Kirk spent a miserable evening and slept little that night. Hour after hour he tossed restlessly in his sleeping bag, listening to the night sounds, listening most of all to his smarting conscience. How could it have happened? How could he have risked so much just to satisfy some fleeting prurient urge? The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became. He may have been able to bluff McCoy, but what if T'Beth went running to her father? And why shouldn't she? His stomach knotted as he recalled an incident that happened when the girl was only eleven. Angry with him, she had threatened to go to Spock with some trumped up sexual allegations. That time he had been innocent. He had been outraged. Well, he wasn't so damn innocent this time, was he? He wished to God that he had never asked T'Beth along on this trip.

Across the campsite, T'Beth stretched and sighed. There was no way she could sleep tonight, with the memory of Jim's kiss so fresh and disturbing. She could still feel the touch of his body, the moist pressure of his mouth exploring hers. So different from Torlath, the way the Klingon had left her sickened and disgusted, feeling dirty. With Jim it was good. She had never felt like this about anyone, not even Matt Perlman on Vulcan. How could it have happened so suddenly? What did it mean? Did Jim really love her? Did he really want her? She imagined kissing him again—and then she thought of her father, the way he had looked at her when she was talking about being a Sy-witch. What if it was true? What if Jim had only kissed her because…because, deep down that was what she wanted? Not because of his own feelings, but because of some weird power she held over him? How would she know? How could she ever know? Curled up in her sleeping bag, she wondered.

Doctor McCoy lay on his back, looking up at the tree branches silhouetted against the moon. Just a few weeks ago Jim, Spock, and him had sat around this very campfire, friends. Now they were at each other's throats—and if what he suspected was true, things were sure to get worse. My God, this was certainly a new wrinkle! What the hell had Jim been thinking? Or was T'Beth doing his thinking for him? McCoy couldn't get their guilty faces out of his mind. Oh yes, he knew that look. He had glimpsed Jim leaning over T'Beth and noticed the way she lit out of there. Not hard to figure what they had been up to in those trees. Now he could only hope that he had jolted Jim back to his senses, even if T'Beth was working some weird kind of spell. And as for Spock—Lord help them all if he found out about it, but with any luck he'd be too preoccupied with his own hormones to pay much attention to anyone but his female companion.

Lauren had lain awake for some time when she heard Spock get up. Quietly he put on his shoes and left camp, his footsteps scarcely making a sound on the thick layer of pine needles. Rising up on an elbow, she peered into the night. Minutes crawled by, then half an hour. Finally she rose and setting her flashlight to its lowest setting, went looking for him. The trail he had taken led through thick woods for a quarter mile, then widened into a small open area. She stopped at the edge of the trees and switched off her flashlight. A full moon illuminated the clearing well enough for her to see him, sitting motionless near its center. Whether he was meditating or just gazing at the stars, some interior prompting warned her to respect his privacy. The Vulcan wall was up. Spock had been in and out from behind that wall ever since his brother's death. He had a right to grieve, but she could not help thinking there was something more on his mind than Sybok. Talk to me, her heart cried, but there was only a disquieting silence. She walked back to the camp alone.

Spock looked at the place where Lauren had been standing. Even as she moved away he could sense her need for him, yet he had failed to respond. He did not understand his ambivalence. At Ribbon Falls he had wasted the perfect opportunity to approach her about their future together. He had let his concerns about T'Beth stop him. For the first time in many years Spock found himself wishing for a father's advice. But even if Sarek were sitting here beside him, at this very moment, their relationship would not allow such a personal discussion. He was entirely on his own. Gazing up at the star-swept sky, he let his mind wander.

oooo

It was chilly in the morning. Everyone sat bundled in coats, eating McCoy's pancakes around the campfire. Later, Kirk watched as Spock approached his daughter and invited her on a tour of the giant sequoias.

"Why would I want to look at more trees?" T'Beth said scornfully. Her eyes settled with venom on the slim blonde figure across the camp. "Take her. I'm sure she'd like to go with you."

