Pathways: Part 1/10

Disclaimer: Don't own them

A/N: This ties to an earlier story called "Impasse" but you definitely don't have to read that to get this. This is also not an origins fic, though the prologue is a cliff notes version of a possible S/U beginning. :) Nothing helps order my scattered ideas like reviews do. Good or bad, they inspire, guide and help keep the procrastination under control! Thanks for reading.

Prologue

Steps

Beneath her, he was beginning to come apart. He couldn't resist it anymore. The long fingers he had fisted in her hair relaxed and slid down the side of her face, resting on meld points he had never connected with.

Uhura grabbed his hand. She froze, ignoring her own body's demand for release and whispered against his parted lips, "Spock, no."

*

"Commander! Commander Spock, hold on."

The Vulcan's even stride did not slow in the least, but he also didn't protest when 1st year Cadet Uhura met his pace. The Academy's main quad thrummed with a type of energy that only came at the end of each term. Cadets poured from every exit of the buildings, swarming and scattering in the general direction of the dormitories. While most of her contemporaries were no doubt focused on finalizing plans for transport to their respective homelands, Spock predicted the human female beside him was focused on an entirely different issue.

"How may I assist you, cadet?"

"My research paper," she said immediately, lifting the graded PADD between them, "I thought I had fulfilled every component of the outlined rubric and yet I received a B+."

"As I evaluated the document personally, there is no need to reiterate what I am already quite aware of. Good day cadet."

If he had not been squarely focused on the wide, angular path before them, Spock might have caught the flash of frustration across Nyota Uhura's otherwise neutral expression.

She cleared her throat. "Commander, a moment of your time. Please."

They stopped walking and simultaneously turned to face each other.

Spock admittedly knew nothing of this cadet outside of his classroom but was not unaware that the apathy he felt was mutual. Upon his refusal, she had successfully appealed to the department head in order to gain acceptance into the Advanced Romulan seminar he taught every spring—a course which regularly challenged the fleet's brightest 2nd and 3rd year prospective communications officers and often crippled those on other career tracks.

Uhura's linguistic and intellectual aptitudes in general eventually proved to justify her place in the course, but now he wondered what could possibly come from anything she had to say to him now that the term was over. A smaller part of him was almost curious.

"How may I assist you," Spock commanded more than asked this time.

"I know you must be dying to get off this campus. I don't blame you. I just--" she paused, tilting her head to the side as she released a small breath. Her hair swayed across her uniform-clad shoulders in the lukewarm wind. "Commander, I'd like to thank you for your careful and consistently honest evaluations of my work. Regardless of our previous disagreements I know I didn't deserve a higher mark on this final."

Despite the gross exaggeration of her former statement, Spock's curiosity was now fully engaged. They continued down the emptying walkway at an almost comfortable pace.

"Last night something began to bother me about the assignment...this feeling that there may have been something off," she began. "After my roommate and I got back in I finally just broke down and re-read my duplicate copy. It was the section on--"

"The sociological significance of the variances between the first and second Romulan dialects," Spock finally spoke up, returning the short nod of a passing officer. "Yes. A well-organized, logically argued portion of your paper..."

"...which had a really obnoxious oversight."

She slipped the PADD into her canvas bag and sighed. "I can't believe I substituted the Romulan prefix for "socio-" with "psycho-" twice, much less in the same paragraph."

"Page sixteen, paragraph three, lines two and four," he elucidated. "As these terms are nearly identical when conveyed in written Romulan, I nearly overlooked the errors myself. Unfortunately for you I did not."

This time, Spock didn't miss the undeniable emotion written across Uhura's face.

"Not unfortunate for me, sir. A hard lesson maybe. After all, small mistakes can make a huge difference when I'm translating subspace signals aboard the Enterprise one day," she said as her embarrassed smile gradually softened into a genuine one.

