Well gang, I've been typing again

Time and Eternity

By Gueniver

Rating: Sp/Ch - PG

Disclaimers: Paramount owns the Star Trek franchise, I have shamelessly alluded to other people's stories in this, my apologies. If you like you can split my profits (roughly $0 and some feedback).

Time and Eternity

Water poured over her face in a thick steamy sheet, she lowered her head into the spray and watched it drag her short dark hair down around her face. She inhaled deeply and sighed heavily, letting the hot water draw the tension out of her.

No matter what the rank, crew rotations were always the worst times for a medical staff on the Enterprise. A small part her had hoped that being a doctor would change the volume of dreadful paperwork. How had McCoy handled this by himself in his first tour on Enterprise? It was no wonder he had been so demanding on his Head Nurse in those days.

A light flickered once on the temperature display indicating she was near the end of her shower ration. Damn things, you'd think that the engineers that could produce derma-plast and micro-neural implant technology could have created a better water reclamation process that allowed for a 30-minute hot shower.

She shut off the water and reached for the towel, even that effort was exhausting. She would certainly sleep tonight!

A sweet familiar presence brushed against her mind. She dried quickly and wrapped herself in the towel. Taking a quick glance in the mirror to check her appearance she ran her fingers through her hair quickly and stepped into her quarters.

He stood next to the bed, the lights were low, he had retrieved a bottle of sweet oil from her bureau and turned down the coverlet. The expression on his face was pure business and if he had not been standing there in nothing more than his black silk boxers she might have even believed it.

It was amazing how he could be so undressed and yet so dignified at the same time.

She cocked an eyebrow in mock offense at his unannounced presence, but he could feel the humor radiating through their bond.

"Why Mr. Spock. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" She loosened the towel and let it fall to the floor as she spoke, she rested her hands on her hips. "Ooops, I'm sorry, sir. I don't know how that happened." She stepped slowly to him, smiling seductively.

"A design defect no doubt, Doctor. No matter, it is currently 0107 ship's time. You have a meeting with the First Officer at 0500 to report on the status of the medical department's crew rotation physicals. If you do not retire now, you will be insufficiently rested to provide an accurate analysis." He gestured to the bed.

She smiled sweetly at him, "Commander, I have been monitoring your own sleep patterns during this last week and as your physician I feel it is my duty to remind *you* that even Vulcans need sleep." She stood inches from him, raised her hands to rest lightly on his chest. She inhaled deeply the sweet coppery scent of him. She slid her hands slowly down his chest. His response was only an amusedly raised eyebrow. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, she could continue at this game all night, but the fatigue was too much and an unbidden yawn snuck out.

"Shall I give you a direct order, Doctor?" His eyes crinkled with amusement, his private 'smile' that he shared with no one else.

She raised her hands in surrender and slipped between the sheets laughing, "Oh no Sir! I'd hate to spend the evening in the brig!" She lay easily on her stomach and exhaled heavily, willing the tension from her neck and back.

"A wise choice as it would hardly reflect well on your record." He moved to over her with cat like grace and sat lightly straddling her back.

She heard the cap of the container open then close and shivered slightly in anticipation under him and closed her eyes. His hands worked the oil into her stiff neck and back muscles with practiced control, finding the tight knots that so often plagued her after these long paper shuffling sessions. Expertly he manipulated the muscles and slowly even the bones below them, she groaned appreciatively. The vibration of her relief and pleasure resonated through her skin and through the link they shared to him. Relaxation spread through her like warm water, he felt the sopophoric effects as well. Her pleasure was absolutely intoxicating to him and was only one of her many emotions that had a profound influence on him. He knew the moment that she slipped into slumber, but did not stop his ministrations. He gently worked over all the muscles of her back, allowing himself the selfish luxury of her skin.

He felt once again the twinge of anxiety that he knew was apprehension about her decision.

It was illogical, Kaiidith. He knew that the most logical choice would be for her to take the temporary duty assignment, but he had come to the illogical realization that he did not want her to go. It was only a year long assignment, and had been offered to her from Starfleet CMO himself. The offer itself was a great honor.

However the secrecy that shrouded the assignment was unsettling. It had been made quite clear that she would be assigned only if she agreed to the highest level of secrecy that Starfleet offered. It seemed that the project supervisor was weary of Starfleet intervention and outside interference.

Spock and Christine would most certainly not be able to take leave time together, she could not tell him where she was or what the project entailed. Given his high security clearance and scientific background it was quite disconcerting that he had not been allowed to even know what project it was.

He stopped the gentle massage and reluctantly raised his mental shields, as he became aware that Christine had slipped into REM sleep and was just beginning to dream. It was one of the few unexpected surprises of their betrothal bond. He could not have foreseen that they would be so well attuned that they could 'hear' one another dream.

He had not experienced much of the intimacy of the betrothal bond so many years ago with T'Pring. If he were to allow himself the imagery of a metaphor, his betrothal with T'Pring had been not unlike having a second eyelid. Her presence had been known but forgotten, she had been a biological necessity. Christine was his heart in all the ways possible. She was a necessary part of him, truly he had come to know the meaning of 'never and always touching and touched'.

He slipped beside her under the coverlet, fitting his body to hers on the narrow bunk. He inhaled the scent of her damp hair on the pillow beside him.

It was one of her endearing idiosyncrasies that reminded him of his mother. She had a great fondness for water showers and baths. Such excess was against so much he had been taught as a child, and yet he could not resist her anymore than his father had resisted his mother. Each time they had stayed together off ship he had made certain the facilities included her precious luxury.

He found sleep elusive, despite his own fatigue. He examined their situation carefully. If she accepted this assignment they would have to re schedule the Koon-ut-kalifee again. T'Lar would be less than receptive to the idea, but they could no more control this situation than they could the radiation sickness on Rigel IV three months ago. Christine's parents were not terribly concerned about the ceremony as they continued to hope that the pair would change their mind about a terran ceremony.

He was neither opposed to nor in favor of such a ceremony. Christine, however, believed it to be a waste of time to have two ceremonies, since the Vulcan one would be just as legal and binding as a Terran service.

She was more concerned with the publicity that would inevitably surround the event. Christine valued her privacy as much as he did, and although there had been other Vulcan Human unions she was convinced that this would be different. The First Officer of the Enterprise and the son of the Vulcan Ambassador to Starfleet was not just an ordinary citizen. All of Vulcan would be watching as the first half Vulcan took a wife, especially given his history on the sands of his ancestors.

For his part, Spock found he did not care whether there were 2 or 2000 eyes watching. He was acutely aware of the time that had already passed in their long association. There was no value added to their continued waiting to complete their bond. Somehow, now that he had made the decision and committed himself to her, logic dictated that they complete the process.

Christine had not been so certain and had insisted that the importance of the occasion necessitated the Vulcan ceremony and he had reluctantly agreed. Now however, in light of recent events, he was reconsidering the validity of such a decision.

Such ruminations did not change the situation. They would make whatever plans were necessary once she made her decision.

He closed his eyes, willing his mind into quiet. It would be inappropriate for him to be overly tired tomorrow. He listened to the soft sounds of her breathing, the quiet beat of her heart. His last conscious effort was to gently encircle her in his arms.

Then sleep overtook him.

At 0356 Christine's eyes flew open but she managed to restrain herself from startling. She had dreamt that she was late for this morning's meeting.

She sighed lightly. Spock was still asleep, a rare occasion for her to marvel at his quiet beauty. It was illogical to attach such emotionalisms to mere appearance, the thought came unbidden, her mind's response on his behalf. She smiled. It didn't matter. He was a wonderful sight.

In sleep his face lost the tight control but not quiet exotic dignity. A marvelous bunkmate, he neither tossed nor turned and as a result rarely awoke disheveled.

This morning was no exception, his jet black hair lay neatly in place, the silken strands seemed like velvet in the dim light. He looked younger when he slept, the muscles in his face smooth. She watched the pupils move beneath his lids and wondered briefly what he was dreaming. She resisted the temptation to 'listen'. She found that while she could, she was still a bit clumsy and inevitably he awoke. It was not something he objected to, but he would wake soon enough, she was sure.

It was such a wonderful thing to be used to waking up with him, she realized suddenly. For some time she had wondered what it would be like, dreamed of it, hoped and wished for it. Then, she had grown up. She had never given up her love and respect for him, but the infatuated daydreams had slowly gone away. She remembered very well the day she had stopped working and really realized it. It wasn't a sad thing when it happened, it was just the way life was. Even giggling schoolgirl crushes went away.

And now she had come full circle, lying quietly here with him, agonizing over how she was going to tell him. How could she tell him that she was going to take the job when she wasn't even sure it was the right thing to do? How could she choose to leave him? After all this time, after all that had happened, how could she go?

She stared at his long dark lashes. Silly, but she loved them. She loved the arch of his brow, the angle of his cheek, his wonderful warm mouth. She had waited so long to taste his lips and in the end his kiss had been better than her daydreams. Now on the brink of their bonding she was going to go into isolation, complete isolation, for an entire year!

The decision had been so easily yesterday, in her office, between the piles of exit physicals and the bio samples and med reports. It was so easy to believe that it was what she wanted when she was surrounded by work, but here, in bed with him she suddenly felt that it was a mistake to leave. She must have been out of her mind, why would anyone leave such beautiful lashes?

"Because it is the logical thing to do." His baritone voice pierced the silence and startled her out of her reverie.

He opened his wonderfully warm rich eyes and for a moment they said nothing to one another, simply gazing into one another's eyes. He raised his hand to her face, cupped her cheek lightly and moved forward to her. He kissed her softly once, twice, three times. "Good morning, I apologize if I have startled you."

"It's alright, love. I was just thinking." 'too loudly, obviously' she added silently.

He ran his fingers through her hair easily, his face still relaxed, enjoying the texture of the strands, memorizing the sensation. He sighed and pressed his lips together in a tight line for a moment. Only in her presence would he allow such an emotional display.

"You have decided to accept the assignment." He stated matter-of-factly. "It is the logical decision, Christine. You should not allow yourself to be swayed by early morning sentimentality and over emotional attachment to appearances." His eyes twinkled with humor at that. He was never comfortable with her glowing assessment that he was a handsome man. It was enough, he assured her, that his appearance was aesthetically appealing.

"Oh Spock. I am going to miss you so much." Tears began to form in her eyes blurring her image of him. She kissed him firmly, pulling herself fully against him, clinging for a moment to him. She wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure herself or him. He kissed her eagerly in response, but after a moment pulled himself away from her. She could feel the reluctance in him, echoing her own.

"I know, I know. I have to meet with the First Officer this morning." She feigned a pout "You're such a slave driver."

She rolled out of his embrace and hopped up. "You know, I've got it on good authority that the First Officer will most likely be late as well."

He sat up, glancing at the chrono on her desk, confirming what he already knew, they had 17 minutes until they were due in the conference room. He swung his feet to the floor and rose from the bed, moving efficiently to the closet.

"Unlikely."

He retrieved a fresh uniform from her closet.

How long had he been keeping a uniform here, she mused, had it been a year already? She looked around the room taking stock of his possessions that had somehow become a part of her surroundings, knew that his room was also littered with the various essentials of their habitual overnight stays, a uniform, a favorite holonovel, toothbrush, uniform.

It was going to be hard to leave.

She tugged a uniform tunic over her head, thankful once again at the 'new' uniform design.

11 minutes later, Dr. Chapel and First Officer Spock headed for the door.

Spock handed her a mug of hot black coffee, wordlessly. He retained a cup of what she knew was tea. She smiled in gratitude, then together they headed out the door and to their meeting.

Christine's actual departure was, in the end, overshadowed by the communique that arrived the same day she made her announcement. It was the bittersweet news that the Enterprise was standing down for a second time. New orders her crew were pouring in. The legendary Enterprise was to be decommissioned as an active duty starship and take its place in the academy's fleet as a training vessel.

There were instantly so many going away parties, that one more departure was hardly noticed.

Christine's only solace was that her orders required her to leave a week prior to docking at Starfleet. She was relieved of the final onslaught of exit physicals that she knew her medical staff would be enduring.

The Captain relieved his First Officer from bridge duty, having already said his goodbye earlier in the day. The ship's CMO, however, found that despite the pressing paperwork in sickbay he could not resist a final farewell. He insisted on carrying Christine's duffel to the transporter room, gruffly commenting that it was the least he could do, since Spock was nowhere to be seen. Christine smiled gently at her friend and handed him the case, walking slowly beside him as she made her way through the ship for a final time.

