Author's Note: This is just my take on the elevator scene (with a bit of a pre-scene), I tried to keep it as close to the movie as possible. I had a little difficulty with getting into Spock's head because...well, I'm very emotional and he is not. But I hope it was decent anyway, at least a little bit.

Disclaimer: No...I don't own this either.

Reach Him

Nyota Uhura has always thought of herself as a resolute and confident woman but as the USS Enterprise trembles underneath her feet and it seems like there is nowhere to head but destruction, she feels much more like a helpless child, in desperate need of protection.

She has to hold her own, though, she knows that, she can't push herself onto someone, make her distress someone else's problem, as the child, buried beneath years of discipline, is longing to do. Weakness in the face of danger is not an option, and even if the pride she took in dealing with stress and hurt on her own could be swallowed in this dark hour, she wouldn't know where to turn to anyway.

The men surrounding her are all emerged in keeping the ship in the sky, consumed with their respective tasks, as she should be but staring at the red planet in front of her eyes, she can't get herself to go through the motions, she can't move a limb.

Her best friend died just hours ago and she hadn't even said a proper good-bye. What had started as a simple response to a distress signal form Vulcan had turned out to be an ambush, something she was helpful in determinating, having spotted a pattern of signals revealing a Romulan signiture.

Vulcan was not the first planet to be attacked by the vengeful Romulan Nero, who, for reasons she fails to see, is after Spock.

Spock, who sits sternly on the captains chair, keeping close check on Chekhov's monitors, seems calm as always. She has always admired his composure but she has an inkling that all that kept him together was hanging by a threat, just like the fate of his planet.

She forces herself back to her console and has to assert that, still, there is no teleporting possible, still no communication audible. It's so frustrating, the only thing she can contribute to this mess has fled her. It drives her crazy.

Vulcan is on the verge of destruction and she can see the newly instated Captain falter ever so slightly, just this tiny observation sends a new wave of shivers through her body, just imagining what he must be going through.

Captain Pike is still held captive by Nero and there doesn't seem to be a way to get him back in time.

Chekhov is hammering on his console, talking with his thick Russian accent but Nyota finds that, although she can see his lips moving, she does not hear a single word.

She tries to focus, she needs to function so that she can helpSpock, she needs to work exemplary. He's counting on it. And finally, through the buzzing in her ears, she can hear Chekhov, alarmed.

"Olsen is gone, sir", he says and then shortly after, "Kirk has landed on the drilling platform"

It takes a while but she knows that now she can help again, as soon as Kirk and Sulu have disabled the platform, she has to know the first second, when the channels are free again, so that they can get them out. And then it happens.

"The jamming signals are gone", she says, still monitoring the frequencies.

Spock merely acknowledges and turns again to Chekhov, "I wanna know what they are doing to the planet"

"Kirk, Enterprise", Kirks voice resounds tinnily over the speakers, "they just launched something onto the planet, into the hole they just drilled"

Nyota hardly has time to ponder what that could mean because Chekhov is talking hurriedly to Spock again and the look on his face makes her blood freeze.

"The gravitational sensors are off the scale", the young Russian says, "If my calculations are correct, they're creating a singularity...that will...consume the planet"

"They're creating a Black Hole?", Spock isn't really asking but she can see the faint hope of him being wrong, despite his watertight logic that usually doesn't leave any room for hope.

She clasps the console tightly to steady herself, it feels like her chest is going to burst with agony.

"How long does the planet have?", Spock asks now.

"Minutes, sir, minutes"

And suddenly there is commotion, she catches a glimpse of ebony and blue hurrying away from the Captains chair and rises mechanically to face her former instructor.

"Alert the Vulcan Command Center to start a planet-wide evacuation-", he starts, already turning for the door and she follows.

"-Spock, wait", she tries but he keeps talking to another communications officer.

"Put it on all channels, all frequencies, maintain standard"

"Where are you going?", she asks him as he's already stepping into the turbolift.

