It was four o'clock on a Saturday. I had another hour before my shift at the academy clinic was over. Today was a slow day, not many cadets had had accidents or gotten into bar fights that day. I was sitting on an exam bed reading a book on my PADD. One of the other cadets, one training to be a nurse, not a doctor like me, tried to come read over my shoulder to alleviate her own boredom. I hate when people do that but I didn't say anything, I just let her figure out that the book was in Vulcan, give up attempting to read it, and find something else to do. I read a lot of books in Vulcan, I liked the language with its mix a beauty and the stark lack of emotion in the writing. Many would say that Vulcans themselves had no emotions. Of course most of these people had never met a Vulcan or had spent limited time with one. I knew different having a Vulcan for my roommate for the past year and a half. I was forever grateful to whoever thought cadets at Starfleet Academy were mature enough to have roommates of the opposite sex, because they allowed me to meet Spock.

I had made no requests regarding roommates, not caring if they were male, female, human, or alien, and I am to this day immensely thankful for that decision. After Spock had gotten his head around the fact that I didn't care that he was a guy and nonhuman, he seemed genuinely pleased to be my roommate. We soon became good friends and I learned pretty quickly that Vulcans were anything but emotionless. It was actually kind of fun to watch Spock, to try to figure out what he was feeling. I could do it pretty well by now: I knew that when he brought his eyebrows together slightly so his brow was furrowed, he was concentrating, when his eyes narrowed and his lips were pressed tightly together, he was furious, and when his eyes lightened and the corner of his mouth ticked up ever so slightly, he was immensely happy. It was the eyes I had to watch, he showed so much of himself in those deep brown eyes. They sparkled when he was happy or curious (the latter would be accompanied by a slightly raised eyebrow), they darkened in embarrassment when someone poked fun at his ears or manner, and they laughed when the rest of him did not. I found myself somewhat addicted to his almost non-expressions. After a long conversation or an intense study session with Spock, when I tried to interact with other humans I found myself overwhelmed by the amount of emotion they showed. I would go on a date and be slightly disappointed by the guy's easy grin, thinking that it was so much more satisfying to see Spock's almost-smile. It was infinitely more precious because it was so hard to get out of him; I felt like I had won a great victory when his mouth twitched upwards for a second and his eyes danced.

That first year at the Academy had gone so quickly that we barely had any time to really get to know each other. What changed our relationship was Christmas break; he hinted that he was just going to stay at school and study so I convinced him to spend Christmas with me instead. My parents loved him, with his quiet manner and ever-present politeness. We would go outside, huddle together to ward off the cold, and talk for hours. He told me about his childhood on Vulcan, how he was always an outcast among others of his kind. He shared details of his life I felt he had never told anyone else: how he loved to stand outside and watch the sunrise with his mother, how he always longed for a true friend to accept him for who he was, how he tried so hard to be Vulcan to impress his father and how he seemed to always disappoint him. One day I caught him standing in the snow, alone, just thinking. Being the incredibly mischievous, illogical human that I am, I immediately knelt down and packed the snow together into a large snowball. I reared back and threw the projectile with all my strength at my friend's back. The snowball hit him square in the small of his back and he turned around very slowly with an expression of absolute incredulity on his face. He arched an eyebrow and I marveled at how much expression could be conveyed by that simple action. Keeping the rest of his face perfectly neutral he asked,

"What was the reason behind that action Sarah?"

I sighed, "Spock, it's called a snowball fight. Humans do it in the snow, they throw big chunks of snow and ice at each other."

I didn't think it was possible but the eyebrow rose even higher. "But why?" He asked simply.

"I don't know, because it's fun I suppose."

He pursed his lips slightly in a small frown, "Fun?"

I laughed, he made the word sound like some sort of deadly infection that one must avoid at all costs. "Yes Spock, fun."

"I see," he replied, "but it seems to me that for two people to have fun, they both need to be involved in the activity said to cause it." And with that he reached down, scooped up a handful of snow, packed it into a ball, and threw it at me in one rapid motion. I had just registered what he had done when the snowball crashed into me with enough force to make me stagger back.

I looked up in shock and grinned at Spock's ever-so-innocent expression that plainly said, "Who did that? It surely wasn't me!" "Oh, it is on Spock!" I laughed as I bent down and formed another snow ball. I soon learned, however, that when you get into a snowball fight with a Vulcan, you will, without a doubt, loose. He used his vast knowledge of physics to carefully time and aim his throws so he never missed. After about ten minutes, I was discouraged and covered in snow, having only managed to get off a few shots myself. Seeing my dejected expression, Spock dropped the snowball he was forming and walked towards me. He stopped in front of me and raised that damnable eyebrow, saying, "Do you surrender then?"

