Fic: Spock/Uhura: Present Circumstance (2/?)
Title: Present Circumstance
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None really.
Summary: In the wake of the destruction of Vulcan, Uhura and Spock must reassess their relationship.
Read Part 1 here.
“The society you’ve inherited lives in the shadow of incalculable devastation--but there is no reason you must face it alone.”
Alone.
Even hours later, the words of his older counterpart would not abandon his thoughts. Standing in the back of the crowded amphitheater, Spock observed the ceremony below with the outward appearance of cool composure. Though apparently impassive, he could hardly be counted as serene. Instead his eyes darted over the crowd, taking in the overwhelming sense of excitement and appreciation as the young James Tiberius Kirk relieved Christopher Pike as the Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise.
He did not clap or cheer as Kirk turned to face the crowd. Yet, he somehow approved. Whatever antagonism had passed between the two men had seemingly dissipated in the days after their mission. In passing, they now greeted one another with guarded respect. Although they could hardly be counted as friends, Spock sensed a certain degree of understanding. For that, he felt a foundling impression of gratitude.
Continuing to contemplate the proceedings, he found his attention focused on the back of one woman’s head, sharp ponytail bobbing as she clapped enthusiastically. His forehead creased imperceptibly. Spock hadn’t spoken to Nyota since their heated encounter that day during the storm. Even though the inclination to seek her out frequently arose, Spock could not summon the required strength or resolve. In addition, he was rational enough to deduce that his appearance wouldn’t necessarily go over as desired. He recalled the fiery spark in her eyes, something akin to the raw fury he felt on those rare occasions when he lost control. Spock wasn’t an expert on Terran expletives but based on their past exchange he felt as though it was safe to assume that Uhura would not at all be pleased by his presence. His fists clenched tightly as he regarded her, longing to reach out. He didn’t.
The was a sudden clamor and Spock was jerked abruptly from his musings. The pristine rows of students had begun to unwind and blur as the ceremony came to a close. A vast jumble of voices arose and Spock swiftly retreated into the shadows, exiting as quietly as he had entered. He was in no mood to mingle.
As it were, he did not see Uhura glance sharply over her shoulder, a small frown fixed in place as she eyed the corner Spock had just vacated. After a couple of seconds she redirected her attention forward, strangely disappointed.
***
Later that evening, Spock paced the stark expanse of his living quarters with great leonine strides. The dry heat that embraced his exposed flesh was a pleasant change from the dank environment outside and for a second he imagined that he was home, his pet sehlat just a whistle away. He shook his head ever so slightly, banishing these memories from his consciousness. Instead, more recent recollections began to surface. In his mind he heard his own voice. The other’s voice, he corrected, still a little unfamiliar with the concept.
“You are in a unique position,” the gravelly speaker intoned, politely reserved.
That would be a significant understatement, Spock reflected. He nodded briefly to himself as he turned smartly on his heel. The voice continued.
“You can be in two places at once.”
Another interesting observation, Spock mused. He turned once more, hesitating by the window. Outside the clouds churned ominously. As he eyed them, Nyota’s voice took center stage, biting and fierce.
“You’re equal parts human, you know. You said it yourself. Earth is the only home you have left.”
Again, a valid point he reasoned, finally stopping in his tracks. His first inclination was to sigh. Then the corners of his mouth pulled slightly. Even when overwhelmed by emotion, Nyota spoke the truth, or at least some semblance of it. This keen perception was part of what Spock found so... endearing. Perhaps he would never understand it, but Nyota had become a welcome deviation from the logic that dominated his existence.
Much like his mother, he admitted to himself. She too had needled him, pushing and prodding Spock even as she spoke soothing words of comfort. He paused, remembering the stories that Amanda Greyson had read to him as a small child. They had been tales full of nonsensical adventure, quite typically a violent departure from any plausible sense of rationality. Discomforted, he had pointed out this unnecessary abandonment on more then one occasion, oftentimes failing to understand the point. Yet, he secretly enjoyed it, smiling vaguely that the thought of grinning cats and tea parties even as he drifted off to sleep.
He was human, after all, much more so then he let on. As such, his attraction to Nyota, though illogical, made an inkling of sense. All the meditation in the world could not mask this truth. And, unlike with his mother, he felt himself attracted to other aspects, aesthetic aspects. First, there were hers eyes. Their expressiveness alone was frequently an object of fascination. Then there was their color, the rich shade of tea and earth. Reflecting on this, he felt his body once again tense with some deep inner ache. Spock belonged in Starfleet just as Spock belonged with her.
He frowned.
Leaning up against the window frame, Spock gazed outside. Mist rolled over the grounds in undulating spirals, climbing the lamp posts with lazy insistence. Others might have found its determination poetic, embellishing its traits with fanciful personification. It was certainly animalistic enough, consuming the lawn in a desolate shroud of gray. Yet try as he may, Spock failed to grasp the proper lexicon, registering only its scientific definition. That more then anything else, reassured him.
Perhaps he could set things right.
Spock straightened in a flash, once again all raw efficiency as he examined the clock on the mantle. The Vulcan refugees had already departed. He felt only a mild twinge of regret watching them go, somehow reassured that he was in a way doing his duty. The U.S.S. Enterprise would depart in the morning at 0800 hours. He calculated quickly in his head. That gave him ten hours and fourty-two minutes to prepare. He could be ready in a mere eighty-seven minutes.
Once again striding across the room, Spock almost smiled. Kirk had yet to pick a first officer and Spock felt as though that position was somehow reserved for him alone.
