Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, and am not receiving anything of monetary value from writing this story.

A/N: So…I'm back! School's been a little rough. I'm at the end of my season and just starting a musical. Ha. Me, in a musical.

But, anyway, I do plan to continue my stories, for those of you who are wondering; it'll just take a little while.

And now is the time that I tell you how I fucked up my laptop, the only thing I write on. Thankfully I saved everything to a flash a day before the crash. And, now I am on one of my mother's older one. Which, actually, has a hell of a lot better Word than mine had. So, I've been a bit busy; but still, feel free to chat me up! I'd love to hear what you think.

*

"What do you want me to do, Father? Stay by your side? Help you with New Vulcan?"

Spock asked, frustrated beyond belief. His father wasn't listening to him, and hadn't been for the hours that they had spent in Spock's quarters.

"Yes." Sarek said simply, unwilling to back down from his hopes. Spock, the brightest Vulcan of his age, helping rebuild Vulcan; it would be wondrous. And Spock was so good with children. Children that had just lost everything. That needed someone. Someone they could trust.

But, above all else, Sarek had long sworn to be truthful to himself. And he knew that Spock wouldn't agree, couldn't agree. The part of him that still mourned the absence of Sybok found great comfort in imagining Spock by his side. Was he being fair? No. And he knew that he would lose this battle. Lose this war on Spock's abilities. Spock wasn't able to live among Vulcans without losing his happiness. And how Spock had long warred for it. He deserved to be happy, and as a father Sarek could see that; could want it above all things…

But he was lonely. So very lonely. He had no other children, no other work. All he had left were his hopes. And Spock couldn't help that. Couldn't change it.

"I can't dad. I just, I can't. Not now." It hurt to say, to admit to such a painful weakness. But he was strong; he always had been. And now, with his head held high, Spock told his father the truth.

Praying that Sarek could read between the lines and see his hurt was too much to ask for, and after so long with passive arguing, Sarek's emotions got the better of him.

"Now? Now that you're in Star Fleet? Now that you are a moderately high ranking officer? What is it, Spock, that so holds you to your superficial position and highly illogical illusion of grandeur? You used not to be so rash and un-" Sarek was grasping at straws, and they slipped like gossamer strands through his grasping, desperate, fingers.

Now Spock was angry. His mind instantly turned to the painful, lonely memories of his time in the Academy as a cadet. All the solemn hours of studying. Everything. It moved through his mind so fast that he didn't even hear himself speak until he heard his father's gasp.

"Don't you dare, Sarek. I worked for what I have. I am the first officer of the Enterprise as of this morn." The accidental telling of his new promotion slipped through his lips like smooth velvet. Wrapped in softness; not hiding the bite of angry steel.

"You were…promoted." Sarek stared, shocked at his son. Spock had never shown any ambition to the high steps of Star Fleet. He felt his entire hopes crush to dust like the red sands of his home gone.

"Yes. Indeed, my seemingly grand illusion of my duties is…rather larger than you first presumed, eh?" Spock crossed his arms and leaned further into the protruding lip of his kitchenette counter. His cheeks burned green with anger and his hair was flicked out of his face with a rapid hand. He stared at his father and saw what he hadn't quiet seen before.

His father was old. And tired.

Sarek to a hesitant step forward, hands tugging his robes. "Indeed. Spock, I-"

Spock wilted like a dead flower, slumping, he groaned and rubbed at his eyes.

Now, his father saw what he hadn't seen. He saw the pain, the anguish in his child's eyes and he felt the urge to chase it away. He remembered then that Spock lacked much of any proper shielding. And like all other things, Spock was powerful when he wanted to be.

Sarek felt horror paint his heart and soul at the thought of his son enduring the death cries of their people. Close now, he reached out a hand, laying it heavily on Spock's slumped shoulders. His other came up to brush back his boy's curtain of dark hair.

"Don't. We, shit. Fuck. Damn. We've just suffered an enormous tragedy and on the eve of it, we bicker with each other like small children. God, Father, we are both mourning. We shouldn't be discussing anything of any importance in such a light. It is-"

Spock protested to his father's comforting touch, but didn't move away from it. He talked to the tiled floor. His face was brought back up by his father's fingers on his face.

"Illogical." Sarek said gently, tilting Spock's face up. His son had nothing to be asham- they had nothing to be ashamed about. Emotions ran deeply in their race. They merely didn't show them, and subsequently, acted on them differently.

"Indeed." Spock said weakly, managing a small, tired smile.

"You still have your piercing." Sarek noted with some surprise when he tucked a smooth lock of hair behind one of Spock's oh-so-Vulcan ears.

"Yes, I do." Spock to the chance for what it was and changed the subject. Anywhere away from their previous conversation would be…great.

