Q's Gift 3/5 (Hermione/nu!Spock ~ PG13)

[sarhea]

Summary: Spock gets some advice, Sarek's suspicions are confirmed, T'Pau makes plans, and Spock Prime gets surprised.

AN: Near the end of Reboot the Movie. Between the Narada's destruction and Kirk gaining Captaincy of the Enterprise.

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

~ooO Rituals and Healings Ooo~

Spock knelt on the bamboo mat, his attention set on calming the turmoil of his thoughts and stray emotions. As the tension faded, he considered the events of the day.

The first meeting had been a shock. The Gryffindor Princess was everything that had been implied and much more. Q had stated that she had abilities, but T'Pau and Sarek and Spock had not even considered the depth and range of her talents.

She was a True Healer. He had observed proof of it with his own senses. Growing tired of Doctor McCoy's snide comments, Jim Kirk had insisted his friend scan him. The results were astonishing. There was no visible trace of any injury. The only proof was months-old, completely-healed wounds. Kirk had been injured on Delta Vega and suffered some complications due to infection in the slash wounds. McCoy had not been able to heal them using the usual dermal regenerator therapy. Kirk stripped his shirt off to reveal bare skin marked by faint white scars and no trace of bandages or nuskin coverings. Spock had read the reports himself. McCoy had estimated it would take three months for Kirk's wounds to heal cleanly.

She had presence and influence. From Kirk's comments, it was how she operated, forming a network of contacts and allies, owing and being owed favours by offering her services as an unlicensed Healer, therapist and advisor to individuals and families from all social strata and walks of life. If Sarek would not assist in procuring the rarer components, Kirk confided that she could do it herself. It would take longer and use some of her favours, but she could do it.

Spock had not spent a great deal of time in her presence, just seventeen point four minutes in the morning and one point two five hours in the evening, but it did not make a difference regarding her influence. Spock had no disbelief regarding Kirk's claims, his decision to stay with her as a teen and to follow her upon reaching legal maturity. She exuded an aura of tranquility, stability and hope. And she did not restrict it to a select few. It took point four three hours, but she eventually relaxed enough to generate the atmosphere; one strong enough to have an effect on Spock, a hybrid raised to follow Vulcan Disciplines.

A subtle ripple attracted his attention. He allowed his hands to fall from the meditation pose and opened his eyes. She was kneeling before him on the carpeted floor, sitting back on her heels, hands resting on her thighs, her visage calm and knowing.

The instinct to lean forward and reach out to touch her, to meld with her, stake a claim and bind her to him, was all-encompassing. Spock barely managed to stop himself from reaching out and touching her. The uncharacteristic impulse was not diminishing with familiarity, only increasing in intensity.

"How may I assist you?"

She frowned slightly. "Is that the only reason why you believe I am here?"

Spock considered her question. "No. But you are not inconsiderate enough to interrupt a meditation session without good reason."

She inclined her head. "You are correct, Commander."

"Spock." Her eyes widened slightly. "You are not in Starfleet and, therefore, are not required to observe formalities such as rank."

"Very well. Spock." She paused to gather her thoughts before continuing. "I did some additional research on the best way to treat Chris."

"You did mention it would be different from your usual methods," Spock noted.

She nodded. "Yes." She held up her hands, palms up. "Most of the time I heal using what old faith-healers would call laying-of-hands. I touch someone and send my energy into them. It is more potent than the patient's natural energy, so I can 'channel' it into specific actions."

Spock nodded. "That is similar to the practices of Vulcan Healers. Have you tried healing non-Terrans?"

She blinked, taken aback. "Yes. But only uncomplicated physical trauma. I assure you, I did study a great deal of xenobiology and medical literature before attempting it."

"A reasonable course of action." Spock paused. "You were discussing your healing methods?"

She nodded. "Yes. Well Chris is too badly injured for a laying-of-hands to work. I need to perform a ritual to boost the effects." She held out a PADD. "Here are the details of what is required, before, during and after."

Spock quickly scanned the open file. The design of the structures and layout. The steps to prepare the grounds and tools. A brief overview of the ceremony itself. The possible effects (exhaustion, hunger, collapse). The input required from external associates (energy via an unspecified biofeedback technique). It was simple and unexpectedly elegant, yet elaborate. She was not requiring anything other than presence and support. A subsection provided the details of the best date-times and locations.

"You have listed the Vulcan Embassy as a suitable location for the ritual. Access can be arranged given twenty-four hours notice."

"You can arrange that?"

"Yes. Sarek is Vulcan's Ambassador Plenipotentiary to the Federation. He is also my father." Spock tapped the PADD to review some of the details. "You have specified the need for additional individuals to add to the outer circle. Would you consent for others, Vulcans, to witness? They would be honoured to participate in and witness a Healing."

She stared at him, shocked. "I don't mind." She spoke hesitantly before gaining confidence. "But please explain your request. I thought Vulcans were all logical and scientific. Why do you so readily believe that I-a human-have the same abilities as a Vulcan Healer? With no evidence or demonstration? I mean, everyone knows most humans are psi-nulls. And why would your people be interested in my talents? You have your own Healers."

