Three months have passed.

He knows this as he has kept track with each lacklustre beat of his heart. Each day that passes he feels himself slipping into the same rut, the same routine as he had had lived through before meeting James.

He wakes up promptly at six each morning; by seven T'Lera is dressed and ready for school. The pair sit quietly at the table eating their first meal of the day, T'Lera still only speaking to him in short, clipped sentences since the incident at the aquarium.

He walks the short route with his daughter to school and as soon as she disappears within, he holds his breath each time he turns around.

A foolish wish, a pointless hope and desire to see his T'hy'la there. On the days that it rains - he involuntarily exhales in a sigh that is half frustration at his despondent attitude and the other at knowing that he has caused this maudlin situation.

He is aware he overreacted. Upon further reflection he understands that perhaps it would have been best to let the encounter slide - based on the fact that his daughter had suffered no ill-effects from the meld and seemed to be in good health upon returning to their seated area.

And yet – he could not be blamed for protecting his daughter. It has been his only duty for so many years and a battle that he has had to fight alone since T'Pring abandoned them.

More startling was the revelation that David was not a Vulcan. Logically, the only other humanoid with features such as there's were Romulans. This in itself was not welcome news either- but he had chided himself for his prejudice after the fact. This was a child – granted one of a hated empire and mortal enemies of at least half of the known galaxy – but it was Jim's child.

Jim had raised him and therefore it was only logical to assume that the child had been nurtured into the being he was today through the love, kindness and care of James and his friend Leonard McCoy.

He scolded himself once more as he stacked the libraries books into the trolley for display at a later date. The dust coating the generations old spine tickles his nose, the rest floating in the air until the specks land to settle on his black clad shoulders. He catches sight of his reflection in the window, rain beating hard against it and his heart wrenches at the sight.

He is the spitting image of his father. Hair sprinkled with grey, lines around his eyes, a thin determined set to his lips – the only difference now was his skin is wan and sickly. The blue-black rings under his eyes pulled all focus to how numb and devoid of emotion he felt and his eyes betrayed him by showing this to all who looked upon him.

He shudders as he realises that this was not the path that he wanted for himself. While he aspired to Surak's teachings, he knew that to deny his human emotions would be detrimental to his health. He has suffered of late to sleep through the night cycle, to think as clearly as he once had.

On more than one occasion he has espied his daughter pushing food surreptitiously his way when she thought he wasn't looking, only to go back to her sullen pouting when he opened his mouth to query her action.

He has tried to contact James. Twice.

The first time was precisely an hour after the incident which ended with Jim ending the call before a word could be spoken. The second time the call had not connected at all – indicating that his number had been blocked and that this was the end to it all.

It was not logical to pursue a relationship that was not wanted by both parties. He would not beg like a child hankering for its favourite sweet. He places his hand over his heart and feels the familiar jolt of pain as the moments before the incident play before his eyes.

The warmth of Jim's lips, the scent of minted toothpaste, the strength of his hands as they squeezed his leg in encouragement. His smile.

''Excuse me, Mister Spock?''

He is startled out of his memory by the young clerk who clears her throat awkwardly and scratches a point behind her ear.

''Yes, Miss Lannerty?''

''I'm sorry, Sir, but there is a gentlemen here to see you. He's waiting in the lobby. Shall I tell him to come back later?''

It's preposterous just how quickly his heart reaches its highest beat and just for a moment he believes that James has come to get him.

''Has he identified himself?'' he queries and she swallows nervously.

''He…I'm afraid he was so insistent upon seeing you and rather – aggressive – in nature that I forgot to ask his name. I'm sorry Mister Spock.'' She squeaks and his brow cocks in surprise at her description of his visitor.

''No matter. I will be there shortly. Thank you Miss Lannerty.''

The woman dips her head in acknowledgement and disappears behind the shelves back to reception. He knows who has come to see him and a cowardly part of him deep within briefly contemplates staying hidden as he does not have the energy nor the spirit - to withstand a surly human throwing profanities in his direction at the moment.

