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" 'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be
And when we find ourselves in the place just right
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight."
-- Simple Gifts (Shaker)

I am in the garden when he comes to me. I have taken to sitting there in the hour before dusk, especially now, when the roses are in bloom. Soral stands at the window and watches me go out to sit on the sun warmed stone bench. Observes as I touch each fragrant flower as a token of appreciation for the beauty it contributes. I do not tell him that I do it for Amanda; for his Terran grandmother, as a homage to her loving creation of this verdant swath of Earth in the sere Vulcan desert. Such an emotional display disturbs him, this Vulcan son of mine.

He is so like his mother.

My eyes are closed, but I am not meditating and so I sense the proximity of another presence. He stands silently until I open my eyes, then bows his head to the proper degree and speaks.

"Tsch'peh, grandfather, I greet thee."

"T'schen'doh, son of my son, thy presence honors me." I hold out my hand and he comes forward to touch my fingers in the ritual of family greeting. But I grasp his hand in the Human way, and a smile lights his eyes. He stands before me, his hand in mine, lean and tall in his new uniform. Soral's youngest child. He is my joy and my blessing, an unexpected Benjamin for my old age. He was born the year after I returned from Romulus.

I love him. Almost as much as I loved his namesake. The other grandchildren, I let Soral name as he saw fit, but for this last one I invoked the Right of Elder and dared to give him that name. I knew, somehow, that it belonged to him; that he would honor it always.

"S'James," I release his hand and motion him to sit beside me. "I am pleased to see you. You appear well. How long will we have the pleasure of your company?"

"Pleasure, grandfather? A Human expression, is it not?" He cannot truly chide me, for I know him too well. As he knows me.

"Merely an accurate description, S'Jameskam." My heart lightens with the easy banter between us. It is always so with this one. No one else has teased me thus since...

Ah, even the ache of that memory diminishes when he is near. He sits with me to watch Eridani slip down behind the Forge, to admire the mauves and maroons of the sky darkening into night, and to count the radiant stars as they appear. As we have done so many times, we wait until we can see that tiny yellow speck, so distant only Vulcan eyesight can pick it out. In truth, my eyes can no longer see it, but it does not matter, its position is engraved on my heart.

"Tell me of Earth," I say softly, "tell me what you have seen, what you have done." I think, but do not add, tell me what you feel.

"A Starfleet cadet does not have much time to see or do anything, other than study," he begins, "but I did go to Yosemite last month. I camped there for three days. Your assumption was correct, I did 'enjoy' it." He stops, but I know that he has more to say. I raise my eyebrow and I am rewarded by a slight twitch of his lips as he represses the smile. Then a slight flush bronzes his skin.

"I took someone with me. Sara." He hesitates, then the words come rushing out, " I had planned to go there alone. Living on Earth, in the constant company of Humans is more difficult that I had anticipated. Control... control is a strenuous exercise. But when she asked to come along, I found I could not refuse..." He studies me for a moment, eyes carefully clear of expression. I hold his look with my own, waiting.

He lowers his eyes and steeples his long, slender fingers into a meditative position. It is only a delay, to gather his words. I wait; watching, feasting my eyes on the living sight of him. He still resembles me, now even more than when he was younger. Flesh of my flesh, the thought comes and crests the enormous wave of pride that sweeps over me. Ah, mother! I think, recognizing only now the expression on Amanda's face when I returned to Vulcan after my first semester at the Academy. I understand, but oh, ...was I ever so young?

"In truth, control is not the primary problem, " He begins, "I am a Vulcan, I can maintain the mind disciplines. It is the Humans, their demeanor towards me that confuses me. They are so... illogical. I do not know what to do, how to respond..." he breaks off, and bites his lower lip in concentration.

"I do not understand..." I begin, but he does not let me finish.

"Tsch'peh, I am not just another Vulcan cadet!" His voices rises very slightly with his agitation. "At the Academy, I am the grandson of the legendary Spock of Vulcan and the namesake of his bondmate, the equally legendary James T. Kirk. There is even a building named for you, and a memorial park for him.. I study the Enterprise's missions in history classes... There are so many different expectations of me, such varied concepts of who I am. "

He takes a deep breath and continues, his eyes so full of affection that I feel the warmth of it to my bones. "But to me you are 'Grandfather', head of family, center of my personal universe. And he... was your t'hy'la."

I turn my head, unable to meet his eyes. Even now, even with him, I am uncertain that I can keep from revealing the depth of the loss. Surely my face must betray everything. He touches my sleeve gently, just there, just where Jim... I close my eyes, willing back the heat that threatens to spill out.

Touch. It has always been my undoing.

"Tsch'peh, please." His voice deepens as it begs softly, "I need to know. I need to know who you were, what you were, together. I need to know who I am."

I have known since I first held him in my arms, first claimed him with the name, that this moment would come, that he would ask these questions. Illogically, I find I have not prepared any answer. I have no words, no words at all...

"Walk with me, S'Jameskam," I manage at last and start to rise. He offers his arm and I am pleased to see that small touch of Human tact. I smile and he raises his eyebrow, which makes me smile even more. I have not smiled for too long. I take his arm, and we walk slowly down the winding trail, into the trees.

At the edge of the glade I pause to look back as S'James waits patiently. Amanda so loved a path that curved; the delight of finding a new aspect around every bend enchanted her. The Vulcan esthetic of the straight line between two points found no place in her garden.

