Actual Story Doesn't Begin until Chapter 2.

I do not own Star Trek in any form or manner, it is CBS's and Paramount's program/Creation. Credit to Gene Roddenberry and co. For the creation of Star Trek.

Twenty Below

The night was long as winter's icy grasp reached out to all, pulling them into its eldritch jaws. The planet below was covered in ice, ice that had only formed in a matter of minutes, seconds, maybe even less. The temperature was well below zero, as it was steadily decreasing. They had been warned, the nights, most would not survive. Yet, out of curiosity they pushed away the nagging uncertainty of the planet below.

And now they were stuck, stuck in a place where food, water and shelter ceased to exist once night had fallen.

Night had fallen, an end to the day's light yet a beginning to the terror and the unknown of the vast, snow capped abyss. This place was not designed and birthed for the living, or as far as the living as they knew it. This place was the depiction of hell, terror and anguish. They could not contact the ship, they had no way to create shelter and food was no where in sight.

Above, the moon shown with brilliance as it peaked just behind the clouds that had begun to dissipate. The stars gave off a dazzling display as they danced and twinkled across the night sky. Yet the cold, oh the cold, it had not ceased its icy touch. Beside a makeshift fire, two beings shivered involuntarily and uncontrollably. One sat rigid before the fire, his aging face solemn and emotionless, cold encased his fragile bones. The other, considerably younger, sat with her hands upon her temples and her eyes closed tight, ice capped her eyelashes.

Neither spoke, for neither knew what should be said. They were exhausted, and their breathing was labored against the harsh atmosphere of the planet. Both were knee-deep in their own thoughts and memories, choosing not to acknowledge the other was truly there. Yet the icy touch of the night brought the closer together, their bodies were close to each other and their eyes stared solely at the fire.

"The night..." The younger being whispered, her voice strained and lacking its normally as-matter-of-fact tone. It was surprisingly soft, gentle and almost kind. "The cold.." Her words were slurring together, she could not place her thought into words, the drowsiness of her body and mind had stopped her from doing so.

The male glanced at her, his aging brown eyes held a warmth beyond his stoic appearance. "Selar, don't speak. You have not the energy.." His voice trailed on leaving silence between the two for a mere heartbeat.

"Speaking.. it keeps me... from falling asleep..."

"Shh... Don't sleep, just rest."

"Must... stay... alive..."

The man glanced concerningly at her, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder, as he felt a wave of exhaustion, fear and- love. He quickly pulled his hand away, lowering his brown eyes. He knew what he had done to her, and after she had tried to forgive him, this was happening. He would not lose her again.

"Shh.. talking will only strain what little energy you have left." He cut her off.

"For.. crew.. can't..."

The younger Vulcan's body was not taking so kindly to the cold as his own. And even though they shared common blood, he had experience in the chillier climates. Where as she, had not. Her body was accustomed to the rising heat of the Vulcan Homeworld, where the summers were over 120 degrees Fahrenheit continually. Her body could not stand this for much longer, he found he had no choice but to keep her speaking, even if it drained her energy further, it was only... logical.

"Selar, keep talking. Tell me about your childhood, your academic life."

He could here an audible breath escape from his younger companion. Deep brown eyes met his own, they were no longer emotionless and stoic. They instead held, a long forgotten hurt, covered and buried deep within. They held happiness yet pain at the same time. They held more emotion than most humans could muster in a lifetime, this broke his heart into two. He shot away from the intense stare, knowing he had caused all of this within the young Vulcan. I should have been a better father, for her. She deserved better.

"Illogical." She muttered.

"What?" He inquired, perplexed.

"My pain,... my illogical emotion. It is not... your wrongdoing." There was pain behind her voice, yet she clearly meant as she said. She didn't allow him to respond.

"My life... it's outcome... it was all because of you. You... made me... to be... who I am." She breathed, coughing between every few words.

Selar had spoken Spock's very words that he had stated in his mind, she had answered his question that filled his mind. Yet he stilled believed it was his fault. How did she know this was what he was thinking. Selar was not a full telepath, that was obvious. Spock glanced downwards, seeing his hand was still over Selar's. Touch, she felt my mind, read it from the touch. Spock fought the urge to pick up his hand from the utter realization. Vulcan were touch telepaths, hence why they despised being touched.

"Do you want to speak about it?" He asked.

"About the past, what I missed. The memories, painful or optimistic. Tell me, so that we both may heal." His deduction was logical. The man shivered once more, though this time it wasn't because of the nipping cold. It was from the jolt of pain that shot from Selar's body.

"Cannot- speak. Must- show." The deteriorating Vulcan noted, her eyes fluttering downwards.

Spock nodded, allowing Selar to bring her fingers up to his psi points. "My mind.. to your mind. Our minds..." She began and the two finished in unison.

"Are one."