A/N: When I introduced M'Benga into Spock and Uhura's universe I became intrigued by him thinking, what kind of person does it take to live as an alien for 4 years and what might his experience have been. Since then I've been constructing this whole thing in my head. Hopefully this gives some insight into his role in Thus...The Stars. This is my first time writing fic with mostly original characters so this should be fun!Let me know what you think.

When Geoffrey M'Benga applied for and accepted the internship in the interspecies ward, he assumed that there would be some diversity among the physicians. As it turned out though, the off-worlder population on Vulcan was the lowest of all the Federation planets. And most of the non-Vulcans were diplomats or Starfleet officers, leaving him the only alien on the whole team. So everyone's preconceived notions of humans were thrust upon him.

The atrium of the Shi'Kahr Medical Center was an oasis. No matter what time of day he stole away to the area, it was deserted. He guessed it was because Vulcan doctors were perfect and always got sufficient rest and had no need of a break!

It was all starting to be too much, though: the casual—often blatant—racism, the ridiculous workload and of course, the weather. He couldn't do four years of this and he wasn't sure what made him think he could. And since he was alone, he allowed himself a few tears. Because he was tired and lonely and he wanted to go home.

Then a few tears turned into a lot. Until he'd watered the lapel of his medical robe, which he'd been using to wipe the moisture away.

Had he been less self-involved at the moment, he may have realized that someone else had entered the atrium.

The woman moved with considerable haste and grabbed the first sturdy thing she could get her hands on. She gripped one of the trees that sat in the middle of the room. She tried to breathe slowly and evenly and to compose herself. She's never been so shaken in her entire life. It was fortunate that the atrium was empty, otherwise, she might have to explain.

Just as she started to calm down, she heard sniffling, which of course meant that she was in fact, not alone. Strange, considering that almost no one used the atrium.

She rounded the tree and saw a figure, bent in half, with its head in its hands. She could have—and likely should have—taken this opportunity to leave, probably undetected. The person was crying and her staying was a violation of privacy. But she didn't leave. Instead, she reached in the inside pocket of her robes and pulled out a handkerchief. She extended the swatch to the person on the bench and waited for him to take it, which he did, looking up sheepishly.

"Are you hurt? Do you require assistance? I'm a healer."

"Yeah," the sniffler said. "So am I."

"You must be the intern."

"How do you know that?"

"There was only one person invited this term and I heard the intern was human."

"That's me. M'Benga. The human intern."

"I didn't intend any offense. I was only trying to answer your question, M'Benga."

"Geoffrey."

She tilted her head questioningly.

"My name is Geoffrey."

"I am Kril'es Ek Seleya."

"I can't pronounce your first name."

"Kril'es Ek is my surname. Seleya is my given name. You may address me as such."

"Well, thank you. Seleya like the mountain?"

"Yes."

"That's a beautiful name."

"You honor me."

"Say, since you did such a good job answering my first question, how about I pose another?"

"Very well."

"What is a Vulcan doing with a handkerchief? Where do you even buy one?"

"That is two questions, but I'll answer both." She sat on the bench next to him. A conversation would be a welcome diversion from the reason she'd come into the atrium in the first place and he seemed to want a distraction too. "I didn't buy it. It was given to me by my mother when I completed my training as a healer. It is necessary because I'm a mental health professional and marriage counselor, specializing in natural marriage bonds."

"I don't think I understand. Natural marriage bonds as opposed to what?"

"Traditional marriage bonds. Vulcan parents select a mate for their child when they are seven and the two children are bonded. That is tradition. In some instances however, adults will develop bonds on their own, whether they were bonded at seven or not. Those cases tend to be very complex."

"So do some of your patients cry?"

"I don't feel comfortable divulging that kind of information. But I can say that the people who come to me are troubled, sometimes tortured. And when one is that desperate, that which was previously impossible becomes quite possible indeed, maybe even unavoidable."

He folded the handkerchief in his lap and placed his hands neatly on top. "Your work sounds important."

"I like to think so. However there is great stigma on Vulcan surrounding mental illness and in certain circles natural bonds are considered a problem."

"Why?"

"Because they are not logical," she said gravely. "And that brings you to a total of eight questions. I will ask one now, one that perhaps is equivalent to eight."

"Shoot."

"I don't want to hurt you, Doctor."

"No, I meant go ahead. That's what humans mean when the say shoot in that context."

"I see. I'm not even armed. I wouldn't have been able to shoot you anyway."