I glance at the house; it is as I thought, Soral is watching us. I do not have to see his face to know that there is no trace of expression there. His control is flawless, but I also know he has seen the smile. He bears the burden of a half-Human father most commendably. In some secret corner of my soul I do admire his mastery of emotion. Or do I pity him?

We turn again toward the trees. Gently, S'James guides me to the two wooden lawn chairs. A luxury on treeless Vulcan, my mother brought them from Earth so many years ago, and carefully set them here and planted the Terran trees to provide a small, private refuge for conversation or meditation. It is dark now, too dark to see his face clearly, but perhaps it will be easier without the light...

We sit, facing each other, and I reach for his hand again. As I grasp it, I can feel the tautness in his fingers. I do not have to drop my shields to understand his trepidation. I, too, am apprehensive.

We have never melded. I do not know why. Perhaps I thought to spare him the vexations of an old man's thoughts. Or perhaps I feared he would reject the me he found there... No matter. It is time for total truth between us. I drop my shields. All of them. I sense his momentary astonishment, then he drops his own.

"Thee would know of us, S'Jameskam? Come then, I will show you how it was between he and I." I reach out and brush my fingers tenderly across his face until they settle on the meld points. "My thoughts to your thoughts, my mind to your mind..." I murmur.

And we are one.

His mind in mine is comfortable and comforting. Different but compatible. I recognize well his passions; the quietly desperate search for self-knowledge, the longing for completion. They were my own at his age. I yearn to smooth his journey, but I know he must find his way alone. I offer what I can.

T'schen'doh, your path will be different, but you must believe that the universe is unfolding as it should. You will achieve these goals. Faith, as the Humans say, is a great virtue. I touch his hand, to urge him forward. Come, let us begin at the beginning.

The memory appears quickly. He is surprised by this, and I am amused. S'James. I am very old. I have no urgent thoughts to meditate upon. I have reorganized my memories and prepared my Katra. It will not be long now. Those things I wish to remember most easily, I have put closer to the surface of consciousness. What need have I to remember old conflicts, old honors? Here is another Terran truism for you to learn: Love, alone, endures. He smiles; tentatively, but a definite smile. I lead him into the transporter room of the USS Enterprise.

We are drawn up in review formation; Captain Pike, Number One, myself, Doctor Boyce. Only I will be transferring to the new crew, with the new captain. The rest of the new officers are facing us, standing at rest. Chief Engineer Scott, I have met before; the rest are strangers to me and to each other. The Helmsman, Lieutenant Sulu, and the Communications Officer, Lieutenant Uhura are younger than I, The CMO, Dr. Piper, is an older man. The First Officer, Commander Mitchell, will join us at Star Base Two.

I hear the beginning of a transporter whine and straighten to attention. The others, trusting my Vulcan acuity, follow suit. The sparkling transporter beam fades, and I catch my first glimpse of Captain James T. Kirk. Captain Pike steps forward and makes the appropriate greeting, then guides him over to meet the departing officers.

So young! I think, as I risk a sideways glance. I feel a flutter of apprehension somewhere below my chest. I do not place credence in the many rumors which have followed the career of James Kirk since he was an ensign, but I have heard them all. It is said he cheated on his Kobayashi Maru test, the Academy's ultimate test of leadership, of command fitness, and that instead of a reprimand he earned a commendation for his action. It is said he cheats Death with equal impunity. Human thought processes are still quite incomprehensible to me. Their illogic unsettles me.

Then they are standing directly in front of me. My eyes are fixed forward, and I find that I am looking over Kirk's head. Somehow, in my estimations, he had been taller. Captain Pike spoke quietly. "This is Mr. Spock. I have found his expertise to be invaluable to me as Science Officer, and I am sure you will find it so in his capacity as your Second Officer."

And I hear his voice, soft, timbred, but with a tone of unmistakable command. " Mr. Spock, your reputation is well known in Starfleet. I consider myself fortunate to have you as part of my command team. Will you introduce me now to the remaining officers?" I look down to reply and his eyes meet mine. My reply goes unvoiced as I am caught off guard by the changing light, the candid expressions of those eyes. I see strength and determination, intelligence and honesty, but what utterly intrigues me are my own illogical emotions mirrored in this man. Loneliness and vulnerabilities which I have suppressed ruthlessly are there, laid bare for my inspection. I hastily strengthen my control lest my own eyes betray my fascination.

I find the appropriate words at last. "Captain Kirk, it is an honor to introduce you to your new officers."

Once in a meld, Jim showed me the naked emotions he saw in my eyes that day, how inept my control was, in my Human's presence, even from the very beginning. I was as easy for him to read as a child's book.

I experience again a measure of chagrin at the depth of my self-delusion. S'James turns away, in that polite Vulcan fiction of "non-observance", to give me a moment to recover.

I shake my head. "No, that is not necessary, it is only a memory now. It is a part of what he was, that I was affected even then by his charisma." It is also true that Jim was frequently more conscious of preserving my Vulcan proprieties than I, myself. To keep him safe and by my side, I bartered my Vulcan soul many times over and did not count the cost. Nor do I now.

When did I begin to lower my shields and accept the friendship offered? When did I decide that the Vulcan aversion to touch did not apply to him? When did I begin to yearn for that touch, and more? When did I begin to rationalize the growing link between us as a logical tool for ascertaining the captain's location and safety? I am only sure of the moment when I realized that I loved and desired my captain, that I thought of him as my T'hy'la.

