A\N: Hey! Long time no post. Sorry for the delay. This chapter is based on S2:Ep16 A Private Little war. I made a few changes to suit my purposes so this is not identical to the episode. Hopefully I haven't lost my touch, but if I have, you'll let me know. Happy Monday and thanks to everyone who continues to support this story.


Spock, Kirk and McCoy were off the ship inspecting some paradisiac planet which meant that there was peace on Enterprise. The crew relished it, since these moments were so few and far between.

Just before lunch, Masters came on the bridge but surprised Uhura when she didn't walk directly over to the communications station. It was more surprising to see the way Charlene was dressed. Instead of her neat little afro, she had finger coiled her hair, leaving tight, well defined spirals to crown her head. And where she didn't usually wear earrings, she had on very dainty pair at present.

The other Lieutenant went to Mr. Scott, who was in the captain's chair and presented him with a report. She read along over his shoulder, and leaned in close to point out some specific point of interest.

As Masters was making her way to the lift, Uhura accosted her and questioned her quietly. "Excuse me, Miss Thing, what's with the new look?"

"New look?"

"The hair, the earrings, the make-up." She explained, noticing the new shade of lipstick and the expertly applied cat eye. "You never dress up on duty. As I recall, you used to be fundamentally against it."

"I fundamentally changed my mind."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the other night would it? When the four of us went up to the observation deck and you and a certain engineer spent the whole night debating about the quality of dilithium found on Hera IV?"

"No." Charlene replied unconvincingly.

"You know I was thinking, when Spock gets back, we could head back up there for a drink maybe, all of us again. And if we get on the topic of fuel consumption and how to optimize it then…"

"I mean, I don't know what Mr. Scott's doing later…but I'm free."

"I bet you are. Not only are you free, you're available!"

"Shut up. Hey, I've been meaning to ask you, what's with the new guy, the doctor? Every time I see him he's with you or Spock."

"He's our latest Vulcan import. I think he likes Spock."

"I think he likes you."

"What?"

"The other day, you two were in the music room. He was playing one of those old songs and you were singing. He looked at you like—like he was dehydrated and you were a tall glass of water."

"Geoff? No. We're just friends. Besides if he's smitten with anyone, it's Spock. He's always asking him to do this or do that. Now I have to share my man with M'Benga and the Captain."

"Uhura, listen to what I'm telling you. I've been watching people fall in love with you since we were eighteen. Be careful of that one. He works in sickbay with Chapel. I wouldn't put it past them to come up with some kind of plot to break you two up."

"Oh, now there's a plot? You watch too many programs. Besides, Christine and I are getting better."

"No, she accepted an incredibly expensive gift from you. All that proves is that she likes nice things, not that she likes you again. You're too trusting. And since you refuse to watch your own back, I'm going to watch it for y—"

Masters' protective rant was interrupted by Nyota doubling over into her, clutching her chest and struggling to catch her breath. Just as she was about to call Scotty over, a comm came through from the planet requesting a medevac. And Uhura was straightening anyway.

Scott left the bridge and the Communications chief moved slowly to the con.

"Are you okay? What was that? Let me take you to sick bay."

On the outside, her friend looked composed, but Charlene knew her better than that. There were tells everywhere, the way she was blinking fast, the slight tremble, the way she was gripping the armrests. "I'm fine but I think that medevac is for Spock."

"What?"

"He's hurt. I feel it. I felt it."

"Like a premonition? That's not actually possible, sweetie. You're just worried."

"Of course I am! There are only three of them down there. If it's not him, it's the captain or Bones. I'm not anymore pleased by those possibilities. But it was Spock. I know it's him."

"Then go downstairs."

"I can't. I'm in command."

"Uhura."

"I am in—"

"We've got company Lieutenant," Chekov alerted from the helm. "Klingons."

"Go to Red alert," she announced, seeming somehow surer of herself. "Battle stations, Battle stations."

Charlene was in awe for a second. As capable as she always knew Nyota was, she never thought she'd see her in command of a starship while it was at red alert and possibly about to engage the enemy. And while she should have run back down to engineering and checked on power reserves, she was frozen to the spot until the acting captain pushed her in the direction of the turbo lift. "I said Battle Stations!"

Kirk came to the bridge and canceled the red alert once they figured out the Klingons hadn't seen them yet. But he also confirmed that Spock had been shot. So when he left the deck again, Uhura followed him.

