Chapter Text
Porcelain clanked together quietly as Spock set up his tea set. He willed his unsteady hands to quit trembling. They wouldn’t say it, but he could tell Jim and his own younger counterpart found signs of his advanced age troubling at times, perhaps serving as a reminder of his younger self’s mortality. As long as he could help it he would make an effort to conceal such things from the young couple.
He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of seeing them, always so energetic and curious. They were always trying to badger him for secrets and hints about the future, despite his promise not to disclose any such things. It was amusing to watch them try and he certainly didn’t mind the company.
His father– or rather his younger self’s father– Sarek had offered him residence in his home, and though he was occasionally around, he wasn’t always. When Sarek wasn’t off planet somewhere doing his ambassadorial duties he was adequately interesting to talk to, though he was still about as tight lipped around Spock as he was with his young counterpart. Most often Spock was alone. Often, his staying in Sarek’s home felt more like housesitting than anything. He couldn’t complain, it was still a generous offer, but it did little for his loneliness.
Jim and his younger self used to visit frequently, but now that the colonies on New Vulcan were mostly stable the Enterprise was free to explore more distant space, and very rarely came close enough to New Vulcan to justify stopping by.
That didn’t matter though, they were coming today and Spock would have authentic, non replicated tea and those spicy, dry cookies he knew Jim loved. He set down the bowl full of them, managing to limit himself to only taking one. He’d baked them himself that morning, an only moderately challenging recipe made slow and tedious by his trembling hands and sore joints. It would be worth it to please Jim, and– knowing his own opinion on the cookies– his younger self as well, though he’d be more subtle about it.
He heard the woosh of a shuttle flying over the house and quickly wiped away any crumbs left around his mouth, smoothing out wrinkles in the front of his robe. He hobbled to the door, eager to greet his guests and learn what they’d been up to. He grabbed the doorknob at just the same moment as he heard a strange sound, a gurgling, whining sort of noise. He heard Jim respond to the sound in a soothing voice, too muffled through the door to make out. He opened the door, Jim looking mildly startled with his hand hovering where he was going to knock.
“Ambassador Spock!” Jim grinned, throwing his arms around Spock’s shoulders before he could even invite them in.
“Appbbthh!” another, unfamiliar voice babbled.
Spock’s eyes widened when they landed on the bundle in his young self’s arms, a squirming, fussing baby with a mop of curly brown hair topping their head. The baby met his stare with their own big brown eyes, little pointed eyebrows furrowing slightly at the strangely familiar stranger.
“You have a baby,” Spock stated, blinking with confusion. He had expressed a desire to have children long ago, but Jim didn’t want to be a father and Spock didn’t want to be a parent without him, so he never had any children of his own. Not biologically, at least.
Not long after Vulcan was destroyed Spock had considered the consequences for this timeline’s Vulcans. He’d come to the conclusion that the young woman he’d mentored through Starfleet, whom he had come to think of as a daughter, would likely never be born. It had not taken much research to find her parents among the confirmed deaths on Vulcan, and he had grieved the loss as he would if his own Saavik had died.
His younger self was saying something, had been saying something for an unknown period of time, but Spock was occupied by the baby’s eyes. The big brown eyes bore into him, enough that if he weren’t Vulcan himself he’d wonder if the rumors were true and they could read your mind without touch.
“Saavik,” Spock whispered. The baby blinked at him, as if acknowledging their name.
“Yeah,” Jim beamed. “She’s a cutie isn’t she? Spock says she gets the crazy curls from his mother. C’mon let’s go inside, it’s smoldering out here!”
Spock stepped out of the doorway, reduced to shocked silence.
“Is she why you have that rule about spoilers? Thought we’d rush into it and have a baby way too soon?” Jim chuckled. “We might’ve, honestly, I don’t think either of us have slept more than three hours at a time since she was born.”
“Come sit down and you may hold her,” his young counterpart called from the sitting area. Spock drifted automatically toward them.
“Saavik…” Spock repeated, still processing.
“That is her name, yes,” Young Spock raised an eyebrow, hesitating to hand off his baby while Spock seemingly had a senior moment. “Was your daughter named something different?”
“I had no children,” Spock reached for her, trying his best not to show his desperation. “Saavik was the closest I had had to a daughter, but she was not biologically related to me. I wondered if she would exist in this universe and concluded that, due to her parents’ deaths, she would not.”
