[AN: I was hoping to get more written. But then Robin Williams happened and I can't get myself to concentrate on happy writing instead of dark writing. I'll do my best to get back to it.]

It was later that day that Spock went to the hospital to visit Christine. He was hoping to find her better and he was not disappointed. Her room felt light and cool as he stepped in through the door. The beeping of the monitoring devices was less and quieter, and he assumed that she was on far less support than she had been. There was a scent of food in the air and she told him she had just finished her first proper meal since being admitted to hospital.

'They said they might be able to let me out tomorrow,' she said brightly. She was sitting up in bed and Spock could tell how much better she was by her voice alone. 'My heart's recovering well and the damage to my lungs has healed. All of the organ damage began to reverse as soon as the virus was cured.'

She moved in the bed, her body making a dark shape against the pillows, and Spock assumed she was twisting to look at the overhead display which, as a nurse, she could interpret much better than the average patient.

'My heart function's better than it was a few hours ago,' she said. 'They want me to stay until they're sure the cell weakness is stabilised, but all the signs are good.'

'That is very relieving news,' Spock nodded.

'What is it, Spock?' she asked, her tone changing.

'I beg your pardon?'

'You've got something you're waiting to say. I can tell. What is it? It's something good, isn't it?'

Spock allowed a hint of a smile to touch his lips. He had watched this type of interaction between his mother and father as he was growing up, and had watched it with increasing curiosity as an adult. Was this love, he had wondered. Was this a natural result of the mental bond that occurred when one of a partnership was Vulcan, or was it just the natural result of two beings who had found themselves so in tune with one another that they could perceive each other's thoughts without the help of telepathy? He had seen similar displays between entirely human couples.

'I do have something to say,' he nodded. 'I contacted the Beth Meyer Eye Hospital in Baltimore this morning and by fortuitous coincidence the surgeon that Dr McCoy recommended was free to speak to me. She is very willing to do the surgery and Starfleet Medical will cover the cost. It will be an operation likely to last no more than two hours and it is expected I will able to leave later that day, barring complications. It is a relatively simple procedure.'

'Oh, Spock, that's wonderful!' Christine smiled, sitting forward in the bed. 'How soon can it be done?'

'I have yet to fix an exact date. I will go down there tomorrow to donate a genetic sample so that the team can clone new lenses. It is likely to be some time next week, as Ms Alchurch's schedule allows. She is going to speak to me in person tomorrow to arrange the date. It will, of course, be subject to cancellation in the event of an emergency case coming.

'Oh, Spock,' Christine said again. She reached out and put her arms around him, and he moved forward so as to make it easier for her, sitting in bed as she was. He could feel the joy in her mind pushing into his body as she held him. 'I will be out of here as soon as I can,' she promised him. 'I want to be with you for this.'

'You will be with me for this,' he assured her. 'The captain and Dr McCoy are still here and will accompany me tomorrow. But if you are not out of hospital by next week I will be having a serious talk with your doctor.'

'Christine Elizabeth Chapel!'

Spock jolted back from Christine's arms as if a marauding party of Klingons had entered the room. The door had opened so hard that it sounded as if it had hit the wall.

'Why on earth didn't you tell me!' her mother continued in a high pitched, angry voice. The door banged closed behind her and footsteps clacked across the room. 'Lying in the hospital for God knows how many days, seriously ill – '

Christine drew in breath. Spock could sense the tension. Christine's mother was a dark moving blur and he could not make out anything of her facial expression, but it was quite obvious that she was angry.

'Mother, I was unconscious for most of that time,' Christine said reasonably.

'Then you, Mr Spock,' Dr Chapel turned on him. 'Could you not manage just one call to let me know?'

'Spock succumbed to the virus before I did, mom,' Christine told her patiently. 'Look, I'm sorry no one called you. I really am. I guess my emergency contacts are all people on the Enterprise – it doesn't make sense to list people on Earth when I'm never here – and no one knew to call you. Spock's been working himself ragged developing the cure for the virus – at least he was as soon as he'd got better – and his own grandmother is ill too. We just didn't think.'

Spock stood calmly, straightening his top as he did. Sacha was already on her feet, on guard against this enraged intruder. He put his hand on her neck and made her sit.

