Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek and its characters. I only play with them once in a while. Copyright 2004 by T’Sia. Rated G. A particular scene in the episode “Operation Annihilate” inspired me to write this story. It seemed to me Spock wanted to tell Kirk he knew how he must be feeling when they found the dead Sam Kirk. My mind went on wondering why he showed this very un-Vulcan display of sympathy and why he said he knew how Kirk must be feeling. This left only the conclusion that he remembered the loss of his own brother. I decided to write about this and it ended up as being my first attempt at writing Spock <fidgeting nervously>. Thanks to Caz for her help before I had enough courage to post it :)
To Lose A Brother
The doors of my quarters shut behind me. My weary eyes closed against my will. Without warning I felt a flash of atypical fear and my eyelids snapped open again. For a second I blinked in confusion and saw the shadows in the room dissolve as sight returned. It had been a more startling experience than I was willing to admit, living in the dark after the creature's attack on Deneva. The only way I could be rid of it had left me blind. I raised an eyebrow, knowing my behavior was illogical. After all, I had regained my sight and did not need to fear the dark. In fact, my philosophy forbade such feelings to rule. But even if logic told me my eyes would not fail again a part of me betrayed reason and fed my spirit with an inerasable fear that if I were to close my eyes I would awake again to darkness. With that in mind I abandoned the thought of sleep and went to the dresser instead. I told myself it was necessary to regain control through meditation before I could function normally again and allow myself to rest. My meditation routine would also offer an opportunity to rid myself of another disturbing feeling that had suddenly roused after years of quiescence.
I opened the drawer and reached for my dark meditation robe but my eyes were drawn seemingly against my will to the carefully concealed garment I kept beside it. For years, I had not allowed myself to pay attention to the package but somehow the events on Deneva, the despair, and feeling of loneliness I experienced on the planet's surface ate at me like some hungry predator. The misery pounded out of the dark confines of my mind where I had banished it. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I fought to regain mastery over myself. I knew I was not allowed to think of him. But I lost the battle and reached slowly for the sealed bag beside my robe. I knew I should not do this but nevertheless I opened the bag and reached inside to take out the soft material. I was surprised that the feeling of loss eased as I let the soft cloth flow over my hands like a river that carried comforting memories. I removed my uniform shirt and donned my brother's meditation robe with the ancient runes -- his final gift to me before leaving to exile. By law and tradition I was not allowed to keep anything of him, not even memories. But no one knew he made this gift to me and against all logic I refused to be forced to give it away as demanded. I turned to the meditation alcove. The warm glow of the fire-pot coals held in the paws of its guardian beast greeted me when I sank down on the meditation mat.
That day, I did not need the fumes of the desert herbs to send my mind into a meditative state. My thoughts instantly fell back into the memories of the past day.
* * *
Our heads snapped up when a piercing cry interrupted the doctor's explanations. The Captain's already alerted senses immediately snapped to command mode and ordered us to follow the voice.
We entered the building and found a woman pressing a panel to a ventilating shaft as if to keep an enemy outside. Devoid of any coherent thought, she screamed in terror. She turned and saw us. Screaming again she clutched at her head as if she was fighting something within her. Her piercing cries assaulted my fine hearing and her powerful waves of fear crashed against my mental shields, threatening to overwhelm me. I knew no way to stop the mental force that seemed much stronger than the energy waves a human mind normally generated. Was it alien influence or panic which intensified her abilities? My mind tried to sort through the facts and find a logical chain of conclusions but the mental onslaught was negatively affecting my efficiency. I tried to strengthen my shields but found it impossible to think clearly in the maelstrom of overpowering emotion. Seeing the room devoid of visible enemies I choose what seemed to be the most logical course of action and turned away quickly to scan the other rooms, leaving the task of emotional support the woman was obviously in need of to my Captain and the doctor.
Disregarding the pain the woman's cries caused in my sensitive ears I proceeded further into the lab. I found more dead Denevans lying on the floor, their faces set in a terrible grimace after having suffered what must have been an agonizing death. I did not allow the gruesome sight to affect me. Back on familiar scientific territory and faced with a mystery to solve my controls snapped back to place and my mind began to function in its usual calm parameters, collecting as much data as possible. While I walked through the lab I found more dead scientists but no evidence as to what had killed them.
In the room outside the cries of the woman subsided to a low weeping. Having collected what was sufficient data at the moment I returned to the entrance room and found the Captain in a distressed state. My gaze flickered to the unmoving figure on the floor and I noticed how much the dead man resembled the Captain. There was no doubt this man was Sam Kirk.
My controls threatened to fail when I raised my eyes to look at the Captain again. The pain in the human's eyes testified for an all too familiar feeling. I fell back through time to another planet and witnessed the loss of another brother; one who was banished from Vulcan forever for his beliefs to embrace emotion, declared dead by law and family, his name never to be spoken again. The brother, who never asked something I could not give, accepted me on my own terms without question. His name, his history was annihilated as if he had never existed. But nothing could exorcise him from my memory. His face as I had last seen him was imprinted there. I knew I would probably never see him again. Although his absence left a painful empty space inside me his face hovered before my inner eye, accompanying me during my life as if he were still there, yet far out of reach always hovering at the back of my mind. Maybe this was worse than death.
In this moment I felt like I had lost him again, so strong were the memories of the day he took his final leave of me and left me to a world that had no understanding for the demands and needs of a half human child. I felt as lonely as the left behind younger brother did years ago. From far away I heard my voice say, "Captain, I understand how you must...,"
The Captain cut me short, his grief rejecting my offer of condolences. For what could I know of grief, a Vulcan, who professed not to have emotions? This made me snap back to reality. I almost felt gratitude towards the Captain for he had certainly prevented that human part of me from betraying my Vulcan half. The human part who felt sympathy for the Captain and feared in this moment that my own brother could be dead also -- somewhere in space, alone and forgotten by his people. The Captain's interruption had broken the spell and hastily I concealed the feelings, pushed them away with the professionalism I was used to when I returned my attention back to the task at hand.
* * *
I opened my eyes, my meditations completed. My gaze locked with that of the winged beast hovering over the fire pot, reminding me of the history and traditions of my people. Against my best efforts to follow my father's teachings and master my emotions, Jim's pain had made me relive the memories of loosing my brother and only friend. I expected to feel ashamed but yet I did not. I realized that I had never mastered the feelings, only suppressed them. They were still echoing in me, refusing to be erased and demanding to be lived with. And I allowed it.
The robe felt warm and reassuring in contrast to the conflicting thoughts of tradition and emotion. I remember the last words of my brother when he left my father's house forever. He said I would never be alone for he would never truly leave me. I did not understand back then but now I do. I am sure the ghost of a smile plays over my features after I realized how well my brother saw through me. He knew I would not, could not forget him as was expected of me. Therefore he would never be gone for I would defy tradition and fondly remember him. And in contrast to Jim, at least I had the hope that my brother was still alive -- somewhere in space, never to be forgotten as long as I remember.