"I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives."
(Jane Austen, Persuasion)
Being a woman and following a man are not related. Men have no special powers; no ability to fight that makes them more worthy of control; no right to hold a throne that women do not have themselves. Nyota swore, as a teenager, to never submit to a man that had not earned her respect or admiration.
It is why she is annoyed at herself when she cannot help but notice things about James Tiberius Kirk, the sexist asshole who does not deserve her attention. He is the git who hit on her as if she was stupid and desperate and worthless, who made her feel dirty with his gaze and pathetic with his leer.
She hates him at first sight. And that rubbish about there being a thin line between love and hate? They had obviously never met James Kirk.
Kirk is arrogant and smug and satisfied, and she despises the way he acts as if he deserves the world. He treats women as if they are objects, play things for him to enjoy and discard. She turns down his every sexist come on with a derisive eyebrow and a cutting remark.
"No," she snaps one day, already at the end of her tether with a difficult cultural reference in her Andorian textbook. He pretends to look hurt; he hadn't even opened his mouth yet, and she'd refused.
"But Uhura-"
"No," she repeats, not looking up to meet his leering gaze. "Find yourself another fuck buddy."
She gathers her books, shrugs on her coat, and stalks off. She brushes past Kirk's partner-in-hell, a doctor, she thinks, and doesn't acknowledge him.
Kirk is a contradiction that she cannot stand. He stands out, a star amongst moons, blinding with his intensity. And oh, he burns. He tears the heart out of everyone he touches, and it is Uhura who is to stay with Gaila when she rages at the man-child who used her, abused her, and tossed her aside when he achieved the codes that he desired. Uhura has never felt hatred like this.
"I can't believe him!" Gaila throws out into the empty dorm room. Nyota watches her, concern mingling with anger and tinged with self-righteous I told you so. And she had, over and over.
"Kirk is bad news," she'd said. "Be careful."
Gaila is Orion, though, and tough and naïve in the ways of love. "It doesn't mean anything," she'd replied, and Nyota had watched with a sinking heart as her friend had fallen further and deeper into Kirk's trap. He pulls them in, unsuspecting girls, with a smile so golden and a laugh so honest that none saw the darkness underneath. Uhura doesn't know the story behind the lack of understanding he has of emotions, but she can see the effects, and she does not think anything can excuse his thoughtlessness.
"The bastard lied to me!" Gaila cries, but it is in anger and not in sadness, and for that Uhura is glad. "I would have helped if he had asked, but no, that's too good for the great fucking Kirk."
"Gaila," Nyota says, not helpless because no, she can't be, but unknowing of the best route to take.
"Don't you dare say you warned me," Gaila hisses, spinning on the spot and pointing at her. Her green skin is dark with the force of her emotion; her red hair swings around her hair like a lion's fiery mane, and Uhura can admire her nature even if she does not approve of the passionate display. Uhura plays with words, not fire, and expresses herself carefully with every syllable.
"I wasn't going to say that," she soothes. "Kirk's a bastard."
Sometimes, the simplest words are the most effective.
It happens quickly, next, and Nyota wonders how blind she must have been to miss this whole part of Kirk's nature. He is bright, yes, and deceitful, yes, but oh so destructive that she doesn't understand how it is he has survived this long. He throws himself off a platform for a man he barely knows. He taunts an unstable Vulcan, beams onto a hostile ship and pulls off a rescue so daring that Nyota wonders if he had not expected to die on that ship, alone and in pain and maybe truly himself for the first time in years.
He pulls the ship together as they fracture in the aftermath of the psychopath's destruction, and acts as the glue that refuses to let go. He orders rest for all those on duty during the affair, spends more time than is ever required on duty, assists in engineering with repairs and fixes the broken replicator in the mess that is slowing down serving food. He runs himself ragged, and Uhura watches in interest, wondering when he will realise that he is not in charge of the world. An ego complex mixed with a self-destructive streak a mile long.
It is fascinating, to coin Spock's phrase, and she hates herself a little more every time she glances at him in curiosity. He is dragged off duty on day three by McCoy, the fierce doctor that reminds her so much of Gaila that she is forced to retreat to the bathrooms for a chance to gather herself.
Her friend had perished on the USS Farragut, and she regrets that their last exchange had been one about a boy , and that their final words had not been, 'you are my friend', or 'I will miss you'.
Kirk doesn't contact family when the rest of alpha shift do. Uhura knows; she is in charge of finding and connecting them through. She says not a word; sneaks a glance at his tired face glaring down at a padd as the rest reassure loved ones that they are safe and alive and being looked after.
It is not sad, she tells herself. It is not a sign of pity that she smiles at him, soft and small, when he next asks for a report. He looks startled, and she decides that was her reason for doing it. Be unexpected, keep him on his toes. Show him you are better than he will ever be.
It isn't a lie. At least, not until they are home and grieving and Uhura is lonely in her empty dorm room and there is a quiet knock at the door.
