A/N: This is my first Star Trek fanfiction, so please go easy on me. xD I'm a hopeless Spirk fangirl. I own nothing~

Spock had been feeling strange.

Not all the time, and not always the same way; the first strange feeling was better, when his Captain glanced at him or when they played chess; the other strange feeling was harsh, bitter, when women put their hands on him and when McCoy spoke to him in private. It bothered him immensely for even though he could define the feeling he had no desire to—it was not Vulcan, not logical.

Finally, after yet another end-of-shift disappearance of both the Captain and Chief Medical Officer, Spock was forced to confront the feelings. Stifling a low growl in his throat, he clasped his hands behind his back and headed for his quarters. As soon as he was inside, he slammed a fist against the wall, not hard enough to hurt it but hard enough to release his emotions until he was buried in them.

The emotions brought up images, all of Kirk—smiling, laughing, talking. Being human, indescribably so, and he wanted it. It was illogical, Vulcans didn't want, but he did, more than anything. And suddenly, Spock was filled the desire to talk to his mother.

She was quick to answer the call, her smiling face filling the screen. "Hello, Spock," she greeted him.

"I apologize for calling so unexpectedly," he replied, not really focusing on her face and instead on a spot on the wall about two inches above. "But I…have a…dilemma of sorts."

"Oh? What is it?" Amanda asked, her eyes filling with concern.

"I…am not sure how to explain it…" He could feel his ears growing hot at the thought of trying to explain this, even to his mother.

"You're blushing," she said, sounding almost…amused. "Come on, Spock, you can tell me."

Spock took a deep breath, attempting to fool himself into thinking he was alone with his thoughts. "I believe I am having romantic feelings for someone."

"Really?" She sounded surprised. "Why, Spock, that's wonderful."

"I am not so sure of that, Mother," he replied. "He—"

"He?" Amanda interrupted, raising her eyebrows. "Believe me, I have no problem with this, but…" She paused and closed her eyes for a moment, the way she did when she wanted to think. "Spock, dear, if I may ask, who is this lucky young man?"

"Er—" Spock had never been one to stammer, but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, making one hand into a fist. "It would be my Captain, Mother."

"Captain Kirk?" Amanda definitely sounded amused now. "The first time you described him to me you said he was illogical, stubborn, and painfully human."

His face flushed green. "I-indeed I did." She put a hand over her mouth, her eyes crinkling, and he caught the badly stifled laughter.

"Oh, my goodness," she said after a moment, waving a hand dismissively. "I apologize." Her expression became soft, concerned again. "So? What's the matter?"

"I believe he is romantically involved with someone else," Spock murmured, unable to look at her.

"Dear, I'm sorry," Amanda said softly. "I think you should tell him how you feel."

"He believes I feel nothing," he growled, his voice harsh. "I cannot display such…open emotion…I am in control."

"Just because you are in control of your emotions does not mean you cannot feel them," she snapped. "Spock, listen to me. If you don't tell him, you will not be able to control your emotions. Instead you will be displaying them in front of everyone, so filled with pain." She reached out towards the screen, as if to touch his face. "I love you, my son. I hope it goes well."

"Goodbye, Mother," the Vulcan replied, and the screen went black. He stood and began to pace. When he realized how pointless it was, he stopped, left his quarters, and began walking toward Kirk's.

The human part of his mind willed him to stop, to turn around and pretend this had never happened, but the Vulcan part forced him onward. Silently he counted the clicks his footsteps made, alone in the hall; it had been a late shift. He wondered almost hopefully if Jim was still awake.

Spock looked up; he stood in front of his Captain's quarters, close enough to reach out and ring the doorbell but too far for the doors to open automatically. Suddenly he was filled with an intense, human fear that he couldn't stifle; what was he doing here? What would doing this accomplish?

Not a moment after he had turned to leave than the door opened. "Spock?" The Vulcan stopped in his tracks and mentally shouted every Vulcan swear he knew, and a few Romulan. Composing himself, he turned around and froze under the Captain's brown eyes. They would be the death of him, he knew it.

"Did you want me, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked. He was alone. No Bones. This reassured him somewhat.

Yes, his mind whispered, functioning more slowly than usual. "Yes," Spock stated out loud, "I need to speak to you privately."

"All right," Jim said, standing aside and smiling at him, "come in." He stepped into the room, warmly lit, with a picture of an aging, smiling woman on his desk. Spock grew more uneasy, turning around as though the room were far too small. Kirk had settled in his desk chair, and motioned for him to sit down, but he remained standing.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and almost bit his lip, if that were not an illogical course of action. But what was logic to him now? Feeling these emotions for his Captain was not logical, but it had the ability to send a liquid warmth blossoming through his chest and up his throat, making his words stick on his tongue.

