icemink: (Spock)
icemink ([personal profile] icemink) wrote2009-05-27 07:20 am
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Someday, and the Rest of Your Life Chapter 2: (Spock/Uhura)

Title:Someday, and the Rest of Your Life
Author: icemink
Spoilers: This story begins at the very end of Star Trek XI so spoilers for the entire movie.
Paring: Spock/Uhura
Summary: When the Enterprise receives a distress call from a Vulcan rescue vessel, Spock finds himself confronted by his past, and he must choose whether to uphold Vulcan traditions or find his own way.
A/N: As I don’t have yet have a beta for my new Star Trek obsession this work is un-betad.
Rating: PG for most of it, but my stories have a tendency to end up NC-17

Previous chapters can be found here.



Lieutenant Uhura was grateful that there was so much for a communications officer to do as a starship prepared to leave space dock. Making sure that all the crew had reported in, confirming that supplies had been brought aboard, that work crews had departed the ship, logging flight paths, and scheduling the time of departure with the star-base. In short she had to keep everyone in touch with everyone else to make sure that everyone and everything that was supposed to be aboard was there, and that nothing was left behind.

It was a nice distraction. She still hadn’t fully come to terms with her goodbye to Spock that morning. She couldn’t hate him, as much as she wished she could. The logic of him returning to his people was sound, and even if it wasn’t, she knew that had Earth been lost, she would not have wanted to be a stranger among aliens, but to be around the other surviving humans.

No, she couldn’t hate him. She understood all too well why he needed to go back. The loneliness and isolation he must feel. And she had known that it would end. From the very beginning he had been upfront about what the limits of their relationship had to be. She had thought she could live within those, that she could let go when the time came. She had simply never imagined that it would happen like this.

So she chose to lose her self in sub-space. To let the chatter and the chaos of the Enterprise’s departure from Earth fill her mind. There would be time to process her loss later in the privacy of her new quarters.

With so much going on she paid only the slightest notice to the last minute request for an officer to beam aboard. Someone was running behind, but she had too much else to do to worry about it, she was too busy establishing communications with the mooring party so that the Enterprise could be released to space once again.

So she hardly noticed it when the turbo lift door opened. Not until she heard the familiar voice ask, “Permission to come aboard Captain?”

It was like a sucker punch to the gut. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, as if nothing could go on until she understood why he was here.

“Permission granted,” Kirk said smiling.

“As you have yet to select a First Officer,” Spock said entering the bridge. “Respectfully, I would like to submit my Candidacy. Should you desire I can provide character references.”

It was a joke. Spock was there, on the Enterprise, making jokes. It was something he did, but only occasionally. His sense of humor, was dry to say the least. And at that moment she did hate him.

He had no right to show up like this, to change his mind like this without warning her. It was selfish of her, she knew that, she didn’t care. It hurt too much, to be completely on the outside of his decisions. To be kept out of his thought process now.

It wasn’t as if they had never discussed their careers, their ambitions. It had been a common topic of conversation, even before they had become more intimate. She knew what Starfleet meant to him, so she couldn’t be surprised that he had come back, but if he had been so uncertain, he had had no right to tell her goodbye.

She only partially heard as the Captain accepted Spock’s offer. She tried to smile as Spock moved passed her to take up his position on the bridge, but it was a weak attempt.

Instead, she turned back to her communications panel. It was only five hours until her watch was done. Only five hours of sitting a few feet away from the man who’d broken her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spock had little to do as the Enterprise left Earth and began her course to the border with Klingon space. Although most of the remaining fleet was moving towards the Romulan neutral zone, it had been decided that it might be impolitic to send the Enterprise there since she was the ship that had destroyed Nero. True the Romulan Empire had had no previous knowledge of him or his actions, still, he was a Romulan and they might take offense at his destruction.

That suited Spock just fine. He was not entirely sure he trusted himself around Romulans at the moment. He understood the logic the Captain had used, when he had offered to save Nero’s crew. But even now Spock was grateful that Nero had rejected it and been destroyed. The emotions, if not at the forefront of his mind, had not lessened, and he worried that confronted with another Romulan so soon he might act in an illogical manner.

With little to do, he could not help but observe the behavior of his fellow crew-mates. Kirk seemed pleased to have him aboard. As Spock’s older self had predicted, a friendship was growing, and Spock could not help but wonder where it would take him.

Nyota, on the other hand, was clearly upset about something, but he did not understand the cause. He had expected her to be glad that he was returning to Starfleet. Certainly there was much to discuss. Many things had changed. But she seemed to want to cut him off.

The Communications Officer’s panel was designed in such away that it allowed whomever was operating it to turn into the main part of the bridge. But Lieutenant Uhura was not sitting in the usual manner, she had turned her body inward, her back to the bridge, and more specifically to his station. There was no regulation that required her to sit in one position or the other so he had no logical ground on which to mention it. Instead he resolved to discuss the matter with her when their shift ended.

When the time came, Lieutenant Uhura wasted no time in turning over her duties to her relief. Indeed the turbo lift doors had already closed behind her by the time Spock was able to pass on the appropriate directions to his own relief.

