Warnings for this chapter: contains graphic het. Also, look who's back. ;)

The night is young when they leave the Vulcan Compound. They walk side by side, their hands brushing occasionally. They talk.

It's quiet, soothing, and amusing to a degree. Spock appreciates Nyota's intelligence, her tact, and the perfect taste she shows when making her observations on a variety of subjects, starting with famous cultural artifacts and ending with the discussion of the old Vulcan-Andorian border disputes.

Spock revels in the conversation, realizing suddenly he's been starved ever since – yes, ever since Christopher. Nyota inadvertently manages to break through the layer of ice he's erected around himself. Maybe it has something to do with the anecdotes based on the deep knowledge of Denobulan mythology, or maybe it's her compelling smile, or the way she seems to be drawn to him in a way that's almost tangible.

Somewhere within those intoxicating, exhilarating hours, Spock catches himself thinking that if only he was staying, he would wish for no better friend or companion than Nyota.

"I feel like I've known you forever," she tells him, as they stop in a deserted park lane near the bay. "I just don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not usually – I mean, this isn't my usual routine for a first date. I don't – I'm not that kind—"

Spock interrupts her with a kiss.

He could tell her that this is drastically far from his usual routine, either, but somehow that doesn't seem to be a top priority right this moment. Her lips are soft and pliant under his, her waist fits perfectly within the hold of his hands, and when her hands slide up to dive into his hair and her tongue darts forward to meet his, Spock feels the world begin to reel around him.

They are not a block away from his apartment, which he finds fortunate. Spock interlocks their fingers as they walk there, in silence, and he's not surprised when Nyota responds to the Vulcan kiss as if it's the most natural thing for her to do.

There is a sense of quiet desperation in the way they undress and caress each other, as if Nyota, too, knows that this will be a one and only occasion. Spock kisses her lips fervently, while his hands roam over her body, showering it in Vulcan kisses, until she can no longer stay on her feet.

He drinks in her moans like nectar as his teeth graze the tender skin of her nipple teasingly, his hand caressing her other breast. His other hand slides down her belly, and she cries out when his fingers press into her gently. Dazed as he is with desire, he listens carefully to what her body is telling him, cataloguing her sweet spots and stimulating them mercilessly, until she's writhing beneath him, desperate with need.

The sound she makes when he enters her is feral and wild, as is the way she clings to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him as if she's afraid he'll disappear the moment she lets go. He wants to be gentle, wary of hurting her, but the sheer urgency that emanates from her dissuades his intentions.

Years he spent making love to Christopher have spoiled him, and his body seems to have signed a secret pact with Nyota's, aiming to punish him for long months of abstinence. She comes, spasming around him, sobbing unintelligibly, and that's the only thing it takes for him to loosen his control.

He rises up on his knees, grabbing her hips and elevating them as if they are a detached part of her body. With her legs hooked around his waist, her head and shoulders remain the only part of her still lying on the bed, and she watches, wide-eyed and helpless, as he takes her. Literally, as he's moving for both of them now, pulling her hips to meet his thrusts steadily.

He revels in the way she yields before him, tender and sweet, and soft, and vibrant. Their eyes are locked over her splayed body and he can see the build up of her orgasm in them before she realizes it's there. He rocks her through it, watching her eyes slide shut and her teeth sink into her lower lip, as she flutters and ripples in pleasure.

It brings him irrevocably close, and his movements become urgent, almost rough, as he speeds up to his own completion. She screams like she's dying as his climax pushes her into her third one that night. Spock's fingers convulsively grip her tighter, probably leaving marks.

Later, he's lying flat on his back, and she's kissing him softly, her lips slide almost timidly along his neck, tongue traces the outline of his shoulder. Her fingers are playing with his chest hair, and she's warm and boneless at his side.

"You were amazing," she whispers, nibbling at his earlobe.

Spock doesn't laugh, but he wants to. It is truly amusing how every female since the dawn of days has been telling her bed partner these words, and every male inevitably believed them, were they true or not, because he wanted to. And yet, Nyota manages to sound so genuine and her words so full of unadulterated awe that Spock does, in fact, believe her.

They don't sleep, making love instead, till the sun is close enough to the horizon to color the waters of the bay in pink and purple. They both get dressed then, after a quick but eventful shower, and Spock escorts Nyota to the Academy grounds.

