A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Lots of food-symbolism, musical parallels and Spock in denial
In agreement with several comments: Yes indeed, Mono does suck. I had it last semester. I got it from sharing tea with some fellow actors (Not from more enjoyable activities to my dismay!) and then I had to refrain from even breathing too hard on my boyfriend of the time –for three months-- because he played rugby and he couldn't afford to get it. I repeat: mono sucks.
I said this to AtanaM, and now I will say it to all of you: It's really nice to hear you guys say that this sounds like Spock, because it means that reading it aloud in my very best Zachary Quinto voice was totally worth it, even though my brother now thinks I need to be committed.
to mckennamacabre: DANGIT! I thought it was aural, but I wasn't sure, so I went to the IMDB, and it said oral, so I ran with it...
Disclaimer: Don't own it. If I did, things would be different. Spock would have a shirtless scene, for starters...
Chapter 3
Despite her initial absences, Nyota did not miss another class for the rest of the semester. She was conscientious enough to move from her accustomed seat at the front of the class to one near the back, so that her drowsiness would not disrupt the other students. Her doctor's note stated that she had permission to skip class whenever she felt necessary, but apparently she never felt that it was necessary, despite her obviously growing exhaustion. There was only a few weeks left of classes, but Spock had learned that the course of mononucleosis could take several months with varying degrees of severity, depending on the person.
She was kind enough to warn him, and all her other professors, about the nature of her illness. Spock was therefore more lenient when he noticed her eyelids drooping at the back of his class. He frequently saw her head nod, only to snap back up with a look of intense consternation and annoyance with herself. In the context of Nyota Uhura, a student generally so composed and conscientious, Spock believed that the sight would be classified as amusing.
She did cancel all her tutoring sessions, but she continued to spend that time in the xenolinguistics lab. As she worked, Spock frequently observed a look of annoyance on her face, faint enough to go unnoticed by a human observer, but Vulcans were keen in all their observations. What was doubtful to him was the exact nature of the cause of such an expression. Was her workstation experiencing a minor malfunction? But if that were the case, she would not choose to continue sitting there when there were clearly other stations to be had.
During the second week of her illness, Spock decided that it would not be inappropriate to question her about the behavior. Approaching her station, he noted that she was staring hard at the screen, though she seemed to be making no progress on the translation she was attempting. He stood behind her for a full minute before she noticed him there, his hands clasped at the small of his back.
"Hello Commander," she said, a smile smoothing out the wrinkle that had been between her brows.
"Nyota, you seem..." he paused, searching for the appropriate descriptor, "Frustrated."
"I am," she said she waved her hand in annoyance at the screen. "I can't concentrate." she continued, rubbing her eyes. "All my notes keep... running together. I keep drifting off and I just... can't focus." She ran her fingers over her scalp, causing pieces of her hair to spring out of her ponytail and create a frizzy halo around her face.
"Have you eaten yet? I know that lack of food can disrupt a human's ability to concentrate."
Nyota glanced at the chronometer on her screen. "I wanted to finish this translation before I got dinner."
Spock glanced at the screen too, analyzing the work she had yet to complete and the time she had left to complete it in in less than a moment. "At your current pace, it seems highly unlikely that you will complete your work before the mess hall closes."
"I know."
"I suspect that skipping meals is not conducive to your general health."
She sighed. "It isn't."
Spock paused. "If you are willing," he said, "I frequently take my meals in my office."
"So that's why I never see you at dinner," she said suddenly. This outburst brought a slight flush to her cheek, as if she felt that she had said too much.
To assure her that he did not find her outburst embarrassing, he nodded and elaborated. "My presence in the Mess Hall is not always desirable to all, and I find that the conversations of my colleagues and of humans in general are illogical and difficult to follow, as they seldom progress in a linear fashion. Including yourself," he nodded generously to her, "I believe there are only half a dozen humans that I actively enjoy conversing with." He paused before returning to his original train of thought. "due to my dining habits, I always keep my office well stocked with Plomeek soup. If you would care to join me, I believe this arrangement would allow you to complete your essay and have dinner at the same time."
"Plomeek?"
He inclined his head slightly. "It is a Vulcan dish. It is not incompatible with the human palate. I do not know if it will be to your liking, but--"
"That sounds great, Spock," she said, cutting him off with a smile. "Soup's exactly what I need. The pills I got for the sore throat don't really work, and anything more substantial than soup is too painful to swallow."
