Chapter 11

"Love is patient, Love is Kind…" – The Bible I Corinthians 13:4

When she finally saw Spock, her face didn't light up, nor did her heart feel strong. She actually reared up and slapped him so hard that his face bore a green bruise in the shape of her hand. She reared up to do it again, but he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her into the safe-house. Sulu, McCoy and Scotty were all sniggering slightly.

"I like this girl," Sulu said, grabbing the baggage from the car that had brought them to the safe-house in the middle of the French countryside. This was the family home, a place completely secluded from the outside world. There was no connection to anything, and the only people who knew about it were those closest to Le Chevalier, and now Nyota. The same Nyota that was fighting against his Vulcan grip and that very same Nyota whom he picked up as if she were a rag doll and threw down softly onto a cushioned sofa; he turned to lock the room, knowing that she was in for a row or a fuck, whichever he cared not.

"You bastard!" she said, running up to slap him again. He took this one, it rattled his teeth. He'd heard that women got a bit stronger when pregnant, must have been the part-Vulcan blood flowing within her. His face remained stoic, knowing that her anger would subside.

"Fuck you Spock," she hit him over and over again, and tears washed out of her eyes. He grabbed her into a strong embrace and held her until she stopped crying. When he looked down at her, she was still slightly angry, but she grabbed his head down in a kiss anyway. It was the best kiss of his life after not seeing her for so long.

Sulu, Scotty and McCoy, after hearing the angered ranting of a mad, pregnant woman, were then entreated to the sultry sounds of their friend and leader getting ridden like a racehorse. Glass was broken, the bed was creaking, and the guttural moans of The Chev were ever-so audible. This continued for the better part of an hour until a hard, harsh, deep tone escaped masculine and throaty, and a silky sigh of relief followed. All three men looked at one another, took their drinks and clinked them together.

"To Nyota, we really, really, like this girl!" They all said in unison and drank to their new lady.

She lay curled comfortably at his side, stroking the sparse hairs of his chest. He was actually smiling dumbly at the thought of what had just happened. His father was correct; Le Chevalier had indeed gotten his betters.

"I have much I need to explain to you," He said.

"I know you do, so start explaining."

"You must understand, when we made love the first time I was afraid… to be sure…the feelings I felt... they caused me to hold back…"

"Spock, I care not about the past, but our future is important, and therefore I need for you to be completely candid with me. It is no longer me who is the untrustworthy one. I have come all of this way to be with you. I didn't run away once I found out I was having your child. I need to know everything or so help me, I will pack my things and leave right now," she sat up, her hair falling over one shoulder, shading one beautiful chocolate nipple from his view. Pregnancy was a beautiful beast on her, he noted, and then turned his head back to more important things.

"We need to take a turn about the grounds then," Spock said, standing and donning his clothes. She followed suit. When they exited, the common area was empty, Spock knowing that his friends had probably escaped to other parts of the home as to give the two of them some privacy. The air was crisp and clear as they exited the mansion that was surrounded by fields and fields of purple lavender, scenting the air with calming expression. She ran through the purple sea with Spock's hand, and he followed willingly behind her, having always wanted to be carried away on the wings of love the way he was now. When they happened upon a distance from the house, he turned her toward it and stopped her.

"This is my family home, has been for centuries. Before many of the wars, before the Americas this home existed, and so has the legend of Le Chevalier. His name is Medieval. But the legend grew in intensity during the time of French aristocracy. He stole something very rare and beautiful for Marie Antoinette and was knighted, thus taking the name Le Chevalier. Like many thieves, he survived the Revolution by playing both sides and being a spy for Napoleon's reign of terror. He was given more land in which to build by Napoleon as thanks for his intrigue during the war. After, much didn't befall; there was peace for Le Chevalier until the world wars, where his beloved France was surely in peril…"

"Spock… stop… this makes no sense. I know that Vulcans live long, but not that long… skip to the end."