Spock was waiting in the transporter room, as she knew he would be.

The Doctor placed her case on the transporter pad and hugged her a final time, admonishing her to write soon, then turned quickly and left. Whether it was to hide his own feelings, or allow the pair a private moment was anyone's guess, but Christine felt it was probably a little of both.

Spock did not waste the opportunity with display false decorum, nor did he choose a broad romantic display of emotionalism. He simply stepped forward, raised a hand to gently brush a lock of hair from her eyes and lightly almost absently touch her cheek. "I shall think of you often." His words a bare whisper.

"I will miss you too, my love." She caught his hand and kissed it. He closed his eyes a moment.

The parted slowly and each took their place, Christine on the pad, Spock at the controls.

'I love you.' She thought to him.

'And I you.'

And he sent her away.

Two weeks later Spock sat in the privacy of his quarters and opened the first of many messages he was to receive from Christine.

Christine's face filled the screen, "Hello, Spock. I'm finally settled in. I don't know yet what my actual schedule will be. It looks as if the only thing they're strict about is security. I won't be able to subspace message you, but if I get any time off I'll be sure to go off site and contact you. Otherwise we'll just have to route our messages through Starfleet Medical. George promises that it'll only be a one or two day delay."

Spock recalled the image of Dr. George Birdseye, Starfleet CMO. Dr. Birdseye was a longtime friend of Christine's, had been one of her professors when she returned to Earth to complete her credentials. It had been on his recommendation that Christine had received the offer to work on the mysterious project.

"I tried to talk him into letting me have a secure channel while I'm here, but he told me the project depended on absolute security. I still think it's overkill, but beggars can't be choosers. By the way George sends his regards, and I have his assurance he won't play any of our messages to one another. I hope you don't mind, but I told him we were engaged. It's easier to explain than a Vulcan betrothal, and it affords us a little privacy.

My quarters are small, as you can see." She gestured behind her. What he could see gave the impression of cadet quarters in Starfleet Academy. "But at least it's private."

He listened in silence as she relayed what she could of her journey.

"Oh and congratulations! I heard about your promotion. I wish I could have been there. I promise we'll celebrate when I see you, and don't tell me that it's (she effected a deep 'Vulcan' tone) 'unnecessary to commemorate the logical progression of a successful career.' I won't embarrass you in public, but I'll most certainly make my personal appreciation known." She leaned forward as she said this, her voice softening. "I miss you already. I know it's only been a little over a week, but I do. If you have an opportunity to send a message please do. I'll try to message you no more than once a week. I know you'll be busy with the decommissioning and your transfer." She looked down at her hands for a moment, unsure how to end the message, "I'll be thinking of you, I love you. Goodnight."

"Christine, it was most gratifying to receive your message. I am quite pleased that you have arrived safely at your destination. As you have already noted I did receive a promotion (she noted the rank insignia on his uniform). Have you also been informed of Jim's promotion to Admiral? Once the Enterprise has completed it's de-commission activities he will take his new position as head of Starfleet Security. When I leave the Enterprise I will have your remaining possessions transferred to the apartment in San Francisco. I trust that meets with your approval. Your absence has been deeply felt by both the medical and science staff. My own exit physical is scheduled for 0600 tomorrow morning, with Dr. McCoy. I can only hope that he will have the same efficiency that I have become accustomed to in my own personal physician." Spock paused, searching for words. He contemplated stopping the recording, but quickly recovered. "I am...not accustomed to such verbal communication in regards to personal matters. However, I find that I too am...effected by your absence. I shall look forward to seeing you in 11 months 4 days. I look forward to your next communication." He looked at the monitor for a long time, wishing to say the words that he knew would communicate what he was feeling. Words that he knew she wanted to hear. Instead he simply ended the message. "Spock out."

2 months later:

"Hello Love. I'm sorry to hear that you'll be stuck in seminars all weekend. August is so lovely in San Francisco. If you have a chance to sneak out for lunch go to Golden Gate park. Ny told me they renovated the Arboretum and it's just wonderful. Have you seen her lately? She sounds pretty happy at HQ. Have you had a chance to talk to Len or Jim? I'm sure everyone is pretty busy in their new posts. I watched the news yesterday and saw you at the launch of Excelsior, God you looked great! So calm under fire. Those reporters can be murder, but you did great! First Officer Checkov! I had no idea! Pretty amazing that he got Excelsior so fast. He'll make a hell of a good Captain someday." She stifled a yawn, "Oh I'm so sorry. This is my second attempt at a message to you tonight. I'm so tired. It's..." she looked at the chronometer on the monitor, "0330 here now, I worked at least 16 hours with one of the other biologists today on the same damn problem that we've been working on for the last month. I wish you were here, we could use a clear head right now. I'm not sure whether it's too many ideas or too many egos. It's probably just not enough sleep. I don't know. I'm tired though. I'm going to call it a night. Sweet Dreams, Love."

Spock considered the final frame, Christine was so tired looking. It was impossible to go to her, and illogical to wish that he could. What could he offer to help? Certainly his messages had been a comfort, that much had been apparent. He would have to consider the problem.

Christine opened her mail the instant it arrived not caring whether David Marcus was waiting for her in the lab. He had been an ass all day and she was about as fed up with him as she could get. It might just be time for her to take a day off.

The monitor lit up with the familiar setting of their apartment in San Francisco. In the background she could see a small patch of the clear night sky through the window. Spock sat in his customary chair, with his harp on his shoulder. He did not look up.

When he spoke, at last, his voice was low, soft. "I have become most concerned for your well being, Christine. I do not believe it would be beneficial for you to continue at your present pace. However, as I am in no position to order you to bed (the corner of his mouth barely raised), I thought I would offer you some music. You have commented, in the past, that you find it...soothing."

He began to gently pluck the strings. She didn't recognize, but it was very soothing. After a few moments she could feel the tension moving out of her.

She watched his fingers, mesmerized at the delicate intricate movement. She loved to watch him play almost as much as she loved to hear the music that he made.

She lay her head down on her hands and sleep overcame her.

47 minutes later the recorded Spock finished playing.

"Goodnight Christine." and the message ended.

It was a message that she saved, and replayed often in the months to come.

The months passed and the messages continued. After a time the tone of the messages changed.

Spock sat meditating in silence in the corner of the den of their apartment. The black granite slab was cool under him. He had found it quite satisfying to meditate for several hours after work, a luxury that he had set aside on the Enterprise in favor of sleeping with Christine.

Of course nothing would substitute for her presence, however it would be illogical to protest against what could not be changed.

His time with the Masters of Gol had given him the tools of greater deeper meditation, and at times like these, times when he was alone, it was quite gratifying to exercise his skills.

His daytime energies were equally divided between his instructor duties and his mentoring of the Vulcan candidates he sponsored. Yet no matter how he tried to fill the waking hours, his mind often wandered to his betrothed. The weekly communications that they shared were no substitute for a physical relationship. He meditated on it often, how their relationship had changed subtlety in the last months.

A year was a long time to carry on a relationship via weekly messages and he had seen the content and tone of Christine's messages change. In the beginning there was a hint of longing to return interspersed with her natural excitement at the mysterious research work. The last 2 messages, however, were shorter than usual and she seemed very tired. No, not just tired it was something else, although he couldn't pinpoint what concerned her. It seemed almost as if she were reluctant to leave her assignment and return to Earth.

Of course if that was what she wished he would not attempt to dissuade her, he would deny her nothing that she truly wished. However, as he meditated alone, day after day, a possibility had been taking shape in his mind. Was it possible that she was only reacting to his messages to her? Had he inadvertently set the tone of their communications?

He carefully examined her communiques. In the beginning they were an average of 36 minutes long and the topics were varied and always ended with a short but sincere message of affection and longing. His own messages were consistently 17 minutes long (with the exception of the music he had sent her) and consistently ended with his habitual "Spock out". Her last two messages were 14 minutes long and only dealt with the stress of her research and the fact that she missed being able to find adequate time for a physical work out.

Most disturbing was that although he had asked her twice whether it was too early to plan a leave of absence to Vulcan upon her return, she had not mentioned it in either of the last messages. He did not believe that she had reconsidered the decision to bond with him, but perhaps she required a reminder of his intentions.

There was no way to surprise her with a visit, but perhaps some other sort of surprise was in order.

Christine swore under her breath and hit the counter top once again.

"Computer save data." It was a curse, not a command. The data wasn't even valuable. The only real reason for saving it was to avoid heading down the same dead end trail tomorrow. It was the end of the 11th month and she'd had it with the dead ends and the unsolvable riddles.

David Marcus' ideas were, like him, just too wild. She'd seen the equations, the simulations and tomorrow she would see the first test, but she was still not convinced about the validity of the new matrix. It just didn't seem right somehow, but she couldn't pinpoint how. It didn't really matter since it worked and it was the only one that *had* worked since month after she had arrived. None of the other scientists were concerned, why was she? 'I'm a bio researcher not a bio engineer, why do I care?' So maybe it didn't make sense to her, it seemed to be fine with the others.

She was adamantly opposed to the use of proto matter, couldn't believe he had suggested it in the first days of the project. It had been a hard won battle, one that didn't exactly put her in David's good graces, but he finally abandoned it in favor of a different matrix. He could be so damned stubborn.

She lowered the lights and headed to her quarters.

When she entered, peeling her boots off as the door closed behind her, the only light in the small room was the message light. 'Is it Friday already?' she thought to herself as she moved eagerly to the monitor.

She keyed her access code and quickly retrieved the new message, plopping onto the bed and continuing to undress.

She pulled her tunic shirt over her head and froze with her hands over head. Her jaw dropped and she stared at the image. It was their apartment, specifically the bathroom.

She slowly lowered her hands, captivated by the image. Only candles lit the room. It appeared to be rather steamy. She had difficulty discerning the object in the foreground. The image widened, Spock was using a handheld camera.

In the center of the bathroom was an old fashioned bathtub. It was large, with a high back and white enamel feet.

The camera moved again, Spock positioned it on a shelf, it was focused on a spot near the high back of the tub. There was a sound of a gentle splashing, then Spock moved into camera range.

The water came up high on his chest, steam poured over the edge of the tub. The candlelight flickered and danced in his eyes. He looked directly into the camera for a long moment, then tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow as if to say 'Yes? Was there something you required?'

Then he spoke. As always, his tone was even and calm.

"Christine. I have made a purchase that I believe you will appreciate. You have expressed a fondness for water bathing. To that end I have acquired this vintage bathtub. I hope that you will have the opportunity to appreciate it at your earliest convenience.

Jim has asked me to convey his greetings, and Nyota has asked me to, I believe she said 'send her love' as well. Dr. McCoy is unavailable, as he has taken a leave of absence for two weeks to visit his daughter.

I will not contact T'Lar regarding our bonding until you return to Earth. I believe it would be prudent to wait until you have completed your mission.

Cadet Saavik continues to excel in studies at the academy and has expressed a desire to follow a command path. I have attempted to encourage social and cultural activities for her as they continue to be a challenge for her. Cadet Valeris, by contrast, has received near perfect grades in all her studies and, while only a first year student, shows remarkable aptitude for diplomacy."

Spock continued on as usual, passing on anecdotes of academy life and so forth.

Christine wanted to pay attention to his words, but found her concentration greatly challenged by the sight of his bare chest. It was impossible that she could ever have forgotten what he looked like this way. There was something so very...arousing about him like this. The water was obviously quite warm, leaving a green flush to the skin of his chest, sweat began to form on his upper lip. Water droplets clung to the hair of his chest, glistening in the candlelight. She watched his lips for a very long time.

"The Kobayshi Maru simulations are scheduled to take place beginning next week. I am told that there is a possibility that Enterprise will be ready for a training mission immediately following the completion of the simulations. Mr. Scott has been unable to confirm the date when the refit will be completed."

Christine smiled, thinking of her old friend and his notoriously fluctuating deadlines.

"I will do all that I can to be there when you return, Thy'la. However I fear that it may not be possible, given the uncertain nature of our departure. Starfleet has said that if all cadets receive sufficient marks we will proceed immediately with a two week training tour. It is my hope that we will see each other before I leave. If that is not possible my mother has said she would be pleased to meet you when you arrive, as she will still be in San Francisco with father."

