Broken: Chapter 5/? (Part One)
Broken
Storyshark2005
Chapter Five: Surviving
Not to make loss beautiful,
But to make loss the place
Where beauty starts. Where
the heart understands
For the first time
The nature of its journey.
-Gregory Orr
* * *
About 15 miles south of Savannah,
Chatham County, Georgia, United States of America, United Earth
19:22 hours
At any given moment, in this galaxy alone, there are billions of suns setting on hundreds of billions of planets, each sunset different and exotic and beautiful.
You can go half way across the galaxy to watch twin suns set on a desert planet in the Alteres System, huge red behemoths hanging low over the horizon, burning the sky tangerine and turquoise and violet in the exotic gas atmosphere, singeing the thick clouds with hues even more vivid. You can watch Vega set from Alpha Lyrae. Blue white hot, more a concentration of light and color than a distinct circle, clouded heavily by thick blue methane choking the rocky core. Brandeis and Prussian and light Azure and streaks of deep Sapphire, all blazing and vibrant, highlighted by Vega’s eternal ultramarine fire.
These are the wonders the universe has to offer.
There’s no reason then, for a Georgia sunset to be considered anything out of the ordinary. A typical M-Class planet orbiting a medium sized yellow sun, located in a relatively unremarkable system in the Alpha Quadrant.
But a Georgia sunset really isn’t like anything else in the universe. That, at least, was the opinion of Leonard McCoy. Warm clear gold light filtered through the dark branches stretching overhead and cast long bars of shadow across the clear glass canopy, darkening into a tinted polarization closer to the dashboard. The green grass looked gilded in gold, sweet Georgia breezes circulated through the ventilation system, and a tint of pale Carolina blue was left in the orange sky. Shades of lemon, goldenrod, and liquid amber seemed to filter the light, a kaliedascope flecked with pine and emerald, persimmon and coral, carmine, fuscia, and amaranth, rose, scarlet and alizarin, sapphire, cyan, and cobalt. Sounds of birds chirping, the wind combing its soft fingers through the grass and trees.
Finally, he was home, and maybe just for awhile, he could forget the past couple of months.
The passenger next to him, however, was going to make that rather difficult.
Leonard glanced over at Spock. The side of his head was resting against the cool glass, and only his profile was visible. His eyes were hidden under dark lashes and closed lids, and his eyebrows slanted upwards into a smooth brow, usually wrinkled by an almost perpetually turning mind. The exotic upsweep met the curve of his pointed ear, regal and alien. Dark hair, while well brushed and perfectly in place, was starting to grow longer, inching down his jaw bone, the nape of his neck, his forehead.
And he was perfectly asleep, for the first time in what Leonard suspected must have been weeks.
Yes, he was home. Surrounded by his family and shadows of simpler times. Maybe, he thought, he should never have invited Spock here. Maybe he should’ve left him to deal with his own pain, a world away in San Francisco. But almost instinctively he had reached out, help me, come with me, ….even I need you here…It was ridiculous, really. Spock reminded him of every good memory during the last three years, but now they were tainted and glazed with pain and loss and grief. Spock was a walking reminder of Jim, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead…
So why? Why did he want Spock with him?
It was a simple answer, of course. Psychology 101. He didn’t want to forget. Even remembering with pain was better than being happy with nothing. Ignorance should have been bliss. But it wasn’t. It was…emptiness. He was consciously doing this to himself, reminding himself of Jim, inflicting this deep, terrible pain on himself. Willingly. He simply could not forget.
Spock was pushing himself up, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. His voice was rough from sleep.
“Doctor.”
“We’re a couple miles from the ranch.” He paused. “And this is my home, Spock. I’d appreciate if you’d leave the title back with the ship. I do have a name.”
Spock adjusted his gray academy uniform and studied the landscape flying past the tinted glass.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.”
The conversation died quickly, and Leonard felt an uneasy urge to coax more from the quiet Vulcan. Which was odd, really, because he’d always been fine with uncomfortable silences.
“Leonard-”
“Yeah.” He answered a little too quickly.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “I was going to enquire upon your family ranch. You referred to it earlier as Talam.”
“Yeah, its Gaelic for ‘Earth’. Not the planet, but more like the land, the connection between a person’s soul and the soil. The McCoy’s were Irish, and immigrated here in the 19th century, before the American Civil War. They were cotton growers. The house and most of the land have been in the family ever since.”
“Does your family still cultivate agricultural produce?”
McCoy smiled. “No, the farm never really recovered after WWIII. But the McCoy’s then were able to keep it in the family, and pass it down the generations. My parents love horses, so they raise a few and ride ‘em. Mom keeps chickens. But it hasn’t been a working ranch in a long time.”
He glanced up at the rear view mirror. Lee was gazing, lost in thought, out the window. Joanna was lying slumped over in her lap, sleeping.
“What are your parents’ occupations?”
“Well, Ma was a school teacher. Taught English at Saint Andrew’s for thirty eight years. Now she just takes care of the ranch.”
“And your father?”
Leonard cleared his throat, shifting his eyes to the back seat. Lee was still sitting motionless, eyes unfocused, staring out the window.