“So you know a Saavik in your universe but she’s not your daughter?” Jim gasped, his voice muffled by a mouthful of cookies. “That’s a pretty crazy coincidence.”
“It is no coincidence,” Spock insisted, growing more impatient to hold her now that his younger self was keeping her from him. “This is Saavik, the same Saavik!”
Saavik squealed and giggled, clapping her chubby little hands with obvious delight at all the attention she was getting. She reached for Spock over Young Spock’s shoulder.
She grabbed his pointer finger in her little fist and squeezed it. Her mind was primitive and shapeless, a mishmash of liquid colors with no recognizable form, but at its core he could feel it, Saavik. His Saavikam.
Young Spock stared at him with wide eyes. “I can feel how her mind responds to yours. It is as if she knows you already.”
“Well he is you,” Jim reasoned. “Of course she recognizes his mind if it’s yours.”
“It is not mine,” Young Spock argued. He finally handed her to Spock, who resisted the overwhelming urge to hug her much too tightly for a baby her size. “Our lives have differed drastically. We are the same genetically but our minds are separate.”
Saavik babbled some jolly nonsense while giving Spock’s wrinkled face the full baby-Vulcan inspection. She grabbed a small handful of silver bangs in one hand and his nose in the other. Spock picked up a cookie and offered it to her, Saavik immediately snatching it up to gnaw on gummily.
“Jim, you mentioned fatigue?” Spock asked, not taking his eyes off of Saavik as she made a slobbery mess of the cookie. She held the cookie in her mouth and reached for Spock’s robe with a sticky little hand, grabbing fabric and smearing crumbs on it. “I am more than willing to babysit Saavikam for you.”
“Saavikam?” Jim grinned. “She already has a nickname?” He turned to his Spock excitedly. “How does a 14 hour nap sound, Spock?”
Young Spock looked hesitant. “Your mobility and energy is limited by your age, and you have not– as far as you’ve told me– cared for an infant before.”
Jim frowned, turning back to Spock and giving him a sympathetic look. “That’s true,” he sighed.
“Though I have not had a child of my own, nor cared for an infant for an extended period, I do have some experience in caring for infants,” Spock responded. “Additionally Sarek will be returning home at 1900 hours, and he has raised two children.”
“Two?” Jim asked.
Spock continued without addressing the question, “He will be able to guide me if you are concerned about my experience.”
Young Spock exhaled through his nostrils.
“When my father returns home please do not allow him to attempt to brush her hair,” Young Spock sighed. Jim tickled Saavik’s little foot, the baby kicking her legs and squealing. “You will call us if anything goes wrong.”
“Of course,” Spock agreed instantly. Saavik blew a raspberry at Jim, who had two cookies sticking out of his mouth and was making faces. He made an exaggeratedly pouty face and disappointedly ate his makeshift tusks. “I would not allow pride to take higher priority than Saavikam’s safety.”
Jim yawned, unintentionally managing to finally make Saavik laugh.
“Does that mean we’re doing it?” Jim asked excitedly, poking Young Spock’s arm. “Are we gonna leave her with these old farts? 14 hour naptime?”
“I do not anticipate that I will remain asleep for 14 hours, though I will not disturb your rest.” Young Spock acquiesced.
“Saavikam will be safe and well cared for, go enjoy your nap, Jim,” Spock insisted.
“You sure?” Jim yawned again. “Sorry to cut our visit so short.”
“I will have Saavikam as company and the two of you will return tomorrow for her,” Spock dismissed his apology. “We shall continue your visit then.”
Jim shrugged and got up, ruffling Saavik’s curly hair before turning to Young Spock. Spock rose from his seat faster than he had in 20 years, urging the two to the door. At the door Young Spock touched two fingers to Saavik’s little nose, and Jim covered her little chubby cheeks with human kisses. Saavik giggled and flapped her hands happily.
“Rest as long as is needed, you will need your energy to raise Saavikam,” Spock said, moving Saavik’s little arm so she waved goodbye. “I will watch Saavikam any time you require a break.”
The two looked anxious about leaving their daughter, likely for the first time since she’d been born. Reluctantly– more so on Young Spock’s part than Jim’s– they waved goodbye to Saavik and left for their shuttle. Saavik seemed confused for a moment, fussing and reaching for her parents. After a minute they disappeared into their shuttle, and she looked up at Spock with her big, brown eyes. Upon seeing his face she giggled, reaching for his gray bangs once again.