'I will let you know when I am ready to leave,' Spock said to Christine on the door step of his grandparents' house. He touched his hand briefly to the cell-comm in his pocket. After the usefulness of his mother's cell on Vulcan only a month ago he had invested in one himself, but this time it was properly adapted for sightless users.

'All right, Spock,' Christine said, touching his arm briefly, self-conscious before these two elderly people who were watching her with deep interest. 'It was very nice to meet you, Mrs Grayson, Mr Grayson,' she said with a smile. 'I'll see you later.'

'Of course, dear,' Mrs Grayson replied distractedly, seeming occupied now with taking responsibility for her blind grandson as Christine moved away from him.

Mr Grayson gave her nothing more than a rather self-conscious nod, and stumped back into the house, knocking snow off his shoes.

'I'm all right, grandma,' Spock said quietly, feeling his grandmother's concern. 'Sacha will guide me.'

'Of course,' his grandmother said quickly. 'Well, come on into the sitting room, out of this cold,' she said, reaching behind him to close the door as he moved forward into the house. 'On the right. Nothing's changed much since you were last here. Do you remember?'

'Very well,' Spock nodded with concealed amusement. It was true that he had not spent long periods of time in this house, but it was still very familiar to him.

'Sit down, Spock. There's an armchair just here,' she said as they entered the sitting room.

Spock reached out a hand.

'If you would put my hand to the top of the back,' he said, and his grandmother's hand closed around his, cool and frail. She gave his hand a quick, firm squeeze before touching it to the chair, and he slid his fingers down to find the depth of the seat. As he sat Sacha lay down on the floor with a satisfied grunt, and he released her harness.

'How long is it since we last saw you, Spock?' his grandmother asked as she took the seat beside his.

'It was the fourth of July, ten years ago,' Spock said instantly.

'Ah, yes – when that lovely Captain Pike let you beam down to see us,' she smiled. 'He was a good man, wasn't he? And you're under Captain Kirk now? That whizz-kid captain that everyone's talking about. Youngest in the fleet, isn't he?'

'That is true,' Spock nodded.

'And how do you get on with him?' she asked conspiratorially, leaning closer. 'I've heard he's very emotional, very reckless.'

'I would count Captain Kirk as my closest friend,' Spock said honestly. 'He has proved the value of that friendship many times over in the past year.'

'Tea?' his grandfather's voice interjected from another doorway, and Spock turned towards him.

'Yes, thank you,' he said. 'Black, if you will.'

'Don't worry about grandpa,' his grandmother said in a quiet voice as the man stumped out of the room again. 'He's just taking some time getting used to all this.'

Spock nodded. He had not realised that there was anything amiss behind his grandfather's typically gruff manner. He was quite used, however, to old friends and acquaintances' attitudes to him being awkward for a time on meeting him without sight. His time at Gol had taught him to better control his own reactions, but he could not control those of others.

'And how is your mother?' she asked him.

'Mother was very well when I last saw her,' Spock told her. 'As is Sarek. I believe they're hoping to visit Earth within the next year.'

He had no time to suppress a start when something small and agile leapt onto his lap, and he touched tentatively with his hand to find a cat with thick, short fur settling itself contentedly on his legs.

'Oh, that's just Mogget,' his grandmother said quickly. 'Is it all right for him to – ?'

'It is fine,' Spock nodded, sinking his fingertips into the insulating fur to scratch the cat as it purred. 'Mogget,' he mused. 'I believed the earth colloquialism was moggy?'

'Oh, it's just a cat from a book,' she smiled. 'A childhood favourite.'

Spock's eyebrow quirked upward. 'Then the cat is white?' he asked.

His grandmother laughed. 'I'm glad to see your mother didn't let you neglect Earth classics growing up,' she said, touching a hand to his knee. 'Yes, the cat is white. He wandered in one day a few years back, and I haven't the heart to turn him out.'

Sasha sat up with a jealous whine and the cat suddenly stood up, becoming stiff and fluffed up. He hissed, then left the room with a flurry of claws on carpet. Then his grandfather came in with the tea, and sat down with a grunt of effort.