"I am sorry that your illness is impeding your ability to function," he said, sincerity in his dark eyes.
She smiled gratefully up at him. "I don't know what I'd do without your help."
Spock considered briefly, "I do not believe that your grades would be severely affected by my absence," he said, turning on his heel to go back into his office.
"Grades, maybe not," she said, gathering her things and following him. "But my general well-being?" she snorted.
He pursed his lips. "I am attempting to expand my understanding of human non-verbal communication. I take it that you mean to imply that my assistance has been beneficial to your wellbeing?" he said, pondering as he keyed open his office door. "That may be true. It is, at least in part, a self-serving action." he noted, following her into his office and moving to the cabinet behind his desk.
"How so?"
"Your presence in class, even in your current condition, is beneficial both to myself and your fellow students. Also, as it is likely that you will serve aboard the Enterprise upon graduation, it is in my own best interest to ensure that you have the best possible training and are in the best possible health."
Spock produced a self-heating container of broth and a spoon. He squeezed the seals that kept the container closed, releasing a puff of coiling steam and the subtly spicy scent of Plomeek. He turned back to face Uhura. Her expression seemed to indicate that he had not fully answered the question to her satisfaction, so he chose to elaborate.
"It is in my best interest as I have every intention of serving as science officer aboard the Enterprise myself." He held out the container to the cadet, who was looking stunned. "You may find that the flavors are subtle. Not all humans appreciate them, but I assure you, it is entirely nourishing."
"I had no idea you would be science officer." She accepted the broth, holding it close to her chest as if to gather warmth from it. With the other hand she laid her study materials onto his desk.
Spock nodded, closely observing her rapidly changing expression. "I trust that this news has not upset you in any way?"
"Not at all," she said, "Just surprising. Somehow I never imagined you on the bridge of a starship."
"I assure you, I am a scientist first. While the Enterprise is being completed, Captain Pike suggested that I teach at the Academy during the interval." Spock pulled a chair from the corner of the room, allowing Uhura to sit in front of his desk. "He has implied an intention to take me on as first officer as well, although that is at least partially speculation. There are many capable officers expecting assignment to the Enterprise."
"I'm sure you'll get it, Spock," she said, unconsciously reaching out to pat his arm.
Spock stiffened fractionally at the affectionate contact, barely enough for Uhura to notice. Her touch was cool to his skin, even through the material of his shirt. He tried to recall if they had ever touched except for offered hands of greeting or assistance. She pulled back her hand and busied herself with the soup, sipping a spoonful. Spock stepped away and went to sit at his desk across from her. He pulled up a student's essay on his screen while she continued to work on her PADD, sipping Plomeek as she did.
"How does the broth agree with you?"
She did not immediately answer.
"You find it bland?"
"Not precisely," she said. "Not bland exactly, but... It's missing something."
"My mother frequently said the same thing," he noted. Out of respect for her studious intentions, he did not say aloud what he thought next. Humans generally find that Vulcans lack a certain something.
This was a ritual they repeated frequently over the course of the next few days. Nyota began bringing tiny bottles of spices with her, looking for just the right additive to improve the Plomeek soup to her satisfaction. Spock became accustomed to her presence in his office.
She would frequently put on headphones, listening to music. After inquiring about her preferences (she generally listened to classical music while studying), he suggested some Vulcan symphonies she might enjoy. She agreed that they should exchange music, and brought him a memory stick containing pieces by her favorite composers.
His acquaintance with Earth music had been relatively limited to that point, since his mother had actively preferred the sounds of the Vulcan lute, but he soon found himself developing an appreciation for ancient classical compositions. Nyota had a passion for Mozart, and Spock was surprised to find himself appreciating the complex melodies and interplay of instruments.
Spock had decided that these interactions, comparing taste in music and sharing food, did not constitute an improper relationship, and since he had not had an emotional episode since their ride to the medical center, he decided that he had successfully purged it from his system. For that, Spock was somewhat relieved.
It did not even occur to him to wonder how Nyota felt. It was illogical to even consider the possibility that someone who had stated their feelings to be that of a student and a friend might, in actuality, feel differently.
On the last day of classes, Spock bade farewell to his students, as he had been told that such goodbyes were customary for humans. Uhura, upon passing him at the podium, simply said "See you later, Professor." Spock found that this pleased him.
The cadet had not recovered from her illness, and continued to have study sessions and simple Vulcan meals with Spock in his office throughout exam week. Her studying was generally frenzied, intense. It left little time for conversation.