The Vulcan gave her a severe look and suggested, "If you are so tired of looking at trees, I can return you home—at once."

T'Beth folded her arms across her chest. "I just want to be with Jim, that's all."

Kirk spoke up. "You should go with your father." Spock and T'Beth turned to him, surprise evident on both their faces. Lamely Kirk added, "The sequoias are worth seeing."

"I don't care," T'Beth said. "I'd rather be with you."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Spock turned and walked away. T'Beth's little smirk of triumph made Kirk feel like giving her a good shake. He brusquely gestured toward the river trail and said, "We need to talk."

She followed him a short distance from camp. It was colder here, away from the campfire. Burying his hands in his coat pockets, Kirk faced her. "Look—I'm tired of the way you're acting. You can't go around hurting people all the time. Spend the day with your father, it won't kill you."

"But I don't want to," she said, her semi-Vulcan brows drawn together in a stubborn frown.

Kirk sighed in frustration. "T'Beth. What happened yesterday…at the river—it was a mistake. It was wrong and I take full responsibility. It should never have happened and it won't ever happen again. You have my word."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You're sorry you kissed me."

Kirk felt his resistance slipping away. All at once he was gripped by a distressing urge to take her into his arms and show her how he really felt about that sweet stolen kiss, and about her. "Yes. Yes, I am sorry. T'Beth, listen to me. I don't want to hurt you, but I…I can't…we can't…" He drew a deep breath. "T'Beth, you have to go with your father."

Tears spilled down her face. Setting her jaw, she swallowed hard. "If you don't want me around, just say so—but I'm still not going with him."

"Then I guess you're spending the day with Bones."

"Sounds like a wonderful idea!" Abruptly she strode away.

"T'Beth!" he called after her. Stopping in her tracks, she turned, eyes flaming. Kirk steeled himself. "You may not think Spock deserves any prizes as a father, but he certainly deserves better than you give him."

Coolly she asked, "Is this about him—or about us?"

"Both."

Turning her back on him, she said, "Go to hell."

oooo

It was too fine a morning to waste on the illogic of regrets. As Spock hiked beside Lauren, an old Earth adage came to mind: "Every cloud has a silver lining". In this instance, it seemed true. T'Beth's refusal to accompany him meant spending another day alone with Lauren Fielding. Since both of them had already seen the sequoias, they mutually decided to forgo the groves and instead chose an area less frequented by tourists. They spent the morning exploring a particularly thick area of forest. The light that penetrated the dense overgrowth of branches was pale and restful. There was an awesome sense of stillness and seclusion in this part of Yosemite.

Shortly after noon they stopped for lunch. The day had grown warm and humid. Lauren spread a ground cloth and they sat down to eat the simple food they had brought—bread, cheese, fruit. Somewhere far above them a cloud settled over the sun, plunging them into even deeper shadow.

"You've been awfully quiet," Lauren observed. "In fact, you've been quiet for days."

"Yes," Spock said, and fell silent again before admitting, "I have been thinking."

Lauren laughed uneasily. "You're always thinking."

Spock's eyes took in the thickly wooded area. His every sense told him they were alone here—completely alone. Finally he said, "I have been thinking…about you."

Wind sighed through the treetops and birds chattered.

"Oh," Lauren said at last. "Is that what you were doing last night?"

"Yes."

Changing position, she looked into his face. Her blue eyes opened wide with the effort to understand him. "Would I be pleased with these thoughts of yours?"

It was awhile before Spock answered. "I am not sure."

Lauren leaned back against a tree and was silent.

Spock could sense her uneasiness, her confusion. "Lauren," he said gently, "I did not mean to upset you. Your company gives me much pleasure…more even than I can express…"

"But?" She would not even look at him.

"Lauren…" He faltered, painfully aware of his clumsiness in such personal matters. "The bond that has formed between us is stronger than I had initially thought possible. You have a high PSI rating for a human."

