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

A/N: Hey Obi-Wan, isn't it funny how when someone has anything remotely negative to say, they don't sign in to say it? Please, people, if you have a concern, PM me and we can talk about it.

"And I just feel like we'd be a good pair – you know, in a metatextual sense, Sherlock and Watson are kind of like the relationship between Vulcans and humans. Sherlock, as the stoic genius, is the logic side of the equation, and Watson, with his compassion and intuition, is the emotional side. Make sense?"

I had just spent fifteen minutes trying to convince Soval to help me hand out candy for Halloween. My brother Oliver had played Sherlock for a play in high school, and as he was taller than Soval even then, I wanted to see if the costume would fit him. If I got an answer today, I would have time to get his clothes altered in time for this next Friday.

"It does make sense, and your proposal is intriguing. And of course, I understand your mother's worry that you will be alone in this task and possibly exposed to unsavory people."

I smiled. One of my first arguments for this experience was that it would make my mother happy to have someone else helping me. My parents lived in a safe neighborhood, but with all the outside traffic coming in, I knew my mother would worry if I was home alone and possibly handing out candy to violent strangers, at ten o'clock at night no less.

"My mother will be very happy to hear that," I said, my grin widening. "She knows you'll be very helpful, and having another person there would make me feel safer..."

If my guess was correct, this would seal the deal for Soval. He spoke all the time of how providing for me and keeping me safe was his top priority, and this surely met his requirements. Just to make the argument airtight, I gestured to my leg. "And what with my hamstring, doing this alone would be really hard, so–"

"Genevieve, you have made your point very clear. I will help you in this task, and I will even dress up as Sherlock Holmes, in the spirit of the holiday."

My heart started racing in excitement, the thrill of his cooperation spreading from head to toe. My face broke into an ear-splitting grin.

"Ambassador," I whispered, the tremor in my voice exposing my glee. "Thank you so much."

To my surprise, he smirked and put his hand on my shoulder. "I believe I will enjoy playing the role you have laid out for me. And you will be Dr. Watson?"

"I will," I assured him. "I don't have a costume for it, but I know where to find something suitable. I know I'm a woman and Victorian era clothing didn't allow a suit for a girl, but I think we can get away with it if I wore a suit, right? I mean, I am technically playing a guy."

"I am sure you will look lovely in whatever you choose to wear. Your plan sounds perfectly acceptable to me."

I smiled and patted his arm in thanks, making mental notes to go to the family storage unit for that costume as soon as possible, tomorrow if I could manage it. In the meantime, I wasn't going anywhere, and perhaps Soval sensed my restlessness.

"I must go and discuss Dr. Sovok's dismissal, but when I return, I will fix us dinner. Please, do not exert yourself while I am gone."

"Don't worry, I've got this couch potato thing down pat," I said with a smirk. "I won't be moving any time soon."

He frowned at me, tilting his head, his expression bewildered. "I do not understand how you could be a tuber of any kind, Genevieve. This is one of your colloquialisms, is it not?"

I waved him off with a promise of an explanation at a later time, but if he was going to have this meeting today, he needed to leave. It was almost dinnertime; since I was no position to make my own food, I was reliant on him to prepare the evening meal. He raised an eyebrow at me, but left with a silent smirk.

I relaxed back into the couch, amazed that he had agreed to be my partner for Halloween. Never had I taken him for the kind who liked dressing up, but it seemed he was doing all of this for my sake, and that thought made me pleasantly queasy. I sighed and looked to my left, and my eyes fell on his shirt, apparently forgotten.

It sat beside me, its yellow and gray threads glimmering in the soft evening light, as if taunting me. I looked towards the door, then back to Soval's shirt. I listened for signs of his return, a key in the lock or approaching footsteps. All was silent.

I looked one more time towards the door, then gave in to temptation.

The collar still held his smell, musky and dark and exotic to my senses. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, praying that Soval wouldn't come back and see how much I was enjoying the odor of his clothes. And I was enjoying the smell of him, more than I cared to admit to myself.

