Captain Howes eased quietly into the observational lounge. All the overhead lights were off and the great bay windows let the starlight lay in almost liquid pools of white over the metal decking. Normally, at even this hour there would be a few members of his crew loitering here.

His jaw tightened.

But not tonight.

He rubbed tiredly at his forehead.

By now, the whole ship had heard. He felt a soft twinge of pride in his crew. They had become very protective of their commander. And Vulcan acting or not, today she had needed to be alone.

He hesitated again, wondering if it would be better to just turn around and slip back out. But the cold metal of the comm padd lay against him in the safety of his uniform jacket and he could not ignore the chance. He chewed on his lip a moment and then took a deep breath to prepare.

She probably already knew he was there.

"Am I needed on the bridge?" she asked softly in the shadows.

A wry smile twitched on his lips in spite of everything and he forced his shoulders back and edged forward just slightly. "Ah, no, commander."

He caught sight of her at last and blushed hotly when he realized that she had been watching him intently since he crept in. He felt like a raw cadet who'd stepped out of line and almost grinned. Then he sobered.

"I grieve with thee," he said formally.

She went still a long moment and then bowed. "I thank thee."

She straightened and they looked at each other.

"How is he taking it?" he asked softly.

"Sarek or . . . Spock?"

He swallowed. "Sarek."

She paused a long moment. "He is alone."

"Is he on Vulcan?"

She shook her dark head. "He was on earth at a diplomatic conference. He is now in transit."

He sighed. "I am sorry."

She said nothing.

He took a breath. "And Spock?"

She looked away to the stars. "I have heard he is returning to Vulcan even as we speak."

Howes nodded. He hesitated and then stepped closer. "Did you wish to take bereavement leave?"

She shook her head. "It is . . . unnecessary."

His jaw actually dropped. "But—she was-"

She turned back and the look in her eyes made his throat close over. When she spoke at last, the tones were like ice. "It is Vulcan custom to respect the privacy of an affected family. I have no right to intrude upon their grief."

He felt his temper rise. He stepped forward, his voice tightening in indignant anger. "She claimed you as family! You should be there, to hell with him!"

She stiffened and he could see her visibly lock control in place. "I do not expect you to understand."

"Oh, I understand alright!" He moved to stand almost toe to toe with her and glared into her unreadable eyes. "I understand that you are hiding!"

Her gaze went dangerously black. "I am not."

He leaned deliberately into her personal space. "How long are you going to let her continue to win?"

Saavik's hands tighened. Very deliberately, she stepped backwards and turned away.

"That," she said in clipped tones, "was unkind."

"Truth often is."

She gave him a dark look over her shoulder. "Why are you concerning yourself in my private affairs?"

He lifted his chin and gave her a glare back. "Because I care."

She blinked in surprise and then all tension drained away from her. She lowered her head.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He scowled. "Now stop fighting it and go home."

She shook her head slowly. "It is not my home."

He sighed from the bottom of his soul. "Sarek would disagree with you."

That got her attention entirely. Her eyes widened and her lips parted ever so slightly.

He couldn't resist a smile.

She was so very beautiful. Even when shocked.

He reached into his uniform jacket and pulled out the comm padd. He held it up. "Diplomatic Red Channel, from an Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan." His mile grew larger. "Apparently, there is a certain admiral who owed him a favor. Armstrong's been given permission to reroute to the nearest shipping lane. You are going."

"But . . . ."

He could actually see the calculations rapidly flicking behind her eyes.

"Given the distance I will not be able to attend the ceremony."

His eyes softened. "Saavik, I don't think he gives a damn about that. He wants you home."

She got a sudden vulnerable look that made him want to hold her.

"He does?"

He nodded gently. "He does."

The almost open pain in her eyes made his heart bitter. He knew she was weighing one grief against another.

He stepped very close and made her look at him. "If you really want Spock, if you really want to be a part of this family, you must decide once and for all." He held out the padd. "Sarek's given you the way."

Saavik took the padd with trembling fingers and held it tightly. She stared at it for a long soul searching moment before she looked back up and when their eyes met, he saw only complete calm.

He felt his whole body relax.

"Request permission to take bereavement leave, sir," she asked quietly.

He grinned. "Get the hell off my ship, Commander."

Her mouth twitched as a sudden wry humor lit her eyes. "Yes, sir!"

She turned and moved quickly to the doors. Just over the threshold she stopped and looked back. There was an expression on her face that he had never seen before.

"I am in your debt, Captain Howes."

He recognized the formal oath for what it was. A flush of warmth filled his chest and he bowed. Then he straightened. "Come back when you are ready." He smiled. "I want to hear the whole story."

Her eyebrow lifted but she inclined her head.

"Now get!"

He swore she almost smiled and then she was gone. The doors of the observation lounge slid shut behind her and he found himself staring out at the stars.

And praying.

He shook his head and walked over to the comm unit on the bulkhead and hit the send. "Howes to the bridge. Contact Ambassador Sarek. Tell him-" he paused a moment and then grinned. "Tell him that his daughter is in route. He might want to stall his son."

He could almost hear the sudden grins around the bridge.

"And get us to the nearest shipping lane, pronto. We're going to hijack the first lucky transport we find."

He spun around, not bothering to wait for a confirmation to his orders. Already he could feel the surge of power rumbling through the Armstrong as her engines picked up speed. The stars behind him blurred as the ship turned and he headed for the bridge.

He smiled to himself.

It looked like he was going to win the ship's betting pool, after all.

She would look absolutely stunning in white.