His eyes suddenly became dark, sultry, and intense, "I am very much looking forward to seeing you, Christine. Sleep well. Spock out."

4 and a half weeks, and she would see him.

Christine laughed easily and sipped her coffee. It was such a pleasure to just sit and relax and Amanda was always a delight to relax with. The two women had not had many opportunities to just sit, but from the moment they were introduced years ago on the Enterprise, they had become fast friends.

The Genesis project was in the final stage and her year long temporary duty assignment was finally completed. Now at long last she was on Earth. She returned two days ago and had taken two full weeks leave to spend time with Spock.

But true to the laws of bureaucracy, Spock had been ordered to take the Enterprise out on a week long training mission two days ago.

Fortunately Dr. Birdseye had granted her two weeks starting when Enterprise returned. George may have been a hard-nosed CMO for Starfleet, but down deep, he was just a romantic at heart.

Now it was her turn to wait for Spock to return.

"So tell me Amanda, I know your marriage was quite an inter planetary incident. How did Sarek handle it? He seems so cool and calm, but I can't imagine what it was like when the media started in on you two?"

The older woman smiled "Oh you know how it is with Vulcans. They always say it is 'of little significance' what others think of them. But you just *know* it chaps their hide!"

Chris laughed again, "Oh yes, I am very familiar with that! How bad was it?" She wondered how she and Spock would have handled the sort of pressure that Amanda and Sarek had endured. The first Vulcan - Human marriage had been an historical event on both planets.

"Oh not too bad. The sort of thing you'd expect." She gestured with her hands a newspaper headline "'Teacher Marries Computer! Details at 5:00' that sort of thing." She picked up her coffee cup he smiled wickedly over the rim of her coffee cup "I have to admit my favorite was the 'Little Green Man' story."

"'Little Green Man?' I don't think I've ever heard about that."

Amanda laughed and blushed slightly. "Well it was no small secret. Reporters were always asking me every sort of question to the point of rudeness. Well, I had had my fill of it. Then one day a rather snippety cornered me, I don't know why I finally said yes to his interview, but I did. We were halfway through an actual journalistic piece when he pipes in with 'Miss Grayson! What is it like being with a 'Little Green Man'?"

"So, what did you say?"

"I told them that there was nothing 'LITTLE' about Sarek!"

"You didn't!" Christine laughed

"I most certainly did! And after that the media pretty much left us alone."

"And Sarek? What did he say?"

Amanda smiled wickedly, "I don't think he ever 'dignified it with a response'."

"Oh Amanda you are amazing! I don't know if I could have come back so quickly. What a great answer!"

"And you? How have your friends taken the news?"

"Nothing so delightfully colorful. I did have one instance in which I walked in on two of the newest members of my staff and they were telling a terribly old and bad joke."

Amanda raised a hand to stop her "Tell me it wasn't the one about the emerald lirpa of love!"

Christine laughingly groaned, "Yes! I can't believe you've heard it! *I* couldn't believe it. I hadn't heard it since the academy."

"The academy? My stars, that joke's almost as old as warp drive! I would think anyone old enough to serve on a starship would be too old for that sort of juvenile humor."

"Oh no, that's exactly the sort of thing they enjoy. I think that sort of juvenile humor is one of the galactic constants!"

They laughed again.

The waitress came by offering more coffee, but both ladies shook their heads no. Amanda looked at her wristwatch, an antique from her mother, and sighed. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I must go. I need to meet Sarek."

The two women gathered themselves and then embraced warmly.

"It's good to see you again Christine."

"And you Amanda. I hope the Enterprise returns before you and Sarek return to Vulcan. I think it would be nice for the 4 of us to finally have dinner together."

"Oh what a good idea. Yes, let's do that." She winked conspiratorially at Christine "And let's just keep this conversation to ourselves shall we?" She smiled broadly.

Christine laughed again and agreed.

It would have been a lie to say she was his first thought. The fact of the matter was that he had not put much thought into his actions at all. But by the time the turbo lift came to a halt in engineering and he had calculated exactly how much time he would need to spend in the radiation the realization came to him.

It seemed as if time stood still in that moment. In the split second before the doors opened a horrifying image came to him, the moment when Christine would know.

He could see it as if he was there and the pain of it was going to be over powering. Grief would come crashing down on her and she would try to be strong but she would have to face the future alone. A future he promised they would spend together.

He paused for a heartbeat, not certain if he wanted to do this.

They had finally found one another, they were happy together. He had but a brief respite from his lifelong loneliness and if he continued forward into engineering it would most certainly be over.

But, what right did he have to make any other choice? He couldn't allow his crew, his students and friends die.

No, these were not his friends they were his family. How could he just sit and wait when this was the most logical choice?

'Christine.' For an instant his heart ached for her. He reached out along the gossamer thread of their bond, clung to the image of her loving blue eyes and sent her his love as strongly as he could. It was a purely selfish, emotional act, one of his last.

Then he let go and he moved on.

The goods of the many...It was a silent mantra.

He only paused for a heartbeat.

Now he stepped into Engineering.

It was done.

Kaiidith.

Christine entered her apartment filled with an overwhelming feeling of love for Spock. It was like sunshine in the winter.

It was so good to be home. Soon he would be home and finally they would be together. She had missed him so much while she worked on Genesis. Subspace is no way to carry on a relationship. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of all the promises she had made in the final weeks before her return. Facetious threats of long slow private torture, the terrible death by 1000 kisses.

A feeling of warmth extended to her toes and was so strong she wondered whether Spock could feel it too. Sometimes he could, when she felt it like this. She felt as if she would burst with the love. She could hardly wait to see him.

She wanted to dance, she wanted to sing, she wanted to have a bath. A bath? Well, why not?

Spock had enjoyed the tub quite enough while she had been away, it was her turn. She headed to the bathroom.

How wonderful! A long, soothing bath, for no other reason than because she could. A sinful luxury she had missed while on the Genesis research station.

She turned on the faucet and plugged the tub. Christine adored it and despite Spock's innate concern for wasting precious water he had appreciated it as well. She accused him of being a secret hedonist when she received the message he sent of him in the tub, had it been 4 weeks ago?

Tightness spread across her chest, she felt a surge of some unnamed anxiety. It was as if something was suddenly very wrong. Unnerving as it was she brushed it away. It was nothing, she told herself, nothing at all.

She reached out to test the water temperature and burning pain shot through her hands.

She cried out shrieking madly in pain.

Her mind screamed and she collapsed to the floor, blinded by the white light of an engine core and the searing pain of deadly radiation.

"I have been and always shall be... your friend."

The effort was too much for him. The sensation of radiation burning into his flesh went beyond pain and it was far beyond his Vulcan control. He was exhausted by the effort to stay conscious, to stay upright. It was just too much.

He wanted more than anything to just rest now. He sat down slowly.

Finally even the effort to inflate his lungs was too much. He could hear the incessant beating of his heart slow. The rushing sound was a distant call to his life. It slowed and finally ended.

Blackness came, blessed pain-ending blackness oppressive and final.

He tried to reach out one last time to her.

She who was more than his heart, never formally bonded and yet joined in ways neither had expected.

His bondmate, his truest love, his human soul.

But he could not reach her, only darkness answered him. He was too weak, he could not touch her mind.

Perhaps, he told himself, it was best that they had not been able to bond yet. He could not bear the thought of taking such a radiant light as hers from the galaxy before it was time.

*Christine....*

Water, everywhere there was water. The bathroom was flooded with it. Steam formed a thick cloud high above on the ceiling. The sound of water running over the edge of the tub echoed endlessly on the tile.

She was alone.

The sensation of aloneness was overwhelming. It took her breath away. She choked on the tears that rose up. The blinding pain that had brought her to the floor was completely gone. It was all gone.

She began to shake as shock set in.

She knew.

*No! God, No! Spock!*

A howling cry built in her, she rose to her knees flailing her arms about her angrily. She pounded the tub with angry fists, water flew everywhere. She screamed incoherently.

Water poured off of her in thick rivulets. It mingled with the furious tears that burned her cheeks.

She screamed *No! Don't you dare leave me! Spock! SPOCK!! DAMN YOU NO!!! GOD, NO! NOOOOO!*

For a long time the anger welled up until she could not cry loudly enough. She screamed until her lungs were empty of the horrible pressure that had built.

The terrifying sound echoed in her ears. She stopped, gasping for air.

Suddenly she was aware that there was water everywhere.

Numbly she reached for the faucet, suddenly unsure how to stop the flow of water.

Sobs wracked her body, she could not have stopped them anymore than she could stop her own breath. And the pain was so great that she did want it to stop.

She was so wet, she should feel warm but she shivered. Her clothes were leaden weights holding her to the floor. She fumbled in the water, finally she pulled the plug in the tub. She grappled blindly with the faucet handles, finally ceasing the endless flow. Unceasing tears slipped down her face.

She woodenly pulled towels to the floor, awkwardly mopping up the water.

She was alone.

One fact was painfully evident. They had planned it, postponed it and now it was too late. Their bond was gone and she felt impossibly empty. Now that it was gone, the soft hum of him, the spicy coolness of him, she could feel the emptiness he had filled. And she ached horribly for his presence.

It took hours to clean the water up. When she finally finished she stripped off her cold wet clothes she climbed numbly into their bed, alone.

Eternal moments later, blackness engulfed her and she fell into the abyss of endless grief laden nightmares that would come to fill the space that he had so recently occupied in her mind.

It was over.

The passage of time had no meaning for her in the first days after his death. Messages poured in from everywhere and were automatically saved, unopened, in their data box. The red light flashed incessantly. She slept for a long time, unable to wake from the repeating nightmare. When daylight streamed in she watched the shadows endlessly, unable to sleep. She barely moved for days.

When she finally did rise she hurt everywhere. Grief, depression, she was a doctor she knew what it was. It didn't matter, it hurt like hell. She focused at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes seemed impossibly swollen, she had even burst a blood vessel in one eye. The blood red film perversely enhanced the blue of her eyes.

She didn't flinch, she didn't even cry anymore. She was numb, hollow.

She staggered into the kitchen and keyed in a cup of coffee. She would have to face the world. She had to, but maybe not today. She turned on a news channel. The world was a buzz with news of Enterprise and the unknown weapon code named "Genesis" that had destroyed a planet and contaminated a huge section of space.

Then the story continued. Enterprise had been stolen by the command crew and taken to the Genesis planet.

Why?

She moved forward to within a few centimeters from the screen, listened intently. Enterprise had been rumored to have been destroyed but Starfleet had neither confirmed nor denied it. Warrants for the arrest of the command crew of Enterprise had been issued.

In a related story, a Klingon Bird of Prey was spotted headed to Vulcan before it had cloaked. The Vulcan Ambassador was unavailable for comment.

Christine felt angry at this. Of course he was not available, you insensitive idiots! Spock just died! His son, my love, and for what? For your goddamned precious Genesis! Tears painfully streamed down her cheeks.

She drew in a shuddering breath. She should contact Amanda and Sarek. Perhaps one of the messages was from Amanda. She moved tentatively to the data module.

The display showed there were three priority messages and 18 standard messages and half a dozen packages being held in stasis for her. She keyed to listen to the priority messages.

The first message was sent as audio only an began in silence. At first she thought it must be a mistake and was about to delete it when a voice came, a bare whisper.

"Christine....I am sorry....I never wished to cause you pain...T'hyla....forgive me."

Tears welled up and the world swam before her. She tried to reach to stop the playback, to save the message to do anything, but searing pain and darkness engulfed her and she sank to the floor.

In the beginning there was comprehension.

*I*.

*I AM*.

*I* exist.

Then came understanding.

'I am now, but I was not. I am somehow in existence yet there was a time when I was not. I am alive.'

His eyes flew open with this sudden realization. He felt his body responding to the physical sensations of consciousness.

T'Lar stepped back, her face lined with exhaustion.

He turned his head slightly, caught a glimpse of the back of a man as he was escorted away. A sensation he had never experienced shot through him. It was an incredible feeling of vertigo, flashes of images played before his eyes in chaotic succession. He struggled to comprehend them, separate them into recognizable bits. His own identity and the identity of the man, the man who was not himself but who had been part of him for a long time.

'I am. I exist. I am alive. I am...Spock.'

Sarek approached T'lar, his voice low, passionless, Vulcan. "What is the condition of my son, T'lar?"

