A Simple Girl
Category: Star Trek: 2009
Genre: Romance/Drama
Beta: januaryfreeze92
Characters: Spock, Uhura
Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG
Published: 11-20-09
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek.
Summary: She wants to break up with him. There's just one problem. She's bonded with him! Melodrama ensues.
A Simple Girl
"Commander."
"Lieutenant."
I've just barged into his quarters, having spent the last hour wandering the ship. Despite my impromptu appearance, he rose in my presence and offered no rebuke. Now, he is standing by his beloved workstation, his hands formally entwined behind his back.
We both know that things are over between us. They've been over for a while. This is to be the official step, the parting blow. I like to think I'm not aggressive by nature, but aggression is now my game plan. This is going to be a quick operation, an 'in and out' affair. Because this must end. Now.
"I want you to get this thing out of my head."
"Thing?" he replies, his brows furrowing.
"This bond thing. I want you to remove it."
He nods. "Would you like some tea?"
"What?"
His eyes glance quizzically from side to side. "Would you prefer some…kasa juice?"
"No!"
An eyebrow arches. "As you will. I am only inquiring because whenever you enter my quarters it is your standard practice to imbibe a liquid refreshment."
"Was my standard practice. Okay, Spock? Was. Now, will you quit stalling, please?"
"I am not 'stalling'."
I cross my arms. "Oh, of course you're not."
"Correct. I am not. I am merely attempting to be polite to a guest. I do not see why our personal conflict should preclude us from being cordial to one other."
"Okay. I get it. Thanks," I say through clenched teeth.
"You are most welcome."
There is a slight pause.
"Would you like something to eat?"
"Oh my God. Can we just talk about the bond, please?" I'm trying not to scream. Really, really trying.
He gives a slight shrug. "Very well. Truthfully, there is very little to converse about in that regard. It will only require the application of a rather simple mind meld."
I hate him.
I wasn't sure before, but now it's been confirmed. For a moment there, I thought he was stalling. I thought he didn't want to go through with this. What a fool I was. Clearly, I'm just an afterthought to him now, just another guest. Probably just another member of the crew, as well. But that's okay though. I'm here for closure, not reconciliations. It's far too late for those. And not to mention, it's pretty damn hard to reconcile with someone that you hate. Because…yes. I do hate him.
Obviously, this wasn't always the case. Take one night, about four months ago.
I was sitting up in his bed right over there, holding silk sheets over heaving breasts, almost quivering in anticipation as he paced the room like a frothing, sweating animal. He was telling me he was about to use me as his sexual plaything for three days. I was telling him 'Let's get started'.
But instead of getting started, he told me he first wanted to do a little…exchange. It would involve us imprinting each other with our mental essences. 'Our essences? You mean…our souls?' I asked him. It sounded so breathtakingly romantic. 'No. That is not entirely accurate' he told me before going on to explain how, in his planet's prehistory, his rutting ancestors would telepathically imprint their breeding partners in order to keep tabs on them, in a process that would henceforth become known as 'telepathic mating bonding'.
I sat there in complete disbelief as he went on about this for half-an-hour. I mean, he was literally dying to get his Vulcan rocks off and yet he was giving me a treatise on his people's anthropological history! It was not doing anything for the romance.
So that was when I told him to just shut up and get bonding. Then we had a lot of fun. For three days. Straight.
But that was four months ago.
"Fine," I declare. "So things can just go back to the way they were before?"
"Before?" he replies.
"Uh, yeah. From way before."
I was going to say 'from before the bonding'. But I suppose I meant 'from the beginning', the very beginning. Of us. How long has it been? Over half a year on the ship plus three at the academy? All that time wasted on a man who has never told me he loves me.
Releasing a barely perceptible sigh, he walks to his window and just stands there, staring at the billion pinpricks of light shooting into the galactic horizon. That's how the stars always appear when the ship is at warp. His window is…was…our favorite place to view them.
"What is it?" I ask him.
"Things will not be exactly as they were before. You see, the bond actually consists of two parts of a single whole. Once I wipe my imprint from your mind, that part of the bond will be destroyed and you will no longer be able to feel my presence within you." Then he pauses, refusing to look at me, his attention focused totally on the celestial vista playing out before him.
"And that's what I want…isn't it?"
"Yes. However, once that has been accomplished, the second part of the bond will remain intact. Your imprint will still exist in my mind, and I will still be able to feel your presence within me."
My eyes narrow. I'm getting bad vibes here. "So what's the problem? After you wipe the imprint from my mind, you can just do the same for you…right?"
"I can indeed do the same for myself."
