Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Trek 2009 movie, and I am not making profit from writing this fic.
Summary:Extraordinary gifts come at an extraordinary price.
Warning(s): Angst for now. Hints and flashes of het. Definite slash undertones later. Heavy themes. Others will be added as they appear.
Rating: Mature
Author's Notes:
The earlier version of this chapter was beta'd by the beautiful siehn(who is also known by other names, too), so thank you! I dropped out of yet another bigbang (this one was instigated by LJ's startrekbigbang)—my muse just won't cooperate with required word counts & deadlines, but still he never wants me to stop writing on these crazy plot and story ideas I come up with from the challenges.
In any case, this is completely new fandom from my usual, and I can promise this will have many chapters (I have no idea when it will end). An OC will also a have a huge impact on how the story progresses, so yeah. Usually I try to keep my OCs to myself, but Dr. Silvayne is critical to the plotline and most certainly not in the way you'd ever expect. This story is essentially about…living in the face of dying and the meaning of sacrifice, among countless other things.
The major pairings are: slight SpockxOC, present (this chapter) & past SpockxUhura, eventual SpockxMcCoy & UhuraxKirk. The song "Angels on the Moon" by Thriving Ivory is a major inspiration for this fic. The ST TOS episodes "Is There In Truth No Beauty?" & "The Emapth" add a bit of inspiration to this fic too. I could say a ton more, but I'll just let you enjoy it now.
So until next time.
-Yo
Extraordinary
by aino-himitsu (my LJ name)/Yo's Suborniate
Do you know why you're not afraid to die, Spock? You're more afraid of living. Each day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip and let your human half peek out. – McCoy, Season 2, Episode 25, "Bread and Circuses"
Chapter 1
(2nd version); Finished 7.24.12 about 3,065 words
Nyota was barely there on the bridge today. It took all of her concentration just to maintain an acceptable level of work production at the Communications station. Her usual level was nothing less than excellent, so Spock was bound to notice her subpar performance, if he hadn't already, which was the last thing she wanted. She had to fight to keep her eyes straight ahead and off of the Science station, where Spock was undoubtedly keeping track of the readings from the current star system—Beta Phi IX—the Enterprise was mapping. A sigh fell from her lips as she tried to focus harder on listening to subspace frequencies that just weren't there. All was, unfortunately for her, quiet.
"You bored, too, Uhura?" Captain Kirk's question was so unexpected that she visibly startled in her seat.
She turned toward him, glaring. He was standing right next to her, cockiness clinging to him like a second skin. She watched the amusement flash through his blue eyes and wanted to throttle him. She couldn't help clenching her teeth. Why did this boy-man have to try and get a rise out of her? He wasn't even really doing anything irritating at the moment, yet he was still able to get underneath her skin. And she let him.
"I'm doing my job, Captain, not harassing my colleagues and distracting them from theirs," Nyota hissed, just this side of being insubordinate.
"Whoa, calm down. I was just checking on you. Seeing if there's been any activity, you know?" Kirk said, bringing up his hands, open-palmed, in a gesture of peace. He explained further, "You sighed, so I thought you were bored, too. I'm about to go mad with this assignment. We've been at it almost two weeks."
Nyota just stared at the captain. What was she supposed to say? This was Starfleet's orders, and mapping star systems was just as important as battling Klingons or disengaging psychopathic Romulans…
"There's been no activity to report, sir. And I'm just tired and a little restless, waiting for the end of the shift," Nyota said, hoping to mollify him, so he would go away and quit drawing Spock's attention to her—she could feel the Vulcan's dark gaze piercing the back of her head.
Nyota turned back to her station, straining and struggling once again to grasp for a solid focus. Her effort only produced the beginnings of a tension headache. She still wished, in vain, for some subspace message to come through.
"Well, it's almost over," He said, awkwardly patting her shoulder, before walking back toward his chair at the center of the bridge.
Ignoring the curious warmth left in the wake of the captain's palm, a ghostly imprint now lodged against her shoulder, she let out a second sigh, this time one of relief, because Spock's stare only remained on her for a few seconds longer.
