[Star Trek XI] fic: What Feels Right (Spock/Uhura, PG-13) - Part 2/2
Title:What Feels Right
Author:ColebaltBlue
Characters/Pairings:Spock/Uhura
Rating:PG-13
Summary:Spock is called upon by his people for a very important task, Uhura accompanies him. This is a serious story about Spock, emotions, and relationships.
A/N:Thank you to thecaptainslass and icedteainthebag as well as Kess and Jenny for their comments and help with this story. This is a complete story and is being posted in two parts because of length. Feedback is, as always, appreciated.
x-posted to st_reboot and spock_uhura
PART 1 CAN BE FOUND HERE
[Part 2]
They continued scouting during the second day, returning to a few locations from the previous day that afternoon. On the night of the second day, they camped on a sandy riverbank at the bottom of a canyon.
They had whispered together under the cliffs and the sky above them in English, the language of his mother, and in the formal dialect of Vulcan his father had spoken in the home. Her tongue had the barest hint of trouble forming some of the more complicated sounds in Vulcan. But its other talents, and his teasing about both, led to a lesson in pronunciation for her and speechlessness for him.
They found the location at the end of the third day. She was a little surprised when he insisted that she set the shuttle down before they had completed their initial instrument pass instead of making a detailed scan first. They stepped out of the shuttle and stared at the tall narrow opening in the cliff wall in front of them.
They were at the end of a short and shallow but wide box canyon that was part of the network of canyons that crisscrossed the moon's desert side. The canyon was accessible on foot by a camouflaged, but easily navigable path down the cliff wall, or through the canyon itself. Its location was, in a word, perfect.
"Do you feel different about this site?" she asked softly from beside him.
He raised an eyebrow in response, but then stopped to consider her question. "Yes, this one feels right."
She seemed as surprised by his answer as he was, but accepted it with a single nod of her head. Turning, she went back into the shuttle and returned with their gear while he remained at the spot, staring at the opening. This location was correct. The location was no more or less asthetically pleasing or functional than other locations they had scouted. He wasn't sure he could describe why it was perfect other than it just felt perfect. He cocked his head, considering. That, he supposed, was why he was sent to find it.
They spent the remainder of the day carefully cataloging and surveying the site. Although the Vulcan Council would accept his recommendation, he knew that returning with data would be important to them.
That night, their coupling was bittersweet and carried just a hint of desperation. He did not repeat the connection of their minds from their first night on the planet. Instead, he let go internally and just felt. Their return, first to the Council, then to the ship, would mean a change for both of them. They lay there, staring at nothing and lost in their own thoughts.
"Nyota?" he asked eventually.
"Yes, Spock?"
"This feeling of falling, does it ever stop?"
She was silent for a long while before she finally spoke. "It changes. Sometimes it fades, sometimes it grows, but it always changes."
"It is not just a human emotion," he said in response.
She remained quiet, still. He could tell she was waiting for him to explain further.
"Vulcans love," he continued, softly, succinctly.
"I know, Spock," she replied, swallowing heavily.
He was silent, and then in a whisper, "I don't know what I'm feeling."
She shifted so that she could see his face. Her hands found his jaw and stroked the back of his head and neck. Her eyes blinked and she opened her mouth a few times before she simply nodded and kissed him softly.
--//--
They returned to the temporary settlement the next morning. Sarek and the others of the Vulcan Council had viewed his scans of the site with little comment other than an expression of gratitude for his efforts. Excavation and construction were to begin shortly.
He left Uhura to unload their belongings from the shuttle as he made his way to the private garden surrounded by a high wall. It was being carefully attended by a horticulturalist that was aboard a Starfleet science vessel at the time of Vulcan's destruction. Spock found the garden soothing. And in an annoyingly sentimental way, it reminded him of his mother's garden.
He walked the carefully constructed paths amongst the native and non-native Vulcan plants. They were laid out in such a manner to be conducive for meditation. Uhura had informed him once that humans used similar meditation gardens and had taken him to the Zen Buddhist retreat center just north of San Francisco. After he had informed his mother of this trip, she had sent him a small bonsai garden to cultivate in his quarters at the Academy.
He stopped and stared at the geometric patterns laid out in the rock before him. He had come to clear his mind, to let go of the emotion he had embraced on his recent trip. It was troubling, though, that he could not. His thoughts, for lack of a better term, were racing.
