Her Name
Spock was sitting in the empty Linguistics Library, having left his silent room for more silence. It was the winter in San Francisco, and strangely, the Californian coastal city was experiencing a cold spell that was causing snow. He was surprised when he'd walked into the library to see the beautiful cadet he'd been mesmerized with sitting in a cone of silence. She was obviously studying, because her lips were moving in a strange flutter that looked to him to be Vulcan. He'd sat at a cushioned seat and was reading his research for Captain Pike, taking notes as he did. However, his mind was pulled involuntarily from his PADD back to the cadet studying in her small cone. He couldn't do anything but stare at her.
Spock watched as she moved her lips and shook her head in frustration. She bit her bottom lip and her eyebrows knitted and crinkled; she was obviously confused about something that she was studying. He liked watching her, the way her head dipped down and shook in strange agitation. He watched as she bit the inside of her cheek and swallowed. She was the most intriguing human woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
His eyes followed every movement of her full lips and it was but a moment until he noted that she was looking at him. His eyes left her lips and fell upon her eyes. Humans were intriguing; they had extra-sensory perception, especially when they felt as if they were being watched. He quickly dropped his eyes from her and back to his PADD.
It was only a moment of concentration on his notes, until his mind and his eyes were pulled back towards her. This time, he'd caught her watching him. As soon as she realized that he saw her staring at him, she dropped her eyes back to her work. This continued for a few moments, both of them locking eyes and then finding other things in the library that were more interesting.
The last time he was caught staring at her, he saw her smile up at him and then he saw her wave in his direction. Spock swallowed deeply, willing his blush to return to the depths of him and looked back down at his PADD. He didn't dare look up again.
Steps from her corner alerted him to the fact that she was indeed walking towards him with purpose. He looked up and then back down at his PADD. Within three steps she was standing directly in front of him, and he could smell a hint of rosemary in the air around him. He memorized this scent and would forever associate the herb with her.
"Commander, can you help me with this," he looked up to see brown eyes. His human mind wanted to call them beautiful, but his Vulcan mind simply noted that her eyes were brown. She held out her PADD to him and he perused the materials that she'd been studying. She was perplexed with Vulcan.
"I am sure that I can be of some assistance," he said. She sighed in something that Spock thought was relief and plopped down on the chair beside his.
"Good because, despite my fluency, I cannot seem to translate this as proficiently as I would like."
Spock read the phrase silently.
"Speak it for me," he said noting that his voice was low and slightly breathy. He was more than happy when she complied. Her pronunciation was flawless, yet her confusion ceded from the translation into Standard.
"I can speak it very well; I just don't understand why it doesn't feel right in Standard."
"You wouldn't. This is a stanza from a Vulcan poem, to be translated loosely. You're being too obtuse in your understanding, which is the reason for your confusion."
"Vulcans have poetry?" she asked.
"Yes. This particular poem was written by a great poet named T-Lya. This is considered the Terran equivalent of a love poem," Spock explained. Uhura blushed slightly. He liked her responses.
"Well, that makes more sense. I'm beginning to understand the translation much better now. You have been a great help," she responded. He noted a slight accent in her Standard. Her accent was indeed African; though from which part of the united continent he couldn't quite place.
"I am glad of that," Spock offered her PADD back to her and she took it, turning on her heel and starting to head back to her cone. She stopped and twisted her body back towards him.
"Hey," she said, Spock looked up, "would you mind quizzing me on some things?"
"Quizzing you?" Spock queried.
"I have a huge final tomorrow in Conversational Vulcan and I don't feel as prepared as I think I should," she responded embarrassed.
"You are quite proficient. Your pronunciation is beautiful; your accent is flawless…"
"Yes, but my comprehension and translation is flawed, especially when it comes to Vulcan. And since you're obviously Vulcan, what better tutor could I have?" she smiled fully. It was the smile that Spock knew he couldn't resist. She sat back down at the chair she'd previously occupied and he swallowed deeply, rosemary filling his nostrils. Spock instantly felt unease rising in his legs and travel to his stomach. He closed his eyes, regaining composure so quickly that Uhura didn't even notice.
"I will help you," Spock responded, not able to think about saying no.
"My name is Uhura, Nyota Uhura," she fought the urge to hold out her hand and shake his, she knew well enough about Vulcans that they didn't touch often, especially not shaking hands.
"My name is Spock," he responded. It was quiet as she sat her PADD back on the table; their eyes looking anywhere but directly at one another.
"I find it very unusual that a culture devoted to logic would invite such eccentricities as poetry," She commented.
