A/N: OMG. You people are all BEAUTIFUL, you hear me! Way to make a girl feel appreciated! *FLAILS FURIOUSLY* I has the best readers EVER and I love each and every one of you BUNCHES! *GOES OFF TO WRITE WRITE WRITE*

And, because amsuewithaview brought up a good point, and I thought I'd fill everyone in on my explanation (because it's not likely that Kirk will ever come across these details in the course of things):

I actually made a conscious decision not to include Spock Prime in my story. I was debating whether he should show up to say hello before they leave the planet, but decided against it. Here's my reasoning ^_^ . While I too adore Spock Prime, I have noticed that he can easily become a crutch for the characters. He tells Kirk how to interact with nu!Spock, he smooths things over with the crew, and while he is always doing *GOOD* things, he doesn't really let them learn about each other naturally. I always had the impression from the movie that he didn't want to interfere with nu!trek lives more than he had to -- and so, in my story, he doesn't interact with them. He helped put an end to the crisis his own actions had caused, gave nu!Spock a little nudge in the right direction, and decided he wasn't going to contact them anymore. I'm not saying that he doesn't look in from afar, but he doesn't want to be a meddling old man ^_^.

Chapter Ten

Anticipation, mixed with anxiety, is not conducive to making time pass quickly. The rest of the morning seems to drag on forever, but eventually the inspection is completed. Parting ways with the Council, the two Starfleet personnel proceed back to camp in silence. Spock is deep in thought, and Kirk is trying very hard not to pry. He desperately wants to know how Spock is going to patch things up with Uhura, but knows the Vulcan needs time to think.

Silence and patience aren't two of his strong areas. He tries to let the tension ease out of him, but only partially succeeds by the time they make it back to the firepit. Kirk is ecstatic to see that Uhura made it back before them, hoping that Spock and she can slip away to speak immediately. But then he sees that she is not alone in the seating area, and that Chekov and Sulu are also eating animatedly. Kirk's face falls, and he shoots Spock an apologetic smile. Spock shifts his shoulders minutely – his version of a shrug – and breaks away from his side, seating himself next to Uhura with a quiet murmur. She offers the Vulcan a shaky smile, and passes him a bowl of food.

Kirk tries to distract himself by joining the two young officers in their conversation, but unlike usual it doesn't help him ignore the stress. He answers their questions and makes quips of his own easily enough, but finds himself sneaking peeks at the quiet couple on the other side of the fire. It seems as if a pocket of silence has engulfed the two, as they both awkwardly focus on their food.

It is painful to watch, but somehow he can't leave well enough alone and turn away. He's done his part; all that's left now is Spock's actions. But, like any other problem, once he's latched on he can't let go until he's solved it. Kirk tries to ignore the two, but can't; and because he is watching so closely, he sees what the other Humans do not.

Watching out of the corner of his eye, he sees Uhura stand up to retreat to her tent. Spock's fingertips appear on her sleeve, calling her back for just a moment. The shutters of her expression tighten, and she leans down to listen. A whispered dialog ensues, and even though Kirk strains his ears he's not able to catch a word of what's said. All he's able to tell is that Spock's tone is urgent and pleading – something Kirk's never heard from the Vulcan before. She answers halting in one or two sentences, and then retreats to the safety of her tent.

Kirk shoots Spock a look, trying to guess what was said, but the Vulcan is paying close attention to the food before him once again. He desperately wants to ask what Spock's plan is, but can't do anything so obvious or the other two will know something is up. He pushes his anxiety to the side, trying to tell himself that he'll know soon enough.

It's amazing how quickly the climate changes, but it's only a couple more minutes more and the heat is nearly breaking him. Gasping for breath, the three Humans say goodbye to Spock and run for their tents. Once he reaches his, Kirk takes a moment to wheeze air back into his lungs, as the puppy waits patiently to be acknowledged. Archie's tail thump-thump-thumps against his boots, joy evident in his face as he looks up at his master.

Once he catches his breath, Kirk strips himself of tunic, undershirt, pants and boots. Finally free – in nothing but his boxer-briefs – he flops out along the length of his cot. It's been such a long morning, and he just wants to relax while he has the chance. He hopes he'll be able to take a nap for several hours, as it'll help pass the time before the meeting this afternoon. And it's not as if he's been getting enough sleep to begin with.

Archie takes his silence as tactic approval, and hops up onto the bed side him. Slinks forward until his body is pressed against Kirk's side, nuzzling into the flesh in the crook of Kirk's arm. So soft, and warm, and alive. With the other arm, Kirk happily reaches down and pets ears, head, back. Archie's puppy fur is being replaced by the courser fur of adulthood, but his coat is still smooth and relaxing underneath Kirk's palms.

As the air cools the sweat off of him, he relaxes even further, and his jaw stretches wide in a yawn.

