Disclaimer: Copyright 2006 Mistress V, permission to archive at TrekTales, all others just ask. I do not own anything resembling the copyright, so no infringement intended. There will be some NC-17 sex between Spock and Christine here and there, it being their honeymoon and all, but I will mark those segments. However, if you don't like that notion or are under age, please visit the appropriate website of your choice.

JOURNEYS

Mistress V

Endings and Beginnings

Wednesday Evening, Vulcan

It had been a day of farewells as the Enterprise prepared to leave Vulcan. Stark and his friend Sean had paid a surprise visit to the ship that morning and tried the holodeck halfpipe, pronouncing it cosmic and offering ideas for various skill level enhancements. They'd also test run a new surfing program that Ensign Pauulu was working on, with considerably less successful, but thoroughly enjoyable results. Kirk had privately assured the champion that the ship would be back for his bonding in two year's time.

That afternoon, Worf and his family also bid goodbye to their new friends as they headed to the star liner which would take them to their Ferengi transport headed for Qo'noS. Mogh and Loki had been invited to attend the inaugural winter sports camp, both as participants and as ambassadors of goodwill, since several other youngsters would be coming from the homeworld as well. Until then, Mogh promised Stark that he would study hard and practice his sport on the local sandhills. In the meantime, Stark's staff was looking at the landboard design ideas Selok and Mogh had given them.

Kala and K'a'tya had promised to keep in touch via her father's New York nightclub and both secretly hoped for the day when Worf's family would be freely able to visit that city.

In his sleeping chamber aboard the star liner, Mogh carefully placed his new snowboard on his pillow. Then he opened his rucksack and withdrew a small bag which held a glass mobile of abstract shapes, in varying shades of deep glowing red. The color of Vulcan's earth. He'd been at the old town market in Shi-Kahr right after they arrived, shopping with the group, when an old Vulcan merchant had addressed him in Klingonese. The friendly artisan told a story of his younger years as a trader, in the early days of the Federation, and the interesting people he'd met on his journeys. Some of who were from Qo'noS. The mobile, he told Mogh, was originally made of Vulcan sand, blown into glass by his own family members, and would make a most pleasing sound when the wind blew. Perhaps it might make a good souvenir of his very special trip? K'a'tya had agreed that such a splendid item would be a fine addition to their home, and Mogh now held the shimmering creation in his hands. It seemed to sparkle with the magic of the week he had spent, and Mogh knew it would always remind of him of the special adventures and friendships he had experienced. He slowly stood up and hung the mobile from the air vent above his bed. His sleep was filled with crystal whispers and pleasant dreams.

The Enterprise and the star liner both warped smoothly out of orbit, bound for far off destinations.

* * *

The Nebula Queen, That morning (remember, there's a time difference)

"So this is why you insisted on packing already," Spock said with a laugh.

He and Christine were collapsed in a heap on the floor just outside the bathroom, where she had boldly attacked her quarry as he came out from a sonic shower. The cruiser's bathrooms were minuscule to say the least. It was physically impossible to share the shower, and it was only sonic. There would be two weeks plus of time to rectify that situation on Terra, however.

Spock had not even anticipated she would be waiting for him, which pleased his wife all the more. As much as he enjoyed the sensual pleasure their relationship offered, he was still hesitant at times to ask for what pleased him. Being a giver by nature made this difficult, but Christine had figured that out some time ago. And she knew what he liked. So his towel got unexpectedly yanked off of him and he'd found himself with his back pressed against the cabin wall, riding through his own nova of intense oral pleasure. Until his knees buckled from the intensity of it all and they found themselves on the floor, where little time was lost in resuming the activity.

"Yes, I had it all planned out," Christine admitted with a happy sigh. She looked up at him and gave her lips a seductive lick of satisfaction.

Spock's eyebrow raised. "You are dangerous, my wife. And I must admit to liking your particular type of danger. It ... pleases me." He slid the robe off her shoulders. "And now I believe the phrase goes something like 'turnabout is fair play' as you say?" He continued to undress her, discarding the garment until she was sitting in his lap as equally unclothed as he was. Spock let one hand slide down her hip and start a slow search for very erogenous zones he knew to be in the area. "I want to watch the pleasure sweep over your face, T'hyla," he whispered. "Give me that joy, my wife, please?"

* * *

Southwestern United States Spaceport, Terra, Wednesday Afternoon

"Everything's in order here," the Starfleet passport control officer said as he checked their data on his terminal. He gave them a smile. "Commander Spock, welcome to Terra. And Dr. Chapel, welcome home! Enjoy your stay!"

They made their way to the domestic shuttle lounge and their connecting flight to the greater Phoenix shuttleport. The short hop was quick and smooth, giving Spock a fascinating view of the area's desert terrain, something he had not seen during previous Terra visits. In short order he and Christine picked up their rental vehicle and headed into the roads above Scottsdale.

"Here we are, Camelback View Lodge." She parked the jeep in the drive of a gated estate set on a private road, not unlike the neighborhood where Spock's parents resided in Shi-Kahr. The road, and homes, afforded a splendid view of the valley floor from the heights of Camelback Mountain. Saguaro, barrel and beavertail cactus grew across the land in profusion, along with yucca, desert sage and ocotillo. A wonderfully pungent, herby scent permeated the warm desert air.

They were staying the night in a guesthouse of an obviously Frank Lloyd Wright inspired desert home, which gave magnificent vistas of both the valley's depths and the hillside behind. The property had elaborately terraced gardens of local plants, a slate tiled pool and several sheltered fountain areas. The similarities to Spock's own home were quite uncanny.

"How did you find this place?" Spock asked as they stowed their gear and prepared to head out for some sightseeing. "It is quite beautiful, I must admit." Then he rolled his eyes good naturedly as his wife gave him the requisite anti warp-lag hypo.

"I did my homework, my love," Christine answered. "I like to please you too, you know. My mother grew up in the Phoenix area, so we spent alot of time here when I was growing up. I know the area well, even though the family has scattered to other places now."

"Then I would be pleased if you showed me the finer points of the locale. " Spock held out his hand. "Please lead the way, my wife."

* * *

"A most remarkable place, Taliesin West" Spock remarked as they sat later in the Rusty Spur Saloon's authentically Western environs. "Mr. Lloyd Wright was almost Vulcan in his precision. His architecture was indeed groundbreaking in its design. A very enjoyable tour, I must admit."

He and Christine had taken a sunset tour of the legendary estate, still well preserved after over 300 years, and Spock had marveled at the architect's use of natural stone in the design. "Such wonderfully aligned angles," Spock declared as he viewed the buildings and gardens. "His works are required study at the Science Academy, even today."

From there, they had meandered down to Old Town Scottsdale, which still retained its original Wild West flavor, even if that Old West was now largely the stuff of archaic holovids. Christine remembered T'sai T'Ren's humorous description of her young son, who fully believed that cowboys and Indians lived in the towns of Terra's West to this day.

To Christine's utter amazement, the Sugar Bowl Ice Cream Parlor, almost as old as Taliesin, was still in operation, so she and Spock had stopped in for dinner and then shared a tin roof sundae. Afterwards, they'd wandered up the street and decided to have a drink at the rickety old cowpoke saloon which was playing twangy country/western classics on its sound system.

"They used to re-enact the old Pony Express route here, centuries after the Express stopped running," Christine said. "This saloon was part of the historic ride, a stop on the way so to speak."

"Fascinating," Spock replied, being bold and adventurous by putting his arm around his wife, not in the safety of the Enterprise, nor in private on Vulcan, but right in public, and on Terra. To his slight disappointment, no one even bothered to notice. But it was still a major milestone, something neither of them could ever have imagined when they first spent time together. He then told Christine of how the mail had been delivered in the old days of Vulcan, before the advent of their equivalent of the telegraph. Apart from the lack of horses, it had been quite similar to Terra's own experiences.

It was nearly midnight when they got back to the estate. The air was still balmy, carrying the scents of the local plant life. As they walked to the guest house, Spock stopped for moment and looked up at the skies. "Look," he said as he pointed upwards. "Shooting stars. Should we watch them for a time, my wife? Perhaps you could tell me the constellations here in this part of America."

Christine smothered a laugh. Spock knew the constellations backwards and forwards, but he clearly did not want to have an astronomy lesson. Neither did she, for that matter. Smiling, she took his hand and pulled him down beside her on the slate border of the pool, still amazingly warm from the day's heat. He drew her into his arms, sighing contentedly.

And then Spock was at last able to do what he had wanted to at his parent's home, but propriety had deemed it inappropriate, although his father had fully expected an amorous display by starlight. This was a perfect setting for love by moonlight, and the only witnesses were the shooting stars, a desert owl and a prowling javelina.*

*(pron. hav-a-LEE-na. A type of wild pig native to the Southwestern US and Northern Mexico.)

* * *

Thursday

"The difference in the atmosphere here on Terra does make the sunsets and sunrises much more colorful," Spock remarked. From their patio at the guesthouse, he and Christine were watching the desert sky take on its vivid, uniquely dawn hues. "And I must say, the coolness of the evenings on Vulcan is something you do not seem to have here."

"It's August, Spock," Christine replied. She had another bite of corn bread and some more coffee. "Nights are as stifling as days right now. The constant heat just doesn't dissipate in this part of the region until about November. Then it can get very cold, especially at night. We're headed into altitude today. You'll feel the difference in the air, believe me."

"I did not find the heat last night that uncomfortable," he answered, reaching over to let his hand trail across her lips. "In fact, I found it quite ... delightful." He allowed a suggestive smile to fall across his face, much as the early morning light was casting its shadows on the valley basin beyond them.

Christine shivered involuntarily. She and Spock had remained outdoors until just before dawn, then had decided to watch the sunrise over breakfast. The hedonistic delights they'd partaken of beside the tranquil pool still burst across her memory like fireworks. And still she wanted him again. It was about as illogical a situation as there could be. Who would have thought a pair of over-30 Starfleet officers could be so ... insatiable when sex was involved? It made no sense, and Christine did not even pretend to care.

"It is early, Christine, and you appear to be ... chilled. Since we do not have to depart on our journey to Sedona for a few hours, shall we try to raise your body's mean temperature a bit?" He took her hand and pulled her up and into an embrace. His hips pressed against her own through the robe he wore, full of erotic promise. "Let us retire, my wife, shall we?"

* * *

"I don't like the look of that," Christine said rather pointedly. Her gaze scanned the fat black clouds to the north of Phoenix. Then she looked at the jeep's chronometer. "But it's only 09:00 and the afternoon storms don't hit till about 15:00 or later. I think we'll be across the mountains by then."

"The jeep has a protective covering, so I believe we shall be safe from any inclement weather," Spock replied as they headed onto the expressway out of town. "Are you proficient in driving during adverse road conditions?"

"I'd much rather avoid that prospect," she grimaced. "Hail, lightning, sleet, maybe snow. It's all possible, even in August, once you get out of the valley. You'll be glad we packed for cooler climate, believe me. But the scenery on this particular drive is worth the effort."

The suburbs of Phoenix, which had reached well beyond the city's official limits, finally fell somewhat away to the desert landscape most people associated with Arizona. Saguaros began to appear, large groups of them.

"Here we are, Route 74," Christine announced as she turned onto a spur road. "Now you're going to see the real Arizona, or what's left of it."

"Carefree Highway? That is an unusual name for a road, is it not?" Spock read the sign with interest.

"Not really, because the town of Carefree is at the eastern end of this road, but we're heading west. Have a good look at the saguaro cactus, we won't really be seeing them once we leave Wickenberg."

The scenery sped past them and the temperature climbed with the sun. Here and there a jackrabbit bounded across the desert terrain. Hawks made slow, deliberate circles across the cerulean sky. But sadly, it appeared that more and more development had crept even into this quiet part of the state. Christine wondered how long it would take to become one huge metropolis, from Tucson to Flagstaff.

At Wickenberg, they stopped for snacks and to make sure the jeep was ready for the climb across three sets of mountain ranges. Spock was quite curious about the realistic western feel to the burg, even though it was also a major transport hub.

"This used to be one of the guest ranch capitals of the world, or so it was claimed," Christine explained. "A popular vacation destination, where folks could come and play cowboy for a week or two, then head back to the city. Only this wasn't a shore leave planet kind of situation. You can bet they got saddle sore." She gave Spock a skeptical look. He was still insisting that they ride at Monument Valley. Together.

The town quickly gave way to scrub, but with much greenery. "If it is a desert, why is it not dry?" Spock asked logically. He, like his wife, had finally decided that xtreme style sunglasses were a useful addition to his activewear wardrobe. He gazed out at the terrain, looking for all the planet like an older version of Stark, just minus the equally xtreme hairstyle.

"Because of that." Christine pointed to the anvil-topped thunderheads, which still hovered just to the north of their route. "At this time of the year, it rains almost every day, usually in the afternoon or evening, when air is at its most unstable. So despite the heat of the summer, this season can be one of the wettest. And this has been a banner year for storms here, or so I read."

"It would appear that those mountains will be a detriment to our journey, I presume we must go around them," Spock said, indicating the peak which loomed off the desert floor ahead of them. "Which direction does the highway go from here, left or right?"

Christine laughed. "Are you kidding? Only one way. Straight up. Hang on, Commander." And with that she proficiently shifted gears and started to climb.

* * *

From Yarnell they crossed a high plateau of farmland and ranches, also green with the summer rains. Spock was further amazed to see another set of mountains loom ahead, and these appeared to be higher than the last set. Christine had been right. The air had dropped in warmth a good 20 degrees Fahrenheit since they left the desert, and a cool breeze was now blowing.

The journey into Prescott, their next stop, was quite eye opening for Spock. Despite studying about the geography of the region, he was surprised to see vast mountainous forests of evergreen in what he thought was essentially a desert state. Christine had quickly informed him that Arizona was less than 25% desert in total, and then further added to the mystery by saying he'd soon be seeing what the other 75% consisted of.

At Prescott they parked the jeep and explored the well-preserved main street, which dated back to the late 19th century and the time when the town was as wild as it was now sedate. The next stop was the venerable flight college, Embry Riddle. Still going strong, it now trained commercial spacer pilots, navigators, and space station traffic controllers, instead of only the airline and helicopter variety. The school's director, a retired Starfleet helmsman himself, let them test fly a flitter which had won first place in the recent graduating class' final project. The winning model had been built up and was now being looked at for commercial viability. Spock assured the director it had quite good possibilities for short term flights.

Another high plateau emerged once they left Prescott, and the clouds, which had appeared as fat black cotton puffs in the distance, now edged ominously closer. "One more range to go, and then we hit the Red Rocks area. Better put on a cap, it might get really cold on this climb." She pulled her own knit hat down over her ears, looking up at the sky, where the patches of blue were now getting smaller. She gunned the jeep's engine and started the last leg of the mountain odyssey. What had she been thinking, crossing three mountain ranges in a day? Thankfully, Spock appeared to be enjoying the trip as much as she did.

The first view of the red sandstone, monolith covered plateau below from the pine-clad mountain summit was always a shock to one who had not seen it before. Christine, who had done this drive many times, still found the difference in terrain breathtaking. She looked over at her husband, whose eyebrows were predictably raised in surprise.

"Fascinating."

She smiled. "Just wait." Then she shifted into second and they began their descent. The way Jerome just appeared, hanging off the side of the mountain was always a show stopper.

* * *

"This was a copper mining region, then?" Spock asked as they took a brief stroll through the town. The air was now decidedly warmer, but very humid. A storm was definitely on its way. "It appears to have been built into the side of that cliff. Quite unusual. But what happened to the population?"

"The mine closed when the ore vein ran out. A common story around these parts, I'm afraid. Now it's a tourist destination, a getaway from the heat that's around Sedona. Lots of motorcycle tour groups come through here, the drive is pretty amazing as you saw."

Her description was cut short when a low rumble of thunder was heard on the horizon. "Come on, let's make a run for it. Sedona's just down the road." She put the top up on the jeep and they headed towards the highway.

* * *

"Damn," Christine muttered as the first fat raindrops hit the windshield. "I thought we'd outrun it." She pulled off the highway into a scenic overlook parking lot, Sedona's limits still a few miles up Hwy 89A. The skies opened just as she cut the engine. "We're stuck here until it passes. But it shouldn't be long, maybe an hour at most." She stretched. "Maybe it's a good thing. I could use a nap, come to think of it." She leaned back and closed her eyes. Spock, who was always fascinated by weather, decided to look out the window at the passing show of fast moving, inky cloud formations.

A blinding flash of light seemed to come from right overhead. Christine woke up immediately. Almost to herself, she started to count. "One ... two ... th--"

KA-BOOM!

"What are you doing?" Spock asked.

"Seeing how close the storm's center is. My grandmother taught me. Every second after a clap of thunder means a it's a certain number of miles away. Or so she said."

Another flash of lightning, this one less bright. "One, two, three, four, five..." BOOM! Christine let out a deep breath of relief. "Look, it's moving east of us, towards Sedona. The worst of the lightning's passed. I only hope the system doesn't get stuck over near Coffee Pot Rock." She shivered for real. "I hate to admit this, but thunderstorms still can do a number on me."

"You are frightened?" Spock asked, trying to embrace her. Due to the gearshift, this proved to be impossible. He had to settle for stroking her shoulder.

"A little. You'd think with all I'd seen in space by now, a little summer storm wouldn't scare me like this. But it does." She sighed. "Yep, look." She pointed out the windshield. "It's sitting over the rocks in town. The rain won't let up for awhile. Happens when there's too much cold air."

Spock opened the window and stuck his hand into the downpour. After a moment, he turned back to his wife, a smile playing at his lips.

"Christine," he whispered.

She'd been intently watching the storm's progress, wondering about the possibilities of hail or even a flash flood ... eh? A vivid image, which had nothing to do with meteorology, but everything to do with rain, filled her mind.

"Spock?" What on earth was he up to?

She turned to face him. His side of the jeep was empty. "SPOCK?"

The next second, her door opened and she was pulled out into the cascade of surprisingly warm water. Before she knew what was happening, her husband was kissing the residual fright out of her quite efficiently, with a very specific agenda in mind.

"We cant!" she finally managed to gasp. "Not here, it's--it's..."

Spock viewed their surroundings critically. "It appears to be a quite deserted public parking lot." Sure enough, they were the only vehicle in the immediate area.

"Why do you always protest what you actually enjoy, Christine?" he asked as his hands started tracing the outline of her breasts under a sodden t shirt. "It is most illogical. Instead of wasting our energy arguing over a moot point, I think we would be better served indulging in one of our favored fantasies, do you not agree? It is actually raining quite pleasantly, we are alone, we are outdoors, not in the arboretum, so let us partake of the situation that presents itself." He started nibbling a line down a particularly sensitive cord in her neck.

She gave in to the sensations that were pouring over her faster than the rain. "You win, Commander," she said weakly. "But I'm not rolling on the asphalt with you. Now that you've got me in the mood, where are we going to take care of the matter?" She started to laugh at the inanity of the situation.

Spock picked her up and carried her over to a landscaped picnic area behind a stone wall, glancing back over his shoulder to ensure they were truly alone. They were. "I assure you, I can hear anyone approaching long before you can, my beloved...." he began, but she kissed him instead.

It didn't take long for them to lose their clothes as well their inhibitions.

* * *

"Dear Mom,

I took Spock over the three range route to Sedona, the one you and I used to do when we visited. There was a weather front following us the whole way but the drive was spectacular. Here we are in downtown Prescott. Remember the old Birdcage Saloon? It's still going strong. Looks like this will be a great trip. Love you, miss you. Chris (and Spock)."

* * *

Arizona Highways

The brunt of the storm's fury had moved east to drench the Sedona area. To the west of town, the warm summer rain fell steadily for another hour or so, then gradually tapered off to a drizzle. But fury of quite a different, though no less intense, type was still in evidence.

"A significant improvement to the sensations of the arboretum's rain day, I believe," Spock remarked as he sat down on the picnic table's smooth bench, pulling his wife with him for another erotic tour de force. Unfazed by their recent activities, he then locked his wife's hips against his pelvis and began to move with her.

"Spock." Christine opened her eyes, barely able to focus. "Shut up already!" she ordered. The rain was still falling on them both but neither one of them noticed, let alone cared. She lost herself in the sensation of her husband's extremely hard cock making her crazy with desire yet again. He'd already licked her senseless twice, now he was obviously going for a pleasure hat trick.

As you wish, doctor." His actions then took over the conversation. From their hidden vantage point, all was well with the planet.

* * *

"Looks like the weather's clearing up," Christine managed to say a bit later. She rolled onto her back, still loosely in her husband's embrace, and looked up at the sky. Patches of blue were starting to appear once more. The grass beneath them was soft and damp.

"In that case, it would be logical to surmise that others will be returning to the area soon," Spock replied. He stroked the familiar place where leg met rear and gave her that slow, lazy smile of contentment she knew so well. "I do believe we have now lived out most of our rain-themed fantasy scenarios. In actual rain."

"You can say that again," she said as she snuggled back onto his chest, relishing the warmth flowing between them despite the moisture which still covered their bodies. "But I'm surprised, Spock. You, a scientist, allowing us to venture out into a desert thunderstorm? Shame on you!" She smacked his hard quadriceps, giggling as she did so.

"Christine." Spock caught her and pulled her close. "While you were resting, I viewed the storm and was able to determine both its intensity and its direction. It was clearly moving east of where our vehicle was parked, leaving the immediate area subject only to residual rainshowers. Since this overlook is at the summit of a hill, with the picnic area here at the very top of that, it was logical to deduce that a flash flood scenario, if it took place, would have little effect here. Had the weather turned very inclement, the shelter next to us would have provided safety. And so, my beautiful wife..." He raised his eyebrow, then pulled her closer still and whispered something in her ear.

"SPOCK!" Even Christine had not known her husband could say anything that ... sexually graphic, at least in Standard. And that ... arousing? After a scientific tutorial about why it had been safe to ... do it during a desert storm?

He only smiled. *I did, did I not?*

Her cheeks suddenly flamed as she reached across his prone body for her waterlogged clothes. In a quick moment she'd wrung most of the water out and had thrown them on. "Wait here, rain man," she instructed as she headed down to the jeep. In a few moments she returned with some dry gear for both of them and led him into the restroom to change. The sun was heading into its downward arc, and while a romp in a deluge was fun, there were better and drier places to get warm again.

* * *

"Hell!" Christine muttered as the jeep fishtailed. She was only doing 25 mph. How much hail had fallen here in town? The wheels spun when she pulled into the parking lot of the Circle K market. "I won't be a moment," she said as she darted inside.

Spock was examining a handful of the marble sized, bright white hailstones when she came back out. She deftly hung the Red Rocks parking permit from the rearview mirror, then went to join him.

"From the size and composition of these spheres, I would speculate that the weather here has been most unpredictable of late," he stated in his best Chief Science Officer's voice.

She took a few in her hand, frowning at the unusual size and uniformity of the icy objects. "The clerk says there's been a hailstorm every day this week. It's been getting cold at night, too, down past freezing in some places. I think we'd better head off to our hotel before the sun gets too much lower."

* * *

Christine had pulled the jeep's top down once more and the rain clean air blew across them. She turned down the highway towards Oak Creek Village and their lodgings.

"The terrain is quite similar to Vulcan in many ways, though without the plethroa of vegetation," Spock said after he had studied the passing scene with great interest. He gave Christine a glance. "My grandmother had said this after her visit, but I must admit I was skeptical. I am not so any longer."

"I remember her discussion with me the night of the symphony," she agreed. "She was quite pleased to learn we would be spending time here."

She recalled the interesting story T'Pau had told. In the founding days of the Federation, the young Vulcan woman and her Ambassador husband had attended an important series of meetings at the San Francisco headquarters. After the conference's conclusion, the Vulcan consulate had arranged a special tour of some interesting local sights, and Sedona had been on the list, as well as the Grand Canyon. T'Pau had enjoyed the trip very much and told Christine of her travels in great detail.

Christine braked for a red light and scanned the vista ahead. The glowing redness of the rocks had only intensified with the rain. Beautiful, she thought.

"Chapel Road?" Spock asked, genuinely curious. "What is that?" He pointed to the roadsign.

"There's a real chapel at the summit. Look, you can just see it up there, carved in the local red stone? It's quite a unique piece of architecture, and the view is great because you don't have too walk much. You can drive almost to the top."

Spock raised his eyebrow. "Indeed. Do we have sufficient time to make a side trip and see this? I would enjoy having a closer look."

"Sure," Christine replied, turning the jeep onto the spur road. In a few moments, the vehicle switchbacked to the end of the drive and she parked it just below the structure's entryway. Hand in hand, they walked to the observation area which overlooked the vista below them.

"Magnificent," Spock said after a moment. "I was not aware the view was quite so spectacular." He pointed to a monolith in the distance. "That appears to resemble a bell. Would this be Bell Rock, where we are staying tonight?"

"Yes, our hotel is right near that. If the weather's not too cold or sleety in the morning, I'd love to take you for a hike. It's a relatively easy climb and there are plenty of viewpoints. In fact, we could do yoga up there, lots of people do."

"That would be agreeable," Spock told her. They went on to tour the building, which was rich with mosaic artwork and locally carved stone. Christine remembered the family shrine on Vulcan she had visited, with the bright red stones and local mosaics she'd also seen there. Somehow, there seemed to be a connection between the two places, and that was pleasing to her

* * *

"You're in the Lodge Adobe," the clerk said as she led them down a path made of local slate. "The views of Cathedral Rock are just great. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call the desk." She opened the door to their private hacienda and nodded at Christine. "Serenity will see you for a massage in 15 minutes, Dr. Chapel."

She and Spock stepped inside and, for a moment, wondered if they'd somehow been transported to Montana. The exterior of the private adobe, like all 6 those on the property, was done in southwestern style, but each interior was said to be luxuriously unique. Theirs certainly was. It resembled a comfortable woodland cabin, far from the desert, except for the staggering red rock views out the windows.

"I must admit, my wife, you certainly selected accommodations which have been more than adequate thus far," Spock said as he put his arms around her. "I am pleased with your choices." His kiss added further evidence of his approval.

When the discussion of their honeymoon had first come up, Spock had merely stated that it would be logical to spend it on Terra, since they would already be on Vulcan for a full week. Besides, he wanted to visit his wife's home planet, he said. And that was a further more logical reason for her to plan the trip, apart from the last few days in San Francisco, which Spock had insisted on taking care of. Christine, whose own mother told her she'd missed her calling as a travel agent, planned the entire journey in meticulous detail, choosing the Southwest and California as destinations. The Southwest because Spock had expressed a desire to see it one day, and she knew it well already. California because it was her home turf. She had promised to show him the central coast the next time they were on Terra, and that time was right about now.

But right now, all Christine wanted was a massage. She wasn't used to driving that much, especially not a vintage jeep. Her muscles were knotted into large lumps, so when she'd seen there was an onsite spa, she quickly booked a treatment. Spock told her he would meditate while she was gone, then they might think about dinner when she returned.

* * *

Spock finished his meditation and had a quick shower, delighted there was water once more, and in such a unique setting. Christine would enjoy this very much. He dressed in some casual clothing and came out to have a better look at their accommodations. It might do to have their meal here, he decided, as he picked up a menu guide and flipped through the choices. One particular establishment caught his eye, and it transpired that the location was just across the road. Very good. He entered a quick selection on the computer, then set about making preparations.

Christine slowly let herself wander back to their adobe, totally relaxed from a massage on par with the best that Kala's spa had to offer. Overhead, the desert sky was black, and this far from uptown Sedona, the stars were glittering like so many diamonds. For a moment she thought about the Enterprise and all that had happened in the past year. It almost seemed to be a crazy romance holonovel. But no, her husband was waiting inside for her, and their honeymoon had very much begun.

She opened the door and took in her surroundings. A fire was burning in the fireplace, a real one that scented the air with the tanginess of pinon and juniper wood. The lights were dim.

"You have returned," Spock said as he handed her a glass of Vulcan champagne, which they still had a few bottles of. "I have taken the liberty of ordering dinner for us, that we may have an early, restful evening. After all, it has been quite an adventurous two days so far, has it not?" His eyes were both mirthful and affectionate as he led her to the sofa.

"Sushi! I was just in the mood for some!" Christine took in the appetizing-looking array of offerings. She was definitely liking being married to Spock.

Spock held out a vid. "Perhaps you are also in the mood for this?" he asked suggestively. It was a title familiar to both of them. Vulcan Love Master.

"That sounds like a nice...appetizer," she replied.

* * *

Some hours later, Christine turned over and opened her eyes. The stars were the only thing she could ascertain through the darkened window. Even through glass, they were still beautiful. For a moment, her thoughts drifted into space, to their friends back on the ship and what might be happening there.

