FIC: Divergence 28c/28 + epilogue
Series Masterpost
Planet-side: Vulcan, Llangon Mountains, year 2247
Tri-ox compound made it easier to breathe but it sure as hell didn't make Vulcan a more hospitable place temperature-wise. One could hardly believe it was the crack of dawn.
"Already hotter than Terran hell," Leonard McCoy muttered under his breath as he took off the unflattering straw hat jammed on his head to fan himself.
They were a sorry sight to behold: him, M'Benga, a bunch of cranky redshirts with the highest ranked redshirt of them all, Scotty, decked out in Vulcan robes standing around awkwardly, sweating like pigs. The chief engineer looked like he didn't know if he ought to dance a jig or collapse in a dead faint at the sight of several famous faces in the crowd and M'Benga hovered at his shoulder, keeping a careful eye on him.
In one corner, Starfleet brass mingled uncomfortably in their full uniforms, and in another, notable persons from diplomats to scientists and even a few claims to royalty held themselves in haughty reserve. Occasionally a server would swing around with much needed liquids but judging by the red creeping into the face of a visiting admiral and his exec, the cool drinks weren't enough. He honestly didn't know who thought attending a ceremony on Vulcan in full uniform was a good idea, but boy, were these officers about to be roasted alive.
"Nice hat."
He turned and blinked in surprise. It was Captain Pike, his hair neatly groomed to stiffness in full dress-uniform. The man gave him a friendly smile, beads of sweat on his brow, and held out his hand. On instinct, McCoy came to attention. This Pike's hair was a lighter shade of brunette than he remembered, and strangely, a little curlier at the top. He hadn't noticed that when he'd been interrogated at the Academy; it felt like a lifetime ago, considering all that had happened since.
He shook the offered hand carefully, almost expecting something to come out and zap him for this interaction. "Captain Pike, good to see you, sir."
"Likewise," the older man cast curious looks at a few in their motley group, but refrained from greeting anyone else.
"So…Jim huh?"
McCoy almost groaned. The cat was out of the bag, but did they honestly have to discuss it?
"Yes, sir…"
"Oh don't call me, sir - it just makes this all stranger."
One of the redshirts was noticeably staring and McCoy scowled pointedly at her; the young woman flinched and quickly resumed her conversation with Hendorff.
"Have we…?" Pike gestured vaguely to the group.
McCoy frowned in confusion before realizing the man wanted to know if they'd served together. "Yes, sir- I mean, yes, we did, um, serve together - on the one mission."
"I see," Pike looked as though he wanted to ask but refrained at the last moment. Thank the Lord - because Leonard McCoy knew his own strengths and while he could look into a mirror and declare that he was a damn good doctor, he couldn't say the same about his poker face.
"Maybe we'll get the chance again someday."
"Here's to hoping."
Captain Pike shifted his gaze to the various conversational groups around the room, averting the oncoming awkwardness with experienced ease. "I see that some of the crew were invited. Is Captain…Jim here?"
"No."
"Hmm," Pike craned his head to look over the heads of the tall willowy Vulcans that seemed to be everywhere, "First officer?"
He scoffed a negative. Even if Spock had been invited, it would have been a bad idea on multiple accounts - it was one thing for him to be glossed over as an officer of Vulcan origins when among Starfleet, but here, with extended clan members and intimate friends of the family? From what he'd picked up conversing with Uhura and M'Benga, Vulcans exuded a mental presence of sorts. As a distinctively plain old ordinary Human with no telepathic bone to speak of, he didn't understand it but supposedly, these folks would have honed in on Spock's real identity in minutes.
"I suppose it would be strange for them to be present for this."
The doctor grimaced. It was strange for him to be present for this but when Jimmy asked, how could he turn the kid down? Clearly his mother was going to be a no-show, and while Scotty, his engineer buddies and M'Benga were also invited, someone had to chaperon that lot.
Pike took another sip of his drink. "I can't believe how much he looks like George. He's young for a captain."
McCoy had a feeling that this conversation was going to require alcohol. Still, he supposed there was minimal harm if they were going to talk about Jim and just Jim - the whole damn galaxy by now probably knew Jim was from the future and here to save his thirteen-year old self with the way he went around announcing it. "He was the best - so they gave him the job."
