A/N: Hi everyone! I've been on a Trekkie kick lately, and this little oneshot is just because I simply couldn't resist. I didn't really understand the Spock/Uhura thing in the reboot until I rewatched TOS and saw this fascinating scene. I hope you guys like this. Also, a lovely thanks to KCS for being very inspirational and for giving me plenty of beautiful fics to binge read. ;) The scene in the beginning of this oneshot comes from Episode 2 of Season 1 of TOS, "The Man Trap."

He glanced up at the lieutenant as she walked to stand next to the captain's chair. Captain Kirk had left him the bridge while he and the landing party attended to the archaeologist and his wife on the planet below.

"Miss Uhura, your last sub-space log contained an error in the frequencies columns." He focused on his data pad as he spoke.

"Mr. Spock, sometimes I think if I hear that word 'frequency' once more, I'll cry," Uhura's lilting voice informed him placidly. He looked up at her in vague confusion.

"Cry?"

She laughed slightly, her large green earrings bobbing alongside her head with the motion. "I was just trying to start a conversation." She smiled at him, leaning on the arm of the chair.

He raised his eyebrows, turning back to his data pad. Illogical human woman. "Well, since it is illogical for a communications officer to resent the word frequency, I have no answer." He turned back to her, wondering what this had to do with their work or anything, for that matter, but recognizing the human need for 'conversation', as she put it.

"No, you have an answer." She gestured with her earpiece as she spoke. "I'm an illogical woman, who's beginning to feel too much like part of that communication's console." She chuckled ruefully. He blinked, wondering how to respond. "Why don't you tell me I'm an attractive young lady?" He pulled at his collar, fidgeting, almost. "Or ask me if I've ever been in love? Or tell me how your planet Vulcan looks on a lazy evening when the moon is full?" She grinned at him, hands clasped under her chin. He frowned, concerned. What was she babbling about?

"Vulcan has no moon, Miss Uhura."

"I'm not surprised, Mr. Spock."

The whistle alerting them to surface communication blessedly saved him from this strange conversation with this strange, wide-eyed human. She turned to go back to her station.

"Transporter Room to Bridge. Landing party returning. They report one death." He pressed his lips together at the news, a hard stone forming in his stomach.

"Bridge acknowledging."

"I don't believe it."

Miss Uhura again, speaking from behind his chair. She had come to stand on the other side of him, her hand brushing his back.

"Explain." He resisted the urge to turn and face her. He could sense her shock and horror flowing through her touch on his back.

"You explain," she demanded angrily. "That means that somebody is dead, and you just...sit there. It could be Captain Kirk. He's the closest thing you have to a friend." The words rammed through his Vulcan calm. How could this human make such a claim? How dare she state something so utterly personal and so utterly not her duty?

"Lieutenant," cold now, "my demonstration of concern will not change what has happened. The transporter room is very well manned, and they will call me if they need my assistance." Sharp now, a hint of irritation coming through his armor. She turned away in her own vexation and he remained frozen. Ignoring how truthful her words were and ignoring how easily she had been able to ruffle him.

Years went by, and the Miss Uhura remained a presence in his life as a member of the Enterprise crew, ever only a few steps from his science station. And there were times...times when he wondered.

She was a smart, intelligent, fiery, compassionate woman. It was no emotion that prompted this assessment, only the scientific evidence gathered by careful observation. She was, also, a very attractive woman, according to his vague grasp of the human concept of beauty.

There were many times he wondered. When he heard her sing for the first time as he played his harp in the rec room. At first, as she hummed along he had grown annoyed. She had apologized when she noticed, but he had only...acquiesced to her wishes, with a smile even, and played for her to sing. She had then turned it back on him, singing her own written song with that lovely voice of his "alien love in Satan's guise". He had accepted the mocking, knowing it was in no way mean-spirited. And perhaps because she was smiling about it.

He had wondered again when seeing her unconscious on the floor of the bridge during the debacle with energy draining space organism, and when he had lifted her to her feet and into her chair, perhaps staying behind the chair longer than necessary to ensure she was alright. In fact, he had found himself in what he deemed far too many to be usual occurrences, ensuring this woman was alright and helping her to a seat.

He had wondered when the strange probe had wiped her mind, watching in concern as the intelligent light left those wide, wide eyes.

"That unit is a woman," he had defended her. And yet he still wondered.

He had wondered when she spoke of her religion, with a passionate love in her eyes.

He had wondered when he noticed her hair style change and how it framed her incredibly expressive face.

He had wondered when he realized she was "Miss Uhura" to him far more often than she was "Lieutenant."

And yet, he was only ever left wondering.

It had been quite a shock then, to learn that in this new universe, with this new Spock, who had never wondered. Instead, he had acted.

"I should retire before Nyota worries of my whereabouts."

"Nyota?" He raised an eyebrow.

This younger, bolder, more...unfettered Spock tilted his head. "You seem surprised."

He pressed his lips together in what he hoped was a neutral expression. "No, I recall the lieutenant being quite the one to worry. Particularly about those she cared for."

But this Spock had already made the leaps in logic. "You and Lieutenant Uhura were not together."

He sighed. "No. We were not."

His younger self hesitated. "Perhaps, then…"

"I daresay, whatever logic you have ever used in your relationship with Lieutenant Uhura prevents you from finishing that thought, young one. Your life does not have to follow mine to the letter. In fact, I would prefer that it did not."

Spock nodded, a still wary light in his eyes. "I will take my leave then, Ambassador. Live long and prosper."

"Live long and prosper."

The younger Vulcan turned to go.

"Oh, and Spock?"

"Yes, Ambassador?"

"Tell Nyota I said hello. And do not make my mistakes."

"What mistakes are those, Ambassador?"

He sighed again, a fond look on his face. "When she asks you what Vulcan looked like on a lazy evening when the moon was full...tell her."

His younger self cocked his head at him, and oh how that foolish expression of someone so confused and so wrong and yet so full of possibilities, looked so familiar. "Vulcan had no moon."

"Then make her yours. And do not ever be left to wonder what it is to be without her light."