'Dr Chapel, I do apologise,' he said in a level voice. 'As Christine says, we have been quite distracted.'

There was a long silence which, to Spock, was filled with a palpable mental hum from Dr Chapel that seemed to expand into the room. She was catching herself, reining in her anger and fear, steadying her emotions. She stood there at the foot of Christine's bed, a blur of red and dark blue and dark hair, turning between the two of them as if she could not decide who to attend to. Finally she turned back to Christine.

'Just one call, Christine,' she said in an artificially steady voice. 'Just one call, Mr Spock. I wouldn't have known at all if I hadn't bumped into Billy Grayson in the street. Does it take a highschool crush to tell me what's going on with my own daughter?'

'Oh, Billy was never my highschool crush,' Christine said quickly. 'It was all one-sided.'

'That's not the point,' Dr Chapel snapped.

'I am sorry, mom. Truly I am,' Christine said. Spock wondered if he should be holding himself between the two women. He was not certain what her mother might do in her anger.

'Oh, Chrissie,' she suddenly said, her voice breaking. She moved past Spock to take the chair that he had been using, sitting down with a slump and reaching out to her daughter. 'I'm so glad you're all right.'

Spock raised an eyebrow. Human emotions frequently amazed him, especially female ones. How could a person go from anger to apparent tears so very quickly.

'I'm all right, mom,' Christine was reassuring her mother. 'I'm all right. They have very good doctors here and I'm getting better. I should be out in a few days. It didn't hit me as hard as it hit Spock's grandmother.'

Dr Chapel turned at that. 'Your grandmother, Spock?' Her voice was much more composed now. 'Oh, I am so sorry. Is she – '

'She is recovering,' Spock told her quickly, understanding that the woman was trying to avoid asking, Is she dead?

'Well...' Dr Chapel said, as if she had run out of things to say. 'I'm sorry, Mr Spock. I was so worried about Christine. You do understand?'

Spock opened his mouth, but he was uncertain of what he was going to say. He could not honestly say that he did understand such outbursts, but he was certainly familiar with such scenes in humans. Understanding them was not a requisite for simply weathering the storm.

'It is quite all right, Dr Chapel,' he said at last. He turned back to Christine. 'Christine, would you like some time alone with your mother?'

'Oh,' Christine said. He caught the sense that he had just put her in a difficult position, that she did not want some time alone but that she had no way of saying that in a way that her mother would understand.

'You must be tired by having us both in here,' he said. 'I shall – go and fetch coffee for us all. Sacha, come.'

The dog obediently came to his side and he took her harness and moved toward the door. He could sense Christine floundering in his wake but he was not sure what he could do. If he were to stay he would offend Dr Chapel. In going he upset Christine. On balance he had decided that the shock and upset that Dr Chapel was suffering at discovering how ill her daughter had been outweighed Christine's mortification at being left alone with the parent who appeared to be vacillating between anger and remorse.

He stopped just outside the door, uncertain of where to go now. He knew that there was a drinks machine at the end of the ward. He had heard people using it and could smell the coffee. But it was impractical for him to go and fetch two or three drinks and carry them through the ward whilst also holding onto Sacha's harness. He told her quietly to sit and just stood there, thinking that if he heard a member of staff come by he could ask for help.

He moved his fingers on the harness. Despite Jim's best efforts there were still grains of sand in every crease of the bright fabric that wrapped across the metal to show that Sacha was a working dog. He could still smell salt and that dubious fish scent that always came with the sea, even though Sacha herself was now perfectly clean.

Inside he could hear Christine and her mother talking. There was no point in trying not to hear their voices. He could concentrate on something else but he certainly could not stop the sounds from entering his ears, and at some point his mind would force him to dwell on what he had heard.

' – going to have to call your father back from Memphis,' he heard Dr Chapel saying in a distracted voice. 'He's supposed to be at the conference right through the weekend, but – '

'Mom, dad doesn't need to come back,' Christine insisted. 'Besides, he could beam up for a couple hours and go straight back if he wanted to. He wouldn't have to miss anything.'

'Oh, you know he wouldn't want to do that with you in hospital,' her mother insisted. 'He'd want to be on call...'

'And there, you wonder why I didn't tell you,' Christine said rather testily.

