To Begin Anew

 

Part 2

 

By

 

Pat Foley

 

 

                        The Pony Club had sponsored a post-Christmas 3-Phase Combined Training event.  Colloquially called the Lollipop event, the only trophies or prizes awarded were lollipops in the appropriate colors.  The event was located on the beautiful grounds of the local Hunt Master, who donated the cost of the dressage and stadium judges.  The event was so low-key he didn't even bother to secure jump judges for the cross-country course, that portion of the event was ridden on the honor system.  Even as laid back as this affair was, McCoy wasn't wild about Spock entering the unknown Firecracker, especially on such short acquaintance.  Still, he supposed it wasn't much different than a Gambler's Choice event, when the kid's routinely changed horses with every pass over the jumps.

 

            Spock didn't seem to have any qualms, though Firecracker had already shown examples of temperament that apparently landed him his name.  The pony had outdone himself on the hunting field, but most horses hunted well, deriving their own share of excitement from running with the pack.  Cross-country and in dressage the pony had shown well, but in stadium courses the veneer worse thin, and the temperament that had given him his name appeared.  When Spock had refused to let him run out of a fence in practice, the pony had spent several minutes trying unsuccessfully to buck his rider off.  Spock seemed delighted with the pony, in his repressed Vulcan way, and while to McCoy that was a surprise he found difficult to accept, he had to admit Firecracker fit Spock better, both proportionally and in temperament, than Linne ever could.  And it was no more disconcerting to see Spock riding a flashy pony, once he got used to it, than dwarfed by the plodding, 'child safe' Linne.  In fact, it was less, though it underscored to McCoy how much he tried to avoid seeing Spock's true appearance.

 

            No one paid much attention to the approach of the flyer.  Aircars were old news to all of these horses, none of them flicked an ear at the approach.  McCoy didn't even turn and look; there were dozens of people with families who might have turned up in an aircar; McCoy had no expectations.  Consequently, when someone laid a hand on his shoulder, he jumped in surprise.

 

            "Sorry, Bones.  I didn't mean to startle you."

 

            "What are you doing here, Jim?"

 

            "You didn't answer my message.  I decided I better come and make my apologies in person." 

 

            "I didn't get a message from you."

 

            "It was on Spock's tape."  Kirk chewed his lip nervously.  "I figured I better apologize to him first.  But I've sent him two tapes, and he never answered."  Kirk shrugged.  "I decided if I didn't tell you I was coming, you couldn't say no."

 

            "How did you find me here?"

 

            "Your neighbor, Deveaux?, told me you were here."  Kirk looked at the assortment of children, sprinkled with adults, milling about.  "What the hell is this, Bones?  Your neighbor said something about Pony Club?"

 

            "That's right.  Spock belongs to it."

 

            "Spock?"  Kirk swallowed and looked away, after a moment he faced McCoy, his voice cool, "I can't believe you'd do something like this, Bones.  I'd have thought Spock's been through enough humiliation."

 

            "I haven't done anything.  And Spock doesn't find it humiliating." McCoy said hotly.  "He happens to enjoy it."  Kirk's eyes narrowed and McCoy  felt his own temper flare.  "If you've come here to make trouble, Jim, you can head right back to the Enterprise.  Spock does what he chooses to do, and he doesn't need your criticism of his activities."  McCoy frowned as Kirk scanned the crowd, obviously searching for Spock.  McCoy spotted him by the cross-country start.  As a concession to Firecracker's inexperience in jumping, Spock was riding the pony temporarily in the six to eight year old division where the fences were a little lower, and the spread jumps a little narrower.

 

            Spock and Jessamyn were waiting patiently for their turn, heads down, stirrup to stirrup and apparently deep in conversation.  They were 'on deck', or next to go, and merely waiting for the judges to signal their start.  Since there were no jump judges, riders were taking the course in pairs, both to bolster the 'honor' system, and to have someone close by in case someone ran into trouble at a jump.  McCoy had felt grateful for that.  Spock believed firmly in the 'over, under or through' tenet of cross-country jumping.  The only rule was that the horse and rider had to make it through the penalty box around the jump without either the horse falling or the rider losing his seat.  Going under or through heavy timber cross-country jumps was of course impossible, but having watched Spock take a number of courses at a full gallop, he wondered if Spock believed that.  It didn't help that Spock's instructor had watched Firecracker's attempted evasions before fences, and had  taken her charge aside privately, warning Spock that if a horse stopped dead in front of a jump, there was little the rider could do, but she had a riding crop reserved for any of her students who let a horse run out around a fence.  That was, of course, mostly a bluff, but riding instructors had lots of ways of making their displeasure felt.  Though McCoy would have been happy to see Spock hold back a little in this event, he felt pretty sure the instructor's remark had only fueled Spock's usual fervor.  He was hoping Jess would be a good example for him.

 

            Jim had followed McCoy's gaze.  He frowned at McCoy and looked back at the pair just as Jess and Spock were called.  They rode up to the start, Firecracker dancing a little in impatience.  McCoy noticed Jess's pony was a hair bigger than Firecracker.  She and Spock were the same size, she looked a little smaller on the big pony.  Devon had been right, Firecracker did fit Spock to perfection.  If only the stupid beast didn't break his neck.  But gods, they looked like such children.  Jess turned and said something to Spock, her blond braids shifting over her numbered pinny and Spock turned to answer her, giving Kirk the first clear view of his face.  McCoy felt a moment of sympathy as Kirk stiffened beside him.  He still found himself occasionally shocked by Spock's appearance, his mind still played tricks on him, remembering the first officer as he was, or in some compromise between his original and true appearance.  He could imagine that Jim had mentally glossed over Spock's inadequacies in much the same way.  

 

            "My god, Bones."  Kirk`s voice was thick with disgust.  "A pony?"

 

            McCoy's sympathy instantly evaporated.  "That's why it's called Pony Club."

 

            "I can't believe you'd do this," Kirk said, his voice menacing.  "Do you hand out cookies and milk after school?  Do you let him stay up past his bedtime if he's been extra good?"

 

            "Get out of here, Jim."  McCoy said slowly.  "Neither Spock nor I want you here."

 

            "What?  And miss the show?"  The judge's flag dropped, and both Spock and Jess broke into a canter.  Firecracker easily pulled ahead of the slower pony, and Jess kicked her pony and whacked him with her crop.  They flew over the first jump, a coop with a brush fence, which Firecracker took without a flicker.  McCoy felt simultaneously relieved and worried in turn.  There were 23 jumps left to go, and the next one was a high brick wall with a nasty gully-like drop after it.  The only concession to the junior riders was that a rail from the top of the wall had been removed.  The ground was sloping, uneven and stony on the landing, and several horses and riders in the senior divisions had already fallen there.  Firecracker had already demonstrated he hated hard, bare obstacles, and McCoy could see him fighting the bit and fidgeting on the approach.  He forgot Jim and was damning himself for buying the fool pony.  Jess flew over the wall, losing a stirrup and half her seat on the uneven landing but recovering quickly.  Spock drove Firecracker hard to the fence, squeezed the pony hard at the takeoff point, and for good measure, said  'UP' in a fair imitation of his command voice.  The pony tucked in his chin, slid up to the fence on his toes, and started to buck.  Spock set his face, whacked the pony with his crop, and turned him around to start the approach again.  He galloped hard up to the fence, and McCoy held his breath as Spock simultaneously lowered the crop, dug in his heels and ordered 'up' in the same tone.  They flew over the fence to a scattering of applause from the onlookers.  The pony responded to Spock's praise with a half buck on landing, stumbled on the stony ground, recovered quickly when it saw Jessamyn's pony ahead of it on the course, and galloped on, quickly catching up with Jess.  Then they disappeared.

 

            "Who's the girl?"

 

            McCoy glanced at Kirk briefly.  "A neighbor."  He walked over to position himself to where he could see the next visible fence, a wicked in-and-out listed in the program as "Blood, Sweat and Tears"  that was half a field away.  McCoy saw the two ponies galloping down the track; Spock was apparently still in the running.  Three refusals at a fence, a fall in the penalty box, going offcourse, or three refusals over all and a rider would be disqualified.  But Firecracker was either beginning to enjoy himself, or he had learned his lesson at the wall.  He took the in-and-out, the water course, and an odd horizontal jump that involved a ramp over a drop in stride, and then they disappeared into the woods.  The physican found himself letting out his breath in a sigh of relief after the ramp.  When they had walked the course yesterday, Spock had frowned at the wall, recognizing a predictable nemesis of Firecrackers.  But Spock himself had taken an odd aversion to the ramp, in itself one of the easiest of all the jumps.  They had lagged behind Devon and Jess while Spock had walked over and jumped down the ramp several times.  Considering the number of higher, wider, more technically complex jumps and combinations on the course, McCoy had been mystified by Spock's hesitancy over this simple, no more than two foot drop, especially considering the only difference from jumping off a bank was the wooden overhang.  It was apparently one of those minor quirks riders have.  Fortunately Firecracker did not share his rider's aversion.  The jumps through the thick woods were not difficult, but McCoy watched anxiously at the point where the riders would appear again.  Firecracker burst out of the woods and over a ha-ha,  far out in front of Jess.  Sensing from the direction they were heading toward the course's finish, he was going even faster.  McCoy watched as another rider needing to retake a fence moved out of approach for Spock to go by.  Firecracker was moving at a full gallop now, with Spock in the forward position, at the incredible speed that had so captivated Devon.  They literally seemed to fly over a tall brush fence without even a break in stride, and McCoy had to smile in remembered pleasure.  There were only easy fences left, and obviously Firecracker was going well.  In fact, they looked like they were having a hell of a lot of fun.  In another minute, Spock galloped through the finish line, and a judge registered his time.

 

            "Faults?"  asked the judge.

 

            "One."  Spock said breathlessly, pulling the pony down to a trot, and then a walk.  The pony club instructor came up, caught Firecracker's bridle, and spoke what must have been words of praise to Spock, before patting the pony in dismissal.  Spock moved away from the finish line for Jessamyn to ride through.

 

            "No faults."  She said to the jump judge, and gave Spock a smug look.  "You would have done better on Linne."

 

            Spock shrugged and patted his pony's neck.  "He did  very well."  They loosened their girths a little and began walking their horses cool.  Spock followed Jess for a moment as she met up with Devon and Karen, and not finding McCoy there, began to scan the crowd for him.

 

            McCoy took a few steps away from Jim, and Spock noticed him, and started toward him.  When he saw Jim, his face clouded over, and both hands and legs instinctively closed, bringing his pony to a halt.

 

            Jim looked from Spock to McCoy, his expression set. After a moment he said, "Hello, Spock." He waited and added grimly, "I didn't expect much of a welcome, but I don't think an acknowledgement  is too much."

 

            McCoy frowned as Spock hesitated where he was.  He knew, without bothering to look, that Jim's temper was flaring. Spock, on the other hand, looked like a trapped rabbit, and rather than being concerned by that reaction, it seemed to infuriate Jim further.  He thought frantically for a way to defuse the situation and noted Karen approaching them with relief.  She stopped by Spock in puzzlement.

 

            "Karen,"  McCoy said hastily, "May I present James Kirk."

 

            Karen may have had two kids in tow, but she was still an attractive woman, and her slender figure was set off well by the handsome bay mare she was riding.

 

            Jim turned on the Kirk charm.  "My pleasure, I'm sure."

 

            "Nice to meet you."  Karen said absently, and looked back at Spock.  "Are you all right, honey?  That pony didn't throw you, did he?"

 

            "I am quite well."  Spock said woodenly.

 

            "Come on, Spock,"  Jess interrupted.  "They're starting the stadium."

 

            Spock glanced at McCoy and then turned and followed the girl.

 

            "Leonard?  I've never seen Spock act like that.  Are you sure he's all right?"

 

            "Yes."  McCoy said shortly.

 

            "I don't know, Bones.  Maybe that nasty pony did throw him."  Kirk suggested.

 

            McCoy flushed with suppressed anger.

 

            "What did you call him?"  Karen said curiously.

 

            "Bones.  It's just a nickname."  Kirk glanced at McCoy meaningfully.  "He's my chief medical officer."

 

            Karen's eyes widened.  "You're from the Enterprise."

 

            "That's right. Captain James T. Kirk. You can call me Jim."

 

            Karen failed to look impressed.  She glanced back at her daughter and Spock taking the practice jumps and met McCoy's eyes.  "You're here for Leonard, then."

 

            "Yes.  Well, to see Spock too."

 

            Karen looked interested.  "I didn't realize you knew him.  But of course, you knew his father."

 

            "His father?"  Kirk frowned at McCoy a moment.  "Yes, I knew his father."

 

            "We've become very fond of both Leonard and Spock, Captain."  Karen said, rather pointedly.  "If you'll excuse me, I want to watch the children jump the stadium course."

 

            Kirk frowned.  "I hope not all Georgia women are like that, Bones."

 

            "What exactly are you doing here, Jim?"  McCoy said heatedly.

 

            "I told you.  I came to see you."

 

            "You can see we're not exactly delighted at your visit.  You make any more cracks at Spock's expense and you can leave."

 

            "I certainly wouldn't want to embarrass him," Kirk said coldly.  "If that's even still possible."

 

            Spock avoided McCoy and Kirk assiduously throughout the afternoon, sticking close to Devon and Jess, his distress apparent by his uncharacteristically poor showing at stadium.  Firecracker was not a pony that would go around the course almost without a rider, like the well trained Linne.  He needed to be ridden in stadium, to be driven to his fences at the right pace, with the right impulsion, in a path that would bring him to the takeoff point at his best stride, speed and position.  His rider had to hold him back from jumping until the takeoff point was reached, signal him to jump at that point, and rapidly deal with him if he did not.  And in stadium, the turns were tight enough that even in the air over a fence, the rider had to be planning the path to the next jump, positioning the pony to land appropriately.  Moreover, because the pony was Firecracker, the rider had to be alert for the pony's tendency toward nasty tricks, and prevent him from indulging in any of them.  Spock was distracted enough by Jim's presence that he didn't attend to half of this, and Firecracker was pony enough to take wicked advantage of the situation.  They disqualified less than halfway through the course, with Firecracker refusing at every other fence, but the stadium judge, in the leniency of the day, waved them to continue the course regardless of their disqualification, for the experience alone.  But Spock's heart was obviously not in the course, and Firecracker, sensing this, refused enough times at a huge white barrel that Spock, flushed with shame, pulled the pony out of competition. 

 

            McCoy fumed silently when he saw Spock's riding instructor take Spock aside and thoroughly dress him down for his lack of concentration and drive.  He wanted to give the woman a piece of his own mind; he was furious that she chose this time to chastise Spock, when her pupil was already upset over other hurts.   But he could hardly approach her with Kirk at his side.  And he could tell Kirk was frustrated too, unable to get Spock away from his childish companions without risking a scene.  Apparently, the captain had decided to bide his time until the event was over, and face Spock in the relative privacy of McCoy's home.  McCoy couldn't convince Jim to leave, and was wondering how he was going to throw his captain out.  Spock's face was a frozen mask as they waited through the interminable awards ceremony.  Jess was awarded a fourth place lemon lollipop in her division, and Devon a second place cherry one in his.  Karen took pictures of the flushed and smiling winners, their awards hanging on ribbons around their necks, but the two children were the only ones oblivious to the strain.  Spock clapped politely, but inbetween, McCoy could see him twisting his reins nervously through his fingers.  Since his failure in stadium his face had been set in a blank, almost catatonic mask that worried the hell out of McCoy.   Karen met McCoy's eyes in sympathy.  Approaching him as the meet broke up, she deftly solved at least one problem for him.

 

            "I thought we'd keep Spock tonight.  That will give you and your friend,"  she glanced at Kirk uncertainly, "some time alone."

 

            McCoy thanked her with a glance, but tried one more time.  "That isn't necessary, Karen.  Jim was just leaving."

