Well here we are again, folks – the end of this little adventure. I want to thank miss steph for Betaing while in the midst of a move; RachelKarenGeller for the suggestion about using more of the Vulcan language; everyone, especially T'Leba and Kristen Elizabeth, who encouraged me to pay closer attention to what I was writing; and everyone who took the time to read (and review) this story.

I have fallen in love with Nyota, Gaila and Kelly Flenderson, Psy.D. (I was already in love with Spock) and plan on returning to this insane corner of the Trekverse in the future – but, for now, I really need a break. At least that's what my loved ones tell me.

Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.

~Part Six of Six : 0730 Hours, Monday~

The horse and I are cantering again, not in Africa, but over a vast desert of ochre, sepia and crimson. The horse and I pass a building that is hanging, like a stalactite, from the bottom of a cliff; then others that thrust up from the sand like stalagmites – they look as if they were grown, not constructed. It is a completely alien landscape that feels utterly familiar.

A rock lets loose and bounces away from us. I realize that we are not alone.

I turn to see my companion, a pretty woman with caramel skin, black hair, chocolate brown eyes and a lush, female body; she's astride a glaringly white horse with light freckles and a sandy brown mane and tail.

I recognize her from the holos had Gaila shown me.

"Hello Dr. Flenderson."

"Hey, Nyota."

"Why are you on Vulcan with me?"

"Vulcan, huh?" She looks around, her hair bouncing and swishing in springy curls, "So not a cute planet."

I laugh. "No, it is definitely not cute."

"But that Vulcan of yours is. Cute, I mean. You did good, girl. He was a tough one." She reins in her horse and I follow suit. "My guy was tough, too – but worth it. Is yours worth everything you went through?"


She leans over and places her hand on mine; it is very cool. She smells like nutmeg. "'For what it's worth it was worth all the while.' Green Day. They were total geniuses."

"Okay," I say, because I am not sure what she is talking about.

Her head swivels as she takes in the desert and the sky and the buildings. "He really grew up here?"

"Yes," I say.

"This is a place that doesn't give up things easily." She turns back to me. "I'm guessing the people don't either."

"No, they don't."

"You know that you've got him and got him good, right? You knocked that boy's socks clean off his body.

"That is," she looked around, "Do Vulcans wear socks? I mean it is kinda hot here." She shakes her head and her earrings, roses made of a clear stone, catch the light and refract it. "Well, whatever, you knocked him out of whatever he wears on his feet."

"He wears socks," I say.

She grins, "Okay then. So you did that and now you just need to be careful."

"Careful of what?"

"Talking yourself out of the relationship, of course."

"I wouldn't do that," I protest.

"Oh you'll try," she counters. "There's nothing like a little success to make a girl question herself."

She taps her lips for a moment. "You should really read my book Don't Mess It Up, Girl! because you don't need to go messing this up and you totally will if you keep freaking out every ten seconds…."

"I don't freak out every ten seconds."

"Fine. You freak out every thirty seconds." She stares me down, daring me to disagree.

I sigh in defeat. She's not entirely wrong.

"I'm happy you're willing to admit it," she says. "You're like this totally brilliant and confident woman, but when it comes to this man you're just as scared and insecure as anyone else.

"You really should read the book. I know reading stuff can blow, but my books are different. The Steps worked pretty well, didn't they?"

"Yes," I say cautiously.

"Exactly! They never fail – that's why you gotta keep using them, too."

"I'm finished with The Steps."

"No one finishes The Steps, they just keep reusing them."


"They couldn't have made this planet more like Scottsdale?" she is asking. "Scottsdale totally rocks. They have grass in the desert. They have fountains and swimming pools. They have golf courses."


I look for whoever it is that's calling my name.

"Arizona is like ninety percent desert and they were able to make Scottsdale green," she continues.


I can feel a tugging.

She has stopped talking; I turn towards her.

She is staring at me, her head tipped to the side. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Of course," I respond.

"Say hi to Gaila for me; that girl is fabulous. I wish that she and I could've been friends. We would've totally ruled the world."

I laugh. "Yes, I think the two of you really could have."


My name is calling me away from here.

"Dr. Flenderson," I say.

She nods at me, her eyes sparkling, her earrings flashing.

"Thank you."

She smiles and it beautiful and warm and I wish I had known her. "You're welcome, Nyota."


The nape of my neck was sore and my face was pressed into the crook of his neck, and when I moved my head, trying to reorient myself from dreamscape to real life, I could feel moisture. I'd drooled on him.

"Sorry," I said, trying to wipe away the liquid.

"Please stop."

"No, it's disgusting. I'm sorry."

He shifted and grabbed my hands, stilling their movement. "Nyota, please stop touching me."

