Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns all Star Trek characters. I am merely playing with two of them. This is a work of fan fiction, and no profit will be made from it. The story and additional characters are mine and are copyright 2000 by M. Seeger

The aircab drew up in front of the stately two story home and deposited its lone passenger. It was a late summer afternoon in a suburb of Houston, Texas. The air was hot and humid, and most of the inhabitants were inside their homes with the air conditioners on, to escape the heat.

The man who stood in front of the house with his one suitcase did not seem uncomfortable in the least. But then, this was considered a balmy spring day on the planet of his origin, a hot dry desert planet in the 40 Eridani system. Mrs. Kowalski, who lived in the house next door and who made it her life's work to mind her neighbors' business, stood looking out of her parlor window, which had a clear view of the sidewalk, and through which one could see without being seen because of the heavy draperies and the sunlight resistant dark glass.

"Henry," she hissed at her husband, who was watching a baseball game on the holovid. "Henry, it's another one. There's another one of those people standing in front of the house next door...that doctor's house."

"Get away from that window, Mabel," Henry said. "Ain't none of your business about the comings and goings next door. They're nice folks. They don't bother anyone."

"Well, it's unnatural," Mabel grumped. "Them pointy ears and eyebrows. It's just plumb unnatural, I tell you...and they act all stuck up like they're better than we are! They should all go back where they belong."

Henry sighed, got up from his easy chair and went up behind his wife. He peeked out the window over her shoulder and saw who she was speaking of...a tall Vulcan male, very distinguished looking and very familiar.

"I seen that guy somewhere before," he rumbled. "Don't remember exactly where, but I seen him before. I think maybe he's somebody famous...name is Spook, Spoke...something like that..."

"Spock" his wife said, remembering, and taking a second look. "Commander Spock; he was on the Derek James show the other day. Hmmph. Snooty like the rest of that bunch, for all his mama's supposed to be human. All logic this and logic that. Ain't natural I tell you."

The object of their observation picked up his suitcase and made his way to the front door of the house, where he reached out and rang the front doorbell. As Henry and Mabel Kowalski watched, the door opened to reveal a petite red-haired woman dressed in the tradition black and white maid's uniform who smiled at the distinguished visitor and stepped aside as he entered. The door closed and he was gone. Another mysterious visitor to the house next door, who would probably never be seen again, or if he was, it would be as he was leaving. Mabel Kowalski stood by the window for a few minutes longer as her husband returned to his game. Seeing that nothing more was happening, she went into the kitchen to start fixing supper.

Commander Spock of Vulcan stood inside the hallway of the spacious house as the maid who had welcomed him, Fiona Hardy, said, "Doctor Sendar asked that you join him in his study. If you'll leave your suitcase, I'll see to it that it's put in your room. And would you like a glass of Altair water?"

"That would be most agreeable," Spock replied as he followed the maid to the study, which was on the first floor. It was paneled in dark woods and the heavy moss green drapes were closed against the sun, giving it an air of coolness, without being cold. The room was neatly, if sparsely, arranged. The only furniture in it  was a large mahogany desk with matching brown leather chair, a smaller chair in front and a leather loveseat set against the far wall. The built in bookshelves were crammed with neatly stacked padds and data tapes, with one shelf being dedicated to actual paper hardbound books.

Spock had agreed to stay in the home of his colleague, Dr. Sendar whom he'd met at a science conference in San Francisco. As it happened, Dr. Sendar was working out some theories concerning the use of artificial intelligence in computers, a subject which was of particular interest to Spock. He had invited Spock to come down and see his work at his lab just outside of Houston, and had insisted that he stay at his home while he was there. Spock had hesitated at first, because he had heard that his fellow Vulcan was newly married, but his host had insisted that his wife would not mind. So, here he was.

"Spock," the voice from the door interrupted his thoughts. "Welcome to my home. Consider it to be yours as well."

"Sendar," Spock returned the greeting in Vulcan, as his host had just greeted him. "I am honored to be in your home."