Spock clasped his hands behind his back and settled into a comfortable stance, focusing on the rocks before him, letting the patterns wash over his mind, seeking solace in their logic. He could feel the emotion welling up from deep within. It was a heady mixture of wrath at those who had killed his mother, lust after Lieutenant Uhura, and anger at himself for simply having those feelings. Reaching deep within his mind, he began the slow processes of seeking the logic of his mother's death.
He thought of Nero and his emotional response to the death of his wife, which brought about the near-extinction of an entire race of people. He thought of his father and the stoic way he had simply accepted that Amanda was no longer with them. He thought of everyone on the Enterprise's reaction and - stopped. Becoming wrapped up in the pitiful gazes brought a sudden upwelling of feeling. How dare they. How dare they pity him and his loss.
Spock's head snapped up. From the new position of the shadows, he could tell he had been there for hours and was even more unsettled than he was when he entered the garden. With a sense of disgust he turned and strode out of the garden, intent on returning to his quarters.
He strode through the doorway and stopped short. Uhura stood at the bay windows, looking out on the planet in the evening light. Her arms were wrapped around her, gripping her sides, in a stance he had learned meant that humans were uncomfortable and troubled. It was a protective stance, borne from a biological need to protect one's vital organs in times of distress. It was primitive. He felt a flash of annoyance at her as she turned and looked at him.
"Spock?"
"Lieutenant," he stated, moving toward the bag of his items sitting on the end of the bed.
"Spock? What's wrong?" she asked, turning to him.
He looked sharply at her. "Nothing is wrong Lieutenant."
She stepped toward him, and faltered, stopping amd searching his face. She was unsure of what to do, and he looked with severity upon her.
'Why can't she fix this?' The thought came unbidden and he immediately pressed his lips together and cursed himself for thinking such an illogical thought. There was nothing anyone could do to 'fix' what had happened. It was not broken to begin with.
"Your father sent us dinner," she said, half turning back toward the table by the bay window. He could see a simple meal laid out made up of fruits, grains, and vegetables. Uhura had prepared tea to accompany the meal.
"I apologize, Lieutenant. My meditation was not as successful as I anticipated. I am … unwell."
She nodded, and then gestured at the table. "Eat then. Maybe you'll feel better."
Spock opened his mouth to comment on the lack of logic in her statement, but stopped when he saw the vulnerable yet guarded expression on her face. He was not behaving correctly and she had picked up on it.
They ate, mostly in silence. Her few attempts to get him to speak were met with short answers. After the meal she suggested sleep.
"I do not wish to sleep now. I will return to meditate. You should sleep. Do not wait for my return."
The expression on her face was a mixture of hurt and puzzlement, but she nodded and let him leave.
He returned to the garden and walked through it toward the open room on the other side. The room was more like a porch; the floor was made of smooth and even stone, warmed to a temperature similar to Vulcan. The walls were simple and made of paper and slid open to provide fluidity between the room and the garden, so that the room was neither indoors nor out, but simply one with the garden. The smell of incense drifted by and the garden and rooms were lit by the soft yellow glow of fire in the form of torches, candles, and lamps scattered about.
Cushions were stacked against the far wall and he selected one, carried it to the center of the room and set it down. Settling himself down in a position conducive to meditation, he opened his eyes and mind to the garden before him. He sought solace and logic in his meditation. He sought to purge himself of the emotion he had embraced in the last few days and to find his center deep within, to rebalance his life.
Hours later he drew himself out of his deep meditation, temporarily soothed by the logical reordering of his thoughts. His feelings and emotions had been pushed down under a blanket of logic and he felt calmed, even comforted. He rose, replacing the cushion and headed back toward his quarters.
In deference to Uhura he entered the room quietly. She was curled up on one side of the bed, asleep, although he could tell the sleep was restless. There was a crease between her brows, something he knew was an indication of distress in humans.
Spock quietly and efficiently undressed before sliding between the sheets. Uhura shifted and he stiffened, concerned that he had awoken her. She made a small noise and did not move again and he breathed out slowly, relieved that she had not stirred. He wished to be alone with his thoughts.
He lay there on his back, unable to sleep as the woman next to him breathed softly in the quiet room. His thoughts were quiet, logical, but they offered no comfort.
--//--
He awoke the next morning, surprised that he had slept at all. The space on the bed next to him was empty and he glanced over at the far side of the room. Uhura was seated at the table, a plate of fruit and cheese in front of her. She was dressed, hair done, and engrossed in the PADD on the table before her. He watched her as she carefully paired the fruit with a piece of cheese and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing.
