Title: Pieces of Night

Author: Farfalla the Butterfly-Kitten

Email: blueberrysnail@yahoo.com

Website: http://cosmicduckling.com

Beta: Thanks are due to Hypatia and Acidqueen for their help.

Characters: Saavik, Spock/David Marcus, Kirk/Spock implied

Rating: R, angst

Written in response to a challenge on the aborted SFF of 2004

Disclaimer: The entire Trek universe belongs to Paramount and will not suffer much from the poking and prodding of our curious collective imaginations. We mean our beloved characters no harm and think that quite possibly they enjoy the variety ;-) Also, I cribbed a few lines of dialogue from Star Trek III: The Search for Spock.

Summary: Saavik, exhausted after Genesis, cannot leave the planet in her nightmares.

Note: This story can work as a prequel to Lessons in Infinite Diversity, my Saavik femslash novella/trilogy, Kirk's ending line having been mentioned there, but it can also stand alone.


PIECES OF NIGHT
by Farfalla the Butterfly-Kitten

It had been years since Saavik had dreamed. She'd had a childhood of nightmares before Spock had retrieved her from Hellguard, and she'd welcomed his Vulcan meditative rituals as a way to soothe her sleep.

But in the turmoil of the past few days, habits blanched before exhaustion, and her meditation had been spotty at best. Certainly she'd had no capability of ritual after staying up for fifty hours straight, despite her knowledge that a full-blooded Vulcan should well be able. Spock's rescue and the fal-tor-pan had kept her awake with the Vulcan equivalent of adrenaline, but mere minutes after the miracle, Saavik collapsed on Amanda's sofa and slept like the dead.

At least her Vulcan training granted her the knowledge that she was dreaming. It would have been far too distressing to experience the events of the Genesis Planet all over again, anew and real.

Feeling strangely detached from her dream-body, Saavik stepped once more through the dead leaves and strewn rocks on Genesis. David Marcus stood at the edge of a jutting boulder, gazing ruefully at his creation. The boyish cockiness was gone, the enthusiasm lost in the already stirring winds of the planet's destruction.

A fully Romulan Saavik would have cuffed him with frustration at their situation. Lieutenant Saavik merely asked, "How long?"

"Days," David said simply. "Hours, maybe."

"It will be hardest on Spock," Saavik commented. Even if they all died anyway, it was best to explain what was to come. David grunted at her questioningly. "Soon he will feel the burning of his Vulcan blood--Pon Farr. It is endured by Vulcan males every seventh year of their adult life."

From the expression on David's face Saavik almost wondered if he, too, were not suddenly aging along with the planet. "Where is he?"

Saavik turned her head to indicate direction. "Beyond those rocks. He is resting." She paused. "He will soon need--"

"Cover me," David interrupted, walking past her toward the mindless teenager.

She turned to watch him go. "You are certain?"

"Hey, I'm willing to suffer for science." David tried to crack a weak smile, but it was too watery. "Let's get this overwith. Then I'll patrol for whoever's out there, and you can guard him while he sleeps."

Saavik followed the Human around the rock to the half-cave where Spock was now writhing and moaning to himself in confused pain. Or Spock's living body, to be more precise. There was no mind here. The first time around, in real life, she barely had time to wonder what had happened to his katra. This time, in the dream, she found herself wondering what Dr. McCoy was doing at that very moment, and if Spock's soul had any idea that his body was in such distress.

She hovered in the background as David approached Spock, her attention focused on the surrounding landscape defensively. "What do I do?" David called back at her. "How do I start this?"

Saavik held out her hand towards him, her index and middle fingers extended and pressed together. "Hold your hand to his, and he will mimic the action."

David's eyes darted around slightly, and he sighed. "Like in those pictures with my father."

"Rub your fingers along the back of his hand," Saavik continued. She whipped her head around at a sound, but it was only the snapping of tree-branches in the wind. Her hand flew to her phaser and fidgeted nervously.

"I think he gets it," David muttered in response. Spock's fingers were swarming clumsily around the Human's hand, clearly instinctually enjoying something despite the lack of mental connection. His groaning and hyperventilating had calmed down at the touch, and he now focused all of his animal attention on Dr. Marcus.