'Now, don't blame your father's misplaced sense of responsibility on me,' her mother retorted. 'I don't own him.'

'No,' Christine sighed. 'No, mom, you're right. I know. No one owns him. That's why he's always away.'

'Chrissie, you work in outer space,' her mother reminded her.

'Well, there didn't seem much left for me on Earth after Roger went off,' Christine began in a wistful tone.

'Do you miss him still?' her mother asked, her voice softer, almost difficult to catch. 'I know how hard it was...'

Christine drew in breath. Spock could hear it even through the door. He closed his eyes, wondering what she was going to say. He should not be listening, but he did not move away. She had always been very close about Roger Korby, keeping the memory of him distant from Spock during melds.

'I guess sometimes,' Christine said eventually. 'I mean, in the way that you miss an old place where you lived or a good pair of shoes. But I have Spock, mom. I have him now. It's not a flash in the pan or a poorly thought out romance. I've wanted Spock for a long time, and now I have him, and Roger's – Roger's like a piece of paper blown away by the wind. You know, you reach out and try to catch it and you don't, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that much, because you've got a whole book in your hand, and you don't need that little scrap with a few words on it. Does that make sense, mom?'

'It makes sense, Chrissie,' her mother said in a surprisingly soft voice. 'Oh, yes, it makes sense.'

Spock straightened up, away from the wall. He had not been aware that he had been leaning back until the wall was solid and cool behind him. He had been so intent on listening to Christine and her mother. He felt an odd warmth in the core of his body. What was it? Reassurance? Satisfaction? Why did he always feel so uncertain about Christine despite his knowledge of the strength of her love? Perhaps he was used to being outside, to not being quite enough like the people around him to fit in, always saying something or doing something that was considered abhorrent. Even Jim – and more so McCoy – found his behaviour shocking on occasion. Perhaps he was waiting for Christine to lose patience with his half-Vulcan ways and reject him as so many people did. But even with their differences Jim did not reject him. McCoy did not. And he was growing more and more certain that Christine would not. Her love may have grown out of a very human 'crush,' but it was real, and it was unfaltering.

He stepped away from the wall and walked with Sacha away from Christine's room. His grandmother's room was in this same ward and he thought he would be able to find it if he extended his awareness of his surroundings and the minds within them using the techniques taught to him by T'Lan on Vulcan. It was good to navigate like this without help beyond Sacha and his cane. He would see his grandmother and leave Christine and her mother with a chance to talk, and perhaps when he returned all would be harmonious between them.

A little way down the corridor he knocked softly and entered his grandmother's room, cautious lest he had been mistaken and got the wrong room. He was certain almost instantly that he was correct, though. He could sense his grandmother's mind as soon as he opened the door, and then she said in a frail voice, 'Spock! Oh, Spock, it's good to see you. Are you alone?'

'Yes, I am quite alone, grandma,' he assured her, letting Sacha lead him into the room. 'You appear to be much better.'

'Thanks to you,' she told him. 'There, Spock – there's a chair just by the bed. Have you got it?'

His cane clattered into the blurred object by the bed and he sat down in the seat, turning it towards his grandmother's bed.

'I have been told that you are recovering well,' he said, and she laughed quietly.

'As well as my old bones will let me, Spock. I guess I'll be here for a while yet, but I'm getting there. I'm getting there.'

'I cannot stay for long,' he told her. 'I am supposed to be fetching coffee for Christine and her mother. But I wished to assure myself that you were well, and to tell you that I am scheduled to undergo an operation on my eyes next week. It should leave me with perfect vision.'

'Oh, Spock!'

His ears caught the momentary spike of the biobed reading as his grandmother's heart beat faster and then calmed again. He reached out a hand to her and she took it. He could feel her pulse in her fingers.

'Do not allow yourself to become agitated,' he warned her.

'No, I'm not, I'm not,' she assured him. 'I'm too tired to be agitated. I'm just so happy. Have you told your mom and dad?'

Spock shook his head. 'Not as yet. I will wait to see if the surgery is successful rather than building Amanda's hopes.'

His grandmother squeezed his hand. 'You're a good boy, Spock. Thank you for coming to tell me. Now you go and get that coffee and spend some time with your girl. You deserve it.'