Brown eyes met brown. His voice was grave, with no trace of hesitation, as he explained.

"What do you know of Vulcan psi-abilities?"

She frowned faintly. "You're touch telepaths and really big about privacy, and skin-on-skin contact is a bit no-no. There are, were, temples and monasteries, but no one has confirmed the true heart of Vulcan spirituality or religion."

Spock inclined his head. "As a race, we moved from emotion and religion towards logic and science. But even so, certain traditions and rituals persist to this day." He shifted his legs into a crossed pose. "Vulcans do not consider death to be the end of existence. Our souls, our katras, are carried by another when we die. After the mourning rituals have been performed, the katra is stored in a special container called a Katric Ark." He hesitated. "With Vulcan destroyed, most of the Arks and all the katras contained therein were lost. I have not heard of any plans to replace the Arks. I am uncertain if there will be alterations in the death rituals in the near future."

Evans stared at him, curious. "Is there a purpose for containing the katras?"

He inclined his head. "Yes. Descendants, scholars, elders, scientists… anyone with a purpose can request to commune with ancestral katras, to gain a perspective or alternate view of a difficult situation, to come to a logical and practical solution." He considered the best way to explain. "All Vulcans have the ability to self-trance, to put themselves into a specific metabolic and mental state to heal their injuries, mental and physical. There are cases where bondmates are able to share their resources so that a severely injured partner survives."

Brown eyes were very wide and intent. She made an odd gesture before indicating that he should continue.

"My people value privacy, and most actions that violate that privacy are considered taboo. Healing is one of the exceptions. Healers form a shallow mind-meld with the patient and encourage the body to heal using their personal resources, usually when injuries have caused psychological blocks or a self-trance has failed. As in any profession, there are a few who are more skilled and capable than the rest. These healers are ranked as Adepts; below them are Masters, Practitioners, and Students. Adepts can heal injuries that modern medicine would consider untreatable, much like Captain Pike's condition." He paused to make sure she comprehended the information. She did. "The last living Healing Adept is two hundred eighty-seven Standard years old. Fortunately, she survived the destruction of Vulcan."

Evans inclined her head. "May I know her name?"

Spock hesitated before answering. "It is X'mjn H'twl T'Rin."

Her lips curved, shaping the syllables silently several times before testing her pronunciation out loud. "X'mjn H'twl T'Rin."

"Yes."

She was silent before voicing the question Spock could sense.

"Can Vulcans do other things? Than telepathy and healing, I mean."

Spock inclined his head in affirmative.

"Yes. Truly powerful katras can influence more than their own bodies, more than those in direct physical contact. They can shape the physical world. They can shape the katras of those around them, for good or ill." Spock hesitated before continuing. "In Ancient times, such individuals were highly sought after by warring clans, as mates and allies."

She nodded slowly. "How odd. On Earth, humans feared or hated those who were different, stronger, or more capable."

"On Vulcan, ninety-eight point one two percent of the population were psis of varying strengths. Powerful psis on a planet of psi-nulls would have been an oddity and feared," Spock pointed out mildly.

"You are correct." Her gaze drifted, her expression distant, before refocusing. "And what about in recent history?"

"The ways of ahkhinahr and nashinahr have been mostly lost for centuries. Only traces of foshinahr still remain since Vulcan's destruction. Mostly in the surviving priesthood and Elders who practice the highest degrees of Mind Arts and Healing."

She bowed her head. "I grieve with thee." She held her hands out, palms up. "When I heard of what happened, it was a terrible shock. And then, when I thought about it more clinically, I wondered how this universe has lasted without similar destruction. Then I remembered that war and battle and death are endemic to the mortal condition. There is no such thing as paradise; not when we are alive, and perhaps not after we are dead."

Spock bowed his head and clenched his fists. He would not lose control. He would not shame his clan, his ancestry, his race…

Then he felt a slight pressure against his clothed forearm. And he felt the soothing presence of her infuse him with calm. She projected none of the typical emotional turmoil and thoughts of a psi-null human.

"Spock."

He looked up. Her expression was kind and non-judgemental. A very familiar expression. Something his mother had often displayed during the more trying moments of his youth.

"Would you listen to advice from someone who has only the best of intentions?"

He nodded shallowly.

"Then listen to me, Spock cha'Sarek. You are a child of two races, both Human and Vulcan. Do not diminish yourself by rejecting part of what you are, by only embracing part of your heritage. You must accept that logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end result. And, as Einstein said, 'Wisdom is not the product of schooling but the life-long attempt to acquire it.'"

Spock pulled back, but her expression remained serene and soothing.

"Do not try to repress and contain your grief and anger. It is impossible and ultimately very dangerous. You are not processing your feelings but denying them. Sooner or later they will build to levels you cannot ignore, and you will lose control." Spock stilled, remembering a moment when just that had happened. On the bridge of the Enterprise. Seeing that her words were sinking in, she continued. "There is an old human saying… 'Sorrow shared is sorrow halved, joy shared is joy doubled.' You have followed the Vulcan way for so long, isn't it time you tried the human way?"

