There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~Anaïs Nin

Spock sat at the oversized desk in the oversized office his father had determined was the appropriate setting for the chief editor of House Net'no'kwa. And Executive Vice President of all business affairs of Clan Shi'Kahr. In the process of fulfilling his responsibilities, he had met an extraordinary man with amazing blue eyes, a sensual mouth, and a fierce intellect that he had rarely encountered in someone not a Vulcan.

And now he found himself in the unfortunate, extremely un-Vulcan-like position of being in love with someone who embodied all that Vulcans repudiated. How could he love one who took another life on the orders of those who believed themselves the arbiters of who deserved to die? Never mind the fact that his own father was the de facto Vulcan member of the Board of the Consortium. Not that Spock was even certain there was a Board. Since their initial talk, Sarek had not discussed his involvement. He had not refused as much as avoided the topic whenever the opportunity seemed to present itself.

This was an extremely unsatisfactory situation for him to be in and Spock found himself resenting it. His father would not explain. Spock could find no additional information. His mother was not involved and could provide him no further insight.

He resolutely picked up the phone, dialing his father's extension. "Father."

"Yes," Sarek responded.

"I need to discuss the Consortium. Do you have the time?" Spock asked. His question came perilously close to a demand but it was not.

"I do not. However," Sarek continued before Spock simply hung up on him. "T'Pau is in possession of all of the information you may require. She is expecting your call."

"You did not think to tell me?" Spock asked.

"You had not asked. Call your grandmother. She will satisfy your curiosity."

"It is not inappropriate inquisitiveness," Spock said with a hard edge.

"I was not saying that it is inappropriate for you to ask."

"Very well," Spock said, hanging up in a rare display of pique. Was being in love with a Human going to remain this complicated? "Grandmother," he said when T'Pau had taken the phone from her assistant.

"Spock-kam," T'Pau responded. "You are well."

"I am," Spock agreed. "May I come for a visit? I have many questions I wish to pose to you."

"Of course. Come now. We will share lunch. I will provide you the information you seek if I am able."

"Thank you, Ko'mekh-il. I will arrive in 23 minutes."

"I will see you at that time," T'Pau agreed, hanging up.

Exactly 21 minutes later, Spock stood at the door to his grandmother's luxury apartment. It was in one of the oldest, most stately buildings in the city, the one with a waiting list forever long of those who wished to take up residence. T'Pau had lived there since her arrival on Earth, initially living in one of the 10th floor apartments. When the one next to hers came vacant, she purchased it and opened them up so that it was larger and quite grand.

Spock barely had the opportunity to knock on the door before it was opened by T'Pring, T'Pau's assistant. She hadn't had the job particularly long and although she did an admirable job of disguising her trepidation, she clearly was concerned her next action would be the wrong one.

"Spock," T'Pring said in her cool voice, her eyes equally cold.

"T'Pring," Spock responded, sweeping past her to enter his grandmother's apartment.

"T'sai T'Pau is in her study," T'Pring informed Spock, accepting his coat to hang it in the closet. Spock nodded in acknowledgement, going to his grandmother's study, every wall lined with bookshelves, one large window providing natural light to her surprisingly feminine desk, all sensual curves and lines carved in the cherrywood. She was sitting in one of the armchairs facing the door reading from a book.

"Spock-kam," she said in greeting as he entered.

"Ko'mekh-il," Spock said, bowing ever-so-slightly to her before sitting in the chair nearest to her. "You are well."

"I am," she responded, her black eyes studying him with almost unnerving intensity. "You are troubled."

He bent his head, no longer able to meet her scrutiny.

"You know there is nothing you are not welcome to tell me," she assured him, sounding surprisingly warm. She was generally the epitome of controlled Vulcan, revealing none of her thoughts, and with any feelings utterly contained. In this instance, she was sympathetically inviting him to trust her.

"I am not proud of my actions," he said quietly, surprised when she lay a gnarled, aged hand on his own. Not to pry into his thoughts but as a gesture of comfort she had learned from living amongst Humans for nearly a century. Even she was not immune from being influenced by the majority of inhabitants on their adopted planet.

"Speak your mind," she said in encouragement.

"In the course of fulfilling my responsibilities, I became acquainted with Jim Kirk," he said, certain she had this information. But he had to start somewhere and seemed logical to begin at the beginning. "I found him intelligent, illogical, fascinating… and extremely esthetically pleasing in his looks. He and I entered the beginning of a personal relationship which had promise to turn into much more. We both experienced a connection which is rare." He paused, chancing a look at T'Pau's face which remained impassive yet encouraging simultaneously. He took that as her invitation to continue.

"It was only after we had… become better acquainted did I discover that he is a member of the Consortium, an organization which I did not know existed until that time. I find his connection… his assignment as an assassin disturbing. He and I talked, during which he explained more fully his responsibilities with the organization. I left his company and have not spoken with him since that time." He stopped, taking a deep, quiet breath. That was all he had to say. All he was willing to admit. But T'Pau was an extremely smart, intuitive woman. She knew the truth even before he had confessed it to her. He could only hope she did not judge him overly harshly for his actions.

"When one makes the acquaintance of someone with whom one feels a deeper connection, both parties will be effected by this union. Jim Kirk felt the connection as well?"

"He did," Spock agreed.

T'Pau nodded, not surprised. "Sarek said to me that he had erred in not informing you of our clan's connection with the Consortium. I agree that we should have told you."