He was troubled by the way that he watched her and the emotional response that accompanied it unsettled him. He wanted her. He wanted her to be close to him, skin against his, mind meeting his. But, at the same time, he was unsure he wanted anyone near. It was illogical. He sat up and she turned toward him.
"You're awake," she said, voice unreadable.
"Yes."
"Come eat some breakfast. I'm reading communiqués from the Enterprise and Starfleet."
"I am not hungry."
She cocked her head to the side, carefully watching him. "Spock," she said softly, "come eat, please."
He rose, moving toward the table. He noticed a second PADD sitting next to a plate laid out for him. She watched him the entire time. When he was seated, she reached out and brushed her fingers along his and he stiffened at the contact. She noticed.
"Spock," she said, almost sadly.
He swallowed and looked down at the plate before him, moving his hand into his lap.
"Thank you for preparing breakfast."
"I didn't, your father dropped the food off, along with a message for you," she said, indicating the PADD.
He nodded and picked it up.
"Spock," she said, placing a hand on his wrist. "Spock, look at me."
He looked up, into her eyes, which were wide and deep with emotion. He stared, chest aching.
"Nyota," he breathed.
"Spock, I know this is difficult, but please do not shut me out completely."
"Nyota, before we leave I intend to spend more time meditating, I am disturbed that I am not in control over my emotions. I seek to remedy that before we rendezvous with the Enterprise tomorrow. Your understanding is appreciated." He looked at her, hardening his expression, before looking back down at the PADD in front of him. He did not miss the hurt in her eyes.
She went back to her food and PADD, but he noticed that although she pushed her food around, she didn't eat any more of it.
He left shortly afterward, only telling her that he would return, but not to wait for him.
He returned to the garden and paced, seeking solace and logic once again. When the sun was high overhead he returned to the room and settled himself down for a long and deep meditation, determined to calm his racing thoughts and emotional responses to the recent events in his life.
"Spock, you cannot meditate away your emotions." His eyes snapped open and settled on the man standing before him. He waited for him to continue.
"Spock, you…." The man paused, and then continued, "We, are half human and often forget that. We cannot meditate away our emotions, not even a full Vulcan can. Attempting to do so is, illogical."
Spock paused, unsure of how to respond.
The man continued, "I understand the turmoil that not only the loss of our mother and planet, but also this recent journey you completed here has caused. I also suspect that you have embarked on a physical relationship with Lieutenant Uhura which is further troubling you."
"You did not have one with her?"
"No, Spock. She was one of my star students at the Academy, but I did not allow our relationship to be anything different. Later, while she served aboard the Enterprise with me, I enjoyed her company immensely and we became dear friends, but never lovers."
Spock raised an eyebrow at the use of the English word in the description of his relationship with Uhura.
"Lovers?"
"Spock, I know myself, I know you," the man continued with just a hint of bemusement. "Humans often seek solace when dealing with great emotional turmoil, but what they really need is each other during such times. I encourage you to accept the support that Nyota offers through her feelings for you."
"I am not prepared to do so. I am perfectly capable of purging my emotions through logic."
"That is a highly illogical statement."
Spock furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if he was being mocked.
The man continued. "You are half human, Spock. The times I was most content, happy, in my life were those times in which I embraced both the Vulcan and the human side of myself. Equally. Do yourself a favor now, Spock, and let yourself feel. It doesn't make you any less Vulcan."
Spock watched as he turned around and strode off. He considered the logic of his statements to himself. This person had come from a different time and reality than he had. The events that were unfolding for him were not the events that this man had experienced, yet he knew himself, he supposed. And so therefore, he must simply accept some of the advice he had for himself, as illogical as it seemed.
He cleared his mind for meditation.
Night had fallen when he returned to his quarters. Uhura was seated in the bed, back up against the headboard, reading a PADD. She glanced up at him when he entered.
"There is food on the table for you," she said, by way of greeting. He could tell she was upset, but was unsure as to how to address it. He sat at the table instead.
She had left a PADD next to his plate with summaries of the news from the Enterprise and Starfleet. There was also a note from his father, thanking him once again for the recent task he had completed for the council and wishing him well on his journey on the Enterprise. He read the news and the note as he ate the meal.
When he finished he rose and moved toward the bed, approaching the side she was seated on. She watched him, shifting to make room for him as he sat down on the side.
