Story [Star Trek 2009] "What a Lovely Way to Burn" Spock/Nyota - COMPLETE with Author's Note!

Jade_eyes: I think that the only thing funner than writing this bit was reading your reactions to it! Thanks again for the sweet thoughts - and the dragon riders. Uh, yeah baby!!

Nat: Oh, thank-you so very much! It is one of my faves as well!

~MJ

 

Author's Note: Here we go again. Once again, a big ol' thanks goes to Jade_eyes for looking this over for me.

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[b]VII:[/b] [i]?Cherish These, For they are Blessings?[/i]



They are six months into their five year mission when they pick up passengers.

. . . and not just any passengers.

A routine stop to Starbase 67 had led to a run to check out a distress calls in one of the farther system's under their watch. The distress call originated from the small trader's moon by the simple name of Outpost III. A sweep of the post had revealed a disturbingly bloody scene left to them to sort through ? destruction and chaos evident, with not a body (living or dead) to show for an explanation.

Further searching had revealed twelve children hiding in a storm bunker ? the sons and daughters of the permanently stationed overseers, and their caretaker.

The caretaker ? a graying, but strong thing of a hundred and twenty years, who had enough snappy comments to even keep Kirk on his toes ? had shed some light on the situation. Apparently there had been a displeased trading captain who had some very high ranking contacts in a ring of raiders and pirates that patrolled the quadrant. The caretaker ? Vima's knowledge was sketchy, at best, and yet her priority had been the children. She was not involved in either the problem or the problem's conclusion.

When it became apparent that the raiders had taken hostages, the [i]Enterprise[/i] was ordered to pursue. Afterwards it was to bring any survivors back to the Starbase for a complete debriefing and relocation.

For now, though, the crew had a few hours on their hands with a handful of children in their hair. While there were measures in place for shipboard children ? an almost necessity after having so many officers in the same place for so long - the Captain of the [i]Enterprise[/i] was far from a protocol-abiding man, and had insisted that the children join them on the bridge.

The children were young ? the youngest hardly months old, and the oldest a mere ten years old. For the most part they did not yet understand what had happened ? only that it was bad, and the danger had not completely passed. Mostly, when the kids were introduced to the bridge of a real starship, and not just any starship ? but the [i]Enterprise[/i] herself, there were wide eyes and laughter everywhere.

Vima was thankful for the Captain's helping with the kid's emotional health while he was doing his best to take care to find the remaining survivors, and she did her best to keep the children from being too in the way of the search and rescue effort that was going on. The were well mannered kids, though, and between Pavel ? the second oldest of twelve children, and Kirk - a glorified child himself, the kids were entertained and the crew carried on with their duties as well as any normal circumstances would have.

Nyota personally loved having the children on board. While she was the youngest of only two girls, herself, she had grown up babysitting the children that lived around her. She had a maternal instinct that was rarely let out to flourish, so now she took to the task at hand well ? even going as far to take the infant from Vima in order to let the older woman take care of the rest of her group.

She was monitoring sub-space frequencies and transmissions on her earpieces, hoping for lingering comm trails for the raiders, all the while juggling the sleeping infant in her arms. The poor thing was exhausted after the stress of the last few days . . .

She felt a pang of sympathy for the child's mother, if she was still alive, and prayed fervently that she somehow knew that her child was alive and being cared for.

At her side was a little boy of eight years ? a caramel skinned human with thick black curls trailing over his forehead into his haunted eyes. He, the second oldest of the group, got what was going on the most, and he stuck to his little sister's side with a devotion that was heart wrenching.

?Are you sure you don't want

 

Author's Notes: Alrighty then, here we go with the next viggie. I'd like to get back into a routine posting these, and I'm going to aim for either Tuesday/Wednesday again. Lets see how it works.

As always, every possible thanks goes to Jade_eyes for looking over this. She is the shipper wind beneath my writer wings.

