Christine Chapel was very happy with her current mode of waking in the morning.

On the ship she had woken at a rigidly preordained time every morning, as the cold beep-beep-beep of her alarm clock shrilled into the air. She had gone through the motions of morning ablutions before she felt completely awake, pulled on her uniform, attended to hair and make up, and, almost every morning, somehow fitted breakfast into some part of the routine; mostly so that McCoy did not lecture her every morning about eating properly.

Here, waking was an entirely different experience.

Despite Spock's care to find a house in a cooler area of Vulcan the heat was still comparable to a hot summer's day back home on Earth, and the nights were correspondingly warm. She slept without clothing under nothing more than a thin sheet, while Spock lay under a layer of blankets, with Sacha, Spock's guide dog, lying panting at the foot of the bed. Spock rose before she did, almost invariably, and let her continue to sleep while he went to the kitchen and prepared breakfast. She woke to the scent of coffee, and to the quiet clink of a plate containing waffles or pancakes, or simple toast or cereal being put down beside the bed.

At first she had been amazed that Spock could cook pancakes to perfection without the advantage of sight, but since they had come here he had insisted on doing almost all the cooking. He had learnt the skills months ago during his initial rehabilitation course, and although he rarely got the chance to cook on the ship, he had forgotten none of the advice or techniques.

'You spoil me, you know,' she murmured sleepily as she rolled over to the sight of two steaming mugs of black coffee and a plate of muffins. 'I'll get fat.'

'I have presented you with plain toast or cereal every alternate day this week,' Spock reminded her, regaining his position in bed beside her. 'I have been wanting to attempt the muffins. It is my mother's recipe. I have not made them since – ' He raised an eyebrow, the length of time startling him as it came into his memory. 'Since before I joined the Enterprise, I believe.'

'I bet chocolate chips aren't easy to come by here,' she said, splitting one of the muffins and watching steam rise in pale swirls. Tears of chocolate were melting into the light, airy sponge.

'I had my mother send them,' Spock said, picking one up himself and sniffing it delicately. He nodded approval, and took a bite.

'Just like mother used to make?' she asked with a smile.

'Not quite,' Spock said honestly, 'but they are not unpleasant. I think I have, at least, honoured the recipe.'

She tasted one herself, and smiled.

'Spock, if these are not quite as good as your mother's, I'll have to taste hers one day. These are exquisite!'

Spock's eyebrow arched. Christine had grown to interpret over the years the many different variations of meaning that Spock managed with the movement of one eyebrow, and this one definitely meant pleasure.

'Will you make me some Vulcan breakfasts some day?' she asked him.

'Of course,' Spock nodded. 'Tomorrow I will fix you j'la, if you will assist me today in purchasing the ingredients. I think you will like it.'

'It's your first appointment at Gol tomorrow, isn't it?' she asked him

Spock turned towards her in the bed, reaching out to trace his fingers over her bare shoulder. There was the smallest amount of tension just perceptible in the muscles beneath her smooth skin.

'My first appointment,' he nodded. 'But I will have time to prepare breakfast before we leave. You are aware that I shall be required to stay?'

'I knew it might be necessary,' she nodded.

'I was contacted by an adept yesterday. They propose my staying at Gol for the first week, in order to have instruction available to me at any time. After that time, appointments will be arranged if or as needed.'

'You'll be all right?' she asked.

Spock gave her a faint smile, reaching out to touch her cheek.

'You know me better than that, Christine,' he said. 'I will be perfectly fine.'

'Good,' she said, then repeated a little more slowly, 'Good…'

'Your tone does not suggest good,' Spock pointed out.

'Oh, no, it's nothing,' she said with forced carelessness. 'It's – just going to be a long week without you…'

'Tell me your fears, Christine,' he said, wishing, as always, that he could see the expressions on her face that spoke of what she was thinking. Was this how most humans felt when faced with a Vulcan's impassive countenance? he wondered.

'My fears,' she repeated with a small, nervous laugh.

He reached out a hand to cup her cheek.

'Yes. Those fears that I can feel running like snakes in the surface of your mind. You may not mention them, but they are not hidden to me, Christine.'

He felt her cheek tense and change shape as she smiled.

'My fears,' she said again, in a voice that still held a tremor under a forced lightness. 'My fear, Spock – my one fear – is that you will go, as you need to do, to Gol, and you will spend a week under the instruction of men who think that love is illogical – especially love for a human – and that you will discover yourself that you don't need me after all, and you will come back here, and tell me something that I – can't bear to hear.'

'Christine,' he said, stroking his fingertips over her temples. He could feel the slight pulsing of her heartbeat there, and feel underneath the rippling currents of her thoughts. 'Christine, no Vulcan believes that love is illogical. Sometimes unnecessary, yes. Sometimes a distraction, or better left well alone. But love leads to stable relationships, and mutual support, and the procreation of children. No sane race would reject it.'

'But – koon-ut-kal-if-fee…'

'If you mean childhood bonding, and the cementing of that bond at the first coming of the male's – Time…' he said awkwardly. 'That almost invariably leads to love. No Vulcan could be so intimately bonded with one, and not develop a feeling of affection.'

'And T'Pring?' she asked, ever reluctant to bring up the subject of Spock's intended bondmate.

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'Whether by dint of my human heritage, or mutual incompatibility, it was unlikely that that bond would ever have reached the required depth. T'Pring cemented her own bond with Stonn at his first Time, since he had not been joined. Not all children are bonded in such a way – it happens far more often in privileged families, in which some attempt is made to preserve the blood-line. T'Pring is very intelligent, and of a good family, and, superficially, was an excellent match. But our own bond was never worked at, never nourished. Perhaps if it had been, T'Pring would now be my wife, and I would love her, and find her a useful and interesting companion. But – I am glad that sometimes history does not unfold as it is intended.'

'And – me?' she asked in a small voice.

'How can you ask me that question?' Spock said, letting a little of his mind flow into hers. 'You are my bondmate. You are the bondmate that I chose, of my own free will. I did not choose you as an able assistant in my blindness. I had been blind for many months before our relationship developed. If the adepts of Gol help to restore calm and logic to my mind as regards my blindness, that can only improve our relationship, never harm it.'

He touched his fingers more firmly to her cheek and temple, letting a sense of his thoughts and feelings enter her mind. Then he removed his hand, and rested it on her shoulder instead.

'Are your fears settled?' he asked, with a hint of humour on his face. 'May we enjoy our breakfast now?'

'My fears are quite settled,' she said with a smile as he passed her coffee. 'Anyway,' she added mischievously. 'A week of peace might do me good…'