I dread the discussion we'll soon be having, but it's the best…for both of us, Nyota thought, noting that Kirk was right because their shift was ending in five minutes. I might as well ask him now.
"Commander, a word please?" She asked, catching Spock's gaze.
He nodded and joined her at her station, and she took off her head set.
"Would you…join me for dinner in my quarters after our shift ends? There is a matter of great importance we must discuss," Nyota requested as quietly as she could, fully aware of the ears around her.
"Of course, Lieutenant," Spock affirmed, regarding her with that unnerving intensity that usually intimidated everyone but her—and probably the captain, who didn't seem to be intimidated by anyone.
She nodded to him, before turning back to her station and putting her head set back on. He didn't linger behind her, obviously opting to return to the Science station.
Suddenly, she received a message from the Admiral.
"Captain, Admiral Pike wishes to speak with you in private. Shall I patch him through to your office?"
"Yes, Lieutenant," Kirk responded, excitement bubbling in his voice—no doubt hoping for new orders.
Nyota did as Kirk requested, watching as he exited the bridge, an odd spring in his step. She slightly shook her head, almost smiling—one could always count on Kirk being a kid, captain or not.
"Lieutenant?" This time it was Spock's voice that surprised her.
He stood beside her, his hands folded neatly behind his back. She noticed his replacement for the next shift was already at the Science station while hers was waiting to relieve her as well.
"Shift's over then," Nyota murmured, rising to her feet and removing the head set again.
Spock began making his way toward the turbo lift in swift strides, and she rushed to follow after him.
The moment the lift doors closed, his eyes were on her again, and Nyota couldn't help fidgeting. She tried to control it, but couldn't. She wasn't even able to look him in the eyes. She took a deep breath and stopped the lift with a shaky finger. This couldn't wait through dinner.
"Spock…I…" Her voice trailed off, cracking, as she forced herself to meet his gaze—it was the least she could give him for what she was about to do.
"I do love you. Please never doubt that. But I'm not in love with you. I realized I can't give you what you need, and you are incapable of doing so for me. I believe…it is best for us both to go our separate ways. Do you understand?"
His face went completely blank. He understood.
"You do not wish for us to engage in a romantic relationship anymore," Spock stated.
"Yes. We can remain friends if you want, and I understand if you don't," Nyota said, unable to look at him anymore. She continued in a whisper, "I'm sorry, Spock. Because you're wonderful…"
The rest of her words died on the edge of her tongue, snuffed out like candle flame on the cold eve of a hurricane, drenched out of existence. Her words were so inadequate, and the silence suddenly hanging between them was louder than anything she'd ever heard—and understanding the intricacies of sound was her entire life. She had one thought for him that was hammering like a gong's echo straight through her brain: I'm the Earth's biggest fool for letting you go.
"May I ask a personal query?" He broke the silence, a strained, hoarse note lingering in the rich depth of his voice.
She remembered when she would close her eyes, and he would whisper in his native tongue in her ear, his voice pitched low, a soothing melody that ignited slow, toe curling passion in her belly. She would lose herself in the velvet darkness of his words, a blanket that would surround her and make her heart nearly break. She heard such tenderness there, interlaced with palpable desire and his overwhelming protectiveness…and his arms would wrap around her from behind and hold her like she was the most precious thing in his world. No one else ever saw or felt him in such a manner—and she knew she'd been given a rare, priceless gift from the Vulcan.
She remembered when he had been her safe harbor, and she had been his ship, seeking momentary rest away from open sea. She should've known better. He was made of forever, the light house standing sentinel, a guidepost in the storm; but she would always long to be free, to set sail against fate, embracing the ever changing winds with all that made her who she was and would be. A ship only knew how to leave while her harbor always stayed, waiting for the time when she needed refuge again. She couldn't do that to Spock. She couldn't make him wait while he watched her walk away.
Numbly, she nodded, a wordless reply to Spock's question.