"Good," I reply, exhaling slightly.
"But I will not."
My jaw falls. "What? But you have to!"
"Negative."
"Negative? But you're the one who's always going on about the ethics of mind melds and all that junk."
He turns around, but still refuses to look me directly in the eye. "My people's laws are clear. It is not unethical for only one partner to maintain a portion of the bond. Quite the contrary, the removal of any portion is considered to be an exceptionally unfortunate occurrence."
"But that imprint, it's a piece of me in you, Spock. It's mine."
He swallows. "Correction, it was yours. You gave it to me willingly."
"But that's me. My essence."
"Indeed. That is the whole point, is it not?"
"So are you doing this to spite me?" I demand, "or just to follow your precious Vulcan custom?"
And then, finally, his eyes do reach me. They burrow inside me.
"Is that what you truly believe?"
I tremble as the words hit, as they reverberate through my being. That's what the bond always feels like, as if every little thing he says and does is echoed in my mind. His imprint acts like a telepathic homing beacon, guiding his presence to me, to wherever I am. The further I am away from him, the quieter the echoes get, but they always find me…and he stays with me. And to tell the truth, I like it. It's nice. But it's ultimately just a ghostlike copy of him. Ephemeral. Intangible. It's like seeing or hearing him in the corner of my mind, and then turning to find that he's not really there. Meanwhile, the real him is far away from me, always far away - day or night - sitting at his desk, sitting in engineering, or sitting on the bridge, working another double or triple-shift, leaving me this thing as some kind of secondhand substitute.
Sometimes I can even hear his thoughts in the echoes. But the bond can only transmit his surface thoughts and, oh-so-rarely, any of his feelings, mostly because he keeps them so carefully guarded. But sometimes…sometimes…I can feel a hint of something deeper, like when we're in bed together and he loses control. I can't describe this feeling, exactly. I just know it feels wonderful. I also know that it's oh-so-close to giving me what I've always wanted.
I shake my head, clearing out the mental cobwebs. Something aches inside. It's deep. But I've got to ignore that and focus on why I'm here…and how I'm doing. I'm not doing well. My 'in and out' thing has long since become an 'in and in' thing. I guess I was wrong. I guess he doesn't want to end it, or at least not in the way I want him too. A part of me wonders why I should give a damn about the bond in the first place. Just let him keep it if he wants. I won't feel it anymore, so it's not like it'll affect me in any way. But that's not really true, is it? How can I move on with the knowledge that my entire being is still an open book to him? No. I came here for closure. Complete closure. And that certainly doesn't qualify.
"Spock, I know it hurts."
He stiffens. "There is no need to be insulting, Lieutenant."
"Oh, spare me the macho crap, okay? I'm just saying that I'm not the end-all be-all. There's a trillion girls out there waiting to hook up with you." I grimace. And quite a few on the ship, as well.
"Hook up?" he asks, looking as though the phrase is completely alien to him. And it is.
It truly is.
The most brilliant man in Starfleet is completely clueless as to just how many desperate young women have longed to take a crack at that hard exterior of his. An unwanted, unbeckoned realization creeps into my mind. Here…and at the academy…he could have had any one of them. And yet he chose me.
The most brilliant, incredible man...and he chose me.
Just stop it! Okay. Deep breaths. Time to bring out the heavy artillery.
"Yes. 'Hook up', as in 'see other people'. Do you think I'm going to end up pining over you until I'm an old maid?" Probably. "You think I'm not going to see other men?" Probably not.
As I watch his jaw tighten, I know I've scored I direct hit. But, along with my small triumph, I experience a tinge of guilt. An admittedly strong tinge. Maybe I need to stop hurting him and try a little bit of logic on him.
"Look, your people live, like, 200 years, right? You can't tell me you want to be alone for all that time."
He places a finger on his temple. "I will never be alone. Your presence will live within my mind for the rest of my days."
Oh that got me. Now all I have to do is pretend that he didn't just say the most tragically romantic thing I've ever heard in my life. Fine. So be it. If he wants to play that game, maybe it's time to debase the subject matter a bit.
"Okay, so what about sex? You intend to be a monk your whole life?"
"Monks in Vulcan society are not necessarily celibate," he says in professorial tone, "In fact, within some monastic orders…"
"Stop it. You know what I mean." And then a thought strikes me. A brilliant thought. As brilliant as him. Yes, that's it, I've got him! I've finally got him!
"Okay. So what happens when you have your next little 'episode'? What are you going to do then?" A smug, victorious grin overtakes me as I watch him bounce that pesky, inescapable detail around his brain.
