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Date: Wed, 7 Jan 2004 02:36:38 -0600
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TOS: "The Farther They Fall", Sa/m, K, S, Mc, U, [NC-17+] 4/6
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Continued from previous section...


---ooOoo---


Sarek slipped into a healing trance for several days after arriving 
in sickbay.  He was asked about constantly, and had frequent 
visitors though still unconscious.  Amanda would read to him and 
hold his hand as she watched him.  Uhura would play the lyrette and 
sing to him.  Most simply walked in and out in hopes that he might 
have just awakened to the point that McCoy put up a sign on the 
outer door saying `No, he is not awake yet.  Go away!'

When Kirk first heard that Sarek had awakened from the healing 
trance, he felt anxious.  He wasn't quite sure how Sarek would react 
to him or, in fact, how he would react to Sarek.

He realized that more than a few hours had passed since he had meant 
to visit him and felt even more guilty and uncomfortable about their 
now delayed first meeting.  He realized it would only get worse, so 
he forced himself to go, deciding that he would only stay a short 
time.

To prepare Kirk, McCoy had mentioned that it would still be a long 
road before Sarek was even close to his old self, but that he seemed 
anxious to interact and get about, though he was nowhere near alert 
or mobile yet.  The healing trance had been far less effective than 
it should have been due to the head injury; however, the signs were 
good that he might regain all that he had lost with time.  There 
were, of course, no guarantees.

When Kirk entered sickbay, he was shocked when he saw the doped up, 
stiff and wobbly Sarek trying to stand for the first time with the 
help of his wife and McCoy.  It would almost have been amusing, 
except for the events that precipitated it, though Sarek seemed 
actually to be enjoying the absurdity of the situation.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking half asleep still, and 
exhausted already.  He swayed a little and tried to lay back down 
but McCoy refused to let him and pulled his arm over his shoulder.

"This does not seem like a good idea," Sarek whispered.

Kirk froze at the bare whisper Sarek could still only manage.

Amanda spotted him hovering in the door and waved him in.  "Captain, 
could you help us?  Sarek is concerned that we can't support him."

Kirk flushed at being caught at the door, then tried to cover by 
immediately stepping in to take Sarek's arm from Amanda.  Sarek 
still looked reticent as he edged off the bed.

"Just try to balance your weight for as long as you can," McCoy said 
in an encouraging tone.

"If I don't land on my face, I will consider this a success," Sarek 
quipped in his whisper-croak.

Kirk couldn't help but smile as he tried to avoid pressing into 
Sarek's back injuries by gripping his other side.  Sarek tensed 
immediately and Kirk couldn't be sure if it was from his touch, or 
readying himself for a possible crash to the floor.  He felt Sarek 
attempting his balance even sitting up, leaning the wrong way often 
enough that McCoy and he had to compensate against him back and 
forth.

One slippered foot landed on the floor, then the second and he 
attempted to steady himself.  "Is this sufficient? " Sarek asked.

McCoy shook his head.  "The sooner you can stand, the sooner you can 
walk and then escape to the observation deck or the shower, your two 
favorite places to run to from sickbay it seems."  McCoy grinned at 
unfurling the tidbit he had learned.

"Actually, there are three favorite places," Sarek said quietly.  
Amanda immediately started laughing and shot a dark look at her 
husband.

McCoy exchanged raised eyebrows for an uncomfortable smile from 
Kirk.  "I don't even want to imagine," McCoy said.

Sarek seemed to lean back and forth between them and Kirk had to 
wonder if his lack of balance was due to his head injury, the 
asphyxiation, or simply his leg muscles needing to rememorize the 
process of balancing his body.  But after a matter of moments, 
Sarek's legs started to shake and he and McCoy lifted him back on 
the bed and leaned him back on the pillow, where he promptly fell 
asleep.

Amanda smiled at her husband as she retrieved the blanket and 
covered him.  She tucked the covers about his neck, gently caressed 
the edges of his hair, and softly kissed his lips and sat watching 
him with adoration as she stroked his cheek.  Her actions were such 
a contrast to her earlier unethical and immoral stripping of her 
husband's rights that Kirk and McCoy couldn't help but stare at the 
gentle intimacy toward him.  Kirk motioned McCoy to the office for 
privacy.

Once they had closed the door, Kirk asked, "Is he going to be okay?"

McCoy's eyebrows rose.  "In what respect?  You saw what I saw."

"His balance?" Kirk said.