Spock went very still, biting back the reflexive protest that he was Vulcan and would follow Vulcan traditions. He remembered what his father had told him on the Enterprise.

You will always be a child of two worlds. I am grateful for this, and for you … I married her because I loved her.

He was vaguely aware of her rising and moving away. He did not try to engage her in an extended debate. She had left him with much to consider.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Sarek cha'Skon frowned slightly as he listened to the message from his son. Then his eyes widened slightly as he continued reading. He read the attached text file very carefully, making notes, sending off messages to his aides and other parties. Once he was done, he opened the image file attached to his son's message.

It depicted a young human woman, attractive but not classically perfect, with curly, light brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was dressed in a pale blue long-sleeved t-shirt, standing next to a younger Terran with lighter hair, dressed in a grey t-shirt emblazoned with the Starfleet insignia. Sarek's interest was more focused on the female than the male.

She was the very image of a silk-screened painting stored in his private safe in the San Francisco branch of the Vulcan Embassy.

The Gryffindor Princess.

After some thought, he typed another message and attached the files from Spock before sending it off. T'Pau needed to be informed.

Eleven point two seven minutes later, his PADD pinged softly, indicating an incoming message.

It was from T'Pau granting his request to open the Embassy to Jean Evans and her associates. To assist the newfound Healer in any way possible. And to update her once he had the opportunity to speak to her directly.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Sarek watched as Jean Evans guided her colleagues with a firm and precise hand. Everyone had a specific sequence of tasks, a role to play. She allowed Spock to assist her in marking out the circle on the hard compact clay in chalk before going over it with a thick paintbrush and a bowl filled with reddish liquid she had prepared just minutes before; a mixture containing a large amount of her own blood, freshly drawn by Doctor McCoy.

He watched Spock clench his hands reflexively when James Kirk assisted the Healer in stripping off her garments. He watched her stand in only tight grey shorts and a matching sports bra, permitting James Kirk to paint various symbols all over her using a thick, dark fluid with an iridescent undertone. Along her arms, legs, front, and back, on her cheeks and forehead as well. The glyphs were not Vulcan, but Sarek could sense the power, the building energy density. So could Spock, given how carefully he was maintaining his distance from her.

When she finally looked up, even the Terrans could see the power building within her. Her eyes were flickering pools, the irises faded to the palest of browns, so that they were almost gold. She held a hand up and made a gesture. The glyphs painted on that arm exploded with light before fading to reveal the symbols shimmering on her pale skin.

Sarek had watched her prepare the mixture himself, with materials purchased by his son or his aides. There was nothing in them that could create this effect. It was entirely from her.

"James." Her voice was low and hoarse. It was the signal for everyone to move closer, to stand between the two rings drawn on hard red clay using sea salt and charcoal.

Sarek himself moved to his pre-designated position marked out in the circle.

She picked up a prepared bowl of reddish fluid and an unused brush and moved to stand before her primary assistant.

"Do you offer what is yours freely? To heal Christopher Jacob Pike, lifelong friend, valued colleague, or trusted ally as it may be?"

Kirk's response was instantaneous. "Yes."

She painted glyphs on his forehead and cheeks. Once she was satisfied, she took a step back and spoke. "Then it is accepted. Stand and do not falter James Tiberius Kirk."

Kirk staggered slightly but regained his balance. The painted symbols shimmered iridescently on his skin in varying pastel hues with no traces of red.

Then she moved to the next person in the circle and repeated the dialogue. Then the next, and the next, until she had marked all eight individuals standing within the rings.

James Tiberius Kirk.

Simon Edwin Miller.

Phillip Walter Boyce.

Illyria Annette Xanamaha.

S'chn T'gai Spahk of House Surak.

S'chn T'gai Sarek of House Surak.

V'lyn S'rwt Velek of House Surak.

T'mch S'wqn T'Pel of House Surak.

Sarek heard sparks and small explosions and Doctor Leonard McCoy cursing from his position outside the circle. The biosensors Doctor McCoy had insisted all participants wear had just shorted out.

He watched as the Healer ignored the Doctor, completely intent on her patient lying in the center of the circle, his head pointing north and feet south, arms pointing towards east and west. She stood over Captain Pike, straddling his waist, the designs on her skin coruscating fiercely like an almost living thing, a faint golden haze surrounding her.

The soft sub-vocal chanting in some unknown language was audible and very distinct, almost resonant. Then the designs painted on the ground began shimmering, and the crystals glowed, giving off heat and white light. And they were nearly blinded. The humans cried out and nearly fell when their knees buckled. Each and every Vulcan felt a similar rapid drain, though the Vulcans were less badly affected than the humans.

