Work Text:
Sarek moves through the silent halls of his home. One would not know simply by listening that there is now another besides himself residing there. It is almost strange, to have Spock here with him. This house has been empty of anyone but Sarek since he purchased it. These rooms have never rung with Amanda’s laughter, never witnessed the family dinners, Sarek and his wife and children gathered around the table. Spock and his companions, Leonard and Jim, have never come to stay.
Only now, when Spock is as alone as Sarek, has he come to Sarek’s home. Sarek enters his son’s room and immediately notices that the food he brought that morning has been partially eaten. Spock eating of his own accord is an encouraging sign.
Sarek has been melding with Spock daily, working with him, helping him to regain his strength and build walls against the pain in his mind. It is a slow process, but they are making progress.
Spock is cross legged on his meditation mat. He has been trying to meditate again, but Sarek knows he has had difficulty even clearing his mind, let alone gaining any real measure of peace. Sarek sits down across from him and without hesitation or preamble places his hand on Spock’s face, beginning the meld.
Spock, how did your meditation go?
Meditation? How could I….there is nothing. I cannot. I cannot. I have no purpose, there is nothing for me, nothing, nothing. Spock is in a haze of confusion and anguish. This is not one of his ‘good’ days.
You must hold on, Sarek instructs gently. Find something to remind you that your life, while emptier with the loss of your bondmate, is still worthwhile. The sciences, perhaps—
Unbidden, Sarek's words call to mind memories of Spock's many discoveries, in which he always found such joy, particularly in sharing them with James Kirk.
Spock's mind heaves with pain, and he forces out an emphatic NO at his father.
This will be difficult for his son. Kirk is entwined with every aspect of Spock's life, his memories and emotions, so that there is very little that does not bring him to mind. It is no simple task for Spock to separate himself from his pain, to find a way to rise above it and regain his sense of self.
Nevertheless, he must do it, or he will slip away into a state so catatonic and empty as to be worse than death.
You must, Spock, Sarek repeats, Or you will be lost to all those that care for you.
There is not— those that— Jim.
Yes, he cared for you, of course, but he was not alone in his concern. Sarek gathers his son's mind close again, trying to soothe his turmoil with his own calm, though he knows it is largely a fruitless task. I care greatly for you, my son. As does your friend McCoy, and doubtless your other friends as well. They do, for once his situation became commonly known, the messages of concern and inquiries about Spock’s well-being started arriving. Sarek will share them with Spock when he is stronger. Now, it might only overwhelm him.
Father, Spock says suddenly, regaining his senses for an instant. Sarek doesn't dare to hope. Yes, and….McCoy.
Flashes of painful memory buffet Sarek, these no different from the other memories and pain he is weathering from Spock, but more recent. McCoy holding Spock's hand in the embassy, while Spock lay motionless, unable to do anything but ache. Spock had been aware of the contact on some level, as he had been aware of the absence of his father.
Spock doesn't form the accusation into words, but it is there, nonetheless. Sarek was not there at his child's side to help him endure his suffering.
My son, I know that I failed you. Sarek draws away from Spock a little, trying not to let his own sadness be felt. Spock is struggling enough without having to feel his father's sorrow. If I had known what happened when it occurred I would have come to you immediately.
You did not. I was left alone in the void. There is undisguised terror in Spock at the memory of being left alone in his own head, nothing but a gaping emptiness where once there was James Kirk, beloved t'hy'la, a constant golden presence. No one but a human to tend him, a human that was well meaning but helpless to heal the mental pain.
The healer?
Through Spock, Sarek experiences the healer's mental touch, professional and strong enough to drag Spock from the edge of death, but hardly able to conceal her revulsion at Spock's mind, too human to be fully Vulcan. She did not desire to immerse herself in Spock’s mind after the initial meld.
Spock needed more, so much more, needed support and comfort, the strength of his familial bond with Sarek.
Once more it comes down to his failings as a parent. Sarek can blame it partly on his aide's decision not to notify him of the emergency involving his son, but he knows there is more to it than that.
Our family bond, Spock wrenches out, seeing the truth of it in Sarek's mind. You were shielding, you had me blocked.
Yes. He will not lie about this. Spock deserves to know. I did not feel your suffering, your cries in the aftermath of the broken bond, because I had you blocked out. I considered our bond a distraction as I worked.
He doesn't allow himself to flinch away from the raw, unfiltered anger and accusation that pours out of Spock and into him. Spock is too uncontrolled, too wounded to have any ability to repress or lessen in any way his emotional barrage. Sarek holds his mind open to his son, lets him rage and grieve, working all his caged energy out until he’s exhausted and able to rest.
Time will pass. With someone here to attend to him, Spock will begin to regain his sense, his control. Sarek will teach him how to cope, as he had to learn to after he lost Amanda. Spock will learn, and he will regret this outburst, and Sarek will explain that there is nothing to forgive, he is merely taking the blame that is his due.
Spock may never know true peace. With the loss of one’s bondmate, there is only so much healing to be done. His suffering is not yet at an end.
Nevertheless, Spock will live. Sarek is grateful for that. Illogical though it may be, Sarek has hope. Hope that Spock will recover and build sufficient walls in his mind to block off the worst of the pain. Perhaps someday, there may even be another that— But no. It is too soon for that. And yet, he hopes. Hopes for the long remainder of Spock’s life to be full and satisfying.
Sleep, Spock, he counsels finally, and stays in the meld until he feels Spock slip into dreamless sleep for the first time in days. I will be here when you wake.
He lowers Spock to rest on the mat, tucking a pillow from the bed under his head. Watching Spock sleep may not be the most logical use of his time, but his logic has never been certain where his son is concerned.
Spock needs him. This time, he will be here.