 

            Kirk glared at McCoy, and looked back to where Spock was waiting with Devon and Jess.  The Vulcan refused to meet his gaze.  "Damn it, Bones --"

 

            McCoy caught Kirk's arm before he could confront Spock.  "Thanks, Karen," he said pointedly.  "I think that would be best."

 

            Karen responded to McCoy's quiet urging and quickly got their group moving for home.  Only then did McCoy release his Captain's arm.  Jim was still looking frustratedly after Spock.

 

            "I didn't come all this way, Bones, to be thwarted by Spock's hiding behind a group of kids."

 

            "Spock doesn't want to see you, Jim.  You should respect that."

 

            "Oh, I do."  Kirk said coldly.  "I respect that I managed to forgive him after he tried to kill me, but I only have to break his wrist and he shuns me for life, and steals my CMO."

 

            "You didn't only break his wrist."  McCoy said coldly.  "And it wasn't as if he was responsible for his actions in Pon Far.  He didn't even really know you.  It's not as if he deliberately got drunk and then abused and neglected a friend in need."

 

            "So it's all right to forgive Vulcan weaknesses, but not Human ones,"  Kirk countered.  "Damn it, Bones, I don't want to fight.  I feel guilty as hell.  I just want to talk to him for a few minutes, to see that he's all right."

 

            "He's not."

 

            "I could see that.  I've ridden with Spock.  No way could the Spock I knew be bested by any horse."

 

            "I'm worried," McCoy said testily, "about a hell of a lot more than his relative equestrianship."

 

            "Fine.  I'm a bastard, and he's a lot more vulnerable than I thought.  Why the hell isn't he on Vulcan, then?  Why is he still here?  And why are you letting him be treated like a five-year-old?"

 

            "That's none of your business."

 

            "It damn well is.  In case you've forgotten, he's still my first officer, and you're still my CMO.  I could just file a few reports I've been holding back -- "

 

            "Damn it, Jim, if you do that--"

 

            "Starfleet wants you both recalled from leave, or new officers assigned,"  Kirk said bluntly.  "As far as Spock's concerned, I can't believe, especially after seeing this, that he is better off here than on Vulcan.  Damn it, Bones, you're treating him like a child.  If he does need to be treated that way then his parents should take him over.  And I need you."

 

            "So that's why you're here."  McCoy said slowly.  "You have Starfleet's blessing for this."

 

            "Do you honestly believe I could get leave on Earth, especially at this time of the year and when I'd just had a leave, unless they wanted something?  Something big, like a starship's two senior officers?  You've refused to give them an answer, and they haven't heard anything at all from Spock."

 

            "The day you file that report with Fleet, I resign,"  McCoy threatened.

 

            They glared at eachother for a few moments, and then Kirk looked away, the anger replaced with a wounded expression.  "Do you hate me that much, Bones?"

 

            "I don't hate you, Jim.  And I'm pretty sure Spock doesn't.  But he's going through a lot right now, and he needs more time, time to be settled in whatever life he chooses, before he can come to terms with you.  Not just what you did to him recently, but all that you mean to him.  You represent a hell of a loss, Jim.  Give him a chance to adjust to it."

 

            "And what do you represent?"

 

            "I wish I knew."  McCoy said.  "Sometimes I think Spock's trying to avoid me as well.  But he needs me awhile yet, Jim."

 

            "I suppose you'd consider me selfish and insensitive if I tell you again that I need you."

 

            "I appreciate the compliment, Jim.  But Spock needs me more."

 

            "Not to be rude, Bones, but how?  What are you two doing here?  You barely got along on the Enterprise.  I had to referee just so that you two could share the same air without breaking out in major warfare."

 

            "We're just taking it day by day, Jim."

 

            "To what purpose?  What is Spock doing here?  What are you accomplishing?  At least when he was in my home, he was trying to do something to reverse the situation."

 

            "What makes you think Spock doesn't just need a little breathing room?"

 

            "Hell, Bones, Spock couldn't have changed that much.  He never does anything without a reason and a plan.  Are you suggesting that someone who never took leave in his entire Starfleet career unless there was some scientific conference or seminar he wanted to attend, intends to just spend several months 'taking things day by day'?"

 

            "Maybe."  McCoy said noncommittally, unwilling to admit the same thoughts had plagued him.  "Maybe not.  I don't know, and I haven't made it my business to try to find out.  And it's none of yours Jim.  Maybe you didn't know Spock as well as you thought you did."  McCoy met Kirk's outraged eyes coolly.  "When Spock's ready to go, I won't be standing in his way.  As long as he wants to stay, he can.  How he spends his time is neither my business, nor yours, anymore.  Let it go, Jim.  Assign other officers.  I'll let you know if and when Spock chooses to leave, and I become free.  I might be willing to go back to Starfleet.  Maybe not, though.  I joined up when my divorce was pretty fresh, and I needed to get away from this place.  Those wounds have healed, and I'm discovering I like it here again.  I may decide to stay, regardless of Spock's choices."

 

            Kirk looked at him, betrayal clear in his eyes.  "The hell with you both,"  he said, and walked away.

 

            Spock's silence went largely unnoticed in the trip home with the Deveaux.  Spock was generally silent anyway, and both children were keyed up and excited over their awards.  By the time they got the horses settled, her two kids had rushed into the house, eager to tell their father of their day, while Spock lagged behind, fiddling with Firecracker's tack.  Karen put a hand on his shoulder, and silently

urged him into the house.  Surrounded by children, ribbons and lollipops, John was trying to listen to two stories of triumph at once, and only nodded to Karen and Spock.  Karen put out a pitcher of juice and glasses for the kids, pointedly poured one for her reclusive houseguest, and started dinner.  Over the dinner table, John finally asked how Spock and Firecracker had done.

 

            "He eliminated in stadium."  Devon answered for Spock, who had hesitated a moment before responding. Devon frowned slightly, seemingly

for the first time of Spock's comparative lack of success, and his own role in getting the pony.

 

            "Firecracker did very well,"  Spock said calmly, "considering his level of training."

 

            John and Karen exchanged a glance at this unexpectedly mature outlook.  "I'm sure you'll bring him along quick enough,"  John answered.  "You did a real fine job with Lynne."

 

            "I'll say,"  Devon commented, busily chewing.  "Tracy got second in her division, and first in dressage.  That was Lynne, not Tracy.  Tracy'd never get a first--"

 

            "Devon, I want you to go to bed early tonight,"  Karen interrupted calmly, knowing what the result would be.  Devon complained, non-stop, through the rest of dinner and desert, but good-naturedly went off with the others.  Karen made sure Spock was comfortably settled in the guest room before returning to John.

 

            "Spock was awfully quiet tonight."  John remarked as an opening.  "He doesn't seem as reconciled to his performance with Firecracker as he says."

 

            "No, it's not that,"  Karen frowned at the kitchen, and then began cleaning the already scrubbed counter.  "Leonard's captain came for him today."

 

            "I saw him,"  John reminded her.  "Seemed nice enough."

 

            Karen didn't comment on that, but scrubbed the counter harder.  "And what happens to Spock when Leonard goes back to Starfleet."

 

            "I didn't know he was returning,"  John commented.  "I thought he might have decided to settle here."

 

            "I asked him,"  Karen said, "a few weeks ago.  He said he hadn't decided.  Can you wonder Spock is upset?"

 

            "Karen.  It's not our place to interfere."  He hesitated, "Is that why you brought Spock back?"

 

            "To give them a chance to talk.  Can you see them settling Spock's fate with him listening in?"  Karen tossed the sponge at the sink and folding her arms, stared at her husband.  "You can't possibly mind.  He's never any trouble."

 

            "He's a real nice boy.  Good for Devon to have a level-headed, sensible kid like him around.  I like him too.  But you're getting too attached, Karen."

 

            "Somebody      should.  When I asked Leonard, he acted like Spock was a package he was going to mail somewhere.  Maybe to school here, maybe to school somewhere off-planet, he hadn't decided, and I got the impression he didn't have any plans to, until he was forced to.  Surely Spock deserves better than that!"

 

            John sighed.  "There's nothing you can do, Karen.  And no matter what McCoy picks, Spock will manage.  He's a good, tractable kid, and he'll adjust."

 

            "We could keep him."  Seeing her husband's eyes widen, she cut him off.  "Why not?  He's never any trouble.  Far from it, he's a help to me, he keeps Devon happily amused and out of mischief, and from harrassing Jess.  He's kind to Jess.  He's even a help to you."

 

            "Are you saying you want to--"

 

            "Adopt him?  Why not?  We wanted a third child, when we got settled somewhere.  And even if Leonard won't go for that, we  could always keep him, board him.  Be his guardians when Leonard is away, which will be most of the time.  Wny not?"

 

            John was pensive, thinking.  "I don't much care for that idea.  If we were going to keep him, I wouldn't want to be responsible to someone else for him."  He frowned a little.  "You don't think Devon would be jealous?"

 

            "Of Spock?"  Karen's incredulous tone made John grin in acknowledgement of their son's cocky self confidence.

 

            "No, you're right.  For all that Spock is smarter, he follows Devon's lead."

 

            "He influences Devon, but he's subtle about it.  He just won't go along when Devon misbehaves.  He plays with Jess, or follows you or me around, or goes home.  To stay in the lead, Devon has to think of something else to do."

 

            "Mmn."  John agreed.  "And being ignored is the worst thing for Devon."

 

            "I don't think Devon would ever be jealous of Spock.  He respects his intelligence, but he discounts it too.  Spock just isn't competition, in some way."  Karen hesitated.  "If Spock were more like you, then I'd worry."

 

            "Are you saying I'm stupid?"  John grinned, and Karen smiled back, crossed the room, and settled herself against him.

 

            "Smart, not brilliant," was Karen's verdict.  "Spock's brilliant, but he's unassuming about it.  If he lorded it over Devon, we'd have had a whale of trouble keeping Devon from pounding him into the ground.  But he respects Devon, and Devon, well, Devon acknowledges he's smarter, but not necessarily where it counts."

 

            "I know what you mean."  John said comfortably.  "I'm glad my boy has some spirit.  Spock's smart, and he's got drive and gumption.  I think alot of him, but Devon has more spark."

 

            "He could fit in here."  Karen said quietly.

 

            John sighed.  "He's a nice boy. He seems to like us, if his hanging around here is any sign."  He thought of Spock, ignoring mischief and games with Devon to literally sit at his feet while he rehauled the tractor.  Since then, Spock had 'hung around' for two other rebuilding jobs on a tiller and the huge combine.  He'd been an undeniable help, as well as having been anxiously eager to please.  The boy was getting used to him, rarely flinched at his voice or his touch now.  John was indiscriminate about tousling hair or swinging kids in the air, and he'd been especially careful not to ignore one who'd recently suffered such a tragic loss.  And who seemed so starved for affection.   McCoy was a fine man, but he didn't seem to know much about raising kids.  "It seems a shame he should be farmed out to some school when McCoy goes back to space."

 

            "Is there a reason why he should be?"  Karen asked.

 

            "Leonard's right about one thing.  He's too smart for Jess's grade.  Maybe too smart for ordinary school.  And special schools are expensive, Karen."

 

            "They have gifted classes.  And they probably have scholarships to those schools too."

 

            "That's true,"  John nodded.  "I can't think of any other objection.  We are all fond of him, and he of us.  We could give him a good home.  I could see ourselves raising him.  Hell, he's practically here full time anyway."

 

            "We'll talk to Leonard soon."

 

            "But we only broach it if Leonard says he's considering going back to Starfleet.  I won't tell a man who wants to raise a child that I can do it better.  But if he wants to get away, well then, that's another story."

 

            "Thank you."  Karen leaned down, kissed her husband, and began to fiddle with the fastenings of his shirt.  "I know we won't regret it."

 

            Upstairs, snuggled under a couple of down comforters,  Spock slept. Too exhausted to consider his fate, he was unaware that in the kitchen below, his benefactors considered it settled;  a mile away, McCoy worried over the future;  on the Enterprise, Kirk found his former first officer's situation too painful to even contemplate, and lightyears away on the planet Vulcan, an unlucky aide to the Vulcan ambassador was trying to reconstruct his movements.  Only the Vulcan ambassador, except for a slight impatience with his aide, refused to allow himself the slightest emotion concerning the inexplicable disappearance of his son.

 

 

            McCoy received an unexpected singular summons to the Deveaux later that week, and was ushered into John's study and into the presence of the couple.  Both Karen and John seemed more solemn and nervous than McCoy had ever seen them.

 

            "Leonard, Karen and I asked you over to discuss something important."

 

            McCoy looked from one to the other worriedly.  "You're not leaving?  You found a farm to buy, or one you'd rather work?"

 

            "No, it's not that."  John said slowly.  "It's about Spock."

 

            "He's has been over a lot."  McCoy said cautiously.  "If it's become a problem --"

 

            "No,"  Karen interrupted.  "Spock has never been a problem.  Rather the reverse.  We've gotten to know him very well the last few weeks."

 

            They know, McCoy thought.  They've put Jim's visit and Spock's name together.  We should have called Spock by some other name.  And he's been too damn indiscreet, fixing computers and teaching math.  He might have let something slip about the Enterprise.  Between them and that kid, we'll never keep this quiet.  "What exactly do you know?" 

 

            "Karen and I have been talking it over for about a week."  John said.  "We know you said you haven't made any definite plans for the future.  Is that still true?"

 

            "My plans are still pretty open."

 

            "We've become very fond of Spock."  Karen said.  "And we wouldn't want to do or say anything to hurt either of you.  It must be very difficult to be put in your position, where you have to choose between your current career and a sudden obligation to raise a child you never expected would be a responsibility.  John and I thought you might be interested in an alternative."

 

            "We'd like to offer to adopt him."  John finished.

 

            McCoy stared at them unbelievingly.  "You must be joking."

 

            Karen flushed. "Not at all."  John said calmly.  "Spock's been over practically every day since you've been here.  We're all fond of him.  He seems comfortable with us.  He needs a family.  We'd like to give him one.  We wouldn't be able to give him all the financial advantages you could.  But Spock will get plenty of scholarships and opportunities on his own merit, and we'd promise to treat him as our own."

 

            "I appreciate the offer,"  McCoy said carefully, trying to conceal a mounting anger.  "And I certainly don't want Spock to lose you as friends.  But I don't understand how you could believe I would even consider this."

 

            "Leonard, please don't be angry,"  Karen said evenly.  "I've spent a lot of time with Spock this past month, and I can see how attached he is to you, and you to him.  We wouldn't try to take your place with him.  But I know Spock has been worried about something.  After your friend, your captain, came here, I could see how upset he was, how angry your captain was, and how torn you were between them.  You said yourself you weren't going to adopt Spock.  This way you won't have to.  Spock will be cared for, by people who care for him, and you'll be free."

 

            "I'm not looking for anyone to set me free."  McCoy said testily.

           

            "But you don't plan to adopt Spock, do you?"

 

            "That doesn't mean I intend to hand him over to the first taker."  McCoy said shortly.

 

            The couple looked at eachother, and John frowned, "Well--""

 

            "No, wait."  Karen interrupted.  "Leonard, we wouldn't want to take Spock away from you.  But for weeks you haven't been sure if you were returning to Starfleet or not.  You don't seem sure whether you want to give Spock a home or not.  You've talked about putting him in school somewhere.  Spock is yours, and you're the only one who can decide his future right now.  But I can't believe you think he would be better off as your ward in some boarding school, the receiver of an occasional letter, and even rarer visit from you, than he would be with parents who would take care of him every day, in a family with other children.  And it wouldn't be as if you were cut off from him.  You'd be able to see him whenever you returned from leave, the same as if you'd put him in a school.  He'd be right here."

 

            "Spock is Vulcan."  McCoy said tersely.  "You couldn't begin to understand what that means, or how he needs to be raised."