A sigh through his nose leaves him and disturbs the dust on the shelf directly in front of him as he places the last of his books onto the trolley. He takes a moment to smooth his appearance, white gloved hands rubbing away at the dust on his uniform, a small shake to his head to remove the grey tint to his hair.

Reaching reception he immediately identifies the man as Leonard McCoy.

The Doctor is pacing and Spock's keen ears can hear how the human is muttering expletive laden sentences under his breath. Spock braces himself for the onslaught of blame and accusations but when the Doctor looks up and catches his eye he is surprised to see the man shut his mouth and come to a standstill; a sad look in his eyes.

''You look like shit Spock.''

''Doctor.'' Spock says by way of a greeting, ignoring his insult as he does not wish to argue.

''For god sakes – I could bang your heads together. Come here.''
Courtesy and permission disregarded – Spock's arm is grabbed albeit gently - and finds himself carefully being led to an empty office down the hall.

''Doctor, I do not understand the purpose of your visit. If it is to as they say 'roast me over the coals', I can assure you that I –''

''Shut up and sit still.'' Leonard removes a tricorder from seemingly nowhere on his person and proceeds to scan him despite not asking for permission.

''You're dehydrated, sleep deprived, your brains synapses aren't firing as they should for a Vulcan your age, weight loss – Yup, you're both idiots.''

Spock cocks a brow and then the realisation dawns on him that perhaps Jim was equally as affected as he. ''Is Jim well, Doctor?''

An overly exaggerated snort leaves the doctor ''He's absolutely bloody miserable. Just like you.''

''I … He is ill then?'' Spock's frown is for once visible in the presence of another person and the Doctor notices the lapse in emotional control. He flicks him in the forehead and the Vulcan hisses in surprise.

''I beg your pardon.'' Spock is not yelling however the tone of his voice is higher than it ought to be and McCoy chuckles. ''That's for hurting my friend you hob-goblin. Now, turn your head please.''

Spock follows the man's hand as it shoots out to the right and before he can question why - he feels a sharp sting in his neck.

''That's a cocktail of heartbreak juice. Should sort you out for a few days. At least long enough for the both of you to patch up this stupid misunderstandin'.''

''I am not a patient of yours and therefore you cannot possibly know what medication to administer to my person without – ''

''I'm a Doctor, Spock. I have access to your medical files.''

''Be that as it may –''

''Jim's hurtin' Spock. I haven't seen him this blue since he gave up the Enterprise… and let me tell you he loved that ship more than his own life. Until David came along that is.''

Spock swallows his ire at the man's words and nods in acknowledgement.

''I know that I have erred –''

''You didn't err. You fucked up.''

Spock flinches at the profanity but as vulgar as the words are he can't disagree with them.

''I do not know if you understand the severity of melding without another's permission. On my home planet the assaulting party would face a penal colony for life. The fact that David is a child is the only reason that I have not reported him.'' Spock holds up his hand as the Doctors face colours with rage.

''Peace. I would never harm David in such a manner. Upon further reflection and with melding with my daughter upon returning home I can see how she indirectly gave him permission. And furthermore – to hurt David, would be to hurt Jim. I could not bear to do so again.''

The doctor grunts but Spock his relieved to see his anger dissipating. ''May I ask Doctor, if David is Romulan?''

''He is.''

''Extraordinary.''

''Hmpff. Well, if only you had had that reaction on the day. Look, I can understand both sides of the story here. You were protecting your kid from a perceived threat of mind-addling and Jim – hothead that he is – jumped down your throat like the hero he is for David.''

''Precisely.''

''But you two need to sort this out. As I said – Jim is hurtin'. He struggles to sleep, he's quick to anger and he's incredibly irritable with everyone, including David. It can't carry on. Kiss and make up already.''

Spock turns to the window watching the people ambling about below. People with seemingly no cares in the world and wondered if they had all faced such challenges at one point or another. ''I did attempt to reconcile but he will not take my calls.''

