AN 1: The time line is a bit fudged but essentially it's been a year and several months since Harriet met Spock. She met Bones roughly a month before the summer semester that Bones had to be enrolled in if he was part of the same graduating class as Jim (meaning both graduated in three years as both entered as recruits at the same time right?). This chapter therefore marks the beginning of the Summer of 2257 or so, assuming the Academy school year works like other universities and military academies.

AN 2: On the topic of timelines, some smudging occurred and will continue to occur.


Harriet's eyebrow twitched. As they clearly hadn't done the reading, she was channeling her ever developing inner Spock. As there were a lot of things to learn, the professor clearly couldn't cover all of it in a single weekly lecture. Thus the reading that was assigned. 'It's a medical course! Who in Morgana's personal hell doesn't think it might just help to do the reading in advance?'

She was starting to think McCoy was on to something.

'Is this what I have to look forward to in all of the classes I take here? If that's the case, I may skip out on a few.'

Hopefully, her Vulcan 305 course would be better. She wouldn't get her hopes up though. 'Perhaps I should engage Spock further on the matter? How would he respond if I butchered the language to his face on a more regular basis?' Now that she thought about it, the shear amount of pain and patience that he would have to wade through in order to keep that oh so stoic face of his might be worth it. Harriet smiled mischievously. 'Challenge accepted.'

[insert sandcastle baby success meme here – do they still have those?]

She was getting delightfully off track. 'Speaking of patience, back to the cadets (midshipmen?) clearly digging holes for themselves. How could the teacher stand it?'

Harriet, wearing a variation of the outfit she always wore on the Starfleet campus – fitted leggings, long beige, almost tunic like long sleeved top, a thick leather belt, and sturdy dragon hide boots – played with a loose curl. Her hair was long enough now that it really should be controlling itself. She'd even gone through the effort of using magic, a slow wave of the hand over her head as she concentrated really hard, to braid it into nice long braids that she'd wrapped into a bun, naturally using her holly wand to keep it in place. Yet she still had loose, fly away curls to play with as she considered how almost remedial this class was turning out to be.

'Hopefully the professor will assert himself soon and put a stop to this. They really should have done the reading.'

Harriet sighed. It was going to be a long summer.


Harriet was sitting at a table near the medical sciences building, unruly black hair, messy bun or no, spilling out over her face and down her shoulders.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

"How's it going so far? Drinking your own wares yet?" McCoy. Merlin, she was glad to hear his voice. In a flared brown wrap top over her usual get up (it was a touch cold these days), she still, as ever, stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of red and grey uniforms. It was no wonder McCoy had been able to spot her from wherever he had come from.

Harriet dramatically looked up at the sky, as if seeking divine intervention. "I'm on my third cup of coffee if that means anything."

McCoy grouched out: "Only that you can't live without it."

"It's amazing that you can live without it. It's also amazing you've lasted as long as you have without it. I just don't know how you survive."

McCoy cracked a small smile. "Some migraine reliever and a drink or two here and there helps."

Harriet smiled herself. "Something tells me judicious use of your sharp tongue also helps keep the worst of it at bay."

Snort. "I have to do something to discourage them. Half of the nurses are so incompetent it hurts."

Harriet let out a small laugh, silently agreeing with him. "Deep down, I'm sure."

McCoy smirked, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Right where my black heart fails to beat."

Harriet laughed outright. "It's good to see you're managing so well in spite of it all. Only another year left right?"

McCoy suddenly looked pained. "Please don't remind me."

Harriet grabbed up her PADD, satchel silently bumping her side. "Headed anywhere in particular? I could use some intelligent company."

"No, I'm free for the rest of the day. I was planning on reviewing some material in the reference library."

"Really, on what?"

"Namely abnormal bibasilar breath sounds in Andorians."

Harriet readily engaged in the ensuing discussion on lung isolation, lung tissue diseases across species, and common ways of spotting them. She enjoyed such discussions. She also enjoyed challenging McCoy to think beyond vaccinations and hyposprays, to consider the whole body, including the mind, rather than the single illness presented at any given time. It was a point they regularly, if friendly enough, disagreed on and both, if asked, would, perhaps grudgingly, admit that they learned quite a lot from the other during their disagreements.

Harriet still stood by her 'alternative medicine' though and McCoy still came once a week to indulge in it.


Spock returned just past halfway through the semester. He was slated to spend some time teaching starting next semester and needed to prepare. In the meantime, Harriet was determined to flush out their friendship, such as it was, and learn more about what made Spocky Spock.

If Death wanted her to go after something, then she would do so with the determination of a true Gyrffindor, if not quite as recklessly.

"Meeting twice a week would hardly impose upon you Spock." Spock, seated across from Harriet, quietly looked back at her, eyebrow partially raised. "It wouldn't! And we don't have to meet at the shop."

She'd been meaning to bring him by sometime anyway. It was only fair right?

[…not even gonna touch that…]

"It is not the meeting to which I object. It is a matter of availability."

Harriet pouted. "I am sure you can find time to meet for tea and an outing."

Spock paused briefly. "I was not aware we were meeting for anything other than the consumption of beverages."