I laid back on the couch, holding the cloth to the lower half of my face, and I relished the feeling warmth spreading from my core outward.

God, I'm pathetic,I thought to myself as I took another appreciative whiff. Why can't I smell this good? It's not fair.

Fair or not, I eventually set his shirt down once I had sniffed to my heart's content. I briefly considered borrowing it for a while so I could have his scent in my bed, but I figured someone as observant has him would notice quickly that his shirt was missing. And besides, that kind of creepy once I thought it through. So I put the shirt back on the couch and laid back down, staring blankly at the ceiling.

So much for beating the worst crush in existence. I sighed and carefully rolled onto my side, my legs splayed uselessly across the cushions. Nine more months of this, and maybe then I would be free from this, and all its wondrous glory and painful pleasure.

…

I handed Soval the key to our family's storage unit, and he dutifully unlocked the door and pushed it upward, flooding the interior with light. I had intended to run this errand by myself, until I remembered the step up into the box, and that riding a motorcycle was painful with a pulled hamstring. Soval stepped up into the unit, then turned around and crouched, reaching for me.

Before I could ask what he was doing, his hands were on my hips and he lifted me into the unit; I made to say something (I wasn't sure what), but he set me down and immediately engrossed himself in some old bedframes in the corner.

"Thank you," I finally managed.

He bowed his head and turned his eyes to the two racks of clothes (all in bags) that lined the wall, and he pulled out the dress I had worn to junior prom, a floor-length red number with sequins on the bust.

"This is yours?" he asked. I nodded. "It is a good color on you."

"It's a good color on all humans," I retorted gently, fingering the plastic covering. "Isn't the predominant color on Vulcan red?"

"Indeed, we find the hue soothing...I have read that crimson is a stimulating shade for humans, that it even arouses appetite and awareness."

"Um..." I hid my blush by rifling through the clothes further down the rack. "Yes, that's right."

Several seconds of awkward silence passed, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could pull off staring at one of my dad's old uniforms.

"My statement made you uncomfortable."

I turned to face him, shaking my head vigorously. "No, no, it's just your word choice..." I hung my head and gathered my nerve. "You're talking about appetites and, well, arousal, and that's not exactly subjects I'm used to talking about."

He frowned. "It was not my intention to disturb you. I will use different words in the future."

"No, don't!" I insisted, and he raised both eyebrows. "Don't censor yourself for me. It's alright."

It took him a moment to nod, but when he did, I continued. "When you say 'arouses appetite'...I don't think of food," I muttered, knowing he could hear me. He opened his mouth to respond, but I shook my head at him. "I like the way you employ the English language, so please, please don't censor yourself on my account."

"If it truly does not bother you, then I will not concern myself. But I must ask...why does your mind turn to other matters when I speak of–"

"The only phrase I know using that word is 'to arouse suspicion'," I said hastily. "Most other connotations are, how shall I put this..."

"Sexual?"

I simply nodded and turned back to the clothes-rack, forgetting my shame for a moment when I spotted what I was looking for. I pulled the Sherlock costume from the myriad of outfits and held it up for him. "I can tell right now that those pants are too long for you. We can get them hemmed. My mom knows how."

"We have a quartermaster housed in the Consulate. He is well trained in tailoring clothes, especially on short notice," he replied, taking the costume from me. "This looks very much like the illustrations in the issue of Sherlock Holmes that I read."

While he examined his outfit, I glanced absentmindedly around the storage unit. My eyes were drawn to a old cedar wardrobe that had once stood in Oliver's room, and beside it lay something I hadn't seen since high school.

"Oh my gosh," I said softly, and Soval looked up at me. He followed my gaze to the dusty black case, and before he could ask what it was, I was dusting it off and opening the lid. The rusted hinges groaned in protest, but I carefully removed the acoustic guitar from its velvet lining and put the strap around my neck.

"Man," I whispered. "It's been ages since I've seen this old thing..." It was Oliver's guitar, but he taught me how to play it, and then left it behind when he started college. I too abandoned it during my collegiate education, and here I found it again, forlorn and out of tune.

