I've planned 3 chapters, but it may end up being more. This first chapter is a missing moment set between Nero's defeat and Spock's conversation with Spock Prime.

entropy: a lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder.

She knows something's wrong the second she hears the chime. Spock never comes to her quarters. The cramped confines of a shared cadet's room have never held much appeal for them, and they prefer to spend their time in the more spacious environment of his officer's quarters on the other side of the campus.

Her eyes are red, and as Spock looks around, taking in the the room, she knows he understands. She's sitting on Gaila's bed, the bed that's still covered with all the items she wasn't able to fit into her regulation Starfleet luggage.

Unchanged by time. Except everything has changed. Her effusive Orion roommate is one of numerous cadets who will never be coming back to their dorms, blown to pieces by the Romulan ship that still haunts her nightmares.

"Nashaut," she murmurs, using that deliciously intimate Vulcan greeting that's only for them.

"Na'shaya," is his clipped reply, and he avoids meeting her eyes. "Nyota," he adds in that same flat tone, regarding her coolly.

His careful use of the standard greeting, rather than the one used between bonded pairs, speaks volumes. Normally Spock's Vulcan flows with the intimacy and love he feels for her, the rhythmic cadence of his native language serving as a conduit for lover's words that sound awkward and stilted in Standard. The greeting she just heard was cold and devoid of feeling, a stark contrast.

"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular (I cherish thee)," he whispers to her sometimes when they make love, in tones so ragged and lustful that she can't believe that voice belongs to the same man who calls her Lieutenant Uhura on the bridge. The man who presses his fingers to her psi points and lets her feel his overwhelming want and desire for her as the bright heat of their combined release surges through the link between their minds. That Spock is capable of being so loving and open is a secret only she knows, and she thrills at knowing it's only for her.

Spock examines Gaila's possessions with interest, and she can tell he's resisting the compulsion to tell her that it would be more efficient to simply stack the deceased cadet's personal effects in a box one by one, rather than sorting through the gaudy piles of items that are strewn all over the bed. But this is the way she remembers Gaila – chaotic, beautiful and so much – and she wants to hold onto her for just a little longer.

Picking up a garish ring with twinkling gemstones, no doubt of Orion manufacture, Nyota feels something bubble to the surface. All the anguish and horror she has had to lock away to focus on her duty surges without warning, and she weeps, her fingers clutching the ring so hard that the metal makes impressions in her palm.

Nyota does not expect Spock to offer empty platitudes or apologies. She does not even expect him to hold her, especially not after the icy manner in which he greeted her.

But even a Vulcan sometimes defies predictability. His expression is impassive, almost curious as he regards her for one long moment, and then he crosses the room and enfolds her in his arms.

She cries for Gaila, for everyone they lost – the tears he can't cry – and he's warm, so warm against her as her fingers curl against his shirt, grasping for an anchor to hold on to even as the tide pulls her under. Her tears are making his uniform jacket wet, but if it bothers him, he says nothing. He is stone against her, solid and dependable and silent.

Spock's fingers carefully stroke her hair, and she is touched by his clumsy attempt at a human gesture of comfort. As her sobs cease, his body tenses and he pulls away.

"Nyota, I realise this may not be an appropriate time, but I must speak with you on a matter of urgency."

A chill slithers down her spine, and she waits for what she's feared the whole voyage back.

Every time they've sought physical comfort in each other since the destruction of Nero, Spock has been different. He holds himself back, refusing to meld with her and share his thoughts.

Each burning press of his mouth and fingers against her body is achingly slow and methodical, until she begs for him to fuck her. His fingers are tight and possessive on her hips as he buries himself in her wet heat, his face taut with concentration like he wants to commit every inch of her to his eidetic memory. As though he's sure that there are only a finite number of times left to them to be together like this.

She realises now that is exactly what he was doing, and that she knew. They'd both known and said nothing, preferring to delay the inevitable. That even Spock is capable of lying to himself stirs something deep inside her, and she blinks back the tears that are threatening to return.

"You're leaving." He says nothing, his keen eyes searching her face for a reaction, and that's when she knows it's true.

"The Vulcan elders, including my father, are currently searching for a suitable planet on which to establish a colony for survivors. I must assist in the efforts to rebuild my race."

"Of course," she agrees, her voice far away and numb with grief. She would never ask him to stay for her, and he knows this better than anyone. Nor would he ask her to go with him and give up her Starfleet career.

"It is only -"

"Logical," she finishes for him, with a faint smile.

"Yes," he says quietly, his hands still in his lap as he looks down at them. "I hoped you would understand that my duty is with my people."

"And mine is on the Enterprise." The calmness of her reply surprises her, but in the face of so much death and destruction, the situation of two people seems to matter little.

He swallows. "I would never want you to give up a promising future. Starfleet will require your talents for a good while longer, I anticipate."

"And your people will need yours," she agrees. He absently reaches up to tug at his ear, betraying how uncomfortably he feels, and it's just so undeniably human and Spock that there's a sudden lump in her throat. He's still her beautiful Spock, who bridges the gap between two worlds with such aplomb, even when he doesn't realise it.

