Spock was drifting through deep, unconscious realms. It felt dark in here. This was a place his grandmother barely knew existed. In a Vulcan it would be quiet, regulated, a place of calm. In a Vulcan he would seem to be walking in a temple of thought, every spanning arch placed for a purpose. If he based his thoughts around human frames of reference he would see a cathedral. He did base his thoughts somewhat around human frames of reference. Human and Vulcan jostled. He thought of the places where they kept the Katric Arks. He thought of temples of communal meditation. He thought of Winchester Cathedral, and his mother walking down the centre between the seats, awed.

He was losing focus. He was tired. He brought himself back, opened his mind to his grandmother's unconscious places. In a human, in this human, he felt he was grasping through a forest of indistinct growth, spans like branches arcing over, intermeshed, the light a dim blood-red. She had no idea that this place was here. He was guiding her to the depths of her own jungle, pointing out each line, making sense of the confusion. She was startled and amazed. She ceased to be lost. The tangled arching lines grew distinct and incredible and he felt her awe. She had never known this place was here. She wanted to explore further, to find her way to the very centre. She began to understand.

Somewhere deep in his grandmother's mind something changed. Spock felt it click over like a switch being flicked. He felt her breathing become stronger, more purposeful. He felt the understanding ripple through her of how to fight this sickness that was weakening every cell of her body.

Influenced as he was by her mind, he could have laughed. He was tired and wanted to collapse, but he could have laughed. The lingering dream that was playing in her mind changed, and he saw himself standing there inside it. She was walking into a room and her family was there. A party had been planned. There was laugher everywhere, and Spock found himself joining in. He opened his arms and received his grandmother in a hug, enclosing her so tightly that he could feel the fragility of her body. She felt like a bird to him, ready to break.

'Don't worry, Spock. You won't break me in here,' she said, and her voice sounded younger than it had in a long time. 'I'm stronger than I've been in years.'

He moved closer to her, and smiled. The smile was natural to him. To her it was like the sun coming out and he felt her joy blossom and spread and seem to fill the room.

'Why, Spock, I didn't know you could,' she said.

'I am able to feel joy too,' he said. No one else in the room noticed them standing there or were listening to their words. 'I simply process and manage my emotions. Humans do not.'

'Humans do,' she admonished him gently. 'Not to the degree that Vulcans do, but you do us a disservice.'

'Accepted,' Spock said, taking her hand in his. Even her hand felt younger, plumper. Her skin had more colour than he expected. He looked at her and saw dark colour in her greyed hair. She was thirty years or more younger in her dream. She seemed to be growing younger at every moment.

'Well, if we can't be what we want in our dreams...' she said. 'Is this a lucid dream, Spocky? I've heard about those. Never had one.'

'It is something of the sort,' Spock nodded, not bothering to protest at her use of the diminutive. 'Because I am with you in meld, you have greater consciousness and control.'

'Oh, well, I could do anything!' she said, slipping her hand from his and spinning around, seeming younger still.

'You must focus on healing yourself,' Spock said soberly. She stopped moving. He noticed now that she was wearing a dress patterned with colours toward the red end of the spectrum. The skirt stayed billowed out for a moment before falling back against her legs. He had never seen his grandmother this young.

'Yes, I must,' she said soberly. 'But what about that girl of yours, Spock?' she asked.

Spock felt heat rise around them. He was silent. For once he did not know how to respond. But in the meld that didn't matter. His grandmother hugged him and kissed him on the shining crown of his hair.

'She's a good one, Spock,' she said. 'She reminds me of your mother. Go and see to her. I'll be fine here.'

Spock demurred, looking past the dream and into his grandmother's mind, trying to see how well she was managing to fight this illness.

'Go to her, Spock,' she said again. 'You should go to her. She needs you. You're worried, aren't you?'

'Of course I am – ' Spock began, but he broke off and carefully controlled his thoughts.

'Go to her,' his grandmother said again.

Spock watched her turn away. She walked deliberately in her red-hued dress to the other side of the room, her spine straight. She opened a cupboard. She took out a small pot and shook pills into her hand, then raised them to her mouth. She was going to make herself well.

He pulled away with great care, feeling like a ship leaving dock, suddenly unsteady on the sea. He felt blind again, muffled, cut off. He withdrew from her and opened his eyes onto the blur of damaged sight, gasping, feeling a hand on his shoulder. He was so tired he wanted to rest his head down on the mattress, but he fought the impulse. His hand was still on his grandmother's face. He still had a residual sense of her thoughts.

'Are you all right, son?' his grandfather asked. It was his grandfather's hand touching Spock's shoulder, not the doctor. He listened, and could hear one more person in the room. Billy must have left.

'Spock, are you all right, son?' his grandfather asked again, his hand tightening a little.

Spock drew in breath, nodding.

'Quite all right,' he murmured. He straightened up and repeated, 'I am quite all right.'

'Whatever you did, it helped her immensely,' the doctor said.

His footsteps made a heavy noise on the floor as he walked over to the Vulcan. Spock focussed on the sounds of the displays above his grandmother's bed, on the sound of her breathing and the feeling of her pulse under his fingers. It felt stronger, it was true. The sounds of the display were reassuring.

'Is she out of danger, Doctor?' he asked succinctly.

'It's too soon to say absolutely,' the doctor replied. 'But I think she's turned the corner.'

Spock exhaled slowly. He took a moment to control the relief that was surging inside him. He wanted to return straight to the hospital lab now that he had done what he could for his grandmother, but he was certain that Dr Rowlands would not let him in. Humans could be incredibly stubborn, even more so because they were so motivated by emotion. It would be best, then, to spend some time at Christine's side. He was unlikely to sleep, but he could surely return to the lab in an hour or so and imply to Dr Rowlands that he had slept. He had something else to do first, though.

