Jim felt like a tiger prowling the perimeter of his cage. The village at the base of the crag and tail that held his residence out of the purview of the public eye was quaint and dingy with age. Stalls lined the thin streets, tucked up against old houses and older stone walls. Beyond the village lay a larger city, peaceful and bustling, the weather always just right from the environmental controls. Objectively, it was nice. Except for the barrier surrounding it all that Jim was not allowed to cross. It had been two months of awaiting trial, exiled to wait in one of the federation's properties, and already Jim knew nearly every inch of the town. He ached for movement, even if that movement put him in a correctional facility or hell, even a Klingon work camp. He wasn't built for stasis.

Which was why he was in a foul mood when he caught sight of a ferengi trader with a tiny girl chained at the ankle to his stall.

Jim stopped in his agitated stalk through the street, frowning. Her hair was the kind of mess that implied someone had been rough with it, cropped to her chin, feathery-light and the color of wheat. Her face was tucked into her knees, a thin grey dress hanging loose on her frail, bony form. Jim bristled at the sight.

The ferengi caught him looking and jumped a bit in excitement.

"Admiral!" he greeted, rubbing his hands together as he emerged from behind his pile of other wares "I see you have fine taste-"

"Are you in the business of selling human children?" Jim growled, acid in his tone.

The ferengi backpedaled, flailing at the girl "S-s-she's not a human! If you look closer, Admiral, you can see that she's a quarter Vulcan! Just look at her ears! No human children here. On your feet, girl!"

Slowly the girl obeyed, keeping her head down as she did so. The chain at her ankle jingled with the movement.

Jim glared. "You expect me to believe that someone went through the trouble of breeding a hybrid only to sell the product at a price you could afford?

"Actually, that's quite a story-"

Jim crossed his arms expectantly.

"-which I can condense to an anecdote. See, her former master had a terrible accident and will be in hospice care for the rest of his life and his assets are being liquidated to pay for it. It's all very civilized and, if I may say, very profitable."

The ferengi winked.

Jim sighed in frustration before turning his attention to the girl. He crouched in front of her, and from that close he could see that this very practice was how her hair had become so disheveled. He wasn't the first to question the ferengi and be pointed to her ears, but it looked like she had roughly tugged her short locks back over them every time as though she wanted to hide her heritage. He reached out and she flinched away slightly. Jim caught a flash of brown eyes that resonated with memory.

"Now see here you brat-" the ferengi started. Jim shot him a look that had him shutting his mouth with a click.

It was only for a split second that he'd seen them, but Jim had already lost the rhythm of his breathing. He reached out again and tilted her head up so he could see.

Deep, abiding brown stared back at him, fathomless and familiar. He'd only seen eyes quite like that one other time.

"Little girl-" he tried, but his voice came out tight and he had to clear his throat to continue "where did you get such lovely eyes?"

Confusion flashed in them for a brief second before she smoothed her features flat.

"I have been told they resemble my carrier-father's a great deal." she said quietly.

"Your carrier-father." Jim echoed "What's his name?"

Jim felt in that he was standing in a field the instant before a lightning strike. All the hair on his body stood up with energy just waiting for discharge. The girl tensed, but after flicking her gaze to the ferengi, she replied:

"S'chn T'gai Spock."

Jim barely remained upright. He exhaled sharply; and slowly, absently, he raised a hand to his mouth to rub at his lips, trying to regain composure. It almost worked a little, too.

"How much," he found himself saying without thinking, and had the presence of mind to be glad for his trustworthy instincts.

The ferengi jumped. Jim wasn't sure what he looked like, but he doubted it was pretty, and the ferengi had reason to fear him besides.

"W-well! I knew you had good taste!" the ferengi started nervously. Jim stood up and the salesman squeaked "For you, esteemed Admiral, let's say - five bars of latinum?"

Jim had no idea how much that was, but he also didn't care. As he was advancing on the ferengi and reaching for his credit chip, the ferengi ducked backwards and rambled

"Three! Three, sir, o-or, because you've so generously refrained from reporting me, how about just one?"

Jim blinked, scowled, and shoved his chip at the wincing figure "Fine." he said "Here. You take it in credits."

The ferengi opened his eyes, looked mildly surprised to be alive, and turned all smiles "Of course! That's no trouble at all, Admiral, there's a small conversion fee but nothing to break the bank-" Jim all but sneered at the delay and the ferengi stopped rambling to tap three buttons with a perfectly straight face.

