A/N: This chapter takes place directly after the events depicted in the first episode of the second season, "The Amok Time." I had to do something to address this situation but I also didn't want it to be a huge part of my story line. So this is a result of that line of thinking. It gets a bit tense between our two leads but don't distress, it's probably the most combative these two will ever get with each other. Enjoy.


The fever came upon him suddenly. He genuinely hoped that he would be spared, that for the first time, his human heritage would lend reason and dilute his Vulcan blood. But it hadn't and he was tossed into the unforgiving flames just like every other male of his race.

Once the madness had passed, Jim was kind enough to inform him of his actions over the last few days. It quickly became apparent that he owed the nurse an apology, which he offered sincerely but succinctly directly after his shift ended.

Then there was the business of setting his room back to right. The cleanup was relatively easy, and thankfully he hadn't destroyed any priceless artifacts. He only needed to replace the smashed monitor. Once it had been taken care of, he showered and changed in anticipation for Nyota's arrival—which was only a few minutes away.

But those moments came and went, which was strange. She was always on time, if not early. More than once he'd encountered her counseling a member of her team on their timeliness and she never failed to mention whether those under her command were habitually prompt or tardy in her performance evaluations. Lateness was totally out of character. He could only assume that she was being detained by some emergency.

He made his way to her quarters down the hall. Three times he chimed and three times she didn't answer. Swallowing a rather large lump or worry, he keyed in his executive override and entered the room only to find it empty.

He scanned his memory quickly for places she frequented while off duty. But she was not in the rec room, the bowling alley, the ship store, nor was she at the pool.

Finally, he encountered Sulu in the hall. "Lieutenant, have you seen Ms. Uhura?"

"Isn't she usually with you around this time?"

"If she were with me there would be no reason for me to be looking for her, Mr. Sulu."

"Well…she and Chekov left the bridge at the same time. She was supposed to be giving him dance lessons before she went to her lesson with you. He doesn't want to make a fool out of himself at the inaugural ball on Altair 6. Maybe he needs more help than she thought." He chuckled.

"Thank you."

The ensign was in his room practicing a waltz while the appropriate music played in the background. He never stopped dancing, but did answer Spock's question. "She was here, but she left a while ago. I assumed she was going to meet you, Commander."

This was a starship. There were a limited number of places she could reasonably be. But he couldn't be assured of her safety until he found her. It was a fairly simple task to formulate a secondary list of likely locations. If that didn't work, he would go a third round, and so on.

On his way to the long range sensor lab, he passed the armory and heard a frustrated grunt that he recognized.

Nyota was there, in dark jeans that fit her as well as her own skin and a standard issue-shirt, firing a phaser and the illuminated spherical targets that swarmed above her head. She dropped some of them in the allotted ten seconds of the exercise, but she was more concerned about the ones she hadn't hit.

"C'mon Nyota!" She chastised. Intrigued, he stood just inside the room and watched her start another drill, increasing the difficulty level. More targets flooder the air over her. She squinted, concentrating, but her shots were still not as precise as they could have been.

Before she could start a new program, Spook armed himself and set the controls to two participants. She stiffened, watching him carefully as he got into position.

The first of the glowing objects appeared and he fired at it, a benign beam of light flashing past her head. This brought her out of whatever trance she'd slipped into. Together, they attacked the spheres, instinctively moving in tandem until they had all been sunk.

"What are you doing here?" She asked breathless, once it was over.

"I believe the right to ask that question is mine. You did not show for your lesson."

"I lost track of time." Her shoulders bobbed with apathy.

"I happen to know that you left Ensign Chekov's quarters in plenty of time."

She glared at him openly before turning to return her weapon to the locker. She was going to walk past him without a backward glance but he caught her by the arm, fettering her in place. "Let me go!" Nyota twisted, trying to wrench her arm free, but to no avail. "Spock, that's too tight."

He loosened his grip only slightly, but refused to take his gaze from her. "Is there some legitimate reason for you to be acting this way?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you." Again she tried to walk but he snatched her back, causing her to stagger into him. "Stop manhandling me!" Her free arm came up between them, pressing into his chest as she tried to wiggle away.