The older woman's eyes gave no hint of the exhaustion that consumed her. She responded in high Vulcan, "Your son lives. I cannot say what will become of him. We have done all that could be done. The Kohlinar disciplines have greatly facilitated the incorporation of his Katra. However, there is much that is left to learn. His path will not be easy. His...unique heritage is not something which is easily...understood."

Sarek's eyes narrowed at this. "I do not understand."

T'lar continued evenly, "Your son is half human, Sarek." She stated the obvious. "We are Vulcan, we only know that which is Vulcan. We cannot repair that which we do not comprehend. His mind is very ordered, even for a Vulcan. There will be much to learn, much to remember. However he may never fully recover his humanity." with those words she moved away from Sarek to the dark cool inner chambers of the Fortress.

Sarek considered the healer's words for a moment.

She did not indicate that this would be a handicap for Spock. Indeed, Sarek believed that it would be what Spock wanted. Sarek was well aware of Spock's long fought battle against his inherent duality. Perhaps it would be well that Spock would only remember that which was Vulcan.

Sarek turned, lost in thought. His gaze rose and he took in the image of the crew of the Enterprise. Each of them a friend to his son, all but one of them human. Spock had chosen them as his friends, and they had certainly proven themselves as more than worthy of his friendship.

He turned and watched his son rise from he pedestal on which he had returned to life. Sarek found that he did not want his son to return to Starfleet. His son, for whom he dared feel pride and love for, had finally returned home. It was not logical and he would never allow anyone to know it, but he loved Spock and despite the love of these humans, or perhaps because of it, Sarek did not want Spock to remember his humanity. If he did, it was certain that he would return to them.

And Sarek felt certain that the next time Spock would surely die.

He approached his son, speaking in Vulcan, "Spock, I am Sarek your father. Do you understand this?"

Spock only nodded, processing the information slowly. His father, yes he understood. He gazed slowly over the crowd that was assembled lower on the temple steps his eyes trying to focus. He was searching for something. Something that should be there.

The man - his father spoke again, in Vulcan, "Those are your shipmates -" he paused, debated with himself for a moment then continued, "- your friends. They brought you home to Vulcan."

Spock nodded once again and looked at the small cluster of humans. They seemed familiar somehow, but he was not sure. He scanned each of them intently with his eyes, looking for.....something that was not there. Sarek continued in Vulcan, speaking briefly of each of his shipmates.

"...and Commander Uhura who arrived this morning. Lt. Saavik is a shipmate whom you have had a long acquaintance. You were her sponsor to Starfleet Academy."

Spock turned to his father once again, and spoke "Is there nothing more?"

Sarek was taken aback by his son's first words. Doubt flickered across his eyes for the briefest of moments, then he responded with "Clarify your question."

"Are there no others here?"

"Do you see any others, my son?" His voice was even, but concerned.

Spock raised both eyebrows, suddenly uncertain why he had thought that there should be anyone else. "I do not."

There was so much that was missing, so many gaps in his existence. Flashes coalesced into images, images into short sequences.

A hand on his arm roused him from his internal revelations. At the acolyte's indication he stood, physical sensations were almost as baffling as the mental flashes that he could not cease.

He understood that they were clothing him, he understood that he should follow them, but he did not understand how he understood.

He moved woodenly down the path, taking the first steps in his life, images and memories swirling like sand before his eyes.

So much is missing. I exist and yet, is there nothing more? The question brought another sequence of flashing chaotic images. He reeled at the onslaught, unable decipher their significance.

He paused at the vague familiarity of a face in the flashes of images, a face that he knew to be as much a part of him as the man he had seen before. It was...who? Who?

Suddenly he remembered, there was a moment before the end when he had paused. He had not wanted to go on, why? There was someone...who he did not want to leave behind.

Who?

Was it this man? His eyes rested on a man standing nearby.

This man is important, he is...? Flashes played before him once again.

He is-

This man is the...He is the captain of ...of what?

Of home, yes that was it of...

"The ship! Out of danger?" He had asked him that. On the last day. On the day he had...died? Had he died?

The man responded quickly, excitedly, "You saved the ship don't you remember?"

This..man..is..

"Jim, your name is Jim." He felt the certainty of is settle. Yes, this was Jim. Jim was familiar.

Blue eyes flashed knowingly at him, it was the face of the man who had moved away. The face of Leonard. Yes, this was Leonard. He knew the face, he felt as if he had worn it and yet found that he was suddenly disturbed by the sight of him. It was as if a far-reaching emptiness filled him again.

Why? What was it about this man that reminded him of emptiness? There was something else that was missing, something painfully absent.

It was so hard to concentrate, he felt impossibly empty. Incomplete. The memories were a jumbled incomprehensible knot.

Spock gazed out over the group of humans that circled him, searching, for what or who he did not know.

All he was certain of was that it wasn't there.

She awoke sobbing. She couldn't remember why she was on the floor, only that Spock was gone. The pain of his absence seemed greater somehow. She pulled herself up the console slowly. Then she remembered. She was getting messages, yes, that was it, the messages.

One of the message had torn open the wound in her soul.

Her mind's voice screamed 'How could it be Spock? How could he have sent the message?'

He couldn't, it was a cruel joke a horrible cruel prank. It had to be. There was no other logical explanation.

She checked the time stamp, two days ago. Not possible. He had been dead for three days when it was sent. Then she tried to determine who the sender was. There was nothing. Her heart caught in her throat. She couldn't think clearly. Something was very wrong, if only she just could stop the tears long enough to pinpoint it.

Maybe she should just delete the message. With a trembling hand she moved to delete the message then paused and could not. No, not yet. She told herself she needed it to pursue charges against the prankster.

She rose slowly, her body wracked with pain shaking with the effort. She reached for the cold cup of coffee, glanced at the chrono on the wall. 2 hours had passed.

She was confused by that. It shouldn't be this hard. Her mind was fogged by the sorrow somehow. It seemed like it was very wrong to be so physically sick.

'I am stronger than this' she told herself. She squared her shoulders, steeled herself. She keyed the next message.

A data transmission appeared, it was a subpoena. She was called to testify in the hearing of the Enterprise crew before a Starfleet subcommittee. They were fact gathering on Genesis for the trial. She needed to appear in 6 days.

Her anger flared, she swayed, how dare they invade her mourning! She most certainly would not testify. She moved to delete the document and noticed the JAG symbol at the bottom.

Damn, damn, damn! She screamed, slamming the coffee cup down loudly. Her emotions were out of control. She could feel it and she didn't care.

She pounded the data box 'priority' button. The monitor queued up the priority messages that she had received in the last week. 2 from her mother. No she couldn't do that, not right now. She couldn't be consoled.

A priority message had come in this morning. From Vulcan. It was Amanda. Somehow it seemed important that she read it. She didn't understand why, but something about the fact that it was from Vulcan...

"Christine! Please, I pray you will open this message. I've been trying for days to reach you. Christine. You MUST come to Vulcan. You must come now. Please, Christine, I can't tell you any more. Please trust me." Amanda's eyes were red rimmed and tears spilled out. There was so much more she wanted to say. Christine could see it. She could not fathom what could be so pressing. Could it be the funeral or whatever it was that they did on Vulcan? Is that what was so important?

She remembered the Klingon Bird of Prey that was on it's way to Vulcan. Why was there a Klingon ship enroute to Vulcan? What did it mean?

She felt so tired, suddenly. It was too much to process. She couldn't make sense of anything.

She wasn't sure she had the strength to pursue it. She turned with every intention of going to bed.

When Amanda answered the door she didn't recognize the haggard woman as Christine. She appeared thinner and the circles under her eyes were a dreadful purple. For a split second she felt angry that someone would invade their privacy at this time. Then she realized who it was, "Christine, oh my dear, come in. Please."

Her friends were all there, Pav, Hikaru, Leonard, Jim even Saavik. In a moment they surrounded her. Each one hugging or touching her offering her comfort. She was confused by the din, their conversations all overlapped and she didn't have the energy to sort it all out. There was a distressing air of happiness that surrounded them that she found unbelievable.

"What's going on?" She managed blurt out her voice hoarse from grief was harsh in the joyful din.

They all stopped.

"You don't know?" Jim looked astounded. He looked at her with sudden realization, "You haven't been told yet, have you?"

"Told? Told what? What are you talking about?" She felt the tears stinging in her eyes. She was exhausted.

Leonard stepped forward, his eyes wide with a quiet wonder "Spock's alive."

She did not move, did not believe him.

It must be the grief. She must be dreaming this, it couldn't be real. She began to turn away.

"Did you hear me? Chris he's alive!" He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. She stood there for a moment, surrounded, blinking dumbly.

Her voice was a bare whisper, "No Len, he's not. He's dead. I felt it. I - felt - him - die." Silent tears came once again. She swayed with the weight of the words, but did not swoon. She willed herself to be strong. If only for just this moment she could be stronger than this terrible grief. It would be a disservice to his memory to be so weak here in family's home.

"No, no. It's not possible." She shook her head adamantly. This was some sort of nightmare.

It was so different from the ones she had when she slept, but she must be dreaming. Her vision swam with all too familiar tears. A familiar scent wafted before her as Amanda moved forward, incense.

Vulcan resins were often burned in firepots in Vulcan homes. The spicy exotic scent clung to clothing. It had always clung to Spock's meditation robes. It was almost as if...

"No, you don't understand. He's dead." A sob escaped her and she began to swoon. Suddenly it was too hot, and the scent of the incense was too much. "He died, I felt him...die. I...felt...him...go...Oh, God." Then she fell.

A dozen hands caught her, but it was Sarek who lifted her and carried her like a child to the guest room.

Dr. McCoy quickly followed, ubiquitous medical tricorder in hand.

Sarek deposited her gently onto the bed, his face carefully controlled. He turned to face Christine's concerned friends, "Perhaps it would be best to allow the Doctor a moment." He rose, setting the example for the others, and left the room.

His expression was tight, but Amanda could sense his concern. He stole a glance to her, in a voice meant for her alone, "Did you know?"

She shook her head vigorously, "No Sarek. We only spoke briefly about the ceremony. If I had known they were already bonded I would have taken the healer to her myself."

"I will summon a healer now." His eyes were dark, and though he did not speak it they both knew it was a miracle that she was here.

It was a miracle that she was still alive.

James Kirk sat in the small sandy garden behind Sarek's house on a stone bench watching the moons rise, marveling at the sounds of Vulcan twilight. They sounded so strange and unfamiliar. He found himself wishing for a chirping cricket or a croaking frog. He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced with concern toward the house again. It was just too damn much. God hadn't they all been through enough?

Bones was finally feeling better, now Christine was being torn apart.

Didn't it ever end? He shrugged his shoulders painfully, trying to loosen the ache that had taken up a permanent residence there.

It had been a hell of a long day. One of too many long days.

The dry coolness of the desert night seeped into the garden, contrasting with the heat of the stone bench. He wanted a beer, a tall cold beer.

He sighed heavily, wondered just how offensive it would be to sit out here drinking like it was his front porch in Iowa.

This was Spock's home. His best friend's home.

No, he had to be honest, Spock was more than a friend. Why the hell would he be here if he was just his friend?

The darkness settled and the stars began to appear. He stared for a long time at them. He felt the longing again.

It was always the same, whenever he found himself surrounded by the stars it made him want to go home.

He wanted to be back on the bridge, but there was no bridge. The Enterprise was gone, David was gone, it was all gone. It was finished.

He squared his shoulders. It had been a good career, though. He wondered if Spock would ever know. Would he even remember?

After all they had been through together, his friend - no, he was more than that. Spock was his brother. In a man's life there are friends, and there are brothers. The Klingons understood that. Hell even the Vulcans had a word for it. Spock was his brother by choice. They were closer than he and Sam had ever been.

Was it worth it? Hell yes. Every damn bit. He'd do it again in a heartbeat.

A soft clinking sound of glass on glass behind him alerted him to McCoy's presence. He turned to see the doctor walking carefully across the dark garden with something in his hands.

The doctor had a hard time navigating in the darkness, having come from the relative brightness of the house.

"Jim, you out here?" He called softly, seeking a direction to head.

"Over here Bones." He rose and moved easily to his friend. He took one of the cold bottles from him. "What have you got here?" He asked appreciatively, knowing before he brought the bottle to his lips.

"A couple of Amanda's private stock. Pilsner I believe, Antarian Pilsner. She said 'You never know when a thirsty soul will cross the desert.'"

