DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of T'Kuht and is copyright (c) 2001 by T'Kuht. This story is Rated PG-13. This is a work of my own fiction. I based her corporation on the one mentioned by Barbara Hambly in Crossroads. I also base the neuro-transtator on that particular implant as described in that book. The songs are not mine, the movies aren't mine, the characters aren't mine, I hope you like it anyway....T'Kuht.

Lover's Return

T'Kuht

Christine Chapel was deeply engrossed in her work. Since starting Starfield Corporation, she had worked around the clock nearly 7 days a week. She loved it. It wasn't really work. It was her passion, her life. It was the solace she took to bed at night and the first thing she thought of when she woke in the morning. Her retirement from Starfleet two years earlier had been a nice parting from a long and illustrious tour. Funny, she had gone into the Fleet with this part time attitude and ended up being one of its most decorated medical officers. Life throws curve balls everyday and you have to learn to hit them before they hit back. That was her motto now, strike first or don't even bother. She sighed happily. She was hard at work on a new neuro transtator that would give relief to millions who suffered from neurological disorders either from birth or by an incident later on in life. It was extremely promising. Leaning back in her antique style leather desk chair, she reveled in the feel. It was so comfortable. She closed her eyes and allowed her heart to slow down along with her breathing for a few moments. She was almost relaxed enough to go to sleep when a knock at her doorframe brought her up out of the depths. "Yes?"

Ken Donaldson stood in the door smiling. He didn't see his boss like that much. She looked younger, more carefree when she was almost asleep. "Hey, chief, why don't you take a break?"

"Sounds good, actually. I think that's the first time you've been right this week," she teased. Ken was twenty years her junior and she rather thought of him as her protégé. His boyish smile didn't let on a bit that he was already 40.

"Well, then I've got just what you need. I have two all expense paid tickets to Delmonico's. You interested?" he asked waving the flimsiplast at her.

She was impressed. Delmonico's was galaxy famous for being the most expensive restaurant in the area. It was an ancient establishment with its roots dating back to the 1800s. It had an incomparable menu. "I do believe I'll take you up on that. When do you want to go?"

"Oh, I can't make it. I have a date with Anne. But, she has a friend in town and is going to give the other ticket to them."

The blue eyes narrowed. "What is this, a set up?"

"Honest, Chris, I have no clue who the person is. Besides, it's just dinner, and it's paid for. What are you complaining about?"

"Wait a minute, why don't you and Anne use them?" she asked curiously.

"Let's just say, we'll be engaged in other activities by the time the first course is served..." he alluded. She laughed and took the ticket.

* * *

Dressing in a soft velour pants set, she started walking to Delmonico's. It was only three blocks from her suite at the Monterey Arms, but she'd never been there for supper. She'd only eaten at their al fresco dining area during lunch. The evening was perfect for a nice walk. She didn't do this often enough. She forgot to allow herself time to just enjoy being alive. Tonight would be different. No shop talk. She'd have a nice dinner with a stranger, whether it was male or female it didn't matter. She got along with nearly everyone she'd ever met. Walking up to the grand entrance, she presented her reservation ticket to the maitre d'. He smiled at her and led to a cozy corner table. She was the first to arrive. He presented her with a menu. "Does madame wish to order an aperitif?"

"I believe I'll wait until the other person arrives," she smiled and waited a little expectantly. She had no clue who would arrive. It was rather exciting. She drank in the atmosphere. Low lights, soothing music, and the quiet tinkle of china mingled with the soft hum of people talking. It was so inviting here. There was a rule about children not being allowed under the age of 10 so there would be no fussy babies or temper tantrums. It was an elegant dining experience. She could hear the maitre d' speak as he led the other ticket holder. "The lady has already arrived. Here is your table, monsieur."

"Thank you," came the only voice that still haunted her dreams. She gasped aloud and almost leapt to her feet. Spock, now a junior ambassador, stood at the opening of the booth for two and with one eyebrow said everything he had to say. He hadn't seen her or heard of her for almost eight years now. Had the whale probe incident been that long ago> he wondered. The situation was very awkward for the two of them. His memories had returned of her and her feelings for him shortly after he had met her at the trial. He found them troubling, but other than that there was no evidence that she even thought of him anymore. He nodded, "Dr. Chapel."

"Ambassador, I didn't know Anne knew you," she said.

"I have worked with her via my father's office," he replied. In fact that was how he came to be given the ticket. He was the last one to leave the conference room when she suddenly remembered. "Ambassador, could you do me a favor? My husband and I have plans this evening already, and we were given these expense paid tickets to Delmonico's. He's supposed to give his to someone, but I forgot to give mine to Joah before she left. Would you care to have it?" he remembered. He had accepted it and went without thought that he might be paired with a woman, let alone Christine. Realizing that he was still standing at the entrance, he slid into the other side of the wrap around booth, at a loss. He spent a few moments regarding the carefully placed cutlery and napkins. The water glasses were precisely 15 cm from the tip of the knife and the various forks and spoons were in line with ruler precision. Strange how humans considered proper etiquette to be precisely placed and maneuvered china and utensils but would talk incessantly during the meal. On Vulcan food was to be eaten, not talked over. The waiter reappeared. "An aperitif?"

The two old acquaintances looked at each other in indecision. Finally, it was Christine who spoke with a sigh. "Might as well. After all, it's free... Do you have a vegetarian appetizer platter?"

"Yes, madame, will there be wine with that?" he asked.

"None for me. I would prefer a seltzer if you have it," she answered.

Spock replied, "Yes, please. A dry sherry."

Christine was a little surprised. He had not been a drinker while aboard ship, not even wine. Perhaps he had finally learned to relax after almost 70 years. There was a dreaded silence between the two. Spock finally broke it. "How have you been?"

She smiled, fingered the napkin in front of her. "Just fine. I have my own company now, Starfield Corporation." There; if she kept the meal about work she could talk. He inquired further. She answered with pride, "When I retired from Starfleet I wasn't ready to go to pasture yet. I decided that I missed my intense research work that I had been doing before I joined. With my pension and my savings, I bought a place and now am doing very well."

Spock nodded. She was settled and apparently happy. She had a soft lazy expression on her face like one contented. He wondered if he would ever feel that way. He was not stimulated in the same manner as junior ambassador that he was as a science officer aboard a starship. She returned the question, "And you?"

"I am finding my work with my father to be ... interesting."

She noted the lack of enthusiasm in his even tone. "Rather dull and drab, is it?"

He looked into the cool blue depths. She always could see right through him. He nodded, "My father is excellently suited for such work. I however, am still too ... he says restless. I wish more to do. However, I have not been allowed to negotiate any major treaties or even work first hand with the parties involved. I have been doing grunt work."

She smiled at that. He wasn't used to being second fiddle that way. "Well, you have to start somewhere, and your father probably wants to make certain you learn properly."

The appetizer arrived and their order for the meal taken. Christine chose a simple steak and baked potato with lobster tail. Spock chose the grilled vegetable kabobs and rice pilaf. They spoke between the courses. "May I ask what your corporation is doing research on?"

She thought a moment before answering. They were technically trade secrets, but he was a man of impeccable trust. "I am about this close to a breakthrough in neuro-transtator technology."

Spock was impressed. He had always known that she had a genius for her work. He wished he could have related his confidence to her with words that she could appreciate.

"So, how is the captain, and Leonard? I haven't seen either of them in so long," she added softly.

"They are well. The doctor is busy with his new great-grandchild," Spock said, remembering the last time they'd visited and been completely overrun by an uncontrollable two year old named Leonard.

"I simply can't see him with great-grandchildren. My goodness. I guess, well, he is much older than I. I always equate him with my age. Makes me feel rather old, actually. Not that I am young," she amended.

Spock calculated instantly, "You are 55 years and five months old. That is considered roughly middle aged in normal Terran lifespans."

That did not make her feel younger. In fact it did the opposite. "Well, let's not dwell on my age. Ah, soup and the salad."

The seven course meal was delicious. They lingered after waiting for dessert. It was paid for, they kept reminding each other. Finally, after several glasses of wine and much food, they were both calm and relaxed with each other. They didn't realize that everyone else in the restaurant had left ages earlier. They also didn't realize they were the only things keeping the staff. Finally, the maitre d' approached. "Excuse, we must close for the evening."

Christine laughed, Spock appeared nonplused. He had lost track of all time. As they left, the brisk cool air flowing off the bay caressed them.

"Oh, my. I have never been tossed out for loitering before. I feel so decadent," she laughed lightly. She had only had two glasses of wine with the main meal but was bubbly all over. She resisted the sudden urge to link her arm with his. They walked for a time in the direction of her apartment. They were halfway there when she realized that he must be parked somewhere else. "Oh, aren't you going the wrong way?"

"No, I assumed you were parked somewhere along here," he answered. It was nice to walk with her side by side. He had forgotten how tall and regal she was in her bearing.

"No, in fact I live just on the next block, at the Monterey Arms," she supplied. She walked with her hands clasped behind her back, drinking in the air and the moment. It would be a nice one to remember. They didn't speak as they walked the rest of the distance. It was an easy silence as if they'd been friends all their lives. Christine turned at the entrance to the high rise apartment complex. "Thank you, Ambassador. That was a lovely evening even if it was a blind date."

"Blind date?" Spock asked, completely confused. He had thought it was a chance meeting.

"Well, that's what it is usually called when two people who aren't supposed to know each other have a dinner engagement or go to the movies or something. I had a really nice time," she admitted, trying to emphasize the words to make him know she meant them. He interpreted her meaning correctly.

"Indeed, I too found it a pleasurable experience. I shall say good evening to you then. It is quite late and I imagine you wish to rest before your day starts later," he said honestly. It was nearly one in the morning. She smiled and looked at the tops of her feet.

"Yes, it is difficult to come up with accurate readings with only five hours of sleep. I'll just have to call in late. Won't that be a scandal..." She laughed despite herself.

"I do not understand."

"It's just that I am quite prim and proper. At least that's the reputation that I have around here. I'm afraid that throwing myself into my work has led people to erroneous conclusions regarding me," she answered as scientifically as she could. He nodded and raised one elegantly beautiful brow. Bowing his head slightly, he merely answered, "Good night, Dr. Chapel."

"Good night, Spock." He waited till she was safely inside and started for his skimmer that was parked just across the way. On impulse, he turned to see if he could tell which apartment was hers. With the late hour it was not difficult to see her lights come on 2. 6 minutes later. She was in a penthouse apartment and had a large balcony by what he could see from his view. With an eyebrow slightly upraised, he turned back to his skimmer and hurried home.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and beautiful as a spring day. Christine had left word the night before that she would be late and not to worry about her. She was certain that Ken would be just dying to know why. No, she thought, he wouldn't be there; he was taking a vacation. She might get in unscathed. She thought of the evening with Spock. It had been so ... nice. It was a trite little adjective, but so right. They had not gotten off well, but had loosened and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Dressed in the flowing purple caftan that Uhura had given her years earlier, she took her tea and went to sit on her balcony. Her view was of the parking lot below and beyond that the bay. It was a very nice view. Technically it was not a waterfront property, but it might as well have been. She was sipping the tea luxuriously when her commpanel buzzed. "Yes?"

