It gave Spock some quiet amusement to see how carefully Christine tried to conceal the later party from him. The effort that she put into not mentioning any details of what was happening that evening made it even more obvious that something was going on. She certainly dressed as if something special was about to happen, wearing a slick, midnight blue dress and the earrings that Spock had given her.

'Oh, it's just going to be a quiet dinner,' Christine told Spock as they walked up the pathway to his grandparents' house. 'Just a little celebration.'

'I have never understood the human compulsion to celebrate by eating large amounts of food,' Spock told her. He was looking, looking at everything. Looking at the deep heaped banks of snow on either side of the path, looking at the fence about the garden, which needed painting, looking at the white board wall of the house and the windows with their wooden frames and the veranda that was used to sit on in the hot summer, grandma's outdoor rocking chair there, darkened and damaged by the winter weather.

Christine laughed. 'Look into your cultural knowledge banks, Spock. Food is one of the most important things for a society to be in possession of. If you have food you're likely to stay alive.'

'True,' Spock nodded. 'But where does alcohol enter that equation?'

Christine laughed. 'I think that usually enters with Mr Scott or Dr McCoy,' she replied. 'Or their distant ancestors.'

'Hmm,' Spock agreed.

Even if he had not overheard Christine talking about the party it would have been obvious that something was going on. The snow on the path up to the house had been trampled by many feet, far more than could be accounted for by his grandparents stepping out a few times.

He closed his eyes momentarily and felt the odd sense of a reassuring, closed-in world.

'Are you all right, Spock?' Christine asked.

He snapped his eyes open again and said, 'Yes, of course.'

He stepped a little ahead of her to reach up to the door and ring the bell. The door was opened by his grandfather.

'Spock, come on in,' he said with a broad smile, reaching out to touch his grandson's shoulder. He had retained the openness that he had gained with Spock in the days of his wife's illness, and Spock was willing to accept the inevitable human touching in order to retain that closeness.

Spock stepped up into the house, looking around. The humans were not doing a good job at hiding, but then it was not easy to hide from a Vulcan. Even if he had not been aware of the many minds in the place, his ears easily caught the small rustling sounds of people crouching behind furniture, hiding behind doors. And then with apparently one accord, as he stepped into the sitting room, they emerged, crying out, 'Surprise!'

Spock raised an eyebrow and took a step back, thinking that it was best to at least appear surprised.

'Captain,' he said, as Jim appeared from behind the sitting room door. McCoy unfolded himself from behind a chair. 'Doctor.'

Then he caught his breath, genuinely surprised, as Uhura came across the room with a smile broad on her face, wearing an ankle-length sheer red dress over a darker catsuit. She went on tiptoes to gently kiss him on the cheek and said, 'Mr Spock, I cannot tell you how happy I am.'

'You do not need to, Miss Uhura,' Spock said. He could feel her happiness around him like a blanket. He looked at her intently, noting the differences from the last time he had seen her. It would not do to tell her she looked a little older. 'You have changed your hairstyle,' he said instead.

She smiled and put her hand to the back of her head. 'Oh, it's been like this for a while, Mr Spock. Nothing new.'

'It is new to me,' Spock pointed out. 'And Mr Scott is here!' he said as Scott appeared from the doorway to the kitchen.

'Ah, Mr Spock, you're a sight for sore eyes,' Scott said with a grin, reaching out to clap Spock on the arm and then thinking better of it.

'As are you, Mr Scott,' Spock said warmly, scrutinising his face. Scott, too, looked a little older, perhaps a little stouter. His hair was styled differently, combed back from his forehead. 'Are there any more surprises in the form of Enterprise crew members?' he asked curiously.

'Sulu and Chekov might come down later when their shift ends,' Jim told him. 'That's all. We didn't want to overwhelm your poor grandparents.'

'I appreciate your consideration,' Spock nodded, looking across to where his grandfather was now deep in conversation with Christine's mother, and his grandma sitting in her armchair drinking something deep red from a crystal cut glass.

'Here, Spock, have a drink,' McCoy said in a jovial tone, pushing past the Captain and handing Spock a tall glass filled with a pale blue liquid.

'Romulan ale, doctor?' he asked, eyeing the drink suspiciously. 'You did not buy this from the local liquor store.'

'Ahem. Well...' McCoy cleared his throat. 'Some things can be beamed down in a doctor's bag that wouldn't otherwise get through the custom's check, especially when you're coming from the flagship of the fleet.'

'Hmm,' Spock said in a tone of disapproval, but he had to admit that he would rather McCoy gave him this sharp, delicate ale that was suited to Vulcanoid taste buds over the doctor's own favoured bourbon. He took a sip to satisfy the doctor, and then turned back to the captain. 'Captain, I have spoken to the appropriate departments and arranged to end my leave when the Enterprise is ready to leave Earth. I will be back on duty at that time, as will Miss Chapel.'