Once the turbo lift started to move, she felt her stomach turn over and queasiness came over her like motion sickness. She leaned forward heavily and lay on the STOP button as her breath became shallow. Then she was sucking at air like an asthmatic. She couldn't stand to be in the tight space, but she could stand the idea of actually arriving in sickbay, but she wasn't able to convince herself back up to the bridge either. So there she was, trapped in an elevator, having what felt like a panic attack, with her CO looking on.

"Lieutenant?"

She heard him, but the way one hears under water, distant and distorted. It was like she'd somehow taken two steps to the left of reality. All she could call to mind in that second was that folded flag they tried to hand her mother all those years ago and the way Mama's screams sounded when they were muffled by Baba's uniform.

"Lieutenant?" Kirk laid his hand gently on her shoulder. "Uhura. Snap out of it. That's an order!"

"Sir?" She panted, struggling to gather herself.

"Get it together. You're still on duty."

She was quaking now, but standing straighter, forcing herself to breathe in through nose and out through her mouth. She looked the captain in the eye and tried focusing on how confident he seemed. "Spock."

"I know." He whispered sympathetically. "But whatever happens, I still need you as an officer."

"Yes, Sir."

"You can do this." His other hand gripped her other shoulder and he gave her a fortifying squeeze. It was uncanny, his ability to make her unafraid. But outside of Spock, he was probably the only one with that ability.

When Jim was sure that she'd collected herself, he started the lift again. Eventually, they walked into sickbay together, just in time to hear M'Benga announce that Spock's recovery was out of his hands. That if he lived, it would have to be his Vulcan physiology that pulled him through. Bones agreed and had them turn out the sterile light. When Kirk pulled the CMO aside, Uhura marched over to the other doctor.

"What does that mean?"

"It means exactly what I said. I can't do anything further."

"Is that all your elite training amounts to, you looking at Spock and throwing your hands up? Aren't you supposed to be a specialist?"

"Ms. Uhura…"

"What the hell are you on the ship for if you can't save the first officer?"

"Kroyka!" As much as she was loath to admit it, that word held a certain power over her, enough to make her be quiet. "In my office. Nurse, get him set up in the other room, please."

"Yes, Doctor." Christine answered demurely as Uhura stomped her way into Geoff's office.

"Listen," he began, letting out a slow breath through his nose. "I know you're upset. But you don't have the right to talk to me like that."

"You have to save him. It's your job!"

"My function aboard this ship is to use the knowledge I acquired on Vulcan to provide care. How much do you know about medicine? More specifically, how much do you know about Vulcan Medicine?"

"I know that you better use it to save my tersu."

"If there was anything else I could do, I'd be doing it right now." He walked around his desk and sat down. He sat gently, like everything he was doing was calculated from here on out. He was obviously trying to project a serenity that Uhura doubted he actually had at the moment. He folded his hands on the surface of the tabletop, and looked at her evenly before he spoke again. "He's about to enter a healing trance. It requires a high level of mental discipline. But that shouldn't be a problem for him. It's extremely effective. Every time I've seen it, it works. His body will repair the damaged tissue on its own, but it means total concentration. Think of it like this: he's in the best hands on the ship—his own. Now if you can't trust Spock with Spock's life, I don't know what more I can tell you."

"When you explain it like that…"

"Now, if you'd like to undermine me some more..."

"I didn't mean to undermine you, Geoff. But he's everything to me. And he supposed to outlive me. That's part of the deal. I'm unprepared to lose him—ever. I feel like I'm about to lose it completely. And I just did. In the elevator. With the captain watching," she recounted woefully, running an unsteady hand over her face. "I love him so much I actually felt it. I felt him get hurt. Charlene said I was imagining it, but I know what I know."

"What did it feel like?" He asked, rising from his seat and getting a little scanner from the drawer.

"It started in my back and shot through me, into my chest. It was fast and hot and sharp. I felt numb in my extremities and then in was over. That's when they ordered the medivac."

"Anything like this ever happen before?"

"Not so noticeably. But sometimes I think I feel when Spock's unsettled or when he's in a really good place."

"Have you two ever employed the services of a healer, to establish a marriage bond?"

"No."

He waved the instrument over her back, her chest and her head. Then he sat on the edge of the desk, crossed his arm and ankles, before scrutinizing her. She shifted, adjusting the collar of her uniform.

"Is something wrong?"

"I should preface by saying that I don't want to ask you this question. It makes me as uncomfortable to ask as it's going to make you to answer."

"What?"