His shoulder sag a fraction of an inch and he flinches slightly when McCoy lays a hand on his shoulder.

''Oh, that's just human stubbornness. You need to be in the same room with Jim to get anything into that thick skull of his.
Listen, I have a plan to make that happen. You in?''

''I…will endeavour to follow your advice – if you think that there is a chance of reconciliation.''

''Jesus, you're so formal.'' The Doctor shakes his head with a smile but takes a seat at the conference table. ''So here's my plan.''

A week later he is sitting on the bench where he first glimpsed Jim. The weather has turned, autumn is fast approaching and he pulls his navy blue scarf further up under his chin. The leaves once so vibrant and green are now a mottled colour of gold, yellow and bronze.

Spock spends his time watching them fall in spirals from their branches to land on the ground, the wind slightly disturbing the pile with each gust.

He is here as McCoy has instructed. T'Lera having opted to stay behind at school to help prepare for a school event. He does not feel entirely comfortable with the subterfuge but if this is to be his last chance to make amends he is willing to withstand any emotion that James may push upon him.

''Hi.''

Spock looks up from the leaves fluttering around his feet and cocks a brow in confusion as David approaches him slowly. He remains seated, rooted to his current position as a part of him understands that the child could be startled or intimidated should he stand and tower over him.

''Hello.''

David shuffles awkwardly but Spock sees his little chest expand as he takes a deep breath, no doubt finding the courage for his task. He takes a seat beside Spock, his little legs swaying, toes scraping the ground.

''Uncle Bones said I should come talk to you.'' His voice is barely more than a whisper and it's only with his superior Vulcan hearing that he catches every word.

''May I ask why?'' Spock cranes his head down to get a better look at the boy. His hair is a messy, curly nest atop his head, his pointed ears flush with green as the wind bites into the tips but he is as healthy on the outside as any other child.

David rubs his hands together and looks at the swing-set across the park with interest. He is obviously stalling for time but once again the boy takes a deep breath and looks directly at him. His eyes are the same warm hazel of his own, dependant on how the light hits it.

''Uncle Bones says that my dad really misses you, but that you had a fight. Is it my fault?''

The question is so raw in its honesty that Spock looks away involuntarily in his shame.

''No. It is not your fault. Your father and I had a momentary lapse of judgement. On occasion, adults are foolish and do not communicate effectively. It is not your fault.'' He reiterates and the boy looks sceptically at the ground before tilting his head to the side.

''Do you not like that I spoke to T'Lera?'' his right foot kicks out at a passing leaf and Spock squirms slightly. ''I did not dislike that you spoke to her, it is the manner in which you spoke to her. In my culture – melding, how you communicate – is reserved for family or dire emergencies.''

Spock gestures to his face with his hands touching his melding points. David watches his hand placement and attempts to recreate the shape with his small fingers on his own face.

''I don't like talking. Everyone thinks so differently than I do, everyone talks over everybody and in the end no one listen except the one who talks loudest.''

Spock contemplates this and can find no fault in his logic.

''Melding is indeed an incredibly efficient means of communication – however, as we all differ in species and race and even language – do you not suppose that those unable to communicate as you do would feel isolated and unheard?''

''Yeah, I suppose.''

Spock takes that sentence as acceptance that the boy will have something to ponder more deeply tonight. ''I… regret that our first meeting did not end well, David. I … apologise if I caused you and your father any discomfort. I merely wanted to protect my daughter. I acted quite rashly.''

David swivels to face Spock, his tiny knobbly knee accidentally pressing into his thigh.

''My dad has been very sad lately. Whenever I touch his face I can feel things through my hands that show me pictures of your face, I see things and feel things that make no sense to me.''

''I see.'' Spock blushes in the autumn wind and he is thankful that he can use the weather as an excuse for his sudden embarrassment.

''I don't want my dad to be sad anymore. Can we not just be friends?'' his imploring query is so sincere that the corner of his lip lifts ever so slightly in a smile.