"For a human," she repeated dryly. "I see."

Growing frustrated, he shook his head. "I did not intend it to be derogatory, but merely a statement of fact. I want you to understand the nature of our bond." Though Lauren's eyes were on the trees, she was clearly listening. "Vulcans consider this type of connection a trial link only, and use it to test their compatibility before…before committing themselves to a more…binding relationship. After a period of time—traditionally, six months—the link is either severed or formalized."

Lauren met his gaze and her mouth opened. "It's been six months since…" she seemed to color slightly, "since that day at the beach house."

"Yes." The day they first joined their thoughts fully. There was so much he had planned to say, but suddenly none of it seemed appropriate. Once more he thought of his father, like himself, proposing marriage to a human. He wondered if Sarek had experienced this much difficulty. It was enough to make Spock question the logic of his decision—yet he had only to gaze into the blue depths of Lauren's eyes—those eyes that set his heart pounding—to know he must forge ahead.

Spock stood. Clearing his throat, he searched for words that would please a human female. "Lauren—" he began, and then broke off as a noise in the forest distracted him. As he looked toward the scuffling, Lauren turned to see for herself. A small dark creature was nosing through the shadows.

"What is it?" Lauren said under her breath. "A dog?"

That, too, had been Spock's first impression…until he became aware of a second, much larger animal lumbering up behind him. He turned. He heard Lauren suck in her breath as the huge brown beast reared up on its hind legs and let out a roar.

"Watch out!" Lauren cried.

oooo

McCoy gritted his teeth as he preceded T'Beth down a nature trail. Despite her foot-dragging, he could not get far enough ahead to escape the maddening din of her so-called music. Tuned to a regional pop station, it blared the discordant beat and squawk that the kids favored these days, interrupted only by the mindless babble of advertisements. At last, something he could relate to. A weather report. "…and over gorgeous Yosemite Park, you can expect unsettled conditions later this afternoon, with thunderstorms continuing into the evening hours. Sorry, campers. Better head for those tents…"

"Good," T'Beth muttered. "I hope it rains all over them and their—"

McCoy wheeled. "You say something?"

"No," she replied with a sour expression.

McCoy jabbed a finger at her. "Turn that racket off! You're scaring away the wildlife!"

Sullen-faced, she touched a control at her ear and the outward noise subsided. With a sigh of relief, McCoy continued up the trail, binoculars flopping against his chest. Why is it, he wondered, that I always end up playing father to Spock's child? Like telling her the truth about her Sy heritage when Spock should have done the telling. And boy, was the Vulcan sore now. And today T'Beth was downright ornery. He knew for a fact that she enjoyed the outdoors. Yet here she was, acting as if she hated every minute of it. As if, perhaps, there was someone else she would rather be with. Not her father—she'd made that abundantly clear. So guess who?

The trail opened unexpectedly into a meadow surrounded by a pleasant green tangle of berry bushes and vines. Far enough, McCoy decided. It wasn't going to get any prettier than this. Sitting down in the thick grass, he scanned the area with his binoculars. The sheer face of El Capitan towered above the forest, but he avoided looking at it, fearing who he might see clinging to its rocky surface. Where had Jim gone today? What was he up to?

"Oh gosh." T'Beth sank down with a bored expression. "Isn't this fun."

Ignoring her, McCoy lay back in the blowing meadow grass, put his hands under his head, and gazed up at the mounding clouds threatening the sun. "Looks like the weatherman's right," he said, pleased at the idea. Might just have to abort this sorry excuse for a vacation. Send Jim packing back to the Enterprise. Get T'Beth clear away from him for a while.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt sure that T'Beth had been actively involved in whatever happened between those two. Even given Jim's reputation with the ladies, he just could not believe that the captain would willfully lay a hand on Spock's daughter, or any teenage kid for that matter. There had to have been more to it. Some sort of enticement on T'Beth's part.

