Title: The Bay in Fog Author: Arachnethe2 Series: TOS Code: G Pairing: K/S Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount Pictures, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, made for no profit. Summary: There is another Christmas time in San Francisco English is not my native language, please forgive me my errors. Again my thanks belong to greywolf, my editor. The Bay in Fog Written by Arachnethe2 The daily fog hung over the Bay. It looked like a big white sheet, or as if litres and litres of milk had flowed down directly from the Milky Way, changing the streets of the town into... ...what? The kingdom of silence? Sarek sighed and took another sip of his tea. Standing at the window of his office in the embassy, he watched the street on the other side of the gate. 'Kingdom of silence...' What an bizarre expression! Where did it come from? Perhaps he should stop reading his wife's books. At this thought he turned toward his table and spotted there the object of his temporal distraction: Dickens, one of Amanda's favourites. No, his wife wasn't in San Francisco these days. Right now, she was on Vulcan, finishing her last linguistic work for the VSA. She didn't want him to be distracted by her typing. At least this was her last argument, when she explained to Sarek her reasons for departing so shortly before Christmas. He took another sip from his cup and turned back to his window and the street which seemed bathed in the white milk... ...and sighed again: he knew that there was another reason for her travel to Vulcan. He knew... and she knew that he knew. At last everybody knew. The embassy grew silent, after she went. Like the street in the fog outside there. Not that Vulcans have ever been a noisy species. What an illogical thought. Everyone knew that Vulcans cherish the healing silence above all. The disturbing noisiness, they left to the others. For example the humans. But Amanda, once adopting some of Vulcan habits and being often the only human in this large building, always managed to leave a feeling of emptiness in these halls... and rooms... ...his bed... Kaidith! Sarek went back to his table and poured himself another cup of tea, while his eyes rested on the ancient book. 'Admit it', he said to himself, 'you are missing her, although soon she will be back again.' Automatically, his thoughts reached into the back of his mind, to touch the silver string of their bond. Still there - a proof, that at last there were any emptiness. He peered to its other end to look after her wellbeing. Thousand times during the past years he called himself a frightened Lhei'fhter'shol. What could happen to her in their safe house on Vulcan? But still, after so many years... ...she was sitting at the table in the kitchen, typing. Feeling his presence in her mind, she smiled, sent a gentle stroke toward him and... continued her work.. Delighted, yet feeling a little guilty for disturbing her, Sarek withdrew from her thoughts and then he closed the connection. Once more focused in his office, thousands of parsecs away from his mate, he touched gently the book still lying on the table, then went back to his window and sighed again. He knew that this evening, after his usual meditation, he would read another chapter. The street outside the embassy was almost empty. Only a single person here and there came out of the fog and disappeared into it again. Not that it was usually busy here. After all the Vulcan Embassy wasn't on any of the main avenues of San Francisco. It was placed exactly in accord of the taste of his people: a little aside, yet still close enough to be at the centre of all happenings. When necessary. But still, today the street was unusually quiet, even for this place. Even for this time of the year. Christmas... and all those things which accompanied this very human celebration: the trees, the songs, the gifts... the emotional stress. So many years he was the ambassador on this planet, so many years he had spent among the humans, but still he felt amazed by the fluctuations of human feelings, which became unusually labile whenever this particular day of 24. December came closer. And even so, this was a celebration which was honoured only by one quarter of the whole planet. The rest of them thought it just a commercial happening, one time in a year. Humans and their way of getting crazy at a certain point of the year. This whole would start with Christmas Eve, continue on through the New Year and the Big Party and once over, then the silence would return to San Francisco, until the next year. But still Sarek couldn't deny that after so many years spent in the accompany of humans - especially one particular human - he was, well ... affected. Blame the Christmas. That's why he had been missing Amanda more than ever. Sipping his tea, Sarek continued to watch the street bathing in the white fog. His fine vulcan hearing caught it much soon, than the people at the street, yet for a long time he couldn't