Disclaimers: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. All other characters are mine. Copyright © 2005 L. Crystal Michallet-Romero, All Rights Reserved. This story was written for the pure enjoyment of the ST genre and no profit was earned or expected from its creation. Note to Readers: This story was influenced by the ST:TOS episode "Amok Time." It follows no particular canon except what is floating around in my brain. Rated NC17.

Encounters

Crystal Michallet-Romero

The cold night air caused a billowy white puff to escape with each breath that Spock took. As he sat huddled behind the wheel of his parked floater, he waited to see her leave the establishment. It was not an upscale place, and if he had to give his estimate of the business establishment, he felt that he could agree with Jim and call it a dump. The all night diner was located in the oldest section of the port of San Francisco. It stood throughout the years deep in the heart of the Tenderloin. The blue and red neon light flashed to all who passed by that the greasy spoon was indeed open for business.

With a slight sigh, the lone occupant pondered his actions. Not for the first time he wondered if he was prudent to continue down this path. He thought of his wife and their kids who were home alone. Logic dictated that he should be with them safely secure in the warmth of their home. He should have been spending the evenings in his house with his wife surrounded by the sounds of their children's voices, their excitement causing them to speak adamantly in a un-Vulcan like manner.

By now Christine would be wondering where he was. She would be looking at the chronometer and worrying at the late hours that he was keeping. A part of him, the human part, felt a pang of regret and shame. For almost sixteen years now Christine was not just a wife, but a friend. There were things about himself that only she knew, not only because their marriage bond afforded them the luxury of telepathically reading each other's thoughts, but because he had allowed her into his mind. He trusted, respected and cherished her and because of this he had chosen to invite her into his life. Thankfully for him this very human woman, with human failings and human emotions, agreed to always be with him and accept him for his own failings.

"Never parted," his deep voice spoke with a hush. When he heard the sound of his own voice, he blinked as he pulled himself to the present. Glancing out of the window he watched the front doors of the café. Just as he had done for the past month, he waited patiently.

Spock did not know what compulsion caused him to act in this illogical manner. Never before had he deliberately kept anything away from his wife, like he now did. Staying out late, waiting in the dark alone, were alien to him. Yet this was exactly what he found himself doing. With a pang of regret he looked at the chronometer on the dash board and noted the time. Instinctively he knew that this was an unnecessary habit. His Vulcan training afforded him the ability to know the exact time. Yet now, as the endless minutes passed by slowly, he found that this habit had a comforting quality.

"Christine will be putting the children to bed by now," he thought silently. Like an omen reaching out its ethereal hand, he felt the gentle tugging of her spirit at the back of his mind. Christine's voiceless words beckoned him to respond, to tell her of his whereabouts. An instinct to reach out to her, to answer and comfort her spirit, crept into his thoughts, but then he shook away the urge. "Now is not the time to let my guard down," he reasoned as he continued his vigil.

Before he could process his thoughts, the object of his attention emerged from the dimly lit café. The young woman glanced down one side of the street, then to the other. Her gaze turned to his vehicle for a split second, and then she began to make her way across the paved road to the stairs leading to the airway system. This had been her pattern since he first saw her and, although he was intrigued by her, he usually kept himself at bay preferring to watch from a distance.

Spock first saw her last month when Leonard had invited him and Jim to the café for a late night dinner. Although dubious that there would be anything on the menu that he could eat, Spock reluctantly joined his two friends in order to meet the woman whom the doctor professed an undying love for. In Spock's estimation the older, blonde woman was not unkind, nor was she unattractive. He assumed that if the doctor had found someone to share his life with, that such a union should be encouraged, which is what he and Jim did each and every time that Leonard fell in love.

This new woman in the doctor's life was a waitress at the café and even though Spock kept his focus on her, he could not help but notice the younger woman who was also working in the establishment. Her tall, lithe form moved gracefully through the place, plates stacked on her arms were easily dispatched at the various tables. The waitress uniform that consisted of a checker board pink dress and plain white apron failed to conceal her beauty. Her long black hair was held back below a standard waitress hat.

The first time when Spock sat at that table, he found his attention distracted from his friends conversation. Once or twice he felt their eyes on him and Spock was quick to pull his full concentration away from the dark-haired woman to his friend's jovial exchange. Jim, with his irreverent humor, made a few comments about a "seven year itch," which Spock feigned ignorance of understanding. In such situations he found it best to don his most innocent expression as he turned the topic away from himself.

That first glimpse of the young woman was nearly a month ago and in such a short time it felt as if his life had changed. He had since returned to the place alone when he knew that Leonard was taking his new love interest out for the evening. Each time Spock arrived, he chose a table that he knew the young woman would be servicing. At first she seemed surprised by his presence and on the last encounter he thought he noticed a tremble in her hands as she set a plate of food before him, but she remained professional. Not a single time had she lapsed from her duties of serving him a meal or offering a kind, if not neutral, greeting. She was always impeccable in her manner and even in the standard waitress uniform she was elegant in her own way.

When he saw her walking up the stairs to the waiting platform, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Even at a distance her walk was graceful and her steps were light and controlled. For the first time he was reminded of another woman, one who seemed alien to him yet was meant to be his mate. The way she walked with back straight, head held high demonstrated her lineage. Just like that woman from Spock's past, this young waitress walked with quiet dignity.

As he watched her climbing the steps, Spock thought through his next actions. He could remain sitting in his vehicle, as he had done these many nights. He would go home, arriving late. Perhaps tonight would be the night that Christine asked him the questions that would open Pandora's box. Would he tell her? Could he tell her? How would it be possible for a man to reveal a secret that he had kept even from himself?

All of these thoughts ran through his mind like a flash in the night even as he felt himself leaving the confines of his vehicle. After glancing down the empty streets, he quickly made his way toward the stairs. With quick, yet controlled steps, he climbed the empty steel stairs. His acute hearing told him that she was on the platform. She would be standing with her full length black cape around herself. Her long black hair, no longer held captive under a waitress cap, would be flowing over her shoulders.

As he reached the top step he took a moment to glance around at the empty platform. He wondered why a young woman would choose to work a shift that ended late in the night. Although crime was virtually nonexistent and the streets appeared safe, such a shift was not something that many people voluntarily undertook, let alone a young woman, and Spock wondered about her career choice.

With controlled, deliberate steps he moved toward her. Just as he imagined she stood near the end of the platform. Her cape was wrapped tightly around her to keep the cold Pacific wind at bay. Dark hair shimmered under the glow of the overhead lights. The yellow tint of the lights sent gold-like specks over her wavy hair. When he was close enough to touch her, she suddenly turned, her dark brown eyes grew small as she scrutinized him. If there was fear she did not show it. Instead, a look of recognition crossed her features as her body suddenly relaxed.

Now standing in front of her Spock found himself suddenly at a loss for words. She stood a head shorter than him, her cape concealing her body completely. He gulped as he nodded toward her. With polite distance, she responded in kind as the far-away sound of a mechanical bell was heard. When she turned slightly away to glance up at the oncoming headlight of the air bus, Spock watched as a slight breeze brushed her hair from her face. The distinct elfin ears, so much like his own, peeked out from under dark locks of hair. Filled with curiosity, she looked back up at him. Her face held a mixture of confusion and control as she waited for him to speak. When words finally came to him, he stood ramrod straight with hands neatly folded behind his back.

"Do you know who I am?" His voice sounded strange even to his own ears.

She glanced at him for a moment in silence before her soft, delicate voice answered his question. "You are Captain Spock," her words held a sense of finality.

Spock felt his heart racing illogically out of control. In the cool breeze his lips grew suddenly dry. As a way of controlling his thoughts he turned his gaze away from her penetrating eyes before speaking again.

"Yes, this is true ... but--" He fought to keep the quiver from his voice. "Do you know who I am?"

A look of understanding entered her eyes as the corners of her lips tilted upward slightly. With a nod of her head she pulled the cloak tighter around her body. A slight shiver seemed to cross her form before she reigned control over the chill.

"Yes, I do," she said before the slight bell of the air bus stole her attention. As the craft settled neatly near the platform, she turned to Spock once more. Her eyes held his captive as she spoke with a strong voice.

"You are my father," was all she said before turning to the open doors of the air bus. She took a step toward the craft before turning to him once more.

"Captain Spock?" her voice held a tinge of weary resignation.

"Yes?"

"Please stop following me," was all she said before boarding the air bus.

As she entered the craft he watched her walking in the light. She moved to the back of the bus, and then settled in a seat within the empty craft. Her eyes remained lowered, her gaze never turned to look at him. As he watched the airbus slowly rise he longed to join her, to ask about the health of her mother, T'Pring. He wished to ask the young woman what had brought her to Terra, but mostly he wanted to know if there could be redemption for a man who had never met his daughter until she was a grown woman. But instead of acting upon his illogical impulses, he simply watched as the bus disappeared from view.

As the cold chill surrounded him, he breathed a sigh of regret as he turned and made his way across the platform. He would go home to a dark house where Christine was waiting. If she was true to her nature, she would remain silent and wait for him to explain his actions of this past month. But Spock did not know if he could explain his greatest shame to his beloved. He was not ashamed of the existence of this child, but of his own conduct toward her. At one time his actions may have seemed logical, but now, in hindsight, he realized that he had erred in not being a part of her life, and especially for keeping her existence a carefully guarded secret from the one woman who had always stood by his side. "Surly Christine would have understood what had happened on my first pon farr," he silently lamented. The memories of that fateful event on Vulcan brought embarrassed warmth to his cheeks. With this thought he settled himself behind the steering wheel and started the engine of his air car. He did not know what would happen tonight, nor did he want to contemplate it, so instead he remembered the sound of his eldest daughter's voice and again felt a pang of regret for all of the lost years.

* * *

Suraa sat in numb silence. The sound of the air bus registered marginally in her senses as she contemplated all that had happened. She had been on Terra sixteen point three standard months and in that time she had never sought out her father. Suraa knew that he lived in the area and although she did not know the exact location of where he and his family lived, he would have been easy to locate. But she did not attempt to make contact. Even when she first arrive with little credits and no one to turn to, the idea of contacting Captain Spock was repugnant. "He was never a part of my life as a child, so why would he care about me now?" her mind asked. But if she really thought about it, she would have realized that these thoughts were not her own. They were a product of everything that her mother had told her.

From the time that Suraa was able to reason, T'Pring had allowed her black heart to rule in the raising of her eldest daughter. The stately Vulcan woman spoke in half-truths or outright lies. Although T'Pring would have denied having such an illogical failing, her anger and resentment toward the Star Fleet officer colored her view toward her own child. This is now what Suraa had to overcome and difficult as it was, she chose to fight her mother's oppression in her own way.

Even though Suraa had lived on the fringe of her familial unit all her life, with each passing day she slipped further and further away from their circle. At first it was just family gatherings. When Stonn, her mother and younger siblings went out, her mother always told Suraa that the event was something that would not be edifying for her, so the young Vulcan remained home alone. Suraa really didn't mind because when she was home with only the silence surrounding her, she did not have to hear about her mother's disappointments. Most importantly, Suraa did not have to be reminded that her father's blood had contaminated her forever.

As she watched the city lights pass below her, Suraa remembered her last day on Vulcan. A part of her did not want to leave the planet of her birth, but the choice was not her own. Suraa should have felt the trouble brewing when Stonn began to pay extra attention to her. At the time Suraa wondered why her mother's husband showed a sudden interest in her, but her youthful logic had never placed anything nefarious behind his motives. Even he explained to Suraa that he grew weary of witnessing the treatment that Suraa underwent at her mother's hands. Unfortunately for Surra, T'Pring's malicious mind had little difficulty in conjuring up a motive. Rather than confront the problem, the older Vulcan woman chose what she thought was the logical solution and that is how Suraa ended up alone on a distant planet far from home.

With a slight grimace that few would have noticed, Suraa gazed out at the sleeping city. She knew who her father was and how she was conceived. She was a product of the pon farr, nothing more than a product of rape. The intellectual side of Suraa knew that Vulcan men could not be blamed for this short coming. Even Stonn, for as much as her mother praised him and his offspring, fell prey to this condition. But in Suraa's mind what Spock did could be the equivalent of rape. Her mother had no choice in the matter, when the madness consumed Spock, all T'Pring could do was to let nature take its course, and Suraa was the end result.