 

            "You're right there, Leonard."  John said calmly.  "Spock is smarter than any kid we've known, maybe even than some adults.  And he vegetarian.  Other than those, and his appearance, we don't know of any differences, and we haven't seen any worth the mention.  That doesn't mean there aren't any.  We thought we knew Spock well enough to make the offer.  Maybe we don't.  But the offer's still open, Leonard.  We didn't mean to offend, and we hope you won't take any offence.  But if you find you can't keep him, for whatever reason, remember that he'd be welcome with us."

 

            "I wonder how much you understand, Leonard."  Karen said quietly. "I've seen the hand's off way you deal with Spock.  Maybe that is the way Vulcans raise their children, but that doesn't mean its the best way. Spock..."  Karen hesitated visibly and then continued resolutely.  "He seems so unhappy, Leonard, and more so since your captain came.  He so tense when he comes over he practically jumps when you speak to him.  But after he's been with us awhile, he relaxes, and he seems so much better.  Until he leaves.  The next time he comes over he's tense all over again."  Karen bit her lip.  "I don't mean to criticize, or undermine the way you're raising Spock.  But I've been treating Spock the same as my own children for quite a while.  He's never given me the impression he wants to be kept at arm's length.  Rather the reverse. Oh, he's not physically affectionate, but he stays so close to me sometimes.  I'm not saying Spock isn't fond of you.  But I wonder how fond he thinks you are of him. If you can't offer him affection, Leonard, at least give him some security.  We all know you haven't decided what to do with Spock, or whether you return to Starfleet or not.  But Spock deserves at least the security of knowing what's going to happen to him.  And if you decide not to keep him, or decide to return to Starfleet, we hope you'll remember our offer."

 

                                                                        **********

 

            "Karen and John came over this afternoon."  McCoy said after dinner that evening.

 

            Spock looked at him, suddenly anxious, and then dropped his gaze.  "I have probably become an annoyance.  I have frequented their home overmuch of late."

 

            "They want to adopt you."  McCoy said bluntly.

 

            Spock seemed to freeze for a moment, then he spoke very deliberately.  "I was not aware of their intentions.  It does present a solution, of sorts --"

 

            "A solution!"  McCoy barked.  "Now, I think you really are crazy.  Spock, you can't be serious about being willing to be adopted by them."

 

            "You would be free to return --"

 

            "Have I ever said I'm in any hurry to return to the Enterprise?"

 

            "No."  Spock admitted.  "You have been very patient."

 

            "Patient."  McCoy repeated softly.  "Is that what I've been?~

 

            Spock remained silent.

 

            "Karen thinks I'm 'raising' you wrong."  McCoy said conversationally.  "She thinks you need more attention, more affection."

 

            "She is human.  It is natural for her to assign human needs to me."

 

            "She doesn't think they're only human needs."

 

            "I am familiar with human ethnocentricism."

 

            "Yet you're prepared to become her child?"  McCoy said skeptically.  "These people would raise you as a human child, in a human family.  How could that possibly give you what you need?"

 

            "I did not say that it would."  Spock said evenly.

 

            "You're not being honest with me Spock.  I don't think you have been since the beginning of this."  McCoy sighed.  "Hell, I never even required it of you.  I told you that you could keep whatever secrets you wanted, remember, and I told you that you didn't need to run away to keep them.  But you don't need to hand yourself over to strangers either.  I draw the line at this, Spock.  I'll turn you over to Starfleet, or Vulcan, whenever you say the word.  But I'm not going to hand you over to strangers who have no idea of your true situation."

 

            "Jim --"

 

            "Jim can get along just fine without me.  I want to know if you want to change this arrangement we have, and if so, how and why?"

 

            Spock said nothing, his shoulders frozen with tension.

 

            "Do you want to return to Vulcan yet, Spock?"

 

            "No."

 

            "To Starfleet?"

 

            "That is impossible."

 

            "Do you really want to be adopted by John and Karen?  Even unofficially?  To be raised as a human child?  You still at least have the appearance of needing a lot of raising, and Karen doesn't believe in my 'hands off' methods.  That means being kissed and cuddled when you're good, and spanked when they think you need discipline.  Are you really interested in that kind of treatment?"

 

            "Of course not,"  Spock said tightly.

 

            McCoy sighed.  "Are you really so unhappy with me, Spock?"

 

            Spock looked up at him, astonished. "I am not -- I do not understand why you made that statement."

 

            "It's no secret to anyone you've been avoiding me.  It seems you'd rather be anywhere than here."

 

            "That is not true."

 

            "You have been avoiding me, Spock."

 

            "I have no wish to have my presence become an annoyance. It seemed prudent to take advantage of opportunities to absent myself, when available."

 

            "I though you wanted to stay away."  McCoy said gently.  "That maybe I was an unpleasant reminder of what you could no longer have."

 

            "You are mistaken,"  Spock answered, with a trace of bitterness in his tone, "if you believe that there is any location where I am any less aware of my situation.  I do not require reminders."

 

            "Then if you're only staying away because you think I'll get tired of you, you can stop it."  McCoy said.  "Truthfully, I worry more about you when you're not here.  When you're around, I'm can relax.  I suppose there's that much of parent/child in our relationship.  Or doctor/patient.  But there is one problem, though, when it comes to your staying with me."  McCoy said uneasily, "It has to do with school."

 

            Spock looked confused.  "School?"

 

            "All children are required by law to go to school here, Spock.  No matter how smart they are.  You might be able to get by with just a tutor.  But you're going to be required to enroll in some formal educational program if you stay here much longer.  The next term is about to start, and too many people, who think you're a child, know that you're here."

 

            Spock looked mulish.  "I will not pretend to learn some elementary educational program."

 

            McCoy sighed.  "No.  I don't blame you for that.  I thought for starters, we could give the local 'gifted' school a try.  They have a good reputation."  Spock's expression remained dubious.  "It's a place to start, Spock.

 

            "Is this really necessary?"

 

            "If we plan to stay here."

 

            Spock sighed audibly, considering this new problem.

 

            "I thought I'd give this gifted school a call;  find out more about their program.  Maybe they have something you could do from here that would satisfy any authorities that might become aware of you."

 

            "I suppose we have no choice."  Spock said in resignation.

 

 

 

            Karen had invited them, tentative and obviously appeasing, to spend New Year's Eve at the farmhouse.  The invitation would have been made anyway, but it was also meant as an olive branch.  He and Spock showed up for dinner, and spent a more than pleasant evening just talking before the fire, their glances occasionally straying to the newsvid telecasts of New Year's parties from all over the world.  McCoy soon was relaxed and content, enjoying the company.  He never felt right about going away in the evening, but with Spock turning in so early, he had spent too many evenings of late alone.  He was grateful not to have to spend New Year's that way.  It was doubtful that Spock would manage to stay up for the main event of the evening.  Karen had already anticipated that, and invited them for the night, or Spock alone, if the Vulcan fell asleep and McCoy didn't choose to move him.  Thinking of Spock he glanced down at the obviously nodding Vulcan, and frowned in confusion at sight of Jess, still wide awake and prattling away.

 

            "Mother's trick."

 

            McCoy's attention focused on Karen.  "I had her take a nap this afternoon.  His room's all ready, Leonard, if you want to take him up."

 

            McCoy leaned down.  "Do you want to nap here, Spock, or do you want me to put you to bed?"  Wrong phrasing, he thought hastily.  But Spock was little more than half awake anyway, and perhaps he had never heard that particularly condescending phraseology.  "Bed,"  the Vulcan murmured, but he did not move.

 

            Smiling a little in spite of himself, McCoy swung Spock up in his arms, and was distracted by an murmured exclamation.  The videonet was on, and everyone's were glued to a fireworks display from somewhere where it was already midnight.  McCoy hadn't seen fireworks in years, except the destructive kind that were the results of inadvertantly witnessed battles. It was a measure of how long he had been absent from civilian life that he found it odd to see them artfully designed as a celebration.  The show finished with a rippling display of the Federation banner, and feeling oddly nostalgic, McCoy looked down to see Spock's reaction.

 

            The Vulcan was fast asleep.  His face was turned up to McCoy's, lashes dark against his pale, slightly flushed cheeks, his expression in sleep as trusting as the child he appeared.  Whether it was the alcohol or the nostalgia, or something still deeper, McCoy was overtaken by a rush of feeling that left him weak-kneed.  Not the filial friendship he felt for Jim, not the professional concern of a physician, but a protective, nurturing affection that could be nothing else than what a parent feels for a child. For Spock.  His mind froze in denial, and one part of him blazed an alarm.

 

            Put him to bed, McCoy.  Now.  You can't afford this.  But his feet did not move.  He stood, looking helplessly down at the child in his arms, that had somehow, in spite of his best intentions, had become his child. Except he wasn't.  No matter how Spock behaved, or misbehaved, Spock wasn't a child.  And the Vulcan damn well wasn't his. But the evidence of his senses, that McCoy had long been trying to deny, told him otherwise.  He was holding the proof in his arms.  If Spock wasn't his, whose was he?

 

            Himself.  He's an adult, McCoy, with more braincells than you, if it comes to that.  He doesn't belong to anyone.

 

            But that lonely thought failed to comfort, or convince.

 

            "Is something wrong, Leonard?"

 

            McCoy looked over at Karen.  Jess had climbed in her mother's lap to watch the fireworks.  Devon sat against his father's legs.  One happy little family, and McCoy again the odd man out.  The physician who comforted everyone, who counseled all the lonely new recruits with wise and sage advice.  Who sent his resident heros off to face their dangers and patched them up in mind and body, and then stood back while they collected their laurels.  He'd never wanted dangers or laurels, and what he had wanted he had irretrievably lost.  He thought of the years of loneliness, absent from JoAnna, estranged from his wife, a failure at his most important relationship, and his arms tightened involuntarily.

Spock responded by turning in his arms, his cheek against the physician's chest.   McCoy looked down at the child nestled in his arms, hair dark as Joanna's, just the size she had been when he'd left her.  The same rush of pain and regret, possessiveness and love washed over him, weakening his resolve, and he knew he was lost.  He sat down, both grateful  for and cursing the huge, overstuffed chair that made this too easy.  He looked down at the Vulcan in his lap and shifted him slightly, cradling Spock more securely against him.  Spock snuggled closer in response.  He's probably just trying to get warmer.  It's too damn cold in this room for him to sleep comfortably. Put him to bed, McCoy.  Do you want to face his probable reaction to this if he wakes?  Do you honestly think your friendship would survive Spock's knowledge that you regard him as a child?  That you took advantage of him in a vulnerable moment to treat him as such?  Do you think you can pass this off as part of your cover?  He's a touch telepath.  Sooner or later he'll find out you feel this way.  Wasn't Jim's denigration bad enough?  Just take him upstairs and put him to bed like everyone expects.  He's not Joanna, he's not a child, and you can't use him this way just because you have a case of New Year's blues.

 

            But he didn't, and Spock stayed asleep.  One after another the children dropped off, first Jess, curling in her mother's arms just like Spock was in his, then Devon, stretched across the hearthrug in front of the fire.  Jess and then Devon were carried off to bed, but McCoy kept Spock in his arms, an afghan thrown across him for warmth.  He held him through the rest of the evening, chatting with Karen and John, quietly celebrating the end of the year, and the beginning of the new.  And when the New Year came, he took Spock home.

 

 

            McCoy had not so much thought of Cotwood choosing them, but of their deciding on whether or not the school would do.  He discovered, however, that the principal of Cotwood had other ideas.

 

            "Children are referred to this institution, Dr. McCoy.  Parents do not simply choose it.  If your child needed to attend here, I would already be aware of it."

 

            "My --  this child hasn't been resident very long.  You wouldn't know of him."

 

            "Where did he previously attend?"

 

            McCoy glanced at Spock, who was out of comm range at his side, and back at the screen.  It hadn't occurred to him that the school might be interested in previous records.  "I'm not sure."  Seeing the look on the woman's face, he hastily amended.  "He's just recently become my ward, and he's Vulcan."  McCoy glanced at Spock.  "Part Vulcan, actually."  Perhaps that would make Spock's ending up in human hands, his hands, a little easier to swallow.  "I'm not sure I even have those records, and I couldn't read them if I did."

 

            "I assure you, Doctor, we would have them translated."

 

            McCoy began to get annoyed.  "Look, I've got a stack of records, all of them untranslated, a few feet high.  I couldn't even begin to sort out which ones to bring you.  And frankly, I have to believe that a Vulcan curriculum doesn't have much in common with a Terran one.  You're going to test him anyway to place him, can't you just go on that?"

 

            "No, we cannot, Dr. McCoy."  She said frostily.  "You did not even mention the fact that this student was Vulcan.  I cannot possibly proceed without adequate documentation."

 

            "Look, Ellen Van Dorn assured me this school--"

 

            "Ellen Van Dorn?"

 

            "Yes."  McCoy paused hopefully.

 

            "She has assessed this child?"

 

            McCoy considered the five minutes Ellen had addressed a mostly silent Spock on the Pony Club field.  "Yes."

 

            "Well."  The woman seemed to consider.  "I suppose we can take a recommendation from a member of the Georgia Board.  You should have mentioned this sooner, Dr. McCoy."

 

            "I'm very sorry."  McCoy said as contritely as possible.

 

            "Very well.  We will test Spock tomorrow at 8:00 a.m.  You may drop him off at my office.  There's no point in further discussion until I am sure Spock is suitably advanced for this institution."

 

            "We'll be there."  McCoy promised.

 

            Spock had been silent on the aircar trip.  McCoy glanced at him in concern.  "You can still back out of this Spock."

 

            "You said we must do this."  Spock stared out the window as if it offered some escape. McCoy couldn't blame him.  He wouldn't have chosen to return to primary school.  "I will not throw the tests though."

 

            "Then we'll see how they deal with them."  McCoy said cautiously.  He wasn't sure exactly how many doctorates Spock had, but in no way could he place inside either a primary or secondary school curriculum.  He intended to get assurance of the confidentiality of the test results before they proceeded.  He wanted no attention garnered as a result of these tests.  But that stuck up principal was due for a surprise.

 

            She wasn't there though.  A receptionist turned them over to a pleasant-faced young woman, who led them into a room full of toys, puzzles, dolls, and of course, computers.  McCoy placed her immediately as the school's child psychologist.  She greeted them warmly but after that she spoke only to Spock.  She asked him basic questions regarding his age, length of stay on Earth, and other 'get acquainted' questions.  Spock answered cautiously, giving the stock answers they'd jointly agreed upon.  After a few moments, McCoy found himself ushered out of the room, and told to return late that afternoon.  He hadn't expected to feel like a parent who'd just dropped his six-year old off at school.

 

            He realized he hadn't told them Spock was vegetarian.  What would he do for lunch?  He realized he hadn't given him any money.  He wasn't even sure if Spock knew the comm code for home.  It took him a moment to remember Spock wasn't exactly helpless.  He could look up a comm code, and he could speak for himself.  But McCoy realized Spock wasn't the only one in for a long day.

 

 

 

            Kirk strove to keep the shock from his face, but was uncertain how well he succeeded.  "Ambassador.  This is an unexpected pleasure."

 

            "Captain."  Sarek greeted without preamble.  "I hope you can be of some assistance to me.  I have recently been unsuccessful in contacting my son."

 

            "Spock is on leave."  Kirk said carefully.  "I really could not tell you where he might be."

 

            "And when do you expect his return?"

 

            "Spock took extended leave.  His plans to return are indefinite."

 

            "Was Spock ...well, when he took leave, Captain?"

 

            For a moment, Kirk thought, in his own guilt, that Sarek was aware of Spock's condition, and then he flushed as he realized to what Sarek was referring.  "Yes, sir."

 

            If Sarek was relieved at the news, it did not show on his impassive face.  "May I ask then, why Spock took leave?"

 

            "An officer of Spock's seniority is entitled to such leave without explanation."  Kirk said stiffly.  "I really can't give you any information."

