FIC: Like the Stars, Like Your Destiny (5/5)
Like the Stars, Like Your Destiny
Part 5 of 5
Title: Like the Stars, Like Your Destiny
Author: anodyna
Characters/Pairings: Nyota Uhura, Spock/Uhura, Gaila, Spock Prime & ensemble
Rating: R for sensuality and Vulcan poetry references
Warnings: Vulcan poetry references!
Summary: Nyota Uhura has always been drawn to things that resist her understanding. Finding out she's lived her entire life in an alternate reality is a mystery she's not sure she can solve. Sleeplessness and self-examination ensue.
There are moments in Nyota's life when she knows something changed. Moments when she can feel time dividing itself into increments of Before and After.
Sometimes, the change is so clear, she knows it as it's happening: The day she told her mother she'd enlisted in Starfleet. The day she left home for the Academy. The first time she saw the Enterprise, and the first time she set foot on its perfect white decks. Each time, she felt the change, and thought things are different now.
Other moments pass unnoticed, and only later when she looks back does she see how there was Before, and then there was After: The day in the holovid library when she discovered the Kelvin. Her decision, mysterious to her mother but supported nonetheless, to take up the study of Romulan. The night in Iowa when Jim Kirk found her, and Captain Pike found Jim. The first time she met Gaila, and the last time she saw her.
Her time with Spock has been a series of these moments, a mixture of the obviously significant and the seemingly ordinary; but each is a step, a change. The After of one becomes the Before of the next, and so on, repeat and repeat. The first time she saw him. The first time they spoke. The first day they spent alone, when she was newly his teaching assistant, and the first time they left campus together--a spontaneous decision to get dinner elsewhere, that led them to a bookstore and the first inkling that they could become friends. The first time she came to his quarters by herself, and he made her a cup of tea and they talked about Romulan phonology.
There was the first time she knew, with a certainty that seemed to stop her heart, that she was in love. She doesn't even remember where she was; but she remembers the frustrated despair that came after, knowing he was so out of reach, that Vulcans don't have those feelings. That was before she knew that they do; before the night on the quad when she finally understood, when she kissed him and then they both knew. And not long after, the summer afternoon when she went to meet him at the gate--knowing what it meant to go there, choosing it without hesitation. She stepped gladly across the threshold into After.
Then, it all became Before again.
They had their first fight, over his decision to assign her to the USS Farragut for the support mission to Vulcan--something he did, like a reflex, to avoid any hint that he'd favored her with assignment to the Enterprise. And even though it was only temporary Nyota found herself arguing--because she knew she'd earned a place on the Enterprise, and because she couldn't bear to think of her ship making its first voyage without her, not even a little three-day hop to Vulcan to help with some unexplained seismic activity.
It wasn't much of a fight; Spock knew she was right before she even spoke. And neither one of them had a clue what was at stake; they couldn't, because that was Before. Before they knew what was waiting for them, lurking in space above Vulcan.
The losses from the Battle of Vulcan are unimaginable. Seven Federation starships gone, with most of their crew. Vulcan destroyed, its people decimated. Losses that are felt throughout the universe, and losses so personal that the pain is like a fresh attack. The black hole Nero created at the center of Vulcan consumed the planet--and the black hole he created in Spock's heart nearly did the same to him.
Nyota saw it; she knows how close Spock came to being consumed by the force of his own grief and rage. But he wasn't. He pulled himself back from the brink, and he and Jim did what had to be done--and at the end they were all still alive, and the Narada was destroyed.
They saved the Earth together, and then it was After.
Nyota knows that After never lasts very long. New beginnings and first times are always coming. The After of the Battle of Vulcan will become the Before of something else. It's already happening. The surviving Vulcans are already moving forward on a new colony world, and soon Starfleet will relaunch the Enterprise on her delayed first mission.
Nyota never thought she'd be eager to go into space with Jim Kirk as her captain. It's one of a lot of things the Nyota of Before wouldn't have thought possible.
The Nyota of After is learning not to be surprised when that happens.
****
The Academy's farewell reception for the Vulcan elders is already underway when Nyota arrives. The ballroom is crowded--Federation personnel and officers from all branches of Starfleet have converged on the Academy in recent days--but the number of actual Vulcans present is very small. From her vantage point on the balcony above, Nyota thinks she could probably count them all: a few dozen elders, each more stoic than the last; the members of the Vulcan Ambassador's staff, who'll be leaving with the elders for the colony world; a few Vulcan Starfleet officers she doesn't know; and Spock.
Nyota has no trouble picking him out of the crowd. Spock is easily the youngest Vulcan there, and his height and black Starfleet dress uniform set him apart from the others. Jim Kirk is with him, also in dress black, looking like he's aged ten years--in spirit if not in body--in the last week. And there's a third member of their little group; Nyota sees gray hair and Vulcan features, and the way Jim and Spock give him their full attention. This must be the other Spock.
Spock has explained to her, to the best of his understanding, the presence of his future self in this reality, and his role in recent events. Under ordinary circumstances Nyota would be surprised; but at this point she's not even sure what ordinary circumstances are. Since she learned of the other Spock's existence, Nyota's been looking forward with mixed feelings to their inevitable meeting. Now that it's imminent, her plan is just to keep it simple: Be polite, try not to be nervous, and if the conversation lags, bring up their mutual interest in Vulcan literature.
What she won't do is ask him about past events in his reality, and especially not about herself--about the other Nyota. She knows, logically, there's nothing to be gained by asking--that even if she knew everything about the other Spock and Nyota's lives, it wouldn't explain anything in her past, or predict anything in her future. She might have fifty years with her Spock, or she might lose him the next time he and Jim have to engage in some borderline suicidal heroics. No one in this universe can tell her which is more likely.
Nyota and Spock both know how close he came to not coming back from the attack on the Narada. They're not ready to talk about it yet, but they process their feelings in other ways, in the privacy of their nights together.
As if hearing her thoughts, Spock looks up, and their eyes meet. He excuses himself to the others and moves through the crowd toward her, coming to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. They get there at the same time, and they stand together for a moment without speaking, until they realize how it looks. He stands up straighter and gives her a quick, formal bow. "Good evening, Lieutenant Uhura."