The fire had burned to embers in the fireplace, but the room was comfortably warm regardless. They watched the video and then re-enacted some of the more steamy scenes on the rug in front of the fire. It was way past midnight when Spock finally carried her to bed, and contented sleep had quickly enveloped them both.

Her eyes heavy, she leaned back against her husband and drifted into slumber once more.

* * *

Flagstaff

"A most enjoyable way to begin the day, I must admit," Spock finally said.

"Mmmmm, just what the doctor ordered," Christine agreed. "And you are certainly improving with practice."

From their vantage point high on Bell Rock, they sat and enjoyed the sun's slow ascent. The air was crisp and cool, but not overly so, and the early morning yoga workout had been very satisfying.

Despite the earliness of the hour, many like-minded hikers and even some other yoga practitioners were enjoying the rock's trails before the day's heat began. More interesting, however, were the large numbers of offworlders in evidence. Some Andorians, some Rigellians, even a Bollian or two. Spock had, of course, been fascinated by this.

"This entire area was an important center for what was called 'New Age' study in the late 20th century." Christine told him. "This rock, and other parts of Sedona, were thought to contain vortexes."

"Indeed." Spock regarded the scene before him thoughtfully. "A vortex of energy which originated within the Earth's surface, but was neither magnetic nor electric in its entirety. Yes, I recall studying this phenomenon. It does exist, both on Terra and on other planets. We now understand the power generated much more thoroughly, so it would be logical for it to be of interest, both scientific and otherwise." He put his arms around his wife and drew her against him as they contemplated the view. "I would imagine, however, that back then, those who put forth this theory were viewed somewhat skeptically?"

"It was an interesting era in Terra's development, definitely. Imagine hearing that an unseen force of subtle earth energy was able to interact with a person's inner being and make them feel more uplifted, more positive? Visitors came from all over to experience this. They still do, by the looks of things, but now the idea's more completely understood and accepted. The first advocates had it hard, though. I remember the term, 'New Ager,' a kind of insult of the time."

"But now the area is an important center for galactic-wide scientific study as well as for travelers. Interesting, how perceptions change over time."

* * *

As they were leaving the trail area, Christine noticed the Dine' traders setting out their goods for a day's business. Her eyes were drawn to a particularly beautiful pair of silver and turquoise earrings. Just the thing to compliment Nyota's exotic looks.

"The layout of this area is quite pleasing to view," Spock remarked from the coffee house across from the hotel, where they were enjoying some down time before setting out on their travels. He pointed to the rocks in the immediate distance, which appeared to have merely been placed here and there in the landscape, behind homes and businesses. "The fact that the developers planned around the natural beauty of the region is very logical."

"I know, almost Vulcan, correct?" Christine gave him a smirk.

"You are learning, my wife."

* * *

"Welcome to Arcosanti III. I'm Roberto Soleri and we're pleased you could visit." The suntanned young man shook both their hands in greeting.

"Soleri? Then you are--" Spock began.

"Yes, Paolo Soleri was my great grandfather several times over. He and his family built the original settlement, just south of us, starting in the 20th century. After the Tuscon complex was completed, this phase was begun. It's attracting much attention due to the advanced arcology and engineering we're using. In fact, the Federation sends staff here on a regular basis. Our concepts are used on many colony planets, you know. We just had some visitors from the Vulcan Science Academy interning with us for a few months."

"How interesting," Spock replied. Christine, however, felt the sensation of deep relief flow between them.

*What's wrong?*

*We are on our honeymoon, my wife, though we may be doing a bit more sightseeing than might be expected. I simply was pleased that you and I would not need to partake of cultural formalities during our travels.*

*You mean you're glad there are no other Vulcans in the immediate vicinity?*

*I believe that is what I just said?*

She tried not to laugh. Spock would certainly have made quite a conversation topic back home had the visitors seen him. He was attired, as she was, in hiking shorts, a t-shirt and boots, standard clothing for the terrain and the local weather, which was scorching (for Terra) during the day. But on Vulcan? The native garments did accomplish the same means, but not quite with so much exposed male skin. She imagined T'sai T'Glad's reaction.

Her amusing train of thought was pleasantly interrupted by the distant sound of bells. "Is the Foundation still making its famous bells?" she asked.

"Absolutely. They still fund a great deal of the organization's works, believe it or not. Even now, folks from all over the galaxy want one of our bells. You'll see them all over the settlement, and they're for sale as well. Do you want one?"

"Very much," Christine replied, thinking it would be a pleasant reminder of their journeys.

They followed their guide on the tour of the complex, which despite being built to house 5000+ residents, would occupy but 25 acres of a 4500 acre preserve. The concept of arcology (architecture and ecology combined) was viewed almost as skeptically as Sedona's vortexes when it was put forth by the groundbreaking architect Paolo Soleri. But despite a slow start, the first settlement, Arcosanti, had met with such positive reception that a second was begun soon after. The third, near Sedona, was presently about 75% completed.

At the gift shop, Christine and Spock selected a copper bell windchime for their quarters, and then one for his parents. It would make a pleasant addition to his mother's garden, Spock told her, and she agreed, remembering the warm, breezy afternoons spent there.

* * *

Christine threw Spock the keys. "Let's go, Commander," she said as she plonked into the passenger's seat.

"You are certain that my driving is up to the standard of the area? After all, this is a hydrogen powered motor vehicle, not a flitter."

She raised her eyebrow, a gesture they now both employed on a regular basis when amused. "It's a very straight shot from here to Flagstaff, although we'll be gaining several thousand meters in altitude. The highway is four lane, so yes, I think you'll be fine." Her hand touched his uncovered thigh as he sat down. "After all, your driving lesson back in Scottsdale was quite satisfactory, if you remember."

Spock's eartips flushed, a sure sign he did. Christine taught him the rudiments of vehicular driving, Terran style, on the backroads of Camelback Mountain, and he'd learned quickly. Then he'd insisted in conducting an experiment which contrasted the seat space of a flitter compared to that of the jeep's. The study went very well. They barely made the tour of Taliesin in time, however, and only did because Christine had broken just about every land speed record known.

* * *

"This exit," Christine instructed. Spock proficiently maneuvered the jeep onto a rural road just outside of Flagstaff, then followed his wife's directions. In a few minutes they had pulled up to a large ranch house set in what could only be termed an alpine meadow, except for the fact Spock still was under the popular misconception that this was a desert state. His eyebrows raised, right on cue.

"Yes, Spock, we're staying here. Turn down this gravel path. Past the llama farm."

He complied, slowing to gaze at the curious beasts who were regarding them from behind the neighboring fence. A look of puzzlement crossed his features momentarily. "Are we still in Arizona?" he asked as he parked their vehicle.

"I said you'd be seeing what the rest of it looked like soon enough. And here we are." She smiled affectionately.

"It is a forested state, then, similar to parts of Washington?" Despite reading about the area extensively, the sight was still unexpected.

"Yes. Well, sort of. Like Washington, it has forests and mountains, just no oceans. But we'll be heading towards Utah and you'll be seeing a different kind of desert altogether. After we pass through some other interesting geological areas." She paused to give his eartip a soft tweak. "Here, though, we're at altitude. Almost 7,000 feet. It snows in the winter, you know."

"Fascinating."

Spock was further surprised by the framed holo gracing the inn's reception area. "That was taken last winter," the innkeeper said. "We had over 12 feet of snow here, more up on the San Francisco Peaks. Didn't dig out until almost June. My family used to raise sled dogs, that's how we got our name. Now, though, it's just a popular destination for folks like yourselves who want to be outside of Flagstaff."

"What did he mean, outside of Flagstaff?" Spock asked as they were unpacking. Their second story room overlooked the meadows to the mountain peaks beyond, a very nice view.

"It used to be a huge railway hub for the Western U.S. Scores of trains, both freight and passenger, passed through town all day. And all night. Even though the town grew beyond being just a stop on the line, it got a bad rap. Then it became very artistic, almost overly so. The surrounding areas didn't grow quite so rapidly, I guess. So they're still popular with travelers. Though nowadays, with auto traffic being banned into the parklands, who knows?"

"Bad rap?" Spock was still trying to decipher his wife's vocabulary. Every time he congratulated himself at success, she threw another peculiar phrase in his direction.

"A bad reputation. You know, like Vulcans have." She snickered.

"Bad reputation? Vulcans? What reputation would that be, precisely?" He captured her in a firm embrace, his eyes dancing.

"Oh, that they are a cold, passionless race with no sense of humor whatsoever." She slid her hands up his shoulders and allowed herself to be pulled closer against him.

"Is that so? Well, as a representative of my father's race, I must do my utmost to dispel that rumor with you, my wife. At least in our more ... intimate moments." He looked over to the large wooden bed. "I find myself a bit fatigued from our travels. Shall we take a brief ... nap?"

* * *

Spock had arranged a private tour of Lowell Observatory and they arrived just before sunset. "It's always a pleasure to meet someone from Starfleet," the chief astronomer enthused. He led the way to the main telescope, which was set up for twilight viewing.

Along the way, they'd passed a sort of astronomer hall of fame and Spock had been very pleased to see a holopic of the famous Vulcan astrophysicist T'Pol, who had served as a science observer above the very first starship Enterprise. She had come from a long line of science officers, according to the informational plaque.

The temperature was dropping noticeably as they left the building later. "It'll be cold tonight," Christine noted, looking up at the skies. Their observations had been unobscured by clouds, but now some cover was appearing. "Unless it rains? The weather report was kind of uncertain. Where to, Commander?" He was still driving, and quite well, in Christine's opinion.

"I've read of a place called the Museum Club. I thought we might go there after we've eaten? We have an easy travel day tomorrow, so a night out would be enjoyable."

"The Museum Club? That dump? It's still in operation? After that fight last year?"

The famous old Route 66 roadhouse, a popular country western dancebar for centuries now, had been the scene of a huge scandal recently. Some visiting Ferengi had been convinced by a few of their own countrymen that they'd purchased the deed to the establishment. When the deed was proved to be false, an altercation ensued worthy of the one on Space Station K-7 all those years ago. The Department of Historical Monuments had debated long and hard about allowing the facility to re-open. Obviously, the club's reputation (and profitability) helped influence them.

"Affirmative, it will open in an hour. Shall we have some dinner first?" The starter made a strange noise and Christine could have sworn her husband looked positively annoyed for a moment. He'd muttered something incomprehensible in Vulcan.

"Let's go, I'd love to!" Spock's suggesting the place still was permeating Christine's rather surprised brain. This would be very enjoyable evening.

* * *

She was cold. Her nose was freezing. Christine opened an eye and saw the greyness of dawn lighting their room. Of course. The window was open. She could see the white filmy curtains blowing across the pane with the breeze.

Christine sat bolt upright and blinked hard. The window was closed. There were no filmy white curtains, only heavy drapes, which were tied at the side of the frame. It couldn't be possible.

"Spock!"

Her husband, who had practically worn a hole in the dance floor with her the night before, was reluctant to answer.

"SPOCK!"

"Yes?" He did not bother to open his eyes.

"Please get up. You have to see this! Look."

She felt, rather than saw, his surprise.

"It appears to be ... snowing."

By now, she'd sprung out of bed and run to the window, astonished. She started throwing on cold weather gear at warp speed.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he came up behind her. His eyebrows jumped. The entire meadow was covered in about a foot of snow and more of the large wet flakes were steadily falling.

"Are you kidding Spock? Snow in August? Real snow? I'll see you later, dear, if you don't care to join me outside!" His wife was down the stairs like a phaser blast, her husband following as quickly as he could get his own clothes on.

* * *

The snow did not last long. By the time breakfast was ready, it was melting rapidly with the sun's upward arc in the cloudy blue skies. The conversation at the table was entirely about the weather, and for once, none of the guests minded in the least.

Spock enthusiastically began the impromptu snowball fight, and Christine's shriek (he'd finally gotten payback for that little incident at Stark's) had awakened most of the inn. To their delight. It rapidly became a huge party out in the meadow, a most amusing one. Even the llamas seemed to enjoy the falling flakes.

* * *

"This was quite an introduction to Arizona, doctor," Spock remarked as they started into town. They would be dropping the jeep off and picking up a flitter for the next phase of their trip.

"Just wait."

* * *

"Greetings, Father and Mother. Christine and I are traveling through the state of Arizona, a quite fascinating place. We toured Arcosanti III, near Sedona, and here we are in front of its new cultural and music center. Most interesting architecture. We selected one of the Cosanti Foundation's bells to be sent on to you, so be watchful for its arrival. From here, we head due north. Please give our regards to Grandmother T'Pau and the rest of the family. Spock and Christine."

* * *

"Hey Kala and Greg, have a look at this. It was taken at 05:45 this morning where we were staying, just outside Flagstaff. Yep, that's real snow. Didn't last long, but we managed to build a snowman. Spock SAYS it doesn't look like anyone, but I think Len was the model. Having way too much fun. Say hi to everyone and don't do anything we wouldn't! Love, Chris and Spock."

* * *

Grand Canyon and Beyond

The rental agent gave the flitter's hood a slap. "You're good to go, folks. Have a great drive. They'll be expecting you to return her at the Moab office as arranged."

A century and a half ago, the US Parks Service and the Native American Nation had come to an ecologically sound agreement about limiting traffic into protected parkland. In recent years, the detrimental effects of too many vehicles, coupled with the effects of pollution, had caused grave concern about the future of a region which covered parts of four states. A compromise was reached where access to the area would be limited to flitters, or to shuttle tours only, except for local residents, whose vehicles had to comply with strict standards. Local, non polluting transport would provide tourists access within parkland. Drivers of non-compliant vehicles faced stiff penalties, as did those who drove under the influence, much worse than in the not so distant past. Flitters, which had recently become more readily affordable, now came in many different sizes and styles.

At first, the idea had been roundly booed by many diverse groups, but soon the wisdom of the agreement had been seen. Road accidents dropped dramatically, as drivers no longer had to speed to their destinations. Affordable and excellent shuttle tours from many gateway departure points to destinations such as the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley and Arches Park, among others, meant that less traffic, even flitter traffic, clogged the ecologically fragile byroads into the regions. Gradually, the need to travel in one's auto, which had evolved into sitting in endless queues of vehicles, had become unpopular. Family vacations to these areas still topped the list of popular destinations, except getting there was no longer the chore it had once been.

Spock was pleased with the rental flitter. While his father's had been built mostly for show, with a little bit of speed now and then, this model, a brilliant azure blue in color, was all about swiftness. It was designed to traverse vast distances quickly and efficiently, and did not disappoint.

They headed out of Flagstaff towards the Grand Canyon, though did not take the usual route up Hwy. 180. Instead, Spock aimed the sleek little craft due north, towards the park's east entrance, which Christine said was not only less traveled, it was a much more scenic route in. Everything was green from the recent rains, and large meadows filled with late summer wildflowers provided splashes of vibrant color against the high plateau terrain.

Along the way, they made stops at some other local points of interest. The extinct volcano at Sunset Crater was first on the list, where the moonlike landscape of an ancient cinder cone provided a startling contrast of vistas. At Wupatki National Monument, they'd explored ancient ruins dating back to the 12th century. The original inhabitants, whose society was agricultural in nature, were thought to be the ancestors of the present day Hopi tribe. Spock had studied the old buildings with great interest, comparing them to ones found on Vulcan from a similar time period.

Spock veered left at Hwy 64 towards Grand Canyon Village. As they climbed the highway, the breathtaking spectacle of Little Colorado Gorge suddenly appeared, necessitating another stop. Even though the Grand Canyon was the main attraction on any given day, this wasn't a bad geological sight, either.

"Fascinating." Spock, from a world where the rivers had long ago receded, was quite curious about the phenomenon. "I presume this is a very fine example of how the Grand Canyon itself was formed?" he asked as they surveyed the deep chasm from the top of the butte like bluffs common to the area. Far below, the Little Colorado River, cousin to its mightier namesake, wended its murky way serenely through the gullies it was carving.

"Supposedly. There's a ranger-led talk on park geology later this afternoon, maybe we can go to that?" Christine replied as they headed back to the flitter, past more Dine' traders selling beautiful creations of turquoise, silver and clay.

"That sounds quite agreeable."

* * *

At the park's congested, more well-known south entrance, Leila turned around. "Are you kids okay back there?" Jarod and his cousins nodded assent, then returned to their vidgames.

She spoke to her sister. "I can't thank you enough for suggesting this. With Elias off on Mars debriefing the Rigellian colonists, it was just too lonely around the station for Jarod and me, especially now that school's broken for a month."

"Not a problem, Sis. Jack's in New York for another week, lecturing at NYU's summer program, so I'm glad for the company." She gave her younger sister a critical eye. "You okay, hon?"

Leila laughed off her sibling's concern. A vacation was just the thing to clear her head.

* * *

"I'll just run back to the hotel and confirm some things at the business center," Christine said as the geology lecture was breaking up. "And I'll grab some sweatshirts for the sunset, it gets cold around here fast. Will you be okay for about an hour?"

Spock nodded as he pulled out his PADD. "I shall wait here for you, Christine," he replied pleasantly. "Do not tarry long, however. Or else I may admit to finding the absence of your company a bit distressing." She still teased him about the fact that he genuinely missed her presence when she wasn't with him. Just as she did with him. Not logical, but very much part of the fibers that wove their relationship's fabric. With a quick wave of her hand, she turned towards the El Tovar's stately silhouette.

He intended to summarize the day's activities for his personal journal and perhaps take a few more vidscans of the splendid panorama that now lay before him at every turn, it seemed. Even he, with his strict Vulcan upbringing, had been quite stunned at the beauty of the Canyon in its full glory. Pictures certainly did not do it justice. Christine has promised even more spectacular views at sunset and sunrise, and they planned to take in both.

Actually, he was glad for a bit of recharging time. He'd asked for an adventurous honeymoon trip and he certainly was getting it. From the Little Colorado, they'd entered the park proper and then visited the splendidly preserved Desert Watchtower, followed by the equally fascinating museum and native ruins at Tusayan. At the first scenic overlook, he and Christine had walked a bit while she pointed out the various sights that were spread out on the horizon. After checking into the El Tovar Hotel, she took him on another walk that included the famous mule stables and the railway depot, just as the vintage steam powered engine, still a popular attraction, puffed its way into the station. From there, they'd grabbed lunch on the run and gone straight to the geology lecture, which had been well worth attending.

Spock allowed himself a private inner smile. Most of his shipmates had very specific ideas of what a honeymoon consisted of and how it should be spent. He idly wondered what Jim, or the Doctor, for that matter, would make of their adventure travels. Not that there was not plenty of erotic downtime. Speaking of which, he began to speculate as to whether he and Christine might find an opportunity to experience some sensual pleasure outdoors here. The thought was very pleasing.

"Spock."

He would know that voice anywhere, although it had been almost 7 years since he last heard it. His stomach threatened to turn over but he called his Vulcan upbringing into play and turned smoothly, a neutral expression on his face. She was standing behind the bench where he sat.

"Leila?" His own voice sounded as calm as ever.

"I saw you during the lecture. I'm here with my sister and her kids, and my son, for a little vacation. They've gone for an ice cream." Her expression was sad, despite the somewhat forced smile she had pasted on. "And you?"

Spock did not even hesitate one microsecond. "My wife and I are on our honeymoon. We are making an extended trip through the southwest and then going on to California."

"Your honeymoon? How wonderful." Leila's timbre went up a pitch. "Who's the lucky woman?"

"Dr. Chapel, perhaps you remember her from the ship?" He raised his eyebrow.

Leila would most certainly remember his wife. While the Enterprise had been transporting the remaining colonists back to a nearby starbase, he and the agriscience department were working on some experiments, which they invited Dr. Sandoval's staff to view. Leila sniffed that a "mere" nurse seemed highly unqualified to be leading a team, until Christine bristled and pulled rank on her. Spock, who was in the lab at the time, had been quite pleased, though he had no idea why, at the way she'd handled the situation. Leila took every opportunity after that to visit the lab in search of him, all day, every day, with the hopes of "talking it out," as she put it. Spock politely refused, with a simple but honest explanation, and fled to the relative safety of the bridge, unwilling to rehash what was already over and done, now for the second time. After the colonists departed, he'd lost touch with Leila and had not even cared to seek her out when he returned from Gol. By then, he knew in his katra that his future lay elsewhere.

Her cheeks colored. "I thought she was the ship's nurse?"

Spock tilted his head a fraction. Was it possible she already knew about their marriage? What was she doing? He was well acquainted with her somewhat manipulative ways and put his guard up even higher. "She was, but then she attended Starfleet Medical and is now the ACMO on board the ship where we serve together." He paused. "Your son, you said? Then congratulations must be in order for you as well." He was trying to change the subject, suddenly not liking where the conversation was headed.

"Elias and I married not long after I saw you last. Jarod just turned 5, he starts first grade in the fall." A ghost of a smile touched her lips. Then it disappeared just as quickly. "You married a human woman, Spock? After all you said about not being able to love me, that it wasn't the Vulcan way? Why?"

He let out a long breath, then started to answer. Before he could protest, she was sitting beside him, a pleading expression on her soft features. "Leila, yes, I married a human woman that I did fall in love with, but it was long after we left Omicron Ceti III. Much happened since the last time I saw you, and my life situation changed quite dramatically over a period of some years. It was then I met Christine again. Things progressed quite logically for us, so we chose to marry. I would presume the same is true of you and Dr. Sandoval?"

Leila shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. "I didn't love Elias, we married for a partnership, nothing more." She swallowed hard. "Spock, I only married him because you said you couldn't love me, because I couldn't have you. If you meant that, why did you turn around and marry her? Why didn't you find me instead? It could have worked for us." She looked out at the canyon's vista for a moment.

Christine, who was at that moment wrapping up the multitude of reservation confirmations she's just waded through, suddenly felt a cold chill wash over her. She almost got nauseous. Then, with a start, she realized it was Spock's discomfort that she was experiencing. With that, she finished her transactions and hurried out to where she'd left him sitting, fearful he might be feeling ill from the altitude.

"Leila." Spock sought to choose his words carefully, thinking back to their first meeting, when both of them had been teenaged students. He softened his tone and looked at her, feeling almost sad that he had to explain yet again something she should have figured out long ago. "When we first met, both of us were infatuated, you more so than I. How long did we know each other? Three weeks? That is hardly enough time to fall in love, which I tried to tell you back then, plus you know of my other obligations, my need to maintain family honor. And I knew that while my future was with Starfleet, you wanted to settle on a colony, to put down roots. Our paths were contradictory to each other, and we both saw that. Had I been free to love you, the situation was not conducive to success. And the incident on the planet was not real, Leila. Surely you must realize this?"

She said nothing for a moment, then looked back at him. "I never stopped loving you, Spock. Even when you told me that you could not love, I knew you could, and I saw that on Omicron. Why aren't we together? We belong with each other, don't you see that?"

Spock felt sharply sick. It was now obvious that she had not moved on, even though he had. Suddenly, the meditation vision he'd had of T'Pring became crystal clear. He was finally free of his past, so he needed to stop feeling guilty about it. He was not responsible for how others lived their lives. The future lay before him and his wife, so it was time to step ahead. Leila had to move on in her own way, but only if she chose to. If she did not, that was, logically, her own choosing, but he could not alter his life because of it. He wanted Christine to be with him right now almost more than the air he was breathing.

"I said that even if I could love you, which I truly did not, Leila, my destiny lay in another place. That was not meant as anything other than what it was. We were young, it was fascinating, but nothing really happened between us that would cause us to be drawn back together so much later. You have made what appears to be a pleasing life for yourself, as have I." He sighed. "Can you not accept that? If you love me as you say, can you not be pleased for my happiness, as I am for yours?"

Leila hesitated. "I will always love you, Spock. Maybe now is not the time for us. But I will love you until I don't have any breath left. And perhaps, some day ... should you change your mind..."

"I can assure you, I will not Leila. Please, re-think your own situation. We are not meant to be together, not now, nor in the future, we are just too different. I trust you can finally accept this, once and for all." He felt drained. It had been a difficult conversation.

Christine saw her even before she saw Spock. Nausea washed over her again. Leila Kalomi? Here in the Grand Canyon? For months she'd been afraid of not being worthy of Spock's Vulcan heritage, that his ex-wife T'Pring might somehow resurface and challenge her, but she'd never dreamed Leila could still be a threat. Spock himself had told her about the brief relationship, stating it was "long ago, and finished". But from where she was standing, Christine could see the woman's painful emotions on her features. Oh, God. Leila was still in love with her husband. And Spock? The thought made her feel even more sick. What if he now decided that he'd not explored all his opportunities adequately?

Their full bonded link was still new to her. Most of the time, Spock initiated the contact. Now she knew she had to do so, but subtly, gently, just a test of the waters.

*Spock?* Her tone was soft, almost fearful. *Shall I leave for awhile?*

She was staggered by the response, so much that it necessitated her sitting down on a bench. If she had ever doubted the depth of her husband's love for her, she could no longer do so.

*No, my beloved. Come to me now, I need you very much. Please do not be fearful, my love for you is as strong as it always has been.*

Christine took a very deep breath, stood to her full height, and marched ahead into the fray. She saw them both now. Leila had a somber expression on her face, one of unhappy resignation. Spock was scanning the vicinity and when he saw her approach, he gave her a rare public smile, the full version.

"Christine." His voice was smooth, but she sensed the joy it held.

She accepted the traditional Vulcan two fingered embrace, smiling back at him, then turned a cool, somewhat amused glance at the woman seated there.

"Christine, surely you remember Leila Kalomi-Sandoval?"

She nodded. "I do. Sandoval? Then congratulations on your marriage. Doctor." The inference was not lost on Spock, who realized that his wife truly was a most formidable persona, period.

Leila looked from Spock to his wife, uncertain of what to say. Fortunately, she was spared further embarrassment.

"MOM! C'mon already, your ice cream's melting!" A n urgent voice, belonging to a towheaded young boy, cut through the air.

She gazed up the path to the group awaiting her and sighed. "I should be going. We have to get to the campsite and set up." She paused. "It was ... nice ... to see both of you. Best wishes, for a long and happy ... marriage."

And with those forced words, Leila Kalomi walked out of Spock and Christine's life and back into her own, however reluctantly. For good this time.

Christine didn't know what to do, so she simply asked her husband, "Are you all right?"

Spock took her in his arms, right there in the middle of the busiest part of Grand Canyon Village Path. He then gave his wife a soft but public kiss.

"Now I am."

* * *

The first shuttle for Hopi Point left well before dawn. Spock was holding his wife close against him when it arrived, protecting her from the chill that permeated the early morning air. Both were dressed in layers, anticipating a slow, enjoyable hike along the west rim back to the main part of the Village. They joined the other passengers, yawning sleepily, and settled back for the short ride to one of the best sunrise vantage points in the Canyon.

The previous night's sunset, all magnificent lavender and maroon hues, had been an intensely intimate experience for the both of then, despite the fact that they were part of a large group observing the spectacle's grandeur at Mather Point. They'd walked there along the east rim trail with a view to taking the shuttle back, quietly enjoying each other's company and the wonderful scenes.

On the ride back to their hotel, the bus was in total darkness, and Spock had further surprised his wife by engaging in what the old Terran term referred to as 'necking' for the entire, though brief, journey. He reasoned that only another Vulcan would have the requisite night vision to ascertain their actions and besides, they were at the rear of the vehicle anyway. As there were no other Vulcans on the shuttle, or any other offworlders for that matter, they'd freely indulged in another of his fantasies, the schoolbus kiss. To their chagrin, no one had even noticed. Most of the other passengers were asleep, or nearly so, tired from a long day of adventures.

Spock knew Christine had questions about his encounter with Leila, and they'd talked until well after midnight. He had done his best to reassure her that there was a very big difference between choosing not to return someone's professed love, and not being able to love someone. Leila had been in the former category, Christine was most assuredly in the latter. She had wept and asked him to forgive her jealousy and fear, which by now she thought had been conquered. Spock told her that he fully understood, because he, too, had experienced the very same emotion during their courtship and knew how uncomfortable it could be. There was no need for physical intimacy. Through their bond, they realized that everything was going to be fine, and both had fallen exhaustedly asleep, each feeling safe in the other's embrace.

"Here we are, folks. Enjoy the sunrise!"

They disembarked and made their way to the canyon's rim where the dawn's greyness was becoming lighter by the second. Christine could just make out the dim, snakelike outline of the Colorado's silty blue waters far below, and pointed this out to her husband.

"It appears to be so calm," he said.

"Don't underestimate the power," she replied, with a knowing look.

"I never do." He drew her back against him once more and they waited for the sun's appearance.

