AN: This is my first fic, and trying to upload things for the first time is weird. So if there are any typos/ spacing issues, I sincerely apologize in advance. I've been working on this for a few weeks now and constantly reread, but there's always that chance that I'll miss something between the docx and publishing.

Forewarning, I've recently delved into the Trekverse, I've only seen the reboots (and I love them), and I'm slowly working on watching everything on netflix, but I think I'll be 80 by the time I'm done. I've done as much research as I can into topics I don't understand/ words in other languages, so if anything seems off to you, just let me know!

As per usual, I don't own anything Trek; not even as minuscule as lens flares or as sexy as thick eyebrows...

Spock

"Mr. Sulu," the captain began as Spock came to stand next to him. "What's our ETA?"

"T-minus three minutes until we reach the anomaly," replied the helmsman.

Spock stood with his hands clasped behind his back, noting the passage of time. When the Enterprise came out of warp, everyone turned to the view screen. An oddly familiar sight, it left them feeling slightly uneasy. Blue light danced across the sky, emanating from an immense black hole. "Huh. Would you look at that? Spock, scan the area. We don't want any surprises. Shields up, Mr. Sulu."

"Captain," Spock began, leaning over his console, "it appears that we are encountering the same type of singularity as we did during our dealings with Nero." Jim turned to face him, an expression on his face that could only describe the seriousness of Spock's diagnosis. It portrayed solidarity for the loss experienced at the hands of the ruthless Romulan. A flash of white light brought their attention back towards the storm. The black hole was gone.

"Captain, there is a vessel!" The technician magnified the image on the viewscreen.

"What…?" Jim rose from his seat and crossed his arms, looking what one could only explain as utterly confused. The identification on the vessel read "USS Enterprise NCC-1701 #16". A small flashing light could be seen blinking above the door. "Are we missing any escape pods?"

"No, sir, all are accounted for… including pod 16." Spock's ears began to burn at the reply. He was well acquainted with the consequences of black holes. He is, after all, the only being capable of being in two places at once.

"Well, that's weird. Lieutenant Hannedy, hail the pod."

"Sir, the pod's short subspace communications capabilities are active, yet there is no response." Inexplicably, Spock began to feel ill… was this a gut feeling, the human intuition of which his mother often spoke? He decided it was best to inform the captain of his suspicions.

"Captain, considering the knowledge we gained from our previous experience with such an occurrence, it is a possibility that this vessel is in fact from the Enterprise, just not from this particular reality."

"Well, if it's a fellow crew member, it's our duty to help them back aboard…" He paused to think for a moment, his hand coming to rest on his chin. Jim turned back to Spock with concern on his face. "Besides, if they did travel through time in a black hole, and only one emergency pod made it here, it could be that their ship is gone."

"A logical observation, Captain." Kirk nodded, exhaling with a sigh and placed his hands behind his head. He walked back over to his chair and pushed a comm. button. He called for a transport ship to be fueled and readied, then he called Dr. McCoy.

"Bones, we've encountered an escape pod from the Enterprise. It's possible that the passenger will need medical assistance, so you will accompany me and Spock to retrieve it. Meet us at the ship." He turned and pointed at the helmsman on his left, "Mr. Sulu, you have the con. Alright, Spock, let's go get 'em." Spock steeled his emotional walls as the captain's hand expectedly came into contact with his shoulder. Slowly, but surely he was becoming adjusted to the emotional displays of the captain.

It took them only 15.7 minutes to reach the pod and marginally less time to properly and safely load it onto the ship. When the integrity of the ship was restored and breathing capabilities reestablished, they turned to the small vessel. Its metal casing was scathed and scorched in areas as if it had seen days of battle. As Dr. McCoy initiated the opening code on the door's computer, the most unsettling sensation spread through Spock. For the first time in his life, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The door opened in a hiss and Dr. McCoy began rambling that the stardate on the computer was from the year 2264.

Spock hardly heard the doctor, however. As the door slid back, his heart established an anxious arrhythmia. Jim Kirk had ceased breathing next to him, "She never even told me her name." His ears registered Jim's statement the moment the delicate cadences "Nyota" rolled in a whisper from his lips. The two looked at each other with wide eyes. An intrigued look came over Jim's face, but just as he opened his mouth, Dr. McCoy thankfully stepped around to see the pod's occupant.

