Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I'm rendered speechless by all of your kind reviews on this story. Thank you so much. And Lisa, thanks for being my sounding board and for telling me when too much is really too much.

The Opposite of Logic

by Kristen Elizabeth

As Kirk only had one good arm and Uhura could barely hold her own head up, there was only one person to whom McCoy could hand the mewling newborn after the nurse cleaned him up and wrapped him in a sterile blanket.

He had to admit, he took a certain amount of mean pleasure in seeing a hint of terror in Spock's eyes as he held the child out to its father. "Take him," McCoy ordered. "I've still got work here."

Spock looked down at Uhura. Her eyelashes lowered briefly, a silent sign of encouragement. Bolstered by this, he took the baby with shaking hands.

His son weighed only four pounds, and that was only due to his dual heritage. Vulcan babies developed faster than Human children and for this, he was very grateful. If his calculations were correct, his son had been born dangerously early and had he not possessed mixed blood, he likely wouldn't be crying and kicking and generally announcing to the world that he was most put out to have been expelled from his warm home inside his mother.

Spock's eyes swept over the child in a combination of analysis and wonderment. The baby's skin was the color of heavily creamed coffee; his hair was dark and wispy. He had ten delicate fingers and ten tiny toes. And his ears...not exactly pointed, but definitely not rounded either. He was perfect.

Kneeling again, Spock brought the baby down to where Uhura could see him. "Hi, sweetheart," she whispered to the squirming child. A tear dripped off the end of her nose. "You're beautiful..."

Standing a few feet off to the side, Kirk just watched.

Some deep-seeded instinct compelled Spock to secure the child in the crook of his arm. "He requires a name." He hesitated, like he wasn't quite sure what role he was supposed to take in this matter. "Have you already chosen one?"

"There's one I like," Uhura said. "But I thought...maybe you'd rather give him a Vulcan name."

"What is it?"

Uhura smiled softly. "I want to call him Grayson."

Spock's throat closed up; he swallowed several times, trying to force his voice to work. "I believe...my mother would have loved that."

"Really?"

He looked back down at their baby. "She would have been a proud grandmother." When, after a moment, Uhura had said nothing to this, Spock looked back at her. "Nyota?" Her eyes had closed, like she had no strength left to keep them open. Spock looked up at Kirk.

The captain had turned his attention to McCoy as the doctor worked to close up the surgical incisions he'd made in order to bring the baby into the world. McCoy's brow was dotted with perspiration and there were several brushes of blood on his sterile apron that hadn't been there only minutes before.

"Bones?" Kirk cleared his throat. "What's going on?"

"Get two units of synthetic O-Neg," McCoy ordered the nurse. "And prep a hypo of Delactovine."

Spock had only taken a basic course in Emergency Medicine at the Academy, but he still remembered the tenants of first aid. "Is that necessary? Is she going into shock?" he demanded. "Doctor?"

Kirk tried again. "Bones?"

McCoy shouldered the sweat off his forehead. "She will if I can't find the source of this bleeding, so do me a favor...both of you. Shut up and let me work!"

For the first time in his life, Spock could actually taste fear, a strong, bitter flavor in the back of his throat.

Uhura's eyelashes fluttered madly as she struggled against unconsciousness. He had no idea if she could see him, but in case she could, he did everything possible to keep his rising panic from showing on his face.

There was so much he wanted to say to her. Things he had to tell her, apologies he wanted to be make. Her forgiveness was the only absolution Spock needed or desired. He wanted to grab her slender shoulders and demand that she not leave him, to make it clear to her that his life was empty without her and now that he had her back, he refused to lose her again.

He wanted to give in to his emotions, if only for a moment, to scream and shout and cry and beg and plead...anything at all to keep her from fading away.

But Jim Kirk beat him to it.

"Stay with us, Uhura," Kirk urged her. "That's an order, you hear? We've come way too far for you to give up now."

"Damnit!" McCoy's apron was now smeared all over with dark red stains. "She's losing it faster than I can give it to her!"

"Uhura..." Kirk put his good hand to her forehead. It was an innocent touch, but for some reason it sent a white-hot spike of jealousy straight down Spock's spine. "C'mon, honey. It's really not okay for you to scare us like this."

Spock watched Kirk stroke her dark hair for only a few seconds before he knew what he had to do.

"Please take my son," he said to Nurse Chapel, who had joined them to deliver the Delactovine. The blonde woman eased the baby out of his arms. When his hands were free, Spock put one on Kirk's arm. "Step back."