"To evacuate the Vulcan Council, they are tasked to preserve our kinds culture and history, my parents will be among them", he replies most certain and her insides start to boil.

"Can't you beam them out?", she tries weakly and there are a thousand other things she means to say to him.

Don't go there, the planet is falling apart, you could very well be dead in a matter of minutes. And I don't know what I would do then. I can not be without you.

"That would be impossible", he answers her relentlessly stoic, "they will be in the arc, I must get them myself"

He calls out to Chekhov but she has tuned out again, she can hardly manage to walk away from the lift, her eyes still fixed on the spot where his eyes had been before.

She hardly notices the next few minutes passing around her, Chekhov eventually sprinted past her to help beam Kirk and Sulu up himself and she finds herself blindly stumbling back to her console, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Black Hole is expanding, we won't be able to get away from the pull if we don't leave immediately", the blond beside her says and that's when she turns around and sees Vulcan, the whole entire planet implode. She clenches her teeth so tightly it hurts but it is the only thing that keeps her from screaming.

It's just a small quiver at first, it almost looks like a balloon that is pinched with a needle, except that it doesn't burst, instead it collapses into itself. The sight steals her breath and her chest tightens with indescribable fear. Did he make it out on time?

Finally the ship gets into warp and she hopes with all her might that it's because they are all back, the Captain most importantly.

When she learns, just minutes later that her prayers have been heard, she can't help the breath she'd been holding to leave her liberatingly but she immediately scolds herself afterwards, because so much is still lost. Vulcan is destroyed and when Spock returns after being checked out at the Medical Bay, she overhears Chekhov talking about loosing Spock's mother in the process of teleportation.

Stoic as ever, though, Spock controls himself most strictly and speaks matter-of-factly before excusing himself.

After four years that she has been his student and borderline to something more than that, she knows his mechanisms. He pulls back into himself and shuts the world and most importantly his feelings out. Now, more than ever, she wishes nothing more than to comfort him, just show him that he is not alone. She might be the only person who could give him a sense of consolation, although she is not sure. She doesn't really know what to say to him, his loss is so overwhelming and she also isn't sure if she is crossing a line following him to the turbolift but her feet keep carrying her onward.

After all they have been spending most their recent time together in a gray zone where the lines were blurry.

He was not her instructor anymore and hadn't been for a while but the stolen touches in passing, the hidden glances and stares, the ridiculous amount of time they spent on at times unnecessary research...they were still dangling on a rooftop, balancing on the thin rope of courtesy, while it was obvious that there was something more between them. Even when she still had been a student, their interactions had been merely painted by professional distance but they kept up the professional distant facade, to the whisperers that consistently had word about a hidden affair but mostly to themselves.

She doesn't really know where she stands with him, he clearly seems to cherish her company, he thinks highly of her, both as an operator, as well as a person but she has no idea if the core-shaking love she feels for him is returned. But that doesn't matter much now.

The only thing that matters is him.

He stands, his face unreadable again in the turbolift and seems untouched by her swift entry.

She looks up to him as the doors close and they are alone. She tries to read his seemingly non exposing eyes and can almost see down to his core, to the horror he feels and she stops the elevator.

There must be something she can do for him.

She bites her lip to let a bit of her inner tension out and then the harshness of his fate almost brings her to tears once again.

"I'm sorry", she utters, it's barely a whisper, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry"

He isn't moving an inch, she can see how far he's already pulled back and she wants him to come back out again and that's when she acts on impulse.

She leans closer, reaching for his face and does the only, most immediate thing to shake him out off his trance that comes to mind; her lips brush his only briefly and without response but she continues quickly, pecking him twice on his cheek before hugging him tightly, pulling at him, sinking her delicate fingers into the back of his neck, digging them into his pitch black hair.

He hesitates for a moment and the she can feel him take deep breath and he leans in, grasping her shirt, clasping her at the small of her back and burying his face between her head and shoulder.