Sendar walked into the study and sat down behind the desk, motioning Spock to sit also. Spock sat down in the smaller leather chair, putting his arms on the armrests. The maid, Fiona, walked in bearing a pitcher of ice cold Altair water on a silver tray, along with two glasses filled with ice cubes.

Sendar poured water for his guest and then for himself, and they drank in the ritual water welcome.

"My wife is most anxious to meet you," Sendar said. "I apologize for her not being here, but she informed me that she needed to purchase some food items for the house. I believe you will find her most interesting. She is quite a remarkable woman for a human."

"Indeed. I was unaware that you had married a human," Spock said. "My father also married a human woman."

"Ah, yes, your mother is the Lady Amanda, is she not? A charming woman. I had the privilege of meeting her on Vulcan last year. But, I am certain you did not come here to merely engage in social pleasantries. As soon as my wife arrives, I shall take you to my laboratory. It is only a fifteen minute drive from here by aircar. I believe you will find it most enlightening."

"I look forward to it," Spock replied. Fiona stuck her head in the door. "Your wife just arrived from the store, sir, and wants to know if you would like for her to join you."

"Yes, Fiona, tell her to come ahead," Sendar said, and Fiona wasted no time. Soon they heard footsteps approaching. With his back towards the door, Spock could not see who it was, and he thought it might be rude to turn and stare. As it turned out, he didn't have to. The footsteps stopped at the door, and Sendar looked up and held up his two fingers.

"My wife, attend."

Spock froze as the woman entered the room, also holding out her two fingers to her husband.

"Commander, may I present she who is my wife."

"Hello, Spock, long time no see," Christine Chapel smiled broadly at seeing her long-time colleague.

Christine Chapel smiled as she walked into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on that night's supper. Mrs. Jensen, their part time cook, had done her usual superb job of preparing the ingredients for the meal; all she had to do was finish preparing the meal.

She hummed a quiet tune to herself as she quickly and efficiently put the finishing touches to the meal. Sendar had promised her faithfully that they would be home in time for Last Meal, and she knew that he would be; Sendar was a man of his word.

Unlike some people I know, she thought as she checked to be sure the table was properly set for three. She said goodnight to Fiona who was going home to her family.

She and Sendar had been lucky to find Fiona to take care of the house for them, and at such a reasonable price, too. A good maid was a rare prize these days...Fiona could easily have had her pick of jobs and at very exorbitant rates too. After all she had a Master's in Domestic Engineering and Household Management. Already, Admiral Fairchild and his wife, Morgan, had tried to steal her away, by offering her more money and a hefty benefits package, but Fiona preferred the Sendars, simply because Christine allowed her to spend more time with her husband and two young children than any other employer did.

All in all, Christine mused, as she heard the door close behind the maid, the evening was off to a promising start. The expression on Spock's face was priceless. It had been all she could do to not to laugh  out loud. He looked as if he had been "gobsmacked" as the British say (hit in the mouth). The whole thing had  been Sendar's idea. Of course, he knew all about Spock and how Spock had treated Christine during their five year mission. How she had confessed her love for him under the influence of a virus; and how he had avoided her thereafter; and then, how he would occasionally seem interested in her, but back away abruptly whenever she tried to act on her perceptions. The incidents on Platonius and with Sargon and Thalassa didn't help any either; especially since she'd had to share consciousness with him and had seen his memories of Leila Kalomi and Zarabeth; both of whom he'd been intimate with.

No, her husband had not been pleased with Spock's behavior towards her; particularly since his first wife had also been human, and had been killed in a tragic accident two years before he had met Christine. It was Sendar's contention that Spock really had cared deeply for Christine, but had been too much of a coward to act upon his emotions.

"Let him spend some time with us, and I will show him what a treasure he has lost," Sendar said. "You humans have a saying: 'Living well is the best revenge.' Let him see how well you are being treated by a Vulcan and how happy I have made you."

They had been lying in bed, after having made love, when he had told her this. He had just finished telling her about his encounter with Spock in San Francisco. Christine had smiled and lain her head against his shoulder, pressing herself closer to him as his arm, which he had wrapped around her tightened the embrace.

