Summary: Ten months after Kirk's death, Spock and Uhura must deal with another loss, while at the same time she learns that there's more to fitting in on Vulcan than she'd realized.

Great thanks go to my wonderful beta readers, Jungle Kitty and Kathy.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Spock, Uhura, and company. I have just borrowed them for a while and will not profit from any of this.

This story is part of my Spock/Uhura universe. It follows "Listening for the Waves."

Feedback is desired.

Bright Shining as the Sun, chapter 1

"To Scotty."

Raising his glass, Spock echoed Dr. McCoy's sentiment in a quiet murmur along with the rest of the group. He paused when the others drank, eyeing the amber liquid Mr. Scott had always so enjoyed as it swirled and rippled in his glass, but finally he brought it to his lips and sipped. It was sharp and biting, irritating his sinuses and burning a fiery path down his esophagus, but he forced himself not to react in any way. Of course, several of the people around him had unashamedly wiped their eyes during Dr. McCoy's toast, but he knew that it had little to do with the whisky.

"I can't believe he's gone," said McCoy. "I talked to him just last week. He was nervous about the idea of starting all over in a new place, but he was excited, too. He had such big plans."

McCoy's voice grew rough and dwindled away, so Spock picked up the thread of the discussion.

"I confess that I was surprised to hear of his decision to move to the Norpin Five Colony. Of course, I can understand the wish to mark the end of one phase of life with a new beginning, so to speak"--he exchanged glances with Nyota--"but I had assumed he would make his home in Scotland."

"He used to talk about his little house on the coast all the time." Nyota smiled fondly, then lapsed into a passable imitation of Mr. Scott's voice. "'Lass, the sweetest place on God's green earth is my own patch of heaven right outside Aberdeen. Aye, ye canna hope for better than that.' I guess that living there wasn't quite as fulfilling as dreaming of living there."

Christine Chapel gripped Nyota's arm. "You were always close to him, Nyota. It must have been hard for you when you heard about the crash of the Jenolen."

"Of course it was, Chris, but we're not here to be sad. Scotty would have been the first to tell us that you shouldn't be sad at a wake. So let's have fun! Let's tell stories and laugh and remember Scotty in the way he'd want to be remembered."

Sulu smiled. "You're right, Nyota, and I know the perfect story to get us started. Do you all remember when Captain Kirk told him to distract one of the Kelvans? I've never seen two sorrier drunks..."

Spock watched Nyota approvingly as Sulu launched into a tale about Mr. Scott. She had indeed been distressed when she heard the tragic news of his death, but today she held her composure flawlessly. Of course, Spock knew that she was still in pain; she and Mr. Scott had been friends too long for her to feel otherwise. He could not deny that he also grieved, not only for their own loss, but because Mr. Scott had been deprived of what should have been his reward after many years of faithful service. Just as he did not allow a display of his private thoughts, however, Nyota also exhibited no outward sign of her grief. Admirable.

He returned his attention to the conversation when she spoke.

"Pavel, remember the tribbles? You talked me into taking one, and the next thing we knew, they were everywhere! Scotty was so angry at me for bringing them on board, but he could never..."

She hesitated, and Spock thought that she might break down. Instead, however, she simply inhaled deeply before continuing in the same even voice.

"He could never stay mad at me for long. I'll miss him."

She smiled sadly at Spock, and he nodded encouragement. She was not alone in her sentiment. They would all miss Mr. Scott.

* * * * * * * *

Seated in the back of Dr. McCoy's flitter, Uhura looked down at Atlanta as they made their way from San Francisco to the doctor's home in Macon. The city was still bright even though all but the most nocturnal beings had long since deserted the streets, and she watched in interest as a steady procession of ships buzzed back and forth from the Hartsfield Spaceport like a swarm of colorfully lit bees.

She had only been to Georgia a handful of times, but she had always liked it here. Despite the high level of activity at the spaceport below, she'd always found the relaxed pace of life to be one that encouraged you to enjoy each moment to the fullest. Too bad she and Spock had to start that long return trip to Vulcan on the day after tomorrow, because she would have loved to stay long enough to see some of the sights. At least they'd have a day to visit Dr. McCoy.

She let the conversation swirl around her as she gazed sleepily out the window.

"Spock, how are your parents doing?" McCoy spoke softly, as if to leave their serenity uninterrupted. "It's been forever since I saw them. Your mother's getting up in years now, isn't she?"

"Yes. She is 94."

"How's her health holding out?"

Spock paused, and Uhura's gaze drifted from the window as she listened for his response. She had actually been with Amanda when she learned about Scotty, for Amanda insisted that she could still run errands around town even though she was much too frail to do it alone. So, someone always went with her. They pretended that it was just for the company, but they all--including Amanda--knew the real reason. It seemed like much more than just five days ago that she had helped Amanda through her front door to find Spock waiting with the bad news.

Spock said, "While her mind remains sharp, her body is growing weaker. She finds it hard to accept the fact that she must curtail her activities."

"Well, that's normal for someone her age. She should have a number of good years left if she takes care of herself. What does her doctor say?"

"Precisely what you have just said, although her family history is not encouraging. Her father died at the age of 88, and her mother died eight years later."

"I remember when your grandmother died. She broke her hip then had a stroke, didn't she?"

"That is correct. My grandfather also died of a stroke, although he was already severely weakened by circulatory difficulties."

"I assume she's been tested for any hereditary conditions by a geneticist."

"Yes. She did not inherit any of his problems."

"Good. Now, you tell her that I was asking about her, and that I said she should stay active without pushing herself too much." McCoy paused for Spock's affirmation, then continued. "And Sarek?"

"He is well. He has also curtailed his schedule, but it is because he does not wish to leave Mother alone. His health is very good."

"Glad to hear it. And how about Saavik? Have you seen her recently?"

"Yes. She helped us move into our new house. Unfortunately, we did not have a great deal of time to visit, but it was agreeable to see her."

Uhura smiled to herself. Spock would let Dr. McCoy believe that the lack of time had been due to the business of moving in, when he and she both knew that it was because of Saavik's budding new romance. Or romances. She still hadn't managed to get the whole story out of Saavik, but whether it was one romance or two, it was evidently compelling enough for Saavik to already be planning another trip back to Vulcan.

"You be sure to tell her that I was asking about her, too, all right?" McCoy adjusted the controls, and the flitter began to descend. "Well, here we are. It's not much, but it's home."

They neared a modest frame house set back on a wooded lot. The moon cast dark shadows everywhere she looked, but as the lights from the flitter swept across the neighboring yards, she took inventory of the trees: pines and magnolias, majestic old oaks, fruit trees, and even a drooping mimosa.

"This area is lovely, Doctor," she said.

"It's quiet and the house has a good-sized yard, so I thought it would be good for when the grandkids come to stay."

McCoy parked the flitter, and when Uhura stepped out, she filled her lungs with fresh outdoor air while Spock retrieved the suitcases. She knew that they were only minutes away from downtown Macon, but somehow it felt like they were in the country. Maybe it was the scent of the pine trees or the sound of the crickets, but it seemed as if they were far away from civilization. Dr. McCoy had found the perfect place to settle down after his retirement from Starfleet, just like she and Spock had found their perfect home on Vulcan. Not Scotty, though. Scotty had tried to make a new life in a new home, but he hadn't been able to resist the pull of the stars, the lure of one last adventure...

Her eyes began to sting as they walked through the front door, but she blinked the tears away just before Dr. McCoy turned on the lights.

He motioned toward a stairway. "The guest room is upstairs. You shouldn't have any trouble finding it. Would you like to put your bags down and have a cup of tea or coffee before you call it a night?"

Spock looked at Uhura. "Nyota?"

"Not for me, thanks. I'm beat."

"Thank you, Doctor, but we would prefer to retire."

"I don't blame you," said McCoy. "We've had a long day, and tomorrow will be here before you know it. Well, see you in the morning. Sleep in as late as you'd like."

Uhura smiled as she moved toward the steps. "Good night."

He waved and headed down a hallway, so she climbed the steps and started peering through doorways. She raised an eyebrow at his comment that they shouldn't have any trouble finding the guest room, because the first bedroom had a huge pile of stuffed animals on the bed and the second had a heap of sports equipment in the corner. Soon, however, she found a room that was completely barren of toys, so she walked through the door and turned on the light. Spock placed the suitcases on the bed and faced her.

"Dr. McCoy was correct. This has been a long day," he said.

She ran her fingers through her hair. "It's been several long days. I'll be glad to get home."

"As shall I."

She opened her suitcase. "First Captain Kirk, and now Scotty. It's so hard to believe that they're both gone, just like that."

"How are you doing? I know that this has been very hard on you."

"Oh, I'm mostly fine. Every now and then I forget for a moment, and when it hits me again it hurts like it's brand new."

"I never developed the close friendship with Mr. Scott that you did, but I understand what you are going through. Incidentally, you did very well at his memorial service and the gathering afterward. Your fortitude was admirable. You paid great honor to his memory."

She twisted her mouth in a crooked grin. "Maybe living on Vulcan is wearing off on me."

"I realize that you are not entirely serious, but you did react in a rather Vulcan manner. It is disrespectful to the dead to draw attention to oneself. Your quiet dignity was very appropriate."

"Actually, I'm not kidding. I do think that living on Vulcan is wearing off on me. Every day, I feel more and more like I'm fitting in. I think that it won't be long before I can act really Vulcan."

He hesitated for a long moment. "Now you are kidding."

"Why do you say that? I've been trying hard to fit in with T'Lena, Sepak, and the others in my office. I watch the way they interact, and I think I've learned to imitate them pretty well. For example, they're very subdued. They never raise their voices, and their body language is subtle." She smiled. "I think that I should be pretty experienced at Vulcan-watching by now. After all, I've been watching you for years."

"'Vulcan-watching' aside, there is much more to being Vulcan than simply aping mannerisms."

