By Gamin Davis

Codes: S/Ch, K&S&Mc; angst, h/c
Series: TOS, semi-AU
Rating: PG
Summary: A different kind of "All Our Yesterdays" sequel that discards the idea of Spock "reverting to the ways of his ancestors" in favor of another explanation for his behavior in Sarpeidon's past. It focuses on the ramifications of this interlude for Spock and Christine as Kirk helps Spock sort through his feelings about it while they are on leave.
Disclaimer: For lo, the Deity Paramount doth own these characters; I do but frolic briefly with them in their playground.

The Enterprise had scarcely left the planet Sarpeidon when Kirk paid a visit to Spock in the latter’s quarters as soon as they were both off-duty. Once his first Officer admitted him and led his Captain to his study, Kirk spoke. “McCoy told me about Zarabeth.”

Spock averted his gaze as he sat back down at his desk. He had been off-duty since their return from Sarpeidon and had spent the last several hours in his quarters, mostly in meditation, still humiliated by his behavior in that planet’s past—and his shame was only compounded by memories of Zarabeth, not all of which were pleasant. “I suppose I should not have expected him to respect my privacy,” he reflected coolly.

“He didn’t volunteer the information; I *asked* him if something had happened to you on Sarpeidon, because you’ve been so…withdrawn since you came back,” Kirk explained cautiously. “Immediately coming back here and shutting yourself away, ignoring communications…”

“I never locked you out,” Spock pointed out quietly, interrupting as he looked back up hesitantly at Kirk. “I only needed…some time to consider what I did and…what I felt.”

Kirk closed the distance between them. “So you *did* love her,” he realized softly. “I thought Bones had been just…seeing what he wanted to see.”

“No…not this time,” Spock admitted, almost inaudibly, lowering his eyes again, clearly troubled by the memories being stirred in him by their discussion. “I…felt for her…yes. Dr. McCoy and I originally theorized that I had ‘reverted’ to the warrior ways of my pre-Reform Vulcan ancestors, but in retrospect, I find the idea most illogical…especially since McCoy did not revert to the ways of Neanderthal or Cro-Magnon man—what you Humans call ‘cave men’. It was just a way—the only way I could think of, at the time—to explain some very…bizarre behavior on my part,” he elaborated guiltily. “I assume McCoy regaled you with a fully-detailed account of my irrationality.”

“No. He just said you…fell in love and acted ‘the last way I’d ever expect you to act’ with Zarabeth,” Kirk returned cautiously.

“Hmm. At least he respected my privacy to that extent.” Spock looked back up at Kirk slowly, trying to meet his eyes. “I felt…jealousy…toward McCoy when he seemed to be trying to…make friends with Zarabeth, and tried to attack him later when he accused her of lying. And I ate meat, Jim—I still do not know why, but it seemed pleasant at the time. I can still taste it in my mouth. It is most nauseating, which is another reason I have chosen to stay in my cabin. I have been…somewhat indisposed.”

“I see.” Kirk sat down before him on the edge of the desk. “What about Zarabeth? Bones mentioned you were all ready to stay with her in that ice age,” he prompted hesitantly.

Spock was silent for a long time as he searched the Captain’s eyes indecisively, knowing Kirk had long since proven himself trustworthy in matters regarding the emotions that the Vulcan was still reluctant to reveal. “McCoy was right. She did… lie to me. I suppose…I wanted so much to believe her that I did not even consider his words,” he continued softly, with difficulty. “She told me that it was not physically possible to return to our own time—that our bodies were altered by the atavachron and we would die if we tried to go back.”

Kirk nodded. “I was told about that, too—she did keep some things from you. We didn’t go through any such ‘preparation’, and I found out that we would’ve died if we *hadn’t* gone back when we did,” he revealed.

“Then Dr. McCoy saved both our lives. She lied in an attempt to keep me with her, and I would never have known of the deception if McCoy had not been there to provide constant opposition to the idea of staying,” Spock realized, voice full of shame. “I was so totally…taken in…by her that I believed only her.” He averted his eyes again. “When she spoke of…her loneliness…it seemed to me that she understood what I felt…had felt…for so long. I thought that she…loved me.”

“And you loved her,” Kirk concluded.

“From what little I understand of the emotion, I think so. But she deceived me. How could she do that if she loved me? And how could I take her word over McCoy’s?"

“You loved her. You empathized with her. You ate the meat because she fixed it and you wanted to make her happy; you were jealous of McCoy because you were afraid she’d be more responsive to him if he seemed interested in her, and you fought with him because you wanted to trust--and stay friends with—Zarabeth,” Kirk opined gently, speaking to the dark, bowed head. “Spock, I wish you’d believe me when I tell you that it’s *not* as terrible as you think. God knows you certainly deserve to have a woman love and understand you—”

“—and deceive me? Do I deserve *that*, also?” Spock interrupted challengingly, his voice touched with pain and resentment as he looked back up at Kirk entreatingly. “Perhaps I do. Every woman I have ever known...” he trailed off, thoughtfully, remembering that both Leila Kalomi and T’Pring had likewise deceived him. “Do you think it has something to do with my…ina bility to respond to them, Jim? Are they trying…to punish me?”

Kirk responded to the confusion in his friend’s voice by reaching out to put a hand on the Vulcan’s shoulder. “No…no, Spock, it’s not your fault,” he told Spock soothingly, an idea beginning to form in his mind. “Listen, we have some time before we’re due to get our next assignment. If you want to take a few days of leave, I think I can arrange a little side-trip to Starbase 14—it’s not too far off our course.”

“I do not…” Spock hesitated, lowering his eyes as he considered the idea for a time. He knew his emotions were in turmoil; his attempts at meditation since returning had shown him that much, though they had seemed to accomplish little else and he was greatly tempted to accept Kirk’s suggestion. “Are you certain it would be…permissible?” he questioned faintly, after several minutes.

“It is,” Kirk assured him understandingly.

“I have never been to Starbase 14,” Spock remarked uncertainly. “Is it located in space or on a planet?”

“It’s on a planetoid that’s uninhabited except for the base. I know someone who was assigned there for a while; she told me it was lovely there—warm most of the time, fairly Earth-like, lots of open areas and meadowlands. Trees, too,” Kirk recalled, watching his friend expectantly. “The way she described it made me homesick for Iowa, except for the climate.”

“Hmm. After being in Sarpeidon’s ice age for so long, I would welcome…some time in such a warm place. I can still feel the cold,” Spock admitted softly, glancing back up at Kirk finally. “If I go…would you go with me?”

“I had that in mind, yes,” Kirk acceded readily, unable to avoid smiling to himself. “Would you mind if I invited McCoy along?”

“I…suppose not,” Spock returned cautiously. “However, I am not certain he would wish to go. I did not…treat him very well on Sarpeidon, and he probably has no interest in enduring more of my company while on leave.”

“I’ll ask him anyway,” Kirk decided. “Maybe you’re wrong.”

A brief but awkward silence descended, mercifully ended by Spock a few minutes later. “Do you have any specific plans for our leave?” he asked.

“Not yet—other than giving you some time to relax. I want to do some research of my own on Starbase 14 first,” Kirk answered vaguely, getting up at last. “Well, I think I’ll go get something to eat. Want to come with me?”

Spock had turned away after Kirk answered his question and was again lost in reflections on his time with Zarabeth.

“Spock?” Kirk prompted again.

Belatedly, Spock glanced up at him. “Captain?”

"I asked if you wanted to go eat with me.”

“Oh. No…thank you. I am not hungry.”

Kirk did not insist, though he hoped Spock did not plan to continue his fast all through their leave. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“Good evening, Captain.”

After Kirk had eaten, he went to see Christine Chapel, who had just gotten off-duty, hoping to enlist her aid in helping Spock sort through his feelings about Zarabeth—if she were able to overcome *her own* inevitable resentment after learning that the Vulcan had somehow managed to allow himself to love the woman. Christine was actually on her way out to get something to eat herself when Kirk arrived, but since she seldom got a personal visit from the Captain, she realized that whatever he wanted must be important and decided to stay. She admitted him immediately, leading him into her study, where they both sat down.

“I apologize for delaying your dinner, Nurse Chapel, but hopefully this won’t take too long,” Kirk began slowly.

“I was wondering what the occasion was. It’s not often I get a private audience with the Captain,” Christine admitted curiously.

“It’s necessary,” Kirk assured her. “First—has Dr. McCoy told you anything about his experience on Sarpeidon?”

Christine shrugged, uncertain of what he was leading up to. “Not a lot. Just that he was trapped in the planet’s past with Spock and a woman named Zarabeth,” she recalled, in a puzzled voice.

“Nothing more specific about Zarabeth?”

Christine shook her head.

//Oh, fine. I guess he was "respecting Spock’s privacy" again—or protecting her feelings,// Kirk thought sardonically, in frustration. //Well, I can do this two ways: either invite her along and let Spock tell her when he feels up to it…or tell her now and hope that she’ll still want to be around him—and that Spock will forgive me for intruding.// As hard as the latter would be, the idea of inviting Christine under false pretenses was ultimately not something Kirk felt he could live with.

Christine, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly concerned about his prolonged silence. “Captain, what’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.

Kirk sighed heavily. “This isn’t going to be easy to hear, Christine, but I think you need to know, and apparently McCoy and Spock are going to be afraid to tell you,” he began carefully. “Spock and Zarabeth were…involved.” He went on to tell her as much as he thought was necessary of what McCoy and Spock had so far revealed of the Vulcan’s interaction with Zarabeth, watching her uncertainly for a reaction.

Christine was silent for a long time as she considered Kirk’s revelation and a mixture of anger, sadness and resignation began to fill her. “Thank you for telling me,” she returned quietly, at length.

Too quietly, it seemed to Kirk. “I also think you should know that Spock’s memories of her are *not* all happy. She tried to trick him into staying in Sarpeidon’s ice age so she could keep Spock with her,” he added earnestly, willing her to think of Spock instead of herself—though he could hardly blame Christine if she found it impossible.

“Serves him right,” Christine retorted bitterly.

Kirk continued deliberately, hoping he could change her mood and attitude. “Anyway, he’s feeling …pretty emotionally mixed-up right now and doesn’t quite know how to handle it, so, since we have a little spare time, I’m going to arrange a few days’ leave for him—and the rest of the crew--on Starbase 14. I’m going with him, and I’d like…”

“Captain, with all due respect, I have no intention of spending my leave around someone who obviously doesn’t care about or even appreciate me and trying to act like it doesn’t matter to me,” Christine interrupted indignantly. “Unless you intend to order me to go.”

“No, I can’t make it an order. But I’d *like* you to come; I think it’ ll help you and Spock both,” Kirk returned sincerely. “You don’t have to beam down with us. Take some time to think about it for a while and beam down later if you want. But I’d like you to come.”

Christine studied him warily. “Does *Spock* want me to come?”

“He doesn’t know I’m inviting you. But I’m betting it’ll be a pleasant surprise for him when he sees you,” Kirk admitted slowly.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’ve spoken with him and I know how he’s feeling. I know…he’s going to need a reminder that someone can love him without tricking or deceiving him. And I can almost guarantee that he’s going to assume he’s lost you…unless you can show him he hasn’t.”

Christine hesitated as a thread of concern penetrated her anger. “I’ll think about it,” she decided neutrally. “I do have a few questions I’d like to ask him. If what you say is true, maybe I have a chance of getting some straight answers.”

Kirk got up, satisfied. “I’ll let you go to dinner, then. Good night.”

Kirk talked to McCoy the next day about joining him and Spock on leave, once he had contacted Starbase 14 and cleared his leave request with the Starfleet Command representative there. Like Christine, though for different reasons, McCoy was reluctant to spend his leave with Spock and Kirk, but Kirk convinced him to at least try it; if Spock proved to be uncomfortable around him (or vice versa), he could always change his plans.

In the meantime, during the five days it took the Enterprise to get to the starbase, Spock remained withdrawn and uncommunicative when off-duty—even on the Bridge, he was so unusually quiet that every one noticed. Kirk generally left the Vulcan to his own devices while he did his research on the starbase and the surrounding surface of the planetoid, making plans that he knew might have to be changed if Spock did not approve. It occurred to him that he should probably let Spock decide, rather than trying to make definite plans for him. To that end, he again went to see Spock when they were still a couple of days away from Starbase 14, one evening just before they customarily went to dinner.

He found Spock looking through his dresser drawers.

“Lose something?” Kirk questioned, in puzzlement.

Spock shook his head. “I am attempting to ascertain what I have in the way of appropriate civilian clothing to take on our leave,” he explained evenly.

“I see.” Kirk knew that Spock still did not have a lot of civilian clothing, since he so seldom left the ship for any occasion during which he could not stay in uniform the whole time he was gone. But as a part of his ongoing efforts to get the Vulcan to relax more when he was off-duty—and especially during the few times when he actually consented to join his Captain on leave—he had repeatedly encouraged Spock to pack civilian clothes and not wear his uniform all the time, and Spock had gradually learned to do just that. “Well, I was thinking we ought to discuss what you want to do while we’re on leave.”

Spock closed his dresser drawers and turned to face Kirk. “I would first need to know what there is available to do,” he replied. “I assume you have by now completed the research you planned to do on Starbase 14.”

Kirk nodded, turning and heading for Spock’s study. “They have really nice Visiting Officers’ Quarters on base, and they also have cabins scattered around outside the base,” he told Spock enthusiastically. “Lots of parklands with wide-open spaces, lakes, picnic areas…I wasn’t sure where you’d want to stay, but I’ve made tentative reservations for one of the cabins.”

“That would be acceptable,” Spock responded agreeably. It made no real difference to him where he stayed.

“All right, I’ll contact the starbase again later,” Kirk acknowledged, continuing as Spock walked past him to his desk. “We could go on picnics, for walks—and of course, I’d like to go swimming.”

“I suppose that all sounds pleasant enough,” Spock decided, with a sigh that was more of resignation and acceptance than pleasure.

“Even the swimming?” Kirk asked, knowing that that was not usually something Spock was interested in.

“It is not necessary for me to accompany you into the water, is it?” Spock counter-questioned evasively.

“I guess not,” Kirk admitted, striving not to sound disappointed. “How about camping?”

“Whatever you wish to do, Captain,” Spock acceded distractedly, in no mood to argue with Kirk over what to him were minor matters.

“No, Spock—this is *your* leave. You decide what you want to do, and we ’ll go along with it.”

Spock turned toward him finally, sitting against the edge of his desk. “‘We’?” he repeated, cocking an eyebrow at Kirk in surprise.

“I think McCoy’s going with us,” Kirk supplied.

“Oh.” Spock considered the situation silently for a time before speaking again. “All I really want, Jim, is to be somewhere quiet where I can…think,” he confessed softly.

“All right, I’ll bear that in mind when I contact the base to confirm the arrangements,” Kirk promised him kindly. “Ready for dinner?”

“I am not particularly hungry,” Spock returned disinterestedly.

Kirk knew his friend’s mind was elsewhere—on his confused thoughts of Zarabeth—as it had been ever since he had entered Spock’s quarters. “You never are,” he teased gently. “Come on, this is no time for a fast. You’ll need energy for our leave.”

“Most illogical,” Spock commented, standing anyway and moving resignedly to join Kirk. He had not really expected Kirk to be that easily dissuaded, especially after having let Spock put him off the last few nights since they’d left Sarpeidon.

Kirk chuckled softly as he turned to lead the way out of Spock’s cabin, knowing without looking back that the Vulcan was following him.

McCoy and Christine were still in Rec Room 6, enjoying one of the rare occasions when their meal breaks fell at the same time, when Kirk and Spock arrived. He considered joining them, but the more he watched Kirk trying to draw out the subdued and mostly silent Spock, the less inclined he was to act on the idea. McCoy knew it would only make Spock more uncomfortable. Christine, of course, was not disturbed by any such concerns; at the moment, she still had no interest in being around Spock and was able to eat her food in peace rather than trying to divide her attention between the food and the First Officer, as McCoy currently had to do.

Kirk confirmed his reservations at the cabin and made some more arrangements, and three days later, the Enterprise reached Starbase 14. After helping Spock pack, the two of them met McCoy in the Transporter Room to beam down. From the base’s reception area, they went to the Recreation Department to pick up the keys (and directions) to their cabin, then rented an aircar and headed to the Base Commissary on their way to their cabin.

A little over an hour later, they arrived. Kirk discovered it was somewhat smaller and more spartan than he had hoped, with a common living/dining room containing no furniture except a dining table with chairs and one double-sized, overstuffed couch near the window. There were large floor pillows scattered around the carpeted floor and a fireplace that looked as if it had not been used since Kirk was in grade school, plus a quick tour of the adjoining hallway and rooms yielded the information that there were only two bedrooms. At least the kitchen was fully equipped. “I asked for a three-bedroom cabin, but they told me at Recreation that there aren’t any and this was the largest they had left,” Kirk told his friends apologetically. //If Christine does come, I’ll have to find her another cabin,// he noted, in some dismay.

“Well, what do we do about sleeping arrangements?” McCoy asked, temporarily setting down his travel bag. “I don’t think any one of us is small enough to fit onto that little couch and expect to sleep comfortably.”

Spock likewise set his bag down and cocked an eyebrow questioningly at Kirk.

“Fortunately, the bedrooms seem to be big enough to accommodate king-size beds,” Kirk remarked hesitantly. “It looks like two of us are going to have to share a room.”

McCoy and Spock regarded each other warily before turning back to Kirk. “Which two did you have in mind?” Spock asked, suspicion touching his voice.

Kirk eyed each of them speculatively in turn, unable to resist the urge to tease them. “It would serve the both of you right if I made *you two* share a room,” he quipped archly. “I’ve been meaning to knock your heads together for some time, but I think making you sleep together would be far more effective.”

McCoy looked horrified at the very idea, while Spock bore the totally unreadable expression that always indicated profound disapproval.

Kirk grinned suddenly. “For now, though, one of you will have to sleep with me—and frankly, Bones, the vibrations from your snoring would likely shake me off the bed. At least Spock sleeps quietly,” he continued dryly. They had all shared a room with one another at some time over the last several years of planet-side missions and other situations outside the ship which had not always permitted each crewmember to have his own sleeping quarters. As in nearly everything else, Kirk had proven to be the most compatible roommate for Spock—when there was a choice.

“Since I have no intention of sharing a room—much less a bed—with Dr. McCoy, I find the alternative you seem to be suggesting far more preferable,” Spock commented coolly, finally managing to verbalize his own views on the subject.

“All right then—go pick a bedroom, Bones. We’ll take the other,” Kirk offered, letting McCoy lead the way, following him out of the main room and into the hallway. McCoy went through a door near the right end of the hallway and tossed his bag onto the huge bed, while Kirk and Spock went to the door near the left end and did likewise.

Like McCoy’s room, theirs contained little other furniture except a dresser opposite the bed, a chair near the window and small, built-in night tables on each side of the bed. With Kirk’s encouragement, Spock joined him in putting his clothes into the dresser drawers, after which they took turns changing while Spock went to put up the groceries Kirk had left on the dining room table, then he went back to their room and changed his own clothes.

They spent the first day of their leave—only a partial day—quietly familiarizing themselves with the cabin and resting up for what would probably be a full day tomorrow. Spock meditated or played his Vulcan harp while Kirk and McCoy talked among themselves, dancing around more important matters because they were reluctant to discuss such things without Spock available to participate. Finally, Kirk got up from the double-sized couch and went to join Spock as the latter sat on a floor pillow across the room, still softly strumming his harp with a faraway look in his eyes.

McCoy followed quietly, watching as Kirk pulled up another floor pillow and sat down cautiously beside Spock. Kirk sat silently for a time, not wanting to disturb his Vulcan friend, waiting patiently for Spock to become aware of his presence. McCoy had to admit that the Captain had learned a degree of patience with Spock that he himself had somehow never found possible—and it was patience, above all else, that was needed in dealing with Spock at such times as these, when the Vulcan was full of turmoil that he could neither deal with nor express.

At length, Spock finally stopped playing, appearing ready to acknowledge Kirk’s presence. “You wanted something of me, Captain?” he questioned, facing Kirk at last.

“Just to check that you’re all right—and that my plans for tomorrow meet with your approval,” Kirk replied kindly.

“I am not…entirely…as you say, ‘all right’,” Spock admitted hesitantly, keeping his voice carefully controlled. “But you already knew that. As for your plans…what are they?”

“I thought for the first day, we’d just explore—go for a walk, see where everything is,” Kirk told him hopefully. “These cabins are all supposed to be close to the parklands and lakes.”

“That…sounds pleasant,” Spock decided softly.

Kirk nodded in acceptance. “It’s getting late,” he pointed out then, waiting for Spock to say something more.

“Almost 2300,” McCoy put in helpfully, when Spock remained silent. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m about ready to hit the hay.”

Spock glanced up at him in puzzlement. “‘Hit the hay’, Doctor?” he repeated questioningly.

McCoy grinned at him. “I thought that might get a reaction out of you,” he responded slyly, heading for his room. “If you’re really curious, ask Jim.”

Spock turned back to Kirk as McCoy left the room, but as he was about to speak, Kirk spoke first, getting up from his floor pillow. “We should be getting to bed, too—but first, I want you to eat something. You didn’t eat any dinner, and in fact, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Spock picked up his harp and stood slowly. “I still…do not seem to have much of an appetite,” he reminded Kirk disinterestedly.

“Remember what I told you about needing energy for our leave?”

Spock nodded reluctantly.

“You don’t have to eat a lot, Spock, but I want you to eat something,” Kirk admonished, firmly but gently. “Come on, I’ll fix you some cinnamon toast.”

“I will join you as soon as I put my harp away,” Spock acceded finally.

“All right,” Kirk agreed, heading for the kitchen as Spock moved toward the hallway door.

Spock returned a few minutes later, by which time Kirk had his cinnamon toast in the nutriwave oven. He looked around to find Spock now in his robe, underclothes and socks.

“It’s almost ready,” Kirk told his friend. “I think I’ll go change, too. It should be ready by the time I get back.”

Spock nodded slightly in acknowledgment, getting himself some apple juice out of the refrigerator and pouring himself a glass. The nutriwave beeped at him shortly thereafter, indicating that the cinnamon toast was done, and as he took it out and put it on a plate, Kirk walked back into the kitchen, now also in his robe and underclothes.

“There are four pieces here,” Spock noted, glancing over at him. “Do you intend to eat some of them?”

“Not necessarily. You go ahead and eat as much as you want,” Kirk returned amiably, likewise getting himself some juice.

Spock silently took his toast and juice to the dining table and sat down, followed by Kirk, immediately starting on the toast. He devoted his full attention to the cinnamon toast, still not speaking.

“Does it taste all right?” Kirk asked, when Spock still did not speak. “It was sort of a rush job.”

“It is quite good. I had forgotten how much better real cinnamon toast is than the synthetic kind,” Spock assured him sincerely. “I would prefer, however, that you eat at least one piece,” he added, picking up one of the untouched ones and offering it to Kirk. “I know I am not the only one who enjoys it.”

Kirk took it hesitantly. “After I’m sure you’re through, then,” he acceded, watching as the Vulcan continued to eat and again fell silent. He waited patiently, though worriedly, until Spock appeared to have eaten all he was going to of the toast. “You sure you don’t want any more?” he asked, noting that Spock had only eaten one whole piece and part of another.

Spock nodded. “I am really not very hungry,” he reiterated tolerantly, turning his attention to his juice.

“Still too much on your mind, I gather?”

“I suppose.”

Obviously, Spock was still in the same somber, non-communicative mood he had been in on the ship, and Kirk could only hope that his friend would begin to open up a little tomorrow. He finished off his piece of toast and tried in vain to convince Spock to eat more of what was left, heading for the bedroom as Spock took his plate and glass back to the kitchen.