"Son of a bitch!" the doctor exclaimed, shoving the inert onlookers out of the way. As the doctor's fingers checked for a pulse at her carotid artery, he cast a hard stare at Spock and the Captain. "Jim, you get your ass up to that con and you fly us back, stat. We've got a nice young lady in critical condition that I won't let die because of your voyeurism." The captain nodded and ran to the front of the vessel, leaving Spock alone with the doctor and the young woman in the pod. "80 over 55, damn, her blood pressure is bottoming out, and her pulse is through the roof." He continued to run his scanners over her body.

Spock remained a courteous distance away from doctor and patient. Available when needed, but understanding the space required for proper treatment. A red operations regulation uniform clung to her slim body, there were no outwardly observable injuries, yet blood was visibly dripping from her nose and ears, its iron scent was flooding his senses. Her infrequent breaths came in shallow quivers. Her eyebrows were drawn and her lips slightly pointed down, expressing pain on her unconscious visage. The doctor's scans were inconclusive to any physical injury, so he moved to her head. He pulled a white handkerchief from his back pocket, and gently dabbed at the red fluid at her nostrils. Dr. McCoy tensed up.

"Son of a—Jim! Drive it like you stole it!" He turned to Spock, "Spock, go to the cabinet over there and grab a bag of saline, a rubber tourniquet, and an intravenous catheter." Dr. McCoy then lifted Lieutenant Uhura's limp body onto the empty medic bed they had on standby, slightly shaking her frame and calling out to her. "Uhura, can you hear me?" Nothing. He gave her sternum a rough rub. A soft whimper was the only response. Spock handed the necessary equipment to the doctor, his breath elevated in a rapid rise and fall in his chest. He looked at the handkerchief, discarded by the padding of the pod; the red droplet of her blood was surrounded by a pale fluid and its presence seemed to be what agitated the doctor.

"Doctor, would you please clarify the nature of the Lieutenant's condition?"

"I found no trace of physical injuries, yet she's leaking CSF like a fountain and hypotensive. She's showing stages of shock, but without a physical injury and the presence of CSF, I'm going to have to say she's experiencing neurogenic shock. Wrap that blanket around her, will ya? She's losing body heat." Spock quickly came and placed a heavy white blanket over her small frame, careful not to touch her. Her once rich, brown skin now looked pale and sickly under its clinical hue. Meanwhile, Dr. McCoy placed a tourniquet around her forearm, inserted a needle into the vein on the interior side of her elbow, and attached the catheter to the IV drip. "Hold this," he said, handing Spock the bag of fluids.

Dr. McCoy moved to the side of the bed and entered a command. As the foot of the bed began to rise, he turned back to Spock. "I knew about you." Spock's eyes narrowed and an eyebrow rose below his bangs. The doctor portrayed nothing but empathy as he adjusted the flow rate. "Spock," he began, "she had certain… contraceptive requests that she came directly to me about, instead of giving the best gossip to the academy pharmacists."

"I am grateful for your discretion, Doctor."

"Boy, this really blows my mind. I can't even begin to imagine what this is like for you."

Spock's eyes glazed over and he glanced down to the fragile human. "I was aware that it was a possibility that we would encounter a fellow crew member, but I was not expecting…" He looked back at Dr. McCoy. "During our experience with Nero, a much older version of myself, a future version if you will, was transported to our reality and helped Jim and Mr. Scott."

"You're kidding me. So where is he now?" The doctor's hands crossed over his torso as he leaned against the rails on the bed.

"It is no jest, Doctor. Currently, he is serving as ambassador to New Vulcan so that I may continue my career in Starfleet."

"Well I'll be." One of his hands grasped his chin in contemplation, and then he asked the one question that was burning in Spock's psyche. "So, do you think it's really her?"

Spock's breath hitched for a moment, and they made eye contact. "The answer to that question is one that I could easily verify." Dr. McCoy nodded and took the IV bag from him.

"Are you going to… use your Vulcan mind powers on her?"

Spock tilted his head in confusion; the doctor was clearly misinformed, regardless… "No. I would not risk such contact since she is unconscious and we are unaware of the true nature of her injury. Leakage of cerebrospinal fluid is a consequence usually brought on by head trauma or illness, yet as your scans have proved, she has experienced none of the sort. It is logical to determine that her injuries are thus neurological in nature."

"Riiight." Spock leaned over her torso, a shaking hand reached for the collar of her uniform. "So what are you doing, then?"