Something about how he said those five words turned my blood to ice; he didn't say it in the deep, rumbly voice that had presaged our early, pleasurable activities. No, his voice was brisk; The Commander had returned. My stomach clenched, my muscles tensed, my brain was filled with a rushing noise.

I knew it, I knew it, and I knew it. Dream Doctor Flenderson you were wrong – I don't got him. I don't got him at all.

"Nyota, why is your breathing elevated and your body tense?"

"No reason," I mumbled.

"There is a reason. Humans do not have reactions like this without provocation. What is distressing you?"

I pulled away from him and sat up. I fought the urge to pull the sheet up over my naked body protectively. "You wanted me to stop touching you."

He sat up, too. He was beautiful and perfect and I wanted him for a very long time – forever, maybe – I just wasn't sure he wanted the same thing.

"It was distracting and I wish to speak to you without distraction."

I did pull the sheet up this time. "Okay. Shoot."

His eyes dipped to my cotton shield, then back to my face. "Nyota, your reactions are most illogical."

"I'm Human," I pointed out. "We have illogical moments. It's part of our charm." I folded my arms and stared at him.

His eyebrows knitted together for a moment. "I do not understand why you are so combative."

I should've bought Don't Mess It Up, Girl! a week ago. Why didn't I buy it? Why?

I took a deep and calming breath. "I apologize. Please proceed."

His eyes flickered across my face, then he said, "I awoke you so we could discuss our return to the Academy."

I am breathing. I am calm. I am listening before reacting. I am buying that book the second I'm back home.

"Yes, our return to the Academy," I said, my voice even, almost a monotone. "We should discuss that."

"Regulations bar relationships between instructors and their students…."

I shifted my eyes from his face to the wall. I couldn't look at him while he said the words.

I wish I'd let Gaila teach me Vulcans are Stupid and You Don't Need One – if I could sing it to myself I might not have to hear him, either.

"Nyota, please look at me."

I sighed in defeat and shifted my eyes back to his. He was leaning slightly towards me. "You are agitated."

"I'm not agitated," I said, and it was true. I was terrified and just this side of hysterical. I was not agitated.

And I was not freaking out.


"While I do not understand Human emotional reactions, I have learned to recognize them."

"Spock, I don't want to debate this. Please just tell me why you woke me up at – computer, time?"

"0746 Hours," Spock and the computer said in unison.

It was still creepy.

"When we don't leave for three hours because it doesn't seem like you wanted me to wake up so we could, erm, you know." I waved my hand around the bed in a manner that I hoped was self-explanatory.

"That is accurate."

"And you wanted to talk about our return to the Academy and regulations."

He nodded slowly, his eyes analytical. He was quiet for a long time, so long that I began to grow impatient. I shifted and he blinked, "Humans enjoy making assumptions, do they not?"

"We don't enjoy it," I said.

"And yet they do it with great frequency."

"Did I make an assumption?" I asked.

"Did you conclude that I was going to sever our association upon our return to the Academy?"

I jutted my chin out. "Maybe."

"Then, yes, you made an assumption, Nyota."

My fingers and toes started to tingle as blood returned to them. I stared at him.

"Shall I continue?"

I nodded.

"Regulations bar relationships between instructors and their students…."

"You already said that."

He took a deep breath and his shoulder muscles tensed slightly; his pectoral muscles tensed, too. I watched them raptly.

"Nyota, I wish to finish my statement."

I abandoned ogling his chest – his very, very nice chest – and focused on his face.

I felt better. Good. Hopeful.

But I'm still buying the book and Gaila and I are going to study it like we study Advanced Survival Strategies.

"Regulations bar relationships between instructors and their students; however, I am no longer your instructor. In the unlikely eventuality that you are assigned to a class that I am teaching, I will expect that you will request a transfer. I, of course, will approve such a request.

"In addition, our schedules are demanding and limit the time in which to pursue non-academic interests. I propose that we set aside time each week for interaction.

"That is my position on this matter and I am interested in hearing your thoughts."

He stopped talking and looked at me. His speech - which he had very obviously memorized, most likely while I was drooling all over his shoulder in my sleep - was done.

I began to translate the Spock Speak.

He is not ending this relationship – he's telling me he wants it to continue.

"So you want to make sure that I'm not your student again."

"That is correct."

And he wants us to have time to interact. Alone. And naked. At least part of the time.

"And you want to date me," I grinned.

"Date is a Human label. I wish to spend time with you in a social capacity."

"Which is dating."

"If you wish to label it as such I will not stop you."

He wants to date me.

"Well, I do wish to label it as such." I reached out and took his hand in mine, kissing the back of it gently.