The first rays topped the east rim and sent a sliver of brilliant light to paint Battleship Rock a glowing red orange. The western rim, in its glorious palette of earth tones, began to emerge from the predawn shadows. Christine glanced down over the barrier, far below to the canyon's floor, searching for something. She pointed at movement.

Look," she whispered.

From the depths of the chasm, a flock of turkey vultures took flight, one by one, on the thermals which lifted them up, in lazy, increasing circles. There was no need for any wing movement, the large, gangly birds were riding the warm air generated when the sun's heat first made contact with the rocks. Higher and higher they drifted, more than 50 in all, then they turned and flew off towards the sun-splashed western reaches.

Spock touched the back of her neck with his lips and drew her closer still. "You have seen this before?" he asked.

"When I was last here, yes. But it's very unpredictable , so I didn't say anything, in case there were no birds at this spot today." She looked out at where flock was heading. "Sometimes you get really lucky and it's condors or eagles."

"Thank you for sharing this with me, Christine. Your knowledge has made this a most enjoyable journey so far." He stroked her jawline softly. "And I am looking forward to the rest of our travels."

Another shuttle appeared and most of the passengers got back on, eager to return to the Village for breakfast or more sleep, it being just past 05:30. Except for an artist, who was busily setting up an easel, they were alone. The majority of tourists would not return again for several hours. So they turned onto the trail and began walking through absolute silence, broken only by the sounds of birdsong.

The rim trail led around past a deserted old mine to the splendid overlook at Maricopa Point. By now, the sun was making its presence known and both hikers had begun shedding layers. The concrete viewing area was an excellent spot for a combined workout; in addition to yoga, Christine had recently asked her husband to begin teaching her some of the Kolinahr disciplines he practiced. And still they were virtually by themselves, as most park visitors preferred to shuttle between vistas, or to remain near the center of things.

As they further walked towards the Bright Angel Trailhead, still some miles ahead, Christine stopped for a moment and cocked her head.

"I hear it as well. What is it?"

She scanned the canyon walls until movement caught her eye. "There. See? The first mule trip of the day, the overnight one to Phantom Ranch. It's headed down that switchback."

Spock followed her gaze. "Indeed. And I see hikers as well. Is this the overnight journey you spoke of at the stables?"

"The mules have been going in and out of the Canyon for centuries, and so have the tourists. The Bright Angel Trail is the most famous one down the south rim, but it's very deceptive. Look at those inclines. A lot of people don't remember that what goes down..."

"Must come back up. Yes, the climb back appears to be quite strenuous, especially to someone who is unconditioned for such a journey," Spock agreed.

"And the temp can climb 30 degrees as you head down. I'm glad we're sticking to the rim. Much less strain, if you ask me." Christine was surprised when her husband put his arm around her as they began walking once more. They were alone, true, but still, this wasn't the ship. She liked it.

A mockingbird's song stopped them a little while later. It was still so early, and so quiet, that the melody could be heard from some distance off the trail. The bird was somewhere in a clump of trees to their right. They stood listening, transfixed, for a few moments, the sun warm on their backs.

"Most enjoyable," Spock finally said after the bird had flown away. He gazed down at his wife for a moment, then took her hand and led her off the trail, towards the same spot where the bird had been singing. In a moment, they were completely hidden from view, yet they could clearly see the canyon's vista stretching across the horizon. He stopped finally, threw off his daypack and sunglasses, then pulled her into a plainly sexual embrace. "I trust you will not protest, my wife, as you are wont to do, that we are in an outdoor setting and such behavior is ... inappropriate?" His eyes were dark, promising sensual delight.

"Uh -- no." A second later, her hands had found their way beneath the waistband of his hiking shorts and were seeking contact with something. They tumbled to the forest floor.

* * *

Christine opened her eyes and looked down at her husband beneath her. She gave another slow, deliberate thrust of her hips downward and watched the desire wash across his face. Both of them were on the brink of thermonuclear meltdown, yet they sought to prolong the delightful agony as long as they could.

"Want you," he finally managed to say. "So much, want you ... aaahhh..." His words trailed off as she drew her internal muscles around him. "Uhhhhh," he finished ungraciously, then matched her earlier thrust.

But it was time to stop delaying things. Christine locked eyes with Spock for a moment, then pulled one hand free of his grasp. She slid it down her stomach, knowing how much this would inflame him further. As her fingers reached the place she was seeking, his own hand closed over hers and that contact pushed her up and over the summit. She threw her head back and allowed the release to explode like so many fireworks, feeling Spock follow her easily up and over that same peak. Their fulfillment went on and on, until she finally collapsed onto him, spent. For long moments, neither of them spoke.

"Exhibitionist," Christine mumbled into his shoulder after awhile.

Spock stroked the top of her head. "Exhibitionist?"

She drew herself up further and nodded behind him. "We have an audience."

His eartips started to flush before he turned and saw what she meant. Three of the park's famous deer, adolescents by the look of it, were watching them from a safe distance. He looked back at his wife with a mischievous smile. "I should hope they learned something, then." He lost himself in laughter. For one terrible moment, he'd honestly expected to see his father standing there and the idea now was quite amusing.

Christine smacked him, clearly aware of his thoughts, but she was laughing as well. "Spock, you are soooooo BAD sometimes!"

"Only sometimes, my wife? Perhaps I should convince you otherwise." Then he kissed her once more, their desire flaming anew, and the visiting deer soon got another eyeful of human mating practices.

* * *

By the time they finally reached the old Kolb Photography Studio, it was almost time for the morning lecture on the park's resident condors, something both of them wanted to see. The audience was in luck. Four of the huge, impossibly ugly redheaded creatures were sunning themselves on a nearby rock and the ranger quickly launched into her talk. Since the effort to re-introduce the condor the wild had begun at the park in the late 20th century, the program had succeeded even beyond the earliest expectations. Condors were now in evidence over much of the park and well into the neighboring states, from a population so endangered at one time that the species was close to becoming extinct.

Spock's eyebrows raised when the ranger spoke about the bird's massive, nine foot wingspan. She then told of how one of the juvenile birds had flown towards the lecture one day. It had obviously recognized the speaker and was curious. Unfortunately, even the 6 foot wingspan of a teenaged condor was quite a sight to behold.

"A very good beginning to the day, I must say," Spock said contentedly as they walked back up the trail to the hotel.

Christine, who was still looking out at the canyon view, gave a noncommittal, "Mmm hmmm." A moment later, she stopped short and looked over at her husband, who was walking along nonchalantly beside her.

*Did you just....*

*Yes, I believe I did.*

*SPOCK!*

*No one saw anything, did they? And how could I resist so tempting a view?*

This was going to be a VERY interesting marriage.

* * *

"Dear Ny, Here's a shot of us at the Grand Canyon, a place called Hopi Point. The sun's just rising and that's a flock of turkey vultures in the background. Having an amazing trip. Hope you aren't getting up to any mischief.

Seriously, remember way back when you told me that the time just had to be right, and I'd know that I'd made the right decision? Trust me, I know now. Don't ask me how, but I'm 100% sure I did the right thing by marrying Spock. Thanks for being there for me, Ny. You're the best. Love, Chris (and Spock) PS. Say hi to Geoff. Or is it Ade?"

* * *

Amanda opened the private vidmail her son had sent, marked "personal". She was concerned. What could be wrong? Sarek was, thankfully, at the Council Chambers, so she had a moment to herself.

An image of her son and his wife filled the viewscreen. The Grand Canyon stretched behind them, filling the horizon. Whoever had taken the photo certainly was skilled, it almost looked like a portrait. But the portrait was of two people very much in love, and it showed. Spock was facing his wife, holding both her hands in his, his eyes looking right down at hers. Their heads were close, their foreheads almost touching. A look of peacefulness was on both of their faces. Either he had just kissed her or was about to, of that Amanda was sure.

"Greetings Mother. Christine and I are now at the Grand Canyon, quite a beautiful spot.

"I recall a long time ago you asked if I was certain I was doing the right thing, that I was content with my decisions. I can tell you that yes, I am. Thank you for your guidance, Mother. Live long and prosper. We hope to see you and Father soon again, but until then, I hope this photo will bring you pleasure. Spock."

* * *

"Do you remember I said you'd be seeing what the rest of Arizona looked like soon?" Christine asked.

"Indeed." Spock turned the flitter back out onto Hwy 89, headed north. It was high noon and they were leaving the Grand Canyon for Utah.

"Well, you're about to find out. Be prepared to make a lot of stops." She smiled mysteriously.

"Why?"

"You'll see," she told him.

The high plateau desert and its curiously round, fat juniper trees soon gave way to sparser vegetation. In the distance, large sand colored, flat topped buttes appeared, as if from nowhere, to disappear again a few miles later. Rolling hills came and went, colored every shade of green and yellow. They sped across the Moenkopi Plateau, past the historic old trading post at Cameron. Because it was Sunday, most of the traffic was headed back into Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon areas, not in their direction.

It was not long before Spock pulled the flitter over to the roadside. Christine glanced out the window where he was looking. A much smaller version of the Grand Canyon had appeared, with the correct coloring and rock composition. Only this incarnation was above the ground, not in it.

"Fascinating," he said, for at least the 35th time that day.

"Mmmm," Christine agreed, knowing full well what lay ahead. This was going to be a wonderful trip. "You'll see a great deal of things which indicate unusual tectonic and oceanographic action all through here. Sometimes, it almost defies an explanation."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he took the flitter back out onto the highway. At the intersection of Hwy160, where he was turning right, his eyebrows raised again. The flitter stopped and Spock got out. Christine followed him as he crossed the road.

"Mima mounds," he said as he surveyed the land before them.

"Uh huh. Also known as hog wallows."

The ground was covered in small mounds of earth, ranging in height from one foot to nearly eight, with a diameter between ten and fifty feet. They were neatly spaced as if some giant prehistoric landscaper had been preparing to plant a garden.

"There has never been a sound geological explanation for these." He held out a hand. Christine took it and they began to scale one of the smaller hillocks. "They existed all over the US and were quite a hindrance to agriculture, if I recall from my studies."

"Now they're fairly rare, but this is a great example," she replied. "And what makes these so unusual is the striped effect." She pointed to a neighboring mound which consisted of three separate types of sediment, ranging from dark taupe to off white, like a gigantic layered confection.

"What is even more interesting is how quickly and vastly the terrain has changed. We have covered a short amount of mileage, yet the differences in the land are quite astounding in their diversity." With that, Spock took his wife's hand once more and began their descent. Christine was expecting science tutorials, but at least she knew what he was talking about.

As they neared Red Lake, Spock turned to her once more as he stopped the vehicle. "Are we already here?" he asked, confused.

She laughed, delighted at the effect the strange landscape was having on him. He looked perplexed, so she gave him a kiss. "Come on," she instructed. "Let's have a look at mini-Monument Valley."

They walked out across a floor of red earth. In the distance, long buttes, similar to those in the Grand Canyon, stretched for miles. But before them were hundreds of bright red rock formations, quite similar to the larger monoliths found in Monument Valley proper. Only these were a fraction of the height.

"This would indicate that an ocean was here at one time," Spock noted as he picked up some of the rocks and looked them over. "But because the formations are so small, it would not have been several oceans, as other parts of the area experienced."

"The first time I saw it, I had exactly the same reaction," Christine recalled. "I asked my mom, 'Is this it? It looks so tiny!' and she just laughed." She looked at the landscape a last time before they went back to the vehicle. "Consider it your first preview."

"First?" Spock asked, knowing she loved to drop hints.

"First." She also loved not telling the whole story up front.

They sped further up the highway, watching an ever changing landscape pass by. Sandstone rocks appeared, just a few miles from the red rock formations, then the green plants of the Shonto Plateau. Even Spock, who had seen many unusual geological situations during his Starfleet career, could not have imagined the wide range of vistas which presented themselves.

"Is there a speed limit?" he asked suddenly.

He'd been doing a moderate rate, nothing too outrageous, so Christine was curious. "Not really, this is open country. Why do you ask?"

"I believe the sheriff's flitter just passed us, and he was doing quite a bit more speed than I was." He shook his head. "Fascinating."

After climbing Black Mesa and Marsh Pass, they were once more at elevation and the landscape changed yet again. Beyond that came the town of Kayenta, where they stopped to have a look at the National Codetalker Museum. There was also an exhibit dedicated to the four Dine' who were serving, or who had served, in Starfleet.

"Are you ready?" Christine asked as they started up again. Spock was turning onto Hwy 163, which led to the Valley itself.

"I presume there must be something I should be prepared for, correct?"

"Exactly."

Predictably, the flitter came to another stop in a few minutes. Spock's eyebrows were now well into his hairline. "I do not understand. How can two such vastly differing rock formations be precisely on either side of the road?"

"The tourist board put them there?" she suggested with a laugh.

They got out and contemplated the unique phenomenon. On one side of the highway stood a giant monolith, charcoal grey in color, looking as though some oozing black mud had bubbled to a great height and then dried. Its base consisted of scree and rocks. Less than a quarter of a mile away stood a greyish red sandstone rock formation, similar to what they'd seen in Sedona, but the polar extreme of its neighbor. Further beyond, red mesa buttes stretched on the horizon. It was quite obvious that the ancient seas which had advanced and receded several times over the area left behind some fairly unusual geological oddities.

Spock was busily taking holopics, clearly enjoying the adventure. He turned to his wife after a moment and gave her a kiss. "Thank you," he told her.

"For what?"

"It is obvious to me that you've spent a great deal of time planning this trip, and I am grateful." Pleasure laced his voice.

"Well, it's my honeymoon too, remember." Her fingers found the tip of an ear and gave it a tweak. "C'mon, there's much more to see."

A few miles down the road, the first familiar looking rock formations started to appear, albeit clearly in the wrong place.

"Not yet?" Spock was now truly confounded. These looked correct, but where were the others?

"Not yet. But this is your second preview. Ah, there's the turn. Better slow it down," she instructed.

"Is this what I am to be prepared for?" he asked as he maneuvered down the bend in the highway. "Oh."

A moment later the flitter stopped at the roadside yet again and Christine realized that even Vulcans could be stunned into silence.

At the end of the road, like a child's set of playthings, stood the familiar landscape of towering red buttes known for centuries as Tse' Bii Ndzisgaii.

Monument Valley.

* * *

"Computer. Time zone adjustment, Mountain Standard Daylight," Christine said as the flitter passed a colorfully painted sign. She turned to her husband with a smile.

"Welcome to Utah, Spock."

* * *

"Truly, Christine, this was quite an amazing vista when I first viewed it." Spock looked ahead at the now huge rock formations which studded the valley floor, impressed with their size and grandeur. They had parked the flitter and were wandering through the visitor's center.

"That's a better reaction than I had the first time I saw it. I cried." Christine recalled the moment exactly.

He raised a familiar eyebrow, though not in amusement. "You did? Why?"

"I have no idea. It just happened. I must have been about 17, right before I left for college. Seems I'd waited my whole life to see the place, from all those old cowboy holovids, and then it just suddenly appeared." She sighed. "And I guess it was a bit much. But I've been back many times since, and the only reaction I have now is one of awe. It really does take your breath away."

"Indeed, no amount of advertising photographs can convey this adequately," he agreed. "Now, shall we inquire as to a horseback trip for tomorrow?"

"Are you sure?" she asked, as she had done many times before. "It would be at least six hours round trip in the saddle, Spock. Please don't think you have to do this. We can take a jeep shuttle trip just as easily."

"I am certain," her husband replied. "Let us look for the vendor."

A few yards away, in the midst of various merchant booths, Christine came upon a sign which read "Brown Family Stables." Even before she could ask a question, a young man sprang to his feet.

"Dr. Chris? Is that you?" The voice belonged to a native youth of about 18, tall and lanky, with a wide grin.

Christine stared at him. After a moment, she returned the smile. "Billy? Billy Brown?"

"The same! How are you, Doc? It's been what, three years?"

"Yes, about that," she replied. Then she turned to Spock. "Billy came along on my last ride here. His brother Tommy was our guide." She turned back to Billy. "You must have been about 15, right? So where's your brother, out on a ride?"

The youth shook his head. "He's back at college up in Shiprock. He graduates this year and wants to work with the Dine' Government after that. And I start school in a month at the University of New Mexico, to study Veterinary Science." He smiled back at Christine. "You gave us good advice, Dr. Chris. Did you know my cousin Mary passed the preliminary Starfleet exam? She wants to be a stellar cartographer. But enough of my clan. What brings you here again?"

"This is my husband, Spock. We're on our honeymoon."

"Ya'at'eeh, Spock," Billy said as they shook hands. "Welcome to our Valley." Then he gave Christine a wink. "Awesome! Grandma was right! Remember the sand painting?"

"We were wondering if there might be a ride available tomorrow?" Christine was anxious to change the subject, as Spock was now curious about what had just been said. "Could you take us somewhere interesting for the day? Not too difficult, because neither of us has had much practice in space lately."

Billy spoke to another relative at the table for a moment, then turned back with another grin. "I can take you out to Dr. Black's archaeological dig. About three hours either way, nice and level, and we'd stay out there a few hours more so you can see the dig and the caves. How's that sound?"

"That would be fine," Spock replied placidly. "I presume it is a Native American archaeological site?"

"Yep, she and her husband have been making some really interesting finds. It'll be great, and I can check out the animals while I'm there. So where you staying? Can you meet us at the hooghan tomorrow, say, 8 am?"

"We're out at Inn the Valley," Christine said. "And I remember how to get to your farm, so that shouldn't be a problem. Spock's a little less experienced than I am on a horse, though, make sure you give him one that's not too feisty."

"Sure thing. And can you have dinner at the farm after? Grandma would be so happy to see you again, and to meet your husband."

Spock nodded his assent. "We would be honored to join your family, Billy. Thank you for the invitation."

"Then we'll see you in the morning."

* * *

They sat on the stone wall of the visitor's center, in companionable silence, enjoying the splendor of the view. The familiar twin Mitten Buttes were before them, looking exactly as their name suggested. The rocks glowed a deep brick red as the sun started to head towards the horizon, although there was still plenty of daylight left.

Spock let his hand cover hers in an affectionate gesture. "Now I understand why you wished to bring me to this part of your home. Until I saw the beauty of this place, it was just an interesting image in a holobook. But seeing it with you here now has made it a most special experience for me." Then put his arm around his wife's shoulders and drew her closer, enjoying the moment they shared.

To the rest of the tourists, they were just another couple gazing out at the scenery.

* * *

"Gooseneck State Park? Are geese native to this region?" Spock asked as he turned the flitter up the rural road.

"No, but you'll understand when we get to the overlook. No geese here."

He shrugged as the vehicle maneuvered the twisting curves. They had already discussed the reason why Mexican Hat had been called as it was, with Spock clearly not quite understanding the somewhat whimsical place names of the area. Christine was glad they weren't going to Goblin Valley.

The flitter made swift work of what would have taken an ordinary vehicle three times as long and they were soon at the summit, which looked down onto the San Juan River's' many twisting curves, called goosenecks, for that was what they resembled. Far below, past cliffs of solid rock, rafters could be seen floating down the river towards Lake Powell.

"One of the finest examples of entrenched meanders in this part of the country," Spock remarked as he viewed the silt laden water which had carved the odd shaped canyons. "But why does hardly anyone seem to be here?"

Christine glanced around and saw one or two families enjoying the scenery but the parking lot was otherwise empty. "I guess with other big tourist draws in the vicinity, small gems like this one can get overlooked."

Spock put his arm around he once more as they returned to the vehicle. "But I am glad we did not overlook such a splendid vista. I look forward to viewing more of your home nation with you, Christine."

* * *

"Spectacular." Spock indicated the sweeping panorama visible to them from the overlook at Muley Point. "And that must be Monument Valley which is on the horizon?"

"It is. This region was the home of the Anasazi people centuries ago. Now it's known as Cedar Mesa, but despite the wonderful vantage points, most tourists are busy visiting the more known areas. Too bad for them. I prefer the solitude."

"That is unfortunate for them, yes. But again, I am pleased we came here." He had parked the flitter offroad, right near the edge of some cliffs which afforded a splendid view of the canyons and valleys beyond. A Vulcan hand slid delicately down her shoulder and across her waist. "I believe we are alone, Doctor. And I find myself in need of a physician. A most alarming malady has presented itself." He raised an eyebrow as he placed her hand on the front of his shorts.

"I'll need to conduct a thorough physical examination, then," she answered.

* * *

"I don't know why I bothered to get dressed at all today," Christine sighed. "You've managed to get me out of my shorts three times now."

"Perhaps you should consider wearing one of the old styled uniforms, then," Spock replied. "I would surmise that you would have much less of a problem in situations such as these." He gave her a downright humorous look as his hands gripped her hips more tightly.

"Not a chance, Commander," she countered. "Ohhhhhh." She moaned as he thrust again.

He was seated on a shaded rock ledge, which overlooked a sweeping overlook, and she was in his lap, her legs twisted around his back. Her voluminous cambric overshirt covered a multitude of rear view sins, but only this time. A half hour ago, anyone happening across the vista would have had quite an interesting panorama to view, she thought, recalling how she had been seated on her husband's mouth, losing herself in the waves of pleasure only he could give her.

"You approve of these maneuvers, then, my wife?" he growled. "Here, let me demonstrate how efficiently the equipment functions."

Christine was about to lose the ability of coherent speech, but she managed to lean forward and whisper something into her husband's ear.

He thrust again, harder. Again. And again. "As you wish, my wife," he assured her. "Come for me, Christine. Now. I cannot wait any longer, you make me burn so." He looked her straight in the eye and repeated what he had said in the bluffs above Sedona, only this time, he punctuated the words with some well-aimed movements.

Fireworks occurred above the Muley Point area, but nothing that the news media reported on.

* * *

"You're my only guests for two nights," the innkeeper said. "Most folks come out here at the weekends. So you have the place to yourselves. My husband and I live up the bluff from here."

The sunset was beginning to paint its magic across the Cedar Mesa, which was the Inn's backdrop.

"There's a hot tub on the patio, and the views from the porch are just wonderful, day or night. The fridge is fully stocked for breakfast and if you need anything, just hit the comm unit."

"This place seems to have quite a history," Spock remarked, glancing at the adobe's long porch and solar panels. "How long has it been in existence?"

The innkeeper laughed. "The first owners set this place up in the late 20th century. At the time, it was quite a phenomenon, what with its wind and solar power. But each successive owner has kept it much the same. A quiet place to escape the craziness out there." She smiled. "We get some Vulcans visiting now and then in the summer. They seem to like the solitude we offer."

"Indeed," Spock replied, pondering a bit.

"See you then," the innkeeper said as she headed back up the path.

"I need a shower," Christine announced. "I'm covered in red dust."

"So do I," Spock replied, sliding his arm comfortably around his wife's waist. "A quick one, for I would enjoy sitting on the porch and viewing the sunset with you, Christine."

* * *

"You know, in about two weeks, we have to go back to the Enterprise," Christine sighed. She was wrapped around her husband, watching the nighttime panorama of the desert skies from a couch on the inn's long, well-designed porch.

"I was thinking about that as well," Spock replied. "But now is not the time to worry over such things, my wife." He pointed to the black velvet desert sky, filled with brilliant stars. "Shall I instruct you of the constellations in this part of the U.S.A.?" he asked, with a gaze that could reduce Polaris to steam in a heartbeat.

"Yes, please."

* * *

"And what potion have you concocted for me, doctor?" Spock asked.

Christine looked over at him across the breakfast table. "Oh, the usual. Eye of desert toad. Feather of a roadrunner. Two leaves of purple sage. One lizard toe." She finished the mixing process and got up. "Arm please."

"Your superior has taught you well, then," he replied. "But where are your rattles and beads?"

"Spock, you really do slay me at times." She injected him proficiently. "If you must know, it's your last antiwarp-lag dose, something to compensate for the difference in Terran altitude and oxygen, something to combat possible muscle strain ... and something to help you deal with a possible overdose of cheese."

"Cheese, Doctor?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, cheese. The local cuisine uses it extensively and if Grandma Brown makes her special green corn tamales, which I think she may, I'd rather be safe." She frowned as her husband's spoon clattered to the tiled floor of the porch. "Let me get that."

No sooner had she bent to retrieve the silverware when she felt his hands grab familiar territory.

"I might have known," she muttered as she allowed herself to be pulled onto his lap. "You've seen me in much less, Commander. Why can't you keep your paws off of my glutes this morning?"

Her husband was busily running his hands up and down her black cotton Lycra clad posterior and legs. "The absence of color emphasizes the silhouette," he stated. "And I do enjoy this particular silhouette."

"Honestly, Spock. They're just schooling tights for riding." But she sighed contentedly and leaned back against him to look at the view.

It was still early morning, but the sun had already started brushing strokes of fiery brilliance against the mesa wall that was the inn's backdrop. They'd gone to bed early, tired from a long few days of adventures. Apparently the desert air was quite a restorative, because Christine's personal chronometer, the Vulcan variety, had woken her even before the first bird's song.

"Such an interesting landscape. I can see why this is called the other Monument Valley," Spock commented. "Perhaps its isolation is a good thing. The peacefulness here is a most welcome change from the more populated areas we have visited recently. Though I wonder which deities it is named after."

Christine craned her neck around and found an ear to nuzzle. "Enjoy it. Moab is a very popular center for adventure tours, and the Grand Canyon's North Rim finally got discovered once the new hotel was finished. And then there's Vegas..."

"But once we reach your home in California, it will be quiet again, will it not?" He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensations flowing outward from his ear. His arm stroked the back of her head, encouraging more contact. "When we return this evening, I hope you plan to continue what you are starting?"

"This evening?" Christine laughed. "Spock, I still wonder why you insisted on doing this ride. Six hours in the saddle? We'll be lucky if we stay awake long enough to get back here after dinner!"

"I beg to differ, Doctor." He gave her what could only be called a smirk. "I plan on a most enjoyable end to our evening."

"With what? Your hand?" She laughed even harder. "No way you'll be up for anything, Commander. I can almost guarantee that. Neither will I, probably."

"Would you be willing to wager on that outcome?" His expression was now bordering on dangerous.

"What has gotten into you, Spock?" Christine was incredulous. "Must be the water. Well, OK, I'll play along. Let's see. If we're able to do anything besides kiss goodnight, I'll..." She leaned back and whispered an outrageous proposition.

"Indeed." Spock let his fingers rest somewhere for a moment. "On the shuttle tour?"

"In the shuttle, during the tour."

"I believe you Terrans say, 'You're on'?" Spock got to his feet and pulled her along with him for a kiss, then handed her the flitter keys.

"Me? Drive?" She unconsciously put a hand to his forehead.

"I assure you, I am feeling quite well. But you indicated you have been to the farm on a previous occasion, so you would be best able to get us there." He gave her rear end one last caress. "Shall we go, then?"

* * *

"It's a matriarchal society, so I will likely be introducing us, and from your mother's clan and her mother's clan. It's the way things have been done for centuries, how to tell where a person is from."

"Not unlike the Vulcan society, which is matriarchal as well," Spock said. "Although we use the father's lineage in address. But tell me, my wife. What is this about a sand painting?"

Christine maneuvered the flitter down a dusty rural route into the park's back country. "I visited the farm last time I was here, remember? They took me riding, and I had a late lunch with the family before I caught the shuttle back to Sedona. Grandmother Brown was doing a kind of sand painting, something to help her gather her thoughts before she began to weave a rug, she said. She showed it to me, that's all."

"Is it?" Spock raised a familiar eyebrow.

"Maybe I'll let her explain," she replied. "You'd never believe me if I told you."

"Fascinating."

* * *

Spock looked down at his wife from astride the mare's back. His horse, a grey Appaloosa, appropriately named "Spots," was obviously enjoying the carrots that Christine had brought along to feed the animals. He shifted his center of gravity to adjust for the position and stretched his legs out fully into the stirrups. Not bad, not at all. Memories of the many rides his mother had taken him on during numerous childhood visits to family began to work themselves into his muscles.

"Need a leg, Doc?" Billy asked as he prepared to mount his own steed.

"Nope, I'm fine. C'mon, Diablo, let me up," Christine told the splendid Mustang stallion. A moment later, Spock was amazed to watch her swing herself almost effortlessly into the saddle. She patted the horse's strong neck with affection. "Good boy."

"OK, let's go. Freddie, lead the way." Billy's young cousin Freddie was accompanying them, ostensibly for experience, but Billy had casually mentioned that he was in the same class as Dr. Black's daughter, Miranda. Christine suspected an ulterior motive.

They started out at a brisk walk, with a warm breeze following. Billy pointed out the local sights, names that sounded odd to Spock, but which obviously matched the visuals presented by the many rocks in the area. The Ear of the Wind. The Eye of God. Totem Pole Rock. The Sisters. The monoliths were a deep brick red and appeared to have been dropped from an unseen hand to sit just as they did, millenia ago. Then the elements had taken over, producing images of astonishing variety over the centuries.

