This time in London the day was bright and almost felt hot compared to the dry freeze of New England. Spock could feel the warmth of the sun on his cheek as they walked through the streets. He had grown so used to wearing two or three layers that this was almost uncomfortably warm.

'It's nice just to not be kicking through snow all the time,' Christine said. 'I must've been out of New England too long. I'd forgotten how you can get tired of snow, snow, and snow.'

'Humans do have a propensity for growing tired of sameness,' Spock nodded. 'I have always found predictability reassuring.'

'Well, Vulcans are the masters of predictability,' Christine laughed. 'But I didn't think you were so keen on the snow?'

'It's not my preferred weather,' Spock nodded, 'but at least I know what to prepare for.'

'Here we are,' Christine said, turning to the left. 'Just outside the lab.'

'Thank you, Christine,' Spock nodded. He had left Sacha behind, in deference to Dr Alunan's aversion to her, and was relying entirely on Christine's guidance.

'Think we're going to make any breakthroughs today?' she asked as the crossed the lobby and waited for the lift.

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'I find Dr Alunan extremely difficult to judge,' he admitted. 'I will be content with any kind of progress.'

Dr Alunan was as irascible as usual, but he at least consented to sit and discuss his work on the virus for some time.

'I'm working on making it inert, totally inert, except for the effect on the mutated cells in the eyes,' he told Spock. 'Very difficult work. Very complicated. But I do believe I have a working version. I'm almost certain I have a strain that will do the job.'

'That is encouraging,' Spock nodded. 'But how do you propose testing this strain?'

'Oh, I have methods,' Alunan muttered, clattering with what sounded like glass containers on his desk. 'I've tried it on cloned eyeballs. See here.'

Christine sucked in breath momentarily, then told Spock in a low voice, 'He's got about fifteen apparently human eyeballs in an incubator. They appear to be in various stages of treatment.'

'Yes, look, here,' Alunan said, becoming more enthused. 'This first, here. I treated this one three days ago. It was the first I infected with the virus. The cells are almost completely atrophied and the eye is recovering a normal appearance. The others are all in varying stages with improved strains of the virus. I infected each one at intervals of six hours.'

'You can't get much sleep,' Christine said lightly.

'My sleep patterns are quite, quite different to yours,' Alunan replied in a rather bristling voice.

'Enaxorians usually take a series of sleeps of up to two hours intermittently through the circadian cycle,' Spock told her. 'Quite efficient for scientific work that requires frequent attention.'

'Yes, yes, which is why we need to work instead of chatter, chatter,' Alunan said impatiently. 'I want to discuss all of the details of this latest strain with you, Commander Spock, and find the best possible version for your hybrid Vulcan-Human cells. I am very optimistic about this strain. Very optimistic.'

The next few hours were filled with quiet, in-depth work of the kind that was a balm to Spock's logical mind. It felt like a long time since he had been given the opportunity to work like this, and the combination of his insights with Christine's bio-medical knowledge and Alunan's expertise meant that they progressed swiftly.

'But now I must ask you to leave,' Alunan said finally, ushering the pair towards the door. 'We will arrange again, yes? Call me later and we will arrange a time.'

It was already growing dark outside, and Spock capitulated to Christine's desire to walk for a while by the Thames. While the sight of light rippling on the water and the lit up ancient buildings was lost on him, he could feel her happiness at the sight, and it was pleasant to be walking somewhere a little warmer than their residence in New England. Every breath back there made Spock's lungs shudder. Here there was an unpleasant dampness in the air, but at least that air was not gratingly cold.

They stopped at a bench at the riverside and sat down, and Spock sat listening to the soft sounds of the river, which were barely audible above the sound of river craft and shuttles and the chatter of other pedestrians. Somewhere to his left and behind him a lone violinist was playing and a small crowd seemed to be gathering, since the music really was very good.

'Oh, this is beautiful,' Christine sighed.

Spock touched his hand briefly to her arm, and then reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a slim box. With the advice of the jeweller and his grandmother he had finally settled upon a long and intricate pair of sapphire earrings, the jewels set in Andorian silver, which was said to have just the right level of impurities to reflect a light resembling the light of the moon.

'Christine,' he said, offering her the box.