"You know, it really doesn't matter anymore, beloved," she'd murmured. "I stopped thinking about Spock the day  I met you, and I haven't looked back since."

"Perhaps you are right, my wife, and I know my request is illogical," Sendar had admitted. "Still, I find myself wanting to do this, if only to prove to him what a wonderful opportunity he has missed, and that I have had the good fortune and, yes, logic, to take you to wife."

"Well, if you insist," Christine smile. "I guess I wouldn't mind seeing him again, now that I think about it."

"That is excellent, my wife," Sendar smiled. "Because I have already invited him. He will be here next weekend."

"Sendar!" Christine had sat up abruptly. "How could you? What if I'd said no way?"

"Then I would have called him up and found some excuse to cancel," Sendar conceded. "But, I truly did not think you would want to pass up this opportunity to, as you humans say, 'get some of your own back'".

The sound of the men returning interrupted Christine's flashback. She quickly stepped into the hall bathroom and checked herself one more time in the small mirror over the sink. Her blonde hair was done up in an elegant chignon, and she was wearing one of Sendar's favorite outfits...a floor-length silk gown made of sky blue material that brought out her eyes and complimented her coloring perfectly. The gown had tight sleeves, but it was low-cut and showed her cleavage, emphasizing the roundness of her breasts without being vulgar.

She went to the hallway to meet them, and Sendar pulled her to him in a possessive embrace, much to her surprise. He was never demonstrative with her, yet again, she sensed that he was trying to prove something to Spock.

Spock stood there with no expression in his face, but, for a moment, Christine could almost swear she saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. But the moment, if it was there at all and not just a figment of her wishful thinking, passed quickly.

"Well, gentlemen, shall we go in for dinner? I hope plomeek soup is still your favorite, Mr. Spock," she smiled at him, ever the gracious servant.

"Yes, I still occasionally enjoy a bowl of plomeek soup," he replied noncommittally.

"Wonderful. I trust you'll find the rest of the meal to your liking. Most of the dishes are regional, from the hill country, since my husband comes from La'Kash."

"Hill country cuisine is some of the best in Vulcan," Sendar almost-smiled, "although the citizens of Sh'Kahr would dispute that."

Christine had arranged the seating in an intimate way, so that she sat directly between the two men. The centerpiece was a vase of yellow roses. The food was on the table, all that remained was for her to serve it. As she passed some bread to Spock, her hand brushed his very briefly, but he jerked away as though her touch had burned him. She gave him a puzzled look, but he ignored her and concentrated on eating his meal; a meal which he was beginning to think would never end.

After dinner, Spock and her husband retired to his study where they spent the rest of the evening discussing Sendar's latest findings.

Christine cleared up the remains of Last Meal and put away the leftover food, before going to the study to wish her husband good night. He had his back to her as he and Spock were busily staring at a diagram on his computer monitor. Christine came up behind him, slid her arms around his neck and planted a brief kiss on top of his head.

Without missing a beat, he took one of her hands, kissed the palm of it briefly, and told her: "Do not wait up for me th'hyla, I will undoubtedly be late coming to bed."

"All right, dear. Good night, and you, too, Spock."

"Have a good night, Dr. Chapel," he said stiffly, his eyes concentrating on the computer in front of him.

Sometime later, Christine heard her husband escorting Spock to his room, and then coming into their bedroom.

"Well, are you enjoying yourself yet, wife?" he smiled at her.

"Sendar, you are an evil, evil man, and I love you," Christine chuckled, holding out her arms. "Come here, you handsome devil, you."

Sendar quickly got out of his clothes and went into her arms...

Spock sat in the leather easy chair that had been provided in his room and attempted to meditate before he went to sleep. It wasn't as easy as it should have been. For one thing, he could not keep the picture of Christine walking into the study that afternoon and holding out her two fingers to Sendar in the ritual embrace of a bonded couple. Then, at the dinner table, even though she barely spoke two words, it was obvious from the glances that she and Sendar kept exchanging and the way Sendar tried to include her in their conversation, that the couple were very attuned to each other, and that Sendar regarded her highly.

