Star Trek Fic - Penance Chapter Two
PENANCE Chapter Two
by SlwMtionDaylite
Written for reel_startrek, Round Two
Based upon the film Atonement, written by Christopher Hampton (based upon the novel by Ian McEwan) and directed by Joe Wright
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though. Atonement owned by Universal Pictures, Studio Canal, Relativity Media and Working Title Films.
Rating: Strong R/M
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Action/Adventure
Characters/Pairing: Kirk, Spock/Uhura
Word Count (Chapter Two): ~3322
Beta: jlneveloff
Warnings: Language. Sexual situations, violence
Summary: Alternate Universe. This is the story of a young cadet that sees something he thinks he understands. But he doesn’t.
CHAPTER TWO - A LETTER WRITTEN FROM PASSION
Uhura burst into her dorm room, fuming. She threw her knapsack on the bed, not caring when it skidded across the mattress and landed on the floor on the other side.
The room was a dichotomy of cleanliness and orderliness. Nyota’s side was utterly spotless. Books were in their place on their shelves. The bed was made. The floor was clean. Her roommate - Gaila, the green-skinned, red-haired Orion - preferred to leave things wherever they may fall. Clothing was scattered on the floor, books were lying about, open. The bed was in shambles.
Nyota sighed heavily and paced the small length between the door and the bathroom. She felt tears of frustration pricking her eyes but she steadfastly refused to let them fall, even when she was alone. She glanced at the empty bed of her roommate. She could really use Gaila’s help dealing with Spock, but the Orion was nowhere in sight.
That wasn’t really all that unusual for Gaila. The Orion was notorious for spending her free time in the rooms of her many male companions. And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because no matter how much Uhura wanted to talk to her about Spock, she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk her future and his career by revealing their tryst with anyone, even her best friend.
Uhura paused in her pacing, running her hands through her hair and pulling it free from its confines. She heaved another sigh and hurled herself into the seat of her vanity. She looked at herself in the mirror. There were times when she quite readily envied Spock and his ability to suppress his emotions, even if it hurt those who cared about him when he did.
How dare he. How dare he do this to her. He was so frustrating.
She wanted to scream.
How dare he make her feel this way and then dismiss it as nothing more than a passing fancy. She cringed whenever she recalled the morning after his Time. When he was so casual. So...uncaring. As though it had meant nothing. Just biology forcing its will upon him.
She sighed heavily. It would do no good to fret about him.
She reached out and grabbed her nail polish. Tonight, they would be red.
*****
Kirk wasn’t sure how long he’d been pacing. He’d been debating with himself on how to deal with what he’d seen. And he was still nowhere near an answer. He wasn’t sure what he saw, really. With a theatrical sigh, he threw himself on his bed.
He should be getting ready for tonight.
He eyed his closet, sighed, and looked at the ceiling, not wanting to get up. He felt like he had the weight of the world pressing down on his chest. What should he do? He didn’t want to be the one responsible for ruining another officer’s career over something he may or may not have seen.
But...how many times had he been on same end as Spock? How many times had he had a woman down on her knees before him, pleasing him? He knew a blow job when he saw one. And that?
But most girls didn’t run away from him with tears in their eyes afterwards.
He didn’t know much about Vulcans - he’d be the first to admit that - but he knew, just like everyone else, that they had some kind of mumbo-jumbo-hocus-pocus ability with their hands and minds. Some kind of telepathy. And Commander Spock was touching her face. Maybe he forced his will upon her. Maybe she didn’t have a choice. Maybe -
The door slid open and Bones entered, looking weary. “I’ve just had the most horrible day.” He, as well, lay on his bed across from Kirk.
Kirk grunted an acknowledgment but said nothing more. He continued to stare at the ceiling, debating.
McCoy slid his eyes to his friend. “Well, aren’t you gonna ask me what made it so horrible?”
Kirk suppressed an eye roll and glanced at Bones. “What made it so horrible?”
McCoy immediately launched into his diatribe. He had obviously been waiting all day for this moment. “That damn Doctor Puri. I swear he wants to see me out of here. He has no respect for me at all as a member of the medical profession. No respect. He called me to the clinic, claiming there was some kind of emergency. Just some snot-nosed first-year cadet with a cold. And I had to spend the last several hours convincing the patient that's all it was. And you'd think with all our technology and medical advances, we'd have the cure for the common cold by now." Bones looked at Kirk. “And I suppose you’ve spent your day harassing Uhura? When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that she’s not interested? Just admit defeat for once in your life and leave the poor girl alone.”
