[Insatiable Verse - Trapped]

[nyota_uhura24]

[ooc note to tbg folk: Please ignore, this is a separate verse! In case you're wondering, this is the verse in which Uhura and Kirk have lots of sex and pretend that's all it is. Until things get awkward

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[nyota_uhura24]

She's tries to keep pushing air in an out of her lungs, but it's hard to breathe through her panic. The world around her flickers in and out of focus - sometimes she's here, and sometimes she's back in that room. It all threatens to blend together into nothing but suffocation, and the only thing she can hold onto is those unbelievably blue eyes. She can't quite believe that he's there, but she clings to the hope that she's not alone, because if she's alone, then she's always been alone. Always been here. Always been trapped.

He's soothing her, the cadence of his voice rolling over her as she tries desperately to believe that she didn't dream him up to combat the terror of being trapped by herself. The part of her that believes still remembers that she doesn't want him to see this, that she only wants him to see her as fearless and strong, but it doesn't really matter when he's the only thing keeping her in the present.

Even though it's hard to think too clearly about it, later she will be amazed that he doesn't press her for explanations, just calmly soothes her and coaxes her into his lap. All she really knows now is that she's scared, but he's holding her in warm arms and placing her hand against his chest. She curls into him, seeking warmth. She wants to bury her face against him, but she has to keep looking into his eyes. Through her own incontrollable shaking she feels his heartbeat. It's steady, calm, filled with his strenth. She's always associated him with the sky, but now he is the earth, keeping her grounded. Or perhaps he is simply strong and gentle enough to hold her and keep her from shattering into pieces.

She clings to him, to the only strength she knows she can rely on. She isn't alone. At his instructions she manages a small nod and hopes he can see that she understands. Her hand fists in his shirt. He gave her an order, and she's going to obey it. She has a duty to do. She tries to fight back the room with his arms around her, his voice soothing her, his steady heartbeat tying her to the ground. She tries to shut out the rest of the universe until there is nothing but him.

[owns_the_chair]

Her small nod of understanding is a relief, and he keeps her nestled close against him. It's painful for him to see her weave in and out of reality and wherever this phobia originates from. With the hand not covering hers on his chest, he rubs soothing circles on her back, and keeps his eyes on hers.

"It's gonna be just fine, Nyota," he says calmingly, hoping that the use of her first name will have a positive effect. It seems to be linked to a lot of good memories for her, and he kinda understands her reluctance to hear it from him now. "Don't go where I can't follow okay? Just stay right here with me. Where ever it is, it's not here, not where you are right now."

He's not sure what more to do, other than just keep holding her and talking to her, and hope it has an effect eventually.

"You have nightmares about it, don't you?" It's a safe assumption, even if he doesn't know what it is. "What you need to do, what I always do, is look for the details. It's the little things that make up reality. Small imperfections, like that scruff mark over there. Like the exact curve of your lips. Dreams tend to gloss these things over, you see. If you look for the details, you'll either wake up, or know what's real and what isn't. Think about it, have you ever had a dream, or a daydream, where you could recreate the exact sound and rate of another person's breathing? Sure, you can do a pretty good job of thinking up how a person's chest moves up and down, but then you forget the sound, or forget to add the rhythm of the heartbeat under your hand too. Details like that are what you need to focus on, okay? They'll tell you that you're right here, in a turbolift with me. Not where you think you are."

[nyota_uhura24]

It's gonna be just fine, Nyota. Realization flashes through her eyes at the use of her first name. She's still not really used to hearing it away from home, and the only people she wants using it, the only people she ever gives permission to use it, are those people she considers family, whether by blood or otherwise. She takes a deep, albeit shaky breath when she hears it from him. Jim, she thinks but does not say.

He's telling her to stay with him and not let her mind wander off into the past that's threatening to overpower her. She nods again, a bit more decisively this time, and keeps her eyes on those brilliant blue windows to the sky. He's holding her, safe on the ground with a view to the sky. Nothing terrible can happen while she's there - she's certain of it. The turbolift is coming into sharper focus, but the sterile white walls lurk beyond, casting shadows across her vision.