“Lee, why don’t you wake Jo up? We’re almost home.”
“Sure, Leo.” She nudged Joanna, who started to stir
Spock raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing.
The car slowed on the gravel, and turned into a tall wooded gate, stopping by a small post that had an ancient key pad hidden under a sliding panel. Leonard keyed a five digit code, and the gates clicked mechanically, opening by a pulley and weight system.
Lee smiled from the back seat. “Home sweet home.” She reached up between the seats and clapped a hand to Spock’s shoulder, smiling out at the setting sun, voice dipping into a deeper southern lilt.
“Welcome to Talam, Spock.”
* * *
Talam Ranch
Chatham County, Georgia, United States of America, Untied Earth
20:10 hours
The gleaming black automated taxi crunched over the gravel drive, and Spock strained to get a better look out the window.
Soft green grass was starting to yellow and die with the closing of summer, cooling into a crisper autumn veneer. Tall, magnificent oak and magnolia trees rose like ancient kings, stretching their strong and tired arms skyward, every finger unfurling to the dim golden sun.
Cresting the gentle slope of the hill, the McCoy family home was revealed.
Like the spirit of the Old South itself, the house was waning relic, still proud and glorious through decay and old age. Four white columns rose from the red brick and Greek revival moulding. Huge French windows opened to the soft evening breeze, and a wide wooden porch wrapped around a semicircular patio area. Vines, deep green and leafy, climbed around the dusty windows and up to the roof, tangling around the columns. The white paint was chipped and faded, badly in need of another coat.
About 50 or so feet away was a giant red and white stable with a fenced-in round pen, floored in loose brown dirt.
A high whinny carried across the yard as Spock stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut.
A soft, sweet breeze immediately brushed over his senses, overwhelming….peace.
McCoy clapped a hand around his shoulder. “C’mon, Spock. I want you to meet my mother.” He let his arm drop, and started down the hill, across the rusty dirt to the stables.
Spock watched as Lee and Joanna tumbled down after him, and after a beat, followed.
The ceiling of the stable vaulted up some thirty feet, sunlight filtering down to the wood floors in white shafts, and the smells of red maple and pine wafted over Spock’s senses. On either side of him, narrow stalls lined the walls halfway down the length of the barn, before ending in a large open space. A horse and rider galloped past, and Leonard yelled something, before vaulting over the gate barring the large open area from the stable promenade. Spock watched from a few paces back as, presumably Leonard’s mother, jumped from her mount into her son’s waiting arms.
You shouldn’t have come.
A voice, deep within his conscious, deep beneath the walls, suddenly rose up and echoed through his head. . You’re in the way…this isn’t your family. That woman is not your mother, and you don’t belong here. You are NOT human, and this isn’t going to bring her back, and it’s not going to bring Jim back either.
Spock suddenly felt terribly uncomfortable and uneasy. These thoughts were…illogical. He was here, and he couldn’t leave now. Leonard had invited him…then again, he could just excuse himself, and catch the taxi. It should be returning on autopilot any minute. He could make up some excuse and explain logically why he had to leave. There were things back at the academy he could be doing, things that required his expertise, the door was right there, maybe he could just-
“Spock! Hey, c’mere a minute. Ma, this is Spock, I’ve told you about him-”
Spock pushed the uncomfortable feelings down deep, as he was trained to do, as he had always done. He stepped over to Leonard, who pulled him over with a hand on his shoulder.
Mrs. McCoy was a fascinating example of her species. She was…very unlike his own mother at first impression. She was tall, only an inch shorter than her son. Dressed in blue jeans and a western shirt, she breathed the retro look of those humans who still lived vicariously in the 21st Century. This woman, however, did not have the ridiculous manner of a person posing out of time. She had an air of practicality, of use, of energy and strength. Her cropped silver hair was tucked behind her ears, and the same pale misty blue eyes of her daughter peered out from hooded eyes. While Lee’s seemed playful and delicate, Mrs. McCoy’s had a hard, icy edge to them.
“Yes, Mister Spock, I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Her voice had a deeper, natural dip to it, untainted by Northern Standard. “I’m Helena McCoy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She stuck a hand out.
Leonard quickly cut in. “Mom, Vulcans don’t-”
Spock took her hand, and shook it, ignoring the inevitable shocks of residual emotion shooting up his arm. Curiosity, happiness, peace, and something like relief.
Leonard shot him a grateful look.
“As am I, Mrs. McCoy. I would like to extend my gratitude to you and your son-”
“Not at all, Mister Spock. You’ll be staying with us, I presume, until the funeral.”
“Mom, I invited Spock-”
“I believe I was talking to Mister Spock, Leonard.”
“Mrs. McCoy,”
“And Mister Spock, though I do reserve the privilege of calling guests by the more formal of their names, I selfishly deny you that same privilege, and ask that you call me Helena. Mrs. McCoy was my mother-in-law’s name, God rest her soul and I seem to have passed the age of ‘Miss’ some time ago.”
Spock canted his head in the affirmative. “Very well, Helena.”
Helena grinned, and nodded. “Mister Spock, I think I am going to like you. Very much.”