I may write a Spock to Human dictionary.

"I'm sorry that I jumped to conclusions," I said several seconds later.

His eyes softened, "I told you that I return your affection. I have never said such a thing to anyone, Nyota. Vulcans do not enter into…" he paused as if searching for the right word, "associations…."

"Relationships," I corrected gently.

Yep. Definitely writing a dictionary and dedicating it to Doctor Flenderson and Gaila.

"…Such as ours injudiciously. I would not have allowed the events of the last twenty point six hours if I had intended to sever our," he took a deep breath, "relationship upon our return to San Francisco."

"You are a very noble Vulcan," I said, leaning forward and kissing him.

"Vulcans are noble as a rule," he replied.

"And honest," I said appraisingly. "Which is why you're going to tell me why you dismissed the idea that I was attracted to you in favor of the theory that I was nuts."

It was something I hadn't asked him yet – I was too afraid of what his answer was going to be. I wasn't afraid anymore.

Am I doing well Doctor Flenderson?

He lowered his eyes to our hands. "It did not seem likely that you had developed an attraction for me despite our comparable intellects, analogous interests and the mutual respect and rapport that developed between us; you are an emotional, passionate Human woman with many friends and interests." He stopped talking, his ears a little green.

He didn't think I was interested because he's not like me. Maybe I should buy him a Flenderson book.

"I think you're pretty wonderful," I said. "I always have. I like that we're different. It makes things interesting." I raised my eyebrows, "Fascinating, even."

He raised an eyebrow which, of course, made me melt.

"How can you not know the power of the raised eyebrow?" I demanded.

"Please enlighten me, Cadet."

"Nuh uh," I said leaning towards him. "It's bad enough that you know there's power to it. If I tell you what it does to women – all women – all sane and intelligent women - you'd be impossible."

"Vulcans are never impossible."

I snorted and brushed my lips gently across his. "Can we be done talking now?" I asked.

"If you so desire."

"I do desire it," I said, pulling him down to the bed with me. "I really do.

I pulled his head towards me, finding his mouth. I poured all of my love, relief and joy into the kiss.

When I finally released him, he looked a little stunned. "That was most….unexpected."

Which, of course, meant that I had just driven him crazy with the intensity of my ardor.

And that he wanted me to do it again.

I giggled and kissed him again, letting my fingers roam across his body at will. They skated along his arms, over his chest, down to his butt. He deepened the kiss, pressing me back into the mattress. I slid my tongue into his mouth, jockeying with his for control – sucking on the small muscle, lapping at his teeth, the flesh of his mouth.

He tasted like nutmeg.

He left my mouth and began to kiss my neck, then he slid his head down towards my breasts.

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

His mouth, hot and wet, found my nipple and I arched up at him; he repeated his actions on the nipple's twin. He began to lick patterns across my breasts, making sure that the skin was well cared for. His fingers brushed across my stomach and I was ready, so ready, completely ready for him. My fingers migrated to the front of his body.

He was ready, too.

He murmured into my skin as my fingers brushed across his rigid flesh, but he didn't take the hint.

I have to tell him how I feel, how I really feel.

I moved my hips, brushing the proof of my arousal against the proof of his. His head left my breast.

"Amazing," he said.

"My sentiments exactly." I thrust up against him again, making very certain that he couldn't misinterpret my actions. "Now!" I added, just in case.

His eyes widened and he entered me, stretching me in a wholly marvelous manner and began the movements that I had become addicted to instantly.

My hands were in his hair. He looked at me with slightly unfocused eyes.

"I love you," I told him; the words as easy, as right, as anything I had ever said.

"Nyota," his voice was low, soft. He stilled his movements and released his arms. He laced his fingers through mine, kissed me gently and then, and only then, when our bodies were touching from head to toe, did he start to move again. His fingers tightened in mine as only our hips, our lips created the friction and motion that we both craved, both needed, both wanted.

The orgasm came slowly, but hit with tidal force. I cried out into his mouth and he stilled for me, letting me ride the waves without more stimulation. When I was done and gasping for breath, he began to move gently, almost apologetically.

I tightened my hands on his and began to chant into his mouth.

"Sadalau, Spock, ek'man'es du."

Let go, you are safe.


I am here.


I am yours.

And, with that, he came in an explosive gasp and shudder. His body flushed even hotter – almost too hot to touch. I held him tightly as he rode the sensations.

His skin gradually cooled and the shudders subsided; his eyes focused on my face. I traced his ears and smiled at him.

His fingers brushed across my face and down my neck.

I sighed happily and he leaned his forehead against mine.

I'm still reading that book.

Just in case.

~~The story continues in Don't Mess It Up, Girl!~~