We ended up spending three full Terran months on Vulcan. In that time, we learned more than we wanted to know about Vulcan efficiency. We were woken up at precise times, fed at precise times. The ship's repair was on a precise schedule.

I was surprised they didn't tell us precisely when to use the facilities.

But despite their odd habits, the Vulcans around us were nice people. They made sure we were comfortable, or as comfortable as humans could be in that desert climate. They helped repair our stolen ship, even though they argued with Scotty at every turn.

They also kept us updated on Spock's progress, even though they never told us what we wanted to hear.

Nyota wanted to know if Spock remembered her singing. Pavel asked about Spock's opinion of Moscow and whether he had changed his mind about its lack of aesthetics. Hikaru wanted to reminisce with Spock about their fencing practices. Scotty was eager to finish his discussion with Spock about the new warp nacelles Starfleet was using.

Bones wanted to remind Spock that he hated him. We all laughed at that one, then had to explain it to the Vulcan healers surrounding us.

Me? I kept my mouth shut. None of the healers had said anything about the bond, and I was still afraid to bring it up. Not to mention, I was scared of what would happen when Spock realized something had been between us but was now gone.

Because we did see Spock. I know the rumors made a big deal about how the Vulcan Council of Elders supposedly kept him away until he decided to join us on our trip back to Earth. But that was only a rumor. We saw him every day.

In fact, as part of his treatment, we were asked to meet with him for an hour or so each ten hour period. We were supposed to stir his memory by reminding him of things we had done together.

(Bones tried to explain to me the rationale behind the timing. It had something to do with the way the Vulcan brain cycles neurochemicals. I really didn't pay attention. I was too busy watching Spock.)

True to Vulcan philosophy, the healers wanted us to be factual in our recollections, with as few emotions as possible. Apparently, the healers needed to be educated about Terrans. That's about as polite as I could be when I talked to Amanda about it. What I really wanted to say was that they were completely crazy if they thought we could recount our lives with Spock unemotionally.

But we all wanted to help. So we each took turns talking to him about the last twenty years of our lives. The good times and the bad. Joys and heartaches. Loves and losses.

I watched as, each in their own way, my friends told Spock how much they loved him.

But I couldn't. My fears paralyzed me. I couldn't think of any events that didn't involve our bond. So I often ended up talking about how Spock had reacted to various crew members.

My conversations were so lifeless that Bones gave me piercing looks every time Spock came by. Sarek was also worried. Every time he saw me, he gave me an expression that resembled a schoolmaster about to tell his student how badly he failed his test.

But I couldn't help myself. The memories I wanted to talk about wouldn't come to me and the ones I thought of weren't appropriate for the circumstances. So I let myself lapse into silence. I didn't know what else to do.

Spock didn't seem to notice. Since he was still integrating his katra into his brain, he probably was too busy to realize an illogical human was being more illogical than usual.

Only Nyota seemed to sense my difficulties. When it became apparent that I was having trouble fulfilling my duty, she would sit with us during my turn at memory-prodding. She would put us both at ease and help me recount important events in our lives, not just trivial facts.

Even Spock noticed the difference when she was around. He seemed more comfortable, more able to remember things.

Then my communications officer went one step further. She found us a 3D chess set. That game, which had been the background for many discussions between me and my first officer, now became the catalyst for a flood of memories being integrated into Spock's brain. The change was so sudden that, after our first chess game, Amanda rushed over to me and demanded to know what had happened.

But a person is more than memories, and it was apparent that my friend had a long way to go before he was whole. Even after all our sessions, when we were finally ready, or forced, to continue on to Earth, Spock was perhaps half the person he once had been. He knew his duties on a starship. He knew his history. He was comfortable around us. But the familiarity, that odd formal familiarity of Spock's, had not returned.

He knew us, but in all the ways that counted, we were still strangers to him.

But we couldn't continue to help the healers ease him back into his life. We had run out of time. Starfleet was insisting that we come home to meet our fates.

To make matters worse (or so I thought at the time), though we tried to persuade Spock to stay with the healers a little longer, his stubbornness decided to come back in full force. He insisted his testimony was vital to insure we received fair treatment from the tribunal.

Now, by space standards, it's only a hop, skip and jump from Vulcan to Earth. You can go between them in less than a day at Warp 2 or higher. So we knew we didn't have much freedom left. That drove us to worry about the big questions. Were our careers over? Would we have to do time in prison?

Would we be separated from Spock?

That question preoccupied all of us. Of course, we weren't worried that he couldn't survive without us. He always did what he needed to. Hell, that was why we were facing these problems instead of being dead.

But we knew he wasn't one hundred percent. And that made us responsible for him.

We were his family. It was our job to look after him until he could handle himself properly. What was my way of looking after him? I put him back at his science station for the trip home.

Bones wasn't too thrilled about that. Of course, his objections made sense. Yes, I could see Spock appeared rather formal, rather aloof. I could tell we still confused him quite a bit. But what else was I going to do with him? I figured this would be an easy trip. In my mind, the assignment would give him the chance to refamiliarize himself with his duties without the stress of formal orders.

The universe had other plans.