'It will be wonderful to have you back, Spock. Truly wonderful,' Kirk effused. Spock suspected he had already imbibed a respectable amount of alcohol.

'I am looking forward to it, Captain,' he said.

He could say that with all honesty. The thought of returning to the Enterprise in a full capacity was intoxicating. He had been able to perform a wide variety of duties while he was blind but it was true that there were some things that he could not do. He eagerly anticipated the first landing party to an unknown planet or the first actual glimpse of a new stellar phenomenon.

It was fortuitous that Vulcans were not expected to be the life and soul of the party, because after the initial greetings Spock found little interesting in the type of social entertaining that humans enjoyed. Small talk was just that – small. There were few people with whom he could engage on an intellectual level. After a little time he left the humans to it and found a chair at the side of the room, next to his grandmother's comfortable armchair. Sacha came and sat at his knee, whining a little. He could tell that she was still puzzled at her sudden change in role.

'Ah, Spock,' his grandmother said, looking sideways. 'Yes, you sit down here for a bit. Keep me company.'

He turned to look at her, focussing so intently on her face that she began to blush.

'Your father would look at me like that,' she said. 'I never could stand to be stared at.'

'I do not mean to stare, grandma,' Spock assured her. 'I have not seen your face in some time.'

'Well, it must look different to how it did in that – '

She trailed off in awkwardness, and Spock raised an eyebrow. He was certain that she had been about to speak of the meld, and found herself unable due to self-consciousness or perhaps confusion. It was not uncommon for humans to find the melding experience difficult to articulate, somewhat like a dream, perhaps.

Sacha moved her muzzle from Spock's knee and turned to put it softly on his grandmother's lap, and she smiled and stroked the dog's head.

'You know, Spock, I've never known Mogget to tolerate a dog except this one,' she said, referring to the white cat that Spock was still yet to actually see. 'He took offence the first time, but I swear I caught them giving kisses to each other the next time you visited.'

'Sacha is usually very tolerant of other animals,' Spock nodded.

'What's going to happen to her now?' his grandmother asked.

Spock shook his head. 'That is yet to be determined,' he said pensively. 'I don't believe she will be suitable as a guide dog for anyone else.'

His grandmother scratched her fingers deep into the fur on Sacha's head and said, 'She's a lovely dog, Spock. It's a shame you'll have to say goodbye.'

Spock looked between the dog and his grandmother. Sacha looked entirely content. He opened his mouth to speak, but his grandmother spoke first.

'Does she take much walking, Spock?' she asked suddenly.

'On board ship I would walk her about the decks after my duty shift if I was not particularly active while on duty. Here on Earth she is quite able to exercise herself as long as she is taken down to the beach and let off the leash.'

'Then, Spock, would you consider letting her stay with me and your grandpa?' she asked him, reaching out to take his hand and closing her cool fingers around his. 'She would give us a lot of joy. Do you remember Benny, the dog we used to have?'

'Quite clearly,' Spock nodded. He recalled the dog to be an Old English sheepdog, young, excitable, and almost lost in his own fur.

'He died two years ago and we couldn't face having another dog after that,' she said wistfully, 'but this one's a bit different. This isn't just any dog.'

'That much is certain,' Spock nodded, stroking Sacha's head, 'but do you believe that grandpa will agree?'

His grandmother smiled. 'I'll make sure he does, Spock.'

Spock nodded. He had no doubt that it was in her capability to make grandpa consent to keeping the dog. Sacha's future seemed assured, and of that he was very glad.

'You just be sure to come back here more often than you have done in the past,' she told him firmly. 'I want to see you, Spock, in the time we have left – and so will Sacha.'

'I will visit as the schedule of the Enterprise allows,' Spock promised.

'And what about your mom and dad, Spock?' she asked. 'Have you told them yet?'

He nodded, remembering the sight of his mother's face and the joy on it when he had called her. 'I spoke to them as soon as I was certain the surgery had been successful,' he told her. 'Mother was very pleased.'

'And your father, Spock?'

Spock kinked an eyebrow upward. 'Yes, I believe that Sarek was also gratified,' he nodded.

'Well, then, that's everybody,' she smiled. 'Everyone knows. Everyone's glad. It's nice, isn't it, to be loved?'

Spock sat still, considering. He let his eyes roam about the room, his gaze settling on Christine, who was talking with her mother and McCoy, smiling and at ease. At Jim, who seemed to be engaging Uhura with some engrossing tale. At Scott, who was mixing a drink and proffering it to Spock's grandfather with a broad encouraging smile. He thought about his parents and the joy that had been evident when he spoke to them. He had said that Sarek was gratified, but he had caught more than that in the expression in his eyes. Spock was a Vulcan amid a sea of humans, but against all odds, he was loved.

'Yes,' he nodded, putting his hand over his grandmother's and feeling her human warmth, the age and strength in her bones, the cells which were inextricably linked with his own. 'Yes, it is nice to be loved.'

THE END