"What do you need that I am unable to give you?"
This question stunned her…so much so that she was able to lock gazes with him again. His face was no longer a carefully constructed Vulcan mask. The hurt and confusion she saw…took her breath away and made her heart tighten. She wanted…to go bury herself in a hole somewhere. She reached up and cupped his cheeks in her hands, drawing his lips toward hers.
She closed her eyes and kissed him. Because of the physical touch, she knew he could feel, perhaps even hear, everything that was going on inside her. She owed him this vulnerability one last time because he had been her harbor—his love was quiet, but it had been deeper and stronger than any she had ever known.
There was no spark in the kiss. Not even a cinder simmered within her. Winter's ashes. Tears began to fall from her closed eyes, sliding down her cheeks, wetting their faces. She choked down a sob that threatened to surge forth. How could she tell him that she…didn't desire him anymore? That she didn't want to be tied down for the long term? Committing to Spock was for life…and she just couldn't give him marriage. She couldn't give anyone that. Yes, she had desired Spock once, but somehow, over the year they had been together, the passion in her for him dried and froze solid with remorse.
"Must I really say it aloud?" She whispered against his lips, while thinking, I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have.
"You do not desire me anymore," Spock said, pulling away from her.
"No. But it was beautiful while it lasted. Perhaps the most beautiful I've ever had," She murmured, finally opening her chocolate brown eyes, and continued with, "I know you don't really get it right now, but eventually you'll see that this is for the best. You may not believe it after today, but I do want you to be happy."
She started the turbo lift again.
"You're afraid to fully commit to me."
"I don't want to marry anyone."
"Our minds were not compatible enough to form a stable bond. You have done what I could not by ending our romantic relationship," Spock stated, his raven head slightly bowed, before adding more softly, "But I still wish for your friendship, Nyota."
She didn't turn toward him, even though a small smile formed on her lips.
"I'm glad," She said, stepping out of the lift and onto her floor, before turning her head a little to glance back at him out of the corner of her eye. She finished by saying, "Have a good night, Mr. Spock."
"You, too," He replied just as the doors shut.
She let out another sigh and walked to her quarters, dinner long forgotten and the farthest thing from her mind.
Jim wasn't fooled. He could tell something was bothering Uhura. When she'd asked for Spock to come to her station, the sense that something was wrong became even stronger. Jim's instincts were usually never faulty. Besides, the atmosphere on the bridge reached a crescendo of discomfort as Spock stood stiffly by her. The tension was so thick then he could taste it on his tongue—something bitter, maybe crunchy…almonds and dark chocolate?
O. Kaaay. That was weird even for me. How the hell can tension taste like anything, let alone that? Jim's brow slightly furrowed at this thought; maybe he was just hungry?
He shook his head and forced his mind back to the pair. He'd certainly caught the concerned glances Spock kept giving her—that alone was alarming—and made Jim surmise that Uhura was upset about something regarding Spock although that something didn't seem to be anything the Vulcan had knowledge about.
Jim was definitely bored with the current mission; however, his aim earlier had been to pester his Communications officer, in hopes of distracting her from whatever she was so pre-Spock-upied with.
Pre-Spock-upied! Get it? Haha! Jim had to try really hard to suppress the snort that was threatening to turn him into the undignified menace everyone pretty much thought he was. God can I be any weirder?
Anyway, he wanted to piss Uhura off to the point of distraction from the something that was bugging her, even if it was only for a little while.
Jim entered his office, pushing aside thoughts of Uhura and Spock. They would have to wait for now—or, preferably to him, sort things out on their own.
He had one of his feelings. His gut told him that Pike was about to give him a big mission. His palms started to itch, and then there it was—the familiar buzz of anticipation racing through his veins. Everything in him was sparking to life. This thrill thrumming along his spine…it was something he was almost precognitive about.
He sat down at his desk and turned on the console, grinning at the elder man on the screen.
"Staying out of trouble, I hope, Jim," Pike said, trying and failing, to keep the mirth out of his voice.