The last scene that kept replaying in his mind was the one where she had come in to bid her husband good night. Sendar had not only NOT been bothered by her blatant display of emotionalism and her use of an endearment in front of another, but had actively encouraged and seemed to enjoy his wife's attentions.

He wondered why the two seemed to enjoy baiting him so. And it was obvious to him that he was being baited. Sendar had to have known of his previous association with Christine. Why would he welcome an alleged rival into his home. It was obvious to Spock that Christine had merely substituted Sendar for him. It was unfortunate, but it was an elegant solution to an ongoing problem.

So why then, having come to this oh-so-logical conclusion, was he still having trouble meditating?

BAH, he thought to himself. What he really needed was a drink of water. Yes, that was it. He was thirsty. He carefully and quietly left his bedroom, being careful not to disturb anyone.

He was passing the master bedroom when he heard a noise. He froze. It only took him a few seconds to identify the sound...make that sounds. It was obvious from the soft moans and sighs, not to mention the rhythmic creaking of bedsprings what was going on. They really should fix that, he thought irritably as he continued downstairs. He fixed his drink of water, drank it and waited a few minutes, hoping that all would be quiet when he went back upstairs. When he judged that enough time had passed, he went back up...only to be greeted by the sound of Christine's laughter that he could hear through the slightly open door of the master bedroom, through which a sliver of light shone.

He couldn't resist...he pressed himself against the wall, and positioned himself where he could see without being seen. What he saw made him breathless.

Christine was astride Sendar, her head thrown back in wild abandon. She was totally nude, and Sendar's hands were busily fondling her breasts, her rosy nipples standing at attention. Spock watched the couple's lovemaking for a moment longer, then felt a wash of shame pour over him at his voyeuristic impulse. He quickly scurried into his bedroom and closed the door.

The next morning, he walked downstairs and found her in the kitchen. She was dressed in a soft pink running suit and white running shoes. She was making herself a cup of coffee, having just come from her morning run.

"Good morning, Spock," she smiled at him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied, trying not to think about what she had looked like the night before.

"Good. The pot's on for tea over the stove. We have a variety that Sendar imports from Vulcan. And there's fruit as well. Help yourself."

"Thank you," he responded. "I shall do so. Is your husband not joining us this morning?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I almost forgot. Sendar said to give you his apologies. He had something come up in his office and he'll be a little while. Meantime, I'm going out to the patio and eat my breakfast. Care to join me?"

"No...yes," he said, changing his mind abruptly.

They sat down in the patio. It was dawn, the beginning of what promised to be another hot scorching day by Texas standards. But right at that moment, there was a cool breeze flowing through the leaves of the trees in the back yard. Christine looked over at Spock. He was wearing a dark tunic and slacks, the same kind of outfit her husband considered casual wear. He looked calm and comfortable sitting out here with her. She sighed inwardly. What had she expected? Anger? Jealousy? Come on, girl, get real, she scolded herself. After all, as she told her husband, it wasn't as if Spock ever paid any more attention to her than he would a piece of Sick Bay furniture.

"I see you wasted no time in finding my replacement."

Christine's head snapped up. Where did THAT come from?

"What did you say?" she gasped, astonished.

"I said I see you wasted no time in finding someone to replace me," Spock repeated. He was looking at her as if she were some kind of specimen in the lab.

"A replacement," she repeated numbly. "You think...Sendar is a replacement for you?"

"Obviously," he said. "It is only logical...if you could not have one Vulcan then another will do. What I am interested in, however, is how you convinced your husband to go along with your little scheme of revenge?"

Christine couldn't help herself. She started laughing, and once she did, it seemed that she couldn't stop.

"I fail to find that amusing," Spock's cold voice caught Christine's attention in the middle of her peals of laughter over his pronouncement that her husband, Sendar, was a mere substitute for him.

