Contents: Star Trek XI or Star Trek (2009) – Spock and Nyota Uhura – Recreation of the turbolift scene with differences. – I do not own Star Trek in any way, shape, or form. © of Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. The concept of this story is © of Abrams, Orci, Bad Robot Productions, Paramount Pictures, and Spyglass Entertainment.
Angst, loss, and contact. A sanctuary of sorts awaits me in her arms.
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author's ramble: I was writing this randomly and I feel it doesn't flow all to well but I like it in some places. The beginning was started quite a time ago and I finished the this morning as I tried to clean up chocolate milk from my ceiling. And line "I'm on your side. You know I'll never say goodbye." is from a song called "Hush" by Angie Aparo that inspired me to finish.
Spock stared blankly at the woman as she entered the turbolift after him. A small part of him was glad to see her; he usually found her presence calming as long as she wasn't wound up from her day. But another half simply wished for seclusion, for time to meditate and settle his emotions back behind their confining bars. Nyota gazed at him with apologetic eyes, stretching to thumb Stop on the lift's control panel. A sharp jolt was their response and Spock tightened his jaw in an attempt to keep control. He had been hoping that he would be away from anyone at this point but unfortunately, that wasn't the case and his control was beginning its steep descent. And as he registered the regretful expression on the woman's face, he felt his barriers slipping, crumbling under the force of his raging emotions. They battered relentlessly as Nyota's hands cupped his face, her voice breaking while she murmured her apologies, showering him with soft kisses. Her arms snaked around his shoulders and she gripped his neck firmly, now asking him what he needed. Honestly, he needed time away from her, time away from everything, to just be wrapped away in silence and for his thoughts not to be so irrevocably damaged by the genocide of the species he's grown to live with. His hands grasped her hips and his face rested in the crook of her neck, taking in her potent scent. She still had the residual effects of her roommate's perfume left on her skin and it only made her sweet cinnamon flavor stand out among the aged sandalwood of the fragrance.
Feeling and wanting her warmth, his hands slid up her back and gripped her shoulders with more force than was necessary; she didn't want to leave him, not at a time like this where she wanted to be needed. A dry sob wracked his body and he watched her expression turn to surprise as she leaned away slightly, staring, analyzing, still holding. Spock fought against the torrent that threatened to cripple him and force him to weep for his loss. The fact that she unintentionally reminded him of his mother never helped; she was compassionate, determined, soft, emotional, human. They were so different and similar in so many ways but he felt a tenderness for them. He wanted both and the thought sent another gash into his weakening defenses. Nyota shuffled her feet, shifting her weight, and as second nature, the grip on her shoulders tightened. She let a weak smile grace her lips, cupping his face as she spoke.
"I'm on your side. You know I'll never say goodbye."
Spock's first reaction was to comment on how illogical that was as she said goodbye to him almost every time they parted but he swallowed his words and tried to reinforce the damaged dam, tracing small circles on her back subconsciously as he thought. The small gesture elicited a shudder, then a kiss, from the woman.
And, for once, he let himself respond the way he wanted to; he kissed back, caring and needing. A moment's hesitation, astonishment he guessed, and they were back on track, holding each other in the stopped lift. Her skin was hot under his fingertips as they danced across her cheeks, down her neck and back up until they hit her temple. Strange for the Vulcan, he felt his heart beating hard and fast in his side. It was logical to assume that under such circumstances, this type of bodily reaction would be standard. But he didn't think that the way his hands roamed her soft face was normal for his race. Well, the more conservative race he was born to. Touching was just something Vulcans refrained from and if it was necessary, the contact didn't last long. Especially the hands; that type of touch was meant only for their most intimate lovers. But Spock wanted more of this contact, wanted to just be enveloped in Nyota's arms and not have to worry about his pain reaching him or maintaining control of a starship with its over 400 crewmembers. He just wanted to feel Nyota and nothing else.
Unintentionally, he set his fingers against the meld points and was surprised to see her mind was open and whirling with images. Images of him from her point of view, of them on their first 'date', as she had called it, of him sitting in his chair as he read a book on Klingon dialects she had just given him. She had added a great deal of affection to them and he bent back, recoiling away, still holding her tightly with one hand. That was something that wasn't helping him with his emotional baggage. He really didn't want to be attached to another human; they were so frail, so mortal. But with their illogical ways of twisting themselves into another's thoughts, he was sure he'd already become more than just the comfortable acquaintance that he was with most others. A ferocity overcame that waning pain in his chest and he pulled her in hard for a bruising kiss. Nyota's nails dug into his neck and he concentrated the way she felt against him, the way the heat of her body was beginning to warm the chilled blood in his veins, the way her breath stuttered, the way he felt when he was around her. And it was all too much, even if it was meant as a distraction from the pit that now settled in his heart. Spock stumbled back, keeping upright but leaning slightly against the cool metal of the turbolift's walls.
"What do you need?" she asked again, her features contorting minutely at his reaction. Minutes went by. However many, Spock, this time, didn't know. He was focusing on the way he wanted to just scoop Nyota up and take her to a place where nothing would ever happen to her, where she'd be safe from harm, as she stroked his cheek soothingly, resting her head against his chest. Never again did he want to experience the loss of a loved one though he knew it was inevitable. His father's aging had ended its hiatus and he began to show subtle signs of this fact. And these humans always found themselves in danger's way. Finally, he grabbed her hand and held it tight before straightening up.
"I need for everyone to continue performing admirably." The words seemed shaky to him and he regretted saying them as he saw Nyota's expression but it was what he needed, beyond her and his mother. He couldn't let his mother's death and the destruction of his home planet get in the way of every one's duty. Reaching over, he thumbed the glowing Stop button and the turbolift began its ascent. Nyota put on a smile and kissed him once more. The doors slid open with a dull whoosh and he hurriedly stepped out, trying to get back on task as the new cement that held his emotional dam dried.