quite classify the source of it. Because the fog made everything sound different. Until the sound came closer and closer; when he finally knew, it was almost too late: An aircar crashed down from the foggy sky. A bunch of red metal falling down with an astonishing speed, turned in the air two or three times. The few people present flew in all directions, trying to hide. The aircar crashed heavily against the stones of the street, slid farther down toward the Embassy, broke through the gate and finally stopped halfway onto the grass, buried under the wings of the smashed gate and the marble stones of the gate-pylons. From one moment to another silence returned to the street, disturbed only by the hissing of the damp coming from the damaged engines and the hurried steps of the humans rushing there from the street, and the Vulcans from the Embassy, with Sarek in the lead. Carefully the Vulcans and humans moved the heavy stones away, revealing the latest model of the ultra-super-up-to-date Skyliner CX 123 CONDOR and a quiet young male face in the totally destroyed cabin. The man was still alive, which, compared to the once shiny red vehicle which was now a knitted wreck, was almost a wonder. 'A model made especially for an occasion like this', Sarek thought bitterly, while removing the remnants of the proud gate, which as a piece of highly prized art was admired by all of San Francisco. Finally the unconscious body was freed. Sarek led the people into the embassy and with a nod of his head he pointed at the sofa in the corner of his office. Someone called for medical help and for the police department, which came both at once: in shortest time with sirens howling at the whole Bay. Sarek stood still at the threshold of his office, watching the young doctor making her examination, giving the needed information to the police officer. "However he is the lucky one." The policeman said. "This time I have to agree with you, officer." "This time...?" "Vulcans don't believe in luck." "Ah," the human said only. A little puzzled at first. But what, he was from San Francisco, the town where every second neighbour was an alien. "Did you find something to identify the driver?" He asked back. Sarek nodded toward his attaché, who had been standing behind them this whole time, ready for further orders. The young Vulcan handed the policeman a wallet, which had been catapulted out of the cabin and found in the rose yard near the marble steps of the main entrance. The human took it and opened it. Seeing the ID-Card, he blinked and wordlessly he handed it to the ambassador. Sarek, a little puzzled at first, looked in... and almost blinked too. "I thought that you had already recognised him, Ambassador." "No," the Vulcan answered in a small voice, "this all happened too quickly." Yes, too quickly, kaiidth! The policeman typed some notes into his PADD and then handed the wallet back to the Vulcan attaché. "I will inform the Starfleet IQ," he said toward the both Vulcans, "Ambassador," he turned then to Sarek, "I will need your presence in my station tomorrow at 11 am. Would it be suitable for you?" Sarek nodded, and made an mental note to himself and his calendar, that all appointments for today and tomorrow should be cancelled. Again he looked toward the sofa. The bruised face, now washed clean of all the blood and dirt, was unusually pale, the light brown hair thrown back, the pale eyelids trembling a little. Sarek moved toward the doctor. Finishing her work, she studied the data on her tricorder, but feeling his presence she turned toward the Vulcan: "Ah, Ambassador," she said, then threw a last gaze at the readings and then finally, she shut the device down. "I have to say that this man here is a lucky bastard." "Vulcans...", Sarek began. "Vulcans what?" He sighed. "Nothing." The human doctor lifted both her eyebrows. "However," she said, "he *is* the lucky one. Believe me Ambassador, I'm scraping those fools in the ultra-high-speed aircars up from the asphalt almost every day." Now Sarek lifted both his eyebrows in concern: "What is your diagnosis, doctor?" "If I leave out the bruises and blue spots... We have a broken arm, damaged ribs and a slight brain concussion." She smiled. "As I have already said: he is a lucky bastard. He doesn't even need any transport to the hospital, except he has no one at home who will look after him." Sarek sighed almost audibly. "No he has no one, indeed. But," he added quickly, seeing the woman's attempt to give an order to one of her helpers, "he can stay here, in the Embassy." The woman looked back at him quizzically: "Do you know this man?" Sarek nodded solemnly by way of an answer: "And besides, our healer has much experience in treating human patients. He is dwelling by his family now. I will let him know that his presence is required here in the Embassy." The doctor nodded, typed something into her PADD and then she handed it to Sarek: "there are some needed instructions. Then, " she looked around... "where should my people bring the patient?" Again Sarek called his attaché a with hand sign: "My assisted will show you our guest room." The helpers lifted the unconscious form and carried it away. Sarek remained alone in the middle of the mess in his office. He watched silently the hypos and bands scattered all over the carpet, the empty IV and bottles of disinfectant on his table. At last his eyes rested on the dark red spot marring the silky cushions. 