"Are you holding up okay?" Christine asked after about an hour had passed. The pace had progressed to a brisk, comfortable trot.

Spock gave her a reassuring nod. "Affirmative, Doctor. I am, in fact, quite enjoying the experience thus far."

"You up for a gallop, Doc?" Billy asked as he pulled up beside Christine. He indicated a dirt road they were about to come out onto.

"Absolutely." She glanced at her husband. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Yeah, Diablo's a good one. Freddy'll keep you company till we're back."

Spock watched them take off in a cloud of red dust at a fast clip. Christine had not forgotten her riding skills, that was obvious. He then saw a hydro powered jeep tour come around a bend, at a safe distance, paralleling their race. Several tourists leaned over the vehicle's barrier with vidcams, filming the spectacle. Perhaps they thought his Th'yla lived here as well? She certainly looked the part at the moment.

* * *

After another hour and a half, having crossed more beautiful scenic countryside and seeing nothing but the occasional flock of sheep being tended by a native shepherd, a settlement of sorts came into view. A corral held horses, and there were other domestic animals in evidence. The area was dominated by a modern geodesic type of living structure, surrounded by several outbuildings. Several heavy duty flitters were parked nearby.

"Dr. Black!" Billy called out, which started a few dogs barking. "We're here!"

The dogs barked louder. After a moment, a young boy of about five years of age came out from behind a building. "Mom!" he shouted.

Christine blinked, thinking she was seeing things. Then she looked over at Spock, whose eyebrows had raised thoughtfully.

The boy looked like any youth of his age, with sun-bleached blonde hair and dark brown eyes. His skin, however was ... green. Not dark green, but green nonetheless. He waved at the visitors.

"Sasha! Masha! Quiet!" A woman's commanding voice was heard over the chorus of baying hounds. A moment later, the woman herself appeared, dressed as any archaeologist would be, in dust covered work clothes, her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. A baseball cap was pushed back on her forehead. Her blue eyes were very friendly.

Her skin was green. Darker than her son's, not the full green known so well throughout the galaxy, but still the green tone and the exotic features of an Orion woman.

Christine had already dismounted proficiently. She moved over to give Spock a hand, then turned the reins over to the capable Freddie.

"Hi Dr. Black, good to see you. These are the folks I told you about. Both of 'em are officers in Starfleet."

"Billy, the animals will be very glad you're here for their checkup." The woman smiled again and moved over to the visitors. "I'm Dr. Oxana Black and this is my son, Jeff." She shook hands with Spock and Christine. "Welcome to our home, it's a pleasure to have you visit. Shall we get some drinks and lunch before I give you the grand tour? My husband and daughter should be back from the caves any minute. We'll head there after we've eaten, if that's OK?"

* * *

"So." Dr. Black gave them a wink as she set out some dishes. "I'll bet you're just dying of curiosity. How did a nice girl like me end up here?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes," Spock replied. He had seen Orion women in many capacities, from the traditional image still associated with them, to the more modern variety who were appearing, free, in many parts of the galaxy. But an archaeologist? This was certainly quite a step forward.

"Mine too," Christine added, debating whether or not a kick under the table might be a good idea. She decided to be benevolent. This once.

At that moment, the door slammed and two more family members joined the lunch group. "This is my husband Mark, and my daughter Miranda," Dr. Black continued. "He's also a PhD, another archaeologist, of course, so we're the Doctors Black." She smiled as the group made introductions.

"Back to our original conversation topic," Oxana continued as they ate. "My grandmother was one of the slave women you've obviously heard so much about. She belonged to a Russian spacer, who ran a repair business at a station on Polaris, of all places. Grandpa Ivan fell in love with Deera, my granny. He married her and gave her her freedom, then decided he'd been cold long enough so he retired to Flagstaff. Hot in the summer, snow if he wanted in the winter. They started a family and both of them encouraged their daughter to study whatever she wanted, that education was important.

"My mom, Tanya, met my dad at the University of Northern Arizona. She was studying hospitality management, so was my dad. He was from Minnesota. They got married right after graduation and worked at the new hotel out at the North Rim of the Canyon, where I was born and grew up. One summer, when I was about 16, Mark here came on a dig near our home with some elders of the Dine' nation, and the rest was history. We ended up going to UNA as well, and here we are. My parents are in Florida now, in Key West, running a bed and breakfast."

Miranda, an eight year old who had inherited her mother's eyes and father's looks but not much green skintone, piped up. "I want to be an astronomer," she said, looking somewhat disdainfully at her brother. "But Jeff wants to be in the navy." She paused dramatically. "The merchant navy. On a ship in an ocean!"

Jeff predictably stuck his tongue out at his sister. "I'd rather be on a ship than have some girl make googoo eyes at me like Freddy's making at you!"

"Is not!"

"Is so!"

The unfortunate Freddy just gave his cousin a somewhat bemused look and shrugged.

"KIDS!" Oxana's voice thundered like a gunshot. "Let's cool it! Come on, we have guests to take to the caves. Best behavior while we're gone, OK? Or..." She too paused for effect. "No trip to Florida for Christmas."

As they headed outside to the flitters, Christine was aware of Spock through their link.

*That, my wife, may well be us in a few years.* He sounded amused.

*Shall we discuss your definition of A FEW later?*

* * *

"We only just discovered these caves a few months ago," Mark Black said as he led them through the cavern's rooms. "Judging by the petroglyphs, they date from Anasazi times, but earlier than most, tenth century we think." He indicated some rock carvings. "What do you make of this?" he asked Spock.

"It appears to be a depiction of a supernova. Fascinating. I was not aware there were any of these occurring in this part of the galaxy at that time." He took some vidscans. "What do the astronomers at Lowell have to say?"

"They've been here a couple of times already," Oxana replied. "And they think this might have been a place for the actual study of the stars. An early observatory, maybe. The Dine' have their own unique names for constellations that we don't use, so it's likely their ancestors did the same. Both peoples watched the skies, that's for absolute certain. And these drawings help paint a more definite picture of the era."

"Obviously. I shall also make a report to the Vulcan Science Academy on your findings, if that is permissible?"

"Are you kidding? We'd be so honored if you did!" Mark Black put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "This is going to be our life's work, we'd love to share it with the galaxy."

Christine was suddenly very happy her husband had decided to make the trip on horseback. She could feel his pleasure radiating through their bond, and it was a comfortable sensation. "Would you consider having an intern from offworld at some point?" she said. "Perhaps a college student, taking a year elsewhere to study archeology?"

"Sure. Know anyone?" Oxana asked.

"I might, but she wouldn't be ready to join you for a few years," Christine mused, thinking of T'sai T'Ren's daughter and her dreams of studying native cultures. "I'll mention it to her, though."

* * *

The ride back to the farm was progressing uneventfully until they climbed a summit and came face to face with a group of re-enactors, dressed as 19th century western explorers. They had set up camp near the base of one of the huge rocks and were busily exercising their horses through the surrounding area.

"If it isn't one thing, it's another," Billy sighed. "This group's from the Martian Colonies. Last month we had the re-make of 'Stagecoach' being shot here. It's called 'Starcoach' and it's about a shuttle that crash-lands in the Valley. Can you believe it?"

Christine could, but she was not too happy at the prospect. Some things were best left as they were.

* * *

When they returned to the farm, Grandmother Brown, resplendent in native dress, moved forward to welcome them. Various family members were in attendance, obviously curious about the event, not to mention the couple.

"Christine, daughter of Beverly, daughter of Theresa, welcome again to our clan's home."

"Ah'ee, Nascha," Christine replied. "This is my husband, Spock, from Vulcan, son of Amanda Grayson, daughter of Margaret Thomas Grayson."

"May fortune be with you always. Spock, welcome to you as well." She held up an unusual piece of pottery with two spouts. "Would you care to have the traditional Dine' marriage blessing as well?"

Spock looked at his wife, who promptly answered. "We would be honored."

The woman handed the vase to Christine. "This is a marriage vase, and it shall be yours to keep as a reminder of your joining. It is filled with sacred water. Christine, take a drink, please." Christine did so. "Now turn the vase as the sun goes across the earth," (which Christine knew to mean clockwise) "and let your husband drink from the other side."

Spock did so, then held the vase, waiting.

Grandmother Brown then took the vessel back and turned it clockwise once more, then poured the rest of the water onto the ground. "An offering to the earth," she announced. "May your marriage be blessed with much happiness."

They started to make their way with the rest of the group towards the large adobe ranch house, but the older woman stopped them. She looked at Spock, a smile playing on her wise features.

"Yes, it is the one I saw in the sand," she said mysteriously. Then she turned to Christine. "It is as I told you, my child. You would return again to this land with your mate, one who belonged to a clan far from here. And the both of you would have crossed the stars to do so."

"Grandmother, my husband would wish to know how you saw this? He is unfamiliar with what you have just told us."

The old woman indicated they should join her on a bench. Then she explained that while traditional sand paintings were done to very specific guidelines, as part of a healing ceremony in many cases, she herself used the art to help choose the design for the rugs she wove. She was a weaver, not a medicine woman, though her Dine' name meant owl, and that showed wisdom. The day Christine had visited last, she had just started working with the sands, and by the time the ride had returned, a startling picture had been drawn. It showed the traditional Yeis, the celestial guardians, guiding a healing woman from the land of the Abalone Shell Mountain to the West, and a warrior from the land of the Coal Mountain, to the North, across a sea of the stars. Though this was in no way how a traditional sand painting was done, for her, it had been used as the necessary inspiration for her task. But she had told the young stranger what she saw in the painting, for she often glimpsed the future.

"And now it is as I saw." She disappeared into the traditional hooghan behind them for a moment, then returned with a handwoven rug. "This is the piece that I wove after I saw the sands. I never sold it, instead kept it here with me. Somehow, I knew I would be giving it to you and your husband some day." She handed the beautiful woolen tapestry to Christine. "Please accept this and the joy I hope it will bring the both of you."

"Ah'ee," Spock replied.

"We cannot thank you enough, Grandmother," Christine added.

The woman brushed their thanks aside. "But enough of ceremony. It is now time to eat. After your journey, you must be hungry." She paused. "Or as we say in our language, 'My hunger is hurting me!' "

"Have you made your special green corn tamales, Grandmother?" Christine asked.

"Yes, as well as cheese and green chili soup and some blue cornbread." She looked at Spock. "This is your first time eating our traditional food, Spock?"

"Yes, but I hope it shall not be my last."

* * *

It was dusk when Christine finished toweling off her hair. Dinner had been a very enjoyable event, with the clan's history, which included two of the original code-talkers, being told in various stories. Spock had liked the meal very much, and thanks to the preventative injection, helped himself to an extra portion of everything. Both of them were a little stiff from the day's ride, but not overly so.

Spock had driven back to the Inn, and they'd paused to admire the smaller monoliths that dotted the valley floor, cousins to those just down the road. When they got back, they washed off the day's dirt, dust and horse.

She pulled on a robe and wandered out to the patio. Spock was already in the hot tub, looking up at the starry skies above him. His smile increased as he watched her drop the garment, revealing nothing more than her own smile, and climb in beside him.

The water felt delightful. He handed her a glass of champagne and they sat, watching the panorama unfold in the sky above. After awhile, she put down her glass and settled into his embrace.

"How many times have we gotten married now?" she asked dreamily.

"Four."

"Only four? I thought it was more than that." She turned to face him. "So tell me, rain man. You told me how you got the oral fixation, and it wasn't too difficult to make the connection between someone from a world with hardly any precipitation to love in a deluge. But why the outdoors? I don't mind, of course. But somehow, I just can't picture Vulcans having romantic liaisons outside. So ... 'splain."

"Quite simple, beloved. We serve aboard a starship. We shall continue to do so when we return from our honeymoon. As you know, our chances to be alone together off ship have been next to none, so it is logical to make use of the opportunities we now have to enjoy the ... outdoors as you put it." His hand had been exploring during his tutorial and it found its mark unerringly.

"Mmmm, logical," she agreed, starting to nibble on his shoulder. "More than logical, in fact. A downright good idea, if you ask me." She nodded towards the patio. "That sofa looks very inviting, don't you think? How about another lesson in astronomy?"

"I find myself still a bit hungry, my wife, and in need of a serving of something delicious." In a quick moment he had set her on the hot tub's edge, not unlike he had done at the springs that afternoon on Vulcan. "And I am certain you might be in need of a kiss to make something better, after all those hours in the saddle?"

"Uh huh. And yes, I know. You win." She have him a mischievous grin. "But I really don't care right now." She knew she might care later. Just not now.

WHAT had possessed her to bet her husband a hand job?

* * *

"Greetings, Jim,

Christine and I spent the day riding horseback at a fascinating place called Monument Valley, where we met a most extraordinary couple. We are with them here in front of some caves that may hold a quite important discovery about the ancient study of astronomy in the region. I trust all is well on the ship, since we have not heard anything to the contrary on the news. Spock and Christine."

* * *

"Hey Len,

Yes, that's Spock on a horse, and no, I didn't force him, he asked if he could go riding. Spent the day at Monument Valley and met the Black family -- Dr. and Dr. and their wonderful kids, who you see in this shot of the area. Check out the rocks. Amazing, huh? Hope all's going fine and you don't have any outbreaks of anything other than boredom. Chris (and the Vulcan). PS. Yes. She is. I'll tell you all about it when we get back."

* * *

Physician and Captain met in the corridor.

"Did you see--"

"Did you get--"

They stopped for a moment. Kirk eyed his CMO. "Well Bones, your bar ... or mine?"

* * *

"I have heard of this monument," Spock noted as he continued making a vidscam of the petroglyphs. "And now I see that Newspaper Rock clearly was one of the finest examples of human rock carvings of its time."

"It covered two thousand years of human activity in this area: Fremont, Anasazi, Dine' and Anglo," Christine said, looking at the diverse images.

"And offworld activity as well," Spock replied. "It has been found that several ancient space exploring cultures also left their mark here. This place has been well documented at the Science Academy and elsewhere in the Galaxy." He turned to his wife, the corner of his mouth lifted. "Thank you, Th'yla, for bringing me here."

"You're welcome." She gave him a mirthful smile as they walked back to the flitter. "Any residual physical ailments today, Commander?"

"Some twinges in my quads, which is to be expected. Third degree burns on my mouth and ... elsewhere. A compound fracture of two of my fingers ... and a similar one ... elsewhere."

"You don't say," Christine replied, remembering a night of bliss under the desert's unending skies.

From the Inn, they had headed north on Hwy 261 with a stop at Natural Bridges National Monument. Spock wanted to see the well preserved example of an early photovoltaic array, which generated solar energy to the area back in the late 20th century. Now they were proceeding to Moab, and on to Arches National Park. Tomorrow was set aside for an all day shuttle tour, with only six passengers guaranteed, of three national parks: Canyonlands, Zion and Bryce, plus Rainbow Bridge National Monument, before ending at the Grand Canyon's North Rim where they would spend the night. To be honest, the prospect of letting someone else do the driving for a day was appealing. Christine wondered when and how Spock was planning to collect on their bet.

* * *

"Fascinating." Spock never tired of saying the phrase, and Christine never tired of hearing it. They'd driven past the famous Courthouse Towers, known from the film "Thelma and Louise," at Arches National Park, and then on to Balanced Rock, which had lived up to its name for millenia. From there they headed on to The Windows and had a leisurely stroll through the area, admiring the preponderance of the geological phenomenon that gave the park its name. Then on to Delicate Arch, perhaps the most famous view of all.

After the horseback excursion the day before, neither wanted to overdo things, so the well-marked simple paths had been all they'd attempted. But those were quite enough. The park boasted over two thousand natural arches and the slow walks had afforded glimpses of many. An afternoon thunderstorm was brewing far away on the horizon.

"Should we head back to Moab?" Spock asked after they had been sitting for awhile, enjoying the magnificent, unusual views the park offered.

"Sure. I don't want to get caught in that," Christine replied, pointing to the cumulonimbus clouds gathering ominously.

* * *

"This isn't the Moab Highway. Didn't you check the map?"

"It is called a 'Scenic Byway' and leads to some quite splendid petroglyphs," Spock told her. He allowed a free hand to find its way onto her thigh. "And a rainstorm is due, so it would be illogical to attempt to outrun it, do you not think? With that, he expertly maneuvered the flitter onto a secluded pullout and popped the doors, leading her outside.

"What are we doing? Or should I even ask, rain man?" Christine laughed as the drops began to fall around them. They were safe from the brunt of the storm; rock outcroppings afforded some shelter, and the overlook was at elevation, as in Sedona.

"Petroglyphs." Spock indicated the carvings on the wall beyond them, but his hands were taking a journey of their own choosing.

"Cock," she replied, grasping what was straining against the fabric of his hiking shorts. In a moment, she was on her knees and Spock succumbed to the thing he enjoyed but still could not easily bring himself to ask for.

* * *

"Shall it rain in California as well?" Spock asked. He was licking raindrops off his wife's stomach, headed lower.

"Maybe. Definitely not like this, at least not on the coast where we'll be." She sighed. "It's mistier and cooler there. Better for cuddling on the porch, in the old swing."

"I do look forward to that, my wife." He looked up at her, his eyes onyx. "As I look forward to each time we are together." Then he put his mouth to another use, very efficiently.

The stars soon appeared, in broad daylight.

* * *

"This is exquisite," Christine remarked as she held the beaded wall hanging up to the sunlight. "Are these prairie roses?"

"Yes, and mountain lupine," the merchant answered. "The patterns are centuries old, from the days my people lived all over this part of the country."

"Northern Ute?" Spock asked, touching the delicate handiwork. It would look very nice indeed on their cabin wall.

"Part of the Ute Nation, yes. My grandmother taught me our art of beadwork, and I will be teaching my daughter and my grandchildren. It tells the circle of our life, from the days we moved from hunting ground to hunting ground." She nodded at the piece Christine held. "Do you like that?"

"I do, and I'll take it." She made arrangements for the artwork to be shipped ahead to the Starfleet Mail Depot in San Francisco. Then her eye was caught by some smaller beaded hair ornaments. For a moment she wondered if one would look nice in her own tresses, but dismissed the idea as silly. She just didn't do froufrou very well.

They continued wandering through the weekly craft and farmer's market in the well preserved Moab old town. The clerk at their bed and breakfast had recommended the event and so far, it was living up to his description. Christine bought a selection of desert and mountain scented, locally made candles for Kala and her spa: juniper, cedar, pinon, sandflowers, mountain snow. And she'd also got a few for herself, one in particular she was anxious to use in California, desert rainstorm. A local fashionista was selling loose comfortable t-shirt style dresses painted with swirling patterns of color. Christine succumbed, getting a black sleeveless version for the dinner Spock had mysteriously announced he was taking her to that evening, and a turquoise blue t-shirt style for the shuttle trip tomorrow.

The streets were crowded with adventure holidaymakers and tourists, Terran and offworld alike. Moab touted itself the gateway to the Utah Parklands due to its proximity to four national parks. Winter and summer pursuits were equally popular, it seemed. Several sport shops had posters of Stark prominently displayed, and his snowboards and Vulcan Heat activewear appeared to be popular sellers.

"Okay, I'm headed to the salon," she told Spock. "Shall I meet you back at the hotel?" After a week of hiking, she wanted a manicure and pedicure before being taken for a night on the town, even a town as small as Moab.

"Affirmative, but I shall first peruse the used holobook stall. I saw a title on the plants of the southwestern region which I think Mr. Pauulu would quite enjoy." Spock touched his wife's shoulder and embraced her lightly, just as other couples were doing. "I shall see you soon, T'hyla."

He watched her disappear into the beauty establishment then walked back to the stall he had seen earlier. Several titles caught his eye and he considered them all before making a selection for Mr. Pauulu. After that, he returned to the bead merchant.

"Thought you might be back," she said pleasantly, indicating the hair ornament Christine was looking at earlier. "It would look very nice on your wife's hair coloring. My sister made these. The design is traditional Ute, and a turquoise background is considered very lucky to the wearer. It symbolizes the stone and the sky both."

Spock held the object in his hands, looking intently at the angled design done in rich, traditional earth tones. This contrasted startlingly with the blue background, much the same way his wife's eyes would gaze out at him under an early morning curtain of her tousled dark hair.

"Yes, I believe I shall take this one," he replied.

"Shall I include it in the shipment to San Francisco?" the vendor asked as she wrapped the item and completed the transaction.

"No, I will take it with me." Spock imagined his wife's surprise when he gave her the gift. He thoroughly enjoyed this very human practice and the pleasure it gave him.

* * *

Christine surveyed the view of the nearby La Sal Mountains from the deck of their second floor room at the Casa de Suenos Inn. The sun's descent was firing up the deep red color so common to the rock formations in this part of the world. A warm zephyr caressed her face. She smiled. This trip was turning out to be even more wonderful than she had dared to hope, and there was still a week and a half to go.

"Hi, feet," she happily told her newly polished toes, comfortable in her favorite Bernardo leather thong sandals.

Then she paused and thought a bit. They were getting spoiled, even though this was their honeymoon. Christine idly wondered what things would be like once they returned to the Enterprise. Opportunities for outdoor trysts outside shoreleave would be nil, unless they made use of the holodeck, but what fun was that compared to the real thing?

Then there was the fact that Spock was becoming increasingly affectionate in public with her. Not overly so, and nothing outrageous, but he definitely was giving her hugs and the occasional chaste kiss in full view of others. Christine almost had a vague sense of unease. How could she convey this to her husband? That his actions ... concerned her? Not for her sake, but for his. Despite what he had told her, and what she'd seen on Vulcan, she had a sneaking suspicion that any transgressions of what was construed to be non-Vulcan behavior would get back to Shi-Kahr faster than a starship at warp nine. Spock had a future to consider, one that included Vulcan. And she, as his wife, would have to behave accordingly. No matter what she had heard or seen, in her heart, Christine worried that her being Terran brought further scandal to the House of Sarek. True, he had said on many occasions that he now embraced both halves of his whole, but...

"Christine." Her husband came up behind her and put an arm around her waist. His mouth traversed her neckline. "You look stunning," he said.

She turned in his arms and froze for a microsecond.

"What is amiss?" he asked.

He was clothed appropriately for an evening out at a nice restaurant. For a Terran. Good jeans, a white cotton shirt, his fine cowboy boots and a black ultrasuede jacket.

"You look so..." she began, not sure what to say. He looked good, hot, fabulous ... but ... almost human! Did he want to, or was this solely for her benefit?

"So ... splendidly attired?" His special smile was very much in evidence as he pulled her closer against him. "This bothers you?"

"No. Yes. No. Sorry. Why are you dressed like this?" she asked.

"This is our first opportunity in some days to dine in a fine establishment, so why should I not dress as I have?" His eyebrow raised.

"You don't look very Vulcan, Commander..."

"But I am not among Vulcans, nor am I on my home planet. And as you recall, I did not dress in traditional attire at all times even then. Shall we say, I am airing my human side this evening? Something I have not done enough of over the years." He gave her backside a squeeze. "But enough of a fashion critique, my wife. I have something for you." He handed her a prettily wrapped package.

"What on earth?" she began. Her eyes widened as she beheld the very hair ornament she had so admired earlier.

"It would become you," Spock said. "May I?"

She nodded. Her husband turned her away from him and combed her somewhat unruly locks with his fingers. The feeling was beyond erotic. He then twisted her tresses up into a knot and secured the hair ornament across them with its pine stick.

"There." He turned her back and gave her a slow, sensual kiss. "I shall have a great deal of pleasure removing it later." His hands traveled the curve of her shoulders, bare in the new dress she wore. "And other things." Then he ran a fingertip across the bridge of her nose, smiling as he did so. "You are getting a suntan, Doctor."

"You too," she replied, noticing the deeper shade his skin had taken on lately, a light cinnamon toast. "So where are you taking me, Commander?"

"The restaurant is called The River Grill, I believe."

"The River Grill?" Christine was taken somewhat aback. That was one of the finest eateries in the area.

"It has the requisite stars in the Vulcan guidebooks," Spock replied, taking his wife's arm. "So let us be going. I find myself hungry for food."

"Vulcans have travel guidebooks?" This was news.

"Why ever not? How else would Vulcans know where to travel and what the locale had to offer?" Spock gave he an amused eyebrow raise.

"Hold on a second. You said Vulcans didn't take vacations, remember? That it was illogical. You -- meditated instead?" She recalled Len's story after the incident with the Kelvans.

"Christine." Spock turned and gave her another hug, with another grab of his favorite part of her anatomy thrown in for good measure. "I uttered those words to irritate your superior. It was during the height of, let's see, you referred to it as my 'swineheaded youth' phase. True, not many Vulcans took vacations in the past, but such journeys have become quite common now. Kwil'nor, where Stark took the youngsters surfing, is a very popular holiday resort on the Sea of Voroth. For Vulcans -- and offworlders too. Now shall we depart for our dinner, before I am forced to find other things to eat?" He gave her a last suggestive caress, his thoughts clearly readable. It was going to be a very nice night.

"Touche," she replied, sending back some very clear thoughts of her own.

* * *

"Yuga. My name is George Littlebear, and I will be your waiter this evening." The young native male smiled in welcome as he seated them at a nice outdoor table overlooking the Colorado River and the sunset bluffs beyond.

"Thank you, George," Spock replied. " I am Spock and this is my wife, Christine. We look forward to your service. You are Northern Ute, then? Those who worshiped the bear in the bear dance?"

The youth was pleased at the recognition of his clan by an offworlder. "I am. But I study law at the University of Utah currently. I hope to help our people maintain the path they have chosen." He paused. "V'tosh?" he asked. When Spock nodded, the waiter addressed them both in passable Vulcan, which Christine knew to be a casual evening greeting.

"Most impressive," Spock replied, switching back to Standard as the waiter took their orders. "How do you know the language?"

"We get many Vulcans here in the summer. This area is a popular tour destination. In fact, our chef does make Vulcan dishes with advance notice. Stark and his mother and his best friend ate here a few times last summer. They did a rockclimbing trip in Canyonlands." The waiter paused, then decided to add his opinion. "He's a cosmic one, that's for sure.

"Indeed he is," Spock replied.

* * *

"OK, folks. The shuttle departs in fifteen minutes from the lounge through those doors." The reservations clerk pointed to his left. "Your luggage has gone ahead already on the mini shuttle and will be waiting at the New North Rim Lodge when we get there. Have a great trip and thanks for flying with Ute Country Tours."

The mountain sky was already a brilliant blue. Both Spock and Christine were looking forward to the excursion and the opportunity to view several natural wonder areas in the course of a day, rather than having to drive between each.

Spock was talking to one of the company's pilots, a Saurian, who had done a stint in Starfleet as a helmsman aboard an Antares class ship. Christine knew he'd be a few moments so she decided to go find a seat for them both.

The doors whooshed open and then closed again, but she did not move. The bottom slowly fell out of her stomach. The tour had guaranteed only six participants and the other four members of the group were already inside, waiting. No. It couldn't be. This was a disaster in the making.

She turned quickly and ran smack into her husband. He caught her by the shoulders, sensing her distress. "Th'yla? What is it, why are you so pale?"

"Come with me," she said tonelessly, heading back outside into the parking lot. A few deep cleansing breaths later, she said one word.

"Vulcans."

"Vulcans? What about Vulcans?" Spock was confused.

"There! On our tour! A Vulcan family!" She was doing everything possible not to gesture wildly or make an emotional face, but her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if the entire street heard it.

Spock looked thoughtful for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "I do not see a problem, my wife. Vulcans travel, as I have said. Why does this concern you?"

"Concern me? Look at how I'm dressed!"

Her husband glanced her over. Sandals, a knee length cotton knit dress she had just bought, sunglasses and the native hair ornament. He raised his other eyebrow.

"Look at how you’re dressed!" He was attired for a day outdoors, but not necessarily strenuous hiking. Jeans, Vulcan Heat T-shirt (a wedding present from Stark), hiking boots and a daypack.

"I appear to be attired for a day's sightseeing excursion in the high deserts of Utah. As do you?" He still could not comprehend why she was so worried about this.

"Damn!" she muttered. "It's too late for us to change."

"Change?" Spock's eyebrows rose. "Why should we need to do so?" He tried to put his arm around her shoulders but she jumped free from the contact as though he were a blowtorch.

"What kind of impression will we give these Vulcans? Spock, I've been enjoying our honeymoon, but you're just getting too ... human. What happens when we get back to the ship?” Her voice dropped. "Or to Vulcan, once the mission ends? We said we'd split our time between San Francisco and Shi-Kahr. How will you fit back into society there? I'm just thinking of your career, your place in Vulcan society. If you're ... trying to do this just for my benefit, please don't. I would never forgive myself if it caused you any doubt. Don't pretend on my behalf."