"I suppose you're right, as I have not been completely forward, and I did promise to be candid. Let me start from only one generation ago… the story of a young woman named Amanda Grayson, a beautiful French lady…

Her family didn't believe in the turgidity of technology that had befallen the graces of every community of the small town outside of Provence. She enjoyed the comforts of country living, and if ever she wanted to exert herself into the world of technological intrigue she could just go into the bustling cities. It wasn't as if her parents had shielded her from the real world as it were, she knew how to use every modern convenience, for she knew that they were preparing her for something more fearsome and charismatic than to be some country maid. She was known, and those that lived around them respected her and in a way feared her.

It wasn't until the nearing death of her father, who had been stricken with some form of cancer or another, that all had been revealed to her as it had been revealed to him on the deathbed of his father before her. She sat, holding hands with her father, listening to the tale of the men that had come before him and even the stories that he'd garnered on his travels in duty to the lineage. That day, as her father breathed his last breath, she was ushered from the room and into a deep hidden cove by a group of hooded men; the place was familiar, as she'd heard about it in the stories from her childhood. She was put through a ceremony of quiet familiarity and then dubbed Le Chevalier. From that day on, her life would be increasingly more difficult; she was seventeen years old.

Amanda was sent to the best of schools, studied with the best of tutors. She was entreated by the strictest moralist that taught her how to act, the brightest philosophers who told her how to think, martial artist that trained her body and mind into a deathly target, and novelist to see what she could get away with. In the end, she was given the attitude of win or die.

And win she did.

She was the most noted and notorious of thieves, given to stakes of flying fancy, and an intuition that was second to none. In the twenty-third century, she became the most valiant and mercurial of all of her predecessors, with a following so strong and ceded that when she went to retire, those that would have her head or her heart were utterly torn flat.

It wasn't until the summer of her life, when she was truly blessed with what one would call true calm. She could traverse with the popular citizenry as one known only as Amanda. She spoke the most flawless of French, and gave no intimation of her alter ego. And though she lived gracefully and with the most blissful of peace in the home that she'd grown to love on the outskirts of Provence, she was teased into one last score that would be her undoing.

On the day that she would later recall as her last stand, she was greeted at her door by a man that was no more than five feet tall, but dressed in a suit and carrying a large satchel of money, which was to be a down payment. How he'd found this secret hideaway she knew not, but when she welcomed him inside and he showed her the money he kept in the satchel the offer he gave was one she could not refuse.

He wanted her to steal a precious Vulcan opal. The Vulcan aristocracy was to be visiting the planet earth and with them they were carrying a prized Vulcan opal to the Louvre. She wouldn't have to travel far, and the job seemed easy enough. She acknowledged, gave the man the coordinates, and made sure that he would never be able to find his way back to her home again. No, she did not kill the man, only made sure that his memory was wiped of all traces.

The night of the ball, she eased breathlessly through the garishly lit doors of the Louvre wearing a dress that one could only call fire red when all other women would wear dour purples and greens. She had nothing to fear, she was the best at her craft, and wanted to take these fools, Vulcans or no, for what she deemed as the esteem of her trade. She, knowing how to act in society, bowed when she was supposed, proffered her hand for kissing, and laughed and spoke when appropriate. All at the affair knew that the woman known as Amanda was a pure delight. She was on her second glass of the champagne when she spotted him, the keys to her downfall. He stood stock straight and tall in the middle of other men, dressed in the delightful colors of Vulcan dignity, she was being whisked about the floor by some man or the next and yet her eyes could not stop fleeting to his. He was tall and handsome but something about his carriage longed for more than just this moment in time, and she knew her undoing. The whispered warnings of her father echoed in her ears, but she paid no attention, and for a moment she'd forgotten the reason for her coming to the occasion. When their eyes caught, he answered her question. The eloquent dance of those that had instantly felt a surge of intensity, and in spite of herself, she smiled at him.

