Spock would not want to admit it to anyone, but this journey was highly disconcerting in his current condition. Once Jim had started things in motion they had moved with astonishing speed, and it was no more than two days after their discussion of his plans in Jim's cabin that the ship left Deneva for a brief visit to Starbase 53, where he and Jim were be dropped off in order to take a civilian ferry to Earth. He had learnt a few techniques for mobility and self-care in those last few days, but not nearly enough to feel in any way competent to take care of himself.

The bustle around him on the Starbase as they queued to board the ferry was distracting to more than one sense. There was a constant murmur of speech, and somewhere in the background music was being piped over loudspeakers. There was evidently some kind of eatery nearby, where plates clashed and conversation rose and fell. Scents billowed around him of coffee, fried food, human perfumes and sweat. He had grown to notice the scent of fabrics, the differing smell of recycled air depending on the processor, the slight release of scent whenever a rubber-soled shoe rubbed against the deck. He was keeping his mental shields tightly up due to the crowds and the chance of being jostled by a shieldless human, and so his mind felt blind as well as his eyes.

'Are you all right, Spock?' Jim asked him solicitously.

'I am quite fine,' he said. It was not true that Vulcans could not lie.

'It's a bit of a bottleneck to get on board,' Jim said. 'I'm sorry.'

'It cannot be helped,' Spock replied.

It was true. It could not be helped. He and the captain were very used to the convenience of travelling by starship, but this was evidently how most civilians travelled, and he would have to put up with it.

'At least the baggage is already on board,' Jim murmured.

Spock gave a wordless noise of response. He was aware that along with the baggage were the two coffins containing Jim's brother and sister-in-law. It was hard to forget that considering that their travelling companion was young Peter Kirk.

'Jim, where is Peter?' he asked curiously, turning his head and trying to hear any sign of him.

'Dammit,' Jim cursed softly, looking around. 'He was right here. Look, Spock, I'd better go look for him. I'll be back in just a moment. You'll be all right?'

Spock pressed his lips together, and nodded. He could not say that he found being pressed in this queue in any way enjoyable, but at least there was a certain relentless direction to it. He could hardly become lost. But he felt utterly helpless. He held his hands still at his sides rather than holding them up as he wanted to and clamped down on his emotional reaction to the situation, trying to rationalise it away.

'Hey, come on, fella,' someone said behind him, and he realised from the absence of that strange sensation of physical closeness in front of him that the queue had moved on.

He took a step forward, and another, holding out his hand a little before him. After a moment his fingertips pushed into soft fabric over fatty flesh, and he stopped abruptly.

'I apologise,' he began.

The person in front of him moved, perhaps turning to look around, and said quickly, 'No worries, no worries at all, sir.'

Spock nodded silently, and then withdrew into himself. He hoped that Jim would be back soon, but he was almost at the check in desk before he heard his captain returning.

'Spock, I'm so sorry,' he panted, pushing back into the queue with muttered apologies to those around them. A curiously sweet smell rose around them as he did. 'The little wretch was in the arcade. He just won a sackful of candy. Peter, I'm going to have a stern talk with you when we're on board. You know I can't just walk off and leave Spock like that.'

Spock resisted reaction. He felt so confined, so unutterably helpless, but he stayed largely silent as Jim dealt with the check in and led him on board the great warp shuttle.

'Let's just get to our cabin, Spock,' Jim muttered, leading him quickly on through the ship. 'Now – twenty-two A, twenty-two A...'

'It should be on the port side, level two,' Spock said, and felt Jim's astonishment. 'I am familiar with the schematics for the Alison Swan class of civilian transport, Captain. If we have entered through the aft starboard hatch then we will need to go straight ahead until we see an elevator on the left. That will take us to level two, and from there – '

'Let's take it in stages, eh, Spock?' Jim muttered, still sounding rather awed. 'Petey. Peter, can you please manage to stay with us? He's never been off world before,' he commented in a tone meant only for Spock's ears.

'It is bound to be a fascinating experience for him,' Spock replied, but considering the candy that Jim had mentioned and that he could still smell, he was rather afraid that soon Peter would be, to use one of Jim's colloquialisms, bouncing off the walls.

((O))

He tried to meditate lying on the wide double bed later, but he had been correct in his prediction as to Peter's probable reaction to the candy. All he could hear from the small living area outside the bedroom was Peter repeatedly banging something, the occasional sharp word of remonstrance from Jim, the banging subsiding and then setting up again, and Jim shouting again. It was impossible to meditate with such distractions going on.

