Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed.

A/N: Sorry this is late. My sister just had a baby today, and we've also been fighting mites. :P But Happy Dia de los Muertos; here's an update.

I woke up early on Wednesday, two hours earlier than my usual rising time of 0700, and I was surprised to see Soval already up and chopping up herbs to put in the pot of plomeek broth bubbling away on the stove. I was dressed in my running clothes, intent on jump-starting my day with an early morning run. I could almost smell the autumn air beyond the window, crisp and cool and tasting ever so slightly of the sea. It was the first week of October, one of my favorite months of the year.

The streets were fairly empty as I took off running down the street; the only people out were gathered at the bus stops and outside the little cafes, their eyes dull and tired as they sipped their morning brew. The thought of a beverage after my run appealed to me, but I continued on down the block, concentrating on my breathing, savoring the cool autumn air.

The weather in the Bay area was often delightfully mild during autumn; a breeze had kicked up in the night, rustling my hair as I slipped into a coffee shop down the street from the Consulate, my chest heaving from my brisk morning jog.

I had never been in here before, but I shelled out a few credits for a pumpkin spice something-or-other and glanced up at the comm above the counter. It was tuned to an early-morning news broadcast, and coincidentally they were discussing Soval's press conference (scheduled for later this afternoon) and the exchange.

"...the President of the United Nations Council assures everyone assigned to the exchange program that their services to the Vulcan people will save both our species time and money," a female reporter said calmly, adjusting the PADDs in front of her."Nathan Bartlett, who was assigned to a Vulcan school back in August as part of the exchange, says he's been enjoying his teaching experience so far, as his students are the most enthusiastic learners he has ever taught. Here's his comm interview now."

"Genie?" the barista called, and I tore my eyes from the comm and took the steaming cup of coffee from him, muttering a thank you as I hoisted my running pack over my shoulder.

The walk back to the Consulate wasn't as quiet as my run had been, but the sun was higher over the horizon and traffic was picking up. I had Wednesdays and Fridays off from class, and it was lucky I could make the press conference. And even if I had class today, I was usually off campus by 1330 and back at the Consulate by 1430 at the latest, which would have still given me half an hour to get to the comm in time for the newsfeed.

My coffee steamed in front of my face, the vapor dissipating quickly into the brisk wind. I took an appreciative sip, sighing in contentment, and I turned the corner and waited at the crosswalk for the light to turn. The smell of spices hit my nose as more steam escaped the lid spout, and I took another sip. The coffee was a little hot yet, and I blew into the spout to cool it.

I stopped what I was doing when I heard a gaggle of people behind me, seemingly together as a large group.

"So Macy can call the front desk and ask for an interview. I'm sure the ambassador is up by now," a man carrying a large holorecorder said.

I dared not glance behind me to see who was headed to the Consulate. No doubt they were reporters or paparazzi, and I was surprised they were coming to Sausalito this early in the morning.

"I wish we could set up shop on the sidewalk," one reporter lamented as they stepped up to the curb beside me. "They're touchy on news days."

"Elliot, are you sure he'd even want to do an interview before the press conference?"

"I didn't drag you out here this early just to be turned away. If he doesn't want to do an interview...and I admit, it's a longshot," the first one replied, "we can still get some material from the passerby. Isn't that right, miss?"

I realized belatedly that he was talking to me. I turned to him and raised my eyebrow at his roguish grin. "I am sure the residents of Sausalito would be delighted to give you their opinions," I assured him. Then I turned back around and watched the light.

"And would you be willing to give us a statement, miss? First of the day. You'd be on the news!"

I took a sip of my coffee, then chewed my lip in contemplation. "I'd rather not. I'm not totally awake, you know...if I had to have my opinion broadcasted to the masses, I think I'd like to be functioning at full capacity first. So maybe another time."

The light turned, and I hurried across the sidewalk before he could respond, and I heard them talking to themselves as they followed me. Elliot didn't seem upset about me blowing him off, but as I continued on towards the gate, I could feel his eyes on me.

I pressed the buzzer to the Consulate gate, waiting for one of the security guys to come out and let me in, and as I waited (what was taking them so long today?), I heard the reporters calling out to me.