Kirk frowned. "Do you really think you get to come in at the last second and start giving-" He stopped when he saw Spock position his fingers on Uhura's cheek, temple and jaw. "What are you doing?" The memory came to him all at once. "You're doing that thing! That melding thing! You can't, Spock! I know what that feels like...it's too much for her to take!"

Ignoring him, Spock closed his eyes, cleared his own thoughts and searched for a way into Uhura's mind.

On the first day of the new semester, Uhura arrived at her morning class almost an hour early. She'd already been up for two hours, brushing up on the subtle differences in Vulcan written characters. She'd gotten the highest marks of anyone in her introductory course, but over the summer break, Administrator Velar, who had been teaching Vulcan at the Academy since the day it had been founded, had passed away from Bendii Syndrome.

Consquently, a new instructor for Vulcan Dialects had been selected at the last minute, a Commander Spock according to her course schedule. Uhura was not ashamed to admit that she'd been Velar's favorite student. She saw no reason why it should be any different with his replacement.

She chose her favorite seat, first row, right side-instructors usually glanced to their left first when selecting students to call upon which put her right in their path of vision immediately-and sat down to wait.

Twenty minutes before class was due to start, the lecture room door slid open and a tall Vulcan with razor-sharp dark hair entered. He wore his dark grey uniform well and like most Vulcans she'd met-save for Velar who'd already been suffering a loss of emotional control from his Syndrome and had often smiled and even laughed on occasion-his face was a blank canvas.

Until he noticed her sitting there. When their eyes met, she was surprised to see actual life within their dark centers. And, she couldn't fail to notice, a touch of annoyance.

"You are early, Cadet..."

"Uhura, sir," she said, standing up. "Nyota Uhura. Maybe Adminstrator Velar spoke of me?" Before she could stop herself, she added, "I received the highest mark in his class last semester."

"I was not acquainted with Administrator Velar," he brushed off her comment. "You are aware that class begins at 0800, are you not? Perhaps you have difficulty telling time, Cadet Uhura?"

"No, sir." She tilted her head to one side, her long ponytail falling over her shoulder. "And I don't believe I've ever been chastised for being early."

He said nothing for a long moment, during which Uhura completely convinced herself that she'd not only ruined her chance at a good first impression with her sharp tongue, she also might have doomed herself to a hostile and unproductive working relationship with the man who would ultimately be in charge of her grade.

Finally, he spoke. "A pity you mistook my observation for criticism." His eyes lingered on her a second longer, before he turned his attention to the computer podium in front of him.

Uhura sank back into her seat, crossed her legs and instinctively tugged at the bottom of her short red uniform skirt. The last thing on earth she wanted to do was to accidentally flash this particular Vulcan.

At precisely 0800, although only half of the lecture hall was filled with cadets, he addressed the class. "I am Commander Spock. This is Advanced Vulcan Syntax. I will be following the syllabus left by Administrator Velar. As my reputation no doubt preceeds me, let me make it clear that I expect much from students who have made it to this level of study. Therefore, with very few exceptions, this class will be conducted entirely in Vulcan, starting now."

Uhura tried to bite back an enthusiastic smile, but she couldn't quite hide it completely. She felt Commander Spock's stare on her and when she looked up, he immediately diverted his eyes to a spot across the room.

"The base dialect of Vulcan Standard originated in the city of Shi'khar," he began. He spoke his own language like he spoke Federation Standard, smoothly and yet with great precision. Uhura stared at him without blinking, fascinated by the way his mouth moved to form each syllable.

If she hadn't been so focused on watching him speak, she might have noticed how studiously he avoided even so much as looking in her direction for the entire two hour class.

When the chimes on the antique clock in the quad began to toll, Commander Spock dismissed them. Among the not-so-muffled groans of relief and freedom that came from the other students, Uhura took her time gathering her things. As a result, she was the last person, save for their instructor, still in the classroom five minutes later.

"Commander Spock?" Praying that her Vulcan verb conjugation was correct, she asked, as she took the first step leading up to the podium, "Are you teaching any other classes this semester?"

"I am."

Uhura waited for him to go on. When it became clear that he wasn't going to elaborate, she asked, "Which ones?"

He looked up, almost impatiently. "Cadet, you might have been Velar's top student, but I do not have so-called favorites in my classes. I expect each and every student to earn high marks and those who do not are the ones to whom I give my attention, for they clearly require more instruction than those students who easily assimilate the material."

Picking up his slim metal briefcase, Spock began to descend the wide steps. As he passed by her, he paused just long enough to add, "When translating verbs into the present action tense, do not forget to put in the proper pause between vowels. You asked me if I was learning any classes this semester."

