Spock studied his aunt's kindly human face as the final portion of her message replayed on his computer screen.

"Spock, never mind the way T'Beth is acting. Deep

down, I believe it's only a sign of how much she

really does need you. Please don't give up on her,

or the idea of making a home for her. These are

difficult years for a girl, and considering everything

she's been through…"

With a sigh, Spock turned from the screen. Doris should not have needed to remind him of his promise to T'Beth. By now he should have arranged some way to give more attention to his daughter. He did not feel adequate for the task of handling the rebellious adolescent, but he had a responsibility to her. Every time he shipped out, she got into more trouble. T'Beth needed more than the warmth and understanding Aunt Doris provided. She needed a father who was willing and able to invest time in her, however unpleasant that time might prove—and in his case it was sure to be unpleasant.

No, things were not going well between him and T'Beth, but just now his relationship with his wife was even worse. It had been weeks since she left him, but he had not yet adjusted to life apart from her. Spock's eyes roamed the sterile first officer's quarters. Though Lauren's belongings were gone, memories of their brief marriage lingered everywhere. He sometimes imagined that he saw her, heard her voice, or even scented her gardenia perfume. Those rare occasions when he encountered Lauren were particularly painful. Being Vulcan, he was bound more tightly than her to the bond of their failed marriage, but he knew the situation was not easy on Lauren, either. She did not look well. Lately she had grown quite thin and pale, though he still found her beautiful and always would.

Steepling his fingers, he stared into the depressing emptiness of the cabin. His continuing efforts to wall off the pain were doomed to failure as long as he remained so near his wife, aboard the Enterprise. Since their marriage could not possibly be salvaged, a change of environment seemed the only logical answer. The time had come to leave the memories behind. The time had come to take his life—and T'Beth's—in a whole new direction.

oooo

Early the next week Spock entered the captain's office and stood before Kirk at attention. The captain looked up from his desk and noted the show of formality with rising eyebrows.

"Yes, Mister Spock?"

With a deep intake of breath, Spock stepped forward and handed Kirk a printed document. "Captain, I am submitting an official request for transfer off the Enterprise. Starfleet Academy has offered me a new teaching position."

Kirk glanced at the form, then rose, and was speechless for a moment. "…Spock," he said at last.

Spock dropped his gaze to the captain's desk. "I do so with reluctance," he admitted, "but there comes a time when parental obligations must take precedence. T'Beth needs me."

"Yes, but—" Kirk hesitated. "I can't help wondering how much this has to do with…with Lauren."

Spock's difficulties with his wife were a deeply personal matter. He was silent for a moment before turning the conversation back to his transfer. "I realize that you will need time to find a suitable replacement, but I would appreciate it if you would expedite the matter."

"Replacement?" Kirk gave a wan smile. "Spock, I'll find people to take over your duties, but never a replacement. You know how much I depend on you…and on your friendship."

Spock looked at the charismatic captain and experienced a deep stab of regret. "I, too, shall miss your companionship," he conceded, "but I must first of all consider T'Beth."

Kirk frowned. "Yes. The possibility did come up at your wedding reception, but I was hoping…" His voice trailed off, as if acknowledging the painful logic of Spock's decision. "I understand. Your daughter does need you; she'll be completely grown before you know it."

Spock was relieved at how easily Jim accepted the situation. He had come prepared for an argument. Suddenly, he did not know what more to say.

Kirk broke the silence. "So, it's back to teaching?"

"For now."

Kirk came around the desk and faced him with a peculiar sheepish look. Spock had the uneasy feeling that the captain might reach out and try to embrace him, as he had aboard the Klingon fighter after Sybok's death. Instead Kirk said, "I'm afraid I have one last favor to ask of you. And under the circumstances, it's asking a lot."

"Yes, Captain?"

It was obvious that Kirk was most reluctant to speak. But finally he said, "There's a galactic medical conference coming up at Memory Alpha. Doctor Fielding has been invited to give a presentation on her research into Vulcan plakir-fee. And they want you there, too."

Spock went rigid. "Me?"

"As the sole survivor of third level plakir-fee."

Spock found the thought of sharing a stage with his estranged wife daunting enough, but any discussion of his cure might also include a foray into his subsequent drug dependence. "Jim," he said emphatically, "I have no wish to be paraded and gawked at."

Kirk shook his head. "Oh, it'll be nothing like that, Spock. These are the finest medical minds in the Federation. They'll probably just ask you a few questions…and Doctor Fielding has already assured me that she won't touch on any…sensitive matters."