***

S'James stands beside me as we visit again the ancestral grounds, the place of Koon-ut kalif-fee. It is the odors that I remember most clearly from that indelible and cataclysmic day. My other senses were severely hampered by the Plak Tow, but I remember the reek of Vulcan pheromones, the pungent Vulcan incense, the sweet smell of Human flesh, the tang of Human sweat. But above all, I remember the distinctively metallic smell of Human blood. Jim's blood.

T'Pau and T'Pring. They stand there on those burning sands, united in purpose and in their flawless Vulcan Logic. The old bitch and the young one, thirsty for blood, for sacrifice in expiation of the sin of my father against the homogeneity of Vulcan civilization. I have seriously underestimated T'Pring's revulsion towards her bonding with me. I have not realized that she is willing to shed innocent blood to be rid of me. She challenges the bonding and chooses Jim as her champion.

And I beg T'Pau for his life. There is no pride in me where he is concerned. Even from the deepening abyss of madness, I beg her to forbid combat with him. She taunts me with my lack of control and refuses. She has discovered in my thoughts that which I have yet to learn; I do not burn for T'Pring, I burn for Jim.

T'Pau has always been clever and manipulative. Her certainty of the virtue of her actions is what enabled her to rise from a poor and obscure branch of our Family to become Head of the House of Surak. By subtly encouraging my captain to respond to T'Pring's challenge, she thinks to rid herself of the presence of a blasphemous Human at the sacred rites, and to rid Vulcan forever of the pollution I represent; the half-breed offspring of a heretical bonding. Even if I am victorious, she knows I will not stay, cannot stay, on the planet where I have murdered my T'hy'la.

S'James is distressed by the images he sees in my mind, by the excess of violent emotion. I regret that he must see still more, if he is to understand the magnitude of what was between Jim and I.

The combat begins. I feel the weight of the Lirpa in my hands. A green haze almost obscures my vision as I strike the first blow, slicing across that broad, smooth chest. The dim sight of that crimson line, the smell of blood increases the madness. My pulse thrums in my ears, too loud, too loud. I see in front of me something which tries to prevent me from mating, and I strike, and strike again.

"Kroykah".

I stop, obedient to the ancient cry, but I have no perception, except to destroy the enemy and mate. I must mate. I seize the ahn-woon. Kill, I must kill.

Abruptly, it is over. I discover the weight of the captain's lifeless body in my hands, my ahn-woon still twisted around his neck. I am frozen in horror, and something else. All desire to mate has vanished, and in its place an empty void, brutal and cold seizes my mind. My link to Jim is gone, and I am filled with a grief so deep I cannot conceive of any reason to go on living. Inside of me a voice is wailing and I realize it is my voice, my soul crying for that which it can never find again. The numbness masquerades as control and somehow I am able to form words, thoughts. I give T'Pring to her blue-eyed S'tonn, and do not permit my revulsion to show, even in my eyes. I approach T'Pau, with the serenity of a dead man.

"Live long, and prosper, T'Pau", is all I manage to say, and I detect the triumph in her eyes as she gives the ritual response. "Live long and prosper, Spock". Somehow, past the bile that rises in my throat, I force more words, "I shall do neither, for I have killed my captain, and my friend." And she knows, she knows that I now understand the truth of what he meant to me.

Human ingenuity. It is a concept almost as difficult as humor for Vulcans to grasp; the intuitive element is almost incomprehensible. But it was Dr. McCoy's medical ingenuity that saved Jim that day. Saved us both. I acquired a debt of gratitude I knew I could never fully repay.

In sickbay I attempt to ask McCoy to make the final arrangements for the captain, when I suddenly find myself clutching Jim's arms, staring uncomprehendingly at Jim's laughing eyes. In my emotional stupefaction, my shields drop completely, my control splinters into tiny fragments.

The effort it takes to release his arms and step back almost shatters me, but my unprotected mind has touched his, and I understand that I must let him go. For he does not desire me. Closest, best, dearest friend, confidant and brother-among-the-stars. All of these are what I am to him.

But not lover.

And what we are is so much, so very much more than I have ever hoped to have with anyone. It is almost enough. We go on as before, the days spent in duty and routine, the evenings in companionable conversation or games of chess. The nights... Even within the meld, I turn away from the memory of the nights... the dreams. Ah, S'Jameskam, I tried so hard to make it enough!

There are times when I must touch Jim's mind in the line of duty, but I screen all but the necessary information from him. I do not allow myself to linger or to yearn for the taste of that mental laughter, the warmth, the fascinating patterns of that agile mind. I keep my hungry eyes from devouring his beauty, except once in a very long while, when he is unaware of my regard. It is not enough, but it is all I have.

***

And then the day comes when I am forced to envision my life without him.

As S'James and I enter Admiral Nogura's office at Fleet headquarters, I am sitting directly in front of the Admiral. He is seated behind his desk, his face as blank as a Vulcan's.

"Commander Spock, welcome back. I am very impressed with the debriefing reports I've received."

Nogura is not one for small talk, so I wait for his next words. When they come, I am completely, and illogically, unprepared.

"Commander Spock, there is a new top-of-the-line science vessel that we are sending out on a five year mission to the very edge of Federation space. I have recommended your promotion to the rank of Captain. I want you to take that ship. Your abilities as a scientist and your experience as First Officer make you uniquely qualified for this assignment."

My reply is almost automatic. "Admiral, I have stated many times on the record, my reluctance to command. I would prefer to remain under Captain Kirk's leadership, as a part of the Enterprise' crew."