"I know that." She ticked off examples on her fingers. "I learned how to make Vulcan tea years ago. I'm getting better every day at speaking Vulcan. I share the flame with you. I've gone through pon farr with you, and I know all about the Vulcan life cycle. I live on Vulcan, I work with Vulcans, I've gone out of my way to---"

Gently taking her hands, he covered her fingers so that she couldn't use them to count anymore. "I understand. I am not faulting you in any way, but you expressed a desire to behave as a Vulcan would behave, and I am merely attempting to explain to you what that truly means. Is my interpretation incorrect? Did you not express a desire to learn what you must do to be accepted on Vulcan?"

She relaxed, allowing him to cradle her hands in his own. "You're right. Sorry. Go ahead."

"There are many other factors involved. First and perhaps simplest, you have not adopted Vulcan dress. It is expected that a Vulcan woman of, ah, a certain age will cover her head."

"Your mother didn't when I met her the first time, and she was about my age."

"Sometimes my mother chose to forgo the custom when not on Vulcan. As a matter of fact, her head was covered when she and my father boarded the Enterprise for that mission. She had merely removed the cowl by the time you met her. I have no doubt that she wore full Vulcan dress for the Babel conference itself, as is appropriate for a Vulcan matron."

"A matron." She grimaced slightly. "I've never been called a matron before. I'm not sure I like it."

"Very well. We shall use the term 'mature woman' instead. At any rate, a Vulcan woman who has reached the age of full maturity is expected to cover her head, with the exception of a matriarch who may forgo the cowl by right of her status and position, and only then on certain occasions."

"I've always hated to wear anything on my head. I don't think that I could ever get used to it."

"You may have to get used to it. In addition, there are not only external factors to consider, but internal. The Vulcan way is highly internalized. You possess a great deal of inner serenity. You always have, even when you were younger and sometimes openly afraid or angry."

She shifted uncomfortably, remembering those days when she had been too immature to keep her feelings to herself.

"However, even though you possess inner peace," he continued, "you are still very open. Humans would say that you have a sparkle in your eye, a bounce in your step, fire in your soul. Terrans use many such metaphors. At any rate, whatever you wish to call it, it emanates from you, and even a person who does not know you well can easily detect what you are feeling and thinking."

"And that's a problem?"

"Not to me personally, but it might be to others. The Vulcan way entails mastery of emotions. From childhood, we are taught that we must control our emotions. Indeed, at the very purest level of mastery, the emotions are not merely controlled but are eliminated. This is considered a highly desirable state, and it is admirable to strive throughout one's life to attain such a level. That is why I went to Gol."

"But you know better than anyone that the obliteration of emotion isn't always the answer."

"Sometimes one's path takes one elsewhere. My point, however, is that a Vulcan would never impose his or her emotions on another. It is preferable to control one's emotions, but at the very least one should not display them. My mother resisted this for many years, but in the end she learned that her life would be easier if she conformed."

"But she still acts human."

"But she refrains from overt displays. Her face is expressive, but only within certain limits. She gestures, but only in a gracefully subdued manner. She chooses her words carefully when speaking, and she considers the effect of every word and action. She walks purposefully but unhurriedly. She covers her head. She defers to her husband when in public." He paused. "Note that I do not expect you to do the latter."

She smiled. "Glad to hear it."

"However, my point is that long ago my mother took steps to modify her behavior so that it would not be offensive to others. As a result, she has found that her life on Vulcan is less complicated. I am loath to admit it, but my people can be somewhat judgmental at times, particularly the older generation. The infusion of offworlders on Vulcan has caused great changes within their lifetime, and they find it difficult to accept that change."

"So much for IDIC."

He shrugged. "A philosophy of life is often more attractive in the abstract than in practice. IDIC is not a new concept, but it has come to imply something very different in our generation than it did in generations before. You will understand that it is often the older ones who resist new ideas. That is no less true on Vulcan than it would be, for example, on Earth."

"Point taken." She caught her lip between her teeth as she thought about what he had said. "You know, now that you mention it, an older woman came into my office last week who wouldn't deal with me. I assumed that she was hard of hearing, because she ignored me and went to T'Lena."

"Perhaps she suffered from selective hearing."

Uhura snorted, then turned back to her suitcase and began digging for her nightgown. "She did look at me like I was some sort of insect or something."

"I am sorry for that, but it illustrates my point. You still have a great deal to consider if you truly wish to be accepted by all Vulcans."

She pulled out her nightgown. "I'll think about what you said, Spock. Thanks for being honest. I know it was hard to tell me something that you knew I wouldn't want to hear."

He raised an eyebrow. "No more difficult than usual."

She laughed. "Okay, you can stop telling me things that I don't want to hear now. No need to go overboard."

She could see the amusement in his eyes as he gestured toward the bed.

"Perhaps we should retire. Dr. McCoy will be disappointed if we sleep until noon."

"You mean if I sleep until noon. I can take a hint."

She picked up her toiletry kit and headed for the bathroom.

End chapter 1

Bright Shining as the Sun, chapter 2

Uhura tapped a stylus against her teeth as she reviewed the upcoming year's budget on her padd. Her staff worked quietly outside her open door, their routine calm and familiar, and she paused when the comm at Sepak's desk chimed.

"Sepak, Office of the Dean of Communications and Linguistics, Vulcan Science Academy."

Dean. She liked the way that sounded. She liked hearing someone else answer hails for a change, too.

Grinning as she bent back to her padd, she marveled once again at her assistant's incredible efficiency. Except for a few memos filed away for her attention, T'Lena had taken care of everything while she was gone. Poor Spock, on the other hand, probably had more than he could handle this morning. They'd just been gearing up on a big research project, and he had said last night that the schedule would already be a mess. Oh well, nothing like teaching his students right away about the challenges of mixing administration with research.

She keyed a few commands, then left her seat and carried the padd into the outer office.

"T'Lena?"

T'Lena looked up from her desk outside Uhura's door. "Yes, Nyota?"

"I was just going over these figures, and I think that we could tweak the budget enough to hire another instructor. I'd really like to offer a series of courses in advanced encryption."

T'Lena accepted the padd. "From where have you taken the necessary funds?"

Uhura leaned over the young woman's shoulder and pointed. "Scroll forward to..."

She halted, aware that someone had just entered the office. Well. It was the same woman who had come by just before she and Spock went to Earth, the older woman who hadn't wanted to deal with her. The woman stopped inside the door and stood motionless, clearly expecting someone to come to her.

T'Lena started to her feet, but Uhura gestured her back into her chair.

"I'll handle this," Uhura said.

"Nyota, I do not mind---"

"I'll take care of it."

"Very well. Her name is T'Perr. She was interested in learning about our self-paced overview of non-Federation languages."

Uhura composed her features to be as pleasantly neutral as possible and moved toward the front of the outer office.

"May I help you?" she asked.

Without altering her posture in any way, T'Perr slowly turned her sharp eyes in Uhura's direction. She did it so smoothly that the cowl covering her head didn't even ripple.

T'Perr raised one bony, imperious finger and pointed at T'Lena. "I will speak with that one."

"That one is busy." Uhura heard the firmness in her tone, and she made herself relax. Trying again, she said, "I'm sorry, but T'Lena is busy. May I help you?"

T'Perr regarded Uhura in silence, and Uhura had to make an effort to remain still under the scrutiny. How could it be that someone with so many creases and wrinkles on her face could nevertheless look so hard? There was nothing soft about this woman.

"If you insist," said T'Perr.

T'Perr's disapproval was so clear that Uhura almost told her to forget it, but instead she forced herself to nod. Spock was right. This old lady had a real problem with humans, or at least with this particular human. Well, this would be good practice. If she could win her over, she should be able to win anyone over.

Uhura gestured toward her office. "Please accompany me."

She started walking without looking back. She couldn't hear any footsteps behind her, and she was sure she'd turn and find T'Perr still standing by the front door. When she seated herself at her desk, however, she saw that T'Perr was taking the chair across from her.

Uhura folded her hands in her most Vulcan manner. "My name is Nyota Uhura. I'm the dean of this college. What may I do for you?"

"I am here to learn about one of your courses."

Uhura blinked. She knew perfectly well that it was customary on Vulcan to acknowledge the giving of a name with the reciprocal return of one's own name, but evidently T'Perr chose to flout propriety. Or even worse, she assumed that Uhura was too ignorant to understand or appreciate propriety.

Wondering if she might be making a huge mistake, Uhura decided that she wouldn't tolerate this anymore. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. I am Nyota Uhura."

"I know who you are, Nyota Uhura."

Uhura sat back slightly. "You do? How?"

"You are the wife of Spock, son of Sarek."

"Yes, I'm married to Spock. Therefore, you must know that I'm well acquainted with Vulcan customs."

"Spock chose to live among offworlders, and he has brought back an offworlder as his mate. But perhaps it is only to be expected."

"And may I ask what you mean by that?"

"He has suffered from the influence of his mother, of course. The Lady Amanda, however, is a dignified woman who does not flaunt herself or her emotions."

Uhura slipped her hands off the desk so T'Perr couldn't see that she'd curled them into fists. "Just what are you insinuating?"

"There is no need to insinuate when the evidence is there for anyone to see."

"I don't understand."

"Perhaps my speech was insufficiently clear." T'Perr betrayed no hint that she detected Uhura's distress. "I said that there is no need to insinuate when the evidence is there for anyone to see."

Uhura knew that she should just let it drop, but the temptation was too great. Feeling rather like a moth flying eagerly toward a sizzling flame, she asked, "Tell me, what am I flaunting?"

"Yourself. One cannot help but note that you do not cover your head. Is it because you think yourself still youthful?"

"Well, I---"

"Or is it because you overestimate your importance? Perhaps you simply choose to disregard our ways."

"It's none of that."

"One might think that you wish to draw attention to yourself."

"Absolutely not. I---"

"Now you are being emotional and inflicting those emotions on me."