Suraa released a slight sigh as she turned away from her own reflection in the window. Never a day went by that T'Pring hadn't reminded Suraa of her lineage. Sometimes it was spoken of in open conversations. If Suraa was falling behind in her studies, it was the fault of her human blood, and if on occasions she demonstrated her anger or disappointment, this was a failing from her father, Spock. No, whatever shortcomings Suraa had, whatever disappointment she caused was because of her human blood.

As the air bus rounded the corner before her stop, Suraa glanced at the chronometer that glowed on the plate near the bus driver. A part of her wanted to go to her modest studio apartment, but another part did not want to be surrounded by silence. When the air bus landed on the platform the driver looked back at her and waited for her to rise and disembark the vehicle. Instead she shook her head negatively before the man closed the doors and resumed his route.

Tonight she did not want to be alone.

At her illogical feelings Suraa released a slight smile. Now that she was on her own she wished that she could have flaunted these emotions to her mother. She wanted to be able to yell and scream that she was human and see what her mother's reactions would be. As it was, everything she did since arriving on Terra was contrary to anything her mother believed. Her mother had told her on that last day that Suraa would never be able to survive on her own, yet she had. Even though T'Pring had given her nothing to live on, she had not only managed to procure a flight to Terra, but she found a place to live and eventually a job. Not only that, but she had met people who enjoyed her company.

"Of course, Mother always said that I'd end up in a brothel," she silently mused.

Suraa never saw the irony of her mother's predictions. Whenever T'Pring pointed out her lack of beauty, it never dawned on Suraa that this would be the primary quality needed in order to work in a brothel. All she knew was that her mother had predicted that one day she would end up working for an Orion slaver as a prostitute.

Her brows creased slightly as she remembered her mother's words. Even all these months later they still chiseled their way into her psyche. Suraa always felt that she was inadequate as a Vulcan, and this was reinforced daily by her mother's words. She wasn't even good enough to have a formal bonding, as her little sister had. With an inward smile, Suraa leaned back in the air bus seat. "Perhaps it is fortunate that I was not bonded," she mused to herself. Yes, if she had been bonded then she would be forever tied to Vulcan. The Vulcan man who would have been her mate would one day come to her and force himself upon her, as Spock had done to her mother. Perhaps a child would have been produced and she would have repeated the cycle of anger upon the innocent babe. But this would never be Suraa's fate because according to her mother, Suraa's human failings had deemed her an undesirable bondmate for any Vulcan man.

"No Vulcan man will want to pollute his progeny with your human blood," T'Pring had stated with finality. But Suraa quickly learned after arriving on Terra that Human men were not as discerning. Not only did they seem attracted to her, but they gravitated toward her likes bees to honey.

"Go with it!" Nadine, her friend from the café had once said. "When men find you attractive, you've got to play along with it, hell, you might even get a dinner or two from it!" the older human woman had cackled.

Nadine had become not only the closest thing to a friend that she had, but as the lead waitress at the café, she had become Suraa's mentor. The newcomer had only been hired because of Nadine's urgings and confidence in the strange Vulcan woman. The elder woman's words swayed the owner to accept Suraa on a temporary basis that quickly became a permanent position. On the first day that the young Vulcan woman began working, it was Nadine who taught her how to carry the multiple servings without dropping them. When the older woman noticed Suraa's physical discomfort, she had given her a pair of her own work shoes to wear. This was something that Suraa was quick to refuse, but the elder waitress would not hear the girl's protest. She simply winked and stated that "girls have to stick together," which is what they did.

During the quiet times when the place was empty and all they could do was to clean up already clean tables, Nadine spoke openly with her. She told Suraa about her many men and their exploits. When she met the Star Fleet doctor, Nadine never hesitated to tell the young woman about how charming and handsome the doctor was. Later, when a few young cadets began to stop by for lunch, it was Nadine who pushed Suraa to accept an invitation from one of the cadets. Thankfully, it was also Nadine who encouraged Suraa to break up with the tall blond man.

Suraa may have been naïve to the ways of humans, but she knew after a short time with Mark Stevens that caution was needed. In the beginning he was polite and courteous with her. But as the days went by he became more demanding with her to the point where Suraa was not certain how to end it. Thankfully, after seeing the greenish bruise on her forearm, it was Nadine who stepped in on Suraa's behalf. With a no-nonsense manner, the older blonde woman took the tall Star Fleet cadet to the back of the kitchen. With a meat cleaver in hand, she spoke to the human, her face as fierce as Suraa had ever seen. After that, the young man never returned again and Suraa was very grateful for Nadine's intervention.

With a slight smile, Suraa sat up straight as she watched the approaching stop. It was already late at night, but she knew that Joseph Littlefeather would still be awake. Joseph was not someone she would have noticed on her own because he was a quiet, unassuming man. Had it not been for a chance meeting with Nadine, Suraa might have lived in the city forever without ever meeting the charismatic art student.

"Suraa, I know I messed up the last time with Mark, but I'm telling you, this one is a keeper!" the woman smiled as she pushed Suraa toward his table.

The first thing she remembered of him was his easy going smile and white teeth. Vulcans were not normally mesmerized by humans, but as T'Pring always pointed out, Suraa was far from being a Vulcan. She was human, with human failings, illogical thoughts and all of the problems that humans had to endure, so Suraa didn't think it was wrong to accept her friends urging.

Joseph Littlefeather was unlike any human she had ever seen before. He was tall with straight black hair that hung past his shoulders. His tan-brown skin held a healthy sheen and his dark eyes peered at her with an intensity never felt before. Unlike Mark, Joseph's moods never changed and he was never demanding of her. When Suraa felt the time was right, she had been the one to initiate a more intimate contact with him.

As the air bus docked at the landing platform, Suraa stifled the smile that crossed her lips. Her mother would have been mortified to know that she was having sexual relations with a human. "But then again," Suraa thought, "she always told me this was all I would ever amount to."

Ignoring the plaguing thoughts of her past, Suraa rose from her seat and made her way to the platform. Unlike where she lived, Joseph lived in a part of town that was always bustling with activity. As the cool night air clung to her, she moved past the numerous night clubs and coffee houses. The students' voices rose with raucous laughter as they enjoyed their evening games. Suraa felt a few of the men, as well as some women, glance her way. Their interest was visible by the looks of lust that they cast toward her. While a part of her mind told her that they were simply interested in the exoticness of her appearance, another nagging thought convinced her that their looks were unwarranted. "After all, I am not a beauty, as my mother is," her thoughts would whisper in the back of her mind. Pulling the cloak closer around her body, she continued on her path and made her way toward the tall building that was nestled in between two lodging towers.

Suraa knew exactly where she was going because she had been here so many times. As she walked up the steps, she entered the large glass doors and greeted the student who worked as a doorman. The young man glanced at her over the desk before he smiled with recognition, and nodded.

"He's in?" she asked as she walked toward the lifts.

"Hasn't left all night," the student smiled before returning his attention to his studies.

Sometimes when Suraa saw the life of the students, she envied their position. Although she did not have a clear definition of what she wanted to do with her life, seeing the students focused on their individual studies brought a pang of jealousy to her. It was illogical, she knew, but it was in her nonetheless. Continuing on with her education was not an option for Suraa. Although she had high enough marks to enter into a program, she would only be able to attend an academy on Vulcan. Now that she was forced to leave her home world, she had little choices in her future. Without the financial backing, or a sponsor, Terra would not allow her to attend. The outworlders who had managed to gain coveted spots at the various Terran Universities had gained admissions because of an extraordinary ability. For Suraa, she was realistic enough to know that she was far from extraordinary. She was not like her younger sister whose skilled voice enabled her to interpret the songs of T'Leshra, an ancient composure. Nor was she like her brother who had a grasp of astrophysics. During family functions Suraa was always reminded that she would never equal or excel the talents and skills of her siblings, so rather than raise expectations, she did not flirt with the idea of ever excelling beyond her means.

Suraa never would have acknowledged that her thoughts were not her own. Each time she contemplated taking a chance in life, she heard the telltale voice of her mother reminding her of who she was. Yet she never recognized the familiar echo in her mind as that of her mother's voice. Although T'Pring continually reminded Suraa, and the rest of the immediate family, of the girl's failings, it never dawned on either mother or daughter that T'Pring's actions were highly illogical. So rather than confront her own personal demons, Suraa chose to live her life as best as she could.

As the lift opened to the top floor, the young Vulcan looked around before making her way to the familiar door. From outside she heard the sound of music filtering through the door. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine him standing before his easel, his paints would be nearby as he created images that only his mind could see. When she leaned against the door, she placed her palm on the cold wooden surface. She contemplated turning away and going back to her apartment but before she could make a move the door suddenly opened.

"Suraa!" the tall, beautiful man opened the door. Raven dark hair that held the light's reflection was now covered with a spattering of multi colored paints. For only a span of a breath, Suraa was mesmerized by the silky strands that fell past his shoulders. The simple white shirt he wore was unbuttoned in the front to reveal his smooth, muscled chest. Although an artist, he made full use of the university gym, which is how he managed to have such a magnificent physique that was pleasing to the eyes.

Suraa felt warmth on her cheeks as he stood before her. His clear white teeth beamed a welcoming smile. Before she could speak, he popped his head out and looked down the hall, and then turned to her as he welcomed her into his place.

"I thought you were..." He nodded toward his neighbor's door. "Aw, never mind. He was supposed to come back with food, but I guess he got distracted. Lucky me, huh?"

Although some humans might consider him average in looks, for Suraa he was a handsome man. His bronze skin, sculptured body and easy going smile was enough to cause the most surprising reactions in her. If her mother had met him, she was certain that T'Pring would not approve. But T'Pring was not here. Her mother had not been cast out from the family and she was not left to fend for herself on a planet that was not her own. So rather than dwell on the nagging voice in the back of her mind, Suraa turned her attention to the very human man who stood before her.

When she saw the canvas on the easel, she moved before the painting and looked at the haunting images. The reds, orange and yellow colors blended in to depict the hot, parched life of the desert. At the arid sight, Suraa felt homesick for the red planet of her birth, but when she remembered that this was a Terran landscape, a slight smile turned her lips into a curve.

"You like it?" he asked as he began to wipe down his brushes before carefully putting them away.

"Yes, very much," she acknowledge as she stood mesmerized by the beautifully haunting image. Before she realized it, he was standing behind her, his body easily molded to hers as his chin rested near her cheek. His strong arms snaked around her waist as he held her close.

"So, what brings you here?" he asked in sotto voice.

Shyly, she ducked her head as the feel of his breath caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against him as he began to lightly kiss her cheek. Suraa never thought that she would welcome the touch of a human, but ever since arriving on Terra, she grew to welcome human contact. Contrary to her mother's words, Suraa knew nothing about human sexual nature. In the beginning she didn't understand the unwarranted attentions of men nor did she think that close contact would be welcome. But there was a great deal that she had learned in her time with humans. She discovered that although it may seem illogical, the pleasures that could be derived from two bodies were exquisite in its simplicity.

"Come on Suraa, what's going on?" he whispered again as he turned her to face him, his dark eyes held hers as he gently brushed aside a strand of hair from her face. At this move she realized that she was still wearing her filthy waitress uniform. Crinkling up her nose, she pulled away from him as she dropped her cape on the back of a chair and began to make her way to the facilities.

"I need to wash the stench from me," she said as she began to unclothe and enter the small shower cubicle.

"What stench? I don't smell anything but you," he added as he moved to join her.

"For a human, you can be unkind. I do not smell like cooked animal flesh," she added with humorous indignation as she cast him a slight smile.

"Well I don't smell anything offensive ... exciting maybe, but not offensive," his voice held a melodic tone as he stripped away his garments and followed her into the small enclave.

"Humans! Your noses are so inferior," she whispered as he pulled her into his embrace.

No words were needed, so in silence they alternated between gentle kisses and bathing each other. The telltale sign of his arousal brushed against her skin causing a shiver up her spine. For one wicked moment she had an image in her mind of her mother's disgust. T'Pring would have wrinkled her nose at the idea of being so close to a human. Suraa had seen her reaction enough times when she spoke of Spock. It was enough for Suraa to realize that whatever disgust her mother held toward the Star Fleet officer was also bestowed upon her. But it didn't matter to her. Suraa no longer had to answer to her mother so she didn't care if she received the woman's approval. So rather than dwell upon these errant thoughts, she allowed herself the delicious moments that she could share with a human who was gentle and kind to her.