And then he speaks and my universe turns inside out. "Captain Kirk has accepted the position as Chief of Starfleet Operations -- with a promotion to the rank of Admiral. He will be remaining here at Headquarters."

I cannot draw a breath, the shock is so intense. Until this instant, I have not truly faced the prospect of serving in any position separate from my captain; more, the realization that I have been putting my faith in Human hopes and dreams, stuns me. I have become so far adrift from the mental disciplines of Vulcan that I no longer recognize who I am. I have lost myself.

And I am terrified.

I clasp my hands together, striving for control front of Nogura. "Admiral," I say and even to me, my voice sounds bizarre, strangled. "I cannot accept command at this time. I must return to Vulcan for an indeterminate period of time. Certain rituals, disciplines which have been neglected..."

At first I am sure he will refuse, but Starfleet is now wary of denying any Vulcan's request to return to the planet of his birth. At least T'Pau has made sure of that.

I can see in his eyes that payment will one day be required for thwarting his plans, but his face does not alter. "Very well, Commander. You are hereby placed on leave of absence. I trust you will be as expedient as possible?"

"Aye, sir. Thank you." Somehow I make my way out of his office.

Except for a moment at the crowded welcoming ceremony, I have not seen Jim during the past three days. I cannot face him now.

I flee to Vulcan, to the sanctuary of Gol.

***

Blind. Stupid. Cowardly fool. Oh yes, S'James, I was all of these things and more. So blind that I could not see that my desire was also my destiny, so stupid, that I did not go to him whom I called T'hy'la, and show him what was in my heart. I hid myself behind Vulcan logic; too timid to confront a possible rejection. I called him T'hy'la, yet I did not trust in the link between us. Was it my arrogance or my cowardice that refused to allow him the dignity of a choice? No matter; either offered sufficient proof that I did not deserve him.

So foolish, that I thought I could exorcise his very memory from my soul....

T'schen'doh, never believe anyone who claims we Vulcans are not as delusional as other beings because of our impeccable logic and superior intelligence. Our logic fails us, and our intelligence crumbles when we must deal with emotions, rather than suppress them. How ridiculously easy it is to refuse to acknowledge our emotions, to pretend we can control them, or that we do not have them at all. Humans have that profound courage which enables them to live with their emotions, hour by hour, day by day, all of their lives, yet they speak in awe of Vulcan emotional control. The irony is oppressive.

Gol. I can sense that the very name causes S'James some... disquiet. Very few Vulcans have had any direct experience with Gol or the Kolinahr Disciplines. Even on Vulcan, rumours abound concerning the masochistic Deprivation Rituals of the Kolinahru. Many of them are true. There is no necessity for the boy to experience the wasted pain of those years. I found no redemption at Gol, no refuge on Vulcan. There was only heat and pain and bitter remorse. Fool that I was, I went forward with the training, because I was too terrified to go back, too unworthy even to throw myself at his feet and beg his forgiveness. In those desert years I indeed found myself again, I knew precisely who I was; I was a half-breed, too Vulcan to be Human, and too Human to be Vulcan. Forever torn.

Finally, the only alternative open was the achievement of Kolinahr. In surrendering the two useless halves of myself to the Discipline, an empty whole was simple to obtain. I stood on the scorching sands of the Forge, feeling nothing, wanting nothing, waiting only for the high priestess to finish the ritual.

Then, into the vast emptiness that was my soul, two voices echoed. The first, quiet and utterly logical, evinced only a curiosity and a measureless display of knowledge, the second, a voice I had thought never to hear again, was a desperate cry for help. I could no more ignore that cry, in that voice, than I could voluntarily stop breathing.

V'GER. Even now I cannot repress a slight smile at my supreme folly. I see S'James watching me carefully, unsure of the reason for my amusement . Consider the irony, T'schen'doh, That I should receive from this ultimate receptacle of cosmic logic and knowledge, the answer to my quest for self-knowledge.

V'Ger taught you lessons of logic, Tsch'peh?

No, S'James, it taught me lessons of love and courage.

I went out to meld with V'GER not only to try to ascertain what its purpose was in our galaxy, but also because I believed it held the answer to my attempt to purge all emotion, all desire from my being. Instead, I found a living machine, so filled with precisely logical thought patterns, so full of universal knowledge that it had acquired sentience -- and yet was barren of purpose, of feeling. It was seeking, even as I was, the answer to the question that each of us asks at some time: "Why am I here, what is my destiny." In the milliseconds before the meld overwhelmed me, I realized my own foolish attempt to change my destiny. There is only one place in the universe where I belong: at his side.

***

Sickbay. I know from the smells and the sounds of medical scanners that I am in the Enterprise's sickbay even before I am fully conscious. A murmur of voices hovers in the background and I can hear Jim's voice among them. I must tell him.. I struggle to open my eyes and to subdue the heavy pounding in my head that threatens to drag me back into unconsciousness. The knowledge I have gained has been at the expense of all my mental shields, and as the cosmic joke drifts through my thoughts, I surrender to the impulse to laugh.

The sound brings him to my side and I can see his concern, not for the ship, but for me. Do not fear for me, T'hy'la, for I have found what I was searching for. I have found my answers! I want to tell him everything, to show him my true discovery, but not here, not now. I struggle against the aftereffects of the meld. So much to say, so little time.

"Jim..." Oh, let him hear in my voice what I cannot speak! "I should have known."

"Were you right, about V'Ger?"