Her eyes widen when he asks if she has nightmares. Sometimes the dreams creep up on her when she's not expecting them. Other times she can feel them hanging about the edges of her consciousness, and on those nights she can't go to sleep in an empty room. She's too afraid she'll wake up only to realize she never left the white-walled room in Africa. Her memories can't go any further, because she's too focused on his voice. And even through the haze of her panic she knows that he's speaking from experience, that he's had to remind himself of reality the same way. Empathy awakens in her heart, but she can't express it now. Even if she could, she could never press him for explanations after this.

Her eyes flicker quickly to the scruff mark on the floor, then to their joined hands against his chest. Through her hand she listens to his heartbeat. He's right: the sensations are too vivid, once she looks, to be imagined. She would never have dreamed the blue of his eyes, and she doesn't think she needs anything else to prove to herself that she's here. The rest of the world is still a little hazy, but she knows he's there. He's real. She manages a few deep breaths.

But... “It's too small,” she whispers. “We can't get out.”

[owns_the_chair]

He relaxes a bit when he feels her start to breathe again. For a moment there, he'd been worried he'd have to talk her out of clawing the walls in a panicked frenzy, injuring herself in the process. And he'd have to physically restrain her, and that's not something he ever wants to have to do. And not only because he has a pretty good idea of the kind of damage she's capable of inflicting on someone trying to hold her down.

But the fog slowly clears from her eyes and he sees realization settle in its place. And if he brushes his knuckles gently over her cheek in a tender caress, well, it'll just be one more thing that'll never leave this lift when they get out. "Welcome back," he smiles softly and gives the hand on his chest a little squeeze.

Her whisper is almost inaudible and he shakes his head a little, pressing her hand a little more firmly to his chest. "Shh-shh-shhh... It's not too small. See? I can stretch my legs out all the way, and they're even longer than yours." He demonstrates this, letting her see for herself, then bends them again to envelop her in his embrace. "And of course we can get out. Do you really think I'd let this be the end of James T. Kirk? Death by turbolift? That's sooo not happening." Trying to lighten the mood, he laughs quietly at the idea, and strokes the back of her hand with his thumb. Gentle little touches that'll keep her mind from wandering off again.

"Besides, I can't die here," he continues with a little shrug. "I've always know I'll die alone. You're here with me, so dying is impossible." With a little shift, he settles her between his legs, still facing him, and wraps his legs around her too, using his body like a protective cocoon. "And now, you've got me all around you, so you can't die either. The worst thing that can happen here is either of us having to go to the bathroom, or having to get Scotty to beam us out. I'm hoping it doesn't come to that, because we don't need to get that intimate with each other, and beaming from one place of the ship to another is a bitch that'll cost me my own weight in single malt whisky to get Scotty to do. So you see, everything will be just fine. I've got you here to keep me safe, don't I?"

[nyota_uhura24]

She keeps all her attention focused on him so that she can't see the tiny space or the memories hovering beyond it. He caresses her cheek and squeezes her hand, and the touches help remind her that they're on the Enterprise, and that he's here. She's still trembling slightly, but she isn't shaking anywhere near as much as before. He welcomes her back from her panic and her memories, but she's barely hanging on and she doesn't know if it will last. For the moment, however, she can breathe.

He presses her hand to his chest, and she melts against that steady heartbeat, mind momentarily full of beating drums. She's a little surprised when he demonstrates that he can stretch his legs out - she'd have sworn that there wasn't room for him to do that. The familiar, ridiculous jokes loosen a little of the tightness in her chest, and she manages a half-smile even if it fades almost instantly. He's doing everything he can to make her feel better, and she's flooded with gratitude.

Her heart clenches a little when he says he's always known he'll die alone. No one should die alone... And then he's shifting his legs so that she's all wrapped up in him. It's impossible not to feel safe there. Her eyes flick around the turbolift, and sure enough the walls aren't moving any closer. The comments about Scotty bring a faint smile back to her lips, and the last line surprises a small sound out of her that might almost pass for a laugh. “I'll keep you safe,” she answers, trying to joke back even though it comes out small and uncertain. Despite what he said about Scotty, she asks, “Why can't we beam out?” It sounds pleading and desperate, and she's never hated the sound of her own voice so much. "Jim, I'm okay right now," she explains, even if it isn't really true, "But I don't know if I can..." She trails off, still having difficulty vocalizing the fact that she fell apart and that it might happen again.

[owns_the_chair]

Whatever he just did seems to have worked, at least for the moment, because she's tentatively smiling and joking back again. Good. He'll just keep doing this then, keep himself wrapped around her, keep touching her and keep talking to her.

