He won’t deny it this time.
His anger. Disappointment. Even if he does not yet dare to acknowledge them out loud, they sit behind Spock’s teeth, liquid heat behind his eyelids, deep and dark and brown like the earth, like his mother’s.
Did it pain him? Sybok. Does he know, now, even a fraction of the betrayal — loneliness — that Spock had long endured?
Learning of Sybok’s more recent whereabouts should change something, anything. And perhaps, it does. Spock had not known, not for all this time. His present knowledge of Ankeshtan K’til tells him that it is designed to rehabilitate their most departed, wayward minds that had logic lost to them.
The tick in Spock’s jaw is muted, a flinch of his skin caught between anguish and a glimmer of satisfaction. Revealing even the smallest evidence of compromise is unacceptable — he knows this — he must remember discipline. But a startling reflection of the older Vulcan’s anger is flaring back at him, less contained, singing to an ancient part of him.
It should not provoke him as easily as it does.
“You left me. That is what you did. ” The retort is swift, defiant, despite his will — his want — to control it; Sybok’s imprisonment is meaningless, he tells himself, specifically in the face of how it all began. And he cannot, will not, speak of Michael either. As it were, Spock’s distant siblings were alike in this way: all too capable of leaving him behind.
“And now, you have seen me. What did you expect the outcome of that assurance to be?”
izzy806
snowghoul
2087
dededos
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