'Wonderful,' he thought with a hint of bitter humour, 'within the hour all of San Francisco will be talking about a sofa in the Ambassador's office soaked with the blood of a starfleet admiral.' Besides the common jokes about him and the ulcers of admiral Nogura, this will be a new juicy bit added to the fame about his very deep disagreement with the kind of work of this institution. Which on the other side was quite true. Sark poured himself another cup of tea and again looked out of the window. Outside of it just right now, the fire department was separating the marble and the aircar. 'At last he didn't hit Amanda's roses,' the Vulcan almost un- vulcan-morosely sipped the cold tea, trying to work out what just a short time ago had happened in front of his eyes. But still it didn't do anything to improve his mood: Today Admiral James T. Kirk crashed with his aircar just right at the threshold of his Embassy. To be thereafter scraped down from the marble pylons of his gate. Four days before the Eve... Humans and their way of going crazy at a certain point of the year... Merry Christmas Sarek... Syrell, the embassy healer, arrived in exactly 4.5 minutes after the departure of the human doctor and immediately went to the guest room to look after his new patient. After another 10.7 minutes he came down into the now clean office, with a pot of fresh brewed tea in the middle of the table. Sarek looked at him quizzically over the edge of his cup. "Some hot tea Syrell?" The Vulcan healer nodded gratefully. During the winter the hot drink became an almost essential part of their life on Earth. "Thank you ambassador," he said and accepted the hot cup from Sarek's hands. "What about our guest?" "The human doctor has sedated the admiral..." Syrell took a sip of tea and swallowed it with a careful gulp. Sarek could imagine the pleasant warmth which flowed down into the inner parts of the body. Budget or not, Sarek never spared any credit to keep himself and his people warm during the winter on Earth. "Yes?" With his question he encouraged the healer to talk farther. "I have read the diagnosis, made my own... There is nothing to add. Judging the amount of sedatives, the admiral will not wake up until evening. For his farther welfare... It will take about a week until the admiral will be able to move again without any help." A week... Admiral Kirk's feelings about hospital, lying in bed and similar activities were well known, beside his rare attitude to get there as soon as possible. Sarek sighed again. Suddenly he felt a bit tired. This was a little too much for today: the crash, Kirk in this house, the fact that the entrance to the Embassy looked suddenly like a revolutionary barricade... He pointed toward the steaming pot of tea: "Drink the rest, if you wish, Syrell, I will be in my room meditating. My attaché is informed that all my appointments are cancelled for today and tomorrow morning." "Yes Ambassador, thank you Ambassador," the healer grasped the porcelain pot more than eagerly. No wonder; the winter here was cold indeed. Sarek arose and headed for the door of his office. At the threshold he turned again: "If there is anything needed, then let me know," he said toward the tea sipping healer and then he went out. Syrell was right. It was almost evening when Kirk finally woke up. Sarek had already sat for three point two hours in a chair beside the human's bed in the guest room, trying to read another chapter from Amanda's Dickens. But when he realised that he had repeatedly gone over and over the same paragraph, he gave up and closed the book. Kirk in his Embassy. An almost strange thought. He had met this man only once. On board of an impressive flagship under circumstances, which were more than dramatic for him and his family: his heart attack, the injured captain, then the whole ship in danger, meeting his son after so many years. His son... Sarek watched the pale features of the sedated human. He didn't need to read the PADD. He could name the reasons for the crash this morning anyway: exhaustion from too much work and too little sleep and not enough food - a common way for a human to escape his inner despair. Sarek, faithful to his work as a diplomat, possessed many discreet sources of information, and besides them he heard enough people telling stories at the various parties and meetings in the diplomatic circles of San Francisco. Stories about the young, lonely Chief of Operations, who after losing the command of his ship knew only one task: to work