Spock sat up and swivelled to put his feet on the ground. He could not with a clear conscience leave Jim to deal alone with this obviously disturbed child. Perhaps the calm rationality of logic would help to soothe him.

He got to his feet and stood still for a moment to orient himself. He had made no exploration of the room yet, but had simply walked from the door to the bed with Jim's guidance. He should at least be able to walk back again.

He was a few centimetres off, his hand striking the wall instead of the door, but the door hissed open anyway in response to his nearness, and helped to orient him. He stepped into the small outer room, and immediately stumbled over something on the floor. He fell hard to his knees. Jim exploded.

'For God's sake, Pete, I told you not to leave that case there!'

Peter immediately blew up in response. 'I don't care! I don't want to be here anyway. I don't want to be travelling with him and I don't want to be with you!'

There was a small flurry which Spock assumed was Peter storming out of the room. One advantage to modern technology – or disadvantage, to the angry – was that doors could not be slammed. Something was certainly banged though as Peter went into the sleeping quarters. Since the suite had only one bedroom, and a bed settee in the living room, the only place Peter could retreat to was Jim and Spock's room.

'I'm going to wring his neck,' Jim muttered as he helped Spock to his feet.

'You are not,' Spock said reasonably. 'The child is grieving for his parents and his home. Gentleness and understanding will serve you better.'

'You're unbelievable, Spock,' Jim muttered, then added, 'No, I mean it as a compliment. You're the one who's just gone flying, and you're advocating understanding.'

'It is a logical means to an end,' Spock said. He did not add that in his Vulcan-human upbringing it was the human parent who taught him about tolerance, and the Vulcan about rigidity. 'Perhaps I should speak to the boy.'

Jim laughed mirthlessly. 'Spock, I'm his uncle. If I can't get through to him...'

'When did you last see him, Jim?'

'See him? God...' He trailed off, lost for a moment in thought. 'I spoke to him briefly last time I called Sam, and that was – that was over a year ago, Spock,' he said guiltily. 'But the last time I saw him – I mean, actually physically spent time with him – I think he was four years old. Captaining a ship of the line doesn't give you much time for family visits.'

'I quite understand,' Spock said. 'It could be that he harbours a certain resentment over your absence, especially since if the Enterprise had arrived sooner his parents might have been saved. But in all essence, I may be hardly less familiar to him than you.'

Jim sighed, and Spock wished for the briefest moment that he could see his face. He knew his mention of the ship's late visit to the planet must have upset him, but after all, the truth was always preferable to lies.

'Maybe you're right, Spock. Or maybe what he needs right now is a stranger anyway. I don't know. But I'm willing for you to try.'

'Then if I have your consent – '

'You mean right now, Spock?'

'The human phrase is to strike while the iron is hot, is it not?'

Jim laughed quietly. 'That's the phrase. Just – don't strike too hard, will you, Spock?'

'I will not,' Spock promised.

((O))

For a moment Spock was not sure where the young boy was in the cabin, but he had thought it best that Jim did not come in with him. He stood by the door, listening. After a little time he heard the boy's breathing. He was trying to stifle the noise, obviously trying to hide from the blind Vulcan, but the sound was audible to Spock anyway, and every now and then a slight hitch from recent tears made the noise even more obvious. In order to help orient himself Spock cautiously lowered his mental shields, and almost recoiled from the raw barrage of emotion that hit him.

'Peter, it is quite useless to pretend you are not here,' he said after a moment in a very patient voice. 'There is nowhere else for you to be. Besides, I can hear you breathing.'

The silence stretched out, but after a moment Peter said in a rather choked voice, 'Could be in the bathroom, couldn't I?'

Spock's eyebrow rose. He had not known there was access to the bathroom from this room.

'You could indeed,' he acknowledged. 'You will have to be patient with my blindness. It is as unfamiliar to me as it is to you. I do not know this room yet.'

There was a small snort of air. Spock could not interpret the meaning of the noise, but it sounded as if the boy were unimpressed, or at least unwilling to listen.

'Peter, are you on the bed?' he asked.

There was no reply. Spock took a few steps towards the boy, feeling certain that he was at least near the bed, if not on it. After approximately two metres his leg touched the edge of the mattress, and he sat down there, feeling about across the covers to see where Peter was.

