She had talked to Spock and had told Gaila she had talked to Spock, and it had been friendly and polite and professional and she had the translation program to prove it.

And she didn't have to do it again. She could finish his class, wash her hands of any other close association with him and move on with her life, leaving him as an old family friend, someone she had known as a child who she might see occasionally but didn't need to have any real contact with.

She had the rest of the semester with him, a world where he was 'sir' and she was 'Cadet' and that was organized and neat and tidy, leaving whatever friendship had blossomed between them to their younger selves, to what felt like another life and different people.

It was great and it was simple and being anything else to him other than a student and perhaps someday a colleague was done, over and finished, just as straightforward as she could have hoped when she realized joining Starfleet meant him being back in her life.

It was great.

She worked hard on her midterm paper for his class, as hard as she did for any of her classes, and his comments back to her were direct and succinct. Her grade was excellent, but then all of her grades were excellent so being at the top of his class was no different from being at the top of any of her others.

She got to his class right on time, just as the lecture hall was filling, just as the swirl of cadets who came to class early to talk to him eased and went back to their seats. She left with the crush of other students, mixing into the crowd with Gaila and others in her year as they spilled out of his classroom into the hall in a happy, loud clamor of voices that drowned out the silence between her and Spock.

She answered his questions in class when he asked them and he answered hers when she raised her hand, his eyes sliding away from hers as he finished and turned towards another student and then another until she was certain she was just another face in the crowd to him, another pupil to teach.

She did the reading for his class among the stack of other texts she had for her other courses, diligently highlighting theories, taking notes on findings, and writing down facts that might appear on a quiz. She finished her homework on time on the best days and in a flurry before class on the worst. She paused now and again to bury herself in the translation program he had lent her, studying the programming as much as she could with her limited knowledge, reveling in the neat phrases it produced in Bjoran, Deltan, Trill, a happy memory of the days when language was meeting new people, exploring new places, not studying vocabulary and taking tests.

It was great.

With the exception of Gaila, no one knew they were acquainted outside the classroom and therefore, with the exception of Gaila, no one questioned why she did nothing more than nod and maybe greet him when they ran into each other, which happened with all the more frequency as the term wore on.

With the exception of Gaila, no one bullied and wiggled their way into her personal life and with the exception of Gaila, no one demanded answers and explanations. Constantly. Repeatedly. Incessantly.

"We're not friends," Nyota explained patiently as Gaila nodded.

"We were friends and now we're not," she went on the next night as Gaila sighed.

"It's completely normal for two people to drift apart," she clarified that weekend as Gaila crossed her arms.

"But it's so sad! You two sounded like you were so close."

"'Were' being the operative word. We both grew up. Changed."

"But that doesn't mean you can't try-"

"No, it does," Nyota said firmly. "I'm different, he's different, and it's different between us."

"Because you two-"

"No. Because… because it just is," she said, sitting on her bed. "I don't… I don't know that even if that hadn't happened we would be particularly close now. He's really… Vulcans are really big on boundaries and decorum and I don't think he would even want a personal relationship with a student even if I wanted one with him."

"I don't think he has personal relationships with many people," Gaila said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I never see him with anyone."

"Well, that's… he's never really had a lot of friends."

"Except you," Gaila accused and she felt herself flinch.

"And my brother," Nyota said quickly. "They still talk all the time. They're both officers and they were at the Academy together. That's just how Spock is."

"Because there's no chance that he's just as confused as you are as to what to do with a childhood friend that he got overly friendly with."

"I can't believe that would bother him," Nyota said primly. "It doesn't bother me."

"Sure," Gaila said. "I really love how honest you always are. Really great. Thanks."

"Sorry," Nyota groaned, laying back on her bed and staring at the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," Gaila said gently and that was even worse. "I just don't understand."

"I don't want to be friends with him. I'm his student, he's my professor and we have, what, a couple weeks left in the semester? A month? I don't know what to do other than just try to forget all of it," Nyota said to the ceiling. "It's easier than trying to… bridge some gap with him when I probably won't see him again after this term."

"Great plan. Let me know how it goes."

"It'll go great," Nyota vowed. "How can it not?"

It was great.