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[b]VIII[/b]: [i]?As Saying Would have it, Absence makes the heart grow fonder(ish)?[/i]



Seven months into their five year mission, Nyota's presence was requested by Starfleet back on Earth.

After just completing a three month study of the previously dead Thander dialects ? all ten of them, Nyota was requested by the Moscow Linguistics Division of Starfleet for her to share her findings with a Professor Cummings and his aides. The attention of the galaxy renowned professor was a high honor, he knew, one sought by the very best in Xenolinguistics far and wide ? and not only by those in Starfleet. Through their bond, he had felt Nyota's glee and pride at the announcement, and he had felt silently gratified as well. While he knew and appreciated Nyota's burgeoning genius, it was truly pleasing when others took note of it as well.

The two weeks apart would be unpleasant, but he was sure that it would be tolerable. The situation was once in a lifetime for Nyota, and logic would dictate ease in their parting for that reason alone.

As it went, he had said goodbye to Nyota that morning when she had beamed down to Starbase 56 in order for her to switch to the long distance transportation they offered. He had been pleased in holding his decorum with just slightly holding Nyota's hand in his as he wished her a fond farewell. Her excitement and mingled affection was a high, filtering through his mind, cutting through the bitter unease he felt at her departure. At his side Kirk had enveloped her in a full hug when he had stepped back. ?You do realize that this guy is going to be a complete puppy without you? Hurry back so I can have my crew back at top efficiency, you hear??

She had chuckled, amused, when he had stiffened. ?I can assure you that the Lieutenant's absence will have no bearing on my performance, Captain.?

Kirk had shaken his head. ?Of course, number one. Of course.?

He felt one last press of her mind against his ? love and adoration passed between them, and then she was engulfed in rings of gold. He had waited in the transporter room for a moment longer, feeling as she reappeared safely on the spacestation below before turning with Kirk to return to the bridge.

His bond with her was diminished across the great distance, but it still thrived. He found that her peace and anticipation was soothing to him as he carried about his duties for the day. He was pleased with his control when the day ended. He had not overly felt affected by her absence once.

When Kirk made some off-color comment about him returning to his quarters alone, he had not deigned the Captain's teasing worthy of a reply. McCoy had elbowed the Captain in his stead, muttering, 'a complete child' under his breath when Kirk had burst into laughter.

The laughter followed him through the halls, mocking him when he was greeted by the empty rooms.

Ignoring the odd sort of pang he felt inside, he instructed the computer to play Vulcan suites on the lyre, not because the rooms were silent, of course, but because he wanted to hear music. When he prepared a cup of tea, he also put on the coffee, as was habitual. He stopped short halfway through the brewing pot when he had taken Nyota's mug ? a hideously bright and crude thing that had been a gift from her Orion roommate ? down and placed it next to his. He frowned at the mug as if his lapse in logic was its fault. He placed it back in the storage compartment with a shake of his head.

He drank his tea in silence before moving to the stack of PADDs he had brought with him from the bridge. While filing through the reports he found his eyes flickering to the seat across the common room table to where Nyota no

 

Alrighty, I have an udate here.

I'm going to try my darndest to keep this updating weekly. I've been a bad author lately . . .

As always, a huge thanks goes to Jade_eyes for her patience as a reader and unsurpassed awesomeness as a beta reader!

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[b]IX: [/b] [i]?Calmly, I find a lull to my sea in you? [/i]


He spent the first few hours of every morning in meditation.

His mixed blood made it so that he required not even half of the hours Uhura spent every night in sleep. So, hours before she would awaken he would get up and prepare for the day. There was a meditation mat in a small alcove before their bedroom, made complete by an ever constant drift of incense from the burner there and equally low burning candles. The early hours of the morning could find him there day after day. These hours were as peaceful as they were necessary for him. In these hours he was able to center himself as the candlelight rippling on the metallic toned walls, and he recited Surak's mantras under his breath in time to Nyota breathing in the next room.