Uhura stood there, frozen in place, yet somehow burning up with humiliation, a long time after she heard the door swish to a close behind him. When she finally gathered what was left of her dignity, she turned around and nearly crashed into a solid body.

Blinking, Uhura looked up. It was Commander Spock, but not the same man who'd left only moments earlier. His hair was a touch longer, his eyes less angry, and he was wearing dark pants and a dark shirt, Federation civilian clothing rather than his Starfleet Academy uniform.

"Nyota," he addressed her, speaking her name softly, like a prayer. "You should know that the entire way back to my office, I regretted speaking so harshly to you."

"What? What are you talking about?" She shook her head. "How did you change clothes so fast?"

Spock took a step towards her, forcing her to take a step backwards to keep any distance between them. "My anger was with myself, not with you."

"I don't understand...why are you telling me this?"

"I had never found myself so distracted before, especially not in a classroom situation." If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn a small smirk played on his lips. "It was the way you tugged down your skirt when you took your seat. For a woman who had just spoken so highly of herself, your modesty was...unexpected. Even fascinating."

Uhura frowned. "Commander..."

"It started right here, Nyota. My feelings for you. Feelings I never asked for, never wanted. Feelings, however, that I ultimately came to cherish." He stopped for a second. "Until I met you, I was never quite certain that I had chosen the right path by not purging all emotion in the koli'nahr. But after this class..." Spock reached for her hand. "I was very glad to be able to feel."

Looking down as he gently, almost lovingly caressed her knuckles with his thumb, Uhura whispered, "Who are you?"

"A wiser man than the one who just left this room," he replied. "A better man for loving you."

"Loving?" Uhura pulled her hand back. "We just met!"

"Look past this memory, Nyota. It is only that...a moment in time, captured in your mind. It will never come again. Right now, I need you to remember the present and think of the future."

"You're scaring me, Commander."

Spock inclined his head. "The present is frightening. I, too, am scared. Scared of losing you just as I found my way back to you. Scared of our son growing up without his mother."

"Our son?" Her eyes darted back and forth, as if processing this. "Our son...Gray...Grayson."

"Yes." He reached for her hand again. "You need to be strong for him. Your body wants to let go, but your mind must hold on." Spock gently pulled her closer until he could put his arms around her slender body. "Let me help you come back."

In his arms, everything made sense. Looking up at him, Uhura shook her head. "You're married."

"That will not be true for much longer," he assured her.

She was not so easily dissuaded. "You left me," she accused him.

"Yes." Spock lowered his lips to hers. "And I never will again." His kisses moved from her mouth to her cheek as she wrapped her own arms around him, holding on to him as tightly as possible. "You are my life, Nyota. You and our son...my family."

Her cheeks shone with tears. "I love you, too." She kissed him again, a salty meeting of mouths that left her breathless. As always.

Uhura's eyes flew open. Spock's fingers still pressed into her cheek; his own eyes were tightly closed in concentration. Only a second after she woke, he sagged backwards and might have fallen to the ground it Kirk hadn't been standing behind him.

The captain broke Spock's fall and held on to his shoulders until he'd regained his bearings. "It worked," Kirk quietly told him. "She's back."

McCoy confirmed this with a relieved, "The bleeding's under control and her blood pressure's stabilizing."

"Spock." When Uhura called for him, Spock broke away from Kirk and reached for her hand. "Are you back?" she asked, her voice still weak, but on its way to recovery. "For real?"

"I have no plans to return to the colony now or in the future," he promised her.

"Because of the baby?" Kirk asked darkly, unable to keep his mouth shut.

Spock didn't acknowledge him, but did correct him. "Because...this is where I belong."

"Okay." Uhura's lips curved up. "You can stay, then."

"For now," Kirk added, finally earning a reaction from Spock in the form of an icy look.

"All right, all right." McCoy yanked his mask down. "I hate to be a buzz kill..."

"No, you don't, Bones."

Glaring at Kirk, the doctor went on, "Uhura needs to get some rest. I need to give our littlest crew member a full examination. And you two probably have a few punches to throw at each other. So, everyone who hasn't just been born or given birth or doesn't possess a medical degree, please get the hell out of Sickbay."

Kirk was the first to leave the room. Spock lingered at Uhura's side for a moment. "I will be back soon."

She reached up to touch the center of his chest. "I believe you."

It took a lot for Spock to walk out of Sickbay. And when he emerged into the white glare of the corridor, Jim Kirk was waiting for him.

To Be Continued