Disclaimer: Don't own Trek. Wish I did. It may own ME, however. Copyright 2004 (c) SterJulie. Rated PG.
JOURNEY OF MINDS
Clearly, this is the most difficult thing I have ever done. I turn my back to Jim and my friends and crew. But I want to spare them. I do not want them to see me die.
So tired, so cold, yet I burn. The radiation. Must be.
I want to sleep. When will death come, and in what manner? My last thoughts... should be profound, but so hard to concen...
Even through closed eyes, my world darkens further and forms a... a tunnel, with a bright light at the end. How ridiculously cliché! Dark. All is dark. All is...
Meditation escapes me tonight. The terrible news came today, the news I have feared since my son left home. My son, my son! Amanda has the solace and release of tears. I cannot fall into that. If I do, I fear I will never stop. My dreadful prediction came true. "My son," I told him, "if you join Starfleet, they will return you to us in a box." Part true. Now I hear that your so-called friends have buried you in space. Barbaric! Now there can be no second life for you.
Can't sleep. Again. All I can think of is that crazy Vulcan! I hear him all over the place. Sometimes I think he is right behind me, or in my head. I even talk like him sometimes. Spooky. I thought I was the only one to notice, but every so often I get these weird looks from the crew. Got to stop talking to myself. People are going to think I'm crazy.
I still cannot believe that we found you -- alive! I know it is illogical not to believe, because you are sleeping here beside me in this cave. But if anyone were to tell me that someone who was dead could be brought down to the sub-atomic levels and be re- generated, I would not believe them. That is why, when the Fires came upon you, I could not let you die again. I had to help you through pon farr. It seemed wrong to take you to myself since you were just a boy, but I could not let you die.
All right, Captain. I've arrived at Vulcan. I've done my part. I told Sarek that you were en route. I shared Sulu's message, how you sacrificed the Enterprise and lost your David. Sarek was touched by your sacrifice for his son. It took all of my training to keep from weeping all over him. He tells me that preparations are underway for your arrival with your precious cargo. I'm watching and waiting. All my hopes.
All these faces. So many Vulcans. Never saw so many together in one place. But I'm only concerned about one right now. I wish I could see him better. Maybe if I stood over here.
The faces. All eyes are closed, all faces locked in fierce concentration. Even Saavik's. And Sarek! He looks like he's trying to will the re-fusion by sheer determination.
It's been a long night. Hang in there, Bones. Come back to us, to me, my friend.
Snakes. Damn. How I hate snakes. I used to chop them up good on Grandad's farm back in Georgia. Now they seem to be in my head. T'Lar said there was danger. She didn't tell me that half the population of Vulcan would be here, crawling through my mind, looking to take that blasted katra out. Damn.
Well, at least it's cooled down some... a lot. In fact, now I'm cold. Damn.
Hey, wasn't the sun over there when we started? Must have dozed off again. How long has this been going on? Have we been at this all night?
Ahh. No more snakes. Well, it's great to have my mind once again all to myself, thank you very much, but I'm left with a whopper of a headache. Just let me sleep five more minutes. Then I'll get up.
The darkness... moves. The light shines through both sets of eyelids and I am once again warm. I try to open my eyes, but the light is too bright and the face over me is hidden in shadows. I take a deep breath. Breath? Air? What's going on? All is confusion. All is chaos. Help me!
Who is this darkened face? He calls me "my son." Logically, he must be my father. But I do not know him. I do not recognize any of these faces. Chaos! I am so confused. My mind is as the roiling desert winds.
A human! There are humans here? But where is here? And why am I surprised? Think! The one who calls me "my son" is telling me a tale, a tale of death and regeneration. He could not mean me. If I died, then I must still be dead. Confusion. Bedlam!
A matriarch (A High Master?) is brushing away wetness from my cheeks. Tears? Was I weeping? She traces gentle circles at my temples and whispers softly to me. She enters the storm which is my mind and helps me not to fear it. She and the others will companion me through the madness to clarity. She tells me my name. It is Spock.
I am Spock! Son of Sarek! Son of Skon, son of Solkar! My name has anchored me. I know who I am and whose I am. The storm winds of my mind begin to abate.
Father brings me clothing. I know these robes. I wore them once before. Gol. I studied on Mount Gol. But this is not Gol. I recognize the glyph of the Second Life on the temple wall. This is Mount Seleya. Mount Seleya is a place for the dead.
Dead. I was dead. So, the story Father was telling me was true. I do not understand.
I walk by the humans. Father said that they were very true friends to me. But I do not know them. Even so, it would not be proper to walk by them without comment. Mother (Mother?) would say that I should thank them. "Thanks is illogical," Father would say. But I must know their motivations.
I watch my son interact with his friends. My son, my life. I thought I lost you forever. It is good to have you back, illogical as that sounds. But I care not, not today. I am profoundly relieved to have you back, even a fractured and fragmented you.
I will have to reconsider my opinion of your life's choice to be in Starfleet, and in your choice of friends. They are beings of high moral character.
The one whose name dances at the edge of my memory speaks of "the good of the one." That does not sound right. We exchange words, mine tortured, his hopeful and encouraging. What is his name?
Jim! I look to the others and I know them. The serene and regal Uhura, with whom I have shared music and other interests. And Saavik. Saavikam, why do you lower your head? And the all too human Chekov, who believes that everything human originated on his corner of the Earth. And the capable Sulu, Vulcan-like in his own right. And Scott, whom Jim calls his "miracle worker." And McCoy. Ah, McCoy. Why does he tap his temple? Does he mean to tell me that he has thought of me? I look back to Jim. Three anchors in the miasma of my mind -- my name, my father, and my friends. These will help me to regain myself.
So, I was dead, then, and regenerated, and successfully reunited through fal tor pan.