Chapter 3

Kirk – one year

Someone was shaking him. He lashed out, grasping the offending wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Jim! Please stop! You're hurting me!"

"Lori?" Her face swam inches before his in the dim, gray pre-dawn light.

"Yes, Jim, it's me. Please let go – you're hurting my arm."

He released his grip instantly, pushing himself to a seated position. "I'm sorry, I don't know why—"

"You were having a nightmare, calling Spock's name repeatedly, apologizing for something over and over. I was just trying to wake you." Soft, soothing, her hand brushing his shoulder, now caressing his cheek. "It sounded pretty awful. Want to talk about it?"

"No. Not really. It was nothing. Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep." He kissed her gently, flashing a reassuring grin before laying himself back down, rolling onto his side, his back now to her.

He hadn't had this particular nightmare in years. It always had the power to bring forth feelings of utter helplessness, uncertainty and incompetence, feelings he occasionally wrestled with during that first year as Starfleet's Boy Wonder.

Deneva had probably been the most traumatic event he experienced professionally during his honeymoon year as captain of the Enterprise. Losing Edith had had a profound effect on him personally, but when dealing with the singular problem of eliminating the creatures infecting the colonists, the potential for disaster, coupled with the personal losses he'd experienced, had left him shaken and reeling for weeks afterward. He'd hidden it well from his friends, not allowing any outward signs of his internal strife to show, but when he was alone, thinking about how things could have gone wrong, it always ended badly, his heart pounding, his body drenched with sweat.

In reality they had been successful, saving both the colonists and Spock and Peter, but the dream explored all those fears that hadn't been realized, the might-have-beens of that horrific day, had things not worked out in their favor. In this insidious nightmare, they never did discover the secret to destroying the parasites. Kirk had watched Spock slowly succumb to the pain the creatures inflicted upon him, driven mad, dying in unimaginable agony. Seeing this, McCoy had opted to 'pull the plug' on Peter, rather than let the boy regain consciousness only to suffer the same fate as the Vulcan.

Without a solution to the infestation problem, they'd had to destroy the colony in order to prevent the spread of the neural parasites. Not only had he ordered the execution of over a million people, he took it upon himself to carry out that order, not wanting any of his crew to have that blood on their hands.

The dream was terrifying. The memories and feelings it evoked never failed to leave him trembling, weak, and utterly spent, the emotional distress increasing exponentially as snippets of this vicious assault on his psyche coalesced out of the darkness during the immediate, post-waking moments.

Initially, visions of Sam, Aurelan and Peter as they had appeared in death floated before him, the wound inflicted by their loss raw, jagged, bleeding. While he and Sam hadn't been nearly as close over the last ten years as they had been when they were boys, Kirk had always regarded his older brother with a certain measure of awe. To have the idol of his youth taken from him in such an abrupt and brutal fashion, coupled with the loss of Sam's remaining family members, had been devastating, and taken a severe toll on him.

The feelings would then regress to revulsion and self-loathing as he remembered annihilating the colony. I have become Kodos, his mind would cry. For all those years I harbored a terrible hatred toward that man for not finding another solution, and yet I wound up doing the exact same thing, following the same path he set all those years ago. All my life I've said I don't believe in the no-win scenario, and yet when it really mattered, when I had the chance to prove it, I was unable to solve the problem. I am no better than he.

And then the final, most powerful wave of shock and grief would hit. He would see again Spock's agonizing death at the hand of the mindless aliens that had invaded the Vulcan's body. Spock was so much stronger than the average human; because of this, they couldn't risk confining him to sickbay for those final hours. In order to ensure the safety of the crew and the ship he had ordered that the first officer be placed in the brig, two guards posted outside the door, escape impossible, his fate sealed. Kirk had watched helplessly from behind the protection of the forcefield as Spock had first tried tearing off his own skin in an effort to remove the organisms infesting his body, finally battering himself against the walls of his prison, his face bruised, bloodied, until, like Aurelan he drew a last, convulsive breath, his body contorted in indescribable agony, no longer able to tolerate the excruciating pain they were inflicting on him, a piercing scream ripped from his throat. Kirk had never heard such an anguished sound escape from the Vulcan, and the fact that he could not be with Spock during his time of need, could not touch him or offer any comfort, helpless to stop the inevitable, made witnessing his First's final moments almost unbearable.

He was startled back to reality by Lori's soft voice. "Jim, it's okay. Whatever it was, it's over; you're safe now." She snuggled up close to his back, draping an arm over his side and grasping his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He returned the pressure, comforted by her warm breath as it caressed the back of his neck. Wiping the lone tear from his cheek with his free hand, he willed the disconcerting images from his mind, falling into a fitful sleep.

oooOOOooo

He awoke to the aromas of coffee and bacon tickling his senses. Glancing at the other side of the bed, he saw that it was empty. Following his nose, he made his way into the kitchen. Lori was standing before the stove wearing one of his shirts. It was oversized and loose, dangling to just above her knees, effectively concealing the shapely body he knew to be underneath.

Walking quietly up behind her he slid his arms around her waist, tugging her against him, nuzzling her neck. "That smells wonderful," he whispered into the hollow at the base of her throat, "and breakfast doesn't smell too bad, either."

He was rewarded with a chuckle which he could feel rumble against his ribcage as she pressed herself closer to him. "As you know, cooking is not my forte, so wait until you taste it before you pass judgment," she teased.

"Well, at least the coffee is a safe bet," he said, releasing her and retrieving a mug from one of the cabinets. He proceeded to fill his cup with the rich, fragrant brew. Sipping carefully at the hot liquid, he grinned openly at her. "That hits the spot. Excellent, as usual."

"Well, I'm glad I can at least get that part right." Her smile was warm, radiant. "Go sit down, this'll be ready in a few minutes."

He retreated to the table, mug in hand, allowing his eyes to travel over her as she quickly finished preparing their meal. I could definitely fall in love with her, he assured himself. There's nothing stopping me – no career, no ship, nothing preventing me from allowing myself to be happy. I've certainly earned it, he tried to convince himself. I deserve a chance at happiness, and now there's nothing standing in my way. Movement roused him from his silent musings.

"Here you go," he said easily, placing a plate laden with eggs, bacon and fried potatoes before him and slipping into a chair herself. She waited expectantly for him to take a bite.

He indulged her. "Spectacular," he said, chewing deliberately, his eyes never leaving her face, "and the food's not too bad, either."

He was rewarded with a flush of red coloring her cheeks as she began to nibble at the contents of her own plate. They ate in silence for several minutes, the only sound the chink of forks against tableware, before she glanced up at him, her eyes shining.

