Jim Kirk looked around the open area of the Base commercial section. He was fairly certain he'd be able to find Uhura here. Yesterday she'd told him there were some things she really wanted to get. It was about the most personal conversation they'd managed to have in the three months they'd been working together. Just for that moment, the cool façade had slipped, and he had had a glimpse of the real woman – her inner life, excitement, even a hint of fire - wasted, no doubt, on the man she loved. Jim had enjoyed it - and found there were lots of things he wanted to say, and to ask. He had been wanting to talk with her for a long time. He knew that if he could find her now, she'd be alone.

Spock was still on the Bridge of the Enterprise. He'd taken the center seat when they had returned from speaking with the Base Manager, though Kirk had half-heartedly offered him the chance of a little shoreleave. He had refused, saying he preferred to go about his duties. Dedicated, tireless - the man was an enigma.

If Jim had one of his occasional bouts of sleeplessness, he would get up and explore the ship, pretending that he'd never seen her before. Almost invariably, the Vulcan would be awake, too, working on some research project or another, on the Bridge or in some obscure corner of the ship – while Uhura, presumably, slept peacefully.

There. There she was, sitting at a café table. Bags and boxes were gathered around her feet, and she was drinking from a small teacup, smiling slightly. There she was - self-sufficient and self-reliant - without her tall silent shadow.