The BLTS Archive- The Search
by MizzMarcee (MizzMarcee@yahoo.com)

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Warning: This story contains adult themes and m/m sex. If you are not
interested in such things or under eighteen years of age, please head
elsewhere.

Disclaimer: Copyright July 2000 by Marcee Evans. This is an original
work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek, which is owned by TPTB
(i.e., The Powers That Be: Paramount, Viacom, and all its entities). I
have absolutely no intention of infringing on the intellectual
property rights of TPTB. My copyright extends only to the original
material in this work.

The symbol ~~ denotes the beginning and ending of an internal thought.

Archive: Okay to archive at ASCEML, ASCEM-S, ASC*, BLTS, and the
COCO_SSD web site provided that all header information is included.
Please archive complete text only. All others, please ask first by
contacting me at MizzMarcee@yahoo.com. Thanks.

Comments: I welcome comments.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to Selek. I applaud your
dedication to Sarek and all things Vulcan.

In Gratitude: A HUGE thank you to Jane (skazki) and Karmen Ghia who
served as my beta readers. (You guys are the best!) Thanks also to
Laura Jacquez Valentine for her inspirational "Mentor" and
"Wintergreen" stories, and Terry (T'Thrill) for "Easy Does It"--which
gave me a totally unexpected and wonderful perspective on Sarek. I
salute you all.

Now, on to the real reason you're here:

---


I did not intend for this to happen.

I was searching. Searching for what remains of my son. His essence.
His katra. That search led me to this man.

He was there on the Enterprise when my son's body ceased to function.
This man, who remained my son's lover throughout the years, was the
logical vessel to hold Spock's katra upon his death.

I did not understand the logic behind Spock's choice all those years
ago. Why  would he choose this man--this human? Someone so emotional,
so high spirited, with such questionable logic? But now I
understand--now, as I lie next to this man and feel his cool body
pressed against mine.

I did not intend for this to happen when I came to his doorstep. The
essence that is my son called to me. Touched my mind. Called me to
Earth. Led me immediately to the doorstep of this human--the one he
called 'Pashakam.'

The human did not answer my call at first. However, I knew he was
within the quarters. A privacy lock outside the door indicated he did
not desire company that evening. But my son's voice commanded,
~~Persist.~~ So I continued.

When he finally opened the door, the man gasped, startled by my
presence. I could clearly read the expression in his dark eyes--a
human expression that I have been told is an emotion called 'hope.'

But the hope that I saw so clearly in his eyes disappeared as I
lowered the cowl about my head. Mine was not the face he had hoped to
see.

He seemed unable to find the appropriate greeting at first. Another
emotion took the place of hope in his eyes. Finally, he gasped,
"Ambassador?"

I asked to be admitted into his quarters. After a pause, he stepped
aside to allow me passage.

It was not until I was inside that I took notice of the human's
attire--the black robe, the bared feet.

I discerned a slight hesitancy on his part as he led me down the
hallway. We turned into a room--his dining room. I surveyed the small
room, furnished simply with a small table and chairs. The lighting was
subdued and, in deference to me, he called out to raise the lights.

He invited me to sit. Before doing so, however, I began to state the
reason for my visit, to ask of him that which is only spoken of at the
time of a Vulcan's passing. But my eyes took note of the doorway
leading from the dining room to the next room. My son's voice
commanded, ~~Investigate.~~

He tried to block my passage to the next room, his eyes suddenly
angry. It was not logical for him to react this way. Not logical
unless there was something beyond the doorway that he wished to keep
hidden from my view.

On the floor in the middle of the next room was a white towel. It was
folded neatly next to a large metal basin.

I detected the scent of incense in the room. I recognized it
immediately as the same incense that my son used for his meditations.

Then I saw the ceremonial dagger set on the floor next to the empty
basin. Primal emotions began to surge from the depths of my being. I
determined in an instant what the human was about to do--to his body,
his soul.

I advanced on him. How could he do this? Slit open his wrists? Destroy
his body and, with it, my son's katra--the katra that I was so certain
resided within him? How could he do this abominable thing? It would
not be tolerated. I would not allow it.

In anger, I roughly gripped his upper arms. He cried out in pain. His
discomfort at that moment did not concern me.

"No! Leave me alone," he shouted, the emotions of anger and
embarrassment hot in his eyes.

I sensed the human's strong emotions as my hands continued to grip his
arms. His anger threatened to seep past my barriers. I tried to shield
myself as he struggled to break free.

Ancient Vulcan emotions burst forth past my barriers without warning.
The anger that swept through me from the human was matched a
hundred-fold by the primal emotions from within the center of my
being.

Illogical rage built inside me, looking for release. I found my mouth
could not form the words that thundered inside my head.

Only one word uttered from my mouth.

"Why?"

He did not answer, but remained silent, closing his eyes.

Taking his hesitation as an opportunity, I forced him down onto his
knees. Locking my left hand around the back of his neck, I pressed the
fingers of my other hand to the meld points on his face.

I did not wish to hurt him, to force a mind meld with him. It is not
the Vulcan way. But the primal rage was already consuming me, blocking 
any attempts at restraint.