Just as they had done in the past, the two quickly bathed and then dried each other off. As he moved through his loft turning off the lights, she crawled into his bed and watched his actions. His long damp hair hung past his broad shoulders. When he turned the final light off, she could see his silhouette through the diffused light of the city street lamps. Through the haze of darkness she saw his prominent erection and a slight smile crossed her lips.

Although she had taken all of the required courses that taught the act of mating, there were a great many things that were left out. What she had not learned in school, Suraa learned from her mother, which was very little. T'Pring never spoke of what she shared with Stonn, but Suraa knew that they frequently mated. It was an activity that they both seemed to enjoy and although neither one spoke of it, Suraa could not help but think that such activity was illogical. The only thing that T'Pring openly spoke of was the horrid experience that she had at the hands of Spock, and like a criminal paying for the crime of her father, T'Pring let Suraa know that such activity was a disgusting, illogical human failing. But now, after living amongst humans and sharing herself with them she realized that such closeness was anything but illogical. It was this very human man who reinforced in her mind that she no longer cared if her mother approved or not. All Suraa cared about was spending as much time as she could with this handsome man.

As was his nature, Joseph moved slowly. His gentle touches lowered her barriers that were always placed around her psyche. Lips that were beautiful to behold left a trail over her body. His fingers that could caress the most intoxicating images on a canvas freely roamed over her body. Each touch elicited a slight sigh from deep in her throat. When he dipped down between her legs, she heard her own rasping breath like a distant echo. Her legs quivered as his artful tongue did things to her that no other could, and when she felt all control lost, he held fast and rode out the waves that shattered through her Vulcan sensibilities. As the sound of the city rushed outside, she felt as if she were riding on the tailwind of a sandstorm. Before she could come down from her exquisite high, he moved over her body, his hardness easily slipped into her wet, welcoming folds.

As their bodies moved against each other in a syncopated rhythm, Suraa wondered what a full Vulcan melding would have been like with this man. The pleasures that she received, the exquisite sensations that his rhythmic thrusts caused, brought about a sense of wonder and amazement that she wished that she could share with him. But as her mother had always pointed out, Suraa was human with no psi abilities. All of the Vulcan healers had stated that this was an anomaly that might not ever change. For T'Pring, it was a further reminder of who Suraa's father was. Suraa had been told by the healers that if she were bonded to a Vulcan, he would be able to mind meld with her in order that she could share in the mating ritual. Because of this, a part of her always wondered what it would have been like to share these tumultuous sensations with the man who was now riding her body.

When she reached behind his back and felt his muscles straining, she arched her back as a wordless "O," escaped her control. Her legs wrapped instinctively around him, pulling him, beckoning him to fill her completely. As the dampness of their sweat mingled, Suraa acknowledge that it was illogical to assume that a Vulcan man could have achieved the same results upon her as this very human male. So rather than dwell on a mind bond that they could never achieve, she put her full concentration into the human mating ritual.

If anyone had told Suraa that she would one day be making love to a human, she would not have believed them. She would never have thought that her body could respond in this manner from the mere touch of a man. Although she knew that a marriage with a Vulcan could never be in her future, she never contemplated bonding with anyone else. But that was then. That time was long ago before her mother had ordered her to leave her childhood home. It was before her mother cast forth wicked accusations that Suraa did not understand. And it seemed like it was a life time ago since she took what meager credits she had to travel across space to the only planet where the inhabitants would accept her.

"Suraa..." his husky voice whispered as she moved below him. Before he realized a change, her slender legs pulled him and held him deeply within her as she pushed against his chest until he rolled onto his back still attached. As she straddled him, she felt him deep within her. Her eyes closed in concentration as her hips swayed over him. She felt him below her pushing upward, hips straining against gravity to fill her completely, and then he gave in and simply allowed her to move to the rhythm of her bodies needs.

"Suraa ... l-love me," he whispered as he sat up and wrapped his arms around her body. Like a man lost at sea, he clung to her. His breath came in harsh, gasping sounds.

With a negative shake of her head, she lightly touched the tip of her fingers against his lips. When she clenched her lower muscles, he inhaled deeply as he rested his head against her bosoms. She wrapped her arms around his back and held him close as she continued to rock her hips back and forth.

The sound of his voice, the request he made was nothing new to her, but she could not give him what he wanted. Although her mother accused her of human failings, she did not know what it meant to love. She could not have explained that for her, love was not a possibility. So rather than answer his question, she simply continued to sway over his body; their mutual pleasure ricocheted through their bodies as they strove to reach their separate climaxes. Only after he cried out and she felt him releasing his seed within her did she allow herself to lose control.

A slight meowing sound came from deep in Suraa's throat as she felt the pleasure race from where they were joined, through her body, to end in the core of her brain. Shivering uncontrollably, she held fast to his body as the last remnants of pleasure surged through them. When it was complete, she felt her body drained of strength as she fell over him. His arms held her close as his heart rate slowly decreased and his breathing returned to normal.

"Suraa..." he whispered through the darkness. Before he could say more, she reached up and laid her fingers over his lips to quiet his next words.

"Shush," she asked as she disentangled herself from him. When she lay on her side, she felt him moving behind her. While one arm cradled her head, the other wrapped over her body and held her close.

"Can I ask why did you came here tonight? Not that I mind, or anything. I'm just wondering," his voice was tinged with amusement.

She thought about his question for only a moment before she spoke softly. "He was there again."

"Your father?" he seemed suddenly alert.

"Yes. He was there again," she sighed.

"Did he follow you again?"

"No ... he spoke to me," she explained as her mind replayed that first official meeting with the man who had never been in her life.

"He ordered pancakes again?" he chuckled softly.

She saw the humor in his question and felt a smile cross her lips. With very little vegetarian plates to offer, the Captain was left with ordering only one dish. Each time he showed up during Nadine's day off, he would take the same table and order the same meal, and Suraa served him as if he were a stranger. Which when she thought about it, he was. He may have been the reason for her conception, but she had never met him before. Suraa knew who he was and as a child she followed his activity closely. A part of her child's mind dreamed of the day when he would grow tired of the stars and return for her. But he never did. Instead he found a human woman and married her and together they had children -- they had a family, something that Suraa could never be a part of.

Ever since Nadine had brought her new romantic interest and his friends to the café, Suraa noticed the scrutiny from the Vulcan. Although she always knew about her father and his famous friends, she chose not to tell Nadine because a part of her believed what T'Pring had said. Spock had taken her mother against her will, and Suraa was the result of that rape. Throughout her childhood, he chose not to acknowledge or be a part of her life because, as T'Pring had said, Suraa was inferior even to the half-breed.

"He did not order this time," she whispered as she leaned back in her lover's embrace. "He was sitting in his vehicle again and before my bus arrived, he came to speak with me."

Joseph remained patiently silent, and then asked softly, "What did he want?"

"He asked if I knew who he was."

"And?"

"I told him that I knew, that he was my father ... and ... I asked him to stop following me," she sighed as she turned over onto her back and gazed up through the darkness at the human.

"Do you think maybe he wanted to get to know you?" Joseph's voice was a calming force for her turbulent thoughts. She contemplated his question, her brow creased as she held his larger hand in hers.

"No. He couldn't want that," she answered with finality.

"How do you know? Do you think he would be following you all these weeks and not want to get to know you?" he asked, but she found herself without an answer. In a gentle manner he pulled his hand from hers and cupped her chin until she looked at him through the diffused light, "I think he would like to get to know you."

"No, I ... don't believe it," she turned away from him, her mind trying to block out his words of reason.

"Suraa, why can't you believe that your father wants to get to know you? Because of all the crap that your mother has told you?" He pulled her into an embrace when he noticed her sudden melancholy. "Listen to me, Suraa, your mother is not always right and there are always two sides to every story."

"M-My mother..."

"Filled you with a bunch of lies," he stated firmly before softly kissing her temple.

"How can you say that when you do not even know her?" she asked, desperately wishing that she could believe him.

"Because..." Joseph's warm slender fingers brushed her sweat drenched hair away from her forehead. "She convinced you that you were ugly, and you're not."

At his words she pulled away from him and sat up. With head lowered in shame she drew her knees to her chest. She felt him move behind her and wrap his arms around her shoulders.

"Suraa, if you could see yourself the way that I see you, you'd know that your mother was wrong. I don't know what her problem was, or why she thought no Vulcan man would want you, I only know that I'm very thankful that she never had you ... what do you call it? Bonded? Because if you were, then you wouldn't be here with me now." The tenderness of his voice brought weakness to her resolve. As she turned away from him, she felt slight moisture fill her eyes. Angered at her lack of control, she wiped away the evidence of her illogical human emotions.

"Honey ... Suraa, I think I know you well enough by now. You've told me a lot, and what you haven't said, I've figured out," he explained. "Remember what you told me when I first met your cat? Remember how I asked how someone as beautiful as you could take in such a mangy thing? Remember what you told me?"

"That he was the mirror of my katra," she whispered softly.

"Yes, your katra, your soul. And the name you gave him?"

"Itaru," she looked away, ashamed that she had bared herself to this degree. As if ignoring her discomfort, he held her close.

"You named him ugly, and you feel that he mirrors your soul. It doesn't take a great leap to figure out that this is how you see yourself," he explained, his voice softly soothing.

"He is not really ugly," Suraa replied as she leaned into his embrace.

"Ummm, the cat is missing patches of fur, he has one ear that was chewed off in a fight, he's blind in one eye, and he's got a scary meow," Joseph added.

"Yes, this is true, but he is not really ugly. He is very soothing to me," she explained.

"So he has an inner beauty?"

"Yes."

"Just like you." She felt Joseph's smile in the darkness. His lips lightly kissed the side of her cheek as he held her close. "You have an inner beauty, and regardless of what your mother says, you are beautiful on the outside too. I should know, I've been given the pleasure of seeing all of you," he teased as his palm gently cupped her breast.

"Humans!" she shook her head in mock horror as she pushed him away before turning and lying in his arms. As she rested her head on his chest, she listened to the gentle beating of his heart. His hands softly stroked her bare back as they eased into a comfortable silence.

"Suraa?" Joseph's voice rose quietly in the darkness. "I know why you can't love me, I know that your mother did a real trip on your head." His voice was tinged with anger as he wrapped his arms protectively around her body. "It's okay, I'm willing to wait, but, Suraa, don't close the door on your father. You've already lost your mother, you have no family ... except me." The last words were spoken under his breath. "Suraa, if your father wants to get to know you, give him a chance." His voice grew silent as she lay partly over his body. In an absent manner she draped a leg over his as she thought over his words.

"What if he never comes back again? What if what my mother has said is true?" she whispered her darkest thoughts.

"I'd bet everything that I have that your mother is wrong, and if he's been following you around this past month, I don't believe the lies she told you," he answered confidently.

"You think...?" But she couldn't finish her thoughts as her deepest fears crept into her psyche.

"Yes, I think he wants to get to know you. I think he must have a reason for his actions. You should at least give him a chance when he comes back into your life." The fatigue laced his words as a yawn escaped his control. "Do you believe me?" he asked.

She thought about his comments. There was a part of her that marveled at the logic of his human thought patterns. Yet despite all that he said, she felt an inner darkness threatening to consume her.

"I want to believe," she whispered softly.

He lay motionless for a moment, and then hugged her close. She felt his lips brush against her hair before he pulled the covers over their bodies. The early morning chill was abated by the warmth of the thick comforter and their mutual body heat.

"Don't worry, you'll see that I was right," he stated sleepily. "Now let's get some sleep. We're going to have to go to your place and feed that mangy fur ball before my class." He patted her shoulder lovingly. "And Suraa...?"

She looked up at him, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. "Yes?"

"I've emptied a drawer for you. If you don't want to move in with me, I think you should at least have some of your clothes here so that you don't have to go out in public wearing my clothes. My clothes are too big and baggy on you; it's a crime to hide your body like that." He smiled as sleep slowly consumed him.