"That's a comfort. Now, what's your question?"

"Nine. And my question is: Why were you crying?"

"You want the long version or the short version?"

"I want the true version."

"It's all too much and I can't do it. I'm hot and I'm tired! And I can't take any more racism. I think I should just cut my losses and go home."

"I'll address each one of your concerns individually. First, if the temperature is uncomfortable, you could purchase a cooling vest. A well-made vest can be worn discreetly under the clothes and no one else would have to know. Secondly, if you are tired, you should rest."

"But I can't. Because if I do, it looks like weakness. Thirty minutes into my shift, I've got doctors asking me if I need to take a rest—because I'm human. And no, I don't need a break after half an hour, but at some point during my sixteen hour work day, yes, I need to rest."

"Only you know your own limitations and you must respect them. And concerning the prejudice you're facing, I find it regrettable. But keep in mind that their words and actions do not shame you. They are shaming themselves. You are obviously a qualified physician or Chief Vess would not have invited you here. And from what I understand, you have become more than just an intern. The general consensus is that you're more of a protégé."

"Really?"

She nodded. "It could be that the illogical attitudes being directed toward you have less to do with your race and more to do with the fact that they're threatened by the attention you're getting from Vess."

"No, I still think it's a race thing."

"Perhaps it is both in equal measure."

"Perhaps. You know, this is the longest conversation I've had with anyone since I've been on this planet."

"I consider it a privilege."

"I think I could take the rest of it if I wasn't so isolated. I'm a social creature and all this alone time makes me uncomfortable. You have a solution for that?"

She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her knees, her hands folded primly between them. Then she turned her head to look at him. And she was beautiful, the kind of beauty that you can't take in all at once. "More conversations such as this?"

"Sounds logical."

"You'll find that's true of most things I say."

"Only most?"

"Logic is subjective, not an absolute."

"No?"

"No."

"Interesting."

"Indeed."

"Um, what are you doing for dinner? Do you eat dinner?"

"Today I do."

"With me?"

"Very well."

"I'll meet you at the main entrance at 2100?"

She nodded and stood. "Until 2100."

For the first time since arriving to Vulcan, he felt like he had something to anticipate. And though he didn't want to be eager, he felt like he was making a friend. A really, really pretty friend.

When he arrived at the main entrance, she was waiting for him, reading on one of the couches in the lounge area.

"What are you reading?"

"A play." She slid the PADD in her purse and they started for the door. "I have an appointment to see it later this week and I thought it would be prudent to re-familiarize myself with it."

"What's it about?"

"It's about a woman who treks across the forge alone because she's heard tales of Surak and she wants to join his cause."

"Sounds good."

"I've always found it interesting."

"I didn't know Vulcans had plays or anything like that." She looked at him flatly so he rushed to explain. "On earth, most of our plays and movies—entertainment in general, really—are about love or some other emotion. I just can't image what you write a play about if it's not emotional."

"It's a classic woman versus nature/woman versus society plot. It's about determination and the pursuit of a better way of life."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I have a lot to learn."

"In theory, we all do."

"You're very philosophical, aren't you?"

"It's side effect of treating the mind."

The restaurant was busier than he expected. There were groups of doctors he recognized from the hospital dining together. There were also couples who were definitely on dates, even if they weren't holding hand or gazing at each other all doe eyed.

He and Seleya were seated at a table near one of the windows. It provided him with a view of Vulcan he hadn't had before. People were strolling down the street, some of the pairs touching fingers, others not. Some of them were in casual clothes, others of them were more dressed up. Maybe they came from the theater, he thought to himself.

"Is this a typical Vulcan evening?" He nodded to the window and the scene outside.

She was in the middle of taking a sip of water and waited to sit it down before she spoke. "In Shi'Kahr."

"The city's alive."

"I don't think Vulcan life is as clinical as you imagine it is. We do find pleasure in life, in all the things that other people enjoy. We make time for our families and friends. We have music and art and dining establishments, even games and sports."

"It's all new to me, that's all. But since the internship is for four years, I guess I have plenty of time to learn."

"You've decided to stay?"

"Yup. If there's anything you can expect from humans, it's tenacity."

"Good. You'll need it."

Throughout dinner, she was kind enough to explain all the menu items and how they were supposed to be eaten. She gave him a few pointers on table manners, too. Like how even the food that looked like finger food was not finger food! She talked more about the play, reading excerpts where they were appropriate.