Spock pulled her into an embrace despite her protests. His eyes grew dark with love for his wife. "Christine, be assured that scenario will never happen. I am quite capable of enjoying either side of the half that makes my whole, surely you know that? Please do not trouble yourself with such worries. They are ... illogical."

"But what will these Vulcans think of how you're dressed? "

"Do you honestly think we must all be cookie cutters of a pre-determined image? That we must dress and think alike, as by some decree? Did your time on Vulcan not show you otherwise?" He smoothed back the wisps of hair that had fallen across his wife's face, but she tried to pull free of his actions.

"We were with your parent's friends, Vulcans from the circles in which they move. They probably made concessions for my being Terran and your being half human. Who knows where these Vulcans are from? They might form an opinion of us, of you, which could hurt your family. I ... don't want you to be ashamed of me, Spock. Or of the influence I've obviously had on you." She looked down at her feet, so prettily and humanly painted with a frosted chocolate polish, suddenly hating herself.

"I would never be ashamed of you, Christine." Spock tightened his arms around her, trying to convey how he was feeling. Bur his wife had put up her psi-barriers as high as he had known during their courtship and marriage. She just wasn't going to listen to his logical explanation.

He sighed. "Come, my wife. Let us meet these Vulcan holidaymakers who shall be our tourmates, shall we?"

"I'm putting on my best Vulcan face, then." Christine replied resignedly.

"But, my wife, you are not Vulcan."

"I'm married to one."

* * *

"I am Sloat, and this is my wife T'iba. Our children, T'Kol and Sollu." A Vulcan male about Spock's age was introducing his family pleasantly. "We reside on the Martian Colonies. My wife is a preschool teacher for the Vulcan community, which is small but growing. And I am employed at Utopia."

"As an engineer?" Spock asked.

"No, as but an ordinary bureaucrat. Starships cannot build themselves, they require a workforce, and that workforce requires a management staff to ensure that all runs smoothly. I have met your parents when they visited some years ago. It is now a pleasure to meet the son they spoke so highly of, and his wife."

Christine stood next to her husband with a pleasant but emotionless expression on her face. She was trying to figure out the family group as unobtrusively as possible. For one thing, they used the familiar form of Standard, no thees and thous. That was likely due to where they lived, she reasoned. The husband was dressed in the tunic suit she knew from her stay on Vulcan, the type Spock wore on occasion. Except he did not wear the soft boots favored by Vulcans. Instead, he had on a pair of Terran styled boat shoes. Sperry Top Siders to be precise and brand new, by the looks of them. The contrast was ... fascinating.

His wife wore the loose trouser and tunic ensemble Christine had seen across the galaxy, gauzy and comfortable, with the almost required Ferengi slippers. A daughter of about ten was indistinguishable from most girls her age in Vulcan Heat active wear and sneakers. She was busy reading a personal PADD and Christine glimpsed the pages of Hairstyle InterGalactic scrolling past.

Some movement caught Christine's eye. A small face, dominated by enormous dark eyes, was peering at her from behind the safety of his mother's tunic. Then it disappeared, to reappear again a moment later. This was a familiar sight across the galaxy and somehow endeared the boy, who seemed about two or so, to Christine. Vulcan children obviously were the same as their counterparts anywhere, it seemed, at least at this age. She remembered seeing a toddler eating an ice cream back in Shi-Kahr, a look of rapt enjoyment on her face.

But she didn't want to cause a cultural faux pas. Instead of playing along with the game of peekyboo, she merely returned the gaze for a moment, as impassively as possible, though it made her heart ache.

"Have you just arrived on Terra?" Christine tried to make polite conversation, though she had read somewhere most Vulcans did not favor this habit.

"No, we were first in Salt Lake City for two days," T'iba replied. "Quite a fascinating settlement. The Great Salt Lake was a most interesting place to sail. The salt content of the water increased the buoyancy of the vessel quite markedly."

Sailing? Christine thought she was hearing things. Spock turned up a corner of his mouth and looked at Sloat, who picked up the hint.

"Perhaps I should explain," Sloat offered. "My wife and I come from Kwil'nor originally. We still enjoy the sailing we did so much in our youth, though this is rather difficult to do on Mars except in holo simulation. Therefore we do try to engage in this pursuit on one our annual leave trips. That is the one logical thing about being a 'padd pusher' as we bureaucrats are referred to at Utopia. Six solar week's annual leave -- time enough for a visit home, and also time for a separate excursion later in the year. In fact, had this not been such a last-minute trip, we may have instead gone to Orlando and then on to the Caribbean."

Further discussion was interrupted by the call to board the shuttlecraft. The party headed onto the tarmac.

"We arrived here yesterday afternoon," Sloat was telling Spock. "And spent quite a while at the store 'Best Buy'. It seems Stark's new snowboard action vidgame has sold out all over Mars, so I was charged to bring back several for friend's children." He held out a fancy looking holovid camera. "I also purchased this, but have found that I am not understanding its complexities. Perhaps you might assist me with learning its operation?"

"I should be pleased to do so," Spock replied.

* * *

As the group entered the Bryce Lodge Restaurant for lunch, Christine was surprised to see a few other Vulcans dining there. Tourists, obviously, along with some younger, adventure-looking travelers as well. They were obviously planning to take in the park's unusual geological formations, the hoodoos, those curiously eroded spires of sandstone unique to the area. The amount of Vulcan Heat activewear on these young people, as well as other diners, was astonishing. No wonder Stark had been able to build such a wonderful facility at Shi-Kahr. He was clearly raking in the credits, but using his gain for the good of the galaxy.

So far the tour had been going quite normally. The shuttle was constructed in a round design, affording each passenger a seat by the window to themselves. The guide gave informative and interesting commentary from the center area. They'd first gone to Canyonlands and stopped at the aptly named Island in the Sky whose plateau afforded a vista that went on for miles, then on to the overlook for the jagged multicolored rock formations called The Needles.

Their fellow passengers had been curious, asking many questions and engaging the guide in discussion. Christine did so as well, in her best physician's detached demeanor, noticing her husband's familiar raised eyebrow. He was not attempting to use their link, for which she was grateful. She felt miserable and for the first time in months, she began to doubt the wisdom of the relationship she had pursued. What had she been thinking? Spock was a Vulcan, no matter how much he was experiencing his human side. Surely the pendulum would once again swing the other way before settling to the center. And what would that bring? The thought of not being able to express her love to her husband, of him withholding the joys they were now regularly experiencing as illogical or unnecessary made her stomach hurt. When the mission was over, how could he live half the time in San Francisco and then easily assimilate back into polite Vulcan society? It didn't seem possible. Suddenly, the prospect of the rest of their honeymoon seemed bleak and way too long. Maybe they should cut short and head to San Francisco. There were plenty of Starfleet transports leaving regularly. Yes, that was it. The sooner they got back to the Enterprise, the better the chance their marriage would survive intact.

Spock was watching his wife across the table from him with some concern. Though she had masked most of her expression, her eyes were, as they had always been, the window to her soul. He recognized what they were saying all too well and had seen the expression many times, though mostly in the early days of their relationship. The first morning they'd woken up together, and the next day, when she told him in the arboretum that she wanted to pursue a relationship. The first time she'd seen him in jeans. The first time he'd taken her skating. When she'd first seen him really smile for no reason other than the fact he was enjoying her presence. The time he'd surprised her in the lab one afternoon and pulled her down onto the floor for a tryst. All of these incidents had one thing in common. Her initial expression had been one of disbelief, of doubt. Then quickly followed by fear, as though she wondered if he would regret his actions -- and his feelings for her. That pain now shone out through her usually animated blue eyes, its message clear. She was frightened because they had been having such an enjoyable honeymoon, and the chance encounter with this family made her uncertain of his future actions. Illogical, most assuredly. Well, he would do his best to dispel this notion later.

The waitress arrived with appetizers. "This is fire roasted red chili salsa with corn, chili verde salsa with tomatillo, black bean dip, and blue corn chips. I'll be back with your vegetarian tostadas in a bit."

If Christine's stomach had hurt before, it was now tying itself into agonizing knots. She'd also read most Vulcans never touched their food. Of course, Sarek's being a diplomat meant that it wasn't always the case during their visit there, and Spock certainly had no qualms about eating that way. This was different. She felt as though the eyes of all Vulcan were upon her, despite the fact the Terran guide was also dining with them.

"Ah, real salsa." T'iba picked up a chip and dug into a dish. "On Mars, we are forced to suffer the replicator version, or, at best, Taco Rojo. The food stores do not stock the requisite ingredients very often, and when we do get a supply, it just as quickly sells out."

"Indeed," Sloat added, helping himself as well. "However, a Vulcan Starfleet officer and her Mexican husband visited Mars recently so we enjoyed the fresh variety such as this. Lieutenant de la Sierra made some for the welcome gathering and it was quite good, though different from this as he is from Mexico City."

A Vulcan married to a Mexican? Ai yai, Christine thought, that's some spicy salsa indeed. Then she remembered. She'd met that officer's sister at her own welcoming function. Wasn't she married to a stellar cartographer?

"The cuisine on Mars is varied, but largely replicator or the food malls. Though I understand Shi-Kahr now has quite a food mall of its own, does it not?" T'iba asked Christine.

"Yes, I recall seeing it on my visit," she replied, then quickly took a drink of water.

At that moment, a uniformed Park Service ranger joined the group in time for the main meal. "Hello, folks, I'm Ranger Wilson, and I'll be having lunch with you and answering any questions you might have about the park." He smiled pleasantly, then gave an informal Vulcan greeting. It was obvious Vulcans frequented this park regularly. And it was obvious those Vulcans did not necessarily observe the strict rule of silence at meals, another thing she'd heard of, though she saw nothing like that during her visit. Probably due to Sarek's influence, and as for Spock, well, sometimes he wouldn't shut up during a meal at all. But she never minded.

Sollu, who had been munching on corn chips quite contentedly, suddenly leaned over and whispered to his sister, whose eartips flushed a bit.

"T'Kol, what is it? What did your brother say?" T'iba asked her daughter.

"Forgive the illogic, Ranger Wilson, but my brother was asking where ... Yogi and Boo Boo might be?"

"Ster Ragr!" Sollu said loudly. Mister Ranger.

"The preschools get together regularly," T'iba offered by way of explanation. "And classic cartoon holovids are as much a part of activities as sports, computer learning and cultural studies. Yogi Bear is but one of many the vids the children enjoy viewing. And it does help them start learning Standard at an early age quite easily."

The ranger's eyes were dancing with humor. He'd been asked this question before, likely many times and by children of many races. He addressed T'Kol, aware that her brother was watching him intently. "They live north of here up at Yellowstone Park in Wyoming. Maybe you can visit them on another vacation someday?"

Sollu promptly hid in his mother's lap, then peeked out again in a moment. "He is shy," his mother almost sighed.

As lunch was finishing up, Christine realized someone was speaking to her. She'd been brooding a bit, pretending to listen to the conversation. "Sorry, I was looking at the view," she apologized. "What was the question?"

"We were wondering where in California you were from?" Sloat asked. "We will go there next, after we stay in Las Vegas tonight."

"Avila, which is on the central coast, near Pismo Beach," Christine replied, equally curious about where these rather atypical Vulcans were headed next.

"There are excellent waves for surfing there, both board and wind," T'Kol stated, "although the water can be cold."

"Our daughter is an avid windsurfer," Sloat said. "In fact, she hopes to study in Florida or Hawaii in her year offworld, as her interest is in meteorology."

"And you, where are you going in California?"

"San Diego, for its attractions and sailing," T'iba began, then stopped, looking down at her son. "And then 'A-n-a-h-e-i-m' afterwards."

Before Christine could ask why the woman had spelled the city's name, a look of understanding passed between brother and sister.

"Micka Mousa!" Sollu shouted, then clapped his hands.

"I fear he is taken with the famous Mickey Mouse," Sloat said. "So we shall be forced to visit the Magic Kingdom for a few days."

He did not sound like a person being forced to do anything. Christine had a fleeting vision of him in Mousketeer ears on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, one of her particular favorites. Then she felt ashamed for such an illogical thought.

* * *

From Bryce, the tour progressed on to Zion National Park, with its wide array of geological formations, and then on to Rainbow Bridge National Monument, the largest free standing stone arch in the country. This was an exceptional treat, because the only way other than by shuttle tour to get to the site was on boat, horseback or foot, and many hours were needed for those options. The local Dine' guide there had told them the history of the pink and red sandstone bridge and the legends that surrounded it, still a sacred spot to his people, to the present day. Stone arches such as this were deemed to be rainbows, a guardian of the universe to his people. The unusual combination of Kayenta and Navajo sandstone, ranging in color from purplish brown through pink, was the result of layers of mud being covered in more layers of sand dunes, which had eventually petrified into rock. As for the arch, the wind had done the rest.

The sun was in its last hour before beginning to set when the group finally arrived at the Grand Canyon's New North Rim Lodge. After years of being a relatively unvisited attraction compared to its more famous cousin across the way, the beauty of the canyon's different and unusual views had at last been discovered. A splendid new hotel had at last been built, replacing the aging motel rooms and rickety old cabins. Each room had a canyon view with a private balcony. The entire facility had been designed with help from the nearby Cosanti Foundation, the pioneering force behind arcology, and the final result was quite amazing.

Spock went to check them in, for they were staying the night there before picking up a jeep and driving into Las Vegas the next day. Christine got a soda from the lobby shop and stood quietly for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Sloat and his family would be leaving after a brief time here. She and Spock would be alone, and it was fairly clear he would want an explanation for her almost android like behavior. But even if the family had been not quite typically Vulcan, Christine was pleased that she herself had not done anything which could be construed as improper. Spock, naturally, has been as implacable in public as he always was, though he had tried on a few occasions to take her arm. She'd refused, thinking it would be best to start weaning herself.

She became aware of a small hand tugging at hers. Sollu was standing next to her, doing his best to get her to follow him.

"My brother has a question, Dr. Chapel," his sister said. "And he thinks you might be able to answer it. Could you do so?"

"Will you be able to translate for him?"

"Of course, I am fluent in Standard for my school level."

Sollu marched the three of them over to a bronze statue of a little burro, which had stood in the lobby of the hotel, in its various incarnations, for centuries. He pointed to the shaggy creature then turned back to Christine and asked something in Vulcan. She did not need a translation to understand his query so she motioned for the two of them to sit with her on a nearby sofa.

"His name was Brighty," she began slowly. "He lived in the canyon a long time ago. He's a burro, which is related to a mule." Her audience was rapt. Christine felt that T'Kol was doing much more than just translating and it was clear she was just as interested as her brother. "He was named for the Bright Angel Creek here in the Canyon, but everyone called him Brighty ... he was very smart and very adventurous..."

As she ended her story, one of her own childhood favorites, she noticed that the audience had grown. Sloat, his wife, and Spock were all standing there, listening as closely as her charges had been. Christine started to blush. She realized how animated she'd been during the tale, how she'd laughed and imitated the burro's bray. This brought a squeal from the youngster and a raised eyebrow from his sister. But not a disapproving one. The girl's eyes were as bright as her brother's.

"A most fascinating story," Sloat remarked. "And you say that the book is available still?"

Christine nodded. "Marguerite Henry's books are recognized as classics, so I would imagine a Vulcan version might even be for sale in the gift shop here. This was one of my favorites when I was small. Brighty was a special creature, and it is said his spirit is in the canyon still." Then she turned to T'Kol. "Do you enjoy reading?" she asked. "If so, there is an equally interesting book about the native peoples of the California coast just north of where you will be. 'Island of the Blue Dolphins.' The main characters are just a little older than you and your brother. I think you might like it."

"We will look for the books," T'iba replied. "It will be good for our children to read of the cultures where we visit. That gives a person a more complete picture, does it not?"

"Shall we view the rim before you leave, then?" Spock said. "Christine has been here before so she is able to point out some of the sights. He held out his hand to his wife, his expression speaking more completely than a word of affection ever could.

She took it.

* * *

"Spock, would you assist me in filming for a moment?" Sloat was fiddling with his new camera, just beginning to get the hang of it. "I would like to speak of the view in the shot."

Spock followed him up the path, marveling at the rarefied atmosphere. The North Rim was at over 8,000 feet in some places, meaning a less cooler temperature than elsewhere, as well as slightly thinner air. Pines surrounded the area. They were enjoying the view at Bright Angel Point. He looked over his shoulder and saw Christine busily pointing out the canyon below at Roaring Springs and the creek which gave Brighty his name.

After a few moments of filming, Sloat came back and took the camera from Spock, but did not move. "Thank you Spock. This has been a most fascinating day for my family, and it was a very pleasant meeting you and your wife. You are on your honeymoon, are you not?"

Spock nodded. "We go to Las Vegas tomorrow and then on to California for another week."

"I do ... apologize if we intruded upon your special time. Your wife is a bit nervous of our presence, it seems. Has she not had many dealings with your father's people?" His reference to the fact Spock was half human did not go unnoticed, but it was not meant to be an insult.

"She has, but only on Vulcan and only in Shi-Kahr. Those who knew my family, and then we are acquainted with Stark as well. So her experiences with everyday Vulcan citizens as your family have been rather limited. She was ... not certain how to act, I suppose, and erred on the side of caution rather than risk insulting you."

"Insulting us?" Sloat quirked an eyebrow. "Why would she insult us? This is her home planet. We are the visitors here. No, nothing either of you has done could possibly be construed as an insult. I do hope you manage to explain this to her?"

Spock nodded, wondering why the other male was being so open with a virtual stranger.

As if reading his thoughts, Sloat continued. "I said that I am employed at the shipyards at Utopia." He gave Spock a sidelong glance. "Do you know in which department?"

"You stated you were an administrator, so it is logical to presume somewhere in the central offices."

"Affirmative. I am the facility's representative for our Vulcan community, to ensure they assimilate into the somewhat...different culture, that their work does not suffer unduly. A ... counselor of sorts. Someone they can speak freely to about any job related issues, or personal ones if they decide to do so. Starfleet requires this, and after events over the years, we have found this so be somewhat logical."

Realization was slowly beginning to dawn on Spock.

Sloat looked back at the horizon for a moment, watching his son play peekyboo with Christine. "I am assigned to the Human Resources Division at Utopia. Last week, I was due for a regular meeting with the Commander. As it transpired, I was a few moments early, so was speaking to her superior, the Operations Chief, when a commotion was heard inside her office, which we investigated..." His voice trailed off.

Spock cocked an eyebrow. Of course. The protest. Or was it an alleged protest? Rumors were flying around in the media which painted a very different, scandalous picture.

"After the general mayhem died down, what do you suppose I did?"

All Spock could do was shrug. As a rule, Vulcans did not gossip, but it was obvious this Vulcan was not abiding by all the rules.

"The first thing I did was to authorize two week's leave for myself. Then I booked passage for us on the first shuttle to Terra and managed to come up a suitable itinerary. And here we are. I decided it would be more logical to take myself and my family away from there while memories were still fresh, so by the time we return, people will be less likely to keep peppering me for information ... or asking my family. A most logical compromise. The Federation gets my silence, and we get a vacation." The corner of his mouth was firmly twisted up into the Vulcan version of a smile. "Shall we go? I fear we must leave you now, so we will view the sunset from the shuttle, not here."

"Tell me, Sloat," Spock could not resist asking. "Was it ... as reported by the media? Or was it ... otherwise?"

Sloat was silent for a moment, then made a noise very similar to one his own father made on occasion. "Otherwise, Spock. Most assuredly ... otherwise."

No wonder nothing had fazed this group.

* * *

At the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, the sunset was painting the walls and canyons a spectacular combination of violet and orange. A husband gave his wife another kiss. They were just down the trail from a large group of observers.

"You were afraid, were you not?" Spock asked as he enjoyed the pleasure of holding his wife close while they viewed the sunset's glory.

"Very. But no longer." She stepped back closer into his embrace.

They had been speaking frankly for some time with very positive results. The honeymoon was not about to be prematurely canceled, nor were any activities going to be curtailed. This had been largely due to a story he had told his wife.

When Spock returned to Shi-Kahr from Gol, he had visited T'Pau. His grandmother saw visions of what was to come at times, and he was hoping for guidance. Spock apologized for all the past events and admitted that he now knew his Vulcan blood ran thin, as she had told him that day on the sands. To his surprise, T'Pau had stated that so long as he realized that two kinds of blood made him who he uniquely was, he would do well with his life. Even she had come to learn it was impossible, no, illogical, to think otherwise.

And then she had further surprised Spock by telling him of a vision she had about him. He was with his wife, and they were at a great canyon on Terra, with forests at its rim. But the astonishing part of the puzzle was that the woman was Terran, with dark hair and fair skin. One who served with him. And with a hint of a twinkle in her eye, the old woman leaned forward and told him that he, Spock of Vulcan, had given his wife a very public shok at this place, during a time when the sun was at its most magical. This was surely a sign that his bond had sweetness, T'Pau finished.

Spock protested that he did not know such a Terran woman and how could he not marry someone from his world? And how could he do so un-Vulcan a thing as show emotion, in public yet? T'Pau had told him that his Vah'ren waited for him across the stars and that all things would be revealed in time. She did not disapprove of that which was inevitable. And that was that.

"I had planned to tell you this evening anyway, when the sun was setting, my beloved," he said. "Because that is the time she saw, I presume. I am sorry if events of the day may have affected things between us. I hope you now understand that all is as it is meant to be." And with that he kissed her again. She had ceased resisting some time ago. Thoughts of the night ahead were soon filling both of their minds.

"You've already kissed me just as your grandmother saw," she said playfully. "What was that for?"

"Practice makes perfect, I believe."

* * *

Vegas! Then California

In the grey predawn light of Thursday morning, a group of StarScouts was making its way down the North Kaibib Trail. They would descend more than 6,000 feet before reaching Phantom Ranch on the Canyon's floor later that afternoon for an overnight stay at the campsite there. The next day they'd cross the Colorado River on one of its famous suspension bridges, then traverse the wide Tonto Plateau and eventually switchback slowly and carefully up the Bright Angel Trail to arrive at the South Rim. Untold thousands of hikers had made the Rim to Rim journey over the centuries. This particular group was based in San Francisco and had several offworld members in its troop. A cloud of youthful testosterone surrounded the entourage.

"Man oh MAN, did you see those two? I didn't think folks their age even remembered how to kiss!" The group leader laughed, the sound echoing off the canyon's walls.

"Aw, Tim, they weren't THAT old. My parents are older then that."

"Easy for you to say, you're Andorian, you moron," a third voice joined the fray good-naturedly. "You're seventy five years old in Terran terms."

"So? I'm still a teenager. Read your science holo, black hole brain."

"Yeah, but he was a VULCAN! I didn't think Vulcans ... did it! But he sure knew how to suck the face off her. You think they're married?"

"Naah, never. Way too hot. You only get action like that when it's an affair. Hey, speaking of Vulcans, you're being awfully quiet over there, Mister Slikk. C'mon, you grew up with Stark. Sure, he's half Deltan, but come on, dude, spill! I never knew Vulcans tongue tangoed! Don't you guys have some weird kind of mind sex, but only once every seven years or so?"

Slikk gave them the enigmatic look of serenity so common to those of his people, the same look that made women of every race find him incredibly attractive. "It could be said that the term 'Vulcan Heat' is not entirely ... a misnomer..."

"No wonder he pulls all the chicks."

"Ahhh, what can we do?"

* * *

From their secluded (but obviously not secluded enough) vantage point on the rim trail, Spock peered down the path after the group of youths.

"It is a very good thing they did not happen upon us last night," he remarked, pulling his wife closer against him on the bench.

"But the moon was new, that's why we came here, to see the Milky Way. Or so you said, Mr. Vulcan night vision." Christine, who'd never been known to welsh on a bet, paid back in full the night before under the midnight black, starry canopy of the desert sky.

"True. And the evening temperature drop is quite substantial here, otherwise I would have most happily returned the favor." He pulled his wife to her feet and they moved towards the rail. "The sun is beginning to make an appearance. That is most welcome, for I find it quite cold." He blew his breath out in a frosty puff.

"You took care of that later, my love, if you recall?" Spock's ears were covered by his knit cap, but she knew they flushed. Oh my, had he taken care of things. "It can be below freezing any time of year, especially at this hour. That's why I insisted we pack for a wide range of weather conditions. Once we hit the Arizona strip and head into Nevada, it'll get very hot, very fast." She snuggled back against him, sharing body warmth.

They watched the sunrise in companionable silence, then Spock turned her in his arms and gave her another mindblowing kiss.

"I thought we took care of fulfilling your grandmother's vision last night, remember?" Christine traced the outline of his lips, warming them anew.

"Not precisely. She stated that the sun was at its most magical. That could be construed as sunset, or sunrise. So I thought it best to cover both categories ... adequately."

"Mmm. Very adequate indeed. Now come along, we need to hit the road if we want to be at Hoover Dam by the appointed time." Spock had arranged a sunset tour of the facility, something they were both looking forward to seeing.

* * *

"This has been the most sparsely populated area of the state for centuries," Christine stated as she pulled into the trading post at Moccasin. "We're traveling down some byroads that have been untouched since the 20th century, it seems. And until the bridges were built across the Colorado River, the only safe way across the Canyon was via Marble Canyon, up by Lees Ferry, and then back down again. Unless you wanted to be pulled across the river in an overhead cage. Of course, there's still no easy way around the distance today if you're not on a mule's back. But the scenery's worth the trip, I think.

"I agree, quite beautiful land. And the history of how the Canyon was developed is quite an engineering feat. Are we now in Paiute territory, then?" Spock asked as they entered the old building.

"Welcome. Yes, you are now in the land of the Kaibib Paiute Nuwuvi and we are pleased to have you visit." A native woman greeted them from behind the counter. "My people once lived from here to the California border and beyond. The Paiute's various bands still have reservations in the area."

"Are these prickly pears?" Christine asked as she sniffed a bright orange elongated fruit.

"Yes, my auntie was visiting relatives down south and brought them. They're fresh from the Tohono Reservation, near Tuscon."

"Wonderful. I'll take a pound." What an unexpected treat, she thought.

The woman wrapped the odd shaped fruits in a paper bag. "Are you traveling far?" she asked.

"We're headed to Las Vegas then flying on to California," Christine replied. "We've been all over Arizona and Utah as well."

"Such a wonderful adventure," the clerk sighed. "I hope you have enjoyed it."

"We have," Spock replied. "It is our honeymoon and the journey has been quite spectacular so far."

"Your honeymoon? Then you must have a wedding basket!" She hurried off and soon returned with a small, delicately made example woven of local grasses. "This is a Paiute wedding basket, meant to stay in the living space of the bride and groom for the length of their marriage. Please, you must take this as my gift to you."

"Are you sure?" Christine replied, looking over the beautifully woven patterns of the vessel. "Really, you do not have to."

"I insist," the woman said with a smile. "It shall bring goodness to your union. I can tell you are from far beyond here. Maybe when you are among the stars again, you shall remember my people, who told stories of the North Star and the Dog Star thousands of years ago to our children."

Spock looked down at his t-shirt, which was the humorous Starfleet version Leonard had given both of them as a wedding gift. That would explain her statement. He remembered something he had read. "I have heard of your people's tale of how Na-gah, the mountain sheep, climbed the highest peak to please his father Shinnoh and could not return from his journey, so was made the North Star, that which does not move to this day."

"The star by which travelers here still can find their way." She smiled broadly as she handed over the wrapped basket. "Have a safe journey. May your marriage bring you much happiness."

"Where do you learn all this trivia?" Christine asked in amazement a she stowed their purchase in the trunk. She tossed the bag of prickly pears in the back seat. "Even I didn't know that one."

"Vulcan travel guides, the ones you doubted even existed, are exceptionally well-researched."

"Why am I not surprised?" she laughed.

* * *

Once they crossed the border at Mesquite, the temperature began to skyrocket. The layers of clothing needed at altitude were soon dispensed with. A hot breeze was gusting across the road to greet them, stirring up dust devils in its wake.

"I gather there is not much silver being mined these days," Spock commented after he had read the welcome sign.

"Except in Las Vegas, no."

"Ah yes, mankind's monument to excess."

"Watch it, or you'll be walking there."

* * *

"Yes, definitely a peregrine," Christine said as she looked through the binoculars. "The feather stippling is more delicate than the hawk's, and the wingspan is about right." She shook her head in amazement. "They were once almost extinct in this part of the world."

She and Spock were standing on a slickrock overlook above Lake Mead's northern arm near Overton Beach on Hwy.169. The bird was making soaring ascents and then freefalling at a remarkable speed in its attempts to hunt.

