1. All Of My Tomorrows

How could it be, they asked me, that I could love one such as you? For they see only that which you allow the world to see. They cannot know of the smile you share with only me. The laugh I see in your eyes. The love which you give to me selflessly and fully.

It was not always so. When I first became Captain of Enterprise, you accepted me out of military obligation. The first time we met, I saw the uncertainty in your eyes. Others saw your steady gaze, your unwavering appraisal. I saw doubt. Who was I that I could command the flagship of Starfleet? You thought I was barely old enough to drive a car. What did I know of leading a starship and her crew? How could I know what it meant to commit myself, my crew, and my ship to deep space exploration?

Our first year on Enterprise was not an easy one. I would tell you alone this truth, because it is information you already possess. You never openly questioned my authority, my command decisions. That did not prevent me from feeling your silent, watchful disapproval. What were you expecting? I could not stop myself from thinking. Were you waiting for me to fail? To fall flat on my face? Prove the doubters, including you, correct?

Finally I found the courage to ask those question of you that I had been asking of myself. Your dismay was genuine. Not even the most skilled Human could have lied about how shocking it was for you to hear me say those words.

You had been watching, it was true. But you were determined to keep me and my crew safe. You wanted to be close by in case I made what could have been a fatal mistake, stopping it before I could endanger us all. The relief and gratitude I felt at your confession was beyond measure. And a new understanding blossomed between us. Now I know that that was the conversation when I began falling in love with you. How could I not?

Our new beginning was a fresh start for every crew member aboard our ship. Only Bones could tell me that I finally stopped trying to prove I deserved to be Captain and started being the Captain. I grew into my own skin, he told me. You thought it was ridiculous that he would say something so illogical. But I understood. I had taken command of myself, of my doubts, of my fears that I would not measure up to some unseen standard. And I understood what it was to be Captain. I learned that I could laugh without undermining my command. I could be friendly with the crew when it was appropriate. They were well trained. They knew I was, at all times, in command. That did not mean I had to remain in isolation from those on whom I depended. And who in turn depended on me. A balance was found and it was a relief to us all.

And always there, next to me, you stood. Watchful – yes. Critical – no. Any corrections you thought appropriate you shared in private. Over a chess game, or after we had finished working out. Occasionally you told me before we worked out. Then I could find a physical release for my frustration over my latest failure. You were willing to let me to take it out on you but you would never allow me to win unless I truly gained the upper hand. Which was rare. And made me train harder, to the approval of Dr. McCoy.

As our understanding grew, so did my love for you. The friendship we had forged was more important to me than I was willing to admit, even to you. You were my touchstone, my sextant making certain that I was always guiding our ship and our crew in the correct direction. You provided your continued guidance quietly and for my ears only. And I knew that the respect you were expected to show to your Captain became respect that I earned from you. Respect and more, I hoped.

Maybe it was your unvarnished honesty that finally made me confess to you my truest feelings. Did you know already? Had you unintentionally accessed those thoughts when our hands and legs and feet were entangled in our workouts? Had you read the truth in my eyes when we were engaged in a quiet game of chess in my quarters? You never revealed that knowledge to me if you were in possession of it. And I was grateful for your silence. Because you were content to wait for me to admit my feelings to us both.

I was even more grateful to you for your acceptance. I thought I was taking a huge gamble telling you that the friendship I felt for you had evolved into something much more. When I finally finished confessing, you smiled. A real smile that lit your face, your eyes, and my heart.

That was the second time I was reborn in your presence. The love we share is true and complete and…beyond any words that I have to adequately describe it. I suppose Earth’s Shakespeare or Vulcan’s Srobent left us with poetry able to express how your love inspires me. I have not attempted to find those passages. Because words become unnecessary after the touch of our lips, the joining of our bodies, the fulfillment of our bond. When we become one. As we will always be. For all of my tomorrows belong to only you.

2. I Do Not Love You

I do not love you. How many times have I repeated those words to myself? Countless time. Yet they were no more true when I said them the hundredth time than they were when I said them the first or tenth.

I do not love you. Why can I not believe those words I repeat to myself whenever I see you? Each time I see you on the Bridge, chatting casually with your command crew. When I see the smile which lights your face, especially when you catch me watching you. You know that I do it, my eyes drawn from my science station to your chair. I am powerless to stop my gaze from wandering. The need I have to simply see you is not logical. And I have finally stopped trying to believe it is within my control. And when our eyes meet, my heart stops beating for just that second, until I make myself look away and my respiration returns to normal.

I do not love you. I had to keep these words with me, using them as a shield as our friendship evolved slowly and inexorably into more. When we played chess and you were still finding your way as Captain. When we practiced self defense techniques and I provided my critique of your command demeanor. Perhaps there were times when I was unnecessarily stern, even harsh. I knew my words would elicit a reaction from you, fear that you had in some way failed. And I would agree to be your partner, your whipping post some would have called it. You rarely triumphed in our physical encounters. Vulcan strength will outmatch Human strength each time. It is Human ingenuity that finally began to even the score. As you grew into your position as Captain, your new found confidence allowed you to find ways to overcome my advantage, often using it against me. I saw the changes in you even as you were blind to them yourself.

I do not love you. Those words continued to be my guide, my salvation even as they became more and more untrue. How could I dare presume to love one such as you? And how could I dare hope that my feelings might in some small way be returned? You who are light and fire and the sun that nourishes us all. I could not be more different from you. I who never smiles. Could I be loved by you who is rarely seen without a smile lighting your eyes if not your mouth? I who seem to scare people away. Could I dare hope to be loved by you who draws others to your presence with no effort or conceit? Surely we were never meant to be one. That is why I do not love you.

And then…still it is difficult for me to believe you said the words – you loved me. You were frightened by the intensity of your feelings, frightened that you would scare me away. How wonderful it was this time for me to point out your error. Because the love I feel for you is unmatched except for the love you have for me. And I knew then that never again would I need to repeat to myself I do not love you.