She saw him in the cafeteria occasionally, once when she had started an assignment for Advanced Morphology, her plate pushed the side and three padds set out in front of her. She glanced up, saw him walk in and get a salad to go. He didn't see her, or if he did, didn't say anything, and she didn't either. There wasn't much to say, not that time, or the time she passed him on her way in, intending to grab a cup of coffee as he left with what looked like tea. There wasn't much to say the time she walked by him as he sat studying a filmplast, a plate of salad in front of him, or the time she glanced up from her comm as she waited in line for soup and realized he had been silently standing next to her as she texted Gaila.

"Sir," she said and he nodded and she nodded and she took her lunch to sit with some friends from the Xenolinguistic Club and he must have taken his food back to his office because when she looked up again, he wasn't in the cafeteria, wasn't with the other officers who were chatting and laughing. She soon forgot to keep looking when Gaila plopped down next to her and began recounting an extraordinary date with the most handsome and charming Andorian she had ever met.

She saw him at the gym a number of times, once when Gaila was still going on about her Andorian and once when she wasn't, when she had moved on to a fourth year human and Nyota was grinning and shaking her head as they ran laps. She saw Spock tying his shoes on the side of the track and she didn't think of him until much later, wondering where he had gone since he hadn't ended up on the track with them. She saw him once when she was filling her water bottle and he was leaving, his bag slung across his chest and his hands already flicking across a padd as he walked past her, past groups of cadets and officers gossiping and talking with each other, pounding out the stress of Starfleet into treadmills and barbells.

She saw him on the quad, talking into his comm as he walked towards the Computer Sciences building, turning head after head in his wake and she sighed and rolled her eyes and went back to her notes on Klingon morphology. She saw him the quad again when he walked past her, his eyes flicking up to hers in a concise, succinct movement and he may have nodded at her, or may not have, because he was once again studying the filmplasts in his hands before she had a chance to respond. Before she had a chance to think about it, her comm was chirping and Gaila just had to tell her about this Deltan she met and Nyota was rolling her eyes again and smiling just a bit as she listened patiently.

She saw him in the library as she researched ancient Romulan dialects but he was absorbed his padd and barely looked at her as he walked past, and she saw him there while she worked on one of his take home quizzes, watching his retreating form as she shuffled through her notes, and she saw him there as she researched computer programming, turning away and sliding the text she had taken out back onto its shelf before she had to acknowledge he was there, before he was close enough she couldn't just slip away and slip the padd he had given her back into her bag, since she could just figure it out another day.

"So this line of code," Nyota asked, turning the padd towards Gaila as her roommate frowned at an assortment of nail polish bottles. "It effects… Gaila? Are you listening?"

"Nope. Gold or silver?"

"Can I just ask you one question about this? Because when I put in a past participle-"

"Yeah," Gaila said. "I'm not going to help you with that."

"What?"

"Sorry."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Can I ask why?"

"Sure."

Nyota waited in the long silence that followed Gaila's reply.

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"Maybe."

"Is this a big ploy to get me to talk to Spock again?"

"Maybe."

"Are you serious?"

"Maybe." Gaila looked up, grinned. "Yes. Definitely. Have fun. Let me know how it goes."

Not asking him for help and not getting it from Gaila was great. Mostly.

Part of being an excellent communications officer was cultivating excellent computer science skills, she knew, her eyes blurring as she stared at the lines of code. Some of it was familiar from courses she had taken in college and some of it was so beyond her knowledge that she started looking at computer programming classes for the next semester.

But she didn't need an entire course in it, she just had to understand one or two more things and then she could probably just figure out the rest on her own. It was a language. She was great at languages.

She dropped her head to the desk, groaned, sat up straight and tried again.

She knew enough about Spock to know he was probably a skilled programmer, since she could think of only a handful of things that didn't come naturally to him. One of those was getting I-Chaya to fetch a stick, since the sehlat had had a tendency to slump to the ground and roll over to have his enormous belly rubbed. Another was, apparently, writing programs in a way she could understand and in a way that wasn't so literal.

"I wish my roommate would help me figure this out," she said in Standard.

"I necessitate cooperation from the one who shares my barracks," the program translated in Klingon.

"Great," she sighed.

"Substantial," it provided.

"No, great as in-"

"Prominent."

"Nope."

"Large."