Spock graded papers to pass the time, but allowed himself moments of leisurely observation in order to ensure that the Cadet was not overworking herself into a deeper state of illness. She did not look any less tired than she had in previous weeks, but, thanks to the nutritious plomeek, she had gained back some weight. She frequently dozed off on his desk. Several times he allowed her to sleep there for a substantial period before rousing her and suggesting she return to her room. There was something pleasing in the aesthetics of her face when the peaceful expressions of slumber crept over it.
And, he noted, she always arrived with a smile and left with her now routine "See you later." It never ceased to please him that she would return. Her presence was soothing and familiar. He began to understand why humans so frequently sought to be in the company of those they considered to be friends.
At the end of exam week, Nyota arrived in his office at their customary time, but without her usual study materials. The first movement of Mozart's Symphony # 40 in G Minor was playing quietly in the background, as Spock approached with the customary bowl of Plomeek soup.
Nyota produced a tiny bottle. "I think I may have found the perfect addition," she said, smiling.
"Indeed?" he said, handing over her bowl.
She nodded vigorously. "A friend of mine, a medical cadet, suggested it. It's lemon basil."
"A hybrid?" he inquired, with interest.
She nodded. "It's a very... complex flavor," she said, sprinkling the pale green powder over the bowl as she sat in her usual chair across from him. "All the citrus-y sourness of a lemon, but it still tastes like basil."
She stirred briefly and brought a spoonful to her lips. "Oh Spock," she said, her voice thick with delight as she took another spoonful. He raised his eyebrows at her rapturous expression. "Oh Spock, you have got to try this."
"Out of friendship," he said, laying aside his own soup and reaching for hers.
"Wait, I'm still contagious," she said.
"It seems highly unlikely that a mere human virus would be able to stand against a Vulcan immune system. I have never heard of this disease having been contracted by a Vulcan in our long history of association with humans."
She gave in to his logic and allowed him to take the bowl and take a spoonful with his own spoon. The added flavor was not unpleasant. The unexpected but enjoyable zest of the lemon was not so strong as to eliminate the natural, earthy flavors of the plomeek. The flavor beneath it, which Spock decided must be the basil, blended almost perfectly with the taste of the plomeek, but brought a fullness and a richness that he had not realized it lacked.
"It is..." he paused, staring at the translucent broth now swimming with flecks of green, "It is entirely harmonious."
"Hmph," she said, taking the bowl back. "That's probably the best I'm going to get from you, isn't it?"
"Is more required?"
She sighed, and Spock sensed that this was a sigh of contentment, rather than one of dissatisfaction. "Not at all."
A moment of silence passed between them. Spock had finally learned to differentiate between awkward silences and their more pleasant counterpart, the comfortable silence. He believed that this silence was of the latter variety.
"I'm going to miss this," she said at last. "It'll be nice being home over the break, but I'm still going to miss this."
"Your intention is to visit your family?"
"It's my little sister's graduation. We're going to throw a big party."
Spock nodded.
Uhura looked up. "Are you going home to Vulcan?"
Spock shook his head. "It would be illogical. I shall be preparing documents for a colleague who is traveling to the gamma sector to observe magnetic phenomena."
"Why should it ever be illogical to return home?" she asked.
"I exchange regular correspondence with my mother, and there is no... specific reason that would require my visit."
"Is there a reason that would keep you away?"
Spock did not speak for a moment. Uhura looked slightly taken aback. "I didn't mean to intrude at all, commander, I--"
"Not at all, Nyota. I simply do not wish to cause you distress. I am not currently in communication with my father, and humans seem to find that fact upsetting. Anticipating the usual question, I would assure you that emotionality has little to do with our disagreement and there is no reason for anyone to be saddened by it."
"Not speaking? That seems..." she paused, "well it seems highly illogical."
"Not at all. It is simply that my father desired to see me take one path and my inclination was towards another." Her expression remained skeptical. "Let me see if I can explain it with a human metaphor. Imagine, if you will, that a project of yours, an experiment, has gone awry and the result is not as you had desired it to be. Would you linger over the failed experiment and, through emotional means attempt to force the result to change? That would be illogical."
"Isn't that a little harsh on yourself, Spock?" she said, her eyes very wide and her brows furrowed with concern and sympathy.
"Not at all," he said brusquely. "It is simply logic."