"Well, boy, it looks like we're gonna get the chance to nap after all, eh?"

He shifts until he's in a more comfortable dent in the cot, the puppy repositioning himself automatically.

While rubbing the puppy's ears, he falls easily asleep.

(*)

Several hours later, he's awakened by a general sense of urgency instead of an alarm going off. He emerges into the baking sun, which is now attempting to slow roast him instead of to incinerate his lungs. The fire has been banked so that it doesn't waste fuel but keeps the coals for use later that night. There are two slim figures seated near it; Sulu, and a slender Vulcan with ears that are too large for his head. Instead of the robes or complexly woven clothing that is typical for the Vulcans, this young man is wearing a tight-fitting shirt and leggings. His irregular appearance confuses Kirk for a moment, and then he remembers that Bones said that Sulu's pilot friend was a bit...eccentric.

He grins and gives them both a little mock salute, then threads his way through the lawn furniture to Spock's tent. He stops, confused, when he sees that the zipper on Spock's tent is all the way closed. Over the past month the Bridge crew has come up with several standard procedures for tent survival. One of the most important of these is respecting each other's privacy; therefore, if someone leaves the zipper partially undone on their tent, they don't require being alone.

Spock's tent being completely closed can only mean one thing. The Vulcan is not present. Normally, Spock would wait for him, especially if they were going to the same place. The only reason that Kirk would be left behind is if….he had slept too long. Spock would be far too polite to invade his privacy to wake him up, and he'd forgotten to set his alarm before he'd passed out on the cot. With a rush of fear, he realizes that he can't quite remember if the Council wanted to meet at two, or three, in the afternoon.

He can feel the blood rushing sluggishly through his veins as he whips around to face Sulu, "Hikaru. When did Spock leave?"

Sulu and the Vulcan share a look of confusion as their conversation trails off. Turning to his captain, he responds quizzically, "He's been gone for a while now. Why?"

His blood seems to slow down, terror freezing the liquid in his veins. Hope disappears, as his own stupidity gets the better of him.

"It doesn't matter right now, I gotta go. I'll tell you later." He shouts over his shoulder, ducking down one of the side paths between tents. He slips into his easy ground-devouring stride, automatically plotting his course in his head. He needs to get to the inner city as quickly as possible. That means avoiding people who may stop him, and traffic that will clog the paths. With ease he determines the easiest back ways to use, the entire process taking mere moments.

As he runs through the empty sections of the tent-city his eyes constantly scan the terrain before him. Thankfully, the ground here has been packed down by many feet, and he can run quickly with no danger of tripping. He passes very few people, but those he does pass seem to notice that he's in a hurry. When they acknowledge his presence, it's with nothing more than a raised hand in greeting. Those that do get a nod in response as he flows past them, his attention spent on making sure his breathing stays nice and even.

When he leaves the often-tread paths of the tent-city to enter the city proper, the packed down ground changes to softer, uneven earth. This area, by virtue of not being inhabited as long, has not had time to be properly flattened by the steps of many feet. The uneven ground has many pitfalls waiting to snare unsuspecting travelers, and now Kirk has to be careful where he places his feet.

Kirk slows his steps to a cautionary jog so he can easily spot the dangers waiting to hurt him, and keeps his eyes constantly scanning the ground. The rest of his considerable mind is going over the exchange with the Chairman of the Council, desperately trying to remember what time the meeting was supposed to be. He had still been in a daze, distracted by the conversation with Spock just moments before. Kirk can remember the insult the Chairman flung at him in that convoluted Vulcan way, the anger that had flared inside him at the disrespect. Then his memory calls up the touch of Spock's fingertips on his elbow, calming him, and his arm tingles again at the thought. And then…the rest is a blur.

His steps pound an angry staccato beat against the dirt as he slips from alley to alley, the frustration building inside him. Such a simple thing, and he can't even remember to pay attention to what is being said. Right now, if he was Starfleet, he wouldn't give himself permanent command of the Enterprise. Pathetic, stupid, incapable numbskull like himself…and it's just their first mission. If things continue like this there's no telling what the rest of the year will hold.

Having been intimately involved with every aspect of building this city, Kirk knows which pathways are the best for speed and emptiness. He is passing a little alleyway that leads to a cul-de-sac behind several dwellings when he hears the distinctive sound of Spock's voice and it cuts through his diatribe.

Freezing, instantly, as the sound reaches him and he is flooded with relief. If Spock is here, and not in the Council chambers, then Kirk can't be late. He slips down the little alleyway, relaxing almost instantly as the anxiety seeps from his bones. All that's left is to meet up with the Vulcan, and they can go to the meeting together.