"Christine? Are you okay? You're not sick are you?" came her secretary's concerned voice. Apparently Jenna's mother hen mode was on full steam this morning.

She answered without going in. "No, I am not sick. I had a late dinner engagement last evening and just knew I wouldn't be in on time. I'll be in say at noon, all right? I'll work late I promise."

"Don't you dare!" Jenna answered, obviously pleased that Christine had a possible male companion for dinner and maybe perhaps... "I'll see you later."

Christine didn't even get to say bye before the connection was severed. She laughed. Now she was in for it. With a happy little moan, she shoved herself out of the chair and decided to get ready for work.

* * *

Sarek waited fifteen minutes for his son to come to the meeting they were to have. He was late. Spock was never late. Sarek resisted the urge to contact his apartment. Perhaps he was stuck in traffic or something that he had yet to explain. With a small intake of breath, he was about to leave when the heavy oak door glided open to allow Spock to stride in the room a little contrite. "I apologize for my tardiness, Father."

"It is of no consequence. Do you have the information I requested on the mining rights agreements on Capella IV?"

"Yes, they are all in order. There is no basis for the High Teer's demands for restitution."

Sarek nodded. He knew as much. He had given Spock the rather daunting task of the legalese as a way to rein him in. He seemed to want to go full steam ahead too quickly. He also knew that Spock had been instrumental in the negotiations for Capellan IV's topaline. The High Teer was named for both Leonard McCoy and James Kirk. He accepted the data tapes and set them down to review later. Spock appeared to be distracted. "Is something troubling you?"

His son replied calmly, "No."

Sarek let the subject drop. "Are you to be expected for dinner this evening? Your mother would wish to know."

Spock thought a moment. He might be occupied. "I cannot say for certain, so I will answer no."

Sarek accepted this. "I will convey the message. I have a new set of negotiations that I need you to research. The details are here."

Spock took the slim cassette and nodding once, left. Before he would do that, he would make a call.

* * *

"You certainly are chipper today," Jenna noted as her boss went about humming to herself as she focused the microscope on new slides.

Christine looked up, totally innocent. "Hmm, I had an excellent supper, got a good night's sleep..."

"Oh, I was hoping you hadn't slept at all," the younger woman teased.

Chris knew where she was headed. "That's enough. Don't you have some typing to do or something?"

"There you go, back to the old crab I know and love."

"I am not an old ... crab," she said and tossed a tape through the door to land plunk against the wall beyond.

"Hey! Is this a missile launch site or what?" Ken said as he popped his head in.

"I thought you were going to be 'occupied'?" Christine frowned as he stuck his head in.

"I was, until about an hour ago. Anne was called in on a 'situation'. So," he said and sat down in the chair opposite her desk.

"So?"

"Dinner, how did it go, what did you eat?"

"I had lobster and steak and the next time you pull that trick, mister, I'll let you have it," she answered without a trace of a smile.

"Huh, did Joah do something wrong? She's new and Anne thought you'd be the perfect person to kind of show her around."

"Joah?" Christine asked, completely perplexed. She hadn't heard anything about a Joah.

"Who did you eat with?" Ken asked just as confused.

"Ambassador Spock. You mean I wasn't supposed to eat with him?"

"No, Joah. I get it, he was a total bore, and you are mad."

Christine considered her answer a moment. "No, in fact I had a very ... nice evening with Spock."

Ken smirked, "Spock ... first name basis, aren't we hoity toity?"

"For your information, I have been on a 'last' name basis with Spock since you were in kindergarten. His first name is almost unpronounceable even by his mother. We served together aboard the Enterprise," she supplied.

His eyes twinkled as he leaned forward. "And?"

"And, we had a lovely evening. It was actually the first one I've ever had with him in such a relaxed atmosphere," she replied suddenly remembering the last time they'd spent the evening together, he in meditation and she asleep.

Ken's grin was a little devilish, just like McCoy's, she thought. That was one reason she put up with his shenanigans. He reminded her so of that southern charmed snake of a gentleman. "Well, maybe it was fate, you know fate likes to do things like that."

She instantly frowned. Oh no, not again. "Well, and fate likes to hand people their pink slips in their next pay packets."

At that reprimand he relented, "Okay, okay. I give. So, you want to come to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Casual or elegant?"

"Just a few people. Anne is wanting to show something off," he said and flittered his left hand as if there was a big rock on it.

She grinned, "YOU! You proposed, and she was stupid enough to accept."

"Right on one and a half counts, I proposed and she was smart enough to answer fast before I changed my mind."

"Then I shall be there in my best engagement clothes," she smiled as Ken walked out the door. He and Anne had been living together for five years and now had decided to make it official. Life works in odd ways sometimes.

* * *

Spock returned to his office with the data tape. He was intent on calling Starfield Corporation, but was sidetracked by the sight of Anne O'Brien coming around the corner. He wished to thank her for the ticket. "Miss O'Brien."

She turned a little flustered. The auburn hair was a match to the hazel eyes. She smiled, "Ambassador, how was dinner?"

"I wished to thank you for the ticket. But are you not supposed to be out today?"

"Oh, the agricultural treaty on Ber-Agi II is in complete chaos, and I had to come in to try to re-translate it. I had it completely done yesterday, and someone screwed up the encryption when it was sent out."

Spock nodded. He had had that occur as well. "I will work on the problem of the encryption. That is too large a document to have misinterpreted or lost to computer error."

"Thank you. I am certain I'm not the only who will appreciate it. So, did you enjoy dinner with Dr. Chapel?"

"You knew? She insisted it was a 'blind date'?" Spock asked, a little mystified.

"No, I told you the ticket was to be given to Joah. Didn't you get on well?"

"On the contrary, my partner turned out to be an old acquaintance from the Enterprise. It was very ... nice."

Anne smiled. So, this Vulcan/Human ambassador had a weakness. "So you and Chris have known each other a long time?"

Spock noted that she fished for information, decided to give it to her. "Yes, for 26 years now."

She thought a second. "Ambassador, how would you like to come to a little dinner party tomorrow night. Ken and I are announcing our engagement."

Spock nodded with pleasure. She was a hard worker, an excellent linguist, and had a swift legal mind. He had worked with her several times since coming to New York. "I shall be there."

"Good, I'll tell Ken."

* * *

Christine arrived home to find a single silver rose, the tips dipped in pink, waiting for her in a florist's box. A simple note of thanks from Spock for a lovely dinner was attached. She breathed deep the perfume and thought how pretty. The silver variety was new and had taken years to develop. Placing it in a long stemmed vase for single flowers, she placed it on her breakfast table where she could enjoy it from any angle. It was already nearly ten o'clock and she was tired. She'd have a little snack and then off to bed. She couldn't stay late tomorrow, she had an engagement party to go to.

* * *

Summer weather was in abundance at the little cottage that Anne and Ken had owned for several years. The deck was lit with Japanese lanterns and the BBQ grill was firing up. Christine was right on time. She didn't like coming early or late to these things. Ken grabbed her joyfully, "Hello, boss."

"Hello, schnockered," she replied playfully noting the half full old fashioned glass.

"Purely on an emotional high this evening. This is to marinade the ribs in," he replied.

"Okay, if you say so," she maneuvered her way to the kitchen that was abuzz with people and food still being prepared. "Anne, can I help?"

"Silly, no. But if you want to, you can help with that wonderful vegetable dip you make. I never can get the texture right," she replied. Her eyes danced with glee. Christine took over with the sour cream and herbs. She was so busy with the ingredients that she had completely missed Ambassador Spock who had been standing in the corner speaking to another member of the legal staff from the embassy. He approached her. "Twice in one week."

"Huh? Oh, Spock, where did you come from?" she asked a little flustered.

"From the corner. I did not realize you would be here," he stated, pleased that she was.

"I am Ken's boss. He feels sorry for me and let's me come to his house for home cooked meals," she answered and winked at him.

A joke, yes, a joke. He raised his eyebrow in reply.

"As I recall, you were quite expert in the culinary arts," Spock complimented softly coming to stand on her side of the island and watched as she chopped chives. She was a fast worker. Within a few deft moves, they were in bits and pieces and piled into the sour cream mixture.

Christine did not know how to reply. After the encounter with Kahn that left him dead and then reborn, she had been assured that he had lost several memories. Most notably, those of her. He knew who she was by prompt and a reference to her records. But those times they had shared, even in the most innocent of circumstance was lost. She had mourned them gone, but then realized that to him they were excess baggage and tried to think of them in that light as well. She had made her decision when she left the Enterprise after the first five year mission that she was going to have a life without a man. When she had rejoined the ship, his absence had been keenly felt, but his reappearance was almost a slap in the face to her. He had tried to remain amenable toward her while they served on her brief return to deep space duty. But, then she was called to Starfleet HQ to work with the emergency medical details, and she was gone. She thought of someone she hadn't heard of in decades. "Spock, I was curious. I haven't heard anything about Saavik of late. She was your protégé, wasn't she?"

Spock seemed a little uncomfortable with this line of questions. If she was prying into his so-called 'past love life', she wasted little time. "She is a student of the Kohlinar. I have not been allowed to see or speak to her in fifteen years."

"Kohlinar," Christine repeated. She bit the baby carrot in two, chewed it a moment. "That's what you underwent?" At his nod, she continued, "Can you hand me that shaker? Thanks."

Spock watched in silence as she poured salt into a cupped hand and dumped it into the bowl. "Why did you do that?"

Christine smiled. "Because, the little indent in the palm of your hand when it is held in that manner equals approximately a teaspoon. I don't measure stuff like this with tools. I just pinch and plop, as my grandmother used to call it."

Spock imitated her action with his own hand and indeed, by his superior visual ability, it was approximately a teaspoon. Fascinating. He kept beside her even as she stirred. "Is there something I could help with?"

She thought a second. "Nope don't think so. Hey, Anne, Spock wants to help. I'm sure he can put ice cubes in glasses for you."

Spock stiffened at the slight insult. Once again, she winked at him. A joke, yes, a joke. He was being teased, something she had done only one time aboard the ship now that he recalled. He had regained his memories over a long period of time. Sometimes they came all in a rush like when he smelled roses and nearly fell over with the intensity of his mother's garden. Other things came in dreams and he would quickly catalogue them in a book to try to sort later. There were some that had come and were so jumbled. Her blonde hair... "You were a blonde once," he said.

Christine's blue eyes met his a little dumbstruck. "Yes, when I served aboard the ship the first time. I bleached it relentlessly when I was young. Never again. It about destroyed my hair. If it hadn't been for that mission where we had to go undercover..."