Jim took a long appreciative draught. "Ah, yes. That is definitely a Pilsner. God it's good. That woman is full of surprises. I'll have to thank her."

The pair moved back to the warm bench and sat in silence for a time, staring at the stars. For the moment it was enough to just have a friend and a cool beer.

After a time Jim spoke, not looking at his friend. "How's Christine?"

"She's resting. Sarek called a Vulcan healer. Should be here soon." The doctor sounded exhausted.

"I don't understand Bones, what happened?" He took another deep drink of the cold beer, shivered slightly at the cool breeze.

McCoy's eyes were shadowed, but the deep furrows showed his concern. "I dunno, Jim. Amanda thinks they may have been bonded before Spock died, though Christine says they weren't, said they were waiting 'til she came home. If it *is* true, I don't know how she survived this last week. A lot of Vulcans die immediately. It's just too hard on the psyche. And you know how much she loved him. Hell, he adored her too."

"God." He couldn't help but wonder what it had been like for her.

McCoy was quiet for a long time, "The worst of it is it may not be over for her."

"I don't understand, Spock's alive can't they-"

"Jim, you heard what the Sarek said on Mt. Seleya. Spock's not all there. He may never recover all his memories. The fact of the matter is that he's a different person now. Even if he fully recovers, he may not want to return to his old life." He did not say 'He may not want Christine.'

"Bones, I can't believe that. After all they went through, after all the years of waiting, I just can't believe he would just forget her like that."

"It's not about forgetting, Jim. The memories may not *be* there. Like a severed limb, it may not be there to reconnect. We can work on retraining him, but the feelings that the memories evoke might be gone."

"You know what they say, Bones, Time heals all wounds."

"Jim, your friend would be the first to remind you of the illogic of waiting for him to magically become the old Spock again. She may have to let go. We may all have to let go."

"I don't believe that, after all Christine's been through, after all *we've* been through. Damnit Bones, can you accept that after what you've been through?"

The doctor sighed unsteadily, "Jim, after all we've been through, I'm just happy we're all still alive." He lifted his head, the dim light from the house reflected in his eyes.

They nodded wordlessly, Jim raised his bottle and they toasted one another, the sound of the bottles clinking together pierced the silent darkness.

Jim paused at the look in his friend's eyes. He raised a hand and placed it on his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go inside."

They each up ended their beers.

It was enough. It would have to be, it was all they had.

Sarek activated the communications unit in his sleeping quarters and keyed the comm code for T'Lar. After a moment the woman's image filled the screen.

"Sarek."

Sarek spoke gravely in Vulcan, "T'Lar, I beg forgiveness. I require the assistance of a healer. It would appear that my son was bonded."

T'Lar's eyes widened slightly, she nodded once. "Is his mate in need of a physician as well?"

"She is being cared for by Dr. McCoy. I do not believe she requires further medical attention."

T'Lar did not respond. It was not her concern who the Ambassador chose to utilize for the care of his family.

Sarek spoke once again. "My son has chosen a human female, T'lar. The breaking of their bond would appear to have been quite difficult for her." Though his voice was even, but even a Vulcan could hear the displeasure in his son's choice.

"I will bring Spock."

"For what purpose?"

"Do you not believe that it is logical to renew the bond?"

"Perhaps it would be best to wait to see how my son recovers and let him make those decisions. He is a different man, he may make different decisions this time."

"I will arrive at your home in 27 minutes."

The comm unit went black. Sarek turned from the monitor, Amanda stood silently in the room. It was apparent from her expression that she had been there long enough.

Sarek looked blandly at her and moved to walk around her and leave the room. Her icy voice stopped him. "Husband." As a teacher and long time citizen of Vulcan her command of the language was considerable, her choice of that particular pronoun was *not* the term of endearment.

He froze, he prepared himself to shield against her anger, but felt none of it through their bond. As a matter of fact, he felt nothing at all through their bond.

A small woman in stature, she nonetheless could hold her own in matters regarding their son. She stood stiffly for a moment, her expression demanding his explanation. When nothing came she narrowed her eyes and stepped toward him. "You disapprove of our daughter." Another conscious choice of vocabulary.

"Wife, I neither approve nor disapprove of Christine Chapel."

"Is it their bonding off Vulcan that you disapprove of, then?"

"I do not believe that is my concern. He is no longer bonded, it is what it is. There is nothing that can be done."

"Isn't there?"

"Wife, it is not something which you will understand."

"I understand that my son is only barely alive, I understand that he does not remember most of his life from the last 20 years, except for the time he spent on Mt. Seleya trying to destroy his human half. You know how I felt about that! How do you think it makes me feel that he can only remember the c'thia - the control, and not the emotions? Now Christine is suffering and you - you - " she searched for the words to explain what she had felt from him when he had spoken to T'Lar.

His jaw tightened "Our son was nearly lost forever, wife. He chose these humans as his life as his very family. We have an opportunity to-"

Her eyes widened in disbelief, "No! I can't believe you would even imply it. Sarek your son had found happiness, and you will not stand between him and his happiness again. I will not allow it!" she moved to leave the room, but he caught her arm.

Her eyes flew wide, he hadn't ever stopped her. Of course they hadn't disagreed about Spock in over 20 years.

"Amanda, please." His voice was uncharacteristically emotional.

She searched his eyes and found pain. She stopped, turned to him, confused at his outburst.

"Sarek?" she raised a hand tenderly to her husband's cheek. "Sarek, this is not like you."

The older man turned his head away from her touch, she felt his control return immediately. His jaw tightened then relaxed, even his shoulders seemed to release a measure of tension.

He raised his eyes to meet hers once again. "I am overtired, my wife. You will attend to our guests?"

He did not wait for her confirmation but turned from her and left. It was inconceivable that he had just experienced such an outburst. Even as he had regained control, he was puzzled by it. Certainly they had had their disagreements regarding Spock, but he had never been moved to such anger. He found himself troubled by it, even as it dissipated.

Amanda knew he was going to meditate. She stared blankly at the door as it closed behind him trying to understand what had just happened. Somehow she felt that this was only the beginning of something bad.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe, the door had remained opened in anticipation of the healer's arrival. Christine turned from the bureau away from the mirror.

Amanda stepped in quietly. "Hello, Christine." Her eyes soft and sympathetic. "How are you doing?"

Christine turned back to the mirror and for a moment met her own eyes forlornly, "Well, I've looked better." she tried to sound wry, but the facts of her appearance made her even more sad.

"I'm sorry, but I've got a communique from Earth for you. It came in on Sarek's ambassadorial line, it's a priority message from Starfleet Medical. I don't know how, but they know you're here. Dr. Birdseye is pretty adamant about talking to you."

Christine stared at her for a long time, digesting the turn of events. She couldn't ask Amanda to just close the line and obviously it was too late to say she wasn't there.

"Is there somewhere I can talk to him?" She squared her shoulders and rose weakly from the chair.

Amanda came into the room, "You can talk to him here, I'll just need to..." She turned on the monitor on the bureau, tapped a few keys and the screen filled with the seal of Starfleet Medical. "It's a secure line, you don't have to worry about that. I'll leave you alone." She turned quickly and closed the door behind her as she left.

Christine took her seat again at the computer then ran her fingers across the keys. The screen came to life.

Dr. George Birdseye sat in his usual high-backed chair. He was drinking coffee, waiting patiently for her. Judging from the background, it was morning in San Francisco. She didn't bother trying to remember what time it was.

"Christine, do you realize what today is?" He sounded like her father.

"I don't know sir. Friday?" She didn't even try to sound like she cared.

"Chris, damnit! It's Monday morning, you're officially off leave and you report to me. I know you're orders were supposed to transfer you to Enterprise but just because the ship's destroyed doesn't mean you're not on duty."

"I'd like to request an extension of my leave sir, I've got some personal things I need to attend to."

"No." He raised a hand to silence her immediate reaction. "Look, I feel for you. I know this can't be easy, but you've got to get back here now. You can't have any contact with anyone from Enterprise now. You know what a mess it is here on Earth. And since you were attached to Starfleet Medical and working on the Genesis project, we've got to get you out of there immediately. We can't afford to imply any knowledge or even association to this situation until Starfleet makes a ruling."

"George, I'll resign my commission if I have to. I'm not leaving."

"Don't be stupid, Chris. You don't want to do that to yourself. Damnit don't do it to me. I put my butt on the line contacting you just so I could talk some sense into you. You have no idea how big this is." He leaned forward and in a hushed voice "Hell, even the Klingons are pissed off about this. I want you on the next shuttle back to Earth, that's an order!" His face flushed with anger and he leaned back.

"George, I can't just leave. I can't. I have to see Spock, I won't leave without him. I lost him once I won't do it again. You can send the whole damn fleet but I won't go."

"Chris, you're staying just implicates the Federation, it implicates Starfleet Medical and me, if I have to I'll come and carry you back myself!" His voice cracked at the uncharacteristic anger.

She tightened her jaw, leaned back in her chair and lifted her chin defiantly, "It's summer here on Vulcan, don't forget your sunscreen, *Sir*." Then she cut the channel.

"That would be most unwise." A strange, thickly accented voice spoke from behind her.

Christine spun in the chair, her eyes flashing with pain and anger. For a split second she considered yelling, but the look in the eyes of the woman in the doorway stopped her.

"I am called T'Lar. Sarek summoned me." She moved into the room smoothly, her steps measured and slow. She stopped a few meters from the human, her gaze piercing through the woman's false bravado.

Christine felt as if T'Lar could see to the depths of her soul, and what she could see there did not make her flinch.

"Why do you think it would be unwise?" She did not question the Matriarch's presence. This was a Vulcan home, one did not question T'Lar of Vulcan regarding the appropriateness of her presence there.

The older woman did not speak at first, she merely looked impassively at Christine. After a moment she moved to sit in a nearby chair, she moved with the grace of royalty.

"Thou art Christine." It was not a question, but Christine nodded her head nonetheless. The trembling that had plagued her since that awful day 14 days earlier seemed nothing to the vibrations of her body now.

T'Lar's eyes narrowed as she took stock of the situation.

"Sarek has said that thy suffering is great at the death of his son. I ask permission to touch thy thoughts." He voice softened, but again she had the sound of a woman who was accustomed to receiving the compliance of those around her.

Christine flushed at this, not certain whether she wanted this woman, this stranger into her mind. She hurt so much, but she did not want to allow anyone in. She didn't want this powerful Vulcan woman to see the very Human pain and weakness within her, the devastation she had felt at her loss. How could this stoic Vulcan priestess possibly comprehend the grief that consumed Christine, even now, even as she had discovered that Spock was somehow alive.

The older woman's voice once again filled the room, "Hast thou bonded with the son of Sarek, Christine Chapel?"

"No!" Christine answered quickly. "No, we didn't. We agreed that we would wait until - until..." her vision swam for a moment. 'Be strong, Chris. You can do this.' "We would wait until we came to Vulcan for the ceremony." She glared at T'Lar.

"Thy loss is great, Christine Chapel. I grieve with thee." T'Lar's voice was a bare whisper, the waves of anguish that emanated from the human were so strong the Vulcan could feel them. "I ask thee again for permission." This time she raised a hand to Christine, but did not touch her.

Christine felt the control she had barely regained slipping away. It hurt so much.

If this woman could help her...

She barely nodded her head, felt the warm fingers of the woman barely touch her skin and almost instantly felt the woman's mind touching her.

There were no words at first. Just the sudden awareness that there was someone *there*. She struggled to control her emotions, as Spock had taught her, tried valiantly to shield the woman from -

'So much pain.' Her mind's voice was soft, gentle, untouched by time or language.

'Yes.' Tears, here in her mind, fell rain.

'He spoke to you of his love.' No condemnation, only calm statement of fact.

'Yes.'

'You told him you did not wish to bond before it was time. You wished only to bring honor to his family.' There was understanding in her thoughts, she let the human's emotions flow through her like the wind through the trees. 'Your love was great, your betrothal bond was strong. Such things are rare on Vulcan, but not unheard of. Your mind is strong, Christine Chapel, it is why you have survived until now.'

Christine began to understand.

'To have such a strong bond severed this way has caused death among my people.'

It was not a weakness in her, it was more than grief that wracked her so.

Tears, understanding and fear welled up as one terrible beast in Christine threatening to over take them both. Her body shook terribly. T'Lar released the grief as easily as pulling a thread in a garment.