He cried out as I entered his mind.

I encountered the essence of my son within the human's mind. I was so
certain Spock's katra would reside in this vessel that I allowed
myself a moment to rejoice.

Yet as I followed the tendrils of Spock's essence, I slowly realized
that something was wrong. This was not my son's katra.  What resided
in this human's mind was a kernel of Spock's essence, a kernel left
from the little bonding. A kernel that was now muted to a whisper.

I was so certain this man was the one Spock would choose at the time
of his passing. But Spock's katra was not here.

I grieved.

My anger abated. I started retreating from the meld. As I did, a flood
of emotions washed over me. It was the human. I raced to seal the
connections, to spare myself from experiencing the painful, raw
emotions.

But the images that burst forward haunted me. Images of loss. Of
despair. Of self-recrimination and self-hatred so deep that I felt my
own essence sinking down with it.

In an instant, I saw what the human had experienced during this
tragedy. His capture by Khan. The ceti eel. The mistakes that allowed
Khan and his followers to capture the USS Reliant. The murder of the
scientists on Regula 1. His betrayal of Kirk. The death of Captain
Terrell. And, most painful of all--the moment Kirk returned to the
bridge, walked directly to his station, and told him about Spock's
death. The certainty that his failings led to Spock's death. The empty
feeling of standing at attention at Spock's funeral--too numb and
grief-stricken to give his own eulogy at the ceremony. His inability
to do anything but stand there and block out everything and everyone.
The longing to end the pain, to end it now.

I understood. But I could not allow the human to do this. I could not
allow him to take the blame for what happened. Taking his own life
would not bring Spock back. It would not bring his captain back, or
the others whose lives were lost. It would not change the past. It
would not heal the pain. It would only destroy the future.

I discerned his body shuddering under my hands, his entire being still
reverberating with memories of the recent past.

In hindsight, it was not logic that compelled me to pull his body
closer and hook my left arm across his lower back. I had witnessed
humans acting like this before, holding each other when grieving over
a great loss. I only meant to put the human at ease, to bring comfort
and lessen his pain.

~~Forgive me. I grieve with thee.~~

Still in the mind meld, I sensed his arms wrapping around my waist,
his head pressing against my chest. He was so hungry to be touched, to
be held. I also perceived his fear--a deep fear that I would
disapprove of him, cast him aside. At that moment, I knew I could
never hurt him again.

Instead of retreating, I deepened the meld.

I am no Vulcan healer, but I found the human slowly responding to me,
opening his mind willingly to me.

I did not intend for this to happen, to take it as far as we did. But
as he opened his mind to my healing ministrations, he in turn opened
his entire essence to me. I saw all that he was to my son, and I
rejoiced in the years they had together in the little bonding. Soon,
he had moved past the remorse and self-hate, finally at peace with
himself, accepting what was and what will be.

After I finally retreated from his mind, I continued to hold his body
close. We rested in silence, the mind meld fatiguing for us both. I
discerned that he still hungered to be touched, to be comforted. Since
his touch did not bring me discomfort, I chose to wait until he was
ready to break the embrace himself.

I closed my eyes, finding the sensory feedback from our contact most
fascinating. I ran my hand up his back, brushing another set of
fingertips down from his temple and along a smooth cheek. I allowed
myself a moment to enjoy the touch of the human's cool skin under my
fingers.

It is often said that Vulcans are unemotional beings. That perception
is not entirely true. We have emotion, but we find the display of it
illogical. We bridle our emotions, control them, but they are there
nonetheless. And it came with a small measure of surprise that I found
comfort in the touching and holding of this human. In giving comfort,
I discerned a lessening of my own loss.

When I opened my eyes again, I discovered he was looking up at me, his
eyes trusting and peaceful.

We gazed into each other's eyes for a long, silent moment. Humans
often say that 'the eyes are the window to a man's soul.' After the
deep mind meld we just shared, I recognized that I did not want to end
it there. I needed to touch this man's soul in order to make his
healing complete.

As if sensing my thoughts, his right hand brushed up my back, then
along my shoulder. He pulled himself up until I could feel his cool
breath on my neck. I did not stop him from placing his lips softly on
my throat. As he pressed kisses up my throat and along my jaw line, I
discerned a stirring within my own body.

When his lips reached mine, I pulled him against me in a fierce
embrace. As he willingly opened his mouth to my probing, I placed my
fingertips lightly on his face, entering his mind like a whisper on
the wind.

I shared in the build-up of his desire, so hot and passionate compared
to the coolness of his skin under my hands. I allowed him to sense the
hunger building inside of me.

As I deepened the kiss, I unhooked the fastenings to his robe and
spread the fabric apart. He gasped as I ran my fingertips down his
chest and to his ribs. I felt him shiver beneath my touch.

I pulled back, looking deeply into his eyes. They were nearly black,
the pupils fully dilated.

Our minds still connected through the meld, I asked silently, ~~Are
you certain?~~

~~Yes.~~

I sampled his emotions. No fear. No regret. Only gratefulness for my
presence. Thankfulness for my healing touch on his mind and skin.