"Well, we can but the beaming would actually be more dangerous than being stuck in here. We might get stuck in a Jeffrie's tube and I've heard bad things about that from reliable sources. Mainly Scotty, who might just plain refuse to do it. Hence the whisky I'd owe him to persuade him."

Her voice sounds so small and scared, so unlike he ever thought it would, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. He has an idea about what the first thing on her mind is, now that it isn't filled with mortal fear. And he's quick to reassure her. "It's okay. I'm forgetting it as we speak, and if you start shaking again, I'll still be here and I'll forget about that too, as soon as we exit this lift. Don't worry about it."

Keeping his lips pressed to her forehead, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He's not keen on giving out pieces of what's inside him like this, but if it'll keep her calm and help her through this, it's a sacrifice he's more then willing to make. "It's no big deal, really. Bones is aviophobic, you're claustrophobic, and I'm commitment-phobic. We're a veritable cornucopia of phobias, really. But Bones has his under control now, we got over that one at the Academy. At least you don't throw up on me, so you're way ahead of him there."

He slowly moves to rest his forehead against hers, leaning in to press a tender, chaste kiss to her lips, then looks her in the eyes, and only now does he get nervous. He just hopes she doesn't notice how the thought makes his hands slightly clammy. "We'll work on our phobias together, eh? Just Jim and Nyota. Together."

[nyota_uhura24]

She's slowly relaxing in his arms, but his next words make her tense ever so slightly. She wants to protest, but she knows he's right. It would be dangerous to beam out, and they can't bend rules like that just because she's irrationally afraid.

The kiss to her forehead makes her feel like a small child. Just for the moment this image doesn't bother her too terribly much, but later it will. Before she can pursue this line of thought, however, he's reassuring her that he'll forget all about this. She relaxes further, giving him a small but openly grateful smile. He isn't going to hold her fears against her... Which she really should have known all along. She should have believed in him enough to know that he wasn't going to stop caring about her just because she revealed her weaknesses. “Thank you,” she says, voice still soft.

She has mixed feelings towards the word claustrophobic. On one level it makes her feel that there's something truly wrong with her, and on another it's a relief that this is something real, not just her own insanity. It surprises her when he talks about his phobia and McCoy's; she never expected him to claim his fear aloud. "Does the threat of commitment make you shake uncontrollably and lose touch with reality?" she asks gently, and this time the humor shines through just a little in her voice.

Her eyelids flutter closed as he leans his forehead to hers, because now she's completely certain that he's there with her. He isn't going to disappear. For some reason the chaste kiss feels simple and right, uncomplicated by anything that came before. We'll work on our phobias together, eh? Just Jim and Nyota. Together. Her heartbeat falters with something that has nothing to do with the smallness of the room, and everything to do with the way he says their names and his promise that they'll work on getting over their fears together. Something in her chest flutters and gives way, and she tries to lean further into him even though they're already wrapped around each other. She doesn't want any distance between them.

Her mind can't help wonder what it would mean for him to move past his commitment phobia, but she can't overthink that right now. All that matters now is that they're finally Jim and Nyota again, exactly as they're meant to be. Whatever it is that's between them, she wants to treasure it... And somehow, if he's there, she might just be able to face her fear, face the memories she's tried to just force into the back of her mind. "Okay," she says, and finally she sounds a little more like herself. "Together. Jim and Nyota." Later she will marvel that she manages a real smile. "Fear doesn't stand a chance."

[owns_the_chair]

A little more of the Nyota he knows is beginning to shine through. Not the Uhura he's had on his bridge for the last few years, or the one whose proverbial pigtails he spent a good deal of time at the Acadamy pulling. But his Nyota. The one who's all soft smiles, gentle teasing and fiery passion. The one who makes his blood flow faster and more hotly, the one who's haunted his mind since that first night they had. The Nyota he thinks he might just be falling for a little bit. And that thought is scarier than all the turbolifts in the universe combined.