"Give him time to adjust.  Head injuries can cause many different 
and divergent symptoms in a Vulcan.  And part of that is likely his 
leg muscles coming back."

"He's making jokes," Kirk said.

"He made jokes before," McCoy replied.

"But after.?"  Kirk didn't even want to finish.

"He's trying to come to terms with what has happened; we all have 
our different ways of coping.  He's likely very confused as to how 
to deal with it, especially a man as reserved and private as Sarek.  
Amanda seems to be tuned into exactly what he needs, thankfully."  
McCoy thought about what he had just said, "excepting of course for 
his privacy and his self-determination."

Kirk ignored this last bit, trying to focus on Sarek's physical 
welfare first.  "She acts like nothing's happened when she's around 
him."

"She looks him in the face and interacts with him.  She shows him 
warmth and entertains him.  I'd say that's exactly what he needs.  
He probably feels like a bug under glass the way people have already 
been tiptoeing around and watching him, and he's only been truly 
aware of it for a matter of hours."

Kirk blinked at the seeming indictment, unsure if it was general or 
aimed at him.

"Talk to him Jim, like you used to.  You're probably as close to him 
as anyone on this ship besides his wife.  Hell, play chess with him 
or bring him a donut and coffee like that time on the observation 
deck.  He appreciated that.  To be honest, Jim, with Sarek more than 
anyone, it seems it's the thought that counts."

Kirk pondered what McCoy said.  He felt badly that his own 
discomfort seemed so obvious to others already.  He wondered if 
Sarek picked up on it and Kirk felt even worse.

"He's still having trouble sleeping?" Kirk asked.

"Likely the middle of the night will be the worst of it, with no one 
around to tire him.  He can't seem to concentrate long enough to 
read yet, though that's improving.  I've brought him music discs and 
set up computer access, but the computer seems to tax his 
concentration and patience.  From past experience with him, he'll 
get restless and stressed without even that and with his 
claustrophobia eating at him."  McCoy stared at him; the implication 
was obvious.

"Thanks!"  Kirk said, then started off to gather some ideas, feeling 
hopeful and reenergized.



---ooOoo---


At about 2:30 am, Kirk stepped back into sickbay with his arms full 
and piled all of his findings just outside the door, then retrieved 
two decafs with cream and two chocolate-covered glazed donuts.  He 
knocked, heard the whispered "come in" and found Sarek playing an 
archaic computer game that looked like a game of tennis on a 
screen.  He at least looked amused at Kirk's reaction.

"This is what I am reduced to for the time being, it appears," Sarek 
said.

Kirk smiled, but forced himself not to laugh, since he wasn't sure 
if it had been a joke, or just sad for what had been, and hopefully 
would soon again be, a brilliant and incredibly skilled man.

A little delayed, Sarek noticed what Kirk carried and looked almost 
pleased.  "You have come to my rescue again with chocolate."

Kirk smiled, but had trouble meeting his eyes.  He set one coffee 
and donut on the bed tray and put it where Sarek could reach it with 
ease.

"I fear the donut may be against the rules," Sarek said.

"I came prepared."  Kirk whipped out a knife and diced Sarek's donut 
into tiny pieces.  McCoy had mentioned that Sarek's esophagus would 
be too sensitive to all but liquids and tiny pieces that weren't 
rough or hard.

Sarek's eyes glistened and he cleared his throat though it did no 
good.  "You continually surprise me, James."

Kirk felt his throat tighten at Sarek's reaction to Kirk's 
forethought.  "I'm sorry about earlier."

Sarek looked Kirk in the eye when Kirk forced himself to meet his 
gaze.  "I don't understand."

"I was uncomfortable around you."  Kirk looked away and felt himself 
flush from the admission.

"I sensed as much," Sarek said.  "I regret that they coerced you 
into helping me."

"I don't," Kirk said.  "I felt there's been so little I could do for 
you, here and.down there."

"Knowing you, James, you did whatever you could.  And, likely more 
than most would have thought of.  I hear I owe you my life, again it 
would seem."

Kirk felt his eyes tear and turned away.

"Have I offended you?  If so, I did not mean to."

"No!  I'm sorry."  Kirk said, angry at not keeping his composure.

"I do not understand this need to act Vulcan when one is not," Sarek 
offered.  "Some of my most cherished moments with my wife are those 
in which she is laughing."