Spock slowly looked away from her as they continued to walk. He had never noticed how bright and straight and well-proportioned to her facial dimensions her teeth were. Nor the effect their natural luminosity created upon the contrast with her smooth complexion. When she smiled at him he could literally see the vitality radiating within her being

With a minute tilt of his head, he realized he approved of this. It meant she would be at a lower risk for developing troublesome and sometimes fatal diseases related to poor health...which would no doubt impede her academic progress.

"Your appreciation is duly noted, cadet," he intoned and paused to face her again. "I am afraid I have much to accomplish. Dismissed."

"Have a nice summer, Commander."

"Likewise," he replied.

But she had already turned on her heel, purposefully making her way back towards the dormitories in the late afternoon sunshine.

Connections

"Nyota," he murmured, grateful for her order. His body tensed, feeling every tremor underneath the dewy soft skin pressed against and surrounding his.

She was threatening to pull him over the edge with her.

*

"So, I was surprised you agreed to come tonight, Spock. I thought for sure you'd give the old excuse about requiring extended meditation after another long term. Not that I blame you...suppose I was mistaken," the middle-aged captain quietly remarked at his young colleague's answering silence.

Spock's attention was riveted to the wide, softly lit stage in front of and far below them.

The twenty-four interspecies members of Starfleet Academy's Chorale were engaged in their second and final contribution to the institution's December Arts Festival. Their all-black uniforms in lieu of regulation burgundy seemed strangely appropriate considering the melancholic harmonies they were creating. Their blended voices ebbed and flowed with a focused precision, surging suddenly only to retreat just as quickly. They were not a single entity and yet the powerful aural vibration rolling forth from them was sharp in its singularity. Echoes swelled from every corner of the otherwise silent auditorium, ringing loudly in his sensitive ears before settling to a dull roar.

Soon, the all-encompassing emotion projecting from the cadets and every seated being surrounding Spock in the balcony became almost stifling. The effect stirred something foreign in him...uncomfortable and disproportionately strong. Odd.

"This selection is most perplexing," Spock muttered under his breath. He was a statue in his chair.

Ever mindful of the captive audience, Pike leaned in a bit closer to him and agreed, "Strange choice of music for a holiday concert, that's for certain. Some people are depressed enough as it is during the holidays."

He absently rubbed the pad of his thumb over his chin. "Can't say they're not a damn talented set of cadets...hey, I think I see your aide down there."

Spock's gaze appropriately wandered over the stage again as he considered Pike's observation, though his present view had allowed him to identify her in relation to her colleagues long before. She stood in the second row of females: the alto section, fourth to the right. Her dark hair was smoothed into an elegant bun while tiny diamonds shone from each ear, glistening with every slight movement of her head. Her undivided attention was fixed to the conducting Andorian Lieutenant.

"Yes. Cadet Uhura is currently the Chorale Ensemble's treasurer."

He closed his eyes, waiting and listening for a long moment before he discerned it--consonant with her fellow performers, yet different. Distinct.

Her voice was one of a kind.

"Mr. Spock, I don't think Ms. Uhura would be too pleased to hear that her singing put you to sleep."

He opened one eye to a questioning smirk from his superior officer but didn't respond.

Afterwards, they managed to spot each other in the crowded lobby. Uhura paused several times to give and receive embraces from cadets who had come in support as she made her way towards him. The barely there flush of her skin was not lost on him as she straightened the hemline of her black skirt.

"Commander, I didn't expect you would be in attendance tonight. I hope you enjoyed the performance."

Spock peered down at the program in his hand with a look that would be described as vaguely bored by anyone watching them.

"Despite the technical merit of its execution, perhaps "enjoy" is the wrong term, cadet. I found myself thoroughly engaged and even fascinated by it."

Uhura's smile widened. "Fair enough, sir."

"I will now escort you to your dormitory."

On the final night before winter break, the skies were cloudless while the temperature was predictably cool. The winter chill was exaggerated by the breeze pulling from the waters of the bay. A three-quarters moon reflected against the now-barren campus structures as well as the paved walkway leading to the dormitories, casting elongated shadows of the trees and benches which lined it.