Even so, it took her a minute or two to bring herself under enough control so that she could speak.

"Okay, let me get this straight," she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes, "You think that the only reason I married Sendar was because I couldn't have you. And you think that this whole weekend is to inflict some sort of revenge on you, is that right?"

"That would seem to be the most logical explanation for why the two of you have been engaging in the most blatant displays of affection."

Christine shook her head, smiling. Poor Spock. He just didn't get it. For the first time, she found herself wondering just what it was she had found so attractive about him in the first place. Compared to Sendar, Spock was...pathetic, was the only word she could come

up with. It wasn't very kind, it wasn't very nice, but it was pretty accurate, in her opinion.

"Well," she sighed. "You're partially right. At least part of this weekend was about revenge. But you're wrong about one thing: it wasn't my idea...it was Sendar's. I've told him time and again that I got over you the day I met him, but, I guess he just had to see it for himself."

"Indeed? And for what purpose?"

"I really don't know. He says it's because he wants to show you what a good thing you passed up. But, I think the reason is much deeper than that. Would you like to hear how I met him?"

"If you wish to tell me," Spock made his tone deliberately indifferent, but inside, he was dying of curiosity.

Christine took a sip of her coffee and looked over the backyard, noting idly that the rosebush would have to be trimmed back, and making a note to tell Andrew, their landscape engineer about it. She mentally went back in time and saw the first time she'd ever laid eyes on Sendar.

"It happened at a party...Rowena Barne's Christmas party as a matter of fact, a little over a year ago..."

Christine had agreed to come to the party only because Rowena was the wife of Dr. Clinton Barnes, one of her associates, and a very nice woman in her own right. Besides, she had nothing better to do...most of her relatives were off on cruises and she'd lost track of a lot of her Enterprise friends.

"The last thing I was looking for was a new love," she said, smiling. "As I recall, I was standing by the punch bowl when this tall, very attractive man came up to me and smiled...which surprised me, because he was also a Vulcan."

"Who had happened to see a vision standing by the punch bowl and wanted to discover if the earth legends of angels were true...if so, the elegant beautiful woman standing at the punch bowl certainly qualified as one, in my opinion."

"Hello, husband," Christine grinned, as Sendar came out with a cup of tea in his hand, pulled up a patio chair and sat next to his wife.

"I was telling Spock how we met," Christine offered.

"So I heard," Sendar smiled at his wife. "Continue, my wife."

"Anyway," Christine went on, "I can't remember what it was he said to me, but we struck up a conversation..."

"I believe I said something along the lines of "If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?" Sendar said with a straight face. Christine laughed and threw her napkin at him.

"Idiot! No, you didn't! Something like that, I would have remembered!" She made a face at him, and he merely raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure it was perfectly innocent like, 'lovely weather we're having' or something like that..."

"At any rate, you met," Spock's voice cut through the couple's banter.

"Yes, and he asked me to have dinner with him. I accepted, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"You forgot to tell him how many times I had to propose to you before you agreed to marry me," Sendar said helpfully.

"That's true," Christine nodded, sighing ruefully. "Poor Sendar. I gave him such a hard time. What you said about him being a substitute for you...it's not true, but at the time, I was afraid it was. That's why he asked me three times before I could agree."

"If I had not previously been married to a human female," Sendar said, "I would have taken Christine's first refusal at face value, and never spoken to her of it again. But we had been seeing each other socially for six months, and in that time had formed a fast friendship. I had always known after my first wife's death that I would remarry, and I knew that I wanted it to be to another human female. But, until I met Christine, no other human female could attract my interest. Like her, the last thing I expected when I attended the Christmas party, also as a favor to a friend, was to find another wife."

The first time Sendar had asked Christine to marry him, they had been standing in the balcony in her apartment in San Francisco, enjoying the view of the Bay. She had known it was coming, ever since he had first kissed her a month ago. Since then, they'd gotten more passionate, but had not had sex. She knew Vulcans weren't casual about sexual relationships, so the kissing, touching, and gestures of affection were more than likely preludes to a proposal.