Picking up his pace, he trots down the short pathway towards his friend. The Vulcan's voice is too low for him to pick out the words, but just the tone is enough to soothe the rest of his distress away. He didn't mess up royally, no one but he will know how close he came –

He stops, suddenly, when another voice joins Spock's on the wind. Female, braided with equal parts anger and resignation. She sounds familiar, and yet he can't quite match a face to the voice. This other voice echoes solemn, and sad, and he doesn't want to interrupt Spock if the two of them are having a serious conversation.

Torn between his better judgment and his curiosity, he stands indecisive. Then the other voice rises in what sounds like frustration, and he can make out the distinct tones of Nyota Uhura. And his curiosity wins out. He desperately, pathetically, wants to know what happens between these two. He's had to wait all morning, and can't stand waiting any longer. Slipping forward slowly, so as not to bring attention to himself, he pauses at the entryway to the cul-de-sac. Leans against the wall, and peeks into the little hollow.

There is a tiny desert garden in the hollow, the pretty flowering plants making an aesthetically pleasing arrangement. Several benches are strategically placed in the best vantage points, and Uhura is seated on one of them. The bench she has chosen is underneath one of the few trees that the desert landscape can support, its tiny leaves casting an appealing pattern of shadows across her form. Kirk's view of her is partially blocked by Spock's figure, as the Vulcan stands ramrod-straight with his back to the silent observer.

Because he can't see his face, Kirk can't tell exactly what the Vulcan is thinking. But there is enough tension and hard-muscle outlines in those shoulders to hint at the turmoil inside.

"What did you bring me all the way out here for, anyway, Spock? We both have places we need to go, and now you're just wasting time." Her tone is so weary, and Kirk can tell she's close to breaking.

A muscle in the shoulder facing him twitches, once, as Spock registers the weariness in her voice. And he tries one more time.

"I was informed that you were experiencing some sort of emotional difficulties, and was attempting to ascertain whether the cause involved our relationship."

What he can see of Uhura's face trembles, the pride she gathers around herself slipping just a little bit, "You were told…?" then her eyes narrow, and her voice becomes soft to hide the anger beneath velvet, "You weren't able to determine that yourself?"

The back becomes stiff, and Kirk knows Spock can read the anger, even if he can't interpret its reasons.

"That is correct. I required assistance in determining your emotional undertones."

Uhura seems to crumple in on herself, the anger disappearing in a heartbeat as she sighs long and deep, "All this time, Spock, and you were told something was wrong. You couldn't come to that conclusion yourself…I was trying to keep it inside, but it must have been pretty obvious. I mean, even Kirk was able to tell I wasn't acting like myself."

"If you would please inform me what I have been doing incorrectly, so I can change the behavior to make you content once again –" He can see Spock's hands as they are clasped in the hollow of his back, the tendons showing as he squeezes tightly, but there is still no emotion stringing through his words.

She shakes her head to stall the flow of his speech, softly but with conviction, "I must not mean very much to you, if I can be upset for weeks and you still not even see. Don't you care enough to try, even a little bit, to understand how I'm feeling?"

"I care, Nyota." The words are formal, stilted but with emotion hidden within.

Her eyes rise to look deeply into his, and she seems to consider for a moment before speaking again, "But do you love me?"

The hands hidden behind his back open wide, and then tighten into fists again. "You are aware that I am incapable of lying. You were also made aware of the circumstances before this relationship began. My preferences lie with men. I had informed you that based upon the stigmas Earth still harbors, our relationship was the logical choice from my standpoint. I have grown to care for you a great deal, and yet I cannot give you that."

She hangs her head to hide her pain, giving herself a moment by tucking a stray strand of hair behind an ear. Her customary ponytail is limp and bedraggled, and sweaty locks have come loose to frame her face. For his part, Kirk is incapable of thinking. His brain seems unable to wrap around this unexpected revelation, it causes a spark of – something – in his chest before he pushes it aside to focus on the tableau before him.

"I can't do this anymore, Spock. I'm sorry." she whispers, as if she doesn't want to say the words aloud.

"I must apologize, but I cannot comprehend. It seemed as if our relationship was going better than expected and I…."

"I thought I could take it, and for the longest time I could. I thought it was normal for your people to be that distant, and that the way you cared for me was enough. But now I've been around them, Spock, and I've seen. They are capable of emotion, no matter how you try to convince me. I've seen the way that girl looks at Kirk, and…" her voice trails off, choking and hollow and bare, "…When one Vulcan will offer comfort to another, even if it's a simple touch or a look that no one else is meant to see. I've seen them."

"I am sorry, Nyota. I have never been like the others, never allowed to forget that I am different. I was forced to suppress my Human half and the emotional responses that were ridiculed. In order to gain their respect and the place I wanted among them, I had to essentially become more logical than they can attain." Here Spock pauses, and the muscles of his back whisper a story that he cannot tell Uhura, "And even though I care for you, as a sister and a friend, I cannot change who I am."

