Chapter Text
Lady Amanda Grayson, of the Schn T’gai House of Vulcan, knows most people do not understand her family.
Her fellow humans find her son and husband cold and aloof. They think them unfeeling, they see Sarek as her roommate more than a real husband. They think Spock to be completely Vulcan.
Other Vulcans have a different, yet no less flawed view. To them Sarek is a sexual deviant with a bond devoid of intellectual support. Personally, Amanda finds it hilarious that they think Sarek is the smart one.
Spock, to Vulcans… Spock is a contradiction.
Her son is the height of genetic science. A hybrid of two species, native to separate planets, with not only a stable genetic makeup, but a predicted Vulcan lifespan and stable telepathy.
By scientific analysis alone, Spock is a crowning achievement for Vulcans.
By social analysis, however, he is a blight.
Spock has human eyes. He has been known to cry and pout. He mourned for his Sehlat, I-Chaya. He loves his mother and fails to hide it.
He stays in the top ten percent of his class his entire academic career. But he develops no friendships, or even friendly acquaintances.
Amanda is proud.
Vulcans see him as a human stain upon their ancient, noble race.
Amanda had been under the impression that racism is illogical.
*.*
Jimmy Kirk is good for her son. Amanda knows this, but she can not make Sarek understand. She knows this from the moment the two boys meet.
Spock, an oh so mature seven, with real interest in a playmate for the first time in his life. Spock, not once complaining to her that he is being “imposed upon as a glorified babysitter,” as he had with other children of foreign diplomats.
Her proud, reserved son, looking at the four year old ball of human energy like he is not an annoyance, but a precious thing…
Amanda has never seen Spock look sad to bid a guest farewell before.
So months later, when his bond with T’Pring does not take, she suspects. Only for a moment — after all, Jimmy was human, four, and had only met Spock once.
But she suspects.
*.*
The thing about having her suspicion proved correct, is sometimes it’s hilarious, and sometimes it’s horrifying.
Catching her son eating strawberry ice cream (which he hates) is hilarious.
Finding him making out with Jimmy (without seeming to realize it) is a traumatic experience.
*.*
The thing is, Spock unknowingly having a human boy three years his junior for a wife doesn’t really affect much.
And yes, she does mean wife. It’s the closest translation she can find for Jimmy’s position in Vulcan society.
The worst part, for her at least, is that she can not discuss it with him. It would be a massive breach of her son’s privacy, by human standards, and a colossal failure of Vulcan etiquette on her part as well.
So she minds her business, answers Sybok’s endless stream of questions about his brother’s behaviour, and bites her lip as Sarek convinces himself that it is nothing more than a Telsu bond.
Sure it is, sweetheart.
In fact, Spock’s bond becomes the worst kept secret in the Schn T’gai household. Considering how bad Vulcans are at lying, Amanda is astonished that Spock maintains his obliviousness.
And if she has to answer random questions about Earth’s cultural history or “human friendship rituals”, so be it. She can even deal with Spock when he’s unwittingly emulating Jimmy’s human emotions without a single spark of annoyance.
Having a bond with Jimmy makes her son happy.
Until the day it doesn’t.
*.*
Spock is sixteen and eating a pizza.
Wait, Amanda needs to clarify.
Spock, her militantly Vulcan son, is sitting at the diner table, at four in the afternoon, perfectly poised, and eating what appears to be an extra large cheese pizza with a knife and fork. Spock , who has only eaten pizza once before, declared it overly messy and illogical (yes, food can apparently be illogical), and hasn’t been seen in the same room as the dish in ten years.
She watches him in silence for a moment or two, listening to the perfectly timed rhythm of his meal.
Fork, cut, bite.
“Hello, Spock,” she ventures.
“Mother.”
Fork, cut, bite.
“That’s…” She tries again. “That’s a pizza.”
Fork, cut, bite.
“You have outstanding observational skills, mother.”
Okay, at least his sass isn’t broken. Whatever it is that’s going on can’t be too terrible, then.
“Where did you get the pizza?”
“I reprogrammed the replicator. I assumed you would not protest.” Fork, cut, bite. “My apologies if I was mistaken.”
“You weren’t mistaken.”
