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800 words - G - Family/Grief/Angst with a Happy Ending - autistic Spock & Sarek
If he were human, Sarek might call this deja vu. But there is nothing ephemeral or illogical about the familiarity of the current moment. Though separated by half a century, today is much the same as the day he first attempted to guide Spock in meditation.
Spock was five years old then, a wriggling, restless child. He is fifty six years old now, and also thirty four days old, and also somehow so much younger and so much older than either. He is just as restless.
“Spock,” Sarek chides. Spock twitches, but his eyes remain closed. “Stop moving.”
Spock’s hands falter in their rhythmic motion. They do not still. They hang in front of him, wavering, and then drop to his lap and twist into the edge of his robe.
“You will not achieve a meditative state if you cannot sit still.”
“Then I may not achieve it.” Spock opens his eyes and deflates slightly. Frustration leeches into the Vulcan syllables. Sarek nearly sighs.
“You are capable,” he says. “You’ve done it before, many times.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Then you must take my word for it.”
Spock does sigh then, and Sarek permits a hint of disapproval to show on his face.
“Maintain your composure. I know you to be capable of this.”
Spock closes his eyes and his hands rise to twist together in front of his chest. “Why is stillness necessary for meditation?”
“To control the body is to control the mind,” Sarek intones. “Stop that. Are you not aware of the movement of your hands?”
“I am aware of it.”
“Then what is the problem?”
He raises an eyebrow. “That is an excellent question.”
Sarek fixes his son with a stone faced stare. “Spock. Take this seriously. Learning this skill is essential.”
“I am entirely serious,” Spock says, and opens his eyes again to peer down at his hands. He presses his palms firmly together until his shoulders shake slightly with the pressure. Then he steeples his fingers in front of his face and sits forward, staring down at the ground between them. He is suddenly completely still, and for a moment Sarek believes he may be able to resume his instruction.
As he opens his mouth to speak, movement ripples through Spock. He shifts, folding his legs underneath himself. His hands flutter as they tug at his robe.
Sarek is overcome with a memory from half a century ago, one he’s revisited frequently as of late.
As he led young Spock up the rough stone steps toward the meditation area, the child was incorrigibly pleased. His hands fluttered. His feet skipped as he bounced along beside Sarek, his linen robes dancing. Sarek advised him to calm himself, to be still. But each time he turned back, Spock was bubbling with energy again, a smile sneaking onto his face.
At the time Sarek experienced difficulty. Yet when he recalls the memory now, what lingers in his mind is only the warmth of his son’s smile.
For a moment he isn’t sure why this particular memory pathway is so well traveled, but then the reason strikes him with the force of a physical blow. He visited it repeatedly after learning of Spock’s death.
He is suddenly awash in darker memories of that day. Of the soul-deep katric pain. Of Amanda’s tears, and of his own. Of the vast deserts of sorrow he’d been lost in before the conviction set in that Kirk would put things to right.
He crashes out of the memories and back to himself to find his hands shaking where he holds them in his lap. He blinks down at them and tries to still them, tries to return his mind to the present. It is illogical to dwell on the past. It is illogical to still feel sorrow. Spock is alive. Fifty years have passed since they first climbed those steps, and Spock has crossed the boundaries of the universe and come back brand new, but he is still sitting in front of Sarek on the smooth plateau of the meditation area, still fidgety and restless and human.
And Sarek’s hands are still shaking. He lifts them slowly and Spock blinks, but doesn’t flinch as he places them on the sides of Spock’s face. He stares at Sarek with wide eyes. Sarek wills his mind to take in the message his hands are sending, that Spock is here, real and solid in front of him. After a moment, he speaks.
“It is very, very fortunate that you returned to me, Spock.”
Spock raises an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
Something very nearly flicks across Sarek’s features. But he simply nods and returns his hands to his lap, twisting them into the fabric of his robe. Spock slips back into his fidgeting, fluttering focus, and Sarek decides to pass the rest of this session in silence.
Absolutely anon tysm for the prompt !! I have smth in the works
Meanwhile I’m also gonna post a draft I’ve had saved which does feature autistic Spock, specifically sensory overload dissociation & related coping methods but autism isn’t the main focus (it’s mostly mind meld related weirdness)
Also I have smth else that idk if I will ever post bc its a long plotty episode style fic and I only have one chapter written but it’s Spock pov and revolves around his and other character’s neurodivergent experiences. Spock discovers he has synesthesia when it mysteriously disappears, and then finds he isn’t the only crewmember experiencing odd neurological changes.
If we consider TNG Unification, TOS Spock actually enjoys diplomacy. Maybe that aspect developed later in his life than TOS though. Just throwing that into the ring.
I really love any episode where people are screaming or thrashing. So I got a little carried away last night and did a title card for “The Enemy Within” episode of Star Trek.
So anyway evil, transporter-accident Kirk is really right up my alley.
ID: a drawing of Spock and Uhura in bed asleep. Both wear black t shirts and Uhura wears a pink satin bonnet. Uhura has her head on Spock’s shoulder with her arm over him and he has his arm around her. End ID
misc star trek art. 1st pic is a TOS-era runabout-like spacecraft around Andoria. 2nd depicts a small TOS-era freight ship nearby a ternary asteroid. 3rd pic is an imagined original Romulan starship. Not a colony ship, but possibly part of the original convoy headed to Romulus from Vulcan. A modified and repainted Vulcan-design.
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