A/N: A shortish chapter, but an important one. Lots of blinking and italics in here.

Again, big shout out to Product of a Sick Society, for making me give myself a deadline. Please find a way to thank her for her efforts in this almost ludicrously difficult field.

.bdobd.

Jim couldn't believe it. None of the Tellarites on the base knew where Spock was. It wasn't like the guy was easy to miss.

T'Panya'd stayed pretty quiet throughout the walk. He should've known it was too good to last.

They were in a hallway, making yet another trip from wing A to wing F (all the way across the base, wouldn't'cha know; Jim was beginning to suspect that Barnett had set this up) when T'Panya latched on to his arm.

Jim blinked at her.

She was still there.

It wasn't like she was leaning on him or anything… Maybe latched wasn't quite the word. It seemed less predetermined than that. It was more like to a kid grabbing an adult's hand when crossing the street.

"What is your definition of a good employee?" she asked.

Jim blinked again. Of all the things to ask…

It was probably best to go formal on her.

"Um. A good employee is someone who follows the orders of their superior officer to the best of their abilities. And informs their superior officer when and why they are unable to do so. Why?"

T'Panya seemed to consider this carefully. "Very well. I am an acceptable employee, then. I have followed Miss Nowmi's instructions."

She let go of his wrist and continued walking. Jim's mind buzzed quietly before he managed to get his feet to work. Then he had to jog to catch up; "Hey, you didn't answer my question. Why'd you want to know?"

She wasn't looking at him. "It is not of true import."

"I think it's important. Come on, tell me!"

T'Panya stopped walking again. "What is your definition of a good citizen?"

"Erm…" Jim had a feeling that this answer mattered. "I guess… Someone who does what they believe is best for their country or planet. And who hurts as few people as they can in the process." He squinted at the wall she was staring at. It wasn't a particularly interesting one. "I think. I've never really been good at that."

"You serve your government. You are a good citizen."

"Well, I break a lot of laws in the process. That's not good." He peered at her profile. "Again, why do you need to know? Vulcan II's gotten along really well. It's building a lot faster than everyone thought was possible."

He could see her eyelashes moving slowly as she blinked. "…I realize this. But I am unsure as to how to proceed."

"In doing what?"

"How am I to serve a people that no longer exist?"

Jim reared back in surprise. "Don't exist? There aren't that many, but –,"

"No." She finally looked at him, determined, apparently, to make her point. "The Vulcans I knew and lived beside are dead. The homes that we existed in are destroyed. The schools that we longed to attend are destroyed. We have no more record of our central teachings beyond the Katric Ark and the High Council.

"The Council has admitted to being unsure as to how to rectify these issues. Three of whom used to serve on the Council are dead, so it can not be as it were. If the Council is not as it was, than the Vulcan government was not as it was.

"What have we got left? If it is only our memories, what good are they to do?"

Jim stared at her. "What brought this on?"

She wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to the wall. "Vulcans are being called upon to leave the planet and serve elsewhere in the galaxy, so as to better spread our ideals.

"But our ideals never mentioned leaving the planet of Vulcan. Surak believed the highest honor came in serving ones own people."

Jim scratched at his head. "I don't really think you can blame Surak for failing to predict Vulcan imploding."

"I am in agreement. But what am I to do?" She was now clearly asking for advice. "My planet and people are dead. My leaders are not what they were. My philosophies are suddenly different from what they were. And now I am to serve on an alien world. What am I to do?"

He was so not ready for this. "…Could you go back to Vulcan? To serve there?"

T'Panya seemed to crumble. "I reapplied for residency. I was denied."

Oh, shit. He'd heard about that. There weren't enough houses on the colony to support all ten thousand survivors of the attack, so families with children were being prioritized over single applicants for homes.

"…Ah. Ok. That's another issue entirely." Gods, this was so weird. "Would 'do what feels right' be useful at all? That's what I usually do."

She coughed sarcastically at him. He hadn't even known you could do that. "I was taught that such advice was irrational, and to be avoided."

