"I want to take a walk," Margaret said, grabbing a sweater after the three of them cleared the dishes from lunch. "There's a network of walking and biking trails just down the road. It looks like Allen's going to be a while. I could stand to stretch my legs a bit."

"Sounds good to me," Nyota said. "I'll go get my coat. Spock, what about you?"

"I will join you," he said, walking to the coat tree in the front foyer to get his coat as well. He welcomed the prospect of light physical activity. It would provide a break from the intensely personal (for him) recollections and allow his mind a chance to reflect on them. Yet he would not offend his hosts by secluding himself again.

By mid-autumn standards, the sunny, dry weather was pleasantly warm to Margaret, but cool to her guests who came from much warmer climates. Properly attired, none found it unpleasant, though, as they walked down the road, occasionally hearing the crunch of dry fallen leaves beneath their feet. Margaret set a brisk pace, knowing that the two Starfleet officers with her would have no trouble keeping up. Finally they came to an access point to the trails and entered.

The paved trails ran along a small creek that bubbled gently. Birds, taking a break from their migrations, stopped to take drinks or short baths. Some ate the last of the season's berries that remained in the bushes along the banks. The three of them began down the pathway. Occasionally a leaf or two departed the canopy of trees and fell around them, leaves in shades of brown, rust, red, tan, and yellow. They slowed their pace to appreciate the scenery silently.

It was peaceful. It was calming. Certainly it was different from the secluded desert rock ledges that Spock had sought for refuge as a child. He often sat for hours, scanning the vistas below him, noting the many shades of brown, rust, red, tan, and yellow in the rocky and sandy landscape. No one bothered him there. No one expected anything of him. He could simply just be. Amanda worried about him going off into the desert by himself, never knowing where he went. Despite her entreaties to tell her, he never did. He usually sought solace in this isolation when he did not want to upset her as he worked out matters of heritage. Or tried to suppress them.

The peace he found here was different. It was less of a refuge, as he was running from nothing, but more of an embrace. The contrast between the two intrigued him.

As they walked some more, he began to wonder what made his mother leave her family and this environment. Amanda had told him many stories about her transition from Earth to Vulcan, but never about her move from her family to academics at Berkeley.

Nyota noticed that he was deep in thought. She looked up at him, and he caught her questioning eyes. He said nothing and remained without expression, but linked his arm with hers as they continued walking. She smiled, content with that, as was he.

Margaret had outpaced the two and gone ahead, approaching a bench that overlooked a small waterfall. She turned around to check on their progress behind her. What she saw reminded her of Sarek and Amanda when she first saw the pair together. Like his father, at this moment, Spock wore a mantel of quiet dignity, a tranquil composure. Nyota exuded the same poise and assured grace that Amanda had. As far as she was concerned, they did not need a Vulcan-style marriage bond; they already had one.

If only Amanda could have seen this … she would have been so happy, Margaret thought. Then, Darn, where is my sketch pad when I need it? But she had the camera that she always brought along on her walks, and she pulled it from her pocket.

"Would you two mind if I took your picture?" she asked. "I don't have my sketch pad, but there's something about the light here that I would like to capture."

"I have no objection," Spock said. He had to admit he was fascinated by Margaret's creative process, though he was not entirely comfortable with it. The stories they had exchanged were, indeed, personal, and Margaret studied him in a way that he normally would have found invasive. However, she did not study him as an oddity, as most others did. Again, it was another new experience for him.

"Sure," Nyota said. "We haven't had our picture taken together since…. Wait, I don't think we've ever had our picture taken together ever except the one I used the autotimer for at your apartment, Spock."

"I do believe you are correct," he agreed. They had been so conscious of being discreet in their relationship as student and instructor, then as bridge officers, that they rarely took photos or holographs of themselves at all, and certainly never together.

"It's high time we fix that then," Margaret said. "Stand here."

She positioned her subjects near the waterfall, framed by a background of autumn colors. The golden autumn sun cast a warm glow on them from an angle just to their front and right, also illuminating the foliage behind them. Margaret took nearly a dozen pictures. She might have taken more, but she had worked with Sarek previously on a commissioned work and remembered his reserved discomfort with more than four or five photographs at a time. She then moved to the bench to review her photos on the camera's screen. Spock and Nyota followed and sat next to her as the three, by silent consent, took a break.

For once, Spock's voice broke the silence. "Margaret, may I pose a query regarding my mother?"

"Sure, anything…"

"Do you know what prompted her study of linguistics?"

"That's an easy one. The med student from Rigel we hosted, Torkuu D'shuuko. He was here on an exchange, on a three-month residency rotation at the Clinic. Amanda always had a thing for Terran languages, but after we had Torkuu with us, something clicked and she went nuts over extraterrestrial languages. Mom and Dad couldn't get enough tapes and other materials for her." Margaret chuckled. "We never knew what sounds were going to come out of her mouth after that. After all the whistling and clicking and humming, Dad had to implement 'Standard-only' rules for the dinner table.

"You know, maybe your parents were destined from the start because the language that captivated—and, yes, I mean captivated—her the most was Vulcan. After graduation from prep school, she concentrated on xenolinguistics in college here, but she ended up at Berkeley because they had the advanced Vulcan Studies program she wanted, and, with the school being so close to the Vulcan Embassy, she actually had a chance to meet native Vulcan speakers." Margaret paused, smiling. "Clearly she did."

"As evidenced," Spock replied drily.

Understated Vulcan humor—Margaret had to laugh. "Yes, as evidenced…," she agreed. "My sister was focused and driven, so I'm not surprised that when she decided to study Vulcan that she'd end up doing her doctorate work at the embassy. On the outside she was probably one of the calmest people you knew, but once she got an idea in her head, away she went until she won the point of discussion in class or found whatever obscure fact she needed to complete a project. She used to drive her teachers crazy. I think she intimidated some of them."

Although he remained facing forward, Spock looked at Nyota through the corner of his eye.

"Whaaat…why are you looking at me?" Nyota demanded, but smirking.

He said nothing. Margaret wondered if teasing was part of Vulcan culture, as, even with Spock's reserve, these two teased each other as much as Sarek and Amanda had in their more unguarded moments.

Finally Spock stood up. "I think it would be wise if we started back," he said.

"Oh, yeah…let's start back," Nyota said in mock annoyance. "But you can walk back by yourself!"

"As you wish."

Nyota rolled her eyes. "Margaret, did Amanda ever find her Vulcan as exasperating as I find mine?"

Margaret and Nyota laughed while Spock pointedly ignored them in his best display of Vulcan discipline and restraint as they began their return.