He had let her join him once, after she had awakened. There was something . . . soft that touched him as he tried to teach her the ways of his people. He had felt a joy at teaching her how to breathe; how to hold herself. He had instructed her to close her eyes, and he had mumbled softly under his breath as he pressed his first two fingers gently over her closed lids to keep her eyes closed. He could feel her smile at his thumbs, and found a peace in that small gesture that hours of candles and mantras could sometimes leave him lacking.

While she had admitted that the sessions brought a peace over her, it was not as necessary for her as it was vital for him. She had then divulged that she had found it as peaceful to watch him as it was to join him in the ritual. Ever since then, he could be aware of her eyes on him shortly after she would awaken. She would stand against the door quietly, a small smile curving to her lips as she observed him. Her gaze was as peaceful as the routines that were as needed for his psyche as air itself.

And yet, what he enjoys most about those hours, is the heightened awareness that it gave him. He could hear the rustle of silk and sheets as she rose from bed, and he could feel the echo of her footsteps across the floor. Through their bond he could feel her contentment, could feel her heartbeat echoing alongside his own as he purged himself of the world around him. The scent of her morning coffee rose and twined with the incense before him, and the sound of her humming under her breath swirled in his mind under the customary mantras he muttered.

Every morning, she would bring him out of his trance with cool fingers against his hands, reminding him that it would be time to leave soon. And every time he opened his eyes to see her small smile, he found a center that he thinks he has been looking for his entire life.


.


Every week, on the third day, Spock spent the hour before his shift in one of the practice rings with Kirk.

While there were many things she understood and enjoyed from Spock's mixed heritage, she thinks that the Suus Mahna routines are her favorites at times. She remembered the first time she had seen him indulging in the martial arts ? back at the academy, her and Gaila in jogging attire on the treadmills, and Spock leading a group of cadets through the katas with a singularly effortless grace.

She had not looked away then until her Orion roommate had passed her a cold water bottle with a coy wink and an appreciative sigh.

Later, as their relationship had progressed, Spock had only talked about his proficiency with hand to hand combat on a time or two. It was a way of centering the body and the mind, not a form of violence, as it very easily could have been. The teachings and the theories behind the art ? because that was what it truly was ? reminded her of the far eastern philosophies on Earth. She had told him that she . . . enjoyed it all the same. If there had bee

 

Thank-you all so very much for your continued support.

We're up and running again now.

Once again, I had a post get up and run away with me, so here's the first part. Part two is ready to go, and will be up Monday bright and early!!

As always, a huge, huge, huuuuuuuge thanks goes to Jade_eyes for looking this over for me. (And forcing me to keep writing. Things have been a pain with the inspiration the last few months. )

This is for you, hon! As always.

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[b]Part X: [/b] [i]?As you love our Pride and Joy? [/i] part one


They were six months into their five year mission when Uhura received an unexpected transmission from her mother.

She first heard the computer's tone informing her of the message; had stopped dead in her tracks and looked over at the communication's console out of the corner of her eyes. If she was to hesitate once before walking over to accept the message, no one was there to call her out on it. If she then stood before the console with a thoughtful and hesitant expression, her fingers hovering before tapping the accept key with uncertainty, then there was no one to call her out on that as well.

Taking her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes shadowed as she looked at the blinking red light before her; unsure.

It wasn't that she wasn't close with her mother . . . it was quite the opposite in fact. Her family was not anything less than tight knit, and in the months prior it would have been unheard of for her to hesitate before accepting the transmission. Well . . . it wasn't as much of a hesitation so much as it was an reluctance, she knew. A reluctance brought on by six months of . . . awkward, if not downright painful communications that skirted around a breach that she had made and had been unsure of just of to fix.