They settled the check evenly and left the restaurant. "This was really nice." He said, tucking his hands in his pockets. "I needed this."

"I come to serve."

"Did you drive to work?"

"I don't have a personal vehicle. I either walk or take public transport. Did you drive?"

"I don't have a car yet. I've been on the bus. I could walk from my apartment to the hospital, but the heat would kill me before I made it to the end of the street. I'm looking for a car but I just have no idea about how to go about it."

"I'd help, but I have no experience in this matter. My family has never owned one."

"Interesting."

"Not very."

"No. Not really," he agreed, fighting a small smile. "Anyway. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes. Good night."

"Good night. Sweet dreams." He started toward the bus stop but her voice stopped him.

"I don't dream."

"Then, sleep tight." She seemed equally puzzled by that statement, but he decided to leave it, since he could see his bus rounding the corner.

His apartment was quiet when he got home, but not in the sad way it had been quiet that morning. Thankfully, his music and players had arrived earlier that week, so he took out one of his vinyl records and put it on the turntable. What the music lacked in sound quality, it made up for in atmosphere.

He poured himself a glass of wine and stepped out onto his balcony. The city below him looked different now, not as inaccessible. Just a few moments ago, he'd been part of that throng, taking advantage of the mild night like everyone else.

He took his time finishing his drink and put the empty glass in the dishwasher, which he would start after he'd loaded tomorrow's breakfast dishes.

There were several messages waiting for him on his comm. The first was a reminder that he needed to pay his dues to the Interspecies Medial Exchange. The second was from his mother, who he affectionately called Admiral. In his loneliness, he'd done the most desperate thing he could image and actually reached out to his parents. She didn't respond to his letter, her communique was actually just a transfer of credits from her account to his. There was a message from his father, Commodore, to the same effect, but he'd attached a small note.

Proud of you, Son!

Geoff rolled his eyes but sent a response to both the Admiral and the Commodore. They were bankrolling all the personal expense involved in this venture, including the penthouse apartment he was writing them from. The one way they'd ever come through was financially and he saw no reason for that to stop now. They were happy to do it when they found out that he'd passed one of the most rigorous selection processes of any such program. Just like they'd been happy to send him to Harvard to earn his MD and Starfleet Academy after that. Not that they deserved much credit for that since all officers got to send their kids to the academy for free.

Still, he wasn't one to bite the hand that was literally feeding him, even if it was the least they could do. Their contributions allowed him to spend his salary on higher pursuits, like music and the dues for all the organizations he belonged to.

Once that was taken care of, he changed the record and took a shower. Unfortunately, the medium didn't let the music play indefinitely, so he switched to his digital collection and let his classical playlist put him to sleep.

He found Seleya in the atrium around the same time they'd been there before. He'd washed, pressed and folded her handkerchief before giving it back to her.

"I wonder why no one comes here." He mused, sitting on the bench.

"So have I. It seems like considerable cost could have been conserved if they had omitted it. It's a relatively new addition."

"Well, maybe that's why. People have their routines and if this isn't part of it, then why come here?"

"Why indeed."

"Why were you here yesterday?"

"I'd just finished with a particularly difficult case. I can't give you specifics but I can say that it was a severance." She explained when she saw how confused he looked. "I ended a natural bond, something I try to avoid at all cost and never recommend. They are much stronger than their traditional counterparts. Severance of any bond can be deadly. They'll live, though. But I don't know what kind of life they'll have. I am of the opinion that one cannot live long or have true peace if they are not bonded to the right person. And it was not easily done. They were deeply connected. It took hours."

"It sounds like surgery."

"It's like removing the heart from soul."

He took in a sharp breath. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

"If I hadn't, they would have gone to someone else, and they probably would have died. It requires a specialist. I understand the medical and metaphysical aspects of it. Priests and general physicians can't understand both sides of the issue, just one or the other."

"Where'd you learn?"

"A dual disciplinary program. I studied at a temple while I studied at the VSA."

"I can't imagine doing what you do."

"It's not always so tragic. Often times, it's very rewarding."

"I think you're the most interesting person I've ever met."

"I'm sure that's an exaggeration, but I'm flattered nonetheless."