Spock turned to her. "Undercover?"

"Well, it's nothing really. We went on a mission to Bereel III, a tropical world in the Omega sector. We were trying to find out if the people there were natives or offshoots of the Vulcan group that splintered off to form the Romulan race."

Spock was immediately intrigued. "And did we?"

She laughed an uneasy laugh . "Spock, this is ancient history. Surely you have read it in the files."

Spock shook his head. There had been no mention of this mission in his personal records or his ship's logs. He did not understand why. "Could you tell me why they were not available to me?"

Picking up the large bowl of dip, she shrugged. "I really couldn't say. It was so long ago."

"Do you remember the events?"

"Yes."

Spock followed her to the patio with the plate of vegetables. "Do you have files on the trip?"

"No, they were all in your charge," she answered and smiled at some of the other guests as they oohed the arrival of the dip. Spock chewed on his bottom lip, something he had not done in ages. "Dr. Chapel, I find this extremely distressing. You inform me that there was a mission in which I was the commanding officer yet I have no recollection of it nor do I have any records of it."

Christine sighed. "Really Spock, you surely don't expect to know all the records of all the missions you've been on."

"That is not the point. I wonder if there are any others that are missing?" he mused and allowed his question to trail off. Christine headed back to the house. She needed a drink. Stopping at the wet bar, she poured a jigger of rum, added a palm full of sugar and went over to the coffee pot. Pouring half a cup into a tall tea glass over ice, she stirred. Spock looked at her. "What are you drinking?"

"A Black Rose, want one?" she asked, a little perturbed. He apparently intended on following her around all evening. It was not that she didn't want to talk to him, or even admire him from afar, but he had never paid her this much attention in all the combined years she had served with him. He watched her take a sip, it went down smoothly, he went and duplicated her movements. While he was gone, Anne came over. "I see you have an ardent admirer."

Christine turned to hide her face and shield her voice. "Tell me about it. Say, when is supper going to be served?"

"In about ten minutes," Anne said and grinned as Spock headed their way again. "Ambassador, how are you coming with those encryption codes?"

Christine was relieved that there was someone else to occupy Spock's time. She nodded slightly and smoothly stepped away from the twosome to breathe in the late summer air outside. The flowers were in bloom and it wafted in with the breezes off the water. "Ken, you do have a lovely little place here," she said and perched one leg up on the half wall that separated the patio from the steep drop to the rocks below. She was admiring the view. "You know you could have a little slice of this yourself," Ken began. "It's not too late you know."

Christine regarded the drink in her hand with some distaste. She looked up at Ken over it, a smile did not play either on her lips or in her eyes. "I'm too old. End of discussion."

He held up his skewers in defeat. "Okay, I'll drop the topic. What's the matter? You don't look like you're enjoying yourself."

She put the empty glass on the wall. "On the contrary, I am enjoying myself so much, I'll have another."

She walked back to the wet bar and smiled a little as she poured another helping. Black Rose, yes, that was a good name for it. Spock did not seem to bother her for the rest of the evening. She relaxed and had a good time. Spock kept mostly to himself, but he did watch her as she interacted with the others. She was confidant, smiling, the life of the party. She got along easily with these people. She blended well where he did not. A few times he caught her glance and simply nodded at her in acknowledgment. By the time the party wound down, she'd had four of her Black Roses and although she was not what anyone would consider drunk, she was definitely a little worse for wear to drive. Spock approached. "Dr. Chapel, if you would allow me to drive you home..."

She started to protest, something about how would she get her skimmer back. Ken answered, "Don't worry, I'll drive to work and pick you up in it. Anne can take mine for a change."

She shot him a go to hell glance and went off, led by the aristocratic Vulcan. Ken and Anne watched the two walk off into the night. Anne smirked, "You know those two are as matched..."

"As a pair of buggy mules, I know. Just don't let Chris hear you say that, she'll fire me."

* * *

"Thank you for the lift, Spock, it was not necessary. I could have driven," she was saying as he maneuvered easily through the dark streets. He did not take his attention from the road.

"Nevertheless, I feel better knowing you will arrive safe," Spock mentioned as they turned the corner to her street.

Christine blushed a little in the dark. Closing her eyes, she remembered the rose. "Oh ... thank you for the rose."

Spock nodded. "It was only fitting. The evening was quite memorable."

She agreed. It had been. So why was she so wary now? She hadn't been escorted home for several years. The last time had been... She shoved that thought in the back of her mind. He made no amorous moves toward her as the skimmer came to a halt. He also did not attempt to ask himself into her apartment. He stepped out to hold the skimmer door open for her. "I trust you will be well," he stated.

"Just fine, thank you," she said and lightly brushed his lapel with her fingertips before realizing what she was doing and to whom. "Forgive me. Good night, Ambassador Spock."

Spock nodded. "Good night, Dr. Chapel."

* * *

After a hot shower and a good night's sleep and the aid of a detox pill, Christine was ready to face the day. She walked through the doors of the renovated school building and smiled cheerfully at Jenna. "Hey, missed you last night."

"Well, Brandon was not being co-operative. He kept throwing tantrums. So, I decided it would be impossible for a sitter to stay with him. Was it a nice party?"

"It had its moments. Any messages?"

The fresh young mother nodded with a little twinkle in her eyes. "Yes, one."

Christine took the paper note with a sigh and kept her attention on a new data cassette that was sitting in the mail in slot. "Is this the data I requested from Bio-Tech International?"

"Sure is. Aren't you gonna read your message?" Jenna asked as her boss fairly ran down the hall calling as she went, "Ken, it's here!"

After six hours of intensive review of the data on the tapes, she finally remembered the note that she had sitting on her desk. Chiding herself for neglecting something that could have been potentially important, she unfolded the paper.

"Re: Stopping by

Date: Later today

Time: 0750

Message: Ambassador Spock wishes a tour of the facility. He will be here at 1400..."

Christine growled; she was too busy for this. Looking up at the chrono on her wall, she sighed. It was 1355 now. With a sigh, she leaned back in her desk chair for a few moments and tried to get a grip on her swirling head. Why in heaven's name was he doing this? With an angry shove, she pushed herself out of the chair and went to the window in her second floor office. Looking down, she could see the parking lot. There he was, turning in the drive in that navy blue embassy skimmer. Suddenly, she remembered something that had occurred to him three years ago. She had heard it from Uhura and McCoy as well as seen the proceedings on the news nets. Valeris, the woman he had so carefully groomed and nurtured through Starfleet had betrayed not only the Federation, but him as well. Something in her heart softened and she smiled wistfully as he approached, the flowing dark green robes creating an elegant stir in the afternoon breezes. Stepping over to the mirror, she fluffed the no nonsense chin length curly hair and took a deep breath. She would let Jenna announce his entrance. It came not two minutes later. "Dr. Chapel, you have a guest."

Instead of returning the call, she stepped into the hall and over to the railing that looked down to the foyer below. From this vantage point it was a perfect shot right on the head for a water balloon. "Ambassador, welcome."

Spock craned his head up to see her standing above him. She was not an imposing woman, but it struck him that she did this purposely, perhaps to prove that she did not require anyone in her life. She stood alone and elevated above that. He smiled, just a little, the way his father did at his mother. "Dr. Chapel."

The sunlight streamed through a skylight and lit her face like a beacon,"I'll be down in a second."

She disappeared and he could hear her descending a set of stairs. She reappeared in the foyer. "May I formally introduce you? Ambassador Spock, this is Jenna McNamara, my receptionist, secretary, and general busybody."

The young woman smiled slyly. "Someone has to watch over her. She works herself to death."

Spock nodded. Things did not change with this woman. She still worked more than anyone else. There was no sign of fatigue with her, however. It was as if the night before had been an evening in. He allowed her to lead him through the hall back to the laboratories. She had several small labs that were in use that he could not go in so that they couldn't contaminate the experiments. Her pride and joy was sitting in a triple security safe room in the back. She opened the door. Before allowing him to enter, she turned. "You do realize that this is highly classified."

It was odd; she did not trust him. He nodded. "No information will be gained through me."

She grinned, "I knew that. I just wanted to make certain I made myself clear. You and Leonard are the only ones who have even been in here."

He was more than impressed. He was awed at the work she had accomplished. He had always known she was brilliant, but this was beyond his comprehension. The innovations that she was working on would relieve suffering for potentially millions of people afflicted with neurological damage. He wondered if his own accomplishments would do as much.

"And finally, we are back to the beginning. Oh, hello, Ken," she said as the younger scientist bustled past her.

Spock acknowledged him. Ken grinned a little evil grin. "Well, so nice to see you again, Ambassador."

Christine changed the subject. "Ken, do you have the results from that scan?"

It was a front. Whenever there was even the hint of a romantic entanglement, she switched the topic to her work. It was so easy to her she didn't even realize she did it anymore. He smirked; he knew all right. "Yes, they are on your desk."

"Well, Ambassador, I fear I must return to my work."

Spock noted the professional tone. He countered it. "Thank you for the tour. If I may invite you to a reception my mother is holding... She has inquired about you over the course of the years. She holds you in high esteem."

Christine honestly smiled at the mention of his incomparable mother. "Amanda, how is she? And your father?"

"Mother is well, but frail. Father is ... none the worse for wear after McCoy's surgery," he teased. She laughed easily. Yes, was that really so long ago that she was a head nurse in a starship sickbay? She couldn't resist the invitation. "All right, for your mother."

Spock digested that. If it had just been him, she might not have accepted. "Tomorrow evening. We sup at 1900."

"I'll be there. Casual, elegant?" she asked referring to the dress arrangements.

"Informal, something like the outfit you wore at Delmonico's will be perfect."

She blushed self-consciously. He'd noticed her outfit. She walked him to the door and watched him go. Turning to find two pairs of very bemused eyes looking at her she pulled her face into a business like state. "If you two don't have anything to do, I'm sure I can find something." And with that she was beyond them to the stairs to her office.

* * *

The Vulcan embassy was an old mansion in Newport, Rhode Island. The megalopolis of New York/Boston/Philadelphia/Washington D. C. was so large that it was often just referred to as the "City". Skimmers and shuttles made it an easy commute for the once long distance. Christine's apartment in Long Island was easily only half an hour's drive from the embassy. She left in time to get there early and look around a bit. The manicured lawns and lack of over ornamentation reflected the logic of the Vulcan lifestyle. The statuary had been there since the mansion had been built in the late Victorian era. It was an imposing Italianate design in thick marble and stone. Brick walks, meticulously laid in a design incorporating Vulcan symbols blended well with the architecture. Standing at the top of the terraced entrance, she couldn't resist enjoying the view until she finally turned to make her presence known.

Amanda greeted her. She preferred to greet people that she knew instead of the Vulcan aide that acted as butler. "Christine, welcome. Come in."