You see, her parents had been . . . [i]surprised[/i], she guessed was the right word when she had informed them of certain attachments that were previously undisclosed. Back at home, she had always immersed herself in her studies, and truthfully, she had never given much thought to the opposite sex. She had close male friends . . . but the line was never really crossed into something deeper. During her University days she had dated a time or two, but never really anything more than to make sure that she wasn't really depriving herself of everything life had to offer . . . she had her plan, at the time ? graduate from the African University of Linguistics, and then Starfleet at the top of her class. Secure a position aboard the [i]Enterprise[/i] . . . in about ten years time she would have a senior position, and then ? [i]then[/i], she would think about a man.

And then she had met Spock, a Commander and a professor both, while she was a mere first year Cadet ? and a student at that, and that whole plan was shot to the furthest stars and back. Her attraction in those first two years was something she had kept from everyone ? except a very perceptive Gaila ? and once the relationship began, she had not said anything. While not forbidden, they were delving into gray areas, and it was better to let no one know until they were on equal ground. Upon graduation, there would have been few regulations frowning on their relationship, and she determined she would tell her family then.

At the time, a year's wait had seemed trifle.

In the end, she had told her family about their relationship shortly after the encounter with Nero, before leaving for the [i]Enterprise[/i] once again. Akilah had been puzzled, but not angry. Moumbwa, her father - who had long since encouraged her to balance a working life with a personal life, and whom she had always been closer to - was more hurt that she had kept it from them for so long. Almost a year. There was a division there, she knew. One that she had caused and was now making endeavors to heal.

. . . in a way, at any rate.

While all of their communications since then had been amiable, she had not been quite sure how to bring Spock up again. Moumbwa had been unusuall

 

Jade_eyes: I am so glad that you enjoyed this so much!! Thanks again for all of your help and prodding as well.

NYCityGurl: I knew that I had heard that line somewhere. lol! And yes, Emily was soo being channeled there. Just, with lest bite and more sarcasm. I'm glad you enjoyed the banter - it is such fun to write!!

More in a few!

~MJ

 

Part XI: ?As You Love our Pride and Joy pt. II

Spock walked back from his lunch with the Captain feeling strangely unsettled instead of at ease.

Jim's words kept on filing through his thoughts . . . easy, sincere, funny, charming ? human. He pursed his lips. Sincerity was easy. He found subterfuge hard in the first place, so technically anything truly deceitful was at times a stretch for him. But letting others know his true thoughts and feelings was something of a barrier at times ? somewhat of an improbability for him at others. Nyota saw all of the facets he held within his silence, he knew. It was . . . natural to share them with her. And yet . . .

His thoughts were tripping around uncomfortably within the barriers of his mind. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that he was anxious, if not downright trepidatious about the meeting with her parents tomorrow. A very small part of him ? human and hazy within his mind, was feeling the first of terror's abstract grip.

He took a deep breath, in through his nostrils and out through his mouth, trying to rally his thoughts within himself. This was most unbecoming, he knew.

When he entered the quarters that he shared with Nyota, she was sitting at the small table in the kitchenette, a stack of PADDs out before her and untouched. She was staring out the viewport towards the swirling wastes of silver stars around them, tapping her stylus idly against the tabletop. Her chin was propped up on her hand, and her large eyes were half-closed. At the back of his mind, he could feel her ? immersed in fond memories and the peace that they brought to her.

Gently, he tapped into the strongest one, and felt a tangle of sensations and observations that were not his own.

The memories were young ? through a child's gaze. Unbidden, a smile threatened to pull at his lips at the thought of her at that age ? with beaded braids swaying around her plump cheeks and small hands eagerly grasping at this and that. Carii II had been a vacation planet, and the hundreds of species there had awed the child who had never been beyond Earth's skies. The scents of incense and jungle spice on the air, and the imposing sight of pine green floating mountains in the distance was an euphoric experience for the child. But, even more beautiful than the sights was what she heard.

There were dozens of languages in the alien market. Languages that sang and clicked and whirled and snarled. They were a cadence to her ears, and with the eagerness that only a child could aptly capture, she insisted that her father ? a strong man with laughing eyes ? translate as many as he could for her.