This did not actually surprise Kirk; Sarek seemed to glow when she 
laughed.  He was surprised that Sarek had admitted that though.

"I was hoping you had brought me something to distract me from my 
immobility and sluggish wits."  Sarek had changed the subject for 
Kirk's comfort, he realized, and given him something else to focus 
on besides their mutual misery.  It seemed that Sarek hadn't lost 
his innate skills and sensitivity that took him so far in diplomacy.

Kirk stepped out and retrieved the 3-dimensional chess set, and 
Sarek did not look pleased.

"That is something I would have expected of my son," Sarek 
said.  "It is rather like bringing a trapeze to a man with a broken 
arm, is it not?"

Kirk smiled.  "I thought so, too.  So I improvised."  He stepped out 
and picked up a large armful of boxes that Sarek stared at 
curiously.  "I think the time is nigh to rebuild those synapses, 
sir."

"It is good to hear someone actually talk of my injuries in other 
than diagnostic terms," Sarek said with almost a smile.  He looked 
more relaxed now that Kirk had broached the subject.

"We can talk all you want of them, sir.  Or of your experiences."  
Kirk swallowed, but felt a dam of apprehension burst within him.  He 
wanted to help this man he had grown to care for.  And, dammit, he'd 
work past this discomfort that had been wedged between their infancy 
of a friendship.

Now Sarek looked away.  "I would like that, James, but with time, 
perhaps.  I do not want to lose the fragile connection we have 
between us."

Kirk had never felt so protective of him.  "You won't, Sarek.  
That's the last thing you need to worry about."

Sarek suddenly appeared to remember the coffee and donut and started 
to reach for the coffee.  "This may not be elegant, "he said.

Kirk reached out.  "Let me help."  Sarek allowed him to add his 
stable hand to Sarek's less-coordinated ones.

After finishing their coffee and donuts in more comfort than Kirk 
had imagined, he pulled some of the boxes open.

"First, we shall begin by rebuilding your eye-hand coordination."  
He pulled out several little cups and plastic discs on the small 
table next to the bed.  "Welcome to the time-honored challenge of 
Tidily-Winks!"

Sarek raised an eyebrow.

Kirk set out several small plastic disks of various sizes and little 
cups.  He attempted an example by pressing a larger disk against a 
smaller and it gained just enough momentum to barely slip the few 
inches across the table to fall to the floor.

They both stared at the floor momentarily.  Sarek raised the other 
eyebrow.  "I believe that would not be the example I would glean 
much from with respect to the goal you had in mind."

Kirk stared at Sarek, attempting to determine if he were being 
teased.

"Let me attempt this," Sarek said.  "I think I surmise your 
purpose."  He collected the little disks and cup from Kirk and 
transferred them to his bed tray.

Kirk stared at Sarek's precise placing and manipulation of the 
disks, as if it were some great experiment, then sighed loudly in 
impatience.

Sarek gave him a long, blank stare, then continued his slight 
adjustments, when finally he pressed the disk, it snapped and flew 
into Kirk's forehead with an audible slap.

Kirk held his hand to his head, but did not appear to be in pain.

Sarek pressed his lips together a moment.  "Forgive me," he 
said.  "That was not my intention."

Kirk laughed finally at how ridiculous they must look.  Sarek looked 
relieved and pleased at Kirk laughing.

"How about SpongeBall, instead?" Kirk asked.  He waved at the 
uncooperative game pieces.  "You can practice those on your own 
time."

But as he looked back at Sarek, he noticed his eyelids drooping, and 
Sarek fighting it.

Kirk put the small crate of SpongeBalls within Sarek's reach as his 
eyelids slid closed and fastened the hoop near the entrance to the 
private room - the furthest point away.  

As he started to leave, however, he heard Sarek.  "James?"

"You need your rest," Kirk said with a smile.

Sarek looked a bit dismayed.  "We have many more games..."

"I have a standing appointment with you at 2:30 a.m. every morning, 
but will stop by during the day and evening when I can."

Sarek looked content with this and his eyes slipped closed.

Kirk stepped out pleased with his reconnection with Sarek, but 
concerned at how the man withdrew from the discussion of what 
occurred on the planet. 


---ooOoo---



Kirk had spent the day on the bridge noticing Spock avoiding his 
gaze and wondering why.  He had dug into a personal area, but for a 
very good reason - a son should be there for his father, and his 
father needed him.  He had waited for Spock to approach him and 
decided that he would push Spock if his first officer tried to avoid 
the issue.