himself to death. And in an almost whisper then they added the *true* reason for this loneliness. As if pretending that certain Vulcan ears would not hear it. But Sarek heard it and... remained silent. Because all this was true: Kirk's despair began when Spock left for Gol. Years before his journey to Babel Sarek heard about the famous friendship between the two members of the finest command team in Starfleet. And the added rumours too. But he never paid any attention to them. Vulcans aren't interested in rumours, even if the humans are repeatedly saying that they always contain a piece of truth. Once on board the Enterprise he gained the remaining bits of information, only to put them respectfully aside with the decision to never interfere. He and the captain shared a quiet dialogue one night in the sickbay. And what the human had said was enough for the ambassador. Of all the feelings Sarek felt thereafter, relief was the strongest one. Relief that his son wasn't alone any more. For Sarek too felt once the pain of a broken bond and knew too well the swallowing emptiness thereafter. After all his objections against Starfleet with their uniforms, phasers, starships and photon torpedoes, he was able to admit to himself that he was thankful to this human in this bed, who now compared to the once shiny, power sparkling being, was only a pale shadow of his self. "Where am I?" Kirk asked, his eyes still held closed. "In the Vulcan Embassy." The human's eyes flew open and he stared at Sarek for a while, only to close them again after some moments of silence with a mumbled: "Shit!" "Indeed," Sarek said. Kirk opened his eyes again, his face flushed from embarrassment this time. "If I may advise you," Sarek decided to go for the truth, "you should buy a new aircar." "Anything else too?" "A new gate for the Embassy." The human growled silently. "Too much work at Starfleet Headquarters?" "Yeah, well ...yes", the human mumbled, while staring at the wall in front of him, "and Christmas, Ambassador..." "Of course, the Christmas. Didn't you intend to visit your family?" "Huh, yes." A lie. Sarek knew it too well. But he didn't attempt to spare this man, not now, for perhaps the next time it might be not somebody's gate but for example the water surface of the Bay. "No one is worth it, James," he said silently, "not even my son." Abruptly the head of the human turned toward him, wearing something like a hopeless attempt for a stone face. "Ambassador...," he began, in a shocked voice. But Sarek interrupted him: "Don't try to tell me that you don't know what I'm talking about." The human's features went still again. Sarek watched the man, who was for a change staring down at the cover of the sheet. Finally after some endless minutes, Kirk lifted up his eyes: "I apologise, Ambassador", he said in a small voice, "but I never intended to kill myself. Not even at the threshold of your house." 'Otherwise it would be like in a cheap holovid', Sarek thought, but aloud he said nothing. Only nodded in appreciation. "... and I didn't drink any alcohol," Kirk added hastily. Again Sarek nodded: "Only working yourself to death," he said in a calm voice. Again the human stared at the sheet. "James," Sarek asked softly, after some moments full of tension," do you want to talk about it?" "Sarek..." The Vulcan lifted his eyebrow. "... why this question?" The eyebrow remained lifted up. Kirk's eyes returned back to the sheet: "He left me, "he said in an almost audible tone, "there is nothing more to say." Sarek shifted uneasily in his chair. No, this wasn't the Vulcan way of questioning. Kaiidth, Vulcans never question anyone. But this was a human in front of him and Sarek, living among this species for so long, knew too well that there wasn't any other way. Besides, Kirk was bonded to his son, besides, he crashed this morning in front of his eyes, besides, Sarek should do something or the next time... Again he heard the voice of the human doctor, telling him about fools in the aircars, being scraped up from the asphalt almost every day. "James," he tried again to renew the dialogue, "are you hungry?" Kirk shook his head silently. "Thirsty?" "Yes." Sarek poured some tea intoo his cup and helped the human to drink it. "Thank you," Kirk whispered, while he sank back into the high pile of pillows. "Thank you," he repeated again. "It wasn't only my duty," Sarek answered back and put the almost empty cup onto the night table. Again some minutes passed while Kirk continued to look at the sheet, thinking this time. Hoping for a turn in their dialogue, Sarek decided to wait. Then finally the words which came from Kirk almost startled him: "It didn't work." The human said. "What James?" "Everything I have tried. My new rank, the duties, the challenges of my work. Sometimes I worked through the night, sometimes sailed in the Bay or simply run through the beach. But I couldn't stop it..." he pointed toward his temple, "this... in my head..." He took a deep breath. "He is still there Sarek, I feel his presence all the time. But he is not responding to me. I wish I could stop all the running toward him, but I can't. My mind, my thoughts, all is still running...