Written for YukitoK, whom I love very much, and miss.
She hesitates just inside the door of his quarters. She knew that her presence was not unwelcome, because otherwise, he wouldn't have let her in at all.
It's just..how to proceed. She's unsure, what he wants, what he needs, what he must be feeling but trying to channel it in, or out, or upside down or wherever Vulcans purge their emotions to. She knows him, yet, she doesn't know him. Not like this.
He stares off into space, thinking. Then, as if he just remembered her being there, him acknowledging her to come into his quarters, he turns from his place of meditation on the floor and looks at her. His face not betraying any emotion, but his dark eyes stormy and confused, overwhelmed. A loss like this has never happened before, and not to him, to someone already torn between two worlds, his destiny. Things were figured out, logical, and now everything has been undone. His life has been permanently changed, like so many others, what once was to be has been changed.
She doesn't know what to say, again. She just stands there, staring back, waiting. Letting him make the first move. But then she realizes that he's waiting for her to do the same.
So she jumps into the emotional river, head first. You know what they say, it isn't the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop at the end.
She sits next to him, their eyes never leaving each other. More silence while feelings run the gamut just under the surface, just barely concealed. She wishes she could tell him that it's okay to let it all out, to show that illogical emotion, but she doesn't. He already knows he can, but won't not the way he should, because he's embraced his Vulcan side, even though the Human side needs to see the light of day every once in a while, too.
A hand, trembling slightly, reachs out to her, and she takes it in her own, for once, hers is the strong one, and she hopes that strength transfers to him. He looks down, feelings overwhelming him, no longer in control as it all comes crashing down.
Still holding one hand, she uses her other hand to gently lift up his head, to make their eyes meet again. It's a trust that lets him allow her to see this, the lone tear running down his cheek.
They sit that way, in the quiet, for what can not be measured in Standard Time. It is no matter. In times like this, the "normal" concept of time does not apply.
And he understood without words being necessary, that she was there for him.