"Jim, I just had a wonderful idea. We both have several weeks of leave accrued. What would you say to us getting the hell out of here for a while? We deserve the break, and I promise you won't regret it." There was that playful, impish look he had grown accustomed to seeing.

He considered that carefully.

"You know, my uncle has a cabin in Idaho. No one uses it at this time of year. We could stay there – it's very isolated and secluded. We could hike and fish during the day…and keep each other warm at night."

"Sounds perfect," she said, coming over and settling on his lap, her arms twining around his neck, "but I'm awfully cold right now," she pouted.

"Well, I'm sure there's something I can do to help with that," he whispered huskily, feeling a familiar stirring in his groin, reaching up to capture her lips with his own…

oooOOOooo

Two hours later as he sat behind his desk in the Ops Center, he was amazed at how she could so completely separate the personal from the professional. Once they passed through those doors she conducted herself in an exemplary fashion; no one would suspect that they were anything other than superior and subordinate. It certainly made things less complicated. Most women he had known in the past were likely to exhibit signs of jealousy and possessiveness at this stage in their relationship, particularly when he had to work closely with a woman, but that wasn't the case with Lori. She readily understood his need to work well with others, and if that was facilitated from time to time by him pouring on the charm, she was okay with that. His estimation of her increased another notch. She just might be the one.

As far as their leave went, there was bound to be some speculation about the two of them being gone at the same time, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. After all it's not like they were serving on a ship together where one of them might have to send the other into harm's way. There was no conflict of interest, and no regulations prohibiting a close, personal relationship. Who knew where this could lead? They'd be leaving in a week, and he found himself eager with anticipation. It had been a long time since he'd permitted himself a lengthy, relaxing leave. As a matter of fact, the last one had been on Triani Prime with Bones and Spock. He realized with a jolt he hadn't thought about either man in almost a week. He glanced appreciatively at Lori's backside through the glass front to his office as she made her way around the workspace. Yes, maybe she was just what the doctor ordered…

oooOOOooo

They had been in Idaho for three days now, and were thoroughly enjoying time away from work and each other's company. They had arrived in the small town about an hour south of the cabin, where Kirk rented two horses. These fine specimens served to pack in the supplies they would need for their ten-day stay at the cabin, and would double as their mode of transportation during their time in Idaho's vast, untouched wilderness.

Kirk had risen before dawn, kissing Lori lightly on the forehead as she slept. He was warmed by her response – the corners of her mouth twitched, and she burrowed herself deeper under the thick quilt.

Tiptoeing from the room he filled a thermos with coffee and headed for the barn. The horses nickered as he approached, snorting and stomping impatiently, their breath making small, white clouds in the chill morning air. Saddling up the bay gelding, he mounted his steed and headed into the woods just as the first rays of sunlight were filtering through the branches above.

He followed the trail he knew would lead to a large meadow. Lori would try just about anything, but she was no equestrian. Following the wooded trails at a leisurely walk or a slow trot across an open field was about the extent of her horsemanship skills, but this morning he felt the need for more.

Jabbing his mount in the ribs with his heels, they burst from the cover of the trees, racing across the meadow in an all out gallop. As the wind whipped through his hair and caused his eyes to tear, suddenly he was transported to his youth, following closely on Sam's heels as the two of them rode bareback, urging their POA ponies, the breed first developed in Iowa in the 20th century, to ever greater speeds.

He needed this; needed it desperately. It was one of the few things that let him know he was still alive. When he was flying along at breakneck speed, feeling the knot and stretch of powerful muscles beneath his thighs, hearing the thunder of hooves reverberate through crisp morning air rich with the heady scent of pine, everything else seemed to melt into the background. It was as if time had stopped and he was locked into this moment, no painful past or uncertain future to contend with.

It was exhilarating. He hadn't experienced an adrenaline rush like this for quite some time. As the trees rushed by in a kaleidoscope of greens and browns he listened to the pounding in his temples, the breath as it exploded from his chest with each stride of the horse below him. The feeling of release was overwhelming, as if he were standing in a torrential downpour, the icy rainwater serving to wash away the unease and sense of loss he'd been experiencing of late. He knew this euphoria would be fleeting, however. Initially he'd thought coming here would be healing, rejuvenating, giving him time to regroup and face head-on the course his life had now taken, but somehow having nothing but time to reflect on his current situation had made things worse, not better. The newfound sense of independence, of escape, just served to further underscore the nature of the glorified cage in which he now found himself.

Late last night he lay in the grass in front of the cabin mesmerized by the star-studded sky. In San Francisco it was a rarity for him to see more than a few stars; between the fog, pollution and illumination cast off by the city, the unspoiled beauty of the night sky was all but obliterated.

But not here. The air here was fresh, pristine, and the nearest major city was over three hours away. As his eyes had traveled across the sky he'd been able to pick out Mars, Venus and the golden splash of color that was the Milky Way from among the many constellations visible against the wide expanse of the cosmos. Subconsciously, his gaze had been drawn to Eridani, which led to thoughts of Spock and his years in space. God how he missed that. It hurt, but that chapter of his life was over, or so he had tried to persuade himself.

I'm not a brash, young lieutenant anymore. It's time I started acting my age. Besides, maybe if I'm not off flying around the galaxy at warp speed I can start up a relationship with my son. Carol can't possibly object to my career now. I can't believe he's ten now. I've already missed so much of his life, so many milestones. I've got a lot of lost time to make up for…

Lori's voice had roused him from his self-absorption. "Jim? What on earth are you doing out there, lying in the grass like that? It's freezing outside." He heard the door swing shut, only to open a few moments later, her muffled steps shuffling across the porch and then through the damp grass as she made her way to him, laying down beside him, molding her body tightly to his, covering them both with a warm blanket.

He had reached over and drew her close, pressing her head to his shoulder, idly stroking her soft, silky hair.

They lay like this for several minutes, neither speaking, until finally she had interrupted the steady chirping of night insects echoing in the woods around them.

"You okay? I got a little worried when I woke up and you weren't there."

"I'm fine, just stargazing – something it's almost impossible to do in San Francisco with all the ambient light."

"Do you miss it? Being out there, I mean?"

"No," he had lied evenly. "My life's here now, with you." Somehow he had managed to conjure up a believable, warm smile.

She had burrowed herself deeper into his chest. "Oh Jim, I'm so happy."

"Me, too," he replied, pulling her on top of him. He had almost fooled himself into thinking it was true – almost…

oooOOOooo

When he returned from his morning ride, Lori was in the shower. He considered joining her for an instant, but headed for the kitchen instead, with the idea of making breakfast for her for a change.