She had initiated a Shared Healing, drawing on resources through temporary bonds formed between them and her. Sarek reached out and tentatively 'touched' the new matrix in his mindscape. He could sense each of the others, some shining more vividly or more intensely than the others. He was pleased to note his son was both. James Kirk was more vivid, but Spock was both vivid and intense. His kinsfolk were quietly intense but not overly vivid. But beyond that, Sarek could sense the enormous will guiding, shaping, holding the matrix together, the power behind the placid façade, the ruthless implacable drive to achieve her goals even if she drained her allies to the dregs. But never demanding more than what she herself gave.

The heat was building. The humans were being negatively affected by now, their lungs drying and straining to compensate. Her voice was harsher, almost guttural, and raspy. Sarek could feel his own control faltering and drew on his reserves.

Just when he thought his control would break, he felt the matrix shatter and release them.

Several of the humans collapsed where they stood. Sarek heard Doctor McCoy curse loudly and colourfully as he hurried over to them. Sarek was more interested in the Healer.

She had fallen on her knees, straddling the unconscious Captain Pike on her hands and knees. A most inappropriate position for an unbonded female. The iridescent glyphs and marks painted on her skin were fading, sublimating into glittering dust floating off her skin, vanishing once they were more than two inches from her. She pushed off one hand, angling so that she fell heavily on the compact clay, bruising one hip and scraping the outside of one thigh. Groaning softly, she levered herself up off the ground on one hand.

She hissed between clenched teeth and ran her free hand over the fresh bleeding scrapes. A soft green glow shone from between her fingers, under her palm, as she ran her hand over her leg. When the light faded there was no trace of the shredded skin or blood. The muscles in her torso and arms quivered just before giving way. She fell back heavily, with just enough control to keep the back of her head from hitting the ground.

"Mia!"

James Kirk dodged the doctor's restraining grip long enough to crawl towards the Healer.

Sarek heard Spock growl, a low feral sound. The distinctly displeased sound of a Vulcan male witnessing a rival approach an unbonded female he desired. The older Vulcan shifted, ready to act in the event Spock lost control.

The Healer sensed it as well, for she was quick to intercede.

"No, James. Let Doctor McCoy check up on you." She caught the attention of the other human woman present. "Lyri, a little help here."

The older woman nodded and staggered forward to assist the Healer. Sarek would have done so himself but was concerned about setting off Spock. He glanced at his kinswoman, T'Pel. She moved forward, stripping off the outer layer of her robes before kneeling next to the Healer.

With the assistance of both women, the Healer was on her feet and covered from neck to feet in the over-sized robe. Then they helped her move outside the circle and sit in one of the folding chairs procured by Spock. The Healer accepted a glass of water from Spock and drank it quickly. Without being asked, Spock refilled it, and this time she drank it more slowly.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Thanks are illogical," Spock responded automatically.

She did not take offence like Doctor McCoy or most humans would have. In fact, she just looked amused, like Amanda had when Sarek had responded similarly.

"They might be illogical to you, but they are an acknowledgment for humans. An indication that the recipient recognizes and appreciates the service provided. You are Vulcan and exceptional. You are certain to receive a lot of compliments in the future. Learn to accept them gracefully. It will reduce awkward moments in the future."

Spock nodded shallowly, absorbing her explanation.

The Vulcans looked thoughtful at her words, placing human social graces into their relevant context.

Sarek was pleased. She was not xenophobic or Terran-centric. She did not take offence but gently provided logical explanations and suggestions.

There was silence as Doctor McCoy finished his examination. He joined the small group with a bemused by pleased expression.

"I can't explain it, but Pike's nerves are regenerating. The worst of the nerve and tissue damage is healed, but he still has a way to go. He will probably have a limp and need a cane, but he will be able to walk without other external aids." He turned to the Healer. "I apologise for the way I treated you."

She waved a hand. "Do not. You were only protecting your patient and friends."

"Yeah, well, if there is anything I can do, just let me know."

She straightened and looked straight at McCoy, her expression focused, eyes penetrating.

"There is something you can do, Doctor."

"What?"

"Don't tell anyone of what you've seen." McCoy opened his mouth to protest, but the Healer continued without giving him a chance. "I mean it, Doctor. Let this be another medical miracle, a misdiagnosis, whatever, but I don't want anyone in the Federation bureaucracy or the medical community to know who healed Chris." Her expression was hard and pointed. "If others find out, I will know who is responsible. Simon, Jim, Lyri and Chris have known for years and have kept their lips zipped. And I'm certain the Vulcans will honour my request for privacy."

"Of course," Sarek murmured agreeably. "It would be illogical to deny your basic rights."

McCoy went red. "But do you know how many people there are with similar injuries? They deserve-"

A sharp crack interrupted McCoy's rant as the Healer slammed her hand against her thigh. "They do not deserve a damn thing." Her expression was very hard and unforgiving. "No one deserves more than the right to shelter, food, safety, standard medical care and a basic education. Everything else is earned and paid for."

McCoy sputtered, but she continued, ignoring his incoherence.