 

            "Can not, or will not, Captain?"  Sarek said evenly.  When Kirk did not reply, Sarek raised an eyebrow.  "Very well, Captain.  Your discretion is commendable, if unprofitable to me."

 

            Kirk found himself facing a black screen, and let out a long, relieved sigh.  He reached for his terminal, about to punch in McCoy's comm code, and then stopped.  Why should he?  Sarek wanted to contact Spock.  What business of it was his to prevent it?  McCoy had become Spock's chosen protector; let him deal with the formidable Vulcan, if Sarek knew enough to track Spock there, or chose to check up on McCoy.  And if Sarek did find out about Spock, and convince him to return to Vulcan, so much the better.  McCoy's choices would be open again.

 

 

 

 

 

            McCoy found himself ushered into an office cubicle by the same psychologist.  The cubicle was also an observation room to the testing  room, McCoy could see Spock through the mirrored wall, curled up on the windowseat with a book.  McCoy, who knew the speed at which the Vulcan read, recognized the slow turning of pages as a sham.  He looked tired. 

 

            "Regarding your son, Dr. McCoy --"

 

            McCoy winced inwardly at hearing Spock referred to that way and interrupted firmly.  "Look, I would appreciate it if you could get one thing straight from the start.  Spock is my ward, not my son."

 

            The psychologists eyes widened in surprise.  "You have no plans to adopt the boy?"

 

            "Is that a requirement of this institution?"  McCoy said testily.

 

            The psychologist shrugged.  "Most people in your position would do so."

 

            "Spock is well aware of who his father was."  McCoy forced himself to speak of Sarek in the past tense with difficulty. "It's not possible for me to replace him."

 

            "That's interesting, Dr. McCoy.  I'm aware your field isn't child psychology.  But surely you're aware most children are better off with a stable family situation than with a caretaking one.  And Spock's tests show he has a tendency to place you in that regard."

 

            "His tests?  I didn't authorize any psychological tests."

 

            "Dr. McCoy, they are part of his placement tests."

 

            "What sort of tests?  Written ones?"

 

            "The standard --------- optic nerve tests."

 

            McCoy glanced worriedly at Spock through the mirrored wall.  Spock knew enough psychology to fudge any written tests easily.   And he had formerly had the ability to block almost any psychological probe, and most mental probes up to and including the Klingon mindsifter.  But fudging that test would involve subtle neurological control Spock almost certainly did not have now.  McCoy would have gladly given Spock the test himself, a day hadn't gone by that he hadn't been silently concerned about Spock's adjustment.  But it would have been an invasion of Spock's privacy that McCoy hadn't been able to justify in his own mind.  He'd been unable to broach even verbal questions on some topics to Spock, he couldn't have countenanced putting him through a psychological screening like that.

 

            "I didn't authorize those tests."  McCoy said coldly.  "I authorized educational placement tests."

 

            "We consider it an educational placement test."  The psychologist said equally coolly.

 

            "Since you don't have a degree in alien psychology, or in alien medicine, as I do,"  McCoy said pointedly.  "I would appreciate your refraining from administering any test of that type to Spock without my specific permission."

 

            "Dr. McCoy, this institution does not specialize in alien education, either, but you seem willing to place this child here."

 

            "I want to see the test results."  McCoy said coldly.  "All of the test results, and now."

 

            For a moment the psychologist hesitated, then she pushed the records across to McCoy.  "I'm not supposed to show them to parents, only to interpret them for them.  But I suppose you can read them as well as I."

 

            McCoy focused on the test in question.  He'd looked at Spock's textbook standard patterns often enough in the past to have memorized them.  These tests showed nothing similar.  He was skilled enough not to need the computer's diagnostic program.  McCoy had thought he'd accepted everything different about Spock that there was, but this report was nothing like Spock's usual uninformative screens.  The psychologist must have been going through Spock's recent history, and the pattern of trauma, abuse and slow restoration of trust was so blatant McCoy found himself checking the identity codes to be sure it was Spock's.

 

            "You can see the incidence of trauma, undoubtably the death of his parents."  The psychologist commented smoothly, "and the recent -- "

 

            "I didn't come here for a psychological evaluation, or for adoption counseling."  McCoy said testily.  "What about his placement tests?"

 

            "We are interested in the whole child here, Dr. McCoy.  It is something most parents have come to value."  The woman remonstrated.  "Spock is very gifted.  Particularly in the physical sciences.  His previous education seems to have been strongly slanted in that direction.  He's fluent in a surprising number of languages.  He shows some gaps in cultural knowledge, though that would be expected of a child of his past upbringing.  But he really has no need for a primary or secondary educational program."

 

            McCoy felt both relieved and disappointed.  At least the woman seemed unsurprised.  "So there's nothing you can do for him here."

 

            "I did not say that.  Cotwood has ties to GU, we take advantage of them for a number of our students.  I've made inquiries with their graduate programs in physics and mathematics.  Spock's tests have been sent there, and they're agreed to accept him in two of their research seminars.  They are investigating forefronts in both those fields, Spock should find them interesting, even challenging perhaps."

 

            McCoy frowned.  "Are you telling me to enroll him in their graduate school?"

 

            "You could try that if you wish, Dr. McCoy.  But I would not advise it.  Universities have been known to accept some young students directly into their programs, but generally they do so only reluctantly, and not unless the students are at least in their teens.  It's been widely recognized that very young children, such as Spock, require more from their educational programs than simple instruction.  There is a nurturing and development function to the education of small children that a university's impersonal atmosphere is ill-equipped to supply.  That's is why schools such as Cotwood have been created, to combine access to advanced educational programs as well as the stabile learning environment that primary age children require."

 

            McCoy sighed.  "What exactly does this program entail?"

 

            "Spock would attend some classes here.  We offer an excellent and well-balanced primary school program, emphasizing a combination of enrichment and social development, as well as recreation.  Gifted children often have trouble adjusting to a world designed to accommodate the normal.  Formerly they were often channeled into such intense academic programs, that they had little exposure to the activities of 'normal' children, and their social development suffered.  Our program is designed to prevent that.  Spock would attend that primary program, while continuing his post-secondary education.  In the social sciences and humanities, Spock can take advantage of our teleconferencing tie-ins to GU, as well as access to computer-aided instruction, and the full intra-university data network.  In the physical sciences, he will have the added benefits of direct experimentation under faculty at GU.  Cotwood will arrange to take him directly to campus, and return him here, along with several other children in various other GU programs.  Some parents are concerned about this.  We realize GU is a large and somewhat overwhelming environment to which to expose young children.  However, Spock will be escorted directly to his classes and picked up afterwards to return here.  You need not be concerned about security or supervision."

 

            McCoy hadn't really considered kidnapping as a problem, nor was he worried about Spock's 'adjustment' to a university environment.  He concentrated on what would be truly foreign to Spock.  "What exactly is involved in this primary program?"

 

            The psychologist raised an eyebrow, perplexed.  "It's not terribly different from any primary program, except in the depth of what is covered.  Current events, the arts, nature studies, and physical education."  Seeing McCoy still unsatisfied, she continued.  "The children discuss current events in both the Terran and Federation news media, and relate them to both historical and sociological contexts.  It's considered valuable socialization, and in addition, gifted children often are more aware than we realize of such events, and often have deep concerns about them.  This provides a medium to air those concerns.  We have an excellent program in the arts, and the children paint pictures, create sculpture, join in dramatic activities, wherever their abilities and inclination lead them, all, of course under excellent instruction.  We have a fine musical program in which the children sing or play instruments, according to their gifts and interests.  We have a small orchestra if Spock is so inclined, and some of our children make occasional appearances with the Atlanta Symphony.  I notice Spock has perfect pitch, reads music fluently, and indicates proficiency on several instruments.  The children occasionally attend field trips to musical or dramatic events of note.  They just went to 'Nutcracker' a few weeks ago.  We take nature walks, they visit the zoo, and local museums and exhibits, all with suitable guides and instructors.  We have a number of small animals, and bird feeders and baths the children maintain, as well as gardens in the spring.  We have a naturalist on staff.  And we have many programs in physical education: gymnastics, swimming, some team sports.  We have to meet Georgia requirements for that."  The psychologist studied McCoy's blank face.  "Does that cover it?"

 

            "Yes."  McCoy stood abruptly.  "I have to consider it, of course."

 

            "Certainly.  However, I must tell you there really is no other program locally that would suit Spock.  You would have to go to Charleston, New Orleans, or Washington to find another in the region.  Of course, you might be able to get exemption to have Spock attend a program by comm link, but the Georgia Board frowns on that type of isolation.  Here are copies of our prospectus.  I suggest you review them."

 

            "Thank you,"  McCoy said, and entered the testing room.  Spock turned, looking relieved to see McCoy.

 

            "Come on, Spock.  Let's go."

 

            They didn't discuss it in the aircar.  McCoy was concerned about the weary look on Spock's face.  Nevertheless, Spock went to feed the horses on his arrival home, and came in to set the table as usual.  McCoy had noticed Spock tended to latch on to routine as if it steadied and comforted him, he saw evidence of it, for Spock ate a fair amount of his supper, and seemed almost normal when McCoy decided to broach the topic.

 

            "Well, what do you think of it, Spock?  Did they show you anything besides that testing room?"

 

            "Yes."  Spock paused.  "I was given a tour of the facilities, and the course of study I would be engaged in was explained.  They were very --"  Spock hesitated briefly "very considerate."

 

            "And?"

 

            Spock sighed resignedly.  "I suppose if I must go to school, there are worse places I have been enrolled."

 

            McCoy blinked, surprised.  "You're sure about that?"

 

            "Is it not true I have little choice?"

 

            "We could try and duck it.  Truancy is against the law, though.  Or we could try and get you exempted, but that would be hard to fight."  Or we could come clean, McCoy thought, and take your situation to Starfleet.  But he didn't say it.

 

            Spock shook his head.  "Is it possible to try this for an initial period?"

 

            "A trial period?"  McCoy said. "That's not a bad idea."  He considered Spock's weary face and suggested.  "We could try, say three days a week.  That would give you Tuesdays and Thursdays away from it, as well as the weekend.  I think that would go over.  And if, after a few weeks, you can't stand it, we can withdraw you, and try some other option."

 

            "Very well."   

 

 

            Cotwood's director was not pleased at McCoy's suggestion of part-time status, but McCoy pleaded cultural adjustment, and the need for Spock to spend time with him, and managed to prevail.  She drew the line at a trial period though, although acknowledging McCoy could withdraw Spock at any time.  McCoy signed the invoice for a quarter's tuition, fees and uniforms with a mental wince, glad he had the medical school job open to him.  Between Firecracker, pony club, and now Cotwood, Spock was turning into an expensive proposition.

 

            And not just financially.  McCoy watched Spock board the schoolbus feeling a measure of anxiety he doubted even Spock could match.  He was getting far too emotionally involved, in an unnatural situation that could end at any time.  But he defied knowing how to stop it.

 

            Spock settled into school surprisingly well.  McCoy began receiving weekly reports on Spock's 'progress', reports which he perused as anxiously as any parent.  Spock came home from school increasingly pleased with his activities. The impatience and disgust McCoy had expected from Spock about painting pictures and listening to stories was not forthcoming.  Spock might have regarded that time as wasted, but he didn't complain about it.  He took his turn feeding the animals, cleaning their cages, and filling the bird feeders, all part of the school's instruction in responsibility, without comment or complaint. The innocuous routines at least for the present seemed to comfort rather than irritate.  Spock was being settled into them with all the fussy consideration and professional handling due a hyperintelligent child whose 'parent' was paying hefty fees.  McCoy was grateful that at least if Spock had to go to school, he was at one that would treat him with deference and respect.  And after Spock's recent experiences with abuse, it seemed to be balm to his soul.  McCoy heard no complaints.  And the reports from Cotwood came back favorably as well.   Spock was rated as being extremely diligent in his studies, but compliant to joining in the group activities.  He was obedient, a little shy, but adjusting well.  In essence, they were pleased to have him.

 

            Having Spock contentedly settled in an activity like school was a relief of sorts for McCoy.  Formerly, he'd felt somewhat guilty about leaving Spock alone for long periods, now Spock was fully occupied three long days a week. He had tentatively accepted a Spring term teaching position at GU, hoping Spock would find school acceptable.  Now McCoy quickly arranged to fill up those hours with teaching, general surgery in the mornings, and alien medicine, alien surgery and general trauma care in the afternoons.  He crammed a full schedule of classes back to back in his three days from home, and graded and planned lessons at home the other two.  It was good to be busy with real work again, good to be back in a hospital, to hold a laser scalpel in his hands and feel how fell it fitted.  He felt a measure of understanding for what Spock had lost, now that his career was being restored.  But Spock seemed actually interested in his lessons.  McCoy supposed that computerized brain could find something to glean from any activity. And Spock, who had apparently been raised strictly as a Vulcan, without regard for his human heritage, might even be resolving some old conflicts and curiosities about the life that had been closed to him.  For a few weeks everything fell into place with blissful ease.

 

 

            Spock continued to attend Pony Club, and McCoy often rode along to watch.  For all that Spock seemed fond of Firecracker, McCoy reserved opinion.  The pony was still recalcitrant over fences, in spite of all Spock's patient schooling.  He always jumped big, he seemed to have plenty of natural ability, but he always had to be driven into his fences, and it was still a moot point sometimes that he could be driven over them.  McCoy paid for an expensive vetting out just to make sure there was nothing in the pony that would account for his reluctance to jump.  Spock maintained the pony had been rushed into jumping.  He was still bringing him along in the lower division.  McCoy, who'd always found Arabians of flaky temperament, blamed it on that, for Firecracker was a pony/Arab cross. McCoy regretting selling Linne every time he saw that fidgeting shuffle before a fence, or watched Firecracker explode into his occasional bucking sprees.  But Spock and Firecracker did look impressive in the dressage ring, and cross-country Firecracker generally was having too much fun to pitch a fit.  It was only in stadium that his temper tantrums were real problems.

 

            McCoy was watching one of them that Saturday.  The instructor had set up a course of tight turns around half a dozen double and triple jumps, including a mock brick wall of the type Firecracker hated.  Firecracker exhibited his displeasure by kicking out in a half buck with every landing.  The instructor shook her head in dissatisfaction, and pointed her crop at the first jump, wordlessly indicating she wanted Spock to go round the course again.  Spock did so, with the same result.

 

            "Every time he bucks, Spock, give him a lick with the crop."

 

            Spock went round a third time, with the same result.  The instructor simply pointed to the brick wall and Spock, by now looking somewhat weary, turned the pony around and took it again.  And again.  The children watching from the backs of their ponies were still with silent commiseration and remembered dread as Spock failed again and again to satisfy their instructor.  Not one of them missed the transition where instead of Spock driving Firecracker, the instructor began driving a reluctant Spock.  No one smirked or smiled or wise-cracked.  They twisted their reins nervously between their fingers and kept their horses still.  Years of riding and hard accomplishment had taught them all that they each had different obstacles to conquer.  For some it was jumps too high, or too wide, or of a particular composition.  For some it was jumping bareback or with one stirrup, riding blindfolded or with their hands tied behind their backs.  Some hated going down steep gullies, or swimming their ponies across deep water.  But all of them were still there because, sweating and shaking, they had forced themselves through their fears, and earned, if not acclaim, the right to come back and try again. Fierce competitors on the field, they were unanimous in their recognition of this kind of struggle, and wide-eyed, shallow breathed, they waited for its resolution.  Only the instructor seemed oblivious to her silent gallery of onlookers. Firecracker finally had enough, sensed Spock's weariness, and seizing the advantage, broke into a frenzy of bucking.  Spock's dislike of the crop was well known, and the instructor chided him sharply.

 

            "Don't let that pony get away with that behavior!  If you break him of this habit, he might come to something.  Otherwise no child will ever be safe with him.  Do you want him destroyed because of that?"