Uhura took a deep breath. Damn right she was being emotional! Instead of saying that, however, she unclenched her hands and spread them on the cool, hard surface of her desk. "I'm going to start over. You need information, and I have information. You knew my name before I gave it to you, and although I also know your name, I will not use it unless you give it to me. You can give it to me or you can not give it to me. At this point, I don't care. My job is to provide the information you need. Therefore, what do you wish to know?"

T'Perr answered as if the entire previous exchange had not taken place. "I am here to learn about one of your courses."

"All right. Which one?"

"I am interested in your overview of non-Federation languages."

Only halfway paying attention to what she was saying, Uhura described the curriculum and downloaded the pertinent data to a data wafer. Flaunting herself? How dare that woman say such a thing! She was careful to always be very modest around Vulcans. Well, except around one Vulcan in particular. If T'Perr wanted to know about effective flaunting...

The thought almost made her grin despite her anger. Soon, however, she had satisfied T'Perr's questions, and she was watching the woman's retreating back. When the door to the office had closed again, she wandered out to T'Lena's desk.

"Did you answer her questions to her satisfaction?" T'Lena asked warily.

Uhura shook her head. "I'm sure that you heard the entire exchange. Tell me honestly, T'Lena. Do you think that I flaunt myself?"

"I have always admired your audacity, Nyota."

"Audacity? I've never tried to be audacious. I try very hard to fit in."

"Ah, I see." T'Lena paused for a moment. "Then perhaps it is a natural quality. Do you wish not to be audacious?"

Uhura flapped a hand at T'Lena. Turning back toward her desk, she said, "Hell, I don't know." She could picture T'Lena's upraised brow, but she bent to her work without another comment.

* * * * * * * *

Spock walked through the front door of their house and followed the sound of chopping to the kitchen.

"Greetings, Nyota."

She stood at a cutting board with a knife in her hand. "Hi, Spock. How was your day?"

"Full but productive." She seemed to be chopping with an unusual amount of vigor. "And yours?"

"Fine. T'Lena did a wonderful job while I was gone, so I wasn't completely overwhelmed."

"That is good. I did not encounter as much disarray as I had feared, myself, due to Seten's involvement in the project." He leaned slightly to the side to dodge a flying fragment of celery. "He is a promising student."

"That's great." She put a t'chara root on her cutting board and brought the knife down with such force that he blinked. "It's rewarding to see someone step forward like that."

He listened to the rapid clatter of the knife as she quickly dispensed with the t'chara root. She then reached for a tomato and began dicing it in what could almost be called a violent manner. His eyes widened as the knife just missed her fingers. Several times.

"Nyota?"

"Yes?"

"Are you disturbed about something?"

She finished chopping the tomato, then turned in his direction. She was still wielding the knife, and he had to resist the urge to take a step back.

"Do you think that I flaunt myself?"

"Excuse me?"

Gesturing broadly with the knife, she looked up at the ceiling. "That woman came back today, the one who didn't want to talk to me a couple of weeks ago. Do you remember? I told you about her while we were at Dr. McCoy's house."

"I remember."

"Her name is T'Perr. She wanted to talk to T'Lena again, but I wouldn't let her ignore me this time. I tried to be nice, but when I gave her my name, she didn't give me hers! Then, like an idiot, I asked her why she disapproved of me."

Not certain he wished to hear T'Perr's answer, he prompted, "And?"

"She pointed out that I didn't cover my head. Like it was news to me. Then she asked if it was because I thought myself 'still youthful'. Still youthful! I know I'm not exactly youthful anymore."

Leaning against the counter, he crossed his arms and reflected on the fact that while T'Perr had probably not intended to upset Nyota, she had nevertheless managed to say the one thing that would do so.

Nyota sighed, shrugged, then continued in a less emphatic tone. "And, well, she said some other things, like maybe I overestimate my importance or just want to draw attention to myself. Then she told me that I was inflicting my emotions on her. You get the idea." She turned back to the cutting board and picked up a bundle of herbs. "And now you're going to say that this is exactly what you told me might happen."

"Perhaps, then, I do not need to say it after all."

"No, you sure don't. I don't get it, though. Why can't she just accept me for who I am?"

"No doubt she is truly baffled by the human tendency to openly display emotions."

"But why is it so offensive to her? Why can't she just overlook it? It's illogical to be so afraid of something that's different."

"Afraid? Fear is an emotion, Nyota."

"Why else would she find it difficult to be around me?"

"Perhaps it is difficult merely because it is difficult. Vulcans are conditioned from birth to control emotions. It is not always easy to do this. Indeed, when I was at Gol, I learned that the attempt to control emotions often stimulates those very emotions one seeks to control. When examined in this light, it is obvious why it is preferable to eliminate the emotions entirely."

"Unless you take the human approach and decide to rejoice in your emotions."

"Or you take the human approach and allow yourself to be ruled by them, depending on your perspective. At any rate, like any Vulcan, T'Perr has dedicated a lifetime to the principle of emotional mastery. Disregard for mastery is offensive at the very least. At worst, it is subversive. Sybok rejected the Vulcan way, and it led to his destruction."

She finally put down the knife and faced him. "So are you saying that if I want to be accepted I have to eliminate my emotions? Or that I'm on a path to destruction if I don't?"

"No, of course not. From the day I met you, I knew that you did not allow negative emotions to control you. Even when you acknowledged experiencing them, that very acknowledgment was your way of controlling them. While I admired your ability to cope, I confess that it also puzzled me, for such an approach could not have been more alien to my way of thinking."

"I never knew that you admired me in that way, Spock. Thank you."

"You are welcome. I hope you understand that I would not wish you to be anyone other than who you are. I am merely telling you that your life might be less complicated if you were to change the appearance you present to others."

"Which of course includes covering my head."

"That is the way a matron is expected to dress on Vulcan."

She turned back to the cutting board and began working again. "Well, I'll think about it."

It was clear from her tone of voice that the discussion was over, so he left the kitchen.

* * * * * * * *

Spock lowered himself to his knees on the sandy soil and positioned the gardening shears. "Here?"

"Yes." Amanda nodded from her comfortable seat on the shaded bench. "My poor roses. I hope they haven't become too overgrown."

"I am certain that we can salvage them." He busied himself trimming off the offending branches. "They appear abundantly healthy, as a matter of fact."

"Yes, they do appear healthy. I've been instructing the computer to water them regularly, so maybe they haven't suffered from lack of attention." She chuckled. "I've always thought that keeping a rose garden was something like raising children. There's a fine line between encouraging independent growth and allowing neglect."

He raised an eyebrow. "I have found, however, that roses do not tend to talk back nearly so frequently."

This made her laugh, and Spock realized that it had been some time since he had heard his mother's laugh. She had not ceased smiling and enjoying herself, but she no longer seemed to have the energy to laugh. And, as he expected, she leaned back against the bench as if her brief outburst had exhausted her.

"I haven't yet spoken with you about your trip to Earth," she said.

"It was hurried. We both would have preferred to remain longer, but of course we knew that this was not a trip for pleasure."

"I know. I was so sorry to hear about Mr. Scott. How is Nyota taking it? I know that they were very good friends."

"She is doing well. His death was a great shock to her, but she experienced no difficulties during the memorial service." He paused to glance over his shoulder at his mother. "Actually, she is wrestling with quite a different problem at the moment."

"Really? What is it?"

"I am afraid that I may have instigated this." He faced her and sat on the ground. "After the memorial service, she commented that she felt rather 'Vulcan' in her handling of her grief. I agreed that she showed great restraint, but when she made the leap toward assuming that she would soon be able to act Vulcan in every respect, I informed her that she still had far to go, and that the more conservative members of our society would easily find fault in her demeanor."

"You didn't."

"Unfortunately I did. Therefore, she was on the watch for such fault-finding when a woman came to her office inquiring about classes, and she forced a confrontation. I believe that she was provoked, but what might have normally passed notice instead became reason for anger."

"Who was it?"

"T'Perr."

"Oh, my. That old biddy? She's a tough one."

Spock looked up to see that Amanda was trying not to smile. "Mother, are you enjoying this?"

"No, no. I'm sorry. It's just that I've had problems with her myself. Please, go on."

"From what I can gather, T'Perr was rather insulting. I believe that the word 'flaunt' was involved. It was actually difficult to determine what happened, because Nyota was too agitated to discuss it."

"I can certainly understand what she's going through. For me, it was T'Pau. I had a terrible time getting her to accept me."

"She does now."

"Yes, she does in a fashion, but it took some work on my part. I had to be on my toes every moment, and sometimes I came home with a stomachache from the effort of keeping my feelings to myself. It grew easier with time, though. I became accustomed to acting that way."

Spock sighed lightly before turning back to the roses. "Nyota has not even met T'Pau yet."

"Maybe T'Pau won't be so hard on Nyota. She's always had a soft spot for you... Don't raise your eyebrow at me, you know it's true. Anyone else would have raised holy hell over what Dr. McCoy did at your koon-ut-kalifee."

"I heard that she was not pleased."

She shook her head dismissively. "Any displeasure she might have expressed was just a token effort. Granted, she didn't like that you brought humans to the ceremony, but I think she secretly admired the way Dr. McCoy got you both out of it unscathed. Even though she's a stickler for tradition, she's also a reasonable woman. She knew the ramifications if a Starfleet captain had been killed on Vulcan soil. Anyway, I think she'll accept Nyota." She paused. "Maybe."

Spock met Amanda's eyes before resuming his snipping. They both knew that T'Pau tolerated humans quite well, but there were definite limits to her tolerance, and Sarek and his son had both pushed those limits at times. Amanda was correct about T'Pau's fondness, for lack of a better word, for Spock. Since his childhood, his great-great-grandmother's sister had demonstrated indulgence any number of times. He was far from confident that she would be willing to extend that indulgence to his wife, however.

"Spock? Speaking of T'Pau, there is something I've been meaning to ask you."

