Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me, but to Gene Roddenberry, Paramount Pictures, etc.
Author's Notes: Every review makes me smile like crazy, so I've pretty much been smiling non-stop for a week. Thank you, all of you, so much for that. Lisa, thanks for putting up with me, as always. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
The Opposite of Logic
by Kristen Elizabeth
Of all the people who had passed on during the course of his exceedingly long life, Spock missed James T. Kirk the most. It wasn't only that he'd been a great man who had done great things, or that his impulsiveness balanced out Spock's logic, a combination that had saved many lives many times, including their own. He simply missed the man himself: the explorer, the playboy, the living legend.
Jim Kirk had been his first tried and true friend and his mere presence in Spock's life had turned him not only into a better officer and scientist, but into a better man. And although Spock had attended each and every funeral for his colleagues from the Enterprise, only Jim's memorial had brought him almost to the point of tears.
So to hear his old friend's voice again after so many years, young and strong even over the staticky subspace transmission that had taken a full day to reach Degan V, was truly remarkable.
"I probably shouldn't be contacting you like this," Kirk's message began. "But since you didn't tell me that I couldn't...well...you know me, right?"
Spock shook his head. Yes, he certainly did.
"The Enterprise just ran into a quantum filament. We've been hit pretty bad. Lots of damage and injuries. Casualties." Kirk paused. "And...it could get even worse."
A few minutes later, at the end of Kirk's message, Spock sat back in his chair, overwhelmed and stunned into silence.
Uhura. She'd been a friend, a good friend, for the many years they'd served aboard the Enterprise. A beautiful woman who'd grown older with grace and dignity, never losing her passionate spunk or her amazing language abilities even in her declining years. When she had passed on peacefully in her sleep, he'd put exotic and rare Antarian moon blossoms on her grave.
But that was all she'd been to him: colleague and friend. And although there might have been a moment or two over the years when he'd wondered what she was thinking when she looked at him, he had never seriously imagined exploring an intimate relationship with her.
Especially not one intimate enough to result in a child.
How could it be that the younger version of himself took chances and risks and reached for opportunities that he never had? Could Nero's alteration of time and history have started from the very second he'd gone through the black hole, not just for crew of the USS Kelvin, but for the whole universe? Spock's mistakes in the past had created this present...but had they also changed his own life so drastically?
And why hadn't his younger self followed his advice and stayed in Starfleet? It had taken Spock decades to find the balance between his two worlds that his counterpart had somehow attained so much sooner...and yet, like any young fool who wouldn't realize the error of his ways for years to come, he'd thrown it all away.
Clearly, Spock had been entirely too focused on the preservation of the remaining aspects of Vulcan culture. He hadn't even been aware that his younger self was on the colony at all, much less married and intent on his original plan of helping to rebuild their race...literally.
In his message, Kirk hadn't asked him to confront his younger self, still fearing the potential paradoxes he assumed would happen if they ever met. He had only asked for advice on Vulcan births and fetal development, to help Uhura deliver her child.
His child, too, in a way.
But while he would have enjoyed counseling his headstrong friend once more, Spock knew he could do so much more.
There was no time to waste. After downloading a copy of the message onto a communicator which he slipped into the folds of his hooded cloak, Spock left his tiny home in the mountains and began to make his way down to the colony.
It took a full day for the Enterprise to even begin to recover from their encounter with the devastating space anomaly. And somewhere between the computers coming back online and Scotty announcing that repairs to the warp chamber were underway and he'd have his bonnie lass speeding through the stars again soon, Uhura woke up.
The first person she saw when she opened her eyes had a bandage on his cheek and a small, but unmistakable smile on his usually-cranky face.
"It's about time, Sleeping Beauty," McCoy told her. When she tried to lift her head, he held her down with a gentle hand to her shoulder. "Don't move just yet. There's a lot I've got to tell you."
Her own hands drifted to her belly, still round and firm. Her throat was dry, but she managed to whisper, "My baby?"
He hesitated a second too long. "That's what I need to tell you. Do you remember what happened on the bridge?"
Uhura looked back and forth between his eyes. "Please just tell me if my baby's okay."
"Your baby is fine." Turning her head a bit on the pillow, she saw Kirk coming towards her. His arm was in a sling, but he was flashing his trademark grin. Somehow, it was almost comforting. "He just tried to join the world a little bit too soon." Kirk clapped a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "But Bones stopped that, didn't you, Bones?"
The doctor let out a long-suffering sigh before returning his attention to his still-pregnant patient. "I gave you some drugs to help stop you from going into labor. I don't want to jump the gun, but they seemed to have worked. You haven't had a contraction in several hours."
Uhura's chin trembled as she nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you." With a nod of gruff acknowledgement, McCoy moved off to check on the rest of his patients. Left alone with Kirk, Uhura closed her eyes, allowing twin tears to spill down her temples. "I remember the quantum filament," she told him. "Is everyone all right?"