"She has." Spock could see the captain's resolve, and that did not bode well. "I cannot believe that she would want me there."

"Starfleet wants you there."

"But Captain—"

Kirk cut in. "Mister Spock, I could order you to attend…but I'd rather not have to do that."

So it was over. Somehow, in the brief course of their conversation, the "favor" had come down to this. "Very well," Spock said, knowing that his irritation showed, and not caring. "But I assure you, Doctor Fielding will not be any more pleased than I."

Kirk gave him a tight, grim smile. "I'll take care of the doctor."

oooo

Lauren Fielding entered the transporter room and stopped short, appalled to find Spock awaiting her on the transport stage. She had thought he would at least have the good taste to beam down separately. She shot a look at her friend, Chief Rand, standing behind the control console. Jan's expression pretty much conveyed a similar dim view of the Vulcan. Lauren steeled herself. Avoiding Spock's eyes, she took her place on the farthest locus.

They beamed down together. As the transporter released Lauren, she experienced more than the usual twinge of nausea. Momentarily dizzy, she swayed, aware of Spock watching, holding himself back from touching her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

The question infuriated her. Shaking off the malaise, she stepped out into the busy lobby. It felt better when she moved around. She should have forced herself to eat more, but since the day she walked out on Spock, she had not felt like eating much of anything. And the thought of getting up in front of an audience of hundreds had robbed her of what little appetite she had left.

She searched out a lift that would carry her to the auditorium, and stepped inside. Spock and two others joined her. Three levels later the strangers exited the lift and she was alone with the Vulcan. Eyes forward, she took slow deep breaths and tried not to think of him standing on the other side of the little compartment, but every one of her senses screamed their awareness of his unwanted presence. She even felt him with her mind.

The sudden sound of his voice startled her.

"I am sure that you are finding this most awkward," he said in a strained tone, "but I am doing my utmost to minimize the mental bond between us. It may comfort you to know that I will soon be gone."

She turned and stared at him. His eyes were fixed on the turbolift doors. "What are you talking about?" she said impatiently, realizing they were the first words she had spoken to him since their breakup.

"I am transferring off the Enterprise," he replied without looking at her.

Lauren felt a sudden deep ache and was glad when the lift came to a stop and the doors opened. Of all the— Could it be? Was he trying to make her feel guilty because he's leaving? After what he had done? Sleeping or wide-awake, a hundred thousand times she had relived the cold, hard horror of those final moments of Spock's pon farr. Even now she saw him coming for her, full of rage and self-importance, coming to steal what she might have given him willingly had he only taken the trouble to seduce her. But he had not wanted to win her over. No, he had only wanted to bully her. Though he had reached the point of some gentleness and rationality, he had deliberately chosen to hurt her using all the physical and mental savagery of which he was capable.

Hoping to lose him in the crowd, she headed for the auditorium, but when she arrived he was still there, following at a discreet distance. She introduced herself to the program moderator, and with a professionalism Kirk would have admired, she introduced Spock as well, and they were ushered into a vacant waiting room backstage. The scheduling was running a little late. There would be a delay of several minutes.

Retreating to a corner of the room, Lauren sat down and closed her eyes and tried to think of her presentation. Her stomach churned at the thought of facing an audience, but she would rather have given a dozen speeches than have to stay here alone with that man, pretending she did not want to tear him to shreds for what he had done to her and their marriage.

…All she could think about was his face. The way it had looked, distorted with fury. The way his lips had moved, speaking words that cut into her. Then ripping his way into her mind, into her body. Heedless of her pain, even enjoying it…

With a sudden intake of breath, she opened her eyes and looked around, heart pounding. She found him standing at the opposite end of the room, looking at a potted plant with a pale imitation of his usual curiosity. Oh, he was doing some remembering of his own, alright. What was he feeling beneath that cool Vulcan façade? Did his memories of the assault give him some kind of perverted pleasure?

No longer able to contain herself, Lauren rose up. He turned and looked straight at her. "I don't get it," she lashed out. "Are you proud of what you did to me?"

Pain flickered across his face. "No. I am not proud of it."

"You've never even tried to apologize!"

Quietly he said, "Would it have made any difference?"

"Not to you, it seems!"