She sighed heavily, quit the software, opened the program to study the lines of code once again, closed it, ran the program again.

"I can do this," she muttered.

"I am capable of accomplishing this task," it said in Trill.

"Exactly. And I can do it on my own."

"Precisely. I require no assistance from the Empire," it said back to her in Romulan.

She put her palm over her face. "Gaila," she said to her absent roommate. "This sucks."

"Gaila, I consider this deplorable," it said in Vulcan.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. Deplorable. It was certainly accurate.

It would be great, really great, if everyone would just stop asking about him.

"How're your classes?" her father asked, steam rising from the mug sitting in front of him and she could almost smell it, could almost imagine reaching for it to inhale deeply, as if the view screen could just open like a window into her childhood home and she could have a break from the Academy.

"Fine," she said, letting her gaze trace over the familiar view of her father, their living room. "Interesting. Hard."

"How's Spock?" he asked, taking a sip, jolting her back to the here and now.

"Fine," she said quickly. It wasn't a lie since she was sure he was fine, not that she had spoken with him or interacted with him or done anything with him lately other than watch him stand silently in a crowded turbolift as she chatted with the other cadets and he studied the floors as they ticked by.

"Is his class still interesting?"

"Yeah, of course."

"It must be so great to have him as a teacher," her father sighed. "I bet it's so much fun for you two."

"Yeah. Listen, is Makena there? Because I can't find my favorite earrings and she borrowed them when I was home over break and-"

But her father was shaking his head, the nostalgic smile still on his face. "No, she's out with Gabe still. Something about flowers. Or caterers. Or the band. Tell me more about your classes."

She did, detailing how her midterms went, how she loved her Advanced Morphology professor, how she was thinking about joining the Academy chorus if she was sure she'd have enough time.

"You should, you love singing," her father nodded.

"She should do what?" her mother called and Nyota watched her walk onto the screen, shedding her jacket and smiling at her as Nyota smiled back. "Hello, dear. We miss you."

"I miss you too," she said, swallowing hard. "I was telling Dad about the Academy chorus."

"Wonderful!" her mother exclaimed, sinking into the chair her father vacated for her. "Now tell me everything you just told your father. How were your midterms? How are classes? How's that lovely roommate of yours?"

Nyota smiled and recounted all the details she could remember.

"How's Spock?" her mother asked, leaning forward. "You two were always thick as thieves. You must just love having him there with you."

"Fine," she said, swallowing again and resisting the urge to look away from her mother's gaze. "I don't, um, see him that much. Busy, you know."

"That is really no excuse, Nyota-"

"Speaking of busy," her father interrupted and Nyota felt immense relief at avoiding the look on her mother's face. "Have you heard from your brother recently? I sent him a message and I got about two words back. No, wait, five. 'Busy. Talk later. Love, Kam.' That was it."

"No, I haven't," Nyota frowned. "I told you I saw him before I came home last time, but I guess I've just been… busy. I'm sorry. I'll call him."

"I just called him," Nyota heard her sister call over the bang of the door and a clatter of dropped shopping bags and jackets. "Nothing. He's so fancy with his big old starship and his big old warp thingies-"

"Warp coils," Gabe gently corrected, hanging up Makena's coat and straightening her boots where she kicked them off next to the door. "Hi Nyota."

"Hi Gabe," she grinned, waving at them both. Her grin faltered as she focused on her sister. "Are you serious? You kept them?"

"You left them behind," Makena said, raising her hand to her ear. "Scatterbrain."

"I- you- are you serious?" she asked again, her voice rising. "You couldn't, I don't know, send them to me? Let me know? Forestall the hours I spent looking for them?"

"Forestall? Can you just use normal words like a normal person?"

"Girls," their father sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Can you not steal things? Is that not normal, decent, human behavior?"

"Normal? Have you met yourself? Nytoa Uhura, genius of the universe, brilliant beyond belief, just so perfect-"

"Will this ever not be normal for the two of you?" their father asked, still rubbing his forehead.

"Nyota, you should come back for a weekend," her mother said. "Even if you need to bring your work. I can't believe I've even started to miss the two of you when you're like this."

"How is this not like she's actually home?" Makena asked, her hands flying as she gestured towards the monitor. "She's told me I've done six things wrong already."