Christine smiled at her. Those eyes and features were classic still. She did seem so much smaller than she had when they had first met. Amanda led her through a grand entrance hall to a high ceilinged room where Spock and Sarek were engaged in a game of chess. They did not acknowledged the two's presence until they were up to them. "Sarek, Spock, our guest has arrived."

Christine was a bit confused. "Spock said a reception. I had assumed there would be more people here."

Sarek glanced at his son. "Spock regards all of his mother's dinner parties as receptions. I assure you that the term is not applicable. It is not a reception, it is dinner."

Spock looked a little sheepish. He had not lied to Christine, but he had misled her in order to get her there. She seemed to know that instantly. Her eyes flashed with a little anger, but Amanda's soothing tones calmed her. "Christine, come, I want to hear everything you've been doing these last few years. It has been how long now since we last met?"

"Seven, the Vulcan/Andorian conference on Andor," she supplied.

Spock did not know that his parents had actually met her at any other times ... but that part of his memory was a little fuzzy still. Amanda knew this and informed him, "Dr. Chapel headed the relief efforts that were being discussed for the Carells. She did a superb job. I am told that many of the wards that you established are still in operating order and have made vast improvements."

She nodded. "Yes, I get reports from Dr. Kalomi at Christmas."

The name, Kalomi ... it sounded familiar. Amanda watched Spock carefully with her next comment. "Dr. Leila Kalomi. You worked with her once, Spock."

"Yes, forty years ago, Mother," Spock replied.

Sarek saw at least a path where this conversation might lead. "This is the present, we need not dwell in the things we cannot alter."

Grateful for that respite, Christine allowed the three to give her a tour of the main areas of the house. Spock tagged along, allowing his mother to be the hostess and main speaker. The two women got along easily. Christine had dressed in a long white silk pant suit, almost clerestory in nature. It suited her well. The hem of the over jacket came to below her knees where matching pants flowed to the sandals below. Long sleeves and a high collar were decorated with a gold braiding. She was the epitome of dignity. The clothes were suitable for the heat that was maintained in the house at all times. Dinner was served in a small saloon area. Amanda had chosen the informal family dining room. She didn't want this to appear as an inquisition or even anything more than just friends taking time together. She had missed the company of human females over the years and Christine had played an enormous role in all three of their lives. Spock alone probably owed his life and well being to her at least five times. She also knew that out of all the women she'd heard about in Spock's life, this one was worthy of his devotion. If she could only convince the two of them of this. Trying not to give an imitation of a prospective mother-in-law, she treated Christine with the respect she so richly deserved.

Sarek watched as his wife reveled in showing the home to Christine. She had spent a great amount of time creating a combined atmosphere of luxury and casual elegance that was lived in. She had studied the home from inception to completion. Her pride was always evident when she mentioned the furniture and the way that things were placed in the common areas. He also noted a change in Amanda's tone from the other times they'd had visitors. They had entertained several of Spock's old Starfleet comrades, Jim, McCoy, Nyota Uhura, Scott, but none were treated so... affectionately as this one. He wondered what his wife had up her sleeve.

The meal was delicious. She had never seen such uses for traditional human vegetables in Vulcan dishes. Amanda explained, "There is simply no way to produce some of the more delicate species here. It's not hot and arid enough even in the Sahara. So, we make do with what we have and improvise. I hope it is to your liking?"

Christine smiled at the formal words and toyed with her empty kava glass. The Vulcan wine was heady, but not intoxicating. "Believe me, I do. With food like this, I'd have no trouble being a vegetarian. But, I fear I do enjoy my steak and seafood."

She had meant it as an apology for her human nature. She learned that such an apology was not only silly, but illogical. Sarek admonished her lightly, "Never apologize for what and who you are. If I have learned anything as a husband to a most human wife, I have learned this."

He held out the traditional two fingers to his wife who returned the loving gesture with that almost constant tug of a smile on her face. Christine wondered how she'd remained so content after all these years. Spock seemed to look at her with the same tender expression as Sarek had with Amanda. Tucking the napkin under the rim of the plate, she chuckled, "So, what do you three do on a cold evening around here?"

"They play chess, I watch them play chess," Amanda replied with a bit of a sigh. It did get dull, but they were together as a unit and she could not be more pleased. Sarek cocked his head at his wife. "We do other things Amanda. Perhaps a small concert."

They rose and went into a music alcove that had been tucked under the main stairs. It was cozy, intimate, perfect for a small family gathering. Christine found herself being completely swept away with the completely informal air of the house. She would never have imagined Vulcans being so homey. She'd been in the rec room countless times while Spock and or Uhura performed, had even taken part at times, but had never thought Sarek approved of such things. Vulcans were not so different from humans, after all. Spock retrieved his own lyre; luckily it had not been destroyed when the original Enterprise was blown up. Sarek chose a similar but slightly different instrument. It was well worn and old. Christine couldn't tell they were tuning up until they stopped suddenly and Sarek announced the song. The tuning had been so delightful, she laughed, "Gee, I thought that was the song. Shows how much I know."

Amanda patted her arm. "Believe me, I make the same mistake all the time. Even in disharmony, there is harmony." Christine tucked that statement away in her mind ... even in disharmony ... so prophetic.

The evening passed smoothly, more smoothly than Christine would have ever imagined actually. She was glad to see Spock get along with his father, even if it was just for Amanda's sake. Both father and son were so alike. She did notice that Sarek seemed to smile more often than she'd seen any other Vulcan do. And, as she drove home she realized that Spock was really the only Vulcan she'd met who pretended not to have a sense of humor or to smile. There were others that she had worked with, known, who would allow themselves to smile, even chuckle slightly, and they were full Vulcan. Only Spock kept that mask on all the time.

* * *

Days passed with no word from anyone at the Vulcan embassy. She'd sent a small note thanking them for the evening but had not really made it too promising for more visits. She'd added that her work kept her very busy and that it was a nice change of pace to get to spend the evening with people instead of data tapes.

* * *

Spock sat in his office that overlooked Newport Bay. He had been given little more than an old linen closet, but it served his purpose. It was intimate and allowed him to hole himself in the room against more prying eyes. The data that his father had requested was once again on tape and waiting to be discussed, but he was concerned with another matter. All his life, he had been a single train of thought type. He allowed one matter to subjugate all other things out of his mind until it was resolved or no longer needed so much concentration. He was experiencing some of that now. His mind was focused on one thing, Christine Chapel. He found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. He was thinking of her when the page button reminded him that he was due for a meeting with his father 2.6 minutes ago. Scooping the data tape in hand, he prepared for more questions and more boredom.

* * *

Sarek mentally tried to remain as calm as he showed. This was the fourth time in two weeks he had to remind Spock that he was needed somewhere when he did not show up. His son was usually the epitome of the punctual Vulcan and he could not understand why. Just before Spock arrived, he realized what it was. Christine Chapel's note sat where Amanda had left it on his desk. He calculated the days Spock had been absentminded and the time that he knew that Spock had seen her first; they corresponded. With a slightly raised eyebrow, he greeted the unsuspecting Spock as he stepped in. "Father," he didn't even try to ask forgiveness. It was becoming trite and he really didn't mean it.

"Spock, your data?" Sarek asked completely businesslike.

Spock presented his father with the information. He expected to be dismissed with new instructions. He was not. Sarek set the tape aside. "Spock, this is the fourth time you've been late for a meeting. I wish to know why."

Spock took a deep breath. How could he tell his father that he was thinking of a certain former Starfleet physician? He could not lie, it would only backfire in the end. After a moment's hesitation, Sarek answered, "If you wish to pursue her, I am certain that you have your mother's blessing."

Spock's surprised look amused Sarek; he allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upward, just a little. "As well as mine. I made a mistake when I insisted that you be bonded, Spock. At the time, I can only state that T'Pau guided my reasoning regarding the matter. Your mother, as she has stated, totally opposed the idea. Not for the first time should I have taken her advice. Spock, I fear that the scrutiny that you underwent by T'Pring and her family has kept you from choosing elsewhere."

Spock kept quiet. His father rarely spoke of matters like this and it would be best to let the time pass. He could hear the regret in his father's tone, though. He was not saying these things to humor him. Finally, he was done. Spock looked at his father with all the dignity a son could muster during a potential mate talk with a parent. It wasn't much. "I fear I have little to offer her. She is a successful woman, accomplished, brilliant. I..."

Sarek saw something he did not like, self-doubt. Spock had always had trouble with this. He wished to bolster his courage. "May I ask you a question?"

That startled Spock's head into popping up. Sarek never asked permission, he simply spoke. He nodded. Sarek's eyes bored into him. "Do you love her?"

"Love..." Spock countered with a shake of his head.

"Is the logical thing to do when it is with a human. You have not answered my question."

"I find her attractive. I find her stimulating intellectually. She is like no other woman I have known," he said.

Sarek observed, "Yet you have had that woman in the palm of your hand for almost thirty years. Why now?"

Spock considered. His father was correct. Christine Chapel had been there for decades, why now. "I do not know. Perhaps it is that I realize who she really is."

Sarek nodded. "She is not Valeris. She is not Saavik. She is flawed, human, but she is strong and does not break. She is so much like your mother."

He met his son's eyes. They were both alike in color and hue, but behind one's was the pain at the mention of those women. Sarek continued, "Spock, I know that Valeris' betrayal hardened a part of your heart. It was the part that had just begun to blossom. I too felt betrayed by T'Rea, Sybok ... can you perhaps understand that now?"

Spock realized that he could. He saw his father with new understanding dawning in his mind. He whispered, "Yes."

They dropped that subject deftly. Sarek returned to the other one. "Dr. Chapel is a strong, highly intellectual woman, but she has been betrayed in the past. Betrayal as deep and strong as yours, am I correct?"

Spock nodded. He could remember the sight of her sobbing when they finally reached the main chamber on Exo III. The slights that he had made toward her aboard ship. Spock's breathing slowed. He was so dense. His father felt that. "You will have to give her time as well as win her trust. It may take a very long time. Will you wait that long?"

Spock thought a moment. "I must. I love her."

Sarek was satisfied. "Your new instructions. I believe they are self explanatory."

Spock accepted the cassette calmly and rose to leave. He met his father's approving eyes. For the first time in his life, Spock felt completely in harmony with his father. And he could say the word love without shame. It was a moment, he would remember.

* * *

For days Spock heard nothing else from Christine. He had hoped perhaps that she was interested in him still. He had wanted her to reciprocate his feelings. But, as his father had pointed out, she had been hurt deeply in the past. He would have to appear the aggressor if he was to succeed in his quest. There were also other nagging questions. Ones that if he pursued them, would bring them together as well. After some consideration, he requested Starfield Corporation's comm number. Once again, he had to leave a message with the secretary. "Could you have her call when she gets in?"

Jenna looked a little suspicious. "Is it important?"

