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14 July 2014 @ 05:23 am
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13 July 2014 @ 05:21 am
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Spock
31 May 2014 @ 10:40 am
After STID Spock takes up residence at the Vulcan Embassy and tries to find peace.

A cool mist surrounded me, seeping through the layers of my robes. Robes that were woven to resist the heat of the Vulcan sun and not the weather of a chilly San Francisco morning. I’d risen before dawn in the small apartment that I’d been given at the Vulcan Embassy. It was far from the ambassador’s suite that I’d lived in with my parents as a child, and that was fine.

The Embassy had opened its doors, welcoming Vulcan’s lost children after Nero destroyed our world, I had not sought out a space then. It would have been too painful to be near the gardens that my mother loved, and it had been difficult for me to share space with the refugees on Enterprise on our way back to Earth.

But now it was different. Another monster came from the darkness of space, proving Dr. McCoy’s theory that space was dangerous, but this one had come from within. Admiral Marcus was a cancer, devouring Starfleet from the inside out, spreading poison and death in his wake. He had been the most dangerous of all. Nero was brazen in his hatred, as was Khan, but Marcus had been insidious.

My home in San Francisco had been destroyed, crushed under the titanic weight of Marcus’ atrocity. His hulking monster loomed over the city by the bay, casting a shadow that sent a chill down the spines of each and every resident of the city whether it fell upon them or not.

I nearly had an emotional display when I found that the Embassy had been spared. Vulcan being such a friend to Starfleet and the Federation had built close to the them, in many places their perimeters touched, and it was a miracle that this small slice of home remained. Because for me this was almost as much my home as Enterprise was.

The Embassy was home in ways that New Vulcan never could be. My mother had tea within these rooms, and I’d walked the hallways with her and my father, learning all that I could while listening and watching those around me. Unlike Vulcan, I never dealt with bullies or those who looked down at me for being half-human at the Embassy. I suppose that was because it was of two worlds as I am.

The sand beneath my knees had been imported from Vulcan to fill the grounds of the Ambassador’s meditation garden. My father was on New Vulcan with my older self, and his staff informed me that I should use this place while he was gone. They had also attempted to get me to move into my old rooms, but I had refused. But I could not refuse this chance to be surrounded by bits and pieces of home.

There was still pain in my heart, grief for my mother, but it was the rage that still churned within me that I wanted gone. Khan had killed Jim and Pike. Marcus had damaged Starfleet’s honor. But beneath the simmering anger was guilt. I felt guilt and shame for losing control as I did when I tried to kill Khan.

So I sat in the drizzle of the morning fog, wrapped in meditation robes and closed my eyes, seeking that moment of peace that was eluding me. I knew it was there. It was a beacon of safety and knowledge where I could find my center and regain my control. But each and every time I closed my eyes, I could see the same image flash behind my eyes, Jim’s hand pressed against the safety seal of the warp core, his fingers parting in the ta’al, and I was caught in the need to save him, to touch him, to let him know that it would be all right.

It didn’t seem to matter to my mind that he was all right. Dr. McCoy found a way to save him. To bring him back to us and for that I would forever be grateful. Perhaps today would be the day that I could close my eyes and remember Jim waking up in his hospital bed and thanking me, with his eyes bright and clear instead of the light in them fading with death.
 
 
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
 
 
Spock
Character: Spock and McCoy
Genre: Gen
Author: iam_spock aka sylar
Fandom: Star Trek
Word count: 1300
Rating: G
Notes: No notes. No warnings. Just a little snarkfest between Spock and McCoy on an away mission. So yeah, I got a little stage fright about McCoy for some reason, but I think I'm over it now. I wish I'd started this as a Spones fic, because it would be a perfect story to build on that relationship, but at Part 6 it's a little late to change the genre.
Summary: McCoy and Spock are trapped on a primitive planet. The Enterprise has been forced to leave orbit. Their tech doesn't work. When they find out why, they get a big surprise.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five


Part SixCollapse )

Thank you for reading and commenting.
 