She popped into the kitchen twenty minutes later, a soft robe cinched tightly around her waist, toweling off her still-damp hair.

"Hey. Where'd you go? Is this going to be a trend – me waking up and finding your side of the bed empty?" she asked lightly, a smile taking the sting from her words.

"I took Kootenai out for a good, stiff run this morning. He's been overly antsy for the last few days, so I just wanted to burn off some of his excess energy." He began loading a hefty stack of pancakes onto a serving platter.

"You hungry? I'm starved. An early morning ride always boosts my appetite."

"You know I'm always ready to eat your homemade flapjacks," she said with a grin, grabbing two plates and silverware before heading for the table.

"If you like them, thank mom. She always made them for Sam and me when we were little. 'An old family recipe handed down for generations,' she used to say. There was nothing like them. Spoiled me for any other pancakes," he said, setting the warm, fluffy cakes on the table along with a small plate of sausages. Lori quickly helped herself, slathering them with butter and maple syrup.

"I can see why – they're absolutely delicious," she agreed, swallowing her first bite.

He retrieved two mugs of coffee, setting one in front of her before taking a seat and filling his own plate with several of the large, hearty griddlecakes.

He attacked his plate with gusto, but soon felt Lori's gaze upon him. "What?" he asked finally around a mouthful of sausage. Her fork poised above her plate, she was regarding him with a strange look. "They taste fine to me." He was genuinely nonplussed.

"No, they're great." She stopped, trying to find the right words, setting the fork down on the table. "Did you mean what you said last night?" The overly large, green eyes were intense, searching his face.

"I said a lot of things last night," he answered truthfully, stalling for time.

"The part about being happy; the part where you said your life was here now, with me."

He lowered his fork as well, focusing his full attention on her. "Of course I did. You're the best thing that's happened to me since I got back."

She dropped her eyes at that, grabbing her mug with trembling hands and taking a quick swallow.

He was beside her in an instant, squatting next to her chair, gently tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. Oh so tenderly. "Lori, what's wrong? Why would you think I didn't mean it?"

"Oh, Jim, I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with tears. "It's just that I'm starting to fall for you, and given your reputation, I'm afraid that's not a wise decision." She looked away, wiping at her eyes.

He slowly turned her face to his again, absently stroking a cheek with his thumb. "Lori, there is no one else, and I'm happier than I've been in years." That was the truth, right? He hadn't felt this way about anyone since Miramanee. She was good for him, and just what he needed to help him make the transition from renowned space traveler to desk-bound paper pusher a little easier to bear. And he was settling into that routine. Over the last six months, with Lori at his side, he'd started to take some satisfaction in his new rank and position. It couldn't hold a candle to his years in space, but there were some rewarding aspects to his new job. He was helping to make things safer for the next generation of space farers. Surely that had to count for something. Unsure of what else to do to reassure her, he pressed his lips gently to hers.

She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning the kiss. It was tender, and bittersweet, and he felt it hit him in the pit of his stomach, strengthening his resolve. After a few moments he pulled away from her slightly.

"You know, we could make things more permanent," he assured her, the corners of his mouth turning up in a soft smile.

"Really? You mean that?"

He nodded, again wiping a tear from her cheek.

"When?"

"As soon as we get back, or if you want a bigger ceremony, whenever suits you. It really doesn't matter to me – I just want to be with you."

"Oh Jim, I love you," she said through the tears, burrowing her head against his shoulder.

"I love you, too." There. He'd done it. He'd taken the first real step toward a clearly defined, unambiguous future, leaving the Enterprise, and his painful past, behind him. So why was he so numb all of a sudden…?

McCoy – one year

The past six months, although wonderful, had not been without their difficulties. When Joanna arrived they were virtually strangers to one another, despite the fact that they were father and daughter. Sitting in an overstuffed wingback chair, bourbon in hand, he stole a glance at his not-so-little-anymore child, engrossed in some show he couldn't stomach on the plasma holoviewer, and reflected on how far they'd come.

For the first few weeks they'd tiptoed cautiously around each other, acclimating themselves to the other's routines and personality quirks. They were both adults, and had long since developed their own, unique patterns of behavior. In light of this, neither was willing to do anything that might jeopardize their attempt at reconciliation.

Their professional relationship had progressed much more quickly than their personal one. Joanna had proven to be quite a skilled and proficient nurse, and after a few weeks of observing how he did things was often able to anticipate what he wanted and needed, both in the operating theatre and the examination rooms. He marveled at how well she had adapted to his way of doing things, the transition almost seamless. Within a short time, it was as if they had been working together for years, and he couldn't help but compare her to Christine Chapel. Although he and his head nurse had butted heads on more than one occasion, more often than not they almost seemed to function as a single unit, especially toward the end of the five-year mission, so accustomed were they to the other's work habits.

It had taken some time, but they started making strides in their personal relationship as well, gradually settling into a comfortable routine – seeing patients during the day, cooking dinner together in the evening, and sitting on the back porch at night, talking long into the wee hours of the morning.

Joanna filled McCoy in on their years apart – the experiences she had and the friends she'd made on that distant colony world, trying to show him that all her memories weren't unpleasant ones. Her life with her mom and stepfather had been good for the most part, despite the fact that their relationship had not been particularly close, or loving.

She even mentioned that she had done some extensive research into the teachings of Dr. Severin and had briefly toyed with the idea of joining that movement. She understood now that the desire had been fostered by her need to feel that she belonged somewhere, to someone, but that plan had fallen by the wayside when Jocelyn and Nick had sent her off to nursing school on Sargasso. As it turned out, one of her good friends had dropped everything to become 'one,' but she had lost touch with the young man, never learning his fate. She had been truly saddened when McCoy told her what they'd found on the planet Eden.

At first, McCoy had not spoken at all about his time in space; the wounds were still too fresh. He'd delighted more in sharing some of his old family recipes with her, the personal time they spent making meals together and just talking doing much to bring them closer.

He also told her stories about family members she really hadn't had a chance to connect with once Jocelyn and Nick had moved her off world, and of the mischief he and his two young cousins had gotten into as children. All things he would have shared with her when she'd been growing up if he'd had the chance.

She seemed to really enjoy these anecdotes, and eventually, as he became more and more comfortable around her, McCoy started talking about his adventures on the Enterprise, regaling her with stories of the distant worlds they had visited and the alien civilizations they had contacted. It took several months, but his stories began to turn to those of his friends, centering on his interactions with them. Somehow, this made the separation easier to bear, as if by telling his daughter of them they would live on, just as they had been, before everything had gone to hell in a handbasket at the end of the five-year mission.