"Were I forced to engage in pon farr, it is conceivable that I could choose to…purchase the services of a temporary partner."
My grin dissolves. Never thought of that option.
"What, like a whore?" I spout, with as much disdain as I can muster.
He begins to stroke his chin. "A 'whore'? An intriguing choice of terminology, if not entirely precise. The word 'courtesan' may be the most accurate term. There are certain Vulcan firms that specialize in providing trained professionals to service clients who are in…urgent situations. They are able to do so quite delicately, quite expeditiously…" he lifts an approving finger, "…and for quite a reasonable cost, I might add."
Suddenly, I find myself turning around. I'm not sure why. "Well, I guess you'll have nothing to worry about, then."
"That is incorrect. You see…I have sworn that I will never lay with another."
My heart stops.
"What? When the hell did you swear that?"
"It was when I turned to watch you sleeping beside me, one night. If you wish for an exact point of reference, I believe it was 6 months, 27 days, 14 hours, and…" his eyes glaze over for a short moment, "…32 minutes ago. It was on the night you comforted me…after the incident."
The incident. That's all he ever has the courage to call it - almost everyone else calls it The Xenocide, the almost complete obliteration of a noble, ancient race. His race. I had taken control that night. I had never felt so needed, needed to help him cope with that loss, and with the loss of his mother, the only person who ever really loved him, except…
No.
"But why would you swear that?" I whisper, already knowing the reason.
"It seemed like a reasonable idea at the time. I confess it still does."
With harsh realization, I spin around and rampage across the room towards him, feeling the tears flowing out of me and not caring.
"You're lying!" I shout.
His eyes narrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're lying!"
"Vulcans do not lie," he responds with full dignity.
"Okay, you're just bullshitting me, then. Same difference."
"Vulcans do not…" he looks at me questioningly, "…bullshit?"
"Lies. Bullshit. Whatever you want to call it. I know for a fact that you'll sleep with someone again. You have to. If you don't mate every seven years, you'll die. That is what you said."
"That is indeed a part of what I said. I believe I also mentioned another alternative. To relieve my pent-up hormonal drive, I could involve myself in a protracted fight to the death with another male. But since that is not a desirable option unless Doctor McCoy is available, I…"
"Shut up! Would it kill you to admit that I'm right for once in your life? Mate or die. That is what you said."
"As I have already mentioned, I have sworn that I will never…"
"Mate or die, Spock. Mate or…"
"Die," he finishes.
The word resonates through the room, through my mind…though our bond.
"Yes, Lieutenant," he says with a voice as cold as stone. "Mate…or die. That is precisely what I said."
This is unbearable. He has made me feel this way. He and his blasted bond. I hate him. And so I strike him, as hard as I can, my fists flailing against his chest. He doesn't resist. He doesn't even look like he can feel the blows.
"Oh God. Why do you have to be so impossible? I came here to finally finish it and you just won't let me. Why won't you let me?" My fists falter as my voice breaks into pieces.
His head falls. "Because though it defies all logic, I have come to the realization that, bond or no, I refuse to live without you."
Unable to look at him, I turn away to peer out of the darkened window. In the quiet that follows, I try to gather my thoughts, gather my tears. But there are so damn many.
And, after a time, I begin to feel cold.
"Hold me," I hear myself say.
He takes a half-step forward. "In our previous meeting, you said that you no longer wish for me to touch you."
"Damn it, Spock. Hold me."
And then he is wrapping me into him. The real him, not some telepathic ghost. A ghost can't keep you warm. I let my head fall against his firm shoulder. He is so tall. So encompassing. So present. And right now, our bond is only intensifying that feeling.
We both stand there awhile at the window, and I begin to notice the stars again. Their light is refracting off the glistening wetness in my eyes. The more I concentrate on them, the more their tiny halos are getting brighter, eclipsing the gulf of black that surrounds them.
"Spock?"
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
I frown. "Don't call me that."
"What would you have me call you?"
"Call me by my name, you moron."
"In our previous meeting, you said that you…"
"Just forget our previous meeting, already! That was then. This is now. And this time we're going to try it again. We're going to fix it. For good."
"Please state your wishes and I will comply to the best of my ability."
I look up over my shoulder at him. He wasn't nearly this compliant the last time we talked. Last time, all he did was drone on about his duty to his people, to his father, about how he owed it to them to be the best officer he could be, because he'd ditched them by remaining in Starfleet. Well, he didn't use those words exactly, but that was the gist of it. And then I shot back about how he was effectively ditching me…by distancing himself from me. Anyway, it didn't end well. And up 'til now, I thought that was that. But, then again, we haven't seen each other in weeks - at least, not on a personal basis - and I think that sometimes it takes a long absence to make you realize just how much you need someone.
