The work of the day was both welcome and burdensome. Kov knew the paradox was illogical. Kaiidth. What is, is. He would not attempt to analyze how the same thing could be both. It simply was.

He was across Shi'Kahr from the sand garden where he had first scented the man named Koss. A new housing facility was being erected at the Science Academy, and he was to assess the design and create outdoor and courtyard spaces that would complement the structure's architecture. Additionally, the results must both have a character unique from all other such spaces on the grounds, and yet present a cohesive and harmonious whole.

"Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations." He said the phrase softly, aware that his habit of repeating phrases he wished to incorporate into his work sometimes drew unwanted attention from others. Vulcans were a species inclined to keep thoughts to themselves unless there was some logical reason to share them.

It was not often seen as sufficiently logical that stating the philosophy for a project as he walked the area it was to occupy assisted him to visualize what the space could become.

There was no one else in this area. Kov was certain that the relief and pleasure he felt were quite illogical, yet he didn't care. "Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations." He stood first facing the building, then away, walking a few steps, turning, walking again, and repeating the phrase.

He began to see the shape of it. The space could take on the characteristics of an IDIC. It must not be clearly defined but must also not be so obscure that those who came to take pleasure or meditation or study here would not feel the philosophy echoed in every line and step.

"Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations."

"It is illogical to speak so, Kov. You converse with no one, yet you disturb the work of those within."

He managed to suppress the urge to startle, and instead turned smoothly to face the speaker with a single word. "Father."

Sivet merely inclined his head a fraction, but his tall, slender frame projected his tension. Perhaps not to strangers, but Kov had once known that tension to escalate into a dangerous rage, and he was wary. It seemed Sivet was always tense when they interacted. It had ever been so, from the time that Kov could remember. Perhaps there was a mercy in the distance between them, and the long silences that often stretched over months.

"Have you come to speak with me? I have research to attend."

Always, Sivet provided a reason he could not stay. Logical. No sense building the false expectation that they could be anything other than strangers who shared a questionable amount of genetic coding.

"I come on business, Sivet. Nothing more." By using the proper form of address, rather than a family appellation, Kov released his father to his own work. Sivet said no more; perhaps some fathers would inquire as to the nature of his business, but Kov's did not. He turned and walked back to the entrance of the building. Kov sighed softly, and went about his work, silently now, lest he bring a stronger rebuke from the man who had sired him.

When he was a child, it had created powerful emotions to have Sivet always preferring to be elsewhere than he was. Now, he welcomed it. He would not have his father see any trace of his conversation with the man Koss or know how his fingers had trembled to touch Koss'. Certainly, he would not wish Sivet to know how eagerly he anticipated the meeting yet to come, when Koss would take him to a place where they could touch and explore the effects of the touching.

Yes. He could employ IDIC in the overall design. Curving sweeps and straight lines; the circle and the triangle. Differing textures – sand and plantings, water and stone. Sudden bursts of life and color in spaces that seemed barren. Paths that traced the pattern of the symbol. Resting places and places for activities, both in solitude and in groups.

He never created designs while he walked the space. He carried not so much as a hand scanner; the devices and other tasks affected the clarity of his first vision. There were those, including Sivet, who called such practices illogical and inefficient. He would have to walk the space again, to take its measure and assure himself that the design would fit within the space allotted to it.

Kov would do nothing to correct them. However, he understood that this was a necessary step for him. More, he took his own pleasure in walking the grounds of a new project; he always found a peace that surpassed meditation in it. In that peace, he best came to know the space, and, in knowing it, learned what would be needed to achieve the result the client desired.

He walked for several hours, to assess the light and shadows, the prevalent direction of the wind, the flow of people who crossed this space. It was possible to look for any and all of this information in public records, but nothing but his own observations could lead him to understand the feel of the facts, and how they translated into the shape of the space he would create.

Eridani 40 was well past zenith when he entered the office he had been assigned during his time at the Academy – and was assailed by a scent he could never forget. "Koss!"

The subject of his overly emotional reaction straightened from a terminal he'd been accessing. "Kov?" His voice was calm, and one brow arched fractionally. It was such a controlled reaction that Kov began to wonder if he had misunderstood their previous interaction. "I didn't expect I would see you before our appointment this evening."

Appointment. Perhaps he had misunderstood. He took two steps nearer, uncertain how to respond. Finally, the obvious truth occurred. "Nor I you. I was assigned to this workspace."

"So was I." Koss paused, then added, "Perhaps it would be logical for one of us to request another assignment."

"You do not wish to share workspace with me?" Kov was growing more and more certain that he'd misunderstood the earlier interaction.

"It is not that I don't wish to share workspace with you, Kov." Koss breathed deeply, inclining his head and flaring his nostrils as he had that morning. "It is that I wish to share a great many things with you, and that desire may cause a significant loss of efficiency in my work."

"I don't understand."

"Another lie, Kov. Perhaps there will be a time when you will trust me enough to speak only that which is true. I believe you understand well enough. I am an architect. It is considerably more difficult to complete my work when my fingers are trembling for the touch of yours."

"Would it truly be better for you to be in another workspace, knowing I am near?" Kov studied Koss, but he didn't know the other man well enough to read the subtle shifts in posture and facial expression. Perhaps, he might learn Koss the way he had learned the space he was to design, if he could spend enough time in close proximity to the other man.

"Perhaps not." Now it was Koss who took a step nearer. "To know you were here, and not to be able to taste your scent – " He said no more, but his color and scent shifted, and the change made Kov bold.

"Have you a Promised, Koss?"

"A Promised?" Was it wariness that shifted the architect's tone, or something else?