"The Mediterranean falcon, commonly known as the Maltese of Mr. Bogart's fame, was the rent Charles V required of the Knights Hospitalier in 1530 for the possession of Malta," Spock noted as he watched the majestic creature take flight once more. "One Maltese falcon per year."

"I am well and truly impressed, Spock. That can't have come from a Vulcan guidebook. Where do you get all this information?" Christine was astounded at the unending series of facts her husband seemed to pull from thin air.

"I had ... much free time in years past, in which I studied the history of various cultures," he said as he pulled her into an embrace. His lips found her own in a pleasant diversion. "Perhaps we might make use of the beach here?" he asked after a moment.

"No, I'd rather go on to Echo Bay. The water's not always safe, and this is Lake Mead, not your family's land. The Park Service makes regular patrols. Sorry, rain man, no naked swim."

"Yes, one of the largest man made lakes in the country," Spock replied as he pressed himself closer against her, rock hard with need. "The Park Service would not necessarily find us if we were at that inlet below. There is ample time for a ... swim. I want you, Christine. And it is plain you want me also." He let a finger trail down the front of her abdomen. "Shall we indulge?"

She kissed him back with equal ardor, about to be convinced of a delightfully naughty interlude, when a sudden noise startled them. A combination of a laugh and a sob, it cut through the hot morning air.

"SONSABITCHES!" Christine yelped as she broke free from Spock's arms. "Scat! Goway! GETOUTTAHERE!"

Her husband stood for a moment, bewildered, as he watched his wife take off running for the jeep, where a group of perhaps a half dozen wild burros were perusing the interior. He was further amazed to see one of them neatly lift the bag of prickly pears and move off at a fine trot. Then he remembered his own legs and sprinted towards the commotion.

The sight of the burros surrounding his wife was almost comical. They certainly were not vicious, in fact, they were nudging her as if wanting to be petted. The beasts obviously did not fear people, unlike the groups of bighorn sheep and wild mustangs seen observing their vehicle warily from a distance earlier Spock remembered reading about the packs of wild equiades, apparently descended from the original ones brought by the region's numerous miners over the centuries.

"Go 'way," she was saying miserably, but the burros, used to centuries of human contact, continued to plaster her with licks and kisses. "Shoo?" she finally asked.

A gunshot was heard close by. What the hell? Christine did what any Terran would, despite the fact violent crime had been all but obliterated. She launched herself onto the dusty ground just away from the seething pace, who began moving away in the opposite direction rather hurriedly.

"Christine? Are you all right?" Spock was pulling her to her feet a moment later. "You are not injured, T'hyla?" he asked as he embraced her.

"Spock, someone's shooting at us and you're asking if I'm fine? We have to get out of here!" She thought somehow they had intruded on a mining claim; local legends were filed with this scenario, and the crotchety old miners were reputedly quick with a gun even today.

"I believe things are quite as normal, " he said mysteriously.

"Howdy folks! You all right?" a friendly, weathered voice asked.

Christine spun around to see an elderly gentleman, the very picture of a desert denizen, seated astride a fine white mule with a pack burro following. He held an air rifle across one arm, which he holstered before he spoke again.

"I'm Sparks Sam," he said pleasantly as he shook their hands, "and this here's Whitey and Pete. I keep an eye on them wild burros for the government, been doin' that since I can remember. Each year there's a big ol' roundup, where most get caught and sent off to farms and homes and such, but the orneriest, smartest 'uns allus manage to slip away. And then they breed more smart'uns like those you met. I tranquilize 'em and tag' em so them buurry-crats and science types can watch their wanderin's. That p'ticular band o' varmints likes to bushwack unsuspectin' tourists like yourselves, lookin' for snacks."

"Oh," Christine said, thinking of her prickly pears.

"They're right harmless, but they can get a might too lovable for most folk's taste. You headed to Vegas?"

"Yes, via Echo Bay."

"Well, pack all your stuff in the trunk. I've never met a burro can open one yet! Safe journey!" And with a wave of his hand, the colorful old man was off in a cloud of dust after the group of Brighty's descendants.

"Why do I feel like we’ve hit a time continuum?" she grumbled as they got back into the jeep. The amorous mood had evaporated into the stifling desert air.

"Perhaps we have, my love. I, for one, am enjoying it, though." Spock gave his wife a kiss, a promise for later, and they headed down the highway once more.

* * *

"Really, Christine, I must insist you stop believing everything your superior has told you about Vulcans. He is clearly misinformed." Spock grabbed his wife's lycra-clad posterior, admiring the curves the bathing suit revealed, and pulled her so close even a minnow could not pass between them.

"But Len says the medical texts state Vulcans cannot swim due to some type of center of gravity issues. You know, inner ear and balance." She didn't even bother struggling, it felt too good.

The cool waters of Lake Mead were a welcome respite from the increasing heat of the Nevada desert. The resort of Echo Bay had grown considerably from its somewhat shady beginnings as a getaway for the rather colorful characters who ran the Las Vegas gambling business in the 1950's. They were swimming at a well-maintained public beach near a good-sized marina, though at its more deserted end. The area hummed with activity, even for a Thursday.

"I believe I have just shown you otherwise," he insisted, giving a gentle thrust of his hips to indicate he was looking forward to something else. "As you can now see, I am knowledgeable in the sport of swimming. My parents took me to Kwil'nor when I was young, and both instructed me quite well."

"But you're only--"

"Christine, if Vulcans cannot swim, how do you suppose they are able to sail? If the ear malady was so severe, chances are we could not fly, either, or go into space. There is such an affliction, true. It is genetic and affects a small portion of the populace, much the same as with humans." His eyes were full of merriment. He loved to tease his wife. "Now what other myths must I dispel? We have already dispensed with those concerning meals, conversations and aquatic activities."

But Christine was not about to give up so easily. "You claim Vulcans don't snore. Well, I can tell you, they most certainly do."

"May I remind you, I am also--"

"Nope, I've heard a full blooded Vulcan sawing logs, and not quietly either. As a matter of fact, he and his son sent up quite of crescendo in my sick bay a few years back." She grabbed his own rear, delighting in the reaction she got.

"It must have been due to the crude drugs your superior insisted we be given," Spock countered, in defense of his family's honor.

"Uh-huh. Right." Her hand slid below the waistband of his swimming trunks and found something waiting for her. "Well, here's another myth gone out the proverbial window, but a human one. I can see the cold isn't necessarily a ... deterrent. Hold that thought for later, will you?"

"How about right now?" His eyebrow raised seductively.

"Spock, we are in a public place. Do you have some kind of death wish?" She hrrmphed but did not stop what she was doing. "What is it with you Vulcans and water? All I have to is pour myself a glassful and we shut off the comm unit for the rest of the day."

"Why would I wish to cease living at this particular moment?" His hand had also found a way to occupy itself. "You are quite correct, I find the combination of the water's texture and wetness combined with certain physical activity very erotic. It would please me to continue as we are doing. Our actions are well below the waterline, so we simply appear to be enjoying the lake and ... conversing." He drew his breath in sharply as her caresses increased.

"Yeah, conversing," she laughed as his other hand subtly found the contact points on her face and drew her down on his shoulder. How more unVulcan could things get? Was her husband really going to do this? Was she really going to let him?

Some time later, she realized the answer was yes.

* * *

"And you say Terrans visit this city for a vacation?" Spock asked as he continued to scroll through his PADD.

"It's been the most popular destination for several centuries now and has even spawned its own resort planet, so yes, I think so," Christine replied. "Why wouldn't they?"

"From the plethora of activities available, it would seem a restful break is not the goal of its visitors," he said with a frown. "How can a logical choice be made from so many offerings?"

Christine looked out at the lake and felt a cool breeze wash over their outdoor table. The resort's restaurant was a very nice spot for a lunchbreak, and she was grateful for a some downtime before they continued their journey. She sighed to herself. Had they really just had a romantic interlude underwater? Yes, she realized, feeling some last vestiges of pleasure whisper to her, they had. Thankfully, no one was in the immediate vicinity, even if the activity had been manually done under the lake's cool waves. So much for her fears.

"Have you any suggestions, then?" Spock's voice brought her back to reality. She took the proffered PADD and began to look through the list of events for the next twenty four hours.

"Hoover dam this evening, dinner somewhere, and then I'll show you the 'Strip'. As for tomorrow, what do you feel like doing? We fly out at 14:00 for the Vandenberg Shuttleport."

"I noticed a chocolate factory near the airport, quite a renowned one, apparently, so I presume we shall have time to visit before our flight? I should like to send some home to my parents."

"Ethel M, ooh, yes!" One of their common likes ... and delights. Come to think of it, were there any of Amanda's brownies left in that luggage shipment she'd sent ahead to San Francisco? "There are a couple of interesting things to see at the UNLV campus, so maybe we can go there early tomorrow morning when it's still cool. I don't suppose the Liberace Museum or Elvis-o-Rama are quite what you'd like?"

He raised an eyebrow as he continued eating his vegetarian wrap.

"OK, scratch that, I can't stand either place myself. Hmmm. Cirque du Antares, Celine Dion in holo, Follies a la Wrigleys, The All Galaxy Male Review, Ice Fantasia. I'd rather just hit some casinos this evening for baccarat. Ah! What about this for tomorrow? It leaves at 09:00." She handed the PADD back.

"Indeed. That seems to be quite a fascinating choice, and only three hours in length. I propose we take in that activity. It should prove enjoyable, I believe."

"Great. I'll book it once we get to our hotel. Shall we head off then, lake man?" She gave him a wicked smile and watched his eartips turn that delightful shade of chartreuse.

* * *

"Here we are, Hwy 147. I'll take you in the back way." Christine turned the now dust covered jeep down a secondary spur. "Hoover Dam's just further down the road we were on. This evening we'll go down the Boulder Highway."

She and Spock were likewise covered in a fine patina of desert grit. The wind had kicked up, bringing more dust devils with it. After the coolness of the mountains, the staggering heat was akin to entering a blast furnace.

As the Strip began to appear, Spock's eyebrows raised, right on cue. Christine suspected even the well-written Vulcan guides had not adequately described such a totally illogical destination, though Vulcans were known to enjoy their gambling, in a logical way, of course.

Christine pulled the jeep into the New York, New York's parking lot and handed the keys to a valet who unloaded their luggage without turning a hair. Evidently, the sight of desert rats emerging into civilization was a common one in these parts.

"Is this a hotel?" Spock finally asked. “It would appear to be a small city."

"It's a resort hotel, and there are others bigger. I thought this would be a nice introduction to New York for you. You've never been, have you?"

Spock shook his head, looking at the replica of the Brooklyn Bridge they were crossing to enter the lobby. "Fascinating."

* * *

From their room high above the Strip, Spock, clad only in a towel, was contemplating the vista before him. The sun was still out but the lights were on regardless. Their twinkling intensity was quite a staggering sight.

"Interesting view, huh?" Christine asked as she joined him, running her fingers through her damp tresses. The process of washing off layers of desert dust and lake mineral deposits had never been more pleasant given the huge double bath tub their room contained. "Hard to believe it was once an inland sea, let alone a swamp."

"Indeed, but not as beautiful as the view before me." He kissed her bare shoulder above the towel she wore. "It is a pity we must depart so soon," he sighed.

"After that little swimming lesson in the bath? You've got to be joking. Oh, scratch that, Vulcans do not joke." She yelped as a hand found contact with her posterior, under the terrycloth.

"Not now, lake man," she said firmly. "I can tell you, with this heat, I'm going Vulcan this evening. Those cool layers are smart, because we'll be going from stifling to chilled all evening. I'd suggest you do the same?"

"I had thought so as well. This climate is similar to that in Shi-Kahr, though cooler."

"Let's see, what about dinner. There's supposed to be every kind of food available here, so... Computer? Eating establishment list for Las Vegas area." She walked over to the monitor.

"Working. Type of food?"

Christine threw Spock a whimsical look. "I don't know. How about... Vulcan?"

"Selaya View Cafe, specializing in Vulcan Southwest fusion cuisine."

They exchanged a surprised look. "Computer, location?" Christine asked.

"Boulder City, Nevada."

"That is where we are headed next, I believe," Spock remarked with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you wish to make reservations?" the computer asked.

"Affirmative," Christine replied with no hesitation.

"Time?"

"21:00" Spock stated. "Party of two. Chapel."

* * *

Christine finished putting on her Vulcan made gold necklace and earrings. They contrasted nicely with her pale blue trouser tunic ensemble, and the Ute hair ornament picked up the azure tone nicely.

"You look beautiful, my wife," Spock told her, well pleased with what he saw.

She turned. He was resplendent in a darker blue casual Vulcan suit, embroidered with golden designs at its border. He held out his arm. "Shall we go, then?"

They entered the mirrored elevator for the almost sublight journey to the lobby. Their fellow passengers were an elderly Rigellian couple and some giggling young Japanese women.

*Take your hand off my butt!*

*My hand is nowhere near your gluteus maximus, my wife.*

*The heck it isn't!*

*That remains a matter of perception. Yours. And mine.*

* * *

"A most remarkable piece of construction," Spock said.

"Yes, it was deemed one of the wonders of its time," Christine replied.

They were parked at a vista point above Hoover Dam after their tour. The last remnants of the sunset were painting the western horizon a vivid red orange, while the sky above them was darkening to blue violet. Far below, the lights from Hoover Dam were dancing across the placid waters of Lake Mead.

"I am glad we could be here together." He drew her closer against him and they enjoyed the silent splendor of the view.

Christine heard a song in her head, one she knew well but could not recognize. The words came to her unbidden.

"I was a dam builder ... across the river deep and wide... Where steel and water did collide... A place called Boulder, on the wild Colorado..."

With a start, she realized this was Boulder on the wild Colorado, and the dam sung about was the one she was seeing. She shivered. Spock drew her instinctively closer against him.

As if from nowhere, a squadron of starfighters screamed overhead, breaking the sound barrier as they returned to Nellis Star Base, which was nearby. The sight was somehow comforting, somehow acknowledging something?

"I fly a starship ... across the universe divide..."

She drew a deep breath of recognition. At that same moment, Spock turned her in his arms and held her close. It felt as though the final pieces of an ages old puzzle were clicking together, at last. One begun not that long ago, on a night aboard the Enterprise as they listened to the haunting song, "Highwayman," which outlined both of these scenarios.

"Vah'ren," she whispered.

"Soulmate," Spock replied, just as he had before. "What is it?"

"I felt ... something like that night on the Enterprise. Something familiar." Her lip trembled.

"As did I. But what troubles you, my Vah'ren? This is not something to fear." He held her closer, allowing his love for her flow through their link.

She took a deep breath. "Spock, I have never asked you this, but now, I somehow feel the need to know. Why ... why did you look at me the way you did when you came back to the Enterprise? What had I done to make you hate me so?" To her horror, tears spilled over her lashes and began to course their way down her face.

His fingers wiped the salty rivulets from her cheeks. "Oh my beloved, I wondered why you had not spoken of this. Well, I shall tell you." He drew her even closer, if that was possible, so they were face to face, breath to breath, katra to katra.

"I had visited my grandmother, as you know, and I had also spoken to my father about possibly courting you. But I presumed you were far from the Enterprise and we might make contact somehow. Then I came on board and glimpsed you.

"Your smile unnerved me. There I was, trying to comprehend what lay ahead after the strictness of Gol, and I viewed you, there on board, and with your dark tresses. Suddenly it all made sense, and I was filled with joy. A terrible joy that threatened to overwhelm me, because I was frightened at how pleased I was to see you again. And there was the possibility that my grandmother's vision was coming true. It was all too much for me. And of course, my stubborn Vulcan side kicked in and I reacted in the only way I knew how. I closed down. Hence, the look I gave you."

He paused to wipe the last vestiges of tears from her skin. Then, as an afterthought, he followed their trail with his lips.

"It all happened so quickly, beloved. Before I knew what happened after V'Ger, you had left the ship. I was lost, for I had planned to speak to you of things, but there was no opportunity. I meditated on this loss for some time and made my decision to find you. Then, as if by a miracle, Jim said you were returning, as McCoy's ACMO. And the joy I felt before came back a thousandfold. Only this time, I did not run from it. I decided to face what I did not know and see what challenges ... and delights ... it might hold.

"And now I have you."

He kissed her then, and his lips were not made of ice, as she had first wondered, but of a pure blue flame that threatened to ignite everything in its wake.

"I love you, Christine, as un-Vulcan a thing it may seem to hear, but know in my heart that I simply do, unquestioningly."

"And I love you as well, Spock, as much of a contradiction in terms as it may be."

He gave her another kiss, then turned to lead her back to the jeep.

"Now, my wife, let us go and sample what is masquerading as Vulcan cuisine in this city, shall we?"

And the last puzzle pieces slid together with a soft click.

* * *

"Greetings, be'hai'la! I am the T'sai T'Pree and my family and I welcome you to our restaurant."

"Thank you, kasu T'Pree," Spock replied. "We are honored to be here."

The middle aged Vulcan matron led them to a corner table that afforded a pleasant view of the far wall, which bore a fine hand-painted mural of the cafe's namesake, Mt. Seleya. They also passed some framed photos of Stark, one the obligatory champion's shot of him biting his gold medal, and another of him with his parents and the restaurant's staff.

"May your yhet-avon be satisfied. Where are you from?" she asked as she handed them menus with both Vulcan and English listings.

"I am Spock, son of Sarek, and this is my wife, Christine."

The woman raised an eyebrow slightly. "Of course. Your parents dined with us some years ago, when our locale was in Las Vegas proper. They spoke of you quite highly." She looked at Christine now. "I believe we have a common acquaintance. It was she who told me you might be traveling in this area on your honeymoon. In fact I only recently had a communication from her. The T'sai T'Ser?"

"Yes, a fine person," Christine said. "How do you know her?"

"It is a familial connection of sorts. You know her niece, T'sai T'Jen, I gather? Her husband, the manager of the Tav'Sal'Naya Hotel, is my own husband's nephew, the son of his brother."

"Yes, she helped plan our bonding ceremony, something she's quite capable at, it seems. Let me see," Christine paused and thought a moment. "Then is your husband a chef also? As his brother is at the Vulcan Consulate in New York City? T'Ser mentioned that."

"He is, but these past weeks he has been assisting on Vulcan with the festivities for Stark's homecoming. If all goes well, he shall return in five more days. But surely you are hungry, so I shall let you select your meal. Later, if it is amenable, perhaps we might speak more?"

"That would be fine, T'sai," Spock replied, somewhat amazed at the connections his wife had obviously made during their stay on Vulcan.

* * *

"Good evening," the young Vulcan waitress said as she took their menus. "What may we prepare for your endmeal?"

"To begin, for me, the Yarmok Sierra Nevada," Spock said, then looked at his wife.

Christine kept a straight face, though she felt she was blushing to the roots of her hair. "Plomeek soup with red corn and Monterey Jack cheese," she managed to get out without stuttering. She could feel Spock's initial shock, then his relaxation. He was well aware she enjoyed the dish, but still apologized at least once a day for hurling it at her all those years ago.

"Then the mixed mesquite grilled vegetable balk'ra for us both. And the savas masu of the day to drink, with some mineral water for mixing."

"Very good," the young woman said as she finished making notes on her PADD. She was as proficient as the best of T'Jen's catering staff, Christine thought.

"Don't, Spock." Christine smiled at her husband as she covered his hand with hers. "You already apologized today. I really do like plomeek soup, and this version sounds quite unusual."

Spock stroked her fingers affectionately. "Yes, my beloved, though it was still a surprise. Perhaps you might share some with me?"

"I'll think about it."

* * *

"This juice is delicious," Christine remarked as she finished her drink after their meal. The mineral water made the taste even more potable. The yellow-orange pulp was sweet and strong, not unlike a papaya. "What fruit is it from?"

Spock hesitated.

"It is Vulcan, isn't it? But it's not the one your mother served most mornings, that was almost like orange juice. This is different. I really like it. What's the name?" She had another sip and looked at Spock over the rim of the glass.

He cleared his throat. "It, em, er, comes from the fruit of the yon savas."

If Christine thought she was blushing before, the flames she felt in her face now confirmed she was turning the color of a beet, contrasted only by the green bean like color her husband was sporting. They might have made an interesting side dish.

"The--"she began, then choked, swigging more of the very juice they were speaking of.

Spock nodded. "Yes, my wife. The juice of the fire fruit I mentioned on Vulcan. The selection here varies daily, and yon savas was obviously today's choice. However, I believe I have a preference for the ... Terran variety."

"SPOCK!"

He just gave her the Vulcan version of a smile.

* * *

T'sai T'Pree soon appeared with a plate of delicate looking cookies and some glasses of iced Vulcan tea. "May I join you for some moments?" she asked. "For I know you must have questions." Spock pulled out a chair for her.

"We have been here at Boulder City for three years," she explained as they had dessert. "Before that the restaurant was just off The Strip. But it became known that many Vulcans were visiting the dam towards the end of the day, to view the sunset, so we thought it logical to move here. A nice destination for endmeal, and just far enough out of town to be a peaceful place to dine."

"How did you decide on Las Vegas?" Christine asked as she selected another cookie. It reminded her of the ones T'sai T'Ser had served that afternoon they met.

"We originally were attached to the San Francisco Consulate, in the kitchen, of course. This would be just after your father returned to Vulcan, Spock. Word came to us that many Vulcans were now traveling to this area and a cafe might be a logical business to open. We did so and it has been quite successful."

"I should imagine your business has increased after Stark's victory," Spock commented.

"It has almost trebled, yes. So much interest has been generated in Vulcan cuisine that my husband has offered some cooking workshops here for fellow opilsus from establishments Vulcan holidaymakers frequent. It would seem he cannot offer enough of them. Terrans also are beginning to enjoy our cuisine as well. And my son and daughter both are quite capable in the kitchen. They prepared your meal this evening."

"Indeed, it was most delicious," Spock replied. "Your family obviously has a bright future here."

"These cookies, they're very unique. T'Ser served me some that were quite similar. What are they made of?" Christine asked, indicating the powdered sugar covered small biscuits.

"They are from my family's recipe," T'Pree told her. "From my own mother. The nuts are a Vulcan version of a cashew. These are our most popular dessert here."

"And T'Ser, how is she? Would you send her my regards, please T'sai?"

"She is doing very well. In fact, she stated that things are going exceptionally smoothly with all of the festivities in Shi-Kahr of late. She has been attending many festive events herself."

Christine secretly hoped that the reason for T'Ser's increased social life was that distinguished older Vulcan gentleman she had seen escorting her about Shi-Kahr.

* * *

"Coup," the ladderman announced.

"Carte." Christine took the shoe and drew her two cards. Try as she might, she could not take her mind off the couple seated next to her. Where had she seen them before?

"Le Grande," the ladderman said when he saw her nine. "Madame?"

"Oui," Christine decided to play another hand. Spock, on the other side of her, was quite proficiently minding her growing pile of chips. By the looks of things, their trip to California would now allow for some extra special treats.

After dinner, she had given Spock a nighttime introduction to the daylight that was The Strip. The neon lights now stretched for many miles as hotel after hotel had taken over the desert floor. Tourists jammed the resort from every corner of the quadrant. It was nice for a brief visit, Christine decided, but she definitely would not live there, even if Spock enjoyed the climate more than she did.

"Carte," she said again and drew her cards. The player next to her, dressed in an odd combination of athletic styled gear, was clearly displeased with the way his evening was going. But she couldn't tell much more, since his Vulcan Heat cap was pulled down almost to his sunglasses. His chip minder was dressed as a typical Vegas Bimba a la Bombe in a skintight faux tiger skin jumpsuit and matching shades. Platinum tresses spilled from under a black headscarf.

"Banco," her opponent rasped. He was betting the store, it seemed.

She turned her cards up. Eight this time but still the highest hand. Her win again.

Who is he? Christine thought to herself as she waited for her chips. I know I've seen him.

*I believe that is Romo, the pop star. His companion is named Ahh-Mor. A Deltan film actress.*

Of course. Christine glanced back over towards the unusual couple and gave a wan little grin. "I'm folding. Maybe your luck will get better again soon."

"But why did you leave? You were winning!" Spock was confused. Christine was usually a piranha when it came to baccarat.

"Trust me, in about five minutes the galaxy's paparazzi will be swarming all over those velvet ropes. That's not my scene." As she was finishing her explanation, several journalist types pressed by them.

Spock raised his eyebrow. "I see."

* * *

"Now what would you like to do?" Christine asked as she finished counting her credits. She punched a code into a nearby bank machine and made a deposit.

"I propose we go to our room and divest ourselves of these garments," Spock said, extending his hand. "For what I have in mind, these are not at all appropriate."

What the heck was in that fruit juice, she wondered.

"Come along, my wife."

* * *

"OK, folks, arms legs inside the car at all times. Mind the safety bar!"

The roller coaster started climbing to the top of its track. From the summit, the lights of Las Vegas stretched on for miles. A hot breeze was stirring up the desert night. Christine slid her bare leg over her husband's, grateful he had logically insisted they change to shorts and t shirts. She kissed his ear in the dark.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked.

"Yes, Doctor, although I do not know why you insisted on injecting me with the anti-motion sickness hypo." He pretended to be stern, but she could feel his amusement. He slid an arm around her shoulders as the coaster reached the track's highest point.

Just a moment later, the galaxy turned delightfully upside down and inside out. If only she could be sure Spock was not calculating g forces as they went whooshing around the track. A Vulcan hand found its way onto a familiar part of her anatomy, dispelling that notion very quickly.

A great end to a great evening, Christine thought.

*The evening has not ended yet, my beloved.*

* * *

"It would appear to be a large flashlight standing 11.7 meters in height," Spock said thoughtfully as he surveyed the unusual sculpture.

"That's because it is a large flashlight," his wife replied. "I think it's called the 'Beacon of Knowledge' or similar."

The famous, though highly unusual landmark at the UNLV campus still stood gracing the top of the mall, where it had held court for some centuries now.

"Fascinating."

The early morning desert air was cool, well, relatively cool, and there was a great deal of bird and wildlife activity all over the campus. During their earlier walk through the University Arboretum's Xeric Garden, one of the pioneering examples of xeriscaping, they had seen roadrunners, squirrels, desert jays and an entire host of other small creatures. Spock had been impressed with the almost Vulcan-style landscaping of the drought-tolerant plants.

"But why a flashlight? And why is it mounted lens down?" he persisted.

Christine yawned, damning his logical brain for a second. They'd finally gotten to sleep at 04:00, just in time to get up for this harebrained dawn excursion, although it was proving most enjoyable.

"How the heck should I know? The artist, Claes Oldenburg, was a bit of an envelope pusher back then. The benefactor wanted his work commissioned and gave an endowment. Actually, this is quite tame for Claes' style. He also did a giant lipstick sculpture for someone. He collaborated on this particular work with another artist, Coosje van Bruggen. Who knows what they were thinking back in 1978? Come on, let's head out of here, they'll be by for us before we know it."

They wandered back the jeep across the surprisingly dew-laden campus, enjoying the last of the desert's coolest time under the shade of numerous trees. In an hour, it would already be quite toasty. Spock contentedly draped an arm around his wife's waist.

"What a pity we could not also do a side trip past Yucca Flat on your highway 375. It is supposedly quite an amazing landscape." His tone was droll.

Christine raised an eyebrow. Had all those roller coaster rides affected his brain? They'd finally been kicked off the thing at 03:45, and that was after they rode several times with the staff once it was officially closed. Their mutual shared fantasy, one she never mentioned to him until then, the roller coaster kiss, had well and truly been experienced. Hwy. 375? What was he playing at?

"Spock, I find it difficult to believe that a logical Vulcan such as yourself would want to take a ride down the ... Extraterrestrial Highway past the old Area 51. Really now!"

"But would it not be logical to glimpse the birthplace of sublight speed?" he countered, a naughty twinkle dancing in his eyes. "I have only seen it from the holos at the Science Academy."

"Don't tell me the Vulcans were there before Cochrane's initial flight?" Before first contact had been made?

"Let us say that the fledgling Terran spaceflight program was ... carefully observed from a discreet distance for many generations prior to Dr. Cochrane's earliest experiments," he replied, thinking back to that mysterious encounter on the planet. Before the landing party departed, he and the scientist discussed many things, including Cochrane's feeling that there had been 'watchers' around long before he'd even built his first model rocket as a youth. "The attempts out at Peenemunde, for example. Although the only observation of Terrans was from old styled radio and television broadcasts that were intercepted and studied."

"What did they think of humans back then?" she asked as they stopped under a pindo palm tree's whispering fronds.

"That they appeared to be an emotional, passionate race." He kissed his wife quite thoroughly there on the secluded path. "And I agree with their initial impression."

