Chapter Text
The geneticist worked for four years.
A whole team, using the proffered genetic material of a human woman and a Vulcan man. They mapped out every system of the body, ensuring that the result would be a healthy embryo. The team of Vulcan geneticists finalized their work, and when the embryo was found to be viable, it was implanted into the human woman. Amanda Grayson.
Amanda Grayson was thrilled with every second of her pregnancy. She would have a baby. They would create something entirely new. Not just the first ever Human-Vulcan hybrid, but a whole new being that she and Sarek had made. She wondered if it would have Sarek’s eyes. Sarek watched and wondered if the child would have Amanda’s eyes.
Nine months and twenty six days after implantation, after sixteen hours of labor, S'chn T'gai Spock was born, wailing loudly. Amanda held him close, marveling at his tiny scowl and strong lungs. Sarek wondered at the child. His brows were tilted down toward the middle, just like a Vulcan’s, and his ears were pointed like a Vulcan's. And his eyes…
“He has your eyes,” Amanda cooed, never looking away from her son, tears streaking down her face. The doctors and healers and scientists present all exchanged glances at her overt display of emotion. The Vulcan scientists and doctors all took their time to examine the child before Sarek demanded they leave.
His wife was due her privacy with her child.
*_*_*
Spock was three.
He spent whole days with doctors, scientists, geneticists and researchers.
They examined everything they could. Brainwaves, oxygen function, organ placement, motor skill, cognitive function, light sensitivity, muscle tone, even his pain receptors. It was mostly non-invasive.
Every vaccine made him feel sick.
The doctors informed his parents that Spock's gross motor skills were present if somewhat clumsy or difficult for him, but he was showing improvement. He struggled to emotionally regulate. By age three, Vulcan children no longer cried. Spock continued to have regular outbursts of emotion.
His father decided that the genetic selection had gone wrong and made calls to the geneticists responsible. They were the best on Vulcan. He told them they had failed.
His mother decided he was perfect, and carried the toddler when he asked, and wiped his tears when he cried, and spoke to him like an adult the way she knew he preferred. She saw that a toddler with the emotional intensity of a Vulcan and the propensity for expression of a Human would find himself confused and scared and overwhelmed. She did her best to help him. She taught him to sing. Spock rather liked singing with his mother. His father taught him the ceremonial chants that he would need to know in the future. These were less enjoyable, but he was pleased when his father found his performance “acceptable."
*_*_*
He was four.
Spock awoke to the unusual sight of his father.
"Come with me, my son."
Spock climbed out of his bed and followed his father through the still dark hallways of the house, and was somewhat surprised but curious when they entered Sarek's study. A room he was rarely brought to in the house. In the center of the room was a large meditation mat.
"Kneel on the mat thus," Sarek instructed, folding his knees beneath him elegantly. After a moment of entangling his legs as demonstrated, Spock was kneeling, a tiny mirrored image of his father. Sarek then lit incense which he set in a ceramic dish between them. The smoke coiled off of the cone into the air between them.
"Focus on the smoke." Sarek intoned.
Spock glowered at the smoke intently, memorizing each ripple and curl.
"Spock, you are a child of two worlds. One of those is the world of your mother: Earth. She is Terran. She and her people are intuitive, emotional, and creative. They are a younger people.” Sarek paused, then continued, “The other is the world I was born into, and that which we sit on right now: Vulcan. I am Vulcan. My people were once much like Terrans, but many thousands of years ago we decided to pursue a different path. We are beings of logic, peace, and control. In you are qualities of both of these people. You are the only being that is of Human and Vulcan kind simultaneously. This will give you a wholly unique perspective in this universe. This will also give you many challenges." Spock listened intently, never taking his eyes off the smoke that spilled into the air like his father's words. Smooth, shadowed, but clear and sharp.
Spock already had some inkling of this information, but it had never been explained so plainly before. One notion stuck out to him more than the rest.
"I am the only one?" he asked.
"Yes," Sarek confirmed. "There are perhaps other beings of mixed parentage between two species, but if there are, I am unaware of them." There was a brief silence as Spock absorbed this. He was alone. "Now my son. Tell me what you feel."
"I feel..." Spock considered. He was confused at the request and he felt his ears heat. He'd never been asked to share what he felt before. He did not know how to begin. After a pause, Sarek spoke again.
"Your emotions, they are strong?"
"Yes, Father."
"It feels like your emotions will pull you away, make you behave differently than you would like?"
"Yes, Father."
"I am going to teach you how to meditate. This is the source of Vulcan control. We will begin by meditating daily for half an hour. Over time you will be able to hold your concentration longer and longer. It is an essential part of a growing Vulcan mind to meditate frequently. When you are older, it will be more important even than sleep. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father." Spock said.
