Title: Five Times Spock Felt Alone and One Time He Didn't

Summary: Response to LJ prompt .com/st_xi_?thread=28508605

Pairing: Kirk/Spock

Warnings: None

1. Amanda

It wasn't his mother's fault; it never could be her fault. His mother was a kind and gentle soul, loving and understanding. But sometimes that was the problem. In a world that was so concerned with controlling emotions, in a world so Vulcan, she stood out like a sore thumb. And by default, made Spock stick out as well.

For all outward appearances Spock was Vulcan. His eyes, his hair, his ears, his physique; all Vulcan in nature, yet there was a softness to it. It was widely known that he was the son of a Vulcan and a human. How could they not know? When two different species mate and produce viable offspring, the news spreads like wildfire. Spock grew up this way, knowing that he was half-human and knowing that others knew he was as well. All his life he carried the shadow—the burden—of having a human mother.

Truly, he loved his mother. He did not show it, he did not express it, but he still felt it and he was sure that Amanda knew that he loved her. Yet this love he felt for her, no matter how strong, did nothing to push away the feeling of isolation he felt. He doesn't belong anywhere; he is the only of his kind. He is not human; yet he is not completely Vulcan, no matter how much he tries to appear. He is alone, in every sense of the word. And though he has the love of his mother, it is not enough to dissuade the loneliness.

Spock's arm is still hanging limply in the air as his body particles come back together in one seamless form. He cannot see his surroundings; all he can focus on is the empty transporter pad in front of him, and the last glimpses of red dust and rock that will forever be cemented in his memory. It is as if he is in a trance, as if he will wake up or blink just once more and she will be there. But he does not wake up, he keeps blinking and still she does not appear. The unshed tears in his eyes are the only outward sign that he is feeling the loss of the only person he truly loved.

2. Sarek

That day he fought with the Vulcan boy for insulting his mother, was the day that he had started to grow apart from his other parent. Sarek wasn't an entirely strict man, but like any other Vulcan, he did not show his emotions. To other species he would seem cold and distant; it was a wonder he and Spock's mother had gotten together at all.

Sarek is Vulcan. He is in control of his emotions, yet Spock can still feel the disappointment radiating off of his father as he sits down next to him. Spock looks up at his father, a streak of green blood shinning on his broken lip. He drops his gaze before he can see the disappointment in his father's eyes. He wonders how Sarek can expect so much of him. Spock is not completely Vulcan; even at such a young age he understands that he is unique, separate, isolated. Spock wonders if he should feel shame for his human side, however illogical it is to feel shame. He wonders if he will ever live up to his father's expectations.

He does not look away from his father's eyes this time. They have grown too far apart; he does not feel the need to bend to Sarek's wishes anymore, not like he once did. Some would say that it is with defiance that he looks up at the council members, and perhaps is partly is. Defiance and rebellion are new things to him; he does not know if that is what he truly feels towards these men, these Vulcans. Yet with that defiance also comes something familiar.

"No Vulcan has ever declined admission to this academy."

"Then as I am half human, your record remains untarnished." Loneliness, separation, isolation.

Just another reminder that he is different from everyone else, different from the man he is looking up at right know. That same man is the one who raised him and stares down at him with something akin to anger in his eyes.

"Live long and prosper."

Spock turns his back on the council and leaves.

3. Nero

Spock is surprised when Nero says his name. He is also wary. They have never met, not his knowledge, and he has certainly never heard of a Romulan named Nero. Spock can't help but resent the way Nero introduces himself, pointing out the lone Vulcan shipmate; it only makes Spock wish more that he was fully something—for if he were fully Vulcan, or even full human, he would not be separate from the others; he would not stand out. It is cruel, the way Nero mentions and dismisses him, highlighting his difference from the crew, then moving on as if it does not matter, as if Spock does not matter.

Later, in the aftermath of Nero's defeat, Spock would realize that now he is like Nero; his planet is gone, along with that which meant the most to him. Ironic that this is where he fits, that this is the common ground he finds with others. Loss. It leaves a bitter tang in his mouth and a heavy feeling in his gut. He fights not to let his stomach empty itself of its contents. If given a choice of having this in common with every one, or being alone, he would choose to be alone, for that loneliness is more comforting than the bonding over the destruction and massacre can ever be.

4. Uhura

Uhura was a beautiful being; she was also a strong woman. He had felt that had he been given the chance he may have come to care for her, maybe even love her. But after the chaos following Nero and Vulcan, he could not. Not so soon after having his mother and planet taken from him. One week turned into two, then into three, and then a whole month had passed. She came to him, asked what would happen between them. He did not have an answer for her.

