Chapter 2 After Amok Time: A letter from Spock
Christine,
A quite dishonorable time arrives in a Vulcan's life every seven years where hormones control the most analytical components of one's brain called Pon Farr. Although it is an extreme consequence,one truth of this phenomenon is that he will die if a Vulcan doesn't mate or kill. It is highly shameful to us as a people that we go through this time as we suppress our emotions expertly. Neither you or would be aware of this knowledge because only a few Starfleet medical leaders know about this phenomenon. After all, we are an immensely private people.
When the "madness" envelops one, Vulcans cannot maintain the mastery of their feelings. I remember feeling despair at the fact that I was being forced to marry a woman I did not know. Additionally, the intense sensations of lust, desire, and longing a male feels for a woman physically clouded my ordinarily impeccable judgment. Thus, I quarantine myself in my quarters to prevent my wild emotions from affecting the others on the Enterprise. Unfortunately, my emotional side, the one which I keep obscured all the time, had already unscrupulously appeared as I had disregarded an order by Captain Kirk.
Vulcans never reveal information about their private lives usually and I hadn't either until it became absolutely necessary.
At age seven, I was bonded with a younger Vulcan girl named T'Pring. A bond is a promise of two families to wed their children in the future, similar to the arranged marriages in your Earth's early history. My family is prominent on Vulcan, and I was bonded to a woman of a similarly significant one. I have seen T'Pring a handful of times in my life, but our parents decided that we would marry in the thirty-fifth year of my life, which is now. It was my duty to honor my family by following their wishes, but I could not.
As a "half breed," I do experience these emotions that are vulgar to Vulcans more often than I would like to admit. I think of you, Christine, with lewd thoughts, about the curves of your body, the revealing blue uniform that almost allows me to peek at your decolletage, wondering how they would feel in my hands, as well as thoughts about your derriere which your dress scarcely covers. Additionally, I covet to kiss and taste your pouty lips.
When you kindly brought me soup to my quarters, I reacted in an irrational manner by refusing it and throwing it at the wall. Your pretty face conveyed terror at my actions, and it was extraordinarily evident to me that I frightened you. For that, I regret my actions tremendously, and please know that they damaged my heart.
You materialized in my dreams as I slept afterward like an angel surrounded by light, attempting to communicate with me, but I couldn't comprehend your message. However, you stood next to me when I awoke. Promptly, lecherous thoughts came to my mind as I viewed your sensuality in person, and my heart rate increased rapidly. When I called your name, you were crying due to my actions.
To my acute stupefaction, I flirted with you before I knew the words came out. When I stated that it would be illogical to protest against our natures, you brushed it off and instead notified me that we were traveling to Vulcan. That puzzled me exceedingly, so I requested some plomeek soup.
Did you think less of me when you found out I was bonded? Have you wondered why I never pursued you other than I was a Vulcan and never emoted those feelings? Yet, if I was to tell you that I greatly desire to kiss you, to feel you in my arms, and to connect with you in a mind meld, what would you say? Those are not speculations, Christine. Those are all truths.