A/N: Just to explain this story... for now, this is a series of drabbles to only one song. A verse, or a piece from the verse, acts as the prompt for the rest of the piece. Again, for now, each drabble is going to be a separate chapter, but should I decide to do this with more songs (like I have planned) then they'll all get moved onto one page. Clear as mud? Great.
The song is Hallelujah, which has been covered by many artists, but I used Rufus Wainwright's version while I wrote.
Disclaimer: If I could own Zachary Quinto, I would do many dirty, dirty things to him and quit my day job. (Leonard Nimoy, not so much.) Alas, I own nothing. T_T
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,
the minor fall, the major lift,
the baffled king composing Hallelujah
Spock sat just so, tuning his lute. Vulcan music always had an ethereal quality, to him. He found it's presence soothing, and playing gave him an outlet for a careful measure of emotion. But this was Nyota. This required more than the small dose of emotion he allowed himself, most of the time. Lieutenant Uhura- Nyota, took all of him, not just a piece. But how could he do that? He was taught to purge his deep emotions, to compartmentalize as much as possible. Nyota didn't fit into compartments. She was far too large for that.
He tried another song, searching for the chords, the notes, the melody that would describe for him what he couldn't name. She was his student, yes, but she seemed like so much more. He was certain that these feelings were mutual. Her almond eyes betrayed as much, humans always had that as their downfall. Spock realized, with a pang, that his eyes may be guilty of the same. He was divided, and always would be. Vulcan emotions that were stronger, deeper, more overpowering than any human could imagine, and the human inability to keep them completely in check.
He put down the lute, frustrated. Spock's mind was too erratic. He allowed himself to fully delve into the enigma of Nyota. How did he feel about her? Perhaps putting a name to these emotions would help him untangle them. She was an exemplary student, her technique and knowledge of phonology were flawless. He admired her for that; most humans struggled with so many languages and dialects. But this was more than admiration. She was also feisty, not fearing to challenge him when challenging was called for. She bore a confidence in her that was unmatched by any of her peers. She fascinated him. She was raw. She was passionate. Feelings he was only beginning to understand within himself.
Spock picked up the lute again, and began a humble melody, but under the surface, it undulated. It rose with passion and sank with content. It was neither happy nor sorrowful, but honest. It conveyed his inner turmoil with the matter and himself, while resonating with hope for what he and Nyota could be. This was good. This was very, very good.
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelu----jah