A/N: Oh good lord you guys. I... I am SO sorry. I know I promised updates to start up again in early December and here it is, Christmas day... I am a terrible terrible person, I know. :C I can only offer this as my excuse: I am a very, very "slow and steady" sort of writer in that it takes me forever to finish things, but I always write at least a little bit every day. And in this case, it's been... a very little bit. So I'm sorry updates took longer than I expected to resume. ;-;

I... I'm actually not quite done with the whole fic yet. Yes, I know I am a horrible person. But it's almost there! Really. I promise. The entire fic should be completed by the end of January. (I know I promised the same thing in like November... But I really am almost done this time! /sob)

So, um. If I can keep everything together, updates will continue to be every Saturday.

This is not a very exciting chapter to start up on - my apologies. But we get to see a glimpse of a character many people have asked about! : And the next chapter will be more action-packed excitement, I promise.

Again, I am SO sorry for totally dropping off the face of the planet for the past... month and a half... Thank you to those who have stuck with me and are still here after my hiatus! 3

Chapter Seven

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival." - C.S. Lewis

It had been a long day. Starfleet had sent them new orders – yet another milk run, and Jim was not happy about the lack of decent missions that had been going on for nearly a month. He was tired and still more than a little irritated after eating dinner and he really, really wanted some cuddle time with Spock. The thought of it filled him with as much childish glee as it had the day they had gone on their first date nearly two months ago. That was something to be thankful for about all these low-intensity missions – he had more time to spend with Spock.

He stepped into his own quarters with a faint (and probably sappy) smile. They had decided not to make their relationship public knowledge, at least not for a while, and going in through Spock's door would be sure to attract more attention than he wanted to deal with. The only one who knew was none other than Uhura herself – neither had specifically told her but the woman could be a telepath for all Jim knew, she figured things out so quickly. He supposed that by extension Scotty knew too – but the rest of the crew seemed unsuspecting enough, so they were safe for now.

Jim let his doors swish closed behind him, dropped off a few PADDs of paperwork he needed to have done by the end of the week, then stepped into the bathroom to enter Spock's quarters.

A step away from Spock's door he heard a distinctly female voice coming from the Vulcan's quarters, and he stopped.

He did not recognize the voice and could not understand what was being said. He frowned slightly – who could it be? – then heard Spock's voice, clear and understandable – "I apologize for not having been in contact more consistently. I am pleased to see you are well."

The female voice came again and Jim realized Spock was talking to someone through the commlink. His curiosity quickly got the best of him and he stepped into Spock's quarters in time to hear a soft reply of,

"Oh, I understand. I have been quite busy as well – I just started school last month."

Spock glanced quickly at him as he entered the room, but did not say anything as he sat down out of sight of the commlink (Jim may have been curious, but rude he was not. Or at least, he liked to think he wasn't).

"And how is your new school?" he asked – Jim could not see the screen clearly but assumed Spock was talking to a child.

"It is extremely agreeable, Spock. Everyone has been very kind to me."

"That is a relief to hear."

"There are many other non-human children at the school. In fact, there is even a Klingon boy in my class. I was very surprised on the first day, but he has proven to be a pleasant individual."

"I am glad. What level are you in?"

"I am in the sixth grade."

"Really? You are so very intelligent, surely they must have thought you were in at least the eighth level."

Jim's eyes bulged at the blatant fondly teasing tone in Spock's voice – then they nearly fell out of his eye sockets when he heard the voice (that he had thought belonged to a Vulcan) laugh. It was a soft laugh, not loud or raucous – but still, a laugh. From a Vulcan.

"Do not be silly. You are aware that I am only eleven years old."

"Eleven years, eleven months, and seventeen days," Spock replied wryly, then changed topic abruptly. "How is your mother? Is she still ill?"

"Oh, Spock, she is doing so much better. These Earth hospitals have been much better able to care for her than the ones on New Vulcan. She has been out of the hospital for three weeks and two days – she is even able to walk."

"That is pleasing news. And... And you? You are well?"

There was a pause and Jim felt distinctly that he was missing something important, some integral part of the equation of their conversation of which he was woefully unaware.

"I am... Here, look." There was a faint rustling noise and Spock's expression became pained. "I have had one dermal regeneration surgery already. I am scheduled to have a second one in five weeks precisely that will, as the doctor says, make them 'good as new' – oh, Spock, do not look at me like that. You know you are not to blame."

"My apologies," Spock murmured, schooling his features back into his standard calm control – they were so going to be talking about this, Jim decided. "I am very glad you are doing so well."

"And I am glad to see you back on the Enterprise. I always knew you belonged there, you know."

"I only wish I had realized the same sooner." Spock glanced quickly at Jim as he spoke, and the Human only looked curiously at him, then he turned his attention back to the screen. "I am afraid I must be going. I have a matter of some importance to attend to."

"I understand. I will attempt to contact you again in a few week's time. This general time is acceptable for you?"

"Yes. It is early evening ship's time."

"Excellent – I have just returned from school." A brief, hesitant pause. "I cherish thee, Spock." Spock's gaze literally softened, like butter against a phaser beam.

"I cherish thee, T'Lyra," he replied gently. Jim recognized that name and a thousand more questions swirled in his mind – yeah, definitely discussing this. "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life." With that, Spock reached over and cut the connection, then turned to face Jim.

"Interesting conversation you're having," he said, a faintly teasing grin on his face.

"Indeed," he agreed simply, and Jim gave a mock scowl.

"That was – T'Lyra?"

"Yes."

"Who is she?"

"Someone I met on New Vulcan."