Pike squinted speculatively at the redshirts who shuffled nervously and huddled even closer together. "He must have pulled something amazing out of the hat to get a ship like that straight out of the Academy."
McCoy snorted, because the man didn't know the half of it - and hopefully never would, now that the Narada had been destroyed. "He's a regular magician."
"Obviously," the man tilted his head, calculating. "Even with all the right moves, the fastest I've ever known someone to climb the ranks and get a ship captaincy is eight years."
The doctor smiled uneasily at the reminder of the lost 2258 graduates. He took a gulp of his drink but it did nothing to quench the dryness of his mouth. Turning away, he tried to look like he was interested in a conversation that had sprung up between the Bolian ambassador and the Edosian princess with her back to him. He honestly didn't know why he had to be the one standing with Captain Pike and doing the whole uncomfortable yes-I-am-from-the-future song and dance again while everyone else was acting antisocial. It was a downright conspiracy.
"Ah, what am I saying," Pike chuckled, "His dad was Starfleet through and through, and his grand-aunt, and before that, his great-grandfather. I know how smart the kid is, I just sat through five sessions of him getting drilled by the most intimidating middle school teachers in the galaxy with the kind of aplomb you'd be hard-pressed to find even among that lot."
He eyed the Starfleet brass that Pike nodded at and found himself agreeing. Vulcan teachers were terrifying; he'd take an angry admiral over one of them any day.
"With all that, he's tailor-made Starfleet material."
Except for the long list of minor misdemeanors and the drinking and the bed hopping - not exactly inspiring beginnings for a Starfleet poster child. That was ancient history though, and now, not even going to happen since Jimmy was going to be living on Vulcan for the foreseeable future; it was hard to score on a planet where pre-marital sex was considered a waste of time.
"You served together long?"
"Three years," he admitted after a beat of deliberation. "It feels longer."
Pike smirked. "But you've been known him for longer than that."
The doctor sighed in long-suffering. "That obvious?"
The older man shrugged with a laugh, "You've got to have history if you're gonna berate your captain like that."
McCoy snorted at the reminder of their Academy escape. A beat of silence followed as the drinks came past their way again. Both took a fresh glass of iced tea and murmured their thanks.
"Not a mussed hair on any of them," Pike muttered under his breath between sips, eying the loosely organized throng of Vulcans to their right.
"Well, they're bred for this weather," He grumbled, suddenly getting a hankering for a blueberry snow cone; it was all the darn blue Vulcan robes, they seemed particularly popular today for some reason. "This is probably pleasant to them."
Pike eyed him and opened his mouth to speak, but instead started coughing, waving a hand at the air like he was trying to get rid of a bad smell. McCoy took a deep breath and gave a startled cough himself - there was a whiff of sulfur on the breeze coming in from the northwest. Captain Pike went a distinct shade of sickly as he tried surreptitiously to cover his nose. Taking the initiative, McCoy took out his emergency hypo-spray and administered a shot of anti-nausea meds followed by another quarter dose of tri-ox to give the man a boost, then fanned ineffectively at the air around them.
"Thanks," Pike croaked, before sighing in relief as the tri-ox kicked in.
"Just doing my job, sir. You were saying?"
"About the … this betrothal…" Pike said uncomfortably, "I understand that it's an antiquated Vulcan practice, no longer as common though still practiced, particularly among those with a high telespar rating; but it's usually between small children."
Leonard McCoy honestly didn't care about Vulcan practices and only knew the basics that pretty much everyone knew from grade school, though if someone wanted to discuss ailments and viruses suffered by Vulcans or originating from Vulcan, he'd be more than happy to share. However, he wouldn't be surprised if arranged marriages were all the rage - tenderness was a rare thing in a Vulcan. Well, at least any form of tenderness that he might be able to recognize.
"I heard something about that."
"From what Winona's tried to explain to me, the betrothal is as important as- as important as the-" McCoy watched bemused as the man almost choked on the word, "-marriage, years from now."
Nearby, the Edosian princess and Bolian ambassador had finally taken a break from their mutual appreciation society and were now both engaged in a conversation with Amanda Grayson. From the almost luminous smile on the woman's face, it was probably congratulations of some sort.
"So I've heard. But there are plenty of cases where they're dissolved too."
Pike looked skeptical but nodded, seemingly coming to terms with it a little better with that revelation.