Although she knew it was illogical, Suraa thought she felt her heart skip a beat. No, she would not move in with him. She could not accept his offer because she knew that at this point in time, she could not give to him what he required. Love and emotions were still too new for her so rather than move in, they would continue as they have been. But at the thought of having some space for herself, she felt the alien emotion of warmth and comfort. A part of her would like to say that this was the first time since arriving on Terra that she had felt such emotions, but when she looked into her memories she knew that it was the first time in her life that she had ever experienced these comforting feelings.

With a slight sigh she closed her eyes and smiled when she realized that her mother's predictions had not come true. She had not become a brothel whore and although he was not Vulcan, this man cared deeply for her. "Perhaps he is right and the rest of my mother's words about Captain Spock will be proven wrong?" she silently hoped. With this thought she surrendered herself to sleep as she felt her lover's arms holding her close.

* * *

Twenty-two hundred hours and Spock was still not home. Christine glanced out the large picture window and was disappointed to see only darkness. In a nervous manner she absently chewed her lower lip as she tried to calm her rampant thoughts. For the past month her husband had been coming home late and although his Vulcan reaction was to deny it, he was acting moody.

As Christine looked out of the large picture window at the dark landscape, she could not help but remember their early days aboard the Enterprise. When she first joined Star Fleet she was searching for a lost love, but ended up finding a new one. While some may have thought her foolish, she could never help the feelings that overcame her and, although they had not acted on their love at first, eventually she and Spock were able to find the logic for their union. Many thought that she was a martyr by saving him from the certain death of pon farr. But what most did not know, and what she and her husband kept a carefully guarded secret, was that their physical attraction began long before the onset of his pon farr.

"But even if it hadn't, I wouldn't have done anything different," she said out loud in the empty room. Her voice echoed off the hard wood floors. At the hollowness of the room, she released a deep sigh as she turned away from the window. All the furniture remained where it has always been, yet the place felt so empty -- void of warmth and life. With a slight grimace, Christine wondered if it mirrored how she felt inside.

If this had been the first time that he was late, she might have been worried. It didn't raise her concern the first time it happened. But this wasn't the first time, nor was it the second. After happening so many times she began to feel a different set of emotions. Anger, frustration, hostility and yes, she was ashamed to admit it, fear. After nearly sixteen years and three children together, Spock was staying out late and she felt powerless to do anything about it. The first time he was late he told her that he had been detained. She never thought to ask, but assumed that he was at his office at Star Fleet headquarters. As a teaching instructor, staying up late to plan the next day's assignments occurred from time to time, but when it continued night after night, she had to take note of the situation. It also didn't help when she showed up at his office late one night to find it completely dark.

"What are you up to, Spock?" she whispered out loud as she paced the length of the living room.

Their single family dwelling was located in the historic city of Woodside, just a short ride to San Francisco's Star Fleet Academy. Back when the town was founded it was known as a sleepy enclave where families knew each other, but during the subsequent political upheaval and wars, it became an enclave where freedom fighters were able to move without detection. Despite such a rich and historic past, the city remained largely unscathed and was still a welcoming place for families. This is why she was grateful that Spock also liked the home that was nestled near the foot of the mountains. With their first baby on the way and her entrance into medical school, the home had proven to be the best investment for the new family.

As she remembered back to those days, a cloud of melancholy clung to her. If he were human Christine would have suspected that he was having an affair. Between his sullen mood, arriving home late and the peculiar odor that clung to him, she knew that something was amiss. The first time she noticed the smell she couldn't pin point the aroma, but one day when she gathered his uniform to be cleaned, she held the coat to her nose and took in the strange aroma until it became clear.

"Perfume and ....grease? No, not grease," she had softly whispered as her features bunched into a frown. When she placed a part of the sleeve under her nose she had the distinct image of berries ...boysenberries to be exact, which only led to more confusion. Her husband was staying out late and sometimes he returned home smelling like perfume or sweet berries. Sometimes she couldn't detect anything on him, but she knew that something was amiss because of his more-than-usual standoffish nature. But no matter how many times she asked, he would only say that he was unavoidably detained.

Christine Chapel's mind raced over a million possibilities as she began to turn off the living room lights. When he began to stay out late, she didn't think anything of it. But then she noticed his sudden mood changes. That, combined with the strange aroma that clung to him led her to believe only one thing, but as far as she was aware of, her suspicions were impossible for Vulcans to commit.

Being a doctor she quickly scoured every medical journal she could find on Vulcan physiology in hopes of finding an answer to the problem. But all of the journals, both the ones from Vulcan and other researchers, never mentioned that Vulcans were capable of extramarital affairs. And when she thought about it, she had to admit to the silliness of it all. How could a Vulcan, male or female, have an affair when they are bonded to their mate? While it might be easy to fool a spouse in a non-telepathic union, the permanent mind link that formed the core of their marriage kept it impossible to keep secrets, or so she thought. Not only that, but affairs were simply not logical, Christine had tried to convince herself.

"What Vulcan would undertake such a covert liaison knowing that their spouse would find out?" Christine said the mantra in hopes of staving off her worst fears. Nor sooner did she say the phrase before the nagging thought in the back of her mind reminded her that her husband was half Vulcan. Spock was also human and on numerous occasions he had proven that although Vulcans did not believe that lying was logical, sometimes they did lie especially if it was to fulfill a mission, a duty to either Star Fleet, or a friend.

"But this has nothing to do with duty," she whispered out loud as she began to make her way up the stairs to the second floor of their house.

When she stood at the top of the stairs, she looked down at the large open glass window. She hoped to see the familiar lights of his air car coming into view as he parked it next to hers. As the hopelessness of the situation consumed her, she closed her eyes and reached out through the bond. She felt his spirit near, the warmth of his katra seemed to surround her, and then it suddenly closed on her. As if afraid that she would get too close, he shut the bond down by pulling up a wall between them. At the hopelessness of her situation, a slight gasp escaped her control as the telltale tears began to well in her eyes.

"No," she whispered as she tried to understand what was happening to him -- to them.

Christine turned and began to make her way down the hall. When she reached her eldest daughter's room, she stood for a moment and composed herself. After wiping her eyes, she sighed deeply before replacing her frown with a smile. As she opened the door, she glanced in and noticed Mandy sitting at her desk. Her computer was on as she was working on her homework assignment. The girl's long, brown hair was held back by a pink ribbon. She wore a long, oversized teeshirt that had the image of a teddy bear on the front. With a curious arch of a brow, the girl turned toward the door.

"Father is late again?" the preteen asked as a frown crossed her young features.

Whenever Christine saw this expression on her daughter, she felt an irrational fear enter her heart. At only twelve years old, the girl seemed wise beyond her years. Sometimes it felt that her daughter had never been a child, her father's Vulcan traits sometimes played a big part in her personality and habits. As Christine moved to the girl, she contemplated how her child was growing up before her eyes. As a doctor, she knew that the girl was caught in the cusp between being a child, and wanting to be an adult, but as a mother she could only feel that her baby was growing up way too fast.

Donning a casual smile, Christine hugged the girl close. "He's busy but I'm sure he'll be home soon," she assured as the girl released a dramatic sigh, demonstrating that even thought she was Vulcan, her human nature was also present.

"Mother, are you going to remind him about my birthday? It's my ku-shinas, Grandma and Grandpa and everyone will be here!" the girl exclaimed as a look of worry etched her features. "He won't be gone for that, will he?" Mandy's voice released a childish whine as her brows knitted into a frown, reminding Christine that at least for a while, her daughter was still very much a child and needed her. The fear that her father would miss what was the equivalent of a Vulcan coming out party worried the girl.

"Do you honestly think that your father would miss your thirteenth birthday?" Christine placed her hands on her hips as she gave her daughter an incredulous look.

"I don't know, Mom! He's been acting so ... so ... weird lately!" Mandy's childish reactions were already well into resembling a teenager. "What's his problem anyway?" she huffed with a shake of her head.

At the tone of her daughter's voice, Christine frowned as she shook her head. "Don't you talk in such a disrespectful tone, young lady. Now I told you that your father would not forget about your birthday, and he won't! So don't give me any lip like that again. Do I make myself clear?"

Mandy's eyes lowered in shame, a slight sigh escaped the sub-teens control before she turned away, head lowered. "I'm sorry, Mamma." A child's voice replaced that of a petulant teen. "I just ... it's just that, it's my ku-shinas!" Her voice cracked on the verge of being a whine. "He's been so busy lately, I'm afraid that he's going to forget," the girl tried to explain.

"I know honey, but don't worry. We have over a month to go before your big day, and a lot can happen. And I promise you, your father will not forget your birthday, alright?" She knelt down in front of the girl as she made eye contact. She noticed the familiar hazel eyes gazing back. Unspoken words were being held at bay as the girls mind wavered between that of a child, and a young lady. When she saw the determination in her mother's eyes, Mandy released a soft sigh.

"Oh, alright," she sighed dramatically.

"Alright then," Christine smiled as she rose to her full height, her gaze fell upon the girls computer screen before she lightly kissed the crown of her head. "As soon as you're finished, get some sleep." She smiled before she left the girl. In typical teenage fashion, Amanda, or Mandy as they called her, mumbled something inarticulate before the sound of her typing on the keyboard was heard.

With only a shake of her head, Christine made her way down the hall. When she approached her son's room, she listened for a moment for any sounds. As a teenager, she made certain to give her eldest as much privacy as he needed. Through the door she heard the familiar sound that brought a smile to her lips. Slowly, she opened the door and saw him sprawled out in his bed fast asleep. He slept in only a pair of blue shorts, a habit he began when he turned twelve and deemed himself too old to wear children's pajamas. As she gazed down at her son, she smiled as she watched him sleeping soundly. With lips slightly parted, a soft snore emanated from the teen. When she moved to stand over him, she sighed as she shook her head, then reached down and removed the ear pieces that he wore. Her fingertips lightly grazed the soft, warm outline of his delicate elfin ears. As she set the unit beside his bed, she heard the slight sound of music blaring from the earpieces, before they automatically turned off.

"You're going to ruin your hearing," she whispered as she smiled at Setton before reaching down and lightly brushing her fingers through his hair. Almost fifteen and he was changing so fast. There was just a hint of downy soft peach fuzz on his chin that would one day become a beard and his body had grown into a tall, lanky young man. Deep in sleep, he mumbled something inaudible before rolling over into a tight ball. "That's it, my baby, just sleep," Christine indulged herself by pulling the cover over him and then kissing his cheek, knowing that he would never allow such open affection when he was awake.

With a slight smile she gazed at him for a moment. With his dark black hair, if he had kept it short and neatly combed, he would have looked like a younger version of his father. But ever since he turned fourteen, Setton became a rebellious teen who began to wear his hair longer than any respectable Vulcan would. The thick black locks hung down to his neck to give an unruly, yet attractive appearance. His delicately arched brows always enhanced the playfulness of his gaze. It was no surprise to Christine that her son was popular among the girls at his school.

Once she left her son's room, she went to the baby's room. T'Rea was not really a baby anymore. At five years old she was already growing up faster than Christine wanted. When Christine opened the door, she saw the little girl sprawled across her bed, her head lying on the opposite end of the bed as her arms dangled over the edge. On the floor below her hand were miniature Vulcan models, the old style buildings were sprawled over the floor and the Vulcan families that occupied the dwellings lay nearby. In her hand she clutched a tiny figure of a pet sehlat. As if reading Christine's mind, a soft, growling noise came from the dark closet.

"Mookie, come on out," she ordered the family pet. The large, furry creature popped his head out. His smile grew large to reveal fanged teeth. Fear was the common reaction that many humans held when they first saw the typical Vulcan pet, but after nearly sixteen years, Christine was used to the gentle giant.

"Come on, Mookie, why not help me put your mistress to sleep?" she spoke softly to the creature as she took the toys from her baby's hand. The furry animal moved toward her and began to sniff at T'Rea's hair. "She can fall asleep anywhere, can't she?" Christine spoke softly as she extracted the various toys from the girl's hand, then lifted her gently in her arms and laid her in her bed in the right direction. As she pulled the cover over T'Rea, she smiled at the pixie face of her youngest child. Her dark brown hair was cut in a page-boy style, which made it easy for a busy mom to maintain. When the sehlat jumped onto the foot of the bed, Christine smiled down at the animal as she tucked in T'Rea.