 

            McCoy frowned when Firecracker's tantrum subsided and the instructor mutely indicated the jump again. He understood the necessity of Firecracker being properly trained, but he also thought that Spock was becoming tired. Still, it wasn't in the etiquette of pony club for parents to comment.  Spock rode the pony strongly up to the jump.  Firecracker rose as if he intended to take it, then dropped and simply crashed through it.  Pony, boy and jump went down in a tangle.  McCoy, against all parental etiquette, flung his horse's reins to Karen and dove into the ring to assess the damage.

 

            Firecracker was up, kicking pieces of the jump off of himself.  McCoy handed the pony's reins to the instructor, who towed him out of the way, and McCoy moved a few rails and standards off of Spock.  Spock had brought an arm up and rolled to shield his eyes from the pony's flying hooves.

 

            "Don't move."  McCoy said crossly.  Spock froze obediently and looked around out of the corners of his eyes.

 

            "Is Firecracker all right?"

 

            "The hell with Firecracker.  What about you?"

 

            Spock put one hand to a trickle of green and a visibly swelling bump on his forehead.

 

            "Just great.  I don't even have a medical scanner."  McCoy growled, searching fruitlessly through all his pockets.  "Do you hurt anywhere else?"

 

            "I'm fine."

 

            "We're going home.  I want to be sure of that."

 

            The instructor brought Firecracker over.  "He seems to be alright.  A little scrape on one knee, but I don't think he'll be lame."

 

            "Good,"  said Spock, one hand reaching for the reins.

 

            "Can I trust that stupid beast not to throw you on the way home?"

 

            "He's only bad with fences."  Spock said defensively, mounting slowly.

 

            They rode home slowly, in silence.  When McCoy finished untacking his own horse, he discovered Spock on his knees in Firecracker's stall, beginning to bandage the pony's leg.

 

            "Leave that."  McCoy said crossly.  "I want to check you out first."

 

            Spock rose reluctantly.  "I'm fine."

 

            Not trusting himself to comment, McCoy simply swung him up, carried him through the house to the surgery, placed him on the exam table and ran the scanner over him.  "You have a mild concussion."

 

            "I just have a bit of a headache."

 

            "You're going to bed."

 

            "Firecracker's leg needs to be bandaged first."

 

            "I should sell that beast."  McCoy said crossly.  Spock looked at him in astonishment.  "You'll never change that temperament.  I was a fool to buy him."

 

            "But--"

 

            "Go to bed, Spock.  I'll bring you some lunch a little later."

 

            Spock hesitated.  "But Firecracker --"

 

            "Forget about that pony, and go to bed."  McCoy barked.  "Now!"  Spock left.

 

            McCoy took a deep breath, and put away his instruments.  He hadn't meant to snap at Spock.  He'd go up in a few minutes and apologize.  Feeling guilty, he went out to the stable and took a look at the cut on the pony's leg.  It was nothing, but McCoy wrapped it anyway.  An hour later he took a light lunch to Spock's room.

 

            Spock was in bed, a book next to him.

 

            "You shouldn't be reading."  McCoy said, and slid the tray onto the bed.

 

            "I'm not hungry."

 

            "Eat anyway."  McCoy said calmly.  "You can use the calories."

 

            Spock said nothing, his face averted.

 

            "Sulking isn't very Vulcan."  McCoy said.  "But I'm at fault too.  I shouldn't have snapped at you, Spock.  I'm sorry.  I was worried."  McCoy waited a moment, but Spock was silent.  McCoy brushed Spock's hair back and scrutinized the incriminating bump.  "That doesn't look too bad.  You were lucky.  A few days in bed, and you'll be fine."

 

            Spock looked up at him sharply.  "You mean I can't go to school?"

 

            McCoy's eyes widened.  "I didn't think you liked it that much.  No, I think you should stay quiet for a few days."  McCoy studied the silent figure for a moment.  "A concussion is nothing to fool with, Spock, especially for a Vulcan.  You know that.  And you can't possibly be missing anything important, can you?"  McCoy waited a moment, and sighed.  "Don't let your lunch get cold."

 

            McCoy received a call later that day from Spock's pony club instructor.  After her dressing down of Spock at the Lollipop event,  she had not been McCoy's favorite of people, and he answered her with the barest of greetings.

 

            "How is Spock, and Firecracker?"

 

            "Well enough,"  McCoy answered grouchily.  "Spock has a mild concussion.  I'd appreciate you're taking that into consideration in future lessons."

 

            "You consider what happened my fault?"  The instructor said, her eyes narrowed.

 

            "Wasn't it?  You were pushing them both pretty hard."

 

            "I was pushing him?  Really, Dr. McCoy."  Her voice hardened.  "I didn't put a six year old on the back of a half broken, poorly trained, dangerously temperamental conformation pony. You did.  Oh, Spock has a head on his shoulders, I'll give you that.  And he deserved something better than Linne.  With Firecracker he has a good chance at cleaning up the ribbons in dressage and cross-country in every county event in his division this spring.  He'll probably win most of the races, and he's certain to sweep the conformation classes.  Providing, of course,"  and the instructor's voice hardened,  "the pony doesn't break his neck in stadium first.  That's the problem you've saddled me with. I'm not sure if any amount of training will correct that pony of it's temperament problems, and if it were my child I wouldn't risk him trying. But it becomes my job when parents become so greedy for ribbons and points and show wins they'll risk their children's safety to get them.  You consider that, Dr. McCoy."  She cut the connection, leaving McCoy staring openmouthed at a blank screen.

 

            Spock refused lunch, and feigned sleep through dinner.  McCoy frowned at Spock's untouched breakfast the next morning.  "This is getting old, Spock."

 

            "I'm not hungry."

 

            "You ought to be starving."

 

            "I don't feel well."

 

            McCoy raised an eyebrow and took out his medical scanner.  It wasn't like Spock to pull out an old saw like that an not expect to be called on it.  Spock lip's tightened as McCoy ran the scanner over him, and McCoy pocketed it again.  "There's nothing wrong with you other than a mild concussion.  And an unsatisfied appetite.  Are you trying to punish yourself or me?"  Spock glared at him mutely, and McCoy picked up the untouched meal and left.

 

            McCoy walked in the next morning, and frowned at the sight of Spock getting dressed.  "You're not going to school."

 

            "I'm fine."

 

            "You not only have a concussion, you also haven't eaten for three days.  I would be crazy to let you go to school, only to faint when you get there."

 

            "I wouldn't faint."

 

            "Go back to bed, Spock."

 

            "I'll only leave after you depart for your classes."

 

            "Well, you'll have a long wait."  Seeing Spock puzzled, McCoy elucidated.  "You didn't think I was going to leave you here when you're not well?  I cancelled my classes for today, Spock."  McCoy studied the daunting effect his statement had on Spock.  "Now, go back to bed.  If you behave yourself today, and stop this ridiculous fast, you can go to school on Wednesday, if it's so important to you."

 

            Spock sat down on his bed.  When McCoy came up a few minutes later with breakfast, he was still there.  "I told you to get into bed, Spock."

 

            Spock looked without interest at the tray.  "I'm not hungry."

 

            "I'm beginning to think that pony knocked what little sense you had right out of you.  I've had enough of this ridiculous fast.  You're going to eat this if I have to force-feed you."  Spock shook his head.  McCoy sat down beside him, and every muscle in Spock's body braced as if for a fight.

 

            McCoy studied him narrowly.  "You want me to do that, don't you?  I don't understand this, Spock.  Firecracker is the one that hurt you.  Not me.  Unless you're mad at me for buying that stupid pony.  I admit that was a mistake I intend to rectify.  And I'm sorry I snapped at you before.  What else?  Not letting you go to school?  I should keep you out the whole week.  So why the hunger strike?"  Spock looked at him sharply and McCoy nodded.  "Hunger strike.  You concussion isn't bad enough to turn your stomach and you're not sick.  You're not eating because you're angry at me.  I'm just not sure why.  Talking to me is a little more productive than starving yourself."

 

            Spock said nothing.  McCoy sighed, put a straw in a glass of milk, and held it out.  "Take this."

 

            Spock shook his head.  McCoy sighed.  "You didn't act this way when Jim broke your arm.  All I did was send to bed.  Is that such a terrible thing?"  McCoy studied Spock. "It's not like my prescription is any different than before, Spock.  Concussion has always been grounds for restriction from duty.  There are no Vulcan tricks for it.  You've managed to suffer though a few days of bed rest before.  Haven't you?"  McCoy challenged pointedly.

 

            "Yes."  Spock finally capitulated.

 

            "So why the melodrama now?"  McCoy paused and said. "You've also gave me the cold shoulder, when I gave you that vitamin shot.  But that didn't last quite so long.  Is it so terrible to have someone take care of you?  Is that why you're angry with me?"

 

            Spock dropped his head.  "I am not angry."

 

            "You've giving a good imitation of it, then.  I can't say it's been exactly comfortable for me to deal with either.  I don't like being made to feel like an ogre, and I don't like seeing you do this to yourself.  Maybe --"  McCoy paused because Spock's eyes were suddenly on his.  He realized he'd been about to suggest Spock might be happier elsewhere. The words hung between them a moment, without needing to be spoken, before Spock lowered his head again.  McCoy considered it.  He hadn't missed the flicker of anxiety in Spock's eyes before they'd been averted.  "Are you trying to make me throw you out, Spock?  Or do something we'd both hate, like trying to force feed you?"  Spock said nothing, but he didn't deny it either.  "What are you afraid of, Spock?"  McCoy paused.  "I have been taking care of you, so to speak, for a while.  I've tried to make it as equitable as the situation allowed, which hasn't been much.  Have I done such a bad job?"

 

            "You've been very kind." 

 

            "And now I'm not being very kind.  Somehow. Though I'm damned if I know why."  The Vulcan flinched at the expletive and McCoy gathered his patience again.  "Spock, please believe me when I tell you that you cannot go to school today.  I'm not even sure if you can go Wednesday.  This isn't a red alert situation where I have to send you half patched together into battle.  I'd be medically delinquent to let you run around right now, and I'm not going to risk my license over that."  Spock's eyes had widened and McCoy continued.  "You're just going to have to tolerate what probably seems like unfairly restrictive behavior, but that's one of the drawbacks of living with a physician.  Understand?"

 

            Spock nodded.  "You do not have to stay.  I will not leave for school.  I do not wish to see your license jeopardized either."

 

            McCoy sighed.  "I can't do that, Spock.  It isn't that I don't trust you," he said hastily, seeing Spock frown.  "It just so happens that too many people and institutions, who consider you're a child, know you're here."  McCoy hesitated and said.  "It happens to be against Georgia law to leave a child of your established age alone, unsupervised, for more than a short period of time.  I'm sorry, Spock."

 

            "I did not realize,"  Spock said tightly.  "I regret preventing you from attending your duties."

 

            "It's not your fault,"  McCoy said shortly.  "It's that lousy pony's.  I wish I'd never laid eyes on him.  The sooner I find someone to take him off our hands, the better."  Spock ducked his head and McCoy frowned.  "You can't mean you still want him.  After what he did on Saturday?"

 

            "That was not completely his fault."

 

            "He dangerous, Spock.  He's unpredictable.  You could have been more seriously hurt."  Seeing Spock unswayed, McCoy said, "You weren't upset to see Lynne go.  I'll buy you another pony, Spock."  He knew, as soon as he said the words, how wrong they were, how presumptuous, how condescending.

 

            Spock reacted exactly as McCoy would have predicted.  He shook his head, and his voice was at it's most Vulcan.  "No.  That is unnecessary, Dr. McCoy."

 

            McCoy's eyes widened.  Riding, and horse care, had been a preoccupation with Spock since the horses had first arrived.  For Spock to eschew another pony and essentially drop the activity meant a significant change in the Vulcan's established routine, and the loss of what little fun McCoy thought he had.  McCoy tried again.  "You can pick out the pony yourself this time.  Or horse.  It can be just what you want."  Spock didn't answer, and McCoy frowned.  "Is it that you don't want me to sell Firecracker?"  McCoy paused, scrutinizing Spock closely. "Is that why you're so upset, because I want to get rid of him?  He's a menace."

 

            "He is not."

 

            "Well, at least I know why you've starved yourself these three days," McCoy said dryly, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed.  "I wish you'd have told me a little sooner, but I suppose I'm lucky to have dragged it out of you now.  Spock, what is it about this pony that you like so much?  The danger?"  Spock shook his head.  "How is this different from letting Lynne go then?"

 

            Spock shook his head numbly and McCoy frowned.  "Spock, you promised you were going to talk to me about things.  And this is one I think I need to know."

 

            Spock gave him a guilty look and took a deep breath.  "I thought --" 

 

            "Go on, spit it out."

 

            "I didn't realize that he wasn't mine."  Spock said remotely, looking away.  "I thought he was mine."

 

            McCoy stared, unseeing at Spock, remembering the banner on the stall door.  A Christmas present.  Presents were gifts, that once given, were the property of the owner.  Yet McCoy had already declared his intention to sell what to Spock was now his only accessible possession.  All of Spock's personal property was still in storage on the Enterprise, or tied up behind retina scans and fingerprints that Spock needed years yet to catch up with.  They had yet to talk about devising some way of allowing Spock access to those funds.  Every stitch of clothing Spock had, every meal he ate, every activity he engaged in, McCoy had authorized and procured. 

 

            McCoy had been aware of how restrictive that control was, but he hadn't figured out a way around it.  It hadn't seemed to bother Spock, and McCoy had been wrestling with what he considered more pressing problems.  But he hadn't been aware of how his own perception of Firecracker differed from Spock's.  Firecracker had been a Christmas present, but McCoy had bought him, not just because Spock apparently wanted him, but because children had to get presents on Christmas morning.  It had been part of their cover, and he'd thought of the pony that way, as a gift of a parent to a child, not as adult to adult.  If the toy was too dangerous, the adult simply took it away.  An adult couldn't do that to another adult.  McCoy hadn't realized how much his relations with Spock had been tainted by their circumstances.  He'd thought he'd been dealing with Spock so fairly.  He looked at Spock, stricken.

 

            "He is yours, Spock. I'd forgotten that.  But I won't forget it again.  If you want to keep him, then you keep him."

 

            Spock shook his head.  "I could become injured again, and you might miss your classes.  I have been the cause of enough expense and disruption, I have no desire to cause more."

 

            "It hasn't been that expensive or disruptive, Spock. You don't have to blame yourself for that."

 

            Spock's eyes skewered McCoy, and the physician felt unaccountably guilty for the bareness of truth in his assertion.  In fact, Spock had become an expensive proposition, and if McCoy knew Spock, the Vulcan probably had the cost estimated right to the last credit, and as far as disruption, he was looking seriously at abandoning the Starfleet career he'd pursued for more than a decade.  Spock chose to fix on the latter problem.  "If I were not here, you would be on the Enterprise."  Spock said tightly.

 

            "That's true."  McCoy said evenly.  "But that doesn't mean I regret it."  Spock looked at him, betrayal clear in his eyes before he dropped them.  "Spock, that doesn't mean I'm glad you're in this situation.  I know it's been terrible for you.  I think you've handled it pretty well, over all.  But it hasn't been that terrible for me.  I'm home, after all, and my career hasn't been interrupted.  I just meant you don't need to blame yourself for any imagined wrongs to me."  McCoy hesitated. "I'll admit I may not be treating you properly all the time.  I'm not always sure how to treat you, Spock.  So don't be shy about telling me what you want."

 

            Spock flinched as if struck.  "I do not always know," he said tightly.

 

            McCoy took a deep breath at this confession.  "So let's not beat eachother up if we get it wrong occasionally." Spock looked at him and McCoy nodded.  "Because we will."  McCoy rose.  "You've been upset enough right now, I think.  Try and eat a little and get some rest. And don't worry.  Firecracker will still be here when you're better."

           

            "You are patronizing me."  Spock said quietly, without rancor.

 

            "Maybe."  McCoy tucked the quilts around Spock, and put the tray beside him.  "But no more than I ever did before."