"…Well, then I don't think I've go much for you. What do you want me to tell you?"

She reset her shoulders. "If I am not to serve on our colony then I am to serve in my position as Miss Nowmi's assistant."

"Oh, no. I… I don't really know what you do to be a good assistant…" Jim squirmed. He felt so impotent. That was one of his leastfavorite vocabulary words.

"Neither do I." The shoulders fell again. "Such is the nature of my predicament. No one seems to know what I am to do, only that I am somehow doing it wrong.

"I have attempted to convince you to speak with Miss Nowmi, and I accomplished this, but in the process I somehow insulted the crew of the Enterprise. They will no longer talk to anyone not of Starfleet.

"Now I have been told to once again make you speak to Miss Nowmi, but not to allow any of the crew to gain insult from my actions."

She tucked her hands gently behind her back. "So now I have no one to serve on my planet, and the one I do serve finds me inadequate."

"A – Wait." Jim looked at her carefully. "You – Have you talked to the head of your family recently?" She sounded like Spock might if the man, you know, talked to Jim. Maybe.

She blinked at him. "No. The head of my family perished in the destruction."

Smooth, Kirk, smooth. "Oh…I'm sorry." She started to interrupt him, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Has any one told you, definitively, that you aren't doing a good job."

"…Yes."

"Who?"

"Well, if I was doing adequately, surely I would not be this miserable."

Jim gaped at her.

She blinked some more at him.

"… Um. T'Panya?"

"Yes?"

"First of all, no one told you you weren't being a good employee. Secondly, you…You know about survivor's guilt, right? And depression?"

"Affirmative."

"So… You don't think that that's why you're… 'miserable'."

"Yes."

"…Any particular reason why?"

She seemed offended. "Vulcans are not stricken by such emotional issues."

"…Okay, but you just admitted to being miserable. That was your word. 'Miserable'. If Vulcans can be saddened to the point of imagining criticism," she opened her mouth to protest, but waved it down, "no, hear me out, if you can be that depressed, why can't you have survivor's guilt?"

"Because that does not happen."

Good lord she was stubborn. "…"

"It does not." She seemed to think that she'd be able to convince him, if she just pushed hard enough. "Truly. Why would a Vulcan feel such things? It does not occur."

"…T'Panya, there's a name for it and everything. You can look it up on the internet. And in journals and encyclopedias and stuff. Clearly, it does occur."

She nodded slowly, like he was being exceptionally thick. "Yes. To other people. Not to us."

Jim crossed his arms. "Not to you, you mean."

"Well, I am included in 'us' by association, yes."

He stared at the ceiling for a while. "…So you agree that it exists, and that it affects other species, and that is a well-documented result of extreme trauma. Right? Are we on the same page?"

"…Affirmative…"

"So why, definitively, can it not, absolutely, never-in-a-million-years, happen to you. To one Vulcan. What makes you, personally, immune to this thing."

Okay, she was definitely annoyed now. "Such simply does not effect our species –,"

"Why? It can't be because you don't feel emotion, you do, you just told me that yourself. You're miserable. You admit that. Another definition of misery is depression. Why are you so different?"

She was holding herself like her back was made of steel. "Guilt and depression do not affect Vulcans the same way they do humans."

"Clearly."

T'Panya relaxed slightly. "So we are in –,"

"If it affected you the same way, we would've been having this conversation weeks ago. It all got delayed a couple months."

She narrowed her eyes. "You are not listening to me."

"I'm listening to you. I'm just not agreeing with you. They don't necessarily go hand in hand." He planted his feet. "Now, one more time: why are you immune. Why does something that affects everyone else in the galaxy not affect you."

"The universe does not work that way!" She had finally exploded, "Such does not happen as it does to others! That is why we are unique. We are different; we are not copies of every one else; we are not flawed as you are. We are different."

"How?"