He frowned slightly, retreating into his thoughts for a moment. "Vulcans are a savage race. Violence was commonplace before Surak instituted the Great Reform. They were on the verge of destroying themselves." He paused, and Lauren could not believe that he was actually giving her a history lesson. "Now," he went on, "discipline holds such undesirable behavior in check…most of the time. As for me—"

"Is there a point to this?" she broke in.

He said, "If I apologize to you for what I did, then I must also apologize to you for what I am."

"In other words, you are what you are and you can't help it." Lauren's temper heated. "What you are, Commander S'chn T'gai, is a cold-blooded, arrogant creep!" He did not so much as flinch. "Tell me, where do you get the nerve to stand there and look me in the eye, after what you did?"

"You fail to understand," he said.

Lauren tossed up her hands. "Oh no, I don't think so. You're the one who doesn't seem to understand. I'm through with you—and no half-baked Vulcan excuse for an apology is ever going to change that!"

He actually stepped a little closer and said, "I was about to tell you that I do not know what it is to be fully Vulcan. My perspective is and always will be that of a half-Vulcan. Being partly human makes my control less certain."

"So that's your excuse—those pesky human parts did it. Well, I have news for you. That day I saw every part of you there was to see, and it was not a rapturous sight." She made sure there was no mistaking the sarcasm.

.

His mouth tightened. Tears welled unexpectedly in his eyes. "I am sorry," he said very softly. "I am truly sorry."

She could see that he was actually sincere and perhaps that, more than anything, enraged her. Did he really think it was that simple? Just say a word and she would forget everything? Humble himself a little and they would kiss and make up?

Swiftly closing the distance between them, she drew back her arm and slapped him with all her strength. Then she walked out the door.

oooo

Spock sat onstage, to the left of the podium where Lauren was delivering her speech. His face no longer stung, but the slap's imprint of humiliation made him withdraw even further from their relationship. Had she not wanted an apology? Yet when he gave her one, she forcefully rejected it.

Confused, he turned his head and looked at her. She had grown so wan and fragile-looking that he could clearly see the scattering of freckles over her nose. Yet she seemed even lovelier than the day they first met. Thinking of the love they had once shared, he wondered how he could have allowed his dark side to rise up and destroy something so precious to him. As he gazed at her, his thoughts drifted back to another dark episode—to the young ensign whose life he had taken on Mega Morbidus. Because of a Symbiant's role, they had not called it murder. But to Spock, the killing was very personal and disturbing. He could not forget the way Reesa Weller had cried out in her last moments.

Abruptly he pulled his thoughts from the dark spiral and focused on Lauren's words. The presentation was intelligent and well prepared, as usual with all her work. Yet he knew what it cost her to overcome her natural shyness and speak before a crowd. No, it was not easy for her. He noticed that she was not breathing properly. As he watched, he became aware that her level of physical distress was rapidly increasing beyond that of ordinary nervousness. He saw her hands grip the edges of the podium as if for support. Her head leaned forward. Was she about to faint? .

Lauren stumbled over a word and fell silent. Then she began to collapse.

Somehow Spock leaped from his chair and caught her before she hit the floor. As he lifted her into his arms, doctors of several species rose from the audience and began talking at once. Doctor McCoy left his seat in the front row and came onto the stage.

McCoy gave Lauren a quick glance and touched Spock on the elbow. "Can you carry her somewhere private?"

She felt so light in his arms that Spock could easily have carried her to the end of the galaxy, but a few short steps brought them to the waiting room. He gently positioned her on a sofa. She looked as white as death, but was still breathing.

"I believe she has suffered a syncopatic episode," he said as McCoy checked her with a medscanner.

"An astute diagnosis, Doctor." McCoy's expression was grim. "She hasn't been eating enough to keep an Ildaran moss-crawler alive." Looking ill at ease, he shut off the medscanner and faced Spock. "It's this…this separation of yours. Spock, I tried to warn her about what she'd face if she went to you in your condition. But she loved you too much to let you die."

Spock swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat. On the sofa Lauren sighed and began to stir. Stepping back, he said, "Let her know that I…am finishing her presentation."

He returned to the stage. As he stepped to the podium, the audience took to their seats and linked back into their translators. "You will be pleased to hear," he began, "that Doctor Fielding is alright."

