It was early when Spock found himself back outside his and Christine's rented accommodation. The air was clear and dry and just beginning to heat with the day, and he wondered whether Christine would be awake. He had not contacted her since his decision to return in Solek's skimmer was last minute, and he had not wanted to wake her.

He followed Solek up to the door, not finding it necessary to touch his arm.

'There, Spock,' Solek said, putting Spock's case down on the ground and turning to face him. 'I shall take my leave.'

Spock raised his hand in the ta'al. 'Live long and prosper, Solek,' he said. 'I thank you for your help.'

'Live long and prosper,' the man returned. 'My time with you was most fascinating. I wish you future peace.'

Spock nodded, and Solek turned away from him and walked back down the path to where he had parked his skimmer. The door banged and the skimmer moved swiftly away with a hum that built and then faded with distance. There was almost no sound left behind, only the softness of the wind, the running of water, and the calls of a few small animals in the distance.

Spock reached his hand up to the door and turned the handle. Instantly a frenzied barking set up inside. Had Spock been human he would have smiled. That was not a bark to warn of intruders. Sacha was in no doubt as to who was coming in. Then he heard Christine's voice struggling to break through the dog's barking, and as he opened the door there was a surprised laugh.

'Spock, I – didn't expect you,' Christine said breathlessly, trying to pull the dog back and get to the Vulcan herself. 'I thought you'd call for me to pick you up!'

'It was necessary for Solek to visit ShiNaran. The house was on his direct flight path,' Spock explained. 'Sasha, sit,' he said, and the dog instantly obeyed.

He stepped through the door with one fluid movement and shut it behind himself, reaching out a hand to Christine's head. Touching her hair, he drew her forward and pressed his lips to hers with a sudden, deeply-felt passion.

'I have missed you,' he murmured, keeping his forehead pressed against hers as his hands sought her shoulders and arms, and moved down to intertwine with her fingers. He felt her intense relief. He had not returned an automaton of logic. He was still Spock, in all the ways that she loved him.

She clasped his hands in her own, feeling the heat of his soft, dry skin burning against hers. She ran a fingertip over his. His skin was dry with the dust and aridity of the atmosphere of Gol, but his fingertips were still polished from being constantly traced over Braille pages and tactile displays and everything else that Spock had to take in with his fingers instead of his eyes. She lifted one of his hands to her mouth and kissed those fingertips as if she could take away each callus with the touch. He shivered almost imperceptibly, and she smiled, suddenly remembering that as a Vulcan Spock's hands took in many more impulses than simple touch could give. She kissed them again, touching each fingertip in turn with her lips, enjoying the very vivid impression of melting that the Vulcan was showing.

'Christine…' he said hoarsely.

'Sorry. That can come later,' she said softly, giving a firmer pressure on his hands with hers as she ceased the tantalising stroking. 'I want you to come look at this.'

Spock followed her across the room, realising she was leading him to the computer, and he sat in the chair before the desk.

'There,' she said, reaching around him to touch buttons with sure fingers. 'Touch screen's on. Read that.'

Spock began to trace swift fingers over the raised characters, reading, Adaptation of McCoy/Spock (2268) Treatment for C-Dionyxalide-Partho Blindness, for application to more vulnerable tissue types. Suggestions for refinement.

His hands paused briefly then skimmed further down the page, taking in the information swiftly.

'You must have read this,' he said. 'Do you believe it to be viable?'

'I – believe it might be viable,' she said cautiously. 'I have spoken to Dr Alunan, and he admits his research is in its infancy. He only published that article the day you left for Gol. But – he is willing to have us come to Earth and discuss it with him. He hopes you might be able to give him some useful insights.'

Spock's eyebrow rose. He was not vain, but his scientific contribution was very rarely characterised as useful insights.

'Have you made any plans?' he asked.

'Not yet – I wanted to see what you thought first. No point trekking halfway across the galaxy on a wild goose chase.'

His eyebrow rose again, both at her inaccurate estimate of the distance between Vulcan and Earth, and her supposition that they would be in pursuit of feral waterbirds.

'Do you have additional research of your own?' he asked.

She smiled at his faith that she would have spent the past week engaged in research.

'I do,' she nodded. 'At least, what I could do with the theory. It's – Hang on,' she murmured, leaning past him to touch the keys. 'Let me find it for you. It's – there, it's in my personal folder, under Alunan Research.'

Spock's fingers skimmed the information again.

'You believe there may be problems in my case?' he asked cautiously.

'Well, your tissue-type is very unique,' she began reluctantly.

Spock frowned, declining to correct her qualification of the word 'unique'.

'Technically unique,' he nodded, 'but there are plenty of parallels in nature.'

