Mbaruku washed his hands as he finished another task on Faizah's to-do list. Preparing for Nyota's and Commander Spock's visit had become a full-time job. Together he and Faizah had prepared the guest room, researched foods and preparations appropriate for Vulcan diets, reacquainted themselves with basic Vulcan etiquette, even tried to learn a few Vulcan phrases. Each of them spoke Federation Standard and French in addition to the Kiswahili they spoke at home, but sadly neither of them was the linguist that Nyota was, though they did manage to master the pronunciation of a few phrases to the tutorial program's satisfaction.

Complicating their already busy schedule, during the last couple days their flitter had started to make some odd noises. Of all the times for this to happen! Faizah reminded Mbaruku several times to make the appointment with the service center. Sitting at his comm station, he was about to call his favorite mechanic, but then he thought of another question he wanted to ask the Vulcan.

Mbaruku had been collecting a list of topics that he wanted to discuss with the commander. Famous or not, Vulcan or not, Mbaruku intended to confront Commander Spock with the inquiries that Mbaruku believed were his right as Nyota's father. He was determined to understand what the commander had been thinking when he began the relationship with his daughter. He wanted to know how the commander was treating Nyota, and what his intentions were. Between work, preparations, and worry, he was exhausted, but not so exhausted that he was letting down his guard or surveillance. No, Mbaruku wanted answers from the officer who had for two years illicitly engaged himself and Nyota inappropriately in a situation that went against all rules and regulations.

Surely Nyota was going to be unhappy with most of the questions on his list. Mbaruku accepted this. He was a father, and he was certain that no father in history had ever managed to make it through life without irritating his progeny to some degree.

There was, of course, the possibility that the commander would refuse to answer. And, if Nyota refused as well, Mbaruku was unsure how far he was willing to push either one. But for the moment, he was ready, and his list was ready. Simply presenting his list to the couple might open a dialog. One way or another, the warrior-father was prepared to protect his daughter by getting the facts he needed.

And so, the night of the couple's visit arrived. Nervously Mbaruku and Faizah stood waiting in the home's entry until the door chime rang. As the young Starfleet officers walked through the front door, Mbaruku was, indeed, ready to drag the pair to his office until…

Until Mbaruku saw him.

It was late. Understandably the couple was exhausted after their busy day and long shuttle flight. Nyota, first through the door, smiled widely when she saw her father, but her eyes were tired, her lids barely open.

"My girl!" Faizah was there first, embracing the daughter who was very much a younger copy of herself. "I have missed you so much!"

"Mama!" Nyota returned, her hoarse voice trying to muster a brightness that fatigue dampened.

"You're so thin! They have been working you too hard?"

"I'm fine," Nyota assured, pulling from the embrace. She turned. "Baba!"

It was his turn. For the moment, Mbaruku forgot about his worries, concentrating on Nyota. As she leaned into him to exchanged hugs and kisses, Mbaruku felt her exhaustion, and she nearly stumbled trying to right herself. Near collapse, she resolutely stood up anyway and walked to the Vulcan's side.

Unbelievably, once Mbaruku got a look at him, the Vulcan looked worse than Nyota did. He was far from exuding the stereotypical resolute demeanor or carrying the stalwart posture of a historical hero, which, Mbaruku knew, he was destined to be. At this moment, Commander Spock, though he stood straight and carried both his bags and Nyota's, seemed on the edge of collapse himself. He maintained a careful non-expression, but if Vulcans were like humans, then the circles under his eyes gave away how tired he was.

"Mama, Baba, this is Spock," Nyota said. "You met after the Academy graduation ceremony."

It was time to play host. Mbaruku turned his attention to the taller, younger man. "Yes, of course. Welcome to our home, Commander."

Mbaruku knew better than to extend the handshake that was standard in Federation culture. Instead he gave a short nod.

Spock nodded in return. "Sir, Ma'am, your hospitality is most honorable. I am grateful," he intoned quietly.

In the dark depths of Commander Spock's pupils, Mbaruku saw distress, torment, and—dare he label it?—a sadness so profound, the kind he had rarely seen in anyone, much less a Vulcan. He recalled the Vulcan's very pale complexion from the time they met at Nyota's graduation ceremony weeks before, but it had not been as white as the proverbial ghost, had it?