So when she asks him what his phobia does to him, he doesn't hesitate to answer, and for once his answer is completely honest and without pretense. "Sometimes, yeah. Maybe not so much with the shaking, I've never let it get that far, but I have lost my grip on reality a few times. Most notably when I stormed out of a woman's room when she started talking about kids. While I was still in her. I don't think I've ever gone from close to orgasm to abject terror quite that fast. I think I still have a small scar in the back of my head from where her bedside lamp hit." He laughs quietly at the memory and absently scratches the spot where it hit. "The paramedics laughed their asses off when I came to in the ambulance. Said they'd found me on the floor, pants around my ankles, condom still on and bleeding like crazy from the head. And with a very irate blonde in a robe still yelling at me."

His chest rumbles with subdued mirth, partly from his story, partly from hearing her sound more like herself again. It's an immense relief, and he can't help kissing her once again. "Fear better run for its life when we gang up against it. Fear, or broody blondes. And we're doing great so far, we've already gotten through the first hour."

[nyota_uhura24]

She's a little surprised when he instantly starts talking about his fear, and the story actually has her laughing softly. “Well done,” she teases, and the hand not on his chest moves to caress the back of her head. “But the back of your head feels fine to me.” Even though he's telling a funny story, the openness and honestly touches her. The expression on his face, amused as it is, has returned to the openness she once glimpsed. Except this has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with them. It shouldn't hurt to think about the fact that he can't commit, but it does. He's going to work on it... With me. It's hard to ignore the direction her thoughts are taking, but she doesn't want to betray his trust again by asking for more than he's willing to give. She doesn't want to erase that warm expression on his face.

So she'll just focus on how wonderful it is for him to hold her so tenderly, and marvel over the fact that he's driven away the demons and made her smile even while trapped in an enclosed space. He kisses her again, and she melts a little, returning the kiss gently. She isn't going to ask what this means, because right now, all that matters is that they're supporting each other. “An hour,” she muses softly, not quite able to believe that she's made it this long without completely losing it. Well, perhaps she lost it a little, but she wasn't clawing at the doors or screaming or crying, and that's an accomplishment... “Well, I certainly wouldn't want to be our enemy.”

He's told her a story, and she owes him the same. They can't work on this if she's not going to talk about it... But she never talks about, and she's never thought of it as something she could erase, as something she could change. But Jim is here. She looks at him searchingly for a moment, takes a deep breath, and takes a leap she could only take with him. “I can handle it if I have a duty to do,” she begins. “Or if I feel like I can get out, but if I feel trapped, the walls start closing in around me. I'm sure I'll either suffocate or be crushed.” Her voice is steadier than she expects, though she certainly sounds a little off. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to continue. “But that's not even as bad as... remembering. I start thinking that I'm... somewhere I don't want to be.” That's all she manages before her breathing rate is increasing, and she falters, afraid she'll start hyperventilating if she continues.

[owns_the_chair]

His amusement turns into avid listening as she speaks, and he doesn't need to pick up on the slight strain in her voice to know how uncomfortable talking about this is making her. He didn't tell her that story to get one in return, more to keep her calm and make her more comfortable with their situation. The fact that she chooses to open up to him like this is something he appreciates the implications of. It's a responsibility he feels keenly, and he's not about to let her down.

"Mmm," he hums and nods in recognition of her description of what she's going through. But then her breathing picks up again and he goes back to holding her hand to his chest and rubbing soothing patterns on her back. "Hey, stay with me, okay? Deep breaths, babe, just take deep breaths. Just follow my lead." He catches her eyes with his once more and holds her gaze as he takes a couple of slow, deep breaths until her breathing falls into his rhythm. "That's it, honey, just like that."

He waits until she's more calm again, muttering soothing nonsense to her until she gets there, before he reacts to her story. "You need some memories to replace those bad ones. That, and a good deal of stubbornness, and I know you've got plenty of that. You can't let yourself remember more than you can deal with. So whenever your mind drifts to that place, remember something else. Something that makes you feel good. It can be anything at all. Like... I remember the smell of blossoming cornflowers in Iowa. Or how it felt to beat the Maru. The first time I sat in my Captain's chair, or the first time you gave me a real smile that wasn't sarcastic or teasing. I remember the day they gave me the Enterprise. And lately, I've been remembering your touch and how beautiful you were when you came undone beneath me. The way that first kiss in the cab was just perfect, and how every other kiss since has been perfect. And I recall your voice, whispering to me in Swahili. And then, when I've remembered all this, I forget what freaked me out in the first place."