* * *

"They promised only six on the tour, which should be great," Christine said from where they waited in front of the New York, New York's monolithic skyline. She gave Spock a delighted smirk. "I am so looking forward to this."

Soon the rest of their party joined them. Two other couples, humanoid definitely, but not necessarily Terran. This would be interesting. Christine wondered what their perceptions would be. They seemed quite animated as well.

A few moments later, a Las Vegas Coroner's Office shuttlevan pulled up in the hotel's driveway. Two figures got out, both dressed in the familiar clothing associated with their line of work, emblazoned satchels over their shoulders.

"Hey folks. Welcome aboard the CSI tour. We'll be your guides for the next three hours, so let's get started!"

She turned to her husband with a raised eyebrow, feeling his obvious delight. He mirrored her look and extended his hand to help her get into the van.

"Catherine," he said solicitously.

"Gil," she harrumphed, with an expression her namesake most certainly would have given Griss.

* * *

"Greetings, Mother and Father. Christine and I have now reached Nevada. As this is an area where three of the four main desert ecosystems of this country converge, we have seen a fascinating array of animal and plant life, quite close up on some occasions. We are seated here at Hoover Dam, one of the architectural marvels of its time. The Seleya View Cafe, which is nearby, was a pleasant spot for an enjoyable endmeal. We have selected some chocolates from the Ethel M. factory to be sent to you, so be watchful for their arrival. From here, we are headed to California for a week. I trust all is well in Shi-Kahr. Live long and prosper, Spock and Christine."

* * *

"Hello T'Jen, we hope this finds you and your family well. Spock and I dined at your relative's cafe here in Nevada and it was a wonderful meal. We are enjoying Las Vegas very much. Spock and I are here at an overlook above Hoover Dam, which is a beautiful spot to watch the sun set. Please do give my special regards to your Ezyet T'Ser. Christine and Spock."

* * *

This Is My Town

Sarek glanced over the vidgram's contents a final time then closed the message.

"I would gather they are having an enjoyable honeymoon, my wife," he remarked. "Do you recall the fine meal we had at the Seleya View Cafe? And I look forward to trying those chocolates, which I believe are quite renowned in the western United American States." He indicated the object she held. "So what have we received today, then?"

Amanda finished untangling the windchime's strands, pleased it had arrived perfectly intact. The Cosanti Foundation bell, a beautifully patinaed shade of greenish grey, had an abstract design of the word "Arizona" at its top.

"This will sound quite pleasant in the garden's afternoon breezes, " she said with a smile.

Sarek came over to admire its austere beauty with her. "Indeed it shall. Perhaps I could assist you in hanging this properly, Aduna?" he asked.

* * *

Spock regarded his wife's sleeping form. She was dozing against the shuttle's window, oblivious to the world around her.

He pulled out his PADD and checked their itinerary. They would spend two nights at her family home, unoccupied at present, in Avila Beach before moving on to two nights at a small inn Christine had chosen nearby at Big Sur. After that, it was three nights in San Francisco, although the planning for this last part of the honeymoon had been his entirely. He glanced over the message from the Vulcan consulate. An informal reception was planned their second night in the city, but if Christine thought it would be a stuffy diplomatic affair, he knew otherwise. He actually looked forward to seeing her reaction to the evening's planned festivities.

Christine stirred in her sleep and slid further down the window she rested on. Spock pulled her back against her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her, relishing the simple physical contact of her sleeping next to him. It was something he enjoyed very much.

He was a bit tired as well. After the roller coaster marathon, they'd only had about an hour's nap before they left to see the UNLV campus at dawn. From there they went straight on the excursion. The CSI tour was a very interesting morning, covering the sights shown in the original series as well as visiting the new studios built to accommodate its growth once production space in California became expensively scarce. The series had eventually spawned more spinoffs in Honolulu, Buenos Aires, Moscow, Shanghai, the Martian Colonies, the Rigellian system, and a fictional starbase before it finally bit the dust, two and a half centuries in the running. The group also visited the Las Vegas coroner's office for a tour, the highlight of which had been the placing of a volunteer member in a body bag. He, of course, volunteered, with his wife being the attendant coroner. It was an unfamiliar experience, though he sensed the strength of their link as she zipped him closed for those seconds. A sobering few seconds.

After the tour, they'd gone on to the Ethel M. chocolate factory. Spock sent some chocolates off to his parents and his wife likewise sent some to her mother, and they bought some to take on to California. The grounds held a splendid cactus garden, which Christine insisted he see. She took great pains to point out the dozen or more examples of the prickly pear cactus, and indicated the variety from which the fruits, which the curious burros had made off with, were from. The garden was also the original site of an early ecosystem experiment, 'The Living Machine,' an acre of waste-consuming ecologies in tanks, marshes and reed beds which transformed wastewater into water clean enough to be used for landscape irrigation, now a very common phenomenon across the galaxy.

He pulled a small piece of dark chocolate out of his pocket and slowly unwrapped it, glimpsing the view below the shuttle. It appeared to be raining here, he surmised. Just as well. Christine had stated that apart from a visit to the local bar and grill where she worked during her college summers, she hoped they would have an early, restful night. Spock wasn't sure about restful, but early sounded fine to him. He chewed on the candy, savoring its bitterness, and silently thanked his mother for some of her genes. Although most Vulcans could not tolerate chocolate, Spock not only tolerated it, he positively enjoyed the stuff. The darker the better for his taste, a preference he'd discovered his wife also shared.

She opened her eyes and looked around. Obviously, the shuttle's descent had woken her. "Where are we?" she asked with a small yawn.

Before Spock could answer, the captain's voice came over the PA. "We're about five minutes out of Vandenberg, folks, and the weather's that misty foggy rain they get around here in the summer. Sorry about that. I should have you on the ground before you know it. Thanks for flying with us, and for those of you from the greater Central California Coast, welcome home."

The shuttleport, part of the much larger starbase whose storied history included the early U.S. space shuttle program, was glistening in the rain as they crossed the landing pad to the terminal.

"Bother," Christine grumbled, sidestepping a puddle. Drizzle? Who said drizzle? This was rain, period. Cold rain, not the kind to go romping in romantically.

"Is something wrong?" Spock asked his wife.

"I hadn't counted on this. Oh well," she shrugged and headed off to the car rental agency desk. The clerk took her details and processed the agreement, then handed her the keys.

"Too bad," he said. "But the front will be out of here by noon tomorrow. Where you headed?'

"Avila, then Big Sur, then San Francisco."

"Nice. You sure picked the appropriate model, even if it is raining, but the roof's as good as it always was. It'll keep you dry."

Spock followed his wife out to the parking lot. "Which one is ours?" he asked, expecting another sturdy jeep.

"Take a guess, Commander."

His gaze wandered over the vehicles then came to rest on a rather unusual vintage model. He raised an eyebrow.

"That's the one. I just wish it wasn't raining. Never mind, the top's up for now. Let's get going."

They made their way over to a perfectly restored 1966 Mustang convertible, fire engine red in color, complete with all the necessary accessories including sporty whitewall tires.

Spock ran his hand along the hood, the corner of his mouth firmly lifted. "Such autos cost a small fortune to rent, my wife. Surely you did not have to do this, although I do admit it shall be quite an adventure riding in it."

"Actually, my love, a good friend gave me some mad money for our honeymoon as a present and insisted I use it on a treat for the both of us, something we wouldn't ordinarily do." Christine remembered Amanda's unexpected gift to her on the gambling cruiser. "And I couldn't think of a better way to spend it. Hop in!"

"Mad money?" Spock asked as he adjusted the old fashioned seat belt. Another phrase to decipher. He thought he was almost proficient in Terran slang, but then his wife would throw new curve balls at him faster than the great Vulcan pitcher Shott.

"Means credits to spend in a totally illogical way, darling, with no worry about the cost," she laughed. "But don't worry, that's not what I normally do."

* * *

"Is that a giant clam?" Spock said, looking out the window at the sculpture.

"It's the namesake of this town, the Pismo clam, to be precise. Though it was very endangered a few centuries ago." Christine turned the car down a side lane and found a parking place, then they set off on foot down the town's well-preserved main street, still filled with souvenir shops and action sporting good vendors.

"Tivela stultorum. And pismo itself derives from the native word for 'tar', does it not? I gather this is still Chumash land."

"You and your trivia. I am still amazed every time you open your mouth," Christine laughed. "And yes, you are quite correct, they did live this far north, the Obispeno band. But they shared the territory with the Salinans, whose lands we'll pass through on the way up to Monterey. The tar, asphaltum, was used by both tribes to waterproof the insides of their baskets, which they used to carry water. The Chumash had villages up and down this part of the coast."

"And is there not a Monarch Butterfly grove just south of here?" Spock had obviously done his homework, very thoroughly by the sounds of it.

"Who writes these Vulcan guides? Do they actually travel everywhere?" Christine imagined groups of serious though adventuresome Vulcan researchers scouring the area, taking detailed notes. But how was the area described in the guide? "The grove you mention is the largest monarch habitat in the region. The butterflies spend their winters here every year, like clockwork and have done for centuries."

"Fascinating."

"Well, here it is the world famous Pismo Beach. Where poor Bugs was headed every time he got lost." She led Spock onto the pier through the soft rain.

"Yes, he took numerous wrong turns at Albuquerque, if I recall from my childhood." His mouth tugged upward again. "My mother made certain I had a proper Terran upbringing in addition to my Vulcan one." He looked out at the town's vista behind them. "Did you live here at all?"

"Only for about a month when my mom first arrived with me. We stayed with friends of hers on that hill behind us, until she found our own place out at Avila. Mom was already working at the hospital in San Luis, though. I went to elementary and high school in the district right here. And I hung out on this boardwalk most weekends when I was growing up." She pointed across the bay to another pier north of the one on which they stood. "That's Avila Beach over there. If you think Pismo is a small town, Avila's got that beat. It's minuscule, just the way we like it."

Some curious pelicans waddled towards them, then seeing there were no snacks to be had, took flight in their loping, clumsy way and circled towards some fishermen further down who obviously did not mind the weather either. The Pacific churned beneath the pier, foamy with the winds the storm generated.

"This will stir up the sand dollars," Christine said. "Tomorrow there'll be hundreds of them on the beach. Storms bring them up on shore." She eyed Spock. "Otherwise known as clypeasteroida. I always remembered the name because of the asteroid. Guess I was thinking about the stars even then."

* * *

Moondoggies' Beach Club, now in its fifth or sixth incarnation, was still wedged between a large souvenir store and a tattoo parlor, unchanged, it seemed, for centuries. Except the window now held the obligatory posters of Stark and a good selection of his snowboards and, of course, Vulcan Heat activewear.

"Hey Scoob," Christine said to the suntanned, surferesque clerk behind the counter who was busily perusing Galactic Boardsports on his computer.

"Chris? That you? I heard you were headed this way for a few days!" He then leaped over the counter and gave her a bear hug. "Welcome home, kiddo. Is this your husband?"

Christine extricated herself from his grip with a giggle. "Spock, this is John, otherwise known as Scoob. We went to school from kindergarten through senior high. Scoob, my husband, Spock."

"Cool, welcome. You're Vulcan, right?" he asked. "Man, I wish I could thank that cosmic dude Stark personally. My business has gone through the roof thanks to him. Suddenly everyone's into boarding and the mountains really aren't that far away, so it's a good thing. Plus there was a special on the other day. He's now into water surfing and something called sand sailing too, as a hobby. I'd love to take him kitesurfing around here, that's our big thing right now."

"Where's Imelda?" Christine looked over the home brand sweatshirts, unchanged for years, just like the one she had.

"School starts in a few weeks so she's at a teacher's meeting." John's wife taught fifth grade locally. "But will you be at Curls tonight? We're headed there."

"Definitely, and if I know Pops, I'll be tending bar." She laughed. "Just like the old days."

Spock was looking over the sweatshirts as well, remembering how he had found hers a comfort when she was ill from the betan lizard snake bite. How she had told him one day she'd show him this coast, and he'd vowed if only she got better, he would make that trip with her gladly. And now they were here. He selected a faded dark blue variety with the logo on the back.

"I should like to purchase this one," he told the clerk.

"Are you kidding? Consider it a wedding gift, my man. Hey, tonight maybe you can tell me about some of the places you've been. I always wanted to get into space, just couldn't get past the physics." He bagged the shirt and gave Christine a grin. "Later, folks."

* * *

"Now you're on my turf," Christine remarked as they passed the town limit for Avila Beach. She pulled onto a side street and went a short distance then turned into a driveway. "Here we are. Welcome to my home. Well, my home when I'm not in space, that is."

Spock followed her through a well-tended front garden, rich with flowers and greens, and up the steps to the porch of a 1950's era styled beach house. The ocean itself was perhaps three blocks away down the slope, with the pier out further around the bay. The setting was very pleasant.

"Hey Princess. Hi Missy." His wife had stopped to greet two friendly, lazy cats that were snoozing on a porch swing. "Guess your mama must be home, huh?" she walked over to the rail and stuck two fingers in her mouth for a piercing whistle, something Spock had long since gotten used to. "Beck-EEEEEE!" she yelled, "your gatas are here!"

A door slammed and an auburn haired woman slightly older than Christine came out of the house next door, carrying a basket. "Mija? Is that you?" she shouted back.

Spock's eyebrow raised as the women exchanged a hug and began speaking in Spanish, a language he was not familiar with. They obviously knew each other very well.

"Spock, this is our neighbor, Becky Ruiz. She and her husband Lou have lived here for twenty years and before that it was her family home." She looked into the basket. "What's this?"

"Avocado bread for your breakfast, corn muffins, and some veggies from the garden. The kids and grandkids did your mom's garden in flowers and plants while she's away and it looks great, but we've got plenty of vegetables. I cut some flowers this morning for the house." She offered a hand to Spock, which he took. "I'm Rebecca Ruiz, but it's Becky to everyone. I'm so glad to meet you at long last, Spock." Then she turned to the dozing felines. "Gatas!" she admonished, but they merely opened an eye each and yawned, then resumed their more important task, the nap.

"I hate to run but I'm just off to get Lou, his car's in the shop. I stocked you with the usual provisions so you should be set. See you at Curls later tonight?" she asked over her shoulder as she made a quick retreat.

"Absolutely."

Christine punched another entry code for the front door and they went inside the house. "Becky looks after the place now that Mom's away," Christine explained. "Her kids and grandkids use it as a base when the visit, and the cats kind of come and go between the houses, depending on who's in town. They'll be wandering around here, is that OK? Or else I can lock them out."

"Not at all, I enjoy Terran felines," Spock replied, glancing down at a plump brown tabby who was circling his legs in a purring figure of eight. "But may I ask, what 'Curls' might be?"

She pointed out the window down the hill to a dilapidated old wooden bar with its own dock. "Curls Surf Bar. Where we'll be this evening. I worked there three summers straight and vacations too. They make the best wood fired pizza in the state, I think."

Spock took in his surroundings. There was a large stone fireplace dominating the living room, which had an entertainment center, an overstuffed sofa and armchairs, a large colorful ethnic rug and polished wooden floors. Beyond that was a modern looking kitchen with traditional appliances. Clearly, his wife had honed her culinary skills here. A sliding glass door led to a brick patio surrounded by a very Terran garden. Becky had filled vases with fresh flowers from the backyard and their fragrances scented the house.

"We'll stay here, in my old room," Christine said as she took some bags inside a bedroom which had a splendid ocean vista. "But it's more grown up in its decor these days." She walked over to where her husband stood observing the rainy scene. The cats, now back in their familiar spot, gazed placidly back at him through the glass. "I'm starved. How 'bout some late lunch? I'll throw together a salad. We can eat out on the porch."

He knew by now that "throw together" meant to cook, though he still recalled his first reaction to the phrase. With a smile, he followed his wife into the kitchen.

* * *

"I am trying to picture the Chumash fishing in their tomols," Spock remarked as they sat and watched the rainy ocean out below the hill on which the house stood. "I would think the land was much the same as now. Why is this locale not as developed as the rest of the area?"

"Thanks to an early nuclear power plant which stood just on that outcrop there for centuries, no one wanted to live here." Christine pointed to the end of the bay. "And then right around the bend is Montana de Oro State Park, so a main road around this part of the coast just never got built, it cuts through San Luis instead. I, for one, am glad. So it really looks like it did when the Chumash were hauling their canoes onto the beach. There was a settlement here --permanent village life was their trademark. If it's nice tomorrow I'll show you an old acorn grinding site, where the women ground their meal. It's just up the hill behind us a little way, which is another reason we don't have many neighbors. It's state land starting at our garden's boundary."

They sat and watched the waves and circling seagulls, whose obnoxiously raucous cries drifted up the hill. Christine sighed happily. "How I've missed that sound."

"You spent time here during medical school, then?" he asked, drawing her closer against him, further displacing the cats who stubbornly refused to budge from the swing. They eyed the couple territorially from its other end.

"Whenever I could. It's not that far a drive, or I could hop a shuttle to San Luis. I came here after the five year mission ended too, before med school started, and it was a good restful time. This place can recharge the batteries."

"Then once we are settled in San Francisco, I hope we might visit regularly as well," he replied. "If your mother does not mind?" He wondered what conversations mother and daughter might have had here after the missions' end, and after Christine left the second briefly. Somehow he surmised he was the topic of many of those.

"Mind? She'd be delighted! But I'm warning you now, you'll be pressed into manual labor as soon as we arrive. Mom loves home improvements. Who do you think did most of the decorating here? The two of us. But I think we did an OK job." She found an eartip to tweak.

"I, too, enjoy working with my hands and would be happy to assist on any projects your mother might give me." He began exploring her cheek with his lips. "And I would especially like to do some manual work right now, my wife. But only with you."

"Come along, Commander, I thought you'd never ask," his wife said with a seductive laugh. "You're not the only one with fantasies to live out, you know." She raised her eyebrow. "This is, after all, my childhood home."

* * *

"Is this establishment similar to the Rusty Spur Saloon in Scottsdale?" Spock asked as they made their way down the road in the twilight drizzle.

"No, that's been touristified." Christine shook her head emphatically. "Curls is what it's always been, a local bar where the surfers and the locals hang out. The name is an surfing term." She smirked at her husband knowingly. "This is the real thing, full of atmosphere, characters and good drinks."

"Then I presume we shall have an enjoyable evening?" He stopped her for a moment, letting hand make contact with posterior. "But not too late, I trust? Did you not say you wanted an early night?"

"I said early and restful, dearest. You are so insatiable I'm beginning to wonder if you run on batteries that you recharge when you're sleeping." She wrapped her arms around his neck, reveling in the fact she was here, right now, with him and it was no dream. And this was following a dreamy late afternoon session back at the house...in the kitchen (when had Spock seen that old film 'Fatal Attraction,' she wondered), the shower, and finally in her own bed. Talk about good.

"Such batteries would not have had much opportunity to recharge lately, would they? So that presumption is quite illogical. I am simply, as you tell me..."

Christine decided a brief public kiss was better than a passerby hearing her husband describe himself as a ... well ... never mind.

"Here goes," she said as she pushed open the door.

"CHRIS!" An older grey bearded gentleman shouted her name so loud half the patrons turned around. "How the HELL are you?" he bellowed.

She made her way over to the bar, with Spock firmly in tow. "Hey Pops," she said. "I'm fine. And this is--"

"The old man! Spock, welcome to my establishment. I'm Pops. Just Pops. Glad you made an honest woman of our favorite doctor, but you did steal my best vacation bartender, you know!" He pumped Spock's hand vigorously, then gave Christine a crushing hug, her second of the day. Her husband was beginning to wonder if this was some uniquely local custom

"So, Chris, get behind this bar and pour some drinks, will you?" Pops handed her a barmaid's apron which she tied on with a practiced hand, then she positioned herself to take orders.

"What'll it be?" she asked her husband.

"Whatever you are having," he replied smoothly.

Damn him, she thought, he wants me to call the shots. OK, buster. Good thing she'd injected them both with three times the antitox needed for an evening's imbibing. Since they had arrived on Vulcan and then come to Terra, they'd not had a chance to have more than one drink, if that even, during the course of an evening. Not that they were drinkers at all, to be honest, but wasn't there some tradition somewhere that the bride and groom were allowed to get just a little toasted once? It was a short walk home and no plans for tomorrow, so tonight might be the night. Of course Spock claimed Vulcans didn't get drunk but she had a sneaking suspicion he was more human in that department than he wanted to admit in the past.

"Comet's tails ... to start." She reached for the bottle of Aldebaran whiskey.

* * *

The bar rapidly filled up, it being a Friday night. The mood was casual and friendly. Spock was soon introduced to several dozen of his wife's friends, most of whom seemed to know something about him. In short order, he was involved in a darts match.

"How are you, mija?" Becky asked her friend as she poured out a cadillac margarita for the both of them.

"I'm fine, but remember my last trip home? Who'd have thought this would be happening on my next one?" They clinked glasses and had a luxurious swig.

"I did," the woman replied a little mysteriously. "You know I get those feelings from my abuelita, may she rest in peace."

"Oh Becky, stop with all that Santeria mumbo jumbo." Christine now realized this was the third prediction she'd heard about her and Spock. Well, maybe the fourth, given the dreams she'd been having before she returned to the Enterprise the second time. Then she relented. "OK," she sighed. "What did you see in the cards?"

"Just a tall handsome stranger, the dark king, in your future." Becky gave her a wink. "And there he is, honey. That's some kind of Vulcan royalty! I am so happy for you, after everything, you deserve it. When does your mission end?"

"Three and a half years, most likely, then we head for San Francisco. But we'll be on Vulcan from time to time as well." Somehow this did not seem so terrifying a concept as it had been just a few days before.

"And that means you'll be down here to visit. That's good. The gatas miss you something awful, sweetie." She clinked glasses with Christine again. "And so do I."

* * *

Christine scanned the room for her husband. Pops was not kidding, she had been tending bar while he watched the Giants game with the usual suspects. Where was Spock? She saw him by the pool table, playing a game with Scoob and having a discussion about lord knows what. He'd been matching her for drinks and the score was tied at three apiece. She figured that was enough, but did he?

The vegetarian pizza she ordered arrived just as the pool game ended. Spock made his way over to the bar, plonked himself rather ungraciously onto a stool and helped himself to a slice. So much for this Vulcan never touching his food, he was even chasing the stray strands of mozzarella. She gave him a smile as she joined in. Man, the pizza was just as good as she remembered.

"Another neither black nor white waterfowl martini, dirty," he stated after he'd finished his first piece. "Shaken, not stirred."

Was he showing the effects or was he just playing with her? Christine decided she didn't want to find out what a plastered Vulcan was really like, at least not tonight. "No." She placed both hands on the bar in front of her and looked him in the eye. "Your tab's closed for the night, mister." Come to think of it, so was hers. Whew. She was tired.

"Why? I am certainly not inebriated, Doctor." Sober Spock was back in a microsecond.

"Because..." She leaned forward and whispered a familiar phrase in his pointed ear.

His eyebrows shot up and a Vulcan hand grasped the back of her neck so they were only centimeters apart. "I see. A most attractive ... proposition. Very well, bartender. Mineral water then."

She poured them both a glass then hurried off to tend to another customer.

* * *

Coffee. She smelled coffee. And it wasn't that replicator crud, this was her favorite brand of Bay Area style caffeine. Strong, dark, rich, with real cream, and made in the ancient Mr. Coffee machine which had pride of place in her mother's kitchen. But how was that possible?

She felt a weight next to her on the bed. Her eyes opened to reveal Spock sitting there with a tray of coffee and some other delights.

"Good morning, my wife," he said. "Or should I say, afternoon?"

"What time is it?" she asked as she had a sip of the steaming brew. Oh yes, it was good.

"Twelve oh three." He took a drink from his own mug, his eyebrow predictably raised.

"Noon?" She almost choked. "Then we've been asleep for--"

"Eleven point thirty seven hours to be precise." He gave her a his special smile as a fingertip began to make a lazy traversal of her collarbone. "We were both, it appears, quite fatigued."

And not a hangover in sight, either. Christine blessed her triple dose of the both of them, although they'd been only mildly buzzed at evening's end. "I guess," she replied. The planned bedroom frolics had turned into bedroom activities of a more mundane nature. Sleeping. "What's that?" she asked, looking at the plate of food.

"Your neighbor made this, I believe she called it avocado bread? If it is of the quality of her corn muffins, this should be a quite delicious breakfast. I have provided a selection of the appropriate toppings."

"Cream cheese, please." She took a slice and spread it liberally. "But how did you figure out the coffee?"

"Logically, of course. Although the feline named 'Missy' seemed to be more than willing to assist me in my endeavors."

"Those cats, they may as well be running the place." A pleased sigh escaped as she tried her neighbor's county fair award-winning bread. "There's an old saying, love me, love my cat."

"I have no problem with that." Spock pointed to the sunny view now visible through the sheer drapes. "It would appear the rain has moved out of the area. So, Christine, what do you plan to show me of your 'turf' today? I can think of a few things I would enjoy seeing right now, however." The fingertip traveled lower, unerringly finding the most sensitive of nerve endings.

Christine pulled back the top sheet with an inviting smile. The tour could wait a bit longer.

* * *

"There would appear to be at least two dozen of these indentations," Spock said as he studied one example. "This indicates a large population."

"This was a very notable settlement of the Stishni, or Obispeno, Chumash here," Christine said as she, too, felt the hollowed out stone which was centuries old. She looked down the vista to where San Luis Creek emptied into Avila Bay. "It was called 'Sepxatu'. The women ground, or pounded, acorns into meal on these rocks, which was a large part of their main diet. The process was a long one, so they told stories, or sang songs, or instructed the children in the ways of the people, while they worked."

"I have read that these peoples were well versed in the study of the heavens as well."

"Yes, there are rocks in this area which were used in ritual solstice celebrations. The Chumash were all but died out by the 20th century, but a few surviving members re-established the culture into what it is today." She took his hand and led him back to the car. "Enough of the past, Commander. Let me show you my home's hidden treasures."

* * *

"Apple orchards? Here?" Spock pointed to the trees as they traversed the sedate, meandering curves of See Canyon Road in the hills behind Avila Beach.

"This is a famous small microclimate that supports apple trees quite nicely. It's one of the area's well-kept secrets, like this road we're on." She parked the car on a shoulder just above a footpath that led into the hilly terrain. "There's a great view just a little way from here with some more surprises."

They headed down the path past green fields sprinkled with late summer wildflowers and soon an old fashioned water-pumping windmill came into view. Just beyond that, the Pacific began to make its appearance in the distance, almost as blue as the rain washed skies above. Sitting in the middle of the ocean just offshore was the odd shaped round rock that was the landmark of the town of Morro Bay.

"Our eventual destination," Christine said as she pointed it out. "California's Rock of Gibraltar."

"Part of a chain of seven extinct volcanoes in this area, I believe, " Spock replied.

"Yes, it was rocking and rolling around here for millions of years. She sat down with him on a large flat rock just across the way from a paddock where some horses were cropping the rain soaked grass. "This is one of my favorite places to just sit and do nothing. Only the ocean, the sky and all this scenery." She happily leaned into Spock's shoulder, feeling his pleasure at the serenity of the surroundings.

"I hope we may visit regularly once we are stationed back in San Francisco," he said. "I would like that very much."

"Agreed." A kiss sealed the deal, intended to be a brief one.

Spock had other ideas.

"Why do you insist on wearing that short skirt when you know it drives me mad?" He had her astride him in a second, kissing her hungrily. "It incites my curiosity as to what might be beneath." His hand was already making the familiar journey up her inner thigh.

"Because it's a warm summer day and it's a summer skirt? And you know what underwear I have on, Commander. You saw me get dressed!" Christine knew it was hopeless to argue but did so anyway. It was part of the fun.

Spock withdrew his fingers from somewhere he'd been exploring and gave then a sensual lick. "I find myself desiring some Terran yon savas," he whispered. "Do you know where I might be able to obtain this?"

"You can't be serious," she sighed, knowing full well he was. "Here? Now? Humor me. Why? You already ... ate, remember?" But she wriggled her pelvis desirably against his hand, which was busily perusing her heated depths once more.

"I have sampled it in the states we have already traversed. Now we are in California so I would enjoy having this in its natural environment. Outdoors." Suddenly she was prone on the lush, though damp grass, her underpants were off, and her skirt had hiked itself beyond her waist. The sun felt delicious on her bare skin. A moment later the world went into pleasure overdrive as her husband's tongue worked its usual magic. Several times.

