A/N: This is my first Star Trek fanfiction (I hope it isn't painfully obvious...), and it's somewhat inspired by Nicholas Sparks' The Notebook, as well as my own experience with Alzheimer's in my family. I'll be posting the first two chapters to sort of test the waters and continue if I get a good response (because aren't we all at heart somewhat ego-driven?). But really, I'd love to hear what you all think so far. I promise it will get to more original story line after the first few chapters, I think. I just have to set it up right. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Stormy Weather - Chapter 1

There were some human customs, that even after years of living on Earth; Spock could never get fully used to. For instance, he still hated shaking hands, which made meeting new people even more unpleasant than usual. There were some, however, that he suffered through willingly.

That was the case as he sat alone on a wooden bench overlooking a large river. He had been there for, by his estimate, one hour, but despite Vulcan logic he found that time sometimes escaped him in moments of complete serenity. He wasn't even meditating, and yet the sheer natural beauty of his surroundings coupled with the patience that he had learned over the years from returning to this spot gave him a sense of peace and belonging, something that had for so long escaped the half-Vulcan. Watching the sunrise had begun as something he was dragged to, but now he went willingly. It never failed to amaze him how many emotions it dragged up in him.

The sun began to peek its eager head over the trees in the distance, filling the sky surrounding it with vibrant shades of pink and orange, and reflecting in the clear water of the lake. A single bird flew out across the lake at a leisurely pace, dipping its talons into the surface, causing it to ripple ever so smoothly as the bird flew higher and out of sight, leaving only the ripples as evidence that it was even there. Spock took a deep breath in, trying to take in the picture around him as best as he could. For even the most natural of beauty was fleeting, as he had learned very well throughout his years. The sun became bigger over the trees and flooded the environment with light, coloring the grass a vibrant green and he found himself wishing, as he had so many times before, that he could push pause and let everything come to a standstill. How he wished that things would stop, slow down, even rewind to a time when things could be taken as they were. As the sun finally revealed its entire being, he knew that to wish this was illogical. He knew, but that didn't stop him from wanting.

Even in his older age, Spock had a certain briskness about him, made evident by the way he was trudging along the path back up to the building. It was painted white entirely on the outside, and was much larger than an average home. Spock had long earlier conceded that it might have once been a "plantation", from Earth's former years, kept in good condition quite miraculously in his opinion. He looked up now to the third window on the second floor and saw that the blinds were still closed, which wasn't always a good sign. But then again, Spock didn't believe in signs. He could make this a good day, he just needed time.

An elderly human woman greeted Spock as he entered the building.

"Good morning, Mr. Spock!" She said warmly with a smile. "How was your walk this morning?"

"Same as always, Mrs. Chapel, and not unlike yourself." He stated, walking over to her desk. She gave him a look of faux confusion to let him carry on. "Very beautiful." He added, offering her a slight twinge of his lips as a smile. They had carried on in this fashion every morning since he had begun taking his walks, but it never failed to warm his old, tired bones to have a nice friend.

"That's good to hear." She said sweetly. "But I don't know how many times I have to tell you, sir, call me Christine."

"Yes, of course, Nurse Chapel. I apologize." He replied, almost smirking. Almost. He laughed inwardly when he thought of all the human habits he had picked up, no question in his mind as to how. She laughed heartily at his reply and motioned to the stairs across from her station.

"You can go on up, sir, but I don't wanna hear that the maids caught you stealing another one of those blankets, you hear me?" She replied, her tone both menacing and playful.

"If that is the case then you should refrain from speaking to the maids later today. That is, if what they have to say might upset you." He gave her a knowing wink before starting up the stairs, seeing her shake her head in a combination of fondness and disapproval before he turned the corner and continued up the flight. By now he had memorized the building by heart, but more importantly, the location of one room. He was there in seconds but waited a bit longer before knocking. After two deep breaths he let his hand knock against the white door. He heard some shuffling inside and two muffled voices before a nurse opened the door to let herself out, shutting the door behind her.

"Mr. Spock, how are you today?" She said casually, tucking her black hair behind her ears. This was another human custom he had trouble with: small talk. While he enjoyed it to some degree with certain people, it was always slightly uncomfortable. The other party always assumed he was uninterested because of his stoic manner, but it usually was not the case. Either way, he had always done his best to assimilate into the human culture, and if that meant casual banter was necessary, so be it.

"I am well. And how is he?" He said, cutting to the chase. He was eager to enter the room and she was standing in his way.

"There have been better days…" She said softly, giving him a knowing look. Another thing, euphemisms. Why not just state the meaning directly? Trying to make it sound "better" provided an unnecessary opportunity for misunderstanding. Fortunately they had been through this for so long that they had a sort of code and understood each other exactly.

"I see." He replied, voice unchanging. They stood for a while in silence. The nurse looked contemplative, trying in vain to read the older man's expression. As if she expected after all this time for him to finally give up. "Do you require more time to prepare yourself or are we to enter now?" Her expression was incredulous as she scrambled to open the door.

"Giving up" had once been a part of his nature. When the odds were against him, and there was no chance in succeeding, he always thought the logical course of action was to turn and walk away. Until someone came along and taught him that there is no such thing as a no-win situation.