"I am not a doctor. I have made no vows to heal everyone who comes to me requesting my services. I do not heal every single wounded being that crosses my path. If I did, I'd be dead or insane within two years." McCoy went still. "I am not exaggerating, Doctor. Every time I heal, I use my personal energy and resources. It takes me weeks to completely recover from healing because I always accept the impossible cases. My skills are unique, and I am the only supplier since Vulcan Healers rarely left the planet or accepted off-world patients. I pick and choose cases that provide more than monetary benefits."

"Favours." The word was a curse, but the Healer took no offence.

"Yes. My clients are either wealthy or connected. I do not apologize for it. Any truly skilled specialist in the private sector works in the same way." She drew herself together and turned to Kirk. "I would like to go back to Pike's place. I need to eat and rest. Lyri can go with Doctor McCoy and Chris to the hospital for a more thorough examination."

Sarek decided it was an opportune moment to intervene.

"You do not have to leave, Healer." The humans turned towards him with surprised expressions. Sarek focused on the subject of his interest, the Healer. "You can use one of the embassy rooms to rest and recover. The dietician on staff can prepare a suitable meal for you."

She considered the offer and nodded. "Thank you. I believe I will take you up on that."

Slowly she levered herself off the chair, not completely managing to hide the pain the effort caused her. Before the humans could react, his son was beside her, one hand under her forearm, the other around her waist. With a soft sigh, she slumped against him, resting her head against his chest.

"Please forgive any transference," she murmured. "My shields are not at their best."

"Understood," Spock murmured before looking up at Sarek. "Room 15B on the main floor?"

"It is the closest unused room."

Spock nodded and deftly began moving away, holding the Healer close. T'Pel followed the pair to provide her assistance and to chaperone.

Kirk watched the small group move away, frowning slightly. "You have an unused room? I thought the embassy was packed with…" He trailed off, unwilling to say the words refugee or survivor.

"Room 15B is part of my personal suite," Sarek explained calmly. "To be more precise, it is Spock's old room. It is currently being used by T'Pau, who will be in Paris for the next three days. I believe the Healer will be sufficiently recovered to move back to her usual lodgings tomorrow morning."

Kirk blushed. "Oh!" Then he glanced at McCoy. "Bones, why don't you and Number One take Chris to the hospital? I'll pack an overnight bag for Mia and drop it off before joining you."

Sarek inclined his head. "When you return, anyone will be able to direct you to my suite."

"Okay then." Kirk rubbed his hands. "I better get going then."

Sarek watched the humans disperse before giving instructions to remove all traces of the ritual and to pack up and secure all the tools and components in one of the embassy storage rooms. Then he returned to his own private room for a meditation session. He had much to consider.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

When Hermione woke, the first thing she saw was a tray of food. Cream of broccoli soup in an insulated container, cheese, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, and crisp veggies with various dips. She had eaten before sleeping, but her body still needed to replace what she had lost in the ritual. A shower could wait.

After satisfying her hunger, she explored the simple bedroom. Given the contents of the dresser drawers and closet, it belonged to a Vulcan male. She located her personal duffel bag and selected a fresh outfit before hurrying into the refresher. She was glad the embassy had both water and sonic facilities. If there was one thing she hated about the future, it was sonics. Intellectually she knew sonics worked, but they never made her feel 'clean' like water showers.

Thirty minutes later, she emerged from the refresher dressed in a long ankle-length denim skirt, a matching long-sleeved denim shirt embroidered with red and yellow flowers, and slide-on clogs. Her head was wrapped in a towel. Jim had forgotten to pack her hairdryer, and the original occupant had either taken his dryer with him or didn't use one.

She had just finished off the last sandwich and was working on the tray of veggies when the door intercom chimed.

"Come."

The door slid open to reveal Ambassador Sarek.

Hastily she pushed the tray aside, brushing the crumbs off the bed.

"How may I assist you, Ambassador?"

"I wish to discuss a certain matter with you."

Hermione's guard went up. "Could you be more specific?"

Sarek hesitated. That alone made Hermione nervous.

"What do you know of your past? My son and James Kirk implied you are an amnesiac."

That was enough to set off warning klaxons. Hermione hesitated. Sarek was clearly more familiar with human behaviour because he was quick to reassure her.

"If you desire privacy, I will respect your request."

"Can you tell me why you wish to know?" Hermione queried slowly, trying to stall.

He studied her intently before inclining his head. "I can." He produced a chip from a sleeve pocket and inserted it into a holoframe hanging on one wall. The desert skyline image shimmered and went blank as Sarek tapped in new commands.

Hermione froze when she saw the new image projected within the frame. It was a collage. Of her. At Hogwarts, as a student and after the war. At a Ministry Ball. In St Mungo's medical library. In the DMLE practice duelling arena.

"Where did you get this?"

"It is a copy of a painting lost when Vulcan was destroyed. The original was given to my clan matriarch, T'Pau, when she was young and unbonded."

Hermione had to know. "Who gave it to her?"

Sarek stared at her. The witch was tempted to rip the answers she sought from his mind. But she restrained herself and waited. After twenty seconds, Sarek spoke.