'I'm not on the bed,' the boy said after a moment, in a rather grudging but slightly more open tone.

'Very well,' Spock nodded. He reassessed the evidence of his senses, and decided the boy was probably on the floor behind the bed. 'Peter, I am truly sorry about the loss of your parents,' he said after a moment of silence.

Peter laughed, and the sound reminded him very much of Jim's humourless laugh in the cabin outside. He thought he could understand why the boy sounded disbelieving. To most humans Vulcans were characterised as completely emotionless automatons, incapable of any kind of sympathy.

'Contrary to popular opinion, Vulcans are able to feel grief, and to empathise with grief,' he said. 'We, too, suffer loss. I have never lost a parent, but I have known loss.'

'I just want to go home,' the boy said after a silence, and there was the roughness of tears in his voice.

'I am quite aware of that,' Spock nodded. 'But there is very little left of your home, Peter. All of your possessions have been packed and will accompany us to Earth. It is true that the building stands, but a building is a shell. There have been a great many deaths on Deneva. The world will be in considerable disarray for some time. It is possible it will be a dangerous place to live for a while. At your grandmother's you will be safe, and cared for.'

Peter began to sob. Spock sat still for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then he got up and carefully manoeuvred around the bed until his outstretched hand touched the boy's shoulder. He was evidently hunched up on the floor in the narrow gap between the bed and the wall. He was not comfortable with the idea of holding the boy, so he simply sat on the side of the bed with his hand on his shoulder. With the touch came an almost unbearable assault of undisciplined emotions, but he did bear it, and tried to impart his own ability to draw on calm and logic. It was not a mind meld, but simply a touch which should be therapeutic to the boy.

After a while the sobbing subsided, and Spock felt the chaotic emotions start to even out too. He sat still with his hand on Peter's shoulder, and waited for him to make a move. Eventually the boy straightened out and stood up.

'I'm sorry, Mr Spock,' he said.

'It is no matter, Peter,' he said.

'Is Uncle Jim really mad at me?' he asked.

'He is concerned about you,' Spock corrected him gently. 'You must remember, Peter, that the captain is also grieving. He has lost his brother.'

'Yeah, I know,' Peter murmured. Then he said in a wondering voice, 'Gee, I'm hungry.'

'It is well past dinner time, going by Enterprise time,' Spock pointed out. 'Peter, would you help me back into the main cabin?'

'Er – yeah, sure,' he said rather awkwardly, and a small, tear-moistened hand closed around Spock's. With some trepidation, Spock followed him out through the room.

'I'm sorry, Uncle Jim,' Peter said as soon as they were through the door, letting go of the Vulcan's hand. Spock stood quietly, trying not to listen too closely as some kind of reconciliation went on between the boy and his uncle. He could not imagine that this would be the last of their problems with Peter, but perhaps for a little while he would be all right.

'Captain, Peter was suggesting it is time for something to eat,' Spock said once the reconciliation was apparently complete.

'Oh, well, there's a good restaurant down on deck 3, I think,' Jim said quickly. 'Unless you'd rather have room service, Spock. Actually, I guess that would be better...'

'I would rather eat in the restaurant,' Spock said firmly. That was misdirection, at best. Spock would far rather have stayed confined to these few rooms than go out parading among the other passengers, but he was keenly aware that the only way he could adapt to this blindness was to carry on doing what he could. There was no other way in which he could learn.

'Really, Spock? Are you sure?' Jim asked him. Spock found the degree of anxiousness in his voice slightly irritating.

'I am not an invalid, Jim,' he said quietly. 'I would rather eat dinner in the restaurant.'

((O))

Spock was grateful that the restaurant did not appear to be too crowded, but that was one of its few saving graces. He had not eaten outside of his or Jim's cabin since his blinding, and although Jim assured him that he was quite neat enough, it was a frustrating business trying to detect and manage food at the end of metal pieces of cutlery. The only respite was that on arriving Peter apparently spied a children's area, and elected to go and eat his meal with other children on the flight instead of with his guardian.

'Well, it's nice to be alone, anyway,' Jim said with a sigh as Peter's footsteps retreated into an area that sounded rather less calm than the main dining area.

'Alone is a relative term,' Spock pointed out.

'Yes, of course, there's alone and alone,' Jim agreed, 'but this will do for now. I want to talk to you about what happens when we get to Earth, Spock.'

