A/N: Sorry folks, this chapter is even less funny than the last one, but both were necessary. Hijinks to ensue in the next few chapters.

I'm beta-less again, so I'd welcome any input.

Usual disclaimers: I own nothing but the OCs, the order of the orders. Everything else belongs to Paramount & whoever holds the copyrights to My Fair Lady and the lyrics to its songs.

Lt. Uhura woke up wrapped around a warm, lean body. The circumstances were unusual on many levels. First of all, she was far more accustomed to waking up with the arms attached to that body wrapped around her. Secondly, usually he was awake and watching her when she opened her eyes. Thirdly, neither one of them was naked. While this was as far a departure from standard circumstances s the other two – they didn't always wake up naked when they woke up together – but in the absence of her usual reason for not engaging in intercourse, she was briefly confused to find herself clothed.

Memories of the night before came flooding back as she listened to his deep, even breathing. Renewal of remorse followed recollection, and she pulled herself closer to him, sliding her hand down his right side until his heart beat rapidly under her fingers. She closed her eyes.

"I'll do better soon, k'diwa." She followed her whispered promise with a kiss to the back of his neck.

He turned in her arms and reached out to stroke her cheek.

"I don't doubt it, beloved," he whispered back. "You have demonstrated, for as long as I have known you, an uncommon ability to achieve any goal you set for yourself."

He brushed her hair back from her face.

"I'll be waiting for you, Nyota."

Everything was going smoothly. In the days since McCoy had taken over Project Wedding Gown, the three men had made considerable progress in both their dressmaking skills and on the dress itself. The full brocaded skirt was finished and awaited only the completion of the bodice and the decoration McCoy had devised during one of their few all-nighters. It would add more time before the dress was ready for Lt. Uhura's fitting, but everyone – including M'Umbha Uhura – had agreed that it was the perfect final touch.

As promised, Lt. Uhura had stepped up her participation in the wedding planning. Her project was complete, so she had found the time to consult with her father about the ceremony. On occasion, she also found the time to enjoy a significantly less tired Spock.

The Enterprise was nine days away from arrival at Earth's space-dock. Kirk took advantage of the quiet time to call a conference with his first officer. Not long after the two disappeared into the captain's ready room, Dr. McCoy entered the bridge carrying a large dark case.

"Where're Stan and Ollie?" he asked the chief communications officer.

Chuckling, Uhura nodded to the closed doors of the ready room. As she watched him stride past the command chair, lugging the leather case, she wondered what was up. Not that she was worried – the captain had been in a good mood all morning – but Bones wasn't known for carrying excess baggage around the ship.

She made a note to ask Spock about it later, and got back to work scanning space.

On the other side of those doors, things got a lot less quiet very quickly.

McCoy's case lay open on the floor, spilling out an assortment of tailoring appurtenances. Amid the measuring tapes and scissors lay spools of orange thread and packets of tiny carved beads.

"Pay attention, Jim. This is important," Bones said with a groan. "The beading is our only acknowledgement to Spock's Vulcan side. And to Uhura's love of the language. We don't want to get it wrong. Now…"

Spock wasn't paying attention. He knelt on the floor, carefully folding the yards of apricot chiffon into neat miniature pleats. As he worked, he imagined the soft cotton taking shape from the lines of her body, caressing her skin. He nearly smiled as he smoothed out his latest pleat and aligned the edges of the fabric once more.

His usually alert Vulcan ears didn't hear the doctor moving to stand behind him, watching his progress over his shoulder.

"If you baste that in the center, at twenty-six centimeters on each side and again at the ends, we won't lose the pleats while you iron. It'll save a lot of time," McCoy told him.

Spock nodded and pulled a needle from the pincushion on his left wrist.

McCoy moved back to Kirk's side to watch as the captain threaded colored beads onto silken thread. Twenty minutes and several rows later, he was nodding his head in approval when the internal com chimed.

"Bridge to Captain," a disembodied but familiar voice announced.

"Kirk here," the captain replied. "What's going on, Uhura."