T'Panya spluttered and drew herself up to her full height: just a titch shorter than Jim, but imposing as all hell. "We are Vulcan. It is part of our identities as people."

And here's where Jim got himself strangled: "Fine. But the planet was also part of your identity." She flinched. "And that sure as hell changed. Why's your susceptibility to depression different? Both your planet and your pride looked immortal. One clearly wasn't."

He stepped forward, right up to her nose. "So, one more time: what makes you so god damned special?"

T'Panya opened and closed her mouth soundlessly for a while. Jim braced for impact. Damn this was gonna hurt…

She burst into tears.

Jim gaped, totally stunned. Holy shit. That didn't go as planned.

T'Panya wailed almost quietly, if that made any sense: huge shuddering breaths drawn between almost dainty sobs.

"Oh, fuck it all," he muttered, and drew her into a hug. Enough crazy shit had happened today that proportionally, this wouldn't be that bad.

She kept sobbing, but – hold on, his shirt wasn't getting wet. Jim pulled back a bit, and saw that she wasn't actually crying tears; her face was totally dry.

Well, Vulcans were desert creatures; made sense that they wouldn't want to waste valuable water on something like crying.

Jim sighed and held her closer. At least he wasn't getting thrashed.

Then again, this was damned awkward. What did one do when one broke a Vulcan? The things weren't supposed to be fragile.

Course, it'd been almost a year now. If she'd lasted this long without mourning…

Fuck, when was the reunion?

Jim did a bit of mental math: September… it was August… so, shit, that was in, like, three weeks. Damn it all.

T'Panya kept right on going. He sighed and rubbed her back a bit. It'd be easier, almost, if she were actually crying: here, he was just kinda standing here as a witness.

How long'd it been since she started this?

Immediately, he felt bad for thinking that. Her planet had imploded: of course she was going to go on for a little while.

Jim looked down at her uncomfortably. "Look, T'Panya…I'm happy to do what you need me to, but is there something…I dunno, more useful that I can do for you?"

She quieted a bit and spoke through a very runny nose. "I do not know. I am so lost."

"…About that. So, do you know what you're looking for? That can help."

"Negative."

"Alright! Than we'll look for that."

She looked at him like he was the weird one. "Goals are important. Mission statements even more so," he stated.

T'Panya raised an eyebrow and burrowed back into his shoulder. "Do you know what you want?" he asked.

"Negative."

Damn it all. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

She blushed olive.

Jim froze and quickly reviewed everything she'd said in the past few days. His eyes widened and he turned what must have been a Fascinating With a Capitol 'F' shade of red, because all of a sudden T'Panya's eyes were like right there.

"Humans have iron based blood."

Jim blinked at her. This would be so much easier if she wasn't crushing on him. "…Yeah?"

"It is an illogically attractive feature on you. On others," she gave a gaelic shrug, "such is not the case."

Jim gaped at her.

Christ, her ears would be permanently green by the end of the conversation. "…Thank you. That's kind of you to say. And you aren't allowed to tell me that the thanks are unnecessary."

She purred and ducked her head under his chin.

It took Jim a couple moments to find two brain cells to rub together. She was a Vulcan, and she was, like, purring and –

Jim leapt backwards. "Okay, new rule: NO SNUGGLING."

T'Panya looked like she'd just been slapped.

He groaned. He just couldn't win.

Jim sighed and stomped petulantly back over, hugging her softly. "…At least, not without some warning. It's not nice to sneak up on someone like that."

…

How was it possible to look that happy without smiling? That should be against some law of physics. Jim made a mental note to tell Chekov to invent that law when he got back to the ship.

"…Ow, T'Panya, not that tight, you're gonna break my hand."

T'Panya loosened her grip on his hand – when had that happened, anyway? – and started that purring thing again.

Jim sighed and pulled her closer. He'd let her down later. It'd just be cruel to hurt her more now.

He kept himself busy by looking at her ears. Not as nice as Spock's, of course, but –

Jim kept very, very still, took out his handy mental stick, and prodded that last thought again. The damned thing didn't go away. Fuck. It must actually be his.