He felt a stirring in him that caused him to leave his fellows in the group and make his way through the large crowd towards the dashing lady in red. She walked away; afraid of what would happen, coming upon a balcony and alone with her thoughts and feelings. He met her there, sure that his feet had led him toward a path of ignorance. Never had he been swept away by something so light and delicate and yet intense.

"Will you walk with me?" His voice deep and low and stirring.

"Why do you ask me, when there are so many others who would be willing to accept that offer?"

"You are the only that I find that I want to walk with," was his response. She smiled back, and took the steps down from the balcony and into the shaded grounds of night to be alone.

"I am Sarek, of Vulcan," she knew whom he was and inwardly laughed. It was exactly his family that she was to be stealing from. Despite this fact, she could not help herself.

"I am Amanda," she responded.

"I have heard tell from many. You have impressed the whole ball. I wanted to know you for myself."

"Know me, an interesting choice of words," she could see that he greened, "do Vulcans ever know anyone but their wives?"

"I believe you to think me to mean more than I do."

"Then you've read far too into my word, a trait of your race, I presume. Anyway, sit with me for a while if you wish. I have nothing to do for the time being," and she meant it. She was there to case the place until the ending of the gala. He being there was truly only the icing upon the proverbial cake.

They sat for what seemed like hours and talked of everything from Shakespeare to the modern technology to the traditions that kept them beholden to their very lives. He told her of how he detested these functions and how she detested them even more. He even let slip a secret of his timorous heart of how he felt trapped in the roles set upon him, of how the pressure of simply living in his culture didn't seem correct or right in him. She held his hand at this and they kissed in his way, she not really knowing what to do but the feeling was intimate and enchanting as their energies hummed from finger to finger. And then they kissed in her way, their lips touching and all of the passion and feeling he'd held back for ages flowing forward from lips to sacred lips. When it was time for them to part, his hands had stretched to the whole of her back, looking for the zipper of the dress as to take her on the very ground that they stood. She invited it; her small frame leaned so closely into him as to feel the heat of his hardness beneath his robes.

"I do not wish to part from you," he responded.

"And the gods willing, we will not be parted. But you have your duties and I have mine," she said with one last kiss to his cheek. With a blink of an eye, she had escaped into the darkness, with only the ruffling of her skirts of to give her away. He wanted to give chase, but his footman came to him, summoning him to the commencement ceremony that was taking place in the gala. He did not see her again for the rest of the night.

"Spock, stop," Nyota paused him in the telling of the story. Spock looked at her with only a slight annoyance in the pausing. Surely, he knew that she would have question, he only wished she'd waited until after the telling. He said that all would be revealed.

"Yes?" he asked, hoping his voice did not betray him. Her head had been laying in his lap as she listened intently, but she'd sat straight up with her question.

"You mean to tell me that Le Chevalier of recent legend was your mother?"

"One and the same, will you let me finish?" He asked. She nodded and he continued.

That night Amanda committed her last of the largest crimes attributed to Le Chevalier, she stole the Grand Vulcan Opal from the Louvre. The next day, she met in secret with the soon to be Vulcan ambassador in a small café close to her small village. They talked and laughed and kissed for the whole day, and in a daring move, Amanda, forgoing the earlier warnings of her parents, brought him to the family home. She didn't quite tell him everything, but he'd guessed, as Vulcans are hard to trick. And that night they'd spent together was to be the most poignant of each of their lives. It was the night that Spock had been conceived. Sarek returned to Vulcan the next morning, neither of them aware of the child growing inside of Amanda.

The night of Amanda's death was dearly hard for Spock. She wasn't frail or sick; she simply passed away from what seemed like grief. He was young, only seventeen, the same age as she had been when he reached majority. He held her hand through the fever and the sick as she recounted the symbolic stories her father had told to her on his death bed. She asked that he make a choice; a choice between duty and freedom. When her last breaths left her body, the same men masked and covered in red cloaks took him to the exact same room, as familiar as it had been for Amanda from memory, and Knighted him. He knew what his choice was, despite the easier one that he could have made.