"Your first officer is Vulcan, isn't he?"
He nodded. There was no getting around that; it was probably the second most badly kept secret among those in the know that Commander Spock was the older alternate timeline version of Ambassador Sarek's son. Goddammit Winona Kirk…
"Are they…?" Pike asked tentatively, letting the silence speak for itself.
"No," he replied firmly, and winced because sometimes he wondered himself.
It had taken time but Leonard McCoy accepted that for all their similarities, young Spock and Jimmy were not Commander Spock and Captain Jim Kirk 2.0 - it had taken a long embarrassing conversation about the Human birds and bees with young Spock and an equally long nauseatingly detailed conversation with Jimmy about the Vulcan birds and bees for him to realize that if he continued to think they were the same people, he was going to go crazy. So yes, while today's events had no bearing whatsoever upon the continued friendship between Jim and that hobgoblin, McCoy suspected that there was something more already brewing between them. He wasn't born yesterday, he knew that they'd been sneaking out together when they were both off-duty.
"I heard that the ambassador's son is headed for Starfleet. Should be interesting."
"He's going to blow the bell curve out of the water."
Pike grinned. "You say that like it's for sure."
Leonard McCoy felt sweat trickle down his back and shifted uncomfortably, afraid perhaps he'd revealed something without meaning to. "Have you spoken to the kid? All he needs is electricity and he'd be his own database."
The older man laughed but didn't look away. He recognized that stare Pike had going - Jim leveled that same creepy stare at him whenever he was trying to figure something out.
"You know, when Winona told me she'd decided to sign over guardianship to Ambassador Sarek and would go along with this, I thought she was making a bad decision. I'd offered to take Jimmy myself, and accept a post back in San Francisco," the captain paused, obviously mulling over his words. "You're close to the kid, I've seen you both, so I'm hoping you can give me your honest opinion here - is Jimmy really going to be okay?"
Staring back, McCoy felt heartened that even in an alternate universe, Captain Christopher Pike still seemed to give a damn and had chosen to fixate his paternal instincts on Jimmy Kirk. Then he wondered how he was going to explain that Winona Kirk throwing Jimmy away to be brought up on Vulcan was probably the best damn thing she could have done for him considering.
Despite the restraints of the Starfleet oath and by extension, the Temporal Prime Directive, as far as he was concerned a far older oath overrode both of those: I swear by Apollo the Physician, and Aesculapius,and Hygeia and Panacaea His daughters, and by all the other Gods and Goddesses, and the One above Them Whose Name we do not know... Anything was better than Tarsus IV. Anything. Even if Jimmy spent all his life upon this forsaken rock; and if he had to tell Pike the truth about Tarsus IV so he'd leave it alone, then so be it.
Just as he was about to respond though, sweet sounding chimes rang through the air.
The Starfleet officers reacted first and collectively came to attention, their voices falling as conversations broke off mid-sentence. The assembled Vulcans also turned from their discussions, elegant in their statuesque stillness as they observed the proceedings.
Leonard McCoy watched the procession of Vulcans dressed in ceremonial garments approaching, their steps measured by soft reverberating booms from a gong-like instrument. He raised an eyebrow at the ceremonial machetes and bludgeons being bandied about by some of the Vulcans taking part in the ceremony, and was getting alarmed that something else was going on when a familiar figure stepped out from the heavy stone doors: Ambassador Sarek in dark robes, the very image of dignity personified. He was followed young Spock, his face composed but his eyes shyly affixed to the ground. McCoy allowed himself a half-smile at the teen's nerves and almost chuckled at how positively green Jimmy looked compared to the sandy shade of his robes as he trailed behind. Ah, going native already, he thought with some fondness.
A matronly Vulcan elder in stark black robes stepped out onto the terrace and there was an abrupt change in the atmosphere - if it was possible, all the Vulcans stood even more still. She gazed upon the gathering and zoned in on their motley crew almost immediately, her eyes dissecting the non-Vulcan faces, before she made a gesture to young Spock and he went to her, sinking down on his knees. She touched his face and then gestured for Jimmy. Pale with unease, the teenager went to her and mirrored the young Vulcan. Her other hand came to rest against his temple, and suddenly Jimmy's face became relaxed and peaceful.
