Requiem
Author: Elizabeth Leicester
Code: Sarek, Amanda, Spock
Series: TOS
Rating: G
Disclaimer:
Summary: Sarek's family copes with the death of the
family pet.
Notes: I suppose you could call this an 'AU' as it bypasses
the events in 'Yesteryear' but I don't really think of it that way. You could also say that it happened before
that episode. (Don't think about it too
much, unless you want a headache.)
In
Memory of the cats, T'Pring and Mira
I'Chaya was dead.
Amanda had gotten up that
morning, showered, put the kettle on, set the coffee to making, gotten the
sehlat's food and meds ready and then couldn't find him. She knew this was odd. I'Chaya was always
there, always present and always ready for food. But he had not greeted her in the hallway,
snuffling at her shoulder and into her hair as she walked towards the kitchen,
impatient for his breakfast. He was not
in the kitchen either, lying on the warming stones by the hearth as he
sometimes did, especially on cold mornings such as this.
Amanda wandered through
the house, calling softly, looking in places she commonly found the large animal
but there was no sign of the sehlat.
Finally, she went back into the bedroom and knelt down beside the
sleeping platform next to her husband. 'Sarek,'
she called, knowing he would awaken instantly.
'Did you let I'Chaya out? I can't find him.'
The Vulcan stirred, used
to his wife's interruptions of his sleep.
'No,' he replied and rolled over.
Amanda sighed and rose
from the dais. She knew that would be
all she would get from him at this hour.
Over the years, he had concluded it was illogical to rise before the
appointed hour, his appointed hour,
which allowed precisely enough time to meditate and prepare for the day. And since their schedules varied, she was
always the first to rise. The compromise
was that he put up with her morning interruptions of his sleep and she didn't
demand he get up with her.
Amanda left the sleeping chamber
and walked back down the hall to the kitchen.
She entered the small exit hall and opened the door. The back of the house opened on to the
desert, still wild and untamed after all these centuries. Tentatively, she called for I'Chaya. She didn't really
expect a response. He would usually be
right there at the door, snuffling in agitation, waiting to get in. That he was not increased her sense of
foreboding.
She put I'Chaya's food and medication back in the food locker and
sat down to eat her breakfast.
~~**~~
I'Chaya was old.
But he had always been old. When
she had first come to Vulcan and Sarek had introduced her to his childhood pet,
he was old then. He was the same age as
Sarek, but she had been told that sehlats aged differently and he was already
considered in the geriatric range. That
was twenty years ago.
She remembered when they
had brought Spock home. The sehlat had
waddled up to her, curious to see what it was she held
in her arms. She remembered giggling
when the baby yawned and stretched and I'Chaya jumped
back, startled by this strange creature.
She remembered when she had laid the baby before the hearth on a blanket
and the sehlat had come over to investigate.
She had wanted to snatch her child away.
The animal was many times larger than her newborn. Even his head loomed over Spock like some
huge furry rock, ready to crush him. But
Sarek had put a hand on her arm, urging her to stay at the table. She had watched as the sehlat sniffed and
snuffled, going over every millimeter of their newborn son. Then he lay down beside him and there he
stayed. He became the boy's companion
and confidant.
But eighty-four years is a
long time, even on Vulcan. The fur on I'Chaya's muzzle grayed and his movements slowed, hindered
by arthritis. His sight was marred by
cataracts and his hearing had also dimmed.
In recent years, his kidneys had begun to fail. And he had become very demanding, as elder
creatures often become. His snuffling
would often become loud and agitated if he were left alone for long periods of
time. Sand storms terrified him. His family always knew when one was coming
long before it even hit. I'Chaya would become extremely anxious, growling and
snuffling. They would have to sedate him
for the duration. And it seemed he
always wanted attention whenever anyone set down to work at one of the
terminals. He was almost a fixture in
the study.
And now, Amanda couldn't
find him.
She finished her tea and
put her dishes in the cleaner. It was
almost time for her to leave for work.
She could hear her son stirring, getting ready for school. He entered the kitchen, going silently over
to the coffee pot and pouring a cup of the pungent brew.
