Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me, but to Gene Roddenberry, Paramount Pictures, etc.

Author's Notes: I continue to be absolutely blown away by the response to this story. Thank you so very much. And I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Special thanks to my beta, Lisa, who is on her second viewing of the movie. We're tied for now, honey, but that could soon change...

The Opposite of Logic

by Kristen Elizabeth

Standing at the comm panel, McCoy looked back at the patient seated on his exam table. "Are you sure about this?"

"It's time." Uhura put a hand on the gentle swell of her belly that even the loosest uniform could no longer hide. "Obviously."

With a sigh of reluctant agreement, the doctor pressed a button on the panel. "Sickbay to Kirk."

The captain's voice boomed back, "Go ahead."

"Sir, if you could come down here. We have a...um...a situation."

Appalled, Uhura silently mouthed, "Situation?" McCoy lifted his hands helplessly.

"Everything all right, Bones?"

"Yeah. Yes, sir. Just...get down here, Jim." Jamming the button to close the comm line, McCoy wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "This baby's gonna be the death of me." Uhura glared at him. "Sorry."

Her frown relaxed as her lip trembled. "He'll tell him. I know he will."

"Not if you make him promise that he won't. Jim doesn't go back on a promise." With his tricorder, McCoy began scanning her body. "But...would it be such a bad thing if he did?"

"He's married now." She stroked her belly, more to calm herself than her baby. "No doubt trying for a child of his own. He doesn't need this burden on his shoulders."

As he punched buttons on his tricorder, McCoy grumbled under his breath, but the only words she caught were, "...cold, green blood..." and "...good thing when he had it."

The Sickbay doors slid open with a great rush of air as Kirk skidded to a stop inside. After taking a quick look around as he caught his breath, he turned to McCoy. "What's the situation, Bones?"

The doctor glanced at his patient. "Well...you see, Jim...there's a...that is to say..."

Uhura sighed and slipped off the exam table. "I'm pregnant." She shrugged. "I just thought you should know."

After a silent moment, Kirk's eyes slipped down to her rounded stomach, clearly displayed by her regular uniform, instead of the tent dress she'd been wearing on duty recently.

When he finally found his voice, the only question that came out was, "How?"

McCoy covered up a snort a second too late. "Come on," he said off the captain's look. "You of all people..."

"I'm almost five months along," Uhura added. Saying anything else was unnecessary. He already knew; it was there in his blue eyes.

"Yeah." Kirk swallowed. "That would make sense." Taking a breath, he asked the doctor, "Is everything all right?"

"The child is developing normally," McCoy told him. "At least as far as I can tell. It's...genetically unique."

"Every baby is unique." Kirk walked to Uhura. "May I?"

She hesitated, but then nodded. A second later, he reached out and laid his hand on her stomach. The baby cooperated by giving a sound kick which made Uhura wince and Kirk's jaw fall open. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "He's strong!"

Uhura tried to roll her eyes, but couldn't through a film of hot tears. "Must be his father's side," she whispered.

Kirk drew his hand back like it was on fire. "Tell me he doesn't know," he demanded. "Because if he knew and left anyway..."

"I didn't tell him." She looked him straight in the eye. "And you can't either."

McCoy shook his head when Kirk shot him an incredulous look. "It's her decision, Jim. Respect it."

Kirk swore sharply. "I should've knocked him out and dragged him back here when I had the chance! But no..." Plunging his hands into his hair, he swore again. "I just stood there and watched him marry..." Catching sight of Uhura's pained expression, he stopped. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."

Uhura smiled through her tears. "Jim Kirk apologizing?" With the back of her hand, she wiped at her cheek. "Almost makes the whole thing worthwhile."

"Amen to that," McCoy echoed. Instead of apologizing when his old friend shot him a glare, he just went back to his tricorder.

"Don't be sorry," Uhura said to Kirk, drawing his attention away from the doctor. "I'm not. I get to keep part of him with me forever."

"God, you really are too good for him." With a sigh, Kirk reached for her hand. "Is there anything you need? Pickles? Ice cream? Foot massage?"

Again, McCoy mumbled to himself, this time something that sounded like, "Good old shotgun wedding?"

"I want to stay on the Enterprise for as long as possible," Uhura told Kirk. "Can you make that happen?"

He tried to flash her a devil-may-care smile, but it came out too forced. "You're talking to the youngest captain in the fleet. I can make anything happen."

It wasn't true, but she smiled anyway. There was one thing that even James Tiberius Kirk couldn't do, no matter how many punches he threw or dangerous stunts he pulled.

He could not change the past.

Spock woke to the scent of jasmine carried through the open window on a cool morning breeze. Impossible, he told himself, even as he lay in bed, breathing it in. Jasmine was not native to Degan V, the uninhabited M class planet which had become the new home of the Vulcan race.

Jasmine. He sat up and put a hand to his suddenly aching head. Jasmine was Uhura's scent. Sweet, yet exotic. Intoxicating. She wore it behind her ears and on her pulse points and when her temperature rose, the scent went straight to his head like Aldebaran whiskey.

Shaking off the memory, Spock glanced to his right. The other half of the bed was empty, athough the pillow had been neatly straightened. He looked back at the open window, through which he could see the blue-green sky and the faintest outline of the planet's two moons.

It was a picture perfect world, as beautiful as Earth, yet well-suited to Vulcan physiology with thin air and high altitudes. His older self had chosen wisely. Everyone found the colony to be exceptional, and were as content here as they ever let themselves be about anything.

Everyone except for him.

Throwing off the covers, Spock dressed quickly and came downstairs. Through the wide glass doors that led onto the patio, he could see breakfast laid out on a wooden table. Beyond that, in the carefully-cultivated hanging gardens, he saw his wife expertly pruning her beloved Orion roses.

"Good morning," T'Lan greeted him. "Did I wake you?"

"No." Spock looked around at the colorful plants that grew down from a lattice-work of clear hydration tubes over their heads. "Have you planted jasmine?"

"Jasmine?" T'Lan repeated. "I have not. Earth horticulture has never held my interest."

That wasn't surprising. Nothing about Earth interested his wife. He inclined his head. "My mistake then."

Lowering her pruning shears, T'Lan tucked a long, silky lock of dark brown hair behind her pointed ear. "I have prepared the morning meal. Will you join me?"

They sat down a few minutes later to plomeek broth, an assortment of freshly cut fruits from the garden and Vulcan spice tea, eating in silence for several long minutes.

"How is the broth?" T'Lan eventually asked.

"Adequate, if a bit bland," Spock replied. "I will examine the replicator for any malfunctions later, if you wish."

T'Lan delicately cleared her throat. "I did not use the replicator."

"Then..." Spock paused, searching for the right words. "I am sorry."

"Why? It is not your fault."

Spock watched his wife for a second as she sipped her tea. "What are your plans for today?" he inquired.

T'Lan set down her cup with great precision. "I have an appointment at the medical center." When she met his stare, there was an unspoken question in his eyes. "I am not certain," she told him. "I only...suspect."

Although his heart was racing, Spock calmly sat back in his chair. "Should I accompany you?"

"That is not necessary."

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

T'Lan tilted her head to the side, puzzlement written all over her delicate features. "It is possible that I am mistaken, and if I am, what would be the point of your presence?"

"Nothing. Apparently." He stayed seated only for another second before abruptly rising. "I will see you this evening then."

Upstairs in his study, with every window tightly closed, he could still smell jasmine.

To Be Continued