"I don't know, Spock. It's just the same problem as before. I know how much your duty means to you. And a part of me understands that. I mean, my duty means a lot to me, too. There's just…there's got to be some way we can find a balance between that and finding time for each other."
"Indeed," he replies. "I had believed we could find that balance through our bond."
"Spock…you have to realize that can't just zap someone in the head and expect that to run your relationship for you. Maybe that would work for a Vulcan, but not for a human, or at least not for me. When I first decided to be with you, I knew you were different. I knew that you had a different view of how relationships work. I thought I'd be able to adapt. But I can't. I've found out that I'm just a simple girl, Spock, and I need simple things. First and foremost, I need us to be together more. Yes, I know it's illogical. Yes, I know it's selfish. And I'm sorry. I just…"
Grasping my arms, he swivels me around to face him. "No, Nyota. It is not illogical. And it is not selfish. When I entered into an intimate association with a human I knew it meant the assumption of certain…obligations that I was not accustomed to. Since the last time we spoke, I have come to realize that I have been derelict in fulfilling those obligations. Furthermore, I have come to realize that by focusing so frequently on my duties, I was discounting the reason why I chose to remain in Starfleet in the first place."
I look at him in some surprise. Well, this is new. "What reason was that?"
He holds out a finger. "I will elucidate. You see, when I was at a crossroads, and could not decide whether to assist in the establishment of Vulcan Colony or to remain on the Enterprise, a wise man once told me to 'Put aside logic, and do what feels right'."
"A wise man? Who was he?"
"Er…he was…another Vulcan. No one you would know." He winces. "Technically speaking."
"Technically?"
"I apologize, but his identity is currently classified by Starfleet Intelligence. Perhaps I will be able to reveal all at a later date."
Well, now he's got me really curious, but as everyone knows, whatever S.I. says, goes, so I just shrug.
"Okay."
He nods, as a trace of relief comes over his face. Hmmm…this 'wise man' must be really classified.
"But that is another matter," he says with a wave of his hand. "What is of true significance is that when this man imparted his advice, I actually became aware of a..." he hesitates, "…a feeling I had in my mind at that moment, one that overwhelmed almost all of my mental processes."
I give him a look of mock astonishment. "You…had a feeling?"
"Indeed," he says nodding. "Fascinating, is it not?"
"Oh, very."
His eyes take on a contemplative expression. "You see, although there were indeed many logical reasons to remain in Starfleet, they were not of sufficient weight to prevent me from going back to my people. In the final analysis, there is no question that the only significant influence on my decision was this feeling."
"Well…what was it?" I reply, urging him on with impatient hands.
Suddenly leaning forward, he carefully clasps those hands within his. "That feeling concerned you."
"Me?"
"Yes. You are the reason why I remained. You and nothing else."
I stand there awestruck, for about the tenth time tonight, when suddenly I feel the continuance of a disturbing trend. Oh jeez. Not again. Glancing around for something to dry my eyes off, I see nothing, so I try to do what I can with my hands. "Spock, for a supposedly unemotional being, you really know how to make a girl cry."
With a somewhat bemused glance at my features, he walks to his workstation and brings me back a tissue. "As long as they are not tears produced by negative sentiments, I am not overly concerned."
"No, they're most definitely not," I reply, as I pluck it from his fingers and busy myself with wiping the wetness away.
He gives a curt nod. "That is a positive indicator. In any case, now that I have become fully cognizant of the true reason why I am onboard this vessel, I will endeavor to make more time for you…and us. I swear it."
I give him a teasing smile. "Yeah, well, this time, just don't go swearing to anything that'll get you killed, okay?"
"As you wish," he looks down almost sheepishly, before looking up to eye me with a thoughtful expression. "Nyota, although we both know you are anything but a 'simple' female, I will attempt to humor you…in the non-literal sense, of course. How would you like us to be together, precisely?"
Then I start to think about that, because I'm not sure what to tell him. I mean, just having him here with me and saying my name again is a good start. My name…I've always loved the emphasis he puts on the 'o'. He's the only one who really knows how to say it right, except for my family. No. He's my family, now. Isn't that what he told me once? That a bond is stronger than any mere marriage could ever be?