"When you two are—"he stopped to clear his throat and uncross and re-cross his legs. "When you two join…physically, that is, when you…mate, do you also, um, do you also join mentally?"

"Excuse me?!"

"Believe me when I say that I'm not asking out of curiosity. I genuinely would rather not know. But I think you two have a bond. For such a bond to exist outside of an official marriage is rare."

"Yes! Is it important?"

M'Benga nodded, leaning forward to take more readings. "That's probably how the connection happened. And if you can feel him, then he can feel you. This means that, if he senses your worry, he might try to rouse himself too early in order to comfort you. When it comes to a Vulcan and their mate, logic takes a backseat. The priorities are to protect and provide. In that order. If you're tense his mind may interpret that as you being in danger. That's not good. It also explains why you're so emotional."

"So what do we do?"

"We have to keep you calm."

"I can do that. I'll go back up to the bridge."

"No, I want you down here. I think you need to be monitored."

"I can't do that. As of right now, I'm second in command. There is an immediate Klingon threat. You know like I do that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one."

"Even If that one is Spock?"

"Especially then. All the trances in the world won't do him any good if we're blasted out of existence by that warbird."

"Alright. But you have to wear this." He fixed a small black bracelet to her wrist and explained that it was a monitor. "If you get too worked up and I see it affecting him then I'm having you brought in and sedated. Understand?"

"Understood."

She left and he settled back in his chair. These two got more perfect for each other by the minute. They didn't even need a healer to establish a bond. It was remarkable. Any other culture would call it a miracle. Still, once the first officer was awake, his suggestion would be that they get to a professional as soon as possible to make sure everything went smoothly. He wasn't sure how these natural bonds functioned and how safe they were for a human and he had absolutely no way of testing it. But he was relatively certain of the fact that if something happened to Spock, Uhura would likely be driven mad by the severance.

Later, when he found Christine holding an unconscious Spock's hand, he decided not to address it right then, though he would have to give her some type of reprimand for touching a touch telepath without expressed consent or just cause. If they were on Vulcan, he would have been required to dismiss her immediately. But she was the best nurse he'd ever had, so he didn't want to make a big deal of it. Still, the code of ethics he operated under wouldn't let him ignore it entirely.

When the Vulcan finally came to, Geoffrey had to finish the work of slapping him to his senses, since Chapel was being detained by Scott who thought she'd snapped. For reasons he wouldn't admit to himself, there was a level of satisfaction that came with smacking his face a few good times.

"Before I let you go, Mr. Spock," the doctor prompted as the other man shrugged on his tunic. "I had to ask Uhura some pretty personal questions while you were out."

"Regarding what?"

"Your um, your sexual…"

The eyebrow Spock was throwing him was not helping. In fact, he looked more intimidating than he ever had, even when they were sparring. It looked like he'd actually grown a few inches. And something about his stance was unsettling too. Worst of all was the fact that he was closing the distance between them, like stalking prey.

"Continue."

"You sexual behaviors. I asked if you join mentally when you join physically."

"You asked my mate about our mental intimacies? For what purpose?"

"I believe that you two are bonded. In the married sense. If that's true then the um, mental intimacies are probably how it happened. Anyway I think you two need to see a healer as soon as possible. A natural bond has never occurred with a human before. It needs to at least be checked out. Mr. Spock, you're advancing on me."

He looked down at his feet and seemed to notice for the first time how much of the room he'd traversed while Geoff scrambled to explain his reasoning. So he stopped moving forward, but he made no effort to pace back. "Very well. If you have any further inquiries of this nature, you will discuss them with me—only."

"Of course."

"I trust you will now observe all proprieties regarding bonded Vulcan women when dealing with Ms. Uhura."

"Absolutely. All proprieties. Full manners. I'll make a note in both your charts."

"Good. You will also not mention Nurse Chapel's…bedside manner to the Lieutenant. I see no need to upset her over something so trivial."

"She's not going to hear it from me."

"Then we understand each other on all counts, Doctor."

"I also had to tell her to kroyka." M'benga blurted awkwardly, thinking it was better that he tell him than for him to hear it from her first. "She was being unreasonable and insubordinate so—"

"I was not aware that Lieutenant Uhura qualified as your subordinate."

"It was necessary."

"I see. It of course goes without saying that you will not get into the habit of scolding she who is my wife."

"No."

Spock nodded, suppressing a tidal wave of pride that came along with being able to identify Nyota in such a fashion. It was illogical, but also wonderful. She was his. Really and truly his, in a way that was not easily undone.