"Keep a good watch," she whispered to the Vulcan pet as she rose from the bed and moved to the door. With a glance back, Christine smiled sadly as she closed the door. Christine did not even have to look out of the window to know that her husband had not yet returned home. Whatever had been keeping him late was still taking up all of his concentration to the point where he was blocking her out.

When she entered the master bedroom her mind churned endlessly. Her heart beat uncontrollably as she tried to comprehend Spock's actions. Try as she might, she could only come up with one answer. Despite being a Vulcan, her husband was having an affair. With a grimace, she unclothed and pulled on her comfy night clothes. The long flannel gown covered her from the chill. When she entered the adjourning restroom, she absently took a jar of cold cream and began her moisturizing regimen. As she looked up at her reflection in the mirror, she noticed the signs of age that had somehow crept up on her. Dark circles under her eyes made her look tired and wrinkles that she did not remember seeing seemed magnified under the lights. To make matters worse, she was beginning to see the slight gray in her brown hair. Grimacing at her own image, she shook her head in disappointment at what she saw. Christine sighed deeply when she noticed her oversized, baggy gown hanging loosely on her body.

For the first time in many years, she took a serious inventory of herself. The young, youthful nurse who first joined Star Fleet had somehow aged into a slightly graying, a bit heavier older woman. Setting down her cold cream, she looked down at her gown and touched its warm fabric.

"Christine, you idiot," she whispered. "What happened to those sexy nightgowns that you used to wear?" she asked her reflection as she angrily shook her head, and then move to the sink to wash the cream from her face. She realized that it had been some time since she had made love to her husband, and she idly wondered why this had happened.

It was true. After nearly sixteen years she had grown complacent in her relationship. The marriage she held, the mind link that made her forever bonded to Spock, caused her to relax in her appearance. As a working mother of three growing children, she found herself continually exhausted. Between duties at the hospital, driving the kids to all of their after school functions as well as keeping the house together, she was lucky if she could retire early at night. With such a busy schedule, making love was the last thing on her mind, and perhaps this is what had caused her husband to wander. But just as this thought crossed her mind, fury began to boil deep within.

"Damn it! How am I supposed to keep my figure after three children? How am I supposed to continually be a sex kitten after a full days work as a doctor and a mother?" she hissed to herself as she moved to her bedroom.

Angered, she began to pace the length of the room as her thoughts churned over a myriad of thoughts. Before her emotions could consume her, she heard the familiar sound of his footfalls on the hardwood floor in the entryway. When the staircase creaked with each light step he took, she inhaled deeply as she fortified her will power. Knowing that he was so close, Christine girded her emotions as she waited for him.

When Spock slowly entered the room he looked like a stricken puppy. Although he would have denied it, she could see his sullen mood and for an instant she had the urge to go to him and hold him close. But then her raging thoughts bubbled to the surface and kept her at bay.

"Spock." Christine crossed her arms in front of her as she gave him a steely look.

"Christine." His voice held a tinge of apprehension, yet he said nothing. As if immune to her presence, he moved to the closet as he began to unbutton his uniform coat.

"Spock, it's time." She fought to keep her voice steady as she moved to sit on the edge of their bed.

He stood still as he tilted his head. She could almost imagine the thought patterns that flew through his brain before he moved to sit in the only chair in the room. With a slight sigh, he set his uniform coat on the arm of the chair as he clasped his hands in his lap.

"Very well," was all he said as he kept his eyes averted.

Christine's gaze grew thin as she stared at her husband, "You admit that something is going on?"

"Yes."

There. That was it. He admitted it. He didn't even try to deny it. As if it was an ordinary, common event, the truth was finally out and Christine was not sure how to take it. Gulping down her anger, she inhaled deeply as she jumped from the bed and began to pace the length of the room.

"So ... how long?" Her voice sounded calm even to her ears.

"Only..." But she didn't give Spock time to finish, instead she whirled around and stared down at him, the anger clear in her voice.

"Over a month now." She did not ask, but stated.

"Yes."

"Very well." Her lips grew thin as she turned away from him. She fought to keep her rage under control. "What is her name?" she asked in a hush.

"Suraa. Her name is Suraa." His voice sounded too calm, too controlled for her liking.

Christine held on the edge of the dresser drawer. She felt her fingers gripping the wood as she fought for control. The woman who Spock was having an affair with, the one who kept him out late and who now occupied his complete thoughts was Vulcan. Although she did not want to know, she found herself asking the probing questions.

"What does she do?" Her head was bowed as her mind tried to grasp that this was real, it was not a nightmare. The events of the past, her conversation with her husband was really happening and there was no way to take it back.

"She is a waitress."

"A waitress?" Christine found herself repeating in disbelief.

Here she was an educated woman. She had gone through the arduous studies of Star Fleet's medical school to become a nurse and eventually a doctor. She achieved the rank of commander and she always believed that one of the things that attracted her husband to her was her keen analytical mind, and now she learned that all of her qualities could be replaced by a waitress.

"A waitress," she repeated again in disbelief as she released a tired sigh. "Spock..." She shook her head in confusion as she returned to pacing the length of the room. "How could you?"

"Christine ...I ..." His voice grew deep as he leaned back in the chair.

Christine did not wait for him to complete his sentence. Instead, she interrupted him to ask the nagging question that had been burning a hole in her brain. "Is she pretty?" Christine looked at him, her arms crossed in front of her.

"She is attractive." His voice was steady with not a hint of remorse.

Christine incredulously shook her head as she turned away from him. Her lower lip began to tremble as the tears of anger, frustration and sorrow crept into her eyes. In an attempt to stifle her emotions and regain control she closed her eyes tightly as she began to make a conscious attempt to control her breathing.

"Tell me," she whispered ever so softly, almost afraid of his answer. "How old is she?"

Her husband was silent for a moment and then he answered in a clear, deep voice, "Nineteen point ten standard months, if my calculations are correct."

Christine suddenly froze in place, her mind registering his answer. A part of her heart felt like it was sinking. Her earlier fears, the insecurities over her age and looks, crept into her psyche. And then his answer finally hit.

"Nineteen point ten standard months!" She spun on him, her eyes wide with disbelief. Not much older than their son, her mind raged as she stared at his dejected form. "NINETEEN??? Spock, have you lost your mind? NINETEEN?" She shook her head in righteous indignation.

"Christine, I know I erred, I know I should have told you sooner, however..." She cut off his words as she stepped away from him.

"Sooner? Spock, how long ..." She was afraid of his response. When his answer registered, she turned on him. "Have you no scruples? Nineteen? She's a child, Spock!" She began to pace again, her anger and frustration for her crumbling marriage began to consume her. "Is this some sort of weird Vulcan mid-life crisis that requires a healer, because trust me, Mister, I don't think I'm the healer that you want taking care of you right now!" she all but hissed as she felt her jaw setting tightly.

"I know I made a grave error, I understand that. Christine, I should have told you sooner. I never should have kept this from you." She heard the plea in his voice as he rose from the seat and moved toward her. She felt him reaching out through their bond, but rather than let him in, she was the one to close the door on him as she spun around and stared at him.

"Don't you dare!" Her voice was low and menacing as she gazed at him through haze filled eyes. "Don't you dare try to open something that you've actively kept me out of!" She pointed a finger at him accusingly, halting him in his steps.

"What are you saying Spock, that you should have told me before it happened? That you would expect me to just sit here and patiently wait while you are out with a ...a ...a nineteen year old waitress?" The shock was evident in her voice. "What did you think, Spock, that I'd let you go off like that and do what you will with your ... your paramour?" she hissed, and then continued, "because if you do, you've got another thing coming, Mister!"

"Paramour?" Spock looked as close to being confused as he'd ever been. "Christine, I do not have a paramour. You are my wife, I would never..."

"Then who is the nineteen year old waitress ...Suraa-whats-her-name?" She dared him to answer. He looked at her with the same sincerity that she saw when he first asked her to marry him. The naked truth of his emotions emanated from his dark eyes as he held her gaze.

"Suraa is my daughter." Spock's voice was like a strangled whisper.

"Y-Your ..." It was Christine who looked shocked at her husband's reply.

"She is my daughter, Christine. Suraa is my daughter," Spock stated again as he moved to her and took her hands. In his familiar, gentle manner he led her to the bed and sat her down as he joined her. "Christine, I have erred," he sighed as he lowered his head in shame.

Whatever anger, whatever frustrations or fears she had suddenly disappeared. As she held his hands in hers, she listened to everything that he had to say. He spoke with slow, controlled tones. His words outlined all that had happened since his first pon farr. The shame he felt, the complete and total helplessness for a medical condition that he had no control over was nothing new to her. She had already experienced it first hand, but somehow their love for each other helped them get through this Vulcan condition.

Although Christine had never met T'Pring, she knew who she was. She remembered seeing the beautiful woman on their first journey to Vulcan and could remember the pain of loss she felt when she realized that they were returning Spock to his home world in order to marry the woman. Nothing in her mind could have convinced her that such a union was right for him, but she said nothing. Later, when he returned to the ship with the deadly condition gone and divorced from the Vulcan woman, she took his words at face value. To the best of her knowledge, he never shared with either Jim or McCoy what actually happened on the planet. But now she knew. She understood that the only thing that kept him alive was the completing of the mating ritual.

"So you have a daughter with T'Pring and you kept this to yourself?" Her voice was tender as she reached up and brushed her fingers through his dark hair. He seemed oblivious to her touch as he sat with his head lowered.

"When I first learned that she carried a child, I returned to Vulcan. I had every intentions of claiming the child as my own. But..." His voice trailed off as he turned away from her, his features suddenly turning to stone. "T'Pring led me to believe that there was a matter of paternity to consider. She was already bonded to Stonn, the time frame of the child's conception appeared ambiguous and..." He sighed deeply for the first time. "T'Pring brought up the fact that I would not be a suitable father. With my duties to Star Fleet, I was hardly on Vulcan. I was in deep space undertaking dangerous missions that could possibly take my life. T'Pring convinced me that Stonn would be an exemplary father."

"And you believed her?" Christine suddenly felt anger rising in her toward the Vulcan woman. She was angry that the woman had the power to bring out such insecurities in her strong husband with just her words.

He thought over her response, and then glanced at her, an emotion close to sorrow hidden in his eyes. "At the time, it seemed ... logical."

"Oh, Spock." She shook her head as she reached for him and pulled him into her arms. "Vulcans can be so frustrating at times," she chided as she felt his arms wrap around her.

"You thought I was having an affair?" he asked as he pulled away from her.

She arched a brow in disbelief as she stared at him, and then said, "Think about it and then tell me what I should have thought."

He gazed at her as his fingers lightly touched the side of her face. Even after all of these years, his fingers caused a shiver through her spine. The closest thing to a smile crossed his lips as a sigh escaped his control.

"Yes, my wife. I understand, and I grieve for all of the turmoil I have caused thee." He spoke softly. "I could never have an affair. You are my wife, my bondmate. I cleave to only you."

"Oh Spock!" She pulled him close and held fast to him. The bond that had been closed only a few hours ago suddenly opened and flourished between them. She felt all of his love enter her. The sorrows, fears and regrets of his past suddenly emerged and together they faced each obstacle together. With the fragile bond of their marriage now stronger, Christine was able to understand her husband's actions. As illogical as it may have been, she had to admit that under the circumstances, he responded in the only way that he knew how.

"So, Spock, you have a daughter?" she smiled at her husband as she felt the tensions and fear leave his body. "When will I meet her?"

Spock looked at her with a serious expression. "You wish to meet Suraa?"

"Of course, Spock. She's your daughter, she's family. I think it would be good to finally meet the woman who has taken so much of my husband's time lately. And besides, I'm sure she'd like to get to know her brother and sisters as well. Don't you think she'd like to get to know her family?"

"I do not believe this is the case." A frown crossed his features as he looked away. "She asked me to stop following her."

Christine remained quiet as she thought over his comment. When she realized what he said, she looked at him and held his gaze. "Stop following her? Spock, exactly what were you doing this past month?"

"I was going to where she worked in hopes of getting to know her. A few times I followed her to make certain she arrived at her residence safely."

"You were stalking her?" she asked incredulously.

"I would hardly consider it..." He tried to sound indignant.

"You were stalking the poor girl!" She shook her head, then inhaled deeply and muttered under her voice, "It's no wonder Vulcans have managed for so long."

"Christine?" He looked at her confused.

