Chapter Text
“Sa-mekh?” Spock’s voice was soft and quiet as he entered the room where his Father was reading a book.
Sarek studied his son closely as he walked towards him. His sleeping attire, which consisted of dark green pyjamas with brightly coloured dinosaurs printed all over, did not adhere to the practices or conventions of Vulcan, where the 'norm' was a sleeping robe. Sarek inwardly mused that at least his wife had finally managed to persuade Spock that it would be acceptable to wear something other than his spacedog glow in the dark pyjamas, of which he had two pairs so they could be rotated when one was in the wash.
“Spock-kan?” Sarek asked in reply.
“Story!”
“You have already had a story this evening,” Sarek replied, with a stern look on his face. He noted the tears pricking at his son’s eyes. “You should be in bed having your nocturnal rest,” he said more softly.
“Koltha,” Spock admitted, the quiver on his lip did not go unnoticed.
As well as softening his tone of voice, Sarek softened the expression on his face. “Why are you frightened Spock-kan?”
Spock’s brow furrowed, he did not have the language to explain the origin of the fear, he gently placed his hand on his fathers and tried to communicate his ‘feelings’ through their telepathic bond.
Sarek was bombarded by numerous thoughts and emotions, the hospital visit that afternoon being at the forefront. Spock had been poked and prodded by a number of Hakausu’s in preparation for his operation in the morning and he was scared.
“Surak says, ‘Dakh pthak. Nam-tor ri ret na'fan-kitok fa tu dakh pthak.’ ‘Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear,’” Sarek said gently. “Your ko-mekh will be staying with you while you are in hospital,” he tried to soothe.
“Ko-mekh!” The tears pricked at Spock’s eyes again. “Want ko-mekh!”
“Your ko-mekh will not be home until later," Sarek explained for the third time that evening. "You need to sleep, Spock-kan.”
“Story!” Spock held up the two books in his hand.
Sarek sighed an inner sigh, he was just about to get to the part in his own book that he knew was going to be the most ‘fascinating.’ Despite his slight annoyance, he put his book to the side and lifted Spock up onto his lap. It would be logical to placate his son.
“We will read one book, then you will retire for the evening,” Sarek said firmly. “You can choose which one.”
Spock studied the two books he was carrying. It was a difficult choice, as both were pleasing: ‘That’s not my sehlat…’ and ‘That’s not my targ…’ After sometime, the reasoning being that the longer he took to pick the book the closer it was for his ko-mekh to return home, he finally declared, “This one!” while holding, ‘That’s not my targ…’ up high.
Sarek inwardly steeled himself, the scientific inaccuracies of these books were trying to the adult Vulcan mind. Sarek placed the book they were not going to read on the table beside them and he took the one that they were from Spock's little hands. “Very well,” he replied flatly. “Let us begin…”