I laughed. "Never!" And proceeded to tackle him to the ground. His eyes widened in surprise as he fell and he instinctively reached out and grabbed my jacket, bringing me down with him. We both tumbled to the ground and I laughed as I rolled over on top of him, pinning him to the ground in a move I learned in the defense course at the Academy. I looked down at him, his eyes bright with laughter, snow in his now adorably mussed hair, and realized that I had never noticed how attractive he was. If a man could be described as beautiful, that would be how I would be forced to describe Spock. His dark hair and eyes contrasted wonderfully with his pale skin and the eyebrows and ears that so many found unsettling only added to his good looks, giving him a refined, elegant air. He was, in a word, perfect. I was jolted out of my reverie when his hand reached up to twine itself in my hair, pulling me even closer to his face. His eyes flickered to my lips and in that moment I knew what he wanted; and I knew that he would never be able to find the words to ask, constrained as he was by his Vulcan heritage. "Spock…" I whispered, half asking, half commanding. His brown eyes found my blue ones and I again saw that want and the uncertainty he felt about feeling it. About feeling anything.

"Sarah, I am unsure how to proceed," he murmured quietly. His eyes were still locked on mine, asking, still unsure. But I was sure. I guess I had always known this was the way things would turn out between us. I smiled reassuringly and brought my own hand up to trace the point of his ear.

"Don't worry Spock, I'll show you." And with that I closed my eyes and pressed my lips gently to his.

I had expected sweetness, tenderness, uncertainty; all things that come with a first kiss. I had not expected passion from Spock, not expected him to kiss me back with fervor and need, not expected him to roll us over so he was on top, his entire body pressed into mine and wind his hands through my hair. He cradled the back of my head, bringing my mouth up to meet his more forcefully. This kiss was sweet, it was tender, but it was also all passion and fire; it was so emotional, and the fact that this kiss came from Spock took my breath away. We finally broke apart to breathe, resting our foreheads together. There was no awkwardness, no regret. There was more kissing, much more kissing to be exact, before we both grew too cold for comfort and headed inside.

After we returned to the Academy, our relationship did not change drastically. We were still roommates and friends, study partners and workaholics; we just punctuated all the usual activities that had come to characterize our lives with a healthy amount of kissing. I did not expect a relationship; I knew he would not know how to show the emotion necessary to maintain one. I was happy with the way things were, that we could preserve our friendship while acting on the romantic feelings we felt for each other. We weren't dating or truly involved so we didn't tell anyone, or at least I didn't tell any of my friends; Spock had no friends other than me to keep secrets from. I did stop dating other people, which raised red flags around campus (I was in no way Gaila, who brought a different man back to her room every night, but I was known to be single and willing to date). This sudden change in my behavior sparked debates as people bet on who I was secretly seeing. My friends frequently pestered me to divulge the identity of my mystery man. They took to throwing out names of all the single guys on campus, hoping to guess which one had caught my fancy. They never mentioned Spock, for which I was grateful because it prevented me from having to lie outright to my friends, but it did surprise me. Anyone with eyes could see that he was beautiful and anyone who spent a little bit of time with him would realize he was not cold and distant, merely restrained. He did show his emotions, albeit in a more subtle fashion that most humans, and he could be very funny. Spending time with me had taught him much of teasing and sarcasm and he frequently matched me joke for joke when we talked. He was also absolutely brilliant. It was so refreshing to have someone to talk to who matched me intellectually; who, in fact, frequently forced me to try and catch up. We never ran out of things to talk about. We debated about absolutely anything, from the subtleties of particle physics to the conjugation of verbs in Romulan, and it was always stimulating because we were evenly matched and both intensely competitive. But more than anything, I felt safe with Spock. He respected me, respected my boundaries and my ambitions. He was a Vulcan-raised gentleman who dispensed acts of chivalry without thinking about them. I wished every man I knew treated me as well as he did. So I was astounded that no one even considered the fact that we were together (even though, technically, we weren't), especially seeing as we were roommates.

I was jolted out of my thoughts when the doors to the clinic burst open revealing the object of my musings. Spock was leaning heavily against a man I recognized as a member of campus security and was covered in thick, green blood. I jumped to my feet, my discarded PADD clattering to the floor. I helped the security lieutenant sit Spock down on an exam bed so I could see what was wrong. It immediately became apparent that he had been viciously beaten. I looked up at the lieutenant, "How many were there?" He stared at me, surprised at how quickly I had deduced what had happened, but kept his curiosity to himself and replied.

"Six. And the smallest one had a good fifty pounds on him."

"Where?"

"In the alley between the Science and Linguistics buildings."

I paused in my examination of a large gash on Spock's forehead and leveled my gaze at him. The expression he now wore was the closest a Vulcan could come to contrition. "How many times do I have to tell you Spock-"

"Sarah," he interjected, "it is only logical to use that pathway. It allows me to reach the Science Lab an average of four minutes and twenty-three seconds earlier than-"

"Spock!" It was my turn to interrupt. "I don't care how much time it saves you! This is the third time you've been ambushed in that alley. Find another route to the Lab!"

The campus security official spoke again. "This has happened before?'

I sighed. "Yes, this is the fifth time in a year and a half that he's been attacked. It's always by a big group and they're always built like wrestling champions."

