What little rationality she mustered while she was talking to Christine was all but gone by the time she reached Spock's quarters. When she got there, he was sitting in the wooden chair by his bed, playing his ka'athyra. It was a perfect rendition of "Wimbo," the song with the secret lyrics that she still hadn't gotten. The fact that he was playing it so easily did not help to douse her anger.

He knew she was agitated as soon as she came in. Her posture was tense, her eyes narrow, her respiration elevated. So instead of setting the instrument aside right away, he played through to the end, making it clear that he wasn't about to give in to her temper. For her part, she quietly glared at him, fists balled on her hips, until he'd finished the piece.

Calmly, he stood and hung the harp in its place before sitting on the edge of his desk and giving her his full attention.

"Done?"

"Yes, quite."

"I need to talk to you."

"I gathered that. Proceed."

"I talked to Christine. I told her about us. She's not happy."

"That is to be expected."

"Yeah. But what wasn't to be expected were her claims that you've had dreams about her and that she saw you smile, that you dried her tears. And what does it mean "ask him if it's logical of us to deny our true natures now"? What's that all about?"

For a while he looked confused and she allowed herself to feel optimistic, thinking that maybe Christine had invented all those things. But less than a second later, she saw remembrance pass over his features and felt her stomach plummet. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"This can't be real. I—I thought those were just the ravings of a—a broken heart, of a woman who feels betrayed, but you're about to tell me it's all true aren't you?"

"Yes."

"No." She turned to leave, deciding that she'd rather be ignorant to the whole thing than hear him confirm any part of it.

"Allow me to explain," his hand fastened around her arm. "I was not myself."

"Oh? Then who were you?"

"I was…without logic."

"So you're V'tosh ka'tur, now?"

He dropped his hand and reared back. "Take caution. Don't allow yourself say something you will inevitably regret."

Felling properly chastised, but no less angry, she sat in the chair he'd vacated. She leaned back and crossed her legs, brought her arms across her chest. Her foot wagged impatiently. "Fine. That was…out of line. Go ahead and try to explain."

"It was prior to the ball on Altair VI. You and I were merely friends at the time."

"Spock," she came forward, bracing her forearms on her thighs. "You've never been merely a friend to me."

"Our intimate relationship had not been initiated." She nodded, folder herself back into her seat in the same position. He sat on the foot of the bed, close enough where he could take her hands. As soon as he did, she felt a torrent of emotion, too many to sort. Her posture softened and she moved to sit with him on the bed. "This is not how I intended to relate this information to you; however the two events cannot be discussed separately."

"Okay. I'm listening. Really listening."

"In order for a Vulcan to function normally, he must be able to control his thoughts, his actions, his emotions…most importantly a Vulcan must be in control of his instincts. However, every seven years control of all these factors is torn away and he is driven to…take a mate."

"But I know for a fact that you mate more than once every seven years, Sugar."

"Indeed. But I do not speak of natural, healthy sexual behavior. This drive is ancient, from a time before the awakening meaning that it is…savage. There is a complete breakdown of all suppression systems and the…emotions that we are no longer familiar with flood to the surface, along with intense physical pain and the sensation of being consumed by fire, from the inside out. The blood burns, the eyes…the heart…"

Through the contact, she felt the memory of this, hot and chaotic. She was almost overwhelmed, flinching with the feeling. He quickly raised his shields when he realized that it was passing between them.

"It is known as the Pon Farr—the time of mating. There is no modern medical solution to this fever. The sufferer must mate. Because of the bond that was installed between me and T'pring when we were children, I was drawn back to her on Vulcan. My symptoms, however, began on Enterprise. The nurse came to my quarters to ascertain my condition and serve me plomeek broth. I lost my temper, chased her out and threw the soup behind her."

"Spock!"

"As I said, I was not myself. I experienced…fear, fear that I would die from the affliction. I believed that we would not be going to Vulcan. Later, she returned to tell me that we would in fact divert. I was attempting to rest…to meditate at the time. I did have a dream that featured her. She was speaking and I was unable to hear her. I told her this. I also said that it would be illogical for us to protest our true natures. I noticed that she was crying and I did wipe the tear away. Then I asked that she bring me a second serving of soup."

"If you," she began carefully, tapping at his shields, asking that he let them drop. He didn't respond. "If you believed that you were dying and you needed…help…you could have come to me. There's no way I would have let anything happen to you."

"It was not that simple. I was bonded to T'pring. I was obligated to uphold the traditions of my family. Also…I did not wish to cause you injury."

"You would never hurt me. I know that, Spock."

"It would not be within my control, Nyota. Even some Vulcan women are accidentally killed by their mates during this time. Going to T'Pring was the only viable option available to me, so that is what I did. As we discussed already, she opted for the challenge. Not wanting to risk her consort's life, she chose Jim as her champion, forcing me to engage him in a fight to the death."

"That's sick! How could she do that?!"

"She was within her rights. I attempted to protest, but I was too deep in the plak-tow—the blood fever—to resist. I battled Jim and I was victorious. My fever was purged in this way. At some point during the combat, McCoy made everyone believe he'd injected the captain with a tri-ox compound to compensate for the atmosphere of the planet. It was in fact a neural paralyzer which simulated death. But I was unaware of his trick. I released T'Pring to Stonn and boarded the ship with the intention of turning myself over to the authorities. It was in sickbay that I discovered that I had not killed the captain. Unfortunately, I was still compromised and outwardly expressed joy and relief in the form of a smile. Nurse Chapel was present at the time."