"I have not!"

"Girls," their father said sharply. "You're both adults. Please."

"I'll send them to you," Gabe offered, walking forward towards the monitor while Makena muttered 'traitor' behind him. "How're things going? We miss you around here."

"Hardly," Makena interjected. "Though I do miss the rest of your wardrobe. Maybe you'll leave more great things behind next time you visit, you absentminded genius. Speaking of geniuses, how's Spock?"

"Fine," Nyota said sharply, then tempered her tone. "He's fine."

"That's great," Makena said.

"Yep. It is."

"Come home," her mother called as the oven timer went off, as Nyota imagined dinner warm and flavorful around their table, laughter and voices ringing out. "Or we'll come out there if you're too busy."

"That'd be great," she smiled. She looked at her father bending over the stove, the kitchen suddenly alive with movement and activity. "I, uh, have to go do some work," she said quickly, around a thick knot in her throat. "I'll talk to you later."

"Call your brother!" her father said from the kitchen. "Give Spock our best."

"Good luck with your homework," her mother smiled.

"I'll send your earrings soon," her sister grinned.

"I'll actually send your earrings soon," Gabe promised. "We miss you."

"Miss you too," Nyota said softly to the blank screen as it flickered off.

It was great, because talking to her parents simply reaffirmed how much easier it would be to steer clear of him rather than engage in some mirror of her childhood, some sort of pale echo of it while at the Academy, and ignoring him was easy and forgetting everything between them was simple, especially since she rarely thought about it to begin with.

It was easy enough to see him as just a professor when he acted as such and it was easy enough to forget him as a childhood friend when he never acted like that little boy she had known, that lanky teenager with long limbs and occasional quiet, small smile at her.

His class was interesting and engaging, and while it was difficult at times, she enjoyed it and found the need to focus carefully on the material eclipsed any stray thoughts his familiar mannerisms brought to mind.

It was simple to forget his example about Ferengi views on honor was from that time they were on Tellar Prime when it rained the entire trip and her father and Sarek had recounted a very long afternoon researching everything they could find about Ferengis. It was easy to ignore that his slides on Tholian xenophobia were based off a talk they had been dragged to since none of their parents wanted to leave them alone with such high tensions at that year's Interstellar Comparative Xenocultural Conference.

It actually hadn't been that bad, sitting in the back of the lecture hall and being allowed to play games on their padds as long as they were quiet and didn't move and didn't disturb anyone. Spock, of course, had no trouble being quiet for a few hours, but he had a lot of trouble keeping his rear deflector shield charged, something she had taken advantage of. Repeatedly.

She frowned, shook her head to clear it and watched him click through his slides on the Tholian Assembly and their views on expansion and colonization.

"How should Starfleet handle civilizations whose values dictate that subjugating other races is their greatest good, when that principle so wholly rejects the very ethical code the Federation is founded on?" Spock asked, stepping away from his lectern and waiting for a student to raise their hand to provide an answer. "To what degree does preventing a race such as the Tholians from succeeding in their conquest interfere with their natural development, when natural development of species is what Starfleet seeks to support?"

She watched him nod to a Trill whose hand had shot into the air, watched him listen to her response, his eyes as dark and intense as they had been on his padd that day at the conference, their shoulders brushing together and their legs dangling well above the floor as they sat quietly in their chairs and hunted down Kamau's fighter.

She sighed and dropped her head to her hand, rubbing her temples. Stop, she told herself firmly. Just stop.

Nyota cornered Gaila in their room that night. "Listen can I please just ask you one question-"

"You can ask me why I chose the silver nail polish the other day when gold was obviously a better choice."

"So I was trying to copy this line of code that Spoke wrote, and I couldn't understand-"

"You know what?" Gaila asked with a wide smile. "You know what's so amazing about the Academy? We have this enormous staff of professors who are experts at this stuff. Literally, they get paid to teach students how to write code. And, literally, and I know how much you like it when that word is used correctly, the professor who programmed that works at the Academy! And has office hours! Every week!"

"Gaila…"

"And you know what else about this big, fancy school that we attend? There is literally no class on nail polish colors. Which means," Gaila continued, building steam, "that logically, another student should help me, since it's important that we seek assistance from those most qualified. Nail polish? You. Computer programming? The Lieutenant. Logical. Literally logical."