'Thank you, grandfather,' Spock said, and the man muttered, 'Not at all, not at all. Here you are, dear. That's your tea on the side table.'

'Thank you, love.'

Spock's grandfather grunted again, and settled back in his chair. Spock was aware that was probably the last he would hear from him for a while, for he was not a great talker.

'My eyes are not so good themselves, Spock,' his grandmother explained with a smile, putting her hand in his. 'They can do a lot for us old folks but without a full eye transplant they'll never give me twenty-twenty vision, and I intend to die with the eyes I was born with. I dare say you're better at getting around than I am.'

'That may be so,' Spock acknowledged sombrely.

He closed his hand around his grandmother's, feeling the sinews and veins and bones through paper skin. Her hand was cool, as humans always were, and it felt astoundingly old – but it also felt strong and dependable, just as it always had. From this hand, came my hands, in part, he thought sentimentally.

'So who's this woman you've gotten yourself involved with?' she asked him. 'She looks like your mother, from what I can see of her.'

Spock allowed a hint of a smile.

'She is the head nurse on the Enterprise,' he told her. 'And perhaps you are correct. She does, in some superficial ways, resemble mother. She is human, from this area of Earth. In fact, by a remarkable coincidence her parents live only a few streets away from this house. The doctors Chapel.'

'Oh!' his grandmother said in sudden surprise. 'The Chapels, eh? I know of them. Nice house, but they're a little bit – reserved – I always thought. Well, their daughter seems nice enough, anyway.'

'She meets the correct criteria,' Spock nodded.

'Oh, so romantic,' his grandmother laughed. 'You remind me of your father. Gosh, I remember him at your parents' wedding – if you could call it that. Hot as fifteen hells, dust in everything. And when he first set eyes on your mother when she came out in her wedding finest, he nodded, and said, 'It is sufficient for the occasion.' And your mother – she smiled as if he'd just told her she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.'

Spock's eyebrow quirked upward at his imagined vision of that event. He had seen pictures of his parents' wedding, of his mother looking astonishingly exotic in her traditional silver Vulcan gown, with her human-pink skin and blue eyes.

'He just had,' he said solemnly.

'Well, perhaps he had,' she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. 'Ah, little boy. I'm sorry to see you blind. I really am. But you make the most of it, don't you?'

Spock inclined his head. 'I do what I can. I have managed to continue in my role on the Enterprise. I am rather more limited in many areas of life, but I do manage. And we are making progress in our attempts to find a cure.'

'I don't know about modern medicine,' his grandfather suddenly interjected. 'I just don't know...'

'Progress will always have its detractors,' Spock nodded. 'But I, for one, am quite satisfied with modern medicine. It has saved my life on more than one occasion.'

'Well, in an unnatural place like space,' his grandfather began.

Spock opened his mouth, about to question in what way space was unnatural, since it was the place in the universe least affected by sentient beings and their lives. He changed his mind, and instead asked, 'Grandfather, you have never met the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer, have you? I believe you would get along.'

'Oh, I've never gotten along with doctors,' his grandfather muttered. 'Poking, prying, always sticking needles into you.'

'Why don't you come for a walk with me, Spock,' his grandmother said suddenly, taking his hand again and encouraging him up out of his seat. 'Come down onto the beach. I could do with a strong arm to stop me slipping over on the sand.'

He lifted an eyebrow, and inclined his head. 'Sacha will enjoy the run, I am sure, if it's permissible to let her loose?'

'Oh, no trouble with that – people run their dogs down there all the time.'

Spock followed her as she walked out of the room and allowed her to help him with layering up for the cold. She felt almost like a dry leaf clinging to his arm. It had been a long time since he had last seen her, and she seemed to have thinned out into a hollow being in the intervening time.

'Never mind grandfather,' she said conspiratorially as they got outside. 'Once he gets going on space and doctors – well – I don't think he could ever quite forgive interplanetary travel for taking our little girl away. You could count on one hand the amount of times I've gotten him off this planet, and one of them was for Manda's wedding.'

As Spock recalled, the garden sloped gently down towards the sea, and was separated from the beach by a wooden paling fence, and a long path that wound down between rocky outcrops to sand and shingle strips. The path gave him some pause, especially with the trampled snow that clung to its irregularities, but his grandmother turned out to be an astonishingly attentive guide, despite her age.