There was a general murmur of relief. A copy of Lauren's speech lay before Spock. After introducing himself, he read what little remained, then fielded questions about his cure. Under normal circumstances he would then have sought out new exhibits among the museum complexes of Memory Alpha, so that is precisely what he did, setting aside any nagging concerns until later.

oooo

Aboard the Enterprise, Lauren gratefully accepted Doctor McCoy's steadying hand as he helped her off the examination table. She still felt weak, but most of all she felt embarrassed. "I can't believe it," she said. "Passing out in front of all those highbrows."

McCoy made no comment. Quietly he said, "I'd like you to come into my office for a minute."

Reluctantly she followed the chief surgeon. It looked like she was in for a lecture about taking care of herself. Once inside, McCoy pointed her into a chair and opaqued the windows. Arms folded ominously, he stood over her.

"Laurie," he said, "I'm going to give you something for the nausea. You've got to try and eat more."

"I know," she agreed. "I just haven't been very hungry."

"Starving yourself won't help the situation—and as you well know, it could do a considerable amount of harm."

"I know," she repeated tiredly.

McCoy gave her a long, hard look. "Does he know?"

Bewildered, Lauren stared at him. "Does who know?"

"Spock," McCoy said with some exasperation. "Who else? A father has a right to know."

Lauren found herself hopelessly confused. "A father? Doctor, what in the world are you talking about?"

McCoy threw up his hands. "The baby, what else?"

"…Baby?" Slowly the connections came together in Lauren's mind and she came dangerously close to fainting again. "Are you saying that…that I'm pregnant?"

McCoy gaped at her in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you don't know?"

Somehow she shook her head.

"I just assumed…since you're a doctor…"

She shook her head again, forcefully this time. "Uh-uh, no, there has to be a mistake. This is impossible. I have the standard contraceptive implant. I'm just late, that's all."

"Let me see your arm." McCoy felt for the spot on her wrist. "The bead is there, alright. But it'll have to come out or it will harm the baby."

The baby.

Lauren drew in a slow, shuddering breath. "I can't believe this. I need to think. I want to be alone."

A sickening panic gripped her as the door closed behind McCoy. Dear God, please…please let it be a mistake… She had never even thought much about having a child—and now, for it to be his child!

Just now she would have hit him again, and gladly—not that the backstage slap had made her feel any better. Maybe it was the way he took it, without even trying to ward off the blow. Or the pain in his eyes that he hadn't even tried to disguise. Or the way he had accompanied her to the stage afterward, as courteous and respectful as if nothing had happened. He had even opened a door for her.

Why did he have to be like that? Why did he have to pretend as if that other part of him didn't even exist? Hadn't T'Beth tried to warn her? "His whole life is a lie"—his own daughter had said it. And now there was another little S'chn T'gai on the way.

Fighting a surge of nausea, Lauren went to McCoy's computer and called up the results of her examination. Her heart sank as she read the data. There was no mistake. She was pregnant with a boy—a male, like him. Great. Just great.

Her voice shook as she ordered the computer to seek out every obscure bit of information on Vulcan reproduction. The pon farr triggered male fertility, but shouldn't contraceptives have prevented impregnation? The main computer had been downlinked to Memory Alpha's huge scientific library for any recent updates. Within a minute she found what she was looking for, and it was exactly as she had feared. Powerful pheromones released by a male in pon farr stimulated the female to ovulate. Certain contraceptives used by Vulcans could block this natural process, but they had not been used or tested by non-Vulcanoid species. It was unknown whether the standard human type of hormone regulators could withstand Vulcan pheromones.

Even as she read, an infuriating thought occurred to her. These matters, though new to the general medical community, would have long been known among Vulcans. Spock was raised as a Vulcan. Obviously he knew. So why had he never told her?

oooo

Spock walked into sickbay and finding Doctor McCoy bent over a tray of medications, said, "I trust Doctor Fielding has fully recovered."

McCoy kept his eyes on his work. "She's fine and dandy, but mad as hell. And she's looking for you, Spock."

It was not the sort of reply Spock had expected. He raised an eyebrow. "Have I done something new to offend her?"

The doctor paused to scribble a notation on a datapadd. "It's her place to tell you, not mine."

"I see." Spock could only assume that Lauren objected to him finishing her presentation at Memory Alpha. Perhaps it had been presumptuous, considering that she had barred him from the ongoing research project. In trying to assist her, he had only made matters worse.

He left sickbay. Perhaps Lauren's anger would cool by the time she found him. Meanwhile, there were no pressing matters aboard ship demanding his attention. The Enterprise was in stationary orbit, the majority of the crew on day's leave, enjoying the facilities below. Feeling a serious need for meditation, he turned toward the privacy of his cabin.