She bows back, equally formal. "Commander Spock, it's a pleasure to see you."
They can't keep it up for very long. His fingers reach out to brush the soft violet blue fabric of her dress--a quick touch, too fast for anyone else to see. He lowers his head and speaks quietly, so only she can hear him. "You look very beautiful, Nyota. Each time you wear this dress I am reminded of the first time I saw it. I receive great pleasure from this memory."
Nyota flushes a little at the reference, and tries to suppress her smile. She wishes she could take his hand, or even his arm, but discretion won't allow it. In another week the Enterprise will start its first mission, and they'll finally be able to relax their vigilance; but for now they're still operating under Academy rules, surrounded by unfamiliar officers and Federation officials, and watched by the eyes of the Vulcan elders. Nyota contents herself with a brief touch of his sleeve, and a look that tells him she wishes she could do more.
They move through the crowd together, Spock introducing her to various elders and officials. Nyota notices some looks from younger Vulcans--at Spock, more than at her, although a few take her in with what she imagines are knowing expressions.
Whatever they may think, they keep it to themselves. Since Ambassador Sarek supported his son's decision not to join them on the colony world, no one will speak against him to his face. Maybe it will turn out to be as the older Spock said: that he can be in two places at once; that ultimately the Vulcan colony will be content to have the elder Spock, and not begrudge the younger his chosen destiny in Starfleet.
Between introductions, Nyota's eyes keep returning to the place in the room where the other Spock stands, a distinguished figure in the midst of a constantly-changing crowd. Even at this distance, she can see how much he resembles her Spock. They have the same upright posture, the same gentle gravity of expression, the same tilt of the head when thinking. He's older, of course, with an older man's air of being at ease with himself--as if, having lived so long and seen so much of the universe, he can accept what it offers with equanimity. As if he knows from experience what is survivable, and what is not.
Right now the other Spock is talking with Jim Kirk--or rather, Jim is talking to him, telling a story with great animation and hand gestures. As Jim speaks, the other Spock folds his hands together behind his back. There's something about that familiar posture, only slightly stooped with age, that tugs at Nyota's heart--as if some part of her can't quite separate one Spock from the other. He tilts his head as he listens to Jim, and Nyota glances at her Spock to find he is doing the same, listening to Admiral Archer talk about the progress of the repairs to the Enterprise.
When Spock detaches himself from the Admiral, he draws Nyota aside, and his eyes go to the other Spock. "Nyota, he has asked me to inquire if you would be willing to be introduced to him. He is concerned you may find it uncomfortable to encounter someone who knew you in another reality."
"No, it's okay, I'd like to meet him."
"I thought you would, but I promised I would ask."
Junior officers step aside to allow them to pass, and for a moment Nyota loses sight of the other Spock; then suddenly they are before him and her Spock is bowing politely. He keeps his voice low as he makes the introduction.
"Ambassador, may I present Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. Lieutenant, Ambassador Spock."
In that instant, Nyota realizes her mistake. She thought that watching the other Spock from across the room had prepared her; she didn't count on how different it is to see him up close. From a distance the resemblance had already stirred her feelings. Now, standing two feet away, she feels a painful constriction in her heart. They have the same eyes--the same dark, human eyes that show her Spock's every thought, that speak to her more clearly than words. Seeing those eyes in a different face, and seeing in that other face the traces of the features she loves, is disconcerting, and she feels a moment's panic at the thought that the other Spock will notice.
Her Spock doesn't realize her reaction. He's already politely faded into the crowd, leaving Nyota and his older self to talk privately.
The other Spock nods, the expression in his dark eyes reserved but not unfriendly. He holds out his hand to her in greeting. "Lieutenant Uhura, it is a great pleasure to meet you." His voice is a little rougher with age, but the intonations are the same.
"Ambassador Spock, yes, it's so nice to meet you," Nyota replies, distracted by the tumult of her feelings, trying not to show that she's affected. She takes his offered hand, meaning only to exchange the traditional human greeting. But when their hands touch, something else happens, something she doesn't mean to do: She reaches out to him with her mind. She feels the little surge of energy, too late to stop it. And she finds his mind closed, defended.
That he is surprised is evident; Nyota feels the prickle of confusion the instant her mind touches his. He arranges his features quickly but she catches his fleeting expression and knows exactly what it means: He didn't expect this. This Spock doesn't expect Nyota Uhura to know the pathway to his mind. His defense is just the ordinary habit of a touch-telepath who's grown accustomed to physical contact and doesn't wish to intrude on others.
Nyota is shocked at what she's done. All her careful study of diplomacy and strict observation of cultural boundaries have failed to prepare her for what he is: a stranger who feels like a familiar and beloved part of herself. Her heart and mind have tricked her, and who knows what offense she's just caused, or what unnecessary pain? For a moment she feels paralyzed, unable to think of a single thing to say to apologize or explain.
But if the other Spock is offended, he gives no sign. In fact he seems perfectly content to continue their conversation as if nothing unusual has happened. He asks her about her academic work, compliments her on her most recent paper on Romulan verb forms, inquires about living conditions on the Enterprise and how her family feels about her leaving them for a five-year mission. Nyota hardly knows how she answers, but she's grateful for his polite persistence in leading her from one topic to another, allowing her time to regain her composure. By the time others interrupt and she can excuse herself, she's almost calm again.
Nyota is standing alone when Spock appears by her side. He raises one eyebrow inquiringly, but Nyota shakes her head. There's nothing she can say to explain while they're surrounded by people. He leans down, his voice soft but edged with concern. "Nyota, the elders would like to continue working after the reception ends. I may be quite late. Will you wait for me in my quarters?"
She agrees, thankful for the excuse to leave, and for the assurance she'll see him later, even though she knows from experience the Vulcan elders never sleep. It will probably be close to dawn before he finally returns.
Later, as she lies alone in Spock's bed, Nyota can't sleep either. She can't stop thinking about what she did, and what it revealed to her.