By the time Spock got to the bedroom, Kirk was already in bed, reading by a lamp on his night table, which was now the only light in the room. “Would you object if I turned off the air conditioner?” Spock asked, as he slipped out of his robe and laid it across the end of the bed.

“I already turned up the temperature for you,” Kirk informed him.

“Oh.” Spock was still cold, but the room could only warm up so fast. He would have to be patient.

“I thought you might want the side of the bed closest to the door,” Kirk supplied, setting aside the book.

Spock did not respond directly as he climbed under the covers on the bedside opposite Kirk, pausing before he lay down. “This may have been a mistake, Jim. I cannot possibly be what you would consider ‘good company’ right now,” he pointed out regretfully, with his eyes averted. “And I cannot promise that that will change during our leave. Perhaps you and the Doctor should have come alone...or chosen a different companion.”

“Nothing doing, Spock. You’re our friend--and I still think you need this more than we do.”

Spock lay down now, pulling the covers up over himself and looking at the ceiling. “You may be correct. But I also...wish you to enjoy yourself...and I am not certain my presence will permit that,” he responded faintly.

Kirk rolled over on his side to face Spock. “My friend, you need rest--time to think. You said so yourself,” he reminded Spock gently. “We *will* enjoy ourselves. And so will you, I hope.”

Again, Spock fell silent for a time. “The climate does seem warm here,” he admitted at length, hope touching his voice.

“It’ll be warmer tomorrow. We’ll get an early start, maybe take a picnic lunch,” Kirk suggested encouragingly.

Spock resumed his silence.

“Well, we better get to sleep,” Kirk decided resignedly, reaching to turn out the lamp. “Good night, Spock.”

“Good night, Jim,” Spock murmured in response. Several minutes later, he spoke again, his voice unexpectedly piercing the darkness. “Jim...what did McCoy mean when he said ‘hit the hay’?”

Despite his tiredness, Kirk almost laughed. “I’ll tell you another time, Spock. For now, try to get some sleep.”

“As you wish. Good night, Jim.”

Kirk could have sworn he heard the Vulcan yawn as they settled themselves more comfortably, Spock staying against the opposite edge.

Kirk got up early the next day to fix them all a picnic lunch, and by the time Spock and McCoy were awake, Kirk was dressed and in the process of fixing a light breakfast. Spock came out first, fully dressed in a long-sleeved, brown shirt with burnt orange and gold trim and a lace-up V-neck collar, over a pair of brown jeans (a birthday present from Kirk) and dark brown boots. Kirk, clothed entirely in shades of gold, shoved some fruit to him across the kitchen counter and insisted that he eat some of it, as well as some of the leftover cinnamon toast from the night before. Spock ate in silence as Kirk finished off his own breakfast, and together, they waited for McCoy. The Doctor showed up at last, nearly an hour later, in old blue jeans and a blue-and-white, short-sleeved shirt. After McCoy had eaten, Kirk urged them to gather up anything else they would need so they could get started.

Half an hour later, they were slowly making their way through a meadow skirting a forest, as Kirk examined a map he had gotten at the Recreation Department. “We should be able to follow the edge of this forest around the lake, and the main recreation and picnic area should be on the other side of that,” Kirk told them. Like Spock and McCoy, he found himself lingering over their startlingly Earth-like surroundings--blue sky, thick green grass, trees with green leaves. Only the unusual shape of the leaves, appearance of the tree trunks, and the presence everywhere of fragrant golden flowers reminded them that they were actually on an unnamed planetoid that hosted a far-flung Starfleet base.

Spock was soon ranging out far ahead of the Humans, still convinced that he was not good company for them, knowing also that he wanted to be able to warn them of any kind of imminent danger... though from what he had learned of the planetoid surface from Kirk, it was unlikely that there was anything harmful here. He strove to concentrate on the beauty and peace of his surroundings, but memories of Zarabeth and the ambivalent emotions and old uncertainties that they had re-awakened within him refused to stay suppressed. The Vulcan part of him accepted that she was lost to him--had, in truth, never really been his in the first place--but the Human part of him had been left in confusion and turmoil, torn between longing for someone with whom he could have the same sort of understanding of each other’s loneliness that he had had with her and anger with her for her deliberate attempt to deceive him.

She was just like most of the other women he had known, selfishly devoted to the satisfaction of her own emotional needs, heedless of how it might affect him. T'Pring, Leila, the Romulan Commander...now Zarabeth...all schemers and liars of varying degrees. Only one had ever been different, and Spock could only hope she had not been told; he wanted to tell her himself. Perhaps she would let him explain--though at the moment, Spock could think of nothing to say that would convince her to forgive him. Not this time...not after his previous trysts (if they could really be called that) with Leila and the others. Spock had always known her to be patient with him, but he also knew that there was a limit to what he could expect even Christine to endure. He was certain that he had now lost her as well as Zarabeth, and even in the midst of his turmoil, he realized that Christine’s loss might well be the greater tragedy.

//I deserve to lose her, and certainly *she* deserves better than me,// he told himself resignedly. //Clearly, I am not meant to feel love for such a woman--or be loved by her. Something about me...seems to attract women who are incapable of feeling anything for me beyond physical desire--if even that. I had thought Zarabeth might be different; I had thought she cared about *my* emotions. But I was wrong...ultimately, only *her own* loneliness truly mattered to her.// Spock realized abruptly that he was allowing his emotions far too much influence over him and forced the painful thoughts aside, burying them within him again as he returned his attention to his surroundings.

Spock had brought himself out of his reverie just in time to avoid stumbling down a steep, grassy hill into the lake. He turned around to find Kirk and McCoy moving up behind him, the expression on Kirk’s face clearly indicating that he knew something was bothering his Vulcan friend and at least suspected what it might be; Spock tried to convey with his eyes a warning not to ask him any questions about it until they were alone.

“I believe we have arrived at your lake,” he announced quietly, as Kirk reached his side first, followed by McCoy.

“So we have,” Kirk acknowledged, looking around. The lake was surrounded by grassy slopes similar to the one they were on, and strangely enough, there was no one else there. The water was undisturbed, except for the ripples caused by the occasional breezes and by birds periodically swooping down to feed from the surface of the water. The forest edge continued along the top of the hillside to their left, and along the top of the other hillside, scattered trees bordered the meadowlands. “Beautiful,” Kirk noted softly, momentarily transfixed by the sight before he returned his attention to his map. “All right, the main recreation area and parklands are beyond these woods,” he told the others.

Silently, Spock again preceded the Captain into the woods, where they immediately found a path and followed it through the trees, lingering over the Earth-like greenery as they went. By the time they emerged from the woods, Kirk was ready to find somewhere to rest and said so to his friends as they surveyed the recreation area. It resembled the meadowlands they had just left, except that the grass was shorter and strewn here and there with benches, picnic tables and more trees. There were also widely-spaced, paved walkways snaking through the lawn, dividing the parklands into sections. Kirk went to sit down, ignoring the benches in favor of the lawn itself; after a time, Spock and McCoy came to join him.

“Welcome to the parklands,” he said finally.

“It seems odd that there is no one else here,” Spock remarked, as he slowly sat down next to Kirk--the first time he had spoken since they left the banks of the lake.

“There could be any number of reasons for that,” Kirk returned easily, still looking around. “The time of day, it being off-season for visitors--the Recreation Department people did say they hadn’t had any information requests on the parklands or cabins lately.”

“Yet you indicated that cabin availability was limited,” Spock reminded him, puzzled.

“There *aren’t* that many, and most of the others are being cleaned or remodeled,” Kirk explained--though he hoped that at least one more would be available if Christine changed her mind and decided to join them. “Sooner or later, of course, the rest of the crew will discover this area...even if they do have to stay on base--and we’ll no longer have it to ourselves. Better enjoy the privacy while we can.”

After Kirk had rested for a while, they split up, McCoy wandering off further into the recreation area. Spock eventually decided to head back to the lake. After a brief period of exploring the opposite side of the recreation area on his own, Kirk decided to go after Spock and said so to McCoy as the latter emerged from behind a hedge some distance away.

Spock had already reached the hillside bordering the lake by the time Kirk caught up with him and was sitting silently on a grassy slope with his knees drawn up before him and his folded arms resting on his knees, apparently looking out over the lake. Kirk walked over and cautiously sat down next to him, not certain at first what to say to him--knowing only that he had to say something.

“You seem to like this lake,” the Captain observed finally.

“It is...quiet here,” Spock admitted evasively.

When Spock said nothing more, Kirk spoke again. “Come on, Spock--something’s been bothering you all morning. Talking about it might help more than suppressing it.”

Spock had to admit to himself that Kirk was right; meditating on the matter and trying to analyze it logically had proven pointless. “I was just thinking that...*remembering* that...sometime in the near future, I must...choose a bond-mate,” he revealed softly. “Sometime within the next two to three years...and I no longer know what to look for or expect. If, as it seems, it is impossible for me to have...any kind of real emotional link with a woman...I think I would almost rather...” Spock closed his eyes tightly, making a conscious effort to alter his line of thought. “I was so certain that Zarabeth understood my emotions...I trusted her so completely. I should know better by now.”

Despite keeping his voice and manner rigidly controlled, Spock’s inner pain broadcasted itself to Kirk through their mental bond--the unique sensitivity and understanding it gave him for the Vulcan’s innermost thoughts and emotions--and he reached out to lay a gentle hand on Spock’s shoulder. “Don’t give up,” he urged compassionately. “You’ll find your bond-mate. Zarabeth’s *not* the only woman who ever understood your feelings, you know. Someone else has at least *tried* to.”

Spock glanced at him briefly before averting his eyes again. “If you are referring to Nurse Chapel, I...am certain that Dr. McCoy has by now apprised her of my...activities on Sarpeidon. It is unlikely that she will ever even *speak* to me again, much less consider bonding with me,” he returned regretfully. “If only she did not know...perhaps I could explain...but either way, she would only be angry. She would not understand. I am not even certain that *I* do.” He sighed, lifting his head. “How could I ever...eat animal flesh, attack McCoy, behave so...irrationally...with Zarabeth?”

Kirk hesitated. “I have an idea on that, though when you hear it, you may think your ‘reversion’ theory makes more sense.”

“I am willing to consider virtually anything that might explain behavior for which *I* can find no explanation,” Spock replied patiently. “You have said that you think I ate the meat to please Zarabeth. I did believe her when she said there were no edible plants available ...but she could have been lying--or mistaken--then, too. In any other circumstances, faced with the choice of animal flesh or nothing, I would have abstained, especially since I did not anticipate being there very long.”

Kirk nodded in understanding and agreement. “Spock, from what you’ve told me, Zarabeth’s the first woman you’ve met who talked to you about loneliness--yours and hers--directly, in those specific terms,” Kirk began cautiously. “Now, I know from personal experience how hard that can be...and not just for Vulcans. Isn’t it possible that you found that degree of emotional honesty so--outside your experience that it put your conflicting halves into a state of shock, letting her touch your Human half in a way you’d never let any woman touch it before? That would explain your giving in to urges to do so many things for her that you’d ordinarily never do, wouldn’t it?”

Spock thought about this in silence for a long time before responding. “You are saying...that she, or my emotions for her, inspired those actions...and that my customary methods of emotional control were negated by some kind of psychological shock?” he questioned.

“Essentially, yes.”

At least, this confirmed Spock’s original conviction that his attraction for Zarabeth had been far, far beyond anything physical; despite their brief time together, they had somehow made a connection on the same sort of instantaneous, instinctive, emotional and mental level that Spock normally allowed himself to experience only with Kirk. Except that Kirk would never lie to him.

“It is possible,” he decided. “I shall consider your theory. It does seem more logical to me than the idea of ‘reverting’, and it is not an explanation I would have thought of myself.”

An awkward silence fell between them, lasting several minutes before Spock ended it. “I wish it were possible...to rid myself of the memories. Now I find myself both...wanting that same depth of ‘emotional honesty’ and empathy from another woman, and wanting to avoid it at all costs. In truth, I could never...maintain my part of such a relationship--not I, a Vulcan trained to *suppress* my emotions,” the Vulcan reflected somberly. “Even had I stayed with Zarabeth, if what you suggest is true, that part of me would have regained control eventually and it would have...devastated her. We would have gone on--hurting each other until there was nothing left for either of us.”

Kirk again squeezed his friend’s shoulder encouragingly. “Give yourself a chance,” he reiterated gently. “The memories don’t go away, but they do become more tolerable. In time, you’ll realize that there is life after Zarabeth.”

Spock looked back at him finally, knowing Kirk was speaking from personal experience; it hadn’t been that long since he had lost Miramanee, and with her their unborn child--and had he ever really gotten over the sacrifice of Edith Keeler? Spock doubted it. That was the main reason he had insisted on Jim coming with him on leave; if anyone could understand what he was feeling, Jim could. But at the moment, Spock was still too full of uncertainties and doubts to accept his friend’s wisdom. He shook his head in denial. “Is there? Perhaps not for me, Jim. Allowing myself to succumb so completely to my emotions for Zarabeth has only resulted in my losing both her and Christine...and with Christine no longer available to me, I believe the time has come to give up my search for a woman with whom I could have...an empathic as well as mental bond. I have had enough of...trusting and being betrayed.”

“But what about your pon farr?” Kirk asked in growing alarm.

Spock lowered his eyes and turned away again. “When the time comes, I will have two choices: initiate a meaningless bond with some woman I scarcely know--or know not at all--personally, or arrange my death before the blood-fever stage is reached,” he told Kirk bluntly. “In the meantime, I will continue to count myself fortunate to have formed the bonds that I have. My partial one with Christine will soon dissolve, I suppose, but at least ...ours will remain intact.”

//Dear God--Christine *has* to come, even if I have to find her and drag her here myself,// Kirk thought frantically. “Spock, look at me,” he urged aloud.

Spock turned back to him hesitantly.

“Please don’t assume you’ve lost Christine. I talked to her before we left, and she seemed...willing to hear you out,” he revealed carefully.

Spock stared at him incredulously. “You...spoke to her? Was she angry?”

“At first,” Kirk replied, determined not to admit that he had been the one to tell her unless Spock forced him into it. “But I--uh--sort of invited her to join us. She’s thinking about it.”

Spock’s eyes filled first with gratitude, then anger, meeting Kirk’s before he could suppress the emotion he knew Kirk must have seen in them. “You had no right to do such a thing without discussing it with me first,” he retorted coolly, abruptly pulling away from Kirk’s touch.

“I’m sorry, Spock, but even if you don’t want to see her...I think you *need* to talk to her about this,” Kirk persisted.

“Indeed? And what do you suggest that I say to her?” Spock demanded. “I would not know where to begin, nor can I think of one reason why she should forgive me.”

“I can,” Kirk countered soothingly. “She still loves you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “Did she *say* this?”

“No, but I could read between the lines,” Kirk returned sincerely.

The Vulcan regarded him doubtfully. “I find it difficult to believe she could still feel anything for me.”

“I’m sure she does, though. Why else would she care enough to be angry or jealous?”

Spock lowered his legs. “Such emotions are...indicative of love?” he questioned, puzzled.

“In this case, yes, I think so.”

Spock turned away again. “You still should have consulted me before inviting her,” he insisted, still not convinced that Christine could possibly have any feelings left for him.

“I know I should have,” Kirk agreed cautiously. “But I was sure you’d never let me invite her, and I really think you two need to get together.”

Spock sighed, slowly shaking his head in an unusually Human-like expression of affectionate exasperation. “Jim, Jim...if you were not my closest friend, I would never forgive such presumptuousness and intrusiveness,” he chided Kirk gently, glancing back at him.

“All right, so I’m a pain-in-the-butt. But I’m a *well-meaning* pain-in-the-butt,” Kirk pointed out teasingly.

If Spock had been fully Human--or if his “mood”, as well as he was able to comprehend it, had not been so despondent--he might have laughed. As it was, Spock still could not suppress a slight smile...his first since leaving Sarpeidon. “If I understand the usage of your expression, no more...troublesome...than *I* must be at such times as this. But you *agreed* to come with me, and this leave was your idea,” he reminded Kirk, lying down in the grass.

“And I’m *glad* you decided to go along with it,” Kirk assured him kindly, reaching out tentatively to clasp his friend’s arm as he, too, lay down in the grass. They fell silent for a time, enjoying the feel of the grass beneath them, the flower-scented breeze that wafted over and past them, and the general peacefulness of their surroundings. “Well, come on...it’s about time for lunch, and I’m getting too hungry to keep lugging all this food around,” Kirk told him reluctantly, at last. “It’ll be easier to have a picnic on flat ground, so we may as well go back and find McCoy.”

Spock glanced longingly across the lake to the picnic tables on the other side, but said nothing as he sat back up and he and Kirk took turns brushing grass and leaves off the backs of each other’s shirts, both getting up and helping brush more grass and leaves off each other’s jeans. After all, it was best for the three of them to stay together, especially if there was any chance that he and Kirk might eat all the food before McCoy had a chance at it. Together, they headed off back toward the woods.

As Kirk expected, McCoy had come back to the entrance of the recreation area and was waiting for them there when they returned. Kirk quickly picked out a spot to spread out their blanket and McCoy helped him set out the food, but Spock spent the picnic in silence, his turmoil now compounded by the unlooked-for prospect of Christine’s arrival. He was certain it would only make things worse, now that she already knew what had happened. If only she would give him a chance to explain…yet even if she did, Spock still had no idea what he could say.

Kirk and McCoy were increasingly aware of their friend’s silence as they made small talk, but Kirk’s expression warned the Doctor not to inquire about it until they could talk alone; Spock therefore remained silent and undisturbed all the way through the picnic and the trip back to their cabin.

Spock remained uncommunicative all that day, and by early evening had withdrawn from them completely, staying curled up in the chair in his and Kirk’s room, not eating, clearly trusting him to respect his privacy. By suppertime, McCoy had had enough and decided to discuss it with Kirk as the latter came back into the main room from his latest check-up on Spock--and from Kirk’s frustrated expression, the Doctor knew that Spock was still unresponsive, still refusing food.

“Still meditating?” McCoy guessed.

Kirk nodded. “At least, that’s what he wants us to think. I strongly suspect he’s faking it—he’s been having trouble with that ever since we left Sarpeidon,” he returned, moving resignedly toward the kitchen. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

McCoy followed him. “It never occurred to me that Zarabeth would affect him this deeply,” he remarked, concerned.

“Unfortunately, his involvement with her just seems to have exacerbated some other problems that he never realized he had, until now,” Kirk explained slowly, going to get some sandwich-making materials out of the refrigerator and setting them one-by-one on the counter. “His history with women hasn’t been too good, you know,” he reflected. “That’s one reason I always wanted things to work out between him and Christine. She cares about him so much…and of the few women I’ve ever known him to interact with since I met him, she’s the only one who ever treated him with the kindness and consideration he deserves, even if he still doesn’t seem to know how to deal with it.

“This Zarabeth may have meant no harm, but she certainly *caused* him plenty. I’ve never seen him so afraid, Bones—afraid to choose a bond-mate, afraid of Christine, afraid no woman will ever fully understand his emotions enough to keep him from feeling alone. Of course, he never *said* he was afraid, but that’s what it is—fear.” Kirk finished making a couple of ham salad sandwiches and handed a plate holding one to McCoy while he prepared to make some coffee.

“Well, I can tell you, he was *totally* taken with her. She absorbed all his attention, pretty much from the first moment they started talking to each other,” McCoy recalled, taking a bite of his sandwich. “If I hadn’t kept yelling loud enough to get through to him, we’d probably still be in Sarpeidon’s ice age.”

“So he told me. Careful, it’s hot…” Cautiously, Kirk removed a mug from the nutriwave and handed it to McCoy before putting his own coffee into the oven. “Unless Spock himself suggests something I can do, I don’t know how else to help him. Do you have any ideas?”

McCoy shook his head. “I’d say just go on doing what you’re doing. He knows this is your area of expertise; after all, you’ve certainly had experience with…”

“…finding and losing Miss Right?” Kirk finished helpfully, when McCoy seemed unable to find the right word. “I know; I just hope that’s enough.” The nutriwave beeped and Kirk carefully took his mug of coffee out, sipping it just as cautiously. “It’s not the same for Spock,” he continued, leading McCoy out to the dining table, where they sat down with their sandwiches and coffee. “I always had—and still have—female friends. Spock never really had any…unless you count Christine, and I’m not sure he does.”

McCoy shrugged. “As far as *Spock’s* concerned, the only friend he has is you,” he reminded Kirk dryly.

“You know what I mean. No woman’s ever really given him a chance to become comfortable around her, and the more things like this happen to him, the less likely he is to *let* himself be comfortable around any woman,” Kirk returned determinedly. “If only Christine would forgive him. I’m sure she would be patient enough with him to let him learn to trust her.”

McCoy looked at him sharply, becoming suspicious. “Did you tell her about Zarabeth?”

Kirk nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich. “I thought somebody should—especially since I wanted her to know what she’d be getting into.”

McCoy shook his head doubtfully. “If he doesn’t trust her by now, do you really think he’s ever going to?”

“He hasn’t ever really let himself try,” Kirk reiterated. “This incident with Zarabeth makes it fairly clear that he needs a woman in his life who can understand him—who can be his friend the same way we might try to be.” Kirk took another sip of his coffee and looked directly at McCoy, meeting the Doctor’s eyes with a grave expression. “He’s talking about not surviving his next pon farr, Bones—about not choosing another bond-mate.”

“That almost sounds as if…” McCoy trailed off incredulously, then started over. “If Spock were Human, I’d say he’d decided that dying in pon farr was better than living without someone like Zarabeth as his wife. But then, he’s not Human, he’s Vulcan—so is that really possible?”

“All I know is what he’s told me,” Kirk returned worriedly. “He talks about…being lonely, about her understanding that part of him, and about never being able to find another woman who could understand those feelings…and the more he tries to tell me, the more I feel like I’m *not* the one he really needs to talk to.”

“I think you’ll do,” McCoy assured him knowingly, finishing off his sandwich. “Certainly I don’t know anybody he’d be more likely to talk to about it—and that includes Christine. He may need her, but he’s not comfortable with her at all. Does he know you invited her?”

Kirk nodded slowly. “He’s not pleased about it, either—says I should have talked to him about inviting her first, and he’s right. That’s probably part of the reason he’s ignoring me now,” he told McCoy quietly, draining his mug and popping the last of his sandwich into his mouth before taking his dishes back to the kitchen. “Well, at any rate, I’ve had enough. I’m going to go try to talk to him one last time, and if I can’t, I’ll probably just get ready for bed. I’ll read for a while before I go to sleep,” he decided.

McCoy silently followed suit, taking his own dishes back to the kitchen, though on second thought, he decided to take his coffee with him and finish it in his bedroom. “I’ll leave a light on out here in case Spock wants to raid the kitchen later—assuming he has the sense to get hungry.”

“Thanks, Bones. See you tomorrow,” Kirk acknowledged tiredly.

It was still early, not quite 2030 hours, but worrying about Spock was proving to be more physically taxing than the day’s activities. Kirk opened his bedroom door cautiously and found Spock sitting in the chair, as he had been all afternoon. “All right, Spock, come out of it. I happen to know you’re not meditating,” he admonished impatiently, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the floor at the foot of the dresser, a spot he had picked out to pile their dirty clothes in.

After a moment, Spock uncurled himself and stood up, silently removing his own shirt, going to the dresser and pulling out a fresh undershirt. Normally, he would have worn one under his clothes, but as Kirk had warned him, the planetoid’s surface temperature was high enough during the day to make dressing in layers unnecessary, even for the cold-sensitive Vulcan (also, the brown shirt he had worn today was cut too low at the bottom if its V-shaped neckline to avoid showing the top of his undershirt).