"That must have been so traumatic for you. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you then. And I'm sorry I harassed you, that I didn't trust you." She pressed her forehead to his and felt him lower his mental defenses slightly.

"Nyota, this illness will befall me again. If this changes your decision to be my partner, I understand."

"Spock, I am you partner. In everything. If you need me, I will be there."

"It is dangerous."

"There is nothing more dangerous for me than to be without you. There is nothing I wouldn't do to make sure that you're safe. I shouldn't have come in here like that, both barrels blazing. But I thought—I don't know what I thought. I allowed myself to feel threatened and it was stupid and I acted like a child and it was all so hard for you…forgive me."

"Forgiveness is not necessary, K'diwa. But you should be aware that there are no third party threats to our relationship. This connection exists solely between the two of us, therefore no entity outside of ourselves can jeopardize it."

"What on earth did I do to deserve you?"

"On Earth? There was nothing you did on Earth."

"Very funny, Mister." She pecked his lips and repositioned herself on his lap, wrapping her arms about his neck. "Do you think Christine will ever get over it?"

"Unless I have completely misjudged her character, I believe that she will recover."

"I hope so."

He took her chin and tipped her face to kiss her. He did so languidly and thoroughly, allowing his hands to roam. Easily he laid her on the mattress, placing himself on top of her. As his hands began to wander, over her shoulders, waist, thighs, breasts, and backside, the nurse's words came back to her. She tried to shake the off, to ignore it and focus on him, but the insult wouldn't leave her. She'd heard it too many times before. Everyone always looked at her and assumed they knew exactly what kind of person she was, simply because she had curves and a switch in her walk. And for the first time, his appreciation of her form felt like objectification.

Girls like her…All T&A and no substance.

She pushed him off and sat up, feeling queasy. She forced herself to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. He tried to reach for her but she moved away.

"Is there something wrong, Nyota?"

"We're more than this right?"

"Than what?"

"Than physical attraction. We're deeper than that, aren't we?"

"Naturally. We chose to be together because we are a logical, agreeable pairing, suitable for a long term commitment. We are compatible intellectually, mentally, professionally…we are even compatible artistically. "She nodded but rose from the bed and walked to the other side of his room, hugging herself. "This answer does not satisfy you."

"No, you're right. All of that is true. We're perfect for each other." She chuckled softly, opening his closet and pulling out one of his mediation tunics. She ran the fabric between her fingers and clutched it to her chest, looking at the floor in front of her.

"However…"he prompted.

"But…do you love me?"

"Love is a human emotion."

"That's not a satisfactory answer."

"It is the only one that I can provide."

"Can't you say it once? Once and I'll never make you say it again."

"You ask of me that which is impossible."

She twisted awkwardly to reach the zipper on the back of her uniform before he took pity on her and crossed the room to undo it for her. She slipped the shirt on and shed the rest of the clothes before setting the refresher cycle.

"K'diwa…"

"I've told your mother how much I love you. I've told your father—made a fool of myself in the process, sounding like a school girl. And I can barely open my mouth without telling you. I'm asking you to say it once, only to me, in the privacy of your own cabin. That doesn't seem like a lot to ask."

"You are asking me to be less than what I am, less than Vulcan."

"I am, aren't I?" She looked up and he suspected that she was fighting against tears. "But aren't you asking me to be less than human…to live the rest of my life without hearing the most meaningful phrase in my culture?"

"This doubt…what is its source? Is this also a result of your conversation with Chapel?"

"No, it's a result of a whole lot of things. Christine was just kind enough to remind me."

"You are my K'diwa. There is no part of myself that I have not shared with you. Surely, I have demonstrated my true regard for you in a way that supersedes any articulation."

"Oh, what's wrong with me!" she moaned, covering her face with her hands. "Why am I doing this? Why am I letting her get to me?"

"I too am at a loss. Insecurity is extremely a-typical for you."

"I guess I just never expected her to talk to me like that. It just threw me for a loop."

He nodded and smoothed a hand over her hair. "Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim."

"Translation please?"

"There is no offence where none is taken."

"Is that how Vulcans say "don't sweat the small stuff?""

"Yes, I suppose that it is."

"I love you," she told him, nuzzling against his chest.

He sat her at arm's length and looked into her eyes for a long beat. His human half was pleading with him to return the declaration. She was so generous with her love, infusing it into all their interactions, even tempering her ire with it. And the words were simple, meaningless when uttered separately. But weighty when said together. He measured the consequence of such a statement, of allowing himself to bend to his emotions so thoroughly. Even if he wanted to, he was much too disciplined to actually do it. The phrase would die on his lips.

"Nyota—"

"No, don't worry about it Spock—"

"Please listen. Taluhk nash-veh k'dular. I cherish thee."

Her face broke into a wide grin before she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Teach me how to say that."

"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular."

"Ta-luck nash-veh Kay dulair?"

"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular."

"Taluhk. Nash-veh. K'dular?"

"Very good."

"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, Spohkh."

"And I, you, K'diwa."

A/N: I am continually humbled by the fact that this story is being read and that y'all care enough to tell me what you think...even when you tell me you're not feeling it. I enjoy doing this a whole lot and so I appreciate that you're responding to it. I'm gonna try to put a bow on the Babel conference in the next chapter or so. If you have any translation questions, feel free to ask, but I hope that most of it is taken care of in the text. Thanks for being fantastic. TBC.