She is a difference. Her love for Spock, his love for her--they're part of what's changed in the alternate reality. Now that she knows it, Nyota sees what she could have noticed all along: the chain of events and circumstances that lead directly from the destruction of the Kelvin to this moment--to her in this bed, to him, to the connection between them that has always felt to her like destiny.
What kind of destiny only exists in some realities? Jim Kirk's destiny to be the captain of the Enterprise was durable enough to survive everything this reality could throw at him; it even arrived ahead of schedule this time. Can it be that the love of her life is an accident, a flaw in this timeline caused by something that never should have happened? And if it is, is there a force at work that might try to change it back?
Every part of her rejects the idea. Fate might separate them, they might be taken from one another; they accept those risks as part of the life they've chosen as Starfleet officers. But not the end of their love for each other.
What were Spock and Nyota's lives like, before the Narada came back through the black hole and changed the future? She thought she didn't want to know, but now it's all she can think about. Who cared for the other Spock in his reality the way she cares for his younger self in this one? If not Nyota, who loved him? Who shared the burden of his emotions with him, and gave him peace and comfort in times of difficulty?
The idea that the other Spock didn't need those things never crosses her mind. She knows too well the acuteness of his feelings, how little to trust the calm face that a Vulcan presents to the world. Her heart aches at the idea that the other Spock might have endured the struggles of his life alone.
And now he's really alone--taken from his proper place in time, from everyone he knows, and who does he have here? Nyota knows, with perfect certainty, that he's suffering deeply from the loss of his planet and his people. Age and experience may give him greater resolve in the face of tragedy, but he's still Spock. She knows what he must be feeling.
When Spock returns, he finds her still awake. Nyota pours out her story to him in a torrent of anguished words--what happened, how she felt, everything she's been thinking as she's laid here waiting for him to return. By the time she gets to the part about the other Spock suffering alone in this timeline, she's in tears.
Spock lies beside her as she talks, facing her, and looks at her with eyes full of concern. When she finally gets to the end of her story, he reaches out and touches her hair, gently sweeping the fallen waves back from her shoulder, and letting his hand rest there. "Nyota," he says in his quiet voice, "we know that even a small change to the past leads to countless additional changes. You must not attach too much importance to one difference, no matter how significant it seems to you. Our lives are still always the product of our own choices. Our power to choose for ourselves is not altered by the fact that the time continuum is disrupted."
She sniffles, wiping away the last of her tears. The warmth of his touch is calming to her. "I've just--I've always felt I was destined to fall in love with you. I thought that fate brought us together." Saying it out loud, she feels a little embarrassed. It sounds so illogical.
His lips curl into his familiar not-smile. "I have felt the same. But I know that, in fact, we chose each other. The altered circumstances of this reality may have resulted in our meeting in a different way than Spock and Nyota did in another time, but the difference would be meaningless if we did not choose to act as we have done. And if you do not accept that, consider that it was I, my future self, whose actions set in motion the chain of events that resulted in the alteration to the time continuum. Perhaps that is part of my destiny, that I should have this opportunity to choose again, differently than I did before."
"Do you really believe that?"
"I believe that, if the time continuum was disrupted a thousand times and our lives relived, we would never experience the same thing twice. I do not know why my future self and his Nyota did not have the intimacy that we do, but it does not follow that, because our paths are different, one or the other must be wrong."
"What about Jim Kirk becoming captain? That was something wrong in our reality, and the other Spock fixed it. What if he decides this is something that needs fixing? Maybe there's something else in the future that's supposed to happen, and won't if we're together."
"Nyota. His actions in the matter of Kirk and myself, while I know they struck you as cruel, were necessary. The survival of the Earth was at stake. And Kirk did not act under compulsion. He still had the power to choose whether to follow my future self's advice." He frowns thoughtfully. "Such intervention in the course of events is not something my future self undertook lightly. Even if he knows of some challenge to come, he will not presume to know under what circumstances we will be best equipped to face it. Our own choices must be allowed to determine that."
He draws her to him and she comes readily, snuggling under his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. He feels reassuringly solid, his heartbeat strong against her chest. She sighs.
His voice as he continues is soft. "I understand that recent events have made you fear additional losses. I am not immune to this fear. I cannot forget how easily you might have been among those lost on the USS Farragut."
They are both silent, remembering the awful moment when the Enterprise emerged from warp into that hellish field of tumbling debris, the shattered remains of what had been starships. They still don't know everyone who died; survivors continue to be found in odd places, picked up by passing ships or beamed at the last second to whatever coordinates the transporter had ready. Nyota holds on to a tiny hope for Gaila, but she knows how tiny it is. The Kelvin lasted twelve minutes against the Narada. The Farragut, less than three.
"Nyota," he says finally, "if you wish to know if fate takes a hand in our lives, consider that moment. You refused my assignment to the Farragut. Your belief that you were meant to be on the Enterprise, and your willingness to argue for your belief, saved you. And Nyota, it saved me also. If it had been my doing--if I had been the means by which you went to your death--"
He can't finish the sentence, but he doesn't have to. They lie together in the quiet for what feels like a long time. Spock combs his fingers through her hair, soothing her, lulling her almost to sleep, but she remembers there was something she meant to ask him.
"You were with Jim tonight. Did you give him your answer about the First Officer position?"
She feels him smile. "Not yet. He mentioned it again, but he did not press me for an answer. He seems to enjoy the practice of asking and not receiving a definite reply. I do not mind it myself; it is an interesting study in the human phenomenon of suspense. He has asked no one else, nor do I think he will; but I am nearly convinced he will launch the Enterprise with no First Officer before he will admit to more than a casual interest in my acceptance."
"So, you two are playing a little game." It's odd, but so is the idea of Jim and Spock becoming friends, and she has it on good authority that it's possible.
"If you like. Perhaps I am learning to be more spontaneous."
She shifts her position so she can look at him directly. "You're going to take it, though. You haven't changed your mind."
"I have not. Nyota, I would not be parted from you. Not for--"
"Not for anything less than the whole universe," she murmurs, filling in his pause. The words are like an echo from another life.
"Not even for that. Not for anything. But it is interesting that you should choose those words. It is what my mother said to me when I left Vulcan to join Starfleet."
