For his species, Spock was young. In addition, for any species, he was both personally and professionally inexperienced. He was also, just now, scared and very confused.
Two minutes ago he had been at his desk, in his quarters, reading an article in his science journal about lichen as an indicator species for atmospheric purity. He had been quite calm two minutes ago.
Someone had called at his cabin, he had risen to let them in, unaware that this simple action would live in his memory for the rest of his life. The person waiting to be let in was No.1, the ship's most experienced officer and someone he admired. Her dispassionate rationality, her incisive intellect, her ease of command. Her blue eyes and long legs. He had had no idea what to do about the latter two, so he had dismissed them and concentrated on the first three.
No.1, it now transpired, had had some ideas of her own regarding the latter two.
The door had closed behind her but she had not moved from the doorway. He had remained at what he supposed was a polite distance from her. She had advanced a little and he had stepped back, maintaining the distance. She advanced a little more, he a little back. He was now within inches of the bulkhead and had nowhere else to go. She reached out and took his hands, letting their arms hang like a wet rope between them. This had disabled him completely, immobilising him on the spot, but it was what she did next which had caused the sudden surge of terror.
She moved forward, bringing her face to within millimetres of his. Without moving his feet, he leaned back. His shoulders and the back of his head pressing flat against the bulkhead behind him. He was now off balance quite literally. Somehow she had maintained her proximity. He shut his eyes for an eternal moment, only to feel soft lips on his. He had no idea what to do, this had never happened to him before, so he did nothing. His heart was thudding against his ribcage, his skin felt clammy, and there was a tight knot where his stomach should have been. He did not open his eyes. And he did not protest.
She studied him, contemplating his reaction.''Fascinating'' she said, kissing him again.
His mind was racing, he still had no clue what to do. None of his training on Vulcan had prepared him for this. None of his training at the Academy, before he had been assigned to the Enterprise. He was aware that other cadets had pursued this kind of activity. He was aware that his crewmates pursued it, but it was an alien thing which did not concern him. A non-Vulcan rite, viewed through the wrong end of a telescope, distant, mystifying.
Another kiss and finally, from some long suppressed and forgotten corner of his being, a small bubble of instinct rose and he found himself responding in kind. Was this right? Was this what was required of him?
They parted and he at long last opened his eyes. Hers were still very close, but he could read nothing in them. In his she read doubt, fear and confusion. She smiled with sadness and compassion. He had served with humans and other species long enough to recognise these things, but had no idea why she should be feeling them.
Now that his eyes were open she leaned forward, kissing him once more. He responded, hesitantly, uncertainly, but he responded.
He shut his eyes again, her tongue finding his. This was also new. This was something else no one had ever done with him before. Somewhere deep in the half of him he kept hidden, his mother's half, his shameful half, something was telling him that this was alright. Was it alright? What had this to do with the discipline of logic? Had his mother found his father this way? Is this why he was only half Vulcan? He drew back and opened his eyes, uncertain again.
She smiled a reassuring smile. She was still holding his hands and now she tugged at them gently, pulling him away from the wall so that his centre of gravity was restored. He stood, dumbfounded and transfixed. What now? What happened now? He felt dizzy and a little sick. Was that normal? What did he do now?
She tugged at his hands again. His feet, which had ignored his every command, obeyed hers and followed her across his small cabin to his bed. He stood beside it. He felt numb. He understood what this meant. I can't do this, he thought. The other things yes, but not this, I don't know how to do this. He tried to tell her but she put a finger to his lips, hushing him. She sat on the bed drawing him down to be with her. Waves of nausea surged through him. She stroked the line where his hair met his forehead.''Please don't be scared'' she said.
She dimmed the lights, making it easier for him and began slowly removing his uniform. He did nothing to prevent this, watching her hands as she put off what he had put on. This also was something that had never happened to him before.
She awoke later to find him just a little way from her, with his knees tucked tightly under his chin and his arms locked around his shins, rocking himself gently back and forth. She shuffled over to him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders. She could feel the gentle sobs reverberating through his lungs. She brought him back to lie down with her again, pulling up the bedclothes. His lashes were wet. She held him, comforting him, wiping away his tears with her fingers, until the sobbing faded away. Only then did she ask ''What is it?''
'I think I am happy'' he said, and this too was new.
They had years yet before them, serving together, working together, being happy together. Sometimes she would come to him of her own volition, as she had that first time. His first time. He never learned how to get past his Vulcan heritage and find it within himself to go to her, but sometimes she would look up and see the unspoken invitation in his eyes and accept it with her own. Memories he would lock away when she was finally lost to him and never bring out again.
Years later he would serve with another crew, another Captain and he would be the First Officer. His would be the dispassionate intellect, but the corridors would always be full of ghosts and he would be another man.