[nyota_uhura24]

He listens as she speaks, with the attentiveness and understanding she's coming to expect from him. She can always count on him to listen to her every word as if there is nothing more important in all the universe. Of course he notices her growing panic, and he's back to soothing her and holding her in the present with his brilliant blue eyes and his gentle voice. She follows his instructions without question, taking deep breaths and trying to hold on to him so she won't be swept away by memories. When he calls her honey a wave of warmth drive the fear further back.

His advice intrigues her, and she listens curiously, the empathy returning as he describes the way he uses happy memories to combat the sad ones. When he starts to list his memories, it does something strange to her heart. He's sharing so much, and she feels honored to be hearing it. Each memory inspires a different emotion. There's fondness when he talks of Iowa, bemusement and a little admiration when he talks about the Kobayashi Maru, exhilaration when he talks about his Captainship... And then he's talking about her, and her breath catches in her throat. She's never felt as treasured as she does right now, with him telling her he uses memories of her to fight away the darkness. He remembers her smile, her kiss, her voice. He calls it perfect.

She kisses him again, slow and deep, because she can't help it. “Kamili,” she whispers. “It means perfect, Jim. And that's what my memories of you are.” She wouldn't have thought that she was supposed to talk about this, but she feels that she's allowed to be honest right now. “You touch me like I'm something precious, you speak to me in the language I've always cherished most, so I'm going to think of you when the dark memories threaten to overwhelm me. And I'll think of my mother singing me to sleep, of my father's laugh filling up the room, of my brother playing the guitar while my sisters and I make sandcastles. I'll think of getting into Starfleet and learning to read Ancient Vulcan ballads, and I'll think of being assigned to the Enterprise permanently with you as my Captain. And I'll think of how you make me feel that there are no limits and no rules, only what we decide for ourselves." And then she kisses him again, because he's right: when they kiss, it's kamili.

[owns_the_chair]

Suddenly, he's glad he never thought to look up the meaning of kamili, because hearing it from her lips is just that. Perfect. Images of just how and when she used the word flood his mind. Brilliantly clear memories of how she whispered the word to him, how she wrote it out, over and over again, with feathery brushes of her fingers on his chest, but it all feels like a strange dream. It isn't real, it can't be, because he's not meant to have this, isn't built for these things. He is the rock others shatter upon, standing silent and grim as life hurls itself furiously at him like waves onto the crag, the roaring of the surf in a storm his battle cry. He is the storm itself, sweeping through lives with magnificent and terrible power, tearing down barriers as he sees fit, and leaving only a watery memory behind, taking nothing for himself as he goes.

He doesn't really know how to respond to her words, to the knowledge that he can be for her what she is to him, that he can be the bright beacon she looks to when the world darkens around her. That the memories of him can chase away the darkness and leave her happy again. He could kick himself for sharing this with her, for telling her how he copes, but he never will. It was information he gave willingly, and if it leaves him feeling hollow, like he's given up some vital part of himself, then he'll never let her know. He doesn't know how to be that for anyone, but he can pretend for her.

So he stays silent while she speaks, returns the kiss and lets that ground him a little along with the weight of his professed perfection resting heavily on his shoulders. "The funny thing is," he starts, moving his lips to her temple and his face out of her sight. "The only rules that exist are those we make for ourselves. Because they're the only ones that ever really hold any true meaning to us."

[nyota_uhura24]

It should strike her as odd that he can be the rock she clings to in moments of despair, but how can she think of him any other way when he's holding her in his arms and keeping her demons at bay? Her strength has always come first and foremost from the family she cherishes above everything, but right now it makes perfect sense to think of him as part of that family. Their interactions have always been turbulent, but when her own private storm hits, when she needs him most, he's completely steady. When she loses control of her breathing, he lends her the rhythm of his heart so that they can breathe together. It feels more intimate than anything they've done before. She knows she's placing a heavy weight on his shoulders by making him her strength, so she doesn't protest when she can no longer see his eyes. Instead she buries her face in his neck and just holds on to him.

She isn't used to replying on people like this, is far more used to others relying on her. Hold on to me, she wants to tell him, even if it makes no sense to think the words now. When your world is dark, hold on to me. You're all that's holding me together right now, but when we get out of here I'll be strong and steady again. The idea that he cherishes memories of her, uses them to cope with his fears, doesn't feel like a weight. It feels like a gift, and she holds that thought close to her heart to battle back the white-walled room.