Amanda bites her bottom lip, thinking. “Where did you learn to reprogram the replicator? You never told me you were becoming interested in coding.”
“I am not. James taught me.”
Fork, cut, bite.
This whole time, and he hasn’t so much as looked up from his meal. Amanda decides to leave him be, and exits the room.
An hour later, Spock is absent from the table, and the pizza seems to have been finished. The whole pizza.
Something is very wrong.
*.*
A month later, Sarek is away on business, not scheduled to return for five months, and therefore can be no help to Amanda’s current crisis.
Spock’s pattern of overeating that had begun as a curious abnormality has turned into a horrifying routine. There is not a moment she sees her son where he is not in the middle of either preparing himself a meal or consuming one.
The day she hears him throwing up in the bathroom after dinner, she locks herself in her bedroom and cries.
*.*
“What’s wrong, Spock? Talk to me!”
She’s getting desperate.
“To what are you referring, Mother?”
His eyes are dull, skin pale. Her child is in pain, she can not help. She is drowning in her own uselessness, her own lack of qualification for dealing with his pain.
Amanda did not know that Vulcans could even get eating disorders.
“ Spock. ”
Her eyes were pleading, her voice almost a prayer. He answers.
“I am simply hungry, Mother.” His jaw clenches for a moment. “I find myself increasingly hungry at all times, beyond my body’s reasonable need for sustenance.”
Yes, he has consulted medical professionals. No, there was nothing physically wrong with him. No, he did not have a theory as to the cause of his metabolic upset.
And isn’t that a way to phrase it.
“Have you talked to Jimmy about it?”
Not that Spock’s thirteen year old bondmate would be able to fix whatever is going on. But if there is one piece of Human advice Amanda has found practically universal, it is that seeking alternate opinions often leads to unexpected solutions.
Spock shook his head.
“I have not spoken to James in 78.4 days.”
Now that is a surprise. Those two have been attached at the communicator for six years.
*.*
Vulcans do not dream. Spock knows this, both factually, and from experience.
And yet…
For the past three months, he has not been getting sufficient rest. For whenever he enters REM sleep, his mind is filled with pain and fear.
He wakes screaming, the sight of red speckled across a white field lingering in his mind’s eye.
His days begin with hunger clawing at his insides, unexplained and unwarranted.
Spock has never dreamed. But he knows now what a nightmare is.
*.*
The nightmares are the last straw. A few nights ago, she was awaken in the dead of night by Spock’s hoarse screaming from his room.
For as long as she lives, she will never forget the sounds of his screaming. The sight of him thrashing in his bed.
She will never forgive herself for not hearing him days — no, weeks earlier.
All she knows is she can’t handle this alone.
Amanda calls Sybok.
*.*
“Lady Amanda, I will need his permission.”
“I know.”
“He will not give it to me.”
“Sybok, he has nightmares. ”
“...I will arrive in 36 hours.”
*.*
“I do not wish to share my thoughts, brother.”
Of course he doesn’t. Sybok can tell just by looking at him that Spock is a mess. And from what Lady Amanda has said, the source has to be a mental one.
“Spock. Your mother insists that I look for the root of your current discomfort.”
Amanda barks out a bitter laugh. “That’s one word for it. Discomfort!”
Spock clenches his right hand into a fist. A rather human gesture. Fascinating.
*.*
Spock’s mind is a wounded animal. It backs away from Sybok, lashing out in self defense. Even in the midst of a meld, his brother’s thoughts remained distant from him.
All Sybok is getting are waves of emotion. Fear, anger, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. None of this made any sense. He had to find the source.
Sybok was not prepared to stumble across his brother’s bond.
From a distance, the bond is nothing but warmth, safety, home.
And then Sybok touches it. And the flood of pain he gets from the other side is enough to make him jump out of his brothers mind,
He’s shaking, Sybok can feel it.
He is shaking, and gasping and can not stop. Spock is crying.
Sybok has heard the rumors of Spock’s tendency for emotionalism, but he has never seen his brother cry.
After catching his breath, he turns to his stepmother. Lady Amanda’s cheeks are tear stained, human eyes wide and fearful.
“It’s Jimmy. Something has gone terribly wrong.”