 

            Spock went back to school that Wednesday, and no more was said of selling Firecracker.  McCoy put in a subspace call to Sam Cogley.  He wanted to ask someone about Spock's legal rights, and he couldn't think of whom else to trust.  Areel was still Fleet, and her loyalties would be torn.   McCoy didn't expect a return call for weeks.  Sam seemed to have no permanent address, and he could be hard to track down.  In the meantime he and Spock continued as they were, a little more cautiously.  McCoy was trying to walk a fine line, and he always seemed to himself to be either heavy handed or patronizing.  Spock, true to form after any conflict, simply distanced himself.  After expressing a desire to attend school full time, he buried himself in schoolwork with the same intensity he'd first cultivated the Deveaux.  Since he hadn't dropped them either, McCoy tended to see him only a few hours a night, and Spock often hid behind a wall of 'homework'.

 

            Since Spock's school reports were uniformly good, McCoy had lost most of his anxiety on that score.  When he came out of surgery one morning, and was handed a message directing him to call Cotwood, his first thought was that he must have forgotten to pay some fee, or authorize some outing.  Cotwood seemed to send a flood of such requests home, and only Spock kept him straight about signing them all, and getting them in on time.  When he punched in the comm code, though, he got the pretty psychologist he'd seen at the initial interview.

 

            "Dr. McCoy.  It's good of you to return my call so promptly.  I wonder if you could spare some time to drop by today."

 

            "Is Spock all right?"  McCoy asked cautiously.  "He hasn't been hurt, has he?"

 

            "No.  But I would like to discuss something with you regarding his behavior.  It may be nothing serious,"  she said, "but I would like to explain something before he goes home today."

 

            "I'll be right there."  McCoy posted his classes.  Half an hour later, he pulled into the expensively manicured school grounds.  He looked curiously around as he walked to the office, but Spock was nowhere in evidence.  The psychologist gestured him to a chair.  McCoy took an adult sized one, and surveyed the toys and dollhouses in the room.  It still unnerved him that Spock could even tolerate this environment.

 

            "Dr. McCoy, I called you in because of an adverse reaction  Spock exhibited today to a program we are required by law to give.  Some children do tend to become upset, and that is why I give it, to talk though with them any fears or concerns they might have, or to investigate them further.  Spock's reaction may have been simply cultural shock.  But I do need to discuss it with you.  Even if there are no grounds for Spock's reaction, he may have nightmares, or exhibit behavioral changes for a few weeks, and you should be aware of their source."

 

            "What sort of program is this?"

 

            "It concerns child abuse.  The state requires that we hold a yearly discussion with all the children about it, so that they understand what it is, and how they get help if they should ever find themselves in such a situation."

 

            McCoy swallowed hard.  "You say Spock was upset by this?"

 

            "He stayed in the back of the room.  He never joined the other children in the discussion.  He scarcely looked up, and he been withdrawn ever since.  I tried to discuss some of it with him.  But he was uncooperative.  I know you haven't had the child long, Doctor, and I'm not accusing you.  All of Spock's psychological scans do show evidence of past trauma, but his reaction to you seems quite positive.  But even in his relationship with you, he seems to be holding back.  Withholding of trust is very common in such children."

 

            "Are you telling me Spock's been abused?"  McCoy said forbiddingly.

 

            "Perhaps.  Children often react to the death of a parent as being a type of abuse.  Often their handling by authorities prior to their assumption by their true guardian can leave much to be desired.  What psychological scans we have given him relate his trauma prior to your assumption of his guardianship, which makes the situation very unclear.  We have a duty, of course, if Spock has been abused, to ensure that the abuser's behavior is restrained before he or she inflicts abuse on another.  But we also have a duty not to interfere with the abused child's adjustment.  Spock seems to be adjusting, albeit slowly, and he is a sensitive child, whose adjustment would obviously be badly damaged by any inquiry during this period where he is beginning to feel safe.  Simple exposure to this neutral program alone has upset him badly. We must concern ourself primarily with his recovery.

 

            "Had I known Spock would react so adversely, I would not have exposed him to the program, I would have discussed it with him privately, in a less abrupt manner.  But the damage has been done.  You needed to be made aware of it, so that you can provide reinforcement for Spock at home.  He may show no signs of what's happened today.  He may become very upset, and overreact to a sharp word or some minor discipline.  Regarding his past, he may take several months more to complete his adjustment.  Longer than that, and we would suggest professional help.  Once he had adjusted, it's important to remain cognizant of his past, since problems relating to it can surface at any time and may confuse a parent who is only relating to the present.  Whether or not to explore the past after the child has adjusted should be a professional decision."

 

            "Is that all?"  McCoy said dryly.

 

            "That depends on you.  Some parents request advice on how to deal with a child's distress.  Reactions such as Spock's are not uncommon, Dr. McCoy.  Children do show reactions to this program from purely innocent causes, the death of a family member, an unavoidable separation, a hospital stay.  For those parents I can provide counseling. In Spock's case, the loss of parents invariably implies, at least to me, the need for more professional assistance.  I am, of course, aware that you are a psychiatrist."

 

            "Yes."  McCoy said shortly. "I am.  And your interference has caused problems enough.  I'd appreciate you're leaving Spock's adjustments to me, and your psychological theorizing to yourself.  Where is he now?"

 

            The psychologist flushed.  "I really don't know, Dr. McCoy.  He insisted on leaving for his classes, and I thought it best to let him go."

 

            McCoy checked with the scheduling office, only to discover Spock had already left for GU.  McCoy went back there, but he returned to his own work, rather than ferreting Spock out of whatever class he was in.  Work was probably the best tonic for Spock, under most circumstances.  It wouldn't hurt for Spock to have a little of it under his belt before McCoy spoke with him that evening.

 

 

 

            Sarek summoned his senior aide.  "Begin investigations on McCoy.  But do so quietly."

 

            "Captain Kirk was uninformative?"

 

            "Precisely.  If there is a chance that Spock is with McCoy, or if McCoy can be traced, then I would prefer to address this situation at the source."

 

            "As you wish, Ambassador."

 

 

 

            "I heard what happened in school today," McCoy opened over dinner.

 

            Spock's eyes flashed angrily.  "They had no right to discuss it with you."

 

            "Spock, I'm supposed to be your guardian.  Of course they're going to discuss it with me."

 

            Spock sighed resignedly.

 

            "Do you want to discuss it with me?"

 

            "No."

 

            "I think maybe we should."  McCoy said calmly.  "For one thing, it's a situation that might come up again.  You need to try and get that reaction under control--"

 

            "No."  Spock said flatly.

 

            McCoy raised an eyebrow.  "All right."

 

            Spock was particularly aloof that evening, refused a game of chess, and went to bed in a huff.  McCoy let it ride, deciding not to push.  He was turning in himself though. when he heard what sounded like a cry from Spock's room.  McCoy entered in a rush, to find Spock sitting up in bed, eyes focused but on some inner nightmare, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

 

            "Spock?  Spock, wake up."  McCoy cautiously put a hand to Spock's shoulder, and the Vulcan flinched away.  But when he looked at McCoy, he had started to wake.  For a moment his normally expressionless face was a mixture of confusion and fear, and then he ducked his head quickly.  McCoy settled his hand cautiously.

 

            Spock shrugged it away.  "No."

 

            "All right."  McCoy waited a moment, studying the bent head.  "I take it you are awake now?"

 

            "Yes."

 

            "Do you want to talk about it?"

 

            "No."

 

            McCoy raised an eyebrow.  "All right.  Sleep well, then."  He turned and left, but instead of returning to his own room, he went down to the kitchen.  Spock had not lost his antipathy to milk, and though a little talking would have been his first prescription, warm milk would have been his second prescription. Spock wouldn't touch the stuff, but McCoy had discovered he had been drinking hot chocolate at the Deveaux's for weeks.  He'd laid in a supply of the mix Karen used, but so far hadn't dared to push it on Spock.  Now he mixed a cup of it, heated it up, and reentered Spock's room.  Spock was sitting upright on his bed, arms wrapped around his knees, and his head pillowed on top.  He jumped in surprise when McCoy entered.  McCoy handed him the cup without comment.  Spock took it automatically, looked from the contents to McCoy, and lowered his head again.

 

            "Drink it."  McCoy suggested.  "It might help you go back to sleep."

 

            Spock wrapped the fingers of both hands around the cup, as if his hands were cold, and took a sip.  "I'm sorry I was rude."

 

            "Don't worry about it."  McCoy answered.  He studied the Vulcan a moment.  "You want to talk about it?"  Spock shook his head, and McCoy sighed.  "You know where I am if you do."  He turned to leave.

 

            "Dr. McCoy?"

 

            He paused at the door.  "Yes, Spock?"  Spock seemed unsure what to answer and McCoy crossed back.

 

            "I'm regret having disturbed your rest."  Spock finally said.

 

            "I hadn't gone to bed yet."  McCoy realized Spock didn't want him to leave yet, and sat down on the edge of the bed.  Spock relaxed visibly and drank some more.  McCoy watched him, seeing his breathing even out.  It was new to him to see Spock actually seem to want his presence.  Their relationship on the Enterprise had been antagonistic in every sense of the word, though in a low key sort of way.  Still, he'd gotten used to seeing Spock stiffen in his presence, even as had relaxed in Jim's.  McCoy had usually had his guard up around Spock too.  He hadn't felt that way since they'd been here, but he hadn't really noticed Spock changing.  Now Spock sat back against his pillows, and finished his chocolate slowly.  His eyes were starting to look heavy.  McCoy took the empty cup from his hand.

 

            "Do you think you can sleep now?"  Spock nodded and slid down in bed.  Without thinking, McCoy tucked the covers around him.  Feeling a little self-conscious, he turned off the light.  "Sleep well, Spock."

 

            The next morning Spock was touchy at breakfast, reacting suspiciously to McCoy's 'Good morning' and giving every impression he expected to be grilled as he hadn't been the night before.  McCoy let it ride.  Even if he'd decided to do so, he wouldn't have planned it during a meal.  Spock's appetite was scanty enough that McCoy had stopped engaging in anything but small talk during meals, and even then he occasionally hit a nerve.  And when he did so, Spock's first reaction was to put the fork down.  Spock left for his schoolbus looking confused.  Spock was less openly hostile at dinner, but responded in monosyllables to everything McCoy said.  Spock was visibly tense as they cleaned up the meal, and afterwards tried to slip out the door, ditching his weekly checkup in the process. McCoy stopped him.

 

            "Aren't you forgetting something?"

 

            "I don't need to be examined.  You don't get an examination every week."

 

            "I'm not seriously malnourished, the recipient of a two week old concussion, a recent broken arm, and various other things.  If you'd gain some weight consistently, and keep out of trouble long enough to get everything healed up without breaking something new, I'll drop it to every month."  McCoy ushered Spock into the exam room with a little relief.  So far, Spock had never actually outright refused to be examined.  McCoy had pretty much decided he wouldn't put up with that, which would have meant quite a scene.  Spock balked as usual at the exam table.  The first few times, McCoy had put him up there because Spock's wrist would have made it difficult to get up there himself.  He still felt a little strange picking Spock up and putting him on it.  But Spock always froze before it.

 

            He checked Spock over.  He'd ordered and finally received a supply of the copper supplement Spock needed to exist on a human diet.  Spock recognized the drug and forbore to comment as McCoy measured out the proper dosage, injected it, and checked Spock over again.

 

            "Would you lie down, please, Spock?  I want to get some neurological scans."

 

            Spock glared at McCoy but complied slowly.

 

            "Just lie still."  McCoy studied the area of the concussion.  There was still some edema, or swelling, but it had lessened since the accident.  It wasn't even enough to be a factor in Spock's irritability.  Six weeks was the minimum resolution of a concussion, the period where the area was undergoing healing, and any major complications, like chronic hematoma could occur.  McCoy really didn't like to see Spock ride during this period, but actually there wasn't much advantage in keeping him quiet.  Short of another blow to the head, Spock couldn't come to much harm.  And even Spock seemed to understand that, and had curtailed his more strenuous activity.  McCoy switched to a general body scan, and checked the wrist carefully.  The fused bone had still been showing some signs of trauma, particularly after Spock had landed on it in his fall.   McCoy glanced at the metabolic scans last, and winced.  Spock had lost almost three pounds following his injury and subsequent 'fast'.  His metabolic rate rose sharply upon any injury.   Spock seemed unable to control it, as he had on the Enterprise.  He'd gained a quarter pound back last week.  This week he'd lost a half pound.  McCoy went to the computer and pulled up Spock's history.  Spock had lost most of the weight when he'd been with Jim.  McCoy had been trying since then to help him gain it back.  Some weeks Spock had actually shown a slight gain, some weeks he'd held his own.  The weeks Spock had lost McCoy could almost invariably remember an incident of stress.  Obviously, his metabolic rate rose significantly during stress as well, even as Spock's appetite dropped off.  In order to see him reach some sort of nutritional balance, Spock would have to not only eat well, he'd have to avoid stress and injury both.  And soon.  Spock had lost what little fat he'd had; he'd been burning muscle tissue for weeks.  His bones were starting to lose density, as valuable minerals were being leeched from them.  Until he started meeting his nutritional needs conventionally, he would continue to strip his body of muscle and bone just to meet his own metabolic rate.

 

            McCoy punched up the figures on a portable clipboard and carried it over to Spock, who sat up, eyeing him warily.

 

            "No lecture."  McCoy said, handing the clipboard over.  "You're savvy enough to understand this."  Spock frowned at him and took the clipboard, absorbing it with his usual lightning speed.

 

            "Spock,"  McCoy said when Spock had put the clipboard down.  "Is there something you really like to eat, maybe something Vulcan, that I'm not getting you?'

 

            Spock shook his head.  McCoy sighed.  "Calories and vitamins.  I hate to make you up a diet.  Knowing you, it'd inhibit you enough you'd eat even less.  And I'd like to see you develop some kind of natural relationship between hunger and your nutritional needs.  You should want to eat when you need to, Spock, like everyone else. I'm not even going to set any kind of goal.  I want you to resolve this yourself, eating what you want on your own schedule.  But you've got to do it, because I can't let this go on much longer.  If you don't handle it better yourself--"

 

            "I understand."

 

            McCoy did not let the situation rest there, though.  He sat down at his terminal that evening and entered a new query: CHILDREN, SPECIES VULCAN, WEIGHT LOSS, CAUSES OF:

 

            He didn't expect much.  Between their people's extensive physiological controls, and their emphasis on mental healing techniques, Vulcan medical practices had developed on lines that seldom diverged with human ones.  Most Vulcan healers had extensive psi skills; it seemed to be a major job requirement.  Because of that, little in Vulcan medicine had any relevance to human practices, or any benefit for human physicians.  Add to that the general Vulcan close-mouthed attitude toward anything personal, and their tendency to keep to themselves, it tended to result in little in the general medical literature about Vulcans, and not much general interest in Vulcan publications.  McCoy had learned most of what he knew about Vulcans from examining Spock on a regular basis, and any other Vulcans who passed through the Enterprise, together with a sparse Starfleet compendium on basic Vulcan medicine.  None of this had prepared him for Vulcan pediatrics.  He hadn't even seen too many Vulcan kids.  Vulcans didn't seem to let their kids travel much.  The few he'd caught glimpses of had been traveling with a full regalia of adults.  Vulcans obviously didn't push their kids forward like humans often did.  On the contrary, they seem to guard them like the scarce commodities that, to Vulcans, they of course were.  He'd never had a chance to examine any Vulcan children, and it was unlikely that he ever would examine any except Spock.