"Five-thousand credits transferred, and thank you for your business."

Jim took the chip back and walked to the little girl again. He unlocked the chain on her ankle by way of owner identification, then hoisted her up into his arms. She clung to his shoulders with bony fingers but didn't comment, eyes on the ground like she wasn't sure she'd be going back.

"Do you know where your father is?" Jim asked, trying not to shake. Her shaggy hair had shifted off her ears, revealing short, sharp points at the tips and familiar, sweeping cheekbones besides. He realized, with a pounding heart, that the slope of her nose was familiar from the mirror. But that was the hysteria talking, wasn't it?

She stole a shy glance at his face.

"He came to this market with me."

Jim had shifted her in his arms and his communicator flipped open in half a second flat.

"Janice-"

"Yeoman Rand."

"Tell Bones I need a favor. Have him bring Christine and meet me in the village, now."

Spock stood for the second time in his life on a gilded stage. The trends, it seemed, had changed since the first, as he was lead to settle theatrically inside an open, grand bird cage at the center. Apparently, the rich now leaned even further towards eccentricity.

"Here we have a rare bird indeed. Half vulcan, half human, this gorgeous pet was trained in the royal mastery." there was a murmur from the crowd which the speaker allowed to simmer down before continuing "he was purchased nine years ago by a wealthy Admiral who kept this precious gem in good health and luxury until the day of his death. Spock comes to us the bearer of one healthy child through yielding."

Spock refrained from showing any opinion on the matter; though he knew whoever purchased him would be sorely disappointed.

"We will start the bidding at five hundred thousand credits."

Spock could not see the crowd through the bright stage lights, but he did not care to. With a singular focus, he did not imagine Jane on such a stage. There were rules protecting younger slaves from the harsher sides of the life, but, like many human laws, they rarely extended past the threshold of a master's home. He fought the guilt that washed over him once more as small green lights lit up in the audience, signaling bids. He did not know what he could have done differently, but he should have found something. Jane could not be expected to fend for herself.

Now their only option was escape.

The bidding wound down, and eventually only one light was lit. Finally, he was led off the stage and into darkness.

"From what I can tell here, he seems alright. Doctor McCoy will be able to give you a better report when we return to the citadel."

Spock looked up almost involuntarily at the imposing castle nestled on the top cliff edge above the village, its walls still reflecting the orange light of the setting sun.

The woman ('Christine Chapel, nice to meet you') who had collected him was evidently not the same person who had purchased him. She was dressed in fine clothing that seemed tailored, however, so he gathered that her employer valued her. Her employer, who resided in the sprawling building on the most naturally fortified land in the area. A quick revision had to be made to his plan: he would need to escape within the next ten minutes if he wanted to have any chance at success.

For the moment, Christine Chapel was taking measured, steady steps in the exact direction he wanted to go. His telepathy was rough about the edges, but the parental bond was strong enough at least to work within the town. They were fast approaching Jane.

The sun had set behind the hills surrounding the village but had yet to pass into obscurity for higher points, leaving them in the soft grey lighting of a shady twilight. Spock scanned the market ahead of them, searching for any sign of Jane, but found none. They had not taken her from him until they arrived, and he doubted she would have sold so quickly. Humans would be reluctant to buy one of their own in broad daylight - or so he had thought. They were beginning to exit the market district and he had yet to spot her. It was with rising concern that he twisted the gold-plated chains linking his wrists to a state of creaking stress.

"Are you sure you don't want Janice to take care of it?"

A pause.

"Alright, sir. We'll get them settled in."

She hung up and sighed lightly.

"You'll have to forgive him. The Admiral's a bit manic about all this."

Ignoring the coil of irony he felt at her words, Spock twisted his hands inconspicuously, felt the metal start to give. An Admiral. How poetic that he trade one for another within days.

They rounded a corner and into sight of a large, ornately-carved carriage. With dismay, Spock realized he would barely be able to escape by himself, let alone conduct a search as he did so. It did not matter, he would succeed. Jane was within one-hundred meters of him, weather inside one of the houses or not he couldn't be sure. He gave a final twist to the chains-

"Father!"

"Jane?"

Spock snapped the restrains, starling a yelp from the woman guiding him.

He saw her now, jumping up from the steps of the carriage and launching herself in his direction. Spock took two quick strides forward before kneeling on the ground to catch her when they collided.

