I fell in love with my science officer. His intellect is formidable and I have yet to find a limit to the breadth and depth of his knowledge. He can talk for hours on any subject you care to mention from the physics of the universe to the socio-political implications of the filthiest Rigellian limericks I've ever heard. I still remember the first time he heard the one about the minister and the tribble. He just froze, his jaw dropping open. He quickly recovered, however, and came back with one of his own before launching into a lengthy lecture about the striking similarities in such popular poetic forms across the galaxy and what they revealed about the mindsets of different races. Then it was my turn to lose the ability to speak. And they say Vulcans don't joke! That quick-fire brain of his can compute and resolve any problem I throw at him. He has saved the ship on numerous occasions with his specialised talents and skills. Even while he was suffering the effects of the Psi 2000 virus he was able to work out the intermix formula to restart the engines. An emotional wreck and he was still able to make the 1 in 10,000 odds work in our favour. He's remarkable, absolutely remarkable. I recognise the debt I owe him and it is limitless.

I fell in love with my friend. Command is a lonely duty, and I found that even I needed companionship. Our early months together were a slow waltz of discovery. We began sharing the occasional end-of-shift meal, then it was every meal. We added chess games to the time we spent together and these peaceful, off-duty hours developed our professional closeness and mutual respect into closer, more supportive ties. We became so close that all I needed to save my sanity over Triacus was to feel his calming presence and hear him say my name. When I told Garth that I regarded Spock as my brother it was nothing less than the truth. He has risked his life to save mine on numerous occasions, even risking himself and putting untold strain on that famous Vulcan stamina. I owe him so much. Eventually, I noticed that we were completing each other's sentences and it was a wonder to me that my logical Vulcan friend had allowed himself to get so close to a Human. He tells me that it was my persistence that wore down his carefully maintained Vulcan shields and I like to think that he just couldn't resist me. As I survey the bridge, I sometimes find myself watching him out of the corner of my eye, caught by the sight of those long fingers playing over the controls of the science console, his gaze totally focussed. Sometimes, he senses me watching and turns to return my gaze. If he's feeling mischievous, he'll quirk an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth will twitch in a hint of his private smile which only I am privileged to see and only then when we are alone together. I must admit that this shared, private communication explains why I have to cross my legs so often. I marvel at the circumstances that have brought us together. He is the only friend with whom I have felt comfortable enough to trust with my deepest secrets--as I trust him with my life. He has never let me down and I know he never will. He is my Thousandth Man.

I fell in love with my bond-mate. Who would ever have thought it possible: Jim Kirk, the married man? Certainly not me. But I am well and truly married now and I wouldn't have it any other way. Before I met him, love was simply the momentary giving and receiving of pleasure, which left an emptiness at the core of my being. Only he has ever filled that emptiness. He completes me in a way I never thought possible and I hadn't even realised I was looking for such completion until he became the most important part of my life, ending the yearning in my heart, and in my soul and, yes, I have to admit it, in my body too. With him, sex is more than I'd ever thought it could be, transcending the mere physical and entering the realm of the spiritual--and I never thought that I would be using a phrase like the mere physical. He worships me with his body as if he's participating in some sacred rite. I am humbled by his total commitment to our love-making. My quiet, reserved Vulcan in the throes of passion is an awesome sight. My greatest pleasure is to kiss and caress him to distraction and hear him call my name as he comes, knowing that only I am capable of disturbing his Vulcan calm in such a profound way. I tremble at the terrible responsibility for his happiness with which he has entrusted me. It is indeed a blessing to love and be loved by him. He is my life's breath and my soul's delight. I thank all the gods in the universe for bringing us together.

Today, I fell in love with Spock of Vulcan all over again. I went to him in the middle of this business with Khan for advice as well as the emotional security that hearing his calm words in that velvet voice always produces in me. As always, he gave me what I needed. As he stood before me, hands steepled together, dressed in his usual off-duty black, it was only years of training in self-restraint that stopped me from an unseemly public display of affection. When he'd finished speaking, he fixed me with that penetrating stare of his and stated, "I have been and always shall be yours." The bond flared between us and I was lost in the him/us/me that we share. I managed to tear myself away and returned to the bridge, confident that, with him by my side, all would be well. And I know it will be, for he'll be with me today and tomorrow and all our tomorrows after that.