Even though what she wants most right now is to get out of the turbolift, some small part of her is afraid that Jim and Nyota will be left behind, and they'll be Kirk and Uhura once again. She has no problem with him forgetting her fear, but she doesn't want this... connection... to slip through her fingers again. But trying to grasp it seems like a good way to lose it, so she just focuses on his breathing. "I've always believed that what we create is more beautiful than what we inherit," she answers softly. "But I never realized the extent of what one person can decide for themselves."

[owns_the_chair]

His hand moves up to remove the clip from her hair, and he leans back to look at her as he cards the fingers of his free hand through it, letting it fall around her shoulders. He's not exactly sure why he does it, maybe it was her mention of beauty, maybe it was just because he knows he's the only one who gets to see her with her hair down like this. Untamed and wild, like the part of her he's caught glimpses of when she lets go and forgets everything but his name.

"What we inherit isn't worth shit," he mutters, his eyes following the path of his fingers in her hair. "Beauty, true beauty, is in freedom. In creating our own destinies. No one can ever decide anything for you, can't ever force you to be something or someone you're not. That's what matters. What makes you able to trudge through all the shit life throws at you."

His lips quirk up in a wistful smile and he twirls a lock of her hair around his index finger, chuckling softly under his breath. "Let each man be judged by his deeds. I have paid my price to live with myself on the terms that I willed." It's a quote that's always resonated with him, words he's always found strength in, and he gives them to her, thinking she might be able to draw something from them as well.

"I don't know, it's all terribly philosophic, but... It's why we're out here, isn't it? To make sure every sentient being is able to make its own decisions. To carve its own path."

[nyota_uhura24]

She's a little surprised when he undoes her clip and her hair comes tumbling down around her shoulders. Her eyes find his again and she simply stares for a moment. With her hair down she feels a little more like the woman who doesn't follow any rules but those of her own heart. As he speaks, his fingers twirl her hair, and even though her hard edges are all soft now, she melts a little further at the touches.

She had never expected to hear Jim talk like this, but she's not at all surprised that he's thought about it, or that he makes literary references. She still has the urge to tease him about it, but why shouldn't he talk about freedom and beauty and self-determination? “Philosophy suits you,” she says gently.

Kipling's words resonate in her heart as well. "There may be no price too high for living life on your own terms,” she agrees softly. "But I think you're wrong about inheritance. We receive a lot of beauty from those who came before us, it'll just never match what we decide ourselves, because we have the opportunity to create ourselves. Larin es tuelia zon. It's something the Deltan philosopher Iluna wrote, basically translating to If you do not like the universe, build your own. And that is our mission, to make sure every being has that opportunity. That's why I study languages, because each time I learn a new one I feel like I'm learning a new way to see the universe, or discovering a new universe all together. I want to know every word in existence and use them to write my story, but by that point I'll have a language all my own.” There's an almost dreamy smile on her face as she continues, confiding more than she really means to. “When I was little, my father told me that I could be anything I wanted to be... and I believed him. I still do.”

[owns_the_chair]

It's odd to just talk with her like this. To have a conversation that isn't professional, that isn't filled with thinly veiled barbs and sly digs at each other, and one that isn't about getting her into his bed. To have a real conversation with her and just... talk about whatever pops into their heads. And it's nicer than he thought it would be. He's always known she's intelligent, but this adds a new layer to his understanding of her.

The way she talks about inheritance and her family... It's obvious how much she loves them, how much they've loved her while she was growing up. He's happy that she has that kind of background, that she's always had someone to back her up and see her through the bad times. Everyone should have that, he thinks.

"The way I see it, the best we can do is take our inheritance and improve on it. It's worthless until we give it meaning. And that meaning is what we make it out to be." Her passion for languages doesn't surprise him in the least, and he can't help smile. It's the way he feels about the Enterprise after all. "You'll have to teach me the language you end up with, I'd like to hear it."

It seems she's forgotten all about her claustrophobia, and he feels a bit of pride in being able to make her forget about something that affects her so deeply. Almost an hour and a half has passed by now, and she doesn't seem like she's noticed how much time has gone by. And a part of him doubts she'd notice if they were here longer than the estimated two hours. If she does, he'll just have to find a new way of distracting her.

"He was right. You can be anything you want to be. Sometimes, you just need to let go a little. I like it when you do, when you let out Nyota. She's a pretty great person."