I nod my head, " A life form of its own, a conscious, living entity. I saw V'Ger's planet, a planet populated by living machines - unbelievable technology. V'Ger has knowledge that spans this universe, and yet, with all its pure logic, V'Ger is barren, cold. No mystery, no beauty." It can never perceive such beauty as yours, Jim.

"I should have known." Consciousness fades and then I slowly wake again, aware of a sudden warmth flooding through me, a feeling of deep affection mixed with anxiety, and I open my eyes to see Jim's hands gripping my shoulders. His face is so close to mine. Kissably close, if only I dared to lift my head.

"Spock, what should you have known?" He is still holding me, and I see his concern for me change into astonishment and then, oh, let me not be mistaken, a special look that sets my heart pounding. I have no mental shields, no way to block my emotions from him. Belatedly, I realize that I am projecting them as well, even a non-telepath would be able to know what I am feeling.

Suddenly, I want, no, I need to touch him. I want to hold him in my arms, and to have him hold me, but I have no strength to rise. I reach out to grasp his arm, but even that is too much effort, and my hand slides weakly away. Then he catches my hand, and enfolds it in both of his. The warmth of emotion overwhelms me. Jim, I love you!

"Jim, this simple feeling is beyond V'Ger's comprehension."

He looks at me and understands!

"No meaning, no hope. And, Jim, no answers. It's asking questions."

I begin to lose consciousness again , but Jim needs the last bit of information.

"What questions?"

I fight to remain conscious. "Is this all that I am, is there nothing more?" Somehow I know that this, too, Jim understands.

The last thing I hear is Jim's voice, "I need Spock on the bridge."

***

The door chimes softly, and I awake to darkness. I was ordered off the bridge by McCoy as soon as we got underway. I was still affected by the aftermath of the meld with V'Ger, and for once I did not argue with the doctor, although I fear he will take my acquiescence as a victory.

The chime sounds again. Only one person would come to see me at this hour. My heart lurches at the thought. I wave the lights up to one quarter brightness and stand, facing the door.

"Come."

Muted light from the corridor frames him as he pauses in the doorway. "Spock?"

"Yes, Admiral. Come in."

As he steps in I can see that he has changed out of uniform. A soft green tunic of a silky material over loose pants of a darker green. Green; the Vulcan color of life, the color of love. Jim, you are so beautiful. The sight stops the breath in my throat and it is a moment before I can speak normally.

"May I be of assistance, Captain?"

"We need to talk, Spock." His voice is low, soft, deliberate, the tone he uses when James Kirk is very, very angry. He looks at me and I close my eyes against the pain and the anger I can see in him. I deserve all his anger, but the pain... to know that I am the cause of such pain is more than I can bear.

He steps closer. I have the illogical desire to take a step back, so that he will not hear the pounding of my heart, see the trembling that I cannot stop.

"I haven't come as the Captain, Spock, I've come looking for an old friend, my best friend. Have you seen him? He left me a couple of years ago, left without even saying goodbye. Left and didn't even look back to see that he had torn a part of me away. I'd trusted him with my life many times, I thought I could trust him with my soul." The depth of bitterness is something I have never heard in his voice.

"Jim..." It comes out in a whisper, all I can manage.

"I want to know why you came back, what you want here." His voice is harsh. A long pause, "Who are you, really?"

"You see, on my bridge yesterday, I thought somehow a miracle had happened and my friend had returned, but it was a stranger, a stranger wearing his face. And this stranger could hardly endure looking at me."

He takes another step closer as I open my eyes. His are wide and green, as green as the tunic. I begin to shiver with a longing to lose myself in their depths, to take and take and take until not a particle of suffering remains in him. He is not made for such darkness. Yes, Jim, give me all your pain. I was the cause, allow me to bear it. Give me this expiation, I beg thee, T'hy'la.

"Then, this afternoon, in sickbay, the miracle did happen, my friend came back to me. He looked at me ...it was as if he had never left, he ....touched me, and I could feel his emotions, he wasn't even attempting to shield anything from me today."

A last step closer, close enough to touch. My hands begin to move toward him of their own volition, but I clench them together to prevent the motion. His anger is a wall between us. A wall of my making.

"Why, Spock? Couldn't you have told me why?... I thought it was something I'd done... something I'd... said. I tried to find you, I finally went all the way up the ladder to Nogura. He send me a comm message. 'Commander Spock has returned to Vulcan for personal reasons'." A short strangled laugh twists out of him, "I even went to Vulcan after you, did you know that? I thought maybe you were ill... I always thought I could break down the gates of Hell to get you out, Spock, but the gates of Gol are Vulcan. They wouldn't let me in."

He shakes his head impatiently, searching for words. "Oh, Spock,... did you really think I wouldn't care, did you actually think that I wouldn't notice you were gone?"

The eyes are so bright; spotlights piercing into my soul, casting all my dark shadows into starkly grotesque shapes... Somehow I must answer such valor, but any answer I give will only show him the true depth of my betrayal, my shame... He who has given such friendship, who dared to touch a Vulcan's heart, and I have repaid him thus.

"Jim, I would beg for thy forgiveness, but I am not worthy to even ask." He stands very still and I sink to my knees in front of him. I take his hand and arrange the blunt fingertips on my face. In the meld position. "That within me which has offended thee, I ask permission to remove. Thy will shall guide me." It is the ancient Vulcan act of expiation, the removal of the transgression, even unto death. My control shatters with the inadequacy of my response, and I endure the shame of the tears rolling down my cheeks unchecked. I cannot turn my face away from him. With my soul I must see the response in his eyes.

