A/N: Hello! I'm back from the dead and ready to write for you again. Thank you guys so much for your past reviews, follows, alerts, and favorites. They mean so very much to me.
This chapter is more of an exploration of an alternate existence in the Original Trek, and I almost posted this piece as a stand-alone, but it is my favorite and I had originally intended it to be a part of my 'First Time' collection. Feel free to let me know your thoughts on it.

Warning: It is darker with mentions (hints) of character death.

The First Time

She Met Spock Prime

It'd been awhile since her first graze with a phasor shot. Years, come to think of it-her first training exercise at Star Fleet Academy. Memory of the first encounter was a poor excuse for the blinding sensation she felt throbbing in her left shoulder.

Then again, this was more than a graze.

The hostile race chasing her team was dangerously precise with their aim. It had been learned earlier (when she had a full team and not just a straggling four, when the race had them convinced they were peaceful) they aimed only to wound and capture-much like sports hunters; they didn't want to maim a perfectly fine looking pelt.

And a pelt is what they would be made into if Second Lieutenant Laxely did not get the rest of her team to safety back aboard the Enterprise.

She fell back into a corner, her breathing fast and shallow. They needed to be back at the rendezvous point in three minutes without a chance for interruption, without these hostiles firing at them. She needed calm; a clear head. But her right hand refused to clamp around her phasor and her left wouldn't open from its tight fist.

Skyla Pike, McCoy's protégé, quickly attempted to tend the wound on Laxely's shoulder. Twisted strands of her red hair fell around her face as she bent over her and for a moment, that was all Laxely could focus on.

Eyes suddenly clearing, Laxely grabbed the medical officer and roughly pulled her down to the floor beside her. Neither had to look up to know a stray phasor beam had hit just where Doctor Pike had been a millisecond before.

"Keep low. Follow the passage. Get. Out." Biting back the pain, Laxely could only glare at the woman-her good friend-to fend off any protests.

"Like hell," The doctor began hotly.

Laxely looked over the doctor to the man crouched down three feet away, still firing at the enemy. As if sensing her intent gaze-and for all she knew he really could read minds-his head snapped back in their direction. His calculating eyes locked onto hers for a moment.

He gave no sign that he could read her thoughts pleading for him to help; just motioned for the young ensign behind him to take the doctor and run. The boy did as instructed, though with great difficulty. Skyla refused to leave and nearly knocked the young ensign over had the man not inched closer and wrapped a firm hand around her shoulder. One glance back at him and Skyla's entire demeanor froze then shifted.

The young ensign took advantage of this and desperately pulled her away.

Once it was just the two of them, the First Officer knelt by the Second Lieutenant's side. With the same hand he used to restrain Skyla, he inspected the sizzling wound that had begun to give off a putrid smell.

"You are being foolish, Lieutenant."

Grimacing, Laxely dropped her head back against the wall and lifted her eyes to his face.

"I prefer brave."

The First Officer helped her to firmly grasp her phasor once more then looked into her eyes one last time. She breathed in, nodded and he took his leave after the ensign and doctor.

The definite sound of her shots covering him, the reactive explosions, and gargled cries echoed at his back and forever reverberated in the recesses of his mind.

She pulled away from him so forcefully her chair flipped backwards with a clatter. She remained standing, but just barely. Hands on her stomach, she seemed to be curling in on herself, her breathing came in and left raggedly.

The elder gentleman remained silent and seated. His eyes, whirling with emotion, watched her closely.

When her eyelids began to flutter rapidly, she placed a hand on her lower back, turned from him, and straightened to her full height.

A full minute passed before she felt secure enough to speak.

"Is that," She swallowed. "Can that still happen?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Slowly, she turned back towards him, droplets of moisture coating her lashes.

"I've only shown you what has already transpired in another reality. What unfolds here cannot be foretold."

Her dark eyes searched his. Without a word, the gentleman stood, his movements unhurried.

"I am sorry."

The sincerity with which he apologized struck her just as deeply as the solemn regret visible on his weathered face. His presence drifted from the room. The quiet closed in around her. Her left hand clenched against her abdomen, a poor attempt to ease the nausea.

Her attention focused suddenly on the silver band about her finger and she allowed for a single tear to drop. The weight of that band had never felt so heavy.