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None really.
Summary: In the wake of the destruction of Vulcan, Uhura and Spock must reassess their relationship.
Read Part 1 here.
“The society you’ve inherited lives in the shadow of incalculable devastation--but there is no reason you must face it alone.”
Alone.
Even hours later, the words of his older counterpart would not abandon his thoughts. Standing in the back of the crowded amphitheater, Spock observed the ceremony below with the outward appearance of cool composure. Though apparently impassive, he could hardly be counted as serene. Instead his eyes darted over the crowd, taking in the overwhelming sense of excitement and appreciation as the young James Tiberius Kirk relieved Christopher Pike as the Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise.
He did not clap or cheer as Kirk turned to face the crowd. Yet, he somehow approved. Whatever antagonism had passed between the two men had seemingly dissipated in the days after their mission. In passing, they now greeted one another with guarded respect. Although they could hardly be counted as friends, Spock sensed a certain degree of understanding. For that, he felt a foundling impression of gratitude.
Continuing to contemplate the proceedings, he found his attention focused on the back of one woman’s head, sharp ponytail bobbing as she clapped enthusiastically. His forehead creased imperceptibly. Spock hadn’t spoken to Nyota since their heated encounter that day during the storm. Even though the inclination to seek her out frequently arose, Spock could not summon the required strength or resolve. In addition, he was rational enough to deduce that his appearance wouldn’t necessarily go over as desired. He recalled the fiery spark in her eyes, something akin to the raw fury he felt on those rare occasions when he lost control. Spock wasn’t an expert on Terran expletives but based on their past exchange he felt as though it was safe to assume that Uhura would not at all be pleased by his presence. His fists clenched tightly as he regarded her, longing to reach out. He didn’t.
The was a sudden clamor and Spock was jerked abruptly from his musings. The pristine rows of students had begun to unwind and blur as the ceremony came to a close. A vast jumble of voices arose and Spock swiftly retreated into the shadows, exiting as quietly as he had entered. He was in no mood to mingle.
As it were, he did not see Uhura glance sharply over her shoulder, a small frown fixed in place as she eyed the corner Spock had just vacated. After a couple of seconds she redirected her attention forward, strangely disappointed.
***
Later that evening, Spock paced the stark expanse of his living quarters with great leonine strides. The dry heat that embraced his exposed flesh was a pleasant change from the dank environment outside and for a second he imagined that he was home, his pet sehlat just a whistle away. He shook his head ever so slightly, banishing these memories from his consciousness. Instead, more recent recollections began to surface. In his mind he heard his own voice. The other’s voice, he corrected, still a little unfamiliar with the concept.
“You are in a unique position,” the gravelly speaker intoned, politely reserved.
That would be a significant understatement, Spock reflected. He nodded briefly to himself as he turned smartly on his heel. The voice continued.
“You can be in two places at once.”
Another interesting observation, Spock mused. He turned once more, hesitating by the window. Outside the clouds churned ominously. As he eyed them, Nyota’s voice took center stage, biting and fierce.
“You’re equal parts human, you know. You said it yourself. Earth is the only home you have left.”
Again, a valid point he reasoned, finally stopping in his tracks. His first inclination was to sigh. Then the corners of his mouth pulled slightly. Even when overwhelmed by emotion, Nyota spoke the truth, or at least some semblance of it. This keen perception was part of what Spock found so... endearing. Perhaps he would never understand it, but Nyota had become a welcome deviation from the logic that dominated his existence.
Much like his mother, he admitted to himself. She too had needled him, pushing and prodding Spock even as she spoke soothing words of comfort. He paused, remembering the stories that Amanda Greyson had read to him as a small child. They had been tales full of nonsensical adventure, quite typically a violent departure from any plausible sense of rationality. Discomforted, he had pointed out this unnecessary abandonment on more then one occasion, oftentimes failing to understand the point. Yet, he secretly enjoyed it, smiling vaguely that the thought of grinning cats and tea parties even as he drifted off to sleep.
He was human, after all, much more so then he let on. As such, his attraction to Nyota, though illogical, made an inkling of sense. All the meditation in the world could not mask this truth. And, unlike with his mother, he felt himself attracted to other aspects, aesthetic aspects. First, there were hers eyes. Their expressiveness alone was frequently an object of fascination. Then there was their color, the rich shade of tea and earth. Reflecting on this, he felt his body once again tense with some deep inner ache. Spock belonged in Starfleet just as Spock belonged with her.
He frowned.
Leaning up against the window frame, Spock gazed outside. Mist rolled over the grounds in undulating spirals, climbing the lamp posts with lazy insistence. Others might have found its determination poetic, embellishing its traits with fanciful personification. It was certainly animalistic enough, consuming the lawn in a desolate shroud of gray. Yet try as he may, Spock failed to grasp the proper lexicon, registering only its scientific definition. That more then anything else, reassured him.
Perhaps he could set things right.
Spock straightened in a flash, once again all raw efficiency as he examined the clock on the mantle. The Vulcan refugees had already departed. He felt only a mild twinge of regret watching them go, somehow reassured that he was in a way doing his duty. The U.S.S. Enterprise would depart in the morning at 0800 hours. He calculated quickly in his head. That gave him ten hours and fourty-two minutes to prepare. He could be ready in a mere eighty-seven minutes.
Once again striding across the room, Spock almost smiled. Kirk had yet to pick a first officer and Spock felt as though that position was somehow reserved for him alone.