Nyota smiles. "She was quoting an old friend. It's from Anouk Ashmai: Her Journey Begins."
"Yes, so I later found."
She raises an eyebrow. "Really. Do I dare ask how?"
"It is not too surprising. I found myself curious about the books, after you mentioned you had read them. I did not admit it to myself at the time, but I believe I thought that by reading them I might gain a better understanding of what human females find appealing in a potential mate."
That gets a little laugh from her. "And what did you learn?"
He smiles. "Eloquent use of Standard and an ability to look distinguished in a Starfleet uniform seemed to be the primary qualifications."
"You did look very distinguished tonight. But I prefer eloquent use of Vulcan."
"That is my preference, also," he says, in his most perfect, classical Vulcan. He kisses her, his hands threading in her hair, his body strong and comforting against hers. She hears herself make a little sound, feels herself rousing despite her tiredness, but he knows she's been up all night. "My Nyota, beloved," he says, the Vulcan consonants soft against her ear, "you are tired, and you must sleep. I promise I will be very eloquent for you later."
She allows him to pull her into his arms, her eyelids already getting heavy. "Thank you. I will hold you to that promise." Her Vulcan is a little indistinct, her voice fading. She hears him tell the computer to dim the windows, filtering out the predawn light, and she feels his warm arms around her. The room goes dark, and finally, she sleeps.
The next day is a frenzy of activity. With the Enterprise nearly ready for launch, there's little time for anything not related to the mission. Nyota and Spock spend most of their time in the lab, preparing their research materials for upload to the ship's data banks. Finally they have to stop to eat, and it's during that break in their work that Nyota sees the other Spock again.
She spots him the Academy's vast entry hall, standing with a knot of Vulcan elders some distance from where she and Spock have paused to confer with a group of new science officers. Again Nyota finds herself observing him, admiring the ease with which he speaks, the way the other elders seem to defer to him. Once, she senses him watching her--watching them together--and once she's sure she catches a meaning look pass between Spock and his older self.
When the time comes for the Vulcan delegation to leave for the colony world, Nyota seeks out the other Spock once more to say goodbye. It's a brief leave-taking, with promises exchanged on both sides to stay in touch. He offers to send her copies of some ancient Vulcan texts he's cataloging, and asks that she share her admirable linguistic skills by commenting on their likely origin and development. Nyota knows he's far more expert in this area than she is, but it doesn't matter; she recognizes in his request the same respect for her opinion, the same teacher's instinct to encourage a promising student, that have always characterized his younger self.
Once again she is struck by how much he is like her Spock--and why should it surprise her? But it still does, seeing her lover's expressions on this older face, and hearing his familiar patterns of speech in a voice made different by time.
As they make their final, ceremonial gestures of parting, he surprises her in another way. Once more he offers his hand according to the human custom, and she takes it gratefully. "Until we meet again, Lieutenant Uhura," he says. For an instant, she feels his mind brush gently against hers: not seeking or revealing, just present and reassuring. Then it's gone, leaving her blinking back sudden tears.
Nyota watches the shuttles leave, waving until the last of them disappear into the stratosphere. Then she turns back to the bustle of the transport hangar.
The Enterprise is waiting. It's almost time to go.
****
Nyota Uhura knows more languages than anyone needs--anyone, that is, who isn't living on a starship, whose life doesn't revolve around hurtling through space. She can speak of diplomacy and science, technology and medicine, agriculture and linguistics and strategy and war, and she has eighteen languages and twenty-three dialects to do it in.
For love, she has only two. It's more than enough.
"Join with me, beloved one, or I will die for wanting you." Her lips silently form the words in Vulcan, sending them out into the darkness of Spock's quarters. A delicious shiver runs through her at the memory of the first time he said these words to her--his voice so hushed, so restrained, even as his body burned and trembled against hers. How when their minds met it was as though something burst inside her, something dark and beautiful as the heart of an exploding star.
Spock's hand moves in hers and she turns to find him watching her. "Your Vulcan is impeccable as always, Nyota," he says softly, in perfect Kiswahili. He laces their fingers together and through the tiny link she senses he is sharing her memory.
"I have been practicing," she says, again in Vulcan. "I find a great deal of time for thinking on this starship."
He frowns a little at that. She sees his eyes flicker to the timescreen: 0344 hours. "Nyota, I believe you have been awake for some time. You will not maintain your health if you do not receive sufficient rest."
She reaches out to trace the shape of his ear with her fingertips, enjoying the way her touch distracts him, momentarily diverts him from his point. "I'm sorry," she says, stroking her thumb gently over his cheekbone, his brow. "I don't mean to worry you. There's just a lot going on, and my thoughts won't be quiet."
He is silent for a moment, closing his eyes as her fingers find the delicate bow of his upper lip and pause there, as if waiting to interpret a message. Then he opens his eyes, and when he speaks his voice is low and even. "Perhaps I might be of assistance," he says, "in providing you with something else to think about."
"God, yes, plea--"
Her words are lost as his mouth finds hers, strong and insistent and tender all at once, like him--like both of them. She kisses him back, delighting in the sound he makes when she wraps her leg around his and pulls him toward her. Her fingers tug at fasteners, push layers of fabric away; then there is just him, his skin naked and so hot against hers. She feels him draw a steadying breath--an effort at self-control that never fails to move her, as pure as any declaration of love. Then the break, the shuddering exhalation as he pushes into her so urgent and needy and there. His hands find hers--she feels the rush of something opening between them--and for a moment it's as though all sound has disappeared. There is only this: no worlds, no ship, no language, only this instant spinning outward like thread from a skein of time. I'm yours, she says to him inside her mind. I'm yours like the stars, like your destiny.
She feels rather than sees him smile. And I will die for wanting you, he answers. She opens her eyes then, touches his cheek so he lifts his head and looks at her. For a long moment she studies his face, reading everything that is written there--how much longing and sorrow, intelligence and love, desire and awe. He holds himself so still, waiting for her; and he makes it look easy but she can feel his blood raging around her, inside her. And it's louder than words, louder than the universe.