"Spock, you know you can tell me anything," Jim said, noticing his anxious demeanor. "I'm your friend." What was he supposed to say? After another moment of awkward silence he decided to take the same route he did with his mother.

"I am having romantic feelings for someone on this ship," he blurted out, digging his nails into his fist. He stared above Kirk's head, unable to meet his eyes.

"Oh? What's the problem?" Spock's gaze snapped to him in a fierce glare. "Oh, right, Vulcans, no emotion," Kirk stumbled.

"We feel emotion," Spock growled. "Sometimes we feel it more strongly than humans." He bit down on the inside of his cheek in fear, releasing in surprise when he tasted blood.

"Well, Spock, who is this person?" Jim asked, grinning.

"It…it is you, Jim," he managed, dropping his eyes as his voice cracked. Control. Gone.

"Oh," Kirk stammered, "I…um…" Spock was granted a memory, of Jim on his first day at the Academy, so cocky and confident but stumbling to make conversation with the Vulcan, who just looked down in weak amusement. And something snapped inside him. "I'm not sure what to say, honestly I'm flattered but—"

"But you do not return these feelings," Spock said, his voice low and rough. "I was aware. You and the good doctor are not as subtle as you believe yourselves to be. Excuse me, Captain, I will be leaving now."

He almost ran to his quarters, instead managing some control until he was safely inside his room. The warmth had vanished, leaving ice encasing a hollow shell, the broken pieces cold and unmoving. Spock sat on the edge of his bed, and thought, until he was in some dream-like state of nothingness, but never did he sleep.

He reported to duty perfectly on time, as always, and although he may have been stiffer than usual he was mostly unchanged. On the outside at least. Inside, Spock was counting every moment McCoy chose to come to the bridge, every touch that he knew meant something because he wanted to touch Jim there as well; his arms, his hands, once the nape of his neck with light fingertips. Spock was, however, perfectly normal, perfectly well, and perfectly logical.

Until McCoy and Kirk disappeared from the bridge for over two minutes, and his Captain returned with hair considerably more disheveled than before. Spock felt a sharp noise rising in his throat that he could not stifle; abruptly he rose from his chair and walked out of the bridge, ignoring Jim's concerned voice following him.

When he reached his quarters he sat at his desk, staring blankly at the wall. At the moment he didn't care about logic, and emotion, and simply let all his mental walls and blocks come crashing down.

"Spock!"

The Vulcan turned his head, confused. There stood his Captain, who looked equally puzzled, his chest heaving. "I thought…I could've sworn…"

"Sworn what, Captain?" Spock asked, trying to keep his voice level. It came off sounding strained and left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I thought…I was sure you were in trouble," Jim said, perplexed.

"As you can see, I am not," Spock replied. "Now, Captain, if you would kindly leave me in peace." He dismissed him by pointedly turning his head and staring back at the wall above steepled hands.

"No," Kirk snapped, taking on his authoritative voice. "No First Officer of mine bolts out of the bridge without an explanation."

"I am unfit for duty at this time," the Vulcan said smoothly. He glanced at his Captain, his eyes pleading. "Please…Jim…"

"I…alright, Spock," Jim murmured. "I can understand. I'll send someone to check on you later, however."

"Thank you, Jim."

The door closed and Spock was alone.

He could say how long he sat there, as counting the minutes was the only thing that kept him sane; he didn't do much except think, and think, and try to figure out a logical way to overcome this. There wasn't one.

After several hours, Spock was forced to stand if only to release the stiffness in his legs. He knew he should eat soon, but there was no dull ache in his stomach; just a dull ache everywhere. He settled for lying on his bed and closing his eyes, hoping to get a bit of rest.

And his door beeped.

"Come," he barked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. The door opened to reveal Dr. McCoy, who was the absolute last person Spock wanted to see. "What do you want, Doctor?"

"The Captain seemed to think I should check on you," McCoy said, eyeing him warily. "Said you were out of sorts."

"The Captain is incorrect," Spock growled, "and I would appreciate if you would leave me alone." He stood and glared down at the older man. The doctor glared right back, crossing his arms over his chest and not blinking. "Doctor, if I have to resort to forcing you out of my quarters physically, I will."

"You don't scare me, hobgoblin," McCoy snapped, "but I'll leave because I know what Jim would do if he caught us fighting, and I'm not in the mood to be shot out of an airlock." He turned and walked from the room, leaving Spock to wonder what illogicality he'd gotten himself into.