Well, I don't care. I'm still getting my wedding. I don't know when it'll happen, but it'll happen. Oh, you'd better believe it'll happen. It'll be a white wedding, with an impossibly long white dress. And somehow, he's going to be wearing a tux. That's right. No military dress uniform. No Vulcan ceremonial robe. A tux. A nice big, black one, with a black satin tie against a white silk shirt. I'm not sure how the hell I'm going to get him to wear it…but I will…somehow…
Okay, one thing at a time.
"I don't know, Spock. I guess I just mean it in a general sense, like spending more of our nights together…and maybe getting a few more evenings in there, too."
"I will see to rearranging my duty schedule as soon as I am able."
"Great! And um…" I hesitate, not wanting to push matters.
"And? Please, Nyota. What is it?"
I shrug. Well, if he insists. "I want to have fun."
"Fun?"
"Yes, fun, as in not sitting around our quarters. Fun, as in R&R. For instance, you never want to go on shore leave. Can we both go next time? Risa's coming up in a few days and I really want to see it…with you."
There is a short silence. "That place is indecent."
"Work with me here, Spock."
"There are some interesting geological formations in the Suraya Mountains that I have always wanted to analyze." He cuts off my burgeoning moan with a stern motion of his finger. "There are beaches nearby. If you wish, you can look as…indecent upon them as you like, but if, and only if, there is no one else around…" he emits a faint gulp, "…except myself."
"My, you are a jealous one."
He begins to sputter. "It is not a matter of jealousy. I merely…"
"It's okay, I like that," I reply, smiling upwards at his wonderfully flustered face. Sometimes I think I really don't deserve him. "Spock, I would have you know that this is called compromise. It's very healthy in a relationship and it can be applied to a great many things."
Upon his features, a half-smile begins to form, a smile I've been burning for, a smile made even more beautiful by its rarity.
"I confess it seems to be a logical approach," he replies. "Is there anything else you require, Nyota?"
"Yes, actually." And then my hands reach to caress something else I've been burning for. A smirk crosses my face as his eyes close and he gives a quiet shudder. Those ears have always been his weak spot. "Sometimes, I have to ask myself what the point is of having the handsomest, the smartest, and the most all-round fascinating boyfriend on the ship, if I can't show him off?"
His eyes fly open. "Only on the ship?"
"In the Federation," I assure him. "Spock, I hate to brag, but I'm a very popular girl. I have friends, many friends, and they would all like to meet you…personally. I feel lonely when I go out with them and their boyfriends are there, and you're not. I know it's really not your thing, but…"
"I will do it," he says, "Perhaps occasionally. Perhaps in short intervals. As long as Stiles is not there. I do not like that man."
"Don't worry. Christine dumped his ass last week."
An eyebrow lifts. "Indeed."
"Yep. She was done with him in just a few minutes. I guess he wasn't nearly as persuasive as you." I punctuate my point by dotting the tip of his adorable nose. He hates it when I do that, but his halfhearted scowl doesn't diminish the light I see reflected in his eyes.
"Do you…require anything else, Nyota?"
"Nope. That's all I need for now. See? Simple." Sighing at the complete reversal of today's events, I bury my face into a soft spot I find below his neck, once again becoming enmeshed in his strong warmth.
But after awhile, I realize that something's been left unsaid. Yes. As good as things have turned out today, there's something that's still missing. And it's something that I've been wanting for a long, long time.
"Actually, there is one thing," I tell him.
"Yes?"
Enfolding my hands within his, I look up at him with imploring eyes. "This…um…this feeling that you told me about earlier, this one you had about me. Do…do you think you could tell me what it was?" I swallow. "Like…specifically what it was"?"
Suddenly, his face becomes awkward…uncertain…almost lost…and it takes him some time to respond. "I…I was under the impression that the nature of this feeling had become apparent through our bond."
"Spock. Simple…remember?"
At my words, his uncertainty vanishes, like it just clicks off. I can tell because all of a sudden he's flashing me with a mischievous almost-grin that's being enhanced with a roguish flair of his eyebrow. Then his grin begins to grow wider than I've ever seen it grow, and the wider it grows, the more my core begins to echo.
Please. Just let it go.
His lips open. There is a soft intake of breath. "Very well, Nyota, I will tell you precisely what this feeling was."
Please.
"It was the feeling that…"
Let.
"…I quite simply…"
Go.
"…love you."
…
…
…
…
"Nyota?"
"Sshh. History is being made here. Just let me bask in the moment a bit, okay?"
"Very well."
…
…
…
…
"May I speak now?"
"Nope. Still basking."
…
…
…
…
"Now?"
"Go ahead."
"I wanted to be certain about your earlier request. Do you still wish to terminate your bond with me?"
"No, my love. I think I'm just beginning to get the hang of it."
The End