Spock woke up in his rooms, illuminated by the rays of the rising sun. He stretched and got up, enjoying the view of the mountains circling Shi'khar. As many days and months and years as he had been back on Vulcan, he couldn't remember when he arrived, he had found the view to be a source of great satisfaction. It was not illogical to find pleasure in nature's beauty, especially the beauty of one's homeworld, especially when one had spent most of one's life away from such homeworld, out in the depths of space.

The late morning found him climbing the stairs to the Shi'khar Academy, comfortable in his robes, the day not advanced enough for the heat to have become oppressive. He was reminded of the constant chill of Enterprise, the sodden feel of the atmosphere calibrated for a different species, and inhaled more deeply, both out of pleasure for the dry feel of the sun and out of pain for relationships from long ago, before he had come back to Vulcan, to teach or to study, it was all a matter of perspective.

His steps carried him through the square plaza with geometric pavers, reminiscent of a different plaza on another world, so many different plazas and configurations, all types of geometric arrangements. He had seen many things in his life. A life well lived.

He had expected coming back to Vulcan would be a difficult adjustment, trying to fit again in a society that seemed sterile and overly ordered. He had found instead a wealth of stimulation, a richness of culture, his mind appreciating and enjoying the defined structure and order that allowed a deeper focus on any and all matters. He no longer felt rejected, the people around him, his peers, had grown up, and so had he. He had his many accomplishments to back him up, as he walked up the stairs to the library, with him were the outlines of all the lives he had saved, of all the deeds he had done, of everything he had seen and known and been a part of.

He placed his palm on the reader right before she did. He had seen the petite woman walk through the plaza at an angle from his steps, absorbed in the pad she was carrying, her hood already up against the sun. He had not been looking at her but he had somehow registered she was Vulcan, of an age past the follies of youth, of a step as self-confident as his was. She was also obviously on auto-pilot, did not look up from her reading until he placed his palm on the reader and she inadvertently covered his hand with hers.

She whipped her hand back as if she had been stung, coloring a deep shade of green as she mumbled the customary apology, embarrassed to the core by her faux pas, it was poor enough form that she had touched him, she had covered his hand with hers, a motion fraught with deep sexual meaning. He customarily accepted her excuses, accustomed by his time among Humans to provide shallow comfort, feeling his ears color in turn as the Vulcan in him reacted to the sexual innuendo of the unexpected touch, all the while knowing that the unprotected contact meant she had felt a shadow of his thoughts as he had felt a shadow of hers. He could never explain to Humans how unsettling this was for a telepathic species. He had the sudden vision that an appropriate analogy would be having a stranger come inside one's house unexpected and walk on one in the shower, seeing more than one would have chosen to reveal, more than they would have ever been allowed to see.

"I am Spock." At least if he introduced himself, it would take some of the aspects of being a stranger away. It still did not make it right, it made it less difficult.

"My name is T'Roal," she responded, her blush less pronounced as she regained control of her physiology, only the tips of her ears showing how embarrassed she felt.

"I am a lecturer at the Academy." Another building block of familiarity, still enormously insufficient. One did not undress oneself fore another on the basis of a given name and a profession.

"I am a research specialist in pre-Awakening phenomenology," she responded.

Spock raised an eyebrow in interest. It was an arcane subject. Would he have chosen to show himself naked to a research specialist in pre-Awakening phenomenology named T'Roal? He would never know, the decision had been forced by her indiscretion, however involuntary. Considering the opposite logical argument, would she have chosen to present herself without clothes to an academy lecturer named Spock. He didn't think so.

He could at this point retract himself from the interaction and the immediate area, leaving both of them with the embarrassing knowledge until it became a memory and then a humoristic moment. But something wouldn't let him. Perhaps old reflexes from his time on Enterprise, or perhaps learned behavior from his ambassador father. So he handed her another building block, another hint of who he was that perhaps would make it more acceptable that she had shown herself without clothes to his mind.

"I was born in Shi'khar." There was no logical reason why this particular piece of personal history would be the one he selected as an offering. But he did.

"I was born in Nadul'Khar but have resided in Shi'khar since I was four." She had provided two logical arguments, one more than him. He needed to right the scales.

"I left when I was seventeen." Did he really leave at that age? How young that was. How did he imagine knowing enough about the world and about life to leave that he left at that age. But he did. And he had. The witlessness of youth.

She was the one who retracted herself, excusing her leaving on not wanting to be late at her functions, shooting him a sidelong glance as she left that made him want to know... He didn't know what.

xxx

The second time they met was when they both happened to break their research day at the same hour. She was already in the eating chamber when he entered and he hadn't noticed her. It was unsure if he had whether he would have kept proceeding into the room.

"T'Roal." He inclined his head in recognition when he realized she was standing in his way, having just taken a few seconds to greet another acquaintance.

"Spock." She inclined her head in response, her glance shifting down and to the side in remembered embarrassment.

He had not really expected to encounter her again, as he had never before seen her in or around the academy complex. And he was quite certain, based on her reaction, that she would have preferred never to run into him again, in or out of the academy complex. Which was somewhat surprising as, other the fact that their reaction was in large part due to the unexpected nature of their discovery of each other's thoughts and feelings, Vulcans had little complexes when it came to disrobing or the naked form.

Spock wondered idly whether there was a significance to the fact each encounter with T'Roal brought to his mind the image of her being naked. He was too aware of the workings of the mind to discard it outright. But while he entertained the thought that perhaps his mind was trying to hint at some larger truth, he could not imagine that this should be the case and decided, very logically, that it must simply be because of the mind-exchange when they first met.

They had already lingered for five point three seconds longer than was necessary or appropriate to a casual meeting in the eating chambers, and he gravely took leave of her presence. She cast him a sidelong glance as he did so and he felt the tips of his ears start burning. He didn't know why.

xxx

Their third encounter was as serendipitous as the first two, he leaving the grounds, watching the setting sun over the mountains, mesmerized by the reds, oranges and ochres that were lighting up the sky and the earth, appreciating the cool beauty in the logical ordering of nature.

He didn't know how he had not seen her as he got close to the parking tiers, but all of a sudden she was there, almost as if she had appeared out of thin air. He found that he swallowed abruptly, the image of her dancing in his mind. He did not know about falling in love, the way Humans do. He only knew that he wanted to be where she was, that he would follow her until they both fell off the edge of the world.

And he also knew that it was too soon, that he knew nothing of her apart from what he had sensed that first time, and that she knew nothing of him. That he may find some flaw in her, though he already knew he would disregard any flaw she might have, and that she might find him flawed at an elemental level, he who was only half of her world. And he realized that he wanted her to know everything he was, everything he had been and everything he would become.

"The setting sun is pleasant." He said as way of an introduction. It was more than pleasant, it was a symphony of colors, it held the promise of tomorrows, it haloed the world she walked in - and it would have been nothing but a sunset had she not been there.

She once again gave him a sidelong glance. It did not seem physiologically possible but his heart started beating faster, he felt warmer even though the outside temperature had not changed. "I have heard of you." She responded, leaving him to wonder what it meant.

But then she had to go, this time taking official leave, they had met enough times now that they had a passing acquaintanceship, even beyond their first involuntary knowledge.

In turn he lifted his hand in the ta'al, the vertical blessing of their people. And then she was gone, so suddenly that he wondered if perhaps he had dreamed her. But no, he saw her craft skittering away. He would see her again, of that he was certain.