"What are you doing?" Elliot said, breaking out into a light jog to catch up with me. He seemed to be at a loss for words as I stood there, and I chose not to respond.

"Do you expect them to let you in?" he pressed.

"Yes," I said simply, and I sighed in relief when one of the security guards exited the guardhouse, hurrying to rescue me.

"What's your name?" He almost looked as if he wanted to follow me into the Consulate, but one look at the security guard probably changed his mind. "Are you in the exchange?"

I ignored him and walked quickly across the courtyard, my coffee still steaming as I reached the front door.

Soval had finished making breakfast by the time I returned to our quarters, and I sighed as I took a seat at the table.

"They're already setting up down there. Some of them might be calling for an interview, just so you know."

He raised an eyebrow and set a steaming bowl of plomeek before me, and I thanked him. "That is to be expected," he said. "Your media personnel are often quite impatient. They are aware of the press conference, and what time it is scheduled. Why they cannot wait until then still confounds me."

"They want to be the first to get out an article about this exchange. It's not a race, though, it's who does the best report. At least that's how I see it. As if putting out an article a few hours earlier and getting to say you started the buzz about it makes a difference in your life. It's silly."

He sat down with his own bowl of broth and took a thoughtful sip of it. "Did you speak to the reporters?"

"I stopped and got this," I gestured to my coffee, "and they were on their way over here by the time I reached the crosswalk. They asked me for a statement – they'll be doing passerby interviews since they probably won't be getting one with you – and I refused. But then one followed me to the Consulate gate. I ignored him."

Soval frowned. "Did he harass you?"

"No, just asked a bunch of stupid questions I didn't answer. But now they know I can get in here...I guess for all they know, some other news outlet landed an early-morning interview with you, and I'm just the gofer fetching coffee."

He shrugged and took another sip of his broth. "I would advise you to ignore them, should they question you again."

"Ambassador..." I started, slightly exasperated that he would think I wasn't aware of how to handle paparazzi. "Yes, that is very good advice," I finally conceded. It was too nice a day to be getting into an argument, and I thought my tone spoke for itself.

He looked up at me, confused, until his gaze softened and he set down his spoon. "You are a Media and Communications major, are you not?"

"Yes," I replied with a knowing smile. "This isn't my first rodeo. And you forget who my father is."

"Forgive me," he murmured. "You do not discuss your studies with me, and at times, I suppose I forget the extent of your experience."

"It's not that broad, believe me. You have more experience than I do, but I'm not clueless over here."

"I never thought you were," he said in protest. "I meant it as a friendly reminder that one should–"

"– Ambassador."

He stopped and looked up at me, his brown eyes shining with an unreadable expression.

"It's ok. I get it," I murmured, making an effort to make my tone gentle and understanding. Now was not the time to argue; we both had better things to do with our time.

And with one look from his bright brown eyes, my resolve to ignore the stirrings of my highly inappropriate crush was weakened. How could someone his age still look so vulnerable when they blushed? He hastily returned to his breakfast, but he paused to look up at me, and I felt a soft smile touch my lips. It almost looked like he returned it.

You're digging yourself deeper, Forrest, the reasonable side of my brain admonished. Soon there won't be a way out that doesn't involve some serious heartbreak.

…

So it came as no surprise to me that as I curled up on Timok's couch (a fresh cup of tea in my hands), I was ever so slightly uncomfortable. Soval was getting very good at picking up on my more overt emotions and social cues (except, I supposed, these new stirrings from hell), and Timok possessed the same uncanny ability. I wasn't in the mood for his teasing today, so I focused on my tea and waited impatiently for the newscaster to hand it over to the live feed of Soval's press conference, which was taking place three stories below us in the receiving room.

"You are quiet this afternoon," the old man remarked as he sat down on the couch beside me. "Have things improved between you and the ambassador? I should hope you have found some common ground with him by now."

"Things are going all right," I said with a casual shrug. "No major arguments, at least." I kept my face neutral and uncaring as the newscaster blabbed on about a new youth center being built downtown. But I don't think I hid my interest well when she finally turned to the subject matter at hand. My ears perked as my attention spiked and I straightened, my teacup resting in my lap.