"Of course I'm not, Admiral. It's me we're talking about," Jim joked, doing his best not grin any wider—he failed, too.
An almost exasperated smile finally fell across Pike's lips, and he ceased trying to control his reactions to the boy…this man he knew deep down he loved like his own son.
"Tell me you have new orders for the Enterprise. I'm going out of my mind with all this star mapping," Jim groaned, mentally crossing his fingers that his gut hadn't been lying.
"You know star mapping is important, but, yes, you're receiving new orders," Pike stated, his expression suddenly becoming serious. He added, "You can't muddle this one up, kid." Not that he thought Kirk would.
The grin left Jim's face instantly.
"The Enterprise is being assigned to transport crucial supplies to the New Vulcan colony, and the two to three weeks the ship is in the planet's orbit, you and your crew are to assist the Vulcans in any way desired or necessary. You will also be picking up a new crew member for the Enterprise—a doctor. She is to trade posts with M'Benga. He will be relegated to New Vulcan in her place for the remainder of Enterprise's mission."
Jim knew how vital this next mission was. He didn't need Pike telling him not to mess things up. It had only been a little over a year since the Nero incident, since billions of Vulcans lost their lives…and hundreds of cadets, his classmates, died…since the Enterprise began its five year mission to explore uncharted territories in the universe. No, he definitely didn't need Pike telling him not to fuck this one up.
"I understand, sir. I'll order the Science division to wrap the Beta Phi IX project up," Jim replied, his face betraying nothing now—he was all captain.
"Understood. I'll have Dr. Silvayne's files sent to you immediately. Pike out."
The screen went black, and his PADD suddenly beeped, no doubt alerting him to the receipt of the new doctor's files.
Guess I should call a meeting with the department heads, Kirk thought, a sigh, much like Uhura's earlier, escaping his lips.
No, she wasn't bored then, any more than he was now. It was the kind of sigh meant to relieve stress, and he could only begin to wonder what Uhura had been so stressed about.
Spock stepped out of the lift and onto the floor where his and the captain's quarters were located. He struggled to keep his mind blank, to keep calm…to ward off the memories of them…memories that kept flashing like a broken kaleidoscope through his mind. He needed to meditate…and soon.
Sinking in her warmth…their fingers intertwined…the intoxicating darkness of her skin, satin under his sensitive hands, forbidden cacao beneath his lips…their often awkward embraces…their near innocent kisses…the blinding light of her smile…
Their minds could not fit together, even though their bodies could. He had known this; it was only logical that they go their separate ways. He had known that she was…not happy. Every time they touched, he knew how guilty she was feeling, how desperately she wanted to be free, how much she feared hurting him. Nyota stayed as long as she could, and he held on knowing he should have already let her go.
What is it like not to feel anger? Or heartbreak? Or the need to stop at nothing to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?
You feel nothing! It must not even compute for you. You never loved her!
…You asked me once why I married your mother. I married her because I love her.
Suddenly, the captain's and his father's words from a year ago tore through him. He'd felt heartbreak once before, and he knew he had the capacity to love. No one would believe that, and that was acceptable—he'd never admit such things aloud in the first place. Remembering their words made the ache now constricting and cleaving his heart worse…and he wondered what his mother would have said to him about the situation with Nyota if she were still alive.
Spock stopped in front of his door, cupping his side with his hand, listening to his heart pumping and shuddering. He closed his eyes, letting the rhythm wash over him.
He took in a deep breath and smelled the tang of salt—Nyota's dried teardrops. His heart faltered for a single beat.
I do love you. Please never doubt that. But I'm not in love with you.
"I was in love with you, Nyota," He whispered, finally opening the doors to his quarters. And I never told you that, never let you hear me say those words…
Taking another deep breath, he opened his eyes and began preparing himself for meditation.
Dinner did not even cross his mind, and even if it had, he probably wouldn't have had an appetite. Nor would he have been able to eat alone, at least not today.
To be continued in Chapter 2…