"To be a poet upon Vulcan is to be much like the human equivalent of a spiritual leader, a Shaman of sorts."
"Shaman?"
"Yes. This particular poet, T-Lya, was a formidable researcher in the teachings of Surak. She inscribed many of her thoughts within the genre of poetry."
"Apparently, she also wrote romantic poetry," Uhura lifted an eyebrow.
"Indeed. This particular poem was written to her ashayam, or beloved," he responded.
"That seems very illogical, for Vulcans to allot such feelings, and to even allow them to be penned to words, especially poetry."
"Despite what humans may understand, Vulcans do have feelings, even romantic ones," Spock responded.
"Do they?" she asked, not condescendingly, but in the nature of a true researcher. Spock found himself consumed in this conversation. He found that his heart rate increased only slightly. She held her head straight with her hand on her chin, her right forefinger tapping her lips in question. Spock liked the way she regarded him, her deep brown eyes now staring intently into his.
"We do."
"That is… fascinating," she responded.
"T-Lya wrote over three thousand poems, more than half to her bonded. This particular one was written particularly about the physical aspects of that relationship," Spock said, swallowing deeply and lowering his eyes back to the PADD. He couldn't meet her questioning gaze.
"Physical aspects? You mean sex?" she asked and a small smile reached her lips. Spock memorized the way she said the word and the way her lips quirked upward.
"Not necessarily. For example in this passage:
Perfume is my love to me; and he shall lie all night between my breasts.
You are fair my love, you are fair; You have the eyes of the lara.
Our bed is green, and you are fair.
Your voice comes leaping upon the mountains and skipping upon the hills.
Come away with me, you are mine and I am yours, Bonded.
She is speaking of her mate's physical features and how they spend their time."
"This is beautiful. I would have never been able to figure this out without your help. I never knew that your culture contained such exquisite words."
"I am glad to be of service," Spock responded.
"I am in your debt, Mr. Spock," she smiled and responded.
"Surely not," he said.
"Yes, of course I am. You have no idea how amazing it is to understand the culture at large. This is definitely something that my professor wouldn't even have known. Understanding the culture helps in comprehending the words. I was completely mistaken about the context; and now that I know that these words are not literal but more metaphoric and, strangely beautiful and…" Spock watched as Uhura searched for the word.
"Erotic," Spock finished her sentence.
"Yes!" she said louder than she intended, "Yes. A whole new understanding of the language has opened up for me. You should really be teaching this class."
"Commander Spikes is proficient in his lectures," Spock wanted to blush.
"Yes, but, who could be a better professor of their own language than a person of that culture. Truth be told, I've learned more in these last fifteen minutes with you, than I've learned in the last four months in my studies," Her face was unlike anything Spock had ever seen before. She was excited and smiling as if her mind had been blown in a good way. He felt something akin to bliss at watching her smile at him and because of him. He memorized her smile. He committed every small facet of her lips to memory. The way her full, bowed lips raised over her teeth, the way her cheeks crooked high on her even higher cheekbones, the way her smile lines outlined her smile. He especially loved her eyes, so brown and true and honest.
"It is respectable that I could be of some help," Spock said.
"You were more than helpful," She said, her smile still lighting up her face. She was turned completely towards him in her chair and her hands reached out of their own volition and grabbed his, not gripping too tightly, but holding his steady. He could feel the coolness of her skin and something inside of him stirred. He looked down at those offending hands and held back yet another blush. It was illogical for him to have such a physical response to her closeness. He noted that his gaze upon her hands made her slightly uncomfortable. She'd forgotten her manners and released his hands, ignoring the apology that he knew was somewhere on her lips. He wanted to scream that he didn't mind her touching him, but he looked away instead.
It was silent in the library, a strange silence, Spock noticed, that was pregnant with awkwardness.
"It's late, I should be going," she said, grabbing her PADD and pushing it into her bag. She stood from her place at the chair and gathered her things quickly. He looked up at her and stood, not understanding his actions. Instead of asking her to stay he simply nodded in agreement. Their eyes locked again and she smiled sheepishly and then walked passed him towards the door.
"Mr. Spock, it was fortuitous that we saw each other tonight," she said. He nodded again, not knowing how to respond to her. He saw her swallow and a blush rise to her face. She smiled closed-lipped at him and turned to walk towards the door. He heard the door close behind her and she was gone.
"Goodnight Nyota," Spock said her name to the silence of the library. He liked the way her name sounded on his lips. And despite all of his stoicism, he allowed the green blush he'd been holding all night to rise to his ears.
