The Hopper The following story line is mine. Don't try to copy it cause I'll get mad
In a like vain, Star Trek and all characters are the sole property of someone other than me.

++"This is not logical, Captain"
"It never is, Spock"++

She could feel him coming. She sighed deeply and kept her eyes closed.
"Deneb! What're you doing here?" he asked. It was an arboretum, what did he think she was doing there? Looking for a screwdriver?
"There aren't any windows" she said, eyes still closed, still facing the empty bulkhead. She'd been aboard the Enterprise for a week. She'd already begun writing for her first edition of the newspaper (she hadn't come up with a title yet) and started auditions for her play. Scotty had directed her to a cargo bay she could turn into an admirable stage and theatre and had even told her he would get his hands on some materials for building sets. Everything was going so well.
But she was still depressed. There was nothing for it.
"Oh, nobody's showed you?" He was very close behind her and she could feel him lift his arm. She opened her eyes just as a panel, completely hidden in the wall, slid aside to reveal the stars beyond. They were zooming past but she stared at them none the least.
"Oh!" was all that escaped her lips. She loved the stars. They were so poetic, and yet she never could find the right words to truly describe their place in her heart. She felt her soul lift and at the same time her heart sink at the sight of them. And she felt a single tear escape her hold and fall down to her cheek.
"You're crying" he said softly. When had his head gotten so close to her ear?
"No, I'm not" she denied. She never cried. If she started crying, she'd probably never stop. Some days, she still harbored the hope that she would wake up and it would have all been a dream. It would be her sixteenth birthday, David would play some dastardly trick on her, her parents would send balloons to her at school and she would be happy again.
But not tonight. She couldn't make herself believe that tonight. And then his hands were on her shoulders and she was turning into his chest. Was he so tall? She hadn't noticed before.
"You are" he said softly, again, using his forefinger to lift her chin so he could look into her eyes.
"I've...never seen eyes like yours before" he said. She'd gotten the feeling he knew what to say to a girl, but not now. His vibes had all changed. She felt like he was being "real".
"They're just green" she replied.
"Not when they're full of tears" he told her. She felt her lip tremble. She felt a sob stick in her throat.
"You must be lonely" he suddenly hit the nail on the head, "Always hopping through time, never staying anywhere long enough to really make any friends, have a family. Leaving any friends you do make" She had thought she didn't like him. What had happened to that?
"You don't know how lonely time is" she said and then she couldn't hold back the tears anymore. Years of frightened, angry, sad tears poured out of her body and down her face. He had his arms wrapped around her back and her hot tears were soaking through his uniform shirt. She felt like her whole being was being soaked up in the fabric. It was an ironic scene, such misery unfolding in the midst of such beautiful plants, with the stars looking on.
"Nobody should" he told her, "No one should go through what you've gone through. She choked on a few of her tears and then crammed the rest of them back down her throat. She took a deep breath and pushed herself away from the comfort of his arms.
"No. No one should. And I won't make you" she spun around, knowing she'd left him a bit confused, and raced down the corridor to her own room. She took a few ragged breaths, forcing the rest of her tears back inside the bottle they'd tried to escape from. Her life didn't have room for those kind of feelings. She couldn't allow herself to get involved with anyone, she couldn't let anyone get involved with her. No, they must not be grieved when she left again, for leave again she knew she would. Anger suddenly enveloped her being and she threw a vase against the bulkhead where it shattered, splattering it's blue tinted water across the taupe wall and sending the carefully plucked flowers careening to the floor where their delicate petals were crushed under their own weight.
"It's not fair!" she yelled into the silence, glad that the walls were soundproof, "It's not fair, damn it! Why me! I was /sixteen/!" And then her feelings couldn't be describe with words anymore and a primitive cry crawled from low in her throat, gouging away at any peace she had won for herself. When it had ceased she found her body still flowing with adrenaline. She needed to do something, something more strenuous then throwing vases and screaming. So she tore off her "dress" and headed to the gym in just her cat suit. She would get hot quickly for it was tight fitting, but she didn't care. A good sweat, then a good shower followed by a good long sleep and she'd have a hold of herself the next day.
There was no one in the gym, for which she was thankful. There was a boxing bag hanging off to one side and she grabbed the wrap that was sitting next to it and bound up her wrists and knuckles. She forwent the gloves and started pummeling the bag. With each punch she saw a different face: Suvok, the Vulcan, Dr. Teller, the historian, Dr. Laney the "biologist" and all the others that had caused her pain. And when those faces had faded the bag became the face she couldn't see, the face of that which had done this to her life. The one(s) who threw her from time to time, like skipping a rock over a pond. She pummeled the bag with her fists, with her feet and knees, attacking it with every ounce of being within her. And when that was done she fell to the floor, panting.
"It is best to follow such extraneous exercise with a cooling down period" a firm voice said. Deneb looked up. Spock was watching her with his expressionless face, one eye brow quirked at her.
"Is that so, Mr. Spock?" Deneb asked with a light chuckle.
"It is indeed. Would you care to join me in some Vulcan meditive postures?" Deneb considered denying it and going back to her room for that cold shower and maybe a cup of tea. But something about Spock's voice made her reconsider. How many Vulcan's asked a human to participate in Vulcan meditive postures? She had a feeling T'Pol may have, but T'Pol never had the chance to offer.
"Why not, Spock?" she replied, pushing herself to her feet. He nodded and went into a stance. Deneb stood slightly behind him and tried to follow his movements as exactly as she could.
"You must bring your mind to peace" he said, not softly but quietly, "Notice all of the emotion in your mind. Notice it and put it aside. Concentrate on your breathing. See your breath, see the light that is your breath" Deneb closed her eyes for just a second to follow his instructions. She could almost see her breath as a white light, entering and dispersing through her body. Spock continued to coach her in his quiet, even voice as they moved through the physical motions of his meditive postures. Deneb could feel the anger and sadness that had wheedled its way through her systems fading away. It wasn't being put into a bottle and locked away, like usual, it was /actually/ leaving.
"That is enough for now" Spock suddenly said. Deneb eased her body back into a relaxed position. Her body was lathered in sweat but she felt good. Better, in fact, then she had in a very, very long time.
"Thanks, Spock" she said. He inclined his head.
"You are welcome" And thus was the beginning of a long lasting friendship.