When the door buzzed and he said "come in", he was surprised, but 
pleasantly so, to find Spock standing inside his door.

"Good evening, Spock," Kirk said.

"And to you, sir."

Kirk eyed Spock warily.  "So formal.  Are we about to have a fight?"

"An argument, you mean," Spock corrected.  "On Vulcan, we would call 
it a discussion or debate and find merit in it."

"So, growing up, you had many discussions and debates with your 
father, and found merit in them?"  He smiled at Spock's discomfort.

"In a discussion or debate there is more to be said by one side 
than `Yes, Father', repeatedly."

That surprised Kirk.  He looked at Spock closely, wondering if he 
realized how much he had just given away.  "Jesus, Spock, it's been, 
what, well over twenty years now.  You're still so angry."

"It does not require anger to point out a discrepancy in your logic."

"But if you were still angry, hypothetically," he grinned in a 
patronizing way Spock could not have missed, "don't you think that 
would cloud your judgment of how you see your father and what he 
might need?  Especially from you?"

Spock stared at Kirk, then dropped his gaze.  "I have come to tell 
you that I will consider further what you said, and that perhaps 
there might be some truth in it."

Kirk's eyebrows rose at that.  He had not thought it would be this 
easy.  Perhaps the sympathy for his father had seeped in to soften 
his judgments and salve his anger.

"I have spent little time with him since I was seventeen.  We 
separated on unfortunate terms.  I may need to reevaluate my view of 
him."

Kirk smiled.  "That's all I ask.  It seems he's got plenty of time 
for you to get reacquainted."

Spock looked a little disconcerted at the thought of it.  Change 
could be good, but it could also be scary after so many years of 
possible misunderstanding.

"There is another concern I had," Kirk said.  "Just how well do you 
really know your mother?"

Spock's face softened.  "Specify."

Kirk asked Spock to sit while he poured himself another 
drink.  "Your mother mentioned that she would - let me quote her 
here - 'make him quit the Diplomatic Corps.'"

Spock's eyebrows rose.  "She is an emotional woman.  She will get 
past this upset to think clearly again.  It seems a cycle with 
humans."

 Kirk ignored the seeming insult to the human race.  Since he had 
included his own mother in the generalization, he likely didn't 
imply any criticism.  "There's much more to it."

Spock looked bothered by the direction of the conversation, but he 
looked expectant.

"I got the impression she could do it."

Spock stared, a haunted look took hold of him then slipped away as 
suddenly.  "There is little, if anything, my father would refuse my 
mother."

"I got the impression that your father would not need to agree."

Spock's head snapped up at that.  "My mother is a devoted wife."  
But the line felt stilted, as if there were more Spock would rather 
not consider.

"But could she?" Kirk asked.

"She is not that kind of woman," Spock said coldly.

"You deliberately misheard me, Spock.  I didn't ask if she `would', 
but if she `could'."  It appeared to Kirk that Spock was not aware 
of any wrongdoing of his mother with regard to Sarek's privacy or 
self-determination, but it appeared that he feared such, and this 
seemed to upset Spock's apple cart.  He had considered that he might 
not know his father well enough, but his mother he felt much closer 
to.  She had always been the one he could always believe in and 
trust.

Kirk decided it was time for the coup de grace.  "She has requested 
all evidentiary and documentation holos taken, both public and 
confidential.  She is not asking your father's permission."

"Mother would not do that," Spock said, but his voice was bit 
unsteady.

"She also requested a full psychological examination of your father, 
and full disclosure of the results."

This hit Spock hard; he closed his eyes momentarily.  He looked a 
little disoriented at the possibility.  "If this is so, then she has 
changed.  I have to believe she said this out of anger or upset."

Kirk softened his tone.  "I think she is desperate and terrified of 
losing your father.  I don't think she wants to hurt him, or even 
control him.  I don't think she ever really recovered from his 
emergency heart surgery and the gamble he took by attending the 
Babel conference."

Spock looked unsettled by the idea.  "I will talk to her.  I cannot 
believe that she would create a slave of him; she.respects.him too 
much."  Kirk wondered if Spock had originally intended to 
say `loves'.

Kirk added his final concern to the mix.  "I would be as concerned 
with how your father might reciprocate, should she follow through on 
this.  He cherishes her, but he is also a proud and independent man."

That brought a haunted look to Spock's eyes that he could not seem 
to dispel.

Continued in next section...




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