"Prove it," she whispers in perfect Vulcan. And time starts again, and he does.
Part 5 of 5
Title: Like the Stars, Like Your Destiny
Author: anodyna
Characters/Pairings: Nyota Uhura, Spock/Uhura, Gaila, Spock Prime & ensemble
Rating: R for sensuality and Vulcan poetry references
Warnings: Vulcan poetry references!
Summary: Nyota Uhura has always been drawn to things that resist her understanding. Finding out she's lived her entire life in an alternate reality is a mystery she's not sure she can solve. Sleeplessness and self-examination ensue.
There are moments in Nyota's life when she knows something changed. Moments when she can feel time dividing itself into increments of Before and After.
Sometimes, the change is so clear, she knows it as it's happening: The day she told her mother she'd enlisted in Starfleet. The day she left home for the Academy. The first time she saw the Enterprise, and the first time she set foot on its perfect white decks. Each time, she felt the change, and thought things are different now.
Other moments pass unnoticed, and only later when she looks back does she see how there was Before, and then there was After: The day in the holovid library when she discovered the Kelvin. Her decision, mysterious to her mother but supported nonetheless, to take up the study of Romulan. The night in Iowa when Jim Kirk found her, and Captain Pike found Jim. The first time she met Gaila, and the last time she saw her.
Her time with Spock has been a series of these moments, a mixture of the obviously significant and the seemingly ordinary; but each is a step, a change. The After of one becomes the Before of the next, and so on, repeat and repeat. The first time she saw him. The first time they spoke. The first day they spent alone, when she was newly his teaching assistant, and the first time they left campus together--a spontaneous decision to get dinner elsewhere, that led them to a bookstore and the first inkling that they could become friends. The first time she came to his quarters by herself, and he made her a cup of tea and they talked about Romulan phonology.
There was the first time she knew, with a certainty that seemed to stop her heart, that she was in love. She doesn't even remember where she was; but she remembers the frustrated despair that came after, knowing he was so out of reach, that Vulcans don't have those feelings. That was before she knew that they do; before the night on the quad when she finally understood, when she kissed him and then they both knew. And not long after, the summer afternoon when she went to meet him at the gate--knowing what it meant to go there, choosing it without hesitation. She stepped gladly across the threshold into After.
Then, it all became Before again.
They had their first fight, over his decision to assign her to the USS Farragut for the support mission to Vulcan--something he did, like a reflex, to avoid any hint that he'd favored her with assignment to the Enterprise. And even though it was only temporary Nyota found herself arguing--because she knew she'd earned a place on the Enterprise, and because she couldn't bear to think of her ship making its first voyage without her, not even a little three-day hop to Vulcan to help with some unexplained seismic activity.
It wasn't much of a fight; Spock knew she was right before she even spoke. And neither one of them had a clue what was at stake; they couldn't, because that was Before. Before they knew what was waiting for them, lurking in space above Vulcan.
The losses from the Battle of Vulcan are unimaginable. Seven Federation starships gone, with most of their crew. Vulcan destroyed, its people decimated. Losses that are felt throughout the universe, and losses so personal that the pain is like a fresh attack. The black hole Nero created at the center of Vulcan consumed the planet--and the black hole he created in Spock's heart nearly did the same to him.
Nyota saw it; she knows how close Spock came to being consumed by the force of his own grief and rage. But he wasn't. He pulled himself back from the brink, and he and Jim did what had to be done--and at the end they were all still alive, and the Narada was destroyed.
They saved the Earth together, and then it was After.
Nyota knows that After never lasts very long. New beginnings and first times are always coming. The After of the Battle of Vulcan will become the Before of something else. It's already happening. The surviving Vulcans are already moving forward on a new colony world, and soon Starfleet will relaunch the Enterprise on her delayed first mission.
Nyota never thought she'd be eager to go into space with Jim Kirk as her captain. It's one of a lot of things the Nyota of Before wouldn't have thought possible.
The Nyota of After is learning not to be surprised when that happens.
****
The Academy's farewell reception for the Vulcan elders is already underway when Nyota arrives. The ballroom is crowded--Federation personnel and officers from all branches of Starfleet have converged on the Academy in recent days--but the number of actual Vulcans present is very small. From her vantage point on the balcony above, Nyota thinks she could probably count them all: a few dozen elders, each more stoic than the last; the members of the Vulcan Ambassador's staff, who'll be leaving with the elders for the colony world; a few Vulcan Starfleet officers she doesn't know; and Spock.
Nyota has no trouble picking him out of the crowd. Spock is easily the youngest Vulcan there, and his height and black Starfleet dress uniform set him apart from the others. Jim Kirk is with him, also in dress black, looking like he's aged ten years--in spirit if not in body--in the last week. And there's a third member of their little group; Nyota sees gray hair and Vulcan features, and the way Jim and Spock give him their full attention. This must be the other Spock.
Spock has explained to her, to the best of his understanding, the presence of his future self in this reality, and his role in recent events. Under ordinary circumstances Nyota would be surprised; but at this point she's not even sure what ordinary circumstances are. Since she learned of the other Spock's existence, Nyota's been looking forward with mixed feelings to their inevitable meeting. Now that it's imminent, her plan is just to keep it simple: Be polite, try not to be nervous, and if the conversation lags, bring up their mutual interest in Vulcan literature.
What she won't do is ask him about past events in his reality, and especially not about herself--about the other Nyota. She knows, logically, there's nothing to be gained by asking--that even if she knew everything about the other Spock and Nyota's lives, it wouldn't explain anything in her past, or predict anything in her future. She might have fifty years with her Spock, or she might lose him the next time he and Jim have to engage in some borderline suicidal heroics. No one in this universe can tell her which is more likely.
Nyota and Spock both know how close he came to not coming back from the attack on the Narada. They're not ready to talk about it yet, but they process their feelings in other ways, in the privacy of their nights together.
As if hearing her thoughts, Spock looks up, and their eyes meet. He excuses himself to the others and moves through the crowd toward her, coming to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. They get there at the same time, and they stand together for a moment without speaking, until they realize how it looks. He stands up straighter and gives her a quick, formal bow. "Good evening, Lieutenant Uhura."