He might run into Jim Kirk on occasion – if he could bring himself to talk to the man; the last time they had spoken things had been said and done that had probably changed their relationship for good – but if Spock completed Kolinahr as it seemed he was determined to do, McCoy knew it meant the end of their novel, unorthodox friendship. God he missed them both.

He also told her about the escapades of other Enterprise crewmen who had touched his life, events ranging from drunken bar stories with the iron-livered Montgomery Scott to practical jokes he had orchestrated with Chekov and others, and how he'd fallen victim to some himself. Tales of Uhura's beautiful singing voice, Kevin Reilly's not-so-beautiful voice, and Sulu's numerous, eclectic hobbies. Not all the memories brought a smile to his lips, however. He told her of some of those crewmen who hadn't returned to their families, feeling that by remembering their ultimate sacrifice it would somehow give their loss meaning.

It occurred to him then what a fine bunch of individuals had made up that crew; just how lucky he and the other senior officers had been to have served with such a disciplined, intelligent, skilled and dedicated group of people. He realized that he missed them all terribly, in a different way than he felt the absence of Jim and Spock, but it served to remind him that despite now finally having a relationship with his daughter, his life aboard the ship had been more enjoyable than he'd thought at first blush.

Not that his current circumstance wasn't fulfilling, but somehow he felt there was more he was meant to do with his life, and it could only be accomplished out there among the stars.

Kaiidth, he thought – one of the few Vulcan philosophies Spock had taught him that he actually believed. The cosmos has a master plan for all of us; mine will be revealed to me eventually, I just need to be happy with what I have now. He sipped at his drink, his thoughts once again turning to Joanna and his patients, and he realized that for the time being at least, he was happy and content, and finally at peace with the world.

oooOOOooo

He'd been working on this for over a week now, but as yet had made virtually no headway. Spock's notes were crystal clear, written in the Vulcan's legible, sure hand, but the content continued to elude him. Damn you, you pointy-eared hobgoblin! When we started this, I never thought I'd have to finish it without you.

He rubbed absently at the crick in his neck, trying to ease the sore muscles, stiff from hours of poring over these notes. Despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to make heads or tails out of any of it. I'm just too tired, he assured himself. Anything that blasted Vulcan can think up I can make sense out of eventually. I just need to put my head down for a few minutes, rest my eyes a bit, and then it will all be clear as…

He was startled by a hand laid gently on his shoulders. "Dad? You okay?" Through a sleepy fog he realized the voice belonged to Joanna.

He jerked his head up at her touch. "Huh? I'm awake, what's wrong?" he asked, rapidly blinking bleary eyes.

"Nothing dad. It's very late. You should get some sleep if you want to be on your toes for your patients tomorrow." She squeezed his shoulder gently.

"I'm fine," he declared, sitting up straight after retrieving several sheets of paper from the floor. He fussed over the unruly mess, trying to give the impression of stacking the numerous sheets of paper and handful of padds on his desk into neat, organized piles. "I've got to get my notes done for this presentation I'll be giving on techniques to use computers to help those who are severely physically impaired communicate."

After the events of Talos IV, he'd teamed up with Spock, the two of them collaborating on trying to discover a way for patients like Chris Pike to express themselves. They'd still be encumbered by their dysfunctional bodies, but at least their minds would be free, and they'd once again be able to participate in the world around them. He'd handled the medical issues, while Spock had worked tirelessly to come up with a computer program and designs for a device that would function seamlessly with the patient's brain waves. Trouble was he'd always expected to present this research to the medical community with Spock at his side to expertly clarify the technical aspects of the application. For the most part, all he knew was that it would work, but explaining the hows and whys was beyond him. "I'll be leaving for the medical conference in Vilnius in just over a week."

"All the more reason to get some rest," she said reproachfully. "If you need more time to prepare I can reschedule your appointments for the next few days."

"No, you don't have to do that. My patients come before this. I'll find the time somewhere to get it done. Besides, time's not what I really need. Spock was working on this with me. As you know, technology and I aren't the best of friends, and Spock's technical notes are all Greek to me. That damn Vulcan has left me with my ass hanging out."

"Now dad," she admonished firmly, "don't you go blaming Mr. Spock for doing what he felt compelled to do. Besides, from the stories you've told me, it sounds like he saved your ass on more than one occasion." Her look was smug, knowing.

"That's not the point," he countered testily. "We're on the verge of a medical breakthrough here, and I can't finish it without Spock, or more accurately, there's no reason I should have to finish it without Spock."

"I see," she said, astutely. "In other words, this really isn't about the work, but the choices your two friends made, and the fact that you've taken exception to those choices."

"Bloody fools! Neither one of them ever did know what was good for him."

She pulled up a chair, seating herself next to McCoy and resting a hand on his forearm.

"But you know what? They're both grown men, quite capable of making decisions for themselves. How can you be so sure that they aren't the right ones? Don't you trust your friends?"

He chewed his lower lip before answering her. "They're both stubborn to a fault, and even though they're two of the smartest people I've ever met, they're both lacking a healthy dose of common sense."

"Be that as it may, you have to trust them, dad. If they're as smart as you say, have a little faith that they'll see the error of their ways and correct their mistakes." A beat. "It worked for me…and you."

He turned shocked eyes onto his only child. She was just twenty-two but possessed a wisdom beyond her years. He covered her hand with his. "You're absolutely right, honey. I've pled my case and it's up to them now to figure out what the hell they need to do." He rubbed at his eyes. "I guess I'm just overly-tired."

"This only stresses what I've been saying all along dad – you need help here. We really need to think about hiring another doctor to take some of the burden off your shoulders. There's a doctor I've been working with when I do my volunteer work at the hospital. Will you at least meet him? I think you two will hit it off. You wouldn't even have to bring him on full time. You can just have him fill in for you when you're away or need a few days to prepare for a conference you'll be attending. Why don't we have him over for dinner tomorrow? It'd give you a chance to meet him and see if you think he'd fit in here."

"That sounds like a plan, honey." He yawned widely, stretching his arms languorously over his head. "But right now, a little sack time is just what the doctor ordered." And with that, the two of them headed upstairs to their rooms.

oooOOOooo

The speech had gone well. His and Spock's theories were now going to be put into practice. He shook his head, smiling to himself. And to think, Mark Kinney had supplied him with just enough technical assistance to be able to adequately explain how the computer program and machine Spock had designed would mesh with the patient's individual EEG pattern.