Kirk didn't reply.
*****
Uhura started at herself in the full length mirror. She wore a jet black dress. It was elegant and it suited her well. She turned from side to side, examining her appearance from every angle she could. It was nearly perfect.
She sighed.
It simply wouldn’t do.
*****
It was very rare that Spock allowed himself the human proclivity of pacing. But he did exactly that, pacing the length of his quarters, recalling the incident with Cadet Uhura - Nyota; she couldn’t be simply Uhura to him any longer - this afternoon. It appeared that he had grossly misunderstood her actions during his Pon Farr. How could he have behaved in such a cavalier manner?
He sighed.
Halting, Spock placed his hands behind his back. He really should be getting prepared for the evening’s gathering. His parents were due to arrive within the hour. He needed to meditate, to analyze his emotions and Nyota’s. He needed to parse the emotions, categorize them, and label them. But the incident that occurred this afternoon weighed heavily on his mind, occupying him. “Computer, record message.”
“Recording,” the computer sounded monotonously.
“To Cadet Uhura. I apologize for my inconsiderate behavior this afternoon.” He paused his words, mulled them over in his head. They were much too impersonal. “Computer, erase.”
“Message erased.”
He returned to his pacing. He would never confess to being an expert in human emotions - particularly those of the human female - but he couldn’t deny that he had upset her. That was clear. She wanted something more from him, something he wanted as well.
But rules were rules. And the rules were very clear in this instance.
She was a student. And he was a teacher. Her teacher.
He understood perfectly well the logic behind this regulation. He didn’t doubt that logic either. It made perfect sense, created to prevent favoritism. And therefore any possible romance he desired with Miss Uhura was simply out of the picture.
But the sight of her on her knees before him rose unbidden in his mind. And he recalled the feel of her, the warmth and softness of her supple flesh. The taste of her.
He desired her. Wished to make her his. He wanted -
Her former teacher, he argued with himself.
He should not be allowing this line of thought. It was unbecoming of a Vulcan to behave this way, to think such things.
Why didn’t he care?
His eyes closed for a moment before he opened them and eyed a nearby PADD on his coffee table.
No.
He moved determinedly to his bedroom, opening his closet and pulling out his dress uniform.
He’d been upset by her sudden disappearance from his life after their time together. And seeing her today... Perhaps her anger towards him was spurned by his behavior that following morning, when the urge had passed and he once more embraced logic.
He carefully laid the uniform on his bed.
A second later, he returned to the living area and picked up the PADD that had taunted him with its presence. He sat on the sofa, the device clutched tightly in his hands.
He didn’t think. He couldn’t speak the words aloud.
I have dreamt of our time together. I dream of your legs wrapped around my waist, my penis sheathed tightly within your vagina. I dream of your tears. In my thoughts, I hear your cries, your screams and I shiver, knowing they were for me and me alone. I think of copulating with you with a frequency that would alarm any sensible Vulcan and I cannot help but think that perhaps the most logical thing to do is to submit to my desires for you.
Spock looked at what he had written in dismay. Shame briefly flooded his mind, his ears tinged green, and his finger hovered over the delete button.
But he couldn’t.
He abruptly returned the PADD to the coffee table and stood up. He had never experienced such an internal conflict of such proportions.
He moved to his desk and grabbed another PADD. With set determination, he wrote once more.
Dear Nyota.
I would not fault your anger at my behavior this afternoon. However, the truth is that I find logic escapes me when I am in your presence. And I find that my emotions control me. I know I should fight them, but I am not sure that is what I desire. I write this letter to humbly beseech you your forgiveness.
Spock
He set the PADD down on the coffee table next to the other one and returned to his bedroom to dress for the evening.
*****
Her typically pristine side of the room now bore the signs of an indecisive mind. Dresses were scattered across the floor, the bed. But Nyota sat quietly at her vanity, her mind finally made up.
