AN: The pieces that make up this chapter were mostly finished almost a year ago. Unfortunately, I am only just now finding the time to go over them properly. Hopefully, with the holiday, I will be able to finish reviewing the next chapter as well ...

Unbeta'd but thank you to Miss Tuesday for your suggestions all those months ago. Thank you to everyone who has followed and or favorited and please review!

She was meeting him for tea today. Aware that humans often used the act of consuming beverages as an invitation to speak on a topic, he had once more offered to speak with her over a cup of tea. Registering her carefully neutral facial response, he did not argue when she insisted they complete their discussion at a place he was not acquainted with. She was a flight risk and if she took comfort in choosing the location of their discussion, then he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

When he learned that she wouldn't answer his more biographical questions, he merely raised an eyebrow and inquired about her preference for the establishment. This lead to the discovery of her (over)fondness for caffeinated beverages, how much she loved working at this particular shop, and yes, she was "documented." While she had produced valid identification, he quietly noted it was not the same Starfleet Identification card she … acquired … shortly before their first encounter three months, four days, fifteen hours, and forty-two minutes prior.

He also noted that her name was Hari Luna. A quick inquiry revealed the name was statistically neither common nor unusual. It served her well. Its use also did not seem uncomfortable to her. It was probable that the name was one she had used before.

He ALSO noted she engaged in initiating non-essential and unprompted exchanges of information for the sake of doing so. The logic of it all escaped him. However, his fellow officers assured him it was normal when dealing with human females, for all they appeared alternately perplexed or offended by his asking.

Indeed, over the course of the five days, nine hours, and twenty-five minutes since their second encounter, Spock hadn't come to know Hari as well as he would have liked.

The female with the strange triangular tattoo on her left wrist remained a conundrum. Their small tea and culture sessions did little more than pique his curiosity. She didn't know what a PADD was when he suggested acquiring one for her but she figured out how to use one efficiently and effectively in under ten minutes when he gave her his. She didn't know the intricacies of a modern science lab or the names of common earth diseases yet she could discuss pathology and immunology and how the processes of either varied depending on species with intelligence.

Still, he had learned that she was partial to her dark, undiluted, extra hot morning serving of builders brew proper, and found himself ever so slightly, in a terrifying but not way (because we're Vulcan, thankyouverymuch!), pleased she was willing to put it off to meet him.

Indeed, over the course of the five days, nine hours, and twenty-six minutes since their second encounter, he hadn't come to understand her as well as he would have liked but they were establishing a routine.

All in all, that small part of his mind that insisted on registering potential emotions found it, in short, confusing. But not. He would need to meditate on this.

Spock-friggin-tastic. Tea. It was always bloody tea. What did Vulcan's have against coffee! It was wonderful. DE-vine. And his lovely Vulcan sensibilities had to be practically allergic to it.

Just. Great.

If it weren't for the obvious height and personality differences, she'd be inclined to think the bloody Vulcan was a goblin in disguise. Too smart and too shrewd for his own good.

'I wonder if goblins have green blood? Can't remember.' Amused in spite of herself, she quietly laughed at the Vulcan currently sitting stiff backed in front of her. Spock was, after all, above something as pedestrian and human as sulking. "You know, when you're done, we need to talk about this regrettable tendency you've been showing lately toward flagrant emotionalism…"

Naa, calling him a goblin was too mean. She'd never had this much fun teasing a goblin. Not that she'd ever dared to … you know, after the whole dragon stealing thing…

"I see no reason to insult me." Spock turned to face her, still stiff as a board. "It was only logical for me to assist them." Was that a hitch?

'I do believe the lady doth protest too much.' Harriet mentally sniggered. "Yea, su~re. Except, they didn't request your assistance and could have completed their debate without your input."

"Your background is neither in molecular physics nor computer programming – "

"You know, your viridity is almost as entertaining as your denial." The fact that the suggestions (read: corrections) he had offered had at least sounded helpful and insightful was beside the point.

"I have not – "

"- the least control over your seemingly innate desire to put cocky human cadets into their place." Harriet shrugged. Everyone had their faults and it did seem to be a Vulcan thing. "It could be worse." Really, it was strange to see Spock dressed so casually in mufti. "Now will you stop brooding and tell me more about this place." Stranger still that he was still recognizable to any cadet roaming about this section of the Academy.