"For some time, I tried to escape my fate, but in the mix, found Jim and Sulu and Scotty, and I knew what I had to do. I had to become what is in my nature," Spock finished.

"You once asked me what I wanted out of this."

"I never thought that I could have given you a child," Spock responded rather sheepishly.

"Spock, honestly?"

"Despite my being male, I am a hybrid. Much like the mule, there was no guarantee that I was able to reproduce without the intervening of science. It was the hope of my father and the last wish of my mother that the lineage of Le Chevalier would die out with me."

"Then it will be our child's choice, despite our wishes."

By the time the story was finished they had wandered the length of the grounds and the sun was setting orange and pink over the horizon of the lavender sea. She took his hand in hers and walked slowly towards the warm comforts of the dimly lit home, hearing the cheers and raucous of her newly found friends.

When they entered the home, they were greeted by cheers from each man, and hugs and bows of congratulations. She was enticed into her new family and given non-alcoholic cider to toast with.

"These are my knights and closest friends, Sulu, McCoy, and Scotty. Jim unfortunately could not be here tonight as we will have to devise a plan to rescue him."

"Self-sacrificing, narcissistic bastard," Sulu responded.

"You know it was all for that green trim he did it. If we could just get him to stop doing things for women, we'd be set," Scotty added. Nyota laughed heartily.

"Gentlemen, gentleman, it was all a part of the master plan," Spock responded, reclining gently with Nyota upon his lap.

"Here we go," Scotty said.

"You know it would be nice to know the plan within a plan before it happens for once. This is his idea of a joke, I hope you can bear him, Nyota," Sulu said. She almost started at hearing her true name said from the lips of a virtual stranger. But the delight of it took away from her distress. She sipped her cider and smiled.

"I can bear it," she responded coyly.

"Oh, we heard that you can. Any woman that can get to this Vulcan's underbelly is mighty fine in our book," Scotty joked, his face red from too much drink.

"To know all of his secrets, especially of his family, that is a bitch," Sulu said.

"Indeed, mother and uncle feud…" Scotty started and Spock regarded him with large eyes that pleaded with him to stop. Scotty didn't finish the sentence, and Uhura regarded Spock with angry eyes.

"Why did you stop Monte? I am curious," she said without looking away from Spock. The Vulcan exhaled and rubbed a hand down his chin to his lips ending with a thin-lipped smile.

"My mother had a brother and me an uncle. He was born after her and therefore not entitled to the same venture as my mother. He was given to flights of fancy as well, but guarded to the strict nature of what is right. He was a Grayson by birth, but after much quarrel with my maternal father left the home in search for an identity that would give him solemnity within our home. He turned down the path of good, but succumbed to the evil that he thought was the path of Le Chevalier. You see, my love, I may be a thief, but I am honest. I do not seek to harm those around me with malice or otherwise. I only seek to take what is from the pompous aristocrats that do not give back to whom they enslave. My uncle is a man made wealthy by the filth that is slavery; he would enslave me if he could."

"What are you telling me?" Nyota said her hand at her chest in shock.

"My mother's brother and my uncle is the one you know as Christopher Pike."

"Do you think he will come for us?" Gaila asked Jim. She was caged next to him in what seemed to be a dimly lit and dank wine cellar. He was chained and shackled much as he and badly beaten.

"No doubt in my mind. Nyota is with him and safe. He is devising a plan. We cannot begin to doubt now. I am his oldest friend." Jim thought of Spock happily in the homely house on the outskirts of Provence. He wished to be there drinking to victory, conjuring new strategies. He knew this was it, the last ride of Le Chevalier and his knights.

"I would feel better if I weren't caged and waiting to be carted off to some part of the galaxy as some man's new wife."

"Don't worry, there is a plan," him said. The sounds of shackles coming off of him roused Gaila and she smiled knowingly. She watched as his hands magically appeared before and the shackled fell off.

"You bastard."

"Indeed. Can I help you, my lady?" He asked.