"Would it have made a difference?" Spock asked, hoping he did not sound as defeated to her ears as he did to his own.

"Learning the truth about Jim Kirk's secret life would not have been as much of a shock. You would have known of the possibility."

He shook his head. He was not addressing his main concern in such a way that T'Pau was understanding him. "He kills people. On the orders of others."

"Yes. There are times when eliminating a problem is the only way to satisfactorily solve it."

"There is always an alternative to taking a life. You taught me that," Spock said, trying to reconcile the lessons she had instilled in him with her seemingly nonchalance concerning assassins as a problem-solving alternative.

"If a snake is killing your chickens, you can relocate the snake. Or you can eliminate it," she said.

"Once you kill the snake, you have no assurances that another will not continue to kill the chickens," Spock countered.

"You can be certain it is a different snake. The one you eliminated is no longer a threat to your flock."

"How can anyone be certain that it is the snake killing the chickens?" Spock asked. There was safety in the language she had chosen and he was relieved to continue talking in code. "Could it not be a fox?"

"You observe the henhouse. You have solid evidence that it is the snake. If there are no fox prints in the soil surrounding the house, it cannot be a fox."

Spock nodded at that. That was logical. Jim only eliminated the snakes which had killed the chickens. Others made certain he had the right snake. "Has there been a time when it was believed they had located the correct snake only to discover they were mistaken?"

"Of course. However, snakes are snakes. If the wrong snake had not been observed killing chickens at any time, it would not have been targeted."

"You seem certain," Spock said, not daring to ask outright how she could know. Her raised eyebrow was the only response he required. Of course she knew. "May I inquire as to your position within the hierarchy?"

"I have no direct authority with the Consortium. My position on the High Council provides me access to the information concerning their actions. Sarek reports to the entire Council. He does not provide information me to that is not provided to the Council."

"Sarek said that the Consortium was originally established for reasons other than their current purpose."

"Their original purpose is no longer needed. Humans and Vulcans coexist harmoniously. Should a conflict arise, the appropriate governmental units adjudicate the discord."

Spock nodded. There had been a few occasions in his lifetime when the United Earth Federation had had to intervene in disputes and arguments before they erupted in full-scale hostilities.

"Do you intend to contact James?" T'Pau asked, studying her grandson closely.

"I do not know what I intend," Spock admitted. "He was away during Christmas after which I spoke with him. While he was gone, he was following orders."

"Indeed," T'Pau agreed. "However, he was not fulfilling his role as assassin. The Prime Minister of Tajikistan requested that James and Dr. McCoy escort him back so that he could be reinstated as head of the government."

"He was responsible for the successful return of Grigory Illich-Svitych to power," Spock said, the idea surprising him more than he expected.

"The citizens demanded his return from exile. Illich-Svitych had been secure in a Consortium safehouse. James and Dr. McCoy went to the safehouse and took Grigory Illich-Svitych and his wife back to Dushanbe. Their assignment lasted longer than expected because the Prime Minister felt more secure with them in the Palace."

"He was serving as a bodyguard."

"In many ways," T'Pau confirmed. "That James speaks Russian assisted Illich-Svitych."

"Yes," Spock said absently, considering Jim's talent with languages which was continually astounding. "Does he speak Vulcan?"

"Not that I am aware."

Spock nodded, taking a deep breath and standing in a need to dispel some of his restless energy.

"When you spoke with him, did you inquire as to what he had been doing during his absence?" T'Pau asked.

"I did not," Spock admitted. Which was a mistake, he could see now. He was so surprised by what he had learned, he had neglected to ask the most obvious questions. He was aware of T'Pau's eyes on him as he stood before one of her laden bookshelves, scanning the titles at random. When he saw the collection of novels by James T. Kirk, he glanced over his shoulder at his grandmother. "You read his works?"

"Indeed. He is an intelligent, insightful, interesting writer."

"As he is a person," Spock agreed quietly, noticing a much thinner volume with Jim's name on the spine. He removed that book to discover it was a collection of poetry. "He writes poetry?"

"It was his master's thesis," T'Pau said.

"May I?"

"Of course," T'Pau said with an elegant wave of her hand.

Spock opened it to a page that looked worn and frequently visited to discover that this section was a collection of Haiku. The first one caught his attention:

Is my heart a stone?
Will you be the one who shows me
what love truly is?

It was simplistic and amateurish but it spoke of who Jim Kirk was. Spock scanned through, reading two near the bottom of the page.

~o~

Language is useful
until it stands in the way
of understanding.

~o~

Love will pass me by.
I deserve to be alone
with all my regrets.

~o~

Spock had to consider those words and the impression they were making on him. On his heart. On the person Jim Kirk was behind that beguiling smile and those startling blue eyes. He was a keeper of secrets, his own and those of others. Learning these truths made Spock realize he had not judged him accurately.

"He is… more complex than I had believed," Spock admitted.

"When you edited his most recent novel, you did not discern his depths from his words?"

"I did not," Spock said.

"Did you read his previous works?" T'Pau asked.

"Not as thoroughly as I should have," Spock said, wishing it were not so. Maybe if he had paid closer attention, none of this would be as much of a surprise. But he did know with some certainty that there was nothing in any of Jim's works that would have prepared Spock for the fact that he was hired assassin.

"Come and eat," T'Pau said when T'Pring knocked on the door. "We will discuss this further if you wish."

Spock nodded, replacing the thin volume of poetry and following his grandmother into her stately dining room.