There was a wheedling tone in his mother's voice, and Spock lowered the shears and waited. He knew that tone all too well. His mother was preparing to ask something of him, and she knew it was something he would try to refuse.

"Your cousin Sedet is seven now," she continued, "and his parents have arranged for him to be bonded to a young girl named T'Kia. Their bonding ceremony is in two weeks, and I think that it would be nice if you and Nyota attended."

"T'Kia. That name is familiar to me."

"You've heard the name because that was T'Pring's older sister, the one who died before you were born."

He froze in mid-snip and turned to his mother. "You want me to attend the bonding ceremony for the daughter of T'Pring and Stonn? I do not think---"

"Spock, calm down. This isn't T'Pring's daughter. It's her brother's grandchild. I don't know if T'Pring will even be there, but if she is, so what? You can't avoid her forever. The whole family will be there, and I think it would be noticeable if you were absent. Besides, what better way to introduce Nyota to the family? You're going to have to present her to T'Pau eventually, and if I were you, I'd much rather do it at an occasion like this. Unless, of course, you'd rather do it privately, just the three of you alone somewhere."

"I concede your point, Mother." He cut the last few stray branches, then rose and brushed the dust from his trousers. "Very well. I will mention it to Nyota. I anticipate that we will attend."

"Wonderful."

She smiled as he helped her from the bench, and they walked slowly toward the back door.

End chapter 2

Bright Shining as the Sun, chapter 3

Glancing up from her spot at the table, Uhura sipped her coffee and watched Spock putter around in the kitchen. He'd already been in and out of there three times this morning, and she waited for him to realize that there was nothing to be done and to head somewhere else. Sure enough, he picked something up out of a drawer, looked at it, put it back, and walked down the hall to the study.

She smiled smugly, tapping a key on her padd so she could resume her perusal of today's news. Oh, she knew him so well. He might pretend that he wasn't bothered by what was going to happen today, but she knew that he was. She was being a good wife, too, because she hadn't pointed out that she'd noticed his nervousness. She'd even refrained from comment when he mentioned--several times--that T'Pring might not be there. She knew that T'Pring would. No woman would pass up a chance like this to see her ex.

She chuckled, considering the fact that the last thing she thought she'd ever have to deal with when she married Spock was old girlfriends. Of course, this wasn't quite the same, and she knew that she wouldn't turn around to find him flirting over the punch bowl, but it still amused her.

He came back into the room again. "Nyota, we must leave soon. You should get ready."

She raised an eyebrow without looking up from her padd, perfectly aware of what was coming. They'd been through this several times, too.

"I am ready."

"You do not appear ready."

"I'm ready." She finally looked up at him. "This should be an interesting day. My first formal occasion on Vulcan!"

"Because it is your first formal occasion, perhaps you should dress accordingly." He sat across from her and folded his hands on the table. "I will wait while you put on the cowl."

Sometimes this man was the most single-minded person she'd ever met. Her previous attempt to change the subject hadn't worked, so she tried again. "How many people do you think will be there?"

"The extended family numbers ninety-two. They will not all attend, however. I would estimate that approximately one-half of the clan will be present." He paused. "This will be your introduction to many important members of my family. There will be a number of other matrons present, and they will all be properly attired."

She tried yet again to steer him away from that topic. "Those two little children... This is such a big day for them. Do you think that they're scared?"

"This is the biggest event of their young lives. They should experience a sense of fulfillment at having reached such a milestone."

"Was it that way for you?"

"Of course." Obviously now the one to change the subject, he quickly said, "The cowl my mother selected for you is in the bedroom. I will retrieve it for you, if you wish."

She decided to make one last-ditch effort to get him to drop it. "Do you think that T'Pring will be there today?"

He took a deep breath and studied her. Finally, he said, "I do not know about T'Pring, but one person who will definitely be there is T'Pau."

"I know, and I know how important this is to you. Believe me, it's important to me, too. I'm going to do my very best to make a good first impression."

"If that is true, you should dress for the occasion."

"I am dressed for the occasion. Your mother has excellent taste. These robes are beautiful."

"The robes are not enough, Nyota. I have told you that you should cover your head."

"No, you told me that Vulcan matrons cover their heads."

"You are merely arguing semantics. If you are to be accepted here, you should cover your head. If you do not, you will be judged before they even have a chance to know you."

"Then that will be their loss. I've thought about it a lot, and I finally decided that it's not who I am. I know that it's a silly, superficial thing, but I'm not going to give in to the pressure."

"T'Pau would be the first to tell you that you must be accepting of our culture."

"Well, then I'd counter that she's being illogical, because she needs to be accepting of my culture, too, and it's not part of my culture to cover my head."

"You are being stubborn. I strongly encourage you to wear the cowl."

She straightened, finally beginning to feel her patience erode. "I'm being stubborn? You're the one who's trying to remake me into something I'm not."

"That is blatantly untrue. You expressed a desire to be accepted on Vulcan, and I am attempting to assist you."

"I disagree. You claim that you're trying to help me, but I think that you want me to do this for you. As a matter of fact, if you'll ask me to do it for you, I'll do it. But don't present it as something you want me to do for me."

He tightened his lips. "I am not asking you to do this for me. It does not matter to me."

"Ha! It does so. Don't tell me that it doesn't, because I see damn well that it does. Do you want me to try not to smile today, too?"

"That might be wise," he said warily.

"Sure, and while I'm at it, I won't even think about smiling. I won't enjoy myself at all. I'll just stand there like a knot on a log and not feel a thing."

"I have told you that I do not wish for you to change who you are. You are allowed to have feelings."

"Oh, that's right. I'm just not allowed to let them show. But wait, it's part of me to express my feelings. So if I'm not supposed to change, I guess that I need to let them show. But I can't let them show, because---"

"You are being illogical. The facade you present to the public is a very different thing than who you are inside."

"Not for me! Maybe you hid behind a mask for years, but I can't do that."

"Hiding has nothing to do with it. When I was at Gol---"

She threw both hands up in the air. "I swear, if you tell me about Gol one more time, I'm going to scream! I don't want to hear anything else about mastery of emotions. I'm going to be just as emotional as I want!" She raised her voice a notch. "As a matter of fact, I'm going to be very emotional right now, because I'm going to tell you to take that damned wimple and---"

He came to his feet and walked away. "Clearly you are too overwrought to discuss this further. If you do not wear the cowl, it is perfectly acceptable to me. It is your neck, as the expression goes. Do not say that I did not warn you."

"I'll be fine today," she called after him. "I'm not exactly a green cadet who doesn't know how to deal with other cultures!"

He was gone.

She inhaled deeply, then picked up her coffee, took a sip, and grimaced. Cold. Well, she didn't have time to drink it anyway. She needed to take one last look at her hair and make-up before they left. She wanted her appearance to be perfect.

Damned wimple or no damned wimple.

* * * * * * * *

His formal robes heavy on his shoulders, Spock stood on the grounds of his forefathers as the ancient ceremony unfolded before him. Two small children, soon to be tied together for life, approached T'Pau's chair as seriously and somberly as adults. The bells jangled harshly around them; the hot, dry wind threw up a dust-devil in the distance; the unforgiving sun burned directly overhead. At the gong stood the boy's father, and at T'Pau's side stood the girl's mother. As it was at the time of the beginning, this was the Vulcan heart, the Vulcan soul...

And across from Spock stood the woman with whom he had his own beginning--prideful, still beautiful, despised. He had not exchanged a single word with her today or indeed in the past thirty years, but he knew from the way she coolly avoided his gaze that she was as aware of him as he was of her.

The children knelt, and T'Pau reached for the contact points. It had been fifty-seven years since he and T'Pring had knelt like this before T'Pau, but he could still feel the bite of a small stone beneath his knee as if it had happened just yesterday. T'Pring had been beautiful even at the tender age of seven, and he had been both excited and terrified as T'Pau reached for him. She had touched him lightly, but her fingers had seemingly bored through his skull and planted a seed that immediately took root and sprang through his thoughts in search of sustenance. He had envisioned that seed as bringing forth a gentle flower. It was not until his thirty-fifth year that he realized it had never been more than a thorny weed in need of elimination.

And in that thirty-fifth year, when he had returned to this place, he had thought his life destroyed forever. He had been deep in the plak tow, yet his memories were very lucid. He remembered all too clearly how satisfying it had been to wrap the ahn-woon around Jim's throat and pull, tightening it with all his strength until his friend's body grew limp. He had not set foot here in all the years since, and he had dreaded the thought that he might have to return someday. He had also dreaded the moment when he might meet T'Pring again. When he learned last week that both events were very likely to intersect, he had dreaded more than anything this day. Although he had admitted it to no one, it was true.

But yet...

This day was not so bad. The smell of the desert brought comfort, not terror. The sound of the bells took him back, but only to a place in time that he had forever put behind him. The sight of this land gave him a sense of continuity, from all the people who came before him to all those who were yet to come. He knew that the reason for his certitude stood very solidly at his side. He also knew that she was still angry at him.

Careful to avoid the appearance of inattention to the ceremony, he slid a sideways glance toward Nyota. She stood with her chin high and the wind ruffling her hair. She was regal in the traditional Vulcan attire Amanda had chosen for her; dressed in flowing robes of muted green and blue, she carried herself as easily as someone who had dressed that way her entire life. Of course, the effect was rather spoiled by the fact that the matching cowl was draped over the back of a chair at home instead of the top of her head.

She looked up and caught him. Displeasure was evident in her brown eyes, but finally she seemed to soften. A very small smile curved her lips, and they both turned back to the ceremony.

* * * * * * * *

In the cool confines of a primitive hall near the ceremonial grounds, Uhura stood with Spock's extended family while a representative from each clan presented the other clan with an extravagant gift. Spock had told her that this custom traced back to the days when clans were bound together by the bonding of children, and feudal loyalties were shaped by the riches and advantages an alliance could bring. It had all been very interesting, and her mind was whirling with the attempt to remember the names of the cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews she had been told would be here today. Her task was made even more complicated by the fact that Vulcans didn't trace kinship in the same way humans did, but she knew that her only hope lay in envisioning the family tree in the way most familiar to her.