"Yes. I have. Her name is T'Sia." Perhaps that was the best approach, to speak first to his own Promising. "Her mother and mine were close associates. We have grown together almost as siblings. She is my closest associate. Have you a Promised, Koss?"

"I have. T'Pol. My parents and her mother know each other through her mother's brother, with whom they work. I have met her only twice. She works for the Ministry of Security, and is often offworld."

"T'Pol?" Could it be the same?

"Yes. T'Pol. The infant who dared to touch the flame. Perhaps, in her choice of occupation, she chooses it still."

Kov had heard the story. All children of their generation had. It had been given as a cautionary lesson. She had been instructed, as all infants are instructed, not to touch the flame of the meditation candle as she was held upon her mother's lap – a Vulcan infant's first exposure to meditation. For nearly all infants, it was enough to be told that the flame could cause pain and harm.

But not for T'Pol. It was said that she had thrust her hand into the flame, silently and that when her mother had smelled the burning of her flesh , she had fought to keep it there. There was no logic in it. It was further said that she bore the scars of the incident still, and would not have them removed, but Kov had always found that unlikely.

Until now.

"Perhaps, Kov, there are reasons for such actions."

Koss stepped nearer again. "Until I scented you, I would not have thought so. Now, I believe I begin to understand what might have motivated her." A pause, then, Koss added, "Why would you wish to learn of my Promised?"

Kov considered. "I am uncertain I possess the means to express my reasons." Perhaps it wasn't entirely true, but it was as near as he could come, in this moment.

"That answer was marginally true but lacking in substance. I am curious, Kov, and will ask of you a personal question, if you will allow it." Koss' expression was intent; the same cast of face Sivet wore when occupied with challenging research.

"I will allow it." He wouldn't choose to deny Koss, though he might find illogical pleasure in thwarting Sivet.

"What purpose is there to your concealment of yourself?"

Kov had not expected such a question. He shifted his gaze to the empty terminal and work surface not occupied by Koss. It would be sufficient to his needs. Perhaps, though, Koss' suggestion that one of them move might be quite logical.

"Kov? Will you not answer?"

"I have no answer to give you, Koss. Kaiidth. I am as I am. What matter how I came to be so?" He didn't look at his questioner.

"It matters to me." Again that gentle whisper. That tone was too powerful to resist further, and Kov looked at his companion to see concern expressed clearly in his eyes.

"Why?" He wondered why he was asking. It would only encourage the conversation, and the probing into parts of his life he chose not to examine. But something in the reaction of the other man seemed to demand nothing less of him.

"I have no wish to cause you harm, and I will happily assist you to greater peace, if I am able."

"Happily?" The word wasn't Vulcan, and Kov had no understanding of it.

"Happily. It is a Terran word, intended to convey a positive emotional state. It is most imprecise, as many Terran words are, specifically as regards emotions. However, in this instance, I believe it is appropriate. I will happily assist you in finding greater peace, Kov."

Kov thought it best to set aside the matter of his personal peace. "How do you come to know Terran words?"

Koss' raised brow indicated that he had not missed Kov's shift of topic. "T'Pol is fluent in three Terran languages. I have made a study of the most prevalent of these – the English of the former Americas – as a means to honor her. When we marry, we will be able to converse in this language."

"Have you learned this – this English of the former Americas – happily, Koss?"

"You are asking something other than your words reveal, Kov. I will not answer when I don't understand what you seek to learn. I will give no false impression."

"I am uncertain I would undertake such an endeavor to honor T'Sia." It was not precisely what he meant, but he could come no closer.

"Perhaps it is that you are already close associates, Kov. When you marry, you will know your wife, and how to ease her living. I know little of T'Pol, beyond the stories of her infancy and what I am able to learn through records of her work. I met her at our Promising, and she came to see me shortly before she completed her studies here, to inform me that she was accepting a posting with the Ministry of Security, and would seek an offworld assignment when she was qualified to do so. I have spoken to her only three times, since, via recording. Our communications are – surface. They touch nothing beyond what is required. I know that she is accomplished in her posting, and that she is aesthetically pleasing. But I know nothing of who she is, beyond that she chooses to be away from Vulcan. When we marry, she will be required to remain for a year. I do not wish that year to be more difficult for her than it must be. I will therefore attempt to ensure her happiness in every way I am able."

"And when the year of Seclusion has ended?"

"She will be free to return to her life as she has lived it, if that is what she chooses. I have no desire to require that of her which she is unable or unwilling to give."

Kov wanted to ask more, to ask if Koss had any doubts about the wisdom of marrying such a woman, but such personal questions were inappropriate for a professional setting. Already, Koss had honored him with far more information than he had right to.

But Kov's fingers quivered, and Koss' nostrils were still flared, and these things suggested that there might be reasons for them both to consider carefully whether fulfilling their marriage contracts was the most logical approach.

"I must return to my work, if I am to be free to honor our appointment this evening," Koss said, as though he could follow Kov's thoughts, and would prevent the asking of any further unsettling questions. "I will leave you to arranging your workspace. When will you be prepared to review my designs?"

Kov inhaled, held the breath, then released. The act was intended to be calming, but his lungs were filled with Koss' scent. "If you will send them to this terminal, I will review them now. It is essential that I understand the structures before I commit to my design for the landscape."

There was both comfort and disappointment in returning to work. Kov put that aside, to consider later, when he was alone in the home he shared with Sivet, and began to study Koss' designs, with the promise of their appointment to ease the transition. There was also Koss, solid and present on the other side of the small chamber, nearly close enough to touch. There was a pleasure in watching the other man at his work, and Kov decided that this made him, as the Terrans might say, "happy."