He felt her quick spike of joy and surprise. She opened the box and gasped.

'Oh, Spock, these are beautiful! Whenever did you get them?'

'I asked grandmother for assistance when I visited with her,' Spock told her. 'I have been assured that the earrings will suit you.'

'Oh, they're wonderful,' she said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. 'Really, they're beautiful. I wish I was wearing something a little more stylish. I'd put them on right now.'

'I am sure we can find an occasion for you to wear them,' Spock promised her. 'Dinner in a restaurant, perhaps?'

'Oh, yes,' she smiled. 'That would be lovely. I'll put them away now. I couldn't wear them with these old things, but I have the perfect dress back home to go with them.'

'Then it would be a good idea to walk back to the transporter terminal and return to our apartment to get ready for dinner,' Spock told her. 'Perhaps your mother can recommend a restaurant.'

'Oh, why don't you call your cousin or your grandparents for that?' Christine demurred. 'Really, I think I've had as much of mother as I can stand for the week.'

'If you wish,' Spock nodded.

Christine's relationship with her mother continued to baffle him, although when he compared it to his own relationship with Sarek it made a little more sense. Familial ties were a two sided thing, and he didn't care to probe too deeply into his own emotions regarding his parents. Neither did he really care to call Billy to ask for restaurant recommendations, but he judged him more likely to dine out regularly than his frail grandparents.

'You know, we should get together for a meal, Spock. You and Chrissie, me and the family,' Billy said enthusiastically when Spock contacted him. 'We've got years to catch up on. Barlow's is great for large parties, and I'm sure they have a good veggie section on the menu.'

'I wanted a recommendation for a good restaurant for a meal for two,' Spock reminded his cousin patiently. 'If you are intent on a family meal we can arrange that at a later date.'

'Oh, well, then why don't you go to the Seaboard, down on Exit Boulevard?' Billy suggested. 'That's a nice place, good food, fancy, you know. You two lovebirds enjoy yourselves.'

'Thank you, we will,' Spock said, feeling vaguely uncomfortable at Billy's language, especially as he was aware that Christine could hear what Billy was saying. 'Spock out.'

Christine laughed as he closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket.

'You know, off ship we usually say goodbye on the phone,' she told him.

Spock sighed. 'It achieves the same end,' he pointed out.

'True,' Christine agreed, 'but humans do like to stick to certain social conventions.' She hesitated a moment, and Spock waited, certain that she was undergoing some kind of dilemma.

'What is it, Christine?' he asked.

'Well – I was just thinking,' she said. 'What if we have that family meal tonight, if everyone's free. Get it over with, get the social obligations out of the way, and then it won't be hanging over us. You know your cousin's dying to catch up with you and he'll get you sooner or later.'

Spock considered the idea. A romantic meal for two was far more calculated to appeal to Christine's sensitivities than his own, so if she wanted to 'get it over with,' in her words, then it seemed the logical thing to do.

'Very well,' he nodded. 'I shall call Billy and my grandparents and see if they are amenable.'

''''''''''''

Barlow's was not quite suited to Spock's taste, since it was loud and crowded, but the establishment at least accepted Sacha without question, and as Billy had said, had an extensive vegetarian menu, even including some off-world foods. Sacha lay patiently under the table at Spock's feet and Spock focussed all his attention on Christine as she read the menu to him, leaning close to him to be heard through the noise. Billy's wife was present as were three young children, his grandparents, and his aunt and uncle. He was rather relieved that his cousin Christopher had moved away some years earlier, since his family comprised two partners and a various amount of children and step-children.

'I shall have the avacado salad,' he decided. 'Thank you Christine.'

She touched her hand to his arm and passed him a wordless sense of reassurance. Through her mind and his own senses he could grasp a confused idea of the scene around him, the three children fidgeting in their chairs, his grandparents attempting to talk quietly to each other, his aunt and uncle interjecting with over-loud voices, and Billy and his wife discussing some aspect of the menu in argumentative tones. This was far from the intimate meal that he had imagined for tonight, but Christine had the opportunity to wear her earrings and, as she had said, once this meal was over perhaps the very human, social desire for contact would be somewhat placated.

'So, Spock, tell us all about life on the flagship of the fleet,' his uncle said, leaning forward and cutting across the other chatter.