"Very well. To start, allow your gaze to stay on the smoke. Inhale deeply, and exhale, focusing too on the scent of the incense. Allow it to sharpen your focus on this moment...that’s right. Now close your eyes,” Sarek instructed.
Spock hoped his father didn't notice his surprise at assertion he would be spending more time with his son.
"You must be bigger than these feelings. Emotion must not be your master. You must be the master of them. This cannot be done if you are unaware of your emotions. The first and most important step to this is to be fully aware of each emotion that passes. Everything. Fear, anger, joy, love, pain, desire, irritation. You must observe each as they arise.”
Weeks passed and every morning, Sarek woke Spock in the wee hours and they would pad silently to the study and Sarek would teach him the ways of Surakian philosophy and control.
“Everything passes. I will pass, I-Chaya will pass, time passes, this water in this glass will pass. It will end. You will pass, too someday. Every emotion that you feel will also pass. Through meditation, you can more readily accept this, releasing the emotions to pass.”
Spock grew to deeply value these mornings. He had often been overwhelmed and confused by the feelings within him that threatened to bury him like a sandstorm.
“Emotions lie to you. One lie they will tempt you with is that you are your emotions. You are angry, you are happy. This is a lie. You are Spock. Meditation allows you to reconnect with Spock who is not the emotion, but the observer of the emotion. From this point of observation, you are able to simply acknowledge what is.
“Another lie that emotion will tempt you with is judgment. When you feel happy about something, you have determined it to be good. When you feel sad about something, you have determined it to be bad. When I die, you might perceive this as bad, and your corresponding emotion would be sorrow. Is it bad to die? Consider; perhaps I will die at the end of a long painful illness. I will endure suffering. When I die, my suffering has ended. Is the end of my suffering good or bad? Or perhaps in my death, scientists were able to discover the cure to the long painful illness, thus preventing others from sharing in that suffering. Is my death good then? The judgment that comes with these events do not change the events or the results, and so our emotional response is no more beneficial. We must release these judgments, release the emotions knowing that they do not alter what is, and that each will pass.”
Sarek told him the story of one of his ancestors, Surak, who had lived in a time of bloody war. Surak despaired at the destruction that Vulcans could impart on each other, and in his despair, fled to the desert to sit and watch T'Khut, Vulcan's twin planet, rise behind Mount Seleya. Only once he was there, did he decide. He chose, for all of Vulcan-kind, to pursue peace. As he settled in his resolve to pursue this to his own death, an earthquake began. From the earthquake rose the Underlier. An ancient, mountainous being who slept under the sand and who first granted words to the Wanderer in the dawn of Vulcan time, before the great solar flares decimated life on the once lush planet. Now, The Underlier and Surak regarded one another, and through the ancient, evolutionary deep telepathy that the Underlier shared with Vulcan-kind, they marveled at each other. They delighted in their differences. One, so enormous, one so perfectly tiny. Joy radiated between them at each other's discovery. Neither needed to know more, only to accept the universe's infinite diversity in infinite combinations, resulting in this moment of pure, eternal joy.
Spock relished in this tale. He wondered what it would be like to behold something so different, so massive. Or perhaps beings that were as tiny as Surak was to the Underlier. Spock also wondered, deep in his mind what it would be like to not only be seen, but to be seen and be delighted in.
Through these mornings with Sarek, Spock would listen intently, and do everything he could to absorb the lessons.
“Fear and anxiety are not based on logic. They are based in undue preoccupation with the future or the past. This is illogical. We can but learn from the past, and prepare for the future, but we must guard against obsession. No matter how much preparation or education we seek, we cannot tell what the future will bring. Not even those with Sight can consistently tell what will happen. The only place and time where we can enact change, take action, is the present. We must stay in the present moment.”
No matter whether he succeeded in utilizing the skills later in the day, when other Vulcan children would stare at him, or the doctors would prod or poke or wonder at his physiology, his anxiety building that they would take him away for experiments, or whether he would be reprimanded for smiling or frowning or crying, here he could focus and quiet his mind.
He was not his emotion, he was Spock.
*_*_*
Spock was five.
He was visiting Earth for the first time.
His Mother wanted to introduce their son to his Terran side of the family, and although Sarek seemed somewhat reluctant, he had been called back to Earth for work, and so they'd all packed and departed. Spock was delighted at the trip out, watching as the stars slide past. He was also amazed and displeased with how cold it was. He didn’t know anyone could feel this cold.
The Graysons were very loud and far too excited to see him, and had to be told more than once not to touch Spock without his permission, especially after an old aunt pinched his cheek painfully tight, her exuberance overwhelming him through the contact. The Graysons ate meat and discussed a time when their clan had escaped another clan’s enslavement of their people through the delivery of a deity that Spock had never heard of.
When Spock asked which deity had delivered their people with such impressive demonstrations of natural power, they told him several names. Adonai, Yahweh, God.