He reached out slowly and placed a hand on her leg.
"Nyota," he began. She was silent, just watching him. "Nyota, I am having … difficulty with my emotional response to recent events. Including my, relationship, with you. I apologize for my behavior since we returned from our trip in the desert."
He could feel a gentle loosening of her muscles under his hand. He stroked it softly up and down her leg, eyes on its progress, watching it brush over her skin.
She reached down and cupped his jaw, bringing his head up. He looked into her eyes, surprised by the compassion he found there. She smiled at him. He allowed the corners of his mouth to rise in the barest hint of a smile in return.
Uhura nodded and with gentle pressure to his jaw implored him to move toward her. He did, crawling up her body until his lips found hers.
Their kiss was soft, but intense, gentle and deep. He closed his eyes as he kissed her, allowing himself to just feel her. He felt as she shifted under him, using her body's language to invite him in. He accepted the invitation.
--//--
Although they both knew that their trip had raised more questions than it had answered, Spock felt better the morning that they prepared to leave for the Enterprise than he had the morning before. He had awoken Uhura in the middle of the night to connect with her physically again.
They had awoken again just before dawn and had whispered together in Vulcan, discussing the differences of formal Vulcan versus intimate and casual Vulcan. He had commented on the lack of such differences in English. She had laughed at him and had spent an hour instructing him in the finer points of Methali, or Swahili wordplay, to prove that not all of her native languages were so, boring. It was an old game, and an old debate, but they both took comfort in the familiarity of it all.
By midmorning, they were on the shuttle, set to rendezvous with the Enterprise.
"Incoming transmission."
"Spock."
"Hey Spock, did you have a nice visit?"
"My visit was not intended to be 'nice,' Captain."
"So it sounds like you did. How is the lieutenant?" Spock was certain that question carried an intentional double meaning and refrained from responding. Uhura had once laughed when he had expressed his frustration at Kirk's juvenility. She had informed him that he saw it as a sense of bonding and friendship building and his other self seemed to think it was important that he cultivate it. No matter how bothersome it was.
"Her companionship was appreciated," he finally stated and saw Uhura hide a smile in the seat next to him.
"Excellent. Great. Well, get back here. We have orders and I need my First Officer."
the end.
Author:ColebaltBlue
Characters/Pairings:Spock/Uhura
Rating:PG-13
Summary:Spock is called upon by his people for a very important task, Uhura accompanies him. This is a serious story about Spock, emotions, and relationships.
A/N:Thank you to thecaptainslass and icedteainthebag as well as Kess and Jenny for their comments and help with this story. This is a complete story and is being posted in two parts because of length. Feedback is, as always, appreciated.
x-posted to st_reboot and spock_uhura
PART 1 CAN BE FOUND HERE
[Part 2]
They continued scouting during the second day, returning to a few locations from the previous day that afternoon. On the night of the second day, they camped on a sandy riverbank at the bottom of a canyon.
They had whispered together under the cliffs and the sky above them in English, the language of his mother, and in the formal dialect of Vulcan his father had spoken in the home. Her tongue had the barest hint of trouble forming some of the more complicated sounds in Vulcan. But its other talents, and his teasing about both, led to a lesson in pronunciation for her and speechlessness for him.
They found the location at the end of the third day. She was a little surprised when he insisted that she set the shuttle down before they had completed their initial instrument pass instead of making a detailed scan first. They stepped out of the shuttle and stared at the tall narrow opening in the cliff wall in front of them.
They were at the end of a short and shallow but wide box canyon that was part of the network of canyons that crisscrossed the moon's desert side. The canyon was accessible on foot by a camouflaged, but easily navigable path down the cliff wall, or through the canyon itself. Its location was, in a word, perfect.
"Do you feel different about this site?" she asked softly from beside him.
He raised an eyebrow in response, but then stopped to consider her question. "Yes, this one feels right."
She seemed as surprised by his answer as he was, but accepted it with a single nod of her head. Turning, she went back into the shuttle and returned with their gear while he remained at the spot, staring at the opening. This location was correct. The location was no more or less asthetically pleasing or functional than other locations they had scouted. He wasn't sure he could describe why it was perfect other than it just felt perfect. He cocked his head, considering. That, he supposed, was why he was sent to find it.
They spent the remainder of the day carefully cataloging and surveying the site. Although the Vulcan Council would accept his recommendation, he knew that returning with data would be important to them.