Uhura was attempting to explain the audience's complex reaction to the ensemble's finale.

"Don't get me wrong; I think Mozart is brilliant. I can't imagine what it must have taken to channel such sadness into something so beautiful while on his deathbed, at that," she said, smoothing the garment bag in her arms with a graceful hand, "but the Lacrimosa wasn't composed to draw positive emotion from the listener. To be honest with you—it seems really unnatural to perform it during this time of the year."

"Considering that its title translates to "weeping" in Standard, your thoughts are understandable."

"Yeah...we were overruled, though. Apparently Admiral Diaz is a big fan of that particular movement. He requested it by name."

They unconsciously drifted a few inches apart as a trio of cadets passed them.

"There are a number of ancient Vulcan songs which were initially commissioned for ceremonial burials. Their chordal structures are not dissimilar to many of Earth's requiems," he picked up moments later.

"Pre-Surak?"

"Precisely. The works have been preserved by my people as cultural artifacts, although no modern Vulcan composers specifically orchestrate to elicit an outwardly emotional response."

"I can see why, Commander," Uhura said. Her face turned upwards to look at his. "There's nothing logical about excess."

In spite of the topic of conversation, Spock's mouth curved in a faint echo of her expression. "I cannot disagree."

The remainder of the time it took to reach her housing passed in silence, but neither of them attempted to part ways once they arrived. Uhura didn't react at first when Spock followed her through the double doors, into the lift and down the dark, narrow hall of the third floor she resided on.

"Commander." Uhura's slight frown was one of consternation, he realized, as they stood a few feet away from her dorm room.

"Yes?"

"Why did you come tonight?"

"I was invited by Captain Pike." She raised an eyebrow at his perfectly blank expression.

"He must've invited you last year, too, but you didn't come then...or the year before that. Did you?"

"No. I did not."

He hesitated. "I suppose I had no reason to."

The hands folded behind his back twitched involuntarily as Uhura stepped into his immediate space. The clean scents of freesia, peppermint and something all her own warmed him from within when she pressed her lips to his cheek and smiled once more.

"Have a nice holiday, Commander."

Desires

Her cool exhalations soothed his heated skin; she was completely lax in his arms. Spock could sense her physical satiation and clearly felt his own, but a lingering, almost demanding need somehow still flowed between them. It was an unnecessary reminder.

He held the back of Uhura's slender neck and touched his forehead to hers.

*

He stood before the large unblinded window of his office, alone, staring at the bridge hovering over the placid black water of San Francisco bay. Its wide, curved cables and glowing lights would never be truly familiar to him—after more than six years in California he still couldn't help but think of how nothing like it would be found anywhere on Vulcan—but the structure appealed to him anyway, especially in the evening. Indifferent to the inherent lack of logic in the exercise, he often meditated on the sight of this bridge before departing to his quarters at the end of the day.

Its stretch appeared endless from his current vantage, leading all the way to forever for anyone who dared take a first step. More precise angles revealed the connection between two defined points—a clear beginning to end, without exception. It did not matter if one who traveled it wished to slow the passing of their journey to savor a particular view or to postpone the inevitable. It was futile.

Irregardless of the traveler's desires, the bridge would never branch, sever or deviate from its lone path.

"Computer, lights."

The quiet office brightened until he could easily see the reflection of the polished cedar shelves, generic wall prints and matching pair of desks which occupied the small space. Once again, everything was in its proper place. Spock ordered the window blinds shut and walked over to her former work area.

He studied the barren desktop, remembering how completely cluttered it had been only one day prior. Blank PADDS, graded ones, instructor supplement manuals, elastic hair bands and little piles of honey packets stacked beside colorful mugs...so disorganized to him. She had nonetheless fulfilled her duties admirably in the four semesters as his aide and would be a credit to the Acoustical Engineering department next year.

The stars and everything they came with would follow after that...