"Well, yeah. I'm not stupid, you know." Spock raised an eyebrow and Jim laughed, grinning. "How'd you meet her? You don't exactly strike me as someone who hangs around with kids, I guess."

"For a period of approximately five months I was responsible for looking after her in the afternoons." Jim's eyebrows shot up halfway to his hairline – while they had never talked much about Spock's stay on New Vulcan, this confession was more than a bit surprising.

"Really? How did that happen?" he asked with a hint of incredulity. Spock appeared to hesitate for a moment before replying slowly,

"She is, like myself, a Vulcan-Human hybrid." Jim's shocked expression became all the more intense at that. "Her father worked with mine at the embassy and knew of my mixed heritage. That is how I came to know her." He glanced away, almost as if nervous, and Jim studied him for a moment, his curiosity piqued.

"And judging from that conversation, she's on Earth now?"

"Yes."

"That's a bit odd, for them to leave New Vulcan in the middle of the reconstruction."

"It is inconsistent with the current mentality of the majority of Vulcan survivors, yes." Jim stared expectantly at Spock, who again cast his gaze elsewhere.

"You're not gonna tell me why they moved?" Spock's expression darkened and Jim realized, too late now, that he was treading on unsteady grounds.

"It is not something I am comfortable sharing," he finally said softly, eyes downcast. Jim sighed and ran through the overheard conversation in his head.

"She was hurt, wasn't she?" he decided. "That's why she said something about, uh – a dermal regeneration surgery. Right?"

"Please, Jim," Spock protested faintly, closing his eyes. "I do not wish to discuss this. Not now."

"Okay," Jim relented, holding up his hands in defeat. "Okay. I'm sorry." He stood and stepped over to Spock, who glanced questioningly at him as he sat down in his lap. "I love you, you know," he murmured into Spock's hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I am aware of this, as you remind me quite often."

"I have to say I was a bit jealous that she got the Vulcan equivalent of 'I love you' when I still haven't heard it from you," Jim said teasingly, eyes twinkling in a stifled smile as he gazed at the Vulcan.

"She was all but my own child," Spock replied, eyes downcast and expression somber, in stark contrast to Jim's lighthearted expression. "I am still exceedingly fond of her." Jim paused, a serious mood suddenly overtaking him.

"Did you ever want to, you know, have kids of your own?" he asked, feeling suddenly uneasy. Spock looked at him questioningly and replied,

"I had never considered the matter." He appeared to hesitate briefly before continuing, "As a hybrid conceived and engineered at a time when interspecies breeding was still in a trial stage, I am infertile. Thus I never put any thought into being a father, as it has always been an impossibility."

"...Oh," Jim replied lamely, mulling over this new bit of information. He hadn't known that about Spock – obviously. Part of him was a bit glad – after all, if Spock had wanted kids someday, could he have asked him to make that sacrifice for them to be together? (Not that he had brought up the implication of "forever" to Spock. Not yet, at least. It was way too soon for that.) The rest of him felt guilty and a bit ashamed about that small glad part. He did not know what to say to that so instead cuddled closer to Spock. The Vulcan's arms wrapped around him protectively.

"She seemed like a nice girl, that T'Lyra," Jim murmured.

"Perhaps one day you can meet her. I am sure she would not be adverse to the idea," Spock replied, voice soft.

"I'd like that."

"You are not... jealous of my affection towards her?" Spock asked hesitantly, and Jim nearly laughed.

"Of course not, she's a kid," he assured him, then raised an eyebrow in imitation of the Vulcan and continued in a sultry tone, "Now, if she had been some beautiful Vulcan woman in our age group talking to you like that, then I might feel a little threatened..."

"I see," Spock murmured. "You need not ever suffer from jealousy, as I do not think I could escape your clutches if I tried." Jim laughed and Spock pulled him closer, pressing his face into the junction between Jim's neck and shoulder. "I cherish thee." It was little more than a whisper against his skin – but it was a whisper that set Jim's heart aglow with joy and he smiled a slow, radiant smile.

"I love you too," he replied reverently, and he leaned forward and took Spock's hand and they kissed.

McCoy's life had become a quiet one since he and Jim stopped talking. After a while it struck him how Jim had been his social lifeline – he had been busying himself wholly with his work in Sickbay; no more visits to the bridge or late night drinking socials.

Not that he was complaining. No, of course not. He had been getting more sleep than he had in months, all his paperwork was getting in early, and Sickbay was running more efficiently than ever. Nothing to be complaining about. Besides, having a social life was an overrated young man's game. He didn't miss it, not one bit.

Nurse Chapel, of course, didn't believe a word of that.

"You'll have to man up and deal with this eventually, you know," she told him every chance she got. He would always scowl and reply,

"There's nothin' to deal with. It's over. How many times do I gotta tell you that?"

"You can dislike Mr. Spock all you want, but you shouldn't have taken it out on the Captain. I think you still owe him an apology."

"Well, that's why you're you and I'm me. I've got nothin' to apologize for." And with that he would always gather up his PADD or finish sanitizing his hands or go back to the patient he had been tending to, leaving Chapel with her arms crossed over her chest, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips.

He was not sorry and he did not miss Jim. And the Captain didn't seem to miss him either – of course not, not with the hobgoblin to entertain him. Rumor on the ship was that they were going at it like rabbits, because no one could come up with any other explanation for their seemingly constant good moods (or, at least, as much of a good mood as anyone could get out of Spock). But McCoy wasn't bitter, of course not. He didn't care what the Captain did with his personal life. That wasn't his job.

Even though he thought of their venomous parting words every night as he lay down to sleep, even though he knew exactly how many days had passed since they stopped talking – he didn't care. Of course not.