Curious, McCoy shifted closer, craning his neck to get a better view. He watched as the two teenagers turned to each other and raised their hands to caress - no it wasn't really a caress - each other's face, with the Vulcan matriarch readjusting their fingers and fitting her hands over theirs. Vulcan mindmeld, he realized, of some sort - as a doctor he'd read about it before, though not much as Vulcans were notoriously insular, and he'd been told to expect this today but still, to see it...
"My mind to your mind…" Spock began, his soft voice vibrating like a song among the pillars.
"My thoughts to your thoughts…" Jimmy replied, his voice trembling.
"Parted from me and never parted…"
"Never and always touching…" Jimmy's voice wavered, "And touched."
At those words, the Vulcan matriarch let go and placed her hands gently atop their heads; "Now you are one," She decreed in a clear firm voice, her accent strange and beautiful, "At the appointed time, you will be drawn together."
And then - Leonard McCoy exhaled, having not even noticed holding his breath - it was over.
Jimmy jerked his hand back as if he'd been singed and gave Spock an awestruck look of bewilderment. The young Vulcan lowered his hand calmly and gazed back at his friend (McCoy would quite happily admit he'd rather vomit than consider using 'betrothed'). They studied each other for a long moment like they were seeing something no one else could, and beside him Pike exhaled with a shudder, unable to not be affected by the almost physical aura of contentment that flowed from the Vulcan contingent. Slowly, young Spock gave Jimmy a tiny smile, sweet and secret. McCoy's eyes watered. It's the damn sunlight, he told himself. And knew he was lying.
With great dignity Ambassador Sarek stepped forward, his figure looming over them and shaking them out of their reverie. Young Spock rushed to his feet, a slightly embarrassed air to the nod he gave to his father.
The doctor watched as the Vulcan guests congratulated Sarek and Amanda, with Starfleet officers following the custom, lining up neatly by rank and Pike left to join them. Jimmy approached with a disbelieving grin on his face, almost jumping foot to foot in his haste to barrage through several guests. McCoy raised a single derisive eyebrow but couldn't stop the twitch in his lips.
"You're here!"
McCoy managed an indignant sputter, though it was lacking its usual acidity. "You invited me!"
Laughing loudly enough to draw looks, Jimmy closed the last steps between them and fell into him for a one-sided hug. Sighing in long-suffering, the doctor rolled his eyes and allowed it, wrapping his own arms around the kid's skinny shoulders. They swayed together comfortably as Jimmy began to rock side to side. Feeling that his part was done, he pushed the kid away.
"Alright, enough of that, go on, scram."
Jimmy snickered but didn't complain, disappearing back into the milling throng of well-wishers till he was back by Spock's side. The young Vulcan glanced at him briefly, with a look that McCoy swore was satisfaction, before returning his attention to the next person in line to congratulate him, a Vulcan elder so ancient that one could swear he had hairs coming out of his ears.
"Well," Scotty crooned as he slunk over from where he'd been hiding, "Wasn't that something? I feel all inspired."
Hardly, he snorted, and judging by the misery on everyone's sweaty faces, the chief engineer was alone in his inspiration. Somewhere in the back of the group, the words 'air conditioning' and 'buffet' were mentioned and the Scotsman turned tail, eager to try some local delicacies. A beat later, the off-world visitors also scattered at the prospect of being indoors.
"Having fun, sir?" Chapel dimpled sweetly at him, looking put-together despite the fact she'd been in the heat as long as anyone else.
"If you mean being cooked alive fun, sure," he drawled, wiping at his brow with the edge of his robe sleeve and knocking his hat askew. Doing something like that would have had his ass whooped back home, McCoy thought cheerfully, did two more times just because. He adjusted his hat. "Let's blow this popsicle stand before I make a fool of myself."
Offering his arm gallantly to her, doctor and nurse joined the throng of departing guests, all wondering at what would pass for refreshments at an event like this and some, such a particularly hungry Scotsman from Glasgow, Scotland, Earth, were eager to try the buffet breakfast spread being put out.
In the distance, a silver glimmer stretched across the horizon like a wildfire, and within minutes a second sun dawned, joining his sister in lashing the planet with their rays. Their ascent went uncommented upon. Deep within the ancient cavern halls of a grand plateau, one clan that could recount a genealogy which spanned all of Vulcan's recorded history rejoiced in the return of one whom had been lost to them and celebrated the joining of another.