McCoy turned his attention on the girl. Her eyes were closed, dark hair swaying over her shoulders as she moved to the invisible beat of her headset. Sixteen? Despite her height, she seemed younger to him. Maybe it was because she was thin. Maybe it was because she was acting so childish. But this "child" had seen one helluva lot of life already. More than most people saw—or wanted to see—in an entire lifetime. And as for that Sy blood of hers… Uh-huh. Best to get her away from Jim. Best to get her clear away.

oooo

Spock's blood raced as he took stock of the fierce-looking beast confronting them. On its hind legs, the shaggy brown creature stood considerably taller than him and was as powerfully built as a LeMatya. Although Spock's re-education on Vulcan had barely touched on Earth species, he knew a bear when he saw one. And this specimen was, he suspected, one of the more dangerous varieties.

"Don't make any sudden moves," he warned Lauren in a low voice. If they ran, the bear might charge after them, but neither could they stay here, trapped between a mother and its cub. Spock doubted that even a Vulcan's strength could withstand those powerful teeth and claws should the female decide to use them. Keeping his eyes on the rearing animal, he held out a hand to Lauren. "Get up—very slowly."

She began to rise. Her icy fingertips locked onto his with a fierce grip, then she was safely at his side. But how long could he guarantee her safety? Out in the forest the young bear let out a plaintive cry. With a growl, its mother dropped down on all fours and shuffled closer to Spock and Lauren, her moist nose working the air.

Spock glanced at the nearest pines. They might be able to climb up the branches and escape—that is, if this particular bear was too heavy to climb after them…

"Look!" Lauren whispered. "I think she smells the food."

"Yes." Spock seized on the new information. "Let's try moving away."

With torturous care they inched backward, only to lose each gain of ground when the beast looked their way and nosed toward them again. Her great eyes rolled and she shook her head in irritation. Suddenly the cub found its path clear and ran to its mother. The she-bear turned and sniffed her cub protectively. Spock used the moment to dodge behind a large tree, pulling Lauren along. Pressing his back to the rough bark, he listened. Lauren's anxious eyes watched him.

"She is not following," he whispered. "Let's go."

Hand in hand, they walked swiftly and quietly through the woods. After a few minutes they came to a clearing.

Lauren broke away. "Run!" she called over her shoulder. "Come on!"

Spock ran. Side by side they fled down the grassy slope, pounding along until they reached a small thicket by a creek. Lauren stopped, out of breath. To Spock's amazement, she began to laugh.

"I do no see anything humorous," he said. "Those bears must have evaded the park's protective fields. It was a dangerous situation."

"But we're alright," Lauren said, bending down to the creek. Splashing water over her flushed cheeks, she laughed again. "Oh, you should have seen the look on you face…"

Spock walked over to her and pulled her up with both hands. The reproach in his eyes was so intense that her smile disappeared. "I do not know how you can make light of it!" he chided her. "We might have been killed."

Subdued, she said, "I'm sorry, Spock. I guess I was just letting off tension. The fact is, I was scared to death back there. I've already lost you once—I actually stood over your coffin. I don't want to do it again."

Spock held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I do not want to lose you, either. That is what I have been trying to say. Lauren—aisha—I want to join with you in the full bonding of Vulcan marriage. Will you be my wife?"

Lauren's jaw fell. Spock could feel the exploding of her emotions right through his fingertips, but he did not let go. Her eyes began to glow and a slow splendid smile made its way across her face. Then, all at once, her arms were around him, her soft cool mouth seeking his. Spock crushed her close and returned the kiss fully. The fingers of his right hand met her face, loosing the joyous deluge of her thoughts, meeting them head-on, mingling with them, all but drowning in them. He felt strangely intoxicated even as they moved apart and stood searching one another's faces.

"You are certain?" he said.

"Do you doubt me?" she asked, tears brimming.

Spock looked on her with all the force of his affection. "No, Lauren. But I want you to consider your decision carefully. Marriage to a Vulcan is far more binding, mentally and physically, than a union between two humans."