She wore a red halter-top evening gown. Her hair was in a loose bun, low upon the base of her neck. She reached behind her neck to fasten the pearl necklace. Then she picked up a diamond clip and fastened it to her hair. She rearranged the curls framing her face.
She looked in the mirror, meeting her own eyes. Finally satisfied, she stood, grabbed her clutch, and headed out the door.
*****
Spock exited his quarters, dressed for the evening. He wore a dress uniform that honored his Vulcan heritage, earthen tones, elegant script of his people embroidered upon his jacket, flowing smoothly. The small PADD was secure in his jacket pocket.
He had no idea how or when he would be able to give Nyota the letter had written, and he felt overwhelmed with his illogical and decidedly human behavior. He could not fully comprehend his actions. He should not have written the note; it was highly unprofessional and he did not know if such a letter would be welcomed. He should not have taken it with him and he should not be contemplating how he was going to give it to her. But he was.
He turned to face the door, reaching for the security lock on the side and engaging it.
"There you are," a feminine voice sounded behind him.
Spock turned. "Mother?"
Amanda Grayson smiled, moving quickly towards him.
Behind her, Sarek trailed. It was painfully clear from the Ambassador's rigid posture that he was present under duress; Spock's mother had forced him to come along. Sarek looked around the hall, gazing at the bland walls, the empty path. He did not appear as though he was eager to engage in conversation with his son.
Spock forced his gaze from his father and back to his mother's smiling and welcomed face. "When did you arrive?"
"Oh, about twenty minutes ago," she replied, glancing back at her husband.
"Twenty-seven minutes and five seconds ago," Sarek offered off-handedly. He still did not meet his son's eyes.
Not that Spock had been expecting him to. He knew he had disappointed his father greatly when he turned down the invitation to study at the elite Vulcan Science Academy. And while his father's cold demeanor hurt - not that he would ever admit it - Spock did not regret his decision. He was...happy where he was. Satisfied.
Amanda sighed, looking at her husband with something akin to disappointment.
Spock met her gaze. "Perhaps I may escort you to the Kelvin Room."
"Of course." Amanda smiled when her son offered his arm. She took it, threading her hand around the crook of his arm. They moved forward and Sarek fell into step behind them.
As they walked down the hall, Amanda spoke, deciding to lead the conversation since it was clear that Sarek would not. "It's been so long since we last spoke."
"Indeed, it has. Six months, three days, and fourteen hours."
Amanda's eyes closed and she leaned into his side. "That's far too long." She glanced back briefly at Sarek. He gave no indication that he was paying attention. She suppressed a sigh. "How are things? Fine?"
"Mother, I have told you that 'fine' is -"
"'Unacceptable.' I know." Her other hand reached over to pat him on the arm. "But try to humor your dear old mother."
"You are hardly old, Mother."
She laughed.
"But, very well. Things, as you put it, are...acceptable. My students are progressing well and many are surpassing my expectations. As for myself, I have recently been offered the position of Chief Science Officer onboard the Yorktown and Captain Pike has already offered me the position of First Officer onboard the Enterprise, when she is completed."
"Oh, that's such wonderful news, Spock!" Amanda exclaimed, proud as any mother. She looked back at her husband. "Isn't that wonderful news, Sarek?"
He said nothing.
Disheartened, she returned her attention to Spock. "I'm sorry, Spock," she said.
"It is no fault of yours, Mother."
They reached the exit to the building and the doors slid open with a gentle swoosh. They exited.
Amanda released a deep sigh. "Oh, how I have missed the cooler weather of Earth."
Finally, Sarek spoke. "You have never told me of your discomfort on Vulcan."
Spock was not all surprised to hear the vestige of concern tinting his father's voice. His father had always held his mother in high regard, placing great importance in her comforts and needs. It was in this regard that father and son still saw eye to eye.
"Oh," she sighed. "It's not that I'm horribly uncomfortable on Vulcan, Sarek. Sometimes I just miss the cool breeze coming off the ocean. The salty sea air."
"I understand." And he was silent once more.
Behind them, rushed footsteps were heard. They were rapidly approaching.
Spock maneuvered himself and his mother to the side of the walkway, giving plenty of room to the rushed passer-by.
The footsteps approached and their owner passed. It was Kirk.