"Oh, never mind," she chuckled softly as she leaned against him. "I can understand why she asked you not to follow her anymore, but we won't follow her. We'll go to the café, have dinner, and you can introduce me to your daughter. Perhaps if you aren't hiding in the shadows so much, she'll be more receptive to your overtures." She sighed as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

She could tell that Spock was contemplating her words. As if a weight had suddenly been removed from his shoulders, he seemed to relax as he leaned into her embrace. Through their marriage bond, she felt the warmth of his love radiating from him. With a slight smile, Christine closed her eyes as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I love you too, Spock," she answered, even though he never said a word.

* * *

The little diner in the heart of the Tenderloin was in full swing. The lights of the neon "open" sign flickered on and off as evidence that the bulb was on the verge of going out. The regular diners were already clustered at the counter that curved around the main preparation area of the little establishment. As the workers from the nearby factory entered and took up booths, the waitresses moved through the organized chaos to serve the needs of the patrons.

Suraa allowed her mind to wander over the words of her lover, while also attending to the customers at her tables. A few times Nadine hollered a question at her, but both women continued to make the rounds of their assigned tables. As she went back to the small window that opened to the cooking area, she placed her computer pad into the slot and waited as it scanned and tabulated an electronic bill.

"Honey, are you sure you can handle it?" Nadine finished tabulating her final customer as she looked over at the young Vulcan.

"Of course," was all Suraa said as she glanced down and began to separate the computer checks according to table.

"I'm glad you don't mind. I know it was short notice but Len managed to get tickets to the show, and you know how I've been dying to see them in concert!" The older woman smiled as she removed her apron and tossed it under the counter before grabbing her wrap and placing it around her shoulders. In an unconscious manner, the older woman fumbled through her small handbag as she prattled on about her upcoming date.

"Nadine, it is fine. It is always busy at this time, but once they have their meals, it will be no burden. Go and enjoy yourself," Suraa attempted to assure her as she grabbed the next set of prepared plates and hurriedly carried them to waiting customers.

"Thanks, hon, you're a real peach!" Nadine called out as she walked around the counter. Before she had a chance to leave the café, her loud voice of surprise caught Suraa's attention.

"Why, Captain Spock! What brings you here?" the older woman asked. Glancing up from a table, Suraa watched as her friend clasped the tall officer's arm, a moment of indecision crossed the Vulcan man's features before he gave a courteous nod. "And who is this beauty with you? Does your wife know?" Nadine chuckled as she winked and nudged the Star Fleet officer.

When Suraa saw the two, she blinked away her surprise before she returned her attention to her duties. In the back of her mind she heard her friend's warm greeting to the two, but continued to make her rounds of the room dispensing food and liquid refreshments to the patrons. She had spent all day contemplating Joseph's words, but even though his arguments were sound, there was a nagging part of her that doubted his logic. Why would Captain Spock want to get to know her? Would he even bother after she specifically asked him to stop following her? All of these questions crossed her mind in the blink of an eye.

For Christine, she didn't know what to expect. As soon as she was off duty, she quickly changed in the doctor's locker room into more suitable attire. Since Spock specifically stated that it was not a place with a clothing regulation, she chose a simple pant suit to wear, while he was still in his Star Fleet uniform. When the older waitress first approached them, Christine could barely contain a smile at the familiar southern drawl. Although she had heard from Leonard about his latest love, she had not yet met the woman. Now after seeing her bubbly personality, Christine could understand what attracted her mentor.

"Nadine," Spock's voice seemed deeper than usual as a familiar flush crossed his features. "May I introduce my wife, Dr. Chapel," he stated with a nod as Nadine's smile grew wide.

"Hey, it's a pleasure to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you from Len," Nadine exclaimed as she gave Christine a hug. "And pay no mind about that 'wife' comment I made. Heck, your man here is the most loyal man I've ever met, next to Len, that is." Nadine's ruby red lipstick seemed enhanced by the blush she wore. "But tell me, what brings you here, Captain Spock? If you had told me, I could have had Len pick me up here and we'd all have a bite together." Her features grew concerned. Then she added, "I'm going to have to leave, and shoot--" She glanced at one section of the café, "all of my booths are taken up. Well, don't you mind none, you both come on over here and Suraa will take good care of you," the older waitress continued her non-stop dialogue.

With a smile, Christine took a seat in the burgundy booth across from her husband. The blue and white speckled formica table top held an array of condiments on the end. Noticing the choice, Christine had a sinking feeling that there was not much on the menu that would be suitable to a Vulcan diet, or for that matter, any healthy diet. But she held back her reservations as she accepted the waitress' hospitality.

"Suraa ... Suraa, hon, come on over here for a bit," Nadine called to the younger waitress.

Christine was not certain what to expect. She vividly remembered the image of T'Pring, Spock's first betrothed, and knew what a beauty she was. So it shouldn't have been a surprise to her that his eldest daughter was a beauty as well. Even though T'Pring had once mentioned that the child might not be Spock's, Christine knew the moment she saw the young woman that her husband was, indeed, Suraa's biological father. From the gentle arch of her brows, to her slender delicate nose and to the tip of her elfin ears that were now concealed by her long hair under a waitress cap, there was a family resemblance between the young woman and Spock.

When the younger waitress stepped forward, her gaze remained impassive and neutral. If she was surprised by their visit, she managed to conceal it behind her Vulcan stoicism. Like long time friends, Nadine wrapped an arm around the younger woman's shoulder as she smiled down at the Captain and his wife.

"This here is Suraa. I'm not sure if you've ever met her before, Captain, but she's one of our finest waitresses. A hard worker who picked up real fast. She'll take care of you," she smiled as she gave the young waitress a friendly hug, then turned and looked at the woman, "Now, Suraa, you remember Captain Spock? Well. this here is his wife, so just go ahead and give them the star treatment!" Nadine instructed. When she glanced at the chronometer on the wall, a look of panic crossed her features. "Oh my, I'm already late! I'm sorry that I can't sit and gab longer, but we'll get another chance soon! You all just relax and let Suraa take care of you," the older waitress called out as she hurried from the café. When she left the building, she waved their way before disappearing down a dark side street.

During the exchange Suraa had enough time to assess the two people. She noticed the Star Fleet officer glancing down, his eyes never meeting hers. As for the human, she was as Suraa remembered from the news vids, except for the hair color. So many times she used to wonder what this woman possessed that encouraged her father to give up the stars. She used to think that she was a beauty beyond compare, but as she looked at her now, she could not help but feel a bit disappointed. The human that Spock had chosen to bond with was ordinary, as humans go. True, she was not unattractive, nor was she hideous as her mother implied. She was simply, for lack of a better word, common. But when the human turned her attention away from Nadine and glanced up at her, her eyes seemed to peer into Suraa's katra and her smile radiated the area. At this single glance, Suraa felt her heart skip a beat. For only a fraction of time she saw the twinkle of life sparkle in the human woman's eyes and she realized that this is what the officer must have been attracted to. There was an infectious sparkle in her eyes that seemed to warm the room.

Suraa found herself averting her gaze quickly as she handed the couple two menus. With only a nod of her head, she quickly left the table in order to retrieve two glasses of liquid for them. After setting the glasses down, she looked at the two who were gazing over the menu.

"Would you like to order now, or do you perhaps require more time?" Suraa spoke for the first time. She hoped that her voice was steady, that she did not display the embarrassing emotions that had crept out the last time Spock was sitting in this booth. As if she were studying for an exam, the human woman gazed intently at the menu before releasing a sigh. She smiled up at Suraa, that same mesmerizing sparkle in her eyes captivated the young Vulcan.

"Oh, I just don't know, it all looks so ... delicious!" Christine exclaimed.

At her comment, Suraa felt a brow rise as she attempted to understand the woman's sincerity. In her time with humans she had learned that their words held different degrees of truthfulness. While some were known to give fabricated tales, others held to high expectations for realism. Yet there were others, for whatever reason, who were prone to shift between the two worlds. Many of the latter humans did so because of their false need to give praise when none was due. Suraa estimated that Spock's wife was doing just this. She was praising the menu as a way of not causing undo stress, but why, Suraa did not know. "Surely this woman does not think that I would take a personal affront for any comments made about the food?" Suraa silently wondered.

"Umm, honey, why don't you go ahead and order while I look some more," the doctor absently said as she returned to her examination of the menu.

Suraa turned her attention from the human, to her father. For the first time since entering the café, he looked up at her. When their eyes met she saw a momentary glimpse of something, but was not certain what it was. Hope, longing, fear, perhaps regret? But it quickly disappeared when he looked down at the menu in his hands.

"Would you like the usual?" Suraa offered as she averted her gaze to the pad in her hands.

"Yes, please," his voice sounded strained as if it was difficult to talk.

"Very well," Suraa kept her composure. Her voice never released a hint of emotion as she made the notation on her notepad, knowing that her note was being transmitted to the screen in the kitchen. "Would you care for blueberry, strawberry or boysenberry syrup this time?" she looked back down at the Captain, his expression seemed a bit startled as she peered into his eyes. He inhaled deeply as a brow rose in a slight arch.

"Boysenberry this time, please," his replied as he quickly looked away while closing the menu.

"Very well." Suraa allowed the corner of her lips to curve into the barest hint of a smile before turning her attention to the human woman. As if realizing that she was waiting, the older brunette smiled as she pointed to an item on the menu.

"This fried chicken looks good, but I was wondering, would it be possible to substitute tofu for chicken?" her father's wife asked.

Suraa remained silent as she contemplated the question. She wondered how the old curmudgeon, Stan, would take to a special order. In the past any special request were met with loud shouts and abuse at the waitress who dared to pass along the request from a customer. Before Suraa could even reply, the human woman must have noticed her hesitation because she quickly looked down and pointed to a different item on the menu.

"Oh, never mind. How about this one, the southern fried catfish with potatoes?" the woman asked as she gazed up at Suraa. "Only, would it be possible to substitute egg plant instead of the catfish?"

As if noticing Suraa's distress, the human gave an apologetic smile and asked, "Tell me, is there anything on the menu that you could recommend?"

Suraa stood for a moment nonplus. Her expression remained neutral yet her mind churned with solutions to the problem. When one came to mind, she tilted her head toward the woman as she casually folded her palms before her.

"If madam will allow, I shall bring a plate that will be ... .suitable," she offered.

Christine knew that she was being difficult, but she didn't know what to do. Everything on the menu was already giving her gastric problems, and she'd only read the menu. She didn't want to seem like a snob in front of Spock's daughter, but she couldn't imagine not eating anything. When the young woman made the offer, Christine smiled when she saw the sincerity behind the young girl's Vulcan calm.

"Why, thank you! Yes, that would be very nice," she smiled as the woman nodded before collecting the menus and leaving them alone. "Spock, she is absolutely beautiful!" She leaned toward her husband as she watched Suraa disappear in the kitchen. "But I don't understand, why is she working in this place? I mean, not that there is anything wrong, but isn't it unusual for Vulcans to work in this type of ... .restaurant?"

"It is, Christine. But I have not been able to ascertain why Suraa would choose this establishment as a place for employment. I must also confess to confusion on the matter," he folded his hands neatly on the table as he gazed around the café. His eyes watched the tall woman moving from table to table, but when she turned their way, he looked away as if afraid of being caught.

"And she's so young! Is she in school?" Christine asked as she continued to watch the waitress, not at all concerned about her open curiosity.

"I do not believe so, although ..." Spock looked away, a shade of green crossed his features, "I have not had the opportunity to discuss matters with her."

Christine turned her attention away from the woman to her husband. She noticed how hard it was for him to be so close to his daughter, yet so far away. With a gentle smile she reached out and took his hand in hers. She sent her thoughts of hope and reassurance to her husband through their shared bond as she smiled at him.

"Don't worry, it will all work out," she confidently stated.

Suraa was in the back kitchen when she glanced out at the customers. Everyone was eating and appeared satisfied. When she looked at the table where her father and his wife sat, she allowed herself a moment to watch their interaction. She noticed her father's expression as the human took his hand. Rather than pull away, he clasped her hand in his as he listened attentively to the human. On Vulcan such openness would have never been seen. Touching, caressing, or even exchanging such intimacies vocally was unheard of and she was surprised to see such a display from the ever formal Star Fleet hero. The slight smile that he shared with his wife seemed to belay everything that T'Pring had ever said about him. With a curious arch of a brow, Suraa turned away and moved to the back refrigeration units.