''Yes. Yes, we can be friends.''

''Good. Can we go play on the swings? It's nice and quiet. No screaming. It hurts my ears.''

The swift way in which David has now apparently settled their misunderstanding is a little jarring to Spock but he admires the boy's capacity to forgive and forget.

''I too, appreciate the silence of the park. I will supervise as you play but I am unable to join you as I will not fit in the equipment.''
''That's okay. You can watch.''

The pair walk slowly to the playground and Spock looks around for the child's guardian.

''If I may ask, where is your father? Did he accompany you today?'' The mere thought of encountering Jim today increases his heart rate tenfold and he wills himself to calm down.

''No, dad is at work. He is teaching today. Uncle Bones brought me. He's right there.''

David points to the other end of the park and Spock's eyes narrow as he makes out the familiar form of a man in a white coat, legs outstretched and arms crossed on a park bench – apparently napping – from the way his head lolls back and forth.

''He said he trusts you to take care of me.'' David clambers on the too high swing and struggles to push off. Spock notices his predicament and ever so carefully touches the boys shoulder and gives him a small push. He is rewarded with a shy smile and a nod of thanks.

''So… if you and I are friends now, does that mean you and dad will go back to being friends too?''

He does not know how to answer and clasps his hands behind his back as he continues to watch the boy exert effort into swinging higher than what he deemed safe.

''Adults are complicated. Matters do not resolve themselves as easily as they did between you and I.'' a sadness overcomes him and David appears to notice the change in his voice.

''Well that's just stupid. You like him and he likes you.'' Spock's breath leaves him as David jumps from his too high seated position and lands hard on his feet.

''Please mind that you do not hurt yourself. Your father would not forgive such an event if it happened whilst you were under my care.''

''You sound like Uncle Bones.'' David scoffs, an eye roll indicating that this warning was one he heard often.

''I am pleased that he and I share the same thoughts when it comes to your safety.'' He intones as the boy proceeds to the monkey bars and Spock walks idly beside him deep in thought.

It was strange to see such a Vulcan looking child displaying so much emotion, to see him jump and run as a human child would, but he once again chided himself that this was natural to him as it was the environment in which he grew up in.

Whereas T'Lera - whilst not subdued in any sense of the word – restricted her movements and did not mimic the erratic displays of the children around her.

''David, forgive me for asking such an intrusive question – may I enquire as to whether your shields and mental links are well established and safe-guarded within your mind?''

David drops to the ground with another thud and turns to look at him. ''Huh?''

Spock searches for another way to ask his question and cocks a brow as the boy shakes his head at him. ''When you meld with your father – do you have the ability to hear all his thoughts? Can others hear yours? Are you always aware of your father's presence in your mind?''

''You ask a lot of questions.''

''Forgive me, I only wish to understand more about you.''

David gathers a few leaves in his hands, marvelling at the different colours that fall between his fingers. ''Wouldn't it be easier if I just show you?''

Spock's immediate rebuttal died on his lips and he paused a moment to consider this.

''Would your father not take issue with you melding with me?''

''You call it melding. I call it talking. Dad said that so long as it's my choice that I could talk to people however I wanted so long as they were okay with it too.''

His inner teachings screamed at him that this was an unwise, illogical course of action and yet his curiosity and genuine desire to understand this boy better won out in the end.

''Let us take a seat. I will warn you that melding with me will be different from others minds you have had access to. I have exceptional shielding and will only allow you to see and hear what I wish you too. '' He walks back to their bench and motions for the boy to sit.

''If you try to circumvent my shielding – this could be a potentially painful experience for us both.''

David nods but his apprehension is clear as his brows settle low and he bites the corner of his lip.

''We do not have to proceed. We can simply converse about the matter instead if you wish.''

''No. I don't like talking.''

''Very well.''

Spock seats himself next to David and waits for the boy to gather his resolve. Ever so slowly David's hand reached for him and Spock obliges by lowering his head. An icy cold chill passes through him but it quickly fades away as he feels the child's mind inquisitively probing his.

