AN 1: I tend to write chapters as shorts then go back and add to them gradually. As a result, sections rarely get over 500 words or so, which results in chapters of 2-3,000 words on average. This means seemingly short chapters that are actually quite a deal longer than they originally started.

AN 2: I've started writing other AUD universe side stories. The first one is up: "Company, Party of 16? No?" Please check it out and review!

AN 3: I will be changing the timeline a bit to fit my purposes so if Spock's promotion to Commander appears out of left field, it's intentional.


Until the SpockAttack! last Wednesday, Harriet had gotten rather good at avoiding Starfleet personnel of any variety. It helped that Mrs. Thurston's café was conveniently located far enough off the beaten track that only the truly desperate Uniform stopped in. Her motto when they walked in all buttered up in Uniform was simple: Act Natural. This was, of course, a very good motto given the situations she generally found herself in, and, thanks to a near year of working regular hours at the shop and her word-of-mouth-only side business, she could now blend in rather well. Still, it never hurt to have the motto firmly in mind at all times.

She was even beginning to understand the lingo too. Her innately British senses were, on some level, offended, but really by this point, she was rather good at 'just going with the flow' as they used to say. Her strange French-ish accent that she had picked up in her last reality was fairly faint these days, which was nice, given the whole trying to blend in thing.

Reading up on her history had helped as well. For instance, learning that money as she knew it had been replaced with the Federation credit cleared up some of her misgivings about how Mrs. Thurston was running her shop.

Also, 'credits to navy beans'? How is that even supposed to make sense? It doesn't. It just doesn't.

Back to history. Something that had most definitely not endeared her to this Earth as she didn't know it? The Eugenics Wars. Besides the point that they took place roughly during the time her Earth was going through the Second Blood Purity War? They took place. Some thirty million deaths, possibly some 35 million deaths! Whole populations bombed out of existence!

'And they call it a dark subject!'

Understatements, and the avoidance such understatements hinted at, only set up future generations for failure. Another thing: Tyrants were tyrants. Calling one of them the 'Best over the Others' did not change that fact.

[Issues much?]

'Damn straight!' (not that she was acknowledging the maybe-there, maybe-not-there disembodied voice that was still there in her head.)

Then, on top of it all, they had fallen into a Third World War. When she found that out, she had called out sick for the first, and only, time since she began working at the shop.

'And they wonder why I don't trust anyone!'

[except maybe Spock?]

The wars aside, Harriet had to acknowledge that she couldn't blame the entirety of humanity for the failings of a long gone generation. The current state of the Federation was such that it was constantly on the brink of war but never seemingly at war. She could live with that.

That didn't mean she could live with the Uniforms. Case in point:

"Bloody Hell, the Commander has it out for me!"

"Try staying awake in his class, it may just help."

"NO, no it won't. He definitely has it out for me. I know it."

"Have you even completed a reading assignment in that class?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, yes it does."

"You'll help me study for the exam right?"

"Ha! That's rich! Why should I?"

"Well we can't let him get away with this, right?"

"What do you mean 'we'? What 'we'?"

Quietly, the man sitting directly in front of her muttered: "Stars above, I came here hoping the children wouldn't follow… Should've gone to a bar."

Harriet, ironically wiping coffee mugs clean behind the bar, hummed her disagreement. "A drink won't help."

The man turned his eyes to her, his annoyance plain on his face. "I'm a doctor. I know it will."

"I'm a practicing physician. I know it won't." Harriet put the mug down, preparing to fill it. "Try this. 90% coffee, 10% migraine reliever." At his skeptical look, she added "on the house. This time only."

"You say that as if I'm coming back."

"Try it. And you will." Harriet busied herself with making the drink, then placed it in front of him. It was, like all 'herbal supplements' offered at the shop, perfectly innocuous.

One look of utter disbelief and forbearance later, he sipped. Tentatively. 'Probably thinks it'll taste like pants.' Harriet smiled ever so slightly, amused.

"Not bad," he said eventually. "Still not worth putting up with that on my time off."

'Ah, a Uniform. No wonder he's in such a foul mood. I'd be too if I had to wear some brightly colored get up everyday.' Harriet went back to wiping down mugs, the little stars hanging off her ears clinking quietly.