Although she did not espouse to being a chef or even a cook, Suraa knew how to feed herself. She had learned out of necessity when she was a child. There were numerous times that she was left alone while her family attended one social event or another. After a few times she quickly realized how bland replicated food could be. Because of this, she learned how to mix various foods in order to make them edible.

After removing her own lunch pack, she quickly moved through the busy kitchen. She took a clean plate and arranged a platter of mixed vegetables from Terra. When she opened her own pack, the cook was suddenly alert to her activity. Angered by it, he moved to stand behind her.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Stan's portly frame hovered behind her. His scrutiny passed over the plate that she was preparing. His eyes grew to slits as if he were examining a foul smelling creature.

"I am endeavoring to prepare a plate that will be suitable to the Captain's wife," she explained as she took the container of s'hculik root and placed it as the center piece of the meal. Although considered bitter by human standards, Suraa quickly learned from her time on the planet that when mixed with certain vegetables from Terra the common Vulcan root was pleasing to the human palate. With the combination of nutrients and protein while also being low in calories, it proved to be an adequate meal.

"What's the matter? Isn't my cooking good enough for the Captain's Wife?" the head cook, and owner of the café asked as he cast spurious glances at the meal.

"The Captain's wife has special dietary needs. Surely you do not want the unwanted publicity should she become ill from the food?" Suraa stood still for a moment as she watched the human think over her argument. With something close to a grunt, he turned away and moved back to the grill, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he tossed the pancakes onto a plate and handed them to her. With a slight nod, Suraa took the offered dish as well as the special plate and quickly left the food preparation area.

When she placed the two meals at the table, she noticed the look of surprise from the human woman. Pleased by the colorful array of food, the doctor cast her husband a look that Suraa could not interpret. After placing her father's plate in front of him, Suraa moved to an empty table and retrieved the requested syrup.

"Will you require anything else?" Suraa asked the couple.

Spock looked at Christine's plate, and then his own with a bit of bewilderment. Christine simply smiled as she took the first bite of the meal. The sweet and sour mixture mingled in her mouth to create a cornucopia of tasty delight.

"Oh, this is wonderful! Where ever did the cook get such an idea?" Christine asked as she took another bite of the meal.

"He did not. I am the one who prepared the meal. It is to your satisfaction?" Suraa questioned.

"Oh, boy, is it ever!" the doctor closed her eyes as sounds of pleasure emitted from her closed lips.

Suraa glanced at her father, her expression neutral. "Is everything suitable for you?"

Spock looked from his plate, to his wife's. His expression was as stoic as he could manage under the circumstances. With a questioning arch of a brow, he looked up at Suraa.

"That is not on the menu," he stated matter-of-factly.

"No, it is not." Suraa responded equally dead pan.

"Forgive me." He cleared his throat as he looked back at the two plates. "But you have never offered to prepare such a meal for me."

Suraa allow a hint of a smile to cross her lips as she nodded understanding. "You never asked," was all she said before nodding, and then returned to her duties.

"See there, you never asked!" Christine lightly chuckled as she continued to dive into her meal, each bite of morsel caused her to close her eyes as she savored the assortment of flavors. When she opened her eyes and saw her husband's hurt expression, she laughed softly as she reached over and took his hand. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Would you like to share? Here, have some," she offered as she fed him from her plate. After the first bite, she knew that she had lost half of her dinner to husband, but she didn't mind. Eating like this, with her feeding him from one plate, reminded her of their honeymoon from long ago. Although it had taken her a short time to explain the romance of the act, he soon relaxed and allowed her to feed him during those early years together.

When they finished she felt a pang of regret. Christine would have liked to have sat down with the young woman in order to get to know her. She wanted to ask Suraa a million questions, but under the circumstances the opportunity did not arise. As the only waitress, the young Vulcan was kept busy moving from table to table. When she saw that they were finished with their meal, she inquired one last time if there was anything else they required, but before either Christine or Spock could answer, a customer from across the room called for her. Not wishing to burden her, they both politely responded and were then given their check. Actually, it was not a check but a small control panel that allowed the customer to directly deposit the cost of the meal funds directly into the café's account, including the tip.

As they rose to leave, Christine glanced around and noticed Suraa standing at the counter with her back to them. The young woman was studiously adding up another bill. Before leaving, Christine moved away from her husband to his eldest daughter. Surprised by her presence, Suraa glanced at her, a brow inquisitively raised.

"Suraa, I just wanted to say that I'm happy to meet you and I hope that we can get together again, perhaps when you aren't so busy." Christine donned a smile as she attempted to put the young woman at ease. "And ... about my husband," the human's voice grew low as she leaned toward the woman. "I apologize for his stalking. Sometimes, his heart is in the right place but when it comes to family, he tends not to see clearly. I promise, he won't be stalking you anymore," she explained.

Suraa looked over at the tall Vulcan standing by the door. Although most could not hear the human's low voice, she knew that with his sensitive Vulcan hearing that he heard what was said. With a flush, he turned away, his hands folded behind his back as he appeared to be inspecting the neon sign in the window.

"No explanation is necessary," Suraa stated with a slight nod.

"Good, I'm glad you feel this way. I look forward to the next time," Christine said as she reached for the Vulcan woman, but then held back as if remembering the aversion of touch that Vulcans were prone to have.

With a smile, Christine turned and left to join her husband. As the two left the café Suraa watched in mild fascination, her brows creased together in thought. She wondered if she should have explained that she was psi-null and therefore was not adverse to the human touch. But before she could contemplate this notion, another customer called her attention and she quickly resumed serving the patrons of the café.

* * *

As soon as they were in their car, Christine and Spock discussed what would happen. He had already taken the first step in acknowledging his daughter by going to the Vulcan Embassy to discuss the matter with his father. Because Spock had never mentioned anything to him, Sarek had never given T'Pring's eldest much thought. Although he knew of the child's existence, because she was never seen at Vulcan gatherings Sarek assumed that the child was kept away from family functions at the behest of her father, Stonn. Coming from a private family who preferred to avoid large family functions, it would not be surprising if Stonn had issued such a directive. But now, after discussing the matter with Spock, it suddenly occurred to the elder Vulcan that although the eldest was never seen, the two younger children were always by their parents' side. Even though a paternity test had not been conducted, Sarek chose to accept his son's words and the documentation would begin to lay the ground work for the proper paternity to be established.

"Family is family," Sarek had assured his son.

"Now all that is left is to tell the children," Christine sighed as they drove to their home in the South Bay.

"Yes, the children," Spock echoed then grew silent.

When she glanced at her husband and noticed his concern, she reached over and rested her hand on his arm. "Spock, we have to tell them. We can't have secrets in the family, not anymore."

"Of course," he sighed. "I only wonder ..."

"Spock, I'm going to be with you. We'll explain it to them together," she reassured. "I'm sure they'll understand."

* * *

For the most part, the children did understand. Although Spock glazed over how it happened, he was forthcoming to explain that he had a child from a previous union. At first the two older children were amazed and smiled but when Setton learned that he had an older sister, a visible frown crossed his Vulcan features.

"Awe, Dad, did you have to have a girl? Why couldn't you have had a boy so that I'd have a big brother to hang out with!" he exclaimed.

"Son, although I do acknowledge that I do play a part in deciding the gender, I did not have active control to choose the gender," Spock explained with a tinge of humor in his voice.

"What's wrong with a sister? I'm glad! When can we meet her, Daddy? I'd love to have an older sister!" Mandy exclaimed.

Only T'Rea remained silent. Christine wasn't certain if she understood what had been explained but when the girl began to pout, Christine pulled her youngest into her arms. "T'Rea, what's wrong?" she asked as she gazed at the little girl. Spock reached for their daughter and held her hand in his.

"T'Rea, what is distressing you?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

It took a few moments of coaxing before the little girl crossed her arms and angrily looked up at her parents. "With another one, there won't be any time for me!" she pouted.

"What do you mean? Oh, T;Rea, of course there will be time for you." Christine hugged the girl tight.

"No there won't! You're both already busy with Setton and Mandy, there's hardly ever any time for me! You've both been busy with Mandy's Koo-sawnis that you don't even notice me!" The five-year-old's vocabulary mangled the Vulcan word as tears began to stream down her cheeks. "With another girl around, you're both going to forget about me!" she began to cry as she buried her face in Christine's bosom. They may have given T'Rea a Vulcan name to honor one of Spock's favorite aunts, and at times when she was well behaved and dressed in Vulcan garb, their youngest was every bit Vulcan. But then there were times like this when the girl demonstrated her all too human side.

"Nonsense, there will be plenty of time for you. Why, T'Rea, your father and I spend a lot of time with all of you. This isn't going to change anything. And as for Mandy's ku-shinas, just wait until it's your turn and you'll see how much planning and preparations go into the celebration," she explained. "T'Rea, my baby, we still love all of you dearly, except now, there will be another one in our lives to love. Don't worry, my sweet, I promise, nothing will change."

* * *

While Christine may have made this promise to her youngest daughter, some promises were harder to keep especially when the plan was set to try to welcome a new member into the family. When it came to promises, Christine had promised Suraa that her husband would no longer stalk her, but she never mentioned anything about herself. Of course, if asked Christine would not have seen it as stalking. Instead, she would have viewed it as an act of friendship - a way of welcoming a new family member to Terra. As a long term resident of Earth, as it was called in the history lessons, Christine felt it her obligation to welcome family, even if she had just met her. So in her usual fashion she spent the better part of the next afternoon baking mizs'has, a Vulcan treat similar to cookies, and old fashioned chocolate chip cookies. Once finished she mixed the cooled treats into a container and the next afternoon she proceeded to the address that Spock had mentioned. No, in Christine's mind she had not seen her own actions as stalking but as a way to welcome Suraa to the family. So with treats in hand she drove to the apartment building in San Francisco's Mission district.

At one time the area was teaming with new life, but then age happened upon it and it deteriorated. After the rebuilding of the neighborhood after the war that, according to all her history lessons, had cost Earth dearly, the area was again teeming with life. But that rebirth happened long ago and since then the area had fallen back into the dilapidated conditions from before. When Christine saw the old building, she inhaled deeply at the sight. Although there hadn't been an earthquake in years, she wondered if the apartment complex was even up to code. At the sight of the "out of order" sign on the lift, she silently grumbled to herself as she began to make her way up the flight of stairs. With each new floor she was greeted with the appalling conditions of what she could only assume was tenement housing. The sounds from the other apartments echoed softly through the corridor. She shuddered to think of one of her own children living in such squalor, but had to refrain from the urge to swoop up Suraa and return her home.

"No, she's not my daughter. If I move too fast, she may become frightened and disappear and that's not what I want. I just want to put her at ease so that she'll take the chance to meet with her father," Christine continually reminded herself as she climbed her way to Suraa's apartment.

Once in front of the door, Christine wondered if she was doing the right thing. She felt a moment of doubt enter her, but then she girded up her courage and knocked on the door. From somewhere inside she thought she heard muffled voices, but then it disappeared until the door was slightly opened. Suraa stood there by the door, her long flowing dark hair was no longer hidden under a waitress cap but now hung loose around her shoulders. Upon seeing Christine, Suraa's brows arched upward in surprise.

"Umm, I'm sorry for not calling but I'm afraid my husband didn't have a number. I just wanted to thank you for the wonderful meal that you prepared for me the other day and ..." Christine smiled as she glanced down at the container in her hands. "... and I made this for you to welcome you."

Suraa remained silent, her eyes gazing at Christine intently. She seemed confused and on the verge of saying something, but then a noise was heard from the darkness of her apartment. Although Christine could not see past Suraa, she thought she recognized the sound of a man sneezing, but then it grew silent. For the first time she noticed the young Vulcan's state of dress. With only a robe wrapped around herself, Suraa held it closed as she kept most of her apartment hidden behind the door. The slight sheen of perspiration on the young woman's brow combined with her state of unease brought a realization that caused Christine to blush.

"Oh. my!" she exclaimed softly as she hastily averted her eyes. "I'm so sorry, dear. I didn't mean ... that is, I didn't even think..." Christine stammered as she tried to find a way of escape, and then hastily handed the container to Spock's daughter. "I'm so sorry! I've interrupted something. Please forgive me and accept these." Christine's normally cool and collected persona crumbled under the Vulcan's silence. Without waiting for a response, the doctor said a quick goodbye and turned to leave. Somewhere between the hall and the stairs she heard Suraa's door close and lock behind her.

