Chapter Text
Jim had jinxed himself. It was the only possible explanation.
Everything had been going perfectly. They had saved the Earth from V’ger. The crew of the Enterprise — his crew, reunited at last—had scored another five-year mission, with Jim in command again, as he'd always longed to be. They would be leaving in two months, when the refit was properly finished.
And most importantly, he and Spock had finally worked out their various issues and were together now. Together -together. As in, living in the same apartment and having sex in every room of it, together.
Finally the setbacks of the past two years were over. Finally life made sense again.
And that was when he made his mistake. He had sunk into the comfortable chair next to the window and thought to himself, Everything's perfect. Nothing could go wrong.
You would think, after years in Starfleet, he would have learned never to say a thing like that, even to himself.
That was the reason for the Vulcan child on his doorstep. There could be no other explanation.
“Spock,” he called over his shoulder. “Were you expecting a Vulcan child?”
“To my knowledge, I am not capable of carrying one,” said Spock, because he would never give up the habit of misunderstanding his mother tongue on purpose, but he came to the door.
Spock looked just as perplexed as he felt. The girl was about nine or ten, with skinny arms and a mop of unruly curls, her pointed ears sticking out of the curls and looking too big for her head. Her clothes were especially odd, consisting of Earth-style pants several inches too short and a purple polo shirt several sizes too big. That, plus a backpack, was the whole picture. There was no adult with her anywhere. Jim had checked twice.
On seeing Spock, the girl straightened sharply and held up a ta’al. “Live long and prosper, sa-kuk. I am Saavik.”
Understanding flashed on Spock’s face. “Ah. I suppose in that case you should come in.”
The girl marched inside and sat stiffly in one of the living room chairs with her legs dangling. Jim's chair, if one were to be specific, but he wasn't going to make her move.
Spock seated himself across from her, staring her down with the look he often gave to mouthy cadets. It always made them quail, but it seemed this Saavik was made of sterner stuff. She stared straight back into his eyes and lifted her chin very slightly.
“Does your father know you are here?” Spock asked.
“He knows that I am not at home,” she answered. “Which is all he has any right to know.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “You intend to perform the dahshaya?”
“I wish to be reunited with the family,” said Saavik. “I am not under his punishment. There is no reason to refuse me.”
Spock seemed to remember Jim, and explained, “Saavik is my niece.”
“I didn't know you had any siblings.”
“I do not,” said Spock.
Jim glared. Did he always have to be obscure?
Spock had mercy on him. “Saavik’s father, Sybok, was born the son of Sarek and a Vulcan woman.” It was an odd way to put it, when “half brother” would have done. Turning back to the girl, Spock asked, “How did you come here?”
“I took the supply shuttle when it left the compound,” said Saavik. “Alone.”
Jim picked at his lip. He couldn’t imagine any reasonable shuttle crew would let a ten-year-old child aboard without a guardian’s permission or a ticket. Had she stowed away? Walked here from the shuttle station, by herself? He couldn’t have done that at ten. He could at twelve, but by then he’d seen too many things to be afraid of anything.
He hoped this was more a case of Vulcan children being exceptionally mature.
“Is that why you came to me instead of to Sarek? Because the shuttle came to Earth?”
Saavik looked uncertain for a moment. “I could have reached Vulcan if I wanted,” she said at last. “It is only that I am uncertain if I am exactly ready for the dahshaya, or Sarek. I have researched him. I believe he has high standards.”
“And I do not?
For a second, Jim could have sworn she actually rolled her eyes. Did Vulcan children roll their eyes and sass their parents? Then he realized it was a stupid question. Spock sassed now .
Saavik’s face returned to a perfect blank. “I have read your history. You are half human. You associate closely with humans. You probably have more tolerance for imperfection.”
Jim snorted. He couldn't help himself. “Pretty sure she just told you you were a soft touch.”
“In her defense, I also would not like to present myself before Sarek for approval. He is not generous with it.”
Saavik made a small strangled sound. Jim whipped his head around, but she was still (or again) perfectly poised.
Spock addressed Saavik again. “What do you expect me to do for you? I cannot complete the dahshaya for you. That is Sarek’s prerogative.”
“You could prepare me,” said Saavik eagerly. “You have two months before your next Starfleet assignment. In that time, you could teach me everything I do not yet know about the Vulcan way.”
Jim realized he was in over his head, and also probably in the way. “I'm gonna go get you some tea and cookies,” he said, standing up.
“Vulcans do not consume foods high in sugar,” said Saavik severely.
Jim blinked. Spock always liked a few cookies or a slice of cake after dinner. He had never indicated that was rebellious behavior at all. “Don't worry, these cookies are really low in sugar,” he assured her. “Hardly any.”
Then he had to ransack the whole kitchen until he found, behind the flour, the little tasteless biscuits he had accidentally bought once, so he didn't make himself a liar.
In the other room, he could hear Spock ask, “Given your upbringing, I am surprised you know anything about the Vulcan way.”
“I have been researching,” she said, a note of pride in her voice, “since I decided to leave home.”
“It is admirable in you, but I hope you are aware written material cannot capture all the intricacies of real Vulcan life.”
“That's why—that is why I came to you, sa-kuk,” said Saavik. “I have not known many proper Vulcans. I hoped to make you my model.”
Jim snorted to himself as he poured the tea and arranged the cookies on a tray. Spock as a role model. The child would turn out a terror.
“I am uncertain if I will satisfy your expectations,” said Spock.
“You could do worse,” said Jim, coming back in and setting the tea tray on the coffee table.
She turned large brown eyes on him. “Why would I wish to do worse?”