*there*... and I can't prevent it. Perhaps because I'm still asking myself this one question: Why? What went wrong with us? What did I do wrong? He left... simply so. He told me once we docked the Enterprise that he was heading for ... for Gol. And then he was away...." He turned his eyes back to the ambassador: "At first I wanted to know the reason, Sarek. But I have already stopped hoping for an explanation. As I have stopped jumping out every time that my console chimes. I only wish that my thoughts would stop running toward the presence in my mind. A little of peace... this is the only thing I wish for now." He turned away again, but the Vulcan had seen the betraying wetness. "I don't believe in his return anymore," Kirk continued. He looked back at the Vulcan. Perhaps Sarek wanted to say something, but Kirk held out his hand: "I was there, the priests have told me." "Were those Spock's words?" Kirk nodded: "Yes." Sarek stood up, a bit heavily and stepped toward the window. The street lamps tried uselessly to penetrate the white fog. The remnants of the aircar were brought away a long time ego, the marble stones were neatly placed beside the fence, long black traces in the green grass looked like scars. The picture of the crash flashed before his eyes for a glint of a second. Sarek shuddered at the cold chill running down his spine. Spock, his difficult son - a bunch of fears gifted with a brilliant mind and the finest mental abilities. But this wasn't enough to maintain any relationship. There was needed more, much more... He turned back toward the human, who just right now silently smeared his tears all over his face. Sarek made a mental note to himself to search for some tissues in Amanda's drawer. Slowly he went into the bathroom, came back with a towel and wordlessly he handed it to Kirk. "Thank you," the human mumbled, his nose buried in the cloth. "You are welcome," Sarek whispered back. "Some more tea?" He asked then. "Yes." Again Sarek filled the cup and helped the human to drink it. Again some more awkward moments passed. "Sarek..." "James..." But Kirk made a gesture toward Sarek to continue. "James... permit me to help you." "Why?" "This is an illogical question." "I know, but I have to know it." Sarek sighed: stubborn human. "Because you are bonded to my son... And because I wish, that the next time you will visit the Embassy in a less spectacular way." Hearing the last sentence, Kirk smiled for the first time. A little sad smile, which didn't reach his eyes. And then he nodded in acknowledgement. Sarek put the tips of his fingers together for a moment to concentrate and then he reached toward Kirk's face to place them on the meld points. *my mind to your mind.* Sarek didn't possess a strong Gift. By the measuring scale of his people he belonged rather to the lower average. But he had the unique life experience with knowledge of the human mind. Not only because of his bond with Amanda. However he was more than prepared to 'face' the emotional turmoil, which so often had embarrassed even the greatest mind masters of his species. Especially them. *my mind to your mind* , he repeated again and again, slowly building the mental connection through the meld points toward the mental chaos within this skull. *my mind to your mind* , he said this mantra to himself, while carefully tasting forward, until ... Suddenly rage, pain and despair welled up at once toward him. Strong like the strongest desert storm. He forced himself to stay where he was, to not to withdraw back from the meld. Why, why, why...? Echoed around him. Fighting against the mental turmoil he moved farther toward the place where he thought the source of the bond would lay. Finally the mind storm around him went still, to be replaced by images and thoughts, which were rushing in his direction: ~ Mr. Spock I have to admit that your presence around me is more than relaxing. And put your eyebrow down. It is true... ~ ~ You are my friend, you know that? What? Of course, there are plenty of people around me, but they are only acquaintances. Bones, yes, he is my friend too, but our friendship is a bit different. You never ask me anything, you are simply here, giving, never taking. You are giving so much...~ ~ Spock you are special, never doubt it my friend, never doubt it... ~ ~ Spock I don't know what to do, how to say it. I'm sorry, but I can't otherwise... I have to tell you...~ ~ Ohhh, please... don't stop... don't...st... like this, yesss, like this, pleeeaaase...~ ~ Spock I love you. I know, it is illogical, irrational, human... but I haven't any other words for it... I love you... ~ ~ You have been silent for some while. No this is not the exam in the laboratory, I know you. Spock, what is troubling you? ~ ~ Spock there is something. Please tell me. I want to help you! ~ ~ Leaving? Leaving, why? What happened? I don't understand! ~ ~ Spock why? Is it my fault? Why? Please, answer me! ~ ~ Spock...