"I wish you to be my wife," Sendar had said, pulling her close to him. She didn't answer at first, and then, she pulled out of his embrace and walked to the other side of the balcony.

"I don't know what to say," she stammered.

"A simple yes would suffice," Sendar murmured, looking at her with that piercing green-eyed gaze that never failed to make her heart turn over. Until Sendar, she'd never known that blonde Vulcans existed. They were rare, but they did exist. Still...

"I told you something about...Spock," she said. "How do I know if I marry you, that I won't just be using you as a substitute for him?"

"And how do I know that if I marry you, I won't be using you as a substitute for Deborah, my late wife?" Sendar asked.

"Well, there you go then," Christine said. "Maybe it's just a little to early to talk about marriage. Maybe we should give it more time."

"So, I take it this does not mean no?" Sendar asked.

"It means maybe," Christine replied. "It means I need to think about it some more."

The ringing of the vidphone interrupted the couple's tale of their courtship. By the time Christine had answered the call, the men had retired to the study and closed the door. She assumed that they were talking shop, so she left them alone and went upstairs to her office to do some work. She was wrong about the conversation in the study, however.

"My wife has undoubtedly told you that this weekend was my idea," Sendar said calmly as he settled himself behind his desk.

"She has told me that," Spock replied. "However, I find that highly unlikely. Such behavior would be illogical."

"My wife speaks the truth," Sendar told him. "I was aware of my wife's previous connection with you. Painfully aware. My sole purpose in bringing you here was to demonstrate to her that she had not erred in accepting my proposal six months ago. I know that a part of her will always be fond of you...but I believe that any feelings of unrequited love on her part towards you have been definitively put to rest. And that is what I was attempting to bring about."

"Why should you do this? For what purpose?" Spock could not keep the anger from his voice. He felt as if he were being made a fool of, and that he could not abide.

"Spock, when I first met Christine, I was instantly attracted to her. Why, I do not know. There was no logic to it. Certainly my previous experience with marriage to a human woman was not enough to warrant such an attraction. Yet, I had always known, after the death of my first wife, that when I remarried, it would be to a human woman."

"The woman I met at that party was a far cry from the woman I had been married to. My first wife was an emotionally crippled individual, made so by an emotionally abusive partner...someone who never loved her, yet used her love for him as leverage in return for sexual favors, and to reinforce his insecure ego by denigrating her at every opportunity. Christine appeared to be self-confident, stable, and in control of her life...it was not until I began a friendship with her that I came to realize how badly she had been hurt; and in much the same way as Deborah had. But unlike her, Christine had stronger reserves to draw on, friends who understood and supported her, and her own innate brand of stubbornness."

"I refuse to be held accountable for your wife's emotional attachment to me," Spock said harshly. "I neither asked nor welcomed her affections."

"Didn't you?" Sendar replied coolly. "I find it strange that, for someone who did not welcome my wife's affections, you made sure that she had a significant role in your life. But then, what could I expect from someone who was willing to use her to relieve the plak-tow while you were yet betrothed to another? Christine does not yet realize what you had in mind when you told her it was illogical to protest your true natures...tell me, Spock, what would you have done if she had accepted your shabby proposition?"

Spock said nothing, but it was obvious from the glacial expression on his face and the dark look in his eye that he was close to losing his control.

"No matter," Sendar said. "I believe my point has been well made. Let us speak of it no further."

But Spock was not willing to let it go. He stood up abruptly. "I believe that it is time I left," he said. "I thank you for your hospitality, but I believe my time would be better spent elsewhere."

Sendar nodded. "Very well, if that is your wish. Is there a message for Christine?"

"Yes...tell her that I congratulate her on her marriage. May her union with you be fruitful, and may you rot in hell!"

He turned then, and walked out abruptly, making his way upstairs to pack his suitcase. Sendar merely raised an eyebrow as Spock left, closing the study door behind him. No sooner had the door shut, than Sendar reached into a hidden compartment in his desk and pull out a holograph.