Her mother and sister watched with small smiles as she was picked up and set upon her father's shoulders. As he explained to her the basics of the lilting language of the Bajorian trader that Akilah was bartering with, she clumsily tried her tongue over the words.

There was a leap in her thoughts with simple joy and amazement both combined. It was a simple feeling ? pure as only children could feel; memories of family and safe mixing with the starts of what would come to be a lifelong study and passion.

He gently eased out of her thoughts as she whispered softly, ?I think that I first started loving linguistics on that trip,? she mused softly. ?It was never a secret that my father wished for my sister and me to enter into his field, but it wasn't something I wanted until I heard all of those languages at once. It was beautiful,? she whispered. ?I wanted to understand everything . . . bridge everything; and it made my father so proud . . . He was really what pushed me here.?

?It is a beautiful memory,? he whispered, coming up behind her, and gently resting his hands on her shoulders..

She smiled up at him. ?It's one of my favorites,? she said softly.

There was silence between them after that, but it was of a soft sort.

. . . she was happy in that moment, he knew. Her family made her happy. That was something that he could not dodge or refuse her; and so, for her, h

 

Time for more! I'm getting slightly better at writing these, now lets see if I can break away from my updating record.

As always, this was done with the help and support of Jade_eyes, who is more awesome than words can say.

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[u][b]XII[/b].[i]?Remember then, With Fondness Over Grief?[/i][/u]


The one year mark of their time aboard the [i]Enterprise[/i] was superseded by another, more somber anniversary.

The anniversary of the fall of the planet Vulcan. A year since the galaxy had started to equate the name of [i]Enterprise[/i] with that of heroes; days saved and stars won. A year since she had watched Spock suffer through the loss of his mother, his people; a tangible pain so great that she still felt it as her own in the back of her mind. A year since she received a position on the Senior crew (Kirk was not the only one to break records amongst the youngest officers in history) . . . A year since Kirk won her respect, and so much more . . . A year since she embarked on her life long dream.

The stars were everything she would think them to be, and more, but today . . . Today was a day when all that one looked back on was what one had lost.

The days before had built up to this day in a lethargic fashion. Instead of being allowed to observe the first anniversary of the 'Hole in the Stars', as the HoloNet had come to call it, in relative peace, the [i]Enterprise[/i] was to be the guest of honor in the new monument that had been built in the empty space where Vulcan used to be.

Already, she had been to many of these ceremonies. Too many. She had seen the unveiling of the monument on the Academy grounds that honored the fallen cadets; had listened to the speeches of those dignitaries gathered, while she found her classmate's names on the engraved marble. She had been by Spock's side when he had visited the unveiling of the monument in the capitol for the fall of Vulcan and all those she held. Similar homages popped up all over the galaxy, that she had not attended.

Spock had declined going to the unveiling of the monument on New Vulcan that honored those in Starfleet who had fallen by Nero's hand while trying to aide the planet below. Spock Prime had filled his younger counterpart in on the events he had missed in a weathered tone. Even after years of service and seeing friends pass on, he had still been burdened by the senseless loss of the young of Starfleet, as well as his own people.

Sarek had convinced Spock to come to the unveiling of the rebuilt Katric Ark, just a month prior. Nyota hadn't attended out of scheduling difficulties, and Spock had spoken little to her of the experience. He had been more solemn than was his norm ever since then.

And yet, those were token signs of remembrance. This was different . . . this was big.

When Admiral Kyat, a spacial architect before becoming an officer, had proposed the idea to Starfleet Command, they had then taken the idea up with a council of Ambassadors from the worlds that would be necessary for assisting in the building. Ten months later, the memorial was built.