"An omnipotent being called Q gave it to T'Pau. He said the Gryffindor Princess would be important to my clan, to Vulcan one day."

Hermione sagged. Her knees gave out, and she sat down sharply on the edge of the bed.

"Q?" Her voice was thin and reedy.

Sarek looked concerned. "Yes. Have you heard of them?"

"No," Hermione confessed. "How can you be certain he was omnipotent?"

"I can't. He never made a second appearance. But it was what he said that intrigued T'Pau. He said you were important. And a disruptive influence in the past."

Hermione closed her eyes. It was a while before she gained enough control to open them. To meet Sarek's steady gaze.

"You know."

"That you were born before the Eugenics Wars? Yes."

"Who else knows?"

"Only T'Pau and Spock know everything, though five other kinsfolk know some details. Three were part of the Healing." Hermione nodded. Satisfied, Sarek continued. "Q appeared to T'Pau, my paternal grandmother. She informed me, and I informed Spock, my son."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. She was getting close to the answers she had been looking for. Tears pooled as she voiced the one question that had kept her wondering.

"Why?"

Sarek did not respond until after he had moved a chair to about three feet in front of her, well inside the usual Vulcan personal bubble.

"I do not know if Q was telling the truth. I can only inform you of his conversation with T'Pau," he warned her. Hermione nodded, indicating her understanding, and then she listened to Sarek repeat the details of a tale voiced by his grandmother, the Matriarch of Vulcan.

"… I cannot say with any certainty if his claims are true, but my House did not reach its status by ignoring advice, trace evidence, and potential allies. He said you would be important, to watch for you, so we have, primarily through the Vulcan embassies on Terra. Not very successfully, though, since you have lived on Earth for years without drawing our attention. Our information specialists set up several programs looking for any trace of Hermione Granger or your physical appearance."

Hermione nodded slowly. "You wouldn't have. As soon as I realized I was not in my world, my time, I took steps to hide my appearance and past. I used a variety of pseudonyms until I had enough credits and contacts to buy a set of fake IDs. Others helped by setting up my fake background in various databases."

Sarek nodded. "Understandable. Have you been working as a Healer since you arrived?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. It was the only thing I could do. I didn't know the science or the tech, or even the local history, but less-than-legal outfits always need good doctors. I was very careful to only accept those with acceptable moral codes," she hastily reassured Sarek, whom she knew was amused, though he did not show it.

"Expected. You could not go to a legal authority without risking incarceration."

Hermione was taken aback by the placid acceptance. Whoever said Vulcans were rigid, inflexible scientists should be shot, drawn and quartered. Hermione had avoided Vulcans, though she had formed and maintained contact with various groups of V'tosh ka'tur. It was through them that she had learned about the language, culture, and history of Vuhlkansu.

Sarek was the epitome of the proper Vulcan, and T'Pau was the Matriarch. And yet both of them had believed in and looked for her. Probably for their own reasons, but they had not forgotten or stopped looking for her.

She blinked back tears and forced her eyes to meet Sarek's steady gaze. "So, what now?"

"It is up to you." Sarek's voice was undemanding, placid. "With the loss my people have suffered, we would welcome an additional Healer who has some familiarity with our ways. Currently, most of Vulcan's financial resources are being directed towards setting up a new home world, but there are other ways we can compensate you. Specialized training in more efficient healing techniques. A more thorough background history and complete educational history and credentials from one of the smaller learning institutions on Vulcan, before the destruction." He paused, to regain control. "The only surviving Vulcan Healing Adept is X'mjn H'twl T'Rin. And she is growing old. It would be logical for her to find suitable students, to share her knowledge and skills. Given our situation and your talents, I anticipate T'Pau would approve an offer of citizenship as well."

Hermione froze.

"May I think about it?"

"Of course."

She watched as he picked up the tray and exited the room. Once the door clicked shut, Hermione fell back on the bed and thought hard. This was so much more than what she had expected. Sarek was offering stability. A home. A place where she could put down roots and work without fearing discovery. Perhaps she could risk using more than just her healing talents. Hermione had been very careful about using magic on Earth. There was too much chance of being detected and exposed. Hermione knew her own race. Human beings were capable of great acts of both kindness and cruelty, compassion and hate. And no matter how much they puffed on about the Federation and accepting aliens, there was always a tendency to fear and hate those of their own kind who were different.

Sure, she'd be surrounded by Vulcans, but they wouldn't be as bad as the pureblood wizards she had fought. Vulcans might be stand-offish and snobbish intellectuals, but they wouldn't try to kill her for the sin of being different. It wouldn't be logical. The only downside she could see was the separation from the few individuals she cared for. But then again, most of them were either in Starfleet or off-planet on various merchant vessels. Most of her contact was through comm and subspace transmissions. That wouldn't change if she accepted Sarek's offer. T'Pau's offer.