A slim dark-haired woman looked back at him with love in her eyes. He felt a distant pang of pain...like Spock with Christine, he had never loved Deborah, but unlike Spock, he did not run away from his obligation to her. In helping her to escape the abusive relationship she had suffered at the hands of Dalton James, he had caused her to fall hopelessly in love with him. Given her fragile emotional state, he could not bring himself to refuse her requests for a more intimate relationship...particularly when he found himself desiring her in spite of himself.

He had married her, but found that he was incapable of helping her. His Vulcan nature did not permit displays of affection, and that was something Deborah could not understand...her constant need for physical contact was something that Sendar found hard to get used to, and he had found himself withdrawing from her in order to escape her incessant demands. They had not bonded; Deborah had been too afraid of letting him into her mind, and so he had been patient, letting her get used to the idea by melding with her occasionally while she was asleep, and planting pleasant dreams in her head about how much the bond would enhance their relationship...but one night, she woke up unexpectedly and caught him doing it. She became so hysterical that he never dared do it again. Shortly after that, she was killed when her aircar crashed into a lake near their home. A subsequent investigation revealed that there was nothing wrong with the aircar, but it also revealed that Deborah had been high on a combination of alcohol and amphetamines. The death was ruled accidental. Sendar knew it was not, and he never forgave himself.

He had vowed to himself that when he married again, it would be to another human woman, but this time, he would make no mistakes. This time he would redeem his failure. And so, he met and married Christine, who had also been emotionally abused by a half-Vulcan officer named Spock.

Christine came out of her study just in time to see Spock coming out of the guest room carrying his suitcase.

"Spock!" she called. "You can't be leaving so soon? You just got here."

As he turned and looked at her, she was reminded of the way he'd looked the first time he'd set foot of the bridge of the Enterprise as it was en route to find V'ger. He had that same cold impersonal look on his face. There was a time when that look would have devastated her. Now, it just made her mad.

He turned his back to her once more and started walking down the stairs. She followed along beside him.

"Well, you could at least have the decency to say goodbye," she said mildly, as he headed for the door.

"I have already said my farewells to your husband," Spock said, coldly. "I see no point in staying here any further. It seems I have fulfilled my purpose."

"And what purpose is that, pray tell?" Christine followed him outside to the front porch as he opened the door.

He turned and looked at her again, but again, he said nothing. Only the tight line of his mouth and the cold glare of his eye revealed his anger. He was standing out on the front porch, and using his commlink to call a cab. It was odd, Christine thought. Earlier, on the patio, she could have almost sworn that they were getting along almost like old friends. What could have happened to change him? And then, she had a flash of intuition.

"What did you and Sendar talk about, that made you so angry?" she wondered aloud.

Spock sighed in aggravation. He wished she would leave him alone, but no, she would badger him until he told her something. Very well, he would.

"Your husband revealed to me that his sole purpose in bringing me here was to extinguish any feelings of unrequited love that you might have for me. He seemed to be of the opinion that I had emotionally abused you. I disagree. I never wanted nor needed your affection, and I refuse to be held accountable for them, nor to be asked to assuage your husband's guilt over the death of his first wife, whom he apparently feels that he failed in some way, and is attempting to redeem himself by marrying you and treating you as he could not treat her."

"Deborah...so that's what this is all about. I should have known...poor baby..."

Spock was shocked. This was not the reaction he expected. He had expected anger or at least great indignation. Instead, Christine was looking at the window of her husband's study, and the look of love on her face was enough to send a sharp knife through Spock's soul. He could recall a time when she had looked at him that way, especially when she thought he wasn't looking.

"Spock, I'm sorry," Christine said. "I should have realized what was really going on when Sendar told me he'd invited you to spend the weekend. I'll be the first to admit that part of me wanted to make you jealous. Sure, it was stupid and childish, but it's done now. I never did finish telling you why I finally decided to marry Sendar did I?"

"No, you did not, and it is irrelevant, since you are married," Spock said.