In the blank space that used to house Vulcan, a giant metal contraption had been erected. The material shone gold in the lights that bathed it; the metal beams turning and crisscrossing elegantly in a simple curving design. Together, the beams formed a giant sphere that outlined the exact shape and placement of Vulcan. Inside the empty space a revolving repolsor glowed white like a small star, keeping the whole structure upright and spinning in a mimicking of the planet's actual path. Over the giant golden beams, names were inscribed in the Vulcan language ? every person who had perished with the planet; and every officer who had perished in defense of her. Inside of the 'core', three metal boxes rotated, these containing valuable items rescued from Vulcan before its destruction ? priceless things that would be there for future generations to see and cherish.

The size was mammoth ? the brainchild of some of the best building minds in the galaxy, a

 

Jade_eyes: Thanks so much for the kind words and support! I could not have done this without you!!!

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Hello all!

We are already at the one year mark for our duo - only four more years to go. [face_laugh]

To bridge us over, we have Kirk on Interlude duty. [face_mischief] [face_tongue]

Enjoy! [face_hugs]


[hr]


[i]Interlude ? The Captain's Thoughts[/i]


At the start of their first year, the riddle of his First Officer and his Communications Lieutenant was one that he often struggled to wrap his mind around.

He wasn't going to lie about it ? where he respected Spock almost instantly after the battle against the [i]Narada[/i], he didn't see what Nyota saw ? not by a long-shot. As a matter of fact, he often struggled to see what Nyota saw ? smarts, sure. Brains, yeah. Duty ? yep, in spades. And all those sorts of things. When it came to the things one might built a relationship on . . . obviously Nyota had a jump on his knowledge there.

He thinks that he's a little closer to understanding, a year later, but at times he still felt lost.

Moments like this helped sharpen his comprehension, in all honesty.

He'd wager that the two didn't even know that he was here ? actually, he was completely sure of it. After the memorial that had just concluded, Spock wasn't the only one who needed to clear his head. Kirk hadn't been ready to turn in just yet ? but he most certainly wasn't in the mood for walking. The Observation deck had been the answer to his needs, a place to stare blankly out at the tribute in Vulcan space and let his mind clear.

He hadn't bothered with the lights ? just walked to the far side of the deck and let himself sink into one of the couches. When Spock had done the same, minutes later, he didn't bother announcing himself to the other man ? after all, Spock wasn't in the mood for company, and Kirk wasn't in the mood to move.

The sat in silence for some time, each lost in their own thoughts, until the silence was interrupted by the arrival of Uhura.

He shouldn't have been surprised, really ? she wasn't one to let Spock sulk alone, and he was glad that the Vulcan had someone to lean on a little more than he was normally opt to. He just wished that he wasn't in the uncomfortable position of now having to excuse himself.

In the end he decided not to bother ? he'd done worse things before.

Instead of drawing Spock to come back with her, Nyota folded her long body on the couch next to Spock, and easily melted into his side. Spock lifted an arm to wrap more comfortably around her, and the two stayed like that for a while, soft words spoken that were beyond his ability to hear.

Inwardly, Kirk was amused that the two 'cuddling' was the most he'd ever see from then ? minus the kiss in the transporter room, of course. But, they did make a pretty pair, even he had to admit ? Spock was still in full uniform, and pale even in the absence of light. Nyota was comfortable in gray sweats and all soft lines to counter the rigidness of her counterpart. The golden light from the memorial colored them in pleasing shades of gold - and even he had to admit that they looked right together . . .

And while that grated a part of him, after all - he had made it through the whole alphabet a time or two trying to decode the mystery of her name ? and had done everything from leaving yellow roses all over her room, to serenading her in class to win her affection. Now, he reflects, that she was not one struck by glamorous overtures ? but rather by the undertones. The small things.

It had to be the linguist in her ? it was the only thing that Kirk could figure.

He had first picked up on it within the first few weeks of their mission ? after all, if he knew where to look, there wasn't much that got past him, and in their case it was most definitely somewhere he wanted to know everything.