By the time Spock had also removed his jeans, Kirk was already tucked into his side of the bed, pretending to be fully occupied with the book he was reading. After several moments of hesitation, Spock went to his own side of the bed and climbed in opposite Kirk, pulling the covers up over his shoulders and curling up on his side with his back to Kirk. “I don’t care how hard you try to ignore me—I’m still not going away,” Kirk told him finally, putting as much humor into his voice as the circumstances would allow.

Spock rolled over to face him. “I was not ‘ignoring’ you; I simply did not wish to disturb you while you were reading,” he returned coolly, forcing himself to ignore Kirk’s teasing tone.

“I’m just killing time until I can get you to say something,” Kirk informed him shortly, closing his book and setting it aside. “Are you still angry with me for inviting Christine?”

“I am not ‘angry’, Captain. But you still should not have done so without my permission,” Spock answered neutrally.

“Then how about dropping the formality? I can’t get comfortable with the idea of being room-mates with somebody who thinks they have to call me ‘Captain’ all the time.”

Kirk was obviously still trying to tease him into opening up. But for now, Spock just raised an eyebrow at him. “It was your idea for me to stay here,” he reminded Kirk evenly.

Kirk gave up, his eyes rolling upward as he turned away, sighing in exasperation. “Oh, never mind. The hell with it. Obviously, you don’t want my help, or you wouldn’t be so standoffish, and I’m not going to force you to talk,” he retorted finally, turning back to his book and opening it up again.

Spock watched him in silence for a long time before determining at last that the Captain felt hurt and frustrated (as McCoy and Christine no doubt had, all too often). //He wants to help me,// he realized regretfully. //Why can I not let him? If only the words were not so difficult…and the emotions so strong and deep. I must…control…// But he knew even as he thought it that Vulcan emotional controls would do him no more good now than meditation had. It was becoming more and more apparent that he would have to deal with his turmoil in the Human way. He sat up slowly, speaking hesitantly. “Jim…”

Kirk looked up and over at him instantly. “Spock?” he prompted anxiously.

“I…am not angry with you. I am uncertain. Apprehensive,” Spock tried to explain.

Kirk again set his book aside, this time placing it on his night table. “About Christine’s reaction?” he guessed.

“In part,” Spock replied evasively, feeling increasingly embarrassed. “I did warn you that I might not be good company.”

“I know. I also know that you asked me to come.”

“I…” Spock lowered his eyes and turned away to face straight ahead. “…I know that you have…had some experience with this kind of loss,” he acknowledged hesitantly.

“And if you’re wondering, Spock, I don’t mind being here. I came because you’re my friend and I’m worried about you,” Kirk added earnestly. “I just wish you’d relax and let me help you.”

Spock glanced back at his friend appreciatively. “I know, Jim. I am trying, but…it is difficult. I am not accustomed to what you consider relaxing. And I do not know what kind of ‘help’ to ask of you, even if I were able to ask it,” he elaborated hesitantly.

“Well, we have five days of leave left. Maybe you’ll start to find it easier later,” Kirk opined hopefully.

“What did you have in mind to do tomorrow?” Spock asked—rather suddenly, it seemed to Kirk.

“Going swimming in that lake,” Kirk responded cautiously. “McCoy wants to go, too, so I figured—well, you enjoyed laying on the banks today.”

“It was pleasant. But I had hoped that you and I could go swimming alone,” Spock returned faintly, lying down again.

Kirk deduced his objection immediately. “Are you *still* afraid to swim in front of McCoy?”

Spock averted his eyes again, saying nothing.

“I keep telling you, Bones will *not* tease you about your swimming ability,” Kirk protested.

“The fact remains that I still do not swim very well and prefer to stay in the shallow areas. The Doctor would doubtless feel compelled to remark on such a tendency,” Spock persisted.

“Not if I order him not to say anything,” Kirk countered, also lying down.

“Jim, please,” Spock entreated softly. They were still trying to hide from the rest of the crew the fact that Spock had only recently learned to swim well enough for Kirk to feel safe in leaving him unaccompanied in the water (and in fact, the Vulcan still preferred not to be left alone); Kirk himself had taught him, in private, but Spock’s swimming style and skill level still seemed noticeably child-like in comparison to that of his ship-mates, something McCoy would pick up on immediately. “He would know. I will stay on the banks.”

“All right, suit yourself.” Kirk reached to turn out his light.

Not unexpectedly, Kirk awoke very early the next day. It was just after 0600, but he had gone to bed early the previous night—and besides, Spock was not sleeping very well; he tossed and turned restlessly in the bed every few minutes, which would have made it difficult for Kirk to stay asleep, even if he had wanted to. He lay awake for a time, watching Spock in growing anxiety until he could stand it no more and reached over to squeeze the Vulcan’s shoulder, shaking it just hard enough to rouse him. “Spock!”

Spock awoke with a start, looking up at Kirk in unmasked surprise and relief as he quickly sat up in bed. “Jim…!”

“Were you having a nightmare?” Kirk asked worriedly. “You were having a lot of trouble sleeping.”

“Not…precisely. But I was disturbed by some most unpleasant…sensations and emotions. Nothing more specific,” Spock replied uneasily. “What time is it?”

“About 0615, and I’m going to go ahead and get up, if you want to join me,” Kirk told him, get ting out of the bed and reaching for his robe.

“If I do, I assume you will insist on my eating breakfast.”

“You got *that* right—especially since you haven’t eaten a full meal since our picnic yesterday.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him curiously as he pushed back his covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wondering what Terran food favorite of his that Kirk would try to tempt him with *this* time.

“Come on, I’ll fix you some real, non-synthetic blueberry muffins,” Kirk offered, smiling knowingly, certain Spock would never be able to resist an authentic version of his second most favorite Terran breakfast food.

Spock gave in under protest. “And I suppose it makes no difference to you that I am not hungry,” he persisted, all the while getting up and reaching for his own robe.

“Yeah, sure. Tell it to the Klingons,” Kirk retorted sarcastically. “You *have* to get hungry *some*time—and I happen to know you’re *always* hungry for blueberry muffins.” He picked up his pillow and threw it at Spock, who simply caught it and looked at him questioningly. “I’ll go get them started. You get moving,” Kirk admonished, turning to go.

Spock emerged some ten minutes later in his robe and socks, going out to sit down at the dinning room table. He could already smell the blueberry muffins in the nutriwave, and after a few minutes, Kirk brought out two plates of muffins, setting one before Spock. Then he set his own plate down and went back to get them something to drink, surprising Spock with hot chocolate and whipped cream while he drank chocolate milk. They enjoyed their breakfast mostly in silence, since it was increasingly obvious that the Vulcan had no interest in discussing his ersatz nightmare or trying to make small talk.

Still, Spock appreciated having the time alone with Kirk, and after they had put away their breakfast dishes and gotten dressed (Spock in a blue tunic with light blue trim and matching slacks and Kirk in a green-and-gold, short-sleeved shirt with the dark-colored jeans he’d worn yesterday), they went to sit down in the living area, Kirk in the double-sized couch and Spock on a floor pillow at its foot. Spock found his Vulcan harp leaning against the side of the couch and picked it up, beginning to idly pluck the strings. “Do you still intend to go swimming in that lake?” he asked at length.

“Yes—and I want you to at least *bring* a swimsuit,” Kirk told him firmly. “You might change your mind when you get there.”

Spock responded with his eyes lowered. “That would be rather unlikely…unless there is some possibility that McCoy might leave us alone for a time.”

“Well…if it’s really going to bother you that much to have him around while you swim, I’ll see what I can do,” Kirk acceded finally. He had really hoped Spock had become more at ease with McCoy now, but obviously, it had not happened—and he had to admit that he and Spock really *did* need at least one day to themselves while they were on leave. Whether or not that would be *this* day remained to be seen, however. It depended on what McCoy had to say about the idea.

Kirk realized abruptly that Spock actually seemed to be playing something on his harp and asked him what it was.

“Something I…composed…a long time ago,” Spock replied faintly.

“Do you play it often? I seem to have heard it before,” Kirk observed curiously. Spock’s music usually sounded more mournful and sad than any other he had heard, so it did not surprise him that the Vulcan composed his own…but this piece actually made him want to cry for his friend.

“Possibly. I…have played it before,” Spock returned evasively.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything that sounded so…without hope, yet full of longing,” Kirk noted, looking down anxiously at the dark, bowed head. “Spock—you don’t feel lonely right now, do you?”

Spock stopped playing and looked up at Kirk with a shamed expression. “I am not yet very proficient in identifying emotions, Jim, but…I believe that is at least part of what I am feeling, or else something so closely related to it as to be indistinguishable from it,” he admitted reluctantly. “I am sorry. I know it is illogical, when you are with me…I usually feel so nearly…at peace in your presence. But now I seem unable to feel anything but…loss and isolation.”

Kirk, who had been lounging in the couch, with one foot resting on the opposite arm, straightened and faced forward, quickly making room for Spock. “Come up here,” he instructed, patting the velvet-like surface of the seat-cushion next to him. With some hesitation, Spock complied, setting the harp aside as he got up and sat down next to Kirk in the chair, averting his eyes in embarrassment. “It’ll pass, my friend. Just remember, you’re never alone. Whatever happens, I’ll always be around for you,” Kirk assured him gently, reaching up to tentatively squeeze the Vulcans shoulder.

Spock looked up at him cautiously in appreciation. “Never stop, Jim…never stop…being my friend,” he half-whispered, his tone pleading.

“Don’t worry—I don’t plan to,” Kirk told him kindly, again patting the Vulcan’s shoulder encouragingly before releasing it. “Now, how about playing something a little more upbeat?”

As Spock was still thinking of something to play, they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Kirk offered, wondering as he got up who would insist on visiting them at this hour of the morning. He opened the door to find Christine Chapel standing on the porch in civilian clothes, carrying a travel bag. “I hope I didn’t get you out of bed, Captain,” she greeted quietly. “My shift just ended, and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“I ordered leaves to begin two days ago,” Kirk pointed out, puzzled.

“You did say I could think it over and ‘beam down later’. Well, I had some thinking to do, and this was as long as I dared wait,” Christine reminded him patiently. “My cabin’s the next one up the road here—I asked about you at Recreation, and I know you’re a little crowded.” She paused, glancing briefly past Kirk without seeing what she was looking for. “I just wanted…to check on Spock before I take my things to my cabin. Is he still feeling--?”

Kirk nodded, moving aside to let her in. “I don’t know how he’ll react to you; he’s still upset with me for inviting you--but come on in.”

Christine let Kirk precede her back to where Spock still sat in the double-chair, distractedly plucking the strings of his harp, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.

“Spock,” Kirk said gently, reaching to touch his friend’s shoulder. “Somebody’s here to see you.”

Spock looked up automatically, saw Christine standing before him with an expression that would have put any full-blooded Vulcan to shame, and his face colored a deep green before he lowered his eyes again in embarrassment.

“You two need to talk,” Kirk observed, noticing Christine’s refusal to move. “I’ll go see if McCoy’s awake.”

Spock’s first inclination was to ask Kirk to stay, but he decided he felt humiliated enough without an audience, even such a patient, supportive audience as Kirk.

When their Captain was out of earshot, Christine finally spoke to him. “All right, Spock—start talking.”

“What could I say that would alter your opinion of me?” Spock questioned doubtfully, still not looking up.

“I don’t know,” she admitted coolly, “but you better come up with *something* if you still expect me to believe…that our ‘partial bond’ means anything.” Her voice took on a pleading tone. “Just tell me *why*, Spock. You weren’t under the influence of spores, like on Omicron Ceti III, and you weren’t on an espionage mission, like you were with the Romulan Commander, so what was your excuse? What did this Zarabeth have that I don’t?”

Spock still had no real idea how to answer her; if he admitted to valuing his relationship with Christine and wanting it to continue, she would not believe him—and if he really tried to explain in any detail what Kirk had helped him understand of his reaction to Zarabeth, Christine would probably just become angrier. Either way, trying to talk to her about it would surely only make things worse between them. Yet he could not deny her right to know—it was a right she had earned with her continued devotion to him, even in the face of every conceivable discouragement. “The reasons would mean nothing to you. Whatever I say, you intend to remain angry with me,” he returned evasively, at last. “And in truth, I deserve nothing more from you. As for our partial bond, it will dissolve over time. Such a bond requires regular attention, as well as physical and mental closeness, to maintain and strengthen itself.”

Christine was so stunned by the Vulcan’s fatalistically despondent tone that, at first, she could not respond. “But I don’t want that!” she blurted at last, in protest. “Do you?”

“My ‘wants’ are irrelevant,” Spock responded, in the same tone. “As a result of this…incident, I have concluded that it is best if I do not allow myself to associate with any woman who appears to…have some feeling for me.”

“In that case, I should be perfect for you,” Christine retorted coldly, picking up her bag. “Tell the Captain I’ve gone to my cabin.”

“They are planning to go swimming later,” Spock informed her then, raising his head finally. “I suspect he will invite you to join them.”

“Are *you* going?” she questioned irritably, the implication of her words clear.

“To the lake, yes. But it is doubtful that I will be swimming,” Spock replied faintly, understanding her reluctance to be around him all too well. “I would not be in your way.”

“I suppose I’ll go, then. Ask him to contact me by communicator with the time he wants to leave, and I’ll meet him here.” With that, Christine turned to go.

Spock watched sadly and regretfully as she departed, then bowed his head and withdrew into himself again, setting his harp aside once more and waiting for Kirk to return.

Kirk and McCoy emerged from the hallway shortly thereafter. When they saw Spock, Kirk convinced McCoy to get himself some breakfast while he went to talk to their friend. Then he went to Spock’s side. “Did Christine leave?” he asked, looking around worriedly as he realized Spock was alone.

Spock nodded silently.

“I take it that your talk didn’t go very well.”

Spock shook his head slowly, still not speaking.

“I’m sorry. You were right; instead of inviting her to join us, I should’ve just minded my own business,” Kirk apologized contritely.

“You did, Jim. It has taken me a long time to realize it, but it *was* your business—as my friend,” Spock pointed out reassuringly. “You were trying to help me, and I still need your help. Please…sit down with me.”

Slowly, Kirk sat down next to him, watching anxiously as Spock tucked a leg beneath himself and turned to face him. Spock glanced around furtively, making sure that McCoy was fully occupied in the kitchen before returning his attention to Kirk and speaking again. “I still don’t know what to say to her,” he confessed softly, studying his hands as they rested on his leg. “Perhaps I could remind her that—no, she would never believe me.”

“‘Remind her’? Of what?” Kirk asked curiously.

Spock hesitated to elaborate. Then he realized that Kirk would be much more likely to accept his word—and besides, deep down, he really wanted to confirm what he was sure Kirk already understood. Perhaps it would ensure his friend and Captain did not think any less of him, even if it turned out to mean nothing to Christine. He looked up at Kirk searchingly. “It does somehow seem important to me that you know,” he began awkwardly. “If she will not believe me, perhaps she will believe *you*. When…Zarabeth and I were together…McCoy was watching us the whole time, and he can verify it…we touched and kissed…but nothing more.

“Even if I had been physically able to do so outside the pon farr, we had no privacy. It was essentially one large chamber, and we were never out of McCoy’s view.” Spock paused, allowing himself to absorb the understanding expression in Kirk’s eyes. “It was not necessary; she did not seem to expect…it was enough for her just to have someone to be with and talk to,” he added, then.

Kirk reached out instinctively to place his hands on Spock’s shoulders. “Tell Christine,” he advised gently. “I think she’ll believe you.” He reasoned that if Spock had not yet gotten up the courage to explain to her about his Vulcan inability to engage in sex except during pon farr, her medical and feminine intuition might fill in the gaps of knowledge and understanding of the situation better than Spock could.

Spock nodded gratefully in acknowledgment. “She said she would go swimming with you if you would contact her and let her know when you wish to leave,” he informed Kirk softly.

“You’re still going with us, aren’t you?” Kirk asked, alarmed by his friend’s choice of pronouns. The one thing he refused to permit was Spock staying in the cabin alone all day, moping around and undoubtedly getting more and more depressed.

“Yes. But I promised not to bother Christine while she was swimming, so perhaps--"

“You *won’t* ‘bother’ her simply by being in the water,” Kirk interrupted firmly, though with a strong undercurrent of affection, anticipating Spock’s probable next suggestion: that he stay on the bank and out of the water. “Give her some more time.”

Spock bowed his head again in acknowledgment as they both turned in the chair to face forward and Kirk released his friend’s shoulders at last. Spock sat quietly in the chair and tried once again to meditate, in an effort to regain control over his turbulent emotions, as Kirk sat silently beside him, watching and worrying, and McCoy ate his breakfast in the dining area.

After the Doctor finished eating, Kirk convinced Spock to join them in putting on his swimsuit under his clothes—then he contacted Christine while Spock wandered out onto the porch—not noticing when McCoy followed him out the door. He watched silently as Spock went to the edge of the porch, carefully picked out a sunny spot on the railing and sat down, facing into the sunlight. “Getting some sun?” McCoy asked conversationally.

“Since you and the Captain are more comfortable in an air-conditioned cabin than I am, this seems the most logical alternative to asking to have the air-conditioning turned off,” Spock explained neutrally.

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to avoid us?” McCoy asked uncertainly.

“If I were, Doctor, I would have gone further away from the cabin,” Spock pointed out quietly.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I came out and joined you,” McCoy concluded, stepping cautiously out of the doorway and onto the porch, approaching Spock slowly.

“No…although I do not know why you would wish to,” Spock returned, keeping his voice tightly controlled.

“We haven’t spoken since we left Sarpeidon. I think it’s time.”

Spock turned to find McCoy standing near him and realized he had better not pass up this opportunity. “Then I should begin by…apologizing for my behavior during that time.”

McCoy waved him off, sitting down next to him but facing the opposite direction. “We both know you weren’t yourself,” he reminded Spock understandingly.

“No, I was not. But not for the reason we thought.”

McCoy looked puzzled. “You didn’t revert to the days of your ancestors?”

“No more than you ‘reverted’ to the ways of yours.”

McCoy realized he hadn’t even *considered* the fact that if one of them reverted, they both should have. “Hey, you’re right,” he decided, studying Spock anxiously. “But if that’s the case, then what *did* happen to you?”

“I gave you a textbook demonstration of why I always strive to keep my emotions suppressed,” Spock answered evenly, turning away again. “However much this may surprise you, Vulcan emotions can be just as strong as Human emotions—especially when both are allowed full expression at once. The Captain has developed a theory to explain why and how it became possible; if you wish to know the details, I suggest you talk to him, since I do not fully comprehend all of it.”

“Maybe later.” McCoy studied the Vulcan’s face, now visible to him only in profile. “I hadn’t realized Zarabeth was affecting you so deeply, Spock. If I had, I would’ve been more careful about provoking you.”

Spock shook his head in negation. “I do not think either of us realized what was happening, Doctor. Besides…if you had not acted as you did, we might never have come back,” he reminded McCoy hesitantly. “We would never have seen Jim again…so actually, I owe you a debt of gratitude for your…stubbornness.”

“Hmm. I’ll remember that,” McCoy asserted, just before changing the subject. “Christine’s not taking it well, is she?”

“That is between Miss Chapel and myself,” Spock returned coolly.

“And Jim? You seem to have no problem discussing it with *him*,” McCoy returned impatiently.

“That, too, is my concern, Doctor.”

“Would it *hurt* you to get somebody else’s input on it?”

Spock turned toward him reluctantly, realizing that McCoy might have a point. “The difficulty is that I can find no explanation, nothing to say that would keep her from…losing what emotions she feels for me,” he revealed doubtfully. “What can you say to me that Jim did not?”

“Well…what did he say?” McCoy counter-questioned uncertainly.

Spock lowered his eyes, remembering. “He…apologized for inviting her. We discussed the fact that she intends to go swimming with us. He suggested giving her more time…and he also suggested…something I could tell her that might be helpful,” he recalled softly.

“Sounds like he covered it pretty thoroughly,” McCoy remarked. “I’ll just add that I think she’ll come around, eventually. Christine’s a forgiving person…and she still loves you.”

“Jim seems to agree,” Spock replied, obviously still not convinced. “But this may well be more than even she can forgive. Especially if I continue being unable to explain it to her.”

“You’ll figure out what to say,” McCoy assured him kindly.

“With Jim’s help, perhaps. Certainly I have no skill of my own in…discussing emotions.”

They fell silent for a time. While McCoy was still trying to think of something to say, Kirk came out onto the porch. “Christine’s getting ready to go. I told her we’d meet her, since her cabin ’s on our way to the lake,” he announced. “Are you ready?”

“I suppose so,” Spock replied unenthusiastically, getting up.

“I’m ready,” McCoy chimed in, getting up also.

Kirk tossed them each a towel. “Here, you’ll need these after we go swimming,” he told them. “Come on, let’s get going.”

The walk to the lake was spent mostly in silence, except for Christine’s occasional comments on the beauty of their surroundings. She was trailing the others—McCoy was a few feet ahead, and out in front, Kirk and Spock walked together. She kept far enough to one side of McCoy to watch Spock as he walked along beside Kirk, remembering the Captain’s words to her when they had spoken over the communicator. Spock was despondent and grieving over more than Zarabeth. He considered Christine lost to him, as well—had counted her lost to him from the moment he returned from Sarpeidon, as surely as Zarabeth was.

//*That’s* why he didn’t want to explain it to me. He’s really given up on us already,// Christine realized somberly. //I shouldn’t care any more, but God help me, I do. I’ve got to at least let him know I’ll hear him out.// Try as she might, she could not hate him; she could not even keep up a decent level of anger toward him—not after hearing Kirk’s description of the Vulcan’s emotional state. She concentrated on watching him again, noting that he did not seem to be talking much, though Kirk persisted in trying to speak to him.

Once they had arrived at the lake, all but Spock immediately stripped down to their swimsuits; the First Officer, still reluctant, had to be coaxed into it by an increasingly worried Kirk. The water was cool, and despite an air temperature warm enough to make his Human companions sweat (over 80º at mid-morning), he followed Kirk into it almost on tiptoe, not really wanting to expose himself to its relative chilliness. When Spock sat down cautiously in the shallows near the edge of the lake, Kirk changed his mind about joining McCoy and sat down in the water next to Spock.

“You’re awfully quiet, Spock. Are you all right?” he questioned anxiously.

Spock answered without looking up. “Why do you insist on asking me the same illogical questions over and over?” he demanded, with an unusual edge of irritability to his voice. “I ‘feel’ exactly the same as I did before we left the cabin, and this is the second time you have asked me since then.”

Despite his awareness of Spock’s remaining inner agony and turmoil, Kirk felt frustration growing within him. It was becoming increasingly evident that the Vulcan did not want his help, despite his instincts to offer it anyway. Sighing in resignation, he got up and started out into the deeper water.

Instantly, Spock’s hand shot up out of the water and latched onto Kirk’s arm. “Please…”

The combination of the soft, plaintive voice and the almost desperate grip on his arm stopped Kirk in his tracks. “Spock?”

“I am…sorry. I did not mean to speak to you in that manner,” Spock apologized faintly. “Please… do not leave me, Jim.”

Kirk sat back down beside him again. “If I stay with you, will you come out and swim a little with me later?”

Spock nodded. “If…McCoy and Christine will not see me.”

“Agreed.” Kirk subsequently divided his attention between McCoy and Christine, who were already off on opposite sides of the lake, each clearly enjoying the water in their own way, and Spock, who just sat in the foot-deep water with his knees drawn up against him and his head bowed—oblivious to everyone and everything except Kirk and his own pain. The more he tried to control it, the more intensely he seemed to feel it.