Satisfied, I pulled the robe off of his body. He then worked his
fingers down the fastenings of my garments, pulling the fabric away 
until we were both kneeling naked on the floor, facing each other.

I pulled him against me, feeling his cool flesh against my torso for
the first time. I ran my hands down his back. As I did, my fingertips
sensed the jolt of energy building between us. The effect was
intoxicating, and I discovered I needed to experience it time and time
again.

He began rubbing himself against my body, pressing our arousals
together until I thought I would lose control altogether. His hand 
squeezed and stroked me until I could no longer wait for relief.

Still in a light meld, he sensed how close I was to climax and slowed
his movements on my body. I took that opportunity to remove some of my
own moisture and began to prepare him.

He moaned softly as my fingers explored the opening to his body. His
lips found one of my nipples. As he sucked one, and then the other, I
found the gesture most stimulating. My fingers brushed against his
prostate gland and he moaned again, arching his back in a most
satisfying way. I repeated the touch and was rewarded with similar
results.

As he reached for me again, I sensed he was ready. I tipped his head
back and brushed my lips down along his temple. I could feel his cool
breath on my cheek as I placed gentle kisses on his face. I then
captured his lips in a deep kiss. I felt my restraint quickly
diminishing.

~~Wilt thou be mine, Pashakam?~~

I sensed the human understanding the request. Spock had instructed him
well, and I was glad. It was not the full bond that I offered, but the
little bonding. He would be a part of me, as I would be a part of him.
Spock was gone, but the human would no longer be alone in his grief.
It was a gift I did not offer lightly, and the human understood this.

~~Yes. I am yours, Sarek.~~

~~As I am yours, Pashakam. Join me.~~

I held his body firmly in my arms and gently lowered him down to the
floor. He parted his legs, allowing me to kneel over him.

I looked into his eyes, but I did not need to see his face to know the
need and desire contained within his soul. Keeping the meld intact, I
saw in his mind what he desired most. His desire matched my own.

His hands helped guide me as I entered his body at last. When I sensed
he was ready, I began thrusting into him in deepening strokes.

Primal Vulcan urges soon flowed through my being. My body burned for
completion. My blood boiled with his touch. My skin felt scorched
where his lips touched me.

I continued to move inside of him, his body flailing up against me in
counter motion. When I discerned he was about to climax, I placed the
fingertips of both hands on the meld points on his face. Deepening the
meld, my mind joined with his, planting the kernel of the little
bonding within him.

I felt the strong passion building within his being. I basked in it,
accepting his emotions, acknowledging his desire with that of my own.

He climaxed with a sharp cry, and I followed with my own release.

After a few moments of rest, I withdrew from him. Cradling his damp,
sated body in my arms, I soothed the after-shudders from our joining.
As I maintained a light meld, fatigue overtook him and he slipped into
a deep sleep.

He was free. The shadows that haunted his features were gone. Now his
face was relaxed in a peaceful expression. I rejoiced. I found myself
healed as well. I discovered my own response--fascinating.

Time has passed since our joining, and still I look down at him as he
sleeps peacefully against me. My fingertips trace the dark bruises on
his arm--bruises that I left when I allowed my ancient Vulcan emotions
to burst through. I regret hurting him. But I have no regret for
loving him.

I stroke his cheek. He was so young when my son first took him as a
lover. He has grown older through the passage of time, yet the boyish
features remain intact. I see him now as Spock saw him--the highly
spirited, beautiful, passionate being who gave my son such inimitable
joy.

I wish to remain, to entwine our minds as we share our bodies once
again. My Pashakam. So intoxicating, his cool touch leaves tendrils of
desire that still shiver through my being. I cannot bear to part from
him so soon.

But my search is not over. I hear my son's voice calling me again. His
katra is somewhere on Earth, carried perhaps by one of his other
associates from the Enterprise.

I begin to pull away, but before doing so, I find the correct meld
points on his face. I gently enter his mind--so gently that he does
not awaken. He is not fearful as I deepen the link, not like the first
time I melded with him. Now I encounter peacefulness, acceptance,
gratefulness.

I regretfully depart from his mind after saying farewell. In silence,
I watch him sleep for a few moments longer, memorizing the image, the
feel, and the scent of him. I discern a deep sense of loss within me
as I untangle my body from his. Our joining was not meant to be, but I
will remember it until the moment of my own passing.

I use the towel to clean our bodies. Then I carry him into the
bedroom. He isin great need of rest and I will make certain of his
comfort. I embrace him a final time, brushing my lips over his brow.
Then I settle him gently under the covers of the bed.

After returning to the living room, I place the ceremonial dagger back
inside its case and place it on the mantle. I then place the basin and
towel in the bathroom.

As I dress, I recall the image of his peaceful face. He will survive
this. He will not take his life.

And he is no longer alone. I am there with him, the little bonding
linking our lives together like a thread.

My son's voice urges me forward. I have saved one life this evening.
It is now time to free my son.

I recall the image that I saw in Pasha's mind--that of Kirk telling
him of my son's passing. Kirk was the last one to see my son alive.

Kirk.

I must seek out Kirk.

---

The End