Soon, the exchange was over, and the families began mingling. This must be the social part of things, although she knew that among Vulcans even the most casual gathering was governed by strict forms of custom and etiquette. It reminded her of an elaborate dance, and she'd have to be alert to what was happening around her or she'd take a wrong step. She'd never felt before that she didn't understand the dynamics of a social situation on Vulcan, but after her encounter with T'Perr and her argument with Spock, she felt more than a little off-balance.

Spock started walking, so she followed his lead. She noticed T'Pring watching them, and she straightened her back a little. T'Pring had watched them throughout the bonding, too, although Uhura had noted that every time Spock turned T'Pring's way, T'Pring pretended she wasn't watching. Uhura couldn't really blame her. In T'Pring's place, she'd probably be curious, too. And the man beside T'Pring was clearly T'Pring's husband, Stonn. Well. He certainly wasn't very impressive. Spock had literally taken her breath away this morning when she saw him in his dark, rich robes, so tall and handsome that she wished they had more occasions to dress formally. Stonn, however, while also tall, had about the lowest forehead she'd ever seen. And how about those jug ears? The poor man looked like Pinocchio, about to turn into a donkey.

T'Pring began walking across the room on a path that would intersect their own. Stonn tagged along behind her. It took a moment for Spock to notice what was happening, but soon he stopped and drew himself up.

"Here we go," she muttered.

Spock didn't respond, and she saw that he'd completely removed all expression from his face. There was absolutely no sign that he was feeling anything. She couldn't even sense his state of mind through their bond.

Uhura stood close and waited for T'Pring to approach.

Her chin high, T'Pring stopped before them. "Spock," she said.

"T'Pring," Spock replied.

"You remember Stonn."

Uhura thought for sure that this would get a reaction out of Spock, but his face and his voice didn't change. She tried to keep her features just as impassive, but she doubted that she was successful.

"Yes," he said. He held his hand up with fingers extended. "This is Nyota Uhura, she who is my wife."

T'Pring nodded to Uhura, and as Uhura touched her fingers to Spock's, she tried to return the gesture just as gracefully.

T'Pring faced Spock again. "It has been many years."

"It has."

Uhura stifled a grin. Spock wasn't doing anything to make this easier for T'Pring.

"I understand that you have retired from Starfleet and now reside on Vulcan," said T'Pring.

"That is correct."

"I had heard that you married a human."

Uhura bristled just a bit at this, but she wasn't sure if she had actually heard condescension in T'Pring's voice or if she had just imagined it, so she held her tongue.

"I also heard of your loss," T'Pring continued. "My condolences on the death of Captain Kirk. I grieve with thee."

Uhura's eyes grew wide as she looked at Spock, for this was yet another statement that could be interpreted as a veiled barb. Was T'Pring sincere, or was she referring to Kirk's 'death' at Spock's hands so many years before? Spock didn't respond at first, and if anything, his face became even more devoid of expression while growing more stern. It was contradictory, and she wasn't sure how he did it without moving a muscle, but she felt a little rush run up her spine. She had never, in all the years they had known one another, seen him looking more... Vulcan. That was the only word for it. Vulcan. Intimidatingly Vulcan.

Finally, he spoke. "Your condolences are appreciated."

In the same tone of voice, T'Pring said, "I was remiss that I did not offer similar condolences thirty years ago. Of course, I learned later that such condolences would have been premature. Your doctor quite adroitly deceived us all."

"No one was more deceived than I, T'Pring."

Uhura heard the double meaning very clearly in Spock's words. She knew that T'Pring had to hear it, too, but the other woman didn't flinch. Poor Stonn, however, was clearly uneasy, his eyes darting from Spock to T'Pring, then back to Spock.

"Yes, of course," T'Pring said coolly. "Although you yourself conceded that my logic was impeccable, perhaps I owe you an apology for my actions of that time."

Spock's expression did not change. "It is not necessary. I am certain you would agree that the incident is in the past, and that is where it should remain."

"Indeed, you are correct. It should."

Still uncertain whether she actually detected an emotional undercurrent in T'Pring's reaction or whether she was reading something into it that really wasn't there, Uhura thought that maybe, just maybe, T'Pring appeared vexed. She'd tried to provoke Spock into a reaction, and Spock had not risen to the bait. When Spock held out his hand again and beckoned for Uhura to follow, however, Uhura decided that she was probably imagining things. T'Pring turned back to her husband as cool and unruffled as ever.

Uhura studied the back of Spock's head while he led her away. Did he truly feel that the incident remained in the past, or was he just saying that? It had colored his attitude toward Vulcan for so long, the way he felt about himself, the way he dealt with others, even his inability to open up to Uhura when they were first lovers. Now, she might find it easy to think that T'Pring's duplicity was no more than a minor bump on the path of his life. She'd said that she understood Vulcans--how empty her assertion had been! If she couldn't even interpret her husband's role in the exchange that had just taken place, how could she ever hope to understand T'Pring's? Would it be like this with all Vulcans?

Then, as if to reinforce her doubts, Spock said, "It is time for me to present you to T'Pau. Are you ready?"

Uhura's step faltered slightly. When Amanda had helped her decide how to dress for this occasion, the older woman had hinted that T'Pau might not be very accepting. Because T'Pau's opinion was very important to Spock, Uhura tried not to let her nervousness show.

"Of course," she said. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."

He met her eyes at that statement, but he was so deep into his Vulcan persona that she couldn't tell what he thought.

They approached T'Pau, who sat on an elevated chair overseeing the proceedings. When the two of them stopped before her, Uhura had to fight the ridiculous urge to curtsy, then had to struggle not to grin at the absurdity of the thought. Wouldn't that make a terrific first impression on T'Pau? Poor, gauche human, curtsying as if she were meeting Terran royalty.

"Greetings, T'Pau," Spock said. He knelt before T'Pau, and Uhura's eyes widened at the thought that maybe she was expected to curtsy. She shuffled her feet uncertainly, and luckily just happened to glance up to see Amanda. Amanda gave a tiny, single shake of her head, so Uhura froze. The next moment, T'Pau touched her fingers to the meld points on Spock's face, and Uhura realized that Spock's gesture was a token of respect from a family member to his elder.

Spock stood and motioned Uhura forward. Once again extending his hand for the ritual embrace, he said, "May I introduce Nyota Uhura, she who is my wife."

T'Pau turned ancient eyes on Uhura. Her expression was far from benevolent. "Welcome, Nyota Uhura."

Uhura looked downward modestly. "Thank you. It is my honor."

When Uhura looked up again, she saw T'Pau's gaze travel up to her head, and suddenly she felt naked. Why, oh why, hadn't she worn that damned wimple? A moment later, T'Pau appeared to dismiss her, turning back to Spock.

"Spock, you have returned to Vulcan. I approve. However, you have lived among offworlders for many years. Is this your home or merely your residence?"

"T'Pau, I am home. For many years my home was elsewhere, but at this stage of my life, I am home."

She nodded with apparent satisfaction. "You are home. Yes, I see that. Are you still Vulcan?"

"I was never anything else."

"You rejected the ways of your ancestors."

"I respectfully disagree. It was never my heritage I rejected. I was always Vulcan, even though I chose my own path."

T'Pau was quiet as she regarded Spock, and Uhura knew that she was pondering the accuracy of his last statement. When she spoke again, it was obvious that she'd decided to accept his words at face value.

"And what of your human wife?" T'Pau asked. "Does she also consider Vulcan her home?"

Finally, a flicker of expression registered on Spock's features, and Uhura held her breath because she'd seen that subtly mischievous look before.

"My human wife? T'Pau, I have only the one wife, and I would never presume to speak for her. Perhaps you should ask her yourself."

"Do not be impudent," stated T'Pau. "Remember to whom you speak."

Speaking quickly to divert attention from Spock, Uhura said, "This is my home, T'Pau. I know that I have much to learn, but I do want to learn. I want to make a life here."

T'Pau's face was hard. "Yes. You have much to learn."

Uhura blinked, surprised at T'Pau's response to her sincere comment, but T'Pau turned back to Spock before she could think of anything else to say.

His face once again expressionless, he said, "I ask forgiveness, T'Pau."

T'Pau said nothing more, so Spock motioned for Uhura to accompany him.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Uhura whispered, "Whew! Please tell me that there's no one else I need to meet today. I don't think I could stand it."

"No one else." He looked down at her, and she saw just a hint of warmth in his eyes that had been missing since T'Pring's approach. "Come, we will locate some refreshments."

"They don't have a big shot of whisky over there, do they?"

"I am afraid that you must be satisfied with fruit juice for now."

"Oh well. Maybe later."

"Indeed."

She smiled, and they crossed the room toward the food and drink.

* * * * * * * *

Carrying a glass, Spock walked down the back hallway of their home in search of Nyota. She had been undressing in their bedroom when he last saw her, but now the bedroom was empty. Her book was no longer on the nightstand, so he assumed that he knew where she had gone.

He entered the study to find her curled up in her favorite overstuffed chair with her feet tucked under her robe. He held out the glass without speaking.

She looked up from her book, so he sat on the ottoman at her feet.

"It is not whisky," he said, "but I thought that wine would do."

"Thanks, Spock. It's perfect." She took it from him and sipped. "I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time over the cowl this morning. I know you just wanted the best for me."

"I should not have pressed the matter. You made your decision, and I should have respected it. For that, I apologize."

"I guess we were both reacting from the gut. That stupid wimple. It's nothing, but yet it's everything."

"I do not understand."

She closed her book and put it on the small table beside the chair. "It's such a minor detail, but when you ask me to wear it, don't you see that you're asking so much more of me?"

