Summary: Nyota made her way to the bar and took a seat near a man with a brunet helmet cut. Inwardly she berated herself for the inevitable thoughts of someone more familiar. Spock/Uhura UST, Uhura/Original Character.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it from canon or licensed works, I don't own it. I make no money off this, just joy.

A/N: Chapter 1 has undergone major rewrites since I first posted it last November, and the entire fic is now complete. I'd like to thank everyone who helped with this chapter, including Jake, Leo, Betsy, Dave, and Roy. Special thanks to my beta Paula (vampirealchemist13), who has been here every step of the way as I worked to expand this from one chapter into a real story. I couldn't have done this without them.

Posted: 11/26/10

Last edited: 12/31/11

Today had been the final day of Nyota Uhura's most difficult term in over three years at Starfleet Academy. She'd completed her last two exams that morning, and all day she'd been looking forward to a long shower and an early night's sleep.

Gaila, of course, was bouncing atop her pink bed sheets, her green skin aglow.

"You've got to come with me to The Stardust, Ny!" She flopped onto her back, copper curls fanning around her face. "After, if you feel like staying home alone and being boring, I won't bug you. I don't plan on being around tonight, anyway..." She waggled her brows suggestively.

Nyota's plans to slip into bed and catch up on a semester of sleep evaporated in the presence of her friend's exuberance. It had been a hard semester, and damn... dancing and drinking sounded great right now.

"What should I wear?" she yielded with a soft smile, and Gaila squealed in delight.

At Gaila's suggestion, Nyota slipped into her favorite gold minidress and borrowed a pair of black stilettos and some glittery gold eyeliner. With the semester over, Nyota's academic stress had abated for awhile. She hoped a few shots of something strong would help her to forget the stress of her personal life.

They'd been at The Stardust for less than ten minutes when Gaila winked at Nyota and sashayed over to a muscular Andorian, her hips swinging in her little red dress. When she reached him she cocked her head and twisted one of her curls around a graceful green finger, and Nyota watched one of the Andorian's antennae quirk involuntarily. Yep, he's a goner. Nyota found the antennae slightly off-putting, sexually speaking, but she and Gaila had always had different taste in men.

The Stardust was near the spaceport, which meant a far more alien clientele than most places in the city. Tonight she and Gaila had chosen this place instead of somewhere closer to campus because here they were much less likely to unknowingly bed a fellow cadet. Since Nyota would be working as an aide for two courses next term, sexual encounters near campus created the potential for awkwardness with future students.

No such responsibilities tonight, she thought with some relief, and no one to bother me. At Gaila's insistence, she had turned off her personal communicator for the first time in months.

Newly on her own, Nyota made her way to the bar and took a seat near a man with a brunet helmet cut. Inwardly she berated herself for the inevitable thoughts of someone more familiar.

She caught the bartender's attention. "Jack, please," she ordered. "Double."

"That's a lot of drink for a petite lady," commented Nyota's bar companion.

"I have a strong liver," she said matter-of-factly.

The stranger's black eyes glittered with amusement. He was attractive, with upswept eyebrows and pointed ears, and his cheeky grin marked him as non-Vulcan.

"A Romulan?" she asked with concealed surprise. She had studied all three dialects of Rihannsu for almost five years now, but she had never met a native speaker before.

"Born under the raptor's wings," he confirmed, chuckling at her. "I'm Sorel."

She smiled and grasped his extended hand. "Uhura."

"Uhura," Sorel repeated appraisingly. "A pretty name. It suits you."

Her stomach gave a little flutter. "Thank you," she replied in Rihannsu, guessing the dialect based on the trace of an accent she had detected in his Standard. Sorel looked impressed.

"Are you Starfleet, Miss Uhura? Or perhaps a diplomat?" he replied in the same dialect.

Nyota smiled. "I'm a fourth year at the Academy. Xenolinguistics track."

He whistled on an exhale. "I might have applied to Starfleet Academy had nonhuman cadets been more common when I was younger." He looked wistful. "I'm strange for a Romulan. For one thing, I prefer alcohol to cocoa." He tipped his glass toward her. It was half-full of rum, which would have no effect on a Vulcanoid, instead of the intoxicating chocolate liqueur Nyota had expected. "I drink for the taste, and I come here for the conversation. What about you?" he continued in Standard. "Are you a fan of chocolate, Miss Uhura?"

"Mochas are my secret weakness," she admitted to him. "And pointy ears," she added under her breath. Sorel laughed, and she belatedly realized that his hearing was almost as good as a Vulcan's. Looking down at her empty shot glass, she decided she'd blame the Jack.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Sorel said as he waved over the bartender.

In three years of acquaintance, Spock had never known Cadet Uhura to be without a communicator. He had also never known her to disregard one of his calls when she was not occupied in an academic or professional pursuit.

Cadet Uhura had informed him that she had the night off from professional and academic duties, but she had failed to answer any of his several communications. Based on his knowledge of her personality and habits, Spock estimated the likelihood of her being both out of contact and uninjured to be less than seven percent.

Furthermore, Spock had questioned the cadet with whom Gaila Falan-Raz shared her shift in Professor Arturo's communications lab. Based on the cadet's answers, Spock had estimated a greater than sixty-eight percent likelihood that Cadet Uhura and her roommate had gone to a drinking establishment known as The Stardust.