He stood up and straightened his top. He had been working and caught up in concern for his grandmother for so long that he could barely remember what he was wearing, but evidently it was some straight-cut black suit, light and warm, if a little crumpled with wear. It did not matter. He didn't foresee having the chance to go and change his clothes any time soon.

'Doctor, could you have someone take me to a long-range communications station?' he asked.

'Of course,' the doctor said quickly, and then Spock's grandfather said in a voice uncertain with emotion, 'I'll take you there, Spock. I could do with stretching my legs.'

Spock raised an eyebrow. He had expected his grandfather to want to stay at his wife's side, but he could feel the waves of emotion in the man. Perhaps he wanted some time outside of this room to process his very human feelings.

'Thank you, grandpa,' he said, taking hold of his arm. Sacha skittered to her feet and he felt for her leash, taking it in his hand.

His grandfather walked down the corridor largely in silence, but Spock felt as if something had changed between them, as if a barrier had been broken down. Finally the old man said, 'Spock, I will never be more grateful than I am today.'

'I did what I must,' Spock said simply.

'Plenty of people don't, Spock,' his grandfather replied. 'Here's the communication station. Where do you want me to set up the call to?'

Spock felt out with his hand and touched the seat. He seated himself and told Sacha to lie down, and then said, 'I wish to contact my ship, the Enterprise. I can tell you the necessary codes.'

He sat patiently while his grandfather carefully inputted the codes, and then said, 'Thank you, grandpa. I will be fine now.'

When the image came on screen he blinked at what he saw, a small shard of joy rising in his chest. He could see something of the colour of Jim's hair. He could see that he was wearing his green uniform shirt, not his gold. He suspected from the muted tone of the lighting that the captain was in his quarters.

'Spock!' Jim said, the joy evident in his voice. 'Bones was just grumbling about your lack of communication. It's good to see your face!'

Spock's eyebrow quirked. 'It's necessary for the good doctor to have something to complain about. I am pleased to serve.'

'How are things going, Spock?' Kirk asked. 'You got to Earth safely, then?'

'Obviously,' Spock nodded.

'Spock, you look exhausted,' Kirk said suddenly, concern loading his voice. 'The comm says you're calling from the hospital. Is everything all right?'

Spock considered how to reply. 'I would not entirely phrase it as all right,' he told his captain.

'Go on,' Kirk said suspiciously. 'I might have known you'd get yourself into trouble. What's been going on?'

'It is a long story,' Spock warned him. 'But first, you might like to know that my sight is considerably improved.'

If Spock had been of a more fanciful bearing he would have said that he could telepathically sense Kirk's joy even through subspace. As it was, he assumed he was simply interpreting the cues of breathing and tone of voice, and perhaps the way Kirk seemed to lean forward in his chair.

'How considerably improved?' Kirk asked. 'You're not – You can't see me, can you?'

'I can see a great deal more of you than I could previously,' Spock told him. I can make out colour and form. The cells are gone, Jim. It is only residual scarring which is left behind. I am waiting for an opportunity to have the scarring repaired.'

'Wait till I tell Bones!' Kirk grinned. 'Spock, this was more than I'd hoped for. It really is. But – ' His tone of voice changed. 'What about the hospital, Spock? What's going on? Why didn't you call me earlier?'

Spock dismissed that with a shake of his head. 'I saw no reason to bother you. However, the situation has grown more grave,' Spock admitted. 'It seems that Dr Alunan, who devised the virus to treat my sight, was less than scrupulous. The virus was quite unsafe and he infected me without my permission.'

'He infected you?' Kirk interjected. 'I hope he's – '

'He is dead,' Spock cut across him succinctly. 'The illness spread. Dr Alunan died in a London infirmary, but not before infecting some of his staff and hospital employees. In turn I have carried the infection to a number of people who are now in this hospital, among them Miss Chapel, my grandmother, and my cousin's wife.'

'Miss Chapel?' Kirk echoed, latching first onto that familiar name. 'Is she all right, Spock?'

'She is gravely ill,' Spock admitted. 'I am working on a treatment for the illness, along with other scientists in the lab here.'

'What about your grandmother? Your cousin's wife?'

'My grandmother was quite seriously ill,' Spock admitted. 'I have just attempted to help her implement certain healing disciplines via a meld, and the doctor believes she has improved. However, her chances are still – '

He faltered off, uncertain of quite how to voice his grandmother's frail condition. No matter that he had improved her chances. She was extremely elderly and extremely weak. There was no certainty that she would live.

There was a movement on the screen. Kirk seemed to be looking at something in his hand, which he then put down again with a quiet clack.

'We're not far out, Spock, and we've nothing on schedule until the run to the Altinar conference,' he said. 'We can be there in five hours at Warp 8.'

'Captain, there is really no need – ' Spock began.

Kirk waved away Spock's words with his hand. Spock saw the pink blur move back and forward across the screen.

'We've been due a little R&R on Earth for months, Spock, and had it put off over and over again. Now I have a concrete reason to take it. Our sickbay team has a particularly good record on virus control.'

'It is your decision, Captain,' Spock said. He had to assume that the captain would make decisions based on what was best for the crew rather than his friendship with Spock and his concern for a single crewmember, or members of Spock's family.

'You're damn right it is,' Kirk said firmly. 'I'll put some calls through to Command and Scheduling. Pending approval, we'll be there in six hours at most.'