"And now, the United Nations Council called for a press conference from the Vulcan Consulate regarding this new exchange program. Live from Sausalito, here is Ambassador Soval and his report on this unprecedented age of friendship. We'll see you back here at 4 PM for the local weather. This has been your San Francisco News Station, I'm Lisa Menzel, and we hope you have a good afternoon."

"You too, Lisa," I muttered sardonically, taking a sip of my drink. Timok simply raised an eyebrow.

The screen changed to the official Vulcan logo, and then we were staring at an empty podium, the soft murmur of voices behind the camera the only indication that the receiving room was occupied. But then the ambassador entered the frame, his silver hair reflecting the camera flashes as he took to the podium, staring down at the PADD in his hand with the same neutral expression I was trying to emulate.

And then he looked into the camera, and his warm brown eyes glinted in an unreadable expression as he began.

"Good afternoon," he said calmly, his voice reverberating into the microphone. I settled into the couch cushion and leaned my head against my hand. "The United Nations Council has asked me to inform Earth's citizens about the details of this exchange. I will make this brief, as I am sure none of us want to be late for dinner."

The crowd chuckled in appreciation, and I felt a grin push my lips upward. Soval took a deep breath before continuing, his eyes fixed on the camera.

"This past January, the administrator of the High Command retired, and with the end of his term came a new era of progressive ideals. The current regime does not wish to stay locked in the past, but instead wants to embrace our alliance with the human race. You have confounded us for long enough; it is time for both our peoples to set aside our differences and understand one another."

He glanced down at his notes, then back to the camera. "The first barrier to overcome is language. The Vulcan High Command took the initiative by inviting 200 carefully selected men and women to my homeworld. By now, they have been assigned a class of 50 students or more, and given proper accommodations that are befitting the honorable profession of teaching. They will be well-compensated for their services, in addition to receiving free room and board for the year they reside on Vulcan. It is our hope that most of them will agree to stay after their term of service has ended."

Whispers and soft murmurs erupted at that, but one glance from him silenced the room again. I frowned; I wasn't teaching a class, so where did I fit into all this?

"And for another 200 carefully selected individuals, we have asked an even greater task: hands-on cultural exchange. These humans are living among my people, helping them to understand cultural nuances that still evade us. Only a month ago, I thought the incredibly visceral sport of American football was a fight to the death. This is a common misconception on my world, spread by faulty observations from a group of Vulcan anthropologists interning here thirty years ago. I have since been, as your people say, set straight on the matter."

Another appreciative ripple of laughter pulsed through the crowd, and I thought I saw a satisfied smirk touch his lips.

"These specially selected individuals were asked to concentrate on the finer nuances of your language, cultural barriers we have not overcome, and most importantly, helping the Vulcan people understand the significance of emotion in your day-to-day interactions. We want to understand, and we have been making too many assumptions, too many judgments. It is time to put that aside.

"But how to reciprocate your generous service?" He paused again, perhaps for dramatic effect. "As of now, there are 18 universities on your planet that offer a Vulcan language course, only four of which are in the North American region. The old regime propositioned that our language was too difficult to be taught to younger students, and that it should be a privileged few humans who should have access to that knowledge. Next August, a new policy will be put into place: the Vulcan language will be taught in over 2,000 institutions of secondary education worldwide, along with another 4,000 at the collegiate level. Your children, starting from age 14, will have the opportunity to learn Vulcan. Several of the new professors at the collegiate level will also be offering High Vulcan at select universities. Together, my homeworld will be enriched with the knowledge of Standard English, and your world enriched with my mother tongue."

The swell of muttering and whispering rose again, but Soval held up his hand, his eyes flashing in what looked like annoyance. However, he took a deep breath and continued, seemingly unperturbed by their interruption.

"Finally, as a gesture of goodwill between our peoples, the Vulcan High Command has offered several prominent research facilities access to more advanced technologies and medicines. The Inter-species Medical Exchange will grow in numbers, and it is hoped that your people will follow our lead in that regard and encourage enrollment in the IME."

His gaze grew softer as he looked into the camera. "I realize that our alliance has not always been as smooth as either party would like, but this initiative will change that. Together, we can become greater than the sum of our parts, and our alliance can bloom into a long-lasting and fulfilling friendship."