“So it was many gods?"
“No, little green one, it is one god of many names.” An old man explained. “There is only one God.”
Spock looked to his father who sent quelling thoughts over his son’s curiosity through their familial bond.
His Father had work to do on Earth, so they would be staying for the foreseeable future. Spock rather disliked the notion but there wasn't much to be done about it. His mother taught him at home during the day, and his father continued to teach him Vulcan ways in the early mornings, which continued to be more soothing and that he relied on more and more in his time among Terrans. He’d always considered his mother a very emotional person, but now he saw that compared to most Terrans, she was remarkably calm and controlled. His aunts and uncles and grandparents pulled strange or even grotesque faces that changed rapidly and alarmingly.
With his father, he found sanctuary in their meditation. The smell of the incense, the quiet white light of Sol rising through the study window, and his father's voice all lulled him into his first trances, where he found control. He was not his emotions. He was the observer. He would tame them, become bigger than them, and let them pass.
*_*_*
Spock was six.
He was on Vulcan, on the family estate after returning with his parents from visiting Earth for the last nine months. He relished in the heat and returning to their home, its old familiar comforts a relief after their time away.
They’d been home for a week when he was invited to join a group of children who were socializing.
His mother seemed unsure, but his father encouraged Spock to join his peers. After a year of being isolated from Terran children, who thought he would tattle on them, thought him too cold or too pedantic, he was eager to meet other Vulcan children again and prove himself their equal.
He straightened his shoulders and stepped out their front door, his heart fluttering in his side. The group of solemn children all stated their names, and Spock did likewise, and then without further formality, they all walked purposefully to a local park. Spock thought he did an admirable job keeping pace and mirroring them.
The oldest, Stonn, led the way into the park, to an area that Spock noted for its privacy. He wondered whether Vulcan children played “games” as Terran children had constantly insisted on. Stonn suddenly turned, and the children formed a half circle around Spock.
“You are a Terran, yes?” Stonn asked.
“I am half Vulcan, and half human,” Spock explained.
“Why did your father bond with a Terran?” Anuk asked.
“As an ambassador for Vulcans on Earth, he found it to be a logical—” Spock tried to repeat what his father had explained about gaining cultural understandings of each other. It would be logical for them to be curious at this unorthodox, indeed, completely unheard of pairing, but he was interrupted.
“So, are you weak like a Terran?” Anuk asked, and putting his theory into practice, pushed Spock, who fell over, unexpected as the attack had been.
“He is weak. And look at his face. He emotes. Are you sure this is not simply a human they have given surgical alterations to?” Oratt asked the others.
Spock pushed himself to his feet with as much dignity as he could manage. “I am Vulcan.” He urged, his humiliation heating his neck and ears.
“Do not lie. You are a weak Terran. It is just like Terrans to lie.” Stonn pushed him again, harder, and this time his hands hit the ground first with enough force that his sensitive palms scraped against the concrete.
He cried out in pain and his eyes burned with tears as the older Vulcan children continued to ask questions about him to each other as if examining a strange animal they had found. Spock felt his humiliation and rage billow, uncontrolled in his body as his teeth grit together, and he pushed himself to his feet once again and turned to the children. He bared his palms, the green blood collecting at the abrasion.
“I am Vulcan!” He shouted, brandishing his green blood at them, desperate for them to understand.
Just then the park gate clanged, and they all started, turning and seeing Amanda Grayson striding quickly towards them from the park entrance. The other children bolted, running from the Terran woman whose face was a mask of stoicism. She approached Spock, who stood alone, trembling and sobbing. She lifted him into her arms and carried him all the way back to the estate. He was just about too big to be comfortably carried, and she hadn’t done this in a long time, but she did not put him down until they reached their own kitchen, where his sobs had subsided to hiccuping gasps.
When she set him down, she took his wounded hands in her own which shook slightly, before finding the antiseptic and dermal regenerator. As she collected the first aid items, he noticed that she too had tears on her face, and her mask of stoicism had slipped, replaced by something incomprehensible.
She healed his hands, sending comfort and love over their familial bond. When she finished with the dermal regenerator, she placed his palms together, enfolded into her own, before reaching for his face and wiping his face clean of his tears with a warm damp cloth.
*_*_*
His display of emotion that day cost him dearly.
That evening, Sarek told Spock that he was far too old for such a gratuitous demonstration of emotion. He then brought him to his office to meditate. "A Vulcan is master of his emotions." Sarek stated, as they knelt on the meditation mat and the incense curled into the air between them. "Now, quiet your mind. Become the observer."
From that day forward, peers, adults, even his teachers accused him of being overemotional, or lying or being a treacherous Terran. He was often asked what he was up to, as if he was plotting something. He found he was not trusted by most around him. In this time, he quickly learned to control his emotional expression far better than before, despite the turmoil that often raged within him. He quickly learned that even more than other Vulcan children, he could not afford to express himself.