As he, Joanna and Mark sat around the dining room table last week, the conversation had naturally turned to medicine. McCoy had been impressed; Mark was a gifted young doctor, all of twenty-six, who would go on to do great things he was sure. It had taken all of about five minutes for McCoy to decide he liked the young man immensely, and that he'd make a great addition to their small staff.

As it turned out Mark had studied many of the journal articles McCoy had written regarding medical advances he had discovered during his time in space. Mark pressed him for additional information, and the discussion wound its way to the conference he'd be attending in a few days. McCoy lamented the fact that he couldn't quite follow all the technical notes Spock had left for his portion of the device.

More tech savvy than McCoy, but certainly no Spock by any stretch of the imagination, Mark had volunteered to look over the material. After several evenings of intense work, the two of them had been able to piece together enough of Spock's theories so that McCoy wouldn't sound like a complete amateur when presenting the information to the other medical professionals and scientists who'd be in the audience.

He knew without a doubt that the computer programmers and technicians who would help build the prototype would have no trouble deciphering Spock's notes, but at least the doctors in the room now understood the physical science behind how the device would work.

Idly he scratched at his chin, rough from the day-and-a-half growth of stubble there. He hadn't had time to shave before catching the tube back to the States – no transporter for him, thank you – and beard-repressing gels had always irritated his skin.

He'd always hated shaving, but hadn't had a say in the matter during his twelve years in the service. Facial hair of any type was expressly forbidden by Starfleet regulations. Well, that sure as hell isn't a problem now, he thought. Maybe it's time I grew a beard…

Spock – one year

He and the other acolytes stood patiently in the dimly lit chamber located deep within the side of the mountain as T'Sai explained the physical trial in which they were to participate today.

"Being a desert world, large bodies of water are rare on the surface of our planet. Most of our potable liquid comes from underground sources such as this," she said, gesturing to the large depression in the middle of the room.

It was marked by an oversized, subterranean pool, the water dark, almost black, its bottom not visible. Despite the already low temperature of the room, the chill air rolling off the surface made it feel as if someone had left the door to a large refrigeration unit ajar. The faint, ambient light reflected off its calm surface, creating the illusion of a smooth, unmarred sheet of ice before them.

"For this exercise, you will submerge yourselves in the water. In order to pass this test, you must remain below the surface for a period of at least ten minutes on a single breath. The temperature is quite cool; in addition to regulating your breathing for the time required, you must also regulate your core body temperature in such a way as to prevent the onset of hypothermia.

"I and the other masters shall be present. If you experience any distress simply raise thy head above the water and we shall assist thee from the pool. If you have become too chilled to move call out with thy mind and thee shall be rescued.

"This exercise will teach thee to control thy body functions at a level unattainable by most Vulcans. It will serve to demonstrate thy mental mastery over thy physical condition." She paused, her gaze sweeping over the class. Spock heard the nervous shifting of feet, and several throats being cleared softly. Behind him there was the faint intake of breath; he realized it came from Stilek, who was standing just beyond his right shoulder.

T'Sai's eyes came to rest on him and Spock met the look calmly, blandly, without emotion. His outward appearance did not betray his inner thoughts. Once again, I have been singled out for failure despite the fact that my performance during the Pon T'Khalivar surpassed that of most of the other students. It seems that I shall always be suspect as a result of my hybrid nature. He guarded these thoughts carefully, ensuring he did not project them to those present in the room.

"If you are prepared, we may begin."

"We are prepared," the small group chanted in unison.

"Then remove your robes and enter the water."

Spock was the first of the candidates to jump in, splashes resounding all around him as the remainder of the class followed. As he broke the surface the breath was nearly sucked from his lungs as the shock of the icy water passed through his system. His thoughts were instantly turned to another, similar event, where he and Jim had made a dizzying leap off a cliff into a deep pool below to avoid capture by indigenous hostiles on a First Contact planet.

Still unable to remember events clearly, Spock had almost drowned that day. It was only due to Jim's quick thinking and stubborn refusal to let Spock go that he had survived that mission at all. They had been stranded for three days, Spock's desert-bred lungs unable to stave off the severe pulmonary infection that was an inevitable result of his near-drowning.

As his condition worsened, he had slipped into unconsciousness and nearly lost his life, but again Jim had pulled him from the brink, initiating a mind meld that had helped to sustain him until they were rescued.

Spock remembered quite clearly the emotions that singular act had triggered within him. It was that meld which had caused their fledgling link to evolve into the more gratifying bond of t'hy'la, and set them on the path which had ultimately led him here, to Gol. He felt his control slipping.

I must not allow myself to contemplate these past events. I must focus! He deliberately pushed these memories aside, calling on all the mind disciplines he had been taught to this point. Consciously blocking out the world around him he strove to regulate the flow of oxygen-rich blood to his vital organs. His extremities were already numb after only four minutes in the frigid water, but he chose to ignore that, fixing his attention instead on his heartbeat, slowing it to about one-third its normal rate. He then concentrated on the oxygen-rich blood flowing through his arteries, diverting it to his brain and lungs. His other organs would recover from oxygen deprivation, but his mind needed to remain alert if he were to complete this test, and by sending oxygen to his lungs, it would lessen the build-up of carbon dioxide, the trigger for breathing in all species which depended on oxygen-rich air for survival.

He floated in the blackness, his autonomic nervous system under strict control, his mind beginning to wander. Visions of his boyhood on Vulcan began to coalesce out of the darkness, but he permitted himself to examine only the positive memories – time spent walking in the desert with I-Chaya at his side; immersing himself in the unfamiliar, thrilling worlds of his mother's antique Terran books; his weekly lessons on the Vulcan lyre and Terran piano. These were the things that had comforted him as a child; brought peace to an otherwise tumultuous and often difficult existence growing up as a half-breed on his father's planet.

Time seemed to stand still and yet race forward at the speed of light. His consciousness floated to a new plane of existence where nothing else mattered but keeping his brain alert and his lungs still. It was as if he could see each green corpuscle deliver its precious cargo and then proceed leisurely away in slow motion, making room for the next one in line. A steady progression, approaching in single file, halting, traveling on, one at a time…

Strong hands lifting him landed him squarely back in the moment. He felt himself laid gently on the stone floor, enveloped in a warm blanket, a voice calling to him. It was weak, muffled, and at first he was unable to distinguish the words. "Spock, are you all right?" Words he had heard often during his tenure on the Enterprise, but these were not spoken with the same inflection or concern to which he had grown accustomed. Cautiously he opened his eyes, only to be met with the sight of Master T'Sai bending over him.