"Spock, I want it. I've wanted it for a long time."

"There is also T'Beth to consider."

"Yes," she said, undaunted.

"I am not sure you realize how…vicious she can be." The admission pained him, for it meant that he was failing as a parent.

"Well then," Lauren said, "I guess I'll just have to deal with that. But nothing she does or says is going to change how I feel about you—about us.

A sharp gust of wind shook the trees along the creek. Drawing Lauren close, Spock permitted himself to enjoy the moment fully. Despite the difficulties involved, she had consented to be his wife, his consort, his bondmate. She would be his and his alone. The realization brought such a thrill of delight that he actually smiled. Lifting her easily in his arms, he spun her around and kissed her yet again.

oooo

Spock and Lauren returned on the verge of nightfall to find the welcome scent of food cooking, and gloomy faces ringing the fire.

"Well, it's about time," McCoy said tartly. "We were about to call up a search party."

Kirk glared at them. "Why didn't either of you take a phone?"

McCoy turned on Jim and arched his eyebrows. "Why Captain, is there some Starfleet regulation about that? I thought we were out here to 'get away from it all'."

Kirk subsided into a disapproving frown.

"Sorry," Lauren said. "We didn't mean to worry anyone. It took longer than we planned to find an emergency combox."

Glowering, T'Beth impaled a wiener on a long stick and dangled it over the flames. "I thought you were looking at trees."

"We were in the woods," Lauren said, "but then we wanted to report the bears."

"Bears!" McCoy glanced around nervously. "There's not supposed to be any bears in this area."

Spock spoke up. "Do not fear, Doctor. They have already been located and returned to the proper area."

A sudden flash of lightning lit the camp, and the earth trembled with thunder. The wind gusting through the trees sounded like a whole herd of marauding predators.

"Bears or no bears," McCoy muttered, "there's a storm brewing. We'll be lucky to finish dinner before all hell breaks loose."

Almost innocent looking, T'Beth asked, "Father, how close did you two get? To the bears, that is?"

"Dinner first," McCoy cut in, "stories later. Sit down, both of you. Eat."

The doctor studied Spock and Lauren as they ladled beans from the cook pot and settled down by the fire with their plates. Now and then they traded glances and Lauren would break into a self-satisfied little smile that piqued McCoy's curiosity. Clearly they were sharing quite a secret, and McCoy wanted in on it. Finally he said, "Okay, you two—that story of yours must really be good. What happened out there?"

Spock and Lauren set down their forks and exchanged a lingering look. The bear encounter was not uppermost on their minds. In retrospect the near mauling paled in comparison to the reality of their new commitment. Lauren felt as if she would burst with happiness and excitement. As for Spock, he had intended to reveal the news in some subtle, tasteful way that he had not yet determined, but he was proud—and yes, he too was excited that this woman had chosen him, and he no longer cared who knew.

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" cried McCoy. "Why all the mystery?"

Spock glanced at T'Beth and saw only bitterness and hostility in her sulky face. In that moment he found that he no longer cared what she thought, either. T'Beth would resent Lauren no matter how carefully he tried to prepare the girl.

"Go ahead," he told Lauren.

Turning to the others, she drew a deep breath. The firelight danced in her eyes as she softly said, "We're getting married."

Silence fell like a curtain. For a moment even the noise of the impending storm seemed to fade.

"What?" McCoy rasped.

This time Spock said it. "Lauren and I are going to be married." He looked at his daughter. T'Beth stared back at him, eyes swimming with angry tears. Then stumbling to her feet, she fled into the darkness of the forest.

Everyone stood.

Grim-faced, Kirk said, "I'll get her."

"Jim," McCoy said pointedly, "do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Yes!" Kirk snapped. "I do." Grabbing a flashlight and tricorder, he headed into the woods.

McCoy turned to Spock and Lauren. "Me and my big mouth," he grumbled. "But you two could have shown a little more tact, you know."

"I'm afraid there was no good way to tell her," Spock said.