"Cadet?"

"Unfortunately," came the gruff reply. Uniform, check.

"Don't worry. Give it five minutes."

He made an appropriately offended noise through his nose. Harriet shrugged and focused on her task. Sure enough, five minutes later:

"Dear Lord, you were right." Utter disbelief? Check.

Harriet briefly gave him another half smile, then began wiping down the bar. After another five minutes, she ever so helpfully informed him, "you can't purchase it elsewhere and we don't sell it by the packet but you can come in once a week for it, if you want. I'm here every odd day."

He looked into his cup before asking skeptically, "you said you're a physician?"

"Alternative medicine." At his incredulous look, she added, "take or leave it. I'm not the one with the juvenile Cadet induced migraine." Harriet reached for a PADD, already anticipating his answer.

"Fine," he grumbled.

"Name?" She prepared to log it in.

"McCoy." Satisfied customer? Priceless.


Spock reminded her of a sorta green, Vulcany, male version of Hermione. Intelligent but beyond socially unaware. He was also tenacious. It was simultaneously endearing, annoying, and enlightening. He was always so curious, which, by the way, was a wonder in itself considering how much he already knew. In all, it was nostalgic, like a piece of home she'd forgotten that she missed.

Now if only he'd stop trying to weedle out where she lived and ask the question that was actually on his mind.

[Does he know what that question is?]

Harriet, once more not acknowledging the voice inside her head (was her age finally getting to her?), openly studied Spock's face. They were quietly back to playing the game, although technically they were playing three dimensional chess at their table. His hair was as impeccable as ever, his eyebrows were healthy and expressive (as usual), his skin was a healthy shade of green, no head tilt – why was he uncomfortable?

[How do you know he's uncomfortable?]

'He just… feels off. As if –' Suddenly Harriet realized she was actually responding to the voice inside her head and mentally grimaced. 'Merlin help me, I may actually be going around the bend.' She sighed, again mentally (she wasn't going to lose the game! –ttebayo!).

Finally, she allowed her stoicism to crack. She was assimilating some of Spock's more Vulcan habits yes, but she herself was only human. She drooped. Spock noticed.

"Are you unwell?"

"No, just tired."

Spock's mouth just so slightly turned down on one side. "Shall we stop for today?"

"No. I'm enjoying the game. It's just…" She worried her lip. "It's just that I'm starting to feel rather old."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. And really, Harriet understood. Physically, she looked to be only about 19, 20, 25 if you pushed it.

But, well, if she was going to go out on a limb [and acknowledge the fact that there's something tying you to him], she might as well go all the way out to the edge.

"I'm older than I look Spock." She raised a hand to her face and closed her eyes. Spock, a true master of the game, steepled his fingers and waited for her to continue. "Honestly, I don't even remember when I stopped counting."

She appreciated his silence.

After some time, she asked "what are we Spock? Because I'm not sure I can lose another friend." (He's not another Hermione, he's not a replacement, he's not.)

She wasn't sure how to take his continued silence, but, well given how out of left field the question had been, she was also glad he didn't give her an immediate answer.

Or any answer, really.


Spock found himself once more in the unique position of being uncertain. He did not approve of this state of indecision.

[Eyebrow: personally, I enjoy the workout. BUFF!]

Hari's question (and when had using the short version of her name become acceptable?) had left him rather unbalanced.

In truth, the idea that she was older than she looked was not that difficult to believe. The impressive amount of knowledge she possessed spoke of years of study and experience that a Terran of her visible age would have found difficult to possess. However, her previous difficulty with using modern technology and her continued reluctance to make use of modern medical science suggested that she had not spent much of her time in contact with common Federation technologies or research centers. The issue of her age was thus both relevant and inconsequential, as she had adapted well and with little effort on his part.

On the other hand, the issue of 'what they were' required further consideration. The more he interacted with her, the more certain he became that she was not entirely human, for all that she was humanoid and largely experienced human existence as other humans experienced it. Likewise, the more he interacted with her, the more he began to realize his interactions were no longer strictly scientific or diplomatic in nature.

He was hard pressed to pinpoint when that had changed. Upon further meditation, he was also hard pressed to answer her question either succinctly or precisely.