That night, their coupling was bittersweet and carried just a hint of desperation. He did not repeat the connection of their minds from their first night on the planet. Instead, he let go internally and just felt. Their return, first to the Council, then to the ship, would mean a change for both of them. They lay there, staring at nothing and lost in their own thoughts.
"Nyota?" he asked eventually.
"Yes, Spock?"
"This feeling of falling, does it ever stop?"
She was silent for a long while before she finally spoke. "It changes. Sometimes it fades, sometimes it grows, but it always changes."
"It is not just a human emotion," he said in response.
She remained quiet, still. He could tell she was waiting for him to explain further.
"Vulcans love," he continued, softly, succinctly.
"I know, Spock," she replied, swallowing heavily.
He was silent, and then in a whisper, "I don't know what I'm feeling."
She shifted so that she could see his face. Her hands found his jaw and stroked the back of his head and neck. Her eyes blinked and she opened her mouth a few times before she simply nodded and kissed him softly.
--//--
They returned to the temporary settlement the next morning. Sarek and the others of the Vulcan Council had viewed his scans of the site with little comment other than an expression of gratitude for his efforts. Excavation and construction were to begin shortly.
He left Uhura to unload their belongings from the shuttle as he made his way to the private garden surrounded by a high wall. It was being carefully attended by a horticulturalist that was aboard a Starfleet science vessel at the time of Vulcan's destruction. Spock found the garden soothing. And in an annoyingly sentimental way, it reminded him of his mother's garden.
He walked the carefully constructed paths amongst the native and non-native Vulcan plants. They were laid out in such a manner to be conducive for meditation. Uhura had informed him once that humans used similar meditation gardens and had taken him to the Zen Buddhist retreat center just north of San Francisco. After he had informed his mother of this trip, she had sent him a small bonsai garden to cultivate in his quarters at the Academy.
He stopped and stared at the geometric patterns laid out in the rock before him. He had come to clear his mind, to let go of the emotion he had embraced on his recent trip. It was troubling, though, that he could not. His thoughts, for lack of a better term, were racing.
Spock clasped his hands behind his back and settled into a comfortable stance, focusing on the rocks before him, letting the patterns wash over his mind, seeking solace in their logic. He could feel the emotion welling up from deep within. It was a heady mixture of wrath at those who had killed his mother, lust after Lieutenant Uhura, and anger at himself for simply having those feelings. Reaching deep within his mind, he began the slow processes of seeking the logic of his mother's death.
He thought of Nero and his emotional response to the death of his wife, which brought about the near-extinction of an entire race of people. He thought of his father and the stoic way he had simply accepted that Amanda was no longer with them. He thought of everyone on the Enterprise's reaction and - stopped. Becoming wrapped up in the pitiful gazes brought a sudden upwelling of feeling. How dare they. How dare they pity him and his loss.
Spock's head snapped up. From the new position of the shadows, he could tell he had been there for hours and was even more unsettled than he was when he entered the garden. With a sense of disgust he turned and strode out of the garden, intent on returning to his quarters.
He strode through the doorway and stopped short. Uhura stood at the bay windows, looking out on the planet in the evening light. Her arms were wrapped around her, gripping her sides, in a stance he had learned meant that humans were uncomfortable and troubled. It was a protective stance, borne from a biological need to protect one's vital organs in times of distress. It was primitive. He felt a flash of annoyance at her as she turned and looked at him.
"Spock?"
"Lieutenant," he stated, moving toward the bag of his items sitting on the end of the bed.
"Spock? What's wrong?" she asked, turning to him.
He looked sharply at her. "Nothing is wrong Lieutenant."
She stepped toward him, and faltered, stopping amd searching his face. She was unsure of what to do, and he looked with severity upon her.
'Why can't she fix this?' The thought came unbidden and he immediately pressed his lips together and cursed himself for thinking such an illogical thought. There was nothing anyone could do to 'fix' what had happened. It was not broken to begin with.
"Your father sent us dinner," she said, half turning back toward the table by the bay window. He could see a simple meal laid out made up of fruits, grains, and vegetables. Uhura had prepared tea to accompany the meal.
"I apologize, Lieutenant. My meditation was not as successful as I anticipated. I am … unwell."
She nodded, and then gestured at the table. "Eat then. Maybe you'll feel better."