 
Current Mood: angryangry
 
 
Spock
10 September 2013 @ 07:54 pm
Character: Mirror Spock, Mirror Amanda, Mirror Sarek
Genre: gen
Author: iam_spock
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Word count: 810
Rating: PG
Notes: The Mirror version of kid Spock after the bullies give him shit at school.


They were arguing. Spock had never heard them fight before. In the past they would speak in whispers, or his mother would cast a withering look at Sarek. But this time was different. They were both angry, and Spock was shocked that his father’s voice, usually controlled and calm, was filled with ire. He heard his name bandied about. That was less of a surprise than the loud voices. He knew they were engaged in a battle of wills over what he had done.

What he had done to Stonn and the other boys who were torturing him at school.

He could taste blood on his lip, and there was green blood on his hands. But it wasn’t only his blood. His knuckles were bruised, and the sleeves of his school uniform were soaked, heavy with the weight of the older Vulcan boy’s blood.

“Spock!” his father’s voice rang out, calling him into his office. Sarek sat at his desk, a tapestry map of Vulcan hung from the wall behind him done in shades of red, brown, gold and purple. Amanda was the Imperial Governor of Shi Kahr, but this was Sarek’s family home. Here it was his domain not hers, but the young Vulcan had no doubt that she would have her say as well.

“Father.” Spock held his head high. He felt no shame for what he had done. He had defended his family honor, and he was tired of being harassed for being different. He stopped before the desk, knowing that he was leaving a trail of blood behind him and would be leaving more on the carpet where he was now standing ramrod straight.

“You did considerable damage to your reputation today,” his father said, any hint of the anger Spock had heard was now gone as he spoke. “Stonn was badly injured. He will live, but his eye will need to be replaced.”

Spock did not say that he was sorry. Vulcans could lie, but he did not wish to lie to his parents. He folded his hands behind his back and waited to hear what his disciplining would entail. “I see. Do you wish to know why I attacked him, or will I be punished without having my say?”

“I would like to hear why, Spock,” his mother said. She got up, her deep blue robes clinging to her form as she walked toward him, to tilt Spock’s head back, tracing her thumb across his damaged lip. “You have learned to control your emotions like your father, so I would very much like to know why you did it. Did they insult you?”

“They insult me every day.” Spock had never told them. The only creature who knew about how much they hurt him was I-Chaya, and he knew that his furry friend would not tell any of his secrets. The last thing Spock wanted was for his parents to know that he cried when he was alone. “They attempt to get an emotional response from me daily, but I refuse to give in to their bullying. I do not let them hurt me.” He could not look into Amanda’s eyes, because he knew that she could tell that he was lying. “But they insulted you, mother. I could not allow that.”

“Surely we cannot punish you for defending your mother’s honor,” Sarek said as he came to stand besides Spock and then handed him a handed him a dagger that was sized to fit his hand. “My father gave me this when I was your age. I will teach you to use it. Then your mother and I will teach you to strike your enemies without getting caught.”

Amanda bent down, placing a kiss on the top of Spock’s head. He was embarrassed by it, but he could do nothing. If he showed how he felt, he would be betraying his choice to be Vulcan. It was frustrating, so to distract himself, he pressed the pad of his thumb on the edge of the knife; very little pressure was needed to part the skin. “Now, go take a bath. It is almost time for dinner.”
Spock made it to his room in record time, running once he was outside of the office. His bathtub was filled already when he arrived and a servant helped to undress him. He slipped into the red marble stone tub, hissing when the hot water touched the scrapes and cuts on his hands.

“Wait!” he called to the servant who was gathering his ruined clothing. “Bring me my tunic.” Spock bit his lip, making it bleed anew, as he cut a piece of the blood stains sleeve using the knife Sarek had given him. He pressed the piece of cloth into the servant’s hand. “Put that next to my bed. I am keeping it. Throw out the rest.”
 
 
Current Mood: angryangry