EPILOGUE
Planet-side: Vulcan, Llangon Mountains, year 2247
Tri-ox compound made it easier to breathe but it sure as hell didn't make Vulcan a more hospitable place temperature-wise. One could hardly believe it was the crack of dawn.
"Already hotter than Terran hell," Leonard McCoy muttered under his breath as he took off the unflattering straw hat jammed on his head to fan himself.
They were a sorry sight to behold: him, M'Benga, a bunch of cranky redshirts with the highest ranked redshirt of them all, Scotty, decked out in Vulcan robes standing around awkwardly, sweating like pigs. The chief engineer looked like he didn't know if he ought to dance a jig or collapse in a dead faint at the sight of several famous faces in the crowd and M'Benga hovered at his shoulder, keeping a careful eye on him.
In one corner, Starfleet brass mingled uncomfortably in their full uniforms, and in another, notable persons from diplomats to scientists and even a few claims to royalty held themselves in haughty reserve. Occasionally a server would swing around with much needed liquids but judging by the red creeping into the face of a visiting admiral and his exec, the cool drinks weren't enough. He honestly didn't know who thought attending a ceremony on Vulcan in full uniform was a good idea, but boy, were these officers about to be roasted alive.
"Nice hat."
He turned and blinked in surprise. It was Captain Pike, his hair neatly groomed to stiffness in full dress-uniform. The man gave him a friendly smile, beads of sweat on his brow, and held out his hand. On instinct, McCoy came to attention. This Pike's hair was a lighter shade of brunette than he remembered, and strangely, a little curlier at the top. He hadn't noticed that when he'd been interrogated at the Academy; it felt like a lifetime ago, considering all that had happened since.
He shook the offered hand carefully, almost expecting something to come out and zap him for this interaction. "Captain Pike, good to see you, sir."
"Likewise," the older man cast curious looks at a few in their motley group, but refrained from greeting anyone else.
"So…Jim huh?"
McCoy almost groaned. The cat was out of the bag, but did they honestly have to discuss it?
"Yes, sir…"
"Oh don't call me, sir - it just makes this all stranger."
One of the redshirts was noticeably staring and McCoy scowled pointedly at her; the young woman flinched and quickly resumed her conversation with Hendorff.
"Have we…?" Pike gestured vaguely to the group.
McCoy frowned in confusion before realizing the man wanted to know if they'd served together. "Yes, sir- I mean, yes, we did, um, serve together - on the one mission."
"I see," Pike looked as though he wanted to ask but refrained at the last moment. Thank the Lord - because Leonard McCoy knew his own strengths and while he could look into a mirror and declare that he was a damn good doctor, he couldn't say the same about his poker face.
"Maybe we'll get the chance again someday."
"Here's to hoping."
Captain Pike shifted his gaze to the various conversational groups around the room, averting the oncoming awkwardness with experienced ease. "I see that some of the crew were invited. Is Captain…Jim here?"
"No."
"Hmm," Pike craned his head to look over the heads of the tall willowy Vulcans that seemed to be everywhere, "First officer?"
He scoffed a negative. Even if Spock had been invited, it would have been a bad idea on multiple accounts - it was one thing for him to be glossed over as an officer of Vulcan origins when among Starfleet, but here, with extended clan members and intimate friends of the family? From what he'd picked up conversing with Uhura and M'Benga, Vulcans exuded a mental presence of sorts. As a distinctively plain old ordinary Human with no telepathic bone to speak of, he didn't understand it but supposedly, these folks would have honed in on Spock's real identity in minutes.
"I suppose it would be strange for them to be present for this."
The doctor grimaced. It was strange for him to be present for this but when Jimmy asked, how could he turn the kid down? Clearly his mother was going to be a no-show, and while Scotty, his engineer buddies and M'Benga were also invited, someone had to chaperon that lot.
Pike took another sip of his drink. "I can't believe how much he looks like George. He's young for a captain."
McCoy had a feeling that this conversation was going to require alcohol. Still, he supposed there was minimal harm if they were going to talk about Jim and just Jim - the whole damn galaxy by now probably knew Jim was from the future and here to save his thirteen-year old self with the way he went around announcing it. "He was the best - so they gave him the job."
Pike squinted speculatively at the redshirts who shuffled nervously and huddled even closer together. "He must have pulled something amazing out of the hat to get a ship like that straight out of the Academy."