Oh god, there's two of them, he thought. Aloud he said, “Spock, may I have a word?”
In the bedroom, he uncorked his true feelings. “You're not contemplating taking this kid in, are you?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “I fail to see an alternative.”
“What's wrong with her father? Human kids can't just run away from home and pick a new dad.”
Spock's eyebrows drew down. “Her father has abandoned the path of logic and been cast out of the house of Sarek. By Vulcan law, she has the right to leave him and ask to be re-accepted into the family. Until she does so, she is considered v’tosh ka'tur as well.”
“Well that's some bullshit.”
“Indeed,” said Spock. “However, it is Saavik’s choice to make, and I am her most likely path back to the Vulcan way. I can hardly refuse her.”
“But Spock,” Jim pleaded. “I was counting on this time being for us. Why can’t she go to Sarek?”
“Ultimately, she must. No one else may reinstate her into the family. However, she is quite obviously not ready for him. His standards are high. It is hard for me to imagine that he would accept her as she is now.”
Jim glared at the ground so he wouldn’t glare at Spock. “You mean this isn’t a formality? She gets punished the same as her father unless Sarek thinks she’s good enough?”
“Yes. However, if I could purchase her some proper clothing, instruct her in logic, and do . . . something . . . about her hair, it would significantly increase her chances. There is no one as well-informed about Sarek’s standards as I am.”
Jim chewed on his lip. “So that’s all you’re doing? Two months’ crash course in being Vulcan and that’s it?”
“It is all she requested.”
“And you’re not expecting me to do any of it? I’m not a kid person, Spock.” That was an understatement. The last time he’d tried to deal with kids, they’d called him a grup and tried to murder him. The time before that was Charlie, who had killed a lot of people.
“I do not require any assistance.”
Jim sighed. “All right. Have it your way.”
And then he made another terrible mistake.
He added, “Anyway, she's well behaved. How hard could it be?”
At dinner, Saavik ate with quick, delicate movements, like she was equally afraid of the food being taken away and of being chastised for being impolite.
Spock ate quietly, paying no visible attention to Saavik, though Jim caught him stealthily glancing at her a time or two. Jim tried to break the awkward silence with conversation. “Saavik is a pretty name. I’ve never met a Vulcan girl whose name didn’t begin with T.”
She gulped the last bite down so she could answer. “The letter pattern of my name is traditional for descendents of Surak. I have always been proud of this. That is why I did not choose to change it when I transitioned.”
“Ohhh,” said Jim. “So that’s why Spock, Sarek, Sybok, and so on.”
“Yes.” She sat with her hands tightly folded in her lap, but her eyes were fixed on the serving dish. Spock had made at least twice as much risotto as usual.
Without a word to Saavik, Spock dished out a second helping onto Saavik’s plate, which she attacked as eagerly as the first. “It is a very noble heritage,” said Spock. “Our house is one of the most honored families on Vulcan.”
Saavik’s eyes widened, surprised or perhaps disapproving, but she kept eating. As soon as her plate was empty, Spock gave her thirds. The kid seemed to have a hollow leg. But then, she was a growing girl. That was to be expected.
What he had not expected was to come out of the kitchen after doing the dishes to find Saavik making some kind of . . . nest out of their throw pillows and the blanket from the back of the couch.
He went into the office, where Spock was collecting a stack of books for Saavik to read. “Spock, the kid is rearranging the living room.”
Spock came out and observed. “What are you doing, Saavik?”
“I am making myself a place to sleep tonight. I judged that this room would not be in use during the sleeping hours. Correct me if I am wrong.”
“I meant to prepare a place for you myself.”
“Why?”
Spock took a beat to produce an answer. “Because you are a guest, and a child.”
“I am not a child in any practical sense. In any event, I have already made a place for myself. Is it in the way?”
“I meant to give you your own room.”
“Your home has two bedrooms,” she pointed out, “and there are two of you.”
Spock looked . . . shifty. “It will be no hardship for me to sleep in Jim's room for the duration,” he said. “If you are amenable?”
Jim coughed. “Oh yeah that sounds fine. Plenty of room. For another bed. In there.”
Spock went into the guest room to get it ready, and Saavik carefully unpacked a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a cardboard tube holding about a hundred ponytail holders, arranged by color. She lined her items in a neat row on the bathroom sink and waited politely for Spock to emerge.
She was a funny kid, that was for sure. It was like attempting to care for a tiny, obsessive hobo.
Once she was safely in bed, Jim said, “If you were going to pretend to the kid we're just friends, you could at least have tipped me off! Are Vulcans homophobes or something? Is her dad?”
“Of course not, k’diwa. That would be illogical. But she surely believes proper Vulcans do not share a bedroom until they are formally bonded.”
“Spock!” Jim grinned. “You never told me you weren't supposed to give it up till marriage.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “There was no point in mentioning it, as it was a custom I did not intend to follow. I am hardly unique in this,” he added hastily. “But Saavik only knows the Vulcan way in the abstract.”
“You could have just told her we were bonded already.”
“But Vulcans do not lie.”
Jim paused. “But you said—”
“I said it was not a hardship for me to share your room,” said Spock. “Which it is not.”
Jim snorted. Trust Spock to imply the exact opposite of the truth without technically lying. Unless he especially wanted to.
“Now,” said Spock, “we have not had dessert. Do we still have those almond cookies?”
Jim got the box down and put some on a plate. “How much of our lives do you intend to hide from this kid?”
“I hope to be able to ease her into the realities of our lifestyle gradually. After I have proven myself an adequate mentor.”
“I'm afraid she'll be mentoring us in two weeks.”