She opens it, fights the urge to shut it in his face. "Come in," she says instead, because Kirk looks ready to keel over, and she has seen his face every day in the holos of memorial services, attending for every crew member lost and every life gone forever. As Acting Captain and Kelvin survivor, he displays his grief openly for the world to see, and Nyota can appreciate the difficulty of that. It isn't admiration, just acknowledgement of his persistence.
She lets him in anyway, invites him to sit at the table. They do, and both strategically avoid looking at the jumper hanging over the sofa with Gaila's smell still hanging around it and the little rip in the sleeve where she'd got it caught on a door handle.
"I'm sorry about Gaila," Kirk tells her, first of all, and his voice is so weary that she doesn't indulge her first reaction.
"You hurt her," she replies instead, her voice even.
He runs a hand over his face. "I know," he says, and Uhura hates that she can hear genuine regret. "I didn't mean to."
She shakes her head in bewilderment. "You slept with her to be able to hack the Kobayashi Maru, and didn't expect to hurt her?"
"That wasn't why I slept with her," Kirk snaps back, and his voice is wounded and hurt and she backs off, leans her arms on the table and stares at him.
"Okay," she says, and agrees. It is a strength, she believes, to be able to acknowledge when you may be wrong and to give the benefit of the doubt.
Kirk looks at her, surprised, and she feels another smidge of satisfaction. "Thank you," he says at last. "I came to ask you to re-join the Enterprise as Communications Officer."
Uhura sits back, and is the one to feel shock this time. She keeps her composure, looks at him carefully, and sees no sign of a joke. "Why?" she asks. Perhaps she should have asked why he had the power to choose the Enterprise's officers, but she has known the outcome of this disaster since he had stepped foot off the shuttle in San Francisco and the press had swamped him.
Everyone needs a hero, and Kirk with his bright smile, sky blue open eyes, and clear laugh had all the makings of a perfect candidate. The Kelvin baby, saviour of the world – and therefore, captain of the flagship. It is logical, and simple, and Uhura is not surprised.
"You're intelligent," Kirk tells her, and she swears to god if he even tries to hit on her now she will chuck him out with a broken jaw and a tender manhood. "You're not afraid to tell me what you think or disagree with me. You'd sooner knock me out than let me make a mistake. You're the best goddamn linguist there is," he hesitates, "and I trust you."
"My name," she tells him haughtily, as if this is not a gift she has long since been denying him, "is Nyota."
"Is that a yes?" A smile starts to dawn on his face. She looks at him, thinks over what he said, and nods.
"I'll kick you in the balls if you try and hit on me," she threatens, but he is smiling now, and she finds she doesn't mean it too seriously anyway.
He stands, holds out his hand and shakes hers. "Thank you, Lieutenant Uhura," he says, and she feels a smile on her own face breaking through. She doesn't know if she actually has that promotion, they haven't been announced, but as her future captain, he would know before anyone else.
"Kirk," she speaks out as he is about to close the door behind him. "Thank you for asking me."
He grins, cocks his head. "Couldn't leave a beautiful lady like you behind now, could I?"
He quickly steps back, shuts the door, and is down the hallway before she even articulates the growl growing in her throat.
Asshole.
Clever, self-destructive, noble, sexist asshole.
It isn't a sudden shift to respect and admiration once on board the Enterprise. She spends the first few months in a state of constant annoyance. Kirk flirts with her, still, and makes mistakes, and hovers and corrects and asks questions and will not leave her alone. He does the same with other crew members, and she wants to scream at him to let them be, that they are damn well capable of doing their jobs without his constant observation.
"This is his first time in charge of a star ship, Nyota," Spock informs her one evening, when they are sharing a quiet drink in her quarters. "I suspect the Captain is merely trying to understand the way in which the ship functions."
She considers that, looks at the gentle Vulcan in front of her, so solemn and controlled and yet such violence underneath. He is hidden and repressed and strict with himself, and she admires it. It is such a contrast to Kirk's exuberance and fire and bright golden smiles that she does not understand how they work together at all, but they do.
Spock has a point, she thinks. "That makes sense," she agrees. "I do wish that he'd stop, though. It's distracting and I believe it makes the younger crew members nervous."
Spock looks at her, his chocolate human eyes warm, and she flushes. Okay, so it makes her irritable and anxious too. There is something horrible about having a superior follow your every move, regardless of whether she respects him or not.
"Why do you not try talking to him?" the Vulcan suggests evenly. "I have found him to be approachable and willing to compromise, despite his emotional nature."
She doesn't like the idea.
"Captain," she says to Kirk at the end of alpha shift the very next day. Never let it be said she's a coward. "May I speak with you in private?"
He looks at her, mildly surprised, and smiles. "Of course, Lieutenant," he agrees. "Where would you like to go? I was just about to have some food, so feel free to join me."
"That's acceptable," she says with a nod, and follows him into the turbolift.
"How are you finding the ship?" he asks, and she raises her eyebrows. "I'm interested," he defends with a grin.
That bloody golden smile.