He let Kirk coax him, inch by inch, deeper into the water until it was roughly up to his shoulders. Then—too conscious of McCoy’s and Christine’s presence to let himself relax any further—Spock just stopped where he was and sat, back rigid but head still bowed. Despite his determined façade of control, the Human part of him wanted badly to be held. He wanted more than anything for Christine to take him in her arms and say that she forgave him, that she still loved him, but cold logic drove the thought out of him each time it surfaced, drowning it in his awareness of the fact that his interaction with Zarabeth had cost him any right he had ever had to Christine’s forgiveness.

He felt an arm encircling his back and realized that Kirk had sensed his need for some kind of physical solace and was again doing his best to fill the void left by Zarabeth’s (and Christine’s) loss. Although his friend was not Christine, he knew of and understood the loneliness that Spock was usually able to keep buried within him. Except during times like this, when some emotion-based incident filled him with pain and apprehension, driving it to the fore in his mind. Spock permitted Kirk’s touch without objecting, trying to concentrate on that rather than the still-uncomfortable temperature of the water.

“I regret…interfering with your swimming,” he murmured apologetically.

“It’s all right. I’ll swim later,” Kirk told him reassuringly, squeezing the lean shoulder beneath his hand.

They fell silent, watching as McCoy and Christine swam and played elsewhere in the lake. Spock felt through the Human’s touch the latter’s growing longing to join them, yet Kirk did not move from his side and his arm remained around Spock’s shoulders. Some forty-five minutes later, McCoy called out to Kirk from across the lake.

“Come on in, Jim! The water feels great!”

“I’m fine, Bones,” Kirk called back.

“What about you, Spock?” McCoy shouted again.

Spock just shook his head in refusal and McCoy went back to his swimming.

Sometime later, Christine finally swam back toward them, stopping and sitting near Spock. “Aren’t you going to swim with us, Spock?” she asked curiously.

“I think you would enjoy your own swimming more without my…participation,” Spock returned quietly.

“I’d rather swim with you,” Christine told him, then.

Spock looked up at her in unmasked surprise. “You…*wish* to be…with me? That is not what you implied earlier.”

“I…was a little too hasty. After all, I didn’t beam down here to spend a week sulking in my cabin by myself.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at her.

“Come on.”

Spock lowered his eyes in embarrassment, glancing around sidelong at Kirk.

“Spock’s really more comfortable in shallow water, Christine,” Kirk supplied carefully.

“Oh.” Christine shrugged slightly. “We can stay here, then—it really doesn’t matter.”

Spock looked up at her again, an expression of cautious hope in his dark eyes, grateful for her willingness to accept his reticence about swimming without question—and encouraged by her apparent desire to be with him.

“We *do* still need to talk.”

On cue, Kirk got up. “I’ll go see what McCoy’s up to,” he offered, moving off deeper into the water.

“Do not go far, Jim,” Spock admonished softly.

Kirk nodded in acknowledgment before turning away toward the depths of the lake.

When Kirk was out of earshot, Christine moved closer and waited for Spock to speak. “I do not know how to answer the questions you asked me…about Zarabeth,” he began hesitantly, at last.

“Try me. I promise I’ll listen.”

Spock regarded her doubtfully for a long moment before continuing, then tried awkwardly to repeat what he had told Kirk about Zarabeth, his feelings for her, and how they had become confused after her attempted trickery. He also gave her a verbatim account of Kirk’s explanation for his reaction to Zarabeth. “So you see, *I* did not really understand it all. It is only with the Captain’s help that I have come to understand it to the extent that I have,” Spock concluded.

Christine barely hesitated in her response; Kirk’s explanation made perfect sense, in conjunction with what he himself had already told her. “I ’m sorry you thought you had to wait to meet Zarabeth before you could find someone who understood how alone you felt. You never had to look so far…no further than Sickbay, in fact. But I suppose it never occurred to you that *I* might be familiar with that kind of loneliness. If you’d ever give me the chance, I could prove it to you.”

Spock lowered his eyes and bowed his head again, hearing the resentment she could not quite keep out of her voice. “I know. I should have, and I wanted to…still want to…but it is obviously too late, now,” he confessed regretfully. “The truth is that I never thought it was possible for you or any other woman to… understand that part of me. I was…afraid of humiliating myself, so I tried never to reveal it. In learning I was wrong, I have…sacrificed my only chance for the knowledge to be of any lasting benefit to me.”

“Captain Kirk told me you’re thinking of not choosing a bond-mate,” Christine recalled, studying the bowed head in concern.

“What would be the point, beyond prolonging my existence? You would never consider such a thing now, and I…know of no one else who would…feel for me as you once did,” he responded morosely. “I will not permit anyone to bond with me out of pity or because she feels obligated, as T’Pring did.” He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing painfully. “I think it would be best for you to go find someone who is not so… emotionally confused…and can be worthy of you. I deserve no more than what I have left myself…nothing.”

Christine shook her head incredulously as she realized that Spock was punishing himself far worse than she could ever want to punish him. It was his emotional need to have people close to him—including any woman who might potentially become his bond-mate—who could truly, empathically understand him that had made him vulnerable to Zarabeth, and his early (and repetitive) exposure to insensitivity and intolerance that had made him fear both loneliness and becoming emotionally close enough to someone to risk possibly being hurt again. Neither of these were factors that Spock himself was entirely responsible for, so blaming him was ultimately pointless. As ambivalent as Christine still felt, her anger toward him was by now completely gone.

“Maybe it *would* be ‘best’ for me…but let me decide that for myself,” she returned quietly, and as gently as possible. “If you can convince me that you still…feel anything for me…after being with Zarabeth and all those other women…”

“I do not know *how* to convince you,” Spock interrupted faintly, with naked desperation in his dark eyes as he looked up at her hesitantly. “Christine, all I can tell you is that…I never meant to cause you pain, and…if it is not already a moot point, I do not wish to lose you,” he confessed sincerely. “I know you…understand my emotions. I suspect part of Zarabeth’s appeal for me was that…she reminded me somewhat of you. If you had been with us, I am certain she would have held no interest for me.”

//If *I’d* been with you, Zarabeth would’ve had half the bones in her scheming little body broken the first time she made eyes at you,// Christine noted to herself, somewhat bitterly, recalling that Leila, too, had supposedly reminded him of her. “I have the same problem with that defense that I had before; you *already* had *me* available to you at any time. Why did you need somebody else to ‘remind’ you of me before you could respond?”

Spock lowered his eyes again and said nothing more, unable to explain further.

Christine sighed, looking away toward the lake and noticing that Kirk was surreptitiously watching them from across the lake, carefully staying out of earshot but clearly worried about the possible outcome of their conversation. She got up slowly, speaking one last time as she did so. “I may as well tell you, then…something I’ve been thinking about ever since the Captain…invited me down here,” she began cautiously, not certain if Spock had been told that Kirk was the one who had told her about Zarabeth, but knowing it wouldn’t make things any easier if she were the one to break the news to him now. “What I’ve been considering is…the possibility of transferring.”

Spock glanced up at her briefly in surprise before lowering his eyes again in a vain effort to hide the emotion he knew they had already revealed. “That would be your decision. I have no part in it,” he returned, keeping his voice as controlled as possible.

“You *could* have a part in it,” Christine pointed out hopefully. “If I go, I won’t…be able to bond with you.”

Spock shook his head regretfully. “You have no intention of bonding with me now, Christine, as we both know. It does not matter,” he asserted softly. “Perhaps a transfer would allow you to find someone who can…love you…and allow you to love him. Someone…better.”

//There’s *not* anyone better!// Christine’s mind cried out in protest, as she wondered if their partial bond was still strong enough for him to perceive the thought. When he gave no visible sign of being aware of it, she hesitated, wanting to sit back down in the water, move closer and put her arms around him—but something about his manner suggested to her that he would pull away. “Spock—”

“Christine, the only way I can think of for you to be convinced of my sincerity is for us to engage in a mind-meld—something which, at the moment, I would not advise,” Spock interrupted tensely. “Until that can be accomplished, you must either state outright that…you forgive me enough to be willing to wait for that proof, or…leave me.”

Immediately, Christine sat back down beside him again. “I *want* to forgive you. I’m trying to,” she told him honestly. “I was hoping that if I mentioned the transfer, you’d object and try to change my mind.”

“I cannot pretend to influence I do not have. It is not my right to object; if you wish to transfer, I cannot stop you. But…” Spock looked up at her now in puzzlement. “…if you still…want to continue our relationship, why would you wish to leave?”

“Because I’d like it to be…more than it is, and you’ve always said that ’s impossible. I guess I’m finally getting it through my head what that means,” Christine answered quietly, standing again and turning away. “Either we have a future together or we don’t—and if we’re never going to be any closer than this, if you’re never going to trust me more than this, we don’t.” She paused, glancing back briefly over her shoulder. “I’m not really interested in looking for anybody else, though. I’ll wait, for now, and see what happens with us.”

Spock watched her walk up out of the water and back to where she had left her clothes, longing to say something to bring her back. But the only words that formed in his mind seemed useless. When he looked back toward the lake, he found Kirk—who had clearly seen her leave and sensed his Vulcan friend’s distress—swimming back toward him. Spock bowed his head in resignation and waited for Kirk to reach him.

After a time, he heard Kirk’s voice near his head. “Spock? What did she say?”

Spock looked up into the anxious hazel eyes and was uncertain of what to tell him. “She…wants to transfer. Any emotion that existed between us is gone. I…tried to explain that what I felt toward her has not changed, but…it is useless,” he revealed finally, obviously despondent, despite his efforts at control.

“She’ll have to discuss any transfer with me first, since I have to approve it,” Kirk pointed out helpfully. “I’ll talk to her again—maybe I can talk her out of it.”

Spock shook his head again. “She should not be pressured into staying against her will. If I have truly made her situation on the Enterprise so unpleasant…” He closed his eyes painfully against an upsurge of shame, careful to keep his head bowed so that Kirk could not see his face. “I never meant to hurt her. I tried to tell her that. I tried to tell her that I wanted her to stay,” Spock continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll talk to her anyway,” Kirk decided, studying the bowed head worriedly. “I have to do *something* to help you, and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Your very *presence* is of help to me, Jim…and your apparent understanding of that which I find incomprehensible,” Spock assured him, quietly but sincerely.

Under the water’s surface, Kirk reached to clasp Spock’s arm compassionately, looking past the Vulcan to watch Christine as she pulled her shorts and shirt on over her swimsuit, then came back toward them, stopping just close enough to talk to Kirk without raising her voice. “I’m going to start back for my cabin, Captain,” she informed him.

“All right, I’ll let you know when we get back, in case you want to have lunch with us,” Kirk replied reluctantly, wishing he could order her to stay here with Spock. She nodded once in acknowledgement, then Kirk watched her turn and walk back up the hill, away from the lake, until she disappeared from view over the top edge of the bank. As he returned his attention to Spock, he noticed McCoy also swimming toward them from across the lake.

McCoy exchanged anxious expressions with Kirk over the top of Spock’s still-bowed head as the Doctor came out of the water near them, and the pleading, apologetic expression in Kirk’s eyes made it clear that he and Spock needed privacy again. “I’ll go catch up with Christine and walk her back to her cabin,” the Doctor offered understandingly.

When he was out of eyeshot, Kirk spoke again to Spock. “All right, Spock, we’re alone now…” he hesitated, knowing his friend was probably in no mood now to go swimming, despite his earlier promise. “It’s all right if you’d rather not swim,” he told the Vulcan gently. “I *would* like to stay in the water a little longer, though, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well,” Spock acceded, though he was still trying to accustom himself to the water’s temperature.

Belatedly, Kirk thought to release Spock’s arm; immediately, he felt Spock move up against him so their shoulders touched as Kirk sat beside him, facing the opposite direction. “Cold?” Kirk guessed, reaching involuntarily so encircle his friend’s chest with one arm.

Spock’s only response to this was to latch onto Kirk’s arm with one hand and lean his bowed head against the top of the Captain’s shoulder.

“Spock?” Kirk prompted again, in growing concern.

“Forgive me. The water is…of an uncomfortable temperature for me,” Spock murmured apologetically. “The…physical contact…does help.”

Kirk instinctively drew the Vulcan closer against his side. “It’s all right, Spock, really,” he assured the Vulcan, strongly suspecting that it was a need for reassurance as much as a need to warm himself that had driven Spock to atypically seek out his touch—though Kirk said nothing of this.

Spock squeezed the Human’s arm appreciatively. “I have lost her, Jim…*both* of them. I never should have permitted myself to feel anything for Zarabeth. The cost is proving to be far too high,” he lamented softly.

“I’ve told you before…there’s nothing wrong with wanting a woman to love you,” Kirk reiterated soothingly.

“For me, I think perhaps there is,” Spock countered morosely. “Why else should I have such… difficulties with them…even Christine?”

“Because, my friend, you still tend to judge all women by T’Pring,” Kirk reminded him kindly. “You’ve got to get it through your head that *not* every woman in the universe is a…lying, scheming tramp out to use you for her own advantage.”

Spock looked up at him, startled by Kirk’s bluntness—even though, after due consideration, he realized that the Captain had said nothing that was not true.

“Until you do, these ‘difficulties’ are going to continue.”

Not knowing how else to respond, Spock simply nodded in acceptance, resting his head on Kirk’s shoulder again. Kirk’s counsel had only reinforced his belief that Christine was the answer; if he could not learn to trust her, it was unlikely he could ever trust another woman in his life. He had to, as much for the emotional health of both of them as for his own physical health when the pon farr came again. She had earned his full trust—the same level of trust he generally gave only to Kirk. If only she would give him another chance to try…

Kirk paid no attention to the passage of time as they continued to sit together in the water and he comforted Spock silently, but soon, it seemed, the latter could no longer hide his physical discomfort with the water temperature from the Captain; eventually, Kirk became aware of his friend’s barely-perceptible trembling. “You *are* cold,” he decided. “Come on, we’ve been out here long enough—you better get into some dry clothes.”

They climbed out, dried off and slipped on the rest of their clothes in silence, Spock quickly warming up in the midday sun, then started for their cabin. They remained silent for the first twenty minutes of the walk back, then Spock spoke again. “I appreciate your permitting my company, Jim.”

“I’m glad you agreed to come,” Kirk returned honestly.

“I do not understand how you manage to enjoy my company when it seems to me that I could only be…in the way,” Spock remarked dubiously.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Friendship’ is all that is required to make my presence tolerable?” he questioned incredulously.

“That’s right.” Kirk smiled reassuringly at him.

Spock met his eyes for a moment, taking the time to absorb the warmth in his Human friend’s smile. “I wish Christine felt that way toward me…but I suppose she no longer considers me even a friend,” he admitted regretfully, lowering his eyes.

“I don’t know about that. After all, she didn’t say she was going back to the ship, did she?” Kirk pointed out encouragingly. “I think she must still want to be near you.”

Kirk had a point. Spock realized that she *had* seemed willing to see their leave through rather than returning to the ship, nor did she seem to be in any hurry to push her transfer through immediately (or as “immediately” as Starfleet’s usual red tape would allow); they had reached an impasse—temporary, Spock still hoped—but they had not parted in anger. “I find it more likely that she feels pity for me and is trying to see if I will ‘beg’ her to change her mind,” he opined coolly.

Kirk shook his head slowly in exasperation. “I still think you’re being a little hard on her.”

“Perhaps,” Spock admitted, sighing thoughtfully. “It was I who wronged her; I suppose she is only reacting as…any Human woman would who…loved someone who repeatedly betrayed her trust, yet could never seem to respond to *her*. And I cannot even tell her why because *I* do not know—I do not understand why or how I was able to respond to Zarabeth and not Christine.” He paused to collect his thoughts before he resumed speaking again. “She was…always there …if only I could have reached out to her and accepted what she wanted to offer me. I never…considered bonding with anyone else, Jim…only Christine. Now she would never permit it.”

They had come within sight of Christine’s cabin and paused before it, Kirk glancing at Spock expectantly. “Want to see if she’s back yet?”

Spock shook his head, turning away from the cabin. “I suspect she has had enough of me for one day.”

“Come on, then, and let’s fix some lunch. And I hope you’re hungry, this time.”

“Not particularly—but I will eat,” Spock asserted, in order to forestall the usual protests from Kirk.

Kirk nodded in acknowledgment. “Race you back to the cabin,” he suggested then, grinning suddenly.

“That would be illogical, since you already know that I can outrun you.”

“Doesn’t mean you will *this* time. Come on, last one back cleans up after lunch.”

Although Spock was in no mood for a foot race, he decided to humor Kirk and took off after him, quickly catching up with and passing him. Naturally, he arrived at their cabin first.

Three days later, their leave was almost over. Except for meals, they had not seen Christine at all, and she had made no other attempts to talk to Spock. Spock seemed to have settled into a state of resigned but superficial acceptance. But Kirk could see the hurt remaining in the dark eyes whenever they met his, and he knew the Vulcan’s depression had not lifted. He also knew that Spock continued to have nightmares every night, though is friend was still not inclined to discuss it—or anything else.

On the night of the third day following Christine’s arrival, the images of Spock’s previously vague nightmare finally coalesced into identifiable images—much to his horror and dismay. The women of his life—Leila, Zarabeth, Droxine, the Romulan Commander, and even T’Pring—circled him, taunting and reviling him (much as his peers on Vulcan had), as if in some twisted version of the Terran children’s game, “Ring Around the Rosie”. Only one stood apart and out of reach—Christine, watching sadly as he tried to break past the circle of women to reach toward her as she tried to reach toward him. They formed a chain and began to push him back, further away from her…then all he could see was Zarabeth, her auburn hair framing once-gentle features that were now twisted into a mask of hatred and her blue eyes sparkling maniacally.

She pushed him back into a dark, damp jail cell that became a cave as the door closed and locked—then Spock was alone except for the echoing sound of the women’s taunts, growing louder and louder until they became physically painful. Christine, seeming too far away now to hear or be heard, turned away from him and began to fade from view. Spock, increasingly aware that she was the only one who could or would free him, tried to ignore the other women’s cries, reaching out to her again, calling out to her in protest and pleading for her to come closer—all in vain, since she seemed unable to hear him. Soon she was gone entirely, and Spock was trapped in the dark, cold prison-cave with the darkness closing in on him and Zarabeth and the other women shrieking at him. He was drowning in it…drowning in the isolation, rejection and loneliness…

Kirk, meanwhile, had become too concerned about Spock to remain asleep. He sat up in the bed and reached to turn on the lamp next to it, looking over at Spock in alarm. The Vulcan’s head rolled from side to side on the pillow, as if he was in pain, and he mumbled—for the most part, incoherently. Until, with sudden clarity, he was able to verbalize his instinctive protest against the desolation left within him by the events of the nightmare: “Please…someone please…stay with me…do not leave me alone…”

Immediately, Kirk moved across the bed to lean over his friend (silently cursing Spock’s insistence on sleeping at the extreme opposite edge of the bed), grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him urgently. “Spock!” he cried anxiously.

Spock awoke with a gasp, confused by Kirk’s presence until he remembered that they were still having to share a bed—then he was just grateful not to be alone any more. So grateful that for now, it didn’t even register with him that he would rather have found Christine with him. All that mattered was that someone was there who cared about him and who Spock knew would never deceive him. “Jim…” he managed to say softly.

“I’m here, Spock. Was it that same nightmare again?”

Spock nodded, sitting up immediately and atypically, awkwardly reaching toward Kirk. “Worse. The images…much clearer…too clear,” he murmured, still in shock. “Please, Jim…just stay close. Please?”

Kirk instinctively clasped the Vulcan’s arms and pulled Spock against him, though for once, very little effort was required; compared to his usual level of reticence, he was almost clinging to Kirk. “I’m here; it’s all right,” Kirk reiterated soothingly, surprised and concerned by his friend’s unusual eagerness to be held. He had forgotten that it was not unusual when Spock had just experienced a nightmare. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised gently.

Spock held onto him more tightly, trying vainly to suppress the tears he felt filling his eyes, finally relaxing enough to let them fall when he felt Kirk’s hand just perceptibly stroking his hair. For a long time afterwards, he remained content to enjoy his friend and Captain’s unconditional affection and acceptance in silence, appreciating the reminder that he and Jim would remain friends, regardless of what happened between him and Christine. All the while, the Vulcan part of him kept alive his awareness that his bond with Jim—as much as he valued it—would have no power over the pon farr when it came again. For that, and so much more, he needed Christine.

“Want to talk about the nightmare?” Kirk asked hesitantly, at length.

Spock did his best to comply, despite being unable to fully suppress the emotions accompanying the memories as his descriptions became gradually more detailed. But Kirk continued to hold him, and Spock found himself somehow able to remain relaxed, despite his difficulty in discussing the nightmare. “This should not be happening. I should not be experiencing these…emotions,” he concluded, voice full of helpless frustration. “They are too…deep and persistent to keep always under control, and I do not know…how else to deal with them.” He hesitated, sighing. “How do you cope with such emotions, Jim? When you lost Miramanee—”

“—I had lots of help and advice from you and McCoy,” Kirk reminded him kindly. “The most important thing you told me, the thing I remember the most, was…not to give up on finding the right woman. Do you remember what I said in response?”

He felt Spock nod slowly. “You said…you would not give up if I did not.”

“Yes—and you promised to keep looking until you’d found the right person to be your bond-mate,” Kirk pointed out softly.

Spock released him finally, sitting back far enough for them to see each other’s faces. “I *have* found her. I found her years ago, only I could never allow myself to accept it. I was not—*am* not--accustomed to the sort of emotions she feels for me. Felt for me,” he confessed, as if just then realizing it, meeting his friend’s eyes. “Christine. I…need to see her, Jim.”

“Now? It’s the middle of the night!” Kirk could not help reacting initially with surprise. But one look at the pleading expression in the dark, green-rimmed eyes and the half-tried tears still streaking his Vulcan friend’s cheeks told him that Spock was sincere. Some need or emotion left within him by the nightmare made it imperative that he see Christine *now* and resolve their differences—or else risk leaving them forever unresolved and condemn himself to death in pon farr, for Kirk now knew instinctively that Spock would never choose anyone else as his bond-mate. “All right,” Kirk acceded resignedly, reaching up to wipe away Spock’s tears with his fingers. “Let’s get you cleaned up a little, first.”

Although Spock knew it was unlikely that Christine would object to the sight of his tears, he held still as Kirk brushed them away with a gentle touch, eventually dabbing at his First Officer’s eyes with a corner of the bedspread while Spock concentrated on mastering his emotions.

“Would you like me to go with you?” Kirk asked uncertainly, at length, not wanting Spock to have to go alone if he felt he needed emotional or moral support, but knowing also that the Vulcan might consider his presence intrusive.

“That might be advisable,” Spock conceded. “Let us hurry, Jim.”

They got out of bed and pulled robes on over their underclothes, as well as pulling on slippers neither of them had expected to use, before leaving the bedroom and heading out of the cabin—Kirk hoping fervently that McCoy did not wake up in their absence and find them gone.

Kirk had remembered that each cabin had emergency equipment stashed in a kitchen cabinet and had grabbed a flashlight on his way out the door. He and Spock therefore made their way side-by-side across the half mile or so of varied terrain—tall grasses, rocky, uneven ground and the occasional tree—guided by the limited range illumination of Kirk’s flashlight. When they came within view of Christine’s cabin, they were surprised to find lights on inside, clearly visible through the windows.

Careful to stay within the field of illumination from Kirk’s flashlight, Spock bounded up the porch steps and knocked loudly on the door, followed more slowly by Kirk. Both were relieved when she opened the door immediately, clad only in her nightgown, obviously not having expected company. “Spock? Captain? What in Heaven’s name--?”

“Christine, please, I must come in and speak to you,” Spock told her urgently.

“Well, I can’t very well turn you out in the middle of the night. Come on in,” she replied reluctantly, moving aside to let them in.