The instant his door opened, he knew. She was here—inside. His pulse leapt as if he actually believed she had come back for some other purpose than to confront him. Entering, he found her seated at his computer, her face hard and unforgiving. As he had thought. He immediately resumed the process of emotional withdrawal.

"Interesting," she said, "what one can find out if one really tries."

He tilted his head. "Is this about Memory Alpha? If so, I must apologize once again. I should have asked your permission before taking over your presentation."

"My presentation?" Her blue eyes blazed. "Oh, I'm afraid it's a bit more serious than that."

Spock moved nearer, cautiously feeling along their bond for the source of her outrage. Her heart was as closed as his. "Please…enlighten me."

Sudden tears spilled down her face. She wiped at them angrily. "I'm talking about our son!"

"But we have no—" His voice broke off as the most likely meaning of her words struck him. Her paleness, her lack of appetite, the way she had fainted—yes, taken together, those signs were all indicative of pregnancy in humans. His emotional control slipped, almost collapsing completely as he absorbed all the implications. "A…son. How long have you known?"

"Not as long as you, I imagine."

"But you only now told me."

Looking ill, she leaned her elbows on the desk and lowered her head into her hands. "Oh, come on. You were in pon farr. We…mated—you saw to that. It's a simple Vulcan equation. One plus one—equals three."

"Lauren." Spock stopped to collect himself. "The equation if not so simple as you seem to think. There are the variables of my human half, and your own humanness. And there have been no studies on the effectiveness of non-Vulcan contraceptives when used against Vulcan pheromones. In other words—"

"I know what it means!" she cried out.

To his dismay, she began to weep in earnest. "Please" he said, "don't."

She raised her head and glowered at him, eyes and nose reddened from crying. "What? I should be happy? Easy for you to say! It isn't your body, it isn't your life!"

Spock rapidly considered. A child—this changed everything. "Yes, the pregnancy will pose many difficulties for you, but I am not a disinterested stranger." And he even dared to say, " I am the father of that child. I will provide what help I can."

"I don't want your help," she flared, "and I don't want your child."

It was understandable—and certainly best—that she reject him, but would she also reject their son? Might she actually terminate the pregnancy?

Carefully he said, "All of us carry our own share of dark impulses. For a time, I was unable to control mine…and I allowed that darkness to rise up and inflict unspeakable harm. But Lauren…I appeal to the goodness that I know is within you. Do not let anger toward me cloud your better judgment. The child you are carrying is innocent of any wrongdoing."

Her tears subsided, and as he looked into the anguished depths of her eyes, he saw a little lessening of the resistance she had thrown up against him.

"Fine then," her voice quavered. "I'll give the baby up for adoption. If you contest it, I'll bring criminal charges against you. Everyone will know what you did to me."

Spock made no effort to stop her as she walked from his cabin. The barbaric possessiveness of pon farr had brought on this crisis; he must guard against any behavior that she might interpret as confining and remember that he no longer had any claim on her. In the past he had made fine promises, only to break them. At this point he did not even trust himself. From now on, he must think only of the child.

oooo

Lauren entered the small cabin she shared with a fellow officer, and was glad that the lieutenant was on shore leave. Slipping off her uniform, she put on a robe and tried one of the anti-nausea lozenges McCoy had given her. Wearily she sank onto her bunk and stretched out.

Spock was right about one thing. She did have her own dark places, but that did not make it any easier to deal with his. The darkness in her soul made her want to hurt him the same way he had hurt her. She felt it urging her to reject the only part of him over which she had complete control. "Our son", she had called it. Why? Why had she called it anything but Spock's son—a child of lust, a child of violence? It did not matter that she had spoken the words with sarcasm. Now that they were said, the idea was set in motion and she was thinking of the baby as hers, too.

It was just possible, wasn't it, that he could have her blue eyes and her fair, wavy hair? Wasn't there a chance that his ears would be round and human like hers? And he would laugh. He would cry. Even Vulcan children did that before the emotions were trained out of them—didn't they? Left to be himself, he would dig in the dirt and pull cats' tails and run around playing silly, pointless, illogical games.

Some place inside her softened at the thought. The mint-flavored lozenge melted in her mouth, ending her nausea. Sleepy, she closed her eyes. Dreams drifted behind her eyelids—golden sunlight glinting on ocean waves, and somewhere nearby, a child's laughter…