'But you shall not die, Christine Chapel.' Her mind's voice was strong, certain. Then she opened her own mind to Christine and shared strength with the human. Christine felt the compassion and empathy from the healer. It was so hard to let her see the pain that she had carried so close to her heart.

She felt them re live the moment when she was first alone. Felt anew the gaping hole in her heart.

*No. Spock, Don't go!*

There was water everywhere.

Christine was drowning in the tide of grief.

Then she felt the healer's touch change, felt the grief diminish. Christine panicked at the sensation. Her whole being fought against T'Lar. She could not yield her well-earned grief so easily as this.

'No! I won't let go! No! I won't betray him, I love him, I won't forget him!'

'Your grief will remain, child. Only the psychic trauma will be healed. I am a healer, I can help close the wound, but not remove the scar.'

Christine stopped fighting at this. As a healer, she understood.

She felt the Vulcan's delicate touch weave lightly through her mind until slowly the painful burden seemed to lighten. Clarity and sanity that had seemed so elusive now came more easily to her. The loss of the pain was an impossible relief. She sagged against the older woman, felt her strong arms support her. She looked up after a moment; her eyes met the healer's eyes.

Now she understood the woman's words. It was logical. It would be unwise to leave Starfleet this way. It would be a waste to throw away her career to stay here. It would serve no purpose. She could see that it would not be what Spock would have wanted. She needed to return to Earth and testify. She was a healer and it was time to heal. The goods of the many did indeed outweigh the needs of the one.

For the moment it would have to suffice.

There would be time, time to start again.

She felt hope.

The older woman did not speak. She simply rose, slower now than when she entered. She left as serenely as she had entered, leaving Christine to her own thoughts.

Spock had been her true heart's desire, but that Spock had died. If the fates were willing, perhaps he would be her's once again.

Spock came into the simple bare room and stood wordlessly before the two women. He had been instructed to come to meet them. His retraining was going as the healers had expected.

He recognized the Vulcan ambassador's wife - his mother. The woman she stood with was familiar, but he could not quite remember her name.

"Hello Spock." His mother spoke, lowering the light hood of her gown so he could better see her. "I've brought a visitor. Do you recognize her?"

It was something the Vulcan healers had insisted upon, he must recall what he could on his own. They insisted it was essential, that it would speed the healing process.

He looked at her for a long moment. She had a look of what he knew now to be the human emotions of anticipation and anxiety. He had seen it several times in the other humans he had met.

There was something about her that was familiar. Her eyes? Her hair? Her hair seemed to be the wrong color for a moment. He had a memory of a much younger woman with eyes like hers, a blonde woman.

Then quite suddenly he knew.

"You are Dr. Chapel. We served on the Enterprise together." His voice was less than toneless. It was Vulcan.

Disappointment flickered across Dr. Chapel's face. He raised an eyebrow in question but said nothing.

"Yes, that's right, Mr. Spock." She sounded sad.

He had a sudden uncomfortable sensation in his chest. He was not certain what caused it, but it caused him to want to say something more to her. He did not know what it was, but he felt that he was somehow the cause of her unhappiness and that was somehow...dissatisfying.

"Is there anything else you remember, Spock?" his mother prodded gently.

"Not at this time." he intoned.

"Are you sure, my son?" She stepped toward him.

Christine reached out to Amanda and touched her arm. "It's all right, Amanda. I have been patient before. I can wait again." She was sad, but sincere.

He was perplexed by her words. "I do not understand, what is it that you wait for?"

She smiled and her gaze softened in a manner that caused him some alarm. She responded in Vulcan "I await thee."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise both at her command of the language and his own sudden physical response to her gaze.

"Why would you do this?" Human emotion was the most difficult concept he had encountered since the refusion.

Something he couldn't define flickered through Christine's eyes, something almost familiar.

She tilted her head, "Have you ever been engaged Mr. Spock?" She smiled broadly at this.

He was speechless. He had heard the words before. She had spoken them to him before. This was a...double entendre...was that the terran term? What did it mean? He could not remember the first time she spoke the words to him. His eyebrows furrowed with the effort to remember, to understand her meaning.

Before he could respond she turned on her heel and left. His mother shot him an concerned glance and followed Christine out, leaving Spock alone to contemplate the conversation. She may not be able to tell him outright, but she could drop a hint or two.

On the dusty path leading to Spock's childhood home Amanda and Christine spoke about the conversation. Amanda warned her again that Spock might never remember everything. Christine should try to accept that.

Christine only smiled enigmatically. She had seen the recognition, bare though it was, spark in his eyes.

There were always possibilities.

Two centuries in the past Spock stood at the edge of the whale tank removing his meditation robe. He folded it neatly and set it aside.

It was the most logical course of action. In order to ensure their cooperation and participation, someone must communicate with them.

As a Vulcan and a telepath, he was the logical candidate.

He dove deep.

The water was bone chilling.

'My thoughts to your thoughts...'

//Surprise// 'It communicates.' The male thought.

//Calm// 'I mean you no harm'

//Curiosity// 'Presence here?'

//Calm// 'I wish to ask you a question. It may difficult to understand. May I explain it to you?'

//Confusion// 'Communicate, yes.'

Spock shifted his mind, allowed the images flow from him into the giant mammal. The probe, the devastation of the future Earth, the great need of the planet for help, all of it streamed from his mind into the bull.

//Calm// 'Do you understand?' He began to feel the oxygen deprivation. The cold burning in his lungs, despite his efforts to control it.

//Sadness// 'Understand. Yes. Accept. Communicate?'

//Curiosity// 'You wish to tell me something?'

//Sadness// 'Affirmative. Communicate caring. Absence. Sadness.'

Images flashed into Spock's mind. Images that were almost impossible to fully absorb. He felt sadness and frustration. George did not want to leave someone behind. Then there was caring, deep belonging to his mate, to his friend. Then there was the image of the human with the yellow head, Gillian. Caring for her as well.

//Understanding// 'Your mate will come with you. But it is necessary that the yellow haired woman stay here. Do you understand?'

//Sadness-Understanding// 'Acceptance. Appreciation for communication. Comprehension of impending oxygen deprivation illness. Time To Breathe!'

Spock could feel the cold burning in his lungs now. The icy water had numbed him to it at first, but George had sensed it. Yes, he must breathe. The whale gave a helpful push with his fin and Spock surfaced, gasping madly for air.

His body was bitterly cold, muscles oxygen deprived and his mental shields were lowered, as they often were after a meld. He was not prepared for the explosively emotional arrival of Dr. Gillian and Admiral Kirk.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her eyes flashed like lightening at him, triggering a memory from his past. He was stunned both by her vehemence, and the weight of the memory.

He was speechless for a moment. Confused by the sudden duality of the moment.

"Yes, answer the lady!" Admiral Kirk added. Spock blinked at the emotional onslaught. He was instantly perplexed by the Captain's words. He appeared to have forgotten who Spock was, or perhaps he had forgotten why they were here.

Spock turned away from the livid doctor to the more familiar face of his commanding officer. He shoved aside the memory that the angry doctor had conjured in him.

"Admiral if we are to assume that the whales are ours to do with as we please then we will be as guilty as those who caused their extinction." He fumbled with the tie of his meditation robe. He gathered himself with Vulcan dignity and in short order found himself being thrown out of an establishment for the first time in his life.

Several hours later, Spock took his seat at the science station on the Klingon Bird of Prey.

Jim's words rang in his mind and caused a physical reaction in him that he was unaccustomed to. One that he was beginning to recognize as emotion. For several months his mother had tried to warn him of the possibility that they would surface.

Jim had been angry with him *You're half human, don't you have any goddamned feelings about that?*

When had he begun to think of him as Jim and not Admiral Kirk?

He was angry that Spock did not have feelings, and that made Spock feel...what? What did he feel?

'How do you feel?' The retraining program had intoned it again and again. 'How do you feel?'

He felt...confused.

He was confused. He felt a discomfort that could only be an emotion. It was ...disappointment or perhaps...sadness. He was not certain. He could only be sure of one thing, he did not wish to disappoint Jim.

Jim's temper had been directed at Spock twice today. He was painfully aware of his emotions at the Cetacean institute when Spock had exited the whale tank. Even under the best of conditions a mind meld was highly personal. Mental barriers were lowered and emotions, especially strong ones, were easily felt or heard.

But Jim's emotions were not as strong as Dr. Taylor's. Her outrage flashed through her eyes like lightning. She felt such overwhelming concern for the whales that he had believed that she could have physically thrown him from the building if she had wished it. When she touched his arm he had been assaulted with images of her devotion, care and anger. She was a passionate woman. He felt great respect for her.

He had known such a woman once before. He could almost remembered her, she was part of a memory that had been hovering in his unconscious for several days. She had been so angry with him. Her eyes flashed with deep emotion too. She had had thrown a coffee cup...

That was it! Dr. Christine Chapel had been angry with him. She had consulted his mother about an illness. They quarreled. Why? He couldn't remember.

There was something else...what was it?

It had bothered him to see her that way. Why?

What was it she had asked? *Have you ever been engaged Mr. Spock?*

She had chosen those words carefully, but what did she mean?

Had he been engaged? No, not precisely. He had been betrothed as a child to T'Pring, but she had taken Stonn as a mate. This was a matter of record. He had researched his marital history after Dr. Chapel had visited him. There had been no other records for him of any other betrothal or bonding. It did not make sense.

She was a human doctor that he had been acquainted with, yet she said she was waiting for him. Why would she do this if they were not bonded?

The deposition had taken more out of Christine that she cared to admit. By the time they had finished grilling her for information the entire morning had passed. Her meeting with Starfleet Chief of Medical Operations was rescheduled for the next morning. She decided to check with Janice to see if she wanted to join her for lunch.

Fortunately her involvement in Genesis had not caused any change in her clearance. Still, not wanting to attract any undue attention she waited at the security checkpoint for Janice Rand while they called her from Starfleet Operations.

"Chris? What great timing. I was just going to take lunch."

"Great, I was hoping I'd catch you before you left."

Janice signed Christine in and they passed the security contingent.

"I just need to grab my jacket." Janice said. She couldn't leave the building out of uniform. The dress code was pretty relaxed in the command center, but when you wandered the campus with all the eyes of the galaxy on you, you had to look your best.

Christine watched the buzz of activity and wondered when she would return to duty. She wasn't sure she felt ready yet, but she knew that it would be the best thing for her. Time to move on. Ready or not, life does go on.

She stepped off to the side trying to look inconspicuous. Someone bumped into her in their haste to get to their post.

"Dr. Chapel?" she turned to face the CMO for Starfleet Medical.

"Sir? I'm sorry sir, I was just about to leave." Her leave was over, but she had not returned to active duty. George's orders, she was on medical leave until further notice.

"Quite alright, Doctor. I understand." He followed her gaze out over the command center. "Have you missed it yet?"

She smiled guiltily, "Well, you know how it is when you get back from a TDY. I really enjoyed the research, but I do miss Starfleet."

His eyes crinkled in a fatherly smile, "We've missed you Chris. I know we're supposed to meet tomorrow to iron out the details, but if you want to skip the formalities I can spend the time giving you the grand tour."

"I don't understand, Sir."

"C'mon Chris it's me, George, and I think you do. I'm offering you a post here in HQ. God knows I'll have my hands busy with this damnable Genesis mess. I could use a cool head here. Besides, you're still attached to Starfleet Medical through my office. It'll keep you out of trouble 'til we iron out this mess." He winked conspiratorially at her.

She smiled at his familiarity, "I dunno, are you sure you want to associate with a former Genesis project member?"

"How else am I going to keep an eye on you?" He offered her his hand, "So, have we got a deal?"

She took his hand, tentatively "Just until Spock returns."

They shook on it.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment and leaned in close, conspiratorially "*You* didn't sabotage it did you?"

Her eyebrow shot up, she sputtered "No Sir!"

He chuckled easily and patted her back with good humor, "Of course you didn't, so don't worry. I think you're a damn good doctor and I'm glad to have you join our team here."

"Thank you sir."

"Great, Rand!" He shouted across the room to her lunch companion.

"Yes sir!" she came immediately.

"Janice, as soon as you and Dr. Chapel get back from lunch, draw up some orders to have her assigned to operations."

"Yes Sir!" Janice smiled broadly. As the two women exited she elbowed her friend, teasing "You're a smooth talker, there, Chris!"