The cabin was largely identical to their own, so Kirk went across the room and sat down on a floor pillow, while Spock and Christine sat down at the dining table. “I know it is late, so please permit me to say what I came to say without interrupting, then I will leave you in peace,” Spock began hurriedly, not giving himself a chance to lose his courage. “Christine, I have no explanation for my…attraction to Zarabeth…beyond what I have already told you. If it means anything to you, I must remind you that I was incapable of any…physical expressions of affection for her…beyond holding her in my arms, and even had I wished to, there was insufficient privacy to permit it. Besides…” He reached hesitantly across the corner of the table surface toward her hands. “…I never, ever thought of bonding with anyone but you.”

Christine stared down indecisively at his hands. “You held her in your arms,” she lamented softly but accusingly. “I’ve tried for years just to get you to *touch* me, and you *held her in your arms*!”

“Please,” Spock entreated, withdrawing his hands as feelings of pain and rejection surged to the fore within him. “Please listen: it is *you* I have considered bonding with—not Zarabeth, not Leila, not anyone else. And I might attempt to hold you now, if I thought you would permit it. I…would welcome your touch…and I do not wish you to transfer, if my preferences truly mean anything at this point in our relationship.”

For the first time, Christine noticed his expression--the green-rimmed puffiness around his eyes and the emotion strangely reminiscent of fear in their brown depths.

“You said you wanted to continue our partial bond. If you leave, it will dissolve…and I will either die in pon farr or live without someone who…knows my emotions…to be my bond-mate. And as I have already told the Captain, I would rather die,” Spock reminded her faintly, lowering his eyes. “I do not wish …to spend more time alone, isolated even from my own bond-mate. You said…that you understood this…emotion of loneliness. If that is true, could you not please…forgive me and stay?”

“If I do, would you give me the chance to help you keep from feeling so lonely?” Christine challenged hopefully. “Would you start trying to let yourself trust me with your emotions?”

“I can only try,” Spock responded evasively, still not looking back up. “In my experience, I have not found women to be very…trustworthy. I do not give trust easily in personal matters, even under the best of circumstances, and there is too much I do not understand about their emotions. That is why I had thought…that it might be better if I do not try to form any emotional attachments to them. Such… relationships…never seem to last and only lead to trouble. So it has always been for *me*, at least.”

“You said ‘had thought’. Did you change your mind?” Christine questioned, both curiously and worriedly.

Spock nodded slowly. “Although it does not seem advisable from a personal or emotional standpoint, it is logical. I must still choose a bond-mate eventually; who else should I choose to share my life but one who already…feels for me and accepts me…and understands my emotions?” he elaborated, glancing back up at her hesitantly. “But it would be difficult, perhaps as much so for you as for me. You have seen how…inept I am…in dealing with emotions, whether they are mine or someone else’s.”

“Well, maybe we’re evenly matched, Spock. Apparently, *I* don’t know enough about…courting Vulcans. Until now, I’d thought it would be enough to try to reach your *Human* half,” Christine admitted regretfully—then added, unable to keep the bitterness entirely out of her voice, “but apparently, that only works with women you meet *outside* the ship.”

Spock got up from his chair, walked away from her and paced briefly. “If we are to maintain our mental bond and our relationship, you *must* overcome your anger toward me,” he told her, stopping in front of her. “I cannot undo what has already been done. But perhaps we can help each other, now. And Christine, you *have* ‘reached’ my Human half…or I could not feel enough for you to presume to ask you not to transfer…or to want to bond with you.” He met her eyes, then. “If you would permit it, I would like to…mind-meld with you. Perhaps my thoughts would be more convincing to you than my words.”

Christine looked doubtful. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? As you’ ve observed, I’m still carrying around a lot of resentment and anger about this. Do you really want to be directly exposed to that?”

“It is likely to be somewhat unpleasant for both of us,” Spock conceded honestly. “But I am willing to expose myself to your emotions if you are willing to expose yourself to mine. I believe it is necessary, but…I cannot force it upon you. It must be your decision.”

Christine considered the matter, searching the dark eyes before her and seeing the sincere desperation and entreaty sparkling within their brown depths. “All right. I don’t suppose it could make things any worse,” she acceded finally.

Relieved, Spock sat down and they moved closer to each other. He reached out and placed his fingertips gently against her face, positioning them for a mind-meld. As their thoughts met and began to intertwine, he met resistance—mainly fear for what he might find in Christine’s mind. //Do not be afraid, Christine. Let me see your emotions, and I will let you see mine. I only wish to make you see that I still…want you in my life,// Spock’s mind told her, simultaneously pleading and soothing.

She gave in, letting her thoughts be drawn closer and reaching curiously for his. The first thing she encountered, naturally, was Spock’s all-too-fresh memories of the nightmare and the images themselves. She watched as if through some kind of supernatural fog as the women circled Spock, taunted him and pushed him back toward the prison-cave, Zarabeth’s manner first seductive, then threatening, as she locked him into the cave-like prison cell—noting her own part in the nightmare with increasing dismay as the images progressed.

What she was most unprepared for, however, were the emotions surrounding the images—Spock’s hurt and confusion, made more intense by similar real emotions remaining within him surrounding Zarabeth and his loss of her. To her surprise, grief was not the most dominant; it was tempered by more-than-equal amounts of despair, uncertainty, regret, anger (mainly at himself), and a suddenly-enhanced fear of loneliness that he was still having trouble suppressing. //Oh, Spock…//

Her reaction of compassionate realization came as a pleasant distraction to Spock, who was beginning to feel rather intimidated by the level of resentment and sadness within her, despite having expected it. //You see, I need your forgiveness, Christine. You are the only one who has not…deceived me in some way…and I do trust you. But I do not trust *myself*. I am afraid that if I…allow myself to go on feeling for you, I might …do or say something more foolish than I already have and lose you forever,// his mind responded apprehensively. //Please…do not remain angry with me. Do not leave me alone.//

Christine realized that Spock’s mind was still being dominated by his memories of the nightmare, but decided against trying to force him to the same realization and freeing him of the nightmare’s influence. If she were careful, she could ease him into it—and assure him of her forgiveness at the same time. //I still love you, Spock. If you’d just give me the chance to prove it, you’d never have to feel lonely in my presence.//

//I never do. I always feel the presence of your emotions for me, and even though it makes me somewhat…uncomfortable because I am never certain of how to respond…I do appreciate knowing that you feel for me. As with every other emotion within me, however, I am completely inept at expressing that appreciation,// Spock’s mind tried to assure her.

Christine drew his consciousness closer, embracing him mentally as she wanted to embrace him physically, at once startled and encouraged when he responded immediately without resisting.

//I am sorry…I am sorry…I do not understand why I responded to Zarabeth the way I did…but I *do* feel for you. That has not changed.// The mind-meld ended with Spock now verbalizing his apology, fresh tears now filling his eyes, which he closed tightly as soon as he realized that Christine had recovered enough to notice them.

Uncertain of what to say, Christine ignored his attempt to hide his emotional overflow from the mind-meld from her, waiting to see if he would open his eyes; when he did not, she spoke to him, softly but urgently, reaching to take his face in her hands. “Open your eyes, Spock. It’s all right to cry. Nobody here is going to condemn you for it.”

Spock still hesitated. “Even you? Even if it…has something to do with Zarabeth?” he asked doubtfully, keeping his voice tightly controlled.

Christine did not withdraw her hands from his face. “Even then,” she assured him gently, with some effort. “Besides—I have the feeling, after seeing that nightmare of yours, that *I* may have some responsibility for those tears, too. I haven’t been too understanding.”

“One must be *informed* to have a basis for understanding. I have told you very little,” Spock pointed out ruefully, opening his eyes at last.

As the tears began to trickle silently down his cheeks, Christine moved her fingers to brush away his tears, one at a time. “See? It’s all right…just let them fall.”

Spock focused his thoughts on the tendrils of emotion imparted through the light touch of her fingertips on his face. “You no longer seem angry with me,” he noted warily.

“I’m not. I just want to be…whatever you’ll let me be to you. I don’t ever want to lose your trust. If that means I have to wait a little longer for you to get up the courage to ask me to bond with you, then—so be it,” Christine explained carefully. “As long as…I still have a place in your life.”

“You will not transfer off the Enterprise?” Spock questioned hopefully.

“Not if it matters to you this much. I never thought it would—or could.”

Spock lowered his eyes. “Do you still…wish to hold me?” he asked shyly.

Wordlessly, Christine reached out and slipped her arms around him, feeling him respond awkwardly and lower his head to rest it on her shoulder, gradually relaxing against her as he gave in to the emotions that had been building within him since his loss of Zarabeth. “That’s it…just cry,” she told him soothingly, positioning herself closer so that she could hold him more comfortably. “I’m here…I’m always here for you. Please remember that.”

Spock wept silently in her arms for an indefinite period of time as she held him and stroked his hair, but Kirk, still sitting across the room, kept track of the passage of time somewhat more accurately. Around two hours later, by his reckoning, he decided to get up and go check on them. He found Spock nearly asleep in Christine’s arms. Although he hesitated to disturb the Vulcan, it occurred to him that Spock would probably be more comfortable lying down in his own cabin.

“Hey, you two—it’s getting late,” he pointed out softly, coming to stand next to them. “We all need to get some sleep tonight, especially Spock. He hasn’t been sleeping too well lately.”

“Neither have I,” Christine admitted, as she and Spock slowly released each other. “That’s why I was still up when you arrived. But I think I’ll sleep better now.”

“So will I,” Spock agreed, standing up cautiously. “And the Captain is correct. I am suddenly very tired; I am not accustomed to such…emotionalism…and it always leaves me somewhat physically drained.”

Christine stood up also, retaining her hold on his hands for a moment. “Good night, Spock. Sleep well.”

Spock brought her hands to his lips and kissed them lightly before releasing them. “Thank you for your understanding, Christine. Your ‘place in my life’ is secure…for as long as you want it,” he told her sincerely. “Good night.”

Christine watched Kirk guiding the already-wobbly Vulcan to the door, and, suddenly inspired, ran after them, addressing Kirk as she caught up with them. “Captain…”

Kirk turned back to her somewhat impatiently as he tried to shift Spock’s nearly limp form accordingly.

“…do you think it might be easier, since he’s obviously going to have trouble getting back, if he spent the night here?” she ventured cautiously. “They gave me two bedrooms—Recreation said this was all that was left. I was sharing it with Uhura, but she was invited on a camp-out a couple of nights ago and basically moved out. Spock may as well use the empty room.”

Kirk strongly suspected that "using the empty room" was not exactly Christine’s chief motivation, but he ignored such thoughts, realizing that she had a point. It might well come down to a choice between letting Spock stay here or *carrying* him back to their cabin—something Kirk doubted he could manage at night, alone. It was possible that Spock might not approve when he awoke the next day and realized what had happened, but Kirk and Christine between them would just have to make him understand.

“I think you’re right,” he admitted finally, turning Spock the rest of the way around and guiding him back toward the dining room table. “Lead the way.”

A few minutes later, they had Spock tucked into bed in Christine’s spare bedroom, after which she thanked Kirk and escorted him to the front door before going back to check one last time on Spock (who was already asleep), then going to bed.

Spock, however, awoke alone in the king-sized bed a couple of hours later with visions of the nightmare again filling his mind and realized in considerable embarrassment that he was not going to be able to sleep peacefully without some kind of companionship. He got up reluctantly and went down the hallway to Christine’s room, cautiously sliding the door open. The room was dark, but he sensed that Christine was still awake enough to be aware of his presence. “Christine,” he whispered.

“Spock?” she mumbled groggily. “What are you doing up?”

“Please, Christine…I apologize for waking you, but…please do not leave me alone.”

Immediately, Christine sat up in bed and turned on the lamp next to it, squinting in the sudden light until her eyes adjusted to it well enough for her to make him out.

Spock, meanwhile, took a few cautious steps toward her. “I would…prefer not to be alone now,” he reiterated, still speaking softly.

Christine studied the half-sad, half-fearful expression in the dark eyes and realized the reason for this. “You’re still having that nightmare, aren’t you?”

Spock nodded, lowering his eyes in shame, wishing he had not allowed himself to become so comfortable with Kirk holding him at such times. It had set an unfortunate precedent; apparently, he now could not get back to sleep after such disturbances without physical closeness and contact with someone else.

“Come on in, then,” Christine assented tiredly, moving over to the opposite side of the bed and watching as Spock climbed in hesitantly, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. She reached to turn off the light, and then lay silently in the dark for a time. “Spock?” she asked carefully. “Would you mind if I put my arms around you?”

A part of Spock had hoped she would offer, though he had not been able to verbalize the request himself. He scooted cautiously closer and allowed Christine to slip her arms around him, not protesting when she drew him close enough to rest his head on her shoulder. He curled up against her side, facing away from her but holding onto her arm with one hand—tightening his grip as he became more and more aware of the warmth of her emotions.

“It’s all right now, Spock…I’m here with you now,” Christine whispered softly at his ear, as she rested her cheek against the top of the shimmering, silky head.

Spock’s last impressions as they both fell quickly asleep were of a feeling of security and acceptance descending over him like a blanket.

Christine awoke the next morning to find herself alone and had convinced herself that she had dreamed the whole incident up by the time she found Spock as fully dressed as possible in his robe and slippers, sitting in the living room on a floor pillow, talking to Kirk on her communicator.

“Are you sure you just want me to bring you a change of clothes—not re-pack your entire travel bag with everything?” she heard Kirk ask him, his tone gently teasing.

Spock raised an eyebrow instinctively, a faint smile touching his lips, despite knowing Kirk could see neither. “Just one set of clothes, Jim. I am not ‘moving out’ for the brief period of time that we have left here,” Spock assured him patiently.

“All right, I’ll be right over,” Kirk asserted.

“Understood. Spock out.” He turned finally to face Christine. “I trust you do not object to my using your communicator.”

Christine shook her head, still too busy taking in his presence to speak.

Fortunately, Spock seemed to understand her emotions and the reasons behind them. “I wish to thank you for…allowing me to stay with you last night. I was…tired…and very much not myself,” he stated formally, but with genuine appreciation in his eyes.

//*That* much was obvious,// Christine thought to herself. She nodded silently in acknowledgment, not trusting herself to speak. She did not want to ruin the moment with self-serving and fate-tempting questions about whether or not Spock had “enjoyed” sleeping with her; it was enough that he still found her presence comforting. “I’m afraid I don’t have much around here in the way of…vegetarian breakfast foods,” she told him apologetically at last, deciding to change the subject.

“Unnecessary, Christine. I will eat when the Captain and I return to our cabin,” he informed her reassuringly, handing the communicator back to her.

Christine then went to get dressed, after which she and Spock sat together in the living area and made small talk until Kirk arrived with Spock’s clothes. Spock immediately went to change into them before even coming to properly greet his Captain and friend. Kirk studied him anxiously as the latter spoke and was relieved to find Spock’s expression calm, the tears on his friend’s face dry and his eyes no longer green-rimmed and puffy. “Feeling better?” he guessed.

Spock nodded, somewhat ruefully. “And quite ready to return to our cabin for breakfast.”

“You mean you’re actually *hungry*?”

Spock nodded again, averting his eyes.

“You two go ahead—I’ve got food here that I need to finish off,” Christine put in helpfully.

Kirk spared her a brief nod of acknowledgment (and thanks) before he and Spock turned and headed for the door.

Once back in their own cabin, Kirk took him straight to the kitchen. There was something he wanted to talk to Spock about, and he did so as he searched for something to fix his Vulcan friend. “Listen, I’ve been thinking—why don’t you go off and do something with Christine today? I’m sure Bones and I can find something to keep ourselves occupied,” he suggested.

Spock regarded him with unmasked surprise. “You would not object?”

“Of course not,” Kirk returned, glancing back at him once. “This is *her* leave, too—I’m sure she’d like to have a day alone with you, if you’d be interested.”

“I *had* thought to spend some time with her today,” Spock confessed awkwardly. “But I am still not…comfortable being alone with her, last night notwithstanding. She is likely to expect more from me in the way of…emotional demonstrativeness …than I am willing or able to give her.”

“You’ve got to start getting used to being alone with her *sometime* if you ever expect her to be your wife someday,” Kirk pointed out. “Besides, since you two made up last night, I doubt she’d appreciate my presence.”

“Still, I would, and she knows that. If she truly wishes my company, she will accept your presence as—I believe the term is ‘chaperone’, is it not?”

Kirk could not help grinning as he responded. “Yes, I guess that’s right…though I don’t know anybody *less* in need of a chaperone than you.”

Spock chose to take this as the compliment he was certain it was intended as, though he was aware that it would probably have meant something totally different when said by anyone else.

“Well, *this* time, I want you to go somewhere with her alone.”

Although Spock was still apprehensive, he knew Kirk was right. After all, he’d had no trouble figuring out how to express affection with *Zarabeth*; why should it be any more difficult with Christine, whom he knew and who, as he was beginning to realize, perhaps too late, he cared for and respected? //Because if I offend or hurt her again, I will surely lose her—and we will both have to live with that loss, and with each other,// he answered himself, controlling the anxiety he felt rising within him at that thought. //I have already lost Zarabeth. If there is still a chance that I have not lost Christine as well, I must do all I can to take advantage of it.//

As he watched Kirk beginning to take food out of the refrigerator, Spock resigned himself to facing a day alone with Christine, telling himself that it might not be as difficult as he imagined. He knew that she still loved him now, so perhaps she would be understanding enough not to immediately expect him to behave any differently toward her. They had mind-melded, after all, and she surely knew and understood the turmoil he had experienced since leaving Sarpeidon. Spock decided finally that it was time to give her the chance she had asked for to prove it.

Kirk got out some fruit and stuck a plate of blueberry muffins into the nutriwave for Spock before finally turning back to him. “I should warn you, McCoy knows about your spending the night with Christine. He’s taking a bath now, but should be out soon for breakfast,” he told his friend, his tone turning apologetic as he continued. “He was awake when I came back last night—said he’d been awakened by the door closing when we left. I didn’ t have much choice but to tell him something about where we’d gone and why. Nothing about the nightmare, naturally, and not in any detail, but enough to let him know where we were.”

Spock, having largely expected that, merely nodded in acceptance, content to trust Kirk’s word that he had not said anything to betray his confidence. McCoy arrived just then and noted Spock’s presence with interest, even as Spock watched him warily and expectantly. But McCoy’s only comment was, “I hear you and Christine resolved your differences last night.”

“Most of them. I think,” Spock responded evasively, relieved to find that McCoy seemed willing to forego the customary teasing.

Just then, the nutriwave beeped. “Your muffins are ready, Spock,” Kirk announced, taking the plate out and pushing it toward the Vulcan, along with the butter and a knife, before going back to the counter next to the refrigerator to get the fruit he’d gotten out for Spock. While the latter took his food around to the dining area side of the counter and began to eat standing up, Kirk directed McCoy to go sit down at the table until he finished making something for himself and the Doctor.

Spock managed to finish by the time the Humans’ ham and cheese omelets were beginning to fill the air with cooking meat scent, and while Kirk and McCoy ate their breakfast, he excused himself and went back to Christine’s cabin to discuss plans for the day with her. She surprised him by suggesting that they spend the day at the starbase, since she wanted to do some shopping. Although it was not something he was particularly interested in doing, Spock chose to humor her and they returned briefly to his cabin to let Kirk and McCoy know about their plans before getting into Kirk’s rented aircar and heading for the base.

Though Spock did his best to concentrate on Christine’s nearness and mental presence rather than their often-crowded surroundings, it soon became obvious to her that he was not enjoying himself. When they stopped at a restaurant for lunch and he tried much too hard to appear enthusiastic about his meal, she finally questioned him about it.

“When I go on leave, I have found that I prefer to spend as much time as possible in natural surroundings, examining native flora and fauna,” Spock tried to explain. “The Captain says that it… helps me ‘relax’, and I do find it more…peaceful.”

Christine met his eyes sympathetically. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t want to go shopping?” she asked regretfully. “I wouldn’t have minded going for a walk in the meadow, instead. I’m not so selfish that I would’ve insisted on coming to the base if I’d known you wanted to go somewhere else.”

“Nor was *I* inclined to deny you what may be your last opportunity to shop at a starbase for some time,” Spock countered earnestly. “You have been…very patient with my recurrent bouts of emotionalism since joining us on leave, but this is our last full day here, and I thought you should be able to do what you want to do.” He paused, embarrassed. “I…am sorry. I did not mean to disrupt your outing.”

“It’s all right,” Christine assured him soothingly, surveying her small pile of shopping bags. “I don’t guess I need anything else. Let’s finish our lunch, then go back to the cabin to pick up the Captain and Dr. McCoy before we go for our walk.”

“Before we leave the base, I would like to get something for Jim. He has been…very helpful to me in this situation,” Spock decided, grateful for her understanding.

“Of course—he wouldn’t be much of a friend to you if he hadn’t,” she remarked knowingly.

“Still, I wish to…show my appreciation in some tangible way. Perhaps you could help me pick something out for him?”

“Sure. Come on now, finish your salad.”

Spock complied silently, reminding himself gratefully that it was their activities and surroundings—not Christine’s company—that he now found awkward. He knew from the concern and relief he sensed in her as he allowed them to filter through his mental shields that her emotions for him for returning to normal, and he welcomed the awareness as a sign of hope (despite the illogic of such a thing) for the future of their relationship.

Kirk and McCoy, meanwhile, had decided to spend their last full day of leave at the lake, assuming Spock would not be home until late afternoon or early evening. When Spock and Christine returned to the cabin, therefore, they found a note on the kitchen counter.

Spock—
We took a picnic lunch to the lake and plan to spend the day there.
If you and Christine get back early, come and join us.
See you soon.

Jim

Spock and Christine looked at each other for a moment, neither certain if the other would be interested. “Shall we?” Spock asked finally.

“I’ll take my things back to my cabin and get my swimsuit on,” Christine decided, remembering his expressed interest in their “natural surroundings” and looking forward to the half-hour or so walk to the lake, during which she would still be alone with Spock.

Spock nodded in acknowledgment. “I should be ready shortly, if you would care to meet me back here,” he offered.

“Fifteen minutes?” Christine suggested.

“Agreed.”

“All right—see you then.”

While Christine headed back to the front door, Spock went to his room and got his swimsuit out of a dresser drawer, took off his clothes and put on the swimsuit before dressing again, deciding to leave Kirk’s present here, rather than taking it with him to the lake and possibly having something happen to it; he would give it to Jim later. By the time he had hidden it away in the closet and gotten a towel from the bathroom, Christine had returned, and together, they started out for the lake.

They had not gone far into the meadowlands when Spock decided to take the opportunity their walk provided to try to talk to Christine—something he had not felt comfortable doing in the more public setting of the starbase shopping area. “Christine?” he began hesitantly.

“Yes?” Christine replied, still looking around as they walked.

“You said you wanted me to…share my emotions with you,” Spock recalled curiously. “Do you wish to know what I am feeling *now*?”

Christine turned immediately to face him. “By all means,” she prompted readily.

“I am still…apprehensive. Being alone with you is *not* unpleasant to me, but…the likelihood of my doing or saying something to hurt you seems to multiply geometrically under such circumstances,” Spock revealed slowly. “I could still…lose you…all too easily.”

“Not a chance,” Christine responded emphatically. “At least, not unless you’re planning to get involved with any *other* women behind my back.”

“I did not ‘plan’ to do that before,” Spock pointed out tolerantly, hoping this would not lead to another argument between them.

But all Christine said in response was, “I know. I just don’t want it to happen again.”

A silence fell between them as Spock tried to think of what to say next, and they continued along a path through the tall grasses of the meadowlands, now walking side-by-side, taking their time without dawdling. “You know, Christine…none of them would have been a proper choice for my bond-mate,” he opined, at length.