In brief messages sent during her rare free moments, Nyota had kept her parents informed of her whereabouts. She and the commander had been on board the Enterprise during part of the past two weeks for a brief shake-down cruise. Spacedock personnel had begun repairing the damage soon after their return to Earth while the surviving crew and cadets participated in the Academy's graduation ceremony and several memorial services. Once the ship was space-worthy, the crew had taken the starship out again to test all systems, then brought it back to Spacedock for final repairs and adjustments. In the days before and after the cruise there had been more debriefings on the Nero situation, and numerous appearances before the Federation press corps. Before the Enterprise's relaunch, Starfleet Command had granted the crew a brief period of leave.

It appeared that the Uhuras' daughter and the commander needed it. The commander remained politely standing, waiting for the invitation to come in beyond the entryway, but he was at the end of his endurance, and now was not a good time to do more than exchange the greetings they already had and wish each other a good night.

Faizah and Mbaruku glanced at each other. Each was full of questions but recognized that their questions should wait until tomorrow. It was the only compassionate thing to do.

"Come," Faizah invited, extending her hand toward the stairway. "Commander, let me show you to your room. It has been a long day, and I am sure you and Nyota would like to rest. We can get to know one another tomorrow, yes?"

"You are most kind," he replied.

Well, Mbaruku noted, one thing was for sure: The commander had impeccable manners. He also noted how visibly relieved Nyota looked. She probably expected that her father would grill her and the commander for details. Smart girl. She certainly knew her own father.

He watched as Nyota and Faizah gently guided the younger man up the stairway to the second floor where the guest room was. He turned to close windows and turn off the lights on the main floor to shut down the house for the night. Upstairs a door closed, then the floor above creaked with each footstep as Nyota and Faizah went to her room. Murmurs of a quiet conversation followed for several minutes before the quiet click of Nyota's own door carried down the stairway. A few moments later, Faizah returned to the main floor where she met her husband. The two exchanged more confused looks.

The Vulcan Nyota loved was finally here. Yet, they knew no more than before. Their questions remained unanswered.

-o0o-

Neither he nor Faizah slept well that night. Faizah turned about in her restlessness, which kept Mbaruku from dozing off. Every time he was at the brink of slumber, she turned in another fit of restlessness that reawakened him, and so this cycle continued through the night. Finally, as dawn began to brighten the sky outside, Faizah got up and left the room. With the room and his bed finally quiet, Mbaruku was able to fall asleep.

When he awoke, the sun shone brightly through the shutters. He looked at the chronometer—several hours had passed. It was nearly mid morning, much past his normal waking time. He got up and threw on some clothes. He did not like the idea of being the last one up, especially if Nyota, who was notorious for sleeping in, was already awake. She would tease him mercilessly.

First he went to the kitchen. No one was there. Then out on the veranda. No one there, either. Perhaps the garden—Faizah often spent her mornings there.

He walked into the yard to the pathway leading to the rose bushes. Who was that coming toward him? Commander Spock?

He wore simple black trousers, a simple green, long-sleeved tunic with black embroidery around the cuffs. He seemed more relaxed, more rested than he had been last night. At least some color had returned to his face.

Most confusing, though, in his left hand was one of Faizah's roses. Faizah rarely cut her blooms, preferring to leave them in the garden where they would last longer. This was most irregular.

"Good morning, Commander," he greeted politely, but completely perplexed.

"Good morning, Sir," the Vulcan returned as he passed, clearly focused on going inside the house. If Mbaruku did not know better, he guessed that the Vulcan's destination was Nyota's room. He did not like the thought of that, but first he had to find out what was going on.

He hurried down the path and found a smiling Faizah. Now he was really confused. "What happened here?" he asked. "How did he get you to part with one of your roses?" He considered the scene: two sets of buckets and kneeling pads. Then Mbaruku realized, "He won you over, didn't he?"

"Yes, I think he just did," she sighed happily, then chuckled.

What spell had the commander cast?

A/N February 17, 2011: If you want to know what transpired between Faizah and Spock in the rose garden, you need to read The Rose Garden, Story #5111874. But, it is not necessary if you prefer to see this tale unfold entirely from Mbaruku's point of view. Mom likes the boyfriend, Dad is still wary. Now the fun begins…!

(Thanks, T'Soy!)