And suddenly, feeling the weight of the PADD in his jacket pocket, Spock was struck with a plan to give Nyota her letter. It was perhaps not the most brilliant of plans and he realized that perhaps he should be the one to give it to her, but he was struck with a very human case of anxiety. He couldn't be certain of her feelings. He could only infer. "Cadet Kirk?" he called out, halting his steps. He felt his parents' gaze upon him, curious.
The cadet stopped and turned around to face him. Spock noted that he seemed uncomfortable.
"Yes, sir?" Kirk asked, standing at attention.
"You are attending the function tonight, are you not?" Spock asked, even though he already knew the answer. The cadet was dressed in his evening wear and had been listed as one of the invitees.
Kirk nodded. "Yes, sir." His eyes would not meet the Vulcan's.
Spock tilted his head. "Are you under duress of any kind, Cadet?"
Kirk's eyes widen. "Excuse me, sir?"
Spock elucidated. "You appear to be distressed."
Kirk straightened immediately. "It's nothing, sir. I'm fine."
Spock cocked his head to the side. Kirk was lying. It was clear. However, it was not any of his business. If Kirk didn't want to say then that was that. "Are you intending to see Cadet Uhura tonight?"
Kirk nodded.
Spock gently released his mother's grasp on his arm and stepped towards Kirk, reaching into his pocket and retrieving the PADD. "Would you please see to it that Cadet Uhura receives this? It is imperative that she does. I would deliver it to her myself if I knew for certain I would be able." This was, at least, a partial truth.
Kirk seemed surprised but shrugged. "Sure." He took the PADD from Spock's outstretched hand and immediately took off, not waiting.
"What was that about, Spock?" Amanda asked.
Spock looked at her. "It is of no major concern, Mother. I was merely seeking to offer my apologies to Miss Uhura."
"Apologies? Whatever for?"
It was Spock's turn to feel uncomfortable. However that feeling was soon overtaken by another newer feeling of absolute horror as he watched the retreating form of Cadet Kirk. He had often heard students speak of moments where they would suddenly recall a forgotten or misplaced assignment. A pause followed by a rapidly increasing heartbeat, echoing loudly in the ears. The stomach clenching painfully. He had never experienced that feeling before now, thanks to his eidetic memory. However in his haste to leave his quarters, Spock had reached blindly for the PADD on his coffee table.
It was the wrong PADD.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He had just handed Kirk the PADD that contained the most visceral words he had ever written. Kirk's name was on the tip of his tongue as he readied himself to call out to the cadet.
But he couldn't.
He couldn't bring attention to his grave error. He was already risking much by simply asking Kirk to deliver the letter. He didn't even know with absolute certainty that such a colorful letter would be appreciated and welcomed by Nyota. And now, with the eyes of his parents upon him, he couldn't call Kirk.
"Spock?" His mother's voice permeated his thoughts.
He looked at her. "I apologize, Mother." He felt his heart race in his side, thinking of the letter now in transit. He took his mother by the arm and continued leading his parents to the Kelvin Room. "Cadet Uhura was my aide. Through a sequence of misunderstandings that were largely my doing, she resigned. I am merely attempting to correct my mistake."
"Her leaving upset you?" Amanda asked.
Spock looked at her briefly, quickly determining how best to answer. "Cadet Uhura was vital to my work. I have found myself -" He was hyperaware of his father's presence and was determined to monitor his words. To admit an emotional attachment, no matter how small, would be unbecoming of a Vulcan. "- unable to adapt my schedule without her assistance."
His mother smiled slightly. "Of course not."
He had a feeling she had already figured out his white lie.
*****
Kirk walked quickly away, PADD in hand. He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't.
He stopped in the middle of the walkway and looked at the PADD. It was unencrypted. It was too easy.
He quickly convinced himself he was doing this to protect her, possibly save her.
He turned it on. It was a letter directed to Uhura.
He skimmed it quickly, mindful of Spock's slow approach behind him.
His eyes widened.
“...your legs wrapped around my waist, my penis sheathed tightly within your vagina...your tears...I hear your cries, your screams and I shiver...I think of copulating with you with a frequency that would alarm any sensible Vulcan and I cannot help...”
He glanced behind him briefly, seeing the Commander and his companions trailing behind him. What did the letter mean? He then berated - chided - himself, he knew what it meant. He wasn't naive, wasn't stupid.
