Klacha Por'sen by WikedFae

Summary: Fear has held him back, anger has driven her forward. A story of abandonment and growth between two souls through the only connection they have: emotion.

Disclaimer: The playground actually belongs to Mr. Roddenberry down the street. I'm just here to take advantage of the empty swing set. And maybe the sandbox. The characterizations belong to the genius interpretations of Nimoy, Nichols, Quinto, and Saldana. I only claim peripheral characters.

Dedication: To my other half, for showing me love where I thought none existed.

Author's Note: I will try to provide English translations for any Vulcan used in this story. (Source: Vulcan Language Dictionary) To start, Klacha Por'sen roughly translates into "locked emotion". Also to any die-hard Trekkies/Trekkers, I apologize. There are instances in this story where I will start mixing technology from the Next Generation time into this temporal setting. I figure that with all the time travel happening lately, things are bound to crop up when they're not supposed to.

Prologue:

A gentle vibration accompanied the onslaught of music pumping through the cushioned buds secured in Uhura's ears. She could just feel the brief buzzing near her earlobe brought on by the overloaded bass; the treble wasn't high enough, but at this point she couldn't have cared less. This wasn't music for enjoyment. This was music for motivation with its pulse forcing her feet to tattoo a matching beat into the rough terrain beneath her. This was music for endurance as she furiously clambered her way up the rocky slopes. This was music at its baser instinctual level, the rhythms bringing out reactionary emotions. No forethought was required here, no inner censor or delicate translation...and Uhura reveled in this rare reality.

Trees became blurs as her eyes bored into the path before her and obstacles were neatly cleared as she began to move through the agile motions of a most unusual routine. Her breathing grew harsher, her heart beating in time with the music's signature. She could feel her mind hurtling towards an auditory event horizon--just a minute more and the pull of this harmonizing abstraction would effectively steal analytical reason from her person.

"Just a few more bars...just a few more bars..." This brief mantra gradually ensnared itself with the instrumental jungle already established in her brain. It melded perfectly with the beat, getting louder with each successive repetition, fraying the edges of rational thought. "Just one more--"

Rounding a bend, she skidded to a sudden halt, dust pluming upwards from her feet in immense clouds. She stood frozen as the dirt settled, all the while staring at the stoic figure positioned calmly at the open exit of the holodeck.

The first thing she became aware of was the sheen of perspiration clinging desperately to her delicate complexion. Its essence laced the air around her mouth and she could feel the saltiness creeping along her tongue as her breathing hitched in short puffs. The next thing she noticed was how her mind was oddly blank; a gentle humming established itself firmly between her ears and her vision clouded over in a strange haze. Gazing across the small clearing, she realized, belatedly, that the figure was speaking.

Time warped before her as she was pulled back into reality. Shaking herself and blinking furiously, she pulled the earbuds out, promptly startled by how loud her music really was. A flush tinted her cheeks and shock threatened to render her mute; however, she managed to recover and call out, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you." She shrugged apologetically, pointedly holding out the earbuds in explanation. She hoped he couldn't see how her fingers had begun to shake.

"Yes, it would seem those decibels would be more fitting shattering glass." Five years prior, a comment like that from him would have elicited a giggle from her, but now, it only served to cause her pain as it reminded her how well she still knew him—enough to see the endearing perk of the ears that accompanied the remark. Five years had not been long enough to purge him from her thoughts, her memories...her dreams. Five years had only taught her how to bury the pain, exaggerate happiness, and falsify light-heartedness. The past five years were why she needed these early hours to lose control and allow this rampage of emotions.

Without the dictating reigns of logic, Uhura could only watch in apprehension as the figure approached directly, all the while her breath catching in her throat. She wasn't ready...not yet. This couldn't happen now. She needed more time! But her clock had run out and within seconds an impassive Spock stood before her.