"Not everyone," Kirk admitted, his voice uncharacteristically grave. "But it would have been a lot worse without the shields up, which they wouldn't have been if you hadn't heard the subspace distortion."
"Subspace distortion..." With her eyes still closed, she smiled softly. "He taught me how to listen for it. What was normal...what was abnormal. He said...my ears already knew how. They just needed guidance."
"Well, then, I guess I owe him, too."
Uhura's wet lashes lifted. "Have I been unfair to him?" When he frowned, she clarified, "I let him make this...huge choice without all the facts. Maybe if I'd told him about the baby...he'd be here right now. And I wouldn't feel like..." A sob tore through her. "Like my whole heart's been...ripped from my chest..."
"Hey...it's okay." Kirk took her trembling hand in his good one. Not knowing what else to say, he just let her cry for a moment. When her tears began to slow, he said, "Growing up without a dad...it's not so terrible, you know? I mean, look at how I turned out."
Through her tears, Uhura sniffed. "Didn't I hear you drove a car off a cliff when you were eleven?"
"Younger than that," Kirk corrected her. "But that was a whole, you know, step-dad...thing." He let out a regretful chuckle. "I guess I'm not a real good example."
"You're not that bad, Jim."
A moment passed between them before Kirk cleared his throat. "As soon as Bones will let you go, we'll get you moved to your quarters. He wants you on indefinite bed-rest," he said. "I told him you weren't going to be happy about it, but-"
"No, it's fine. I'll do whatever it takes to keep this baby safe."
The look gave her was strange. "I'm glad you said that."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "No reason." Bending down, Kirk pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later."
But sleep eluded her, even in the quietest corner of Sickbay. Eventually, despite the baby's sporadic movements, Uhura drifted off.
In her dreams, Spock was holding their child in his arms, murmuring to him in Vulcan.
Dif-tor heh smusma...my son.
Sarek arrived for dinner exactly at the arranged time, not a second before or after. As Spock stood back and watched T'Lan greet his father, he had a flash of regret for extending the invitation. He and his father had never shared a meal together without his mother. Amanda Grayson had been a buffer between the two men she loved so dearly, managing to hold her family together even after Spock turned down the Science Academy and joined Starfleet.
T'Lan, for all of her Vulcan manners, could hardly be expected to fill his mother's shoes. Spock predicted a silent evening of stilted conversation ending in a debate over one topic or another which would be carried out logically and on the pretense of civility, but would no doubt widen the rift that still existed between them, despite their recent shared loss.
In other words, it was going to be a very long night.
"Spock." Sarek entered the house with his hands folded at his chest and looked around for a long moment. "You chose well with this house. It is well-built and aestetically pleasing."
"That is entirely T'Lan's doing." Upon hearing this, T'Lan lowered her chin, avoiding eye-contact as if they might catch her in a moment of pride. "Perhaps after dinner, you would like to see her garden. It is unmatched on this colony."
T'Lan looked up at him. Instead of acknowledging her husband's praise, she turned to Sarek. "I will walk you through it later, Elder Sarek."
"That would be agreeable," his father told her.
Thirty seconds of silence followed; each second felt like an hour. Finally, unable to take it anymore, Spock pointed to the patio. "I thought we would dine outside," he said. "After you, Father."
Almost as soon as they were seated at the table on the patio overlooking the gardens, before they had even begun the first course of pok tar, the front door chimed.
"Are you expecting other company tonight, Spock?" Sarek asked.
"I am not." Spock stood up. "Excuse me."
The chime rang twice more before Spock reached the front of the house. When he pressed the door's control panel, it slid open, revealing a very familiar face.
"Spock." The older, wiser, wearier version of himself stood before him. "I am sorry for my unannounced visit, but there is little time to waste on formalities." From his robes, he withdrew a communicator, which he held like it was gold-pressed latinum. "Take this. Listen to it." He paused. "Let it in."
Spock's brow furred. "I do not understand."
"You will." His own hand, though wrinkled and weathered with age, reached out and closed his fingers around the communicator. "If you let yourself." Spock watched his older self take several paces backwards. "You are, in many ways, an enigma to me, but I have to believe that despite our differences, you know the path you want to take. And that this..." He gestured to the house. "...is only a stop along your way to something for which I have long searched."
"And what is that?"
The old man shook his head. "You should already know. Because you have already found it once."
"Spock?" Upon hearing his father's voice, Spock turned his head to glance back inside. When he looked back, his older self was gone.
"Who was it?" Sarek asked, coming up behind his son.
Spock slipped the communicator into his pocket. "The door chime must be malfunctioning. There was no one there."
Returning to dinner, Spock could think of little else besides the communicator pressed against his hip. Whatever it contained had to be vitally important.
He wouldn't lie to himself. It would just be illogical.
To Be Continued
A/N: The Vulcan phrase comes straight from the very first Star Trek movie. It's easy enough to look up, although you can probably figure it out without too much trouble.