"In every way possible," she said. He walked over to the cage and undid the lock, and then undid her shackles. She ran her hands over her bruised wrists and neck and stretched long.

"This is our job, we are to infiltrate Pike's camp and set free all of his slaves. There is one in particular to look for; he goes by the name of G.U. We take him with us back to the home place," Jim said, standing in front of Gaila and really seeing her for the first time since they'd been reunited. In spite of himself, he reached forward and grabbed her by the neck and pulled her into a kiss. It was a bruising kiss, very passionate, and he felt her skin warm against him.

"There, that's how I feel. I never wanted this for you, G, you have to understand that."

"I chose this because I chose to be with you, just like Nyota. You know us women; you can't make us do anything we don't want to do."

"And what do you want to do?"

"Oh Jim, you fool, you know I could never stay away," she ruffled his hair and lead the way from the dank cell where they were being kept. She grabbed the utility knife that she'd found in his back pocket and picked the lock that was holding the old, wood-rotted door.

"I could've kicked that down," Jim said.

"This is a covert operation, let's not make any noise."

"Good thinking. I missed you, you know."

"I know you did, I deserve to be missed," she said, slinking around a crate of wine and looking for any type of weapon. Jim peaked his head over the crate of wine and noticed that they were happily alone, no guards.

"Where do you think we are?" Jim asked.

"I've no idea; Pike has innumerous amounts of homes in varying places around the world. We could be anywhere," Gaila said, seeing a peeling of yellow light coming from the top of stone steps. They were indeed in a wine cellar, so she knew they were inside of a home.

"Ladies first," Jim said, and Gaila regarded him with annoyed eyes. She took the first, slow steps up the stairs and inched the door open. She signaled to Jim to join her and he rushed up next to her.

Surprisingly, there were no guards, so Gaila assumed that this was a home for entertaining and not for the work that Pike was also known for doing. She and Jim sneaked up and out into a completely empty kitchen. There was no greater way of telling what country you were in than by the food that was hastily put away in the kitchen. Gaila and Jim happily knew that they'd hit the jackpot. Jim opened the cabinets and Gaila hit the fridge both of them looking for both food and clues. Jim found Jewel Osco brand cheese and smiled warmly, he knew that brand from his time in Midwest United States.

"I think we're in Chicago," Jim smiled, taking a large bite of the hunk of cheese.

"Awesome," Gaila said through a bite of a ham sandwich she'd made. Jim smiled at her and nodded his head towards the exit of the kitchen.

The rest of the house was blessedly desolate; the furniture covered with tarps and old sheets to keep the dust from coating it in the absence of the owner. Gaila and Jim treaded lightly despite the fact that they seemed alone, just in case this was a diversion. They searched the house completely, looking for any sight of life and found none. They made their way up the large stairway towards the guest chambers, not finding anything but one locked door.

"If ever there was a time to kick down a door, Jim," Gaila offered a hand. Jim smiled and kicked at the door, shaking the heavy oak a bit but not breaking it. He kicked again and he door went flying off of its hinges. There was a deep smell of funk and the room was covered with cages much like the ones that she and Jim had been kept in. The room was relatively empty except for the still form of an older black man.

"Jim, he's breathing, hurry," Gaila said, making quick work of the lock and Jim undoing the man's shackles. The man had been badly beaten and left for dead it seemed. The man was so thin that he seemed as if he hadn't eaten for days. His lips were dry and the skin cracked and marbled on his lips from lack of water. Gaila had never seen the horrors of the slave trade up close but now she understood why she'd said yes to Spock's proposition in the first place. Pike had to be stopped. As an Orion woman, she'd known many of her friends that had chosen the way of servitude, she herself had once been a courtesan, but she had never wished the type of slavery that was so common amongst her people upon any other species. The trading of people sickened her and her yellow blood chilled.

"Sir, sir, open your eyes, please…" Gaila whispered, watching as the man opened his hazel eyes under long lashes.