He could do nothing to hurry the speed of the turbo lift, but once it’s doors opened to let him out, he began to move swiftly down the passageway towards her quarters, hoping to intercept her.

“Lieutenant,” he called out seeing her back. She did not stop. “Nyota,” he called out after her.

This time she stopped. Her head dropped a little, and he thought he could detect a sigh.

“Is there something I can help you with Commander?” she asked formally.

“You are clearly troubled. I can not ascertain the reason why,” he told her. “And yet, I can not help but wonder if I am not in some way responsible for your distress, although I seen no logic in it.”

She took a deep breath. “All right, but not here.” She turned and led him the last few feet to her quarters.

They were bare except for two suitcases that sat in the middle of the room. She had had no more time to unpack than he had.

She sat down at the room’s small table. “What is it you want Commander?” she asked as he sat opposite her.

Her continued formality in the privacy of her quarters confirmed his suspicion that he was in some way the root of her distress. “I have done something that has hurt you. Was it the mind meld?” he asked suddenly. He had tried to shield her from all the dark emotions that had filled him since the destruction of Vulcan but perhaps she had glimpsed more than he thought. Perhaps he had unduly burdened her with his pain.

“No, that was. . . beautiful,” she said sadly. Her shoulders fell a little, as her body relaxed from the strict military posture it had held a moment ago. “You said you were leaving Starfleet.”

“I thought my return would please you,” he offered simply.

“Tell me it was me,” she said pleaded. “Tell me you couldn’t be with out me, that that’s why you came back.” Her eyes were filled with a sad hope.

“The ability to be in such close proximity to you was a factor in my decision to return, but it was one of many,” he answered her honestly, the only way he knew how.

She smiled sadly, as if she had expected his answer and was already resigned to it. “I know.”

“Nyota, I still do not understand, how have I hurt you?” he reached out for her hand, hoping to establish some sort of connection to help him understand her better.

She pulled her hands away, off the table, and into her lap.

“You changed your mind,” she said simply. “And that’s. . . okay. You get to. I thought your leaving Starfleet was a mistake, and I’m glad your back, but. . . What about the next time? Your home, your past is gone. I can’t blame you for not being able to commit to your future, but what happens a week, a month, a year from now, when you decide again that your people need you? That this isn’t your place?” She shook her head. “I love you, and I want to be with you, and help you but. . . I’m not strong enough.” Her eyes dropped, no longer able to maintain contact with his. Her voice also became quieter, almost a whisper. “I can’t go through loosing you again. And I can’t go through every day wondering if tomorrow you’ll leave. I know its selfish, and I know I should be a better person and be there for you when you need me, but when you said goodbye. . . “ her voice cracked and tears began to stream down her face.

Spock had listened silently, needing to understand. And now he did. The very thing he had always wished to spare her, he had caused. He stood up beside her, putting an arm around her, and hugging her to him. It was not an entirely comfortable thing for him to do, but he knew that she needed it.

“Nyota,” he whispered her name. “I regret that I have hurt you. And you are right.” He paused. “I can not logically take the chance of hurting you in such away again.”

He reached down to wipe away her tears. As the tips of his fingers brushed against her cheek, it ignited the familiar telepathic link between them. It was not accidental, he needed it to be sure that this was the right thing. He could feel her heartbreak, her concern for him, and her guilt that she was not able to take his own pain away. And so he shared with her his love, his understanding, and his forgiveness, even though there was nothing to forgive.

After a moment he pulled away. “If you ever require anything Nyota, you need only ask.” He turned to leave. Just before he exited her quarters he paused. “I will see you on the bridge Lieutenant,” he told her, to assure her that he would have no difficulty working by her side.

He left her rooms and headed to his own, trying to focus on his new duties. As he entered his new quarters for the first time, he realized he had a welcome task before him. His belongings had already been moved there, and he too needed to unpack.

He began to putting things away. Hanging up his dress uniform, and neatly folding his other uniforms and stowing them away. Once that was done he turned to the next container, a thin box about a meter in length. Carefully he placed it on the table and opened the case to reveal the Vulcan Lyre that he had brought with him from his home world when he had first joined Starfleet. It had accompanied him ever since.

His fingers ran lightly over the strings which let out a gentle sigh. He thought of all the long hours spent in his quarters at the Academy, playing the lyre for Nyota, and teaching her the basics of the instruments complexity.

The memories brought anger, it surprised him, overwhelmed his Vulcan mind that was usually so good at repressing emotions. Without thought he grabbed the lyre and threw it against the wall. It had barely left his hands when he regretted the action. He scrabbled after it, hoping the damage was minimal.

It had chipped slightly on one edge, but not in a manner that would effect the sound of the instrument. One of the strings had broken, but that was easy to replace.

Carefully he put the lyre back in its case, locking it back up and placing it in the back of his closet where he was likely not to notice it. It was entirely possible that the lyre was one of a kind. That there was not another like it in the universe. And it seemed that he could not be trusted with the care of rare and beautiful things.

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