Epilogue.

Forty-eight hours after the bandages were removed, Spock sat in his quarters, staring with fascination at the various devices that had seemed so important to him in his blindness, that now had no use for him at all. When he ran his fingertip over the Braille cards that Christine had made up for him, so long ago it seemed, his mind could not quite conceive of how he had even begun to learn to read that type, that was so clear with sight, and so indistinct under his fingertips.

It had been as little as two hours ago that he had, at last, been able to look about his quarters with perfect clarity of sight. His eyes had been improving all the time, but it was a combination of McCoy's eyedrops and a period of carefully controlled meditation in a darkened room that had finally dispelled those last inconsistencies of focus. When he glanced to see the time now there was no need for him to peer close to the numbers to read them. They said, very clearly, 7:14 – even looking from his position sitting behind his desk to the clock on the opposite wall.

Fourteen minutes past seven. Christine's shift was due to have ended at seven precisely. But then there was the time that it would take to walk from sickbay to his quarters, and, of course, humans were invariably late. They found themselves involved in a task they could not drop, or talking to a colleague or friend about inconsequential subjects and then, they would say, *time just got away*, as if it was a substance to be held rather than a quantifiable scientific dimension. But they would be at Avilla Prime in just half a day, and he found himself anxious to make the most of this particular period of time before the current calm and stability on the Enterprise was upset again.

Spock shuffled the Braille cards together into a neat pile, and then dropped them into the recycler beneath his desk. There was little use in keeping them. If they had any sentimental value, it was only because of how long Christine had spent making them for him – but her motives were encapsulated in her, not in pieces of textured card. He had little desire to keep reminders of that dark time.

He went to his small cooking alcove, and began to fill the water heater for tea. He counted almost instinctively, even as he watched the clear, glistening water fill the container. As he was pouring the freshly boiled water into the teapot there was a buzz at the door, and he said sparsely;

'Come.'

The door swished open as he was giving the leaves a single stir in the pot, and he turned around only as it closed. If he had been holding the pot at that point, he would have been in serious danger of burning himself.

She was wearing a sleeveless dress of fresh, leaf-green fabric, that seemed to cling to her body like paint every place that it touched, and hang as insubstantial as a veil of morning rain wherever it did not. The colour was echoed by the long, multi-jewelled earrings that trailed almost to her shoulders, and set off by the copper-bronze of her hair that was woven and plaited intricately about her head. He could not imagine that that sleek fabric would stand any underwear to interfere with its smoothness, and he could not see a single line on her body that hinted of anything of the sort.

Spock stood with his lips parted for a long moment, then shook himself, and said honestly, 'There are many words coming to me, but none of them have a logical basis…'

A smile touched her lips. He took a step forward, staring at the minute details of her form. This was the first time that he had truly *seen* her – clearly enough that he could see the flame-like striations of her irises in varying shades of blue, the shaded darker band about the edges, the fathomless black of her pupils. The curls of her eyelashes reflected in her eyes, each loose strand of copper hair glittered about her face. The green gems in her earrings sent sparks of refracted light dancing across the white skin of her neck.

'You – are allowed to speak,' she suggested softly. 'Even if you don't say anything logical.'

'I do not wish to speak,' Spock said, almost in a whisper.

He touched his hand to the back of her neck, tracing the tips of his fingers across her skin even as he gently moved her closer, orienting himself this time by letting his eyes settle on the soft, red pillows of her lips, before closing the distance and letting his own lips caress hers. He searched into her mouth with his tongue, his fingers roaming into her hair, destroying the carefully arranged braids and strands by slow degrees.

'Don't disturb it too much,' she said with a smile as Spock finally drew back from her. She touched a hand to her head, trying to gauge how easily the damage would be repaired. 'The captain's arranged something for you. We're expected in – ' She glanced at the clock. ' – fifteen minutes.'

Spock looked up at the clock himself, raising an eyebrow. 'The captain has arranged an event scheduled to start at nineteen thirty two?'

She fixed him with a mock glare. 'I almost preferred it when you couldn't check my accuracy,' she said. 'The captain has arranged an event to start at nineteen *thirty*. He specifically requested that you wear dress uniform, and that I – well – '

She looked down at the dress she wore, then raised her face to him with a smile.

'I think I *must* wear dress uniform if I'm to rival your attire,' Spock pointed out.

He moved to his closet, and took the formal tunic from the rail, laying it out on the bed, before going to the little surface below his mirror, and taking a silver-coloured ornament out of a sleek black box.

'What is that?' she asked curiously, coming over to him.

'Surely you have come across the concept of IDIC?' Spock asked, holding up the ornament for her to see. It was a silver disc, holed off-centre, and pierced with an arrow of different metal. At the tip of the arrow sat a single jewel that looked like a diamond.

'Oh, I have,' she said in fascination. 'Infinite diversity in infinite combination. But I've never seen such a beautiful representation – just sketches in books.'

'It is rather apt, don't you think?' he asked, pinning what she now realised was essentially a brooch to the right breast of the dress tunic.

'Very,' she smiled. 'I rather like your philosophy of diversity in combination,' she said, tracing a fingertip along the upswept point of one ear. 'But we're going to be late,' she said seriously. 'I wouldn't want to disappoint the captain.'

'No,' Spock said.

Without preamble he slipped his regular tunic off and replaced it with the dress one, checking momentarily in the mirror to see that the IDIC was placed at the correct height, and that his hair was neat.