He took a deep breath and all but ran to the gala.
by SlwMtionDaylite
Written for reel_startrek, Round Two
Based upon the film Atonement, written by Christopher Hampton (based upon the novel by Ian McEwan) and directed by Joe Wright
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though. Atonement owned by Universal Pictures, Studio Canal, Relativity Media and Working Title Films.
Rating: Strong R/M
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Action/Adventure
Characters/Pairing: Kirk, Spock/Uhura
Word Count (Chapter Two): ~3322
Beta: jlneveloff
Warnings: Language. Sexual situations, violence
Summary: Alternate Universe. This is the story of a young cadet that sees something he thinks he understands. But he doesn’t.
CHAPTER TWO - A LETTER WRITTEN FROM PASSION
Uhura burst into her dorm room, fuming. She threw her knapsack on the bed, not caring when it skidded across the mattress and landed on the floor on the other side.
The room was a dichotomy of cleanliness and orderliness. Nyota’s side was utterly spotless. Books were in their place on their shelves. The bed was made. The floor was clean. Her roommate - Gaila, the green-skinned, red-haired Orion - preferred to leave things wherever they may fall. Clothing was scattered on the floor, books were lying about, open. The bed was in shambles.
Nyota sighed heavily and paced the small length between the door and the bathroom. She felt tears of frustration pricking her eyes but she steadfastly refused to let them fall, even when she was alone. She glanced at the empty bed of her roommate. She could really use Gaila’s help dealing with Spock, but the Orion was nowhere in sight.
That wasn’t really all that unusual for Gaila. The Orion was notorious for spending her free time in the rooms of her many male companions. And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because no matter how much Uhura wanted to talk to her about Spock, she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk her future and his career by revealing their tryst with anyone, even her best friend.
Uhura paused in her pacing, running her hands through her hair and pulling it free from its confines. She heaved another sigh and hurled herself into the seat of her vanity. She looked at herself in the mirror. There were times when she quite readily envied Spock and his ability to suppress his emotions, even if it hurt those who cared about him when he did.
How dare he. How dare he do this to her. He was so frustrating.
She wanted to scream.
How dare he make her feel this way and then dismiss it as nothing more than a passing fancy. She cringed whenever she recalled the morning after his Time. When he was so casual. So...uncaring. As though it had meant nothing. Just biology forcing its will upon him.
She sighed heavily. It would do no good to fret about him.
She reached out and grabbed her nail polish. Tonight, they would be red.
*****
Kirk wasn’t sure how long he’d been pacing. He’d been debating with himself on how to deal with what he’d seen. And he was still nowhere near an answer. He wasn’t sure what he saw, really. With a theatrical sigh, he threw himself on his bed.
He should be getting ready for tonight.
He eyed his closet, sighed, and looked at the ceiling, not wanting to get up. He felt like he had the weight of the world pressing down on his chest. What should he do? He didn’t want to be the one responsible for ruining another officer’s career over something he may or may not have seen.
But...how many times had he been on same end as Spock? How many times had he had a woman down on her knees before him, pleasing him? He knew a blow job when he saw one. And that?
But most girls didn’t run away from him with tears in their eyes afterwards.
He didn’t know much about Vulcans - he’d be the first to admit that - but he knew, just like everyone else, that they had some kind of mumbo-jumbo-hocus-pocus ability with their hands and minds. Some kind of telepathy. And Commander Spock was touching her face. Maybe he forced his will upon her. Maybe she didn’t have a choice. Maybe -
The door slid open and Bones entered, looking weary. “I’ve just had the most horrible day.” He, as well, lay on his bed across from Kirk.
Kirk grunted an acknowledgment but said nothing more. He continued to stare at the ceiling, debating.
McCoy slid his eyes to his friend. “Well, aren’t you gonna ask me what made it so horrible?”
Kirk suppressed an eye roll and glanced at Bones. “What made it so horrible?”
McCoy immediately launched into his diatribe. He had obviously been waiting all day for this moment. “That damn Doctor Puri. I swear he wants to see me out of here. He has no respect for me at all as a member of the medical profession. No respect. He called me to the clinic, claiming there was some kind of emergency. Just some snot-nosed first-year cadet with a cold. And I had to spend the last several hours convincing the patient that's all it was. And you'd think with all our technology and medical advances, we'd have the cure for the common cold by now." Bones looked at Kirk. “And I suppose you’ve spent your day harassing Uhura? When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that she’s not interested? Just admit defeat for once in your life and leave the poor girl alone.”
