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by Jess

Captain's Personal Log: Stardate..... whatever

the hell it is.

Oh Christ, what do I do now?

I've left him sleeping in his cabin. And I've got to

decide what to do and I... I... (unintelligible)


Trouble is you forget how young he is. He looks..

what? 35/40 now and you just forget that in Vulcan terms

he's barely hit puberty. I thought we felt the same, I

thought... well, I don't suppose it matters what the hell I

thought, I know better now.

We were lying there on his bed, arms and legs

all tangled up, the pair of us stuck together with sweat

and semen and he looked so happy, eyes shining,

his hair all over the place and I was so happy I could

do that for him, so happy that this was just the beginning

of all that we could do and see and be. So when he

offered the meld, I grabbed it with both hands, brushed

aside my doubts and rushed in where angels fear to

tread. I looked into his mind and he laid it out before me,

without fears or doubts: the truth, the whole truth and

nothing but the lousy truth. He didn't even know enough

to try and hide it.

Maybe it's better to know. May be it's better that

I found out before I married him. 'Cause I would have,

was going to ask him tonight and wouldn't that have

been a fucking disaster?

No, it's too soon. I can't be glad I saw it, not yet,

maybe not ever.

The damnable thing is that I recognised it. I know

why he loves me. He loves me for the same reason that Sarek

loves Amanda, for the same reason I loved Sadie Beckerman

when I was 15.

I haven't thought about Sadie for years. I mooned

after her all one summer. She had the most gorgeous green

eyes I've ever seen and legs that didn't know when to quit

and she didn't have the brains God gave a tribble. That's

what really hurts, finding out the only reason he loves

me is because he thinks I'm beautiful. The fact that I'm

also stupid and ephemeral is irrelevant, he isn't thinking

with his head or his heart, he's too busy thinking with

whatever Vulcans use for gonads.

Shit, even before we became friends I thought he

respected me, professionally at the very least. Instead I

could see -- plain as the nose on your face -- the skills

I've spent a lifetime acquiring make me no more to him

than... I don't know... a professional sportsman or those

women who make ice sculptures for parties, highly

skilled in something completely trivial. Not worth bothering

about beside the important things, the things of the mind,

the things that are nothing to me and never will be. I guess

that's why he didn't bother looking into *my* mind - nothing

there worth seeing.

Oh shit.


(Sound of glass on glass)

No, the worse thing is finding out he isn't the man I

thought he was.

All these years I've thought he left Vulcan to

escape the bigotry, the scarcely concealed xenophobia

and it wasn't that at all. He ran away to join the circus.

He did just what Milos did, ran off to spend a couple of

years as a beach bum before joining Daddy's firm.

Underneath he's just as bigoted as the rest of them.

I thought all those "jokes" about humans were just

jokes, I should have realised how much contempt there

was in them. He didn't detest the bigots who made his

childhood miserable, he just wanted to join them.

As far as he's concerned, the things we can't do

are the things his culture has taught him are the only things

worth doing, the things we can do and do well, aren't

worth doing at all.

Part of me is so fucking *angry*. All that effort,

all those lives saved, all those planets surveyed, all

those civilisations encountered, all the glories of the

universe discovered.... all worthless. I thought he was

a scientist: he doesn't deserve the name. He's only a

collector, gathering knowledge as human boys collect

credit chips or model starships, all the time knowing

that as soon as they're grown, they won't bother

anymore. In another 10 or 20 years he'll go home and

join up with Daddy and they can spend their days

happily despising the rest of us.

And wouldn't that be fun for me - "That unsuitable

mate Sarek's boy picked up on his travels". And when

I'm 80 and he's still in his prime, I won't know whether to

hate him more for the times he tries to explain or for the

times he won't even bother trying.

I'd spend the rest of my life playing Dora to his

Copperfield, and he could have everything, he wouldn't

be giving anything up because I'd die first and then he

could find himself a nice suitable Vulcan Agnes and

do the whole thing properly.

There isn't even any point in arguing with him. I

saw it all, hardwired into him, decades of careful training

in arrogance. If he regards his mother as little more than

a trained poodle, someone Sarek married because he'd

fouled up a Vulcan marriage and fancied something less

challenging for a change, what chance have I got? He

loves her, he loves me but he'd no more consult either of

about anything he considered important that he'd consult

his.... whatd'yemaccallit sehlat.

I can't live like that, god knows how she does, I

don't think I want to know. Maybe she's one of those people

who needs to turn over life's decisions to someone

else, but I can't live like that. I make decisions and in the

end there is only one decision I can make.

I'm going to go down there and break his heart, the

same way Sadie broke mine. At least the five year mission

is nearly over, we can get away from each other without

making a spectacle of ourselves. He won't understand

-- why should he? Rejected by a *human* - that's gotta

hurt like the devil but I can't see there's any choice, not

if there's to be anything left of either of us in the end.

It's 0400 hours. I feel exhausted and a little sick.

The man I thought I knew better than anyone I've ever

known, is a complete stranger. Everything I thought we

had was built on sand.

Hell, if I don't know Spock, what do I know?

Even the engines sound out of tune.

I'll be glad when we get back to Earth.

The End
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