Title: Joy Heals
Contact: saavaant @ yahoo . com
Rating: [Moderate Content]
Codes: Chapel, Saavik, S/Saa, Saa/m (David)
Summary: After "The Search for Spock," Saavik comes to Chapel with a problem. Perhaps a sequel to "Sleep"... Saavik is certainly very traumatized by the events on Genesis.
Archive: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I disclaim Star Trek characters. I disclaim having invented them. I disclaim to be profiting monetarily from writing about them. I am not Roddenberry. I am not Paramount. I am Saavant. So There.
Note: Inspired by a challenge Farfalla instant-messaged to me. I couldn't find it in myself to do exactly what Farf suggested-- Saavik and Sarek and Amanda wouldn't cooperate-- so I came up with my own ending, with a side inspiration from a strange fannish theory about Saavik, David and Spock.
Beta: Djinn. Thanks so much!!
Saavik lay on the biobed, exerting all her energy to stay still while Doctor Chapel moved the tricorder over her body. The weight of the burden she had slowly pulled upon herself threatened to crush her. In a moment, one more piece of medical equipment would again confirm what she already knew to be true... and what would throw her future into frightening uncertainty.
The doctor's voice was gentle. "Saavik, you have my deepest sympathy for David's death. I lost a fiance once, and it devastated me."
Saavik was silent.
"The way I survived it was to mourn without letting my attention be drawn too much away from the pleasant things in life. While you allow yourself sorrow over David, you should also allow yourself happiness for the child. The chemical tests all showed that it is healthy, and once I've picked up enough of a signal with the tricorder, you'll be able to see the embryo on the screen. Think about that, and let yourself relax a little and see the joy in the situation."
"It is undoubtedly David's child," said Saavik in a monotone, touching a hand to her still-slender abdomen.
"Yes," agreed Chapel, looking curiously at her patient. "We already talked about how the chemical tests showed more human genetic material than there would be if Spock were the father."
Saavik allowed herself an exhalation that was not, quite, a sigh.
"And that is what will ruin me."
There were ten speechless seconds, punctuated by the calm beeps of machinery and the hum of the tricorder in Chapel's hand.
"Why do you say that?" the doctor asked at last, a bit of skin puckering between her eyebrows in concern and puzzlement.
Saavik closed her eyes, pressed her lips tightly together, then opened them and began.
"I have nowhere to go now," she said. "I am in no condition to face the stresses of work; my hybrid pregnancy is too high-risk. My savings will not cover living expenses without a continued source of income, let alone support the child when it is born. Spock, who housed me until I entered the Academy, still needs a long time to recover from the fal-tor-pan."
She paused, took a slow breath, and continued. "I do care for the child, as my only living reminder of David. I have a strong need to bear it and raise it; you are correct that it may be what saves me from the grief of losing him. But in regard to my need for a place to carry my pregnancy to term and recover enough to take on the responsibility of supporting the child... Sarek and Amanda are my only hope. Their home is the only place I know that would offer the peace and quiet that I... and my hybrid embryo... will require."
Chapel tilted her head. "So what is the problem?"
"After the chemical tests came back... I was foolish. The trauma on Genesis must have corrupted my logic. For a time, I did not think of the overwhelming probability that the child's appearance, once born, would give away its heritage. And I... told Sarek and Amanda the child was Spock's... so that they would agree to take me in."
The doctor pressed a few buttons on the tricorder. "Saavik, I don't see why you felt the need to tell them that. I have met Sarek and Amanda, and they are kind, considerate people who value all life equally. I can't see them refusing their son's protegee a place to stay, simply because her child isn't his."
"Sarek is logical," Saavik grated, "and logic can be brutal. You must have studied the biology of many creatures, doctor, and they all act on the same cruel logic of nature. There is no logic in supporting someone who will not pass on one's genes."
"What?" Chapel's head jerked up sharply, and she stared at Saavik, perplexed. "The Vulcan philosophy is compassion, not just logic! It's not the same as the behavior of some wild animal."
"Is it not? Vulcans can be wild animals sometimes, doctor-- they are not always as compassionate as they claim to be."
A corner of Chapel's mouth twisted down. "Saavik, either you have a streak of just plain stubborn stupidity in you, or Spock has put a lot of unpleasant ideas in your head about his father. Yes, Sarek once held a grudge against Spock, but it wasn't brutal logic or mean-spirited cruelty that was at the heart of it-- it was compassion. He didn't want Spock in combat situations. He didn't want his son killing people. Think of it, Saavik-- Sarek held a grudge against Spock for years, at what must have been considerable cost to his own peace of mind, because he cared about the lives of strangers-- including enemies of the Federation! What makes you think he'd reject his own son's friend and student?"
"Sarek's objection to Spock joining Starfleet had as much to do with his concern for Spock's safety as anything else. By risking his life in space, Spock was endangering Sarek's bloodline, and this was an offense Sarek could not take. And he could not accept being defied and disobeyed. His own pride and stubbornness drove him into that grudge. Doctor, Spock did not force these ideas into my head-- I formed them myself from close observation of Sarek's character."
The doctor rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say. But Saavik, even if Sarek wouldn't like the idea, don't you think Amanda's human sentiments might have something to say about that?"
"Amanda is his wife. She must obey him."
"What? Amanda is a dutiful wife, yes-- but from all I've observed, she has plenty of influence over Sarek, and she knows how to use it!" The doctor gave a short, hard sigh. "I think the trauma you've gone through is making you overly bitter, Saavik. Can't you see *any* promising possibilities?"
Saavik stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. "Not where none exist. And even if they would have accepted me, had I told them the child was David's-- they will certainly condemn me now, because I lied to them. Do not try to say you have not heard that Vulcans abhor dishonesty."
"Yes-- but I've also heard that Vulcans will forgive a little foolishness. And so will humans. If you tell them the truth, tell them you made a dumb mistake and lied when you shouldn't have, tell them you're sorry-- I see no reason they'd hold a grudge against you."
"You fail to convince me, doctor."
Chapel bowed her head in frustration. Then, as her eyes fell on the tricorder, a slow smile crept across her face. She murmured some quiet expression of surprise, eyes widening, then crinkling at the corners in happy amusement.
"Well, maybe this will convince you, Saavik."
And with the push of a button, the screen at the foot of the bed resolved itself into the image of Saavik's interior. The shape of the embryo floated in plain view, red letters at its side spelling out, "Male. 1/4 Vulcan. 1/4 Romulan. 1/2 human." David's child.
But on the other side of the screen was a second shape-- a second embryo, labeled in the same print as "Female. 1/2 Vulcan. 1/4 Romulan. 1/4 human."
Chapel broke out into a grin.
And Saavik, in spite of her bitterness, grief and rage, couldn't help a small, astonished smile of her own. Was the answer that simple? Sometimes, she marveled, the universe produced the most amazing twists of fate...
But it was not quite that simple. Because, besides the joyful revelation that she had not lied after all, the truth of Chapel's words was beginning to settle down upon Saavik.
It *was* her bitterness and grief that had made her have so little hope about Spock's parents. She had been foolish to think they would reject her, and all that she had needed to make her realize it was the sudden happiness of knowing she had living symbols of both her love for David and her love for Spock. Yes, she would always love Spock more as a friend and mentor than as a mate, but she would care for his child as devotedly as he had cared for her. And, although it would be awkward, she knew that Spock, too, would welcome the little life into the world.
Joy does heal, after all.
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