The Vulcan Way
by SlwMtionDaylite
Disclaimer: Star Trek and associated characters created by Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing at all.
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Spock/Uhura (implied)
Word Count: ~950
Summary: He vowed to deal with these illogical emotions alone. That was the Vulcan way. That was the way he chose.
SPOILERS FOR STAR TREK XI!!
Author's Note: This is the first time that I've ever written a Star Trek fic, much less any kind of fanfic for a long while. I feel a little out of practice. So, be gentle. :) I'm also hoping that I am remembering the Vulcan game of kal-toh correctly.
It was the logical decision.
The planet had only minutes. The logical decision was to save those who were most important to the survival of the culture.
So, why did he feel...guilt?
It was illogical to feel this way. Logically, he knew he was not capable of saving the entire population of Vulcan. He had issued a planet-wide evacuation even though logically he knew there was simply not enough time to get everyone out.
He had done everything he could...logically.
And yet, he could not shake this emotion he felt. This illogical feeling. Compounded with the grief of losing his mother...his home... It was overwhelming.
His father once told him he would always be a child of two worlds. He however had chosen the Vulcan way. He chose to lead a life where logic reigned supreme. Where logic offered him a kind of serenity that humans could never experience.
A serenity he was now lacking.
His decision to follow the Vulcan way had left him unable to deal with these crushing feelings. And Vulcan restraint prevented him from discussing them.
Logic dictated that emotions were irrelevant. Therefore, he had spent his life suppressing them and not dealing with them.
Because logic told him this.
Never before had he hated that word. Logic. It was so cold. So empty. It no longer offered him the inner peace and serenity once promised.
Why didn't he reach out for his mother before she fell?
Spock jumped slightly as the metal t'an rods fell across the table, creating a loud crash, startling the relative quietness of the lounge. Embarrassment was not an emotion he had felt often in his life. And it was one he did his best to suppress as he ignored the pointed glances of his fellow shipmates as he pressed the switch on the base of the kal-toh. He watched as the metallic rods were fabricated and randomly arranged themselves in a spherical shape before him.
It had been a long while since he was unable to complete the kal-toh. Spock had hoped it would help him organize his thoughts.
He had not been very lucky with that.
He studied the chaotic shape before him, deciding which rod to move. He picked one and moved it.
The shape before him shifted and became even more complex. More chaotic.
He'd chosen the wrong rod.
His eyes slid close as he took deep breaths. He found himself unable to concentrate. Too wracked with these emotions that he was having a harder and harder time suppressing.
Spock's eyes opened when he heard someone slip into the chair before him.
It was Nyota.
He had known instantly who it was before even opening his eyes. She was the only one onboard who would dare join him without prior permission. He studied her as she studied the kal-toh. He had taught her how to play during their time together at the Academy. She had been his TA - this is true - but there was always time for leisure.
He made the time. To be with her.
Lt. Uhura fascinated him. While most of the crew onboard was put off by his cold unfeeling logic, she was not. It puzzled him. But he had also learned not to question it, but to simply appreciate her.
She reached for a rod and placed it in a strategic place. The kal-toh shifted automatically, rearranging itself. Becoming slightly less chaotic. More harmonious. More beautiful.
It was his turn again.
If he moved the piece here, it would bring about more chaos. This piece there, a collapse.... that piece...
Six billion people. Gone in an instant... It was illogical to dwell... focus on the shape...not that piece - it was a support...
He remembered playing this game with his father and mother when he was a child.
His dear mother...
He never told her he loved her...
Did she know?
His hand which had been reaching out slipped.
And once again, the t'an rods scattered across the table.
Spock's eyes closed and he took a deep breath.
"Spock?"
He opened his eyes to look into the concerned ones of Uhura's.
She tilted her head to the side, "Are you okay?"
He found himself hesitating. "Okay is unacceptable."
Uhura sighed.
He was confused why she seemed upset. "Have I done something to upset you?"
She shook her head. "No. No, Spock."
This time he tilted his head, "Your tone and posture suggest otherwise."
"I'm worried about you."
He sat up straighter, "You needn't concern yourself."
Nyota scoffed, "Spock, you just lost at kal-toh...to me."
"Your skill has been improving greatly. I am pl-"
She interrupted him, "Don't do that. Don't avoid."
"I do not know what you're saying."
She sighed, "Your feelings. Don't hide them."
"My feelings are irrelevant. They are illogical."
"They are a part of you. That makes them relevant and logical to me."
Spock remained silent for a minute that slowly stretched into two, then three. He was aware of her eyes on him, begging him, but he could not…would not voice them. He had given in briefly when she had confronted him in the lift shortly after Vulcan's destruction. He could not allow himself to do it again. No matter how much he wanted.
Without word, he stood and left the table, left her alone.
He made his way to his quarters with only his haunting thoughts to accompany him.
He vowed to deal with these illogical emotions alone.
That was the Vulcan way.
That was the way he chose.
THE END