He snatches his hand away and then he, too, is on his knees in front of me.

"No, Spock, oh no, don't. I just want to know..." he swallows hard and the brightness in his eyes shimmers and spills over as tears begin to trace down his cheeks. "Did you mean it? On the bridge... you said your task on Vulcan is completed... Does that mean..." His voice sinks to a whisper only Vulcan ears can hear. Or do I hear it in my mind, the way I heard that other desperate plea? "Does that mean you'll stay... here, with me?"

My body sways with relief, my lungs unable to draw enough breath; how can one being contain such ineffable grace?

"Jim, I will never leave you again, except at your request."

He smiles then, his lips trembling, and reaches a trembling hand to touch my cheek, wiping away the dampness. "Not 'till the end of time, Spock. You see, I learned something during these last two years. It wasn't Jim Kirk out there saving the galaxy all those years, it was us, Spock, us together. That's what made it all so right. And for all those years I just took you for granted, a part of me, always there, but..."

I am shaking with the force of the emotions unleashed within me. Shame and guilt and trepidation mingle with love and hope, and longing and I cannot stop the weeping as I listen to his voice. He cradles my face with his hands, soothing, touching, Oh T'hy'la. The words come pouring out, raining as hard as the tears.

"Jim, I love you. I have loved you for so long, but I couldn't tell you. I c-couldn't say what is my heart. I was afraid, I was ashamed. I thought I had lost myself, and I tried to run. I am sorry, so sorry..."

"Sh, Spock, sh. We've both been fools, both of us. I tried to deny it too." I hear the sharp indrawn breath, then... "I even got married, just to prove that I could live without you... Spock, I love you. Please, please don't ever leave me again." And awkwardly but gently, so gently, he leans forward until his lips touch mine.

Cool, moist, sweet. I press my mouth to his and dare to slide the tip of my tongue along the line between his lips. The taste is salt-sweet and indescribably intoxicating. His lips part, and I feel his tongue touching mine, tasting, loving, exploring. A cool fire bathes every nerve cell in my body, and I burn.

His hands are feather light on my face, tracing my brows, my ears. His fingers slide softly across the meld points and I shiver with the feel of it. I try to breath, cannot, and remove my lips from his.

"T'hy'la." Ah, the joy to say it aloud! "N'erih'aa." He looks at me and I can see the puzzlement on his face. I need to show him so much, to tell him everything, everything, but I want, more than anything I have ever known, to feel his lips on mine again, to take his mouth and stroke his tongue with mine.

"I have no words to tell you how... what I am feeling." I can feel the flush of embarrassment and anticipation flooding my face with warmth. "May I... will you let me join our minds, let me show you in a meld what is in my heart?"

"Oh, Spock, yes! I want you in my mind, I have so much I need to show you." He takes my hand and guides it to his face.

It takes only a second, and we are one. This time, I do not hold back, do not wall off the forbidden thoughts, feelings. This time I let him see that even the thought of a meld with him can arouse me. His mind laughter shimmers with delight, and I see that the anticipation of mental union has the same effect on him. In the freedom of the mind, I laugh with him, dizzy with exhilaration. Such joy is uncontainable. He sends the thought, "No secrets, Spock", and immediately my mental image of him is unclothed.

He is so beautiful, I am stunned into incoherence, even here, but he only laughs and then I find that I, too, have nothing on.

"Spock." Just the name, but I feel his awed delight, and I am filled with a strange kind of pride, that I can stimulate such a feeling in him.

"Those words you said, 'T'hy'la', and 'N'erih'aa', what do they mean?"

"T'hy'la means 'friend' or 'brother', but the old meaning is 'lover'. It is from Vulcan's warrior past. When two warriors found in each other the other half of their souls, they would join in a bond... It is what I have called you, in my heart, for... for a very long time."

"And the other word?"

"In the days of Vulcan myths, there was a desert-dwellers' legend of a Well, where the water was so cool and sweet, that whoever drank of it would never thirst again. It was N'erih'aa, Water of Life. It is what you are to me... Jim, I want you so much."

"T'hy'la. Yes, Spock, the other half of my soul. That's what was missing when you left." Even in the meld, I flinch away from the memory, but he will not allow it. " No, no don't blame yourself, it was my fault too, and if you hadn't left, I might never have examined closely what I truly felt about you. We would never have found this.."

No secrets; I show him the depth of my need for him, and he answers with an intensity of desire that I had never thought possible, never suspected. An image appears in the meld, from which of us I do not know, perhaps from both; our bodies joined, entwined, and I am buried deep within him as he anoints me with his essence.

"Ah! Spock, please, I'm going to come in my pants if we don't stop here!" I slowly remove my fingers from his face, reluctant to let go of even that much of his skin.

"You are correct, Jim, we do appear to be overdressed." I reach to unfasten my robe, but his hand stops me.

"Uh, Spock, I... you should know, I've never been with a man before... never... uh, well, I never thought I would want to... to... But with you, I want..." A rosy flush covers his face and neck and I am enthralled. His eyes are very, very bright as he raises them to meet mine. "I want you to take me, Spock. I want to feel your hands touching me when you take off my clothes, I want you inside of me. I want to feel you come inside of me."

I am so aroused by his words that I have to fight for enough control to answer. It is the culmination of all my dreams, all my desires. To take him, yes. To make him mine!