T'Pau, the Matriarch of all Vuhlkansu, knew and had looked for Hermione. Sarek expected T'Pau to offer Hermione citizenship. T'Pau wanted Hermione, most likely for her healing abilities, but Hermione was okay with that. It was like wanting the best scientist, doctor, engineer, or programmer for whatever project you had going. And T'Pau was powerful enough to protect her if any rogue agencies came hunting, from the Federation and Earth if the bureaucrats and scientific community found out about her. Vulcan was good at protecting their own. They had done it for thousands of years, and Hermione was certain that wouldn't change anytime soon.

That was enough to seal the deal in Hermione's mind. She pulled out a PADD from the bedside table drawer and began composing lists: people she needed to inform via mail or in person, things she had to do, personal belongings that had to be sorted through and disposed of, stored, or shipped to the new colony, supplies she needed to purchase or arrange for.

She hoped James would not react too badly when she informed him of her decision to accept Sarek's offer. She expected him to whine and bitch and sulk, but, with any luck, he'd get over the worst of it before he received his new assignment. She did not have any time to waste coaxing him into a good mood.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

In Paris, T'Pau sat down at the desk in her private suite. It had been a long day filled with meetings, with Starfleet, the Federation Council, and other organizations trying to locate a suitable new home for Vulcans. The bulk of their history and treasures and people had been lost when the Narada destroyed Vulcan, but there was still hope.

Only an estimated ten thousand had managed to escape, but there were about eight point two million Vulcans scattered throughout the Alpha Quadrant working for private institutions, the Federation, and on eighteen Vulcan colony worlds. T'Pau had considered choosing one of them as the site of the new home world but decided it would be better to start anew.

She tapped the sequence of keys to bring up her messages, scanning them by priority and sender. Everything was marked high priority since Vulcan's destruction. Then her attention was caught by one particular message. From Sarek.

Quickly she played it. Once, twice, then three times.

The human female was a True Healer. A self-proclaimed witch. T'Pau was uncertain of the archaic designation but was determined to keep an open mind. Healing and telepathy would have been considered witchcraft in Terra's past. And she was from the past. It would be best to meet and evaluate her and her abilities in person before drawing conclusions.

The intelligence, aptitude, and problem-solving tests were very promising. Her physical science background was oddly skewed to physics and biochemistry. T'Pau was uncertain why she had a strong understanding of physics and math. One more question for T'Pau to ask in person.

The elderly Vulcan skimmed her grandson's closing comments and was pleased. Sarek had logically anticipated T'Pau's next steps and made the initial offer. And the human Healer had accepted it.

T'Pau decided it would be prudent to wait three months before making the offer of citizenship to ascertain how the Healer was adjusting to the new situation. But T'Pau had no concerns. The woman had adjusted to the huge cultural shock of being removed from her own time and set into an unknown alien future. And she had thrived. She had made pragmatic, logical choices and had done what she could to serve. The matriarch skimmed over the list of requests. All logical and perfectly acceptable. Including the request for in-depth background and educational credentials. The name the Healer had chosen struck T'Pau. Hermione Jayne Evans. She had primarily been using the name Jean Evans on Terra.

T'Pau studied the image Sarek had attached in his communiqué. A slim, not-too-tall brunette, with dark brown eyes flecked with gold and defined, not-classical features, dressed in a long, dark blue skirt and long-sleeved blouse. She was standing next to a familiar younger blue-eyed blond human male; the same male who had fought and failed to save Vulcan but succeeded in saving his own home world. James Tiberius Kirk. He was grinning broadly at the camera, but the Healer's expression was calmer and more knowing.

T'Pau mentally reviewed Sarek's notes concerning Spock's reaction to her. And his own. The aura of calm and serenity Hermione Evans projected, her familiarity with Vulcan traditions. T'Pau knew her people were wounded and hurting. Perhaps this new healer would be the blessing Vuhlkansu needed in this trying time.

Vaguely she considered the best way to arrange a match between her great-grandson and Hermione Evans. Some of the other Elders might protest introducing more human genes into the House of Surak but-to T'Pau-the potential in the Healers bloodline was worth it.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Spock Prime stood discreetly between several cargo containers, waiting for his younger counterpart to make an appearance in Hanger One. He had heard Spock had made the decision to resign his commission. It was something he could not let his younger counterpart do without at least trying to change his mind.

A familiar, yet so very different figure appeared around the corner. Prime chose to make his move. He stepped out of his cover and began moving towards the exit, in plain sight.

"Father."

He stopped and turned around. "I am not our father. There are so few Vulcans left we cannot afford to ignore each other."

He saw the minute shock and quick comprehension in his younger counterpart's countenance.

"Then why did you send Kirk aboard, when you alone could have explained the truth?"

Prime could not contain the emotion softening his expression. "Because you needed each other. I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together. Of a friendship that would define you both, in ways you cannot yet realize."

Spock frowned slightly. "How did you persuade him to keep your secret?"

"He inferred that universe-ending paradoxes would ensure should he break his promise."

Spock was shocked and not hiding it. "You lied."

"Oh, I implied."

He looked more thoughtful than horrified now. "A gamble."