Poke poke. How long had that thing been there, anyway? When had he noticed Spock's ears, of all things?

Jim was having himself a quiet little freakout – one that T'Panya seemed totally oblivious to (Jim beat the thought 'Spock would've noticed' with his mental stick, and was able to wrestle it into a kind of sulky submission) – when Spock rounded the corner.

Jim froze, Spock froze. T'Panya seemed smug.

Spock turned on his heel and walked away.

Jim opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out.

T'Panya went back to purring.

The universe hated him. It was official.

.bdobd.

Admiral Barnett had drawn Spock away from the Captain for little easily discernable reason. There were few tasks to complete on the base, and the crewmen were all ready to beam back aboard the ship.

The Admiral's true intent had appeared to be to drag Spock into the closest available nook and interrogate him about the Captain's command of the Enterprise.

Perhaps it was the Captain's previous concerns about the Admiral's intentions towards the Enterprise, but something in the wording of the Admiral's queries had seemed…odd. The Admiral appeared much too intent about the topic.

After managing to detach himself from the strangely focused Admiral, Spock set about finding the Captain to analyze the conversation.

Spock found Jim in a secluded hallway, holding T'Panya and kissing her quite lewdly with his right hand.

This was very disturbing, so Spock exited the area immediately.

No. Such was an inaccurate remembrance of events.

The actions the Captain was partaking in were not in and of themselves unusual. While Spock had never actually seen Kirk engage in blatant flirting – excepting, of course, Jim's subtle overtures towards Spock on the bridge – but he had heard of Jim's numerous conquests at the Academy.

No, what was more unsettling was that the first thought that Spock had upon seeing Jim entwined with T'Panya was, 'Wait. You are showing affection towards the wrong Vulcan. I am over here.'

At this point, Spock's brain came to a screeching halt, but not before crashing into his inborn notions of both the importance of both the military command unit and society's norms, and after seriously denting the rear bumper of his logical ideals.

What was he to do?

.bdobd.

It was really, really hard to apologize to a guy you just figured out you might (maybe) like when said person had locked himself in his quarters.

Again.

He'd been doing that a lot, lately.

Jim blinked threateningly down at the door's chipper little lock, but it didn't open. He could, in theory, use the Captain's Override, but that would be so categorically dickish as to be seen as a totally stupid move even by his admittedly low standards.

So here he was, staring at the lock.

Fuck, what if it did open? What would he say? 'I'm sorry that I…' What? He had no fucking clue what he'd done to set Spock off. He knew he felt stupid for being seen snuggling with another Vulcan approximately five seconds after coming to the realization that he was obsessed with his First.

Damn it, you didn't even need the entire first half of the sentence. '[C]oming to the realization that he was obsessed with his First' was already pretty fucking bad.

But what to say to Spock? 'I'm sorry if I disturbed you? I'm really sorry if I'm projecting my totally embarrassing feelings onto your actions?'

'I'm sorry, please don't hate me, come back to work? Please? Because I cannot do this alone and you're actually kind of attractive, maybe?'

What about, 'I'm sorry, I'm not a stalker, I swear?' It was more fucking efficient; that was for damn sure.

And, the door opened. Of course it did. Because the universe hates James T. Kirk, had we not already discussed this?

Spock didn't look much happier to see Jim than Jim did to talk with Spock.

They just sort of stood there for a while until Spock motioned that he wanted to get into the hallway. Jim stiffened and did a kind of fluttery apologetic hand dance while skittering quickly to the left.

Spock blinked at him, inclined his head, and walked down the hall. He got into a lift and left.

Jim stared after him.

He was then hit by a wave of almost paralyzing self-hatred. 'What the fuck was that? Really? You just fucking stood there for twenty minutes? How stupid –?'

Jim ran to see if Bones had any of that brandy left. Maybe if he drank enough he could drown his brain.

.bdobd.