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NDA.
I don’t know where it came from this. It is these small moments of delirium in which the ideas appear and you can not do more than use the keyboard. Sort of songfic, based entirely on Exogenesis Symphony, the three movements by Muse. Neither music nor the lyrics belong to me and appointments are just that, quotes. It's a good idea to listen to while you read it. Spock, slightly OOC, but I'm not so sure. Dedicated to Ditta-sama, for his invaluable help, and Saya Sumeragi-sama, for her kind heart. Many thanks for your reading and advanced reviews. Namasté.
FA.

 

 

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Música

 

He checked it out slowly, the old and yellowed sheet music. His mother loved the piano, he remembered that his father had seemed the height of the illogical, import one from Terra, just so she left behind that whim.
 
However, he also remembered that when she was sad, she played the piano in the  infinite Vulcan afternoons, the red desert in the background, she bent over and letting go his whole soul into the keyboard, trying not to forget she was human, that the logic imposed on itself was concerned with the illogic of her love for her father.

Spock felt the calm of his pain, a frozen ocean with swells, the waves barely rippled the surface, a myriad of monsters with dark blue eyes and waving in his interior. So well had he learned to master it? So much that even he might mourn?
 
He could not pronounce his name itself. Even the word ritual between them, defined them as they were. Simply, the person in a coma, in Sickbay, had nothing to do with what he knew; it was only a matter of minutes he would die.

Meditation was not helpful at all, nor the continuous repetition of each surakian mantra and maybe the darkness that hung over him now, was similar to that once, his mother felt, missing Terra, the blue of the sky -as Jim's eyes-  or the golden sands of the sea -like skin and hair of Jim.

He pushed the exact controls and the huge window of deck 8 opened, revealing the infinite starlight. The feeling of loneliness, the bond quieting down to a minimum, beat to beat, were so many needles on his mind. He regarded as a scientist, the strange tightness in his chest; he was not quite human, his heart was under his ribs, where the Terrans have the liver.

Why, then, his chest hurt, like he would have had a human heart? So had become similar to Jim? He controls his pain. Agony, darkness, silence, slight tremor in his fingers ...

 

The piano was there for the amusement of the crew and it was Scotty who mostly played it. Spock stroked the smooth surface and just pushed the controls, the symphonic accompaniment would be given according to how he followed the score. He focused on all the pain he felt, would come out at the tips of his fingers, already extremely sensitive  through touch telepathy. He noted that there was a part sung, in the sheet music. 

Her mother's voice was aesthetically pleasing. Perhaps he too was able to. And nobody had at that time of gamma shift to know it was happening; Spock reviewed the tessitura. Of course his voice was much lower. Anyway, he would try.

His hands were made for this, and with the same grace with which he slipped on the computer, the piano sounded, in the galactic eternal night. Scales up, slowly. Music grow with passion

 

"… Spread, our codes to the stars
You must rescue us all
Spread, our codes to the stars
You must rescue us all
Tell us, tell us your final wish?
Now we know you can never return
Tell us, tell us your final wish?
We will tell it to the world."

 

The Vulcan was angry, first. The pain was wrenching; his anxiety, extreme. The surface of his fingers turned bright green, like the tip of his ears, radiating a temperature as high as that achieved in full Plak Tow; he suddenly understood why his father had forbidden his mother play that.

 

Spock revised his thoughts. Still, without James, there was no logic to his body going or living. Simply, he would be a zombie, a part of the Enterprise. But never a whole person. Not again.

Sulu was the first to notice and from his control on the bridge, put  the music all loud on the rest of the ship

 

" Let's start over again
Why can't we start it over again
Just let us start it over again
And we'll be good
This time we'll get it, get it right
It's our last chance to forgive ourselves…”

 

Uhura, Rand and the others froze in their places. A whistle from Sickbay
- What the hell is happening? "

Uhura didn’t know how to answer to Leonard. She took the turbolift and entering his office, dragged him from one arm to the deck 8. The original recording accompanying the piano and the voice of Spock could have easily cracked the titanium glass, for the passion with which accompanied each bar running from his fingers. 

Bones didn’t notice when the tears fell down his cheeks or Uhura trembling hand in his. Spock played the last notes slowly, his fingers levitating just above the piano, with no expression on his face. 

—T'Gai...

Jim's voice surprised them all. How he had made it out of the coma would always be a medical mystery for Leonard. But for others, the case was dropped from obvious. Jim came to Spock and leaned on his shoulder, watching the stars, as if the rest of the crew did not exist. 

The Vulcan recalled that after his mother played, feeling human being ceased to embarrass him. At that time, as for many years, he  returned to be genuinely human; he had jumped from one extreme to another, to more profound and agonizing pain, the fear of seeing lost the love of his life, to the calm of have him again, at his side, breathing. The love, like music could be an illogical conviction, but nobody could doubt that both –music and love- were able to achieve. 

Like them both, he and Jim.
 
Spock held his tears of joy -this time- and again, he back  to be a Vulcan. Jim's kiss on his temple, and he humanized again. The breed had to admit that, as the piano chords and their lives would, henceforth, a long score that would someday be yellow, old and used. And why not, but beautiful ...

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Chapter End Notes:

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Unbetaed, sorry for the trippy english. I hope you have enjoyed this little one. Maybe I write the second part, from the perspective of Jim, do not know, by now. Namaste and thank you very much for your readings and reviews. FantasmaAlineal.

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