“And now you think *I* would?” Christine questioned skeptically.

“I have thought for *some time* that you would. The difficulties…are all within me. And when the time comes…if you still feel for me, and if *I* can ever be convinced that I could be a fit husband for a Human woman…I would still like to ask you,” Spock answered quietly. “As a Vulcan, it is probable that I will always have difficulty with…physical demonstrations of affection.”

“Try pretending I’m Zarabeth.”

Christine immediately regretted her ill-advised and sarcastic attempt at humor, for Spock instantly fell silent again and averted his eyes.

“Sorry, Spock,” she apologized sincerely, knowing this was still a painful subject for him; he still felt ashamed of and angry with himself for giving in to Zarabeth so completely. But then, he was always ashamed of any emotion he felt for anyone—even love or friendship. “I could teach you to become more comfortable with those ‘physical demonstrations’,” she offered hopefully.

“I am not certain I could ever learn,” Spock replied pessimistically.

“Will you let me *try* to teach you?” Christine asked again, a note of entreaty entering her voice.

“I suppose…if you wish to risk wasting your time…and if you promise to forgive me if your ‘lessons’ prove futile,” Spock acceded resignedly. “*I* can make no promises, except that…I will try.”

“That’s all I ask,” Christine assured him kindly. “And you *can* learn. Look at all you’ve learned from the Captain.”

Spock looked around at her sharply, but there was no sign of jealousy or condemnation in her voice or manner. “He is…unusually patient with me,” he reminded her, his tone unchanged. “Most would not be so…tolerant. Could *you*?”

“I have been, so far. I don’t see why I couldn’t continue to be…as long as *you* continue to occasionally give me some sign that it’s doing some good,” she acceded, reaching tentatively for his hand. “Here’s Lesson One…”

Spock took her hand awkwardly, continuing to hold it as they walked on, again falling silent as he focused on the impressions of thought and emotion he could sense through her touch; there was no resentment within her now, only concern, relief and what Spock perceived as love. He squeezed her hand slightly in appreciation, unconsciously drawing her closer. By the time they reached the lake, Spock had progressed to allowing Christine to walk arm-in-arm with him. He found Kirk sitting on the grassy, gently sloping bank, but McCoy was in the water. Kirk looked up at him as he released Christine’s arm and approached the Captain. “Spock!” he exclaimed, in surprise and pleasure.

“Were you waiting for me to arrive?” Spock asked, as he carefully began to take off his boots and socks.

“Not exactly. I’ve been in, but I was hoping you’d show up,” Kirk admitted, looking from Spock to Christine (who was picking out her own spot to change out of her clothes) and back to Spock in sudden concern. “I didn’t expect you so soon, though. Did something go wrong?”

Christine spoke up before Spock could answer. “He really wasn’t enjoying our shopping trip. I should’ve *asked* where he wanted to go in the first place instead of just *assuming* he’d want to go wherever I wanted to,” she confessed apologetically, peeling off her own shoes, shirt and shorts as Spock continued his preparations.

“Well, I’m glad everything’s all right between you two, now.” Kirk returned his attention to Spock. “You might like it better today. The water’s warmer,” he told his friend encouragingly, getting up and heading down to the water. He glanced back hopefully over his shoulder and was gratified to see the Vulcan following him cautiously into the water, Christine just behind him. Together, she and Kirk managed to coax Spock out into the deeper water. When it was about at chest level, Kirk reminded him of his promise.

Spock’s eyes shifted uneasily from Kirk to Christine and back to Kirk again. “I said I would swim with you when we were *alone*,” he reminded Kirk softly. “While Christine and the Doctor are here, I prefer--”

“Spock, come on—this is our *last day*,” Kirk interrupted impatiently.

“I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he want anyone else around when he swims?” Christine asked, puzzled and a little hurt.

Kirk glanced at Spock expectantly. “Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to do it?” he questioned, making it clear from his expression and tone that he intended to if Spock didn’t.

Spock hesitated, then turned slowly to Christine with his eyes lowered in shame. “I do not…swim very well, Christine. Jim has been teaching me in private, but I am still not very comfortable in water,” he explained awkwardly. “Water is too scarce on Vulcan to permit swimming, and I was able to avoid it at Starfleet Academy, so I never learned until he offered to teach me. No one else knows of this—I have no intention of becoming an object of pity and ridicule—so I do not swim in anyone else’s presence unless circumstances leave me no choice.”

Kirk moved closer and reached out to lay a hand on one lean, bare shoulder. "I keep trying to tell him that anybody who cares about him will understand his feelings, but he’s just too stubborn to take my word for it,” he added, glancing significantly at Christine. “I guess he needs proof.”

Christine set aside her instinctive astonishment at the idea that someone could get as far in Starfleet as Spock had without ever learning how to swim, seeing the look in Kirk’s eyes and Spock’s obvious discomfort with the revelation he had just felt compelled to make. She closed the distance between them. “I won’t tell anyone. And I won’t tease you if you swim with me,” she promised gently.

Spock looked up at her doubtfully.

“It’s not uncommon for Humans who learn to swim as adults to feel the same way,” she pointed out reassuringly.

“So Jim has told me,” Spock replied evenly. “I still have no intention of swimming as long as Dr. McCoy is here to see me.”

Kirk rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Spock, *please*. We’ll stay far enough away so that McCoy won’t be able to see you—and if he does, we won’t let him tease you,” he put in pleadingly.

Giving in against his better judgment, Spock waited until he could see each of them stretched out beside him, doing a leisurely side-stroke so they could keep facing him, then pushed himself forward in the water, launching into an awkward breast-stroke that would never have passed muster in any Starfleet Academy survival course, but had so far proven to be the most nearly comfortable and efficient way for him to maneuver himself through the water.

Kirk and Christine continued to flank him as they moved out into deeper water, Spock unknowingly approaching visual range of McCoy, who was now floating contentedly on his back at the other end of the lake. Fortunately, the Doctor still seemed oblivious to them, remaining so when Spock abruptly noticed him and he and the other two changed directions, swimming back toward the opposite end of the lake. Spock, Kirk and Christine completed two more laps in this manner before settling into the more shallow part of the lake at the end where they had originally entered.

By the time it occurred to McCoy to go see what Kirk was doing (until then, he had no idea that Spock and Christine were there), the other three were positioned approximately where they had begun swimming. Spock was stretched out on his back in the water, presumably trying to float, though from McCoy’s angle and distance, it looked as if he were having some difficulty; the Vulcan’s hands were extended beyond his head, allowing Kirk to hold them, and Christine appeared to be holding onto his feet—Spock was not floating so much as letting them pull him around in the water, McCoy realized. He watched and listened to their interplay for a time in silence.

“Jim—Christine—surely you do not plan to pull me around the lake like this all afternoon,” Spock protested, at length. He was not particularly uncomfortable—in fact, he had found that if he concentrated on their mental and physical presence and fully relaxed his body, it was quite pleasant—but for a Vulcan, it was a rather undignified position to maintain indefinitely.

Kirk grinned down at him understandingly. “All right, I guess you’ve had enough,” he decided, helping Spock right himself in the water as Christine let go of his feet.

As soon as Spock was standing again, he turned to Christine and regarded her curiously. “You are not embarrassed,” he observed, striving to keep surprise out of his voice.

“I told you already that I wouldn’t have any objections to *how* you swim with me, as long as you *do* swim with me,” Christine reiterated patiently.

“I know, but…” Spock trailed off uncertainly, lowering his eyes shyly. “…I have always had difficulty accepting the idea that someone could…wish to be around me…when I am merely demonstrating my ineptitude at something. I suppose I still find it difficult to believe,” he explained softly.

“That’s because you never *let* yourself believe it,” a voice put in from behind him.

Spock turned around and looked up at the speaker as he was reminded of Kirk’s presence.

“Come on, Spock, I want you to relax,” Kirk continued firmly.

“I *am* ‘relaxing’, Jim—as much as I ever can in water,” Spock assured him.

It was about that time that McCoy decided to swim over to join them and announce his presence. “Hey, how long have you two been here?” he asked cheerfully.

Although there was nothing that could possibly be construed as threatening or critical in the Doctor’s voice or manner, Spock could not help feeling as if his privacy had been violated. “We have been here precisely one hour, eighteen minutes and fifty-one seconds,” he informed McCoy, rather stiffly.

Sensing that the mood had been destroyed and any chance of getting Spock to relax more fully had been ruined by McCoy’s arrival, Kirk turned toward him with an expression of frustration and annoyance, despite knowing the Doctor could not have meant to make Spock uncomfortable. “Bones…” he began, almost threateningly.

McCoy returned his gaze in honest bewilderment. “What?” he questioned innocently.

“Oh, never mind…” Kirk waved him off, realizing that there was no way he could fully explain his reasons for being upset with McCoy without tipping the latter off about Spock’s difficulties with swimming.

McCoy shrugged slightly, turning back to Christine. “And what kind of morning did you two have?” he inquired pleasantly.

Spock averted his eyes as memories of their awkward shopping trip automatically filled his mind, despite his efforts to concentrate on their far more enjoyable walk to the lake. “That is hardly your concern, Doctor,” he returned coolly, making it clear that he was not about to discuss it with McCoy.

“That bad, huh?” McCoy quipped, intending to put the Vulcan more at ease.

But if anything, it had just the opposite effect. As Kirk rolled his eyes heavenward in exasperation, Spock whirled to face McCoy with an ominous expression in his dark eyes. “The subject is closed,” he told McCoy firmly.

“To me, you mean. As usual, you’ve probably told *Jim* all about it,” McCoy returned, losing all incentive for politeness.

Spock was silent as he wondered how he could respond to McCoy’s accusation.

“Come on, Bones—that’s not fair,” Kirk protested immediately.

Kirk's attempts to defend him somehow gave Spock the inspiration he needed to come up with an explanation of his own. "Doctor, I simply am not accustomed to discussing such things with--"

“Oh, save it, both of you,” McCoy interrupted impatiently, already moving toward the shoreline. “I’m going to go back to the cabin, Jim. There seems to be one too many people around here, and I think *I’m* the one. I’ll see you later.”

Kirk watched in dismay as he headed out of the water and toward his pile of clothes on the bank, not really knowing whether or not to stop him, but deciding that it might be just as well—for Spock’s sake—for McCoy to leave. He could smooth things over with the Doctor after they got back.

“Should I go after him?” Christine asked, anticipating him.

Kirk shook his head. “Let him go. I think maybe he needs some time alone.”

Spock continued to watch McCoy as the latter began to dry himself off. “I did not mean to offend him. It was only that I knew no other way to tell him that I did not wish to discuss it with him,” he confessed regretfully. “Did I say the wrong thing again, Jim?”

“No, I guess not. There’s not much you *could* say without eventually having to explain why you don’t want him around when you’re swimming,” Kirk asserted resignedly.

Spock sighed, still watching McCoy, who was by now pulling on his clothing over his swimsuit. “Perhaps it is fortunate that our leaves expire tomorrow. It seems that McCoy’s patience with my company is nearing an end,” he opined.

“If you like, I’ll talk to him for you later,” Christine offered again, this time directing her offer to Spock.

Spock’s response was vague; he knew talking to McCoy himself would just be more likely to make things worse, but he could not help being concerned that Christine might—if unintentionally—reveal something he did not want McCoy to know. “If you wish. As long as you are…discreet.”

“Oh, discretion is my middle name,” she assured him, sincerely, but with feigned seriousness.

“Indeed? Hmm. Christine ‘Discretion’ Chapel. Hardly euphonious,” Spock remarked archly, regarding Christine with an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“Yeah,” Kirk chimed in playfully. “I thought your middle name was—”

“Oh, you—*both* of you!” Christine exclaimed in exasperation, cutting Kirk off before he could reveal the middle name she had so far kept secret from everyone who had not seen her Personnel records. By pushing her cupped hands through the water in different directions, she managed to splash Kirk and Spock both, simultaneously.

This precipitated a splash-fight involving the three of them, culminating in Spock ending up sitting on Kirk’s shoulders, both of them still splash-fighting with Christine—until she decided she’d had enough and grabbed his hands, pulling him off Kirk’s shoulders and into the water. By the time Spock had re-emerged, the two Humans were laughing hysterically. Spock watched them for a time in controlled and silent amusement, carefully keeping his expression neutral; finally, he stopped their laughter quite effectively by slipping an arm around each of them and drawing them against him in an unusual and unexpected semi-hug.

Kirk and Christine regarded him in surprise and concern. “Spock? What brought this on?” Kirk asked anxiously.

He felt the Vulcan’s muscles tense in response as Spock seemed to freeze in place. “It is permissible…is it not?” he questioned softly. “I did not think that…either of you would object.”

“We don’t,” Kirk assured him, exchanging glances with Christine as he spoke to make sure she was in agreement. “It’s just that we’re curious as to why.”

Spock answered with his head bowed. “I just suddenly realized…how fortunate I am to have both of you as friends.”

Kirk returned his half-embrace understandingly. “We feel the same way toward you,” he responded sincerely.

Spock let go of the Captain briefly in order to slip both arms cautiously and loosely around Christine, not entirely certain that she would respond positively to such a gesture. “I *do* still have you—do I not, Christine?”

Christine reacted to his plaintive voice by eagerly wrapping her arms around him, all too aware of how long it might be before he gave her this opportunity again. “Of course, Spock,” she assured him kindly.

Spock struggled to suppress the relieved emotions that immediately washed over him. “I am indeed fortunate,” he murmured. “What other woman would endure so much and still forgive me? I…” he paused, feeling Kirk’s hand rub his back just above where Christine’s arms fell and released her slowly, looking from her back to Kirk. “I feel… undeserving,” he admitted shamefacedly. “Do you not find me to be…I believe the expression is, ‘more trouble than I am worth’ at times like this?”

“No!” Kirk replied emphatically.

Christine’s response was a bit more hesitant. “Only when…I think I’ve lost you and can never get you back,” she admitted shyly, at last.

“Never, Christine.” //Never again,// Spock added determinedly to himself.

He felt Kirk squeeze his shoulder. “Come on, you two—it’s getting late,” the Captain told them. “We better leave now if we’re going to get back before dark.”

“Very well, Jim,” Spock acceded, somewhat reluctantly.

“And Spock, I know this may be useless advice, but…kindly try to remember that *McCoy’s* your friend, too.”

Spock glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow as they all headed for the shore. “I suppose he means to be. However, the Doctor’s brand of ‘friendship’ is not one I find easy to accept.”

“You might—if one or the other of you didn’t insist on turning every discussion between you into a sparring match,” Kirk countered tolerantly.

“Since it is usually *he* who initiates the ‘sparring’, I suggest you take the matter up with him,” Spock returned coolly.

“I have—several times. And had about as much success as I’m having with you,” Kirk returned dryly.

Spock thought about this in silence for a time. “What would you have me do? React with superfluous emotion the next time he teases me?” he questioned finally. “While I am certain that the Doctor would find it quite entertaining, *I* would be extremely…humiliated.”

“On the contrary, Spock—hasn’t it ever occurred to you that if you ever reacted as he really *wanted* you to, even once, he wouldn’t know how to handle it? It would probably surprise and confuse him enough that he wouldn’t pester you again for at least a month or so,” Kirk pointed out wryly.

“Hmm. It might be worth the embarrassment, at that.”

Kirk laughed, knowing Spock had probably meant that humorously; it was highly unlikely that the Vulcan would ever intentionally allow McCoy to see him reacting emotionally—especially after having done so on Sarpeidon with such questionable results.

Christine watched and listened to their interplay as she followed them out of the water, unable to avoid wondering if Spock would ever become this comfortable around her—able to talk and even joke about his relationship with McCoy (or anyone else) with her as he seemed able to do with Kirk. Perhaps it was a good sign that he was able to do it in her presence, although Christine was not fully certain that he was even still aware of her. But their partial bond remained intact, so she chose to believe he was—had to be—aware of her, even if he kept his mental shields in place and currently seemed to be focused on Kirk.

//Someday,// she thought, moving faster through the water as she tried to catch up with Spock. //Someday, I’ll make him see that a woman can be a friend to him, too. It may take a long time—years, maybe—but I’ve got to do it. If I’m going to be his bond-mate someday, I want him to trust me and feel comfortable around me.//

After they had separated, dried off and put their clothes back on over their swimsuits, Kirk and Spock gathered up their remaining belongings and headed away from the lake first, Christine still lagging behind. They seemed to be walking in silence, she noted; Spock had again become quiet, seeming to withdraw into himself, as he often did when he had a lot on his mind or thought he had been too emotional but had to regain control without meditation, and Kirk, seeming to understand this, was making no effort to draw him out. Christine hurried after them until she was again flanking Spock on his other side, walking along beside him for an indefinite period of time and watching him in silence as she wondered if he were even aware of her presence.

She could tell he was aware of Kirk—his eyes darted occasionally to the Captain’s face and some part of him seemed to draw comfort from the visual sign of Kirk’s nearness —but so far, he seemed to be ignoring her. Eventually, however, when she no longer expected it, Spock glanced at her briefly and surreptitiously reached out to her with one hand. It took Christine a moment to realize that he had actually offered it to her and expected her to take it, but then she obliged quickly.

Spock squeezed her hand slightly in response and they held hands all the way back to Christine’s cabin. There they said goodbye briefly, so that she could go change out of her wet swimsuit—and Christine surprised him by leaning up and kissing him on the cheek before she turned and went inside her cabin.

“I suppose that her…continued emotional displays…mean she still feels for me,” Spock remarked hesitantly, as he and Kirk continued on to their own cabin.

“I think that’s a safe assumption,” Kirk agreed knowingly.

“She really was not embarrassed by my swimming,” Spock recalled wonderingly. “And she did not tease me.”

“I told you she wouldn’t,” Kirk reminded him. “Come on. McCoy will be wondering where we are.”

“He will be 'wondering where *you* are',” Spock corrected quietly. “I doubt he will have any interest in seeing *me* for some time.”

“The way you shut him out today, I’m sure he thinks it’s the other way around.”

“You said that I said nothing wrong,” Spock reminded him, puzzled.

“It’s not what you said; it’s *how* you said it, Spock. You’re always so defensive with him,” Kirk explained patiently. “You don’t *have* to assume that everything he says is designed to annoy or insult you.”

That gave Spock something to think about as they crossed the grassy “front yard” before their cabin’s front porch and he tried to decide what—if anything—he could (or should) say to McCoy.

McCoy had already retired to his room by the time Kirk and Spock arrived, so Spock decided not to disturb him. He and Kirk made sandwiches for themselves, after which Kirk decided to go ask if McCoy wanted one; while he was gone, Christine arrived and Spock fixed her a sandwich, as well. Afterwards, Christine repeated her previous offer to try to talk to McCoy on his behalf and Spock—wanting to hear what she planned to say to the Doctor—decided to accompany her.

When they cautiously opened McCoy’s door, they found him in the midst of venting his frustration with Spock on the one person who seemed willing to listen: Kirk. “I don’t need this, you know. I didn’t join you two for *my* benefit. *I* could’ve gone on leave with Scotty and had a helluva lot more fun,” he was saying angrily. “Why can’t that damnable Vulcan get it through his computerized, pointy-eared head that I wanted to help him as much as you did?”

“You know how Spock is. And you don’t exactly make it easy for him,” Kirk pointed out patiently.

“I make it just as easy as *he* does for *me*,” McCoy retorted irritably. “This afternoon, for example. He didn’t want to talk to me at all. And you were no better, taking his side without explaining why. Now, I ask you, what did I say wrong? What had I done to deserve it?”

Kirk took as much time as was necessary to think of how he could explain that to McCoy without betraying Spock’s trust. “Spock…isn’t real comfortable in the water,” he began cautiously. “He doesn’t like an audience when he swims. It’s taken me years just to get him used to swimming around *me*. I don’t think he’d even have let Christine stay around him if I hadn’t been there.”

“So why the hell couldn't *he* have told me that?” McCoy demanded.

“Because you *intimidate* him!” Kirk exclaimed finally, in exasperation. “How can you expect him to be open with you about anything when you constantly tease him about any little vulnerability he dares to show in front of you—*especially* if it’s emotional?”

“Oh, please, Jim. If I didn’t, he’d be so god-awful full of himself, even *you* wouldn’t be able to stand him,” McCoy protested, rather defensively.

“You’re making excuses,” Kirk countered, more calmly. “If I thought you really meant that, you’d be off my ship faster than you can say ‘insubordination’.”

“I do mean it—and with all due respect, *Captain*, I don’t think failure to achieve your level of friendship with Spock is grounds for transferring me. If it were, there’d be nobody left on the ship but you and maybe Christine.”

“Consistently showing disrespect for a superior officer *is* grounds for transfer. You can’t possibly--” As Kirk turned his head, he saw Spock and Christine standing in the open doorway. “Spock?” //Oh, God,// Kirk thought guiltily. //This is the last thing he needs right now.// He looked accusingly at McCoy, who had averted his eyes in embarrassment, before turning back to Spock. “How much did you hear?” he asked anxiously.

“Enough,” Spock replied, his eyes lowered as he strove to keep his emotions suppressed. “But nothing I did not already know. It will not be necessary for the Doctor to transfer; I will do my best to avoid him as much as duty allows from now on,” he continued stiffly. “It should be possible for us to maintain a strictly professional relationship for what remains of the Enterprise’s current five-year mission…then he can transfer wherever he wishes without disturbing the ship’s schedule or efficiency of operation.” He turned abruptly and left the room.

Kirk and Christine both glared at McCoy. “Well, I hope you’re happy, Doctor. After all he’s been through lately, how could you?” Kirk demanded hotly.

McCoy shook his head apologetically. “He always brings out the worst in me, damn him,” he admitted, glancing uncertainly at Kirk. “Think it would do any good for me to talk to him?”

“I think you’ve said enough for the time being,” Kirk retorted tersely, getting up and heading for the door.

“I’ll talk to him,” Christine intoned to Kirk as he passed her, nodding toward McCoy. “Then I’ll come to see Spock.”

Kirk nodded in acknowledgment. “If he’s in his room, knock first,” he advised.

“I will.”

Kirk was surprised to find Spock out in the main room instead of his bedroom, sitting on a floor pillow in the living area, distractedly strumming his Vulcan harp. He did not seem to notice when Kirk came over and sat down next to him on another floor pillow. Only after several minutes of focusing inward on his own thoughts and emotions did Spock speak. "Do you still believe that he is my friend?”

“McCoy is just…frustrated. After all, you haven’t really spent much time around him during this leave. That makes it kind of hard for him to help you,” Kirk tried to explain.

“I thought he would prefer to avoid my company. And I have not seen any real indication that he has any *interest* in ‘helping’ me,” Spock returned neutrally.

“Don’t base that on what he just said,” Kirk cautioned worriedly. “You know how he over-reacts, sometimes. He didn’t mean any of that.”

“Yes, he did. And he is correct; I do not have many of what I would consider ‘friends’…even among the Enterprise crew,” Spock countered faintly, averting his eyes again. “It is difficult for a Vulcan to become friends with a Human. McCoy, like most Humans, lacks the patience necessary to perpetuate such a relationship, however hard he may try to overcome that lack. Somehow, you have always been different—I do not know how or why, but…”

“You helped a little yourself, you know,” Kirk reminded him quietly. “At some point, you decided you *wanted* me to be your friend. Now, when you decide you really want *McCoy* to be your friend, I think those misunderstandings between you two will be much less frequent.”

“You are overlooking one crucial motivating factor of our relationship,” Spock persisted. “*You*…‘wanted’ to be my friend, so you made the necessary effort—*you* even initiated it. If McCoy has any such desire, I have never seen any evidence of it.”

