"We were, of course, surprised by your request…but your father…'feels'" she paused smiling impishly, her blue eyes sparkling in obvious enjoyment at the ironic turn of phrase, "that your logic in the matter is sound. It is possible, as you suggest, that T'Pau may be displeased, but your grandmother has been displeased in the past and has lived to tell the tale. Your father and I agree that his mother's pleasure, or lack thereof, should not be a factor in your final decision in this matter.

"I've included a package with what you'll need should you decide to proceed. I will offer you only one piece of motherly advice dear…if you are truly committed to the success of this course…you might want to make a concerted effort to avoid using the word 'logic'." The impish smile returned for a moment, then her eyes softened and she leaned in close to the screen. "Spock., please know that, as always my son, whatever you choose do, you will have a proud mother who loves you with all her heart."

Spock paused the message and studied the face of woman on the screen. His mother appeared older, and perhaps a bit more frail than the last time he'd seen her. His long slender fingers traced the deepening lines along the fair skin of her delicate features. The heavier gravity and harsh climate of Vulcan had left its mark on her less hearty terran body, yet somehow her gentle, loving nature had remained untouched despite Vulcan's even harsher emotional climate. He closed his eyes and allowed the tender feelings he'd never been able to share wash over him. "As I have loved ."

He stood up from the computer terminal and moved back to the bed where he'd left the package from his mother. It was carefully wrapped with shimmering opalescent fabric, with the official seal of the Vulcan Embassy. He toyed absently with the corded tie on the package. His mother's advice to avoid the use of the word "logic" in the proposed endeavor was highly misplaced. He was long past any pretense that logic was governing his desire to pursue this choice.

His eyes gravitated to the soft flickeing light from the asenoi , and he longed for the respite several hours of deep meditation might provide him. His eyes returned to the shimmering package on his bed. Perhaps, he decided, a shower might help to clear his mind. He stripped off his uniform tossing it into the laundry slot in the fresher, then programmed a hot shower.

…

Christine frowned as the thirty second warning beep interrupted her thoughts. Feeling decadent, she entered her medical override code to add three extra minutes of the deliciously hot water cascading over her aching limbs. She probably should feel guilty about such a blatant misuse of her medical authorization, she mused, but on this particular day she didn't.

When the second warning beep came, she staved off the temptation to use another override and quickly rinsed the last of the softly scented shampoo from her wavy dark hair. She wrapped herself in a large fluffy towel and grabbed the bottle of pale pink body lotion she kept by the basin.

Christine allowed the towel to drop around her feet and took a long critical look at her reflection in the full length mirrorscreen. Not bad for a woman fast approaching thirty three years of age. She may have lost the battle with Valentine's Day, but she was doing quite well in the war against gravity. Even with the ten pounds she'd put at med school, her body was in great shape, her creamy porcelain skin still firm and unlined.

After recapping the lotion, she fluffed her dark,curly hair. The natural chestnut brown color looked much better than the varying shades of blond she'd experimented with throughout her twenties. What an insecure, mousy thing she'd been, changing her hair to suit Roger's preference for blondes. The Christine Chapel looking back from the mirror would never change herself for a man. If that meant spending her life alone than so be it! At least she would be spending her life with someone she liked and respected.

"You're thirty three years old, you graduated a five year med program in eighteen months at the top of your class, you had your choice of over a dozen highly desirable billets in Fleet…you're not going to let yourself be taken down by one damn day!"

Feeling a strange sense of victory, she slipped into her favorite stretchy night shirt and marched out of the fresher to face the enemy head on.

…