In Silence
by SlwMtionDaylite

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though.
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Spock/Uhura (implied)
Word Count: 400

Summary: I resent those around me for their ability and freedom to mourn. To cry....I must mourn in silence.

Written for the Spock/Uhura LJ Community prompt "Silence".

I have given my life to Surak's teachings, to the Vulcan way. I have given my life to logic. I did these things without a single regret.

Regret, after all, would be illogical.

My logic has served me well and I have served it unwaveringly. I do not wish to rescind my decision.

I do not wish.

However, today I find myself somewhat at a loss.

Beside me, in her steadfast devotion to me and her friends, Nyota stands. We are only two of many gathered together at the memorial service Starfleet arranged for its human officers to help them begin the grieving process. The service is something I would normally find to be illogical, for the dead can no longer care, but, as I said, I am currently at a loss.

I am here because Nyota requested that I come. I have found that I cannot deny her requests eighty-eight point seven percent of the time, even if they are illogical.

I could not tell you why.

Or, perhaps more accurately, my teachings do not allow me to tell you why.

I observe as those around me including Nyota, mourn the deaths of friends and comrades and even the destruction of my home planet, for I know many humans believe Vulcans to be an uncaring unemotional lot. It is an unnerving show of emotion. The act of crying has always been something I am uncomfortable dealing with. It is an unappealing act of emotional display.

And yet, I feel an unwelcomed feeling seeping through the wall of my inner mind.

Resentment.

I resent those around me for their ability and freedom to mourn. To cry.

I can do neither.

I must suppress those emotions. For I have chosen to follow the Vulcan way.

I give Nyota a slight nod as she looks to me, a hand running down my arm to grasp my hand briefly before touching her fingertips to mine, in the form of the ozh'esta. I allow her to draw whatever comfort from my touch as she can. She gives me a tight smile, something I noticed humans do when they are upset and yet, illogically, attempting to prove otherwise. She understands me. I will forever be in her debt for that. She returned to grasping my hand, tightening her grip briefly before nodding slightly and joining the congregation of mourners.

She understands.

I must mourn in silence.

END