Spock + OC
Chapter 1:
A Betazoid woman - the new counselor aboard the Enterprise. Intrigued by Spock from their very first meeting. Unable to read him, she begins to doubt her own abilities.
"His anger is caused by loss. I think he deserves our compassion," Valentina said to Captain Kirk, in a somewhat less formal tone.
Spock's face did not escape her notice. Intrigued, he raised one eyebrow and added, "Our compassion is illogical at the moment, and unnecessary."
Kirk, meanwhile, smiled mischievously. "You Betazoids! Your empathy. He is a criminal! He is a danger to the ship and to my crew."
"Could I at least speak with him briefly… again?" Valentina asked hopefully.
Once again, she was confronted with Spock's stern, almost architectural face, and in that moment she wondered whether her empathy made her look somewhat foolish in his eyes.
"No, there is no need. The decision has been made. He will answer for his actions, but not to us. He will answer to Starfleet."
Spock clearly approved of Kirk's decision. He gave a barely perceptible nod, then looked at Valentina. When their eyes met, he calmly looked away.
Shortly afterward, Valentina found herself in her quarters.
"That man!" she thought. "How can he be so completely disconnected from his human side? He is a Vulcan, but he is also human. His black eyes unsettle me when I analyze him in the course of my work. I don't want him to see me as an irrational woman, but I cannot help the fact that I am Betazoid."
Then a thought, as though coming from somewhere very far away, quietly crept into her heart.
She wanted his approval. She wanted him to respect her. Spock respected all people, but she needed his recognition of her abilities, and even more than that — she wanted him to learn to value them.
"To feel so deeply what someone else is feeling, no matter how unpleasant or terrible it may be, is a curse," Valentina thought. "It is not proof that those feelings are invalid. Quite the opposite. Emotions are essential to our psychological state. And this man, Spock, wants to believe he has none."
She was not fooling herself, but she became frustrated whenever he crossed her mind. She could not read him at all, as though he were some kind of impenetrable fortress.
"I would really like to know what lies inside that Vulcan heart of his," she thought, promising herself that she would try to find out.
With that thought, she finished her warm cup of milk and finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, things proceeded along their usual course aboard the ship. Valentina prepared herself for the day ahead. She brushed her blonde hair and quickly arranged it into a carefree, slightly messy hairstyle, put on her uniform, and applied just a little makeup.
She needed to consult Dr. McCoy about the nightmares she had been having lately. She felt as though something terrible was coming, but she had no idea what. Was it some kind of future danger awaiting them, or merely a subconscious fear of her own? She could not explain it even to herself.
Again, she thought of Spock.
She wondered what he was doing now. Surely the First Officer was already on the bridge, ready to carry out his duties as he did every day.
"That man is like some kind of clock," she thought. "So precise, so exact, never deviating from the present minute. That is his position."
She left her quarters and headed toward the bridge.
When she entered, she greeted the crew with a cheerful good morning. Spock was analyzing something at that moment and did not return her greeting.
"Good morning, Mr. Spock," she said sweetly.
Without raising his eyes, he replied dryly.
"Hmm. The First Officer already has all the wheels turning in his brain," Valentina thought, giggling to herself like a schoolgirl.
"How serious he is!"
And somehow, she found this incredibly attractive. After taking her seat, she continued observing him.
His shoulders were narrow and held at a certain angle; he was leaning forward, completely absorbed in his work.
"Stop analyzing him, woman. You have no chance with him. Don't be desperate for his attention," she thought.
Then, suddenly, he addressed her, cutting straight through her thoughts.
"Lieutenant Douglas, it appears that our criminal wishes to speak with you, and you alone, as surprising as that may be," he said dryly.
She swallowed, but became slightly irritated.
He did not value her work. It was obvious. And her work was an extension of her personality, which meant that he did not approve of her.
"I'll see what I can do," she replied. Then she swallowed again and added, "Mr. Spock, if I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to underestimate the work I do."
He pursed his lips and replied with a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"I did not say that, Lieutenant Douglas. You are making a logical leap."
Then he continued, "Although that is probably not surprising when I consider that you are Betazoid."
She angrily rose from her chair and headed for the door.
Soon she was out in the corridor, where several members of the crew were passing by.
"Perhaps he is the one who needs to learn something from me," she thought.
And then she felt something fluttering and almost ridiculous inside her - an emotion that was unmistakably not hers, because hers was anger.