He released her; folding his hands behind his back, fighting his domineering Vulcan nature. He took a deep breath, trying to set aside the emotions that were rising in his throat like bile. Control was imperative. "Do not force me to pull rank, Nyota. It is unpleasant to resort to such tactics with a friend."

"It is also unpleasant to discover that your friend has a wife he never said anything about!"

"This is about T'Pring?" He asked, barely masking his bewilderment.

Her eyes narrowed at the sound of the other woman's name. "No, this isn't about her. It's about you not telling me that you were married."

"It was irrelevant."

Her lips tightened into a straight line. "I don't agree."

"Why does this make you so angry?"

"What?!"

"Why does the idea of me being married and not sharing this information with you make you so angry? None of my other friends had this reaction."

Confusion played on her face before she looked down and her posture deflated. "I don't know." A long silence nestled between them until she finally spoke again. "I think our friendship will be changed by your marriage. I mean…most wives won't approve of the amount to time we spend together."

"I am not married."

"I don't understand. This morning when I asked you who she was you said—"

"My wife. And I regret that my statement was imprecise, but that is the nature of the bond that once existed between that one and myself. It was less than a marriage and yet more than a betrothal. Humans have no word to properly convey this concept. Since the bond was to be finalized just after the transmission, I believed it was better to identify her as my wife."

"Then she's your fiancé? You're going to marry her?"

"No. She wished to bond herself to another male and I decided to release her to him."

"Another male?! What other male?"

"I hardly see how—"

"Because unless it was Surak, I think Miss T'pring did herself a disservice." He blinked and she smiled. "Are you okay," Finally, her voice softened into something more recognizable and her expression melted into one of concern. "I mean with her choosing another man?"

"Very much so. She was selected for me by my father when I was only seven. I had not seen her in years. And since neither of us wished to be joined to the other, it was only logical to release her to her choice."

"Logical." She echoed.

"I apologize if I hurt you…when I grabbed you."

"No, you didn't. I uh… apologize for being difficult. But, I'm human, you know."

"I'd noticed."

"And sometimes I let my emotions get the better of me."

"As does the rest of your species."

"Are you still willing to give this illogical, emotional human her music lesson?" He nodded. "Do you forgive me?"

"To offer you forgiveness would imply that I was angry with you—which I was not."

"Is that your way of saying no harm no foul?"

"I suppose."

Her face broke into a wide grin that he found most comforting. His insides unknotted and he allowed his lips to lift at the corners infinitesimally. She wrapped herself around him and squeezed tightly. His body went rigid as his head darted from one side to the other, making sure they were still alone. "Nyota," he whispered, "this is a public area of the ship. Please, desist."

"Sorry." But there was no trace of remorse on her face. "After you," she gestured to the door and followed him out.

Knowing he was still single was more of a relief than it probably should have been. The feeling of betrayal that she'd been drowning in since this morning was her own invention. Spock had only offered her friendship. It was her fault for trying to take more and she had no one else to blame when she thought it had been taken away. But she could do nothing about the fluttering joy she felt looking at him as they walked down the hallway, knowing that he didn't belong to anyone else.

"Are you beaming down for the inaugural ball on Altair?"

"The entire bridge crew is required to attend. And as first officer, my presence is mandatory at several other related events."

"Don't sound so excited."

He stopped walking suddenly, looking at her with his head dropped to one side. "Did I sound excited?"

"Don't pretend you don't understand sarcasm. I know for a fact that you're quite proficient at it." She tugged on the fabric of his sleeve and he regained his stride, keeping his steps small for her sake. "Can you dance?"

"Vulcans do not dance, unless it is an important part of a particular ceremony and even those occasions are very few."

"Hmm, so generally, Vulcans don't dance."

"That is what I said."

"But you, Spock—Son of the earth woman Amanda Grayson—were you ever given instruction in traditional Terran dances?"

"Very carefully worded."

"I'm a communications officer; Starfleet pays me to be careful with my words. Now, stop avoiding my question, Mister."

"I, Spock—Son of the earth woman Amanda Grayson—was given instruction in traditional Terran dances. As a very young child. Yes, I can dance. And no, I will not."

"You're no fun," she accused as they crossed the threshold into his quarters.

"I never claimed to be." He handed her the instrument and waited for her to take her place on his bed. "Start with the warm up."

"Whatever you say, Sugar."


One More thing: Who's up for a party on Altair 6?