Jim woke up feeling disoriented. Where was he? This bed was far more comfortable than the straw mat he usually slept in. Panic filled him when he realized it was past time to get up. Master would tan his hide for this! Maybe if he groveled enough, he could get away with ten lashes instead of twenty.

But then he looked around, blinking, at his surroundings and the memories came back of the night before. The Vulcans. Master gave him away. The kind woman helping him to eat and bathe. A pair of dark brown eyes watching him. Being told that he was free. Jim was overwhelmed and nearly fell out of bed.

"Free." He whispered to himself. "I'm free." He hadn't known that word for ten long years of toil and bondage. Tears leaked down his face as He looked at his hands again to make sure this was real. Sure enough, no chains, which meant this really wasn't a dream. In his old life, he'd been heavily shackled at night to prevent an escape attempt, not that he'd had any will left for something like that. He felt surprisingly light without the weight of the chains he was accustomed to and thoroughly stretched his long limbs, which were disgustingly scrawny to him.

As he scanned the room, he saw a set of clean Vulcan-style robes laid over a chair nearby. They were a pale grey color and surprisingly lightweight and comfortable when he'd tried them on. He'd trimmed his beard significantly last night, but he wasn't going to try cutting off the shaggy hair himself. To be honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to. It made it easier to hide who he was. Nobody would recognize George Kirk's son unless they looked really hard.

He timidly wandered out of his room to see if he could find the Vulcans. He didn't know a lot about the species, except that they were very self-controlled and put a high value on logic. Oh, and they had pointed ears and slanted eyebrows. The Ambassador's daughter had especially pretty features, he'd noticed last night. She probably thought he was a totally uncouth wild man, but it was better than how his master's wife had viewed him, two owners ago.

He shuddered at the thought and continued his exploration of the Vulcan dwelling. It was a nice, orderly layout, with large, welcoming rooms.

As he passed through a living area, a sweet voice caught his attention. "Good morning, Jim! I trust you slept well?" Lady Amanda looked elegant and friendly as usual. Jim felt better just being around her, she had such a motherly way that he'd sorely lacked from his own mother growing up.

"Yes, very well, thank you, ma'am," he said politely.

"You can just call me Amanda, Jim," she told him with a smile, "We don't go by titles here at home. Spock's got some breakfast ready if you'd like to eat now."

At this, Jim's stomach growled in response, causing both of them to laugh. "I'd say that that's a yes," he managed.

He followed her back into the kitchen area, where Spock could be seen preparing a plate of some kind of fruit. In the morning light, she seemed even more stately and her neat bun shone glossy black in the light, showing off those dainty ears.

"Greetings, James." She said smoothly, "It appears rest has been beneficial to you."

"It sure has, Spock," he replied, taking a seat at the table. "At first I thought I was dreaming when I woke up, but the shackles were gone so I knew it's real. Freedom is...something I never thought I'd have again."

He got quiet thinking about the misery that came from being treated like chattel and how ridiculous it felt to be seen as a human being again.

"Are you alright, Jim?" Amanda looked concerned as she handed him the platter of fruit and a bowl of some kind of porridge.

With a start, he realized tears had leaked out again and he quickly wiped his eyes.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I'm kind of a wreck right now."

"Don't be sorry, Jim," Amanda admonished, "you've been through an awful time and are just beginning to process freedom. I can't imagine what that must have been like. Now eat up. If you'd like to talk about it some more, you can do it after breakfast. Time to start putting some meat on those bones."

Jim smiled and obediently lifted his spoon to his lips. Hmmm...not bad. He took his time and slowly devoured the creamy dish and quite a bit of the fruit.

"That was delicious. Thank you ladies very much." Jim said after he'd finished. Amanda whisked the dishes away before he could even push his chair back.

"Sarek has gone to contact his associates in Starfleet to see if anyone's been searching for you. Apparently, your last name has associations with them."

Jim sighed. "Yes. I'm George Kirk's son, the Kelvin baby. But they don't care about me as a person, I realized that a long time ago." There was a bitter tone to his words, but he was telling the truth.

"If that's true, they've done you a great disservice." Amanda declared, causing her daughter's eyebrow to rise dramatically. "Maybe being on Vulcan is the best thing for you right now. Vulcans are very good at respecting people's privacy. And you are in no condition to be hounded by Starfleet brass and earth reporters. Spock, why don't you take him out and show him your science garden before it gets too hot for humans? I'll finish up here."

"Very well, Mother," replied Spock placidly, already setting down the pan she was holding and moving toward Jim. "First we must provide you with proper footwear. The sand heats up very quickly in this climate."

Jim blushed, looking at his bare feet. For years, the only shoes he'd had were a makeshift pair he'd cobbled together using some old leather and rope. They'd likely already been thrown out with his other filthy clothes.

"I can speedily remedy that," Amanda grinned and hastened to find an old pair of her husband's for Jim.