AN: I must say I have enjoyed writing this. I don't regret nor would I change a thing. For those of you who approached this work with an open mind, thank you so very much and you have no idea how much it means to me. I gave this story 110% and I dedicate this final chapter to you. Here's to happy endings!

SPOCK

Spock blinked as his blurry eyes came slowly into focus, as his breathing began to regulate. Pain, there was pain now, especially in his hands and the back of his skull. He had not been aware at first, but now the feelings came roaring to life. He was…confused. He recognized the scent of his seed, strong, all over the bed. All over this side of the room. Finally sitting up, he stumbled across a person lying next to him.

Her.

Naked, an open wound on her neck. Shackled bruises all over throat and her arms.

"Nyota!" he gasped. For the first time in his life, his heart skipped a beat as he waited for her reply, to move. She did neither. Had he killed her? "No!" he whispered, collapsing beside her, cradling her in his arms. "No, no, no, no! What have I done? What have I done?" he wept into her hair, rocking her limp body against his chest.

He could not believe it, yet this was real, not a fantasy. In his fantasies involving her, there was never blood or pain. His confusion cleared slowly as he pieced facts together. He had entered into what he knew to be his final, volatile stages of his Blood Fever. He would die, and he had known it, had accepted it, so long as he completed his final words by letter to her. That was the last he remembered. He had waited so long that he had blacked out. He should be dead right now, yet he wasn't. He wasn't because she had come. Somehow, she had come to him. She had saved him. But how was she here? Why was she here? She had rejected him. She was filled with hatred for him; she had vehemently declared it, several times. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, the cold look in her eyes as she'd told him never to speak to her again. His mind raced for answers to his questions. He pressed his face against hers, kissing her lips, still so warm. "My Nyota…my Love…" he murmured through shameless tears. His fingers pressed against the bruise on her neck, the blood already dried and hardening.

She stirred.

She wasn't dead! Spock shouted in surprise and joy. She was alive! But he could see that she was in need of medical assistance. She had come to his aid, and though he still needed answers, he could—would- get them later. He grabbed a robe from the nearest closet for himself, then wrapped her slender body in a sheet, and lifted her from the bed, making his way to the front door of his parents East House.

Spock's mother called on her own Vulcan healers to make sure Nyota received the best care. Under normal circumstances, Spock would have spent the next day or so catering to Nyota personally, cooking meals, massaging her feet, brushing her hair, serenading her. However, Spock had been so close to the edge of death and he had emerged from his state to see Nyota unconscious, so he would take no chances. Next time, he would not have to wait so late. Next time. He planned on ensuring that there would be a next time, if she was willing to give him a second chance. He'd stepped out earlier this morning to do just that, but since his return, he had waited outside her hospital room, pacing, his half human side coming out fully as he waited for news of her condition. Had he destroyed her? Would she still hate him? Would she take him back? He did not know.

"You should sit," his mother said. Lady Amanda had been with Spock the entire time, more grateful to Nyota than Spock most likely. He was alive because of Nyota. He had refused everything except a change of clothes, would not even return to him home until he knew exactly what was happening with her, the one he loved so desperately.

"I cannot sit, Mother. Please, leave it be," he said.

"Your worrying won't change anything. She's going to be fine, Spock. I've been there—"

"Not to the same extent, Mother!" Spock interrupted, growing impatient and irritated. His mother sucked her breath in slightly. "Suit yourself, darling," she said, and returned to her digital magazine.

Just when Spock had decided to interject whatever was going on behind the closed doors to Nyota's room, the Lead Healer finally emerged.

"What news?" he asked as his mother stood, came to his side.

"There is some swelling in her genital area, but nothing that will not repair itself. An internal scan showed abrasions to her cervix and partial tears in the rectal area, which were easily repaired with our regenerators. She will have some soreness, but again, her pain will reconcile itself with rest. She is a young, strong female. I anticipate full and complete healing with vitamin water and no sexual activity for at four weeks."

Spock nodded. "I am grateful for your service," he said. He turned to his mother, hugging her in his relief.

"I told you. Worry wart. Go to her. I'll prepare a meal for you at home," his mother said. She gave him a quick kiss against his neck, then left.

Spock took a deep breath, then entered Nyota's hospital room.

She looked up at him, and gave him a small smile. His eyes blurred with tears, and before he knew it, he had crossed the room to be by her side. "I am sorry, Nyota. For…what I have done to you," he murmured against her soft, curly hair.

"I'm fine. I'm the one who should be saying sorry. I didn't want to listen," she said. "I should have been willing to listen. You could have died. If your mother hadn't called me, that would have been it. I would have lost you forever." Now she was the one to cry, but he quickly took her in his arms, holding her for several silent minutes. "I never wanted to be apart," she told him finally. "I never hated you. I was just angry and hurt. I never stopped loving you. I never will."

"Then…I am forgiven?" he asked her.

Nyota cupped his face with both hands, kissing his tears away. "Absolutely. You were forgiven the second I read your letter," she said softly.

"Please know...I never wanted to hurt you…to put you here, in this hospital. I am ashamed—"

"I told you, I'm fine. Your doctors here knew just what to do. Nothing's broken, nothing's damaged. A little rough sex could never send me packing. I'm yours."

The moment was now, then. Spock swallowed. "Perhaps you are willing to make that a permanent declaration," he whispered. He handed her a small box. A human gesture of the ultimate devotion, yet one he had decided upon the moment he'd dropped Nyota off here.

She held the tiny box in a bandaged hand, her eyes wide with surprise. "Jesus Christ, what is this? Is this a ring, Spock?" she squealed.

He smiled. "You are perfectly capable of knowing for yourself, if you would open the box."

She flipped the lid and burst into the happiest laughter he had heard. "What….But how…are you serious?!"

He had seen it done before in holograms, so he knew to take the large diamond ring from the box and slide it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. "I wish to make you my wife. I wish to wake up beside you tomorrow and the next day and every day after that. But only if you are in compliance, Nyota."

She flung her arms around his neck. "Yes, I am in total compliance!" She kissed him again, laughing, and hugged him. When she finally pulled away, there were more tears in their eyes, but this time, only of happiness. "Spock, are you sure? You really want to marry me?" Nyota asked him.

"To spend the rest of my life with any other woman," he said, pulling his now fiancé closer, "would be most illogical."

The End