Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to Fameanon for helping me write this.

Strom handed Dr. Cardwell the latest report on Louis, who seemed to be progressing well in his therapies and treatments with the hospital priestesses. He nodded in satisfaction as the tiniest smile touched his fellow doctor's lips, and unbidden, an earlier conversation with the priestess T'Lir came to his mind.

"Your assistant Shija has Vulcan blood, and yet I can sense the constant fight between her two halves. And yet, Dr. Cardwell makes it a point to control her emotions. I find this...quite curious. Your colleague would have made a suitable priestess, had she been born a Vulcan."

He turned his attention once more to his colleague, whose smile was now more pronounced. "This is excellent news, Dr. Strom. If..." She hesitated. "I've studied your culture and realize there are certain stipulations regarding the distribution of food and drink, but...would it be too forward to simply have a meal together at a restaurant? This is worth a celebration, don't you think?"

He frowned at her. "I agree, but I am confused as to why you deem it necessary to celebrate this progress with food."

"It's traditional, doctor," she said, her tone shifting to something warmer. He had noticed she only took that tone with himself and her nurses, if one of them was having a particularly unpleasant day. He wasn't sure what to make of it, as he was under the distinct impression that she found him disagreeable.

"And the sole purpose of this dinner would be to celebrate this success?"

She tilted her head. "Primarily, yes."

"Primarily?" he parroted back at her.

Her cheeks flushed. "Perhaps I simply enjoy spending time with you."

He raised an eyebrow, pleased at first with her tone, but then he grew suspicious. "You honor me, Dr. Cardwell. Our colleagues have said that you are...uninclined towards socialization. They paint you as an unpleasant sort of woman, but it is...agreeable that you are not what they described."

"Oh," she said, clearly displeased. He frowned. "Well...I am certainly not inclined to spend time outside of work with several of my colleagues, but you are a rare exception."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

Her flush intensified. "Mmm...maybe..." He could sense her embarrassment. "You know what? Nevermind. This was a silly idea."

T'Lir's words rang in his head, and his gaze grew cold. This would not be the first time a woman had approached him solely on his merit. Disgust gnawed at him, but he would know the truth of the matter, make certain that was her goal.

He shook his head at her. "I do not understand your meaning, Dr. Cardwell, and I can sense there is more to your motivations than you are letting on."

She handed him back his PADD. "There is nothing...good day, Dr. Strom."

She made to leave, but he stopped her with a gentle but insistent hand on her shoulder.

"Dr. Cardwell, I insist on understanding your motive. If you know our culture as well as you say, you would know that saying such things to an unbonded man is very unwise."

Her gray eyes welled with pain, then anger as she stared him down. "I thought you of all people would understand me. I thought...well, I was completely emotional in my thinking, so perhaps that's the main problem."

"I do not understand."

"No, you don't, and now I see you never will." Tears leaked from her eyes. "I thought that you would see...I may not smile and simper like other women, but that doesn't mean I'm devoid of feeling! I thought, finally, a man who doesn't see me for my body, but sees me for me! For my mind and my talent! But I guess you Vulcan men are as clog-headed as your human counterparts, so hooray for me! I guess I'm not as smart as I gave myself credit for!"

Her words stung, and he unintentionally gripped her shoulder harder. "I find it illogical that you would hurl baseless insults at me when you have yet to reveal your motive. If I have caused offense, then you have my sincerest apologies, but your attitude is unproductive and your emotionalism is unnecessary."

"Right. Emotionalism. I just so happen to be a human, doctor."

Her spiteful tone rankled him, and he flared his nostrils. "Truly? With the way you behave sometimes, I could have mistaken you for the coldest of Vulcan priestesses."

That gave her pause, and she ripped her shoulder from his grip. "I was wrong to trust that you would get it."

She shook her head and rushed from his office, tears still glimmering in her gray eyes.

He watched her go, suppressing the anger that welled in his chest. The way she had approached him at first made him so certain that she was only using him for his wealth and prestige. But now…

I thought, finally, a man who doesn't see me for my body, but sees me for me! For my mind and my talent!

Her words stung a second time, but he pushed the thought away. She had made it very clear that she found him unpleasant, clog-headed, to put it in her own words. It would be illogical to dwell on what would never come to pass.

…

Hester received word that Dr. Strom would be joining her in working with Desmond. He would arrive shortly with a Vulcan priestess in tow, and she slipped into the room, kneeling down in front of the dark-haired man.

She combed her fingers through his wavy hair, frowning at how dull and flat it looked. She knew it was nothing more than a vanity, but Desmond had always made it a point to take care of his hair. He didn't even react when she stroked his head, but simply grunted, staring listlessly straight ahead.

"He looks just like you," a familiar voice said from the doorway.