That statement gave Kirk pause, since, for once, he had no ready response. *Did* McCoy actually have the desire and determination necessary to attain friendship with Spock, or did he just sometimes get jealous of the closeness and attention Kirk seemed to devote to the Vulcan? Kirk realized that, in spite of his efforts to bring his two friends together, he wasn’t entirely sure himself that that the latter wasn’t the case.

Startled by the Captain’s long silence, Spock turned finally to look at him. “*Am* I ‘full of myself’, Jim?”

“You *can* be a bit condescending when you’re on one of your ‘Vulcans are superior to Humans’ kicks,” Kirk admitted reluctantly. “It may be just a ‘statement of fact’ to you, but we ‘inferior’ Humans are rather sensitive about our shortcomings.”

Kirk had been forced to point this out to him on any number of previous occasions, but Spock had hoped that he had by now overcome his tendency to spend too much time extolling the virtues of all things Vulcan. “I never mean to give offense. But I was raised to honor all that is Vulcan…and even though I *have* learned to value what you have taught me of some Human customs, I doubt I will be able--”

“*What* ‘Human customs’ have you decided are worthy of your consideration?”

Kirk and Spock whirled toward the sound of the voice and found that McCoy had accompanied Christine into the main room. “McCoy--” Kirk began ominously.

“I’m serious, Jim. I’d *really* like to know. I didn’t think he thought *anything* Human was worthwhile,” McCoy continued, with a strange mixture of sarcasm and genuine curiosity.

Christine hurried away from him toward Spock and Kirk. “He insisted on coming with me. I couldn’t talk him out it,” she told them apologetically, focusing her attention on Spock.

“It does not matter, Christine,” Spock assured her quietly, looking up at McCoy.

Kirk paid no further attention to Christine, since he, too, was concentrating on McCoy. “Of all the nerve. Dammit, haven’t you said *enough* to him?” he reiterated, becoming angry.

Spock stopped his friend by laying a hand softly on Kirk’s forearm. “It’s all right, Jim. I will answer him,” he asserted calmly, as Christine sat down next to him, still not taking his eyes off McCoy. “How much did you hear, Doctor?”

“Most of it. I was just going to watch, but when you made that preposterous claim, I had to hear some elaboration. Come on, Spock, let’s have it,” McCoy pressed challengingly.

“Very well…” Spock folded his arms across his chest determinedly and made himself meet McCoy’s eyes. But there was such an expression of skepticism and distrust in the ice-blue eyes that Spock was forced to lower his own. “I cannot discuss it as long as you insist on looking at me like that.”

Even through his own indignation, Kirk could see that they were on the verge of a resolution to this situation that could either end in permanent reconciliation (or as close to it as two people as different as Spock and McCoy could ever get) or the complete disintegration of what minimal level of friendship existed between them. Kirk realized that how it went could well depend on what part he played (or failed to play) in it—and he knew as he shot a look at Christine that she had realized the same thing. “Come on over here, Bones. I want you to sit down with Spock and talk this out,” he instructed carefully.

McCoy moved toward him rather grudgingly and plopped himself down gracelessly on another floor pillow, which he had kicked over to a spot next to Kirk and Spock.

“All right, Spock—look at him,” Kirk urged then.

Spock complied hesitantly, but found that McCoy’s expression had not changed and turned away again. “He is not interested in hearing the truth. He is determined to go on believing what he wishes to believe about me, regardless of what I say,” he concluded coolly.

He immediately felt Kirk’s hand on his shoulder. “Show him he’s wrong,” Kirk advised gently.

Spock sighed in resignation, turning back toward McCoy without looking up at him. “The Human customs that I have come to value…however difficult it may be for you to believe…are mostly emotional or emotion-based. For example, your courtship customs…when practiced seriously, the way you choose, court, marry and physically join with your mates, all in relative rationality, is something I find most attractive and…wish I could fully emulate. When I choose my next bond-mate, I want…someone whom I can love, and who can love me…just as a Human would want,” he began slowly, watching Christine squeeze his hand knowingly. “I also appreciate…the way certain Humans insist on my being with them on leave, or at other times when my presence surely cannot be conducive to their enjoyment…out of emotional concern for me.

“I appreciate having someone—even you, Doctor—want to be my friend. I am *learning*, however slowly, to appreciate having such a friend—or friends—to share myself with…and to allow them to share themselves with me. I am also learning that some Human forms of relaxation seem to benefit me in ways and at times in which my customary Vulcan forms are ineffective. Most of all, I appreciate…this ‘feeling’ of not being alone any more. It is still a new and fragile emotion to me…so easy to destroy through my own ineptitude in such matters…and I do not wish…” Abruptly, without thinking about it, Spock looked up at McCoy. “I can barely manage to cope with my relationship with Jim. How could I possibly cope with a deeper relationship with *you*, who lack so much of Jim’s patience? It is not an accusation. Few Humans could endure my level of emotional…disability…to the extent that he has and continue to find it worth the effort.”

When Spock finally stopped speaking and lowered his eyes again, the silence was deafening. Kirk, who had instinctively kept his hand resting supportively on Spock’s shoulder throughout the latter’s speech, now looked at McCoy with eyes full of accusation. McCoy, realizing that Spock had responded to his over-reaction by being more open with him than the Doctor would ever have expected, was thoroughly mortified. And Christine, still holding Spock’s hand, had averted her eyes and was fighting tears, knowing how much these revelations must have cost Spock.

“I trust that answers your question,” Kirk stated coldly.

McCoy nodded numbly, still staring at Spock’s bowed head. “I know you must…consider me your friend, or you would never have told me all that,” he observed cautiously, almost whispering.

Spock answered without looking up. “I do…although you make it very difficult for me to remember that it is possible for me to trust you.”

“I know,” McCoy hesitated. “I don’t know if you got to my room in time to hear it, but Jim did explain to me about you not being comfortable swimming around anyone but him.”

Spock nodded acknowledgment, trusting that Kirk would not have revealed any details. “I assumed as much.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was not inclined to become a source of amusement or ridicule for you.”

“Yeah, Jim mentioned that you felt that way…” McCoy moved a little closer. “Spock—did *you* want me to come along on leave with you, or was that all Jim’s idea?”

“I…assumed you would have no interest in my company after what happened between us on Sarpeidon. But I did give my permission for him to invite you.” Spock looked up at him curiously, at last. “Is it true that you came for my benefit, as Jim says and as you implied earlier?”

“Yes, although in retrospect, I don’t know what I thought I could do for you that Jim couldn’t do better.”

Spock thought about this for a moment as Kirk and Christine, by unspoken mutual consent, got up quietly and left them alone. “It may not seem so, but I appreciate your willingness to tolerate my presence—even if it seems to you that I am not allowing you to help me,” he concluded finally. “And I do not mean to seem ‘full of myself’; quite the opposite. I seem to spend most of my time trying to avoid *humiliating* myself. If you or Jim will please tell me when I seem…haughty…I will try harder to avoid it in the future. I do not ever mean to be insulting…or to make you or Jim angry with me.”

“I’m not angry—well, not any more,” McCoy admitted ruefully. “Spock, I’m sorry. Jim’s right—I did over-react. I do that sometimes, you know.”

“As a matter of fact, you do it *frequently*,” Spock pointed out, softly and hesitantly.

“‘As a matter of fact’—I suppose you’re right,” McCoy conceded patiently. “And I’m also sorry I make you so uncomfortable that you didn’t feel able to explain what was going on at the lake today. It’s just that I’m wondering why I’m here, since you haven’t seemed to need me for anything. You had Christine and you had Jim. Why did you want me along in the first place?”

“I thought…if you agreed to come…I could perhaps make amends for my treatment of you on Sarpeidon,” Spock revealed reluctantly, lowering his eyes again. “Unfortunately, I have been so preoccupied with…dealing with Christine—and I must remind you that I was not at all sure I really still ‘had’ her until very recently—that I have neglected to give you the attention I had intended to. But as I indicated, I appreciate…having all my friends here with me.”

McCoy sighed in resignation as he studied the bowed head. “I guess you ’re always going to be more comfortable around Jim and Christine, aren’t you?”

Spock nodded slowly. “Unless you undergo a drastic personality change, I’m afraid so. I… wish I could be that way in your presence, but…”

“Never mind,” McCoy interrupted kindly. “As Jim says, I haven’t exactly made it easy for you.”

“Nor have I for you. We seem evenly matched in that regard—do we not?” Spock glanced back up at him uncertainly.

“Definitely.” For the first time, McCoy cracked a smile at him. “Hard to change, isn’t it?”

“Changing personal behavior and beliefs that I have been trained to follow almost from birth is not…something I have much experience in—and yes, I have always found it difficult,” Spock recalled awkwardly. “I have tried—for Jim’s sake, and more recently, for Christine’s—and I still find it virtually impossible.”

“Same here. What do you think we should do about it?”

Spock’s eyes met his with an expression of cautious hope. “What I had expected us to be able to do before now—accept each other as we are?” he suggested.

“Even if one of us knows the other *could* be better off and happier and wants to help him make that improvement in his life?” McCoy responded carefully, watching the Vulcan warily for a reaction.

“That ‘one’ wants too much change too quickly and is pressing for it too hard,” Spock returned quietly. “I have followed the Vulcan way for too long. If I seem more easily able to set it aside with Jim, it is because—although I am certain he wants the same ‘improvements’ for me that you do—he is more patient with me and more willing to wait for me to attain them, if I can, on my own than you are. I truly believe that the best you and I can hope for in our relationship is…to reach some kind of mutual understanding.”

“You’re probably right,” McCoy concurred finally. “Well, at least I know the two you’ve picked as friends genuinely care about you. You deserve the best, and that’s Jim and Christine.”

“So I have always thought,” Spock affirmed, his eyes still on McCoy’s face. “But in both cases, *they* ‘picked’ *me*, Doctor; I would never have had the…courage…to reach out to them first.”

“All that matters is that you’ve got them *now*,” McCoy persisted. “So am I forgiven?”

“You are,” Spock asserted slowly. “If…we are still friends.”

“You bet,” McCoy assured him, grinning now. “You can’t get rid of me *that* easily.” He eyed Spock speculatively. “If you were Human, I might be tempted to…give you a hug right now.”

Spock averted his eyes shyly. “I am *half*-Human…perhaps it would be appropriate for you to give me a…‘half-hug’?”

After McCoy got over the initial shock of hearing Spock actually suggest such a thing himself, he realized that the Vulcan would never have done so unless he sincerely wanted him to respond. “All right, here goes…” he mumbled uncertainly, reaching out to his friend hesitantly with one arm and slipping it around Spock’s shoulders.

Spock surprised him again by responding, turning to face into the Doctor’s partial embrace, awkwardly moving an arm around McCoy’s back and resting his head on the latter’s shoulder, carefully keeping his mental shields at full strength but willing himself to relax and not stiffen up as he usually did in response in McCoy’s touch.

“Hey…” McCoy could think of no way to respond to the other’s unusual demonstrativeness except to use both arms, slipping his previously free one around Spock and trying clumsily to rub his back. “…what is this, *another* Human custom you’ve decided you can live with—even from me?”

Spock was grateful that McCoy could not see his embarrassment—he could feel his face coloring a deeper shade of green than was normal for him. For that reason alone, he did not immediately pull out of the Human’s arms. “There *are*…worse things,” he murmured evasively, unwilling to verbally acknowledge--at least not to McCoy—the truth of the latter’s all-too-accurate conclusion. Sometimes, McCoy read him too accurately for Spock’s comfort. Spock had learned to accept such perceptiveness from Kirk, who was aided by their mental bond, but from McCoy it always seemed…wrong, a violation of his privacy. Perhaps it was because of the nature of their relationship, which was so different from the one he had with Kirk, that it made him too uncomfortable to think that McCoy could know him that well.

//Yes, Doctor, it *is* a custom I accept…in limited quantities…to share only with Jim, hopefully now with Christine—and however rarely, you,// Spock answered silently, still not moving from within McCoy’s arms. //You may never know it, but…to touch someone you are close to and feel the strength and warmth of their emotions for you when you have begun to think that you must always, ultimately, be alone …is one of the emotions I appreciate the most.// It was an indulgence he tried to allow his Human half as seldom as possible, since the strange feeling of quiet near-euphoria it tended to give him could easily overwhelm his emotional controls, leaving him exhausted and humiliated. Still, perhaps it was worth it, since the level of contentment and inner peace it gave him always outlasted the negative effects.

After watching them anxiously for half an hour, Kirk and Christine found themselves unable to resist going back across the room to join Spock and McCoy. Spock almost appeared to be falling asleep in the Doctor’s arms by the time Kirk reached his side and knelt beside him. “Come on, Spock--time for you to go to bed,” Kirk told him gently, as he and Christine helped the slightly unsteady Vulcan to his feet.

Spock neither resisted nor protested as they escorted him back to his room with McCoy following worriedly. Kirk took over once they were inside, helping his friend undress down to his underclothes and tucking him into bed while Christine left the room, rejoining McCoy. “I hope he’s going to be all right,” McCoy ventured uncertainly.

“I think he will be,” Christine asserted confidently. “We have our best people working on it.”

McCoy faintly echoed her smile. “I was just going to ask you where I go to sign up for that team,” he admitted, half-humorously.

“Consider yourself a member—as if there was ever really any doubt that you were,” she returned reassuringly.

Just then, Kirk emerged in his robe and underclothes. “He wants to say ‘good night’ to you, Christine,” he told her, moving aside as Christine hurried past him back into the bedroom, then turned his attention to McCoy. “Thanks, Bones—I think he needed that.”

McCoy waved him off tiredly. “Just making up for past mistakes, Jim. And next time, let me *know* what’s going on with him so I don’t make a fool of myself.”

“Agreed—to the extent that I can avoid betraying Spock’s trust. And don’t worry, I think you more than made up for this afternoon.”

Christine, meanwhile, went to Spock’s bedside and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed, watching the Vulcan worriedly as he looked up at her over the edges of the covers, which were pulled up over his shoulders.

“Christine, can you really understand...what it is to spend the majority of your life alone, wishing it could be otherwise?” Spock’s voice was so soft, it was almost inaudible, and a clear indication of the level of embarrassment he was feeling.

“I can,” she assured him gently. “If you ever want to talk to me about it, don’t hesitate.”

While Spock was still trying to decide whether or not to hold her to that offer, she reached down to stroke his dark, silky hair. “If I could find it possible...you are certain you would not object to such--emotional discussions?” he questioned finally, too tired to object to the feeling of her fingers on and in his hair.

“I promise,” Christine reiterated in the same tone as before. “Would you mind if I gave you a good-night kiss?”

“If you wish,” Spock replied slowly, not certain this time that his lack of objection was entirely due to tiredness. As Christine leaned down and touched his lips with hers, he found himself unexpectedly wanting it to last; for now, however, he did nothing to try to prolong it, uncertain of how Christine might react. The last thing he wanted to do now was risk frightening or offending her. “I am pleased that you are no longer angry with me...and are still able to feel for me,” he told her once their lips had parted.

“We...‘feel for’ each other...don’t we, Spock?”

Spock nodded hesitantly. “I...hope...that it will always be so. I could wish for nothing more,” he admitted sincerely but shyly.

“Neither could I,” Christine agreed warmly. “Good night, Spock. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Christine,” he replied tiredly, as she got up from his bedside and headed for the door.

Kirk was alone when Christine emerged from the bedroom. “McCoy’s gone to bed,” he supplied. “Is Spock still awake?”

“He’s pretty tired, but I imagine he’ll stay awake ‘til you get to bed,” she asserted, heading for the doorway to the main room.

“Want me to walk you back to your cabin?” Kirk offered.

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s not that far,” she assured him.

“See you tomorrow, then--and remember, our leaves expire at 1200 tomorrow; we have to be back to the ship by then.”

Christine nodded silently as she continued on to the front door, and Kirk went back to the bedroom.

He took off his robe and climbed into bed opposite Spock, realizing that this would be his last chance to sleep late for no-telling-how-long. When he looked over at Spock, he found the Vulcan regarding him with a weary but contented expression and smiled back at him affectionately. “Good night, Spock,” he said kindly. “By the way--you don’t have to sleep way over there if you don’t want to. I’m not contagious.”

Spock looked embarrassed, but the feeling passed quickly and he responded carefully: “That is not...*entirely* true, Jim. Your--Human qualities, your emotions...are *highly* ‘contagious’. However, after having been exposed to them for so long, I am doubtless either immune or infected beyond any hope of recovery.”

Kirk just grinned at him enigmatically, watching his friend stubbornly maintaining the same position in the bed as he reached the turn off his bedside lamp.

He fell asleep quickly, but was awakened a couple of hours later by the feeling of something resting against his shoulder and something warm against his side. With some difficulty, Kirk shifted his right arm partially out from underneath the warm weight and reached curiously up toward his shoulder. He smiled to himself when he encountered a familiar mass of silky hair. “Spock,” he noted, whispering, though he doubted his friend was still awake.

Instincts that had told Kirk otherwise, however, proved to be more accurate. “You said it was...all right to move closer. I was cold,” Spock murmured ruefully, in response.

Abruptly, Kirk remembered why. “I forgot to turn off the air-conditioner again, didn’t I? Damn...”

“I did not...wish to wake you or force you to get up,” Spock elaborated, in growing embarrassment. “I thought that, if you truly did not object, I could...avoid disturbing you. Is...it all right, Jim?”

“Yes, it’s all right. Go back to sleep now,” Kirk asserted understandingly, settling his arm around the Vulcan again as Spock remained curled up against his side, once again relaxing against his Human friend. “Say, you’re not likely to have any nightmares tonight, are you?” Kirk asked suddenly, recalling that the close physical contact would allow each of them awareness of such things in the other.

“I think not,” Spock replied factually--then could not resist asking, “What about you?”

“No chance,” Kirk assured him, still smiling to himself.

They shared a faint sigh of relief, each sensing the truth of this.

“Good night, Jim," Spock whispered finally.

“Good night, my friend,” Kirk whispered back warmly.

Spock awoke before anyone else the next morning, after the first really good night’s sleep he’d had since leaving Sarpeidon. He extricated himself carefully from beneath Kirk’s arm, lingering at the Captain’s side long enough for the Human part of him to note that he always slept well when he could maintain physical contact with Kirk all night (though he seldom permitted himself to do so). Then Spock got up, dressed in his uniform, which had by now been washed, as quietly as possible--leaving his boots to be put on after he left the room--and went to the dresser to dig out two of the presents he had purchased during his shopping trip to the starbase with Christine. Unknown to her, he had bought presents for her and McCoy as well as Kirk.

He took Kirk’s present out of the closet and placed it on the night table next to the Human’s side of the bed, then gathered up the other two, along with his boots, and padded silently out of the room in his socks, going out first to the main room and dropping off his boots next to one of the floor pillows. Then he took McCoy’s present to the Doctor’s room, carefully sliding open the door, tiptoeing over to the bedside, and setting the present down on the nearest night table before quietly slipping back out of the room. Lastly, he took Christine’s present out and set it on the end of the kitchen counter nearest to the front door, then went to the living room and sat down on a floor pillow to put on his boots.

Afterwards, he picked up his Vulcan harp and began to play softly, deciding to wait for his two Human friends to awaken and Christine to arrive before eating (especially since he preferred not to have to eat his own cooking). An hour or so later, Kirk came out into the living area, likewise dressed in his uniform, carrying his present--a potted plant with large, flat, lily-pad-like leaves that were currently colored in shades of red and gold that seemed to pulse and vibrate.

“Hey, Spock, where’d this come from?” he asked curiously.

Spock looked up at him expectantly, setting his harp aside. “It is for you, Jim. A present--from me,” he explained quietly.

“A present? What for?” Kirk questioned, sitting down carefully on a floor pillow next to Spock and setting the plant down between them.

“When Christine and I were shopping yesterday, it occurred to me...how much you have helped me come to terms with my emotions toward Zarabeth--and Christine,” Spock elaborated, averting his eyes shyly. “You have been so...patient and kind with your insights and advice—and I have mainly just been difficult, so I wished...to show my appreciation. I know how you enjoy having plants in your quarters, so when I saw this--” he hesitated. “The information I was given suggests that it originated on Gem’s planet, presumably exported to some Federation world before that world was destroyed. It...‘senses’ emotion in whoever is nearest to it and changes color with their mood.” Spock focused his attention on the plant. “Red and gold signify happiness, so I gather you are pleased with it.”

Kirk nodded, remembering Gem and hoping that, wherever the Vians had taken her, she was safe and happy. They’d almost lost McCoy to one of the Vians’ bizarre ‘experiments’--but they had also learned (or verified) something about themselves and their relationship with each other, in addition to teaching Gem about love and self-sacrifice. Spock, in particular, had received a rather disturbing reminder of the value of emotions--and of the fact that Kirk was no longer his only friend. Despite their anger and confusion at the time, his memories of that mission and of Gem herself were mostly pleasant; Spock obviously had not forgotten that.

“It’s a wonderful gift, Spock, and I thank you,” he asserted sincerely. “I’m...just not certain what I did to deserve it, beyond just being your friend.”

“That in itself is very special--more so than any gift I could purchase, especially for one as inexperienced with friendship as I,” Spock returned softly, venturing a glance back up at Kirk. “Since I have such difficulty expressing the emotions physically and verbally, I thought...something tangible might partially compensate.”

Kirk reached out to squeeze the Vulcan’s arm understandingly and gratefully. “My friend, you express that emotion all the time--you’re just not aware of it. I know you feel it, and I’m glad to be able to put you that much at ease; I enjoy being with *you* just as much,” he pointed out gently. “But I love the plant, and I’m sure I’ll find just the place for it in my cabin.”

“I was told it was very low-maintenance--water twice a week and it should live for several years,” Spock added helpfully, striving to ignore his growing embarrassment in the face of the revelation that his emotions were so easy for Kirk to read. But he realized that, as well as Kirk had come to know him--and especially in light of their ever-deepening mental bond--he should no longer be surprised by such a revelation.

Kirk nodded in acknowledgment, examining the plant more closely. “What *other* colors does it turn?” he asked.

“Purple or black if you are angry, light brown if you are afraid, a variety of blue shades if you are sad or depressed, a range of reddish-pink and orange colors if you feel love--depending on the type and intensity of the emotion--and yellow or green if you are presumably too far away for emotion to be sensed. There is a list attached to the pot,” Spock supplied. Then he added archly, “By the way, I understand that it turns a deep red with bright pink streaks in response to lust, so I would suggest caution if you are planning a...rendezvous in your cabin.”

Kirk laughed softly in response. “Thanks for the warning--although, for your information, my ‘rendezvous’ usually start elsewhere *without* reaching the point that they end up in my cabin,” he reminded Spock, clearly amused. “Trying to be my conscience again?”

Spock shook his head. “I hardly think you need a second one, since the one you have seems fully functional--all too fully, sometimes," he responded factually, somewhat puzzled and disappointed. “I was... trying to make a joke, Jim.”

“I know, I know,” Kirk reassured him, still laughing as he squeezed his friend’s arm once before releasing it. “It was very good.”

“It was?”

“Yes, it was.” Kirk noticed that the plant had changed color slightly, to a bright orange-scarlet. “What does *that* color mean?”

“What are you feeling now that is different from before?” Spock counter-questioned softly, with a note of teasing challenge to his voice.

Kirk was momentarily confused, since he hadn’t realized his emotions had changed. “Well, I’m still happy, so...affection?” he guessed.

Spock nodded, lowering his eyes again. “Reddish-orange shades indicate... friendship.”

Kirk grinned at him in satisfaction. “Works pretty well, doesn’t it?”

Spock nodded again, choosing to change the subject. “Would you be interested in breakfast?”

“I’m pretty hungry. None of us ate last night, you know,” Kirk acknowledged, studying Spock in surprise as the latter looked back up at him slowly. “Why? Don’t tell me *you* actually have an appetite!”