"It is only a garment, Nyota. I asked nothing more than that you wear it. You were the one who made more of my recommendation than what was intended."

She held up her hand. "Okay, okay. Let's not go into this again." Exhaling loudly, she put her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her cheek on her fist. "I suppose it became painfully obvious when I met T'Pau that I should have listened to you after all and just worn the darn thing."

"Do not blame yourself for what T'Pau said to you. I made the mistake of treating her comments lightly, so she punished you for my error."

"She was already displeased with me before you made that remark about your 'human wife'. Which I loved, by the way. No, I think that she had already made up her mind about me before you even introduced me. Didn't you see the way she looked at my hair?"

"Ah. Now that you mention it, yes."

"And if I thought that I was learning how to act more Vulcan, I see now that I have a long way to go. I didn't understand half of what happened today, especially with you! You were so, well, so Vulcan when you talked to T'Pring. I had no idea how you felt about seeing her again." She took a long drink of the wine. "So, how did you feel about it?"

He raised the corner of his mouth slightly. "It was not so bad."

She smiled. "Not nearly so bad as you imagined, anyway."

"No."

She chuckled. "She's a cool customer, but you handled her perfectly."

"She was merely being herself. For many years, I did not know how to 'handle her', as you say. It is ironic that I have evidently finally learned how to do so."

"You've had a long time to distance yourself from her. There's been a lot of water under the bridge. Things change."

"Yes, things do change. I actually found the day as a whole very satisfying. I had not anticipated that I might react that way, but it was good to see my family and to stand on the grounds of my ancestors. For most of my years, I shunned the idea of a Vulcan life, and to be honest, I am not certain I even remember why I found it so objectionable."

"That's often the way it is, I think. Things that were important in your youth don't seem so important looking back."

"Yes. Of course, I would not change my past. It took me to you."

Carefully cradling the glass in her hands, she leaned forward and kissed him. "And I'm so glad that it did."

She handed the wine to him. He took a drink, returned it, and waited as she finished the small amount that remained. When the wine was gone, he stood and extended his hand to help her up.

"Come," he said. "It is time to go to bed."

End chapter 3

Bright Shining as the Sun, chapter 4

Propped up in a nest of pillows on her bed, Amanda smiled when her daughter-in-law entered the sunny room.

"Hello, Nyota. How are you today?"

Uhura moved a chair close. "I'm fine, but what are you doing in bed? Are you sick?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. I'm just resting. The bonding ceremony yesterday wore me out, and Sarek is indulging me. I suppose that I'll have to get up soon and do some things around the house, but for now, I'm enjoying being a lady of leisure."

"Maybe you shouldn't have gone, Amanda. It was strenuous for everyone, and I don't want you to exhaust yourself."

"Really, it's nothing. I'm already feeling much better." Amanda lowered her voice conspiratorially. "So did you survive your meeting with T'Pau?"

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Barely."

"She can be a real dragon lady."

"Tell me about it. Poor Spock. He tried to tease her, and she didn't like it at all."

Amanda laughed lightly. "She needs to be tweaked a little every now and then, although I wouldn't dare be the one to do it."

"I couldn't believe that Spock did."

"She and Spock have always had an unusual relationship. When he was a child, she would be immensely disapproving if he acted just the slightest bit human. Yet when he did slip up and let his humanity peek out, she was always the first to defend him if someone else disapproved. I've often wondered if she just never gave up hope that he'd overcome the terrible disadvantage of being born half human."

"And now he's married to a human."

Amanda shrugged lightly. "My first impulse is to be flippant about what a burden a human wife can be, but I should be honest. T'Pau hasn't said a word to me about you, but I have no doubt that she wanted Spock to marry a Vulcan woman."

"Like T'Pring."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. As you might imagine, she thought that Sarek and I had found the ideal match for Spock when we paired him with T'Pring, although later she said that anyone should have seen that train wreck coming because Spock wasn't Vulcan enough for T'Pring. Of course, those weren't her exact words."

"Gee, maybe she's thinks I'm right for him after all." Uhura grinned at Amanda's appreciative chuckle. "T'Pring certainly is beautiful. I saw her face years ago, and I don't know how I could have forgotten."

Amanda reached for Uhura's hand. "Yes, she's beautiful, my dear, but not nearly as beautiful as you. I can tell just from the way Spock looks at you that he'd say the same thing."

"Thanks." Uhura squeezed Amanda's fingers. "He'd better say the same thing if he knows what's good for him."

Amanda laughed, but a moment later grew quiet. She looked so small in her big bed, but her eyes were still as sharp as ever. Those eyes had seen so much during a lifetime with these people. Uhura knew that Amanda was an alert observer who had clearly learned long ago what it took to be accepted.

"Amanda, Spock told me that you had a tough time getting T'Pau to accept you, which is hard for me to believe because you get along so well with everyone now. How did you do it?"

"A little bit at a time, really. It wasn't easy, but gradually I learned what it took. I used to practice my expression in the mirror, and eventually I became so good at it I could summon it up at an instant's notice. My 'mask', I called it."

Uhura shifted uneasily when she remembered how she'd accused Spock of hiding behind a mask yesterday. She'd been pretty mean about it, too. "No offense, but didn't you feel that you were being untrue to yourself? It seems wrong to pretend to be someone you're not."

"That's not the way I saw it. It was important to me that I be accepted. It didn't take me long to learn that it was best if I kept my opinions to myself, too. Vulcans love debate, but it's all done in a calm, genteel manner. Since it was next to impossible for me to argue without becoming emotional about it, I was just very quiet all the time."

"And this made your life easier?"

"Very much so."

Uhura rubbed her forehead. "Oh, Amanda. I don't know what to do. I thought that it would be easy to live on Vulcan, but somehow it became so complicated."

"Tell me about it."

"It seems like everywhere I turn there's someone I don't understand, someone who disapproves of me, someone who would just as soon I go away. I keep telling myself that I shouldn't let that bother me, but deep down it does. I want them to like me. I want them to accept me. It seems that the only way to be accepted, though, is to change, and I don't want to change. Spock promises that he doesn't want me to change, either, yet he keeps telling me what I should do differently. It's all so confusing."

"He's probably telling you about the 'Vulcan way' and how terrific it is."

"Yes, he is! He used to preach about it all the time, but I haven't heard much about it for years. Now, it's 'Vulcan way this' and 'Gol that'. It's making me crazy."

"Poor Spock. I know that it must be hard for him to face some of his old demons again. I'm not too worried about him, though. Thirty years ago, yes, I would have been scared to death for him, but he'll be all right. He'll figure it out soon enough, especially with the two of us around to keep him straight."

"Or to make him crazy, too."

"I've always maintained that there's no need to suffer alone." Amanda smiled, then grew serious again. "But that doesn't help your problem. I know how hard it is to meet the expectations here."

"Did Sarek ask you to change?"

"Oh no, I took that entirely upon myself." She made a little noise of disgust. "I was such an idiot."

Uhura looked up sharply. "What?"

"Don't do it, Nyota. Don't change one iota."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. It was important that you be accepted."

"I should have stood my ground and demanded that they accept me for who I was. Things have worked out well, but I spent too many years as someone I'm not to ever be the person I was again. That person is gone, nothing more than a faded memory."

"But couldn't the same be said for anyone? We change during our lives, for better or worse. The people we were evolve into the people we are."

"Very true, but I changed for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to conform. I wanted people to approve of me. I wanted people not to notice that I was different from them. Even though my intent was to change only the way I acted in public, it couldn't help but leak into my private life, too. It was a mistake, and I truly regret it."

Uhura covered the frail hand that still rested in her own. "I don't know. I think that you turned out pretty terrific."

Amanda tightened her hold on Uhura's fingers. "You're too good a person to worry over suiting someone else's standards. Relax, enjoy life, and love my son. In other words, be yourself. Life should be easy, a reward rather than a battle. It's that simple."

Uhura nodded as she held the older woman's eyes. She could see that Amanda was very tired, however, so finally she returned Amanda's hand to the side of the bed and stood.

"Thank you, Amanda. To be honest, I don't think that it could ever be as simple as you say it is, but I appreciate your wisdom and kind support more than I can say."

"You know that I'll always welcome you with open arms no matter what you do."

"I do." Uhura smiled. "Rest now, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Amanda returned the smile, but her eyelids were already growing heavy, so Uhura walked quietly from the room and let herself out of the house.

* * * * * * * *

The next morning, Spock entered the kitchen and started the coffee. He would not drink any, but Nyota would be pleased to find it already made. They had stayed up late last night talking about nothing in particular. He knew that she would be tired today, but he did not regret the loss of sleep and he hoped that she did not, either. Much had happened recently--Mr. Scott's death, the tense introductions at the bonding ceremony, her uncertainty over her role as a human among Vulcans--and it had been far too long since they had simply enjoyed the uncomplicated pleasure of one another's company.

Perhaps life would now resume a normal routine.

"Good morning, Spock."

He looked up to see her adjusting the collar of her shirt as she joined him.

"Good morning, Nyota. Are you well rested?"

"Yes, surprisingly." She chuckled. "I know that it was late when we finally called it a night, but I slept like a log. Did you?"

"I slept soundly."

She poured coffee into a cup and inhaled appreciatively. "Mmmm. Have I told you recently what an incredible man you are?"

"I believe that you might have mentioned it last night."

"Oh yes." She smiled over her cup. "So I did."

Placing a bowl of fruit on the table, Spock had just seated himself and reached for the bread when he heard the comm signal chime from the study. Before he could rise, Nyota waved him off.

"I'm up," she said. "I'll get it."

He took a bite of bread and tapped a command into his padd. His students had done very well on their project so far, but one of them had committed a procedural error yesterday. It was important that he document it to avoid future---

"Spock? It's for you."

Frowning at the odd quality in Nyota's voice, he rose and started down the hall. "Who is it?"

"Your father."