They walk in silence, not touching, but stealing glances every now and then. The early morning mist smoothes the sharpness of their surroundings, and it's a bit surreal, and thrillingly sad.

Spock's body is humming inaudibly, filled with emotion he cannot identify. It stirs inexorably every time he catches a glimpse of Nyota's gait, which isn't quite as gliding as it has been the night before. He isn't concerned, though, and maybe it's because of the way she grimaces and smiles a secret smile every time she stumbles. He wants to pick her up and carry her, never allowing her feet to touch the ground.

"Oh no," she says suddenly, stopping abruptly and staring straight ahead, a mixture of alarm and disdain on her face. "Doesn't he ever have enough?"

Spock follows her gaze and freezes.

There are two cadets standing uncertainly at the edge of the sidewalk. They are obviously inebriated, which is not surprising, considering that the establishment behind their backs is a bar, highly popular among the cadets for its proximity to the campus. The taller cadet is dark-haired, well-built, and appears to be older than his companion, whom he's holding around the waist to prevent from falling. The younger cadet is fair and noticeably slimmer, with bright blue eyes shining excitedly as he gesticulates wildly.

That's not, however, the reason for Spock's breath to suddenly catch and for his heart to sink somewhere in the direction of the planet's core. There's a senior officer, wearing Academy grey, who is apparently telling the cadets off for some transgression, most likely for being unpresentable. He's standing with his back to Spock, but there's no mistaking the firm, tired slope of his shoulders, or that stubbornly straight back.

Nyota is saying something, complaining about the cadets she seems to recognize, but Spock isn't listening. He is unable, in point of fact, to hear a word she's saying, because Christopher Pike chooses this very moment to turn slightly to his left and look directly at him.

Spock has the distinct feeling that the earth is parting beneath his feet and wishes, illogically and fervently, for it to swallow him.

He is staring, transfixed, as Pike dismisses the cadets with a careless wave of his hand. He barely feels Nyota press her fingers to his goodbye. He watches Pike walking over to him, unable to move a muscle or even blink.

"Hello, Spock," Pike says, stopping in front of him, and smiles.

Spock's painfully aware of his heart coming back to life with a vengeance, threatening to beat out of his chest.

"Captain," he says, resenting his breathless tone. "I was not aware you joined the Academy staff."

Pike nods. "It's very recent. They lured me in under the pretense of giving me the Enterprise when she's finished. In the meantime, I'll be covering recruitment and personnel office."

"I have heard of the proposal," Spock says. "I did not know they offered it to you. Congratulations, sir." He feels strangely relieved and disappointed that Pike's return has nothing to do with him.

"Thanks." Pike grins at him. "Actually, I've been planning to have a talk with you about that. You have a minute?"

"Certainly."

They start walking along the bay in a lazy, unhurried pace. Spock tries to keep himself perfectly composed, but it's difficult. He suddenly becomes acutely aware of how long it has been since he had a full night's sleep. They walk in silence for a few minutes. Pike looks pensive and calm. Spock tries to follow his lead, but contemplation eludes him for the moment.

Pike stops abruptly, turning to Spock, one hand gripping the railing, and they freeze at point blank range.

"How have you been?" Pike asks quietly, and Spock stills under his gaze, suddenly so very gentle.

"I have been well," Spock says, taking a step back. "As well as could be expected."

"I see," Pike says, and it's clear he's noted Spock's intention to keep his distance. He doesn't comment on it, though, resuming their walk instead. "The Enterprise," he says, as if there has been no interruption. "Whenever she's ready, she's going to need a first officer." He gives Spock a sideways glance. "Interested?"

Spock lifts an eyebrow, clasping his hands behind his back more tightly. "What about Number One, sir?"

"She decided to stay on the Nelson," Pike says. "As captain."

"I see."

Pike gives him another sidelong look and sighs. "You heard the rumors." It's not a question.

Spock purses his lips, because of course he heard the rumors. "You have not been particularly discreet, sir," he says dryly.

Pike stops to look at him. "She's my friend, Spock. And yes, after you left, she's become more than that. She helped me not to go insane. Just as the young lady I just saw appears to have helped you."

Spock stares at him blankly. He's forgotten what real pain could feel like.

"I have only just met her," he says quietly, knowing that his hurt must be seeping into his voice and being utterly unable to stop it.