It's like a fortress in here. You have so many walls!

Yes. Those are my shields. I suppose it is similar to a fortress. Each wall protects different parts of my identity and thoughts.

It's cool.

He can feel the boy's amusement and is surprised by the gentle touch against his shields, not insistent on gaining entry, merely curious as to their formation.

May I establish a surface level connection with you? I must admit that I am astonished that you are so adept at melding despite having never been taught anything on the matter.

Spock feels the boy bristle, a shadow of defensiveness clouding his presence.

It's not like Dad didn't try. He did. But I heard him and Uncle Bones talking. No Vulcans want to help me for some reason. I don't know what I've done wrong – but dad tried his best to teach me.

What did he teach you if I may ask?

To treat someone's mind as if though you were holding a baby bird. You don't want to grab on too tightly, you don't want to be loud as you may scare it, you need to speak softly and not move around too much in case you hurt it.

A pleasing and sound approach to melding.

Spock lifts his hand cautiously and the boy flinches at the sudden contact but hastily presses into the fingers upon his face in way of apology.

My mind to your mind - He is perplexed when he discovers a waterfall landscape. Mountains and rivers flow fast around him, the indigenous plants swaying from a breeze that wasn't real.

Extraordinary

Do you like it? Dad took me camping a year ago in the mountains. There are hidden caves everywhere!

Spock inspects as gently as he can. There are indeed caves everywhere but he is aware that the child has no shielding capabilities, no filter for his thoughts and David begins to withdraw as he feels Spock's disappointment.

Do not leave young one, for I am not disappointed in you. Simply in the Vulcan medical carers that have failed you.

David settles down and proceeds to take him on a tour if you will, over the pebbled rocks of the river, down into a valley surrounded by wild flowers and in the middle stood a decrepit shack that only a child could have constructed.

That's where dad is sometimes. He comes and he goes. I wish he would stay there forever but whenever we stop… melding… he disappears again.

It was clear to Spock that only a rudimentary link had formed between Jim and his son. Without aid they would never truly be connected in the way that Vulcans or even Romulans were with their children.

If your father is amenable to idea – I could teach you all that I have learned and perhaps even ensure that your link to him remains a permanent fixture within your mind.

Really?!

David's absolute joy transcends through the meld and Spock is rudely ejected from the landscape back into the present and opens his eyes to discover that the boy – despite big, heavy tears falling down his cheeks – was laughing.

The crunching of sand beneath boots behind him alerts him to the Doctor who has sprinted over at the sight of David crying.

''What in blue blazes did you do to the kid, Spock?'' Leonard displays no real anger, only concern as he quickly scans them both and sighs in relief at the normal readings.

''We simply had a conversation, Doctor. A rather eventful and informative exchange.''

''Well, good then. Jim will be here any minute. I asked him to come get David from the park as I was called in on shift.''

The illogical urge to begin scanning the area for his presence irks him.

''I do not foresee that he will be pleased with this …ambush.''

''Oh hell no, but I'll knock some sense into you two if it's the last thing I do.''

''As you wish.''

''Uncle Bones? Is that Dad there?'' the boy points to a figure approaching from clear across the park and Spock will never admit to anyone the range of emotions he experiences watching Jim come ever closer.

Spock can see that the man is fatigued… exhausted even. Mirror images of one another with the weight loss, blue-black shadows beneath their eyes and grim expressions.

The once exuberant human that laughed and smiled and teased was now approaching with a scowl on his face, eyes narrowed as he no doubt wondered who was standing with his son.

Spock knew the moment James realised that he was there. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as his hands clenched at his side. Spock attempted to speak but found that his voice would not cooperate.

Absolute longing for Jim burst forth and he instead walked the last few feet to meet him halfway.

He could smell Jim's aftershave on the breeze, he could feel the tension rolling off the man's shoulders as each step he took prompted the man to visibly tense even more.

''Jim.''

''Mister Spock.''