"I just don't like him," Gaila insisted. "He's too…"

Gaila's hand rotated several flourishes at the wrist as a placeholder for a derisive word she couldn't recollect. Several droplets of color fell from the nail polish brush in her fingers and landed on her bedspread. "Dammit."

Nyota rolled her eyes and pulled the back of her shoe over her heel with her index finger. "Look, Jeremy and I obviously aren't soul mates, but he's friendly, and he's willing to have dinner with me on Valentine's Day weekend."

"That also describes a German Shepherd."

Nyota wanted to be offended, but the remark was funny. Rather than admit that to Gaila however, she pretended to cough over her laugh and stood to straighten her shirt.

She turned to look at herself in the long mirror on the closet door. She presented a polished and professional appearance in a pair of low heels, trim charcoal-colored slacks, and a burgundy blouse. She wore her hair in loose waves and lipstick to match her top. She'd decided to opt for the "fake it 'til you make it" strategy.

Nyota had attended several conferences before, but never alone. They were always massive events, full of people networking their way through panels, workshops, and presentations. It was easy to get swallowed in a crowd and overwhelmed when there were so many fascinating sessions to attend and renowned experts to talk to. Not one of her friends had wanted to devote an entire Saturday to a xenolinguistics conference when they were already overwhelmed with their coursework. How shortsighted.

Even Jeremy had refused and like her, he was also studying communications with a concentration in xenolinguistics. But Jeremy had insisted on spending the day photographing moose on a snowshoe hike through central Alaska. She certainly had an adventurous spirit and wasn't afraid of getting dirty, but none of the nouns in the phrase "snowshoe hiking through Alaska in February to take pictures of moose" really appealed to her, especially when there was a major linguistics conference in town. His trip had been planned for months and he swore he would transport back in time for their date that evening, so they agreed to go their separate ways for the day.

"You look sharp," Gaila said, looking up from her freshly painted toenails to Nyota's reflection in the mirror.

"Thanks," she said, collecting her things to leave. "What are you doing today?"

"I was going to work on my project for Commander Spock's course," Gaila replied. "Speaking of Commander Spock… I went and talked to him yesterday."

Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes darted to her roommate. There was a methodical tone to her statement and a piercing nature to her eyes. Nyota forced a smile and replied, "That's great."

What did she care if her roommate was talking to her former advisor? That wasn't so weird – he was still Gaila's professor.

"He seemed a little off," Gaila said.

"Hmmm," Nyota shrugged, searching for her black purse to match her outfit.

"You know, you've seemed a little off too."

"Would you stop it?" Nyota snapped. "I'm fine."

"I think we both know that 'fine' is usually code for 'not fine.' I set you up with Brondon and that was a mistake – one which you still haven't let me forget – and now you're going out with Jeremy, and I think that's a mistake too."

"So… what?" Nyota retorted.

"I'm saying you don't have a connection with Jeremy. Besides, he just broke up with Amy Nguyen. You deserve better than to be someone's rebound."

"I never claimed we were passionately in love."

"No, you didn't," Gaila agreed. "But I know you, and Jeremy's not right for you. Besides, no one is that perfect. If he loved languages as much as he says he does, he'd be falling all over himself to take you to this conference. There's something weird about him."

"You've been saying that all week."

"It doesn't mean it's not true."

"Aren't you always saying that there's nothing wrong with having fun while hunting for the right guy?"

"Yes, but if you'd stop being so defensive, you might believe me when I say I think you might have already found the right guy."

"Huh?"

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

A staring competition commenced. Gaila's eyebrows were raised in infuriating smugness, and Nyota could feel her face growing hot.

"I already told you; there is nothing between me and Commander Spock and never was."

"Oh good: so you do know who I'm talking about."

"I'm not doing this with you, Gaila."

"You don't have to. What I'm saying is, two weeks ago when I lost you in Noe Valley, I found you in the hallway of our dorm in his arms looking like you were seconds away from inviting him in and hanging a bra on the door as a signal for me to go away."