"Jim, I... you are the only man I've ever desired... T'hy'la I n-need you so much!" My hands are shaking as I find the closure on his shirt and release it.

"Oh!" The word is a moan, as I uncover the broad, smooth chest, the strongly muscled shoulders and arms. I need to touch wherever is bare before me and my hands begin to caress his skin, so soft, so cool! His nipples harden as my fingers pass over them and I remain briefly to play with them. He is trembling from my touch and his breath comes in short gasps. My hands linger for a moment at his waist, then the need to touch him everywhere is too urgent and I undo the trousers and pull them off with the briefs, down to his knees.

I stroke his back, down, down to the firm full cheeks of his ass. I, too, am shaking with the sensations, with the thought that I am doing this to Jim, that I am pleasuring him. For I can feel his pleasure, even without a meld, I can feel it as if it were my own.

I sink to my knees, and bring my hands to touch his flanks, the strong muscles of his legs. I brush the inner thighs, slowly, gently with my tongue and he groans and grips my shoulders with tight fingers.

"Spock, ah... please! Please!" Impossible not to answer that. I take his cock, swollen and dusky-rose with need, into my mouth.

The taste of him! The musky, human, smell of him! He is so hard in my mouth. I tease that beautiful single ridge with my tongue, then lick the soft, silky skin of the shaft. A clear moment of thought; his penis is so essentially him, steel-hard power and determination wrapped in softest, silken-velvet. Then it throbs against my tongue with that energy that is uniquely his, and I am lost in the rapture of what I am doing, what he is allowing me to do, what he is wanting me to do.

He arches his back as I pull my lips up his shaft. So exquisite; his chest heaving, rosy nipples erect, his head thrown back, his face bright with naked passion. He makes soft incoherent cries as I stroke him with my tongue. I am hard, so very hard, and so close to coming myself that I dare not move.

He finds the strength to pull back, and gently withdraws his cock from my mouth. Through ragged breaths he gasps, "N-not yet, Spock. I want to come with you inside me. Spock, I need you... now."

Words are beyond me, I can only nod and attempt to stand. I grasp his hand to steady myself and he puts his arms around me, holding us together. Only then do I realize that I am still wearing my robe. It is immediately unbearable to have anything between us and I fumble for the clasp. He steps back and watches as the garment falls to the ground and I strip off the leggings, freeing my cock at last from its tight prison. His eyes on me ...the look in his eyes... a drop of moisture appears on the tip of my cock in response and I know I cannot wait.

I slide one arm around his shoulders and the other between his legs and pick him up. It is only a dozen steps to the bed, but it seems an endless journey. He twists in my arms, until he can bring one hand up to play with the hair at the nape of my neck, and the other hand he sets free to roam over my chest, twisting and combing through the hair until he touches the right nipple.

The sensation is indescribable. It literally staggers me and I stumble the last two steps and fall on the bed, on top of him. I hear his breath gust out of him, and for a second I fear I have done some damage, but his arms wrap tightly around me and his chest heaves as he tries to draw air into his lungs and laugh at the same time.

"Crude, but effective, Spock," He mocks me, teasing me, but I am too lost in the sensation of the deliciously cool skin touching mine from head to toe. I rest my face in the softness of his neck and shoulder, lips and tongue tasting again that salty sweetness that is so addictive. His hands continue their explorations; rubbing, tweaking my nipples until I am writhing with the pleasure, then down, down to grasp my throbbing cock.

I can only gasp at the sheer ecstasy... his hands touching, stroking. I have never felt such intensity... My mind is flame, my blood burns in my veins with a fire only he can quench..

"Ah, Spock, you feel so good, so hot."

"You set me on fire, T'hy'la."

"Spock," he breathes my name, knowing I will hear, "Come inside me, I want to take your fire within me."

"Yes," It is all I can manage.

I kneel between his thighs, my hands are shaking as I pull his legs up over my shoulders. I spread the fluid that is leaking out of my penis, out of his, coating the length of my cock with our combined fluids. He arches his back in invitation, exposing that small, tight target. So small and tight, my heart lurches at the thought of penetrating him, sliding up that virgin channel, being enfolded by my T'hy'la...

"Jim..." I can sense his mixture of desire and anxiety and I try to go slowly. The taut ring of muscle yields gradually and accepts the ridges of my cock and then he bucks against me, pressing us together, and I lose control. The feel of that encircling flesh, Jim's flesh, against my penis is so exquisite as I move inside of him... I have no words for such feelings. To have him so, to have Jim like this, my Jim, my T'hy'la, my love, my own, my destiny...

My hand moves of its own will to the meld points on his face. Shocked by my action, I withdraw the fingers, but he grabs my hand and pushes them firmly back into position. "Yes, Spock. Meld us now. Please, T'hy'la."

"Jim, there is danger..." It is difficult to speak, to focus enough to form words, but I must warn him. "When we are.. when our bodies are one, like this, a meld can become a bond... it will be permanent."

"Never and always, touching and touched?" His face is radiant with a look I have never seen before. I nod as I feel his muscles tighten even more around my flesh and the heat rises in me, so close to spilling out into that sweet, sweet channel.

"Parted from me, but never parted... in your mind, always?"

"Yes," My reply is a groan of desire.

"Do it, Spock, now!"

And obedient as always to that voice, to the command of my Captain, I join our minds.

***

I thrust into his mind as I have into his body, deeply, swiftly, but there is only light, bright light and colors, glorious colors. Warmth and welcome; sunlit tropical waters. I have only a trace of control left; even as we spiral down past the clear layers of thought and the dark subconscious, through the murky chasms of memory, I can feel my orgasm building, surging, ready to explode. We delve down to the inky depths, beyond thought, to the very core of us.