* * *

"If you didn't plan this little seduction, why weren't you wearing your briefs under those jeans?" Christine asked lazily, letting her tongue run down the line of fur on his abdomen. She slowly fastened the waistband and pulled herself back up into his embrace. The sight of him without his shirt in outdoors in broad daylight was always a a turnon. Once he'd taken it off, she was a goner. A little oral fun had soon morphed into full scale carnal knowledge. Thankfully, no one had wandered by.

"Vulcans do not, as a matter of course, wear such illogical garments." He caressed the back of her head, smiling like a cat who had just finished a saucer of extra rich cream.

"But you do," she replied, sliding her hand beneath the denim to feel his bare skin beneath a sharply defined hip bone. He was ticklish there.

"I wear briefs because the temperature aboard the Enterprise is too cool for my liking. And I might add that I have recently learned how delightful it is to have them removed by a certain physician. As for today, I surmised it would logically save time to dispense with them altogether."

"Spock, what are we going to do once we get back to the Enterprise?" she asked, almost rhetorically.

His eyebrow raised. "I can think of numerous locations where a clandestine encounter is more than possible."

* * *

"What is this place?" Spock asked as he pulled his eyebrows off the back of his head, where they had risen. Obviously, the Madonna Inn had not made it into the Vulcan guides.

"A little monument to the Terran habit of whimsy," she replied, holding out his sunglasses. "You might need these."

The pink and stone fantasy establishment had grown with the centuries but still remained true to its fanciful roots. Everything was preserved to the original designers' specifications, with more carefully planned additions happening over time.

This would be a fitting end to a great afternoon's adventure, Christine thought. After their little tryst on the sunny hilltop, they'd driven lazily into Morro Bay, pausing to get some local apple cider and a loaf of unusually made acorn apple bread at a roadside stand. Morro Bay itself had been a fairly normal excursion, with an exploration of the rock's massive base and a late lunch. But this place was going to be something really out of the ordinary for her husband.

"There is quite a preponderance for ... pink." Spock was surveying the main restaurant's colorfully fuchsia palette. Cupid still reigned supreme over the splash of gilded trim, while the are itself paid homage to the color pink in all of its not so subtle hues. "Is this establishment meant to be a satiric type of place?"

"Kind of, but not really." She led him over to the Copper Cafe, which was as burnished as ever. "It's the original owner's decorating tastes, and the family has kept to that. It's just a landmark of sorts. Guests love to stay in the themed rooms, and believe me, they range from the sublime to the ridiculous. One of my friends summered here as a maid and I saw all of them. Unbelievable. There's even an Antarean Fantasy Suite, where you're looking at the stars in a fatalistically furnished room." She snickered. "The same view we all see every night on the Enterprise.

"Fascinating."

Christine ordered a piece of the pink champagne Black Forest cake, with its suitably fuchsia trim, and soon she and her husband were sharing its delights.

* * *

"Had I seen you when you were but eighteen, believe me, I would have done everything in my power to possess you," Spock said as he watched the holovid. "You were, my wife, a knockout as you Terrans say."

"Maybe to you, but the local guys wanted blonde bouncy cheerleaders," she sighed.

"And not mysteriously beautiful, statuesque brunettes with eyes the color of the sea?" Spock now sighed. "Quite illogical."

"It all worked out fine, though."

"Indeed." He continued eating the homemade pasta primavera, rich with the neighbor's fresh veggies, that he and his wife were enjoying in her living room. They had been watching her life in holos from birth through university graduation. "And may I please have another helping of those artichoke hearts? They are quite delicious."

"Sure." She handed him the serving dish. "Castroville, near Monterey, is the artichoke capital of the region. These are the early crop, easy to eat whole."

"I am honored you chose to make endmeal for me here, my wife."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I? This is my home and I want to share its delights with you, my love."

He pulled at the tie of her silk wrap, the same one he'd given her as a Valentine's Day gift all those months ago, to announce his intentions as a serious contender for her heart. "You have done already, Th'yla. And I hope tonight you shall share more of them with me."

She let the robe loosen, knowing the fact she had decided not to wear the matching gown beneath it would rapidly send him into spontaneous combustion. "Maybe you'd like to get started on that?" she purred.

* * *

Pacific Coast Highway

Spock put the towel to his face and inhaled deeply before he started drying his hair.

"You've been sniffing everything here," Christine remarked as she twisted her damp locks up into a knot then stabbed them with chopsticks. "Is something wrong? Don't you like the detergent I use? It's natural with a touch of lavender oil."

"On the contrary, I enjoy the scent. But it is not the detergent which is so pleasing. It is ... something else. I even noticed it on the t-shirt I selected to wear today as well as my jeans." Having said this, he rapidly clothed himself in said garments.

"Fresh air."

"I beg your pardon?"

Christine indicated the clothesline out in the back garden. "Mom and I don't use the sonic dryer unless we absolutely have to. Everything here gets washed in a washing machine and line-dried in the fresh air, and I did the laundry yesterday just that way. That's what you probably smell. I almost forgot how good it was until we got back here."

"Perhaps that is why it brought back memories of childhood visits to my mother's relatives, ones who lived on a farm. They, too, had a clothesline as you call it. I recall the bedsheets were fresh scented as here." He drew his wife into an embrace and unconsciously brushed a stray curl off her forehead, something he did often to show his affection for her. "I sense you miss this place, T'hyla. I can promise you we shall visit regularly once we are back on Terra permanently. I enjoy it here as well, and look forward to many mornings waking up with you in the splendid view your bedroom affords."

"Cats and all?" she asked, for the felines had been an audience to many of their more romantic encounters. A rather bored audience however, both being fixed long ago.

"Yes, cats and all. So long as I am with you here, it will be enough." He raised an eyebrow. "Of course, eventually..."

"We'll bring our children here too," she finished with a contented sigh.

"Have I ever told you I wished for a large family? Eight, perhaps ten children?"

Had she not felt the amusement washing over her through their link she would have strangled him on the spot. Without missing a beat, she replied, "I hope you plan to grow them in the hydroponic bays, dear." Then she smacked him. "You earned that one, Commander."

He walked with her over to the living room and they once again looked at an ornate silver framed wedding portrait, of a beautiful dark haired bride with Christine's startling blue eyes, and a handsome, tall blonde officer in a Starfleet dress uniform.

"You do favor him," Spock told her as he held her even tighter. "And I am certain he would be very proud of you."

"Thank you, my beloved." She let her fingers trace the outline of her father. "Your grandmother told me she'd met my father, and that I had his eyes and his height. Now I can see it."

She reached into her duffel bag, took out a box and opened it. A more modern frame, deep red Vulcan glass, which she bought at the Shi-Kahr bazaar from an interesting old trader, held a wedding portrait of her and Spock taken on board the Enterprise just after their Federation ceremony. After rubbing it over lightly with the hem of her shirt, she carefully placed it next to the one of her parents. It just seemed the logical thing to do.

* * *

"And this enormous bumble bee flew into the kitchen. It must have been the size of a crow!" Becky poured out some grapefruit juice as she continued the story.

Lou gave Spock a knowing glance and raised his thumb, then measured its length with two fingers from his other hand, indicating the insect's actual length. He smirked. This was an old tale.

"Anyway, there was this buzzing monster chasing everyone and we were screaming because it had a stinger about a foot long. Then it landed on the window."

Christine started to smile as she remembered the scene. "So I did the only thing I could do. I caught it with a glass, put some cardboard over the opening and took it outside to let the thing go." She took a sip of her juice. "Honestly, six grownups all afraid of a teeny weeny bee."

"Our hero, that's Chris," Becky replied. "Don't keep her away too long, Spock. Avila Beach needs her!"

"I assure you we shall visit regularly," Spock said. "And may we thank you again for this delightful early breakfast."

"We have to be at work over at the hospital by eight," Louis explained. "So this is our regular breakfast time on Sundays. When Chris said you were headed off early for Big Sur, we thought it'd be a good chance to see you two."

"Becky's huevos a la Pismo are famous." Christine took a large bite. "Even if they are made with artificial eggs."

"She gonna let you drive up PCH?" Louis asked Spock, who only shrugged. "Nothing but road past Cambria, till you hit Ragged Point.

"I'm thinking about it," Christine laughed.

* * *

"Mirounga Angustirostris. The Northern Elephant Seal," Spock remarked "I was not aware there would still be so many males on the beach in August."

The Piedras Blancas vista point overlooked the beach where a sizable colony of the mammals had been established for centuries. At this time of the year, the remaining males, some extremely large, spent their days lolling on the sand, or covering themselves with it when the heat became too much. The sight was comical, resembling a group of hungover men after a drunken night out.

"It depends on the weather. It's been warmer later, so they're not leaving yet." Christine made a face as she heard one of the blubbery behemoths snort loudly. "Sounds like you, when you've had too much Vulcan champagne, Commander."

"Christine, really. I have already informed you that Vulcans do not snore."

"Uh huh." She leaned comfortably against his shoulder as they sat watching the spectacle.

"And if we did, it would certainly not sound like that." He was cut off by the sound of two large males beginning the curious rite of challenge for dominance. Eyebrow raised, he turned to Christine, who had been here many times before.

"They do that for the right to be dominant male in their particular turf. Then they have first pick of the seal cows. And--" Suddenly she stopped, almost ashamed. It sounded very similar to another mating rite she hoped she'd never have to witness. Try as she might, the vision of Spock and Jim on the sands still came to her now and then.

Spock obviously sensed her distress. He slid his arm more tightly around her waist and strengthened the bond between them, letting the balm of his love cover the old scars on her soul, scars she did not even have to bear.

*I love you, my wife.*

*And I love you too, husband.*

* * *

"So what did you think of Hearst Castle?" she asked awhile later, when the seals were quiet again.

"It was quite fascinating, but for some reason, I kept recalling that other establishment, the Madonna Inn. Both of them share the same ... rather hodgepodge style of architecture and furnishings."

"You mean nothing really matched, right?"

"I believe that is what I was trying to convey, in a diplomatic manner, of course." He lifted the corner of his mouth, his eyes awash with amusement. "I did especially enjoy the gardens and the outdoor pool, as did my own parents. They visited the castle years ago."

"So that's why we got the VIP tour. I guess it helps being married to Spock of Vulcan sometimes."

"Indeed." Then his voice dropped a pitch. "T'hyla, I was wondering..." and a thought entered her mind.

She harrumphed as loud as one of the seals. "You're just insatiable, Commander. I never should have let you the first time, I've created a monster." She got to her feet, pulling him along. "Haven't you had enough for today?"

"Please?" he asked, with his best sehlat eyes.

"Oh all right, else I'd never hear the end of it." She reached in the pocket of her shorts, fished out the keys and tossed them across the car. Spock caught them neatly.

"But only, and I mean only until we reach the Ragged Point Inn. Do you hear me, speed racer? When you saw those zebras, you left half a tire on the road in skid marks! You're just lucky no one was behind us." She recalled the moment. Even Vulcans were not immune.

"I can assure you I was merely surprised, my wife." Spock was determined to defend his driving abilities, which actually were quite good. "It is not every day one sees zebras trotting through a roadside California pasture."

"Except at Hearst Castle. Eighty to zero in..." she said crossly, remembering the contact between her knees and the dash. Then she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Never mind, I had the same reaction the first time I saw them when I was driving. I should have warned you, they just came from nowhere! But seriously ... once the road starts curving up the hill to Big Sur it's 40 and not a mile over." She gave him a wicked grin. "And then maybe we can park for a few minutes. I know a nice overlook..."

Spock started the engine even before she'd closed the passenger door.

* * *

"It is logical that this would be known as the place where Big Sur begins and ends," Spock said as they stood looking down at the ocean far below. "Ragged Point obviously would be that spot, depending on whether you traveled north or south."

"Pretty impressive, huh?' Christine asked as he studied the geological array of the unusual coastline, with its jagged bluffs and dark pine forests. "It's like this for the next eighty miles or so. Did you never get down this way when you were at the Academy? My mom and I went camping here every summer."

"No, I fear the Marin Headlands and Berkeley were as far afield as I traveled." Spock pointed to the gazebo near the restaurant. "Is this a popular wedding venue?" A bride and groom were joining hands as he spoke.

"Yes, all the major places along Highway 1 are great wedding locations. The view is spectacular, as you can see." She sighed, almost sadly. "When I was a teenager, everyone wanted a Big Sur wedding. It's been a popular thing as long as Big Sur has even settled, probably before that, when Salinan Indians were joining couples."

They continued to look out at the foaming ocean far below, whose waves crashed with such thunder that the sound reverberated up to where they stood. It was a truly magnificent sight, Spock thought. And he was very grateful to his T'hyla for bringing him here. Yet something was askew, just a bit. He felt it through their link, like a shadow across the sun. In a moment, it had vanished. He knew better than to press the issue, whatever it might be, but somehow knew that an amorous sidetirp was not the best thing on this journey. Time enough for that later.

"C'mon, Commander, we have a lot of road to travel before we're at our destination."

He took her hand and they set off for the car.

* * *

"Ah! Here it is. Gee, a new sign and everything. The brothers must be doing well." Christine pulled the car into a gravel parking lot, in front of a hand painted which read simply, "The Franciscan Friary of Big Sur."

Spock followed her out of the car and towards a wooden building marked "Gift Shop."

"Friars? Are these monks?" he asked, thinking of his time at Gol. He knew of Terran monks, but they were as varied as the religions they represented, and while they shared many of the same practices as the Masters, there were many unique differences.

"They sure are. This monastery has been here for centuries. My mom and I know the brothers, she came here for retreats for many years. They're famous for fruitcake and candles."

Spock raised an eyebrow. Obviously, fruitcake jokes had made it to Vulcan.

"And something else," she added mysteriously as she opened the creaking door. "If you know."

A pleasant shop greeted them, with a suitably cheerful friar behind the counter. He was just putting his glasses on as they entered.

"Welcome, pilgrims." He stopped and blinked. Recognition lit his face. "Christine? Christine Louise Maria Chapel?"

Spock glanced at his wife, who was grinning and flushing at the same time. He had never heard her full name before and surmised this was part of her Catholic upbringing.

"Brother Giles! How are you?" The customary bear hug was soon exchanged.

"How long has it been? And how is your mother?" The friar was continuing pleasantries when he looked over Christine's shoulder. "But forgive my rudeness, Christine! Who might this be?"

She took Spock's hand. "This is my husband, Spock. We're on our honeymoon."

To their surprise, the Friar gave the traditional Vulcan hand salute and greeting in passable Vulcan language, which Spock quickly answered.

"Vulcans visit us on occasion," Brother Giles explained. "They often come here for contemplative retreat, our facilities are non-denominational and quite renowned."

"Indeed," Spock replied, fascinated with the concept. "Your facility looks to be a most unique one."

"Brother Giles," Christine purred with her most charming smile, "might there be any special grape juice available?"

A short second later, the friar produced a bottle and some glasses. "There is," he beamed. "Why not try some and see how you like it? Are you thinking of some for gifts, perhaps?"

"Perhaps." Christine handed a glass to Spock and they both sampled the grape brandy. She exhaled after a moment. "Excellent, Brother Giles. What a wonderful vintage!"

"I tend to agree," Spock replied. "A most smooth flavor, very easy to enjoy."

Christine tapped her cheek with a forefinger. "A bottle for Jim, for Len, and for Scotty," she began.

"And one for my parents, and one as a thank you gift for the ambassador in San Francisco," Spock added. "And one for us, of course." He addressed the friar pleasantly. "Six bottles then, of the best your vintage has, your grace," and handed over his Federation Express card, waving off his wife's protests.

"So where were you married?" Brother Giles asked as he prepared the box for them.

"On Vulcan and on board the Enterprise," Christine replied, picking up a candle sample from a display.

"Not at home too?"

She shook her head. "Mom's off on an extended vacation, so having any kind of celebration here would have been pretty pointless." She sighed again. "Does one of your friars still make these?' she asked as she held up a delicately layered blue and violet candle.

"They certainly do, and this will be your wedding present from me to the both of you." He gave Christine another hug, speaking closely with her for a moment.

Spock did not mean to intrude, but he sensed that flicker of sadness once more. He heard snippets of the conversation. The friar was offering them some sort of blessing but Christine refused politely, saying it was all right. She then took the packages and headed over to where he stood with a friendly last wave at the monk.

As they returned to the car, Spock began to think about things.

* * *

At the Lucia Lodge, where they stopped to admire the view, another wedding was in progress. Christine dismissed this as the usual Sunday happenings, but Spock still felt a twinge of something unfamiliar. He wisely did not pursue the matter, knowing his wife would tell him in her own time. Or not.

The landmarks sped slowly past. Big Creek. The old Esalen Institute, still pioneering in relationship and personal therapies, now an accepted mainstream practice. Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, where they drove down a dirt side road to a nearly deserted beach and watched the waves for awhile as the fog began to close in. And then, at last, the borders of Big Sur Village. Christine had been silent for most of the drive, but that was only logical. The highway's twists and turns were not conducive to much conversation. The views, however, had been breathtaking.

The sun was setting as she pulled into the Post Ranch Inn. "At last," she sighed, rubbing her neck. "I'm gonna need a major massage. I'm all knotted up from the drive, I'm afraid."

"We have two nights here, my beloved," Spock replied. "Let us simply relax, then. This seems to be a wonderful place to do so."

As they made their way to the lobby, another wedding was just ending. The bride and groom were heading off on a motorcycle, of all things, but in this part of the world, anything was possible.

Spock heard Christine sigh again and realized what the issue was. But she was not forthcoming, so he did not ask.

Thanks to his wife's recent winning at baccarat, they found themselves upgraded to one of the Inn's three private guesthouses, and this was her treat, she insisted. Their particular property was two storied, having two bedrooms, two baths, a wooden floored living room with fireplace, a deck and a hot tub. And a magnificent view down the cliffs to the churning Pacific below, completely private, completely theirs.

"This is a fine place for us to spend the next time together," he said as they stood out on the deck, listening to the pounding surf's echoes. "Thank you for sharing this beautiful part of your world with me, Christine." He kissed her then, as if sealing a long ago promise. "I am very pleased to be here with you."

"I'm glad you like it. I wasn't certain what to expect, but this is amazing." She frowned a bit, rubbing her temple with her hand. "I'm just not used to such detailed driving. My head is hurting me and I'm all tensed up so I'm going to go have a massage, if that's OK? You can meditate, and then we can order something in when I get back. But I'm afraid I'm wanting an early night. I'm beat."

"As you wish, my love." Spock gave his wife another kiss and watched her set off on the paths towards the inn' well-appointed spa.

Instead of meditating right away, he stood and contemplated the view and thought back on all the past events since their bonding on Vulcan. After a long while, he moved back into the living room and turned on the computer monitor.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

Pacific Coast Highway

Mornings along the Big Sur road, commonly known as California Highway 1, or the Pacific Coast Highway (or PCH), are especially magical. The early mist can produce rainbows of astonishing intensity as the sun climbs over the mountains that tumble jaggedly to the ocean's depths below.

"Quite delightful," Spock remarked as they sat on the deck of the Phoenix Rising cafe. "We have had meals in the most amazing locations, my wife." He speared a strawberry from the dish of fruit salad they were sharing and fed it to her. "I cannot thank you enough for sharing the beauty of your land with me, T'hyla."

She caressed his cheekbone with her fingers. "You are most welcome, my love. It's been my pleasure."

"A pleasure I hope to experience more of. Now, and in our future."

Christine had returned from her massage the previous evening in much more relaxed spirits, the sadness about her all but vanished. They spent time in the hot tub on the deck, where she'd massaged the knots out of his own neck and shoulders, until the fog drove them indoors. Then they ordered in a large Caesar salad and watched an old favorite holo, "Key Largo". The lull of the Pacific had sent them to sleep early, a restful and healing one. After morning yoga, they'd opted for breakfast at the venerable old metaphysical cafe, Phoenix Rising.

"Too bad they sliced the bananas," Christine snickered, knowing his eartips would flush. They did.

"Perhaps we might obtain some when we arrive in San Francisco?" quirking an eyebrow.

"And just what do you have planned for our three days in the City By the Bay?" She looked out over the ocean, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere it generated.

Spock continued eating.

She sighed, tweaking a nearby ear. "You really want it to be a surprise, don't you? Well, how much of a surprise? Formal dress uniforms for the reception at the Vulcan embassy?"

"Not precisely," he finally offered, with his mysterious little smile. But he didn't say anything else, so Christine did not press the issue. The sehlats couldn't drag it out of him.

* * *

The Phoenix Rising's gift shop held a wide variety of things metaphysical, as well as an assortment of local arts and crafts.

"Fascinating," Spock commented as he looked over a holo. Its title read "Gol: The Enigma" and was by a Terran mystic named Brianna. "I was not aware that there was such an interest in the way of Kolinhar outside of Vulcan."

"Like I said, Vulcan is the next flavor of the month." She pointed at some IDIC jewelery in a display case. "See?"

"The guidebook was quite correct in its assessment of this area then," he replied as he took in the odd sight. "It stated there was a place of...studying spiritual paths, as well as enjoying the magnificence of nature."

"That about sums it up," she agreed.

* * *

"So what would you like to do today?" Spock asked. They were seated on a rough-hewn log bench on a deserted beach, reached only by a lengthy climb down a well-worn path. The seagulls were circling far overhead, filling the air with their raucous cacophony.

"Nothing much. Just spend it with you." She sighed happily and burrowed more deeply into his embrace.

Spock stroked the top of her head and wondered how to proceed with what he had to say. It was not a new topic, naturally. But he was a bit unsure of the semantics. And much more frightened of her reaction. What was the best way to phrase so unorthodox an idea? What if she said no? Or ... laughed out loud, choosing not to believe him? He struggled with both his emotional halves in an effort to proceed logically.

"Christine." He turned her face toward his so she could see his gaze. "This has been a most enjoyable journey thus far. We have shared some wondrous adventures here on Terra. And I wish you to believe from the depth of my katra that I have enjoyed every day thus far and wish to continue to do so. But something is missing."

Her eyes registered surprise, nothing more. Good. He decided to continue.

"I realize you might feel that this is a holiday of sorts for my human half. That perhaps once we return to the Enterprise, the ambiance surrounding our relationship might dissipate. I believe the old term was called 'A Summer Romance.' Let me assure you, this is not the case.

"We have been joined in the eyes of the Federation, of Vulcan, and even of the Dine' Nation, but there is still something that needs to be done."

And with that he rose to his feet, took his wife's hand and dropped again to one knee, just as he had done all those months ago. He looked up at her eyes, which were still confused, and spoke from his heart.

"Christine, will you marry me? Here, in your home world, in the land of your ancestors? And know that I seek to join with you in this manner, because I love you, my Vah'ren. I wish the circle to be complete. You have bonded with me in the ways of my people, without question. May I now wed you in the tradition of yours?"

A silence, so absolute that he could hear some barking sea lions on an offshore rock, passed interminably. Then she spoke.

"But my love," she finally said. "We're already married. Three times, four if you count the vow we made at the place of your ancestors. Why would you want to do this again?" Her eyes were dancing, but he sensed she wanted further reassurance.

"Because, my wife, I want you to know that I am not ashamed of your Terran heritage, or of who you are. I fell in love with that person and accept her unconditionally. As I know she does me. My home is with you, Christine, be it here, Vulcan, the Enterprise or some hitherto undiscovered colony. This is my way of 'sealing the deal'?" And with that, he quirked a half smile at her and the final barrier was broken.

She dropped to her own knees next to him on the damp sand and threw her arms around his neck.

"Yes, Spock, gladly. Name the day."

"I have already researched some preliminary information. Would this evening at sundown be enough time to prepare adequately?" Before she could answer, he placed a finger over her lips. "Hush. I shall buy you whatever you wish to wear, my beloved, be it new jeans or a Terran styled designer wedding gown. I only want this day to be as complete for you as you dreamed of when you were still a maid."

His kiss told her he meant everything, and more.

Then he pulled her up to her feet beside him. "I suggest we visit the village, my wife. It would seem there are things to be done."

* * *

The sun was making its final downward arc into the Pacific. Christine gave her image one last check in the mirror. The dress Spock had bought her, a simple, sleeveless knee length sheath of watered pale blue silk, fit like the proverbial dream. She draped the shawl her mother had sent as a wedding present over her hair and down across her neck, noting the colors complemented the gown perfectly, as did the earrings she'd gotten from her husband on their wedding day. True to her self, she wore her best white leather Bernardo thong sandals, and carried a bouquet of delicate Speedwell spikes complemented with local ferns. The effect was simply elegant.

She turned to Brother Matthew, one of the monks from the priory who knew the family well. "I wish my mother was here," she said simply. And her father, she added silently, knowing that was not possible.

"She is in spirit, from far across the heavens. Christine," he replied. "I sense she is thinking about you, even though she is absent from here. Are you ready?"

"It's not as though I've not done this before, Brother Matthew. But I still have butterflies in my stomach." She took his arm and they began walking down the stairs of the guest house as the familiar strains of Pachabel's 'Canon' began.

On the deck, Spock awaited her, attended by Brother James, another friar from the priory. He was attired in his Vulcan tunic suit, the one of midnight blue that made him look even more regal than normal

They approached the spot where the celebrant stood, then she was handed over with the customary kiss of farewell.

"My children." Brother Giles began. "You have come here this day to have your union blessed, and I am pleased to be the one to do so. I must ask, though, if there be anyone who opposes this? May they speak now or forever be silent."

After a moment of hearing nothing but the pounding waves below, he continued.

"And so, Christine. Will you take Spock unto yourself? Will you love him, honor him and keep him, forsaking all others, in good times and in bad, as long as you both shall live?"

"I shall," she replied clearly.

"And you, Spock. Will you take Christine unto yourself? Will you love her, honor her and keep her, forsaking all others, in good times and in bad, as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," he answered just as clearly.

Brother James handed over the rings, Christine's marriage ring and the simple platinum band Spock had insisted he now wear. It was, he stated, his way of showing his love for his wife and all that she was to him. Brother Giles gave a brief blessing over them, then spoke once more.

"Spock, repeat after me. 'Christine, my wife, take this ring as a pledge of my love for you and know I honor our union with all my heart.' "

He slid the ring on her finger, repeating the vow firmly, holding her hand even more firmly.

"Christine, repeat after me. 'Spock, my husband, take this ring as a pledge of my love for you and know I honor our union with all of my heart.' "

She did so, and as she slid the band onto her husband's finger, she felt his love for her through their bond. It was truly what he wanted to do. A pledge, just as the vows said.

Brother Giles beamed at them, in his jovial way. "And now, by the powers vested in me by the authorities of this state, I pronounce you are husband and wife." He looked over at Spock. "And you may kiss your bride."

Spock did not need a second invitation to do so.

* * *

It was late twilight, that midnight velvet blue color of the sky when the Pacific Ocean has a delicate silver blue cast to its waves. Spock and his wife looked out at the horizon from where they sat on the deck. They'd changed back into casual wear and were feeding each other some decadent chocolate mousse the restaurant had concocted as a wedding cake of sorts. The breeze was cool but not too cold and the fog had not yet made an appearance. From far above, the stars twinkled brightly.

"By week's end, we shall be with the Enterprise" he said softly.

"Back to work," she sighed.

"Indeed, my wife. But not as before, I promise you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Their romantic life had been quite good aboard the ship, though it had skyrocketed once they reached Vulcan, and increased exponentially on Terra.

"It means, my wife, that what we shared on our honeymoon will not be a fleeting incident. I intend to make you happy every day of our married life ... as I know you will do for me." He kissed her as he drew her up to the deck's smooth wood surface.

"Now, seeing as we have just been married, we should now dance our first dance." He put his arms around her. "Computer? Cue Song 1."

And there, under the brilliant half moon shining off the Pacific, Christine melted into her husband's arms, safe in the knowledge that the love they shared was not about to go anywhere other than right here.

The music swelled.

"At last ... my love has come along..."

* * *

Down Cannery Row

Hurricane Point, at the far northern end of Big Sur, is aptly named. No matter what the season or time of day, blustery gales seem to envelop the unprotected, windswept beauty spot. From the southern approach, its pullouts offer unparalleled views of the famous Bixby Bridge and Rocky Point beyond, with the unyielding Pacific always making its presence known just below.

To those familiar with the area and its backroads, more sheltered lay-bys may be found, which offer just as breathtaking views without the 'hurricane' effect.

"A perfect parabolic arch," Spock noted.

"Yes, the bridge is known for that," Christine replied as she threw a cambric shirt over herself. She'd long ago pilfered it from his closet and it changed hands on a regular basis.

He gave a lazy, cursory glance over his shoulder at the bridge's span in the distance. "Ah, yes, my wife. The bridge. You are correct in that regard." His fingers continued idly stroking her breast, paying special attention to the nipple which the cool air made even more pronounced.

"SPOCK! I will not have you compare my anatomy to a ... mathematical e