As grave as the situation was, it started off on a good note, at least within our little group. Right before we dropped out of warp, we all watched as Bones and Spock sparred for the first time since the refusion.

I swear I saw that smug glint in Spock's eyes as he got the upper hand and Bones turned away from their philosophical discussion in frustration. I wasn't the only one. Nyota and Pavel had small smiles on their faces as Bones found a corner to sulk in.

But only seconds later we were inundated with Starfleet's distress calls. So, working on automatic, I asked my first officer for his opinion. To his credit, and to the credit of the Vulcan healers, he gave me the information I needed.

Then I realized we had to do the impossible to save Earth. Again.

So I had to lean on Spock even harder. He was the only person on the ship who could make the calculations for time travel. Everyone knew that. But, given the circumstances, we were all worried he couldn't handle the pressure. Bones, as usual, was the most vocal about it. But as much as McCoy complained, he never tried to stop us. In his heart, he knew we didn't have a choice.

So we made preparations to go to a San Francisco that was more foreign to us than Vulcan. We debated about the logistics of transporting whales. We hoped like hell the Klingon rustbucket could hold up to the stress of time travel.

And I decided to trust Spock's computations to get us there.

I had no doubts that the healers were able to restore Spock's analytical abilities. Vulcans were known for their intense schooling. They left something to be desired with the emotional abilities, however. But as I watched my old friend program the computer, I saw in his actions an urgency that spoke of a connection with the people he was trying to save.

So, despite McCoy's grumblings, I let Spock work his magic. And, of course, we made it. We landed the ship in Golden Gate Park in the summer of 1986.

I made sure to put us down in the middle of the overgrown part of the park. I didn't want to land near the water and have people colliding with the ship every five minutes. Even without knowing much about the 20th century, I knew tourists have always loved watching the bridge come out of the fog from any viewpoint they could find.

More importantly, we couldn't have people watching us prepare to transport whales. So we had a bit of a trek to the park exit. I hung back behind the others on our way out. As I watched them, I tried to gauge how ready they were to handle this mission. I was pleased with what I found. Even though they had enough problems for three planets, all of them radiated exuberance and confidence. They were doing fine.

Well, all except one. Just before we headed out the exit and onto the street, Spock turned back to me with a raised eyebrow, as if sensing my contentment and wanting to know its cause.

Rather than risk opening a long philosophical discussion by explaining, I just shrugged at him. "It's good to be alive, don't you agree?"

Spock nodded gravely in return. "Of course, Admiral."

Although he was formal and perfectly poised, I swore his eyes lingered just a little too long on my face. What he saw there must have satisfied him, because he nodded again and turned to make his way through the park exit.

So on we went with our mission to save our world. Because of the need to retrieve multiple items rather quickly, we split up. I, of course, ended up with Spock.

Going off alone with him was both good and bad. I was glad to see he trusted me enough to follow without question as I found the way to the aquarium. I was even more pleased to see that he trusted himself enough to follow his own instincts.

I just wish he had told me what he was planning to do before he jumped into the tank with the whales.

I was so shocked by his move that I had trouble figuring out what to do to prevent our young tourguide from getting in our way. First, I tried to separate myself from him, but it was too late. She had seen us together. Then I tried wining and dining her. I was making progress until Scotty commed me and ruined my story. In the end, I believe she thought we were just too kooky to be lying.

Or she was as desperate to save her whales as I was to save my planet. I know it wasn't my performance that convinced her. I did try to sway her with my charm, but my heart wasn't in it. I was too worried about Spock's emotional state, or lack thereof, to make a move on anybody else.

My worry was what finally broke the impasse that had developed between me and my friend. Spock's emotionlessness slapped me in the face when I came back to the ship. He began talking about our mission as if we were charting a star system instead of saving the planet that helped create both of us.

That made me see red. Goddamn Vulcan healers! Why couldn't they have paid some attention to his emotions when they reprogrammed his brain? His coldness bothered me so much that I blew up, wanting to rile him into a response. Any response.

I ended up getting more than I expected. At first his expression didn't change. So I turned and walked away, afraid that my temper would get away from me. But as I hurried down the neck of the ship, I felt a 'snap' in my head. That familiar feeling made me freeze in front of my cabin. It couldn't be...could it?

After a short internal debate, I stepped into my quarters and threw myself on my bunk. I was afraid to look within. I didn't think I could handle the disappointment of being wrong about this.

But fear never held me back for long. So, pushing aside my worries, I looked within. When I searched the spot that used to house our connection, I nearly fell to the floor in shock. The bond *was* there. But when I prodded it, nothing happened. Spock didn't reach out to me. It didn't hum, as it had before. Looking into it was like looking into a starless section of space.

Damnit, what was he up to? Why did he reconnect the bond if he wasn't going to use it? I wanted to shake it up and get him to talk to me. But before I could do more than give it a cursory examination, Bones was pounding on my door, yelling that Chekov was missing.

So I went back to the bridge to see what was going on.

The situation was grave.

It took us more than 24 hours to find Pavel. By that time, Gillian had come running, looking for help. The aquarium staff had taken the whales out from under her and put them in dangerous waters. To make matters worse, we found out Pavel had been seriously hurt.