"It is not life threatening, but, yes, it is important," he answered. The reception had seemed a bit odd. Perhaps Christine had no feelings left for him and had instructed her people to react coldly toward him. His only other link with her was Anne O'Brien. He sought her out.

"Yes, Spock?"

"I wished to consult you on a matter," he began.

"Oh, about the encryption, it's doing wonders as far as I can tell."

"No, a personal matter. Are you free for lunch?"

"In fact I am," she said brightly and finished the last of her typing before closing down her desk.

* * *

Spock allowed the food to be ordered before pursuing the reason he had asked her to lunch. "Do you know Dr. Chapel well?"

"Christine? I've known her as long as Ken has, why?"

"I have known Dr. Chapel for 28 years, but I do not know her. Do you understand?" Spock asked. He looked a little like a teenager trying to ask a big brother for a date with his sister.

"I think so. You served with her aboard the Enterprise. She doesn't talk much about her past. She doesn't talk much about herself at all in fact. What we've found out has been through a little ... ahem ... meddling." Anne looked a trifle guilty. Spock urged her forward.

"We know about Roger, of course. She told us about him. Just that she was a student of his, mind you. We found out the truth from Nyota Uhura. It's nice having mutual friends. Uhura said something about another love, one that didn't go well either ... a..." She paused realizing what she was about to say. "...Vulcan."

Spock nodded. "Yes, I am he. And it is true. However, I should clarify, the feelings were not returned by me. The situation was impossible."

Anne pounced, "But now it's not? I mean, that's why you're here, right? You want to be with her, and she is a little uptight."

He questioned that supposition. "Uptight?"

"Look, whatever it is that happened to her and Roger or between you and her really freaked her out. She has, and she will tell you this, been alone since then. All her time, energy, and devotion is in her work. She doesn't really fraternize with people much. She has so much inside to let out, and she keeps it locked up like a precious gem. She's really the kindest person I've ever met. But then you know that, don't you?"

Spock nodded. He had not met anyone who equaled her calm sweet personality except perhaps his mother. But with his mother he was biased.

Anne then asked him something he hadn't expected. "What was she like?"

"Excuse me?"

"Christine, what was she before she became so imprisoned?"

Spock considered his past recollections a moment. They were still a little static. He brought the first memory of her to mind. "I first met her as a Lieutenant Commander. She came aboard to find Dr. Korby. The moment she stepped off the transporter platform I found myself transfixed. It was not her beauty. She is a lovely woman, but I have met many incredibly beautiful women. Her eyes, her smile, they were so ... at odds. Her eyes were the windows to her soul, and it was in torment. Her smile hid what she would not reveal. We shared a common bond then." And he paused. He had never revealed this to anyone. "For I too held the same expression, only mine was hidden behind a mask of Vulcan calm. I found myself attracted to the part that she would not show. Later, I learned through a shipwide epidemic that she could see through my facade. Throughout our tour, she presented herself as someone who would accept me. I kept believing that I could not be a suitable mate for anyone but a full Vulcan woman. I have been running from her since. I now wish to stop running, but she has passed me in the race."

Anne was absolutely awed by the depth this man showed her. She would never again think of Vulcans as cold and impersonal. If anything, they held more emotions than humans would ever know and had to keep them severely limited or they would be subject to nervous collapse. "You know, I think she really still does love you. She might not sigh and swoon as she once did, but, it's there in those exasperated little sighs she gives when anyone mentions her love life or that special someone. She also gets very defensive regarding you. That is one sure sign that there are unresolved issues with her. As Shakespeare wrote ... the lady doth protest too much."

Spock nodded. "Yet, she does protest and I cannot get close to her. However, if you would remain in my confidence on this matter. Perhaps if you were to ask Ken about the situation on his side. That way I could monitor things without pushing her too hard."

Anne's green eyes glittered with excitement. Just what she joined the diplomatic corps for ... subterfuge. Reaching out a hand to shake on it, he grasped it hesitantly. It was a bargain.

* * *

"What in heaven's name does he want now!?" Christine Chapel groaned as she opened the message and read the brief request for communication. She poked the page button. "Jenna, get me the Vulcan Embassy."

"Yes ma'am," she answered a little more cheerfully than she'd wanted to.

"Vulcan Embassy Reception, may I help you?"

She faced the youthful Vulcan female with a rather fixed, not pleased expression. "I wish to speak with Ambassador Spock."

"Is this a matter of importance?"

"I was sent a message from him and, yes, he says it is important. Now, do I get to speak to him or not?"

Obviously used to dealing with irate people before, the receptionist simply nodded, "I shall page him."

After two attempts and failure, she replied, "I regret to say the Ambassador is not in his office."

"Is he in conference with his father ... Sarek?" Christine asked, a little more than perturbed.

She tried again. "I have Ambassador Sarek for you."

The transmission switched to the elder statesman. He nodded, "Dr. Chapel, how pleasant to see you."

She wasn't pleased. "Do you know where your son is?"

He thought a moment. "I do not know at this time. Is there a problem I can help with?"

She sighed, her frustration was growing. "Spock sent me a message. Just said it was important. I am returning his call and find that he is gone. It apparently was not important."

Sarek immediately recognized the put out expression on her face and the no-nonsense tone in her voice. He lied to help his son's cause. "I believe he is working on a sudden assignment for me. I regret that I did not know he had sent you a message."

That at least assuaged her anger for a time. She took a breath. "I'm sorry. If you could relay that I returned his call and will be in the labs for the rest of the evening for me. I will not be available by comm link. What I am getting ready to work on is extremely touchy. If he wishes to leave a message at my apartment, please have him do so. In fact, I believe I would prefer him to do that instead of here."

Sarek bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I shall relay your message. And thank you for the thank you card."

She laughed at that. "Well thank you for the thank you yourself. Tell Amanda I said hello and send my love."

"I shall."

The communication ended and Sarek sat back in his chair. Spock had his work cut out for him indeed. He would probably be useless in any negotiation plans until this was resolved. It would be best to keep him doing the legal work that he had been.

* * *

Ambassador Spock could have kicked himself. He had knowingly gone out of the Embassy when he had left Christine a message to return his call urgently. His father had relayed the message as soon as he returned as well as informed him that he had misled her. Spock was indeed blessed. He had at least three people on his side regarding Christine. But he had also 'blown' his chance to ask her to dine that evening. Remembering what his father had said she had told him, he closed down his desk for the night and left.

* * *

There was only one light on at Starfield. All the others had gone home for the night and hard at work was Christine. She was so close she could almost taste the success in her hands. Just as she was to start with the decode signatures, she started to see double. That was always her cue to leave. If she botched these up due to sheer stupidity, she'd be pissed off at herself but good. So, she turned out the light and stretched. The clock in Ken's office chimed 8 o'clock. She was plenty hungry too. She'd skipped lunch and had a sandwich about 3. If that was the secret to how to keep a trim lean figure, she surely had mastered it. Just forget to eat all the time. Gathering her things and making certain all the doors, windows, and security locks were battened down, she headed for her skimmer.

There were two skimmers in the lot. She was instantly suspicious. With her best bravado, she began running through the Starfleet personal safety training she'd been given over 30 years ago. She didn't even think she could get her leg up that high anymore. Moving closer, she could feel the beat of her heart getting stronger, and the sound of footsteps coming swiftly behind her made her breathing ragged. Just as she was about to come around screaming at the top of her lungs, he spoke, "Dr. Chapel."

Sighing loudly and holding her hands up like he was a robber, she didn't turn immediately. "Spock."

"I did not mean to frighten you. I sat on the bench waiting till you came out."

Shaking her head, she turned. "Why?"

He stepped forward. "To see you."

Her heart beat faster and louder. Her ears were beginning to buzz. "Spock, if this is about the mix up with the messages, I'm sorry. I was just busy and didn't have time to call back."

"My message is unimportant now. I merely wished to ask you to dinner this evening," he said softly, the parking lot lights playing off his seal grey hair.

"Well, it's a little late now. I was getting ready to go home and get to bed," she said. The look in his eyes, that strange look of longing pulled at her. She smiled. "I suppose if you'd like to get some take out, we could eat at my apartment. If that's okay?"

He nodded. "It is ... fine."

* * *

Spock spent the time that she was refreshing herself meandering around her apartment. He touched nothing. He preferred to think of it as a museum that was completely devoted to her personality. There were few pictures of people and those he knew. Uhura and Janice soaking wet after a white water raft expedition, McCoy with his great grandson, that one had just arrived. A framed photograph of the original Enterprise. He picked that one up. He was looking at it when she came out. "I'm just sentimental, that's all."

He turned to look at her. She'd showered and put on lounging clothes. She looked as elegant in a pair of pink satin pajamas as she was in a ball gown. She swept across the room, the hair wet but towel dried, the scent of the bath soap she used hit him like heady perfume. She took the picture from him and replaced it on the mantel piece. "I've had that picture for longer than I've known you."

Spock was still holding his hands as if he had the picture when she sat on the couch. "So, did you get supper ordered?"

"Yes, Chinese as you requested. It should be any time now."

"No 5.24 minutes? You are improving. Sorry, that was uncalled for," she said and looked down at her folded up legs. It was not his fault he preferred precision. He took the overstuffed chair opposite the couch closest to the fireplace. He watched her pick at a raveling.

"I wished to discuss something that you mentioned that troubled me."

"What is that?" she asked not meeting his eyes.

"About the mission to Bereel II."

"Bereel III," she corrected. That was something else that was new to him, being corrected. "What did you want to know?"

"The details of the mission. I have had no success finding any information regarding it."

She shook her head and stood up to go stare out her balcony windows arms crossed to hug her against the sudden chill. "There's really nothing to report. You discovered that the people of Bereel III were Vulcanoid in both appearance and temperament. They did smile, however. We went on an undercover mission to uncover whatever we could."

Just as Spock was going to prompt her for more, the buzzer rang. Their supper had arrived. Sitting cross legged on the floor around the coffee table, they at least looked the part as they maneuvered the chopsticks instead of forks. Christine found herself relaxing in his presence and the butterflies were beginning to leave. She began to smile at him. They waded through the mounds of rice and vegetables. Christine groaned at the crab rangoons. "I love these things. It's too bad you don't eat meat. I wonder if they make another kind, with vegetables, that is. I'll have to see about that. Do you like cream cheese?"

Her tone was decidedly friendly, even slightly suggestive. Spock took this as a good sign and edged a little closer to her. "I find it quite rich, but, yes, I do like cream cheese."

"Good, then you'd like these. Now, about Bareel III," she began. Spock listened to her in apt admiration. She was not one to bandy a lot of adjectives around. "Basically, that was it."

"And our findings?"

Christine shrugged."You had all that information, Spock. We rejoined the ship and you completed your work. I left the Enterprise shortly after for Starfleet HQ. I never really thought to ask about it. I'm sorry," she said sincerely. It was clear that this was a troubling subject for him. He was not accustomed to such sketchy details about his life. Some he could discount as trivial, but this apparently had been a great interest to him. Enough interest to warrant going not only undercover but incognito on a non-interference world. She tore a rangoon in half. "Would there be any reason to delete it from your memory?"