McCoy snorted, because the man didn't know the half of it - and hopefully never would, now that the Narada had been destroyed. "He's a regular magician."
"Obviously," the man tilted his head, calculating. "Even with all the right moves, the fastest I've ever known someone to climb the ranks and get a ship captaincy is eight years."
The doctor smiled uneasily at the reminder of the lost 2258 graduates. He took a gulp of his drink but it did nothing to quench the dryness of his mouth. Turning away, he tried to look like he was interested in a conversation that had sprung up between the Bolian ambassador and the Edosian princess with her back to him. He honestly didn't know why he had to be the one standing with Captain Pike and doing the whole uncomfortable yes-I-am-from-the-future song and dance again while everyone else was acting antisocial. It was a downright conspiracy.
"Ah, what am I saying," Pike chuckled, "His dad was Starfleet through and through, and his grand-aunt, and before that, his great-grandfather. I know how smart the kid is, I just sat through five sessions of him getting drilled by the most intimidating middle school teachers in the galaxy with the kind of aplomb you'd be hard-pressed to find even among that lot."
He eyed the Starfleet brass that Pike nodded at and found himself agreeing. Vulcan teachers were terrifying; he'd take an angry admiral over one of them any day.
"With all that, he's tailor-made Starfleet material."
Except for the long list of minor misdemeanors and the drinking and the bed hopping - not exactly inspiring beginnings for a Starfleet poster child. That was ancient history though, and now, not even going to happen since Jimmy was going to be living on Vulcan for the foreseeable future; it was hard to score on a planet where pre-marital sex was considered a waste of time.
"You served together long?"
"Three years," he admitted after a beat of deliberation. "It feels longer."
Pike smirked. "But you've been known him for longer than that."
The doctor sighed in long-suffering. "That obvious?"
The older man shrugged with a laugh, "You've got to have history if you're gonna berate your captain like that."
McCoy snorted at the reminder of their Academy escape. A beat of silence followed as the drinks came past their way again. Both took a fresh glass of iced tea and murmured their thanks.
"Not a mussed hair on any of them," Pike muttered under his breath between sips, eying the loosely organized throng of Vulcans to their right.
"Well, they're bred for this weather," He grumbled, suddenly getting a hankering for a blueberry snow cone; it was all the darn blue Vulcan robes, they seemed particularly popular today for some reason. "This is probably pleasant to them."
Pike eyed him and opened his mouth to speak, but instead started coughing, waving a hand at the air like he was trying to get rid of a bad smell. McCoy took a deep breath and gave a startled cough himself - there was a whiff of sulfur on the breeze coming in from the northwest. Captain Pike went a distinct shade of sickly as he tried surreptitiously to cover his nose. Taking the initiative, McCoy took out his emergency hypo-spray and administered a shot of anti-nausea meds followed by another quarter dose of tri-ox to give the man a boost, then fanned ineffectively at the air around them.
"Thanks," Pike croaked, before sighing in relief as the tri-ox kicked in.
"Just doing my job, sir. You were saying?"
"About the … this betrothal…" Pike said uncomfortably, "I understand that it's an antiquated Vulcan practice, no longer as common though still practiced, particularly among those with a high telespar rating; but it's usually between small children."
Leonard McCoy honestly didn't care about Vulcan practices and only knew the basics that pretty much everyone knew from grade school, though if someone wanted to discuss ailments and viruses suffered by Vulcans or originating from Vulcan, he'd be more than happy to share. However, he wouldn't be surprised if arranged marriages were all the rage - tenderness was a rare thing in a Vulcan. Well, at least any form of tenderness that he might be able to recognize.
"I heard something about that."
"From what Winona's tried to explain to me, the betrothal is as important as- as important as the-" McCoy watched bemused as the man almost choked on the word, "-marriage, years from now."
Nearby, the Edosian princess and Bolian ambassador had finally taken a break from their mutual appreciation society and were now both engaged in a conversation with Amanda Grayson. From the almost luminous smile on the woman's face, it was probably congratulations of some sort.
"So I've heard. But there are plenty of cases where they're dissolved too."
Pike looked skeptical but nodded, seemingly coming to terms with it a little better with that revelation.
"Your first officer is Vulcan, isn't he?"
