Author's Note: I slapped myself twice while writing this, so if that doesn't tell you what kind of fic it is (or what kind of idiot I am), I don't know what does. I remind you again, my only familiarity with the fandom is through the latest movie (STXI), so if there's anything out of place, even a feather, either tickle me or stab me with it, but do so with a hug and a smile (I know. I'm exceptionally odd).
He's lying on his back, with Uhura lying close to his torso — her cheek resting over his chest — and her leg locked over his.
He feels like her lifeline.
He feels— utterly and completely, without prohibition — that to be separated from her would wound her beyond belief, yet she'll never understand how necessary it might be someday.
To destroy Nero, to save Earth, he had been prepared to fly the futuristic ship, along with himself, into certain death. It was the logical choice; the only choice.
He is not Jim Kirk.
It's not a matter of no-win scenarios. It's a matter of scenarios that must be dealt with, not won or lost, but managed with a precision which will justify the presence of a loss with the survival of an entire planet.
Yet, she's human, Nyota is simply human, and as such, her logic isn't based solely on thought — as is the Vulcan way.
She feels — she is driven by feeling — and although she has proved increasingly adept at maintaining composure in spite of her feelings, she is not Vulcan enough.
He's not certain if she's strong enough — if her human emotions are indeed strong enough — to survive the loss of him, and it troubles him — keeps him awake in thought —forcing him to imagine what could happen to her if he was indeed forced to make the choice: his life for the life of others. It's a decision that will forever be present within their chosen profession.
For, as much as he is able to control his own feelings, he does not wish to know of a world where his passing might bring her pain. But, humans are fascinating creatures, able to change, adapt and heal with time. Certainly, she could accept his imminent passing — as death is inevitable — and grow to love someone else.
The thought of her loving someone else... stirs him somehow, reminds him that, perhaps, it's not a matter of not being able to deal with the loss of a loved one, but never having known what you had till it was lost.
It is clear to him that her lifespan is much shorter than his, and while he will make certain no immediate harm will come to her to end her life before her time, part of him knows she's strong enough to survive — she's not a delicate blossom, in spite of her resemblance to its beauty — but she cannot cheat time.
It is then, within those thoughts, that he concludes the matter in his mind, and measures the time from now to her impending awakening. They both have their posts to tend to, and she's due in an hour and forty-five minutes. Her awakening is due in fifteen.
So he waits, gazing down into her face for what feels like forever, until the computer chirps to life with its alarm, and makes her groan into his chest before placing a soft kiss over it.
"Nyota," he murmurs.
Her eyes flutter open with a smile, "Spock. How long have you been awake," she sighs, clinging closer to his form.
"I have been awake from the moment you began your rest, Nyota." He tells the truth, and he feels a small chuckle in her throat shake his chest before she stretches.
She sits up, brushing her hair from her face, "One day, I'll be the one watching you sleep."
The tug at his lips is immediate, and natural, as he captures her hand in his, stopping her from standing away from the bed, "Nyota, there is something I desire very much to discuss with you."
Her heart rate is quick to accelerate, but none of it is present on her face, he notes, as she tries to keep calm.
"What is it, Spock?" She squeezes his hand gently, and he understands it as a sign of encouragement.
His gaze buries itself into her eyes, serious yet serene in their intention, "There are expressions used by the people of Earth meant to convey the true meaning of their feelings, but having never expected to experience them as I now have, with you, I never found myself curious enough to become acquainted with their words."
Spock has never felt shame in his Vulcan-half, or the way he has been taught to be because of it. Uhura has never made him feel like he needs to be more of a human man and less of a Vulcan. With her, he knows he can be both, as long as he is still Spock.
"And, after having nearly ended my life to save the people of Earth, I found myself regretting my inability to tell you — to show you — what you mean to me and, although logic assures me that you know, or else you would not be sharing my bed, or my life, I feel that it is my duty, as your chosen mate, to tell you that, if I am ever again in a situation where my life must be sacrificed, everything I have done and will ever do, will be with endearing thoughts of you."
As he finishes his words, feeling the blood rushing in and out of his face, he studies Uhura carefully, and how her shoulders seem to shake softly, and her eyes are beginning the release of tears.
He had not thought he would make her cry, and he hopes they're tears of joy — as humans are known to express more than one single emotion through the display of tears.
His answer is received when Uhura throws herself in his arms, and he catches her immediately, brushing her hair with his hand as she buries her face in his neck, kissing every area available to her.
When she pulls back, she's all smiles, and he brushes the tears away with the ghost of a smile on his own lips, proud of his success to convey the feelings he had been so unsure of his ability to express, not so long ago.
"Oh, Spock," she sighs. "For a man who isn't very familiar with those three little words," she kisses his lips briefly, "You've just managed to say them ten-fold." She kisses him again, this time, with a hunger that he can feel in his chest, and his loins, causing her to pull back, gasping for air, until she finally leans into his ear and whispers, "I love you, too."