"An act of faith," Prime corrected mildly, "one I hope that you will repeat in the future at Starfleet."

Spock stiffened. "In the face of extinction, it is only logical that I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuild our race."

"And yet you can be in two places at once. I urge you to remain in Starfleet. I have already located a suitable planet on which to establish a new Vulcan home world. Spock, in this case, do yourself a favour. Put aside logic. Do what feels right."

His words were having an effect on his younger counterpart. He was pleased. And then shocked by what he heard next.

"Then I will be resigning my commission."

"May I hear your logic?"

"I have met a female who I wish to take as my bondmate."

Prime frowned faintly. "Is it Lieutenant Uhura? Is your relationship stable, and are your minds compatible?"

Spock stared. "It is not Nyota. We are only friends. I was her instructor and mentor for many years. It would have been most improper to have a more intimate relationship with her."

Now it was Prime's turn to be taken aback. "Forgive me, I was misinformed."

Spock inclined his head. "Understandable. The transporter room techs on the Enterprise most likely have generated widespread rumours based upon what they saw."

"Lieutenant Uhura kissing you."

"Yes. She was emotionally compromised and seeking reassurance. She did indicate her interest in forming a more intimate relationship but I declined."

"Is it T'Pring?"

Spock blinked. "T'Pring? Of course not. The betrothal was broken when I joined Starfleet."

Prime relaxed infinitesimally. One less concern in this new world. "Then may I inquire as to the identity of the female? And your reasons for resigning your commission?"

Spock looked away for a brief second. "She is a Healer currently in residence at the Embassy who will be joining the new colony. Her katra is very strong and soothing. And she has very unique insights on xenocultural interactions." His eyes were direct, challenging. "I plan on increasing our acquaintance and eventually offering koon-ut so'lik."

Prime frowned faintly. "A Healer?"

Spock nodded. "Most likely an Adept class."

"Most likely?"

"She has not been tested."

"But she has been practicing?" Prime was faintly scandalized. "How reckless! Why did her instructors not curb her activities?"

Spock blinked in mild confusion. "She is self-taught," he admitted. "She never had the chance to go through a Healing Apprenticeship."

Now Prime was confused. "If she is as strong as you imply, how is it that she has not undergone an Apprenticeship?"

Understanding dawned. "You assume she is Vulcan. She is a Terran with very hi-psi talents."

"Her name?"

And was intrigued by the reluctance of his younger counterpart to share the information.

"Hermione Evans."

"How curious. I do not remember meeting anyone by that name."

Spock merely stared and did not say anything.

Prime considered the situation and the stubborn tilt of his counterpart's chin. He did not understand how or why Spock had fixated on Hermione Evans. If she was a psi-talent, there was the possibility of external influences. He would have to meet with the young woman himself before reaching a judgment. But he could not force Spock to stay in Starfleet, only persuade him.

"Tell me Spock, how long have you known Miss Evans? Did you meet her before or after Vulcan was destroyed by the Narada?"

"After," Spock admitted grudgingly.

"Who introduced you to her?"

"Cadet Kirk."

That threw a wrench into the works. "Did James Kirk share anything regarding his relationship with her?"

Spock glared at his older self. "Purely platonic. She looked after him when he was a runaway teenager. When he was older, they travelled together. He considers her as a sister."

How curious. Prime made a note to investigate the relationship. "If she is as most human women, she will not be willing to start a relationship with you." He decided bluntness would be most effective.

"Why?"

"You have lost your world and your mother. You are emotionally compromised. Humans in similar situations seek comfort and connection from friends and lovers through intimacy. An experienced doctor will not start a relationship in such circumstances."

"But I am Vulcan."

"And she is human. In her view, a grieving male is seeking solace through intimacy, forming bonds. Not an inaccurate view. And as a human female, she will not enter a relationship under such circumstances and risk her emotional safety unless she is certain or only seeking a temporary arrangement." Prime's eyes were direct. "She has not known you long enough to know your intentions. And if you tell her, she will not believe."

Spock struggled internally before giving in. "Then what do you suggest?"

"Become friends with her first. Send messages and recordings. Start a dialogue and find commonalities before indicating your interest." Prime stared at the younger male. "In my experience, human females tend to be contrary creatures. If you push, she will run. If you wait, she will approach you of her own free will."

Spock frowned slightly. "I do not want to let her go to the colony without me," he admitted. "She is attractive and intelligent and powerful. Once she starts her Apprenticeship, other males will know."

"And remember, she is human. Most Vulcans do not see the logic in having a human bondmate." Spock did not appear to believe him, so Prime tried a different angle. "I will be joining the colony. I can observe Miss Evans and inform you of any potential suitors and her reactions to them."

Spock pressed his lips together and nodded shortly. "Very well. I will stay on the Enterprise if you keep me informed."

Prime inclined his head. "Agreed. Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I shall simply say good luck."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

AN: I'm using a chunk of dialogue between Spock and Prime straight from the movie.

Review, Review, Review

Prev | Masterpost | Next