Their conversations continued like that for the remainder of the week. They'd meet in the atrium for a few minutes. She would let him unload about his day, everything that wasn't protected by doctor patient privilege. Most of his complaints were about his workmates anyway. But he was thrilled by the things he was learning from the chief. And she appreciated hearing them, even secondhand. Insight into a mind like Vess's was an invaluable opportunity. She shared details too, speaking vaguely about a joining or a severance and how she'd processed it. Each one of her cases affected her, either for the better or the worse. There were occasions where she was so spent afterward that she could barely make it from the meditation rug to her chair. It was a relief to be able to admit that without any shame.

Four days after their initial meeting, Geoff was sure that he'd made a friend and could already tell that it was affecting his work. His bedside manner had improved, which was a considerable asset when dealing with non-Vulcan patients. He could focus more during his instructional hours and everything was generally better. The chief noticed his increased productivity too and brought it up as they traveled from the operating theater to the lecture hall across campus. The chief would be addressing a group of med students and Geoff had been invited to sit in.

"May I ask," he prompted, his fingers steepled in front of him as he walked, "what accounts for the difference?"

"I took care of some personal affairs that had been distracting me, sir."

"I see."

Elsewhere in the hospital, Seleya was escorting one of her patients to the main entrance. It had been a routine session with one of her couples.

"Until next time."

"Your service honors us, Healer Seleya." The husband looked at his wife in a way he never would have six months ago. The doctor inclined her head and watched as the exited the building, locked in the finger embrace.

She turned to go back to her office when she felt a hand grab her upper arm. Before she knew what was happening, her head was connecting with a wall and her feet were no longer on the ground. A small squeak escaped her as she tried to orient herself.

She was being held by a Vulcan male. All his features were contorted and his eyes were wide, flashing with something she couldn't presently identify. She kept his gaze deciding that this was not a time to show weakness. He had his hands fettered on both her arms and she was just close enough to the floor for her toe to graze the ground.

She stopped struggling and took a quick glance at her surroundings. Everyone in the bustling artery of the hospital had come to a standstill, astonished and uncertain.

She swallowed and looked back at him, directly in the eye. "Do you require assistance?"

"Confirm your identity," he growled.

"I am Kril'es Ek Seleya."

"I am not mad. I am not illogical."

"I believe you." She said sincerely. "Do you require assistance?" It was possible that this man had been improperly severed or that he was in the throes of the blood fever, either way, he required attention.

"It hurts."

"Tell me where."

Over his shoulder, she saw a security guard approaching. She tried to signal him to stop with her eyes but either he did not understand or he ignored her. The guard attempted to neck pinch the man, but before he could apply any pressure, he was sent flying across the lobby with a loud roar.

"Do not touch me! Tell them not to touch me!"

"No one touch him. The situation is well in hand."

The guard landed at Geoff and Vess' feet just as they reached the main entrance. They looked up quickly to track the direction he'd come from and saw Seleya, being shaken, keeping a completely placid face.

"Seleya!" M'Benga started to run in that direction but was snatched back by the chief.

"Kroyka!" She commanded. "The situation is well in hand. What is your name, sir?" She asked him calmly.

"I am not V'tosh Katur. I am not mad." His voice quivered as his lip trembled. She could see the tears building in his eyes.

"No. you're not. A mad man would not have come seeking help. Your very presence here is proof that you are sane. Please, Sir, tell me your name,"

"Selden."

"Greetings Selden. Live long and prosper."

All of a sudden his grip on one of her arms went completely lax while the other slid down to her wrist as he dropped to his knees.

"Peace and long life," he nearly sobbed. "Help me. It hurts."

"I am a psychiatrist and a marriage counselor. If you require a general practitioner, Selden..."

"I'm a GP," M'Benga volunteered. Somehow, he'd managed to edge his way to the front of the crowd and was still moving closer. The chief was directly behind him.

"Get away from me," Selden warned.

"Do you need my help?"

"This doesn't concern you!"

"Okay, alright. I get it. You don't need me, but I'm guessing you need her. Right? And I don't know if you've noticed, but her hand is turning green, so I think you're holding her a little tight, maybe loosen up a bit?"

He looked at his hand as if he were seeing it for the first time. His sobs came fully now as he put both of his hands on his thighs and bowed his head.

"I am not insane. I am not illogical. I am not V'tosh Katur."

Seleya kneeled in front of him and handed him her handkerchief. "I know, Selden. I can help you. I can make it stop hurting. But I can't treat you here. Come to my office."

Geoff gave her a wide-eyed warning look, shaking his head vigorously.

She stood slowly and waited for the patient to do the same and allowed him to follow her down the corridor.