They didn't smile at each other in public ? at least, Spock didn't. Uhura smiled at everyone ? but especially at [i]him[/i], with a warmth that lit up her eyes and then the r

 

Jade_eyes: We do need a whole series of emotes for fangirling, don't we? Thanks, as always, for the awesome words!!

Master_Jaina: Your review made my day. The whole purpose of writing is to know you've touched and inspired. Thank-you.

Nat: It's one of my favorites too. Jim's a blast to slip into writing, and when he's musing on my favorite pair . . . Oh yeah, it's fun.


~MJ

 

Author's Note: Another transitional chapter for you here (in a drabble/ficlet style ), but one I had a blast writing. After this we will move forward with the plot and drama. (And I can't wait for you all to read that! )

As always, a huuuge thanks goes to Jade_eyes for her amazing beta reading, inspirational, and kick-the-lazy-author-in-the-butt-skills.

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[u][b]XIII[/b]: [i]?Vocabulary?[/i][/u]


[b]Halfway[/b]

For the most part, they were able to mesh their lives rather seamlessly, but . . .

If she were going to have more than one dozen pairs of shoes (illogical, yes, but he enjoyed most of the selection on her . . .), he reserved the right to pointedly screw the cap on the toothpaste with a raised brow at her almost every night.

If he was going to drink that god awful tea every morning, then he a had better well be able to let her drink her coffee black without any comment on how she was ruining her adrenal glands. (She got a good work-out with them serving under Kirk, thankyouverymuch!)

If she was able to move the furniture around every other week, then he was able to draw the line at that floral printed Begrellian bedspread she had her eye on.

If he was going to insist on listening to those Clizz choir arrangements every morning (which sounded like dying cats to her), then he could very well tolerate her fascination with oldworld Broadway hits. (And yes, this included her singing [i]Transylvania Mania[/i] as loud as she could in the shower ? thank-you, Mel Brooks for that!)

In the end, it all worked out. His and hers . . . Give and take . . . Ebb and flow . . . and things of that nature.


[b]Discussion[/b]

Spock did not argue. He had [i]discussions . . . Words[/i]. Logical verbal sparring to unravel problems that inevitably sprang up in any relationship. When she told him that yes, they were arguing, and damn it all, but it was [i]healthy[/i] for a human to shout every now and again, so just put that raised brow [i]away[/i], Kirk (who had been unfortunately stuck in the lift with them) rolled his eyes and informed them that they weren't arguing so much as bickering like an old married couple.


[b]Frost[/b]

As a rule, he disliked the cold. And ice. And snow . . . And really anything of the like that came with it.

While growing up on a dessert world had produced this dislike for him, Nyota's Kenyan roots made it so that she was fascinated by the advent of frozen worlds. When she first talked him into ice-skating, he had reasonably objected.

And when she had prevailed (as she often did), he had found that he had not minded the cold so much . . . Nyota was just as clueless as he was when it came to ice, and gliding on it, so most of the time he found himself catching her falls and giving her an arm to balance on. In the end, the pastime was not so cold after all.


[b]Rhythm[/b]

Spock tried to teach her the Vulcan waltz one time. (Amongst several others for various functions throughout the years ? she shouldn't have been surprised in the end, as the son of a diplomat and a human woman, he would have known such things.)

The beginning was disastrous. She had trodden upon his toes too many times for her to repeat, and he had shown the same step to her too many times for him not to feel amusement in the back of his mind. By the end of the session, she found herself easily distracted ? laughing so hard that she was near tears, and enjoying the easy closeness between them, was not productive for learning the more difficult steps.

?Where did you learn to do this again?? she finally asked after one particularly bad collision, fighting not to laugh outright.

?A long time ago,? he said softly. ?It is of no matter now.?

She has the brief glance of memory, of a child and his mother painted in rich shades of dying red sunlight. Behind them, the backdrop of jagged mountains and burnt sands are harsh, but there is laughter on the air from the human woman and the child who didn't know precisely [i]not to[