'Spock, I can't find I'Chaya,' Amanda told him.
'Did you put him out last night?'
'No, Mother, I did not,'
Spock replied as he came over to the table.
At eighteen, he was tall and thin. She still couldn't get used to his
adult appearance.
'I have to go,' she said, stating
the obvious. 'You'll have to look around
for him, okay?'
He nodded, seemingly
unconcerned. She did not kiss him or
touch him, even though she wanted to. By
Terran standards, he was an adult and even by Vulcan ones, any excuses she had
had for physical contact with him were no longer viable.
Amanda left the house for
work, realising the inevitable truth as she did so
and not really wanting to believe it.
An hour later, she
received a comm signal from Spock. 'Meh,' he began. That
startled her. He hadn't used that
diminutive in ages. 'I'Chaya
is dead. I found him in the garden by
the pond.'
Tears stung Amanda's
eyes. 'I—I thought that's what must have
happened,' she said, struggling to maintain her composure. 'I thought I felt him last night by the
bed. He never comes in there. Maybe he was trying to tell me goodbye.'
Spock's expression did not
change, but she knew he did not approve of such an illogical speculation. 'Sa-mehk has wrapped the body,' he told her. 'We will cremate him tonight.'
Amanda nodded silently,
even as she sensed there was something more, something Spock wasn't telling
her. But the transmission ended shortly
thereafter with nothing more having been revealed. She wondered how Spock felt about all this. Sarek would accept I'Chaya's
death as inevitable, as part of the cycle of life on his planet. But Spock… Despite his Vulcan façade, Amanda knew there
was a part of him he took great pains to hide, a part he was embarrassed and
ashamed of. That it came from her only
seemed to exacerbate the situation. She
was a constant reminder of his imperfection, of his inability to be completely
what his father wanted him to be. It
wasn't true. But Spock thought it was.
Because she worked at the
Federation Embassy school, Amanda was able to tell a
few close colleagues about the tragedy that had befallen her family. And while I'Chaya's
death lingered in her thoughts, her students distracted her sufficiently and
provided some relief.
It was just after mid-day
when she received yet another communication from Spock. 'Meh,' he greeted her.
Again, Amanda was shocked. Twice
in one day, he had used the word. Then
he further startled her by speaking Standard.
'I am unable to concentrate on my work.'
Amanda looked at her son
but could discern nothing visually. When
he was little, his shielding ability was immature. She could often feel what he was
feeling. But no more.
'Are thee well?' she asked
in Vulcan.
But he answered her in
Standard. 'Indeed,' he replied. 'I cannot concentrate, however.'
Amanda knew better than to
hypothesise as to why this might be. Her son would quickly and categorically deny
any emotional reasons for his inability to focus. 'Perhaps Osavensu Siril
will dismiss you for the day.'
'Meh,' Spock said again. 'I do not wish I'Chaya
to be burned.'
Amanda looked at her son,
startled into momentary silence.
Cremation was tradition. To
suggest some other means of disposal would be to go against that tradition, to
go against the
'What did you have in
mind?' Amanda finally asked him.
'I wish to bury him,' he
stated.
'I do not think your
father will agree with that,' Amanda told him.
She did not point out that a burial would be a distinctly Terran thing
to do.
'I'Chaya
was mine,' Spock reminded her. 'It is my
right.'
So he was invoking Vulcan
tradition rights in order to partake in a Terran ritual. Amanda suppressed a smile. 'Do you wish me to negotiate for you?' she
asked, once again bringing up an ever present irony that existed in their family. Although Sarek of Vulcan was a skilled
diplomat and negotiator, he was unable to successfully enter into any such
dealings with his son. The 'talks'
invariably broke down, Spock would stalk off and only through Amanda's
intervention could father and son come to any agreement when there was a
dispute to be settled.
'I would prefer it,' Spock
confirmed. 'I will see you at home,' he
said and ended the transmission.
Amanda sighed. She was not looking forward to her next
task. Yet despite that, she was
touched. Her son, the staunch Vulcan
traditionalist, who would endure torture before he would admit to being part
human, wished to perform a distinctly Terran ritual for his oldest and dearest
friend. There was some part of her in
him after all.
