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I am gratified that you are making choices that I could not at your age, young one. But even though I believe you will do better than I in some things, it is imperative I impart this advice to you before you get much older, for it is in your best interest. I had very little to guide me. I hope to give you the help I did not have.

Let me start with that which is most salient to your future.

Do not lie to your bondmate.

For I did, and for some time, it clouded my vision of what the connection to such a mate is and can be.

I lied by omission three days after the bond formed.

My captain had spent those first three days with me, having tricked me into entering a recreation room while I burned with my first pon farr. My Time had been a failure from the beginning, as she who bonded with me as a child rejected me. But my captain, my friend, did not, though the bond was forced upon him. Even then, it was as if we were two halves of a whole. Yes, sometimes those meaningless cliches are actually true.

In the instinctive understanding some humans have, he surmised my situation and sought to remedy my distress. Although I had concerns about our compatibility and his safety, he did not. As it often is with Jim Kirk, he assessed the situation in an instant and plotted the moves needed to save us. He forced me into a corner, then let my instincts do the rest. It took very little for the barriers between us to break. Most of them had been crushed under the strength of his friendship over the two years prior.

As one would expect, my biology overwhelmed us both. To my later amazement and pride, my t'hy'la burned as brightly as I did. Although I had apprehensions about our joining before it began, I had no regrets once it ended.

Of the days after, my regrets number in the thousands.

My lie began simply, as many things do. When we left that room, Jim turned to me to learn more about this relationship we had begun. As he probed for the rules of Vulcan marriage and bonding, I turned away. As he reached for me, I moved away from his touch. I even held the bond away from him, not letting him feel my presence in his mind.

In those ways, I told him our marriage was for mating only. Once I had reassured him of the strength of the other connection we shared, our friendship, he accepted this as an axiom.

I can see your shock. Why did I do this to he whom I hold above all others? It is a simple explanation. I feared. And that fear paralyzed me into an inaction that hurt us both.

What did I fear? My own emotions, as most Vulcans do. We are taught from an early age that we could drown ourselves, as well as others, in the seas of those emotions if the waves are not stilled completely. And my feelings for my captain ran deeply.

I believed my bondmate was also something to be feared. I was scared of the very things that attracted me to him: his charisma and his emotional lability. In the days of my youth, I feared being ruled by him, of losing my identity. He overwhelmed my senses. How could he not overwhelm the rest of me?

Yes, I can see you have a firm grasp of your personality. I believe this timeline created in you more of a strength, or at least more of a confidence, than I had. I learned confidence through my captain. You, it seems, had to learn it earlier, in order to tame your captain.

I confess the teachings of Surak deserted me when I had to face the power of my bondmate's personality. I ignored the proof of my own strength: my rejection of the Science Academy as well as my reputation as an exemplary officer. I also ignored the consequences of my decision to treat the bond as if it did not exist. For if I had used the tenets of logic in reaching this 'truth', I would have realized that by trying so fiercely to keep my sense of self, I denied my bondmate part of himself.

I did not remember my mother's teachings on human marriage. More emotionally based than Vulcans, Terrans will often identify themselves first by the one whom they've chosen as mate.

By denying Jim the bond, I denied him this identification, and he suffered for it.

Yes, I can see the question in your expression. Since I have brought up our mother, I shall address her place in this 'fiasco', as Dr. McCoy called it in later years. Why did Jim not question my mother on this?

I do not know if he did, but I fear he did not. His lack of questioning was most likely in deference to me as his guide in this new experience. For if Mother had heard of what I had done, she would have told him the truth of Vulcan bonding. He would have learned of my deception and he would have challenged me on it. I would have had to face my fears much sooner than I did.

But that was not to be. Since I would not provide the necessary emotional components of a Terran marriage, he sought other relationships, mostly with women. Though the ancient Vulcan in me railed possessively against his choice to see others, the logician in me knew it could be no other way. If he could not have me, he needed to seek another to fulfill the sexual and emotional needs that were an integral part of him.

Many of those relationships ended with him in pain, as it was with his wife Miramanee. The day after her death was the first time I approached him as bondmate without the fires of pon farr. His pain called to me as strongly as any burning. For I found that in this instance, unlike most other times, my t'hy'la could not put what he had with her aside. He had been happy in his absence of memory and his simple life with her. So now, as he came back to daunting responsibility and a marriage that was not, the pain overwhelmed him.

His distress drove me to his side and to his bed. He needed the physical solace I could provide. For if I did not help him, we both would be lost. He in his sorrow, and me in my worry and jealousy. Yes, jealousy. Anger flared within me at the thought of him being one with another. The emotion served me well. For it helped me see that if I did not give him something of myself, I would lose him.

So I held him through the night and through the duty shift I cancelled. And though I feared his personality and the strength of his emotions, I opened the bond to him and left it open for 2.8 months. For he drew comfort from my presence within him and the change, the calmness that settled over him, kept me from closing it, even though my fear attempted to thwart my logic.

But when his experience with the android Rayna overpowered my attempt to aid his resilience, I closed the bond and made him forget both her and the bond's existence. I thought it was for the best. He did not need my emotions, as he had been quite overwhelmed with his own.

I truly believed the axiom that Vulcan emotions were too fierce to be let free. I had the proof in my own being. I had grown so close to Jim that many in Starfleet called me his shadow. And my emotions...My human side clamored for my mate and would not let me rest. I soon became weary of fighting myself.