~ ~ Why? Oh god, why? He left me... God help me to stop the pain I can't any more...~ The thoughts marked the silver path through Kirk's mind, leading Sarek to the place far behind, where finally they were flowing into an another mind - space. And suddenly Sarek found himself far away from Earth, yet still the room around him was more than familiar: a small cell bathed in red semidarkness, a monk kneeling on the stone floor in a meditative posture, sweating in the heat of the night. *spock...* The monk's head snapped up in surprise: *father? what are you doing in my bond?* *i have followed the thoughts.* *still, this doesn't explain your presence here.* *i'm not here to judge you.* *you are invading my privacy.* *i'm providing help. the reasons for my invasion are urgent.* *you are interfering in things which are not your concern.* *at some point it became my concern too, my son, although i don't understand. i came to ask you...* *i have my reasons for my presence here.* *then keep your reasons for yourself if you wish, but shield the link between you and your bondmate.* *...* *or should I do it for you?* *you have no right for such task.* *then why are you still dwelling in his mind? aren't you aware of his despair?* *father...* *you left for gol and made your decision unmistakable to everyone. although no one understood your ... reasons.* *that's *my* privacy father.* *kirk's too. shield the connection, my son, your farther dwelling there based upon your decision is illogical.* *i can't...* *then i will do it for you both.* *no...* *then explain...* *...* *my son, this is illogical.* *...* *is your own stubbornness really blinding you?* *why do you care?* *i have to. i have to care for a human, who today has almost killed himself at the threshold of my house.* Images flashed into Spock's mind. Images of an aircar crashing through the gate, a pale human face covered with blood, a pair of reddish eyes pleading for help, for some peace. A painful sigh arose and with it a mental wall, shielding, parting both minds from one another. The human and the Vulcan. Collapsing down to the stone floor, the monk's figure curled into itself in despair. There was only a tiny string disappearing into the mental wall. Sighing with relief, Sarek moved back, putting all the images of Spock back in place. When Kirk awoke, then there in his mind would be only an echo of the once so strong bond. But instead of it there would be the calmness, so needed for the healing. Healing and peace, these were the most important things now. But Sarek doubted that it would ever be complete. The human mind was a strange thing. Once affected in a strong way, it changed forever. Slowly, very slowly, he left Kirk's mental world and then he ended the meld. "Are you well Ambassador?" Sarek stirred, hearing the voice on the other side of the bed. He turned toward it and met the gaze of the healer. He nodded in acknowledgement and put his fingers down from Kirk's sleeping face. "I hope Kirk will be fine." "Nothing serious," Syrell showed him the tricorder. "I apologise for the intrusion, but I was just looking after my patient..." "You performed only your duty, Syrell," Sarek stood up from his chair. He was tired. And anyway, somehow he felt a bit old for this kind of meld and the never ending struggle with his son... "Should I do anything for you ambassador?" "No Syrell, I need only some sleep." And before he left the room he looked back: "Call me, if there is anything he needs," he said to the Vulcan healer for the second time in the last 24 hours. "Of course, Ambassador." And then Sarek went out. The street outside of the embassy window was still bathed in the white fog. A quite usual spectacle in San Francisco. Sipping hot tea, Sarek watched his attaché talking to the architect, bending over the plans spread on one of the marble stones, while some gardeners tried to put the grass in previous state. "Ambassador..." "Yes Syrell?" "Your wife called, while you were at the police station. She will arrive tomorrow with a shuttle at San Francisco Space Port at 2 pm." Sarek nodded, "I will pick her up. How is Admiral Kirk?" "The admiral ate the half portion and now he is sleeping. But his healing is proceeding rapidly." 'Hopefully the other one will proceed in the same way,' Sarek thought. "Thank you Syrell, if there is anything..." "... I will call you Ambassador." Lifting his eyebrow, Sarek turned toward the healer. "Yes Ambassador, I apologise, Ambassador," mumbling, Syrell left hastily the office. Once alone Sarek smiled indulgently. From behind his mind a gentle wave touched his thoughts. Amanda, his wife, his bondmate. Sighing in content, Sarek leaned into the warm mental embrace. The fog sprawled all over the Bay began slowly to vanish. End--------------------------------------------------------