"In this reality, we were nearly bonded. If any of her history involved me during her final years at the academy, she would bear a mark, regardless if such a relationship ceased to exist years later in her reality." Slowly, he pulled back the fabric. There it was; a dark oval mark was visible at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Spock's clinical resolve seemed to break. He stood there, completely frozen at his confirmation. A hollow ache formed in his stomach and he could feel that his swelling tongue was on its way to occlude his airway. Fortunately, Jim announced that they had arrived and as the doctor and captain lead the biobed out of the shuttle and towards medbay, Spock remained immobile, and was rooted in place. All the pain and guilt he had been repressing now jumped to the foreground and mixed with elation. The combination was sickening, but he regained a sense of control over himself and headed straight towards the medical center.

The captain and Dr. McCoy stopped talking as soon as he rounded the corner and they both turned to look at him. "Spock," Jim began. "Bones here has brought me up to speed with our situation. I know that you're emotionally invested in the Lieutenant, but I need you to complete your shift tonight regardless. We can rearrange your schedule to work things out later, but I need you on the bridge tonight. Now, Bones has a few more things to talk to you about, but I just wanted to say for the record, as hard as I tried, she never gave me the time of day."

"Comforting." His deadpan reply gave away his sarcasm. Jim saluted as he headed towards the bridge.

"Spock," Dr. McCoy began. "Now that you've confirmed the identification of our guest, I just wanted to set a few ground rules. As much as I can tell you're not going to leave her side for the entirety of her stay, I need to do further testing and she needs a significant amount of rest. That's why I requested for you to finish out your shift tonight. However, afterwards, when she has been stabilized and given a thorough lookin'-over, you can come back and sit with her as long as you like. I do have to prohibit physical contact of any kind between the two of you, and I will have to ask you to leave if she wakes and becomes upset." He sighed and scratched the back of his head.

"You might have been together at one point in time, but this is a different woman. We don't know what life was like for her and we don't know how she's going to take learning that she went back four years in time to a reality where she died. It sure won't feel like Kansas when she comes to.

"I know it's hard, but everything will come in stride. We just need to be careful with her."

"I understand. I will return after the completion of my shift."

"I know you won't be a minute late." At that, the two parted ways.

Spock's duty on the bridge illogically seemed to drag on forever. He could not seem to stay focused, his thoughts continually drifting back on Nyota; both the one he knew and the one down in medbay. He sifted through their interactions, chronicling their relationship.

Her first encounter with him had his head tilting in admiration. She outwardly debated with him in class. He had been discussing the melodramatic religious practices of a newly discovered primitive alien species on a class M planet; the topic in particular was the species' belief in reincarnation, that upon death, the soul of the deceased being would be transferred to a new body. When he categorized their belief as highly illogical, a slender brown arm shot in the air. He called on her, and she responded passionately.

"Sir, I must disagree with your judgment." Her eyes met his with confidence.

"On what grounds, Cadet?"

"Sir, you claimed that the life form's belief in reincarnation was illogical, deeming that such an act is impossible. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle once said 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.' I agree that one cannot come back from the dead, but the species in question have given accurate accounts of other tribe members that did not exist in their lifetimes, from a first person perspective, as if they had experienced the encounters themselves. This suggests that their experiences in reincarnation are valid.

"Additionally, according to their religious mythology, their sacred symbol, a large tree that is symbiotic with the rest of the planet life, is believed to be the keeper of souls until a new vessel has been created. Considering their linguistic differentiation between other plant life and this particular tree, and also the use of terms closely related to the standard 'soul', it is not inconceivable to believe that the beings actually have a detachable soul, safeguarded and nurtured by the sacred tree until it can be reimplanted. Such a notion would be just as believable, to some extent, as the knowledge that Vulcans, through their psyonic abilities and connections, have a collective conscious." The lecture hall was dead silent for a moment, everyone shocked at her bold difference.

"An interesting use of antiquated detective fiction, Cadet. I find your reasoning rationally sound, and commend you for looking deeper into the material than was expected." With that he dismissed the class, and was pleased to have the challenge that Cadet Uhura would give his classroom. With the slightest twitch of his lips, he smiled. He had become so accustomed to the non-stimulating discussions that often defined his interactions with humans. After that initial conversation, he began to look forward to all of his dealings with the young Cadet.

As he moved through the mundane duties of his shift, he continued his rumination of their relationship. Yet, with every eidetic memory he surfaced, it only made him more impatient to finish his shift. Her voice was the first thing to distract him. He could hear her heartiness of her laughter, the wildness of her frustration, the breathiness of her moans… It would be wise to think of something else, lest he become embarrassed by his physiological responses to these memories.