"That is not at all how that-"

"You can lie to yourself, but don't lie to me."

"He was my advisor. My very Vulcan advisor. Even if there was anything between us – and there isn't – what difference does it make? He wants nothing to do with me and in a few months I'm going to graduate and he's going to stay here teaching at the Academy."

"That's a lot of assumptions," Gaila frowned. "I happen to know he just accepted an offer to serve as first officer on the fleet's new flagship."

"The Enterprise?"

"That's it," Gaila smiled. "Wasn't that your top choice for assignments? Something about being 'the most technologically advanced ship in Starfleet?' And correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't assignment preference based on order of merit? And remind me again who's currently fourth in our class…"

"So? This doesn't mean anything. I don't- it's not- where did you even hear this?"

"About assignment preference? That's common knowledge."

"No, about Spock being first officer of the Enterprise?"

Mischief twinkled in Gaila's eyes and she said, "Orions have good hearing. I hear things."

"I have to go," Nyota said, snatching her purse from the chair and grabbing her coat.

"Yeah, sure. Enjoy the conference. And your date with Jeremy."

"At least I have a date."

"What makes you think I don't have a date for tonight?"

"You said you would be working on your project."

"Sure, but I'm meeting Jim Kirk for drinks later."

"You're joking."

"What's wrong with him? He's pretty."

"He's an arrogant ass who thinks women should just drop their panties whenever he opens his mouth." She still hadn't forgotten that fight in a dive bar at the Riverside shipyards three years earlier.

"Yes I know," Gaila laughed. "It'll be fun."

"Whatever," Nyota said, opening the door. "Just promise me you won't bring him back to our room."

She didn't wait for Gaila's response. She left the room, determined to flee the all-knowing gaze of her roommate before the conversation could turn back to more uncomfortable topics. What did Gaila know about romance anyway if she was going out with Jim Kirk?

Nyota's chest felt constricted and heavy. For two weeks she had rolled it all around in her mind and found no answers. Every word of their final conversation was burned into her memory. There were just too many negative emotions surrounding Commander Spock. She kept hearing his words in her mind.

"You are very talented, cadet." If that were true, why didn't he want to work with her? Confusion.

"You have exceptional potential." He said that often, and he wasn't in the habit of giving undue praise. Irritation.

"I am sure you will be successful in your future endeavors." A cadet's success also reflected well on the advisor, so why wouldn't he be eager to have her as his student if he thought she was talented, full of exceptional potential, and likely to be successful? Rejection.

"It is… a matter of emotions." That was almost certainly why. She was too emotional, and he probably found it draining to be around her all the time. Embarrassment. Hurt. Self-doubt.

She stepped into a waiting cab and pulled her PADD from her purse and attempted to review the conference schedule. Commander Spock was going to be first officer of the Enterprise.

Gaila's revelation was an interesting development. He was leaving the Academy to serve on deep space and diplomatic missions aboard the very ship to which she had requested an assignment. Maybe his refusal to work as her advisor had nothing to do with her at all; maybe he was just trying to get his personal life in order before switching assignments. But then why would he talk about it being a "matter of emotions?"

She knew it wasn't normal to obsess about something this much. She also knew that not everyone would like her, that not everything was about her, and that sometimes things in life were just bound to remain mysteries.

Those rules didn't seem like they should apply to Commander Spock. He was logical. He wouldn't just decide to start disliking her for no reason. Passive aggressive behavior also didn't seem logical either, so if she had done something to offend him or make him not like her, he would probably tell her. Perhaps it was only the lack of a real explanation and closure that was driving her crazy.

That and the fact that she still thought about him at odd moments and had a dried chrysanthemum blossom pressed in an antique Klingon dictionary her mother had given her when she left for the Academy. It was stupid and sentimental, but she had been sad when it came time to throw the dead flowers away.

Her eyes drifted down to the PADD in her hands and she realized she'd been staring at the same screen, reading the same words, and not really absorbing any of them. How frustrating to let one professor get under her skin this way.