He nodded. There was no getting around that; it was probably the second most badly kept secret among those in the know that Commander Spock was the older alternate timeline version of Ambassador Sarek's son. Goddammit Winona Kirk…
"Are they…?" Pike asked tentatively, letting the silence speak for itself.
"No," he replied firmly, and winced because sometimes he wondered himself.
It had taken time but Leonard McCoy accepted that for all their similarities, young Spock and Jimmy were not Commander Spock and Captain Jim Kirk 2.0 - it had taken a long embarrassing conversation about the Human birds and bees with young Spock and an equally long nauseatingly detailed conversation with Jimmy about the Vulcan birds and bees for him to realize that if he continued to think they were the same people, he was going to go crazy. So yes, while today's events had no bearing whatsoever upon the continued friendship between Jim and that hobgoblin, McCoy suspected that there was something more already brewing between them. He wasn't born yesterday, he knew that they'd been sneaking out together when they were both off-duty.
"I heard that the ambassador's son is headed for Starfleet. Should be interesting."
"He's going to blow the bell curve out of the water."
Pike grinned. "You say that like it's for sure."
Leonard McCoy felt sweat trickle down his back and shifted uncomfortably, afraid perhaps he'd revealed something without meaning to. "Have you spoken to the kid? All he needs is electricity and he'd be his own database."
The older man laughed but didn't look away. He recognized that stare Pike had going - Jim leveled that same creepy stare at him whenever he was trying to figure something out.
"You know, when Winona told me she'd decided to sign over guardianship to Ambassador Sarek and would go along with this, I thought she was making a bad decision. I'd offered to take Jimmy myself, and accept a post back in San Francisco," the captain paused, obviously mulling over his words. "You're close to the kid, I've seen you both, so I'm hoping you can give me your honest opinion here - is Jimmy really going to be okay?"
Staring back, McCoy felt heartened that even in an alternate universe, Captain Christopher Pike still seemed to give a damn and had chosen to fixate his paternal instincts on Jimmy Kirk. Then he wondered how he was going to explain that Winona Kirk throwing Jimmy away to be brought up on Vulcan was probably the best damn thing she could have done for him considering.
Despite the restraints of the Starfleet oath and by extension, the Temporal Prime Directive, as far as he was concerned a far older oath overrode both of those: I swear by Apollo the Physician, and Aesculapius,and Hygeia and Panacaea His daughters, and by all the other Gods and Goddesses, and the One above Them Whose Name we do not know... Anything was better than Tarsus IV. Anything. Even if Jimmy spent all his life upon this forsaken rock; and if he had to tell Pike the truth about Tarsus IV so he'd leave it alone, then so be it.
Just as he was about to respond though, sweet sounding chimes rang through the air.
The Starfleet officers reacted first and collectively came to attention, their voices falling as conversations broke off mid-sentence. The assembled Vulcans also turned from their discussions, elegant in their statuesque stillness as they observed the proceedings.
Leonard McCoy watched the procession of Vulcans dressed in ceremonial garments approaching, their steps measured by soft reverberating booms from a gong-like instrument. He raised an eyebrow at the ceremonial machetes and bludgeons being bandied about by some of the Vulcans taking part in the ceremony, and was getting alarmed that something else was going on when a familiar figure stepped out from the heavy stone doors: Ambassador Sarek in dark robes, the very image of dignity personified. He was followed young Spock, his face composed but his eyes shyly affixed to the ground. McCoy allowed himself a half-smile at the teen's nerves and almost chuckled at how positively green Jimmy looked compared to the sandy shade of his robes as he trailed behind. Ah, going native already, he thought with some fondness.
A matronly Vulcan elder in stark black robes stepped out onto the terrace and there was an abrupt change in the atmosphere - if it was possible, all the Vulcans stood even more still. She gazed upon the gathering and zoned in on their motley crew almost immediately, her eyes dissecting the non-Vulcan faces, before she made a gesture to young Spock and he went to her, sinking down on his knees. She touched his face and then gestured for Jimmy. Pale with unease, the teenager went to her and mirrored the young Vulcan. Her other hand came to rest against his temple, and suddenly Jimmy's face became relaxed and peaceful.