There was water everywhere, it poured in like liquid ice, sluicing down the control panels, seeping up from the floor grate. Pieces of broken panels and miscellaneous hand held instruments floated like so much flotsam in the ankle deep water.

The ship was sinking.

"Spock, see to the safety of all hands!" Jim shouted. He turned and headed fearlessly into the icy cold water.

Spock felt the briefest flash of panic, a sensation he was unaccustomed to, one of many emotions that this journey had elicited from him. It was almost immediately squelched by his iron control and he moved to help the crew abandon ship.

As commanding officer, he was the last one out the hatch into the probe-induced hurricane. It was almost impossible to draw in a breath of air because of the wild wind and thrashing rain.

Suddenly the Bird of Prey shuddered under his grip and noticeably sped up it's decent into the bay. Jim must have managed to release the whales. 10 seconds passed, then 20, then 30. With great physical effort, and icy cold conditions the human body could survive under water for...his brain began to calculate Jim's fate automatically. Then suddenly his friend's head popped up from the roiling water. As quick as a thought, Spock's hand found Jim's arm and pulled him up onto the ship.

Jim looked up at his friend and for a heartbeat they shared a moment of gratitude, thankfulness and pure uncensored friendship. A memory flashed before Spock's eyes..."This simple feeling.."

The Bird of Prey shuddered once again, breaking the moment. Jim grabbed the ship and shouted to the storm in frustration "Why don't they sing???"

Beneath the depths of the bay, the whales had already begun their song. Speaking in long musical tones that carried more meaning than the human mind could comprehend. The tragic history of whales was quickly recounted ending with the whales personal journey through time to this place. Then the Bull told the Probe to stop it's communication with the whales, relaying the effects it's penetrating communication was having on the other "animals" of the planet and gave it the command to return to it's home with the information it had gleaned from them.

Spock felt the change before he saw it, a tone that was beyond his own hearing but not beyond his physical sensing suddenly stopped. The rain slowed to a soft drizzle and the surf began to calm. When the clouds parted it seemed to be an image from the creation myths his mother taught him as a child.

Jim's face beamed at him in joy, the entire crew yelled as one and Spock felt the almost overwhelming sensation to shout his own...joy. Yes, there it was he felt joy. It was unsettling to be experiencing the emotion, but he didn't fight it. He thought for a moment of his mother and what she had told him, "As my son you will have them."

The crew...his friends...began to jump for joy into the water and the sky continued to clear. Jim pulled one then another of them into the water, laughing like a child as they splashed about. Spock paused for an instant then yielded himself to the spontaneity of the moment. Grasping his friend by both arms he dove under the water pulling the startled captain down with him. He came up with a loud joyful noise somewhere between laughter and language, he had truly surprised his friend and it was a good feeling.

This was where he belonged, with these people, although perhaps not in so cold an environment he thought wryly. The temperature must be effecting my thought processes he mused, and allowed himself a small almost smile.

He felt sadness tug at his heart once again and he could not remember why, only that there was something missing.

They treaded water and swam about for several minutes before the rescue shuttle arrived.

As Spock raised his hand to the rescue team he caught a glimpse of blue sky peaking out from the dissipating. It was as blue as....

It was not something that was missing it was *someone* and he had been away from her blue eyes for too long.

His head swam for a moment with the memory of her. There was so much missing from his memory, but in that moment he felt the emptiness in his soul. He knew, quite suddenly, where his answers were.

It was a day like any of the many others she had spent since taking George's offer. Over 200 messages to respond to or forward to someone else before noon. Everyone's message was marked as high priority, everything from personnel shortages to complaints about difficult to acquire medicines. As acting chief of operations, she had her hands full. In one simple handshake she had become a bureaucrat.

She'd overslept but working in Ops had its perks. She was able to utilize the transporter to get to work, so technically she'd been right on time. She'd grabbed a cup of coffee for breakfast from the gang at the security desk.

She smiled to herself over her cup as she realized how comfortable this routine was getting. She missed actually practicing medicine, but for the moment, this was enough. That was how she was living her life right now, one moment at a time.

As always, she worked too hard, 8 hour work days and 2 - 3 hours more with George going over the Genesis trial transcripts. Somehow almost 6 months had melted away.

She didn't have any social life, other than an occasional lunch away from her desk with old friends. Today, she and Janice were meeting Commander Kyle at a new Persian bar in Santa Monica.

In her off time she worked on a post mortem defense for David Marcus. It had become something of an obsession for her. He may not made the right choice about using the proto-matter, but in the end she thought history should remember him as the brilliant scientist that he was. If she could forgive him, anyone could.

"Sir, we have an incoming distress call from the Farragut." Christine's attention shifted from the mundane to the front monitor.

All eyes fixed on the First Officer, recounting through the haze of smoke and subspace interference, how a probe of unknown origin had sapped all their energy and left them adrift in space.

The message faded and all hell broke loose.

At some point during the impossibly chaotic day, Christine heard Ambassador Sarek's voice over her shoulder. He was speaking with the president, in quiet fatherly tones. She had hoped to meet with him before the hearing tomorrow. Somehow that seemed like a far away dream.

Glass and water flew in, spraying half a dozen people and drenching an entire comm panel. With instincts faster than thought she found herself triaging the fallen officers.

Sarek's voice pierced through the din, he pointed at the falling Bird of Prey, "Look!"

Barely visible through the torrential downpour, it swooped low, heading straight for the bay. 'Angels and ministers of mercy guide them!' she thought, not sparing a moment to remember the last time that she had heard Leonard say it.

She turned purposefully back to the injured. By the time the med teams arrived, two were stabilized for transport and the others were back at their duty stations. Gods, had she been thinking that she missed being a doctor only this morning?

It was an endless shift. The clean up had been worse than the actual crisis. Ops was abuzz with gossip and hearsay about the triumphant rescue of Earth once again by the legendary James Kirk.

She spared her attention only for a moment when the retrieval team broadcast live footage of the rescue of the Enterprise crew from San Francisco Bay.

It was torture to see him again, so near and yet so far. The clinician in her noted the white color of his skin, wondered how long he had been in the icy waters. As half Vulcan, he was particularly prone to hypothermia. She considered chastising the retrieval team about removing him last from the water, but thought better of it. In the aftermath of a global disaster, it was a miracle that a team could be found as quickly as it had to pull them out.

Her frenetic comm panel saved her from thinking too much more about it.

By the time Christine left, she could barely keep her eyes open. She beamed directly home, not wanting to fall asleep on the shuttle. The apartment was thick with the fragrance of flowers, lilacs she had purchased last weekend. Spock had gotten her lilacs once.

She wasn't sure she could think about him right now. She was too tired, she would surely break down, and she had gone so long without tears. Tomorrow, at the hearing, she would see him. She just didn't want to think about it right now.

The data box flashed with new messages. She knew without opening them that at least one was from her parents and another from Amanda. She ignored them, she would read them tomorrow.

She peeled off her uniform, found a comfortable nightdress and tugged it over her head wearily.

The door chime sounded. She looked at the chrono on the wall, 2300. She pulled on a robe and moved to the door, not opening it. She keyed the intercom.

"Dr. Chapel? Have I come at an inconvenient time?" It was Spock.

'Breathe, Christine! Breathe!' she told herself. She steeled herself and keyed the door. It swished open quietly.

"Captain Spock, please come in." she gestured him in with her hand, noting that it was trembling. She quickly slipped it into her robe pocket.

Spock moved in even measured steps into the room, his face a mask of Vulcan control, his mind reeling from the memories that this place evoked in him. Christine could not tell that he moved almost blindly, until he came to a well executed halt in front of the large glass doors that lead to the balcony. He stood stock still for some time, trying to regain control of the images that swirled in his mind.

Christine's heart pounded in her chest. She resisted the temptation to fidget, but as the seconds ticked painfully away it became more and more difficult.

She couldn't just rush to him and profess her love. But why was he here? He didn't seem to be in a rush to tell her, that much was for sure. Oh how she had missed him these last months. Standing there, framed in the window, it was almost like he was home. She wanted come up behind him, inhale his spicy coppery hair, hold him, kiss him. 'Stop it Chris, you're torturing yourself. Breathe, relax. Remember what he taught you. Relax.' Gods it was so hard.

"On a clear night you can see Alcatraz from here." she tried to sound casual, fought to keep her conversation neutral. Do you remember? She wanted to say it, but didn't dare.

Damn those Vulcan healers! Who would know if she were to just *tell* him? No, she wouldn't do that, Sarek had explained it all very clearly. They must allow him to remember on his own. He must make his own associations to the past. Anything else would be too risky to Spock, it could cause false associations, even cause him to reject the memories when they did surface.

But it was so hard.

Spock only nodded, his attention focused on the rain drops that pelted the glass, refracting the lights of the city like small jewels. This thought gave him pause.

He was musing, making metaphorical even emotional observations. It was somewhat unnerving, but not at all unpleasant.

Christine began to feel uncomfortable, he was in the same room with her, but she couldn't 'feel' him. She fleetingly thought of their early days on the Enterprise. How aloof he had seemed, how distant. She felt a twinge of uncertainty. She had to say something.

Her voice brought him out of his reverie, "Was there something you needed, Mr. Spock?"

His reverie broken, he tensed slightly, drawing himself up and clasping his hands behind him. 'What a curious choice of words' he thought.

He turned to face her, truly seeing her for the first time and was momentarily speechless. His mind raced back to their meeting on Vulcan, to what she had said and suddenly he remembered something.

An odd almost familiar twinkle lit his eyes, Christine's heart jumped into her throat, but his gaze changed just as quickly back to aloof as he began to speak.

"Yes. Well..." He paused, uncertain how to begin. "Christine, I-"

Her eyes visibly widened at this.

Perhaps he had overstepped his bounds. "May I call you 'Christine'?"

She tried to remain calm, cleared her throat nonchalantly "Yes, of course. By all means." Her heart pounded madly in her chest. She stepped forward a bit, measuring her breaths, consciously relaxing her shoulders, willing her emotions into check.

"Christine if I may be so bold as to ask you a question of a personal nature."

She cleared her throat and swallowed. "Please feel free, I will answer anything that I am able."

"Have *you* ever been engaged, Christine?" He continued to regard her evenly, felt his pulse rate increase in anticipation of her response.

"Have I ever been engaged? What an unusual question to ask, so late in the evening. Yes, I *have* been engaged." Her eyes begged him to continue, to ask the next question.

Did he know? Had he made the connection? He must have, that must be why he was here. She clasped her hands together, trying to appear casual, inclined her head questioningly toward him.

His mouth tightened and he looked away for a moment as he visibly digested this information. Then he raised his eyes to meet hers, suddenly his gaze became intense. He had always had the power to unsettle her with that gaze. It was unbelievable how his eyes seemed to pierce into her. Her hands suddenly felt damp.

He spoke again, his voice a bare whisper, "Have *we* ever been engaged, Christine?" He spoke her name unthinkingly and the sound was like a caress.

She did not answer immediately, did not trust her own voice. Here he was at last, home, and she couldn't answer.

She answered as softly as he had asked, "Not precisely engaged, betrothed. Yes, Spock we were once betrothed."

He took one step toward her, "You asked me once, a very long time ago, on the Enterprise, if I had ever been engaged."

"Yes, Spock. That's right." She moved to within arms length of him, but still did not reach out for him.

"But I did not answer you." His eyes never left hers.

"No, Spock. You didn't."

"I did not respond to you," he spoke quickly, "because I did not wish for you to know of my betrothal to someone else. Someone who I did not wish to be bonded with."

"Spock, I-"

"Christine, it was always *you*." He moved closer, still not touching her. His eyes focused on hers, lost in the crystal blue. A single tear slipped down her cheek.

He lifted his hand, brushed her tear away. Christine made a soft sound like a cry or a sigh, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch.

"*Always* you...." he barely moved his lips, felt himself drawn to her so powerfully that he could not have stopped himself even if he had tried.

They moved slowly toward one another until he could feel her breath on his lips, brushed her lips with his gently, lightly. "Parted from me and never parted. Thy'la." he whispered against her mouth, a promise from a lifetime ago.

He felt her mouth tremble against his as he kissed her.