Finally, he gave his report to his replacement, and he and the rest of the alpha crew left the bridge. As he neared the med bay, a strong sense of anticipation and anxiety washed over him. Some muffled shouts echoed down the hallway and he quickened his pace. When the doors slid open at his approach, he was shocked at the sight before him. Nyota, in a white medical gown that in its bulk, still could not hide her graceful figure, was in hand to hand combat with six medical personnel, while a stressed Dr. McCoy was prepping tranquilizer hypo. She danced around the others in eerily perfect Suus Mahna, taking them down swiftly and blocking the doctor's attempt to sedate her. Spock only stood for a moment before he reacted, coming up behind her just as she was about to break Dr. McCoy's humerus. A quick nerve pinch at the base of her neck sent her crumpling to the floor, but not without the contact sending a jolt through Spock. There was something else that he felt with her… it was the strangest sensation, something he'd never felt the likes of in his life, almost like a humming vibration. He and the doctor made eye contact, their heavy breaths echoed throughout the bay from the scuffle. Leonard nodded towards him and Spock returned the gesture.

The doctor bent to Nyota's limp body on the floor. "You didn't kill her, did you?" he asked, a stern expression on his face. He felt for her pulse and sighed.

"Certainly not, Doctor. I assure you that I only used enough psy energy to merely render her unconscious. Would you please explain to me-"

"What in God's name just happened? I was hoping you had the answer. Help me get her to the bed."

Spock sat on the chair next to Nyota's bed. She was resting peacefully, although he hated to see the leather restraints holding her to the bed frame. His eyes traced her features over and over. Her dark hair fell beautifully over her shoulders, it had been taken out of its ponytail and she looked much more relaxed. He compared the Nyota that he knew to the one before him. This woman was much more mature than what he remembered, although a softness of the young woman he knew lingered beneath. The beautiful curve of her small ears; the fullness of her lips; the elegant length of her neck. When thinking about the details Dr. McCoy divulged, it almost seemed difficult to believe that the woman before him was able to incapacitate so many people.

Dr. McCoy was expecting her to experience a massive headache when she regained consciousness as a symptom of her neurological trauma, he was even expecting delirium. However, he was surprised when she was instantly frightened and became combative. Considering the nature of her injury and possibly her confusion at being aboard the Enterprise, Spock was not astonished. What troubled him most was her choice of martial arts during her combat. It almost made him uneasy at her mastery of Suus Mahna. Spock turned to the most logical explanation: it must be that in her reality, she and his own counterpart had bonded and at some point in time, she had acquired skill in his people's martial art. That would also give rise to the nature of her illness and to his recognition of a bond when she first came through the singularity. His hands came to rest under his chin. He felt warm, almost sick with his revelation. He continued his study; she looked so very tired.

After a few hours, she was becoming restless… whimpering in her sleep. Dr. McCoy rationalized that the sedative was wearing off. Spock continued his vigil. Eventually, a mix of languages was muttered softly under her breath. At first, it was unintelligible Swahili; its cadences were laced with tension. When sounds became words, he heard her say "We will meet again." The strain of that simple sentence initiated a series of convulsions; her body began seizing, limbs flailing against the restraints. It was difficult to watch someone he knew experience something so unnerving, and he was grateful when Dr. McCoy came in to the room. Nyota's body had stopped jerking, but she began to bleed from her ears and nose again. The doctor grabbed a white piece of gauze and dabbed at the red fluid seeping from her ears. Just as before, an off-white ring was present around the absorbed droplet of blood.

A full day passed this way. She would murmur in Swahili, she would convulse, and blood would run trickle out of her nose and ears. Hour after hour he tried to discern anything else of meaning from the language streaming from her subconscious mind. Finally, his ears perked in recognition. She was speaking Vulkhansu; and she spoke it beautifully and with such emotion, it brought an ache to his chest. "I am sorry. I am so sorry," she repeated over and over.

He wanted to go to her, to ease her pain and hold her in his arms, but he was uncertain how physical contact would affect her. He settled with an attempt to sooth her with a vocal response. "Nyota…" he started, still uncomfortable with saying her name. At the sound of his voice, her body stilled. In recognition, perhaps?

"Spohk?" The monitor at her bedside beeped to signal an elevation in her heart rate. "Please… please don't leave me." His heart nearly broke at how small her voice had become. What had happened to them?

"Be at peace. I will not leave your side." A single tear slid down her cheeks, but she seemed to calm in response to his voice. Occasionally, she would begin to cry. At some point, Spock succumbed to exhaustion and settled in deep meditative reflection.