She squeezes and right now it doesn't matter that they are not supposed to be this close, she doesn't give a damn, the only thing that is important is that he can brush off just a little bit off of the weight from his shoulders to hers.

That's what she wants from him anyway as she says, tears still welling up in her eyes, "What do you need?"

He doesn't react, she suspects it's because he does not trust his voice yet.

"Tell me", she mutters, her lips almost touching the soft pale skin of his neck, "tell me"

And she is willing to do all he asks of her.

He pulls away slightly and she cups his face with both her hands, still hoping for an answer.

He struggles visibly to get the words out and it seems at first he wants to say one thing but then ends up saying another as turns away to push the button to sent the turbolift into motion again.

"I need everyone to continue performing admirably", he says locking eyes with her again and Nyota can't help the flustered look that crosses her features, but she understands and nods, she knows how shaken he really is and if he needs her to let it go now, she will.

"Okay", she says, still holding his face, finally finding the vulnerability in his eyes that she had always known to be there but that he wants oppressed.

She understands why he's doing this...though a piece of her wishes he would just let himself fall into her, to be caught and held and comforted.

But he doesn't and so she kisses him again, because she can't let him go just yet.

She loves him so much and it really doesn't matter anymore that they weren't clear on their feelings for each other. Now he knows it all, she would take every bullet for him, he knows it now.

And then he kisses her back and in this brief moment he seems to put all of himself into this sweet eternity where there is just them and no horror and no black holes.

But he wouldn't be Spock if he'd lingered on that moment of temporary carelessness, he pulls away and for some seconds, she can feel his breath on her forehead and then, with a barely audible sigh, he turns and leaves her staring after him.

If there only was a way to reach him.

Spock can feel her gaze on his back as he walks back to the Sick Bay to check on his father. He feels like he is wrapped in plastic, nothing really reaches him. It's a mechanism, partly trained, partly thanks to his Vulcan heritage. He swallows at the thought and quickly fights the image of his planet falling apart, leaving him with only a few others with Vulcan heritage.

Nothing must reach him, he thinks as he catches a fleeting glance over his shoulder to the closing elevator doors. Except she did. In a distant, detached part of him, the part that held a rigorous acidic grip on his heart, something flatters up, like the wings of a butterfly, it is hard to categorize but he thoughtfully licks his lips, in hope that maybe the lingering taste of hers will enlighten him about the nature of that disconnecting emotion.

Strangely enough the thought seems to take his mind of the inexplicable that just happened to his kind, his planet, his mother, more effectively than all attempted meditation he has tried before...so he holds on to it.

She had kissed him, mainly of course to console him, humans tend to feel the need for physical contact to do so and it had soothed the fire in his heart to a certain extend and for a moment he had been able to loose himself, detach himself from it all, just sink into that kiss and her embrace, her unconditional affection.

He couldn't say he was surprised by her actions, although they had never kissed before, he was well aware of her infatuation with him and he couldn't fool himself, that he as well, felt both emotionally and intellectually attached to her. It was only logical that she would act on her emotions when she intended to comfort him.

But he couldn't allow himself to run back to her; to crumble into her arms, like his human half was aching to, no, he needed to proceed calm and logical, it wouldn't help anyone if he was tumbling through the corridors weeping. Nyota also wouldn't be helped by that, seeing as upset she already was about the little reactions he had let slip.

The doors of the Sick-bay came into view and the crew members passing him by were shooting him concerned looks and he took a deep breath, he needed the oxygen to calm himself and swallow the acid, the stabbing pain of hatred for Nero that he was burrying inside of him.

But since meditation didn't help much, he focused on the one soothing thing that did, bit his lip and let his tongue trail over it, remembering her soft touch and hot hands on his body before he could go on and face what was ahead with a clear mind and a harder beating heart.

...So, I hope this didn't suck too bad...feel free to share your thoughts as you all know, reviews make happy authors :) Thank you!