Harriet worried her lip. This was something she had been thinking on for quite some time actually. Finally, she sighed and took a sip of coffee. "Actually, it's something I've been meaning to do for some time." She stopped to consider Spock for a moment, then looked out the window for a few minutes. When she spoke again, her voice was just loud enough for his Vulcan ears to pick up.

"Have you ever felt that you don't understand humanity Spock?"

Spock considered her question. "I have often experienced …confusion … in regards to the human race."

"Hmmmmm." Harriet continued to look out the window, finger idly tracing a pattern on the side of her coffee mug. Finally, she turned back to Spock, voice a bit firmer, steadied. "I think we should address the issue instead of continuing to avoid it."

Spock bristled in that barely noticeable fashion of Vulcans, an ever so slight stiffening of the shoulders. "To the best of my knowledge, I have not been avoiding any… issue related to garnering a better understanding of humanity."

Harriet, all levity gone, looked him directly in the eye, intense green eyes serious with a hint of steel. "And yet neither of us can say we understand what it means to be human." She tilted her head, considering his stiffer than usual posture and barely restrained distaste.

"I am a Vulcan."

"You are also half human."

"And yourself?"

Harriet looked back out the window. "I honestly don't know anymore." Predictably, Spock stilled, eyes focused on her face, and waited for her to continue. "I think we should take this opportunity to explore the idea of what it means to be human. Together, so we can learn from each other, encourage the other to participate in the sea of humanity that surrounds us. I'm really not sure I would bother further otherwise."

Spock quietly contemplated her response. Harriet went back to sipping her coffee and staring out the window. Finally, cup finished, she looked back at Spock. "So, tea and an outing, weekly, even if it's only to try a new shop and observe the behaviors and reactions occurring around us. We can discuss our impressions afterwards. If you must, think of it as a research exercise."

Spock tilted his head ever so slightly, considering her before he eventually answered with: "I will ensure that I have an appropriate amount of time available."


Spock found Harriet's home rather interesting. He couldn't place where her sudden desire to show him her home had come from but chose to perceive it as progress toward his goal. Perhaps it was a show of trust in response to when he had given her a key pass to his own home? To say the least, he had not expected it, as the chances of any form of reciprocation of the action had been less than seventeen point three percent.

When Harriet had insisted that he follow her to somewhere new after he met her at the end of her classes one day, he had expected a coffee house or one of those cafés that sold the overly sweet confections she sometimes favored with her coffee. He had not expected her to eventually lead him down a moderately traveled lane with some businesses lined up like row houses.

When Harriet finally stopped in front of an older store front, blue paint peeling here and there, white curtains drawn on the lower half of a three-quarters high floor to ceiling bay window, book stacks (hard copy books?) and piles of newspapers (paper newspapers?) visible through what was left, he was tempted to express his mild confusion, then chastised himself for feeling it.

He returned his attention unequivocally to the sight before him. Although he couldn't see down the aisles formed by the stacks, he could discern no other life in the shop. There was no indication of the shop's name or business hours. There was, however, a symbol prominently displayed above the center of the door, a circle with a triangle inside and a line down the middle, identical to the one Harriet wore on her wrist – a symbol that she had never explained and that he had never asked about.

"I was under the impression we were going for tea." Even as he said this, Spock also took note of the fact that no other being on the street seemed to take note of them. In fact, given the way their eyes seemed to slide right over them, he suspected that they couldn't even see them standing in front of the shop. 'Another aspect of her ability to manipulate perceptions?' This skill was perhaps more dangerous and wider in scope than he had first been considering.

Harriet [Eyebrow: how long are we going to harp on this? I'm getting twitchy] laughed in a way that registered as nervousness to Spock's ears. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear – she had worn 'braids' before but instead of the smaller braids she used to 'keep hair out of her face', she had two larger 'Greek' braids leading from the front of her head into a larger tail that trailed down her shoulders. Spock personally felt it would be more logical to cut her hair if she had such difficulties 'taming' it.

He had previously said as such. She had refused.

She had also refused to tell him why she always wore the same standard clothing to the Academy but he felt asking further would be considered inappropriate.

Harriet [Eyebrow: thank Surak] pulled a set of keys out of her satchel, which he'd long since noted she always wore, and fiddled with them for a bit. "Right. Well, we are having tea. We're just having tea here today." Spock, hands already behind his back, finally raised an eyebrow in expectation [relief!], the words 'and where is here?' unspoken but readily conveyed.

She looked down, then looked up, took a deep breath, looked at the door for another 2.3 seconds, then placed the key in the door and turned the lock (a non poly key, non biometric key lock?).

'Is this where she conducts her business?'

Harriet quickly sent a smile his direction before pushing the door open. "Come in. It's a bit musty in this part but we'll actually be sitting in the back."

Spock stepped into the establishment and cleared the door as Harriet turned to lock (by hand) the door behind them.

"This way."

She led him past several tables stacked with print newspapers, dust covered chairs and followed a clear trail of wood covered floor along 8.47 meters of bookshelves before stopping and looking at him with a 'strained' smile.