Spock looked at her. It was the nagging thought that he'd kept away from his mind. "I do not know. It is indeed possible. The Fal-tor-pan ceremony was effective in replacing my katra, but the subsequent training I underwent to center my memories and thoughts... If it occurred, it would have been then."

Christine thought a moment. "So, if there were certain memories that you possessed that say someone did not wish you to remember for whatever reason, they could in essence ... erase them?"

Spock nodded. She was correct. For some unknown reason, he had been manipulated to forget parts of his past. How many other things were there that he could not remember? It disturbed him greatly. He had only one way to regain them. He licked his lips a moment. "Dr. Chapel, Christine, would it be possible... May I have your thoughts on this one matter? I must know what it was that occurred if I am to solve this problem. I will go nowhere you do not allow me to."

Christine let her breath escape then held it. She was afraid he was going to ask this of her. The clock was chiming 10. "Spock, this might take a great deal of time. Could we postpone it? It would give me time to prepare, I could try to recall as much as I could, and you could make inquiries yourself before we proceed."

Spock realized that she was afraid, but she was also correct. It would take a great deal of time. He nodded. "It would probably be wise to do so. I have stayed too late. I apologize. The company," he said softly and caught her gaze, "has been most distracting."

She laughed a second. That was strange. Spock had never spoken to her in such a manner. But he made no other gestures or statements along that line. "Then shall we meet again," he said. "Tomorrow?"

"Could we make it Saturday? I don't want to miss any scheduled lab time. Ken has an experiment he wants to run in that room on Saturday. We could start early. Say noon."

"That is acceptable. Noon Saturday, here then?"

"Might as well. Just come on up, I'll make certain to let security know you're coming," she smiled.

Spock gathered himself together and bowed his head before leaving for the evening. "Dr. Chapel, thank you for an enlightening evening."

* * *

Spock thought time was standing still. He went about his duties without reprimand or reproach, efficient as always. Still his father sensed there was a problem. Dinner with his parents was always a mixed bag. Some nights were good, some bad. Spock knew this wasn't going to be a good night. "Spock, how is Dr. Chapel?" his mother asked as he finished the meal.

Spock cleared his throat slightly. "She is well, I meet with her Saturday at noon."

Sarek nodded. "So, things are proceeding?"

Amanda was instantly all smiles. "Proceeding?"

Spock regarded the almost overjoyed look on his mother's face and the approving manner of his father's posture. He tread softly, not wishing to give any of them false hope. "Dr. Chapel has information about a mission that I do not recall, nor can find any data on. I am going in regards to that."

Amanda flopped her napkin at the plate. "Oh. Spock, that's no way to woo a lady."

"Woo, Mother? I believe you have been reading your Victorian literature again," he lightly chastised. Amanda was a closet Harlequin romance reader. For all the calm demeanor she possessed, she really enjoyed a soapy love tale.

"You know what I mean, Spock. Your father has taken me into his confidence. You know how much I like her," the blue eyes smiled.

"You have a great respect and admiration for her. It is well deserved. But, as Father has probably also told you, she is quite distant."

"To be expected. Spock, human females, I'll try to remember what it was like, are sometimes reluctant to do what is best for themselves. In that way they are just like certain members of the Vulcan species. If I read my Christine correctly, she has remained completely out of the romance line for so long she doesn't even remember what she's missing. You'll have to sweep her off her feet and into your arms."

Spock shook his head. "I do not believe I am up to all the tasks you seem to insist I am to do. I am to give her time, romance, sweep her off her feet... I do not even know how to sweep her off her feet except literally."

Amanda and Sarek looked at each other. There was only one recourse. "Spock, come with me," she said and led to the personal library off their quarters.

After a moment, she chose the volume she wished him to read and handed it to him. He looked at it. "The Collected Letters of John and Abigail? Mother, these letters are hundred of years old."

"And romance is thousands. John and Abigail Adams were passionately in love with each other. There are many that are little more than records of what was going on in Congress or at meetings, but others, those others are so tender, beautiful. They are timeless. Those will help you. And when you finish with those, we can move to more sensual literature," she suggested with a twinkle. He straightened in objection to the suggestion. He turned to go with the book under one arm. Her voice stopped him. "And, Spock, remember something, she's human, but she won't break and might not know what is best for her. It might be necessary to be forceful to get anywhere." With that advice, he left for his own apartment closer to Newport proper.

* * *

He rarely spent time in his 'home.' He ate with his parents or out. He worked at the Embassy or out on assignment for his father. He slept in the bed, bathed, and collected his mail. But, he rarely sat and did nothing. It was an empty shell of an apartment. His things from the Enterprise had been brought. His Chagall, the ceremonial fire pots, the tea set. His weapon collection hung above the mantel, the books he had collected sat untouched in the case. His lyre was kept in his father's safe. It was climate controlled for the delicate instrument. Now, in the clothes he wore to bed, he sat facing the fireplace and began reading. The letters were soft, tender, the two had been perfectly matched, and loved each other dearly. She endured much to love this man who would help start a Revolution and then become President of the United States. Apparently, by accounts, he was not an easy man to live with. Pig headed, obnoxious, disliked, he got things done because he pushed. She gave him a soft edge. She was devoted, unswerving, loyal, believed in him and what he stood for completely. She went for months, years without seeing him but wrote everyday. Every letter was more and more yearning. They were dearest friends, lovers, soulmates. Spock began to see what his mother meant. Christine had the same basic personality as Abigail Adams. He was much like John, though he had to admit that he was liked by people ... at least a few of them. He was not so obnoxious that he completely alienated people. And, he did not push in the same manner, but he did push. It was early in the morning when he finally pushed the book aside and went to bed, a churning, lonely man.

* * *

Saturday, high noon, was bleak and rainy. It had poured for the entire morning and threatened to do so all afternoon and into the night. Still, in late August they needed the rain. It cooled the hot concrete walks and allowed an almost chilly reminder of fall to come in. Spock arrived precisely on time. The guards didn't have to look twice at their pads for confirmation. Now, as he stood waiting outside her door, he was almost hesitant to press the buzzer. What if she turned him down again? What if he found that she no longer really cared for him and was simply being kind? What if...

"Are you going to ring the buzzer or stand there with your eyes closed?" she asked. Spock opened them. She had apparently been told he was on his way up and anticipated him. He felt rather foolish, he pushed it aside. He also did not explain why he was standing in such a fashion at her door.

By day the room was not much different. He could see her rather large terrace and that it was being pounded by the weather. She smiled as he entered. "I made some sandwiches. I know you don't eat lunch, but I do. I thought you might get hungry. I don't know how long this will take."

Spock replied, "Neither do I. It will depend on how far I have to delve."

"Hmm, well, I want to delve into lunch first. I had thought we might spend some of the afternoon on the terrace, but unfortunately, Mother Nature had other ideas. Tea?" she asked, completely comfortable offering him amenities. She was accustomed to functioning in unfamiliar situations, and this was definitely one of them. She hadn't been more nervous when the whale probe had completely knocked out everything in that section of the galaxy. He accepted and went to sit in the dining area. The apartment's public rooms were open to each other. A hall led back to the bedrooms and baths. She had not chosen to put on makeup or jewelry. She also wore no perfume or scents. Her shampoo was the only thing he could discern. It was a lilac scent, clean, pure. He resisted the urge to breathe deeply.

"I got a letter from Nyota this morning. She's coming in for Anne and Ken's wedding. She's going to sing."

Spock met her eyes calmly. "Miss Uhura never changes."

"Nope, it will be nice to see her. I don't get to as often as I wish. But, she's in San Francisco. I am rather surprised that you didn't stay in San Francisco yourself. The main Embassy is there, is it not?"

"Yes, but Father chose to live here. He wished to be closest to Washington and New York. Mother also prefers the East Coast."

She grinned and chuckled softly, "All right. So, what exciting new things are you doing this week?"

"None. This has been the highlight," he added with a touch of humor. It started her laughing, and she choked on the tea.

He reveled in her laugh. He realized that he hadn't really been privy to that while serving with her. Her eyes had always been so sad ... so controlled. Now, they were actually younger than when she had been head nurse. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. That was just too funny. I suppose we should get started. How do you want to do this?"

Spock took in the layout. Moving a dining chair to sit beside the sofa, he said, "Madame, your couch."

Another fit of laughter, she never knew he was so comical. "Gosh, I feel like the proverbial patient on the psychiatric couch. You're certain I won't go to sleep on you?"

"No, I believe I can keep you stimulated enough to warrant against that." She started to laugh again, but his face told her he didn't understand. She stopped herself. Lying down, she became totally relaxed and allowed herself to drift in her thoughts. She knew the routine. Spock's hot fingertips rested gently to her pulse points. She could hear his voice, soft, slightly elevated, "Your mind to mine, your thoughts..."

After what seemed like an interminable trip through fog, she arrived on a hot, steam plagued planet. She was hot, tired, and the tattoos itched like crazy. Spock was ahead of her on the trail. He could hear his own voice. "We will travel two more kilometers before we rest for the night."

"Swell," she said under her breath.

Spock got the feeling she was not pleased. "Dr. Chapel?"

"Nothing, I think my ankle's swelling. Don't worry about it."

The memories shifted a little. They had to be tattooed to fit into Bereelian society. Spock's had been little more than a few bands of vines and leaves. Christine's had been so extensive as to stretch from her left ankle to her right shoulder blade. While they were aesthetically pleasing, neither enjoyed having them. She had also had to undergo eartip construction. A flash scene in sickbay with McCoy letting her see the ears for the first time. "My, my, don't you look pretty?"

"Oh, shut up," she retorted but admired them a little longer. Spock had never really allowed them to register with him. Until now. In the present, Spock allowed that memory to become one of his own. He could picture her as a Vulcan maiden.

Bereel culture was agriculturally based. Towns held rarely more than a few dozen families all intermarried and entwined genetically. But, no matter where they traveled they found base Vulcan DNA. The same basic structures that Spock had in his cells were in these distant peoples. Her memories honed in on that information, instead of the other details she remembered. She didn't seem very comfortable with that. He did not attempt to push for any information. Finally, they reached the end and the scene shifted to aboard ship at the briefing. Spock's manner was decidedly professional. Christine was not comfortable at all. She handed him a transfer request after he dismissed her. He signed it without reason.

The clock was chiming five when they emerged to the room around them. Spock was confused. "Something happened on Bereel III to make you leave?"

"There were lots of reasons I left, Spock," Christine excused and stood up. She was a little stiff and needed to stretch and go to the bathroom. Spock waited till she returned, her face composed, but she'd washed it before returning. She was afraid he'd find out. With a sniff, she smiled, "Allergies."