The lieutenant frowned, "I see. Well I shot all of the perps with my phaser so at least they'll wake up in lock up with massive headaches." I smiled grimly as I cleaned the blood of Spock's face. "If you have everything under control here doctor, I'll just go write up my report."

"Yes, thank you officer. I've got him handled. I'll inform you of the extent of his injuries for your official report after I examine him" He nodded and left. I turned to the nurse who had been trying to read over my shoulder earlier, "Adele, go get sutures, gauze and antiseptic. I'll need a sling for his arm too." Spock hissed in pain as I felt his side. "And some surgical tape for his ribs please." Adele nodded and hurried off to the supply closet. I turned to Spock, "Alright, what hurts the most?"

He concentrated, "My nose, the back of my head, the ribs on my left side, and my left shoulder and arm." I closed my eyes to get control over myself. He had stated all his injuries so matter-of-factly and seemed so calm when all I wanted to do was find the cadets who had done this and make them wish they had never been born. It seemed that most of his injuries where on his left side and, upon closer examination, I saw that his arm was hanging from his shoulder at an unnatural angle. My eyes widened, "Spock, I think your shoulder's dislocated. How are you not unconscious?"

He looked at me with pain-filled eyes, "Vulcans have a much higher tolerance for pain than do humans."

"Be that as it may, Spock, that's still an incredibly painful injury." He gave a small shrug that subsequently jarred his shoulder and caused him to gasp. "Okay, okay. It's alright. Just give me a second and you'll be fine." I tried to comfort him as Adele returned with a sling. I went around behind Spock and gripped his arm and shoulder in both hands. "Okay Spock, high tolerance for pain or not, this is going to hurt. On five, okay?" He gave a small nod. "One, two, three…" On three I twisted his arm and with a jerk popped it back into the socket. Spock let out a soft curse and turned to look at me. At his raised eyebrow I replied, "It hurts less if you don't see it coming." He just nodded and it was a testament to how much pain he was in that he did not inform me that it was illogical to assume that pain would be reduced simply because one did not expect it. I discovered that the wrist on that left arm was fractured as well. I wrapped it in a quick-healing splint ever thankful for modern medicine and slipped his arm into a sling to keep it immobile.

Next I looked at his ribs and once again felt a powerful urge to rip the heads off the cadets who had done this. Dark green bruises were spreading rapidly across Spock's abdomen (thankfully though, a quick scan with the tricorder revealed that there were no internal injuries) and I could plainly see that at least four of his ribs were broken. The final tally was four broken on his left side and two cracked on his right. I taped him up as best I could but there was really nothing else to be done about his ribs. I remembered he had told me that his head hurt so I moved to examine that next. "Did you hit your head Spock?" I asked.

He nodded and motioned to the back of his head. "They threw me against the wall after I incapacitated one of them and my head hit the brick."

I frowned but nodded. "Lean forward." He obeyed and rested his head on my shoulder as I gently probed his scalp with my fingers. I felt wetness on my gloves just as he hissed in pain and when I pulled my hand away, it was stained green. I pulled out the tricorder and scanned his head. I sighed in relief, "you don't have a concussion and your skull isn't fractured. I'm just going to put a bandage on this and you'll be fine. The same goes for your nose; it's not broken, but you are going to have a nasty black eye if not two. So, basically, you're gonna feel like crap but look pretty badass." I was rambling, I knew it but I was trying to distract myself from the anguish building up inside me. "You look like you're all set. If you want to wait a minute, I'll close up and walk you back to the dorm."

He looked like he was about to argue, to say that he was fine and did not need my assistance, but he swallowed his words and simply nodded. I signed out, cleaned off my workstation, and turned out the lights. I lead him out and locked the door behind me, glad to be rid of the place for today. When I turned back, I was surprised to feel him slip his uninjured hand into mine. This was so unlike Spock but I decided not to comment and gently squeezed his hand instead, eliciting a small smile from him. When we got back to the dorm room we shared, I let us in and helped him sit down on his bed. As soon as I got him settled, I plopped down heavily beside him and let my head fall into my hands. I was shocked to find myself crying and tried frantically to wipe my tears away. I suddenly felt a warm hand on the side of my face and leaned into Spock's touch, opening my eyes.

He tilted his head slightly and looked quite confused. "Sarah, why are you crying? Have I caused you some discomfort?"

I looked up at him, at the beautiful, sweet, brilliant man who I had fallen in love with, and just started crying all over again. Spock wrapped his arm around me, drawing me to his side and rested his head on top of mine. I dried my tears and leaned into him, remembering to be mindful of his ribs but just wanting to be closer to him. "No Spock, it was nothing you did."

He moved away slightly to look me in the eye, "then why are you distressed?"

I laughed slightly, exasperated by how one so smart could be so stupid. "Because I could have lost you Spock. They could have killed you; they would have killed you if campus security hadn't shown up. And I don't… I can't…" I paused and took a breath. "I don't think I could live without you. You are such a big part of my life now, I don't know what I would do if I lost you.

Spock wrapped me in his arms once again and held me close. "Do not worry Sarah, I am not going anywhere."