"Where does that leave us?" she forces herself to ask, even if she already knows the answer.

"Unable to continue as we are." He's unable to keep the emotion out of his voice, and she can feel how torn he is, caught between what he wants, and what he feels he must do. The choice between a world that he has never felt at home in, and the home-world that has never accepted him, that led him to seek the stars in the hope of finding a place for himself. His desire to be both the logician and her lover, when right now he is struggling to balance the two.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"I believe that is the Terran phrase most commonly attributed to these circumstances."

His reply is thoroughly Vulcan, but his actions unmistakeably human. He reaches out and takes her hand. In his haste to touch her, he hasn't maintained his mental shields and she feels a deep well of pain and – anger? Its intensity shocks her, and she gasps at the onslaught of emotion that simmers beneath his placid surface.

Spock is hurting. More than she even imagined. It stuns her, and she longs to take him in her arms and bring him comfort like he just did for her.

He draws back, clasping his hands behind him in his customary fashion, almost as if he doesn't trust himself not to touch her again.

"I am sorry. I did not intend to cause you pain."

"Spock," she says softly, placing her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. It's an innocent enough gesture, but he tenses at the touch.

"Nyota, I wish that -"

"Vulcans wish?" He raises an eyebrow.

"I am merely attempting to use your vernacular to explain to you how difficult I find the idea that I will have to leave you. If things were different, I would -" Words fail him again. Spock, who can always convey an idea with clarity, is speechless.

Nyota's stomach lurches, and she finds she is angry at Spock for revealing this. Far better that he had explained to her in his cool tones how it was the logical choice for them to separate, before leaving her to cry in peace. How dare he torture her with what might be?

"But things aren't different," she snaps, and his eyes narrow. "You've made your choice, let me make mine."

She stands up, thinking only of leaving, but she's dragged back before she can take one step.

"No," he says roughly, and then he's right there, his body pressing her into the wall, hard and unyielding.

Spock's eyes meet hers, and she can feel him hesitate, muscles tensing as his hands rest on her shoulders.

"Please," she whispers, and it's enough to break him. The dark eyes flash, and then his mouth is on hers, the kiss instantly becoming wet and deep as he grinds his hips against her, letting her feel his obvious arousal.

Nyota knows they're only postponing the pain, but she doesn't care.

She wraps her arms round his neck and returns his kiss as his hand tightens on her hip and he pulls her towards him.

Her buttons work at his uniform jacket, push it off his shoulders, and he tugs his undershirt over his head. He does not bother to divest her of any clothing, simply reaches under her skirt and tears away her underwear. Hot fingers slip against her, finding her already soaking wet, and Spock makes an uncharacteristically alien noise that almost sounds like a growl.

She lets him lift her, press her back against the startling coolness of the wall as she let her knees fall open, wraps her legs round his hips.

He fumbles at his belt, the other hand holding her up with his easy strength. And then he's there, right there, spreading her open and pressing deep inside with one swift stroke.

When they lock eyes, his face wears the same blank expression it always does, but his breaths are as shaky and unsteady as hers, and his eyes are dark and full of a desperation only she can perceive as he begins to move.

Nyota clutches at his back, nails dragging on his heated skin as his hips snap into hers in a punishing rhythm.

Spock avoids their hands touching, obviously not wanting her to know his thoughts, but she gets echoes of them anyway. The hands that dig into her hips hard enough to bruise, the deep, harsh thrusts of his body into hers, and the quiet pants against her forehead tell her more than his thoughts ever could.

She moans quietly, then louder, slipping into cries of his name, allowing herself to find some kind of emotional catharsis in this. It's not as if there's even anyone left alive on her floor to hear.

His fingers slide from her hip, down to the spot where they join, spreading the moisture he finds there as he traces frantic circles. Coupled with the burning friction of him inside her, it's enough to send her over the edge, searing heat surging through her entire body as her climax engulfs her.

Spock goes rigid against her, and with one deep, shattering thrust, he finds his own release.

"Nyota," he whispers against her hair, his voice low and full of the raw emotion that doesn't show on his face.

He sets her on her feet carefully, and Nyota tugs down her uniform skirt, smoothes her hair, tries to ignore the sticky pulsing between her thighs that feels like he's still inside her.

Glancing at her hands, she examines the traces of green under her fingernails that match the scratches on his back. A parting gift of sorts, the last marks made by her he will ever bear upon his skin. He quickly covers them up with his uniform.

His fingers trace her cheek, and just as quickly, they're gone.

"Ti'amah (let me go), Nyota," he intones softly, briefly switching to his native Vulcan.

She can't stop her tears and he stops, frozen on the spot, although he does not turn. His back stiffens, and his hands are clutched into fists at his sides.

"Then go, Spock," she chokes out.

Without a backward glance, he leaves. It doesn't escape her notice that his fingers shake as they press the door control.

I love Spock and Uhura, but I also love angst. And porny angst. Sorry. Remember, this is canon - so the breakup is only temporary. Apologise for any unintentional bastardisation of Vulcan phrases. No beta, so excuse any weirdness or typos that may have sneaked in. Please leave a review if you so wish!