Spock opened his mouth to comment on the lack of logic in her statement, but stopped when he saw the vulnerable yet guarded expression on her face. He was not behaving correctly and she had picked up on it.
They ate, mostly in silence. Her few attempts to get him to speak were met with short answers. After the meal she suggested sleep.
"I do not wish to sleep now. I will return to meditate. You should sleep. Do not wait for my return."
The expression on her face was a mixture of hurt and puzzlement, but she nodded and let him leave.
He returned to the garden and walked through it toward the open room on the other side. The room was more like a porch; the floor was made of smooth and even stone, warmed to a temperature similar to Vulcan. The walls were simple and made of paper and slid open to provide fluidity between the room and the garden, so that the room was neither indoors nor out, but simply one with the garden. The smell of incense drifted by and the garden and rooms were lit by the soft yellow glow of fire in the form of torches, candles, and lamps scattered about.
Cushions were stacked against the far wall and he selected one, carried it to the center of the room and set it down. Settling himself down in a position conducive to meditation, he opened his eyes and mind to the garden before him. He sought solace and logic in his meditation. He sought to purge himself of the emotion he had embraced in the last few days and to find his center deep within, to rebalance his life.
Hours later he drew himself out of his deep meditation, temporarily soothed by the logical reordering of his thoughts. His feelings and emotions had been pushed down under a blanket of logic and he felt calmed, even comforted. He rose, replacing the cushion and headed back toward his quarters.
In deference to Uhura he entered the room quietly. She was curled up on one side of the bed, asleep, although he could tell the sleep was restless. There was a crease between her brows, something he knew was an indication of distress in humans.
Spock quietly and efficiently undressed before sliding between the sheets. Uhura shifted and he stiffened, concerned that he had awoken her. She made a small noise and did not move again and he breathed out slowly, relieved that she had not stirred. He wished to be alone with his thoughts.
He lay there on his back, unable to sleep as the woman next to him breathed softly in the quiet room. His thoughts were quiet, logical, but they offered no comfort.
--//--
He awoke the next morning, surprised that he had slept at all. The space on the bed next to him was empty and he glanced over at the far side of the room. Uhura was seated at the table, a plate of fruit and cheese in front of her. She was dressed, hair done, and engrossed in the PADD on the table before her. He watched her as she carefully paired the fruit with a piece of cheese and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing.
He was troubled by the way that he watched her and the emotional response that accompanied it unsettled him. He wanted her. He wanted her to be close to him, skin against his, mind meeting his. But, at the same time, he was unsure he wanted anyone near. It was illogical. He sat up and she turned toward him.
"You're awake," she said, voice unreadable.
"Yes."
"Come eat some breakfast. I'm reading communiqués from the Enterprise and Starfleet."
"I am not hungry."
She cocked her head to the side, carefully watching him. "Spock," she said softly, "come eat, please."
He rose, moving toward the table. He noticed a second PADD sitting next to a plate laid out for him. She watched him the entire time. When he was seated, she reached out and brushed her fingers along his and he stiffened at the contact. She noticed.
"Spock," she said, almost sadly.
He swallowed and looked down at the plate before him, moving his hand into his lap.
"Thank you for preparing breakfast."
"I didn't, your father dropped the food off, along with a message for you," she said, indicating the PADD.
He nodded and picked it up.
"Spock," she said, placing a hand on his wrist. "Spock, look at me."
He looked up, into her eyes, which were wide and deep with emotion. He stared, chest aching.
"Nyota," he breathed.
"Spock, I know this is difficult, but please do not shut me out completely."
"Nyota, before we leave I intend to spend more time meditating, I am disturbed that I am not in control over my emotions. I seek to remedy that before we rendezvous with the Enterprise tomorrow. Your understanding is appreciated." He looked at her, hardening his expression, before looking back down at the PADD in front of him. He did not miss the hurt in her eyes.
She went back to her food and PADD, but he noticed that although she pushed her food around, she didn't eat any more of it.
He left shortly afterward, only telling her that he would return, but not to wait for him.
He returned to the garden and paced, seeking solace and logic once again. When the sun was high overhead he returned to the room and settled himself down for a long and deep meditation, determined to calm his racing thoughts and emotional responses to the recent events in his life.
"Spock, you cannot meditate away your emotions." His eyes snapped open and settled on the man standing before him. He waited for him to continue.
"Spock, you…." The man paused, and then continued, "We, are half human and often forget that. We cannot meditate away our emotions, not even a full Vulcan can. Attempting to do so is, illogical."