And then he looked down at the crowd and announced he would be taking questions.

The camera pulled back to a wide shot to reveal dozens of hands in the air, and the ambassador called on a reporter in the front.

"Why the sudden interest in our race?" she asked, the man beside her taking advantage of Soval's attention to snap several photos. "What caused this change in policies?"

"I believe too many of my fellow Vulcans are frustrated by our ignorance of your culture," he replied smoothly. "I am among them, though the initiative for this change ultimately came from the younger generation of Vulcans, who are more open to foreign ideals. Their voices have grown stronger in recent years as the influence of the older, more conservative regime faded. I believe similar instances happened on Earth, have they not? The voices of the young cannot be ignored forever."

The woman nodded and opened her mouth to ask another question, but the ambassador turned away and pointed to a man in the middle of the crowd.

"Were all the exchange partners you chose teachers? Don't you think that's stealing from our youth?"

Soval raised an eyebrow. "Only 30 of the chosen educators have any teaching experience, but everyone we chose fit a certain personality profile, one we believe lends itself to an aptitude for instruction. No knowledge of our language was needed for this endeavor, only patience and enthusiasm. So no, sir, we did not steal from your youth. We would not want to deprive them of educators."

The torrent of questions rose to a crescendo, but the ambassador called on a woman in the far left of the frame. "Is it true you have an exchange partner?"

A tiny smirk pushed his full lips upward, and he bowed his head in affirmation. I braced myself for his answer. "Yes, I do have an exchange partner, and she has been most helpful in relieving me of several misconceptions. I should hope I am already improving as a representative to your people as a result of her tutelage."

A small smile pushed my lips upward, and I relaxed into the couch. Timok must have noted my movement, as he raised an eyebrow in my direction.

"The ambassador knows what to say in response to their inquiries," he assured me. "He has faced more difficult questions than this."

I stared at the screen as another reporter asked for details on the medical research we'd be getting. "Have you ever seen him this...affable before?" I muttered. The ambassador expounded upon a few notable technologies, but quickly moved on to another question.

"Affable, Genevieve?"

"I've watched these press conferences before, you know. I've seen what kind of face he puts on for them. He doesn't look like a grumpy old coot today."

The old man could not hide his smirk. "Yes, it seems he is in a much more agreeable mood today. That was probably your doing."

I stared at him, and he looked at me with what looked like a smug expression. "Yes, Genevieve, you heard me right. Did you have an especially pleasant morning?"

I couldn't help but frown. "Well, yeah, it's a beautiful day outside. I got up early, had a good run, drank some coffee...I got a lot of work done on my thesis..."

"And you spent the day in your quarters? Or in your room?"

"I work at the kitchen table," I replied, still bemused as to what he was getting at.

"And the ambassador was there?"

I blinked. "Yeah, he didn't go into his office until after lunch."

Timok's smirk was outright as he leaned back into the couch, his gaze drifting back to the comm. Soval was wrapping up the questions, and I turned my attention back to the press conference.

"Thank you all for your cooperation, and I hope you have a pleasant afternoon. Good day."

He looked into the camera one last time, a tiny little smile playing over his lips, and my expression relaxed as the screen cut to the Vulcan logo again, and then to black.

My companion switched off the comm and drained his tea, and I followed suit. So it hadn't been a nightmare after all; they didn't even make a fuss about me being female. That was encouraging, though I was sure the paparazzi wouldn't be so forgiving. It was only a matter of time before another article appeared in the tabloids.

I stood and stretched. I hadn't anticipated the press conference to be so brief, but the ambassador had managed to relay a lot of information in a short amount of time. The fact that Vulcan language studies would be extended to the high school level intrigued me the most, and I couldn't help but wonder if my alma mater would be on the list of schools apparently receiving a new teacher.

And yet, as I set my teacup in Timok's sink and sat back down on the couch, I couldn't help but think that I didn't have all the answers yet, that there was still something missing from the picture. But that was just a hunch. Maybe it was time to set aside our differences and get to know each other better. My crush from hell reared its ugly head and perked in interest (interpreting my thought in a very different light), but I smacked it back down into the depths where it belonged and turned as I heard the door buzzer.