Curious, McCoy shifted closer, craning his neck to get a better view. He watched as the two teenagers turned to each other and raised their hands to caress - no it wasn't really a caress - each other's face, with the Vulcan matriarch readjusting their fingers and fitting her hands over theirs. Vulcan mindmeld, he realized, of some sort - as a doctor he'd read about it before, though not much as Vulcans were notoriously insular, and he'd been told to expect this today but still, to see it...
"My mind to your mind…" Spock began, his soft voice vibrating like a song among the pillars.
"My thoughts to your thoughts…" Jimmy replied, his voice trembling.
"Parted from me and never parted…"
"Never and always touching…" Jimmy's voice wavered, "And touched."
At those words, the Vulcan matriarch let go and placed her hands gently atop their heads; "Now you are one," She decreed in a clear firm voice, her accent strange and beautiful, "At the appointed time, you will be drawn together."
And then - Leonard McCoy exhaled, having not even noticed holding his breath - it was over.
Jimmy jerked his hand back as if he'd been singed and gave Spock an awestruck look of bewilderment. The young Vulcan lowered his hand calmly and gazed back at his friend (McCoy would quite happily admit he'd rather vomit than consider using 'betrothed'). They studied each other for a long moment like they were seeing something no one else could, and beside him Pike exhaled with a shudder, unable to not be affected by the almost physical aura of contentment that flowed from the Vulcan contingent. Slowly, young Spock gave Jimmy a tiny smile, sweet and secret. McCoy's eyes watered. It's the damn sunlight, he told himself. And knew he was lying.
With great dignity Ambassador Sarek stepped forward, his figure looming over them and shaking them out of their reverie. Young Spock rushed to his feet, a slightly embarrassed air to the nod he gave to his father.
The doctor watched as the Vulcan guests congratulated Sarek and Amanda, with Starfleet officers following the custom, lining up neatly by rank and Pike left to join them. Jimmy approached with a disbelieving grin on his face, almost jumping foot to foot in his haste to barrage through several guests. McCoy raised a single derisive eyebrow but couldn't stop the twitch in his lips.
"You're here!"
McCoy managed an indignant sputter, though it was lacking its usual acidity. "You invited me!"
Laughing loudly enough to draw looks, Jimmy closed the last steps between them and fell into him for a one-sided hug. Sighing in long-suffering, the doctor rolled his eyes and allowed it, wrapping his own arms around the kid's skinny shoulders. They swayed together comfortably as Jimmy began to rock side to side. Feeling that his part was done, he pushed the kid away.
"Alright, enough of that, go on, scram."
Jimmy snickered but didn't complain, disappearing back into the milling throng of well-wishers till he was back by Spock's side. The young Vulcan glanced at him briefly, with a look that McCoy swore was satisfaction, before returning his attention to the next person in line to congratulate him, a Vulcan elder so ancient that one could swear he had hairs coming out of his ears.
"Well," Scotty crooned as he slunk over from where he'd been hiding, "Wasn't that something? I feel all inspired."
Hardly, he snorted, and judging by the misery on everyone's sweaty faces, the chief engineer was alone in his inspiration. Somewhere in the back of the group, the words 'air conditioning' and 'buffet' were mentioned and the Scotsman turned tail, eager to try some local delicacies. A beat later, the off-world visitors also scattered at the prospect of being indoors.
"Having fun, sir?" Chapel dimpled sweetly at him, looking put-together despite the fact she'd been in the heat as long as anyone else.
"If you mean being cooked alive fun, sure," he drawled, wiping at his brow with the edge of his robe sleeve and knocking his hat askew. Doing something like that would have had his ass whooped back home, McCoy thought cheerfully, did two more times just because. He adjusted his hat. "Let's blow this popsicle stand before I make a fool of myself."
Offering his arm gallantly to her, doctor and nurse joined the throng of departing guests, all wondering at what would pass for refreshments at an event like this and some, such a particularly hungry Scotsman from Glasgow, Scotland, Earth, were eager to try the buffet breakfast spread being put out.
In the distance, a silver glimmer stretched across the horizon like a wildfire, and within minutes a second sun dawned, joining his sister in lashing the planet with their rays. Their ascent went uncommented upon. Deep within the ancient cavern halls of a grand plateau, one clan that could recount a genealogy which spanned all of Vulcan's recorded history rejoiced in the return of one whom had been lost to them and celebrated the joining of another.
EPILOGUE