'I believed that was all arranged, Jim,' Spock replied. 'We were to travel to Riverside and stay for fourteen days, and then you would accompany me to San Francisco and remain for five days before returning to the ship.'

'Ah, yes,' Jim said, sounding a little guilty. 'Yes, that's what I told you...'

Spock lifted an eyebrow curiously. 'That is not our actual itinerary?'

At that point the waiter arrived with their food, and there was a brief interruption as he set down plates and drinks.

'Want me to tell you where everything is, Spock?' Jim asked as the waiter moved away, and Spock nodded briefly. The clock system was another tactic that Jim had learnt from the computer, and he proceeded to describe what was on the Vulcan's plate in terms of where it would sit on the face of an analogue timepiece.

Spock listened, but he was more concerned as to how Jim had changed their itinerary than exactly where his food was.

'Captain, you were saying,' he prompted.

'Don't get mad at me,' Jim began a little warily.

'I never get mad,' Spock said. As he sat facing his partner and captain in the darkness he felt a fleeting moment of desire to be able to see the expressions on his face that would tell him so much.

'Spock, I've taken an extended transfer off the Enterprise,' Jim said in a rush, as if skipping over the words would make them less of a shock.

'I – beg your pardon, Jim?' Spock asked, setting down his cutlery, wondering if he had perhaps heard wrongly against the background noise in the room and the kitchen beyond.

'You heard me right, Spock. I knew you'd argue so I thought I'd wait until it was a fait accompli.'

Spock pressed his lips together hard, declining to speak, but with a million thoughts moving in his mind. He could feel Jim about to speak again, but just before he did some kind of commotion arose from across the room, a voice raising in anger.

'Oh dear god, Peter,' Jim muttered.

Spock sighed. He had thought that their problems with Peter had been solved, at least for tonight.

'I'll be back in a second,' Jim said.

'Of course,' Spock nodded.

He sat listening attentively as Jim walked away across the room and got into discussion with what sounded like two males and a female. His eyebrow rose a little at their accent, although the features Spock detected were very subtle, probably inaudible to most. It appeared that Peter had inadvertently tossed a foam ball out of the children's play area, which had landed in one of the party's soup. Jim was occupied for some minutes in restoring peace to the disturbed diners and offering to pay for a new bowl of soup.

'Orion, Jim?' Spock asked as his captain returned.

'No, Spock,' Jim said as he sat, sounding surprised. 'Human, or near as dammit. Peter had – '

'I heard,' Spock said, dismissing the incident from his mind. He wanted to know more about Jim's drastic decision to temporarily leave the Enterprise. 'Jim, you were talking, before we were interrupted, about your transfer.'

'Yes, I was,' Jim said. 'Spock, I did a lot of thinking, weighing things up in my mind, over the last few days. I came down to the realisation that it's you, Spock. I know the Enterprise is my ship, she's the most important thing in my life. Almost the most important thing. But the most important is you. I want to be able to support you through this, and the ship will survive with Scotty at the helm for a few months. So I called up an Admiral or two, pulled all the strings that I could, and I've got a ground assignment at Fleet headquarters.'

'Jim, I – ' Spock began, but he truly felt as if he did not have the words. This was unprecedented, and it was almost impossible to cogitate the lengths Jim would have had to go to to secure such a transfer. He had never imagined Jim voluntarily leaving his ship. He could think of dozens of logical arguments but he knew that none would sway this stubborn human.

'There's no point in trying to argue, Spock,' Jim said, confirming his thoughts. 'It's done. It's all settled. There's something going on at headquarters – I can't talk about it here – and they were looking for a person with experience in the right area. Well, I've got that experience, and so I put myself forward for the job. I'll be desk-bound in the daytime, but I'll be there for you every morning and evening and weekend. I'm not going to leave you alone in this.'

Spock pushed at an unidentifiable soft shape on his plate with the end of his fork. He felt perturbed at the thought of Jim giving up so much for him, but he was not sure if his discomfort was at the captain losing his command, albeit temporarily, or at the assumption that he, Spock, would not be able to function alone in San Francisco. Or was it that he was afraid that it was true that he would not be able to function alone in San Francisco, and he was discomforted by that thought? Perhaps it was his own helplessness which disturbed him, and Jim's need to help him was only a physical manifestation of that helplessness.

He reached out for his glass of water and closed his hands around the cool sides, summoning calm and rationality. What was, was. He was blind. Jim would be with him in San Francisco. That was what was going to happen, and there was no way, and no reason, to change it.