He ignored a sudden ripple of concern, reminding himself that while his father had never contacted him at this time of the day before, it did not necessarily mean that something was wrong. When he entered the study, however, he could see by Nyota's expression that she also found it puzzling.

"Do you know what this is about?" he murmured.

She shook her head and took a step toward the door, but before she could leave, his father's voice stopped her.

"Nyota, it is best if you stay."

Spock met her eyes quickly, and this time he could not ignore the apprehension that crowded into his chest. His father's voice, always perfectly modulated and solemn, held a quality he had never heard before: strain. And tiredness. Spock thought that his father sounded so weary that the burden of speaking was almost too much to bear.

Sitting before the computer, he looked at his father's face. He felt Nyota's reassuring hands on his shoulders, and for a dreadfully long moment no one spoke. Instead, his father simply studied him, examining his features as if he were seeing him after a very long absence.

Finally, Sarek said, "There is so much of your mother in you."

Spock did not know how to respond to such an utterly unexpected statement. It was something he had heard many times in his life, but it had always been expressed with disapproval. He had never heard this tone of near-reverent wonder before.

Sarek seemed to shake himself. "My son, I fear that I have something very difficult to tell you."

Spock tried to nod calmly, but in truth he felt paralyzed, and he was not sure that he actually moved at all.

"Your mother..." Sarek paused, and when he continued, his voice was slightly stronger. "Your mother died in her sleep last night. It was very merciful and painless, my son. She..."

Sarek's words faded into the background as Spock tried to understand. His mother? Granted she was advanced in age, but he had assured Dr. McCoy just last week that she would live many more years. Her doctor had told her so. It had been obvious to everyone recently that she was trapped within a weakening body, but she was still his mother, still the same person who had seemed so strong and tall when he was young, still the same person who had been his ally through the difficult years...

He returned to the present when he felt Nyota's hands tighten on his shoulders, and he realized that no one had spoken for several seconds.

"I see." His voice sounded strangely calm. "My condolences, Father."

Sarek's brow creased with just the slightest frown, and Spock knew that his words had not been appropriate. He did not know what else to say, however.

Nyota seemed to detect his difficulty. "Have you told anyone else yet?" she asked softly.

"I have talked to no one but the emergency personnel and you."

"I see. Spock and I will be right over, and we'll help with any calls you want us to make."

"Thank you."

"We'll pick up some food, too. I'm sure you'll have many visitors today."

Sarek nodded gratefully. "There is much to be done. I will speak with you soon."

Spock roused himself. "Yes, Father."

The screen grew dark, and Spock stared at it until he finally swiveled in his chair and looked up at Nyota. The tears on her face shocked him--her voice had not betrayed her grief, and he realized that he had been so dulled to what was happening around him that he had not sensed her pain through their bond. She did not speak, instead simply sinking onto his lap and putting her arms around his shoulders.

Finally, he allowed his forehead to rest against her breast, and he shut his eyes as she pulled him close.

End chapter 4

Bright Shining as the Sun, chapter 5

Smoothing the front of her midnight blue robe, Uhura looked in the mirror and remembered how she had always loved this color as a child. It reminded her of the sky during those moments when the sun was down but it wasn't quite dark, when the stars were blurry and you could still see the outline of trees far in the distance. Spock had told her that this was the color of mourning on Vulcan. She kept trying to understand why this particular color would be the one used to symbolize death, but she supposed she would never know. Spock's answer, when she questioned him, was no answer at all: "I do not know," he had said. "It simply is."

She slid her eyes in his direction to see that he had donned his own dark blue robe. Noticing that she was looking at him, he said, "The robe suits you."

"Thanks. It's a good color on you, too. I wondered why the black robe you wore to Captain Kirk's and Scotty's funerals had a thin blue panel running down the front, but now I guess I see."

"Black is the color of mourning in both their cultures, but I wished to mark the occasion in my own way."

"It was a nice gesture."

They both fell silent again. Uhura pretended to examine herself in the mirror, but she was really watching Spock instead. He had been very quiet all morning, his gaze far away and his mood pensive, and she wondered yet again what was going through his mind. Amanda's death hadn't been a great shock to anyone when you got right down to it. She had lived a full life, and obviously it was just her time to go. The loss of a parent always seemed to change something, though, and she knew that he must be trying to come to terms with that.

She took her shoes from the shelf, dainty brocaded slippers that matched the robe. They were so utterly impractical that she'd expressed surprise they were of Vulcan design, but as Spock had told her, that was symbolic as well. Only one designated person would walk in the desert today, T'Pau, who would take Amanda's ashes to Mount Seleya in lieu of a katra.

It was all so very different from the service Amanda might have had back on Earth.

"Spock, everything you've told me about today's ceremony has been a Vulcan custom," Uhura said.

"That is true."

"And I can understand that, since funerals are more for the living than the dead. It seems that there should be something more, though."

"Such as?"

"Oh, I don't know. Songs, maybe. Something fitting for a human."

He walked away. "Songs are inappropriate at a Vulcan funeral."

"Wait a minute. We need to talk about this." She caught up with him, touching his elbow lightly before he could leave the bedroom. "Years ago, we talked about how much your mother loved the song 'Amazing Grace.' Do you remember? It was on Dantria, before we were lovers, and we were sitting on your back porch."

"You know that I remember."

"Then you also remember what you told me. You said that your mother used to sing 'Amazing Grace' when you were a baby because her mother had sung it to her. She said that it was the first song she heard and she always hoped it would be the last. I don't know exactly when I crossed over the line from loving you to being in love with you, but I always remembered that night and that conversation. It was such a beautiful observation, and I knew at that moment I was seeing the real you and not some image you wanted people to see." Searching his eyes, she pleaded, "Please tell me that someone is going to sing 'Amazing Grace' at your mother's funeral."

"It is out of the question, Nyota. This is a Vulcan funeral. If you recall what I told you on Dantria so long ago, you must also recall what I told you after Mr. Scott's service just weeks ago. It is disrespectful to the dead to draw attention to oneself."

"But it's not disrespectful, it's a gesture of tribute."

"Nyota." He closed his eyes briefly. "Please try to understand. This is the way things are."

She waited, hoping that he might change his mind, but finally she dropped her hand from his arm. "All right. I won't say anything else about it."

"Thank you."

She smiled sadly. "Your mother would have loved it."

"If my mother were here, she would tell you that it is the Vulcan way, and she would accept that the Vulcan way is what must be observed."

Remembering her final conversation with Amanda, she whispered, "But you know that she would have loved it."

He raised both eyebrows and sighed, and she thought that if he'd been human he would have rolled his eyes.

"Nyota, you told me that you would not say anything else about it."

"I'm sorry. It's just that you said she'd accept that the Vulcan way is what must be observed..." She paused. Amanda had said that she regretted repressing her humanity, but somehow, it didn't seem like the sort of thing anyone else needed to know now. "And, well, you're right. She would say that. But that doesn't have anything to do with the fact that she would have loved it."

"Ah, Nyota." He ran a finger down her cheek. "And that does not have anything to do with the fact that it is not the Vulcan way."

She looked at him without responding, willing him to understand that it had everything to do with the fact that it was not the Vulcan way. He evidently took her silence for concession, however, because he nodded as if the matter were closed. "Are you ready to depart, my wife?"

"Not quite."

She took a heavy breath and turned toward the cowl that hung on the back of a chair. Most of the time, Amanda had worn something loose-fitting, more like a small cap with an airy veil draped over it. As if that hadn't been bad enough, however, only the most formal garment would do for an occasion like this, and the cowl she had now was entirely different, heavy and worn tight against her skin. The thing wasn't even the same rich color as her robe, either. It was much paler, more of a baby blue. She had never liked pastels much anyway, but it was even worse because this was the same awful shade of blue in which Starfleet had briefly uniformed some of its officers. She, herself, had worn a beige uniform that wasn't much better, but she remembered how much she had hated that powder blue color on Spock.

She picked up the cowl. "This thing is really horrid."

"I do not understand why you despise it so much. It is generally considered very flattering."

"Are you kidding? I tried it on yesterday. It made my face look like a big brown moon."

"I find that difficult to believe."

"Do you know that nuns used to wear something like this?"

"I do not anticipate that anyone will mistake you for a nun."

She grimaced. "And now I know the real reason why Vulcan women don't smile. They can't move their faces."

Looking up, she saw that he was watching her patiently.

"The other women will be wearing them," he said.

"I know, I know." She carried it into the bathroom. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll be ready to go."

* * * * * * * *

Uhura walked behind Sarek as they approached the same plateau to which they had brought Spock's body and katra nearly ten years ago. Although she had been almost oblivious to her surroundings at the time, she would never forget this place. Spock was directly behind her, and the remainder of the family followed him in single file. Her robes brushed the top of her feet, and she concentrated on kicking them away just the tiniest little bit with every step. As the new matriarch of Sarek's immediate family, her place was next to Sarek, which meant that if she tripped on the hem of her robe, he would be the only member of the family who would not witness her blunder.

T'Pau was already in position, kneeling before the shrine with her eyes closed, and Uhura permitted herself a discreet sigh of relief when Sarek stopped beside T'Pau. The group formed a large semicircle, and everyone but Sarek knelt in the sand. T'Pau stood and faced Sarek, who held a small box containing Amanda's ashes.

"We consign our sister, the Lady Amanda, to the eternal void," she intoned. "We grieve, for there is no katra. All that she was is lost."

Uhura looked up, shocked by the bleakness of this statement, but no one else reacted. T'Pau took the box from Sarek, waited until he was also on his knees, and began to chant. Uhura quickly lowered her eyes.

"Ch'a fal k'hyl kri'shinom, a kri, a sha'in, kcha'tkri. A'kta kri'shinom. A tir't'ka. A tor'pel."