David began pushing the black robe out of the way. Saavik only shot a glance at them before continuing her patrol. When she turned back again, doubling on her steps, David was completely focused on his task, earnestly pumping his hand over something of which Saavik's subconscious blissfully spared her the sight.

But with the unpredictable illogic of dreams, Saavik still felt the pain from before, even as she wandered off into the dark and away from Spock. She didn't know if McCoy's medication had worn off from her irritated skin, or if the dream-pain was just an echo, a memory of the feeling of her body being invaded by circumstance.

Clear-sighted in sleep, she realized that had Spock been truly himself, the experience would have been less physically painful, but more mentally distressing. The older man had not much experience with women, but enough to know how their bodies worked and how to arouse a woman to a point at least enough to negate the pain. It would have been merciful. On the other hand, however, both of them would have withdrawn within themselves around each other for quite a long time afterwards--Spock from undeserved shame, Saavik from loss of her privacy. At least the katra-less body was only a shell, and the act only physical.

Something ached in her heart. Spock had returned to life, but he seemed to remember very little of his former life. Even his recollections of Admiral Kirk seemed patchy and confused. Had she given to him her rawest, inner self to save his life, only to lose him again?

It was hell to have to relive that terrible night even if in dreams and illusions, but twice the purgatory was to go through it with the added concern that Spock might never truly return, even with their success on Genesis.

There was a rustling of feet upon dead leaves and without more than a second's warning, two Klingons burst out of the brush. Saavik's body tensed, and she began to run, leading them away from David and Spock. Her heart thumped sickeningly as she zig-zagged through the trees and boulders. She was in shape from her Starfleet training, but no amount of speed would shake her attackers. Her head swam. And suddenly, she tripped over a root and fell...

...Saavik awoke with a violent thrash. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim golden glow in Amanda's parlor, and she pulled her body into a more stable position. Her chest ached from being trapped behind a brassiere for two and a half days, her muscles from being tensed in her sleep.

She swung herself into a sitting position. Why had she dreamt that David served Spock? Certainly he would have never offered in real life. She reached behind her back, under her shirt, and unsnapped her bra while she thought.

David had died because he'd created the ultimate weapon, even without intending to, and there were those willing to kill for it. His death was an act of heroism, and by rescuing Saavik he had redeemed himself from the faults of his unethical sciences. No, the dream was not about justice for David.

Saavik considered herself. She'd landed in circumstances beyond her control down on Genesis, and watched a planet tear itself apart and a man die. She'd seen the teenaged body of Spock killing Klingon soldiers with his bare hands. She'd also seen Admiral Kirk and his crew sacrifice their careers and their futures to come collect them. She'd seen Sarek risk embarrassment from the Vulcan priestesses and ask for an ancient ritual to be performed that no one had any sure idea would actually work.

And what had she, herself, done?

Lie down with a boy. Open her body, and bestow the empty caress of necessity.

No wonder she'd dreamed herself a more heroic role. She had no desire to die by Klingon hands, but to envision a scenario where she'd been more useful, more... deserving... to feel so utterly exhausted.

It was just sex. So it had been painful and unpleasant, but it was an everyday deed. One doesn't disobey Starfleet command and steal a starship every day. One doesn't wrestle Klingons, hopefully, either.

She stood up and found herself wandering out into the night. Dawn was approaching, and the sky was lit up with a faint glow. And Admiral Kirk was standing out there, staring out into an infinity of sand.

He turned at the sound of her step, and nodded slightly in greeting. He'd been asleep, but he still looked as ragged as the day before. The wound on his forehead had been washed. The wounds across his soul, if his eyes were any indication, still stung smartly.

Here stood a man, with the broken pieces of his life strewn around the base of a shrine to an amnesiac husband. He had almost nothing left in the world now except Spock, if only Spock was still his--and nobody could say this for sure.

As he acclimated himself to Saavik's presence after being alone for so long, he suddenly said to her, "You kept him alive for me. Thank you."

Saavik swallowed. "It was necessary."

They both watched the sand for some long minutes, understanding each other's pain more than words would have bestowed. "He'll come back to us," Kirk said softly.

Slowly, the stately Vulcan sun began to rise.


end