"I'm enjoying it," she replies, and is glad to realise that it's not even a slight lie. She is. The ship runs smoothly. Kirk and Spock are seamlessly slotting together to form a strong command team. She has friends to relax with off duty – Chapel, Sulu, and Rand – and Spock to spend the evenings with in peaceful conversation. She loves this ship, she admits to herself, and it is perhaps the reason she lets her tight emotional grip go slightly and returns Kirk's smile.
"Good," he replies. "I want to make sure everyone's happy here," he tells her, and there is a hint of vulnerability in his expression. She looks at him, then, and sees the bags under his eyes and the tightness in his forehead. She rests a hand on his forearm briefly.
"People are," she reassures him. In fact, the only one who doesn't seem to be is, ironically, Kirk himself. He looks stressed and tired and far too old for a twenty-five year old Captain.
"Are you sure?" he asks, and it is strangely childlike.
"Yes," she says firmly, following him out of the turbolift and grabbing some food from a replicator. "People love it here, Captain."
"I want it to be like a family," Kirk admits quietly, setting his food down at an empty table. She follows suit, reminded of the journey home after the Narada when he had no one to call and no comfort to receive. She wonders, not for the first time, where his family is.
"I think it's starting to become one." She smiles at him, her expression softening. Her words are honest and real and she genuinely does believe it. The crew are close. The command system is strong. Kirk is regularly seen out of the Bridge, mingling with the ensigns and getting to know them. The atmosphere is friendly and pleasant and she likes it.
Kirk nods. "What did you want to talk about, Lieutenant?" he asks, changing the subject.
She hesitates, thinks over their conversation. "Simply a communications matter, Captain, but thinking about it I feel I may comm my old academy instructor. Don't worry about it."
He smiles, and she ignores the confusion in his expression. She can live with the hovering. He is trying.
By the end of their first year, Spock and Kirk have saved the other's life more than once. Doctor McCoy has stitched them both back together more times than she can count, and they have argued with each other with a frequency that would be alarming if everyone couldn't hear the amusement underneath the harsh words. Nyota finds herself looking forward to working during the days. Kirk has backed off, trusting her reports and content to stick to what he himself knows. The Bridge is relaxed and Kirk is a good captain, as long as it took her to admit that.
That doesn't mean they are friends or even that she likes him.
Kirk pretends to be indestructible with irritating regularity. He is cocky and assured and self-destructive and she does not understand him at all. He throws himself in harm's way for any crew member: for Spock, for the random engineering ensign, for McCoy, for her – and she doesn't half yell at him for that, she's not a damsel in distress, the sexist bastard. The one that means the most, though, is the time he gets shot in the arm by a phaser when he pushes a middle aged man out of the way on a random planet. They don't know the man. He doesn't even say thank you.
Kirk never apologises to McCoy for his actions, despite the man's frustrated yelling. He refuses to acknowledge Spock's insistence that it is illogical to sacrifice himself.
Uhura goes to visit him after the others have left him alone to stew. McCoy has pulled him off duty for two days, even though his arm is mostly healed within the first few hours.
"Captain," she announces her presence, and he looks up from his biobed, pulling himself into a sitting position.
"Uhura," he greets, gesturing to a chair next to his bed. "Come to yell at me, too?"
She shakes her head, smiles, and sits down. "I came to say thank you," she tells him, and is gratified to see the confusion on his face.
"For what?" he asks, scratching idly at his bandaged arm.
"For saving that man," she says. "You'd never met him."
It's not a question. Kirk shakes his head anyway. "Why should that make a difference?" he demands, obviously unwilling to believe that she isn't here to fight him on that.
Uhura nods. "I don't pretend to know what gave you the idea that your life is worthless, because it isn't," she tells him firmly. "But I hope that no one ever convinces you that saving a life is pointless."
He just looks at her, and she squeezes his hand. "Thank you," she says, "for being a good man, and one I can trust."
"There haven't been a lot of them," he says quietly, looking at her seriously. She blinks, surprised at his perceptiveness.
"No," she agrees. "I don't think you've seen many, either."
He smiles, a tired, pale imitation of his normal one. "Guess we've both got a lot of learning to do, then," he says, and she nods.
"I love this ship," she admits. "And I'm sorry for how I've treated you in the past."
He shakes his head immediately. "No, I'm sorry," he replies. "I was a flirt and a bastard, and I regret that."
"You were a little," Uhura smirks. "I forgive you."
"Friends?" Kirk asks, holding out a hand, and if it is childish neither of them cares.
She takes his hand, shakes it firmly. "Friends," she agrees.
A/N: Thank you for reading, and please review.
I love the strong female characters in Star Trek, especially Uhura. Her mentality fascinates me, and I know she is a little out of character here, but I wanted to explore this strong woman who refuses to let herself be swayed by a man. I don't believe women have to be emotionless to be strong, or to act like a man to be powerful. Uhura is not afraid to say what she feels in the films, and I love that. She is strong, and a role model. Too many times women are there to be eye candy and nothing else.
Please do review
Dreams