McCoy shook his head, exasperated. "And you picked one of the worst."

Lauren flinched at a loud clap of thunder. "It's going to be hard for her. She's made up her mind not to like me."

"I'll wager she doesn't like either of you much right now," McCoy said, "but I suppose she'll get used to the idea. I suppose we all will." Struck by a sudden thought, he said, "Wait a minute. This isn't some kind of joke, is it?"

Spock held out his hand to Lauren, palm up, and looking into his eyes she tenderly touched her fingers to his. McCoy remembered seeing something like that between Spock's parents. This was no joke. McCoy felt a little stab of jealousy that surprised him. He had always been rather fond of Lauren Fielding. What she saw in the unemotional Vulcan was beyond him, but the two did sort of fit together as a couple. Well, he decided, if this is the way it's going to be, then Spock just better take good care of her. And he could only hope that in their journey toward marital bliss they would not completely forget about T'Beth.

oooo

It was starting to sprinkle when Kirk reached the river. A sweep of his flashlight found T'Beth poised on the back, shivering. For an instant he feared she might jump into the rushing waters.

"T'Beth!" he called out.

She turned to him, tears running down her face. "What do you want?"

In a moment Kirk was beside her. Lightning streaked from the clouds. A chilly gust of wind made T'Beth shiver harder, but he had nothing to put over her. And he did not think it wise to put his arms around her. "It's a shock," he said, "I know."

"Who are you kidding?" she flared. "You probably knew it all along."

"No. I didn't." The fact was, he hadn't an inkling that things between Spock and Doctor Fielding had reached such a point, or ever could. "This doesn't change anything," he told T'Beth, though he knew it wasn't true. This would change things, alright—lots of things, and not only for T'Beth. "Okay, so it is going to be different from now on. But T'Beth…" he let himself touch her shoulder. "T'Beth, your father still cares about you."

She shoved his hand away. "Oh, right! You don't know what you're talking about!"

Kirk backed off. "Okay, maybe I don't. But I do know that your father's been alone one helluva long time, and maybe you could just try to be happy for him."

"Alone?" she cried. "He's had me, hasn't he? That is, when he's taken the time to notice."

Kirk sighed. "That's not what I meant. Yes, he has you—but a man, a grown man needs the company of—" He stopped, on the verge of acute embarrassment. "Look, I know it's hard for you now, but trust me, it will all work out. You just have to give it a chance."

T'Beth's eyes glittered in the darkness. "I hate him. I hate both of them. I wish I'd never come to Earth."

"You don't belong on Vulcan."

With a catch in her throat she said, "Maybe I don't belong anywhere."

Kirk thought he had never met anyone so maddening…or so desirable. He wanted to hold her so badly that he ached. He had spent the entire day off by himself, and it hadn't done a bit of good. If anything, he new feelings for T'Beth seemed even stronger than the day before. Oh, why hadn't he seen this attraction developing? She was so young, a fragile child beneath that tough exterior she showed the world. He dared not give in to his emotions. "It's not true," he said. "You do belong. Whether you believe it or not, we care about you—all of us."

"No you don't," she choked. "If that were true…you wouldn't have talked to me the way you did this morning. You would have let me be with you."

Feeling drained, Kirk shook his head. "T'Beth, don't you understand? It doesn't matter what I want. It doesn't matter what you want. You're only sixteen. You're Spock's daughter. I have a responsibility—"

With a sob she threw her arms around him and there was no human way he could deny her the solace she so desperately needed. He held her close as she wept against him, her soft dark hair pressed to his cheek. McCoy was right. It had not been such a good idea for him to come after her…and feel these feelings…and think these thoughts. But at least now he knew the hard truth about yesterday's kiss. He knew how easily it could happen again if he didn't watch himself. It was no use trying to continue his vacation here, pretending as it everything was okay. He was glad when the clouds opened up and rain began to pour down in earnest. The trip was over. Taking T'Beth by the hand, he led her back to camp.