As it was every Halloween, the main conference auditorium at Mayo Clinic D-3 buzzed with approximately 150 volunteers registering at the front table while the hospital's Volunteer Services staff gave them each I.D. badges, a PADD with training materials, and further instructions. Some volunteers proceeded to dressing rooms to change into simple costumes while others were directed to small groups to receive direction on other tasks. It was a well-oiled operation, smooth from years of experience and tradition and a skilled volunteer base.

In the far corner of the room, the event's celebrity volunteers sat around tables. They represented many areas of Terran society: singers, musicians, athletes, prominent newsvid anchors, actors, and comedians. Janelle Grayson "Devereaux" had worked with many of them before. Many had been touched by the care given to themselves or family members at Mayo, so they were eager to give back in some way, and they did year after year. A few newer faces simply enjoyed using their celebrity to help others. Janelle had met many of them during her promotional tours. Once she told them about the annual Reverse Trick-or-Treat event, rarely did she have to convince these kindred spirits to step up and help out.

At this moment, Amy Grayson weaved her way through the tables, welcoming each person as she offered warm drinks and snacks while Janelle checked off their names on the roster. Her communicator beeped. "Janelle Devereaux here."

"Janelle, it's David."

"Hi. Did you finish coding the baskets? Do you need me to send someone to pick them up?" She was eager to check off another item from her "To Do" list.

"Yes to both, but that's not why I'm calling," Swenson said cheerfully. "I was wondering whether you could use a couple more celebrity volunteers?"

"Well, yes," she replied, surprised, "but the event begins in three hours. Who did you get at this late hour?"

"Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura. I believe you know them. They're with me right now."

How? Janelle had not expected to see these two again so soon. "Spock, Nyota, what are you doing here? Margaret and Allen must have brought you."

"Hi, Janelle," returned Nyota's voice over the communicator's speaker. "No, it's just us. It's a long story, and we'll tell you later. But before I contact Starfleet PR for their go-ahead, we wanted to check with you first. Can you use us?"

"Yes, we most certainly can! I had one of our people call in sick," said Janelle, relieved and pleased with this turn of fortune, never imagining that Spock, of all people, would consent to this kind of thing. Perhaps Nyota had talked him into it—she had enjoyed the whole Halloween experience at the party two nights ago. "I suppose David told you all about it, am I right?"

"Mr. Swenson has provided a detailed description," said Spock's calm voice. "Nyota and I would prefer to be paired. She is more skilled at this manner of interaction than I am."

"Yes, Spock, I understand," Janelle laughed. "You two are kind of a set anyway."

"Indeed."

"Can you be here in a half-hour for volunteer orientation?"

"We'll try," said Nyota. "We need Starfleet PR to beam us uniforms. We're in workout gear at the moment."

"Workout gear? I can't wait to hear the story. But first, go do what you have to do. I'll send someone over there to get the baskets and bring you here, maybe my Mayo PR contact." Then Janelle had second thoughts. Maybe her introverted cousin preferred to keep things more quiet. "Ugh, do you two mind if I let the Mayo PR people know you're coming? Or did you want this to be more low-key?"

In Swenson's office, Nyota and Spock exchanged glances. Yes, their plan might work. "We don't mind press coverage if it helps the hospital," said Nyota, "but ask your PR reps to target only reporters they trust instead of sending out mass press advisories. We'd like to avoid paparazzi."

"No need to explain that one," Janelle replied, a veteran subject of annoying paparazzi herself. "I'll see you in a bit." She closed her communicator, thinking for a couple seconds about this interesting development. As tempted as she was to try to figure out what brought her cousin and his "friend" to volunteer, and wondering why Allen and Margaret were not with them, she had to put that exercise aside for now. She had more pressing matters—first, finding her Mayo PR contact.

* * *

The comm station beeped again, interrupting her research for the tenth time this morning. Margaret was getting sick of fielding calls from the neighbors, who had been alerted by the noisy crowd on their street. All of them knew that one of Margaret's famous relatives was the subject of the crowd's interest; the question was: Which one? Like the Garvins next door, the whole neighborhood had grown used to the interruption every couple of years or so, and they tolerated it. Having famous visitors in their neighborhood always gave them something interesting to report to their own friends and relatives later on.

