[FIC]: Memory Skip; Spock, Sybok; Gen; PG
Title: Memory Skip
Prompt: de-aged (mental) for hc_bingo
Words: 666 words (omg)
Rating: PG
Warnings/Tropes: Memory loss, kind of. And angst.
Summary: Spock wakes up fourteen years older than he anticipated.
One minute, he has fallen asleep on the cold, hard ground of the Forge, and the next minute he wakes up surrounded by white walls and medical equipment, lying on a soft bed. An IV drips nutrients into his blood stream at his arm.
As Spock looks down at his body, he's terrified: it's not his body. It's too long, it's too muscular, his hands are too rough and his skin is too pale. His clothes are different, his cheeks are rough, and he doesn't know where he is or for what purpose he's been hospitalized.
Is his mother aware that he's here?
Spock pulls aside the soft white blankets of the bed and swings his leg over the side, begins to stand--and that's when the door opens. He could recognize that face anywhere, but it's so much older and scruffier than he remembers it, on a stockier frame in less regal clothes. "Sybok -- " The name comes out hoarse and deep from his own throat; a voice he doesn't recognize.
"Spock," His brother comes over, placing a hand at his shoulder. His hand is warm. "You should get back in bed for now."
"Why?" This voice still sounds foreign to him, and his throat is beginning to itch. "Where am I? Why are you here? Did they tell Mother I am here?" His head starts to hurt, and it takes so much focus to blink through and ignore it while looking down at his brother.
Sybok looks down to him. Confusion lingers in his dark eyes briefly, and then it is replaced with a sad, soft smile. "It'll take some time to explain."
"What is there to explain - ?"
"Just listen, Spock."
Spock has worn the same look of incredulity, with increasing intensity, for the last half an hour. His brother is telling him he is now thirty, that he suffered some mental injury, and now he is hospitalized in the premier hospital on the new Vulcan colony.
"Colony?" None of what his brother says makes any sense. He still wears that smile.
"Vulcan…was destroyed." Spock's focus slips and the headache that's been building hits him right between the eyes, a blinding pain, and he raises a hand to cover his eyes and hide his pain. He doesn't really believe Sybok -
"Amanda died with it."
Spock looks up finally, staring at Sybok. Any minute now, Sybok will start chuckling, laughing, because this horrible joke he's playing has elicited such a reaction from him. Well, he's reacted, it should be done with - but Sybok doesn't change, and Spock moves back from him. "You are lying," he says, and gets out the bed to stagger towards the window, "how can any of that be - " His breath catches as he looks out the window at the city before him: not Shi'Kahr. The landscape is greener and wetter than any Vulcan city he's been to, and the architecture is too modern.
He feels Sybok stepping up behind him, a solid presence he can barely feel with his mind, and for a brief moment Spock feels the desire to punch him. He grips the windowsill instead. "I do not believe you," he whispers, then tenses when Sybok rests a hand at his shoulder.
"You don't have to. You can find out for yourself."
*
It takes a few more days for the migraine to fade into something more manageable. Spock asks for something to read, something to do. Once he finally gets a PADD he doesn't put it down, trying to find something in the local database about himself, and is a little disappointed when he finds nothing. Was the last fourteen years of his life so unremarkable?
He reads in the car when Sybok takes him out of the hospital towards his house at the edge of the housing division. The scenery can wait until later. Finally, roaming on free databases, he finds something with his name in it. "Sybok," he says, looking up, "Explain to me a man named 'James Kirk.'"
Prompt: de-aged (mental) for hc_bingo
Words: 666 words (omg)
Rating: PG
Warnings/Tropes: Memory loss, kind of. And angst.
Summary: Spock wakes up fourteen years older than he anticipated.
One minute, he has fallen asleep on the cold, hard ground of the Forge, and the next minute he wakes up surrounded by white walls and medical equipment, lying on a soft bed. An IV drips nutrients into his blood stream at his arm.
As Spock looks down at his body, he's terrified: it's not his body. It's too long, it's too muscular, his hands are too rough and his skin is too pale. His clothes are different, his cheeks are rough, and he doesn't know where he is or for what purpose he's been hospitalized.
Is his mother aware that he's here?
Spock pulls aside the soft white blankets of the bed and swings his leg over the side, begins to stand--and that's when the door opens. He could recognize that face anywhere, but it's so much older and scruffier than he remembers it, on a stockier frame in less regal clothes. "Sybok -- " The name comes out hoarse and deep from his own throat; a voice he doesn't recognize.
"Spock," His brother comes over, placing a hand at his shoulder. His hand is warm. "You should get back in bed for now."
"Why?" This voice still sounds foreign to him, and his throat is beginning to itch. "Where am I? Why are you here? Did they tell Mother I am here?" His head starts to hurt, and it takes so much focus to blink through and ignore it while looking down at his brother.
Sybok looks down to him. Confusion lingers in his dark eyes briefly, and then it is replaced with a sad, soft smile. "It'll take some time to explain."
"What is there to explain - ?"
"Just listen, Spock."
Spock has worn the same look of incredulity, with increasing intensity, for the last half an hour. His brother is telling him he is now thirty, that he suffered some mental injury, and now he is hospitalized in the premier hospital on the new Vulcan colony.
"Colony?" None of what his brother says makes any sense. He still wears that smile.
"Vulcan…was destroyed." Spock's focus slips and the headache that's been building hits him right between the eyes, a blinding pain, and he raises a hand to cover his eyes and hide his pain. He doesn't really believe Sybok -
"Amanda died with it."
Spock looks up finally, staring at Sybok. Any minute now, Sybok will start chuckling, laughing, because this horrible joke he's playing has elicited such a reaction from him. Well, he's reacted, it should be done with - but Sybok doesn't change, and Spock moves back from him. "You are lying," he says, and gets out the bed to stagger towards the window, "how can any of that be - " His breath catches as he looks out the window at the city before him: not Shi'Kahr. The landscape is greener and wetter than any Vulcan city he's been to, and the architecture is too modern.
He feels Sybok stepping up behind him, a solid presence he can barely feel with his mind, and for a brief moment Spock feels the desire to punch him. He grips the windowsill instead. "I do not believe you," he whispers, then tenses when Sybok rests a hand at his shoulder.
"You don't have to. You can find out for yourself."
*
It takes a few more days for the migraine to fade into something more manageable. Spock asks for something to read, something to do. Once he finally gets a PADD he doesn't put it down, trying to find something in the local database about himself, and is a little disappointed when he finds nothing. Was the last fourteen years of his life so unremarkable?
He reads in the car when Sybok takes him out of the hospital towards his house at the edge of the housing division. The scenery can wait until later. Finally, roaming on free databases, he finds something with his name in it. "Sybok," he says, looking up, "Explain to me a man named 'James Kirk.'"