She bows back, equally formal. "Commander Spock, it's a pleasure to see you."
They can't keep it up for very long. His fingers reach out to brush the soft violet blue fabric of her dress--a quick touch, too fast for anyone else to see. He lowers his head and speaks quietly, so only she can hear him. "You look very beautiful, Nyota. Each time you wear this dress I am reminded of the first time I saw it. I receive great pleasure from this memory."
Nyota flushes a little at the reference, and tries to suppress her smile. She wishes she could take his hand, or even his arm, but discretion won't allow it. In another week the Enterprise will start its first mission, and they'll finally be able to relax their vigilance; but for now they're still operating under Academy rules, surrounded by unfamiliar officers and Federation officials, and watched by the eyes of the Vulcan elders. Nyota contents herself with a brief touch of his sleeve, and a look that tells him she wishes she could do more.
They move through the crowd together, Spock introducing her to various elders and officials. Nyota notices some looks from younger Vulcans--at Spock, more than at her, although a few take her in with what she imagines are knowing expressions.
Whatever they may think, they keep it to themselves. Since Ambassador Sarek supported his son's decision not to join them on the colony world, no one will speak against him to his face. Maybe it will turn out to be as the older Spock said: that he can be in two places at once; that ultimately the Vulcan colony will be content to have the elder Spock, and not begrudge the younger his chosen destiny in Starfleet.
Between introductions, Nyota's eyes keep returning to the place in the room where the other Spock stands, a distinguished figure in the midst of a constantly-changing crowd. Even at this distance, she can see how much he resembles her Spock. They have the same upright posture, the same gentle gravity of expression, the same tilt of the head when thinking. He's older, of course, with an older man's air of being at ease with himself--as if, having lived so long and seen so much of the universe, he can accept what it offers with equanimity. As if he knows from experience what is survivable, and what is not.
Right now the other Spock is talking with Jim Kirk--or rather, Jim is talking to him, telling a story with great animation and hand gestures. As Jim speaks, the other Spock folds his hands together behind his back. There's something about that familiar posture, only slightly stooped with age, that tugs at Nyota's heart--as if some part of her can't quite separate one Spock from the other. He tilts his head as he listens to Jim, and Nyota glances at her Spock to find he is doing the same, listening to Admiral Archer talk about the progress of the repairs to the Enterprise.
When Spock detaches himself from the Admiral, he draws Nyota aside, and his eyes go to the other Spock. "Nyota, he has asked me to inquire if you would be willing to be introduced to him. He is concerned you may find it uncomfortable to encounter someone who knew you in another reality."
"No, it's okay, I'd like to meet him."
"I thought you would, but I promised I would ask."
Junior officers step aside to allow them to pass, and for a moment Nyota loses sight of the other Spock; then suddenly they are before him and her Spock is bowing politely. He keeps his voice low as he makes the introduction.
"Ambassador, may I present Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. Lieutenant, Ambassador Spock."
In that instant, Nyota realizes her mistake. She thought that watching the other Spock from across the room had prepared her; she didn't count on how different it is to see him up close. From a distance the resemblance had already stirred her feelings. Now, standing two feet away, she feels a painful constriction in her heart. They have the same eyes--the same dark, human eyes that show her Spock's every thought, that speak to her more clearly than words. Seeing those eyes in a different face, and seeing in that other face the traces of the features she loves, is disconcerting, and she feels a moment's panic at the thought that the other Spock will notice.
Her Spock doesn't realize her reaction. He's already politely faded into the crowd, leaving Nyota and his older self to talk privately.
The other Spock nods, the expression in his dark eyes reserved but not unfriendly. He holds out his hand to her in greeting. "Lieutenant Uhura, it is a great pleasure to meet you." His voice is a little rougher with age, but the intonations are the same.
"Ambassador Spock, yes, it's so nice to meet you," Nyota replies, distracted by the tumult of her feelings, trying not to show that she's affected. She takes his offered hand, meaning only to exchange the traditional human greeting. But when their hands touch, something else happens, something she doesn't mean to do: She reaches out to him with her mind. She feels the little surge of energy, too late to stop it. And she finds his mind closed, defended.
That he is surprised is evident; Nyota feels the prickle of confusion the instant her mind touches his. He arranges his features quickly but she catches his fleeting expression and knows exactly what it means: He didn't expect this. This Spock doesn't expect Nyota Uhura to know the pathway to his mind. His defense is just the ordinary habit of a touch-telepath who's grown accustomed to physical contact and doesn't wish to intrude on others.
Nyota is shocked at what she's done. All her careful study of diplomacy and strict observation of cultural boundaries have failed to prepare her for what he is: a stranger who feels like a familiar and beloved part of herself. Her heart and mind have tricked her, and who knows what offense she's just caused, or what unnecessary pain? For a moment she feels paralyzed, unable to think of a single thing to say to apologize or explain.
But if the other Spock is offended, he gives no sign. In fact he seems perfectly content to continue their conversation as if nothing unusual has happened. He asks her about her academic work, compliments her on her most recent paper on Romulan verb forms, inquires about living conditions on the Enterprise and how her family feels about her leaving them for a five-year mission. Nyota hardly knows how she answers, but she's grateful for his polite persistence in leading her from one topic to another, allowing her time to regain her composure. By the time others interrupt and she can excuse herself, she's almost calm again.
Nyota is standing alone when Spock appears by her side. He raises one eyebrow inquiringly, but Nyota shakes her head. There's nothing she can say to explain while they're surrounded by people. He leans down, his voice soft but edged with concern. "Nyota, the elders would like to continue working after the reception ends. I may be quite late. Will you wait for me in my quarters?"
She agrees, thankful for the excuse to leave, and for the assurance she'll see him later, even though she knows from experience the Vulcan elders never sleep. It will probably be close to dawn before he finally returns.
Later, as she lies alone in Spock's bed, Nyota can't sleep either. She can't stop thinking about what she did, and what it revealed to her.