The family sequence of tones got Margaret's immediate attention, and she picked up quickly. "Spock, is that you?"

Birkholtz and Allen overheard and walked into the study to join her. Though professional to the core, Birkholtz had to admit his own fascination with the most famous member of Allen and Margaret's family.

"Yes, Margaret," came Spock's voice.

"Are you all right and out of sight?"

"Yes, and yes."

"Spock, Chief Birkholtz is here with us," said Allen. "We told you about him last night."

"Yes. Greetings, Chief Birkholtz," Spock said politely.

"Pleased to speak with you, Commander," Birkholtz said. "I apologize; we don't have a plan for getting you back here yet without creating a greater disturbance. We're still reviewing possibilities. I hope that we can get back to you with something soon."

"There is no longer a need for such," Spock replied. "We have formulated an alternative plan."

Birkholtz raised his brows.

"It must be something 'logical,'" Allen teased. He could not resist.

Margaret swatted his arm and gave him the family "look." Allen held his palms up in defense.

There was a pause. "No, it is not. We will be attiring ourselves 'in costume' and distributing Halloween favors," Spock said drily, then added, "per Margaret's suggestion last night."

"What?!?" Margaret and Allen exclaimed. Allen started laughing at Spock's ongoing costume banter with Margaret. Margaret tried swatting his arm again, but he dodged it this time.

Birkholtz folded his arms over his chest in disbelief. Apparently Commander Spock's personality was different from Stiran's and the rest of the Vulcans he had worked with over the years. He looked over to Allen, waiting for an explanation.

Allen tried to stifle his laughter. "It's an inside joke," he informed the confused officer quietly.

Margaret, meanwhile, made the connection. "The Reverse Trick-or-Treat! Of course, that's today! You two are working it? That is rather unexpected, Spock."

"It is Grayson family tradition, is it not?"

Margaret had no idea how he knew that. "Yes, it is," she chuckled. "But there's more to it than that, isn't there? Young Man, what's really going on? And don't tell me that it's nothing because I know better!"

Margaret had the same incisive human intuition that Amanda had. And, like his mother's, her vocal tones indicated that she was not going to let the matter drop, nor would she let Spock use tactics of misdirection until she had answers. So he quietly, and as succinctly as he could, filled her in on how they had met Swenson, discovered the opportunity, then decided to reveal themselves this way. Finally he outlined the reasoning and strategies behind their plan and projected outcomes.

"I'm not a PR whiz, but I think it might work," Birkholtz said, impressed at the young couple's ability to think on their feet. "Even if you achieve a few of your objectives, it will help your situation."

"Indeed." Spock was uncomfortable with the breach of privacy that came with relying on Birkholtz's assistance, despite his history with protecting his parents. Days ago he never would tolerated discussion of his and Nyota's relationship. Today it would become the focus of their friends and family, police protection, and media speculation. Swenson had been right—it was a big step. How quickly things had changed! Spock was beginning to realize the difference between intellectual realizations and, he was reluctant to admit, emotional ones. Events had been set in motion, however. The logical course was to remain on-plan.

"Chief, do you have the means to retain media interest in your location? We wish to prevent their interference with our activities at Mayo."

"Well, we could yank their chains with a few diversionary tactics."

"'Yank their chains'? Pardon me, I do not understand that expression," Spock said. Another odd idiom! Why could humans not say what they meant?

Margaret broke in. "He means that we're going to upset them on purpose. They'll be unhappy once they realize that we tricked them into staying here."

"I see." Satisfied, Spock abruptly moved to a new topic. "Margaret, were you able to ascertain what alerted the media to my presence here?"

"Yes, if I have my story straight, someone saw you at the shuttleport when you arrived. At first the speculation was that you were going to Mayo to address a medical issue. Then someone else reported your appearance at Allen's work, so they decided that you were not a patient, but were somewhere in town, and so they started tracking you down. They figured that you were staying with us after some digging into reports of your parents' previous visits here. Now they're out there waiting for one of us to emerge. Good thing that you and Nyota were early risers this morning."

"It was fortunate," Spock replied. "I must leave now. Orientation begins in 11.3 minutes."

"All right. It's illogical, but I'm going to wish you 'good luck' anyway," Margaret teased. "Bye, Spock. We'll talk to you later."

"Acknowledged. Spock out."