She strained her mind to focus on the schedule of events and she began to drift from her personal problems back to the conference. She was eager to attend the workshop on dialogue analytics at 0930 hours, and there was an intriguing seminar at noon titled Frontiers in Mathematical Linguistics, but what she most looked forward to was a panel with a group of programmers, sociologists, and linguists who had worked on Project Rosetta.

Project Rosetta had been a decade-long undertaking by thousands of experts and volunteers throughout the Federation to establish an adaptive standard translation program capable of integration across all Federation computing platforms – the Universal Translator. Crude translators had been in existence since the earliest days of space exploration but they'd been fraught with problems.

Project Rosetta turned thirty years old this year. Though the original program routinely received updates and improvements, it had managed to stand the test of time. Three decades of successful operation in a modern technological age was a true achievement and a testament to the work of so many, and Nyota was beyond excited to meet some of the people who had made it possible. What she got was disappointment.

The morning workshops and seminars had been interesting and informative, but a lecture on sociolinguistics had run a bit long and by the time she made it to the Rosetta Panel, she had to fight to get through the crowd. Though the panel was held in the largest auditorium at the conference center, it was standing room only an hour before it began. She had been lucky to be admitted at all, and had ended up so far in the back she could only see half the participants on a nearby screen.

She left at 1800 hours, wondering how best to kill an hour before her date with Jeremy at Vegley. She messaged him and didn't receive an immediate reply, so she tucked her PADD into her purse and decided to explore downtown on foot.

The sinking sun chilled the evening air and her shoes weren't made for long marches, so by the time she made it to the restaurant, she was taking tender steps from the blisters on her heels. She searched for Jeremy and checked her PADD – no messages.

It was only 1845 and even though they had a reservation, the waiter wouldn't seat her until Jeremy arrived, so she took a seat at the rapidly filling bar and ordered a glass of wine. Being the day before Valentine's Day, the whole of the restaurant was permeated by open and annoying displays of love. Everywhere she looked, feet flirted under tables, hands gripped other hands across tablecloths, and eyelashes fluttered in a barrage of adoration.

Rather than turn back to dwelling on her lukewarm feelings about Jeremy and her conflicted feelings about Spock, she took a deep drink from her glass and waved to get the bartender's attention. More alcohol was definitely necessary on a night like tonight.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

She craned her neck to see an older woman standing behind her, pointing to the open seat to Nyota's right.

"Oh, no. I'm just waiting on my date," she admitted, clicking her PADD to check the time. 1907. Jeremy was late.

"Me too," the woman grinned, taking a seat and pulling her purse from her shoulder to set it in her lap. "I sure do miss San Francisco."

"Oh, you're not from here?" Nyota asked.

"I lived here a long time ago, but the city is about the same as it ever was."

She had a kind smile and an open face that made Nyota instantly like her. There was something familiar to her face, but she couldn't remember if she had ever seen her before.

"I'm not from here either, but I love it too," Nyota explained.

"What brings you to San Francisco?" the woman asked. "Actually, let me guess… Starfleet Academy?"

"You have a good eye," Nyota laughed. "What gave it away?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "You have a very professional bearing for someone so young."

"Well, thanks I guess."

The bartender arrived to take the woman's drink order and Nyota ordered a second glass of wine for herself and small appetizer of eggplant and mint bruschetta. She checked her PADD again – still no word from Jeremy.

"So what brings you into town?" she asked her new companion.

"I was here for the xenolinguistics conference."

"I was there too. What events did you attend?"

"I sat on the Rosetta Panel."

"Are you kidding me? I was just there! I could barely see anything because I was literally at the back of the room, but the discussion was incredible."

She couldn't recall seeing the woman but her view had been fairly obscured from her position from her poor vantage point. Maybe that was why she looked so familiar.

"Are you a linguist?" the woman asked.

"Oh, I'm actually in comm-"

Her PADD began an annoying chorus of chirping. Now Jeremy decided to call.

