A/N: This is my first Star Trek 2009 fanfic, a short one-shot, and hopefully sweet.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Trek universe and characters, and no profit is being made from the posting of this work. Salute to visionary Gene Roddenberry.
...
Spock entered his quarters with the soundless tread of a ghost. His airlock slid shut behind him, its hush sealing him away from every outside intrusion. He walked slowly forward into the still warmth within his sanctuary, his eyes fixed on a small golden icon - glowing, waiting at the farthest wall. Spock had not returned here to remain in the dark. He had not come to meditate.
Every Vulcan who had need to depart the homeworld, brought this revered symbol of the planet away with them, to all subsequent habitats. It was gifted to mark coming of age and independence. It was bestowed upon newly joined couples. It accompanied the deceased on their final journeys.
Spock's mother had placed it into his hands on the day that he left her to embark on his way to San Francisco, and Star Fleet Academy. And on the fateful day that Amanda Grayson had left her only son through death, he had bowed himself a precious free hour before it, seeking answers and solace. It mirrored his roiling inner grief for the destruction of Vulcan. It possessed a soul of the ages. The Firefall.
His uniform now became binding, and was unsuited to the coming occasion. Spock removed it all and selected something else to wear – a unit which he stepped into and drew up over his shoulders. He felt his skin breathe free, the opaque black homeworld fabric near weightless on his legs, back and arms. Hooking a finger through his neck chain, he pulled the length of it from beneath the folds of his shirt, and held the cylindrical crystal pendant in the palm of his hand.
"She is very near." It escaped in a whisper from his lips, and with that, his heart throbbed a beat unlike the one before. He had analyzed the logic and connection of that physical reaction to thoughts of Nyota, had recorded the date and time of its initial occurrence, precise to the millisecond. She had asked him ten days before, to dispense with the gathering of empirical evidence where she was concerned.
She loved his securely dependable nature, taking a light hand with the changes she had brought within him. She loved the man she had yet to discover. Nyota made such statements with regularity. His mind had catalogued those changes as he noted them, and compartmentalized them for consideration, strictly after his hours of duty were completed.
And so when she appeared to him now, clearing the side drape of her long gown from the closing draft of the airlock, his body reacted predictably. It was not through pleasure for its own sake. That concept was intrinsically unknown to him, except through academic study of behaviour. The population of the Academy had provided an endless variety of such subjects for observation, and he'd discovered much of the human ethos to be eternally chaotic, not worth the price of his ensuing exhaustion. He knew, not instinctively, that his conscious mind should not now be scrolling through a list of qualifying conclusions. Nyota had voiced her desire that he learn to share spontaneity with her. It was an illogical concept, but as she held it to be of value, Spock would try to understand, and engage.
It had always been his traditional, proscribed and approved Vulcan way to speak only as necessary, for the express purpose of imparting thoroughly explored and organized, correct data. And not since he'd been a child, had he been aware of anyone's need to show patience with him, as Nyota had done, and continued to do.
Nyota stood composed, silently admiring him. Through the half shadowing and distance still between them, Spock noted the gathering sweet expression in the tilt of her brown eyes as the corners of her lips curved upward. Spock approached to receive his guest, halting to just within arm's reach. She wished for more, but in her estimation, he seemed unable to realize how to respond to the moment.
"What is this?" Nyota whispered, her fingertips touching the crystal suspended at his chest. As she looked up, she saw that his deep set gaze had not left her face.
"It is – to be shared, with you," he quietly answered. She was surely meant to take the hand he now offered. As he stepped to her side, his light touch at her back guided her on a silent walk toward the mysterious smouldering at the wall. Bringing her to a certain point, he eased her down to sit on the floor, and proceeded alone, with a ceremonial demeanor. Nyota watched as he removed the chain, passing it over his head, and placed the crystal on the platform of a short pillar. He returned and took a seat beside her, his features serene as he stared at a red-gold fire coming alive, being born from the circle.
Her look questioned. She couldn't possibly be afraid by his side, and she perceived intuitively that it was no time to speak. She sat awed by the widening, rolling fire, bright and golden before her. It grew upon itself to fill the height and breadth of the wall with perpetually tumbling flames, enigmatically disciplined in form and heat.
Long minutes passed in silence as she lost herself to the mesmerizing spectacle. It dazzled her eyes and reached deep into her soul - calming, comforting. And yet, enervating and exciting...
"A mystical entity," she thought. Her contented musings were wonderfully disturbed as she felt his shoulder touch hers when his arm surrounded her waist.
"It destroys nothing," he said, nestling her against him.
"Is it for prayer, meditation?"
"If one so chooses. It is all things."
"All things..." she repeated softly, thinking how mysteriously, typically Vulcan were his answers. "You speak of it almost as a beloved pet."
"Has it affected you so?"
Nyota searched the possibility through her completely relaxed mind – her warm, fuzzy, affectionate... "Yes, my Heart, just that way."
"Have you formulated other conclusions?" he gently persisted.
"Is it a secret?"
"Not to Vulcans." Spock's voice lowered to a decidedly intimate tone. "Nor to their outworlder life partners. The Firefall -"
"Let me," interrupted Nyota, slyly. "The Firefall is to be shared only with those who deeply respect its spirituality, to be shared with those you cherish." She smiled and caressed his cheek as he listened agreeably. "You do me such honour, my Heart." He remained silent and attentive. "And –" she went on, a little self-consciously, "it can't escape my astute mind, that it has many applications. For instance, one's personal Firefall would be the ideal companion on a wedding night." Nyota extended her arms towards the inviting, seductive waves of licking flames. "The ultimate symbol of love and passion. The energy, the golden warmth, the peace, the blessing! To lie down before it..." She turned to him, the firelight dancing across her face as she reverently asked, "Have you ever thought-"
She had understood perfectly. Spock's dark eyes, reflecting the flames, absorbed her in their tender gaze.
"Yes, my Heart," he softly said. "I have."