 

            He pondered the problem while the computer searched it's massive memory.  Spock's readings always seemed to check out comparatively normal.  Yet he had to consider some metabolic imbalance was causing Spock's problem.  The terminal beeped, surprising him with a unexpected entry, and McCoy leaned forward.  The entry was from a Starfleet journal, from the CMO of the Farragut, describing the rescue of 3 Vulcan children from a remote science outpost following the demise of their parents.  The kids had been in bad shape upon pickup.  What had disconcerted the CMO was that they became rapidly worse after their rescue.  The two youngest went into what looked like shock, the oldest, a twelve year old, experienced severe stress evidenced as near catatonia.  All the kids metabolic readings went off the scale, resulting in severe weight loss in spite of extensive intravenous supplementation.  The CMO punched through subspace to the nearest Vulcan healer, who ordered the children turned over to the closest available adult Vulcan.  The CMO described the startling improvement that occurred after the Vulcan escort was on board an established a  necessary mental link with the children, and concluded, "Apparently, all Vulcan children require this telepathic link to serve as both buffer and control.  What appeared to be a life-threatening physical disorder was actually the result of the lack of this parental link, particularly in the presence of unshielded humans.  The children showed immediate and dramatic recovery from the shock and metabolic disorders upon the establishment of this link."

 

 

            McCoy searched through the database for anything further and came up empty.  He sat back, considering.  A parental bond.  Spock obviously didn't have anything approaching that.  On the other hand, he was neither in shock nor catatonic.  But his metabolism showed readings similar, if not as extreme, as the readings on the Farragut children.  Was his half Vulcan constitution helping, or did he simply have enough control to save himself from severe distress?  McCoy frowned and tapped his fingers meditatively on the revealing terminal.  Either way, Spock's control was only a pale shadow of his adult abilities.  McCoy thought about how Spock shadowed him in any public place, rarely straying more than a few feet from his side.  When McCoy wasn't with him, he was usually not far from Karen.  And he'd been losing weight markedly since he'd started school, and going to bed earlier too, another clear sign of the stress, probably brought on by contact with others.  McCoy remembered his agreement with Spock.  Maybe Spock's problems were unrelated to this issue, and maybe, if they were, Spock felt he didn't need to discuss it with McCoy, as per their agreement.  But McCoy couldn't walk away from this conflict. 

 

 

            "I learned something new about Vulcan children," McCoy opened.  "I learned about how they require a parental bond."  McCoy watched the blood drain from Spock's face, as he tore his eyes from McCoy's.  McCoy didn't need a medical scanner to see his metabolic rate jump.  McCoy waited to see if Spock would respond but the Vulcan stared blankly ahead. 

 

            "Is it true, Spock?"

 

            "I--"  Spock hesitated.  "I do not know what you have discovered."

 

            McCoy raised an eyebrow at this evasion.  "Why don't you tell me about them, then.  I'm sure your information will be more accurate and complete than what little I've found out."

 

            Spock looked up at him, as if surprised by this expression of trust.  He searched McCoy's face, obviously looking for something apparently not found.  The discovery seemed to calm him.  He took a deep breath and looked down, as if to gather his thoughts.  But he seemed unable to begin.

 

            "What function does the bond serve, Spock?  Does it control metabolism?"

 

            Spock looked up, frowning.  "No.  That is not its function.  It's primary function is to serve as a telepathic shield for the child, until the child learns the techniques of shielding."

 

            "Vulcan children don't instinctively shield on their own?  Human children born with telepathic talent generally do."

 

            Spock shook his head.  "Telepathic abilities are generally unrecognized and ignored among humans.  To Vulcans they have long been a source of acknowledged power.  Although dynastic lines are not selectively bred for these gifts as extensively as before the reforms, it is still an important consideration in arranging bondings.  Children are trained to the extent of their abilities in every aspect of the psi sciences."

 

            "So why aren't they born with shields?"  McCoy said puzzled.  "With all that emphasis I would have thought it would be a major consideration."

 

            "In ancient times, psi was the dominant power in Vulcan society, and children were bred for extreme psi sensitivity.  Such sensitivity requires considerable control impossible for developing children.  Children would either develop reflexive shields that would eventually hamper their abilities, or they would become insane from the constant barrage of sensory input.  It became standard practice to shield all children from birth.  After so many generations of this practice, reflexive shields have been bred out of Vulcan children, even as sensitivity has been bred in.  Today, children born with natural shielding abilities equivalent to their psi sensitivities are rare, and their psi abilities are usually poor. Most Vulcan children require constant parental shielding from birth.  On modern Vulcan, although psi power is not used ruthlessly as before, psi abilities are still valued, especially in the ancient ruling clans.  Children are not taught the rudiments of shielding until they have reached the full extent of their natural abilities and their psi training.  Generally that does not occur until physical growth has been completed.

 

            "Now how do you fit into this?"  McCoy questioned.  "Remember, I have all your psi evaluations, so don't try to tell me you're not gifted.  Your not shielding either, or your metabolism wouldn't be so stressed."

 

            "My intent was not to deceive," Spock said tightly.  "I believed this was a difficulty I could resolve on my own."

 

            "Not any longer, Spock.  And keeping something like this from me was not exactly part of our agreement."

 

            Spock winced, predictably, at the reproof.  "I believed you would find this particular problem...distasteful."

 

            "Distasteful?"

 

            "Your antipathy towards Vulcan mental techniques is not unknown to me,"  Spock said remotely.

 

            McCoy's eyes widened, and he looked down a the figure hunched before him.  Spock's head was down and his shoulders were slumped, as if his last admission had taken all the fight out of him.  McCoy was still just trying to gather general facts.  He hadn't yet delved into the personal considerations of how this affected Spock, and what repercussions this would have for their relationship and arrangements.  Mostly he'd still been concentrating on the painful process of extracting information from a reluctant Vulcan, and wondering why Spock always made it so difficult.  Now, in Spock's defeated pose, he read the conclusion the Vulcan expected him to draw.

 

            "I have not linked with you."  Spock said defensively.

 

            "Did you have one with Jim?"  McCoy said perceptively.

 

            Spock raised shocked eyes to his, even as a flush deepened his face.  "I did not--Jim and I were attuned, and--"

 

            "I don't think that had any bearing on Jim's behavior.  If that's what you're blaming yourself for, you can let that guilt go.  The friendship Jim and you had together might have been helped a little by psi, on both your sides.  Hell, you two read eachother like books.  But it wasn't where it started, and it didn't end it, Spock."

 

            "It did not help."

 

            "Probably not.  Why don't you tell me about it?"

 

            "I was not linked to Jim.  But his mind is...was attuned to mind, and his shields are very powerful.  I did use his shields as a buffer, and a link was beginning to develop."

 

            "Did Jim know?"

 

            Spock shook his head.  "I was primarily concerned with the reconstruction of the device.  We rarely spoke.  When it became apparent I would not succeed, Jim -- ceased having coherent dealings with me."

 

            McCoy remembered Spock as he had retrieved him from Jim's home.  The almost catatonia.  The shock.  Part of it undoubtably had physical roots.  But he understood now the psi component.  "What do you need now, Spock?"

 

            "As a child, my parents were frequently absent on diplomatic missions.  As a result I had developed some partial shields at an early age."

 

            "How early?"

 

            "I was--" Spock hesitated, "somewhat more physically advanced than I appear now.  I have been attempting to develop similar shields. If I could, they would give me a measure of competence.   Currently it appears to be beyond my present abilities."  He said the words as if they'd left a bad taste in his mouth.

 

            "So, where are you getting the shielding you need?"

 

            Spock sighed.  "Your shields are also very strong, and your aura is well known to me.  I have not touched your mind,"  Spock looked at him anxiously, "but I have used that aura as a buffer.  I realized it is an unwarranted invasion of your privacy," he finished bleakly.

 

            "I hadn't noticed."  McCoy said easily.

 

            "You would not."  Spock said wearily.  "Human's, even psi-nulls, extend their auras to everyone they interact with. It is unconscious, and to Vulcans, a rather distasteful lack of control.  I have done no more than not block it.  Every human you interact with does no more than I.  However, they are shielded, and unaware of the phenomena, whereas I derive some slight benefit from it."

 

            "But it's not enough?"

 

            "I must be careful."  Spock said, "to limit contact, less a true link form.  That has been difficult for me.  It has been beneficial to have other adults available."

 

            "Like Karen and John?"

 

            Spock nodded wearily.

 

            McCoy understood now why Spock seemed to avoid him, and so assiduously cultivated other relationships, contrary to his past behavior.  "And even that is not enough."

 

            "I still believe it is possible for me to learn to shield."  Spock said tightly.  "I practice daily."

 

            "Isn't that part of the techniques you once told me had to be learned from a psi-tutor?"

 

            "Yes."  Spock admitted.

 

            "Spock, how realistic is it to expect that you'll develop this link within a few months or so?  Before you seriously damage yourself physically?"

 

            Spock's lips tightened.  "It is possible.  It did not appear to be a likely possibility."

 

            "Did not?  What's changed?"

 

            "Now that you know of the need for the link,"  Spock said quietly, "your eventual decision might provide further impetus to my developing some shielding."

 

            "This is what you were waiting for."  McCoy said suddenly.  "What was holding you back from returning to Vulcan for training."

 

            "I would...prefer...not to return to Vulcan until I have developed at least some partial shields.  I realize that decision is perhaps more yours than mine." 

 

            "You think I'd find this too distasteful to deal with?"  McCoy questioned.  Spock didn't answer and after a moment McCoy relented.  "This was something Jim could have done, couldn't he?"

 

            "Yes."

 

            "Is it something any human can do?"

 

            Spock looked up at him.  "Once the link is formed, yes."

 

            "And you can form the link?"

 

            "The link is instinctive, and necessary.  You -- "  Spock hesitated.  "You have been my primary caretaker, and as such, I must constantly distance myself from you, just to block it's formation."

 

            "Can it be dissolved?"

 

            "A healer can do so."

 

            "Are there repercussions from dissolving the link?"

 

            "As you are psi-null, your perception of the link, and its dissolution would be minimal."

 

            "And for you?"

 

            Spock shrugged.  "Once the dependent child learns shielding, the link can be blocked and eventually dissolved.

 

            "If its something you need that badly, Spock, then I'm willing to try it."

 

            Spock shook his head.  "You do not understand."

 

            "That's true enough.  I know you need time before you want to return to Vulcan.  I want you to have that time.  But it's true I don't understand why you want time to develop shielding before returning to Vulcan to learn shielding."

 

            "It is not just shielding I will learn."  Spock said.  "But you must understand what you are offering.  There is another aspect to a parental bond of which you should be aware.  The parental bond not provides not only shielding to the child.  The parent is also provided with a measure of control."

 

            "Control?  You mean control over the child's metabolism?"

 

            Spock shrugged helplessly.  "Perhaps discipline would be a better word."

 

            McCoy raised his eyebrow.  "Now I think I understand why you want some shielding before returning to Vulcan."  Spock flinched and McCoy immediately regretted the remark.  "I'm sorry, Spock.  I don't know Sarek very well, but I don't blame you for wanting some defenses before facing him again."

 

            Spock bit his lower lip and did not reply, silent and pensive, lost in thought.

 

            McCoy's hands closed on his shoulders, and Spock jumped.  McCoy kneaded them soothingly.  "You won't have to Spock."

 

            "But you must understand."  Spock said quietly.  "If you assume the parental bond, you need to be aware of the measure of control you will also assume."

 

            "I wouldn't control you, Spock."

 

            "You will be unable to prevent it.  The link, for you as a non-telepath, would be one way.  You are shielded, and will only be marginally perceptive of me.  However, as I am unable to shield, the link will amplify your perceptions toward me.  I will be instantly aware of your distaste.  Your displeasure will be acutely uncomfortable for me. Your anger will be painful. You would not need to strike me to discipline me, but if you did so, the physical contract would intensify my perception of your anger a thousandfold."

 

            "I'm not going to hit you, Spock."  McCoy said quietly, remembering the myriad bruises Jim had inflicted upon the Vulcan.  Had Jim known what he was doing?

 

            "I know you are often displeased with me."   Spock said quietly.

 

            "Only when you won't eat.  Or when you kick up a fuss about exams."  Spock looked at him evenly, and McCoy sighed.  "All right.  I acknowledge you'd be giving me a hell of a weapon.  It's not a weapon I want Spock.  The question is, do you want the link?"

 

            "I...require it."  Spock said.  "I would prefer to be an adult again, and independent."

 

            "But you're not.  What you're doing is wasting away.  If you didn't have an alternative, if you had to be unlinked to develop your shielding, it might be necessary to wait a bit longer.  But it isn't necessary, and you have an alternative, Spock."

 

            Spock closed his eyes.  "I know what the link is.  Once it is in place, you will own me."

 

            McCoy reached for Spock's shoulders again, and held him in place against the Vulcan's attempted withdrawal.  "I don't want to own you, Spock.  Just help you."

 

            "That will not matter."

 

            McCoy didn't release him.  "It seems to me, Spock, that you have to have this link.  The only choice is whether you link with me or Sarek."  McCoy felt Spock tense even at the elder Vulcan's name.

 

            "There is no comparison."  Spock said tightly.  "I will not submit myself to Sarek in this state."

 

            "All right then."  McCoy picked Spock up, ignoring the shocked look Spock gave him.  He sat down, holding the Vulcan in his lap. Spock did not resist, and McCoy appreciated his trembling control in the face of losing this last battle.  Being psi-null didn't hinder his awareness of Spock's fear.  His hands were like ice.  McCoy took them in his own to warm them.  He was psychologist enough to realize Spock was too traumatized by prior experience to willingly enter into another parental bond.  Given a choice, he'd waste away, given an ultimatum with a window of opportunity, he'd probably disappear.  McCoy didn't like it much, but coercion was probably the only solution.  "Form the link, Spock."

 

            Spock didn't reach for his temples.  When his hands were released, he pushed suddenly against McCoy's chest as if trying to escape, but without any real force.  McCoy closed his arms tightly around him, in support as much as restraint.  "It's all right, Spock.  You don't have to be afraid." Spock struggled again, but McCoy held him easily in place, and after a moment, as if finally accepting his helplessness, Spock slumped in his arms.  McCoy felt tears dampen his shirt front, Spock's shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He carded his fingers through the Vulcan's hair, and cradled him against him. Spock was no longer physically resisting, but he seemed frighteningly passive.  McCoy knew that withdrawal could be more dangerous than resistance.  He pulled Spock even closer.  "I'm here, Spock.  I'll help you.  You just have to reach for it.  There's nothing no be afraid of this time.  This time no one is going to hurt you." Spock shook his head fractionally and McCoy hugged him again. "You're safe with me."  Spock's tears hadn't slowed, and McCoy rocked him like a child, like an infant.  One part of his mind was frantic with worry, one part aching with compassion, and one part, the psychiatrist still, was frantically analyzing behavior and adjusting responses.  He knew he probably had only one chance at this.  Fortunately, he knew Spock's past history, knew that logic had no place in this.  Spock had resisted logic to stay unbonded this far.  Terror was part of his resistance, but even more, the belief that he was unwanted, that he belonged to no one, that he had no place in the universe.  McCoy had hoped appealing to Spock's fear would dissolve his resistance, but that was obviously not the deepest hurt.  McCoy looked down at the crying child in his arms, and gambled.  "Don't be afraid, Spock.  I want to give you this.  I want you to belong to me.  You already do, you know. You might as well make it official"  Spock froze, and then looked up at him, uncertain, tragic.   McCoy nodded and stroked his hair, gentle, calming.  "You do.  Don't you think I know that?  You don't have to be afraid.  You're not pushing me into anything I don't want, and I know you need this too.  You belong to me, now.  You have for quite a while, and you will for quite a while yet.  I know you need this, and you know you want it too, Spock.  It's all right to form the link.  Just let it happen.  Let it happen."  He thought of how he had felt on Christmas eve, with Spock cradled on his saddle, of holding him in his arms on New Year's eve, of seeing him leave, that first terrible day of school.  Tucking him in, night after night.  His outrage at John and Karen's offer of adoption.  Spock belonged to him, how could anyone think otherwise? 