"We're being hailed, sir. It's a Vulcan starship. The Uzhau, sir," she explained.

Kirk exchanged a glance with Spock, who had been setting his pleats with an iron.

"We'll be with you in a moment, lieutenant. Kirk out," he said. He turned to his two companions and winked. "Guess Home Ec's done for now, boys. Commander, you come with me. Bones, see if you can correct any mistakes we made, but I don't expect this to take long."

Spock stood and walked to the doors with Kirk.

The forward view-screen showed one of the newly modified Vulcan starships.

"Open frequencies, lieutenant," Kirk ordered Uhura as he settled into the command chair.

The view-screen flicered, and the bridge crew were looking at the austere face of a Vulcan starship captain.

"Greetings, Captain Kirk. I am Captain Turev of the Uzhau. As we are also going to Earth, Ambassador Sarek has suggested that we travel together."

Kirk couldn't be sure, as he didn't have eyes in the back of his head, but he wondered his first officer might have flinched at the Vulcan captain's words. Well, it didn't matter, Kirk figured, Spock wasn't the captain. He felt his lips spread into the a broad grin. The Vulcan captain's face didn't change.

"That's an excellent idea, Captain Turev," he said. "Lieutenant Sulu, match speed with the Uzhau's current rate of travel."

The Vulcan captain interceded.

"That will be unnecessary, captain," he said. "We have no wish to impede your return to your home. We travel at your speed."

Kirk smiled again.

"Thank you, Captain Turev. We are eager to get home."

His Vulcan counterpart nodded his acknowledgement, just a minute inclination of his head.

"If there is nothing else, captain?" he asked.

"No, that will be all. Travel well," Kirk said.

"Live long and prosper, Captain Kirk," was all the Vulcan said before closing frequencies.

Kirk turned to check out the reactions of his first officer and chief communications officer. He was flashing the couple a cheeky grin when a sound caught his attention.

The doors to the ready room whooshed open again, and McCoy poked out his head.

"Damn it, Jim," growled the doctor, "I said cinnamon, cinnamon, cinnamon, rust, rust, cinnamon; not cinnamon, cinnamon, rust, cinnamon, rust, rust!"

The two ships journeyed together for another two days before further significant contact was made.

Jim Kirk had just left the ship's mess when Lt. Uhura tracked him down in a deserted corridor.

He grinned at her.

"No shadow tonight?" he asked, wiggling his brows. "I thought you two were making up for lost time."

"God, Jim! That is so none of your business," she retorted hotly, and punched him in the arm.

She started, apparently suddenly aware of her actions, then hastily added, "Sir. That's so none of your business, sir."

For the first time, Kirk noticed her agitation. It had obviously been caused by something more than his suggestive eyebrows. His demeanor changed immediately.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he herded her into the nearest turbolift. As soon as the doors closed behind them, he thumbed the stop button.

"Is there something worrying you, Nyota?" This time, his voice was soft with concern.

Uhura knew Kirk was capable of great compassion; she just wasn't used to it being directed at her.

"Not really," she said, only half-lying. "Actually, I need to speak with my captain, not my buddy."

Kirk nodded his acceptance.

The usually über-confident communications officer rubbed nervous hands against her uniform skirt.

"Ambassador Sarek has requested a private audience with me aboard the Uzhau, sir," she said, her voice displaying a confidence the rest of her belied.

Kirk watched her thoughtfully. She stopped rubbing.

"Sir?"

"I'd say you need to speak with your captain and your buddy about this," he answered, and rubbed his own hands across his face. He dropped them at his sides to stare into her eyes. "Do you want to go."

She hesitated only a moment, her full confidence coming back and blooming in her eyes.

"Yes, sir," she said.

Kirk believed.

"Permission granted, lieutenant."

He thumbed the stop button again and Uhura moved to leave the lift. Kirk stopped her before she reached the doors.

"Nyota… be careful tonight. You and Spock – I know this sounds sappy, but you and Spock are meant to be. You know?"

Uhura nodded and smiled at her friend.

"I know Jim," she said.