Hopefully, his mother would help 'shed light' on the situation.

"Hello my son."

"Greetings Mother."

"How are you?"

"I am whole and healthy."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

Spock hesitated, which was telling all on its own. "I am to be promoted soon."

"Congratulations! That is a wonderful accomplishment."

"I am satisfied with my progress. However, I am uncertain if it would be appropriate to invite Harriet to the proceedings."

"Ahh." [Was that a twinkle?] "You and Harriet are regular correspondents. Do you consider her a friend?"

Again he hesitated. A friend? That was…

"I am uncertain."

"Well, at the very least she is a close acquaintance of both of us. I am sure she would be upset if you didn't invite her."

Upset? He was not quite sure what she meant.

Amanda smiled. "Invite her Spock. If she doesn't wish to attend, I'm sure she'll say so. Now tell me about your recent voyage. Harriet hasn't filled me in with all the recent details."

… Harriet corresponded regularly with his mother?


Spock was getting formally promoted to 'Lieutenant Commander' – what ever that meant. At the end of the week, a few days before he was to leave for another – another – mission, this time only for a few months, but still! The nerve of some people! Couldn't they wait a few months, give him some actual time off?

[Maybe Spock didn't want time off, hmmm? Would he know what to do with it, hmmm?]

But back to the formal issue – formal meant Uniforms. Far too many Uniforms for Harriet's taste. She honestly wasn't sure why she even thought attending was a good idea. Yet here she was, in a room full of Uniforms, her entire being tense with a mix of expectation, wariness, and a dash of excitement for Spock's achievement. Why that achievement had to be celebrated at the Academy of all places, she had no idea. In fact, she firmly disagreed – the Academy was no place for celebrations. Yessiree, it was a place exclusively of learning and study, certainly not of parties and celebrations.

[You're rambling.]

In short, the whole place had her on edge. Given the choice, she may have avoided it like the plague. But then Spock, good ole Spock, had to remind her that she would be starting her electives here soon. In fact, she would be taking her assessments here next week.

She discreetly looked around, marking all of the exits and personnel in attendance.

'Think of this as training. Get through this, get through the Academy courses.'

… Nope. Wasn't happening. Harriet turned on her heels, ready to flee, only to walk face first into a Uniform.

'Daniels…. CAPTAIN DANIELS?!' Awww fudge. Gryffindor, Shmyffindor. She was out!

She nodded her head as if he had just asked her a question, then stiffly moved to side step him.

"Spock would be sorely disappointed if you don't attend."

Aww hell, he went there.

Harriet stopped, nodded her head again, and continued on her way out the door to the entryway. She stopped just outside the very official building, with its very official Starfleet logo, and took several deep breaths.

Could she really do this? For Spock? (who was Spock to her?)

She wasn't so sure.


Daniels silently watched the girl disappear. He was impressed that she had come at all. It said a lot about the relationship between herself and Spock. It also said a lot about Spock.

'Maybe Spock's assessment was right.'

He checked himself mentally and strode calmly toward the dais. Then he smiled as another thought struck him.

'He's actually made a friend.'


Harriet sighed. Looking toward the sky, she found no answers floating in the clouds, though the son of a previous friend firmly believed she could find them there.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she focused on the sensation of the air on her face, of her breath going in and out of her lungs – in, then out. Gradually her pounding heart relaxed. She relaxed. She took one last deep breath, then exhaled, long and slow. Her head dropped.

A passerby gave her a funny look. She ignored him.

Finally, she clenched her fists. 'I can do this.' And she could. Another breath. "Well, in for a knut, in for a galleon." 'Let's just get this over with.'

With one last slow exhalation, she opened her eyes and briefly surveyed her surroundings. It seemed oddly quiet, so orderly, so military, so wrong and right at the same time.

Yes, she could do this. For Spock. For the pursuit of knowledge. For herself.

Silently she turned military style and slowly walked back inside, like someone walking toward her doom with confidence. If anyone noticed when she quietly reentered the room and took a seat in the very back row, next to the exit, they were too professional to mention it. Well, it was that or the accidental disillusionment charm that swept over her as she took a seat.


Prompt: Courage; Harriet meets another quote un quote Doctor; should I write a Harriet-Naruto spin off?