My companion cocked his head as I started tuning the strings. "I did not know you played an instrument, Genevieve."

"Well, it's been six years since I've picked it up, so that's why...do you play anything? Now's the time to shock me and say you're a master bassoon player, or maybe you and Dad started a rock band ten years ago and never came out to the public with it."

He shook his head. "I do not play any Earth instruments, and no, your father and I have never formed any musical group. For one thing, neither of our schedules would allow it, and for another, I don't think your father has the voice to lead a band. My voice is certainly not suited for singing."

I shrugged. "Yeah, we got our musical talent from Mom's side of the family."

He held out his hand, silently asking for the guitar, and I handed it over. "I do play a Vulcan instrument, a lyre," he continued. "Among my people, it is a preferred pastime to be skilled in one of the art forms, poetry or music or painting."

"I didn't know that," I mused aloud.

He raised an eyebrow. "It never came up in conversation."

"But still, we've lived together for three months now, and I've never seen you play."

A sour chord resounded through the storage unit as he plucked two strings. "I did not wish to disturb you. I often played in the evening after dinner, and you are usually occupied with your schoolwork. It would have been unkind of me to disrupt your study time."

"Everyone needs a break now and then," I said with a shrug. "Are you good at the lyre? How long have you played it?"

Another dissonant triad fell on my ears, and I stepped forward to his side, pressing my fingers onto the proper strings for a C chord. He strummed again, and it was better.

"I have played the lyre since I was a boy...so after such a long period of practice, I should hope I am proficient."

I adjusted my fingers and lightly tapped his shoulder, and he plucked the strings again. "That's G," I muttered in his ear; I could hear his breath and feel the radiant heat of his body. Once more I moved my fingers, making an F chord, and I hummed a few strains of an old folk song (the chords of which I was unconsciously playing, as it was one of the songs I remembered how to play). He turned to me.

"You have a pleasant voice," he said. We were no more than six inches from each other, our breath mingling in the distance between us. "Do you sing?"

"Only in the shower...this is A minor."

"I would be agreeable to hearing you sing." He gently nudged my wrist away from the guitar, and he pressed his fingers to the strings, looking at me expectantly. "That song you were humming...can you sing it for me?"

I flushed and shook my head. "How good is your hearing?"

"Quite excellent. Why do you ask?"

"Well," I muttered, "I'm not very comfortable singing right here and now, but if you listen hard, maybe I'll start singing in the shower again."

"I look forward to hearing it," he replied, and he took off the strap and returned my guitar. "It is getting late, and I'm sure you are hungry. Let us return to the Consulate."

I put the guitar back in its case and carried it to the door with me, and Soval stepped down first, carefully laying his costume over the threshold of the unit. He then took the guitar from me and set it on the ground, and then reached for me, holding out his hands in expectation.

I stepped forward immediately, perhaps a little too eager for his touch, but I braced myself on his shoulders and let him wrap his arms around my thighs.

God, he's warm, I thought to myself, gripping his shoulders tighter. This feels too nice for my own good.

His grip was strong and sturdy as he lifted me into the air and slowly let me slide down his body to the ground, and I realized I had never been this close to him before, not like this. Dust had marred his silver robes all down his front where I had rubbed against him, and I reached out without thinking and started brushing it away.

Soval raised an eyebrow at me and watched my work, and I paused, flushing in shame. "Sorry, you have dust all down your chest. I didn't mean to–"

He reached out and dusted off my shoulders, smirking slightly as I blushed even harder. I turned my attention to the open door and sighed.

"All right, let's close up shop and get home. It looks like rain." I frowned up at the sky, and once the ambassador closed the storage unit door, I handed him his costume and picked up the guitar again. "You carry that and I'll carry this."

"I can carry both if you wish," he suggested, and I shrugged and handed over the guitar case.

He walked beside me as we made our way to the aircar, and after carefully setting our things in the back, he opened the door for me and offered his arm so I could get in.

"Aren't you the gentleman today!" I teased, smirking at him as I lowered myself into my seat.

"Simply doing my duty as your exchange partner, Genevieve." He bowed his head and closed the door, and I stared down at my lap, trying not to blush.