"Gaila, you're literally at the top of your computer science classes."

"And you love nail polish. Look at all these colors you have. Flat gold, or gold with sparkles?"

Nyota sighed and dropped her padd back on her bed, pointing to the gold with sparkles.

"Why do you care so much," she asked. "Why is this some big thing that's so important to you?"

"About the nail polish? Hot date tonight."

"No, about me spending time with Spock."

"Why is the program so important to you?" Gaila asked and Nyota found she had no real answer beyond a vague curiosity that she couldn't really articulate, some longing to be adept at using the software like she would have to be on a starship bridge some day.

Gaila shrugged. "Exactly. I just do."

She saw him around campus, which was normal and natural and of course she did because the Academy wasn't that big and it wasn't strange or weird or awkward. It was quiet and detached and distant.

She asked questions in class and answered his and didn't go back to his office hours because she just didn't need to, she could do it on her own, and that was that. She never saw him out of class for more than a handful of minutes at a time and when they did speak, it was stilted and cool.

She saw him once in the Academy Hall for an all-hands talk on policy and regulation as he sat down at the end of the row she was in and she turned back towards the front, watching the admirals and deans take their own seats. She saw him in the lobby of the Xenolinguistics department as she walked to class, and she saw him in the hallway as she left Proffessor Uley's office hours, and she saw him in the break room when he came in with Professor Eneis, who gave her a wide smile.

"Cadet Uhura!" he exclaimed, approaching her where she sat with a half a cup coffee and a dozen padds spread out in front of her, his perpetual chuckle shaking his shoulders each time he talked. "Doing your reading for your favorite class?"

"Yours?" she laughed, then tipped her padd towards him so he could see she was, indeed, working on her Advanced Morphology assignment.

"My best student. Though I hear some other professors have tried to make the same claim," he said with a grin and a nod towards Spock and she glanced at him, then quickly away again. "Just getting some tea, dear, and talking about next semester. I don't want to disturb you."

"Not at all," she said as he smiled at her again and walked over to the replicator to join Spock, who stood quiet and still as the older man chatted.

"Have you finished writing your final for your section of Advanced Morphology? I'm still grading the last round of papers – Uhura, you'll have yours back next week – and I always think multiple choice would just be easier, of course, but I just love reading what these brilliant minds come up with. And – oh, what kind of tea is that? I don't think I've ever seen that before. Is it from Vulcan? It must be," the older man said, his smile still wide, turning back to her. "You've been so many places, Cadet Uhura, have you tried it?"

"Um, yes, I have," she said quickly, glancing back down at her work.

"Do you know all about the cadet's travels?" Eneis continued to Spock as Nyota felt her cheeks burn. "She has the most wonderful stories about the places her parents took her. No wonder she's a natural at languages," he laughed, handing Spock his mug and taking his own.

"Indeed," Spock said quietly.

"Honey, Lieutenant?" Eneis asked, spooning some into his own tea.

"No, thank you," he said. It tugged at something deep inside her and she blinked and quickly took a sip of her cold coffee, studying her reading until the two men left.

Nyota had stack after stack of padds on her desk and a very chatty, very talkative distracting her.

"Studying," she said, "I'm studying, Gaila, finals are soon."

"In like weeks."

"In a few weeks. And they're important, you know that."

"Not as important as telling you about-"

"I'm really, actually trying to read this," Nyota said, trying to temper her tone.

"Fine," Gaila sighed, flopping down on her bed, only to sit up again a moment later. "But don't let me forget to tell you about-"

"Gaila."

"Fine."

Nyota flicked to the next page of her reading, carefully underlining a passage on trimoraic syllables.

"I went to the Lieutenant's office hours today," Gaila finally said and Nyota saw her glance over, trying to catch her eye.

"Hmm," she said, studiously reading the next paragraph.

"Vulcans are boring. I didn't realize that until I went, but I can't, you know, get anything from him. Not like with humans or Andorians, or Tellarites, let me tell you, those guys are just rife with their pheromones."

"Rife. Good word."

"Thanks."

Nyota finished two more pages of reading while Gaila stared at the ceiling and hummed quietly to herself.

"You know what-"

"Still reading."