~~**~~
It was near dark when
Amanda came home from work. The house
felt huge and empty. No large, furry
mound greeted her at the door, no snuffling of her hair, no incessant pushing
until she got his dinner. I'Chaya was gone.
Amanda wiped her eyes and
almost aimlessly wandered towards the back of the house.
Her son stood in the
entryway to the kitchen, covered in desert dust. 'I believe I now understand the wisdom of our
ancestors in choosing to cremate their dead,' he announced, his expression
completely deadpan. He began to brush
off the dirt with a small whisk broom.
'I am able to dig down 7.8
millimeters before hitting rock,' he explained.
'Sarek would deem such an endeavour illogical, if not futile. Perhaps it would be best to yield to
tradition after all.'
Amanda looked at the stone
hearth which was devoid of sehlat. 'I
spoke with him,' she said quietly. 'He
was impressed by your conviction. And
since you stated your rights as owner, he has no other choice but to abide by
your wishes.'
Spock, now fairly dust
free, entered the kitchen.
'You must not forget that
grief touches Sarek as well as you,' Amanda added. 'Perhaps the garden would be a more suitable
location.'
Spock looked at her. It was obvious that had not occurred to
him. 'Indeed. It would be ideal,' he agreed. 'But it is too late to begin tonight.'
'In the morning then,'
Amanda told him. 'There will be plenty
of time.'
~~**~~
The garden at Ambassador
Sarek's house was unique, to say the least.
An overt legacy of his love for his wife, it encompassed well over .75
acres and was entirely enclosed by walls as well as a green environmental mesh
overhead. This kept some moisture in,
enough to grow non-native plants and kept those species from infiltrating the
rest of Shi'Kahr. It had only two exits,
both of which led directly into the house.
For Amanda, it was a
little bit of Earth on an otherwise alien world. For I'Chaya, it had
been a cool place to sleep when the desert was scorching. It was not surprising he had wandered out
there in search of a place to die.
That morning, which was a
day of rest for most Vulcans, Spock chose a place where the soil was soft and
plentiful. He found he had to use a
laser to selectively cut through various plant roots but by the time his
parents had risen and completed whatever it was they did on their morning off,
he was almost finished.
Amanda was the first to
come out, wrapped in a shawl against the cold and nursing a cup of tea. She saw the mound of soil, piled up
underneath a tree, and then looked at her son, the top of his dark head barely
visible from the hole he was digging.
Amanda thought it was a fine hole, a good resting place for a loyal
friend.
'I am almost finished,'
Spock told her unnecessarily, as he climbed out. He was covered in dirt and mud.
'Shall I send Sarek out to
inspect it?' Amanda asked.
Spock nodded and Amanda
went back in the house and down to the kitchen where Sarek sat with his morning
coffee reading a padd.
'Spock needs you,' she
announced.
Sarek looked up from the
report he had been reading, eyebrow raised.
'Indeed?' he rejoined. 'I find
that unlikely. Spock has not needed me
in 2.549 rotations.'
'Nonetheless,' Amanda
stood firm, "his oldest friend and confident has died and Spock needs
you.'
Sensing that further
discourse would only result in an illogical and emotional argument, Sarek
silently put down the padd. When Amanda was insistent, debate was
inevitably futile. Taking his coffee
with him, he went down the hall to the garden exit.
~~**~~
When Amanda returned to
the garden, now fully dressed, she saw that everything was ready. Husband and son had finished digging the
burial site. Both of them would need a
good half hour with the sonic scrubber but she was content to see there was something
they could still agree on.
Without prompting, Spock
lit the garden firepot nearby, placing two incense coals on top.
Together, Spock and Sarek
dragged the wrapped body of the sehlat over to the grave. They placed it in the deep hole and then
stood, silently looking at the results of their work.
'I am unsure how to
proceed,' Spock finally admitted.
Amanda cleared her
throat. This was going to be harder than
she had thought. 'You throw on dirt,'
she said hoarsely, trying to control her grief.
'If it were in the open, you would need to put rocks on top to keep animals
out, but I don't that's necessary here.'