"I'm so sorry, excuse me," she groaned, reaching for her device to accept the audio transmission.

"Hey, where are you?" she complained. "You're ten minutes late and I haven't heard from you all day."

"Yeah, listen, I'm so sorry, but I was late getting back from Fairbanks."

"Ok. When will you be here?"

"Look, Nyota, I think- I think you're great, but we both know things aren't going to work out."

"What?"

"You're an amazing person, but I know you're not that interested in me."

"You ask me on a date on Valentine's Day weekend and stand me up at the last minute? Not even the last minute – you're ten minutes late. Is this a joke?"

"I'm sorry, Nyota, but I should probably be honest with you-"

She clenched her jaw and clicked the PADD off, feeling her cheeks beginning to glow with embarrassment. It wouldn't be accurate to say she was deeply hurt, but she was growing intimately familiar with the feeling of rejection. To make matters worse, she'd just caused a mini scene in front of all the people in close proximity to her at the bar. Her PADD started to chirp again and she silenced it and shoved it into her bag.

"I'm in communications," she finished, turning back to the woman on her right and trying to look upbeat.

The woman was staring into her glass of wine out of politeness, but offered an empathetic look. "Are you ok?"

"Huh? Oh, him?" she laughed. "I'm a little disappointed, but to be honest, he was right. I wasn't really that interested in him."

"Who asks a woman out on a date and then doesn't show up for it?"

"I know, right?" Nyota laughed, sipping from her glass of wine. "I really am fine though. My roommate did try to warn me about him and I probably should have listened."

"Sometimes the other people in our lives are better at seeing things that we can't. I'm sure things will work out for the best. Even still, I'm sorry."

Just then, the bartender delivered a small plate of crostini slathered with chopped eggplant and herbs. Her stomach growled, and she smiled.

"Things are already looking up," she said, gesturing to the food. "Would you like some?"

"That's so nice of you," she grinned. "But my son will be here any minute."

"Your son?"

"Yes, I haven't seen him in a few years, but that's really my fault. I don't get back to Earth as often as I'd like."

"Oh, where do you live now?"

"Vulcan."

"You live on Vulcan?" Nyota gasped. "What is that like?"

"Hot," the woman laughed. "It was hard to get used to at first, but it grew on me over the years."

"What made you move to Vulcan?"

"I married a Vulcan," she grinned.

Nyota began to feel a curious pull in her chest and looked closely at the woman's face. There was something to her eyes that she recognized and she realized she was holding her breath. She knew from a quiet discussion aboard the Dalton II that Spock was half human.

"Is something wrong?"

"Uh, no," she lied. "You just… remind me of someone."

"Oh my goodness! I've been so rude," the woman said, setting down her wineglass to extend a hand. "I probably should have introduced myself by now. I'm Amanda. Amanda Grayson."

Nyota's mouth was dry. She recalled the name from the panel, but the Rosetta Project was now among the furthest things from her mind. She reached out her right hand to return the handshake of her new acquaintance, unsure exactly what to say. That was what was so familiar – her eyes. The chocolate color of the woman's eyes was identical to the brown flecks she's seen in Spock's eyes when she'd been checking his pupils all those months ago after Spock had been knocked unconscious by a Nausicaan energy weapon.

"Oh, my son's here," she said, eyes darting over Nyota's shoulder. "He's actually a professor at Starfleet Academy – maybe you know him?"

She had a sinking feeling that she did. Things were moving in slow motion. She turned in her seat to observe Spock standing five meters away.

Surprise wasn't a very Vulcan thing to express, and though Spock's face was as smooth and neutral as it ever was, but there was something rigid in his posture. In the low light of the restaurant, she could also make out the muscles in his throat swallowing carefully, and observed the flicker of his eyes from Amanda to Nyota, their hands still locked in an introductory handshake.

Of all the things to think of in that moment, she chose Gaila's stupid checklist. One point in particular stood out –

"Do you know each other's families?"