Title: 003. "Do You Know My Thoughts?"
Author: dorianslover
Rating: PG-13
Summery: Nyota has a single request of Spock.
Warnings: Mentions of sex?
Author's Notes: This sucked to write. I had so much trouble with it. I based a lot of this off of "Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country" and that includes what is in Spock's quarters. And for those of you who have seen the
mindmeld in that film, I wanted to stay as *far* away from that as I could; I wanted the complete opposite. This goes with my prompt table found
here.
This is the song that went a lot into the making of this fic. It's called
"Lie" by David Cook.
Uhura was still an aide at the Academy when her romantic involvement with her instructor shifted to include the physical in addition to the emotional. The fist time the couple sent the night together, Uhura had told her room mate that she was planning on spending the night in the Lab, getting ahead on lesson plans for the next several days. Whether Gaila knew the truth-or even cared-- she was not sure. If nothing else, the green girl was probably just happy to see that Uhura was “getting some,” as she put it.
Uhura hummed something softly in her throat as she turned in her semi-conscious state next to Spock. In response, Spock's soft hold on Uhura's lower shoulder tightened slightly, his fingers spraying out. He turned his head, burying his nose into the pillow of black hair next to him. The room was dark, save a single light that shown above the bed and a series of candles across the way. There was a peculiar smell that hung in the air-sweat, sex, and incense. It was unlike anything Uhura had ever encountered before. Next to the bed were two pairs of boots, a red cadet uniform, and a black officer's uniform. Uhura opened her eyes and propped her head up on Spock's shoulder, looking at the painting on the wall across the room. She studied it for a moment-she had seen it before but it took a tick before she could pinpoint where. It was an old Earth painting: “The Expulsion from Paradise.” She wondered what could possess him to keep it in his quarters. She twisted slightly so that she was now laying fully on her side and rested one arm across his chest, her fingertips running gently over his ribcage. For a few more moments, there was only the soft sound of breathing and the thunderous sound of heartbeats.
It was only sometime later when Uhura finally spoke that the near-perfect silence was broken. She turned her head upward, breaking Spock's trance-like breathing. His eyes opened once again and he looked down towards her as she propped her cheek up on the back of her hand. She knew that answer but she asked anyway. “Do you know my thoughts?”
Spock raised his eyebrow slowly and his head tilted slightly to one side; the movement reminded Uhura slightly of a confused puppy. “I do not understand the question,” he replied. Vulcans, of course, were telepaths but were touch telepaths that required the touching of particular points on the face to gain access into the mind. Therefore, it would simply be impossible for him to know her thoughts without the use of a meld.
She looked back down and stopped stroking his ribcage and took his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together delicately. Spock looked down and watched as she brought their joined hands back to her lips, gently kissing each of his fingers. “A meld,” he finally concluded. She looked back up but said nothing. “Do you understand the implications of what you have asked?” he questioned. Despite his serious tone, Spock gently stroked Uhura's soft skin with his thumb.
For Vulcans, a mind meld is a deeply personal and as deeply intimate as sex is for other races. They are generally not performed on members of others species, although it was not completely out of the question. Though, melds were not without their risk. Interspecies sex had its physical risks that it could reek on the bodies; Spock and Uhura had willingly taken on that risk. However, a mind meld required the touching of minds, rather than bodies. Physical wounds could be healed; mental wounds took much longer and were much harder to put on the mend. Spock wasn't entirely sure he was willing to take that risk.
“Spock,” Uhura murmured, looking up into chocolate eyes. “Was I not one of your top students?” Though he did not physically smile, she could see it in his eyes that he was smiling at his foolish comment that insinuated that there was something about communication that Uhura did not know.
“Indeed you were. My apologies, Nyota.” She stretched and gave him a soft kiss before sitting up, their fingers still entwined. His other hand slowly slid down her arm as he, in return, sat up as well, with his back against the backboard. There was another beat of silence as Spock studied Uhura's face, watching as veins and capillaries-unseen by humans-pulsated in her face: her chin, her cheek, her temple; Vessels by which he could gain access into her mind, simply by touching her. As she slowly released his hand, his already free hand was reaching for her face. His fingers found predetermined places, making contact with blood and nerves. His now free left hand cradled the back of her skull.
Uhura remained still and silent, her mouth slightly open as she breathed shallowly. Of course, she had read about mind melds. She knew a great amount about them: what they did, how they did it, what could go wrong, what could go right. But she had never actually been involved in one; most “outworlders” had not. The physical touch was more than it seemed: she felt more naked with his hand on her face than ever, despite sitting unclothed in his quarters. She closed her eyes as Spock spoke under his breath an ancient chant. As he did, Uhura felt every barrier break down inside of her. A flood of emotion unlike anything she had ever experienced before flooded over her. Memories that she had not thought of for years suddenly came to the forefront of her mind. And despite all of the things that were happening to her mind, she felt calm and peaceful; it felt as though Spock had a hand over her heart and soul, keeping them from any harm. When at last their minds touched, Uhura felt tears coming to her eyes; she had never felt something so passionate before. Not even a few moments before when their bodies had been united. She could feel his emotions; she knew he had them but like all Vulcans he suppressed them. She could feel, could see, moments alone with his mother, his father, his classmates, his students. Her. Moments alone in his office. Voices echoed, overlapped. There was panting, moaning. Visions of their lovemaking. Everything became jumbled. But she was not afraid.
The moment came and Spock removed his hand from her face. Nyota's eyes flew open and she stared at the bed, panting. She lifted her eyes, streams of tears streaking through sweat. “Forgive me. Emotional transference is a side effect of a meld, especially a meld with a non-Vulcan.” His voice was soft as his hand reached for her face again. He wiped away a tear. “Are you harmed?”
Uhura shook her head. “No,” she managed to breathe. She reached forward, cradling his face in her hands. She pressed a kiss to his lips then rested her forehead to his.
Silence again filled the room, saving slowing and deepening breaths and plateauing heartbeats, as Spock rested his hands on the small of Uhura's back and Uhura wrapped her arms around Spock's neck.
It was quite some time later when the question was asked again. Vulcan had been destroyed, but Earth had been saved. Spock silently sat on the edge of the bed of his quarters aboard the Enterprise, where Nyota was already almost sleep, curled up underneath the sheets. His voice was soft-almost nonexistent-as he softly murmured, “Do you know my thoughts?” and lay down behind the communications officer.
.