'It took me a little longer to get ready this evening,' Christine smiled, taking the opportunity to lean close to the mirror and put her hair back to rights. 'You don't realise how easy the male of the species has it.'

Spock regarded her as she bent towards the mirror. He had not realised until now that there was almost nothing to the back of the dress from neck to waist. The thin bands of the high collar fastened behind her neck, but below that, the entire length of her back was bare, almost down to her buttocks. For a single second an entirely irrational flame of jealousy speared through him that human men must have seen that long, tantalising view in the corridors, before he had set eyes on it here.

'For that, I can only be grateful,' he said, stroking a hand down the length of her exposed spine.

She turned, fully aware of the masculine, heated surge of desire that was rising in his mind.

'Come on,' she said, catching hold of her hand. 'If I get any more thoughts like that from you, we won't be going anywhere, and I wouldn't want to disappoint the captain.'

'No,' Spock said, half regretfully. 'Christine, do you – have a wrap of sorts? You will be cold.'

She smiled brightly. Each tiny instance of primitive Vulcan arousal in him created a spark of sunshine in her mind. Before all of this had happened, she had never imagined that she would be able to rouse jealousy and passion in him.

'I will not be cold,' she said firmly. 'You don't mind, do you, if the captain and Leonard and a few other senior officers see my back? It's – not logical to be self-conscious about it. After all, it's only skin.'

Spock raised an eyebrow, but he didn't reply for fear of betraying very *illogical* sentiments.

******

It was, as Christine had implied, only a very small reception, comprising the captain, Dr McCoy, Mr Scott, and Lieutenant Uhura, gathered together in one of the Enterprise's small meeting rooms that had been redressed for a formal, silver-service meal. The evening was characterised by fine food and relaxed conversation – but Spock found himself continually distracted by the glimpses of that sleek green dress and expanses of smooth, touchable skin beside him. It was simple enough to keep his desire under control, but he did not find himself sorry when the final course was cleared and the last few drops of alcohol were drained from the glasses.

'I thought you'd like it better than a surprise party,' Kirk confided to Spock as the small party began to disperse. 'But I had to do something. Bones told me your eyes were just about back to normal, and what with this thing kicking off tomorrow – '

'This is quite pleasant,' Spock said, raising his eyes to Kirk's face. At the moment he was continually fascinated by studying the minute details of those faces that had been hidden to him for so many weeks. 'And it is more to my taste than a surprise party.'

'Well, Spock,' Kirk said, some awkwardness entering his voice. He could help but notice the way the Vulcan's eyes kept tracking across the room towards where Christine Chapel stood, deep in conversation with Uhura and McCoy. 'I guess it's time to break up the party. I think it may be a long day tomorrow.'

'Yes, I am anticipating my first duty shift,' Spock nodded.

'Your first – ' Kirk echoed. 'You mean to put yourself back on the active duty list, Spock?'

Spock nodded succinctly. 'My eyesight is fully restored, Jim. I have no reason to excuse myself from duty tomorrow, and we will be dealing with the Klingons, with all their attendant uncertainties.'

'Well then,' Kirk nodded. 'I'll change the roster. I guess Mr Chekov won't mind not having to be up for an early shift. You go on, Spock,' he said, touching his arm as he saw his gaze moving yet again to that bright flash of green between Uhura and McCoy. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

'Thank you, Captain,' Spock nodded. Then, raising his voice, he said with a certain degree of self-consciousness, 'Miss Chapel. Would you accompany me?'

'Of course, Mr Spock,' she said instantly, breaking off her conversation and coming to him with a flashing smile. He did not object when she touched her hand to his arm.

'I have heard it is traditional for couples to rendezvous on the observation deck,' he said in a low voice as they made for the door. 'Would that be amenable to you?'

'Oh, very,' she smiled. 'But – ten o'clock on a Friday night – we might find it a little crowded.'

Spock raised a dark eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eye as he looked at her.

'I designated the observation deck off limits earlier to allow a scientific experiment to be held there. Foolish of me, but rescinding the order afterwards quite slipped my mind…'

'Oh,' she said softly. 'And the experiment?'

Spock raised his eyebrow again. 'I quite forgot to perform it. But – the code-restricted lock is still active on the door. I did not confide the code to anyone else. We would have – complete privacy.'

She looked up at him as they entered the privacy of the turbolift, letting her eyes settle on his.

'You can see, perfectly, can't you?' she asked, touching a hand to his cheek, then tracing her finger along one upswept eyebrow. 'Those beautiful eyes – they see me, don't they?'

'I would dispute whether my eyes were beautiful,' Spock said. 'But yes, I do see you, perfectly, as you say.'

'Dr McCoy said your readings were so good this morning. He expected you to have regained normal vision by this evening. That's why I risked the dress. I hoped…'

'Dr McCoy was quite correct,' Spock nodded. He stroked a hand down her arm, then fixed his dark eyes on her blue ones. 'When we are on the observation deck we will have an opportunity to test the ability of my eyes to discern far objects – and also closer ones. I have not yet managed to make out how the fastening works on that exquisite garment.'

She smiled, a blush colouring her cheeks as she read the Vulcan's intentions.

'I would be very happy to demonstrate it to you, Mr Spock,' she said. 'In the interests of science, of course.'

Spock nodded, a smile touching his lips, but fully evident in his eyes.

'When the bandages were removed, you thought for a moment that this was at an end, did you not?' he asked her as the lift doors opened. 'Do you think, perhaps, that we are actually at a beginning?'