She stood and stepped aside to allow Strom and the priestess to proceed. Desmond did not react at first as Strom took her place, kneeling in front of her patient.

"Mr. Cardwell?"

"He was a lieutenant," Hester said flatly.

Strom blinked at her. "I read the report." He turned back to Desmond. "Lieutenant Cardwell?"

Strom knew that Desmond didn't take to other females well, but he also knew his priestess would be able to mitigate that, but T'Nev needed aid first. Strom gently put his fingers at Desmond's psi points and joined with the younger man. He couldn't see why Desmond was so horrified by women, but he could temporarily make the priestess look like Dr. Cardwell to him. Which is exactly what he did, and as he pulled away he motioned for Hester to step out of the room, and the priestess to enter. Strom walked out of the room with his colleague and stood there awkwardly for a few moments.

"I made somewhat of an illusion in his mind," he admitted finally. "The priestess I picked looks something like you, tall and elegant, so I planted in his mind a temporary notion that she was you."

Hester was shocked. He thought she was tall and elegant, but to her that priestess was the equivalent of a super model. She clasped her hands before her and nodded, feeling as awkward as Strom looked. Their working relationship had been strained and she didn't know if it was her, or him, or both of them not reading each other well. And she had no idea how to approach fixing their relationship.

"Thank you," she said after a long pause. "Anything that helps him, well…I owe you for this."

"You owe me nothing," he replied, and she looked away as her eyes burned. She blinked and tried to hide her emotionalism with a cough, and it seemed he did not notice.

The priestess emerged half an hour later, and nodded to them both to proceed in.

Hester entered first, rushing in to see if this treatment had made any difference. Desmond did not say anything, but smiled blandly at her as she knelt before him.

"Hey Dezzie," she whispered, and she cupped his cheek. He leaned into her touch, silently closing his eyes. "How you feeling, bud?"

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. She frowned, concerned that he would not speak, but Strom appeared at her side, slowly reaching for his hand. Desmond flinched and Strom recoiled, but Hester shh-ed him, stroking his hair like her mother used to do when they were afraid of thunderstorms.

"Desmond, it's alright," she said, smiling brightly at him. The fear slowly drained away, replaced with a glimmer of that familiar curiosity. "Dr. Strom is going to help you. He's here to make you better, hon."

Desmond looked up at the doctor, frowning, but then held out his hand like a frightened child reaching for its mother.

Strom knelt beside her and took his hand, gently pressing on certain nerve points. Desmond flinched again, but his eyes flashed with recognition as he looked at her again.

"Sis?" he croaked, and she burst into tears.

Holding firm on Desmond's psi points, he pulled out a hankie with his other hand. "Here, please, take this." Strom did not look at her, but rather focused on keeping her brother steady. He could tell he needed to do another scan, a deeper one. This affliction was not entirely organic, which was his working theory up to this point. He sat quietly for as long as he could, but he could feel Desmond's strength waning. Slowly, so not to alarm his colleague, he put the young man to sleep again.

Once standing, he nodded to Dr. Cardwell. "I believe your brother has more than something organic which is incapacitating his mental faculties. I need to do further scans, and if what I suspect is true, I will perform surgery."

Hester wiped her eyes and attempted to hand back his kerchief. He shook his head.

"No, please, take it. Your brother will require much rest after that exertion. I will take my leave now." He bowed slightly to her and raised the ta'al.

She looked down at the tear and snot stained hankie and shoved it in her pocket. The Vulcan made to leave, and though she wanted to let him go without a word, she stopped herself.

"Thank you, doctor," she said quietly just as he reached the door. She knew his superior hearing would catch it.

He said nothing at first, but then replied in a calm, placid tone. "We are doctors, you and I. It is only logical to help those in need of healing, and one does not thank logic. Good day, Dr. Cardwell."

She let him go without another word, and she stroked Desmond's hair as he slept peacefully on his bed.

"You did so much for me when we were kids," she said to him, the tears returning. "You were always there for me even when Dad wasn't home or Mom couldn't be bothered...I promise you, hon, we're going to find you in there...we're going to set things right." She sniffed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Strom may be a bit of a...well, he's not what I thought he was, but he's an excellent doctor...better than me, can you believe it?" She chuckled to herself and swallowed thickly. "If anyone can save you...it's him."

She kissed his forehead and rubbed her eyes again. "I love you, bro...I'll talk to you soon."

Strom moved away from the doorway and headed to the entrance of the psych ward, lingering off to the side with his eyes on a PADD to make it seem like he was simply pondering a missive and not eavesdropping on his colleague. Her compliment pleased him, but he still had no explanation for her erratic behavior. There was something missing from this puzzle, but as to what that piece might be...logic had no answers, and he put it from his mind.