Spock breaks the link with some reluctance, and he takes my trembling form into his embrace. He holds me for what I wish is an eternity. He doesn't have to tell me what to expect; I already know. The emptiness of having most of my mind back and the coldness where the heat of intense, unbearable emotions once were overwhelms me, and I dig my fingers into my palm to keep the tears from welling up. I can feel his breath normalising, and he lifts my head up from his shoulder because I'm still tense. He looks down, uncurls my hand and notices the bloody half-moons in my palm. "You are injuring yourself," he says.

I'm not even aware how hard I clenched my fists. I never am. I respond with an absent-minded oh and relent. I see Spock studying my face with a sense of concern. "A physiological response," you say more to convince myself.

"It is a most disconcerting response." He leans over to the box of tissues on the table, pulls two of them out and carefully places each folded one on my palm to stanch the blood. "You should not be so careless about your hands." He stands me up, places his hands on my shoulders. "Have Doctor McCoy or Nurse Chapel tend to your wounds immediately."

"I can take care of this myself," I answer.

"I was not making a request." He takes my face in both of his hands. "Celeste, you need not be alone. I am not going anywhere."

"You can't. We're both stuck on this tin can; where you gonna go?" My attempt at levity gets me a micro-scowl. I sigh. "Okay. I'll get cleaned up and I'll come visit."

"We do not have to-"

"I want to," I say firmly. "I don't want to talk or commiserate, and you don't want to either. So let's not."

Spock kisses me on the forehead, then my lips. "Do not delay."

I discover just how nit-picky Spock is on the job during the crew evaluation process, and he discovers how terse I can be, especially when he confiscates my third cup of coffee. McCoy does not come to my rescue and seems rather amused the Vulcan has someone else to spar with.

But the few times we manage to spend together off-duty more than makes up for the mutual irritation. Sharing our memories seems to enhance the physical bliss I feel with Spock, but I'm still somewhat ambivalent.

One post-coital moment, Spock's in the chair at the foot of the bed playing a gentle tune on his ka'athyra. I smile as I listen; he looks placid, serene and I'm glad to have these little bits of time. After he finishes his song I brush my toes against his bicep to get his attention. "Spock, what's your family name?"

Serenity gives way to puzzlement on Spock's face as he puts his lyre aside. "It is odd you would have such an inquiry at this time."

"I don't think so. Personal moments are appropriate for personal questions." I come up on my knees and crawl toward him before lying on my front, propping my chin on my hand. "After being naked together, the least you can do is tell me your last name."

The Vulcan leans towards me, shaking his head. "You cannot pronounce it."

"Try me," I purr. "I took Vulcan as an elective at the Academy. And after treating a !Kung patient"—I'm careful about the click—"I tend to be up to the challenge."

Spock brings his lips close to my ear. After he tells me his name, I furrow my brow and reply, "Hmm. If I were to say it backwards, would you return to your own dimension?"

"I don't understand."

"An allusion to an old comic book character. The effect is totally ruined now that I've explained the joke."

Spock collects me and places me on his lap. If he overtly displayed moods I would suspect he's not in a jocular one. His fingers follow my spine and I arch my back. "Is this not a better effect?" He doesn't give me any time to respond; he guides himself inside me and he watches me gasp. "I believe it is," he says against my collarbone.

"You…trying to…break the human?" I struggle for words as I try to match his rhythm.

Spock does not have that problem. "Highly unlikely. I find your stamina remarkable." He frames my hips and takes a moment to watch me move. "I am offering an incentive."

My head goes back as I moan and I shift to get a really nice angle. I can't find words right now, but I know one thing for certain—I love Spock's incentives.

I'm getting to him. "You will…see me…more often, yes?"

My mouth is slack as my head lolls forward and I muster a nod. I'm enjoying the ride.

Spock takes the hair covering my face in one hand, puts it behind my head and pulls. We're face to face, and his eyes are almost black. His voice has an edge to it. "Speak, human. Say 'yes'."

I lower my chin just so, displaying my submission. "Yes," I breathe.

"Tomorrow night. Yes?" He drives deeper, and I make these little sounds that are about an octave above my normal voice. "Yes?" he repeats. He won't ask a third time.

"Yes, Spock," I reply more audibly.

His eyes close and his jaw tightens at the sound of his name. Good, he can't see me bask in the moment. It doesn't last. He opens his eyes and drives deeper still. "Say that again," he commands, his gaze fixed on my mouth.

I need to find an interval between gasps to give him what he wants. "Yes, Spock."

"Again."

"Yes, Spock…. Yes. Spock…. Yes…. Yes…. Yes. Oh, yes!"