…

I adjusted my tie and checked my braided hair in the mirror; the antique notebook and fountain pen I had found at the shop I slipped into my suit jacket, and thus my Watson costume was complete. The thrift store had yielded a pinstriped suit, which the Consulate quartermaster had tailored to fit my curves. The man did masterful work, and he had even managed to sew a ribbon onto the bowler hat I had picked up.

Even greater evidence of the man's skill was sitting pretty on Soval, as he had not only hemmed the trousers of the Sherlock costume, but adjusted the deerstalker hat to fit the ambassador's head perfectly.

My roommate turned to me and allowed me to inspect his costume while he examined mine. "I must pay my compliments to the tailor," he said. "That suit becomes you."

"So does that coat on you," I replied smoothly. I reached for the cape portion of his overcoat. "May I?"

"By all means. I want to be presentable."

"You're always presentable." I smiled as I straightened his collar. "You know...I don't think people on the street will recognize you. The hat hides your ears, and unless they know your face really well, I'm thinking we could have a normal night out in public for a change."

He raised an eyebrow. "It will be a novel experience. I look forward to testing your assertion," he said. "Come, we do not want to cause your parents to be late."

…

Soval admired the decorations my mother had put up, lightly touching the fake cobwebs that covered the nearest porch post. "Your mother did this?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. "She's very enthusiastic about this holiday. It's one of her favorites."

He eyed the skeletons and pumpkins in every corner of the porch. "I can see that."

I knocked on the door, and when I saw my companion was still examining my mother's handiwork, I hastily waved him over. He rushed to my side. "Now, I didn't tell dad why I needed the storage key. He knows you're with me, but he doesn't know you came in costume. I know Mom will be thrilled. She has an entire holoimage album of past costumes, all the way back to when Max was only 3 months old. She'll–"

The door opened, and I turned to my mother's smiling face. Her witch hat wiggled as she sighed in contentment at the sight of us, and her smile slowly spread into a gleeful grin.

"Honey!" she shouted back into the house. "You've got to come see this!"

Soval raised an eyebrow at the bowl of candy my mother set aside, and he turned to me. "Can you promise your father will not–"

He didn't have time to finish his question, as my dad rushed to the door, half out of his uniform, his thinning hair unbrushed, his tie askew. He grinned.

"Oh man." His gaze zoomed over Soval's costume. "Abigail, get the holoimager. I want to capture this moment."

"I don't blame you," I said with a smirk. "I only came up with the most awesome metatextual costume on the planet, and found the perfect person to make it work."

My dad simply grinned and stepped aside, and as we entered, my mother returned with the holoimager.

"Stand together and smile," she said. Then she glanced uncertainly at Soval. "Well, just look contemplative, I guess."

The ambassador shrugged and stepped closer to me, schooling his expression from slightly amused to serious and thoughtful. I smirked and shook my head, but my smile died as I heard the click of the holoimager.

"Mom!" I protested. "I wasn't ready."

"Then turn to the camera and smile!"

I obeyed, and with my parents satisfied with their memento, I started setting up out on the porch as my dad struck up a conversation with Soval about something or other. About fifteen minutes after I swept the porch and front walkway, my partner joined me outside, bearing two chairs and a small table for the bowl of candy.

"Your father says Starfleet Command was hoping to see me at tonight's event," he said, sweeping my pile of dirt into the dustpan I was holding.

"Popular," I murmured, knocking the dust out into the yard. "And you'd really rather spend the evening in costume handing out candy?"

"Yes, because the alternative is leaving you here alone. I do not wish to abandon you in this task."

I simply smiled at him, but my attention was drawn to the street, where a few smaller children were being escorted door to door by their parents or older siblings. A young father and his little girl came up the front walkway, and I nudged Soval.

"Go get the candy," I hissed, and he obeyed, slipping into the soft glow of the living room. I turned to the girl, who was dressed as a princess.

"Who are you?" I asked. She grinned.