"Are thee well, child? Thee remained below the surface for fifteen point seven three minutes – considerably longer than any of the other acolytes – and we became concerned that thee were in distress, unable to communicate thy need."

He glanced around at the ring of faces above him, some belonging to subordinate masters, the remainder to other novices swathed in thick blankets, their wet hair plastered to their heads.

He struggled to right himself; to force his frozen limbs to raise him to a seated position. "I am uninjured, Master," he croaked out in a hoarse, barely audible whisper. One acolyte bent, and he felt himself gently supported, Stilek on his knees beside him.

"Then thee have performed admirably." Did he detect a hint of approval, of grudging acceptance in her voice? Surely not. The cold must still be affecting him. He again tried to get to his feet, but his actions were halted by a firm hand on his shoulder. "Rest for a few minutes; allow the blood to return to your frozen limbs. There is no shame in this, for you remained submerged longer than any of us." Whispered softly, pitched for his ears alone. He glanced at Stilek and saw compassion, coupled with awe, flare in the dark blue eyes.

"This concludes your lessons for today. All of you may return to thy chambers now. Warm yourselves, and meditate on thy success or failure of this exercise." As the students began to file from the dank space, Stilek helped him to climb onto unsteady legs.

"I shall assist him, Master." He caught T'Sai's eyebrow raised in approval as the two of them made their way from the room.

Spock and Stilek proceeded along the dark, narrow corridors to the dormitory in silence, but much to his surprise, Spock felt a tingle of pride surround him, as surely as he felt the strong arm wrapped securely about his waist.

Upon reaching Spock's quarters, Stilek nudged the door open, settling Spock on the sparse mattress. A particularly strong shudder passed through him, and Stilek crossed the small space, returning with a thick robe.

"Here Spock, cover yourself with this as well. I am well aware that you are quite skilled at 'mind over matter,' but this will help to raise your core temperature more quickly."

Spock glanced up sharply at that. Humor? Or was Stilek simply teasing him? Humor was not an activity to which the average Vulcan was given. He looked askance at Stilek, and was sure he saw laughter flutter about the man's eyes. Spock took the proffered robe with a resigned nod of the head, pulling the garment over the blanket still draped snugly around his shoulders.

"A worthy performance, Spock. Once again, you have shown your ability to exercise mastery over your physical self. There are many here who wish to possess the control you exhibited today." Stilek's gaze bored into him. "And many who are troubled by the fact that they were out-performed by a hybrid."

Spock eyed him thoughtfully. McCoy had been given to barbed comments, often meant to coax an emotional response out of him, or as a way for the doctor to vent his frustration with the staid Vulcan, but like Jim Kirk, when Stilek said something of this nature, it was intended as a way to express a different point altogether. He waited patiently for Stilek to clarify his statement.

"Whereas I am of the opinion that it is this very aspect of your nature which allows you to excel," his companion continued evenly.

Spock found he could hold his tongue no longer. "In what manner?" A forced whisper, his voice still not fully recovered. To Spock's mind, his human half was responsible for a number of hurdles the other acolytes didn't have to contend with.

"Hybrids are always of hardier stock than their pure-blooded counterparts. As a scientist, you should know this. And they often exhibit the most desirable attributes of both parents," Stilek supplied straightforwardly.

"That may be true, but I do not see how my human half can possibly be of benefit to me in the pursuit of Kolinahr." His voice was regaining some of its former strength.

"You are operating under the false assumption that only negative traits result from your human half. But in addition to their emotionality, humans also possess the ability to view things intuitively; they exhibit a stubborn desire to succeed at all costs, despite terrible odds, and will often stop at nothing to achieve this success no matter how hopeless a situation appears to be. Admirable qualities, wouldn't you agree?"

Stilek had just provided a perfect analysis of the complex mix of idiosyncrasies that made up the unique character of James Kirk. Spock blinked.

"I have no doubt that had it not been for the influence of your human half, had my fate rested solely in the hands of your logical, orderly side, I would have met my doom during Pon T'Khalivar."

Spock dropped his eyes, compressing his lips into a thin line.

Sensing Spock's unease, Stilek continued gently. "Please, do not misunderstand this statement. Had kaiidth placed another in proximity to me during my time of need, I have no doubt that given the average Vulcan's sense of propriety, of following instructions implicitly, without question, I would have joined Sipek and T'Lara in their journey to oblivion.

"I disagree with that assessment," Spock responded immediately. "From what I have seen and experienced, the typical Vulcan would go out of his or her way to aid another in distress. Emotions and intuition play no role in how they conduct themselves; decisions are based solely on logic. And preserving the life of another is inherently logical."

"That may be true within the parameters of everyday life, but we are sticklers for our rituals and traditions. You, of all people, should realize this. Yours was the first instance of Kal-if-fee in over a century, and T'Pau would have allowed you to kill an innocent human, who did not have a complete understanding of our laws and customs, rather than make an exception to how things have been done since the time of the beginning. Despite our claims of logic and peacefulness, there is still much barbarity present in the Vulcan soul."

"No culture is without its flaws, ours included, but if this is truly how you view our society, then why are you here?" It was rude and inappropriate to ask such a thing. Spock shook his head, shocked that the question had managed to slip out before he could stop it.

"As with any culture and its customs, there are certain practices and behaviors which seem incomprehensible to outsiders; ceremonies viewed by the uninitiated as a weakness in that civilization. But given our nature, particularly as Vulcan males, there are protocols which work for us." Stilek halted, dropping his eyes, his fists clenched tightly at his side.

"Forgive me, it was improper of me to request information of such a personal nature. I withdraw the question," Spock said, glancing up at his companion.

"Please, it is a legitimate concern, and the time has come for me to inform you of my reasoning."

In one fluid motion, Stilek seated himself on the floor before Spock, legs folded beneath him. As he began speaking, it was obvious that his eyes were focused on some distant memory. "I shall undergo Pon Farr within the next year. For seventeen point eight four years, ever since the onset of my first Pon Farr, I was bonded to T'Aria. Ours was also an arranged pairing, as was yours, but we were highly compatible. Our personalities meshed at a very young age, and we were looking forward to the time of our marriage with great anticipation.

"My bond to T'Aria was more fulfilling than I could have ever expected. Our life as a wedded couple was exhilarating and rewarding, and we awaited with great eagerness the birth of our first child. Our union during my Pon Farr was fruitful and we soon learned T'Aria was carrying twins – a boy and a girl. Unbeknownst to us, unforeseen complications would soon overshadow our anticipation.