Spock nodded. He'd heard enough lies to know one when he heard it. But, he would deal with that later. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry, Spock. I thought you wanted to get to work on these findings."

"It would be best to let them formulate in my mind for a time. Melds are quite exhausting. May I suggest going to dinner?"

Christine ran a hand through rather tousled hair, "Uh ... like you said, melds are exhausting. I don't know if I'm up to it, actually."

The look of disappointment in his shoulders changed her mind, he still had control of her feelings. "All right, but could we go somewhere a little informal? I don't really feel like getting too dressed for this."

"You may choose the restaurant."

"There's this little hot dog stand that I love. They have vegetarian hot dogs. Have you ever tried them?"

Spock shook his head. He knew what they were, but he had not indulged in them. He waited till she brushed her hair and changed. She appeared in a pair of well worn jeans and white peasant blouse that was tucked in. Her figure was still very good, and he admired it as they headed out the apartment and down the hall.

* * *

The little hot dog stand was actually a stand in the middle of an indoor amusement area. The sounds of people bowling, playing pool, and generally having a good time played in the background. Spock was a little disconcerted. Still, this was where Christine had wanted to go. He was finishing his third hot dog with the works and Christine was watching him with a bit of a smile, when a lady stopped by their table. "Dr. Chapel?"

Christine looked up. She recognized her immediately and a wide grin spread across her face. "Madeline, hello ... how is everyone?"

"We're perfect. In fact, we're having a birthday party in the next room. Please say you'll come? Oh, I'm sorry, you have a guest," the eager youngish woman apologized.

Christine nodded toward Spock. "If you'll wait until he finishes that last hot dog, I'll be glad to stop in."

Spock regarded the two women and popped the last of the bun and hot dog in his mouth. Chewing and swallowing, he nodded, "I am done."

The two ladies led through the maze of game tables, to come to a private room. Inside there were at least a dozen small children under the age of 5 and several adults. When they entered the woman introduced as Madeline beamed, "Darryl, guess who I found out in the dining area."

The man turned and instantly rushed to her. "Dr. Chapel, you are so welcome here. How have you been?"

"I'm fine, but where's little Kara?" she asked looking for a particular child.

"Kara, come here," Madeline called.

A child perhaps 5 but tall for her age came over. "Yes, Mama?"

"Do you remember Dr. Chapel, Kara?"

She shook her head. It would have been a long shot if she had. She'd been a year old when her parents begged Dr. Chapel to help with their plight. Christine bent down to her level. She began singing, "Three little fishies in the itty bitty pool..."

The child brightened and joined her. "...swam three little fishies and the momma fishy too."

Together they finished the verse, "Swim said the momma fishy, swim if you can, and they swam swam swam all over the dam... You remember."

"Uh-huh," the girl smiled shyly and hugged her hard.

Madeline was in tears. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here today. She turned five."

Spock remained in the background and watched. Apparently Christine had been instrumental in helping this child in some fashion. Darryl looked at him. "The doctors all said she'd be dead before she reached two. Dr. Chapel found the treatment she needed to survive and grow up. We send prayers in her name every morning when we wake up and at night when we go to sleep."

Christine had remained down with Kara. She was so much a miracle child. Giving her a big hug, she whispered, "Happy Birthday, honey."

"Thank you."

Those small words from such a child humbled her. She felt her eyes mist over. "No, thank you." She straightened and looked around. "She's got a lot of friends."

"Yes, and they've been clamoring for cake," Madeline said looking at the throng of rather wild children.

Christine could see the discomfort in Spock's stance. "We need to go. I promise I'll come by sometime. She starts school this year, doesn't she?"

"Yes, another feat we never thought would get here."

"I'll wait till she's been in school a while. Kara, you be very good."

The towhead nodded and went eagerly back to playing. Spock and Christine walked out into the crowded park area. She chuckled a little. "I needed that."

"I do not understand."

She turned to look at him, the blue eyes bright with tears. "Spock, I work nearly all day on my own or with Ken. I sometimes lose the reason why I'm working. Kara is the reason I work till I can't see anymore. If I hadn't spent my entire energies in finding the treatment to the polyleumona that she was dying from, they would be grieving today instead of having a party."

Spock of Vulcan found himself humbled in her presence. She was capable of such brilliance. He wondered what he would have achieved if he had continued with research instead of joining with his father. Stepping toward her in the crowded park, he whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked confused.

"Being alive and here to do what you must do," he replied. It was sentimental, not logical, but it was everything that he wished to convey.

Blue eyes smiled at him. "Well, right now, I don't have to do anything. In fact, it will be nice to just sit and relax for the evening." An odd thought occurred to her. "Would you like to come back with me, just sit and watch a movie or talk?"

"About Bereel III?"

"No," she added quickly. "No, about life and death. I never really got to ask you about that."

Spock hesitated a moment. Still if he was to pursue this woman as a mate, she would need to know everything. He agreed, and they stopped long enough to pick up a to go order of nachos and popcorn. Nothing like unadulterated snack foods to help the evening along. When they had set out, the rain had ended and left the sun still in the sky as they walked the block and a half back. They must have presented an odd couple. A rather distinguished, formally dressed former Starfleet officer and a completely casually dressed human female. Christine decided not to wait to begin the questions,"So, what was it like to die?"

"Painful. My mind was not effected, but the body was in great pain. Then, there was no feeling, no body to be encumbered in. My mind rested in McCoy's body. That was most distressing," he said attempting a little levity.

She smiled, "Worse than when it was in mine?"

Spock stopped walking. He had forgotten ... how ... just too many things to remember and not enough prompts to bring them back. But that too flooded into his thoughts. She had held his katra for him, his essence, once while aboard the Enterprise. She had given him safe haven and had not rejected him as McCoy had begun to do. But, he had been trying to get McCoy to understand and relate what had happened. Christine stopped and turned, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you did not. From what I recall of the experience, it was not distressing. You gave me comfort and assurance. I do not know if you remember any of the sensations."

"Not really, I was pretty much a zombie between Henoch and you. I just thought that you might have found it distasteful. So many emotions. I know I'm not precisely the most controlled person you've ever met." There was pain in her tone as if she were apologizing for her existence in his life.

"And who told you that?" he asked trying to remain light and bemused.

She waited for him to reappear beside her. They started up the lift to her apartment. When they reached her door, he once again asked, "And who told you that?"

She turned, completely unreadable. "You."

The door swung open and they stepped inside. Spock was a little sick at heart. "When?"

Dropping the keycard in the basket by the entrance to the kitchen section, she didn't meet his eyes. "On Bareel III. Maybe we should talk about that. Get it all out in the open. I feel like I'm taking advantage of you by keeping it secret."

Spock was instantly curious. The areas he had not been allowed to go, those that he did not press for, something had happened. Between them? He recalled the tense atmosphere in the room and the fact that he had signed her transfer papers without even mild protest.

"You wish another meld?"

She jerked her head up, stared him straight in the eye. "No. That won't be necessary. I'll spill everything to keep from that."

Going to stand in the same spot she had nights earlier, she began. "As you have seen, Bereel III was an almost primitive agricultural society. They were not starving, nor were they affluent, but there were ruling classes. While we were there, we were taken by the head of one of the houses but not as prisoners. My tattoos marked me as a healer, you a tradesman/musician. We were escorted to the ... for lack of a better term ... castle, and I was asked to assist in healing the children who had come down with a virus that was going around. You were asked to entertain. It was perfect to gather the information that we needed. There was nothing that gave our identities away."

She hesitated, went over to pull a pitcher out of the cooler. "There was a member of the court, she professed to be a soothsayer. She insisted on reading my future. It was supposed to be a lark. You advised against it, but I went ahead anyway. After all, I wasn't even Bereelian, this would be funny. She was a psi-reader. She knew that we were not who we said we were. She knew that you were not a trader and that we were not from there. In order to keep from getting our heads chopped off, you incapacitated her, we fled and could not finish the research that you had intended to complete. I destroyed your chance to gather enough information to prove to the Vulcan council that your theories of the connection to Romulan species were at least viable to be considered."

Spock allowed the information to sink in. Still, that was not so horrible as to prefer her sent away to remaining on the ship. There had to be more. "That is not sufficient cause..."

"Oh, but yes it was," she said facing him, her eyes ablaze with pain. "You see, I went to the soothsayer to ... I wanted ... my feelings regarding you got in the way. I allowed them to guide me. I wanted to hear her tell me that one day, soon, you'd take me in your arms and love me, and I wouldn't be lonely anymore. Do you understand? I jeopardized our lives, your mission, the entire sanctity of the Prime Directive to be able to live in that little fantasy world I had created in my head. You were, shall we say, furious. I chose to leave immediately after we returned to the ship."

Now Spock stood as a fool. He wanted her, after he'd practically thrown her off the only place she'd known as home for nearly eight years. But, if he recalled, what he could recall, he demanded better than she was. He wanted pure Vulcan, not some human who could no more understand him than he them. He didn't want the emotions to grate him, tear at him. He wanted the sterile logic that would not impose itself. But, when he had found that, he had been repulsed. With Valeris he thought he had found a compromise. She had seemed to embrace his differences, she was not so cold and sterile that he could not be attracted to her. Yet, she was devious, treacherous, murderous, and was not worthy to be trusted. She finished, "I stopped thinking about you in that fashion the moment I left that ship."

Pouring a glass of tea, she nodded toward it, "Tea?"

He shook his head. His mouth was dry, but it was not a liquid beverage he needed. Placing the bags of popcorn and nachos on the island, he started to back away. She noticed. "So, what movie do you want to watch?"

"I fear I must be going. I ... have..." he tried and found nothing to come next.

Christine nodded, just as usual. She tells him the truth and he runs like a rabbit. Why would things be different now. "Thank you for dinner."

She watched him leave. He did not mention whether he would call her again and she did not intend to contact him. She was through chasing him. If he wanted to speak to her, he'd have to do it himself.

* * *

"Spock."

"Spock?"

Finally, a hand on his shoulder,"Spock."

"Yes, Mother," he answered not turning to face her. He did not want her to see the pain in his face. Attempting to compose himself, he did not quite succeed.

She was wise enough to know he'd not face her. So, she went to stand in front of him. "What is the matter?"

"Mother. I ... am a bungling fool," he whispered. He did not meet her gaze, did not want to look into those blue eyes that were so like hers.

She laughed a little, wanted to take his head and cradle it like she'd always wanted when he was distressed. "I don't think so."

"I am a fool. For almost thirty years I have known that woman. For thirty years, and I have injured her, the one thing she asked me never to do," he realized he was practically rambling.

Amanda came to sit on the edge of the seat that faced him. "Spock, Christine isn't going anywhere, is she? Is she leaving?" He shook his head swiftly. "Then you have the time to make things right. That's what life is all about, Spock. You make mistakes and you fix them. You learn from your mistakes. Hopefully, they are all fixed before you die."