"I am…tired father." He said, moving carefully out of his father's hold. Sarek let him go, allowing Spock to lead him to the door. His dark robes made quiet swishes against the hard floor.

Standing at the door, Spock turned, asking uncertainly, "Shall I see you tomorrow?"

Sarek nodded.

"Of course." He would look forward to it.

Spock motioned him out and Sarek gracefully went. Standing in the hall, he heard the door to his son's room begin to close and a feeling; not unlike the one he had gotten the first time he laid eyes on his human wife, flowed through him. It filled him and lifted him high and he spoke without turning.

"Spock." He could barely hear himself over the singing in his soul.

Spock re-opened the door, staring quizzically out.

"Yes father?" He asked, wondering what was going on. His father sounded strange. And since when had Sarek talked to him with his back turned?

"They would be proud of you."

And with that, Sarek walked down the hall and disappeared from view.

*

Spock chocked on his breath as it came faster and faster. The tears ran hot down his face and he curled over more, as his sobbing got harder.

It tore from him everything; his sorrow did. It took away all thoughts and let him mourn freely, without regrets.

He cried for the deaths of the Vulcans, he cried for the passing of Stonn, and he cried for Jim Kirk who would never do so himself. He cried for his mother.

But mostly, he cried for himself.

To heal him.

To help him.

When the tears ran slowly and he felt so dehydrated that he could pass out, he stood shakily from his seat in his bathroom. He laughed softly at the vision of his matted hair and green-shoot eyes. His skin and veins stood in such strong relief that he looked…alien.

He laughed again at that thought and hobbled from his bathroom.

In the kitchen he drank great gulps of water to quench his sudden thirst and his blinked his sore eyes at the time of the day.

He had been crying for nearly four hours.

He shook his head and sighed, picking cautiously at his sweaty shirt.

He snorted and said fuck it. Exhaustion pulled at his slim limbs like the claws of a hungry selak. Spock wasn't fighting it.

Within a few steps and a short fall he was sucked into his mattress and was fast asleep.

He didn't think about Vulcan, he didn't think about work. He slept. Boots over the edge knocked out slumber.

And he was at peace.

*

Weeks passed.

He saw his father off to the new colony. He did paperwork, wrote recommendations, and generally worked his ass off covering for now dead instructors.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprising, James Kirk was right along side of him. Helping, instructing, tutoring, and tackling anything and everything that came his way with an enthusiasm that made Spock feel that he had been right all along in his assessment of the man.

Despite what he had told his father, though, he had yet to answer to the request placed for him as the First Officer of the Enterprise.

He didn't think it odd in this case. Kirk's actions were still being reviewed by the Board.

Komack was still pitching a fit about him, Archer was pleased, and Spock was hurriedly sending in as many reports on his thoughts on the matter that he had time to.

There was no such thing as free time and Spock more often than not found himself stretched so thin that he felt like he was made of air.

That was not to say that he wasn't still one of the most effective people on campus, just that he was finding sleep in the form of tens of minutes naps and sparse, hardly efficient mediations.

Soon enough however, the work began to dwindle and time became less precious. It left Spock time to sleep fully. And he did. For nearly three days.

When he woke up he found dozens of messages on his comm. Not truly surprising, but he dutifully reported back to each and every one of them. He thanked the Board for allowing him the days off and promised to be back to work by the next day.

They all seemed to understand, and it made Spock wonder just what exactly they thought he had been doing. From the looks on some of the lesser-ranked men, he figured they must believe that he had been mourning. He didn't feel like correcting them.

Humming a quite tune, he twirled around his kitchen with little care to the fact that all he was wearing was an undershirt and a pair of yoga pants. Bare feet made little sound as he poured himself a cup of water and jumped to sit on the counter.

Squeaky clean, Spock was a happy camper and did his best to ignore the fact that he felt like something that a shuttle had run over.

It worked to a point and Spock was his normal self as he bolted off the counter, through the kitchen, and to his door when a hesitant hand knocked.

His damp, newly cut hair tickled his neck. The new layers made his head feel lighter, and he wondered who it could be as he opened his door.

He was surprised to see the piercing blue eyes of his, hopefully, soon to be captain staring back at him. He blinked as his mask slid smoothly into position and he leaned against the door jam. Kirk looked tired. Maybe he should take some days off. It had done Spock wonders, after all.

"Can I help you?" He asked thoughtfully as he looked down at the shorter man.

"Yes, you can." Kirk answered. He took a step forward and Spock moved to allow him inside. He didn't bother hiding his stare as he watched Kirk look at his apartment. What he saw, Spock didn't know. But soon enough Kirk had turned and was staring at him again.

"You didn't reply."

"Excuse me?" Spock asked, bewildered.

"To the command postings. You haven't answered."

"Ah, you mean to the request you placed in regards to me being the second in command." Spock understood now.

Could it be that Kirk was worried?

