He beeped at her door, requesting entrance. "Enter!" Came her quiet voice, and he did, stepping into her comfortable quarters. She was standing by her sink, calmly washing a last few dishes. He took a seat at a turned out chair by her table, folding his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.
"You still prefer to do dishes by hand?" He inquired, curious. He had learned that for some unknown reason, he didn't need to be as formal with her, no restrained as much.
"Yes. It's somewhat soothing to me."
"Why?"
"It's a small task easily done. Something unusual these days."
"Did you design your quarters?" He looked around as he often did. It was new to him, still. She had the basics; table, couple chairs, bed, nightstand, and a small sanitary area. But what she kept simple was complicated. She decorated in texture, something he found amusing. Her bed was soft, plush, inviting, and her whole area was very homey.
"Yes. I live here. I built the ship." She set the last dish aside and turned to him. Her dark hair swished down her back, and she was wearing a tight fitting long sleeve shirt, and loose black pants. Her feet were bare. It registered that this was the first time he had ever seen her hair loose. He decided that he quite liked it.
"Indeed." He murmured, looking down at his boots.
"You feel overwhelming grief, regret, agony. Why, Spock?" He looked up, genuinely surprised. Her head was tilted, face open and listening.
"How did you know?"
"Many have said that my greatest gift is my empathy link. I suppose the best way to describe it would be to say that I can smell your emotions. Some I sense, and others I hear, but mostly I can smell them."
"I couldn't save my mother. If I only could've calculated better..." She stopped him, coming almost close enough to touch.
"Enough of that. Spock, what if your mother knew you were blaming yourself like this?" She paused. "Did she tell you she loves you?"
He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.
"Then you should know that she loves you, even if she isn't there. And you will know." She put a hand on his abdomen, above his heart. "In here." His eyes widened, and filled with sadness.
"Emrys." He bowed his head, and slowly, ever so slowly, allowed his forehead to come and rest on her breasts, hands around her waist, and fisting in her shirt on her back. She lovingly lowered her head, so her chin rested on his short black hair, on hand coming to rest on his back, the other softly petting the black strands. He sobbed quietly, allowing his emotional barriers to break, and she just softly stood there with him. Her warm presence offering all the comfort he could ever need. Her one leg was bent at the knee, her calf brushing his, and her toes brushing the ground, as usual. He allowed himself to stay there.