“Yes. I suppose that now that everything seems...resolved satisfactorily, I can concentrate on other matters. And one of the first I have become aware of this morning is that--I am hungry,” Spock admitted sheepishly. “However, as you know, I am also not much of a cook. Would you fix me something?”

“Sure,” Kirk acceded understandingly, as they got up and picked up his plant. “And I better put this somewhere out of the way.” He glanced questioningly at Spock. “Cinnamon toast?”

“Yes. Two pieces, please,” Spock agreed readily.

“Anything else?”

Spock considered this for a time. “Do we still have hot chocolate?”

“I *was* kind of surprised that the Starbase Commissary would have it on a planetoid with this kind of climate, but they did--and yes, we still have some,” Kirk recalled, unable to avoid chuckling again. “With whipped cream?”

“Yes, please, Jim.”

“And I want you to eat some fruit, if you can.”

“I will try,” Spock promised, as they headed for the kitchen and Kirk set the plant down in the center of the dining table, unable to help noticing the other wrapped present sitting on the end of the counter.

“Who’s that for?”

“Christine.”

“A surprise?” Kirk deduced.

“Yes. I also got one for McCoy. I trust he will appreciate it.”

Kirk’s curiosity was again aroused. “A present for Bones, too? What did you get him?”

“Something very old, which I had not expected to find,” Spock replied with deliberate vagueness. “I found him most difficult to shop for, since I am not familiar with many of his preferences and had no time to consult you. Fortunately, I found something at the last moment which I hope will be--”

They were abruptly interrupted at that point by McCoy’s entrance into the main room. He was carrying Spock’s present to him--a small but old and intrinsically valuable bottle of Kentucky bourbon—and appeared to be in a state of shock.

“Bones, I was just getting ready to fix some cinnamon toast for Spock. Do you want some?” Kirk asked slowly, focusing curiously on the bottle in McCoy’s hand without commenting on it, assuming McCoy would do so soon enough.

“Yeah, sure, Jim... fine...” McCoy only gradually looked up at them from the bottle. “Either of you have any idea where this came from? I just found it on my night table, and it wasn’t there when I went to bed,” he inquired.

Kirk pointed to the plant sitting on the dining table and responded cryptically, “Look what *I* found on *my* night table.”

“Oh, hey, that’s really...” McCoy trailed off as he neared the table and the side of the plant facing him began to turn a purplish-red that spread across it from one side to the other, leaf-tips to stems. “...nice,” he finished faintly, his astonishment increasing. “What the--?”

“What does violet-red mean?” Kirk asked Spock softly, as they looked on from the kitchen.

"Surprise or confusion," Spock replied quietly.

McCoy looked over at them sharply. “All right, you two, what the hell’s going on around here?” he demanded.

“Ask Spock,” Kirk suggested dryly.

McCoy looked questioningly at Spock, who lowered his eyes uncomfortably.

“I wished...to give you and Jim something to express my appreciation. But as I just told Jim, you are very difficult to shop for,” the Vulcan explained hesitantly.

McCoy’s eyes widened slightly at this revelation. “You mean *you* got this--for *me*? Where did you ever find such an antique?”

“At a small shop on the base that seems to specialize in this kind of ‘antique’.”

Overcome by curiosity, Kirk came out of the kitchen and went to join McCoy. “What is it, Bones?” he asked.

“A vintage--and I mean *really* vintage--bottle of Kentucky bourbon,” McCoy told him, allowing Kirk to examine it. “Careful. I think this glass may break if you so much as *look* at it wrong...”

Spock also took a few steps toward him, looking up cautiously. “I am hardly an expert on alcoholic beverages. I trust that 2058 was a ‘good year’, as the expression goes, and that it is still drinkable.”

“We’ll find that out later,” McCoy assured him, looking at Spock wonderingly. “This would’ve cost a small fortune. Spock--it looks to be in museum-quality condition. The way I usually treat you, I’m not sure I’m worth that.”

Spock averted his eyes again. “You are...to me,” he asserted softly.

Now it was McCoy’s turn to lower his eyes to hide the sudden blush he felt coloring his cheeks.

Spock looked up just in time to see it. “I did not mean to embarrass you, Doctor,” he told McCoy apologetically. “I thought--”

“You didn’t embarrass me, Spock,” the Doctor returned ruefully. “I’ve embarrassed *myself*.”

“I remind you that I, too, bear a considerable amount of the blame for our...difficulties during this time,” Spock countered firmly.

“Still, the idea that you’d actually buy me a present, and such a rare one, at that---”

“All right, let’s compromise. You’ve both been terrible to each other,” Kirk interrupted, laughing in exasperation. “Just say ‘thank you’ and get it over with, Bones.”

McCoy couldn’t help grinning in response, glancing briefly at Kirk before returning his attention to Spock. “All right, Jim. Spock--uh--thanks; this is...quite a prize. I don’t know how you managed to think of such a thing, but I...really do appreciate it,” he admitted.

Spock merely bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“Now, then,” Kirk continued amiably, slipping an arm around each of his friends’ shoulders. “Let’s get breakfast fixed before it’s time for lunch, shall we? Both of you go sit down at the table--and give me that bourbon; I’ll put it somewhere safe.”

Spock and McCoy complied silently, the latter handing the bottle to Kirk as he went.

“Cinnamon toast all around?”

“Please, Jim,” Spock assented readily.

“Could you add a couple of eggs and bacon to that?” McCoy requested hopefully. “I’m pretty hungry, Jim--and this’ll be our last chance to eat a real, non-synthetic meal for some time.”

Kirk glanced uncertainly at Spock, knowing he generally tried to avoid the smell of bacon cooking because of its nauseating effects on him--which were likely to be heightened by his still nauseating memory of the meat he had eaten on Sarpeidon. The Vulcan’s eyes conveyed his unwillingness to prevent McCoy from eating whatever he wanted, but he got up silently from the table and went back to the living area to sit back down on one of the floor pillows.

McCoy watched him leave in puzzlement, then looked back over at Kirk as the latter assembled the ingredients for the cinnamon toast on the counter. “Jim, what did I say wrong *now*?” he questioned anxiously.

“If you’ll recall, Spock’s been extra-sensitive to meat smells since you two came back from Sarpeidon,” Kirk reminded him tolerantly.

“Oh, yes--the meat-eating,” McCoy realized. “Still trying to live that down, is he?”

Kirk nodded. “Along with everything *else* he did during that time.”

“Hmm. At least Christine’s forgiven him--that’s the important thing,” McCoy decided, making a mental note to apologize to Spock at his first opportunity for not anticipating that he would react that way.

“You have, too,” Kirk pointed out.

“Well, yes--but there’s very little chance that he’ll ever marry *me*.”

Kirk couldn’t help laughing at that.

McCoy watched him prepare the cinnamon toast, eventually getting up and going over to the counter. “I have an idea, Jim. Maybe it would help if I wait on the bacon until he gets through eating,” he suggested.

“I’m sure he’d appreciate that, Bones. I’m about ready to put the cinnamon on the toast--why don’t you go bring him back to the table?”

McCoy nodded, turned and headed off to the living area. Spock had just picked up his Vulcan harp again when the Doctor knelt beside him. “Spock, I’m sorry. I forgot you’d still be nauseated by meat smells,” he apologized sincerely. “Come on back to the table so we can all eat together. I’ve talked to Jim and he’s going to wait until after you’ve finished eating to start cooking the bacon. You won’t have to smell it.” With that, McCoy stood up, hesitantly offering a hand to Spock to help him up.

Spock set his harp aside again and reached up to take McCoy’s hand without a second thought. “That is...most considerate of you, Doctor,” he remarked gratefully, as he allowed McCoy to pull him to his feet. “I did not know that...it was so important to you that I eat with you.”

“Well, it is, so get yourself back to that table and sit down,” McCoy admonished, now assuming his usual crusty tone as he gave the Vulcan a small, gentle shove toward the dining area.

They heard the nutriwave oven beep as they neared the kitchen. “The toast is ready,” Kirk announced as he emerged with two plates of cinnamon toast and McCoy’s eggs. “Go back over there and sit down.” As Spock and McCoy moved off obediently, he added, “By the way, Bones, that plant changes color in response to the emotions around it, so watch yourself.”

“Oh--*now* you tell me. I was wondering why it kept turning magenta, red and orange.”

Kirk and Spock exchanged knowing looks, deciding to explain to him later about what the plant’s different colors meant. In the meantime, as they ate, the plant settled into a sunset-colored rainbow of pink-tinged red and orange, reflecting the mood of the three friends--for the first time in a while, completely harmonious, as well as affectionate.

Sometime later, after they had finished their cinnamon toast and eggs and Spock had decided to go for a walk to give McCoy time to finish his bacon and its smell time to disperse, Christine arrived. After Kirk showed her Spock’s presents to McCoy and himself, directing her attention then to his present to her and telling her where the Vulcan had gone, she immediately unwrapped her present--which turned out to be a braided silver-and-gold necklace with a teardrop-shaped crystal suspended from it. She then had Kirk help her put it on and ran out of the cabin to go find Spock. As she had half-expected to, she found him wandering through the adjacent meadowlands. When she came within sight of him, she ran briefly to catch up with him, slowing down as she neared him.

“Spock?” she called hesitantly, not wanting to disturb him if he were deep in thought or meditating.

But Spock turned around almost immediately. At the sight of his necklace around Christine’s neck, a faint but attractive smile appeared on his face. “You are wearing my present,” he observed.

“Of course. It’s lovely, Spock, even if I’ll only be able to wear it off-duty once we get back to the ship,” she assured him. “Maybe I can wear it *under* my uniform. Thank you so much--I never knew you had time to get anything but the Captain’s present; now I find out you managed to get presents for *all* of us...”

“I thought it was necessary, since I managed to hurt both you *and* Dr. McCoy. It seemed the least I could do--a small gesture to indicate regret and appreciation for the part you both have in my life,” Spock admitted slowly.

“The best present, though, is having you back to myself again--and knowing you still have feelings for me,” she continued honestly.

Spock bowed his head in gratitude and acceptance, not certain how else to respond.

They continued walking. “The Captain wanted me to tell you that Dr. McCoy’s finished his breakfast and they’ve gotten the kitchen cleaned up, so you should be able to come back inside without smelling bacon,” she informed him.

“I suppose we *should* go back...so that we will all be together in the same place when it is time to beam up,” Spock reasoned reluctantly. Despite the difficulties of his leave here, he had to acknowledge that he had enjoyed the setting: the wide, grassy meadowlands, the lake, even the more manicured and landscaped parklands seemed to provide a quiet, serene atmosphere that was conducive to meditation and contemplation--in a word, relaxation, which was just what Jim had (rightly, Spock now realized) told him he needed. And besides, Jim wasn’t the only one who appreciated being surrounded by green, growing things on a still-unspoiled planetoid.

Christine smiled involuntarily, reading his thoughts. “Well, I guess you could wait and see if *they* come after *us*,” she suggested mildly. “The Captain seemed to know where you were.”

“He probably does. But I do not think he would be pleased to be forced to hunt us down,” Spock decided. “Still...he *did* mention wanting us to have some ‘time alone’ before our leaves expired, and this would appear to be our last opportunity.” He regarded Christine uncertainly.

While she would have welcomed more time alone with him, she sensed that Spock really wanted to spend his last few hours of leave in some activity that would not exclude Kirk and McCoy. She moved closer and cautiously reached for Spock’s hand. “It’s all right if you want to go back,” she told him understandingly. “After all, I’ve gotten all I could have wanted from this leave already--I have you. And we can be alone another time--can’t we?”

Spock knew from her anxious expression that she was afraid he would start avoiding her again once they were back on the Enterprise. “We can,” he promised gently, taking her hand. “And we will. But it may be a long time before we are alone in these sorts of surroundings again.” From what Kirk had so far taught him about Human courtship customs, he knew that--for reasons he still did not understand--natural, park-like settings were considered conducive to what Humans referred to as “romance”. Perhaps the atmosphere that he himself had found “relaxing” had something to do with it; Spock was not sure.

“Let’s just say that I’d rather share you with the Captain and Dr. McCoy than...another woman,” Christine remarked wryly, squeezing Spock’s hand.

“I *am* glad we resolved this,” he reiterated, softly but sincerely.

“I know--so am I. I always hate myself when I’m angry with you for any length of time,” she admitted ruefully.

“In this instance, your 'anger' was fully justified. I should never have--”

Christine stopped him by abruptly moving around in front of him and kissing him gently, warmly, on the lips. Despite his surprise and instincts to immediately withdraw, Spock let himself respond, if only for a moment. When their lips parted, he found himself still in her arms, and when he blushed a noticeable shade of green and lowered his eyes, she kissed the dark, bowed head before taking it onto her shoulder. “It’s over and done with, Spock,” she pointed out soothingly. “Zarabeth’s gone. Let her go. *We* are the present--and the future.”

“I trust so, Christine. I truly trust that we are,” Spock murmured in response, lowering his mental shields for a moment, allowing himself to take comfort in her embrace and feel the gentleness and sincerity of her emotions for him, even as he showed her something of the unavoidable doubts remaining within him. Their mental bond, and especially the emotions that had helped form it, were still fragile. They would have to be strengthened before Spock could dare ask her to be his bond-mate, and there was no way of knowing how long it would take before they were strong enough to inspire sufficient confidence in him to make that possible. He could only hope that it would happen before his next pon farr.

Christine released him at last, retaining her hold on one hand. “Come on, let’s go back. They’ll be waiting on us.”

They returned to find Kirk alone in the living area, sitting on a floor pillow and fingering Spock’s harp as it rested on a floor pillow next to him, and were informed that McCoy had decided to get their laundry done before they left. He had already gathered up Kirk’s dirty clothing as well as his own, and Kirk suggested that Spock might also want to gather up his dirty clothes so they could be washed. While Spock went off to comply, Christine decided to go do the same with her own clothes, then get packed.

After Spock had brought out his dirty clothes and taken them to the laundry room at the end of the hallway where McCoy was busy sorting, the Vulcan came back out and joined Kirk in the living area; he sat down next to Kirk as the Human offered him the harp, taking it and--for the moment--setting it aside.

“I’m glad things seem to be working out between you and Christine,” Kirk offered honestly. “You’re very lucky to have someone who loves you so much.”

Spock nodded in agreement, slowly bowing his head. “Especially after all that has happened. But I could still lose her. I...know so little about...Human courtship or how to deal with Human women,” he confessed apprehensively. “I would...welcome your help.”

“Are you sure you want the help of someone whose only serious relationships with women have ended in their deaths?” Kirk questioned, half-dubiously and half-facetiously.

Spock turned toward him abruptly, reaching to urgently squeeze the Captain’s arm. “Neither Edith nor Miramanee ever tried to deceive or betray you, so you obviously did *something* correctly. Please, Jim...”

Although his First Officer’s voice was quiet and controlled, the emotion behind it was unmistakable. “Spock?” he asked very softly. “Are you afraid?”

Spock nodded silently, deeply embarrassed, and withdrew his hand--only to have Kirk reach out and clasp it reassuringly again in his own.

“Don’t be...there’s no need,” he assured Spock gently. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you--but I’ve seen you with Christine, and I know you already have the most important part covered: you love each other.”

Feeling somehow both reassured and ashamed, Spock held onto Kirk’s hand for a moment, then released it to pick up his Vulcan harp and began playing softly.

“Think you can manage something a little more cheerful, this time?” Kirk asked, repeating a request he had made earlier in their leave.

“Perhaps I could try,” Spock responded hesitantly, knowing he had little experience in playing “cheerful” music, having had little need or reason during his life to learn to perform such pieces. After a few moments ’ thought, he began to play an old Terran song that seemed to reflect his mood. “Do you recognize it, Jim?” he asked uncertainly. “I have never tried to play it before.”

Kirk listened carefully for a time, at length nodding closely. “Isn’t that from 20th-century Earth?”

Spock nodded again, trying to concentrate on his performance. “It was very popular for some time, if I recall my musical history correctly...and made famous by a young female singer named Debby Boone, I believe,” Spock added helpfully.

“Yes, and the title was...” Kirk had to pause as he struggled to call forth a long-forgotten memory of a performance he had seen only on history tapes a few times in his life. He met Spock’s eyes at last. “‘You Light Up My Life’! *That* was the title!” he exclaimed triumphantly.

“Yes.”

Kirk fell silent again, contenting himself with listening to Spock’s somewhat awkward but sincere performance. It *was* a bit happier than the Vulcan’s usual music selections, and Kirk wondered as he studied his friend whether or not the latter knew the words.

Spock read his thoughts and cocked an eyebrow at him. “I do know them, but I am *not* going to sing them,” he informed Kirk emphatically, knowing his Human friend would not object to the instinctive awareness of Kirk’s thoughts that was allowed by his currently lowered mental shields. Simultaneously, the words appeared in his mind as he had seen them displayed on the viewer when he had first researched the song:

So many days I’ve sat at my window,
waiting for someone to sing me her song;
so many nights I’ve cried on my pillow,
alone in the dark, but now you’ve come along...
and you light up my life; you give me hope to carry on.
You light up my life, and fill my nights with song.

Floating at sea, adrift on the water--
could it be finally I’m turning for home?
Finally a chance to say, “Hey, I love you,”
Never again to be all alone...
...and you light up my life; you give me hope to carry on.
You light up my life, and fill my nights with song.

It can’t be wrong when it feels so right…
‘cause you...you light...up...my...life.

Satisfied, Spock played it through one last time. “Here is one that is even older...”

When Christine returned a short time later, she found Spock had (at Kirk’s urging) arranged himself on the floor pillows in such a way as to allow himself to lay on them with his head resting in Kirk's lap, still playing the ancient Terran song “Greensleeves” on his harp as he rested it across his belly and chest.

“That’s from Old Earth of the 15th or 16th century, isn’t it?” Kirk was guessing.

“Approximately. I thought...that the words were appropriate, even if it is not what you would consider ‘cheerful’,” Spock explained. “Do you remember them?”

“I think so. I’m no singer, but...” Kirk began to recite (not sing) the words, as nearly as he could remember them:

Alas, my love, you do me wrong
to cast me off so discourteously,
for I have loved you oh-so-long
and pleasured in your company.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Christine interrupted him dryly as she approached, sitting down at Spock’s feet and playfully tugging at one booted foot as she did so.

The sudden touch startled him, but he merely paused to glance down at her with a faint smile of acknowledgment, knowing she would be too pleased to see him so nearly at peace to tease him about having his head in Kirk’s lap.

“Go ahead and play--it sounds wonderful,” she urged kindly, unexpectedly getting up again. “I think I’d better get something to eat, since I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”

“There’s still some leftover cinnamon toast and bacon out on the counter, plus some hot chocolate mix and some whipped cream in the refrigerator,” Kirk supplied.

“Sounds great,” Christine responded as she continued toward the kitchen.

Immediately Kirk turned his attention back to Spock, listening as he continued to softly play “Greensleeves”. “I hope these few days of leave have helped you,” he remarked sincerely.

“They have,” Spock admitted slowly. “I had not realized that...I needed this sort of ‘relaxation’ so badly. Perhaps it has something to do with...my need for Christine’s forgiveness. I did not expect that...encounter with Zarabeth to have such far-reaching ramifications.”

Kirk glanced down at his Vulcan friend and cracked an understanding smile at him, his eyes holding Spock’s gaze. “It seems to me I’m not the *only* one here who needs ‘a beach to walk on’,” he noted quietly, in an obvious reference to that seemingly long-ago time during the Psi 2000 mission, when, while under the influence of a virus accidentally brought aboard from the planet, he had lamented both his desire and inability to have a lasting relationship with a woman.

“You may well be correct,” Spock reflected thoughtfully. It was a new idea, but one he should have accepted long ago, he realized now. He looked deeply into the hazel eyes of his friend and Captain. “On the night that Christine and I mind-melded, you indicated... that you were still looking for your ‘beach’.”

Kirk nodded. “I am. After all, I promised you I would,” he sighed, genuinely happy for Spock and letting him see it. “At least *you* found *yours*. Don’t ever forget where it is.”

“Never, Jim,” Spock assured him. “And you will go on looking? There must be such a ‘beach’ *for* both of us ‘to walk on’, somewhere. If someone can feel love for me, surely *you*, with all the...emotional warmth...you have to offer, could find someone special, too. I do not...wish *you* to be alone, either.”

Kirk responded to the unmasked anxiety in the Vulcan's deep brown eyes by moving his hand to squeeze his friend’s arm. “I’m not,” he assured Spock kindly. “I never feel alone when you’re with me.”

//Nor do I with you, Jim//, Spock answered silently. He inclined his head gratefully in acknowledgment and returned his attention to his harp, barely noticing when Christine returned and resumed her previous position on a floor pillow near his feet. It seemed unnecessary to point out to Kirk that that was not exactly the kind of loneliness Spock had meant; to a large extent, loneliness was loneliness to the one who experienced it. He was satisfied that Jim was not planning to give up his search. As for Spock himself, he had learned his lesson, finally, and could only hope it did not prove to be too late. For now, Christine still seemed willing to have him--and Spock vowed to see that that did not change.

He thought of Zarabeth one last time: //Your emotion for me may have been misdirected, Zarabeth. Certainly, your lying to me and taking advantage of my trust hurt...still hurts...but you have helped me in a way you could never have anticipated by reminding me, through my memories of you, what I needed but have mostly have denied myself from Christine. I...understand why you did what you did, the loneliness that made you act out of desperation, but I also understand now, after contemplating your actions, that what you felt for me would not have lasted if I had stayed.

//I had thought I felt for you in part because you reminded me of Christine...but Christine, you see, would never have deceived me or put her own emotional needs above mine. As painful as it would have been for her, Zarabeth, *she* would have let me return to my own time and my own world, rather than take advantage of my emotions for her; that is part of the reason I...care for her and want her to share my life. She, too, understands loneliness. You and I were never meant to be...and as Christine recently pointed out to me, she is my future...the only future I have. Because you have helped me reach these realizations, I forgive you, Zarabeth. I hope that someone else came to you in that lonely cave and provided you with what I ultimately could not--I hope you had a good life, after all. Farewell...//

Having become increasingly concerned by the faraway look that had suddenly filled the Vulcan’s eyes, Kirk spoke finally, interrupting Spock’s thoughts. “Spock, what is it?”

Spock returned to the present perhaps a little *too* abruptly and looked up at the Captain in some confusion. “Jim--?”

“You’re a million miles away,” Kirk elaborated worriedly. “Is something wrong?”

Spock shook his head. “I was just...saying goodbye,” he replied vaguely.

But Kirk knew it was not the cabin, the planetoid or their surroundings that Spock was referring to. He squeezed his friend’s arm again in silent understanding.

So passed the last hours of their leave. McCoy joined them eventually (once the first load of laundry was in the washer), but kept his own counsel as he watched the other three--Christine with her eyes on Spock, Spock seemingly half-asleep with his Vulcan harp resting across his chest as he returned her gaze, and Kirk involuntarily stroking Spock’s hair as the Vulcan’s head continued to rest in his lap--not wanting to spoil the mood by teasing them.

Soon now, they would have to return to the Enterprise and be Captain James Kirk, First Officer Spock, Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy and Head Nurse Christine Chapel--models of Starfleet efficiency and the pride of the Federation--but for now, they were still Jim and Bones, enjoying Spock and Christine’s healing relationship as much as Spock and Christine enjoyed their (and each other’s) presence. For now, they could revel in a last, precious period of communion and harmony before duty intruded and they were forced to leave Starbase 14 (and memories of Zarabeth) behind. All except the legacy she had unknowingly left to Spock, which would--he and they all hoped--benefit Spock and Christine for years to come.