Her universal translator sputtered helplessly at T'Pau's archaic high Vulcan, latching onto words such as "fire" and "the All" and mangling the rest, so she discreetly turned it off. It just got in the way, anyway. Everyone would join in after T'Pau had repeated the chant five times, and Uhura had been practicing this until her tongue hurt.

Four times. Five...

Uhura closed her eyes and started chanting.

"Ch'a fal k'hyl kri'shinom, a kri, a sha'in, kcha'tkri. A'kta kri'shinom. A tir't'ka. A tor'pel."

She tried not to think about the meaning behind the words, and instead concentrated on wrapping her mouth around them. She could hear T'Pau's feet crunching softly on the coarse sand as she walked away, heading toward the path that would take her further up the side of Mount Seleya.

"Ch'a fal k'hyl kri'shinom..."

The chant droned on. Over and over, Uhura repeated the harsh guttural sounds. She could hear Sarek on one side and Spock on the other, their voices familiar but growing more alien by the moment as their intense meditation transported them to another plane of consciousness. She tried to focus, but she couldn't prevent her thoughts from returning to another time years before, when the psychic energy had been almost tangible in the air that surrounded her. Then, though, there had been purpose to the meditation, for it had aided the high priestess while she rejoined Spock's katra with his body. Today, T'Pau did not carry a katra to the Hall of Ancient Thought, and there was no need to lend telepathic support. It was just an empty ritual.

"... kri'shinom. A tir't'ka..."

Uhura's mouth was beginning to grow dry, and she took a quick moment to lick her lips. It was very important that she keep going, for her own sake as well as Amanda's.

Amanda...

What would Amanda think of this? She had probably participated in similar ceremonies a dozen times over, kneeling under the harsh morning sun and repeating the syllables that were so foreign to her tongue. She would have gone along with it because it was the Vulcan thing to do.

"Ch'a fal k'hyl kri'shinom, a kri, a sha'in..."

On Earth, things would be so very different. On Earth, the people who had loved Amanda would have celebrated her life with joy as they marked her death with sorrow. There was no joy here.

"...kcha'tkri. A'kta kri'shinom. A tir't'ka..."

Amanda had been full of quiet, peaceful joy. A lifetime among people who did not want to see her joy hadn't driven it away. Amanda had said that she regretted changing for them, but she had come to that realization much too late in her life. And in the end, the people for whom she had changed would have the final word. They mourned the loss of a katra without any mention of the real woman for whom the concept of a katra was meaningless.

"... kri'shinom. A tir't'ka. A tor'pel."

'Amanda lived!' Uhura wanted to shout. 'She laughed and she sang! She was human, human like me, and she danced and wept and laughed and loved!'

Quiet footsteps heralded T'Pau's return.

Amanda was human. She wasn't Vulcan.

Uhura heard T'Pau stop before them, signaling the end of the ceremony. This was it. It was over. The Vulcans would complete this last repetition of the chant, and they would stand and file away. But yet... This couldn't be the end. It wasn't enough. Amanda was a remarkable, warm, human woman, and she deserved something more.

Without waiting long enough to give it another thought, Uhura inhaled, squared her shoulders, and as the final word of the chant evaporated in the hot desert air, she began to sing.

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now I'm found;
Was blind, but now I see."

She sang softly, but her voice carried in the utter silence. She kept her eyes closed for fear that she might lose her resolve, and she wound her fingers tightly together.

"Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed."

No one made a sound; no one stirred.

"The Lord has promised good to me;
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures."

Gaining confidence, she raised her chin and sang louder. She knew that the thin Vulcan air lifted her voice, taking it out over the plateau, to the mountain, to the desert. She fancied that all of Vulcan froze to listen.

"Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come.
'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home."

She filled her lungs before launching into the final verse, determined that she would imbue every word with joy.

"When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun."

She remained motionless until the last ringing tone had faded, then opened her eyes. They were all looking at her, several dozen pairs of dark eyes identical in their stunned disbelief. She didn't care. Maybe they didn't understand why she had done it, but that didn't matter.

She felt Spock stir beside her, and a moment later, the pressure of the cowl eased as he released the small clasp at the back of her neck and removed it. She didn't look at him. Instead, she turned toward Sarek.

Sarek held her eyes for a long, significant moment, then nodded once in approval. "Thank you, my daughter," he said. "You have brought great honor to my wife."

Her chin still high, she realized that there was a lump in her throat that wouldn't allow her to speak, so she simply swallowed hard and smiled shakily.

Amazingly, she thought that Sarek almost smiled back as they all finally came to their feet and walked away.

* * * * * * * *

Situating her head on her husband's chest, Uhura appreciated the feel of his arm around her back as he pulled her close. He wasn't the biggest cuddler in the universe, but this was their routine whenever one of them felt the need to talk, or maybe just to simply be close. Although she was certain it was a little of both tonight, she figured that he primarily wanted to talk. She waited patiently for him to voice whatever it was he had on his mind.

He didn't disappoint her. "You sang beautifully today," he said. "Mother would have been very happy."

"It was the least I could do. I loved your mother. She was a good woman."

"Yes. She was, and you paid great tribute to her. You were the only one who saw that adherence to the Vulcan form of respect was actually disrespectful to the memory of who she truly was." He stroked her arm. "You were also correct about the cowl, by the way. It was not at all flattering."

She laughed, turning in his arms so that she could see his face. "Oh, so I suppose that's why you removed it?"

Instead of a playful riposte to her teasing, he answered seriously. "When I was young, I followed a confusing, contradictory pattern of conforming one moment and rebelling the next. I wished to be accepted, yet I resisted doing those very things that would make people accept me."

"You probably don't want to hear this, but that's pretty typical for a young human. It's part of establishing independence."

"Even disregarding the obvious point that I was not a young human, I believe that it was more than that for me. Of course, it is only with the perspective of hindsight that I can see this, but I believe I so feared the possibility of never being a 'real' Vulcan that I sabotaged my own efforts to be one. In other words, even if my behavior had been perfectly Vulcan, people might still have not accepted me as one. It was simply too great a risk to face that potential outcome."

"Were you rebelling today when you removed my cowl?"

"No, I was merely doing the logical thing. You are you. That is something to be celebrated, not hidden. You spoke of my hiding behind a mask, and perhaps you were correct. For most of my life, deep inside I felt that no matter how Vulcan I became, I would never be Vulcan enough, so all that was left was to appear Vulcan. Appearances became more important than internal truth." He paused. "I hesitate to bring it up, but learning of this discrepancy was undoubtedly the hardest lesson I encountered at Gol."

"Don't worry, I won't bite your head off again for mentioning Gol. It's been on my mind, too." She ran her hand across his chest. "You said that you used to subconsciously sabotage yourself, and I wonder if that wasn't just another example."

"In what way?"

"Think about it. You didn't just want to become Vulcan again, you wanted to become more Vulcan than Vulcan. Instead of eliminating your emotions, however, you managed to point out more than ever that you had them. You set yourself up for failure."

She could picture his expression as he considered what she had said.

"That is a remarkable insight, Nyota. It is possible that you are correct."

"You've changed a lot since then. It might have been a mistake to return to Vulcan before, but it's obvious now that it's right."

"That is because I know who I am. I understand that I cannot let the perception of others shape me. I am astounded, therefore, that I pushed you into the same trap that held me fast for so many years."

"It wasn't your fault. I really thought that's what I had to do to make a life here." She sighed. "You know, people with skin the same color as mine once faced bigotry on Earth. It's part of any child's most basic history lesson, but it was such a foreign concept to me that I never related to it. Now, though, I understand how it feels to be judged by your racial heritage. And even worse, I bought into it, trying to change myself to be more like the people who were judging me."

"What made you realize that you were wrong?"

"Your mother. The day before she died, she told me to be myself."

Spock made a small sound deep in his throat, and she knew that he, like her, was thinking of the woman who had given him life. She had been a warm, loving woman, a human who had come to a planet where the climate, the landscape, and the attitudes were often harsh and unforgiving. She was a woman who had raised a son on this planet, a woman caught between forcing him into the rigid mold of the ideal Vulcan and shaping him into the man his nature meant him to be. Somehow she had managed, living to see her son find the well-rounded, successful happiness that every mother wishes for her child. She had been an incredible woman. It was hard to believe that such a gentle yet formidable life-force was gone.

"Spock?" Uhura said. "Do you think that there's life after death?"

She felt amusement ripple through their bond.

"A katra can live eternally in the Hall of Ancient Thought."

"Is that all there is, though? I thought that a katra wasn't quite the same thing as a soul."

"You are correct. It is not."

"So do Vulcans have souls? What do you think would have happened to you--your soul, not just your katra--if the adepts had simply released you from Dr. McCoy as originally planned?"

"I cannot say. In the absence of proof, however, I would hypothesize that there is no continued manifestation of life after death. Other than the katra, of course. What do you believe?"

"I don't know what to believe, either, but I like to think that there is something else after death. There's an absence of proof to the contrary, after all."

"Very good point."

"Besides, isn't it nice to believe that we'll be reunited someday after we're both gone? That your mother is simply waiting for your father to join her? It's probably just a fanciful notion, but I love the thought of an eternal life together."

"It is not merely a fanciful notion. We have invested a great deal in this relationship. It would be inefficient to find that such effort was ultimately for naught."

She chuckled. "Oh yes, that too, you mushy romantic."

He tightened his arm around her back, pulling her so close she could hardly breathe. His voice suddenly emphatic, he whispered, "I can only hope that you are right, Nyota."

She rolled over and propped herself up on his chest so that she could see his face. "How do you feel?" she murmured.

He paused, and she wondered if there was some meaning to these words beyond the obvious. He blinked and swallowed, and finally put his hands on either side of her face.

His expression very tender, he replied, "I feel fine."

She watched him for a long moment, then smiled. Resting her head on his chest again, she realized that yes, he was fine. So was she. Life was good, and they'd make a home here in their own way and on their own terms.

She closed her eyes, ready for a peaceful night's sleep.

End story

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