"Xeba!" she exclaimed, and her father explained she was a character from a children's show that was popular right now. Soval returned with the candy, and while I gave her a few pieces, the young father stared at my partner.

"You look familiar," he said, gently pushing his daughter's hand away from the candy bowl. "Are you on the comm or something?"

"He gets that a lot," I interjected before Soval could reply. The Vulcan shrugged and adjusted his hat.

"I'm not on the comm, sir," he said simply, and seemingly satisfied with that response, the man and his child moved on to the next house.

"He recognized me," Soval asserted, shaking his head at me.

"You call a vague sense of familiarity recognition?" I clucked my tongue in disappointment. "I'm beginning to think you only say that because you like it when I'm wrong."

He quirked an eyebrow. "No, Genevieve, I am simply gratified I have such a willing exchange partner. It is...pleasing to debate with you and test these assertions of yours."

"I'm glad your exchange program is going so well," a voice said, and I turned to Admiral Gardner, who was standing on the bottom step.

"John!" my dad called from the doorway, and I turned to him too. "Come on in, have a drink!"

"No thank you, Max. I'm here to talk to Genie."

I frowned at Soval, who simply relaxed his shoulders and waited for Gardner to speak.

"Alone, gentlemen."

My dad frowned at Gardner, but Soval's eyes narrowed slowly, as if he were gearing up for a vicious argument; I crossed my arms and looked back to our visitor.

"Is now the best time, admiral? You should probably be on your way to this dinner," I said, glancing sidelong at Soval, who was now looking at me, his expression softening.

"If your father has time to invite me in for a drink, then surely you have time to talk to me. This is important, Genie, and I'd like to get it done today while you're here. I don't get to see you that often, and I'm sure I'm not the most welcome guest at the Consulate."

The ambassador raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to retort, but I shook my head at him. "I'm sure you're welcome anytime at the Consulate, admiral, but if you insist, then maybe a little ways around the block. Not too far, I'm not sure I could handle it, not tonight."

I turned to Soval and my father, the latter of whom looked confused and worried, and the former was seething. I smiled gently at the both of them. "I'll only be a few minutes. Ambassador, only give the children a few pieces each, and make sure they say trick-or-treat first, ok?"

He glared at Gardner for a moment, then nodded. "Do not be too long, Genevieve. Your mother and father must be on their way soon." And with another warning glance at our visitor, he sat down in his chair and closed his eyes, perhaps calming himself.

"Hey, act natural!" I teased, playfully slapping his shoulder as I passed. "I swear, you're cheating."

"In what way am I cheating?"

I sighed in exasperation. "Well, if you acted less Vulcan, I know people won't recognize you! The last thing we need is the media to know where my parents live...sheesh..."

He quirked an eyebrow at me, and for just a moment, I thought he looked amused. He shook his head at me and turned to my dad, striking up a conversation about their work, and I followed Gardner down the walkway and out into the street.

"So what is so secret that the ambassador and my dad can't hear it?" I asked once we were out of earshot.

"Your father isn't the problem," he replied. "The Vulcan would argue and obfuscate, like he does every other time we talk to him. He thrives on debate, and right now, I'd rather you simply absorb this information without interference."

I smiled. "You're right in that he thrives on debate. That's his bread and butter, and I should know because I've been on the receiving end of it for three months." But then I frowned, skeptical. "You really think he'd try and keep this information from me?"

"He might. The Vulcans have been covering something up since this 'exchange' started. Do you have any ideas about what they might really want?"

"No," I said softly. "I haven't been able to put the pieces together. I agree in that there's more to this program then meets the eye, but I can't bring myself to think...you probably don't trust the Vulcans enough to think they mean us no harm."

"I don't, Genie. I'm not that naïve." He glance sidelong at me and shook his head. "You're so young, so trusting still...one day, you'll find the world isn't always roses."

"Admiral, you insult me," I said, half-teasingly, half in warning. "I'm reminded daily that life isn't always roses. And if you were in my shoes, having to live with him every day..." A pang of sadness rippled through me as I thought of the hopeless battle I was fighting against this crush. I sighed. "But this information. What have you discovered that's not fit for Soval's ears?"