*_*_*
Spock was seven.
He stood at the Place of Bonding under the rising sun and tried not to appear intimidated by T’Pring and her severe-looking family as they all sang the ceremonial chants. Even his own father, who always struck a rather imposing figure, looked warm and inviting next to her people.
T’Pring never looked at Spock.
He looked over at her, but when it was clear she wouldn’t return the favor, he gazed ahead at his grandmother, T’Pau, the most terrifying of them all, who listened as their chants rang through the cliffs. When they’d concluded, T’Pau called out the sacred words and finalized their betrothal.
In a small, secluded part of him, he greatly desired this new bond. Perhaps T’Pring would become a confidante. If she got to know him, really know him, perhaps she could find him interesting, or even pleasant and they could become true partners.
When he was directed, he placed his fingers over T’Pring’s psi points, and she did the same, her light fingers soft and delicate on his face, and T’Pau too reached forward, her larger fingers, with skin like folded parchment, braced against each of them. They spoke the words, “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts,” and Spock and T’Pring’s minds opened to each other and Spock found a strange landscape beyond.
Her thoughts were cold. Disinterested. Duty-bound.
In the shared space of their minds, a new bond was formed through the ministrations of T’Pau. It was tepid, weak, and new. Fragile.
T’Pau’s thoughts came to them both now.
So you are bonded. Parted and never parted. Touching and never touched. Your minds will call to each other when the time is upon you. Explore your new bond, learn of each other.
After the ceremony, T'Pring's and Spock's parents spoke briefly before offering the ta'al to each other, and then her family left without so much as a glance at Spock. Sarek and Amanda spoke briefly with T’Pau, and then Spock and his parents returned home.
That evening, he tried to meditate and focus on the new bond in his mind as T’Pau had instructed. He could touch the bond, but T’Pring never responded.
Later that week, he saw T’Pring at the learning center. He wondered if she perhaps she preferred to speak in person.
“Hello T’Pring.” he greeted.
“Hello Spock.” She acknowledged.
T'mok, one of T'Pring's associates, stared at Spock. “Why do you speak with her?”
Spock wondered how to respond. Perhaps T’Pring was unhappy to be betrothed to him. She had never yet communicated that she desired it, nor had she reached out to him through their bond. Indeed, only a hand of days after their ceremony, the bond was cold and dim, completely different from his familial bonds which each felt warm and stable.
When she did not speak on the matter on his behalf, he felt he must say something.
“Did you find the test challenging?” Spock invented.
“No." T'Pring intoned. "But if you had been in school rather than traversing the galaxy like a nomad in search of water, you would likely not struggle so much. Perhaps you could ask your parents to stay in one place for longer than a year. Then you would not have such a hard time academically.”
T’Pring and T’mok walked away.
*_*_*
Spock was alone in his room after his Kahs-Wan. He was grimed from the sands of the desert, and his robes were still stained with the blood of I-Chaya.
He knelt on his own meditation mat and considered the events of the last seven days.
His father had insisted that Spock must choose between his humanity or his Vulcan ways. Spock had wondered why he must choose, and why his mother and father had birthed a son of two worlds if they knew their son would have to choose one or the other someday. Especially when Vulcans seemed determined to only consider him human. They called him a liar, a Terran, Earther, Barbarian, Half breed. If he tried to ignore the taunts of other Vulcan children, they would often escalate to physical attacks in an attempt to provoke his emotional responses.
After the most recent altercation he’d had with his peers, he'd heard his father and mother both apologizing to a stranger for his emotionalism.
His Kahs-Wan was scheduled for later that month, but hearing them discuss him, apologize for his emotional outburst as he had lifted himself from the ground once again after his peers’ attack, he had made up his mind, and set out that night.
He’d been in the desert for five days when the le matya had attacked, and although I-Chaya fought the le matya, Selek, his father’s cousin had interceded, rendering the animal unconscious. Spock had been forced to return to town and find help for I-Chaya who had been wounded and poisoned in the fight. When he’d arrived at the healer's house requesting his aid, Spock had been scrutinized, the healer suspicious of a trick from the half human. But finally they’d made it back to I-Chaya and Selek, who had stood watch over her. After the healer advised that he could not save the selhat, Spock decided to shorten her suffering once the healer advised he could not save her.
He came home from his Kahs-Wan resolved in his pursuit of the Vulcan way. His father had been proud.
But now, Spock sat, and closed his eyes.
He observed his feelings of sorrow at the loss for I-Chaya, his concern that he would regret his choice, but his deep desire to follow the Vulcan way, to follow the path of Surak.
He breathed deeply, and released these thoughts and emotions, allowing them to pass, as all will pass.