Kirk didn't reply.
*****
Uhura started at herself in the full length mirror. She wore a jet black dress. It was elegant and it suited her well. She turned from side to side, examining her appearance from every angle she could. It was nearly perfect.
She sighed.
It simply wouldn’t do.
*****
It was very rare that Spock allowed himself the human proclivity of pacing. But he did exactly that, pacing the length of his quarters, recalling the incident with Cadet Uhura - Nyota; she couldn’t be simply Uhura to him any longer - this afternoon. It appeared that he had grossly misunderstood her actions during his Pon Farr. How could he have behaved in such a cavalier manner?
He sighed.
Halting, Spock placed his hands behind his back. He really should be getting prepared for the evening’s gathering. His parents were due to arrive within the hour. He needed to meditate, to analyze his emotions and Nyota’s. He needed to parse the emotions, categorize them, and label them. But the incident that occurred this afternoon weighed heavily on his mind, occupying him. “Computer, record message.”
“Recording,” the computer sounded monotonously.
“To Cadet Uhura. I apologize for my inconsiderate behavior this afternoon.” He paused his words, mulled them over in his head. They were much too impersonal. “Computer, erase.”
“Message erased.”
He returned to his pacing. He would never confess to being an expert in human emotions - particularly those of the human female - but he couldn’t deny that he had upset her. That was clear. She wanted something more from him, something he wanted as well.
But rules were rules. And the rules were very clear in this instance.
She was a student. And he was a teacher. Her teacher.
He understood perfectly well the logic behind this regulation. He didn’t doubt that logic either. It made perfect sense, created to prevent favoritism. And therefore any possible romance he desired with Miss Uhura was simply out of the picture.
But the sight of her on her knees before him rose unbidden in his mind. And he recalled the feel of her, the warmth and softness of her supple flesh. The taste of her.
He desired her. Wished to make her his. He wanted -
Her former teacher, he argued with himself.
He should not be allowing this line of thought. It was unbecoming of a Vulcan to behave this way, to think such things.
Why didn’t he care?
His eyes closed for a moment before he opened them and eyed a nearby PADD on his coffee table.
No.
He moved determinedly to his bedroom, opening his closet and pulling out his dress uniform.
He’d been upset by her sudden disappearance from his life after their time together. And seeing her today... Perhaps her anger towards him was spurned by his behavior that following morning, when the urge had passed and he once more embraced logic.
He carefully laid the uniform on his bed.
A second later, he returned to the living area and picked up the PADD that had taunted him with its presence. He sat on the sofa, the device clutched tightly in his hands.
He didn’t think. He couldn’t speak the words aloud.
I have dreamt of our time together. I dream of your legs wrapped around my waist, my penis sheathed tightly within your vagina. I dream of your tears. In my thoughts, I hear your cries, your screams and I shiver, knowing they were for me and me alone. I think of copulating with you with a frequency that would alarm any sensible Vulcan and I cannot help but think that perhaps the most logical thing to do is to submit to my desires for you.
Spock looked at what he had written in dismay. Shame briefly flooded his mind, his ears tinged green, and his finger hovered over the delete button.
But he couldn’t.
He abruptly returned the PADD to the coffee table and stood up. He had never experienced such an internal conflict of such proportions.
He moved to his desk and grabbed another PADD. With set determination, he wrote once more.
Dear Nyota.
I would not fault your anger at my behavior this afternoon. However, the truth is that I find logic escapes me when I am in your presence. And I find that my emotions control me. I know I should fight them, but I am not sure that is what I desire. I write this letter to humbly beseech you your forgiveness.
Spock
He set the PADD down on the coffee table next to the other one and returned to his bedroom to dress for the evening.
*****
Her typically pristine side of the room now bore the signs of an indecisive mind. Dresses were scattered across the floor, the bed. But Nyota sat quietly at her vanity, her mind finally made up.
She wore a red halter-top evening gown. Her hair was in a loose bun, low upon the base of her neck. She reached behind her neck to fasten the pearl necklace. Then she picked up a diamond clip and fastened it to her hair. She rearranged the curls framing her face.