The admiral stepped aside to let an excited group of little superheros pass, then pushed me onward to the other side of the block, as if he was worried that Soval's hearing was following us.

"About two months ago, we received a significant sum from an anonymous donor, a figure in the billions for education, infrastructure, research...now who do you think gave this to us?"

"Considering our conversation, there's only one conclusion," I sighed. "Admiral, there's no point in telling me this. I've already heard about it...though I'm sure that discussion wasn't meant for my ears."

"Well," he said, smirking, "then you should realize that when someone gives you something of value – in this case, money – apropos of nothing, they often want something in return...or are already getting it and want to distract you."

I nodded. "They're getting knowledge of our culture and in-depth cultural immersion...we can't judge them by human standards. What they find valuable is different then what we value, I'm sure."

Gardner looked exasperated. "Perhaps it was fruitless to tell you this."

"If it's an excuse, it's the neatest one I've ever heard. What little I've seen of them tells me they value education and learning quite highly."

"Now, are you really convinced of that?"

I blinked and considered my answer carefully, and I admitted privately that I didn't wholly believe my words.

"I'll admit, it's strange," I conceded. "But if you mean to insinuate that the Vulcans want us for an experiment of some sort, and by extension that Soval will involve me..."

He shook his head and turned around, walking back towards the house. "I hope I'm wrong about all this, Genie. Come on, we'll make your parents late if we don't hurry."

…

"What did Gardner say?" Soval asked me as the admiral's aircar lifted into the air.

"Nothing that I haven't heard before." I sighed, but didn't say anything more. I couldn't imagine Soval ever using me for an experiment, but perhaps I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. Could my roommate truly put science above morality? Or did he think the hypothetical experiment in question wasn't that dangerous, that I could handle it? Who did I trust more, the ambassador or the admiral?

Soval frowned at the retreating aircar, and I noticed his pupils darkened. "Then why could he not say it in front of me and your father?"

"Because he doesn't like you, and didn't want to include you in the conversation."

He looked as if he was about to reply, but a group of children came traipsing up the walkway, chatting excitedly with each other as they looked over the decorations.

"Those aren't real skeletons, are they?" a little boy asked me as they walked up the steps, his pirate costume ruffling in the breeze.

"Now, where would I find real skeletons, buddy?" I asked, smiling sweetly at him. He narrowed his eyes.

"They're not real," the girl beside him said. "You can't get real skeletons, Nathan."

"Oh, we got these at Bones-R-Us, down on Marina. You can't miss it."

She stared at me incredulously, and I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face.

"You're lying!" she exclaimed, and I started laughing. "Those aren't real!"

"They're not real," I agreed. The woman escorting them rolled her eyes and smirked at me, and I shrugged my shoulders as the little boy dug into the bowl for his favorite candy, which was near the bottom. Then they skipped off, arguing over the possible existence of Bones-R-Us, and I giggled to myself as I sat back down.

"Why did you lie to that child?" Soval said, his voice almost cold. I frowned. "That is not very responsible of you."

"Don't be a stick in the mud, I was teasing! And I could have gotten a lot worse if I wanted. I could have told them those are real." I shook my head. "Believe me, ambassador, good-natured teasing is fair payback for all the pain and suffering they cause their parents. Everyone does it."

He contemplated this thought as I continued handing out candy, and several of the parents that accompanied the children praised our costumes. They were especially complimentary of Soval's outfit, how dignified and in-character he looked, and he nodded to each of them, letting a tiny smile touch his lips.

"If you had a child, would you tease them like that?" he asked later in the evening.

"You bet your pointed ears I would," My smile died as I thought about his question. "Why do you ask?"

He looked up at me with contrite eyes, and all the thoughts I had pondered since the talk with Gardner came rushing back. Would Soval ever use me like that? Did I even need to worry about this?

"I was simply curious," he replied, and somehow I knew he wasn't telling the entire truth. I sighed and shook my head, putting on a smile for the next group of children. My life had become a roller coaster of confusion and heartache, and I wondered if I would ever be able to get off the ride.