So I let Bones drag Gillian and me around a hospital to retrieve our navigator. I'm glad I did. What the doctors in that hospital were going to do to him sounded frighteningly primitive.

Once we were all safely back on the Bounty, I let Gillian know I wasn't too happy about her choice to come to the future with us. She belonged in her own time, not in ours. Besides, I didn't want Spock to see her as a threat. I still wasn't getting any response to my pokes at the bond, so I had no idea what he was thinking.

But I gave in gracefully. She was right. We did need her and her whale expertise.

My mood improved significantly when I saw Bones make fun of Spock right before we retrieved George and Gracie. And when Spock took Bones' advice about how to get the missing information for his time travel calculations, I was thrilled.

Oh, I do realize his 'guess' was based on as much data as he could gather. But he made the final leap to come up with a number. He adapted. I felt energized by the possibilities I was seeing in his eyes.

After that, I knew we couldn't fail. The universe wouldn't be that cruel.

But our troubles weren't over yet. We flew back our into own time and hit Earth's atmosphere as fast as our planet would allow. Sulu had quickly realized that we had come back to the instant before the probe could completely flood the land masses.

So we flopped down in the bay and nearly hit the Golden Gate Bridge in the process. Then, the cargobay doors on the Klingon rustbucket wouldn't open. The whales were trapped, along with our engineer and our whale expert. But because of all that had happened earlier, I wasn't willing to risk Spock's life to get them free.

So, of course, I risked my own. As I swam through that chilly water, I wondered what Spock was thinking. Did he worry about my safety? Did he wonder if I was strong enough to get out of this alive? Would he mourn me if I didn't make it?

That's when I felt it. A huff of annoyance coming from the other side of the bond. Just enough of a response to reassure me, to tell me that I was being illogical, even for a human. When I realized what it meant, I almost forgot I was swimming underwater and let out a chuckle. But I was able to stop myself in time so that I could release the whales.

I swam to the surface as soon as I saw George and Gracie leave the ship. Without thinking about it, I stopped right in front of where Spock stood on the wing.

Then it was time for the whales to do their job. After a moment of panic, we all heard our aquatic duo break into song, and just like that, the rain stopped and the waters started to calm.

My crew started an impromptu celebration right then and there. Everyone was thrown or pulled off that wing into the water, with much laughter ensuing. Everyone, that is, except Spock.

Well, I couldn't let him miss out on that human custom. So I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the bay. Of course, I couldn't stop myself from grinning at him a minute later as his head came out of the water.

Spock didn't say anything. He just raised an eyebrow and held out two fingers towards me. Yes, those two fingers.

I gasped in shock. After the emptiness he had left in the bond earlier, I didn't expect affection. But when he made no move to retract his nonverbal request, I completed the Vulcan kiss.

As our fingers touched, I heard the cheers of our crewmates behind me. "Was I being that obvious? I tried not to worry, but it was impossible." I whispered as we moved a little away from the others. "I wanted to be reasonable. You just came back from the dead, after all."

Spock laid a hand on my shoulder. "You do not have to be 'obvious' with them, Jim. They know you well. They knew something was missing. Because of their concern for you, I was able to find what you were seeking."

This time I raised an eyebrow.

"Concern such as theirs is most often a product of love. A love for a brother or a comrade. Familial love. This emotion I understood from watching my mother during my recovery. But I remembered very little of the affection that you and I had for each other.

"Earlier, you confronted me about my feelings concerning our task. Your outburst confused me. I could not figure out why you were angry. So I took the time to search my memories, as I suspected the answer was contained within them. After a moment of reflection, I remembered how much you loved your home. So I focused on how I felt about your reaction. There I found anger, frustration, and curiously, affection. Intrigued, I examined that affection, and as Dr. McCoy might say, the dam burst. My love for you overwhelmed me and I suddenly remembered all that we had been to each other.

"For your safety, before my death, I had locked the memories of our bond away in an inaccessible part of my katra. Only by regaining emotional connections to you was I able to access them. Once I realized it was missing, it was only logical to re-form the bond."

I listened to his explanation with a growing understanding. But then I realized Spock was getting a bit too pale. Knowing he must be freezing in the water, I coaxed him back up onto the wing to sit with me. As we dried in the sun and waited for the Fleet shuttle to arrive, I thought about what he told me.

One thing nagged at me. "Then why didn't you say anything to me about it? Why did you let the bond lie dormant?"

He, of course, had a good reason for that, too. "Because I attempting to assess if I had made the right choice. Logic does not always aid me when making decisions concerning humans."

I grinned at his exasperated expression. "And you just came to a conclusion now?"

That expression softened to something more affectionate. "I concluded that I made the correct choice when you were releasing George and Gracie. You were worried that I did not love you enough to mourn your death. I knew then that my love was important to you."

I shook my head in my own frustration. How could he not realize what he meant to me? "You, and everything in you, are important to me, Spock."

"I know that now, Admiral," Spock said, his face overly serious.

I just rolled my eyes at his bad attempt at a joke.

Then I gave my bondmate another hand kiss.

end part 6