"T'Aria is of the rare blood type, t-negative. My blood type is k-positive, and naturally, both our children were an amalgam of these blood types. As you know, serious medical conditions can arise in a mother of that rare blood type carrying a child who is not, and this can present a grave risk to the health of both her and her unborn child.

"Despite careful monitoring of her condition and the best efforts of the healers, our children did not survive. Our daughter was stillborn twelve weeks early, and our son survived for three days before succumbing to the trauma of his premature birth. As if this did not present enough of a challenge for us, the ordeal left T'Aria sterile."

"I grieve with thee," Spock replied softly, his voice gravelly, hoarse once again.

Stilek nodded, allowing his thanks and appreciation to show briefly behind his eyes. "As Vulcans, we are taught that all things happen for a reason, and we should use those events that impact our lives, whether it be in a positive or negative way, to bring about change for the better.

"It is an aspect of our heritage most Vulcans prefer to ignore, but as a direct result of Pon Farr, there are numerous hybrid children born on fringe colony worlds, especially those of mixed Romulan and Vulcan blood. Due to the extreme differences in our cultures, these children are often accepted by neither parent and left to fend for themselves."

Stilek paused, locking eyes with Spock. "We lost two children we treasured, before we even had the chance to know them. But since they were ours, of pure Vulcan blood, did this somehow make them more worthy of acceptance than children of mixed heritage?

"In light of this, T'Aria left her position as a physicist and started an orphanage in our region, with the goal of bringing these children home to Vulcan and placing them with suitable families. As you know, being telepaths, a parental bond must develop in order for the children to thrive. This was the first hurdle which had to be overcome. Additionally, because of their interracial backgrounds, it can be difficult to get prospective parents to overlook the stigma associated with these forgotten souls. T'Aria worked tirelessly to enlighten others, and we soon found we were able to place a number of these lost children in welcoming Vulcan households.

"For the longest time, this was enough for us. We gained tremendous satisfaction from matching children with compatible families and were quite content to facilitate the placement of these children, until the arrival of Saamlan. Previous to this, we had decided we were not yet ready for a child of our own, but there was a unique quality to this precocious five-year-old, and he and T'Aria formed a strong connection almost instantly.

"Not wanting to take advantage of our positions, we proceeded through the proper channels in our effort to adopt Saamlan. The process was almost complete; in fact, we were scheduled to take him home with us in two days, when T'Aria, who was returning from visiting her parents in the neighboring city of Shi'Muhr, experienced a catastrophic mechanical failure, the flitter she was flying crashing in a remote area of the desert.

"She was not killed outright, and I and healers were en route to her, our bond serving to lead us unerringly to her location, but she succumbed to her injuries twelve point three minutes before we reached her." Stilek stopped, his voice faltering, and Spock looked away, ashamed to bear witness to such naked suffering.

After a few moments Stilek continued softly, eyes on his hands folded into his lap. "Not only did I lose my bondmate that day, and Saamlan his future mother, but her katra departed mere minutes before we arrived, which would have made any attempt at resuscitation futile. Without her spirit to inhabit it, her body would simply have been an empty receptacle, devoid of conscious thought or awareness of who she once was. She was lost to me, in every sense of the word."

Against his better judgment, Spock reached out and laid a tentative hand on Stilek's shoulder, the other's grief almost overwhelming him the instant contact was made. The cobalt eyes lifted to his, and although no words were spoken between them, Spock knew his instinct had been correct.

Stilek grasped Spock's forearm, completing the mental circuit, and instantly Spock found himself awash in the other's deep sorrow and pain. Underneath these roiling emotions he sensed the other's gratitude and genuine thanks for the sentiments expressed to him, but was shocked to discover no hint of remorse or shame for the emotions Stilek had allowed to bleed through to Spock's consciousness.

"All of us have feelings, Spock. Do not allow others to make you believe that due to your hybrid makeup you are the only one on the planet who feels."

Spock had no reply, dropping his hand from Stilek's shoulder, concerned about that which he knew he must be transmitting through the brief physical contact with the other.

"I sense astonishment that the feelings are still so strong, despite the fact that my wife was killed two point seven three years ago." A simple statement of fact.

"It is not my place to judge," Spock whispered quietly, eyes averted.

"And I detected no censure from you, Spock. Even though you continue to out-perform those of us of pure blood, you still do not think like one of us."

Spock stiffened at that, and Stilek worked to clarify his words. "This is not meant as an insult, but is to your credit. Your human half serves to temper the severity of your Vulcan half. Would that others were not so narrow-minded that they cannot see the benefit in this."

Uncomfortable with how things were progressing, Spock steered the conversation back to a more neutral course.

"What became of the child? You are here, so logically you could not have adopted him."

"You must understand. I had already lost two children and a bondmate with whom I was perfectly matched. Were I to have adopted Saamlan, and then lost him as well, I did not believe I would be able to survive the loss. In addition, it would have meant finding another bondmate to ensure that I survived my next Pon Farr, for if I had taken that path, I would have been responsible for his life.

"As much as I wished to make that child my son, it was a step I was unable to take. My bond to T'Aria represented the epitome of a Vulcan marriage, and I did not wish to find someone else, and inadvertently find myself comparing her to my dead wife. It would have been unfair of me to place another in this situation, and to me it seemed I would be turning my back on T'Aria's memory.

"Nor was the option of enduring Pon Farr in the arms of a surrogate, without the mitigating presence of the marriage bond, appealing."

"And so you are here, with the goal of attaining Kolinahr and eliminating the need to replace your wife," Spock supplied.

"Yes." Stilek hung his head. "As for Saamlan, I was able to place him with T'Aria's sister. She and her husband already had two daughters, so he became the son they never had. As with T'Aria, he developed a parental bond to her sister almost immediately, and this represented the most logical choice for me. If I came to Gol and was successful, he was still a member of the family and I would be able to continue a relationship with him, in the capacity of uncle as opposed to father.

"If I were not successful, then I would know that I had provided a stable, nurturing home for him, and ultimately, that is what T'Aria would have wanted of me."

"A most wise and logical choice; one which puts everyone's needs above your own." Spock regarded him with a newfound respect. "This explains much, and I am honored that you chose to share it with me."

"Now perhaps you comprehend fully my sincere disappointment at my initial reaction to you."

"I do not understand."

"I was a man who prided myself on my ability to look past that which was wholly Vulcan, and saw the worth in these children of mixed heritage. I saw the best in them, but was unable to see the best in you. Does being of Vulcanoid stock make these children somehow better than other hybrids? This was the object of my meditation during the latter half of Pon T'Khalivar. Until I met you, I was content to believe in the myth of Vulcan superiority. T'Aria would have been most displeased with me."