Birkholtz, Margaret, and Allen looked at one another, amused. "Let the games begin," said Allen. "What should we do first?"

"Let me go out there for a second. When I get back in, part the living room curtains a few centimeters a couple times, like someone's trying to look out without being discovered."

"OK," said Allen, walking in the living room, fingers positioned along a fold in the curtain. "Ready."

Birkholtz opened the front door and, puffing his chest in his best law enforcement officiousness, peered out over the clicking and whirring cameras and other recording equipment. "There's nothing here. Go home!" he bellowed. No one moved. Birkholtz turned around, walked back in, and closed the door.

Allen parted the curtains slightly, as Birkholtz had asked. As he did, the throng outside grew more restless as each person vied for a better camera angle of the Markham-Graysons' front window. Margaret and Birkholtz peered out from the shutters next to the front door. Margaret smirked, knowing how much fun Allen was going to have the rest of the afternoon.

"Those clowns outside aren't really going to keep falling for this, are they?" Margaret asked in disbelief.

Birkholtz shrugged. "Well, I told them there's nothing here. If they stay, it's their own fault."

Margaret smirked. "What do we do for an encore?"

"Wait a few minutes. Then go up to one of the bedrooms and pull up a shade."

* * *

Spock and Nyota quickly cleaned up in the locker rooms adjacent to the Mayo employee exercise center, then donned the uniforms that Commander Ming Nguyen from Starfleet PR had delivered personally. Nguyen waited outside the locker rooms for the two to finish.

Being in Starfleet meant being prepared for anything. As prepared as he was for dealing with the natural ebb and flow of events, Nguyen certainly had not expected to be shepherding two of the famous Enterprise bridge crew on Halloween. Why they were at a Halloween event, especially this particular pair, he had no idea.

It was completely out of character for the reclusive Spock. Trying to convince a reserved Vulcan why public appearances were necessary, especially to meet funding and recruitment goals, had been a frustrating exercise over the last few months. The two had butted heads. Methods and threats used to cajole other reluctant subjects simply did not work with Spock. Despite Spock's naïveté in many areas, it was non-existent wherever opportunities arose to cite cultural and situational dispensations that exempted him from appearances. In the rare interviews he did grant, Spock expertly used tactics to minimize answers and cut his interviews short. Nguyen guessed that they were tricks learned from lifetime experience as an ambassador's son. As Spock's "handler," Nguyen found himself sandwiched between the pressure from Command to place Spock in the media spotlight and Spock's stalwart resistance to accede to such directives.

Uhura's presence here had been a mystery when Nguyen arrived, but not so much anymore. Like many, Nguyen had heard—and dismissed—the rumors about a romantic attachment between tight-assed commander and the communications prodigy. There was little evidence that gave credence to the rumors, and that was circumstantial at best. Until now. The pair's silent interactions as they collected their uniforms before going into the locker rooms indicated that there might be some truth behind the tall tales he had heard around the office.

Whatever the case, it was going to be an interesting day.

A group a people approached, two of them pulling carts. Nguyen guessed that they had come to collect the baskets of treats and favors. A diminutive olive-skinned woman with short, dark hair streaked with auburn highlights separated from the group and stepped up to him.

"Commander Nguyen? Hello, I'm Ellen Karras, manager of public relations," she said brightly, reaching out to shake hands. "A pleasure to meet you. And thank you for allowing Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura to join us today!"

"Starfleet is pleased to help," Nguyen returned, shaking her hand and smiling. "But their participation was their idea. I'm not entirely sure how it came about."

"Well, we are fortunate and very happy that it did," Karras continued enthusiastically. "Are there any requirements that we need to know about? Or anything we should avoid?"

Nguyen had almost memorized this speech. "As you know, Vulcans are touch-telepaths, so anyone dealing with Commander Spock should avoid touching him. As for forbidden topics, personal questions are off limits. Don't ask him about how he 'feels' about anything because, as a Vulcan, he does not answer emotion-based questions. I'm sure that I do not have to warn against bringing up anything having to do with the Battle of Vulcan if you can help it. However, the commander is less reluctant about talking about the Battle of Terra if you must, but, truthfully, he really would rather not discuss any of it. The safest topics with him are general discussions of general Vulcan culture, the sciences, or linguistics. Best to be business-like."