She is a difference. Her love for Spock, his love for her--they're part of what's changed in the alternate reality. Now that she knows it, Nyota sees what she could have noticed all along: the chain of events and circumstances that lead directly from the destruction of the Kelvin to this moment--to her in this bed, to him, to the connection between them that has always felt to her like destiny.
What kind of destiny only exists in some realities? Jim Kirk's destiny to be the captain of the Enterprise was durable enough to survive everything this reality could throw at him; it even arrived ahead of schedule this time. Can it be that the love of her life is an accident, a flaw in this timeline caused by something that never should have happened? And if it is, is there a force at work that might try to change it back?
Every part of her rejects the idea. Fate might separate them, they might be taken from one another; they accept those risks as part of the life they've chosen as Starfleet officers. But not the end of their love for each other.
What were Spock and Nyota's lives like, before the Narada came back through the black hole and changed the future? She thought she didn't want to know, but now it's all she can think about. Who cared for the other Spock in his reality the way she cares for his younger self in this one? If not Nyota, who loved him? Who shared the burden of his emotions with him, and gave him peace and comfort in times of difficulty?
The idea that the other Spock didn't need those things never crosses her mind. She knows too well the acuteness of his feelings, how little to trust the calm face that a Vulcan presents to the world. Her heart aches at the idea that the other Spock might have endured the struggles of his life alone.
And now he's really alone--taken from his proper place in time, from everyone he knows, and who does he have here? Nyota knows, with perfect certainty, that he's suffering deeply from the loss of his planet and his people. Age and experience may give him greater resolve in the face of tragedy, but he's still Spock. She knows what he must be feeling.
When Spock returns, he finds her still awake. Nyota pours out her story to him in a torrent of anguished words--what happened, how she felt, everything she's been thinking as she's laid here waiting for him to return. By the time she gets to the part about the other Spock suffering alone in this timeline, she's in tears.
Spock lies beside her as she talks, facing her, and looks at her with eyes full of concern. When she finally gets to the end of her story, he reaches out and touches her hair, gently sweeping the fallen waves back from her shoulder, and letting his hand rest there. "Nyota," he says in his quiet voice, "we know that even a small change to the past leads to countless additional changes. You must not attach too much importance to one difference, no matter how significant it seems to you. Our lives are still always the product of our own choices. Our power to choose for ourselves is not altered by the fact that the time continuum is disrupted."
She sniffles, wiping away the last of her tears. The warmth of his touch is calming to her. "I've just--I've always felt I was destined to fall in love with you. I thought that fate brought us together." Saying it out loud, she feels a little embarrassed. It sounds so illogical.
His lips curl into his familiar not-smile. "I have felt the same. But I know that, in fact, we chose each other. The altered circumstances of this reality may have resulted in our meeting in a different way than Spock and Nyota did in another time, but the difference would be meaningless if we did not choose to act as we have done. And if you do not accept that, consider that it was I, my future self, whose actions set in motion the chain of events that resulted in the alteration to the time continuum. Perhaps that is part of my destiny, that I should have this opportunity to choose again, differently than I did before."
"Do you really believe that?"
"I believe that, if the time continuum was disrupted a thousand times and our lives relived, we would never experience the same thing twice. I do not know why my future self and his Nyota did not have the intimacy that we do, but it does not follow that, because our paths are different, one or the other must be wrong."
"What about Jim Kirk becoming captain? That was something wrong in our reality, and the other Spock fixed it. What if he decides this is something that needs fixing? Maybe there's something else in the future that's supposed to happen, and won't if we're together."
"Nyota. His actions in the matter of Kirk and myself, while I know they struck you as cruel, were necessary. The survival of the Earth was at stake. And Kirk did not act under compulsion. He still had the power to choose whether to follow my future self's advice." He frowns thoughtfully. "Such intervention in the course of events is not something my future self undertook lightly. Even if he knows of some challenge to come, he will not presume to know under what circumstances we will be best equipped to face it. Our own choices must be allowed to determine that."
He draws her to him and she comes readily, snuggling under his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. He feels reassuringly solid, his heartbeat strong against her chest. She sighs.
His voice as he continues is soft. "I understand that recent events have made you fear additional losses. I am not immune to this fear. I cannot forget how easily you might have been among those lost on the USS Farragut."
They are both silent, remembering the awful moment when the Enterprise emerged from warp into that hellish field of tumbling debris, the shattered remains of what had been starships. They still don't know everyone who died; survivors continue to be found in odd places, picked up by passing ships or beamed at the last second to whatever coordinates the transporter had ready. Nyota holds on to a tiny hope for Gaila, but she knows how tiny it is. The Kelvin lasted twelve minutes against the Narada. The Farragut, less than three.
"Nyota," he says finally, "if you wish to know if fate takes a hand in our lives, consider that moment. You refused my assignment to the Farragut. Your belief that you were meant to be on the Enterprise, and your willingness to argue for your belief, saved you. And Nyota, it saved me also. If it had been my doing--if I had been the means by which you went to your death--"
He can't finish the sentence, but he doesn't have to. They lie together in the quiet for what feels like a long time. Spock combs his fingers through her hair, soothing her, lulling her almost to sleep, but she remembers there was something she meant to ask him.
"You were with Jim tonight. Did you give him your answer about the First Officer position?"
She feels him smile. "Not yet. He mentioned it again, but he did not press me for an answer. He seems to enjoy the practice of asking and not receiving a definite reply. I do not mind it myself; it is an interesting study in the human phenomenon of suspense. He has asked no one else, nor do I think he will; but I am nearly convinced he will launch the Enterprise with no First Officer before he will admit to more than a casual interest in my acceptance."
"So, you two are playing a little game." It's odd, but so is the idea of Jim and Spock becoming friends, and she has it on good authority that it's possible.
"If you like. Perhaps I am learning to be more spontaneous."
She shifts her position so she can look at him directly. "You're going to take it, though. You haven't changed your mind."
"I have not. Nyota, I would not be parted from you. Not for--"
"Not for anything less than the whole universe," she murmurs, filling in his pause. The words are like an echo from another life.
"Not even for that. Not for anything. But it is interesting that you should choose those words. It is what my mother said to me when I left Vulcan to join Starfleet."