"Really?" Pike arches his eyebrows. "I don't have anything against one-night stands, Spock, but picking a cadet for one was probably a bad idea."

Spock seethes. "Of all people, I would think you are the last person to lecture me about sexual relations with cadets, Christopher."

Pike winces as if Spock has slapped him. His gaze becomes dangerously dark. "I didn't seduce you, Spock. I fell in love with you. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but it happened. If you expect me to say sorry, then you're in for a disappointment."

"No," Spock says, his anger suddenly dissipating. "No, I do not wish you to apologize. That would take away what little we still share."

"Spock," Pike says, very quietly, and this time Spock doesn't pull away when Pike places a hand on his arm. "I wasn't the one who ended our relationship. You were."

"Chris—"

"You were. You told me it was all or nothing for you, and you couldn't accept that life doesn't always work this way. Though I can't help noticing that you seem to have made that leap now just fine."

Spock closes his eyes. The reproach is only fair.

"I'm leaving the service," he says flatly. "You should ask someone else to be your first officer."

"I want you," Pike says in a voice that brooks no argument. "The ship's outfitted for deep space exploration, Spock. You know someone with your background is ideal for this position – and did I mention you'd be Chief Science Officer as well? We don't have that many people in the fleet with your qualification. What's more – I trust you. We'll make a great team."

"I'm going back to Vulcan to complete the discipline of Kolihnar."

"Purging your emotions?" Pike asks in alarm. Then suddenly both his hands are gripping Spock's arms and he presses Spock into the railing determinedly. "You can't run away from yourself, Spock. I told you once it's not easy to be you, but you have to be! This is who you are. You can't deny a part of yourself because you don't like what this part is doing or where it's taking you."

"You do not know," Spock breathes, desperate to explain and yet feeling utterly unable to. "You cannot understand."

"Maybe not," Pike says, pressing closer, his interchangeable eyes turning vast as the morning twilight. "But I do know that you'll regret this decision. I know you, Spock. Isolation is not for you."

"It might be the only answer."

"We all have our demons to fight," Pike says, tired but determined. "And you're no different than me, or that girl, or Jim Kirk, for crying out loud."

"Jim Kirk?" Spock asks, momentarily puzzled.

Pike shakes his head, exhaling loudly. "You don't want to know," he groans. "He's one of our latest acquirements. A troublemaker."

Spock looks at Pike curiously. "Any relation to George Kirk of the USS Kelvin?"

"His youngest son."

"Ah. One of those, then."

Pike frowns. "We'll see, of course, but I don't think so. I knew George, and this kid is ten times smarter than he ever was. Pretty feral, though."

They both become suddenly aware that they are standing in a near embrace. Pike lets go of Spock reluctantly and steps back, hanging his head.

"I'm never going to be over you, am I?" he mutters, so quietly that Spock has to strain to hear.

"Captain?"

"Never mind." Pike looks up. "Don't go to Vulcan, Spock. Your place is in Starfleet, whether you see it now or not. It's not like you to take the easy path. Besides" – he pauses meaningfully – "we need you."

"I sincerely doubt that. I'm hardly indispensable."

"You don't have to be indispensable, just really, really good – and you are. Spock, I was your instructor and I was your captain. I know what you're capable of. If you leave, you'll wound us, and somehow I don't think it's part of your Starfleet oath."

Spock is silent, because Pike is right. The captain watches him fixedly.

"Look," Pike says. "I know you're still angry with me, and you have the right to be, I suppose. But I still consider you a friend, Spock. A very dear friend. Before we were anything else, we were friends, remember? I see no reason why we can't be again. I would like that very much."

Spock looks away to gaze over the serene waters of the bay basking in the bright morning light. He thinks of Nyota's gentle, mesmerizing eyes. He feels the body heat of the man he wanted to be his bondmate seeping through the layers of clothing, because they are still standing that close. He thinks of the cold, barren plateaus of Gol. He thinks of his mother.

Things were crystal clear not full twelve hours ago. Right now, he's no longer certain what the right thing to do is.

He turns to look back at Pike. "I would like that as well, Christopher," he says firmly, and adds sadly to himself: 'If you would have me as nothing else, I would still be your friend.'

Pike's smile is real and bright, and as he clasps Spock's hand between his own, Spock thinks that whatever may come, he'll always have this. And according to his mother, beggars can't be choosers, at any rate.

A year of loneliness and exile has come to an end.