Spock paused ever so briefly, snickering eyebrow furrowed at Harriet in mild concentration. "I am unfamiliar with your usage of that term. I do not have a brood and must assure you that I do not view the cadets in that manner." He seemed almost flustered, as if not entirely certain he had offended her or unintentionally led her to the … wrong… assumption…

Harriet's cup nearly slipped from her hand, a light dusting of pink sweeping her cheeks, before laughing outright. "Really Spock! Of all the words I've used in the past five minutes, THAT'S the one you don't know the usage of." Merlin BLESS. Talk about awkward. "The term brooding is used to describe the emotional state of deep unhappiness. It is also used to describe someone who appears in a dark mood or so deep in thought they look menacing." Recognizing that the Vulcan would not appreciate being laughed at or corrected, she pointedly looked straight ahead, utilizing the neutral expression she used to convey 'seriousness' to Spock, desperately trying to calm herself.

Sensing Spock's ever so slight nod of the head she eventually asked, "Now, why here?" How had she not noticed this on her walk over? Why in Morgana's name did she not ask beforehand? "Somewhere frequented often by Starfleet personnel given its vicinity." 'And clients' went unsaid. She tucked a wayward black curl behind her round ear, grimacing at the thought of so much potential exposure.

They were sitting in a small, open café, by a window off to the side.

Uniforms and uniform types were everywhere. Darn Uniforms. If there was one thing she still hadn't adjusted well to, it was the concept of being surrounded by the government and uniformed members of any government organizations. So the place wasn't FULL of uniforms but there were enough short and trim hair cuts to put her and her magic on edged.

Spock was clearly becoming a rather unique exception. Any attempt to build a proper relationship with the other inhabitants of the city, much less her patients, had been, so far, rather bootless. Her paying patients tended toward blandishing everyone and anyone they could to get ahead and it was refreshing not to be around such shameless or sophomoric people. Her coworkers at her day job also had a tendency toward being quixotic, particularly the Starfleet hopefuls. At least they didn't maunder. Merlin help her, the introverts were the worst.

She blinked. Silence.

Well, might as well get a second cup. She looked up at the menu behind the bar. "Your recommendation?" It was beginning to become something of a game, a 'learn something about me and mine through food' exchange.

"I recommend the Vulcan spice tea."

"Is there a reason you never recommend food?"

Spock looked vaguely uncomfortable. Huh, I wonder why?

Spock had long since finished his first cup. Now, they were simply contemplating each other as Harriet enjoyed her second.

She was wearing a form of linen tunic dress today, cream colored and long with grey stitching along the edges, high neck, and full sleeves. She rather liked the cut as it felt like the seventies had met some fashion sense. It didn't do much to help her blend in, given her green eyes and the ever present, and unruly, shock of black as night hair on her head but it was comfortable and that was all that mattered.

Spock, on the other hand, was wearing a dark sweater and slacks. She could only call the vision it created awkward. There was no other word for it. His eyebrows looked healthy at least, and his hair was so perfectly in place and moisturized, both Malfoys would be jealous. No more green tint than usual. No apparent abnormalities.

So who'd he let beat him into that sad ensemble?! Yeash.

It didn't help Spock always appeared so stoic, his face borderline saturnine. Harriet mentally scoffed. Even masquerading as a Stoic, the Vulcan had a sense of humor. A strange one to be sure, but it was there. 'I wonder if it registers as such to him.'

Spock stood out by virtue of just being Spock the Vulcan, much as she once stood out for being Harriet, the girl-who-had-too-many-hyphened-names. Although, personally she felt like a catfish, luring in the unsuspecting *snicker*

'…. okaaay so the pun wasn't that funny. Riddikulus?'

The silence had to end. She didn't like silence. Too many bad memories involved silence. She knew it was going to come down to this anyway, might as well embrace it.

"You have questions." 'Might as well start with the obvious while I'm at it.'

"Many."

She sighed. As verbose as ever. "As do I."

"You have only to ask."

Fine. She lowered her voice. "Why should I trust a Starfleet officer?" 'Especially when we are having this conversation here.'

"It would be against the Prime directive – "

"I'm human Spock. Different but still human. I fail to see how the Prime Directive applies." One of these days he was going to get tired of her cutting him off. She'd have to watch that…

Spock's response was quick but unhurried. "Your abilities are not consistent with any knowledge I possess of the human race. They are more consistent with the Betazoid population."

"They wouldn't be." A non-answer. 'What's a Betazoid?' They sat in silence again, Harriet casually sipping from her cup. Eventually, "you still haven't answered the question Spock."

"The Federation would not harm you."

"I'm not asking the Federation Spock, I'm asking you. And again, I'm human, not some newly discovered species. I was born in England." In a waaaaaay distant past/ alternate universe/ galaxy far, far away.