Though I still sought to control my emotions for Jim as we ended our assignment for Starfleet, I knew I did not have much strength left to fight. Soon I would give in to the bond and I would be lost. I looked for a logical solution, but could not find one.

It was my fears that drove me to Gol, to seek the ways of the Kohlinar. I believed the Kohlinar, the way of pure logic, would both strengthen me and give Jim his mind back. Yes, I had begun to contradict myself in my illogic. I was no longer sure who would be lost by allowing our connection to continue, but I was positive that one or both of us would be.

So when the Enterprise was sent to Spacedock after our five-year mission was complete, I went to Vulcan and began my studies. I spent three years attempting to completely suppress my emotions, and believed I had succeeded when I contacted my bondmate to tell him of my intentions to leave them completely behind.

But when I tried to sever the bond, as is expected of the Kohlinar, I found that I was unable to do so. First, there was Jim's resistance. I knew he did not remember our connection, for I was the one who made him forget it. But when I entered his mind, he pushed at my presence so intently that he was able to stop my attempts to disconnect us. He then sought to protect the bond by erecting a shield between us.

Once my incredulity at his psy skills passed, I gasped as the bond pulsed from the injury I had caused him. I could feel it through the echoes of Jim's outrage. The pain was enough to cause me to fall to the sand beneath my feet.

Then my mind fully realized what I had attempted to do. My conscience yelled in horror as I realized that I had nearly mind-raped my bondmate. That realization suddenly renewed the fight with myself that had brought me to Gol. My shame lay me prostrate on that sand. How could I have wanted to be free of him? 'T'hy'la, what have I done?' I cried. My fault. I caused him pain, unbearable pain...I could barely stand under the weight of the guilt flowing through me. But I struggled to my feet, for another presence began to call to me.

It was headed toward my captain.

Now I will not say much of this entity, other than it was cold and mechanical. And once my time in Gol was over, I felt very much like this creature. For not only did the teachings of Gol change me, I was also suffering under the weight of my own misdeeds. However, I could not ignore the threat to my bondmate.

So I walked out of Gol with only the robes on my back and hired a ship in ShiKahr. I blatantly used my father's name as assurance to the captain that he would get paid. For deep within me, I feared the ship I had once called home was in danger.

I entered the refitted Enterprise with some concern. I did not know my place now, with Jim as Admiral and another as captain. But it took me little time to surmise that Jim was also in battle with himself. He could not let go of that ship or its crew. They were an integral part of him. Only later did Starfleet conclude that it had made a grave error in taking him away from the Enterprise.

Although I was prepared to aid him in his mission when I boarded the ship, I was not prepared to help him resolve his conflict. For I was not yet ready to leave the ways of the Kohlinar behind. I still believed logic was the best solution to my emotional turmoil.

It took a mindmeld with the coldly logical entity we faced to realize to that my fight with my bondmate and myself was not only futile, it was illogical. For I was not in danger of being overwhelmed by Jim, nor him by me. Instead, I was in danger of destroying us both if I did not allow the bond to be.

But my captain had been harmed by my initial decision to sever the bond. He would not open it to me now. So, to convince Jim that I wanted this to change, as Dr. McCoy would say, I became 'stubborn'. I tapped on my bondmate's shield continuously. I could feel his fear of my presence. But I would not give up. I needed that connection. I needed to know I was not alone. I found my previous commitment to isolation and pure logic quite unsatisfying.

When I saw, through the remnants of my meld with the entity, how futile it is to live without emotion, and how dangerous, I cried. My captain's sympathy and understanding of the battle within all Vulcans reinforced that lesson. So I released my pride in my heritage and pounded on Jim's shield, for I feared I would never feel his mind again in mine.

But he was stronger than I, and more logical. He brought me to his cabin to resolve our impasse. He was hesitant at first, even though he was brave enough to make the first overture. However, Jim needed a sign from me that he wasn't alone in wanting our separation to end. So, I pleaded for what I needed. I showed him my remorse as he cautiously opened to me. But even with my penance, all was not well. The depths of despair controlled him for a time. For humans must purge extreme emotions in a safe way or be consumed by them.

I had not before seen my captain break down so completely as he did that day in his quarters. I inadvertently caused him more pain by revealing myself to him. I showed him the motivations behind my actions, but I did not prepare him for what he saw. Before I realized it, he became too focussed on lamenting the time we had wasted and fearing that he would always lack a fundamental understanding of me.

I did not expect this reaction to my revelations. Instead of the joy of discovery, I found my bondmate being crushed under the weight of despair. The despair gripped him in a way I could not counteract with logic or even emotional entreaty. So I turned to the physical touches of mating to reach his emotions and calm him.

And I, a Vulcan praised most highly for my control, gloried in the joy my bondmate felt because I cared for him. So I continued those touches for as long as Jim needed. After a time, he began to return them, sensing my need for reassurance that all was not lost. It was wonderful to feel him again on all planes of existence.

Once our physical needs were sated, we spoke of our future. Plans and agreements helped solidify our commitment to each other. It was long into the night before he settled and I helped his body ease him into a healing sleep.

Considering the emotional quality of the experience and our agreement to face the future together, that time in his cabin became sacred to me. Another cliche may express it best: It was a night to remember.

It was the start of change for us. It was the beginning of our time of contentment, of a stronger connection. But it also began the second stage of my lie.

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end part 1