"I do care for you Nyota."

She just smiled sadly, nodding. She softly caressed his cheek, turned and without looking back, walked away. Spock looked after her, as she disappeared down the passageway. He knew it would likely be the last time they spoke as lovers, yet there still remained a chance of friendship. Eyes downcast and throat unusually choked up, he whispered to himself.

"I am… sorry."

And truly, he was. Nyota had been his lover, but she had also been his friend and his confident. It would be a while before they could even think about getting that kind of amicable relationship again. He glanced once more in the direction she had gone, feeling that familiar spike that always accompanied his loneliness. It seems like he was losing everyone these days.

5. Spock Prime

"Father!"

But the lone figure that turns to face him is not Sarek. With a jolt Spock realizes he is staring at himself, only aged well beyond that of 150 earth years. This is confirmed when the elder speaks.

"I am not our father."

It is curious, meeting one's own future. It gives one a sense of timelessness. It also brings back that familiar feeling for Spock. It is symbolic he realizes, that he meets his older counterpart alone in the shuttle bay. They are the only ones of "their" kind, the only half-Vulcans in existence. The fact that there is another of "him" in the universe should comfort him. It does not. The knowledge does nothing to ease the feeling of isolation, for it makes it all the more apparent that he is truly separated from everyone else.

He reasons that it is seeing his own mortality that makes him feel ill later. But it is in fact the proof that he is alone, and forever will be, that unsettles him. Not even his Vulcan logic can help this time. He knows that no matter how logically, it always inherently flawed in that a half-human had played a part in it. In some ways, this meeting of himself leaves him feeling more alone than anything ever did.

+1. Kirk

"Your move, Spock."

Spock looks up from his lap, his hands clasped together and fingers tapping lightly against his lips; he had been thinking. Jim is looking at him fondly; obviously he had noticed his First Officer's distraction, yet being the wondrous man he is, he doesn't comment, only gestures at the chess board in front of them. Spock blinks at the black and white pieces for a moment, before making a perfectly logical move.

Jim smirks and counters the move. Spock's eyebrows scrunch slightly; that move had been completely without logic. Again he takes the logical route. And again Jim counters, only this time he is even smugger than before.

"Check and mate. Looks like I beat that logic of yours once again my friend."

Spock allows a small glare of confusion to cross his features. Jim's playing style does not make sense—it never has—yet the man has beaten him once again. Highly illogical. He looks up at his Captain.

"So it would seem," he allows graciously. Jim grins back and hops up from his seat over to the replicator. Being a Captain, he got one all to himself, something that he delighted in making use of every chance he got.

"Would you like something Spock? Chamomile tea?" He throws the question over his shoulder as he inputs his own request for a cup of black coffee—two sugars and a splash of milk, with a pinch of cinnamon.

"Yes, thank you."

Jim returns with the beverage and places the steaming cup in front of Spock with a flourish and that silly grin still plastered to his face. This is why Spock likes Jim so much, the man can beat him at chess, but he is always gracious about it—Jim never brags and is actually quite humble when it comes to his prowess at chess. Plus the fact that he also knows Spock's favorite tea sends a warm tingle up his spine.

They spend more time together, often playing chess, but more and more they just end up talking. Spock begins to feel comfortable enough to share with Jim. And Jim returns the favor. They share stories of their childhoods. Though neither is particularly happy about that time in their lives, it feels good to tell someone, especially when that someone is someone they can trust deeply. And the more time Spock spends with Jim the more he realizes that he can trust him.

It is one such day when they are in Spock's quarters that Spock has an epiphany. That familiar feeling of loneliness is gone; it's simply not there. He looks over at Jim, who is currently engrossed in some Starfleet report or some such. With a small jolt he also realizes that the blond man looks particularly fetching wearing his reading glasses—one wouldn't think that a person so young would need reading glasses.

Its then that Jim decides to look up from his report. He catches Spock staring. Spock doesn't break eyes contact, but tenses slightly; he's embarrassed at being caught staring, but damned if he is going to let it show. But to his surprise, Jim just smiles that particular smile that he saves only for when he and Spock are alone together and turns back to that stupid report.

Spock blinks and keeps staring. Then, with a small smile of his own he turns back to his own report that he was previously reading. He understands, and Jim understands too. Words are not needed, there is no resulting chaos. There is hardly any change, but Spock notices one big difference. He doesn't feel quite so alone anymore.