Nyota smiles. "She was quoting an old friend. It's from Anouk Ashmai: Her Journey Begins."
"Yes, so I later found."
She raises an eyebrow. "Really. Do I dare ask how?"
"It is not too surprising. I found myself curious about the books, after you mentioned you had read them. I did not admit it to myself at the time, but I believe I thought that by reading them I might gain a better understanding of what human females find appealing in a potential mate."
That gets a little laugh from her. "And what did you learn?"
He smiles. "Eloquent use of Standard and an ability to look distinguished in a Starfleet uniform seemed to be the primary qualifications."
"You did look very distinguished tonight. But I prefer eloquent use of Vulcan."
"That is my preference, also," he says, in his most perfect, classical Vulcan. He kisses her, his hands threading in her hair, his body strong and comforting against hers. She hears herself make a little sound, feels herself rousing despite her tiredness, but he knows she's been up all night. "My Nyota, beloved," he says, the Vulcan consonants soft against her ear, "you are tired, and you must sleep. I promise I will be very eloquent for you later."
She allows him to pull her into his arms, her eyelids already getting heavy. "Thank you. I will hold you to that promise." Her Vulcan is a little indistinct, her voice fading. She hears him tell the computer to dim the windows, filtering out the predawn light, and she feels his warm arms around her. The room goes dark, and finally, she sleeps.
The next day is a frenzy of activity. With the Enterprise nearly ready for launch, there's little time for anything not related to the mission. Nyota and Spock spend most of their time in the lab, preparing their research materials for upload to the ship's data banks. Finally they have to stop to eat, and it's during that break in their work that Nyota sees the other Spock again.
She spots him the Academy's vast entry hall, standing with a knot of Vulcan elders some distance from where she and Spock have paused to confer with a group of new science officers. Again Nyota finds herself observing him, admiring the ease with which he speaks, the way the other elders seem to defer to him. Once, she senses him watching her--watching them together--and once she's sure she catches a meaning look pass between Spock and his older self.
When the time comes for the Vulcan delegation to leave for the colony world, Nyota seeks out the other Spock once more to say goodbye. It's a brief leave-taking, with promises exchanged on both sides to stay in touch. He offers to send her copies of some ancient Vulcan texts he's cataloging, and asks that she share her admirable linguistic skills by commenting on their likely origin and development. Nyota knows he's far more expert in this area than she is, but it doesn't matter; she recognizes in his request the same respect for her opinion, the same teacher's instinct to encourage a promising student, that have always characterized his younger self.
Once again she is struck by how much he is like her Spock--and why should it surprise her? But it still does, seeing her lover's expressions on this older face, and hearing his familiar patterns of speech in a voice made different by time.
As they make their final, ceremonial gestures of parting, he surprises her in another way. Once more he offers his hand according to the human custom, and she takes it gratefully. "Until we meet again, Lieutenant Uhura," he says. For an instant, she feels his mind brush gently against hers: not seeking or revealing, just present and reassuring. Then it's gone, leaving her blinking back sudden tears.
Nyota watches the shuttles leave, waving until the last of them disappear into the stratosphere. Then she turns back to the bustle of the transport hangar.
The Enterprise is waiting. It's almost time to go.
****
Nyota Uhura knows more languages than anyone needs--anyone, that is, who isn't living on a starship, whose life doesn't revolve around hurtling through space. She can speak of diplomacy and science, technology and medicine, agriculture and linguistics and strategy and war, and she has eighteen languages and twenty-three dialects to do it in.
For love, she has only two. It's more than enough.
"Join with me, beloved one, or I will die for wanting you." Her lips silently form the words in Vulcan, sending them out into the darkness of Spock's quarters. A delicious shiver runs through her at the memory of the first time he said these words to her--his voice so hushed, so restrained, even as his body burned and trembled against hers. How when their minds met it was as though something burst inside her, something dark and beautiful as the heart of an exploding star.
Spock's hand moves in hers and she turns to find him watching her. "Your Vulcan is impeccable as always, Nyota," he says softly, in perfect Kiswahili. He laces their fingers together and through the tiny link she senses he is sharing her memory.
"I have been practicing," she says, again in Vulcan. "I find a great deal of time for thinking on this starship."
He frowns a little at that. She sees his eyes flicker to the timescreen: 0344 hours. "Nyota, I believe you have been awake for some time. You will not maintain your health if you do not receive sufficient rest."
She reaches out to trace the shape of his ear with her fingertips, enjoying the way her touch distracts him, momentarily diverts him from his point. "I'm sorry," she says, stroking her thumb gently over his cheekbone, his brow. "I don't mean to worry you. There's just a lot going on, and my thoughts won't be quiet."
He is silent for a moment, closing his eyes as her fingers find the delicate bow of his upper lip and pause there, as if waiting to interpret a message. Then he opens his eyes, and when he speaks his voice is low and even. "Perhaps I might be of assistance," he says, "in providing you with something else to think about."
"God, yes, plea--"
Her words are lost as his mouth finds hers, strong and insistent and tender all at once, like him--like both of them. She kisses him back, delighting in the sound he makes when she wraps her leg around his and pulls him toward her. Her fingers tug at fasteners, push layers of fabric away; then there is just him, his skin naked and so hot against hers. She feels him draw a steadying breath--an effort at self-control that never fails to move her, as pure as any declaration of love. Then the break, the shuddering exhalation as he pushes into her so urgent and needy and there. His hands find hers--she feels the rush of something opening between them--and for a moment it's as though all sound has disappeared. There is only this: no worlds, no ship, no language, only this instant spinning outward like thread from a skein of time. I'm yours, she says to him inside her mind. I'm yours like the stars, like your destiny.
She feels rather than sees him smile. And I will die for wanting you, he answers. She opens her eyes then, touches his cheek so he lifts his head and looks at her. For a long moment she studies his face, reading everything that is written there--how much longing and sorrow, intelligence and love, desire and awe. He holds himself so still, waiting for her; and he makes it look easy but she can feel his blood raging around her, inside her. And it's louder than words, louder than the universe.
"Prove it," she whispers in perfect Vulcan. And time starts again, and he does.