Suddenly there was a burst of warm, moist air on the back of Spock’s neck. He turned, alarmed, to come within an inch of a very large, pale blonde and white muzzle pushing towards him through the bars of the stall behind him. He tried to take a step back, but Leonard came around to his side, a hand still on his shoulder.
“Spock, this is Dylan.”
The young doctor stepped forward, holding a hand out. Dylan pushed her nose down into Leonard’s hand, and he rested his forehead on hers, whispering soft words. He leaned back, smiling into her large, brown lashed eyes. He turned to Spock. “C’mon, Spock. Come say hello.”
Spock raised an eyebrow, but complied nonetheless. “I would remind you, Doctor, that speaking to a non-sentient being is highly illogical.”
“It’s Leonard, Spock. And horses understand a lot more than you give them credit for. Here, just…” He stepped aside, motioning for Spock to take his place.
He could have politely declined, expounded more on the irrational human practice of personifying non-sentient beings. But of course, as he was finding more and more these past few days, he was unable to do so.
He stepped up to the horse.
Dark lashes curtained huge, clear brown orbs.
“She’s a palomino. She-” Dylan pushed her nose into Spock’s neck, braying deep in her throat. Spock reached a hand up to steady himself. His fingers grazed her soft coat.
“She really seems to like you..”
He reached up again, and his mind brushed the horse’s…He felt a raw conscious, fueled by powerful emotion and primordial instinct.
He pulled his hand back, cradling it in the other. Leonard looked at him sidelong, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, but said nothing.
“You boys ready for some dinner?” Helena called over from the round pen.
Leonard pulled his eyes from Spock after a long second. “Yeah. Yeah, Ma, I think that’s just what we need.”
“Well good, I’ve got a chicken in the crock pot, some greens ready to throw on the side, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a loaf of bread in the oven. I’ll take care of the horses. Leonard, maybe you could show Spock to the guest room so he can get settled, and tell Lee she can start settin the table. Make sure Joanna keeps her little fingers out of the dessert, too.”
“Dessert?”
“Chocolate cake, but don’t touch it until after dinner. I don’t trust you any more than I do Joanna.“
“Momma you do spoil a man.”
“Yes, and I know it. Now git, we don’t have all night.”
They turned and started for the huge barn doors.
“Spock…are you ok? You look a little green around the gills.”
“Most likely due to the chemical nature of my blood, Leonard.”
“Goddammit that’s not what I meant Spock.”
“I am aware of this, Doctor.”
Leonard glanced over at Spock’s placid features. At first he couldn’t see…Ah HA! The gleaming amusement shining in his dark eyes, and an almost-but-not-quite-successfully-suppressed smile.
“Leonard.” He looked down at his now grinning friend. “I am fine. Thank you, most sincerely, for your concern. Sensing another mind, especially one as emotional as a nonsentient being, is…sometimes stressful to Vulcan mental parameters. Their emotion exerts stress on our own mental barriers. However mine are perfectly intact, and there is no cause for concern.”
Leonard slipped one hand in his pocket and another on Spock’s back, leading him back into the cooling night air.
“You’re welcome, Spock.”
* * *
Soon Spock’s things were all in place, the table was set, and everyone was digging into their plates. Spock had piled a very large amount of salad and mashed potatoes (sans the gravy) onto his plate, to the amusement of Helena McCoy, who was quickly informed of Vulcan eating habits with a quick whisper from her son.
Joanna shoveled her plate down within a few minutes and was politely excused to go play with the horses.
Leonard watched her go with a sad smile, and turned back to Lee and Helena, seated across the table. The smile faded.
“Does she remember Jim? Have you told her anything?”
Lee bit her lip. “She remembers her Uncle Jim, but its faded. It was three years ago she last saw him, when you two came down here before the big mission. She remembers the model of the Enterprise he gave her. She remembers when you two went riding with her that summer. I told her what happened, but I’m not sure she really realizes…I’m just not sure it really sank in.”
“No, I wouldn’t have expected it to. She’s just too young. Doesn’t understand.”
Helena poured herself another glass of wine. “I’m not sure I do either, to tell the truth. Keep expecting him to bang through that front door, charming the hell out of me because he’s late, gulp down some food and take Jo out on a ride. It’s just not real yet.”
Leonard stared down at his fork, intensely aware of Spock at his side. He knew exactly how real it was for the both of them. They had had two months for it to sink in, two months of bad dreams and haunting visions, two months of empty chairs and half-closed doors and ghosts hanging in the air. Voices…whispers in the dark.
Lee and Helena had soon cleared the table for desert, and a three layer, dark chocolate frosted beauty of a gâteau was placed on the dark mahogany table. Before Spock could protest, Leonard cut him a large piece and set it in front of him.
“There’s no eggs in this recipe, don’t worry. It’s delicious, try it or my mother will take it as a personal insult.”
Spock cocked an eyebrow, but raised his fork to his mouth and took a careful bite.
Both eyebrows rose to his hairline, and Spock’s dark eyes widened.
“Fascinating.”
Leonard grinned.
“I told you you’d like it!”
Spock swallowed, and washed it down with a gulp of water.
“Indeed.”
He took another bite.
* * *