'There, Spock,' she said as they reached the tide-washed sand. 'Beautiful as always, isn't it?'

Spock raised an eyebrow a small amount.

'Ahh, there's your father again, Spocky,' she said.

'Grandma – ' he began.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' she smiled. 'But I called you that as a two-year-old toddling about in that garden out there, and I've never stopped calling you that in my head. You've got to allow some things to spill out from my poor senile mind.'

'You are far from senile,' Spock said firmly.

She gave a small laugh.

'Stand still, Spock,' she said, touching the arm she held with her free hand. 'Listen, and breathe the air, and raise your eyebrow in your father's way and tell me that the beach isn't still beautiful.'

Spock tilted his head, listening to the suck and hiss of winter waves crashing on shingle, and inhaling the scent of salt and seaweed whipped up by brisk winds.

'I cannot do that,' he said. 'I do still find it pleasant. But cold, at this time of year.'

'Then we'd best keep walking, hadn't we? We can walk along the beach, then loop back through town. I need to pick up some groceries.'

'I assume there is a jewellery store in town, grandma?' Spock asked, turning his head towards her.

'Oh, yes,' she said instantly. 'There's a cheap place up on Seaboard. You wouldn't want to go there… But there's a nice, traditional place on Main Street, and another a little further down that makes more modern designs – lovely ones, though. Why? Are you thinking of buying your girl an engagement ring?' she asked slyly.

'Not an engagement ring,' Spock said quickly, the tips of his ears colouring very slightly. 'But perhaps a ring, or some earrings. Is your sight good enough to help me pick something out?'

'Oh, it's good enough for that, Spock,' she smiled. 'Besides, I always carry a magnifying glass. It comes in handy.'

'Good,' Spock nodded, following her movements as she continued across the soft sand.

He wondered what kind of jewellery would please Christine the most. He had never bought a present for a woman before – at least, not apart from sundry family members. He certainly had never bought a present for someone with whom he was involved in a romantic relationship. He had so rarely seen her out of uniform. The last time he had literally seen her dressed in her own clothes had been so long ago that he could not recall her jewellery, nor even if she had worn any.

Before long they found themselves in a small jewellery store, and Spock was trying to describe Christine to the owner. The thought of buying Christine jewellery had been a whim, and he had not put the prolonged consideration into it which he would naturally prefer, but it was good to be able to take the opportunity of a sighted companion to help him.

'She is human. Fair-skinned, with hair that is blonde, but naturally brown, and with blue eyes. Her features are elongated, I would say, rather than rounded. Can you advise me on what jewellery may suit her?'

The man seemed baffled. 'I don't suppose you have a picture?' he asked finally.

Spock was silent for a beat, then said in a level voice, 'I am blind. What use would I have for a picture?'

'Er, of course,' the man stammered, taken aback.

Spock's grandmother stepped forward.

'Huey,' she said, taking over the conversation. 'This is Spock, my grandson. Do you remember him? Used to visit me here when he was so high?'

'Oh – your grandson, Mrs Grayson,' the man said quickly, but there was puzzlement clear in his tone. 'But – I've only been here for five years, Mrs Grayson.'

'Oh, of course,' she smiled. 'My memory – I'm sorry. Yes, you moved up in sixty-four, didn't you? Well, then. I'd like for you to meet Spock. Spock, this is Hugh Williams.'

Spock nodded politely, but the man asked quickly, 'Commander Spock, of the Enterprise, sir? Mrs Grayson, is the Ambassador of Vulcan your son-in-law?'

'The very same. I can't believe we never got onto the subject, Huey. But that's beside the point, right now. Can you show me some earrings in sapphire? Sapphire and silver would suit her, I think. And a necklace too. May as well keep our options open.'

'And – the price range?' the man asked cautiously.

Spock shook his head. 'If you will simply show us your samples. The price is largely immaterial.'

'Of course, Commander Spock,' the man said brightly, with the alacrity born of suddenly being introduced to a wealthy customer. 'I'll see what I've got.'