Premature relief washed over him at having her safely in his arms again. He would have scolded himself of he'd had the time - they were far from safe, their fates unknown as much as their masters.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Jane sniffed, clinging to him.

"Are you alright? Did anyone hurt you?" he asked, stroking her hair in an effort to soothe her (or perhaps himself.)

"She's fine."

A man appeared at their side, scowling as he dug into a satchel slung around his neck.

"Great craftsmanship on those manacles I can see. A real steal. You couldn't have waited ten goddamn seconds? Look what you did to your wrists."

The man speaking was not significantly imposing or commanding. His hair was neat but not in a way that signaled great care had been taken to make it so, his chin was shaded with stubble, and his clothing was not especially well-tailored. Yet he was extracting high-end dermal regenerator from his bag, and those did not, as a rule, come cheap. An eccentric, Spock decided, who had not taken advantage of his patron's obvious wealth. He reached for Spock's arm and Spock pulled back on instinct. The man raised both eyebrows in response.

"Wonderful, another one. I think I'm starting to see why he likes you."

Without ceremony he grabbed Spock's arm and set about unlocking the cuffs and closing the abrasions they'd left.

"Why is my daughter here?"

The man shrugged while Jane whispered too quietly for human ears "he's a doctor."

"You both got picked up by the same guy, that's why. Other hand."

In the interest of peace, Spock reluctantly held out his other wrist.

"I'm Leonard McCoy by the way, babysitter extraordinaire. Also MD, though no one ever seems to remember." The doctor drawled.

He finished patching up Spock's wrists and moved to stand.

Spock was faced with an unanticipated turn of events. He and Jane had been bought by the same man. There was no contingency in his carefully constructed escape plans for this. It certainly made escape easier if he was to run right that second, but it was hardly the most logical course of action anymore. The probability that they would be caught was inordinately high.

On the other hand, the imposing citadel loomed with an air of terrible ambivalence.

Slowly, Spock got to his feet after the doctor.

"Anything more will have to wait until we're in the infirmary. These people don't like hovercars, and it's a long trek for a horse and buggy so get comfortable."

With equal parts resignation and unease, he led Jane to the carriage and climbed in. Doctor McCoy and Chapel took the front of the carriage, and only a few moments later they were under way.

"Daddy?" Jane asked softly "What's going to happen to us?"

Outside, he could hear the humans speaking in low tones.

"They look okay, for what it's worth." Chapel murmured.

"They're run down and scared out of their minds." The Doctor replied.

"Do you think she's-"

"Yes."

"I'll run a test, then."

Spock tightened his arm around her shoulder.

"I do not know."

He hoped dearly that he had not made the wrong decision.

Spock frowned at the doctor to the beat of the underwater pinging of bio-monitoring equipment. It was both grating and soothing, somehow, in its monotony.

Jane was in the next room, close enough that he could hear her voice if he listened but out of her own hearing range. Like the monitoring equipment, it both soothed him and put him on edge. What did these people want with his child?

They had indeed traveled for quite some time to reach the top of the sheer mountain. The citadel itself was far more imposing up close than it had been from below, but aside from the shabby, unkempt edges, it was actually quite lovely. Roses mixed with ivy climbing along the stone walls, illuminated by warm off-yellow lights that lined the round front drive. The citadel was at the apex of the environmental control bubble for the area, and as such he could see the faint gridlines of the barrier streaking the night sky in the courtyard.

It was also less heavily guarded than expected. The natural placement of it still posed an issue, however, and logically it would be wisest to bide his time.

"You're pretty much in perfect health." the doctor drawled, then put down his scanner "Little bit of stress in your telepathic lobe, but there's not a whole lot I can do about that with what I have on hand. I don't know the first thing about your-" McCoy made a sweeping gesture with his hands "Vulcan soul-mitosis voodoo, so Doctor M'Benga will give you a once-over."

Another doctor who had been reading over McCoy's shoulder stepped forward.

Spock tensed "Unnecessary doctor, as he will no doubt tell you and the house master what all practitioners have any time I have been examined. I am entirely incapable of producing offspring via yielding, though perfectly healthy besides."

"Then what do you call that kid out there?" McCoy scoffed.

Spock raised one brow "Tahta'an T'Pel Jane."

"Are all vulcans this smart-assed or are you just especially charming?" the doctor muttered. Spock looked past him to M'Benga, who had made no move to examine him.