Spock had come to accept the irrational practice of consuming alcohol as normal behavior for humans. However, given his inability to contact Nyota and the fact that Cadet Falan-Raz was likely to be otherwise… occupied, Spock was concerned.

Spock was seldom concerned. He found the emotion uncomfortable.

"I kept a straight face until we were almost ready to leave," Sorel said, "and then I gave that waitress a huge grin." Nyota's mouth dropped open, and after a moment she tossed her head back in a laugh. "You should have seen the look on her face!" He touched her hand to punctuate the statement. "I guess some people in Texas haven't heard of Romulans."

Nyota suspected that her high spirits were due in part to the amount of alcohol she'd consumed, but she couldn't deny that the company was stimulating, as well.

"I'm sure you would never be fooled by my Vulcan impression, Miss Uhura," Sorel said, his face settling into a mask of control and calm. It was a good act, but his lips quirked upward just the slightest bit, and his eyes were still so warm, almost human… Nyota's heart sank. "See?" His face relaxed into a grin. "It wouldn't fool anyone who knew better."

She forced herself to smile. It wasn't Sorel's fault that she was letting personal problems follow her here. "Let me buy you a drink this time," she offered brightly. "I don't like to take advantage of a man's kindness."

Spock had covered the short distance from the transport station to The Stardust as efficiently as possible. It was his duty as Cadet Uhura's friend and colleague to ensure that she was safe. Checking on her was… logical.

He located her at the bar, deep in conversation with a dark-haired man. Noting her attire, Spock felt a surge of heat that he quickly suppressed. He must examine that particular response during tonight's meditation.

"Cadet Uhura," he called out over the noise of the bar when he reached her.

Nyota's eyes widened, her cheeks darkening slightly. "Spock! What are you doing here?"

He was suddenly unsure of how to explain his presence. "Your personal communicator appears to be non-functional," he stated.

"I turned it off for the night," she said, sounding concerned. "Is something wrong, sir?"

Spock took a moment to consider Nyota's male companion more closely. The Romulan possessed highly symmetrical facial features and a muscular physique, and Spock felt his jaw tense.

He forced his muscles to relax and shifted his attention to Nyota. "I attempted to contact you with a question regarding your revisions of our current translation project," he explained. "After repeated attempts to contact you received no reply, I became concerned for your safety and determined that the most rational course of action was to obtain visual confirmation of your well-being. I see that you are safe–" He glanced with concealed disdain at the sober Romulan and his glass of bourbon. "–albeit intoxicated."

"I'm fine, Commander," Nyota assured him.

"Nevertheless, Cadet Uhura, it would be wise for you allow me to escort you back to campus."

Nyota tensed at his request. "Excuse me?"

Spock's brow creased slightly. "I had merely hoped–" He tilted his head. "–that you would be in full possession of your mental faculties tomorrow morning. Did you forget our scheduled meeting?"

She bristled. Of course she hadn't forgotten. She remembered every class he'd taught, every inside joke they shared, every late night they'd spent grading exams and sharing Indian takeout food. She remembered it all, and all of it too vividly. Tonight, she had been gloriously close to forgetting the sum of those moments – until Spock's unexpected arrival had jerked her back to reality.

Reality had sapped her desire to argue.

She drew in a breath. "Commander, would you mind giving us a moment?"

Spock looked between Nyota and Sorel, then turned on his heel. Nyota watched him go.

"You know, when you mentioned your weakness for pointy ears..." Sorel let the implication hang between them. Nyota licked her lips uncomfortably, searching for something to say and finding nothing.

Sorel touched her arm gently and deliberately, and when she glanced at his face she was relieved to see he wasn't angry. "A lot of us are looking for reminders." She wasn't sure what he meant - but she knew he meant it. "If you ever feel like practicing your Rihannsu, I'm the only Sorel in the San Francisco directory."

Nyota swallowed. "Perhaps I'll look you up sometime," she offered, feeling sorry and not knowing why.

Sorel quirked an eyebrow at her – an expression that would have reminded her of Spock were it not for the Romulan's wry, knowing smirk.

The flitter station was only a few blocks from The Stardust, but Nyota was unaccustomed to walking in stilettos, and the Jack Daniels was not helping matters.

Her feelings regarding her companion distracted her further. What had begun as a harmless crush three years ago, when she'd been his student, had grown into something more troubling during her past two years as his colleague and friend. Lost in thought, Nyota didn't notice when the point of her borrowed high heel lodged in a crack in the pavement.

Spock caught her as she fell. His fingers were hot against the bare skin of her arm, and she felt a flash of emotion through the contact before he pulled away. The feeling was too quick to identify, but it left her cheeks warm and her heart pounding.

Spock froze but did not look at her. After a moment, he moved onward exactly as before. Nyota stood there a half-second longer, inhaling a breath of clammy night air that did nothing to fill the sudden ache in her chest.

A/N: The title comes from a Nietzsche quote: "Love is not consolation. It is light."

As always, concrit is welcome, and I will reply to all reviews, even if it's just a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. :-) This fic is complete and has about eight chapters total, so set an alert if you want to read more! I had planned to update every few days, but as of 11/6/2011 it's looking like it will be every couple of weeks or so. I'm doing my best!