 

            Spock was trying to get his tears under control, his shoulders were shaking with the effort to stop his sobs, but as McCoy patiently rocked him, they slowed,  then stopped.  Only an intermittent shudder betrayed the storm.  McCoy murmured a soft word of praise and gathered him still closer.  He didn't urge Spock again, he simply waited, his patient acceptance of the inevitable more convincing than any words.  Then McCoy felt something, a quiet deepening of his awareness of Spock against him. In that moment, it seemed Spock was more there, more real, than in the moment before.  McCoy looked down at the boy in his arms, but Spock stayed snuggled against him, his eyes closed, his face pressed tightly into the corner of McCoy's shoulder.  Slowly, McCoy picked Spock up in his arms, holding him a little away from him, but the awareness didn't lessen.  McCoy pulled Spock against him again and considered.  The sensation was neither distasteful nor unpleasant.  McCoy realized it was similar to what he'd felt when Spock shadowed him around town, a warm presence close to him, the feeling that he had the Vulcan safe in a hip-pocket, the lightest ghost of subliminal awareness.  Then he was aware of what was new, a channel open between himself and Spock, a conductor of not words, but impressions.  And it was capable of more than what Spock had mentioned.  Displeasure and anger were not the only impressions it could resonate.  McCoy sent an experimental wave of reassurance and affection, and felt Spock shiver against him, a leaf in a cold wind.  The bond was active.  In Spock's mind it was only a matter of time before he would suffer for it. 

 

            He kept Spock home from school the next day, not sure what the repercussions of forming a bond were.  Spock didn't seem to know, and there was certainly no one else McCoy could ask.  Spock had seemed exhausted after the bond was formed.  He'd fallen asleep not long after the bond had been established, and McCoy had put him to bed with dark shadows under his eyes. But McCoy had wondered if that was as much emotional exhaustion as physical or psychic trauma.  He himself felt no different.  Other than being more than usually passive and docile, Spock seemed otherwise unchanged, and when McCoy asked him that evening if he felt ready to return to school, Spock answered affirmatively. 

 

 

            McCoy got the call from Sam Cogley that Saturday.  Spock was at Pony Club, but even so, McCoy took the call in his office, with the door closed, just in case Spock returned early.

 

            "I wasn't expecting a subspace call."  McCoy said, "But I'm glad of it."

 

            "You may not be glad when you get my bill.  Or hear my news."  Cogley said, "So, let's be brief.  Subspace isn't cheap.  The situation you described to me isn't without precedent."

 

            "It isn't?"  McCoy said, surprised.

 

            "Certainly not.  Rejuv programs are becoming more popular, and some have excellent results, though none can alter the physical frame or bone structure as in the case of your friend.  But there are naturally complications to any rejuv program.  Retirement plans want to renege on benefits, insurance rates are challenged, legal heirs start to complain when their inheritances don't come on schedule.  To date, though, the courts have taken their cues from the chronological age of the individual.  If you take your case to court, Dr. McCoy, particularly if those who witnessed the event testify under verifier scan and possibly truth drugs, and your friend submits to genetic screening, your friend has an excellent chance of gaining acceptance of his identity, with all rights of access, regardless of his appearance.  Whether he could continue in his present service, of course, would be the decision of Starfleet.  There are fitness requirements that would allow that institution the option of removing him from active duty, and definitely from field service.  However, if he would not object to duty at HQ, I believe a case could be won to keep him on active duty there."

 

            "But a court case would be public knowledge. It would be a zoo.  We want to avoid that.  Isn't there some other way?"

 

            "To restore his identity, no.  To gain access to property, possibly.  If you could gain power of attorney, you could execute his estate as he no longer can.  Power of attorney generally requires convincing proof.  Recorded verifier scans and so forth.  No doubt a computer expert of your friend's abilities would be able to create the necessary authorizations from current documents with every appearance of legality.  They would then be legal, from the point of being a true expression of his will, even though they were created after the fact."

 

            McCoy frowned.  "What about his  rights."

 

            "In his present state, he hasn't many.  Without an identity, he becomes a ward of his planet of birth, if that can be ascertained, which in this case is the situation.  Legally, he must have a guardian to handle his affairs.  You aren't even eligible to be that guardian.  Under the terms of his planet's treaty with the Federation, humans cannot adopt or take responsibility for Vulcan children, except on a short term, emergency basis.  His being half human makes that a somewhat debatable point, but it would go to the Federation Court, and they invariably have sided with Vulcan in any custody cases so far brought before them."

 

            "What about the rights of children in general?"

 

            Cogley raised his eyebrows "Human or Vulcan?  Both I suppose. That's still a cultural question the Federation hasn't imposed itself upon.  Mostly it's decided planet by planet.  Terran kids have a lot of rights, at least to the basics:  food, shelter, education, medical care.  No one lets them starve on the streets like on many planets.  And rights to well-being too, rights against physical, psychological or sexual abuse, even by guardians."

 

            "What about on Vulcan?"

 

            "It must be a cultural thing.  There aren't any laws dealing with those issues.  Now you see that in unsophisticated cultures that haven't reached the level where they protect children.  Kids are property, workhorses, chattel.  Vulcan being anything but unsophisticated, there must not be a need for such laws."

 

            "Not a need?"

 

            "Well, laws are only made against likely events that need to be prevented.  If no laws exist to protect children, maybe children don't need them there.  They are a rather precious commodity on Vulcan.  Low birth rate."

 

            "What about women?  I saw a woman there become chattel in some marriage right." McCoy said roughly.  "That doesn't sound very beneficent or sophisticated."

 

            "Divorce rite.  But it's true, Vulcan has a touch of fuedality in its culture.  Either way, children haven't any laws protecting them there.  If you're friend decides to eschew his former identity, and the Vulcan authorities discover him, he'll be removed from your custody.  His blood type will undoubtably mark him as a member of a certain Vulcan's clan, and its human factors will identify the branch.  They'll do a genetic scan, because Vulcan custom sends displaced children to the closest genetic relatives able to care for them.  If they don't immediately recognize his identity, he might be regarded as your friend's son.  In that event, you might try to retain custody on the grounds of being a legally designated guardian.  But Vulcan will fight it in the Federation courts.  They don't let many of their own go, and with that clan's blood in his veins, they'll go all out.  His clan's resources, both political and financial, are formidable, in this situation virtually invincible.  I can assure you the result is a foregone conclusion.  There's no way you would win."

 

            "Even if I were designated his legal guardian?"

 

            Cogley shook his head.  "Then you would have some grounds to bring a case to the Federation court, rather than expect an outright dismissal of your claim.  Your documents would have to be pretty convincing though.  Then you could fight, try to tie the case up in court, make a claim to retain custody. But you'll undoubtably lose your claim for custody, and I can guarantee that you'll lose custody while you fight the case in court. I advise against even trying.  It would be a waste of my time and your money."

 

            "I thought you were the great trial lawyer."  McCoy said sarcastically.  "Can't you see some way around this?"

 

              "We aren't talking about fairness, Doctor, or even logic.  We're talking law.  The law is very clear on the disposition of Vulcan minors; the Vulcans literally wrote it that way.  And the Federation has consistently handled any such disposition in favor of Vulcan. There are no legal precedents for what you're suggesting.  As far as making one, you could not have chosen a more unlikely candidate than a direct genetic descendent of their planetary ruler. You're probably unaware of the case of Zazcek vs. the Federation.  Rita Zazcek was a human woman who married a Vulcan named Storm, an indifferent merchant not affiliated with any clan, who had not been resident on Vulcan for years, apparently by choice.  When Storm died, his relatives brought a case against Zazcek, claiming she was an unfit parent for her two year old child. As part of Vulcan's treaty with the Federation, Vulcan clans automatically retain custody and disposition rights of any Vulcan or part Vulcan children upon the death or incapacitation of their Vulcan parents, regardless of other legal claims or dispositions. This child, by the way, was as human dominant, apparently genetically engineered that way, as your friend is naturally Vulcan dominant. Zazcek lost custody, parental rights, even visitation rights, because she not only refused to relocate to Vulcan, she refused to even consider allowing any Vulcan influences in the child's upbringing, and swore she would turn the child against anything Vulcan.  That child is living on Vulcan now."  Cogley frowned at McCoy's blank expression.  "Now you see how the Federation regards the claims of a natural mother against those of the distant Vulcan relatives of a very unVulcan child, you can imagine their reaction to a custody challenge involving the genetically proven grandchild of the planetary ruler, and a son of her heir, brought by someone not even a blood relation."

 

            "What if the child in question testifies as to whose custody he would prefer?"

 

            "Most likely the court would disallow such testimony, especially considering the clan involved.  The Federation High Court won't take chances embarrassing or alienating the ruling Vulcan clan.  You must understand, Doctor, the Federation court is ruled as much by policy and politics as law.  The species of the Federation are too dissimilar to really allow the rule of law priority, since the law differs so much among species.  Particularly in domestic cases, such as custody challenges, what applies to one species cannot be applied to another.  Vulcans arranged special treaties and conditions from their first acceptance of Federation membership due to their psionic skills, and these figure highly in the disposition of any Vulcan or part Vulcan children.  And there are enough telepathic races in the Federation that any action contrary to Vulcan's interest would raise swift and serious repercussions.  

 

            "There's nothing we can do?"  McCoy questioned in disbelief.

 

            "I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy, but it is my responsibility to advise you of the probable outcomes, regardless of whether they suit you.  The Federation is not about to disadvantage itself with Vulcan for the sake of one apparent child you don't even have a genetic relationship with.  You have no legal claim to him that either Vulcan or the Federation would recognize, even through an initial hearing.  If his presence becomes known to any authority aware of the law, he'll be immediately removed from your custody and turned over to the nearest Vulcan embassy.  That's the standard procedure.  You're lucky you've gotten as far as you have.  Work out some kind of power of attorney, if you need access to funds or property.  If it looks convincing enough, I'll authorize it.  But even doing that is a risk, if someone's looking for him, and knowing his clan, I wouldn't be surprised if they were.  Otherwise, stay low.  Don't travel.  You can forge enough documents to make it on a conventional starliner, but customs will look askance at a Vulcan kid with a human.  Chances are you'll be detained immediately while it's investigated.  Stay out of cosmopolitan areas on Terra.  It's fortunate you're a physician, you'll never be able to take him to a healer.  Stay away from public institutions altogether.  They keep records, and ethnic background is one of them."

 

            "Does school count?"

 

            "It does."

 

            "There's a problem there.  He's enrolled at one.  It a state law."

 

            "You're taking a risk.  It helps that you're a spacer.  And as a physician, you have a certain respectability.  No one may question it.  Cross planet adoptions are common.  Most people don't realize Vulcans aren't part of the give and take.  Your goal is to stay clear of those that do."

 

            "I understand."

 

            "Now, if your friend decides not to eschew his identity, and has difficulty concerning his status in Starfleet, or if Starfleet refuses to accept his identity, and he needs legal assistance in that regard, those situations have a much better potential outcome, legally speaking."

 

            McCoy shook his head.  "I'll keep that in mind, but that's not a preferred choice."

 

            "You should know as well that there may be repercussions from the Vulcan authorities even if your friend surfaces with his identity established.  Individual rights there are largely sublimated to clan decisions, and your friend is little more than an adolescent by Vulcan standards anyway.  While we could force Starfleet to acknowledge at least some of his legal rights, surfacing for such a trial would bring the situation to the attention of Vulcan authorities.  If they chose to attack his competency, and claim custody, the Federation courts would be unlikely to fight it."

 

            "But he's an adult by Federation standards, and I know he holds Terran citizenship through his mother."

 

            "But again, in cases of dual citizenship, Federation Courts generally rule in favor of Vulcan interests.  If they claim he's not competent to manage his affairs, Doctor, then it would be our case to prove it, and even if we proved it successfully to human standards, the Vulcans would challenge its relevency."

 

            "So you're saying any attempt to establish some legal status or rights would be a poor risk."

 

            "I'd say the odds are better than 95% that your friend would end up back in his clan's hands, if they choose to make an issue of it.  Since I believe his father regarded his enlistment in Starfleet with a somewhat ...negative... attitude, the chances are good that they just might.  Your best chances to maintain his independence are to lay low."

 

            McCoy was stunned.  Now he knew why Spock had been so reluctant to contact Starfleet.  It wasn't an emotional inability to deal with his status.  Spock had known his only options lay in losing his identity, becoming an unrecorded child, and hiding.  He swallowed hard and nodded grimly at Cogley through the screen.  "Thanks for the advice, Sam."

 

            Cogley shrugged.  "Sorry the news is bad.  Let me know if you need further assistance.  You'll get my bill," and he signed off.        

 

            Pony Club did break up early, though McCoy had long finished his conversation with Cogley.  It had been raining off and on all day, the trail ride had been canceled and the agenda limited to a lesson in an indoor arena.  Spock came home soaked and chilled.  Firecracker apparently had disliked the rustling sound of Spock's raingear and Spock hadn't pressed the point.  McCoy supposed it was better to not wear it then to wear it and get tossed on the way home, but he remembered Cogley's warnings about Vulcan healers, and sent Spock up to get a hot bath and dry clothes.  Spock went without a word.  Since the link had been formed he'd been silent and subdued around McCoy, excessively careful in the physician's presence to follow his usual routines, and obeying instantly McCoy's slightest suggestions.

 

            McCoy built up the fire in the library, and when Spock came down, he headed right for it.  McCoy waited, hoping Spock would take some initiative about lunch, but Spock seemed content holding out his chilled hands before the fire.  After a few minutes he moved even closer, and closed his eyes, looking as if he were about to take a nap.  McCoy gave up and went to the kitchen, heated up some vegetable soup, a grilled cheese sandwich and some cocoa.

 

            Spock looked at the tray with a combination of interest and guilty realization, and took it quietly.  McCoy added a couple of logs to the fire.  From his new perspective he noticed something he missed before, a bruise on Spock's cheek, hardly more than a brush burn, but obviously the result of a fall.  McCoy reached out a hand to touch it.  "How did you--"

 

            Spock pulled violently away from his hand, upsetting his tray, and causing McCoy to fall backwards.

 

            McCoy swore and picked himself up, staring astonished at the Vulcan. 

Spock had righted the tray, and was kneeling before it.  The delicate bones of his hands stood out in stark relief as he clutched its sides. His eyes were downcast, but his whole body was outlined in tension.

 

            "Are you ok, Spock?"  McCoy said hesitantly.  "Did you get scalded?"

 

            Spock looked up briefly in astonishment.  "No.  I'm sorry."

 

            "So am I."  McCoy said ruefully, rubbing his back.  "What was that all about, Spock?"

 

            "I have no explanation."  Spock said stiffly.  "I regret my behavior."

 

            "You said that already."  McCoy reminded.  Spock said nothing and the physician sighed.  He reached out very carefully, and tilted Spock's downcast face up to his.  The Vulcan allowed the touch, trembling, but his eyes did not meet McCoy's.  "If you'd look at me, Spock, you might notice I'm not Jim.  I'm not Sarek either." 

 

            They hadn't talked much about Sarek, but Spock immediate attention on McCoy showed the physician he wasn't far from the mark.  The Vulcan seemed at a loss for words.  "I...am aware of that fact."

 

            "Good."  McCoy squeezed Spock gently on the shoulder and then gestured to the mess on the hearth.  "Let's get this cleaned up and get you another meal."

           

 

 

            In spite of McCoy's verbal assurances, Spock continued chary in his presence.  McCoy assumption that the behavior only extended to him was broken when Karen called after Spock's health, assuming that he was ill.  McCoy discovered she hadn't seen him for almost a week, a clear reversal of his almost daily visits.  Apparently he spend most of his free hours wandering around the farm, alone, except for Firecracker.  Evenings he was subdued, going to bed early.  His sleep was interrupted by a succession of violent nightmares.  McCoy generally heard him cry out.  Sometimes Spock went back to sleep immediately; sometimes he