"Oh well, if you don't want to hear it," Christine shrugged, "then I guess this is goodbye." And she turned to go back inside.

"Wait." Spock found that he couldn't let it drop. As angry as he was, his curiosity was even more piqued. What had caused Christine to stop loving him? What did this Sendar have that *he* didn't have. "Tell me," he demanded.

"It's very simple," she said. "After the first time he asked me, and I more or less turned him down, he made it clear to me that he wasn't going anywhere. He kept coming around, and after a few weeks, he asked me again. And again, I said maybe...I kept thinking that I was only marrying him because I couldn't have you.

Then, he was off planet for two months. I found I missed seeing him every day, talking on the phone with him 'til the wee hours of the night...and when I saw a picture of you on the holovid, I didn't feel the old pull anymore; in fact, I really hadn't thought about you in a long time. That's when I finally realized that I was in love with Sendar, had been for some time, and I couldn't wait for him to come home. So, when he asked me to marry him the third time, I said yes."

"I see." Spock said. And he did see, that despite the tragic circumstances of his first marriage to a human woman, Sendar had not been afraid to try again, and that he had seen the same qualities in Christine that Spock had admired. But, unlike Spock, Sendar had not been afraid to risk becoming emotionally involved; had in fact, welcomed her into his life.

At that moment, Spock knew that the real object of his anger was not Christine, nor even Sendar, but himself. Because he could have been the one to join fingers with Christine and introduce her proudly as his wife, as Sendar had done...and he could have been the one sitting in front of the computer while his wife came in and kissed him good night...although he realized that he probably would not have permitted that display of affection.

He could even admit to himself that he had been jealous when he'd permitted himself to witness Christine and her husband making love, if only for a brief moment. He'd had trouble putting himself in a resting trance that night...pictures of Christine naked came rushing into his mind...

The honk of the aircab abruptly pulled him out of his reverie.

"I must go," he said, looking at Christine with an almost tender expression in his face. "But, before I do, I must ask your forgiveness."

"For what?" she asked puzzled.

"For this," he said, as he abruptly put his arms around her and pulled her towards him. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her thoroughly on the lips. Christine merely stood there and let it happen. Funny, she mused to herself. All these years, I longed for this to happen between us, and now that it has...zilch, nada, nothing...

In the house next door, Mabel Kowalski was having a mild case of hysteria.

"Henry, c'mere quick! He's kissing her! That Spock fellow is kissing Dr. Chapel! And she's letting him!"

"Mabel, how many times do I have to tell you to get away from that window?" Henry grumbled as he got up from his lounger, where he'd been getting ready for his afternoon nap. He walked up behind his wife and looked over her shoulder, just in time to see Spock pick up his suitcase and head for the aircab waiting for him. Dr. Chapel was standing on the front porch watching him leave.

"He ain't kissing her. Woman, you been watching too many of them soap operas."

"Well, he was!" Mabel insisted. "Pulled her into his arms and kissed her, bold as brass."

"Ah, get away from that window and fix me a glass of tea woman, and step on it," Henry said as he got back on his lounger.

Mabel grunted, "Fix it yourself. 'As the Galaxy Turns' is coming on next. I wanna see whether Bailey will admit to being the father of that Andorian woman's child or not..."

Christine stood and watched the cab pull away, taking her past with her. She sighed. She hoped the day would come when Sendar would feel secure enough in her love that he would stop feeling that he needed redemption. She realized that she probably should be very angry with him, but in the end he had done her a favor by allowing her to put her past to rest, once and for all. And, in the meantime, he was her present and her future, and it was high time she went in and started fixing his lunch.

Spock walked into his apartment in San Francisco, and noticed as if for the first time how cold and impersonal it looked. He found himself wishing for the sound of laughter; but not just any laughter...one special woman's laughter; the woman who could have been his, but now belonged to another because of his own cowardice in admitting his feelings for her. He went out to his balcony and watched the sunset, and as the rays of the sun touched the Bay, he whispered one word: "Christine."

THE END