"Therein lays the gift of intelligence. Through it we constantly have the ability to grow and evolve. It is my belief that T'Aria would be quite pleased with the growth you have exhibited," Spock assured him.

"And now you fully understand why I chose to pursue Kolinahr. I felt the time had come for me to share my reasoning with one who can appreciate my situation."

"I am afraid you are in error, Stilek. I am not here in hopes of surviving Pon Farr without a bondmate."

"I am not referring to Pon Farr. It has been said that James Kirk was t'hy'la to you. If this is fact, then that bond will have to be dissolved in order to attain Kolinahr. The mental closeness shared by two who are t'hy'la is almost as powerful as the bond which I had with T'Aria. I do not know your reasoning behind this choice, nor do I expect you to enlighten me. Suffice it to say that I have firsthand knowledge of how difficult losing this type of connection to another can be, and I wish to offer whatever support I am able as you pursue this difficult undertaking."

Now it was Spock's turn to hang his head. "It was – is – necessary, and the only way to ensure the safety of those around us," he supplied quietly.

"In what way, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Spock hesitated for an instant. In Stilek's case, the closeness he shared with T'Aria had not cost someone their life. Would Stilek think less of him once he knew the truth?

"You are correct. Ours was an unusually close link, fostered by our chosen profession, and our daily proximity to one another. I am unsure when it occurred, but there came a time when I began to value Kirk's life above all others. In several instances I put the ship and the lives of her crew in danger to ensure my captain's continued survival." He felt his cheeks burn, despite the occasional shiver that still coursed through him.

"All have heard of the Enterprise's safe return to Earth after the completion of her mission. It would seem you took a calculated risk which not only preserved your t'hy'la's life, but did not adversely affect the ship or her crew. Again representing a true fusion of both sides of your psyche," Stilek stated with conviction.

"That is an accurate depiction of events, until the last incident, the one that caused me to come here." Spock dropped his eyes.

"Spock, we have been at Gol together for a year now, and have had a more 'personal' rapport in the last six months. During all that time, I have never seen any indication that you would willfully allow another to come to harm, regardless of the situation or circumstances." Stilek was fairly radiating his support.

"Be that as it may, during this last instance, it came down to a choice between my captain's life and that of another crewman. Despite his orders to the contrary, I chose to save Kirk instead." Spock closed his eyes against the images that statement evoked.

"Spock, within all of us there are certain inherent traits and standards of conduct which govern our behavior. If one commits murder, then the ability to do so was an integral part of our being. If that ability does not dwell within us, then we can no more act on that impulse than fly unaided. I am not talking about killing in the line of duty, or to preserve one's own life, but as a manifestation of one's indifference to the life of another. I do not believe you possess this quality. Surely there must have been extenuating circumstances of some kind?" Stilek prompted.

"Both men were injured, and I was only able to rescue one at a time."

"And given that choice, which man had the better chance at survival?" Stilek asked gently.

"Lieutenant DeSalle's injuries were so severe that even had I succeeded in removing him from the danger, it is doubtful if he would have survived until help arrived." Barely above a whisper.

"And yet your captain obviously did survive, did he not?"

Spock nodded his head in affirmation, too afraid his voice would betray the depth of emotions brought forth by this conversation.

"You see? You blame your human half for saving him, when it was the logical choice, and ultimately the correct one. Had you listened strictly to your Vulcan side, following orders as expected, both would have perished." Stilek paused, immersed in thought. "But even though it led you to the right decision, your human half is at fault here, for it is preventing you from seeing that this was your only option, keeping you from recognizing the rightness of this decision, and it is responsible for the guilt that drove you here. Perhaps you do need to learn to control this aspect of your personality, but not because it represents a danger to others, but only a danger to yourself."

Spock's head snapped up at that. Those ideas were remarkably similar to those held by one James T. Kirk. It had been easier to reject such thoughts when presented by a human, easier to blame emotions and feelings of friendship for the fire behind such a sentiment. But when spoken by a Vulcan, who had admittedly dismissed Spock at first glance due to his human side, their significance was unmistakable. Spock shook his head in disbelief. No one before, with the exception of Jim, had been able to grasp fully the unique being that was Spock. He looked away, knowing his inner turmoil, his uncertainty, the indecision Stilek's words had brought forth in him was clearly on display.

Sensing Spock's discomfort, Stilek rose silently to his feet. "I ask forgiveness. It was not my intention to make things more difficult for you. I shall take my leave of you now." A hand on the doorknob, he turned once more to face Spock. "Meditate carefully on all we have discussed here. You may find that your very life depends on it." And with that he was gone, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

oooOOOooo

Not surprisingly, his evening meditation did center around Stilek's words. Despite the fact that they were from two different worlds, he marveled at the similarities between his Vulcan friend and his former captain, at least with regard to Spock.

Both expressed a desire for him to find a way to make the warring sides of his personality coexist peacefully rather than destroying one side in favor of the other, and each had talked about seeing the best of both worlds in him. Was it possible that he was the one who was unable to see things clearly? He thought carefully about the behavior other Vulcans around him had exhibited over the years.

He had seen the gleam of satisfaction in T'Pring's eyes as her plan came to fruition, had felt Stonn's anger and outrage at not being selected as T'Pring's champion, and had been buffeted by T'Pau's contempt as he begged for Jim's life.

Throughout his childhood his father had told him others would expect more from him, simply because of who and what he was. And Spock had always worked to live up to those expectations. Perhaps Stilek was right, and due to his human half he placed unnecessary demands on himself to be more Vulcan than the average Vulcan.

Even Stilek, who possessed consummate control, had fairly glowed when speaking of T'Aria. In all but actual words he had expressed his deep love for and commitment to his deceased bondmate. And there was no mistaking the softening of his father's demeanor whenever his mother was near.

Could it be that even being raised on Vulcan, born of a Vulcan father, that he was the one who somehow did not fully grasp what it meant to be a Vulcan? He had accused his mother of not fully comprehending this concept several years ago. Was it possible that he was guilty of this as well?

And was this lack of true understanding what had ultimately led him to believe that becoming Kolinahru was his only option? Had he, in fact, made the right choice?

I do this not for me, but for Jim. I do not wish to place him in a position where he will have to answer for my actions.

But was that the whole truth, or had it really been fear, or more precisely, a lack of courage, that had driven him here? These were the thoughts that lulled him into a restless sleep when meditation offered no concrete answers.