She looked in the mirror, meeting her own eyes. Finally satisfied, she stood, grabbed her clutch, and headed out the door.
*****
Spock exited his quarters, dressed for the evening. He wore a dress uniform that honored his Vulcan heritage, earthen tones, elegant script of his people embroidered upon his jacket, flowing smoothly. The small PADD was secure in his jacket pocket.
He had no idea how or when he would be able to give Nyota the letter had written, and he felt overwhelmed with his illogical and decidedly human behavior. He could not fully comprehend his actions. He should not have written the note; it was highly unprofessional and he did not know if such a letter would be welcomed. He should not have taken it with him and he should not be contemplating how he was going to give it to her. But he was.
He turned to face the door, reaching for the security lock on the side and engaging it.
"There you are," a feminine voice sounded behind him.
Spock turned. "Mother?"
Amanda Grayson smiled, moving quickly towards him.
Behind her, Sarek trailed. It was painfully clear from the Ambassador's rigid posture that he was present under duress; Spock's mother had forced him to come along. Sarek looked around the hall, gazing at the bland walls, the empty path. He did not appear as though he was eager to engage in conversation with his son.
Spock forced his gaze from his father and back to his mother's smiling and welcomed face. "When did you arrive?"
"Oh, about twenty minutes ago," she replied, glancing back at her husband.
"Twenty-seven minutes and five seconds ago," Sarek offered off-handedly. He still did not meet his son's eyes.
Not that Spock had been expecting him to. He knew he had disappointed his father greatly when he turned down the invitation to study at the elite Vulcan Science Academy. And while his father's cold demeanor hurt - not that he would ever admit it - Spock did not regret his decision. He was...happy where he was. Satisfied.
Amanda sighed, looking at her husband with something akin to disappointment.
Spock met her gaze. "Perhaps I may escort you to the Kelvin Room."
"Of course." Amanda smiled when her son offered his arm. She took it, threading her hand around the crook of his arm. They moved forward and Sarek fell into step behind them.
As they walked down the hall, Amanda spoke, deciding to lead the conversation since it was clear that Sarek would not. "It's been so long since we last spoke."
"Indeed, it has. Six months, three days, and fourteen hours."
Amanda's eyes closed and she leaned into his side. "That's far too long." She glanced back briefly at Sarek. He gave no indication that he was paying attention. She suppressed a sigh. "How are things? Fine?"
"Mother, I have told you that 'fine' is -"
"'Unacceptable.' I know." Her other hand reached over to pat him on the arm. "But try to humor your dear old mother."
"You are hardly old, Mother."
She laughed.
"But, very well. Things, as you put it, are...acceptable. My students are progressing well and many are surpassing my expectations. As for myself, I have recently been offered the position of Chief Science Officer onboard the Yorktown and Captain Pike has already offered me the position of First Officer onboard the Enterprise, when she is completed."
"Oh, that's such wonderful news, Spock!" Amanda exclaimed, proud as any mother. She looked back at her husband. "Isn't that wonderful news, Sarek?"
He said nothing.
Disheartened, she returned her attention to Spock. "I'm sorry, Spock," she said.
"It is no fault of yours, Mother."
They reached the exit to the building and the doors slid open with a gentle swoosh. They exited.
Amanda released a deep sigh. "Oh, how I have missed the cooler weather of Earth."
Finally, Sarek spoke. "You have never told me of your discomfort on Vulcan."
Spock was not all surprised to hear the vestige of concern tinting his father's voice. His father had always held his mother in high regard, placing great importance in her comforts and needs. It was in this regard that father and son still saw eye to eye.
"Oh," she sighed. "It's not that I'm horribly uncomfortable on Vulcan, Sarek. Sometimes I just miss the cool breeze coming off the ocean. The salty sea air."
"I understand." And he was silent once more.
Behind them, rushed footsteps were heard. They were rapidly approaching.
Spock maneuvered himself and his mother to the side of the walkway, giving plenty of room to the rushed passer-by.
The footsteps approached and their owner passed. It was Kirk.