Spock paused, unsure of how to respond.
The man continued, "I understand the turmoil that not only the loss of our mother and planet, but also this recent journey you completed here has caused. I also suspect that you have embarked on a physical relationship with Lieutenant Uhura which is further troubling you."
"You did not have one with her?"
"No, Spock. She was one of my star students at the Academy, but I did not allow our relationship to be anything different. Later, while she served aboard the Enterprise with me, I enjoyed her company immensely and we became dear friends, but never lovers."
Spock raised an eyebrow at the use of the English word in the description of his relationship with Uhura.
"Lovers?"
"Spock, I know myself, I know you," the man continued with just a hint of bemusement. "Humans often seek solace when dealing with great emotional turmoil, but what they really need is each other during such times. I encourage you to accept the support that Nyota offers through her feelings for you."
"I am not prepared to do so. I am perfectly capable of purging my emotions through logic."
"That is a highly illogical statement."
Spock furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if he was being mocked.
The man continued. "You are half human, Spock. The times I was most content, happy, in my life were those times in which I embraced both the Vulcan and the human side of myself. Equally. Do yourself a favor now, Spock, and let yourself feel. It doesn't make you any less Vulcan."
Spock watched as he turned around and strode off. He considered the logic of his statements to himself. This person had come from a different time and reality than he had. The events that were unfolding for him were not the events that this man had experienced, yet he knew himself, he supposed. And so therefore, he must simply accept some of the advice he had for himself, as illogical as it seemed.
He cleared his mind for meditation.
Night had fallen when he returned to his quarters. Uhura was seated in the bed, back up against the headboard, reading a PADD. She glanced up at him when he entered.
"There is food on the table for you," she said, by way of greeting. He could tell she was upset, but was unsure as to how to address it. He sat at the table instead.
She had left a PADD next to his plate with summaries of the news from the Enterprise and Starfleet. There was also a note from his father, thanking him once again for the recent task he had completed for the council and wishing him well on his journey on the Enterprise. He read the news and the note as he ate the meal.
When he finished he rose and moved toward the bed, approaching the side she was seated on. She watched him, shifting to make room for him as he sat down on the side.
He reached out slowly and placed a hand on her leg.
"Nyota," he began. She was silent, just watching him. "Nyota, I am having … difficulty with my emotional response to recent events. Including my, relationship, with you. I apologize for my behavior since we returned from our trip in the desert."
He could feel a gentle loosening of her muscles under his hand. He stroked it softly up and down her leg, eyes on its progress, watching it brush over her skin.
She reached down and cupped his jaw, bringing his head up. He looked into her eyes, surprised by the compassion he found there. She smiled at him. He allowed the corners of his mouth to rise in the barest hint of a smile in return.
Uhura nodded and with gentle pressure to his jaw implored him to move toward her. He did, crawling up her body until his lips found hers.
Their kiss was soft, but intense, gentle and deep. He closed his eyes as he kissed her, allowing himself to just feel her. He felt as she shifted under him, using her body's language to invite him in. He accepted the invitation.
--//--
Although they both knew that their trip had raised more questions than it had answered, Spock felt better the morning that they prepared to leave for the Enterprise than he had the morning before. He had awoken Uhura in the middle of the night to connect with her physically again.
They had awoken again just before dawn and had whispered together in Vulcan, discussing the differences of formal Vulcan versus intimate and casual Vulcan. He had commented on the lack of such differences in English. She had laughed at him and had spent an hour instructing him in the finer points of Methali, or Swahili wordplay, to prove that not all of her native languages were so, boring. It was an old game, and an old debate, but they both took comfort in the familiarity of it all.
By midmorning, they were on the shuttle, set to rendezvous with the Enterprise.
"Incoming transmission."
"Spock."
"Hey Spock, did you have a nice visit?"
"My visit was not intended to be 'nice,' Captain."
"So it sounds like you did. How is the lieutenant?" Spock was certain that question carried an intentional double meaning and refrained from responding. Uhura had once laughed when he had expressed his frustration at Kirk's juvenility. She had informed him that he saw it as a sense of bonding and friendship building and his other self seemed to think it was important that he cultivate it. No matter how bothersome it was.
"Her companionship was appreciated," he finally stated and saw Uhura hide a smile in the seat next to him.
"Excellent. Great. Well, get back here. We have orders and I need my First Officer."
the end.