"Perhaps you could fill me in on the latest new, Kirk, it seems I have been unreachable for the past days. What has the Board to say over the actions you took on the Enterprise, for example? If they have reached an accord, that is." Spock said smoothly as he walked to his kitchen.

"Something to drink?"

"No, thank you. And about that leave of absence, Spock I think it's time that I apologized." Kirk said as he followed Spock. His hand traveled through his hair in a movement of exhaustion.

Spock stood from his bent position beside his fridge and looked at the man standing in front of him.

"To what would you have to apologize for?" He wondered as he leaned against the counter top, his hand mirroring Kirk's unconsciously.

"On board. The Enterprise. I, well, I know that you loved your mother." Kirk said finally, shifting his feet and looking Spock straight in the eyes with a look of pure regret spelled across his face.

It surprised Spock, and he couldn't help but smile as he shook his head at the goodness that James Kirk seemed to emit from his very soul. He covered his mouth with his hand to try and stop the choked off laugh that came from his chest.

Yes, he remembered the bullshit that Kirk had pulled on the bridge, unknowing that Spock was already fully prepared to step down the captaincy. Kirk had beaten him to the punch, insulting him and insinuating that the elder lost from the cliff had been of relation. Spock's mother in fact. And the thought had been true…to a point.

Elder Savik was a long time mentor to Sybok and had often been found at the Sarek family dinning table. He laughed at Spock's horrible jokes and encouraged Sybok's love of history. He had been a good friend, and it had been hard to loose him. But Savik was not Spock's mother.

And in the face of self-loathing that Kirk had tried so hard to hide as he threw insult after insult at Spock, Spock had quietly taken it and then spoke of his emotional compromise. He gave up the captaincy to Kirk. And Kirk thought it had all been his idea.

Damn, the man really was good.

Opening his eyes, he gave Kirk a wide smile.

"Now, I will thank you for your thoughtfulness and I will tell you the truth. I loved my mother, but she died many, many years ago."

Kirk's open-mouthed sputtering led Spock to stand in silence as Kirk spoke.

"I, I thought that, but you let me, I can't, but you-"

"Let you believe that I was emotionally compromised? But that was the truth and while I have the power to be a Captain, I have no want for such a position."

"You let me have it." Kirk said, groaning as he clapped his hands over his face and slumped with the realization.

"Yes, as I had planned to all along. You just seem to have a bad sense of timing."

"Well, damn."

"Yes."

"But you still haven't answered the postings." Kirk pointed out.

"No, I have not." Spock replied.

"You've been in mourning the past two days." Kirk said in realization.

"I have been sleeping. I may not be human, but even Vulcans need sleep, Kirk." Spock corrected, enjoying the look of disbelief Kirk gave him as he leaned against the wall.

"But-" Kirk said, eyes wide.

"I finished my outpouring of grief about two weeks ago."

"And you've been-goddamnit Spock! You let us all think that you were just bottling?!" Kirk snarled, his fists clenching.

"You all are the ones who were being presumptuous, not I." Spock told him truthfully.

"You said nothing!"

"You didn't ask."

Silence painted the space as Spock's comment sunk in.

"Shit, you're right. We didn't ask. Would you really have answered?" Kirk groaned again in embarrassment.

"Yes."

"Well, damn."

"Damn indeed."

And that was that.

*

Spock stood when Kirk relieved Pike.

*

When asked one, final time, if he would join the Enterprise under the command of one James T. Kirk, he agreed.

*

Reading the padd, Spock quietly sat at his station. His short hair was tucked neatly behind his ears. The bridge was quiet.

With a few taps of his stylus he signed his signature on the line provided and handed the padd back to a waiting ensign.

The silence however, was not to be.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Jim?!" The aggravated voice of one Leonard McCoy was heard as he and the captain stepped from the lift.

Spock held in a sigh and was startled when a hand clapped itself on his shoulder and spun him around to face the chaos.

"Spock! Save me!" Jim's voice boomed in Spock's pointed ear as he hid behind the Vulcans slender frame.

"W-" Spock didn't even get a chance to ask as he flew backwards.

He would find later that McCoy had tripped over Spock's ensign, making him careen forward into Spock's chair.

With such a heavy fall and a very determined captain refusing to let go of his "only salvation" it wasn't very surprising to find the chair tipping…and falling.

Wheezing out a breath from under the weight of the large CMO, Spock wanted to groan aloud. An elbow was in his ribs and a very determined someone was squirming beneath him.

Staring up into the dark eyes of McCoy and feeling Kirk under him made him wonder if perhaps he should have thought more about taking his commission.

He laughed breathlessly at the thought, startling the men above and below him.

Tugging at his tangled limbs, he smiled and tried uselessly to blow his hair out of his eyes.

Really, he thought, thoroughly amused.

He wouldn't trade it for the world.

Fin