There was another moment of silence. Apparently the cadet either could not think of a response or chose to keep her opinions to herself. Either way, he was grateful for her silence. Humans were most insistent that he should attempt to re-establish contact with his father. It was an argument that he had never anticipated having with anyone other than his mother. Every time a colleague attempted to force a reconciliation, he found it oddly disconcerting.
After another moment of silence, Spock determined that it was his turn to create small talk. He had come to enjoy this human ritual. It was mentally stimulating, provided that the other participant was in possession of an active mind. And even whilst she suffered the fatigue brought on by her illness, she never ceased to be a most engaging partner in this activity. He had not yet determined whether human conversation was preferable to the Vulcan custom of keeping silence when there was nothing of import to be said.
"I understand that you have completed your exams and applied for the post of Academy aide for advanced phonology and acoustical engineering."
"Mmhmm," Uhura said as she began scraping the bottom of her bowl of Plomeek soup.
"Are you certain that you will you be sufficiently recovered from your illness?"
She frowned. "I hope so. I don't feel any better yet. In fact, I feel worse."
"This is doubtless due to the stress of examinations and school. Rest and recovery with your friends and family should help, should they not?"
"You would think," she sighed. "But I have four younger siblings and two cousins who live not far away, and they all want me to babysit them."
Spock blinked. "You have a large family."
"You are an only child, aren't you?" she set aside her soup, looking up at him.
"Indeed."
She nodded wistfully. "I used to wish I was."
"I do not see why."
"You didn't have to change diapers, or keep them from killing themselves, or get blamed for their mistakes or have to put up with all their constant noise."
"And you," he countered quickly, "were always assured of companions with whom you had a certain amount in common. You never lacked for playmates I assume?"
She blinked. "I suppose not."
"Do not underestimate the value of such things to children. In my youth, before I gained more complete control of my emotions, I recall very painful feelings of what I believe humans know as loneliness." He quietly finished his soup.
Looking up, he found Nyota staring at him, her expression concerned and sympathetic again. He did not find her pity was conducive to his enjoyment of their conversation. "I assure you," he said, "such emotions no longer affect me."
She said nothing. He could see that she did not believe him, and he could not fathom why. He had told her Vulcans did not knowingly lie. Unless she believed him to be lying unintentionally, there could be no logical explanation for her expression. He wished that they could change the subject
"What time is it?" she said suddenly, jolted out of her examination of him by a sudden thought.
"I believe it is almost 1900 hours. Why?"
"Shit," she jumped up, "I have to get packing. My flight leaves tomorrow, and I promised I would help Gaila study for her exam before I went to bed."
"Of course you must go then." Spock stood. "I will see you next semester, Nyota. I look forward to working with you."
"Thank you, Spock." She stepped up to the door. It swished open, but she did not walk through it. Instead, she stepped back, allowing it to swish closed.
"Did you forget something?" Spock walked over to her, ready to assist her.
Uhura turned, a look of intense contemplation on her face. She stood still for a moment, staring up at him. He stared at her face, but her expression was shifting too rapidly for him to read with any sort of accuracy. Impulsively, she slipped her arms under his and wrapped them around his torso, squeezing him to her.
A hug, Spock realized.
Her head was directly beneath his, all he could see was the top of her ponytail. The flowery scent of her shampoo filled his nose. He could not identify the exact plant type, but the smell was, nonetheless, pleasing. The bulk of her body was cool compared to his, and he could feel the slow, steady pulse of her heart against his chest.
Irrationally he was reminded of the old custom of knocking on a door before entering, as if her heart were knocking against his, asking permission.
"Forgive me," she said quietly into his shirt after a moment, "an irrational human display of affection." She squeezed him once more before she stepped away, not quite meeting his eyes.
"Of course," he said simply.
"I will miss you, Spock."
"As will I, Nyota."
She glanced once, quickly at his face, and left.
Spock cocked his head slightly, almost frowning as he considered the cadet's actions and what her intentions could logically be.
~*~*~
Concluding Author's Notes:
Thanks need to be sent out:
First to everyone who has reviewed!
Second to my mom: for introducing me to lemon basil in the first place, and for her astute and inspiring observation that Mozart was "too logical" for her to enjoy as much as Beethoven
Finally to my bestest evar friend, who leaned over to me in the movie theater and said "Spock needs a hug."
Incidentally-- if anyone is curious, this is the piece of music mentioned in the story:
.com/watch?v=-hJf4ZffkoI
Mozart FTW!
Please keep reviewing-- the next chapter is... eventful. *wicked smile*