His first kiss in this life. The cool sweetness of her lips touched the longing deep within him, suddenly he was hungry, starving for more. Fingers lost in her hair he pulled her tightly to him, flashes of memory and physical sensations bombarded him. He heard her sob joyfully, felt her arms wrap desperately round him, clinging even as her legs weakened. They sank to their knees as one, a mass of arms and fervent kisses. He wanted this so much, the control that he had mastered melted away and he was lost in her.

"I thought you were gone." She whispered, "It was so hard to - let go. I felt you - leave me. I never thought anything would hurt so much - Spock - I can't believe you're really here."

Christine gasped softly in his ear at the long lost but familiar sensation of his thoughts against hers. It was a distant whisper, but unmistakably Spock. The ache for him returned and suddenly she need to feel more. She closed her eyes, focused her mind tightly and reached out to him. 'Spock, my love.'

Shocked for a moment he stopped and drew away. He looked confused, gasping for air, grappling for control. Christine felt him withdraw quickly, and though he was not so stiff as when he arrived, he was shielding.

She sat back on her heels taking his hands in hers, concern in her eyes. "What is it, Spock?"

He looked helplessly at their hands then slowly raised his eyes and met her gaze. "I am not certain." He searched her eyes for a moment more, the sound of rain filled the silence once again.

She looked down, "I'm sorry. I - I have missed you so much. I - I shouldn't have -"

Spock tilted his head slightly, lifted her chin with one hand "There is no need for apology, where there is no offense taken. Indeed, I am taken aback by your skill."

She smiled cockily, "I had a terrific teacher."

He raised an eyebrow, "I taught you this?"

Her smile faded slightly, tinged with sadness, "Yes, Spock. You taught me many things while we were betrothed."

"Indeed. I regret that I do not recall them."

"I remember everything. I could help you remember". She said softly.

He considered this for a moment. The warnings had been very clear, he must not attempt to meld with anyone. Yet when it had been necessary on Earth he had had no difficulty. No, he must form the necessary memory associations on his own, his father had told him this. Yet every fiber in his being told him this was right, this was where he belonged.

His thoughts were in turmoil, this place was wealth of memories and experiences that he couldn't quite recall. He closed his eyes painfully, willing calm, he listened intently to the rain filled silence.

Water was rushing like a spigot off the balcony, splashing loudly...splashing...water..

The tub!

*Flash* there it was again.

He bought the tub for Christine, it was here, in this place. A giant water bathing tub!

He jumped up, startling Christine, headed single mindedly to the large tile room. The lights came on as he entered. It was there, just as he knew it would be, centered against the wall, unlit candles placed in every available space.

He remembered the night he had lit them all and recorded the message for Christine. How he had missed her, how much he had longed for her to return for their bonding. He turned frenetically past a very confused Christine down the hall, past the kitchen to the room that was to be theirs but never was.

The lights came on as he entered the room.

He stopped.

This was the computer terminal that he had used to send most of his messages to her. This was the black granite slab that he meditated on all of those sleepless nights. This was the decadently luxurious bed he had slept alone in for almost a year. Memories he did not even know he had came back to him.

He spun around at the sound of her footsteps behind him, his eyes wild with emotion.

She stood there, framed in the doorway, an image from a dream.

Her eyebrows were furrowed with concern, she approached cautiously. She could see him trembling with some undefined emotion. Fear, confusion, excitement?

"Spock?"

Her voice brought him back to the present. He drew himself up, calm descended as he met her azure eyes once again. He felt clarity return.

Spock raised his hand, two fingers extended, to Christine.

She approached nervously and joined her fingers with his. She was immediately rewarded by the warm sensation of his mind gently seeking hers. Not a meld, but a light touch, gentle, comforting and controlled.

She closed her eyes and just let it be.

An eternal moment of bliss passed, then Spock spoke, the deep baritone echoed in her mind in rich musical tone, "Christine, I ask your forgiveness." Before she could voice her protest, he continued. "I was told that it would be unwise to attempt a meld with anyone, for some time. Despite this caution, I find that I was drawn to you in ways that I do not fully understand."

"And now?" she asked uncertainly, her heart full of hope.

A small smile passed through his eyes, "I believe I do. Some of the memories are returning. However I find that I do require your assistance, Doctor."

She smiled broadly at this, "I am at your disposal, Mr. Spock."

His expression became grave, "I cannot be certain that I will be able to control a meld with you, Christine. It is quite dangerous to attempt this at this time. Perhaps it would be best if - "

It was her turn to stop him. "I am willing to take the risk." Her tone certain, her expression barred any objection.

It was no wonder he had chosen her as bond mate, he mused.

"Very well." He took her hand and led her to the smooth dark slab in the corner, they sat easily, facing one another, knees touching. His eyes were dark, distant as he stilled himself. Taking his lead she too turned her attention within, calming her breath, stilling her swirling emotions as he had taught her.

The rain outside eased and the silence thickened.

After a moment, he raised a hand to her temple. She too raised a hand, lowering it to rest on his shoulder, bracing them together. He would begin with a simple light meld. It would be safest that way. Although he craved so much more.

Effortlessly he found himself surrounded by her warmth and love. Her thoughts were light and musical, but surprisingly ordered.

She felt his surprise and laughed 'I told you, you are a very good teacher my love. You and I have learned much from one another.'

'I look forward to remembering it all.' He thought softly

'Let me show you.' She concentrated. It was difficult to remember to control her feelings as she remembered the past. Emotional control was not a skill she came by easily within the confines of her own mind.

She remembered the first tour of the Enterprise, and sensed his own memory as well. It seemed older memories were more intact for him. He felt a controlled version of her humiliation at the Psi2000 virus with a mixture of empathy and pain. She shared Platonius with him as well, their first kiss had been an unpleasant experience for them both. The memory of bitter anger at the Platonians actions seeped out a bit. She rushed forward not wanting to think of it. Spock paused at a memory that she tried in vain to move past quickly.

'Roger Korby. The answer is Roger, you were engaged to him.' He thought simply to her.

'Yes a very long time ago. But he died.' He felt the grief in her at the word. Saw the moment when she knew he was gone.

They remembered the day she had asked him on the bridge if he had ever been engaged.

Of their own volition more memories rose up from him. He remembered seeing her in the gymnasium, making love to her on the mats. He remembered the day he had first kissed her. He felt the joy anew on the day he had asked her to become him wife, their betrothal. He remembered her excitement at being named for the Genesis project and his own irrational grief when she had left. The year they had spent loving one another by subspace. He remembered it all.

Then he remembered the day on the Enterprise that Kahn had destroyed everything. The sight of his students falling, dying. Genesis, she shuddered under his fingers, she saw it, the Genesis wave on the monitor. She heard David's voice, felt the seconds ticking by, then came the moment when he decided to go.

He couldn't stop the tide of images that came, couldn't control the flood of emotions. They were suddenly caught up in their memory of the day he died.

He gasped at the weight of the decision, felt her re live it with him.

He could see his mother laughing over coffee.

She could hear Kahn's last words.

The tub in the bathroom was full of water.

She pulled hard, the plasma conduit opened up.

'The ship out of danger?'.

*Spock!*

*Christine!*

She felt tears streaming down her face, could not see that Spock's face was wet as well, sobs wracked her body once again.

He felt her awake alone in physical and mental shock. Her bond mate had gone.

There was water everywhere.

Reliving it was too much. She shook violently in his grip.

"No!" she cried aloud. She began to pull away, he held her tight with one hand on her face one on her shoulder.

'Christine. My T'hyla.' His mind's voice cut through the pain.

She was gasping at the painful memory, fighting for control. She mustn't subject him to this, it was too much for her, how could he handle it? She fought desperately against her own demons of grief, reigning them in at last.

'Christine. Beloved.' His mind moved deeper into hers then, bringing with him a memory he had not yet shared.

One that no one could comprehend, no one but Christine. She who had stood at the precipice of oblivion, but had remained behind. Now he lifted the veil of the memory that both awed and frightened him. He shared the full measure of the experience with her.

There were no words to describe the images and sensations, the longing for her, the brightness of the plasma core and the moment when he had finally left his body. The memory of it was beyond even his comprehension, despite the fact that it was his own experience.

She fought to maintain consciousness as the images flooded through her. She was utterly overwhelmed by it cried out at the sensations.

For the barest of heartbeats she understood.

Then the understanding waned and only the incomprehensible memory remained. She opened her eyes slowly. Found herself wordlessly amazed by the image of him there before her.

His face was tear streaked, sadness, love, uncertainty all plainly displayed there for her. He drew in a shuddering breath. She leaned forward until her forehead pressed against his and wrapped her arms around him. She drew in a deep breath as well, feeling like it was the first she had ever taken. They clung tightly to one another, not wanting to release him from the intimacy of the moment. Neither willing to let go, not ever again.

It was done.

She kissed him lightly on the cheek, he returned the kiss just as easily. He kissed her hands, she pulled him to her, claiming his mouth. They lost themselves in the tide of love that washed over them. They're minds entwined in a deep unbreakable bond. Neither would be alone again.

Admiral Kirk walked purposefully into the conference room that had been set aside for the renegade Enterprise crewmen. The glass double doors closed quietly behind him. All eyes turned to meet his, they had little time before their appearance before the Starfleet Military tribunal.

Dr. McCoy rose from his chair leaving his uniform jacket hanging on the chair and moved to his friend. He spoke in hushed tones, "Any sign of him?"

The Admiral shook his head, eyebrows furrowed, "No, but that's not necessarily a bad thing Bones. You know he's not required to be here."

"Yeah, I know. I just wish -" He stopped at that moment, seeing the tall Vulcan round the corner just outside the conference room. He stopped, turned to a woman in a Starfleet uniform. He raised two fingers, she met them briefly. It was Christine. The doctor beamed, met Jim's eyes for a moment and winked.

The doors separated silently as Captain Spock entered. He stopped just inside of the double doors. He moved toward the doctor and admiral with his familiar aplomb, so much more relaxed than he had been in recent months. He met the good doctor's eyes, cocked a single eyebrow challenging the doctor to comment.

The older man's blue eyes twinkled, he smiled broadly at his Vulcan friend but said nothing.

Jim, unable to contain himself, spoke up first, "I take it you were able to locate Dr. Chapel, Spock."

"Yes, Jim." The Vulcan's eyes smiled warmly at his friend.

The doctor clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on the balls of his feet, "Why Mister Spock, I do believe you have an extra spring in your step this morning."

"If by that you mean that I appear to be well rested, yes doctor, I am well rested. I believe that is due to no small part to Dr. Chapel's...ministrations." His cocked eyebrow dared the Doctor to continue.

"And how is my favorite doctor doing this morning?"

"I do not know, Doctor. How do you feel this morning?"

McCoy sputtered at the quick comeback, obviously surprised.

Jim smiled at this and patted his friend on the back and grinned broadly , "Very good Spock! I don't believe I've seen him at a loss for words in some time!"

A tone sounded, a 15 minute warning. Spock turned to face his shipmates, each of them were readying themselves nervously. He stood there, at Jim's side, as he had always done.

McCoy moved around behind him to retrieve his jacket. "Well at least we didn't have to wear the damned dress uniform."

Uhura good naturedly helped him fasten the collar, "I don't know Doctor, I think you look very handsome in the new dress uniform." He blushed at the compliment and turned away grumbling about tight collars and being hung twice for the same crime.

She turned and gave a smile to her favorite helmsman and navigator, taking each of them by the arms, "C'mon Boys."

Scotty tugged at his coat nervously and moved to join them.

Spock watched them all for a long time, in silence. They were preparing to stand trial for saving his life.

After a time, their eyes came to rest on him. He found himself strangely speechless. Their eyes told him it was a moment that required no words.

The admiral stepped forward, "Well, Spock. It's about that time."

Spock nodded solemnly at this and turned to leave. Dr. McCoy unable to resist the temptation to get in the last word, shot at him, "Nice to have you back Spock."

As the doors closed they heard, "It is good to be back, Doctor."

Spock exited the auditorium at Jim's side. As always, they moved as team, in cadence.

The sunlight shone through the glass doors at the end of the large hall. She stood there on the steps outside silhouetted in golden light, waiting for him. Waiting as she always had.

Jim saw the radiant glow in her eyes, serene and joyful. Spock's own eyes reflected the love there.

As the pair moved out into the square, their waiting friends moved to join them.

Spock tilted his head for a moment taking in all that surrounded him. His eyes came to rest on his bondmate, she smiled.

He did indeed, feel fine.

End