady, but somewhat questioning,
voice, 'Sarek?'
'Yes, Spock,' he nodded, taking another step forward. 'Sarek.'
'He who is my father,' Spock continued, his voice still suggesting a
question, his wording the formal wording of the priestesses who had restored
his Katra to his body.
'I am your father,' Sarek nodded directly.
Spock continued to stare at him, unwavering, and a brief moment of light passed
through his eyes, as if a spark of knowledge had finally found its home. Sarek
found himself wondering precisely what revelation his
son had experienced but he pushed that aside swiftly. The interior of Spock's
mind was his own again, for no one but him and the healers to question.
Spock held his eyes for a moment longer, then turned
back to his hands, apparently examining the contours and creases of his fingers
in their meditative position.
Sarek moved further into the room. He looked around, taking in the fact that
there was only one chair, and sat on the bed, his back as erect as if he had
been sitting on a posture stool. He regarded his son, unspeaking. Genesis had
achieved a remarkable feat apparently taking a speck of his son's
He felt ill at ease. He had to admit that. He had taken a great part in his
son's learning as a child. He had helped to form his young mind. It had been a
great shock when Spock had decided to reject all that he had learnt in order to
study at Starfleet more so because so much of what he had learnt had been of
Sarek's own teaching. And now Spock's relearning was emphatically in the hands
of the healers of Gol. Yes, it was disquieting.
He realised that Spock's eyes were still upon him, one eyebrow raised and his
head slightly tilted in an attitude of query that reminded Sarek forcefully of
his wife. Even Spock's lips were pursed in an imitation of Amanda in possession
of a wordless question.
'Spock,' he said, to break the silence. 'It was suggested that a visit from a
close relative would assist your recovery.'
That eyebrow moved upwards again a minute amount, but it was perceptible to
Sarek. A judgement. An unspoken judgement had passed
through Spock's mind.
'Should old acquaintance be forgot
' Spock said, as if
he had pulled the phrase blindly from a velvet bag.
'That is attributed to Robert Burns a human poet,' Sarek informed him.
'Yes,' Spock nodded gravely, as if he was in the process of solving an age old puzzle. 'I am inclined to believe that old
acquaintance should *not* be forgot.'
His eyes narrowed again.
'Father,' he said, then paused, as if tasting the
word. 'I am uncertain as to the parameters of our relationship. I feel a
certain regard for you. I believe mother would term it *fondness*. And yet '
He trailed off, fixing those bird-of-prey eyes on his father again, missing
nothing on the landscape of his face, but wholly blind to what might lie
beneath the surface.
Sarek inhaled. No logic in prevarication.
'There was a rift between us, Spock,' he said heavily. 'Such as should never
occur between father and son.'
'And yet I am told that you were the *primum movens* of the recovery of my body?' Spock said, puzzlement clear in his voice.
Sarek allowed just a hint of a smile to warm his face.
'Spock,' he said gently. 'You are my son. There is a vast difference between a
disagreement, and a desire to leave your body on an alien planet and your soul
drifting, uncherished, in the void.'
'Uncherished,' Spock repeated, as if he was tasting the word. Another degree of light seemed to pass
through his eyes. 'A father will cherish the son,' he said, looking down again,
studying his hands again.
Sarek's hint-of-a-smile grew by a tiny amount. Spock was quoting from the most
ancient of Vulcan texts. Interesting what phrases chose to lodge in his
fractured memory.
Spock's eyes flicked from his own hands, to those of his father, comparing them
silently.
'A father will cherish the son,' Sarek repeated, nodding his head. He recovered
a measure of control even as he felt it slipping further. He steadied his
expression, and said, 'T'Khit, the First Book of
Wisdom. Written before the time of Surak before the
acceptance of logic, Spock.'
Spock's eyes seemed to become veiled again, the lids lowering a little.
'Yes,' he said, as if he had gained another measure of understanding of his
father.
This time Sarek knew precisely what had passed through his son's mind. He bit
back a welling sense of regret, a tired longing, and drew his barriers a little
higher. He stood, straightening his jacket with the smallest of movements, and
inclining his head in a formal nod.
'Your meditation is vital, and I have disturbed it too long,' he said, keeping
his tone level and void of feeling. 'I must take my leave.'
Spock lifted his eyes to him, and nodded. Then he turned his face back to the
window, and the red-golden beam slanted across his features again, casting half
of his face into apparent darkness in contrast with the light. He lifted his
hands in a perfect posture of meditation and Sarek stepped silently out of
the room.