DISCLAIMER: Star Trek XI is owned by JJ Abrams and Paramount Pictures, based on the original concept of Star Trek by Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing except an overactive imagination and a fondness for angst, slash and men in white laboratory coats. Lyrics are owned by their respective artists, as credited under the Author's Note, though that isn't really a problem for this story.

AUTHORS NOTE: I've come to the conclusion that this is completely out of character and nobody should read it, ever. Still, as I am a complete masochist, I've decided to post it anyway. I hope that you enjoy it in all its crack-ish, illogical entirety.


TRINITY

In the beginning—before the Enterprise, Nero, or the destruction of Vulcan—it had always been Nyota. From the moment his eyes met hers across the space of the lecture hall, he knew she was different; special. While the other students in his class averted their eyes, slouching awkwardly in their seats as if embarrassed by his stoic appearance, Cadet Uhara had held his gaze with unwavering confidence. He could remember that day with the utmost clarity as she sat in the midsection of the second row, dark hair swept from her shoulders and into a tight bun at the back of her head, allowing him to see every curve and angle of her beautiful, delicate face.

He knew it was illogical to allow any concept of favoritism to enter his classroom, but upon learning that Nyota's stunning face and intriguing manner fell hand-in hand with nothing short of a brilliant mind, he was unable to remove her from his thoughts. What began merely as an observation developed into a deep friendship, one of the closest bonds he had ever experienced. Somehow, in some way, that friendship had transformed into something more. Nyota made him feel in ways he could never begin to imagine, and had never before dared to. Being with her made him rethink even the most concrete of facts that he had established about himself. Being with her made him rethink logic.

With all of these variables to consider, he had never thought there would be room for another and, truthfully, he had never once believed he would be in need of it. But as the pieces fell into their final resting place and events took their toll, there was another person who entered his life—a person who, shortly after meeting him, ripped it apart at its seams.

While his relationship with Nyota saw a slow and gradual transformation, his connection with James Kirk developed as the complete opposite. The man was insufferable and he, too, made Spock feel the most intriguing and illogical of emotions. There was no calm before the storm, no warning and no protection against the hurricane that was his captain as Jim uprooted everything he knew in a manner most chaotic. With one simple word, he could shatter his every resolve and make him do things he had never believed possible. It was a blessing and a curse, much like Spock saw his humanity to be, but it mattered not whether he saw it in a positive or negative light, it was simply different. The strangest feeling was not knowing whether he was convincing himself of his humanity, or his affiliation to James Kirk. In a way, it was both.

In a way, it was none.

The smallest things about the man set him off on a tangent in which there was no return—the way Jim's eyes brightened with amusement or darkened with excitement in the face of insubordination and chaos, or perhaps the way his mouth turned upwards into a smirk that could only be described as devilish, though Spock often refrained from using typical human metaphors. Even the way he spoke—in that commanding tone that embodied the essence of confidence itself and sent involuntary shivers down his spine or in the playful, somewhat sarcastic way he remarked about Spock's relationship with Nyota. The most unsound realization was that it was those small, somewhat impertinent aspects of the man that elicited such a response from the Vulcan, and not the more significant and, subsequently, logical ones—such as his clear disregard for protocol, his distaste for figures of authority or even the way his headstrong attitude took a more suicidal approach to things. Spock knew it should be these things and not such small, nonsensical observations that should create the appropriate emotional response, but it was not.

Everything about Jim Kirk was unreasonable.

And yet their connection was undeniable, their friendship unwavering and the electricity between them unforgettable. The stark realization that he needed him, much more than a First Officer needed his Captain, was too close to his relationship with Nyota for comfort. Both parties brought out the best and worst in him, the light and the dark, the big and the small—the anger and the sadness, the happiness and the perplexity. All of these were foreign to him; human emotions that, for all intents and purposes, should not have factored into his personality at all. It was completely irrational, and there were times when all he wished to do was purge the unwelcome emotions from his chest and dispel them into the starry expanse of space that surrounded them all.

But he didn't.

And that, perhaps, was the most puzzling revelation of all. The complexity of the situation threatened to destroy everything he had worked towards—everything he had built, and everything he had tried for. Yet he knew an existence without the tendrils of Nyota's sleek, long hair caressing his cheeks, or the feeling of Jim's warmth as he slotted in at Spock's side, under his arm, was something he couldn't bear to part with. Whatever they had, the three of them together, defied everything he had been raised to believe in, and yet whenever he considered severing the ties and retreating back into the Vulcan ways, the voice of a wise, old man perturbed his thoughts. Do what you feel is right.

It was irrational. It was unreasonable. It was illogical.

But it was his.

And that, he believed, made it right enough.


AUTHORS NOTE: If you guys like this enough, I might decide to write Uhura or Kirk's perspective on their little wacky relationship next. In the small event that anybody actually enjoys this story, that is. Feedback is appreciated, though, even if it simply consists of you asking me if I'm out of my mind. Until next time, kittens. ;)

- Exangeline.