"Understandable," Karras acknowledged. "Anything we need to know about the Lieutenant?"

"I believe you will find her easy to work with. Kids seem to love her, so she'll fit into this event just fine. She's open to questions about her professional life, but tends to avoid personal questions. Don't worry, she doesn't get offended easily. She'll redirect conversation away from restricted or uncomfortable subjects, if necessary."

The men's locker room door opened, and Spock emerged, looking every centimeter the Starfleet officer. Whatever Nguyen thought of him otherwise, he had to admit that Spock had charisma, an aristocratic presence that had a profound effect on most humans who met him for the first time. Karras was no exception—she appeared to have forgotten how to breathe.

"Ms. Karras, I presume?" Spock said smoothly, doing his best to emulate his father's diplomatic demeanor.

Karras recovered quickly. "Yes, Commander Spock, I'm pleased to meet you. Thank you for coming today."

"We are honored to serve," Spock replied pleasantly with a slight nod.

Now Nguyen was thoroughly confused. What had happened to the non-responsive, stubborn mule that usually occupied this body?

"So, Commander, I understand that David Swenson told you about our event?" Karras began, snapping back into professional mode, stylus in hand. "If I may ask, how do you know him?"

"He was a friend of my mother's since her youth. I met him recently."

"How interesting!" Karras exclaimed.

Yes, how interesting, Nguyen thought. Normally he could not get more than two words out of the commander. Karras had already managed to get several sentences.

Karras quickly jotted down a few notes on her PADD before continuing. "So he's your tie to the event?"

"Not exclusively," Spock said. "My mother and aunt volunteered for this event with Mr. Swenson in years past. My cousin Janelle continues to do so." There. He planted some of the family information that he and Nyota had discussed, all part of the "smoke and mirrors," as Nyota called it. Spock noted that he was learning several idioms today.

"Janelle Devereaux's your cousin? Amazing! So, your Terran family is from this area, then?"

"Yes, my grandfather, Dr. Howard Grayson, was a Mayo orthopedic surgeon."

"Wow!" Karras was beginning to run out of exclamatory phrases. "So this really is a family project for you, isn't it?"

"After a fashion."

Happier than a kid in a candy store, Karras continued taking notes. What a story! His appearance was newsworthy in itself. His unexpected family ties offered even more intriguing angles. She would have no difficulty generating media interest in this year's event.

"We are running behind," she said suddenly, checking her chronometer. "Do you think the lieutenant will be much longer? Maybe I should go in there and see how she's doing."

"I do not recommend it," said Spock lightly. "It is best not to disturb the lieutenant when she is under deadline."

Karras smiled. "A whirling dervish?"

Spock nodded. "If I understand the reference correctly, that is an apt description."

Karras laughed. "Ah, I'll stay out of the way."

"That is wise."

Now Nguyen was thoroughly perplexed. The commander was turning on the charm, what little of it there was in a Vulcan. "Mr. Personality" had arrived, suddenly opening up about the Terran heritage that he, until now, had refused to discuss with anyone. Something was definitely up.

Nyota appeared, her hair pulled back neatly, every inch the efficient officer except for the small smile she gave Commander Spock before acknowledging Nguyen politely with a "Sir."

"Lieutenant," Nguyen replied, carefully noting her and the commander's brief interaction. Now was not the time to get into it, however. They had somewhere to be. "Now that everyone's ready, Ms. Karras, if you'd lead us to orientation…."

Author's Note Feb19-2010: Yes, another one of those pesky transitional chapters. The next chapter should be more fun when Spock & Nyota make their hospital rounds.

I'm hoping that I'm more productive on the next chapter. I have an outline written already, but it's also one of my busy volunteer times. I'm packing more food for Haiti (Haiti is going to need ongoing help for a long time, unfortunately), hosting a blanket-making session at my home for a local crisis nursery, and working at a blood drive within the next month. Every little bit helps!

I'll try to get going on Chapter 26 as best I can. As always, thank you for reading! Blessings!

P.S. Don't let my slow posting rate scare you. I will not abandon this story. I will finish it. This is the first time I've written anything novel-length, and I'm learning too much about my strengths and weaknesses to quit. As a result, I've purchased books that address my problem areas so that my next effort--whatever it is--progresses much more smoothly than this one has.