While this initial encounter may have thwarted most stout individuals, it did not affect Christine. Instead she decided that a change of plans was needed. As the days passed, she continued to focus on her job and family, but included Suraa in the equation. Every few days, to the consternation of her children, and especially her youngest, T'Rea, she continued to make baked goods. Sometimes she made Vulcan casseroles. What changed was that rather than disturbing the young Vulcan woman, Christine left the containers at Suraa's doorstep. As each one was gone whenever she made a visit, she assumed that Suraa was getting the gifts that she left. But everything changed after a few weeks of this activity.

When she went to the apartment, she was surprised to find the door wide open. Whatever had been blocking the windows before were now removed and the sun showed how truly small the room was. Walking into the now empty studio apartment she looked around at the Spartan surroundings.

"She ain't here no more," an older, balding man stated as he walked in with a broom, mop and bucket. Wearing a facility uniform, he glanced at the container in Christine's hands and sniffed the air.

"Where is she?" Christine was oblivious to the looks the man was casting at the food in her hand.

"Don't know, she didn't say. She just paid up her last days and gave notice. She left a few days back." He scratched the stubble on his chin as he glanced off in the distance, apparently trying to remember something, "I think ... well, I don't really know where she went. Maybe she went back to that planet she's from? You know she was a Romulan, don't you? Some thought she was a Vulcan, but I think she was a Romulan, some others thought so too!" He stated firmly as if to give his suspicions credence. "She was always quiet, kept to herself. Some of us were thinking she might be an agent -- a spy," he said with a slight whisper as he leaned toward her. "To me, don't matter what she was, they're all alike. You know how sneaky both those lots can be. Vulcans, Romulans, neither one can be trusted." His xenophobia crept out with each word.

Christine wanted to take her latest casserole creation and dump it on his head. But upon consideration, she kept her silence as she gave him a stony glare. "Are you certain that she didn't leave any forwarding address?"

"Nope, not with me ... or anyone else, I'd venture," he said as he looked at her container again with a hopeful look.

"Thank you," she said, knowing that even this amount of politeness was too good for him.

That evening her family had the casserole dish that she made. When the children finished eating and she was alone with her husband, she was able to explain the latest events. Although he knew what she was doing, he never offered an opinion. Now that they knew that Suraa was gone, he only offered words of comfort. Even after he went to the café a few times and found her gone, he still comforted his wife and continually reiterated that he placed no blame on her.

As the days passed Christine continued to feel the nagging sorrow. She found herself second guessing her actions. She wondered if she had gone too far, or perhaps had scared the girl away. She thought of paying a private investigator to search for Suraa, but each time the thought crossed her mind, she had to chide herself. "If she wants to disappear, she will. When she's ready for us, she'll come back," she told herself.

Although the older children occasionally questioned them about their sister, all that Christine and Spock could say was that they hoped that Suraa would one day choose to join their family. Because they had never met her before, the children continued their lives while their parents kept their sorrow to themselves. Only T'Rea, noticing that her mother was no longer preoccupied with cooking and baking for another daughter, was pleased by the sudden change. She may not have understood why her mother seemed sad lately, she only knew that now that her mother no longer had another little girl to occupy her time; Christine could spend more time with her. From her childish perspective, things had taken a turn for the better.

Everyday Christine found herself riddled with guilt and more than once she second guessed her actions. Her thoughts always turned to Suraa and she held the silent wish that Spock's eldest daughter would one day get into contact with them. As her mind continually spun over this problem, she turned her attention to her family and the upcoming birthday celebration for her eldest daughter. More importantly, she focused her attention to her youngest daughter who had felt displaced by Christine's recent activity. T'Rea didn't understand why it was important to welcome another sister; she only felt set aside and forgotten, and Christine understood this. The time that she once had to spend with the girl after school was turned toward an entirely different venture that didn't include her and Christine tried to mend the wounds that her preoccupation had caused.

It had been a few weeks since she learned of Suraa's disappearance and although she thought of her often, neither she nor Spock spoke of it again. On a day when everyone in the house was busy, she found herself wondering again what had become of the woman. As Spock and Jim were outside in the back yard preparing the area for the guests who would arrive for the party in a few days, Christine was inside the kitchen making certain that all of her supplies were on hand. Although her family's custom was to treat a girl's sixteenth birthday as special, in Vulcan society it was the thirteenth. Because of this many family members from Vulcan would be arriving to celebrate Mandy's birthday.

With so much to plan, and the time ticking away faster than she hoped, Christine moved around the house cleaning up and preparing for Mandy's big day. While the khas-wan was a rite of passage for young Vulcan males, female Vulcans had to wait until their thirteenth birthdays for their ku-shinas. The more cerebral celebration was a way to honor the girls who would soon be entering womanhood. It was no coincidence that many Vulcan girls experienced their first menstruation shortly after their ku-shinas celebration. Even though Mandy had not begun yet, Christine was more than ready for the time when her girl would begin this important passage in her life.

When she walked into the living room she saw her son lying on his back on the sofa. A control panel was in his hands as he stared intently at the vid-monitor on the wall. "Setton, go and help your father and Uncle Jim in the yard," she ordered her son who sat oblivious to her presence, his attention captivated with getting to the next level.

"Young man!" She deepened her voice to let him know that she meant business.

"In a minute, Mom," he replied as his fingers played over the controls. Seeing that he was making no attempt to move, she took her dish towel and tossed it at him. It landed on his head like a hat. "Aw, Mom, ya made me miss!" he exclaimed as he pulled the towel from his head.

"Good, now save the game and go help," she said in a no nonsense voice.

"Aw..." he mumbled as he got up and stomped out, sighing and frowning as if she had asked him to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. When she turned to get her towel, the door bell rang. Thinking it was yet another delivery van, she called out, "Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, I'm coming as fast as I..." She opened the door, her mouth hung loose as she finished her sentence with, "... can!"

"My apologies," Suraa stood at the entryway, her gaze lowered as a green blush crossed her features. "I had no intentions of intruding."

"Suraa!!" Christine exclaimed as she pulled the girl into an embrace, then hastily let her go. "Not at all. You aren't intruding! Please, come in," Christine welcomed.

When Suraa hesitated, Christine glanced at her cautiously. She noticed that the young Vulcan wore tight blue jeans, black boots and a white shirt under a black leather riding jacket. As Christine took in the Vulcan's appearance, dawning suddenly registered and she quickly glanced out to the front driveway of their house. Sitting astride a sleek black air cycle was a young man. With a helmet in his lap, he watched them intently before releasing a wide smile and a wave.

"Ummmm, Suraa?" Christine smiled at the young woman who seemed visibly uncomfortable. "Would you both like to come in?"

"No, I am sorry. We have another engagement to attend," she explained. "I wanted to return these to you," Suraa said as she held up the empty containers, each one had been cleaned and were now tied together. "I kept the address that you inscribed into the first one. I apologize that I was unable to return them sooner."

"Oh, it's perfectly alright, honey, don't worry about it," Christine waved away her apology. Before she could ask all of the questions that were racing through her mind, Spock caught her attention. Turning, they watched as he entered the alcove. Wearing work pants, white shirt and work gloves, his face was smudged with dust and dirt. The work of cleaning up the yard before the party was evident on his clothes and face. When he looked up and saw Suraa standing at the doorway, a visible smile crossed his features that belayed all of his Vulcan training.

"Suraa!" he exclaimed. At his look of excitement, Christine wondered if he was going to grab his eldest in his arms and hug her. But when he realized his lack of decorum, a sigh escaped his control as he glanced away, embarrassed at his visible display of emotions. Like a child who had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, Spock quickly recomposed himself as he moved to stand next to Christine.

"Suraa, it is gratifying to see you again," he stated formally as he looked down at his daughter.

"I wanted to return your property," Suraa explained as she nodded toward the empty containers.

Spock took a look at the containers as a brow rose. "Wife, you did not explain the quantity that you prepared." His statement was more like a question. "Hopefully you were not overburdened with having to eat such a large amount?" Spock asked Suraa as a genuine look of puzzlement crossed his features.

"Captain ... ummm ..." She glanced away, a discomfort crossing her features. "I assure you, I was not alone in consuming your wife's delicious gifts." She explained as she glanced back at the driveway. The young human man remained sitting astride his bike, the helmet in his hands was easily balanced as he watched their exchange. On the seat behind him was a second black helmet. When Spock looked up at the young man, a questioning expression crossed his features. "My ... ummm ... friend assisted in the consumption of the meals."

"I am pleased to know that you both enjoyed my wife's cooking," Spock stated as his glanced moved between Suraa to the young man. More than once the human beamed a wide smile their way as he waved, which only resulted in Spock raising a surprised brow.

When the wind blew past the young man, Christine smiled when she saw how handsome he was with his long flowing hair. "Perhaps if I was younger, and single, this handsome young man might have caught my attention too," she wickedly thought. When she heard her husband clear his voice, she returned her attention to him and glanced up at him.

Before the awkward silence could continue between father and daughter, Christine smiled as she spoke up. "Suraa, I know this is short notice, but if you are free, perhaps you would like to attend our daughter's birthday this weekend," she asked, then quickly added, "it's her thirteenth birthday," she said by way of explanation.

At the invitation Suraa seemed to be examining Christine carefully, her brows inched together into a frown. Her eyes held Christine's, the intensity bore into her as if she was searching for something. When the Vulcan appeared satisfied she looked at Spock, the same intense gaze held his. It was then that Christine understood what Suraa was seeking and it broke her heart to realize that Suraa did not believe the sincerity of the invitation. Before she could speak up, Spock tilted his head slightly, his voice grew low as he spoke in Vulcan. Although she understood a few words, when he spoke quickly with another Vulcan, Christine found it hard to follow along. The only word she picked up from this exchange was "daughter," which appeared to take Suraa by surprise.

Suraa's eyes opened wide, her lips slightly parted as she tilted her head, the intensity of her gaze bore into the Vulcan man. She had heard his words clearly and the tone of his voice was level and sincere. Yet a part of her mind tried to rebel, tried to tell her that she was mistaken. As she blinked in surprise, she kept her gaze steady.

"Daughter," her father spoke again but this time in Federation English. "Daughter, thee are always welcomed in our home. Your family welcomes you and your presence for this occasion would honor us," he said again. This time his wife understood.

Suraa felt taken back by his invitation. Her mind was filled with conflicting thoughts. She remembered all of the words that her mother said, her comments that Spock did not want her rushed past her memories. But when she looked into his eyes, she felt the sincerity of his words.

"I shall endeavor to attend this event..." she stated formally in Federation English; her voice hesitated for a moment as her eyes glanced down. As if steeling her resolve, she looked back up at Spock, her expression neutral before she added, "...Father."

"And bring your friend," Christine added with a smile.

When Suraa looked at her, the human woman smiled as she nodded toward the driveway. Joseph, in his usual manner, smiled and waved yet again when he saw them looking his way. With a slight sigh, Suraa looked away from him to the two in the doorway.

"We shall see," she replied as she nodded, then turned to leave. When she arrived at the cycle, Joseph already had his helmet on as he handed hers to her. Once she pulled it on, she climbed on the back of his bike and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"See, just like I said," his voice sounded in the ear piece in her helmet. She ignored his comment as he revved up the motorcycle and began to maneuver it from the ground.

"We have a dinner invitation?" he asked as she leaned into his body. When she felt the land disappear below her, she crouched low and held fast to him. "Don't worry, Suraa, they'll love me!" he chuckled while easily maneuvering them into the vehicle airspace.

"We shall see," was all she said as he drove them toward a nearby city where they were to meet some of his friends.

* * *

Christine felt her heart racing when she saw the two riding away on the motorcycle. The healer in her wanted to chase after them and ask them to stop driving such a dangerous machine. But another part reminded herself that this was not her daughter, and even if she was, Suraa was a grown woman and capable of making her own independent decisions. Despite this, the doctor in her couldn't help but softly say, "Oh boy," as she watched them disappear from view.

When she looked at her husband, she noticed his arched brow. She shrugged her shoulders as she crossed her arms in front of her. "