Spock raised an eyebrow. An open question such as this could take hours to answer.

'Was there anything specific that you wished to know?' he asked, hoping to narrow it down somewhat.

'Oh – well, what about Captain Kirk, eh? What's he really like. You see him on recruitment ads, you know. Hair perfect, smiling down at us all. What's the real man like?'

Spock hesitated. 'He is a very efficient captain,' he said.

He could imagine McCoy, if he were here, harrumphing at that understatement of Kirk's abilities. But really, what more could he say without breaching personal confidences or giving a detailed psychological assessment of his captain?

'I've heard he's quite the womaniser,' his uncle prompted.

'Captain Kirk is fond of the female sex,' Spock acknowledged. 'But I would not say that he is more promiscuous than most humans.'

'Well, I suppose these rumours get magnified through subspace,' his uncle said, sounding rather disappointed. Spock wondered if he would be happier had he suggested that the captain took a new woman in every spacedock and left broken hearts like a trail of supernovas through the galaxy.

'Humans are fond of exaggerating the content of a rumour each time it is passed on,' Spock acknowledged. 'The Enterprise is much like any other ship of the line,' he told his uncle. 'A home and a place of work for various peoples of the galaxy, who go about their lives much as anyone would. There is perhaps a higher general standard of intelligence and application than one would find in a cross section of the people in this restaurant, for example, but I have learnt that people are very similar no matter what planet they were born on or what genetics they possess.'

He was rather relieved when a waiter appeared to take their order and so broke the thread of the conversation. His uncle turned to talking to Christine about her duties on board ship, and Spock was content to sit back and listen to the different strands of chatter without joining in himself. He found himself feeling rather distracted and a little warm, and it was more comfortable to sit quietly and let the humans act as humans would.

The meals came and the chatter subsided somewhat. Spock sat eating with care, very aware of his feeling of distraction. Christine obviously noticed because she touched him on his arm and asked in a low voice, 'Spock, are you all right?'

He flinched away minutely, feeling pain in his right arm as she touched him.

'I am not entirely certain,' he replied. 'I feel somewhat unwell.'

'Do you want to go home?' she asked in a concerned voice, and he shook his head.

'No, it is not that serious,' he assured her.

He returned his attention to his meal, feeling lightly over the salad with his fork. There was a slight queasiness in the pit of his stomach, but no real reason to stop eating. He focussed his attention almost entirely on his food, concerned with continuing to eat in a composed manner, and cut out the conversation around him. Christine returned to her own food, but he could feel her concern.

'I'm calling a cab,' she said finally, as the meal wound down in desserts and coffee. 'There's no need to walk home in this cold.'

'Very well, Christine,' Spock said, surprising her with his acquiescence.

He stood up, and was rather surprised at how nauseous he felt. He suppressed the feeling and took hold of Sacha's harness, and submitted himself to the round of touching and cheek kissing and words of farewell from his family members. It had been pleasant to spend a little time with them, and, as Christine had said, they had 'got it over with' now.

'Christine, would you mind looking at my upper right arm?' he asked once they were back in the quiet apartment and he had shed his layers of outer garments. 'I noticed pain there earlier, and I believe it may be swollen.'

'Of course,' she said, sounding concerned.

Spock stripped his top off and turned to her, and she drew in air between her teeth.

'It does look inflamed,' she said, touching him lightly. 'Do you think you could have been bitten or stung by something?'

'I assume the frigidity of the weather precludes most insect attacks,' Spock reminded her.

'There's a puncture wound near the centre,' she said, looking closer. 'Let me get my medical bag.'

'Very well,' Spock said, and he sat down and waiting.

Christine returned in a moment and held her scanner close to his arm. 'Temperature's a little elevated,' she said. 'Spock – '

'What is wrong, Christine?' he asked, reading the odd tone in her voice.

'Give me a moment and let me compare,' she said..

Spock sat and waited, controlling the seed of frustration at not being able to take Christine's scanner and look at the results himself. He clasped his hands together and sat bare-chested on the settee while Christine walked across the room to access the computer. After a moment she returned and said, 'I thought it looked like that. Spock, this is Dr Alunan's virus. You've been infected.'