"Beautiful green woman, are you an angel?" the man whispered over chapped lips.

"No, I'm just a woman that's here to help. My name's Gaila, can you walk?" she asked, the man nodded as she helped him out of the cage and onto shaky legs. Jim returned from the kitchen with some water and a small bite of bread for the man, and they allowed the man to drink and eat slowly while he came to.

"This is Jim, how did you get here?"

"I am G.U., I was leading my small gypsy troupe and carnival folk through the Midwest, and we were told that we would get good work from a man named Pike. When we arrived, he took the women and the young girls and separated them from the men. He sold the women as wives, killed a lot of the men and husbands, and took the young boys and gave them to militia groups as soldiers. He beat me and left me here to die in my guilt and sadness," the man said with we eyes filled with tears.

"We were sent to find you by a very special person. Will you trust us?" Gaila said.

"Who is looking for me?"

"Le Chevalier, even we do not know why, but he has asked us to find a man fitting your description and your name to take back with us to his private home."

"Le Chevalier, the master thief?" G.U. asked.

"That very same, we are his knights," Jim said happily.

"I will come with you, maybe he can help me save some of my people."

"Great. Now to find a way out of this hell-hole," Gaila said

Nyota sat on the front porch of her new home, not really feeling at ease with her new position in life as the wife of an international criminal, nor as the mother of his child. For the first time, she felt the weight of her old life and her new life coming into fruition. She would not choose her old life of being a courtesan over the love and closeness that she felt for Spock or for her unborn child. And happily, she knew that this was as close as she could be to having her cake and eating it too. Spock was currently away from the house, he was out to pick up Gaila and Jim from the shuttleport. It was rare that he went himself, and the buzzing between the house had been quite small since they'd heard of Jim and Gaila's survival. But Spock felt the need to meet his friend and partner face to face, so Nyota sat and waited for his return. She knew now that this waiting would be more a part of her life than she ever realized. If someone would have asked her six months earlier if she thought she'd be pregnant with the baby of an international thief, she would have laughed in their faces and walked away.

Funny how life works out.

She snickered aloud.

"What's so funny?" McCoy asked as he sat in a rocking chair next to her on the front porch.

"Just thinking about… about life," she mused.

"An expectant mother generally does those things. You worried?" he asked in a voice that was clear and southern and romantic against the lavender fields. There was a dark glow of pink in the setting sun of dusk and the winds blew briskly over the fields.

"No, I know, somehow that everything will be just fine," she rubbed her hand over her swelling belly and felt a sharp rumble. The look of shock alerted the doctor.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"The baby kicked… wow!" In the distance she heard the rumble of a car, it was Spock, and she stood to watch the car pull slowly into the long driveway. She stood and walked towards him, ready to see his face. Spock stood from the car and walked to the back opening the door to a man that looked vaguely familiar as she neared. Her eyes went from Spock to the man and as she neared all the memories of years ago came rushing back. The memories of his face as she last saw him, though they were lined from years of age she knew whom he was, and her feet carried her quickly to him. When she reached him, he turned to look at her, his eyes thinking that he was envisioning a ghost. They stood an arm's length apart, not speaking only staring.

"G-gideon…" she said and then the tears came, her hands running to his face, "father." Jim and Gaila stared at Spock and then back at one another. That was why Spock had specifically asked for them to find him.

"Nyota," Gideon asked, looking at her and smiling widely and then running his hands over her swollen belly, "my child."

They embraced strongly, tears running wildly down their faces.

"You must explain to me, are you Le Chevalier?" Gideon asked.

"No, but my husband is, him," Nyota pointed to Spock, who seemed like the humbled driver of a car to the eyes of Gideon. The old man bowed low and Spock bowed low as well in mutual respect.

"You brought me my father back," she ran to Spock and hugged him.

"Children need grandparents," Spock said, holding her closely.

"All this emotion is making me hungry, let's eat eh?" McCoy said, clapping Jim on the back.