Spock briefly considered her response. It was, after all, the first time she had ever personally revealed something personal about herself.

"I am … curious." Trust Spock to be honest. 'Is uncomfortable directness a Vulcan trait or a Spock specialty?' "For the sake of science and the advancement of all species, I will remain curious."

"Yet it is that same curiosity that motivates my caution. Both curiosity and fear of the unknown have led many to do things they would otherwise swear never to do."

"You are suggesting there is no acceptable counter argument."

"There is Spock." 'Friendship. Trust.' She contemplated her tea before looking up again. 'Why does the idea of becoming Spock's friend, trusting him, bother me so much?'

"Let us settle for an alternative then." She studied his face for a bit before continuing. "I will tell you a story, you will ask no more questions." 'In some cultures, telling a story isn't telling a lie, therefore I'm not lying by either omission or outright fabrication.'

"That is acceptable." The 'for now' didn't need to be said to be understood.

"Well, it's not a story so much as a statement of facts relating to events that may or may not be inferred to have occurred." 'There, conscience, happy?' "My name is Harriet, feel free to call me Harry, with a 'y' or an 'i,' doesn't bother me either way." She smiled. "When we first met, I was trying to understand why I was in San Francisco." Fact. "The last place I remember being was Louisiana." Where some say they also speak French-ish. "I have memory issues." Partially true: some things she could remember, others she willfully couldn't. "There are days when I can't do the most basic things," like obliviate, confound, or levitate strange aliens. "Other days, I find myself trying to remember how to read and write" runes, proper English, my potions book, and my actual name for starters.

Spock's face remained neutral but she knew he was memorizing every thing she said. She was well aware he knew that she knew she was leaving "small" and very significant details out.

"Sometimes the information eventually comes back but not always." Score! Another fact. "This understandably has had an effect on how I've lived my life up till now." Sam Beckett had nothing on her. "I haven't been able to attend formal classes" in your school system "but I know the basics of how to get around" or at least she'd learned since she got here. Her satchel, moke skin pouch, and coffee cup have all played very important roles in this. "I've learned to survive." Ditto on the satchel, pouch, and coffee cup.

Looking out the window, she considered what else to say. She knew he wasn't satisfied with her answers such as they were. She also knew that for the time being he would honor her request not to ask additional questions. It was enough for her. Spock had the makings of perhaps the closest thing to a friend she'd had in years. So, somewhat nervously, she continued.

"I really don't know how to explain the rest Spock. I'm human. Just not like other humans you've met." Talk about an understatement. Alien species from outer space? No. Immortal? Probably. Magical? Definitely. How many people out there can check all three of those boxes and not be certifiable? Harriet.

"To over simplify the complex, I can manipulate my environment. It's a skill that tends to get me in trouble even when I'm not looking for it. Just because I choose to turn that skill toward … alternative … medicine doesn't mean there aren't others who would seek to abuse it." Case in point: moldy shorts.

Harriet shrugged. "Now," she said in a louder voice, "how shall we proceed? I rather enjoy our little get togethers."

Spock was silent for a moment, his mind no doubt racing with possible answers and outcomes. If there was one thing she had learned about him in their short acquaintance, it was his ability to be constantly thinking, evaluating, and calculating. 'Again, is it a Vulcan thing or a Spock thing?'

"Allow me to escort you home."

'Well that was unexpected.' Harriet smirked. 'The sly Vulcan.' She idly wondered if he even knew how that could be interpreted. 'Probably not. It's not exactly a logical conclusion to come to.'

Still, it was an answer. The exact implications of it were yet to be determined but she fancied herself better prepared to play what she termed "the game" this time around.

Instead of responding verbally, she stood up and began heading toward the door. It took all she had to keep a neutral expression after she realized the shop was not nearly as empty as it had been, that Spock had made the last declaration loud enough for a rather shocked group of uniforms to overhear. Why were they staring? Did they know Spock? Was he that highly ranked? Or was it just the novelty of a Vulcan missing a cultural cue?

Well, if they were going to stare …

"Ever heard of a turducken Spocky?" Harriet moved to look over the café's selection of deserts.

Captain Daniels and his colleagues were, understandably, amused by and delighted to witness the ensuing conversation. A rather incredible rumor that Spock was dating mysteriously appeared shortly thereafter.

Prompts: obscure SAT words you may or may not have learned but haven't used since; Spocktastic; How Spock became a green-blooded hobgoblin (gradual build).