'Is there not something
with ashes?' Sarek asked, remembering a Terran funeral he had once attended.
'Yes, you can do that
too,' Amanda conceded.
Spock went over to an
unlit firepot and scooped up a handful of cold ashes.
'Throw it on top,' Amanda
instructed him.
As he did so she was
surprised to hear Sarek intone in Standard, '"Ashes to ashes, dust to
dust."' Then he continued in
Vulcan. 'Thee who were first my
companion and then my son's, thee who heard many confidences and confessions,
may thy soul pass over Seleya. May thy
heart be at rest.'
With tears now on her
cheeks, Amanda nodded to Spock, who then began to shovel dirt on top of the
mound. After a moment, Sarek joined him
in filling and covering the space. When
it was finished, Amanda placed a stone at one end to mark the site.
'I wish to remain for a
while,' Spock requested.
'Of course,' Amanda said
and she and Sarek returned to the house in silence.
~~**~~
Amanda sat at her terminal
in the study, attempting to work. It was
an exercise in futility. She kept
staring at the same paragraph of the text she was reading. The words didn't seem to make any sense.
I'Chaya was dead.
He had been the first entity she had met on Vulcan who had seemed
genuinely happy she was here. He had
been a friendly presence in a decidedly unfriendly world. Amanda looked away from the monitor. She already missed him.
She moved her chair back
from the desk and standing, turned to leave, only to see her husband, now
freshly clean and scrubbed, in the doorway.
No doubt she was projecting her emotions loudly. In any event, he would know. He would feel her sorrow through the
Bond.
Without speaking he met
her halfway across the room and allowed her to melt into him, his arms
naturally enfolding her. '"I grieve
with thee,"' he uttered softly. The
words were traditional, but the feelings behind them were sincere. Through the Bond, she could feel his sadness
as well. It penetrated and washed over
her with the fury of a windstorm. And
suddenly she was crying. Deep sobs
escaped from her lips as he held her, as she expressed what he could not. Their grief was all encompassing and she was
wracked by intense sorrow which seemed to come from the very depths of both of
them. It seemed an eternity before the
storm calmed and subsided.
Amanda pulled out of the
embrace, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
'Forgive,' Sarek said
hoarsely.
'Illogical,' Amanda
countered. 'There is nothing to
forgive. I'Chaya
was a steadfast companion and a constant presence. Your grief is nothing to be ashamed of.'
'But my actions,' he
began, referring to his projection of emotions upon his wife.
'Nothing you haven't done
before,' she said, obliquely referring to their Times together. 'Nothing I haven't felt before.'
Once again, she slid into
his arms, tucking her head underneath his chin.
Only a few moments ago, she could feel only grief and despair from her
beloved. Now with his emotions somewhat
released, there was a kind of peace. The
emptiness left by I'Chaya would linger for some time
yet. But in all of it, through all of
it, they would be together and their love would continue.
Amanda sighed, relaxing
further in the reverie of soul union that had now begun. Their son, always struggling to find himself,
to find his niche, had somehow found himself in this, if only temporarily. And she could feel that Sarek was not
completely disapproving. Spock had stood
up for himself, for what he believed. If
pressed, he would cite the logic behind his actions and convictions, but it
would not negate the underlying truth.
//He is our son.// The thought
swirled around them, its origins unclear.
Once again it was Amanda
who pulled away, now a bit dizzy from the euphoria that lingered, drained from
the intensity of the morning. 'Spock
will find his path,' she said aloud.
'If today is any
indication, then I have no doubt,' Sarek agreed.
Amanda offered him
extended fingers which he met with his own.
The peace of their union surrounded them again. 'I'Chaya was the
only witness to our relationship,' Amanda said quietly. 'He was the only one who knew the truth.'
Sarek raised an
eyebrow. 'Perhaps,' he finally
conceded. 'But the proof of who we are
is in the garden, mourning the witness.'
A slight smile played on
Amanda's lips. 'And how will that proof
in turn be our witness?'
'That equation,' Sarek
said, as he walked with his wife down the hallway. 'Is just beginning.'