Spock withdrew his suddenly balled fist from the surface. This was illogical. The trajectory of Nyota Uhura's life was no longer his concern.

Turning to leave the room, he hesitated when a bright flash of color on the beige tile caught his attention. He knelt by the left side of his own desk and brought the item to eye level.

Up close, he easily recognized the familiar earring—an oval, amber stone, half of one of the several non-regulation pairs she often wore. Early on as her instructor it had silently irritated him. Now it was simply a reminder of something else he never should have allowed.

After a long minute of staring at the piece of jewelry in his palm, Spock decided against sending it halfway around the planet to her home in East Africa. Such a small object could easily become lost or damaged in transit there. He would hold on to it until the next time he saw her, when she returned from summer break. In 107 days, 8 hours, 12 minutes and 32...31...30 seconds.

Three days later, as she led him down a worn, dusty trail through the African foliage with a flashlight and blanket in hand, Uhura asked if he wanted to sleep underneath the canopy of her favorite bur oak tree.

"There's nothing better," she promised.

When they tangled there, still moving in the midnight heat, Spock endeavored to show her otherwise.

Link

Uhura slept soundlessly on her stomach with her arms and legs tangled in the sheets. Spock wanted to touch her again, to lose himself in her mind and body at the same time. The urge to initiate a full meld with her had become almost unbearable, ever since he chose to remain in Starfleet ten months ago. It was a decision he did not regret.

In that moment, a faint echo of discomfort reverberated from her unconscious mind to his lucid one—the remnants of an endorphin overload-induced headache. He rose from the bed, slipped on a pair of loose black pants and walked into the living area of his quarters, where he commenced a healing meditation projected solely towards her neural pathways.

He still couldn't fathom how he had managed to create this fragile, volatile link without even touching her.

*

Like everyone else on active bridge duty, Uhura operated on autopilot. There was no time for grief or shock or even savoring the last memory of her Orion roommate, smiling and so alive in the cargo bay. All she could do to keep going was work without emotion.

She was fielding another detailed stream of casualty reports from Starfleet Command when the first foreign wave hit her.

She froze over the controls, paralyzed in mind and body for several seconds from a numbness that was not her own. It had no material form but it was enough to weave through her chest and smother the air from her lungs.

And it was cold...

After a series of deep breaths, Uhura continued working at a slower pace, willing herself to compartmentalize whatever it was that just happened—she couldn't think about it then. Not when there was so much to be done.

The next wave was ice through her veins followed by a searing heat; the effect was like dipping her frostbitten body into scalding bathwater.

The two extremes pulsed to a mad cadence that was nowhere close to the beat of Uhura's heart, yet she felt it in her chest, her temples, every fraying nerve ending. The skin all over her face went red underneath the warm brown, although it felt cool and clammy to her touch. When her vision dimmed to a spotted mess of white she actually wanted to black out...but then the painful fog slowly, thankfully receded again.

Uhura began to suspect what was happening. The alien pulse in her head steadied as she swiveled in her chair to face the center of the bridge.

Spock was recording a verbal report of the day's events, speaking of his murdered planet in a detached and efficient way which made it sound as if Vulcan had experienced a minor earthquake. The profile of his tall, lean form in Pike's chair was the same as it had been during the four years she had known him—in his classroom, his office, his bed. But he was different now; forever altered. Without words, a single glance or seemingly conscious thought he had flooded her with his emotional overflow and changed her as well.

His strong bearing sagged infinitesimally once his speech ceased and Uhura was sure no one except her noticed.

She ached for him. For his people, and Gaila, her entire graduating class.

So much damn death...

This time when the pain came, it was familiar because it was all her own. Uhura was so caught in the loss of her own carefully constructed barriers that she missed the nearly imperceptible shudder which echoed through Spock.

When he abruptly rose and headed straight towards the empty turbolift, Uhura's eyes and then her body followed him without hesitation.

She didn't know what he needed. But she couldn't ignore him any longer.