There we plant the bond that is us, together, eternally. It takes root and blossoms. I shout his name in exaltation and hear his answering cry of triumph. Even as I send my offering seed spasming into the physical body of my T'hy'la, even as his essence anoints my body in benediction, the bond enfolds us in ecstasy. It becomes a radiant column of light, building, whirling, pulsing; thrusting us up, up, through the primordial cosmic sea, until we are floating in the crystal waters of consciousness. Reborn; no longer two, but one flesh, one mind.

Physicality returns slowly. Arms and bodies entwined, we lie on the bed in languorous bliss. Words are superfluous, it is enough to feel the sweat slicked skin, the drying semen, and to smell the scents of sex, to hear the thundering of a human heart gradually slowing to its normal ponderous rhythm and the Vulcan heart beating its staccato counterpoint. Small tender kisses, just to taste again the nectar of his mouth...

***

"Tsch'peh, Tsch'peh,..." I hear the sound faintly, as if from a far distance. My heart has slowed to an almost imperceptible pace, and my mind urgently wishes to remain somewhere else, but I concentrate and slowly reality consolidates around me. I open my eyes into the faint light of T'Khut's rising and see S'James' face before me, his eyes betraying his anxiety.

"T'schen'doh," I try to speak, but the sound is only a faint whisper. He grasps my arm, and his young strength supports me as I struggle to fully return to the present.

"Grandfather, I ask forgiveness, " he says, "I did not know... I...I broke the meld..."

I raise my hand to silence him. "No... no, S'James, you acted correctly. The bond," I pause, trying to find the words of explanation. "The bond has been calling, these past few weeks, it will not be long now..."

"Calling, Tsch'peh?"

"My end is near, S'James, the body and the mind both know this. The bond has begun calling for its ultimate completion. Soon I will join with my T'hy'la, with Jim. The depth of this meld has accelerated and amplified the process. For this, I am grateful."

"But, Tsch'peh, how can that be? James Kirk has been dead for a century."

I cannot completely master the smile that pulls at my lips. I have forgotten the temporal fixation of the very young. I reach for his hand, to give a touch of reassurance. "The bond is eternal, S'James," I allow the smile to widen, "it has survived death before. Somewhere in the universe, James T. Kirk is alive. I can feel it through the bond."

One eyebrow wings its way up in confusion. "Alive? Grandfather, how can you be so certain? There has been no evidence..."

"Perhaps not in the physical form, but his "soul" as the Humans say, is there. What you have seen in the meld is only a small part of what we shared. Every instance of physical joining, every merging of our minds, added to the strength of the bonding." I ponder how to express the desires, the needs that compelled both of us to reinforce the bond to such a degree. "We were... insatiable and inseparable. Touching and touched, mind and body. There was no greater joy in the universe than those moments when we joined as one."

I lose myself for a moment in the memory of what it was like to be inside James Kirk's mind. A mind so different from the logical, compartmented, defined Vulcan mental organization. I revel again at the thought of that incandescence; the jeweled colors flowing, tumbling, in dazzling chaos, then suddenly falling into kaleidoscopic patterns of breathtakingly logical beauty. My mind yearns with an unquenched thirst to be there, to witness again the radiant formation of an intuitive thought, to see again the resplendent patterns of love...

My heart pulsates again in the sluggish, uneven rhythm that signals that the body's end is near, and I feel an unrelenting pressure in my right side, below my ribs. There is still so much to be said, but I know that I will not have another chance.

"S'Jameskam, I must ask that you receive my Katra. I had hoped for more time, but as always, time is not at my command."

His eyes widen briefly, then his control reasserts its authority and he bows his head in acquiescence.

"I am honored, Tsch'peh. I will remember always what I have learned today, and I will strive to be worthy of the name you have given me."

It is quickly accomplished. As I withdraw, I sense a burst of intermingled affection and grief. Emotions he would never openly express, but I feel their warmth within my mind, and I am grateful that he is with me at this time. I have nothing else to give to him, except my blessing.

"Do not grieve, S'Jameskam, I have no regrets. I ask you only to remember to always balance logic and knowledge with emotion. Control your emotions, but do not entirely suppress them. And remember that love is the strongest emotion of all, and the most worthy."

He nods and I can see that he will consider my words carefully. It is enough.

I raise my parted fingers. "Live long and prosper, son of my son."

"Peace and long life, grandfather," he replies, returning the salute. He sits again in the seat next to me, waiting, watching as if he could will away the inevitable. I smile into the darkness; I have had a long life, and I am about to have eternal peace. I sit, knowing that the wait will not be long. I remember the question V'Ger had posed so long ago, "Is this all that I am? Is there nothing more?" And I reflect that I also owe that entity a debt of gratitude, for the certainty that there is indeed something more.

As the heart rhythm falters again, I go deeply into my mind, seeking the root of the bond that is within me. It is there, whole and strong. I gather my mental strength and attune my focus on the bond until it is singing with the message that I must send. Again the heart falters, beats once more and then is still. Quickly, quickly, I send the words out along the bond, out of my mind, into the cosmos beyond; "Parted from me, and never parted, t'hy'la,... we meet at the appointed time."

The final blackness encroaches, beckoning... then, into the stillness, the faint reply arrives, illuminating the path that I must follow.

"I await thee..."

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