She shudders at his words, and her eyes widen as recognition hits. Her hands stretch forward, as if of their own volition, but Spock is out of her reach. They collapse onto her lap, picking at the seam of her dress. Lost and desperate, without an anchor.

"I see. I should not have expected anything more, and yet I'd still hoped…." she dashes a tear from her cheek, then gathers herself and stands, "Then there's nothing more to be said. I need more than just sister or friend, Spock. I deserve someone that can love me as much as…I love you."

"I deeply apologize, Nyota. I never intended our relationship to bring you pain. If I had realized this would be the outcome, I never would have agreed to the liaison." There is actual sadness in Spock's voice, but so faint Kirk can hardly hear. The Vulcan's head bows under the weight of what has been said.

The words are more than she can bear, and Uhura flees from Spock's sight. She runs past Kirk with tears streaming from her eyes, not even seeing him beside her. And then she is gone.

Kirk is bruised and battered, for both of them, and the pain that is evident in each of his friends. He stands, frozen, staring at the place where Uhura disappeared. This is certainly not the outcome he anticipated when he spoke to Spock this morning.

When he turns back towards Spock, he finds the Vulcan staring at him. Emotions are clearly marked on the Vulcan's face; sadness and confusion. Spock is vulnerable in a way that Kirk never imagined he'd find his friend. Kirk is left gasping, drowning like a fish out of water when faced with the strength of those emotions.

Only the sound of Spock's voice can break the spell; "How much did you witness?"

No indignation, no customary raise of an eyebrow. Simplicity laid bare, as for the moment Spock is not balancing on propriety, too caught up in the feelings coursing through him. For a moment, Kirk contemplates lying to Spock, to spare him the reality of how much he has seen. But the urge is gone even before he can fully identify it.

Instead, he replies simply with; "Enough."

Spock's eyes close, and the Vulcan's voice comes out broken and bloody, as wretched as the expression on his face.

"I never wanted to hurt her."

He resists the urge, with all his being, to comfort his friend. Spock is already being far more open than Kirk knows he wants to be, and he's not going to make it worse by presuming to touch him. But it's so hard to avoid even the squeezing of an elbow. He's so used to giving comfort with touch, and for it not to be allowed tests his already limited restraint.

Gulping back the urge, he mentally takes a step away from his friend, "She knows, Spock. And trust me, even though it doesn't seem like it – that means a great deal to her."

A twitch just underneath the surface, shuddering across Spock's form. The dark dark eyes open, and bore into Kirk's with such a desperate plea… and it cracks his self control. Stepping forward, he holds out a hand as he says the first words that enter his mind.

"Spock, I'm sorry." the words sound lame, even in his own ears, and Kirk cringes inside as he curses his instincts. These are exactly the wrong things to do for a being that hates nearness and hates speaking of his emotions.

Literally pulling away from the proffered comfort, Spock takes a step back from his friend. There is no emotion left in his words as he replies, "There is nothing else that could have been done."

The formal blankness is back in his tone, and Kirk gives an involuntary shudder. A few heartbeats more, and Spock is back to his formal self, all angles and foreign blank expression. Even the small hints of emotion that Kirk is used to seeing around the Vulcan's eyes and mouth have disappeared.

Kirk wants to growl in frustration, and drag those feelings back out of Spock. But he knows his chance is gone, that he was the reason it was dashed to pieces. Spock has effectively closed off any lines of that conversation, and there is nothing more he can do. With no choice, he changes the subject with a sigh; a coarse expulsion of air that he uses to expel some of his own emotions.

"Fine, I'll drop it for now. But I know what happened and you know what happened and I will eventually bring it back up again." He crosses his arms over his chest, frustration and worry battling within him. Worry wins out, but there is no available outlet at the moment.

Spock relaxes minutely in front of him, a wave of surprise rolling across his face before it disappears beneath the surface once again. It's almost as if he expected Kirk to fight longer. Kirk is firm in his conviction to get Spock to talk about this, but he also is aware that it's impossible at the moment – and that they are on time constraints.

He runs his fingers through his hair, tangling them in the knots and tugging. There are a million and one questions that he desperately wants to ask, screaming to get out. But instead he simply says, "How much time do we have before the meeting, Spock?"

The Vulcan tilts his head to the side, considering for just a moment before he replies, "We have exactly 5.2 minutes before our presence is required at the specified location."

With a nod, he resigns himself to the inevitable. Heart heavy with sadness, he makes the conscious switch from comforting friend to commanding officer.

"Are you ready, Commander?"

The dark dark eyes before him close once again, this time extinguishing emotion instead of just suppressing it. In moments Spock is back to extremely formal Vulcan, his change as dramatic as that of Kirk.

He nods in reply, "Indeed, Captain. I am sufficiently prepared to speak with the Council at this time."

One last glance at his Vulcan First Officer, full of everything he wishes he could say. And then he turns without a word, and leads the way from the cul-de-sac to the waiting Council.