Sarek and Uhura, both dressed dark, flowing Vulcan robes, stood alone together in a dimly-lit room, furnished only with two chairs set at an angle to each other. Something about the place reminded her of Leonard McCoy's favorite bolt-hole on the Enterprise. This room held none of the comfort that one had, but it was also a space meant for solitary contemplation, or one-on-one discussion.

With a graceful sweep of his hand, the Vulcan invited her to sit in one of the chairs behind him.

"Lt. Uhura, Starfleet and the Federation have already honored you for your role in mitigating the tragedy that befell Vulcan. It is past time that I added my own gratitude," he said, remaining on his feet and without turning to look at her. "Your willingness to intervene helped to afford my son the time he needed to get the High Council and Surak's katra to safety before the planet was completely consumed. In part, because of your actions, my people have been able to retain our way of life as we build a new society on a new world. For this, I thank you."

Somewhat taken aback, Uhura needed to protest. She'd always thought of her role in events five years prior as minimal. But this was the father of her betrothed and the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth; she chose her words carefully.

"Sir," she began, "while appreciate your words, I must protest the validity of their scope. I merely relayed to Captain Pike a transmission I intercepted completely accidentally. It was Cadet Kirk who correctly interpreted the implications of the transmission."

Sarek turned. His eyes met hers again at last.

"Lieutenant," he said, his voice as grave as Spock's usually was, "I believe modesty is a valued trait in humans. In this case, however, it is misplaced. Had you not lent your support to the words of the man who is now your captain, the Enterprise would have been destroyed with the rest of the Federation armada that responded to the false Vulcan distress call. My son would be dead. Everyone on board would have died and any chance of rebuilding Vulcan society as we knew it would have died with you."

Uhura did not protest. His logic was sound.

"Yes sir," she said.

The Vulcan inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Belated gratitude is not the only thing that compelled me to seek and audience with you, lieutenant," he told her.

Uhura held her breath.

"In just over two Terran weeks, you shall marry my son in the tradition of my son and become his bond-mate in the tradition of Vulcan," he continued. "You may believe that I do not approve of Spock's decision to remain with Starfleet, and with you. At one time, both of these things were true."

Finally, Sarek sat in the chair next to hers.

"When Spock chose to attend Starfleet Academy instead of the Vulcan Academy of Science, I was… displeased. During his youth, my son experienced much discrimination because of his heritage. His acceptance into the Academy should have proved that the circumstances of his birth put him at no disadvantage. It did not, and he rightly chose a path that was more suited to his nature.

"Later, when he ended his betrothal to T'Pring, again, I disagreed with his decision. As you might imagine, it was not easy to find a mate for him. Prejudice was not limited to the Academy. His mother pointed out at the time, he would not have ended the bond if he there was not another he had chosen for himself. That knowledge did not change my convictions, as he could not have found a Vulcan woman for himself. I knew bonding himself to a non-Vulcan would ensure that he and any children of such a union would face further intolerance from within Vulcan society. I did not want this for him."

Ambassador Sarek stopped speaking. His gazed lingered on Uhura's face as she processed what he had said.

"I believe I understand your motives, sir," she said after a lengthy silence. "Spock has told me some of what he experienced on Vulcan. It cannot be what any father would choose for the child he loves."

Briefly, she wondered if she had overstepped by attaching emotional value to the ambassador's decision-making process.

"Indeed, lieutenant," he assured her, "you understand perfectly. And yet, it does not mean that my way was the correct way for Spock."

He paused again, giving her time absorb what he was saying.

"In the end, Lt. Uhura, my son chose you for the same reason I chose his mother," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "It is now my wish that you and Spock might find the same contentment I found with her."

He was telling her he'd loved his wife, Uhura realized. She didn't expect a more direct declaration; she was surprised she'd gotten as much as she had.

"Sir, are you telling me you approve of Spock and me?" she asked, because she needed to be sure.

"Yes, lieutenant," the ambassador replied. "I have come to realize that, as I know Amanda once told you, I could not have chosen better for him."