'Technically unique,' she echoed. 'It presents problems. Although there are parallels they're not the same. Perhaps we could culture tissue samples from your genetic code in the lab and run our tests on them. Dr Alunan's research revolves around some way of softening the cells in vulnerable tissue types and targeting the area with much more precision to be sure of there being less damage. But really I – well, I seriously doubt he's as good a scientist as you, Spock,' she said honestly. 'He's got something, I'm sure, but you could take it to the next level.'

'And the doctor is willing to expose his research to us?' Spock asked.

Christine squirmed. 'Willing is a bit of an overstatement,' she admitted. 'He's very protective. But as long as we don't try to 'steal his research' he's happy for us to go over there and see if we can help.'

Spock's eyebrow quirked. 'I can assure him that I have no interest in stealing his research,' he said. 'My only motivation is finding a remedy for my blindness. Our objectives are the same.'

He turned away from the computer, putting his hand down to Sasha's head. She was sitting patiently at his side, waiting for his attention with her head on his knee.

'I will book our passage to Earth later,' he said decisively. 'Do you have any preferences as to where to stay? The man is in London, is he not?'

'He is,' Christine nodded, 'but we don't need to let that restrict us. It's winter on Earth right now, isn't it?'

'In the northern hemisphere, yes,' Spock nodded.

'Well, I don't have a deep longing for London in the winter,' she admitted. 'But I did wonder – '

'Yes, Christine?' Spock prompted her, wondering at her hesitancy.

'Well, I wondered about going home,' she said quickly. 'It's been so long since I've been back there.'

Spock closed his eyes, reaching up to touch the hand that she had lain on his shoulder. Her skin was smooth and cool under his fingers.

'Your mother lives in the same town as my grandparents,' he said in a conversational tone. 'I would be amenable to staying there.'

'Really?' she asked. He could hear the joy in her voice.

'Really,' he said. He turned the computer off and stood up. 'Should I surmise that you have not yet had breakfast?' he asked.

'I've had a little toast,' she told him. 'I got up early.'

'Then shall we take Sacha for a walk while it is still cool outside?' he asked.

Christine laughed quietly at that. 'I think your idea and my idea of cool differs,' she told him. 'At any rate, it's not as hot as it will be later.'

'Then where is Sacha's harness?' Spock asked, turning toward the door.

'Just where you keep it, on the hook by the door,' she assured him. 'Oh, it'll be nice to take a walk with you,' she said. 'We've been lonely without you.'

Later Spock sat outside the house while Christine fixed drinks indoors. Sacha lay panting at his feet, and the heat wrapped around him. The place seemed to have come alive with the heat of the day, and there was a medley of noise. At this latitude there was more free running surface water and far more lush vegetation than Spock was used to on his home planet. It was a novel experience for him to sit on the stone paving surrounding the house listening to the light breeze ruffling thick-leaved plants, and the sounds of creatures and birds moving and calling in the undergrowth.

He got to his feet and walked carefully down from the patio onto the grass-like vegetation that grew around the house. He had familiarised himself with this garden before leaving for Gol, but it was always best to be cautious in case of change. The sound of the river to his right that bordered the garden both intrigued and disturbed him. The sound itself was pleasing enough, but he knew from Christine's descriptions that the bank was uneven and treacherous, and he had no desire to suddenly find himself in the water. Taking evening walks along the banks with his bond-mate was one thing, but he took great care not to venture too close alone.

He stepped a little closer and Sacha came near to him and whined. He put his hand down to her, reassuring her non-verbally that he was not about to go any closer. She was not wearing her harness but he put his hand to her collar and let her lead him back towards the house. He could still hear Christine inside, pouring water, so he moved to the keev'la tree that stood near the paving by the house, and reached his hand up into the lush branches, feeling for fruit. He found two ripe keev'las, fruit that were much like papaya in shape, but coloured a deep blue-purple. He twisted sharply to separate them from the branch and walked back to the patio, running his thumb over the smooth-skinned fruit and reassuring himself of their ripeness. As he stepped up onto the patio Christine came out through the door.

'Here,' he said, holding one out to Christine as she walked out of the house. 'To go with the tea.'

'Oh, let me put this tray down,' she said, and he heard the clink of pottery and metal as she laid the tray down and then took the fruit from his hand. 'I had to hold myself back from picking the tree bare while you were gone,' she admitted, and he could hear that she was smiling. 'They're so good. Have you ever had mangos?'

'I have. They are somewhat like mangos,' he nodded, biting into his own fruit and letting the taste burst into his mouth. He sat in the easy chair by the table and felt for his tea.

'Here,' Christine told him, putting the mug to his hand. 'Now, while I was fixing the tea I took the chance to open up a communication to a realtor back home,' she told him. 'There are a few apartments in town we could take, and one of them sounds excellent. If you're happy to trust my judgement I'll go ahead and book it, and then you can sort out the flight. Deal?'

Spock inclined his head. 'It is a deal,' he said. 'We may need to purchase cold weather clothing, of course, but that can be done on Earth. We could be on a flight within three days if you're happy with that.'