Chapter 1:
A Betazoid woman - the new counselor aboard the Enterprise. Intrigued by Spock from their very first meeting. Unable to read him, she begins to doubt her own abilities.
"His anger is caused by loss. I think he deserves our compassion," Valentina said to Captain Kirk, in a somewhat less formal tone.
Spock's face did not escape her notice. Intrigued, he raised one eyebrow and added, "Our compassion is illogical at the moment, and unnecessary."
Kirk, meanwhile, smiled mischievously. "You Betazoids! Your empathy. He is a criminal! He is a danger to the ship and to my crew."
"Could I at least speak with him briefly… again?" Valentina asked hopefully.
Once again, she was confronted with Spock's stern, almost architectural face, and in that moment she wondered whether her empathy made her look somewhat foolish in his eyes.
"No, there is no need. The decision has been made. He will answer for his actions, but not to us. He will answer to Starfleet."
Spock clearly approved of Kirk's decision. He gave a barely perceptible nod, then looked at Valentina. When their eyes met, he calmly looked away.
Shortly afterward, Valentina found herself in her quarters.
"That man!" she thought. "How can he be so completely disconnected from his human side? He is a Vulcan, but he is also human. His black eyes unsettle me when I analyze him in the course of my work. I don't want him to see me as an irrational woman, but I cannot help the fact that I am Betazoid."
Then a thought, as though coming from somewhere very far away, quietly crept into her heart.
She wanted his approval. She wanted him to respect her. Spock respected all people, but she needed his recognition of her abilities, and even more than that — she wanted him to learn to value them.
"To feel so deeply what someone else is feeling, no matter how unpleasant or terrible it may be, is a curse," Valentina thought. "It is not proof that those feelings are invalid. Quite the opposite. Emotions are essential to our psychological state. And this man, Spock, wants to believe he has none."
She was not fooling herself, but she became frustrated whenever he crossed her mind. She could not read him at all, as though he were some kind of impenetrable fortress.
"I would really like to know what lies inside that Vulcan heart of his," she thought, promising herself that she would try to find out.
With that thought, she finished her warm cup of milk and finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, things proceeded along their usual course aboard the ship. Valentina prepared herself for the day ahead. She brushed her blonde hair and quickly arranged it into a carefree, slightly messy hairstyle, put on her uniform, and applied just a little makeup.
She needed to consult Dr. McCoy about the nightmares she had been having lately. She felt as though something terrible was coming, but she had no idea what. Was it some kind of future danger awaiting them, or merely a subconscious fear of her own? She could not explain it even to herself.
Again, she thought of Spock.
She wondered what he was doing now. Surely the First Officer was already on the bridge, ready to carry out his duties as he did every day.
"That man is like some kind of clock," she thought. "So precise, so exact, never deviating from the present minute. That is his position."
She left her quarters and headed toward the bridge.
When she entered, she greeted the crew with a cheerful good morning. Spock was analyzing something at that moment and did not return her greeting.
"Good morning, Mr. Spock," she said sweetly.
Without raising his eyes, he replied dryly.
"Hmm. The First Officer already has all the wheels turning in his brain," Valentina thought, giggling to herself like a schoolgirl.
"How serious he is!"
And somehow, she found this incredibly attractive. After taking her seat, she continued observing him.
His shoulders were narrow and held at a certain angle; he was leaning forward, completely absorbed in his work.
"Stop analyzing him, woman. You have no chance with him. Don't be desperate for his attention," she thought.
Then, suddenly, he addressed her, cutting straight through her thoughts.
"Lieutenant Douglas, it appears that our criminal wishes to speak with you, and you alone, as surprising as that may be," he said dryly.
She swallowed, but became slightly irritated.
He did not value her work. It was obvious. And her work was an extension of her personality, which meant that he did not approve of her.
"I'll see what I can do," she replied. Then she swallowed again and added, "Mr. Spock, if I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to underestimate the work I do."
He pursed his lips and replied with a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"I did not say that, Lieutenant Douglas. You are making a logical leap."
Then he continued, "Although that is probably not surprising when I consider that you are Betazoid."
She angrily rose from her chair and headed for the door.
Soon she was out in the corridor, where several members of the crew were passing by.
"Perhaps he is the one who needs to learn something from me," she thought.
And then she felt something fluttering and almost ridiculous inside her - an emotion that was unmistakably not hers, because hers was anger.