"Well, this is it." She gestured with both hands before her. In a lowered voice, she added, "this is home," before dropping her hands back to her side. She turned to look at him.

Taken off guard by the unexpected, and once more chastising himself for it, Spock took a second to contemplate how the space seemed larger than it should before taking in the scene before him.

The space behind the stacks was relatively clean and clear. To the right and back, there was a small kitchen nook with a small island and two stools, wood cabinets that matched the flooring in the rest of the room, white tile, and modern appliances (no replicator?). Straight in front of him was a small circular rug and a set of stairs that he assumed led to living quarters in the low walled loft up above. To the immediate left and right, there were benches of different heights and widths perpendicular to the stacks. There was some modern, and some not so modern (scales? iron pots? burners?), lab equipment on them with racks of (fresh?) drying herbs and other greenery hanging from the ceiling, blocking the view from the street.

Directly across from these tables was a small, apparently well used, sitting area with more book shelves lining the tall walls, two large windows set high near the ceiling (shouldn't they look out to another building?), two large but sturdy chairs, angled to be not quite facing each other, an end table between them, and a low coffee table in the center on top of a large rug.

Hari bounced on her toes nervously for 5.7 seconds as he took in the scene before him, then moved off to the kitchen area.

"Would you like to try one of my own blends or a store bought tea? O, and be careful of Smaug the Terrible, he's around here somewhere…"

'Fascinating.'

Surprisingly, Spock never caught the slip.


Spock was apparently being tapped to design an updated version of some test to see if a command track candidate had it in them to become Captain. Of course he wasn't the only one asked but as the originator of the program, and by virtue of Spock being Spock, Harriet was certain his improvements to the simulation would at the very least be one of the top versions taken under consideration.

"It should do more than cause the cadets to experience fear in the face of certain death, Spock. It should also test tenacity, determination, and resignation when required."

"I do not follow your logic."

"Leadership isn't always a matter of doing what is most logical or 'right.' In fact, leaders must often walk the fine lines between what is morally correct, what is best for their own people, and the marching orders that have been handed down. Whatever action they chose, whether they chose to walk the line or one side of the line over another, it's important for them to commit to what they believe is right and remain determined to carry out their commitments."

Spock steepled his fingers. "You are implying that moral ambiguity is not a fault. You are also implying that a leader should not be flexible."

"No. I am not saying that a leader cannot change their mind when they receive new information, only that they should pick an angle, find something to fight for, and hold onto that. As for moral ambiguity, what is morality? If different interactions and information inform our being, is there any true action that is strictly correct or strictly incorrect? What is right and wrong? Even those who do great or terrible things can find 'morally ambiguous' reasons to justify their actions, people or ideas to claim they are protecting."

Spock rested his chin on his steepled fingers, deep in thought. Harriet sipped her espresso.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You are arguing then that the underlying question is why a leader chooses a course of action and how committed they are to their own personnel when they carry out that action."

"Not precisely, but that is one way of putting it. In essence, I am asking 'why are you, the leader, fighting? And for who? And how far are you willing to go to see your commitment through?' I think a good leader, even if they are hell bent on pursuing something morally at odds with your own opinions, can articulate the answers to each of these questions."

"Yet I am certain training, preparedness, and the ability to accept the inevitable are also strong aspects of a potential leader."

"Not all leaders are born or formally trained Spock. Some develop as a necessity, forged by fire as it were. Formal training and preparedness are desirable traits but can come with time through the acquisition of experience. The question that must then come is 'at what cost?'"

"Which is why it would be appropriate only to pass someone who is properly trained and prepared to accept the challenges of a Captaincy."

"But what are the challenges of a Captaincy Spock? There is the management of your people, yes, and the ability to understand and undertake the mission, but what else? You mentioned accepting the inevitable, what did you mean? Is there truly a situation that is inevitable? Because most situations are a result of our actions, of a leader's actions, of choices."

"As a Captain, not all actions are yours to control. A leader must understand this. A leader must also take into account the nature of the mission and understand that the optimal solution to difficulties facing the mission must be pursued."

"Why?"

Spock cocked his head. "Please elaborate."

"Why must the optimal solution be pursued? On the matter of morality, if the mission can be accomplished without loss of life or under the most favorable conditions for the crew, why should the impersonal 'optimal solution' be pursued?" Harriet made sure to use air quotes to emphasize her point. "There are very few times outside of mathematics that there is only one solution to a problem Spock. If anything, a true leader should understand this."

"I will concede that there are many routes to the same outcome. However, it is not logical to pursue the route that does not optimize the use of resources to accomplish the mission in the optimal amount of time."

Harriet took another sip of her espresso. "The question that I think you should consider then, Spock, is what if there is no optimal solution? If there is only one action that you can take and only so many options on the scale of morality to choose from, what leadership qualities would you like to see displayed? At what point should a Captain become resigned to one course of action? And, at worst, given a no-win scenario, the inevitable, does the potential Captain react with the qualities you prize? You must find a scenario where the majority of these questions can be answered in brief."

And he would, she was sure of it.


Prompt: Dark, Light, and Grey