And suddenly, feeling the weight of the PADD in his jacket pocket, Spock was struck with a plan to give Nyota her letter. It was perhaps not the most brilliant of plans and he realized that perhaps he should be the one to give it to her, but he was struck with a very human case of anxiety. He couldn't be certain of her feelings. He could only infer. "Cadet Kirk?" he called out, halting his steps. He felt his parents' gaze upon him, curious.
The cadet stopped and turned around to face him. Spock noted that he seemed uncomfortable.
"Yes, sir?" Kirk asked, standing at attention.
"You are attending the function tonight, are you not?" Spock asked, even though he already knew the answer. The cadet was dressed in his evening wear and had been listed as one of the invitees.
Kirk nodded. "Yes, sir." His eyes would not meet the Vulcan's.
Spock tilted his head. "Are you under duress of any kind, Cadet?"
Kirk's eyes widen. "Excuse me, sir?"
Spock elucidated. "You appear to be distressed."
Kirk straightened immediately. "It's nothing, sir. I'm fine."
Spock cocked his head to the side. Kirk was lying. It was clear. However, it was not any of his business. If Kirk didn't want to say then that was that. "Are you intending to see Cadet Uhura tonight?"
Kirk nodded.
Spock gently released his mother's grasp on his arm and stepped towards Kirk, reaching into his pocket and retrieving the PADD. "Would you please see to it that Cadet Uhura receives this? It is imperative that she does. I would deliver it to her myself if I knew for certain I would be able." This was, at least, a partial truth.
Kirk seemed surprised but shrugged. "Sure." He took the PADD from Spock's outstretched hand and immediately took off, not waiting.
"What was that about, Spock?" Amanda asked.
Spock looked at her. "It is of no major concern, Mother. I was merely seeking to offer my apologies to Miss Uhura."
"Apologies? Whatever for?"
It was Spock's turn to feel uncomfortable. However that feeling was soon overtaken by another newer feeling of absolute horror as he watched the retreating form of Cadet Kirk. He had often heard students speak of moments where they would suddenly recall a forgotten or misplaced assignment. A pause followed by a rapidly increasing heartbeat, echoing loudly in the ears. The stomach clenching painfully. He had never experienced that feeling before now, thanks to his eidetic memory. However in his haste to leave his quarters, Spock had reached blindly for the PADD on his coffee table.
It was the wrong PADD.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He had just handed Kirk the PADD that contained the most visceral words he had ever written. Kirk's name was on the tip of his tongue as he readied himself to call out to the cadet.
But he couldn't.
He couldn't bring attention to his grave error. He was already risking much by simply asking Kirk to deliver the letter. He didn't even know with absolute certainty that such a colorful letter would be appreciated and welcomed by Nyota. And now, with the eyes of his parents upon him, he couldn't call Kirk.
"Spock?" His mother's voice permeated his thoughts.
He looked at her. "I apologize, Mother." He felt his heart race in his side, thinking of the letter now in transit. He took his mother by the arm and continued leading his parents to the Kelvin Room. "Cadet Uhura was my aide. Through a sequence of misunderstandings that were largely my doing, she resigned. I am merely attempting to correct my mistake."
"Her leaving upset you?" Amanda asked.
Spock looked at her briefly, quickly determining how best to answer. "Cadet Uhura was vital to my work. I have found myself -" He was hyperaware of his father's presence and was determined to monitor his words. To admit an emotional attachment, no matter how small, would be unbecoming of a Vulcan. "- unable to adapt my schedule without her assistance."
His mother smiled slightly. "Of course not."
He had a feeling she had already figured out his white lie.
*****
Kirk walked quickly away, PADD in hand. He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't.
He stopped in the middle of the walkway and looked at the PADD. It was unencrypted. It was too easy.
He quickly convinced himself he was doing this to protect her, possibly save her.
He turned it on. It was a letter directed to Uhura.
He skimmed it quickly, mindful of Spock's slow approach behind him.
His eyes widened.
“...your legs wrapped around my waist, my penis sheathed tightly within your vagina...your tears...I hear your cries, your screams and I shiver...I think of copulating with you with a frequency that would alarm any sensible Vulcan and I cannot help...”
He glanced behind him briefly, seeing the Commander and his companions trailing behind him. What did the letter mean? He then berated - chided - himself, he knew what it meant. He wasn't naive, wasn't stupid.
He took a deep breath and all but ran to the gala.