"This is more than mere mistakes. I caused the distress that has led her life to the way she is now."

"And is it that bad?"

Spock thought a second, remembered the little girl he'd seen and the joy on her parents' faces. If he'd made overtures to her, done what she'd wanted, she probably would not have had the drive that found cures for incurable diseases. He met his mother's eyes. "How did you become so wise?"

Sarek's voice answered. "She's spent the better part of her life with me obviously."

Amanda laughed loudly at that. "Ha! I've had to put up with you all this time. I was born wise, Spock."

The light teasing that his parents engaged in had been confusing to the child Spock. He had thought they were arguing or at least disagreeing. Now, he wished to use them as a blueprint for his own attempt at joining with a human. He returned to his mother's precious statement. "If what I have seen of the life Dr. Chapel has, she has far more than I could have presented her with fifteen years ago. In fact, she may have more than I can give her now."

"And to that I answer bullshit," Amanda answered. Spock and Sarek were surprised. She never swore. It must be important indeed. "I'll tell you what I saw when she came for dinner. I saw a woman, a remarkable woman who has accomplished everything she'd ever wanted but was so lost and lonely that she has nothing. And when I see my son, I see the same thing. You're restless, you can't concentrate, and you're in turmoil. You need her, and she needs you."

Spock nodded. He would never think to go against his mother's judgment, especially since he knew she was correct. She kept going. "But, I will tell you something else. I believe that if you'd have tried to be together earlier, it would have ended miserably. You would have demanded things that she could not give and vice versa. You would not have been able to survive the struggle. Now, you have a chance. I think because you know precisely what it is to be where she has been."

Valeris again, he knew that she would always be an albatross about his neck. The pain of her betrayal was still quite fresh even after four years.

"It's been a week since you saw her. Don't you think it's time to say hello?" his mother nudged.

"Perhaps, if I could have a private moment in my life, I might do that," he offered back and the two parents left him.

* * *

Jenna McNamara tried very hard to keep her face completely still. "I'll try to get her, but she's in a conference. May I give her a message if I cannot reach her?"

Spock thought a moment, the last message had not done well. "Make absolutely certain that she receives and reads this. I will be at her apartment at 2100 tonight to take her to dinner."

"I think she's planning on staying late."

"In that case, I will still be at her apartment at 2100 to pick her up." His tone was no nonsense. He would stop playing cat and mouse with her and pounce while he could.

Jenna smiled. "I'll make certain she understands that. You have my word."

There, it was done. He was going to have to be forceful after all.

* * *

2045 and Christine Chapel was exhausted. She'd literally walked herself into new callouses on her feet. She'd spent two days trying to get the neuro-transtators up and running, had a group of possible backers to deal with, and now this demand from Spock. Even though it did give her the excuse to go home, it was still something she found most distasteful. Stepping inside, she was glad that it was not yet 2100. She could get into something quite unattractive and meet with Spock. He'd not said a word to her for a week and she'd spent the time trying not to think of him. After all the years, it still hurt to mention his name. She started for her bedroom when the buzzer rang from security. "Dr. Chapel, Ambassador Spock is here."

She sighed, he was early. "Go ahead, send him up."

Quickly taking the jacket and matching slacks off and flinging them into the corner, she pulled on her favorite pair of sweats and a T-shirt. When he arrived she was smugly standing in that outfit. He got the message. He did not sigh. "I take it you do not wish to go to dinner?"

"Not really. I am quite literally put out. I planned on staying in."

She provided him with an impasse. He either did as she wished or forgot this line of thought entirely. He chose to stay. Removing the over cloak that he normally wore, he placed it on a rack she had for coats. "'In' sounds perfect."

Christine sighed. "Really, I am not in the humor for company. My feet are killing me."

"I do not hear you screaming," he answered completely serious. It brought a smile to her face. She laughed a little. "I guess we could order out again."

Spock shook his head. "No. I shall cook for you."

This little revelation caught her by surprise. "You can cook?"

"I can boil water. I can also add pasta and marinara sauce to create spaghetti marinara. Past that I am stretching my abilities."

He caught her eyes. They were bemused, happy, even a little teasing. She gestured to take in the whole kitchen. "My kitchen is at your disposal."

Hiking herself up on a barstool, she intended to watch this. Spock located the water spout, found a pot that was entirely too small for the task, and then started to rummage through her cabinets. He turned. "You would not wish to assist in this?"

"Huh-uh. It's all yours. I will give you a hint ... I make my own pasta. And I don't have any made up. So, now what?"

He took a breath, chewed on his bottom lip, and narrowed his eyes. "We order take out."

She laughed delightedly. "Okay, I'll give. I admit that spaghetti in marinara sauce sounded pretty good. If I get the pasta going, will you do the rest?"

He nodded. She hopped off the stool with a little groan of discomfort and touched a button panel. A large machine slid out of the wall. "It's really rather easy. You put in flour, a little salt, eggs, oil and sometimes some other seasonings depending on if you want say spinach flavored or tomato flavored. How does a little garlic sound?"

He leaned back against the counter and watched her work. Why it should amaze him to watch such a simple act confounded him. Cooking was little more than basic chemistry after all. But she made it appear so easy, so fluid. He was as clumsy as a pig on ice as McCoy had been want to say at times. She put all the ingredients in and set the machine to mix and then mold into alfredo noodles. "Sorry, I had it set for alfredo. Is that all right?"

"Yes."

Spock waited expectantly for the pasta. It was quite a fascinating thing to watch, and he had his nose almost stuck to the side trying to see what was going on. Christine had to keep from laughing several times. She kept pinching herself. At this rate she'd be black and blue. He had water boiling in the pot. Thinking suddenly that if he made a mess she'd have to clean it up, she suggested, "You might want a larger pot. That one isn't nearly big enough."

He chose a stew pot this time and she rolled her eyes. "No, no... the three quart... that one. That's what you use for pasta. Didn't your mother let you help her cook when you were little?"

"We had servants who did most of the cooking. My mother does cook, but she was usually too busy with her work to be concerned with such a mundane task on a daily basis."

"I didn't realize your mother worked. What did she do?"

"She taught English grammar and customs to embassy children. That is how she met Father," he answered rather proudly. She had known that his mother had been a teacher, but she had not known how Amanda and Sarek met. She also had simply assumed that she had stayed at home to raise Spock.

The meal was probably the best Christine had ever had. It wasn't the quality of food. His cooking was little more than her own. He provided delightful company. She found herself laughing harder than she had in ages. She didn't know which surprised her more, his humor or her ease at being with him. "I'll clean," she sighed and started to get up. But she'd sat so long that her legs were stiff and her feet really did hurt. "Oh, I shouldn't have done that."

Spock waved her into the living room. "I will clean. I made the mess."

"True. We never did get to watch a movie. Would you care to watch one now?" she asked.

Spock answered yes. He was pleased that she was at least allowing him to be near her. She picked a particular favorite of hers that she hoped wouldn't be too far over his head to enjoy. "This one is a little silly, but I like it. That is unless you have one you'd rather watch."

"Whatever you chose is fine," he replied as he rinsed out the dishes.

"All right, don't say I didn't warn you. I hope you like Abbott and Costello," she said and hobbled back over to the couch. Her feet really hurt. It was the last time she'd wear those pinch toed shoes.

"You are injured?"

"Oh, those stupid shoes. I didn't realize I'd be on my feet all day." She rubbed the soles to try to relieve some of the pain for a few minutes. She moaned a little from the relief. Spock finished with the dishes and joined her on the couch. It was really the only way to view the screen fully. Christine turned the houselights down so that it would be easier to see the black and white movie. She had a large screen that made it almost like theater viewing.

Spock sat rather stiffly on one end of the couch, Christine preferred to stretch out as if it were a chaise lounge. She made sure that her feet were kept close. As the opening scenes of "Hold That Ghost" started, she snuggled deeper in the couch. Her feet inched further toward Spock. He looked over and after a moment's thought took them in his lap. She shot up so fast, she fell off the couch and ended up in a heap by the coffee table. "What are you doing?"

"I did not mean to frighten you. It occurred to me that massaging your feet would help relieve the pain. I merely wished to help," he answered as he helped sit her back in the couch.

"Oh, I thought you were going to tickle ... that's silly ... sorry. I just am really skittish about people touching my feet. My father used to get me down and tickle them until I was screaming. I hate being tickled. It's torture for me," she replied shaking the memory off as if it were the cold.

"I assure you, I would never do such a thing." In the dim light his eyes were serious, completely sincere.

She smiled. "I know that. I'm sorry. If you'd like to massage them that's fine with me. In fact, go in my bathroom and there is a foot rub. Janice sent it and I never have gotten to use it. I always forget."

Spock did as she asked and realized after he'd stepped into her bedroom that he was in her bedroom. He nearly froze but her voice prompted him. "It's in the cabinet below the sink. I think it's a blue bottle."

With efficiency of movement and not looking around, he found the bottle she spoke of. It smelled of mint. Retrieving a hand towel as well, he returned. She had put the movie on pause while he had been gone. "Janice is always getting me lotions and rubs to try, but I keep telling her it's hard to rub your own back."

Spock sat down at the end of the couch, but this time inched a little closer to her side. Spreading the towel across his lap, he took her feet again. As far as he could tell, they were perfectly shaped. "I'll turn the movie back on now."

"Please, do," he said not really concentrating on the film. He had never done this. He wasn't sure what to do, but was versed in the pulse points of the basic Homo sapiens and would be extremely careful not to massage too hard. "Why are your toes blue?"

"They aren't blue, they're purple, nail polish. Really, I'd have thought you'd have known about nail polish. That's a basic in the female cache of beauty secrets," she answered and spent a few moments watch him watch her feet. After he didn't touch them for at least a minute, she shrugged and started watching the movie. As far as she was concerned this was one of the best and her favorite Abbott and Costello movies. She loved watching Joan Davis as the screaming radio star who couldn't scream when it really counted.

Spock poured a little of the goo into his palm. It was quite cold. He didn't want to frighten her again so he warmed it in his palms and began to work. The sensations that he received the second he allowed his hands to rest upon her ankles and arches was almost enough to make him shoot off the couch himself. Composing himself, he began to manipulate the toes and metatarsal area. That brought an instant groan and he stopped. "I hurt you?"

"No, you have wonderful hands," she replied not taking her eyes away from the screen. He did not, could not know what effect he was having on her by just touching her feet. She'd never been particularly turned on when she'd had pedicures or other foot massages. So why did this have her nearly out of breath with desire? Clamping down on her feelings, she uttered only one word in her mind. "No."

Spock deftly kneaded and massaged, allowed his hands to practically run amok around her feet and ankles. He had read of the erotic nature of such acts but had dismissed them. They were feet after all. But, now he was beginning to understand the fetish. He longed deep inside to allow his hands to travel further up her leg, to her calv