"If you're certain you're unharmed." the second doctor conceded "I would like to ask you - if you're sterile, how is it possible you have a daughter?"

Spock smoothed his features to blank and impassive. "Science has failed to explain it. She is an anomaly from my youth that has never been successfully duplicated."

The second doctor folded his arms "If you had to guess, what do you think?"

Spock narrowed his eyes. "Vulcans do not guess. If that is all, doctors, might see my daughter?"

McCoy caught a lilt of vulnerability in his voice that made him scowl. He swept an arm behind him to the other room in response and turned back to put his scanners in order.

A few seconds later out of the corner of his eye he saw a tiny form shoot away from Chapel and fling itself at Spock.

He turned his head to watch Spock lift the girl into his arms and saw Chapel looking about as taken as woman could get. His own old, crotchety heart broke a little bit at the sight.

"You've got full use of the house." Leonard called "The top floor of the north wing is off-limits for now, but other than that I've been authorized to tell you to go crazy. Kitchen's down the hall to your right, Janice will be around soon to give you a tour."

Spock regarded him for a moment, then nodded and disappeared out the door.

After a few seconds of careful silence, Bones said "I'll put a watch on them. I'm not sure how much they were allowed around each other before, and I don't have to tell you about the ugly side of this Katra-breeding business."

"Oh, there'll be no need for that." Dr. M'Benga said absently, still looking after them.

McCoy stopped and gave him a look. M'Benga finally turned from the door and started re-organizing his own tools.

"Her first name, Tahta'an," M'Benga's recreation of the name sounded too smooth and not quite right "it's an archaic word. Humans are not able to pronounce it. He must have given it to her, and no vulcan would name their child that by accident." he settled his scanner beside the incense Leonard had always regarded dubiously. Bones waited him out, and a few moments later M'Benga looked up.

"It means miracle." he shrugged "A bit emotional for his kind, wouldn't you say?"

Chapel handed him a PADD silently and he gripped it so hard his fingers turned white.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

Jim stood stiffly by his desk listening to Leonard's run-down of Spock's check-up. The morning light cast everything a little brighter than he felt it should be, given his mood, and lit the dark-stained wood of the bookcases and fraying edges of the rug with white-gold halos.

"He's fine from what I can tell. Nothing broken or even bruised. They took care of him at the auction house, if not before. There's scarring on part of his brain but before you even ask I already ordered the supplies to fix it."

Jim nodded tensely, watching the dust motes drift in the sunbeams.

"The girl's a little thin, but I think that's normal for her. It could be stress-related. I figure we'll wait them out and see."

Leonard crossed his arms, dropping from MD to friend with the motion.

"Bones." Jim murmured, more quietly than he'd intended, imploring.

Leonard's lips thinned.

"She's yours, Jim."

Jim blinked stars out of his vision and braced himself back against the desk to keep from falling down.

"He said he couldn't."

"And he still says that. He called her 'an anomaly' and wouldn't give an inch besides."

Jim somehow got around his desk and dropped into his chair. He sat there and breathed for a long while.

"I don't know what to do, Bones."

Jim heard the sound of cloth rustling as Leonard either sat or shrugged. He picked his head up, just realizing he'd hung it.

"You could, I don't know, just go talk to him."

"It's been so many years." Jim thumbed the corner of a stack of papers on his desk absently.

"This is the record of his yielding attempts."

"Well" Leonard's voice was gruff "at least they failed."

"That's just it, they didn't." he shoved the files away like it would force the past in the same direction with the motion "They tried so many times. It was awful for him - it took them days to wear him down enough to try to yield, then months for him to recover. They weren't even sure if he would recover completely after the last attempt. Every note in there says something to the effect of 'great stress on subject' which is a code they use in Starfleet for when a person is tortured." Jim sank further into the chair, energy sapped from him "And that's only part of what his life was like." he nudged a much larger manila folder on the desk in demonstration. "I didn't read the rest of his file. I was just trying to see if I needed to look for any more-"

He shoved his hands into his hair, hunching so Bones couldn't see his face.

"It's my fault. They only tried because of Jane. If I'd just been there-" Jim choked off, took a shaky breath, and continued on a different track "I can't face him, Bones."

Leonard let him sit for a few seconds more, then came around the desk and settled a hand on his shoulder.

"Take your time, Jim, but I think you might find that he'll want you to."