"-He's actually really helpful. I didn't know what to expect, but you were right that's he's kind of sweet."

"I never said he was sweet," Nyota muttered, reaching for her syllabus and checking to see if she needed to read the next chapter.

"Well, that whole story about him. He sounds like he's secretly a giant teddy bear – is that the right thing? The transitional object parents put in their children's beds that is based off a ferocious carnivore?"

"They eat berries," Nyota muttered. She did need to read the next chapter. Damn.

"What?"

"Bears eat berries. And honey. They're omnivores."

"But ferocious."

"Sure." She sighed, trying to concentrate on the next chapter with Gaila still talking.

"Right, ferocious if you're a blueberry. Or a salmon. Or a bumblebee. I saw a documentary on Terran wildlife. Anyway, Spock sounds like under that whole austere, puritanical exterior he really-"

"He really would prefer that we do our reading for his class," Nyota interjected. "I would prefer that too. Imagine that. Something he and I agree on."

"That's what I'm saying. Common ground."

There was blessed silence for three whole pages as Nyota clicked through them, taking notes and trying to focus with Gaila still humming.

"Don't you want to know why I went to his office hours?"

"Nope."

"Really?"

"I assume it's some clandestine computer programming thing that you're not going to tell me about even if I ask."

"Yep."

"So you just brought this whole thing up just to tell me you'd seen him?" Nyota tried very hard to not grit her teeth, staring at the words on the padd and willing them to resolve themselves into something she could comprehend despite Gaila's chatter.

"Basically."

"Why are you so determined that we become friends again? Can't you just leave it alone?" she sighed, exasperation clouding her voice.

"Nope."

"But why do you care so much?"

"Because I do."

"But why?"

"Because."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"I just do," Gaila shrugged and Nyota felt her hand tighten around her stylus, the pressure of homework, of the exhaustion of the Academy, the prattle of a tireless roommate wearing on her. "Someone has to."

"No," she flared. "No one has to. No one has to care about this. You are literally the only one."

"Oh, I don't think that's true."

"He doesn't, I don't." She pointedly turned back to her work. "I care about my reading. And my grades. And my career. Not some guy I knew when I was twelve."

"Maybe he does care."

"Leave it alone. You're making this big huge deal out of this."

"But you don't know, maybe he cares a lot," Gaila needled. "I mean, maybe he doesn't, I can't really tell, but aren't you curious?"

"No."

"But don't you want to just see what it would be like to get to know him again?"

"No. I want to do my reading." She unclenched her jaw, tried again in a softer voice. "Please."

"Because maybe he wants to and you'll never know."

"He doesn't!" Nyota finally snapped. "He just doesn't!"

"Because you were so incredibly friendly and welcoming to him?" Gaila snapped back. "Because you went out of your way to make sure that after all this time he was comfortable and that he knew you were comfortable?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"It does! Because you have this huge family and all these friends and you could have another one and you just don't care! You're so… so privileged with people who love you who you get to talk to all the time that you can just pick and choose and walk away when it's too hard!"

"I…"

"And," Gaila continued, her voice raised, her hands waving. She looked suddenly, horribly, close to tears and Nyota felt the weight of the Academy press against them both, against her in that familiar stress she understood and carried with her each day, and against Gaila in a way she obviously, completely didn't understand. "You're so lucky to have all these people in your life that you didn't have to leave behind to come here, and you have so many of them that you can just not care when you don't have to! You can just let them slip away from you as if they're not all precious, like having a close friend has no value, cause you can just make another! Not all of us get to do that!"

"It's none of your business," she heard herself snap, even though that wasn't what she meant, wasn't what she wanted to say, not really. Not at all.

"No kidding. I'll make sure to keep that in mind in the future," Gaila said heavily with a sigh, closing her eyes briefly, grabbing her jacket and walking towards the door. "I'll stop bothering you. I'll just… see you later."

Nyota walked across the quad that evening in a soft mist of rain, thinking about Gaila's words and feeling horrible when she heard soft footfalls behind her and glanced up, hoping.

"Oh," she said quickly, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "Sir. Hi."

"Cadet," Spock said with a nod. He kept going, passing her and walking away and she stared after him, standing alone on the wet grass, folding her arms tight around herself against the damp chill.