Author's Notes: As always I'm giving a huge thank you to all my readers who are sticking with this story, and offering me your encouragement and support. And to those of you who have been waiting with bated breath, I finally get to the M-rated content in this chapter. Plus, much thanks to my Beta reader, MrsTater.

Chapter 9

During the winter holiday of Cadet Uhura's second year at the academy, Spock flew with her to Mexico City to attend a jazz festival. At first, he saw the trip as a pleasing entertainment shared by friends, but by the end of their evening at the festival together, he had begun to think differently.

All day there had been something about Uhura--her mannerisms, her relaxed humor, her intelligence, and her enthusiasm for life--that made him wonder for the first time if a Vulcan marriage would truly suit his character. His friendship with Uhura was so easy and comfortable, yet his attempts at friendship with other Vulcans--including T'Pring--had always been quite the opposite.

After they returned to their hotel that night, Spock lay awake for a long time pondering his new doubts. And pondering his relationship with Uhura.

Their hotel rooms were adjoining, separated only by a single wall and a locked door. Illogical though it seemed, sleeping so close to her was undeniably tantalizing. The way she looked out of uniform--the friendly closeness they had shared all day--had stirred up many unfamiliar longings within him. After much thought, he concluded that were he not betrothed to T'Pring, Uhura was exactly the kind of woman that he would consider pursuing romantically.

The next morning over breakfast, conversation seemed stilted and tense. It was almost a relief when they parted ways at the shuttleport--she to head to her family home in Africa for the holiday, he to return to San Francisco.

Spock concluded that it was his indulgence in speculative fantasizing about Cadet Uhura that had caused the tension between them. There was no logic in devoting mental energy to something that could never be. If he wanted to maintain his friendship with and mentorship of Uhura he would have to avoid further fantastical speculation. And, for the most part, he did.

Their friendship continued without further tension for the rest of the school year, and Spock gave little more thought to his attraction to Uhura. He successfully convinced himself that she was his TA, and his friend. Nothing more.

One day in early May, as they lunched together at one of his favorite restaurants, they discussed her upcoming summer internship in Moscow. She expressed great excitement to experience a new climate and culture, and eagerness for her work with Starfleet Intelligence.

As she spoke, Spock realized with a lurch in his stomach that he did not want her to leave. An illogical desire, to be certain. As her mentor it was his duty to ensure that she take advantage of opportunities that would help expand her knowledge and advance her career. The internship with Starfleet Intelligence fit both of those qualifications.

Yet, the thought of being separated from her by such a vast distance was distinctly unpleasant.

Spock attempted to quell his illogical displeasure by commenting positively on her choice of internships. "You were particularly wise to take on an internship outside of your area of specialty, as commanding officers prefer officers serving under them to be able to understand and appreciate multiple perspectives. Your choice of this internship will increase your likelihood of attaining your preferred posting."

She smiled. He was pleased that his statement made her happy.

As they left the restaurant, he opened the door for her. "Cadet." He gestured that she should precede him.

They walked back toward campus at a leisurely pace.

"May I ask a personal question?" Uhura asked suddenly.

Spock was instantly intrigued. "Yes, of course you may."

"We're friends, aren't we?"

His brows knit as he looked at her. "Yes. I thought that was clear."

"So did I. Which is why I've been wondering why we still call each other Cadet and Commander? Maybe it's time we start calling each other Spock and Nyota."

"You do not think such an action would be a breach of protocol?"

Uhura's smile thinned. "Our entire friendship is somewhat beyond the bounds of normal academy protocol. It seems illogical to hold onto protocol regarding how we refer to each other when we ignore it in most other ways."

Spock nodded. Her logic was sound. "Very well. You may refer to me by my name rather than my rank, and I will refer to you by your given name. However, it would be best to maintain the distinction of rank when engaged in public duties."

She nodded back. "That makes sense . . ." Her lips curled a little higher. ". . . Spock."

The corners of his own mouth twitched up. "Then we are in agreement, Nyota."

The gleam in her eyes at that moment reminded him how extremely disagreeable their separation over the summer would be.

***

His heart races, his breath comes in shallow gasps, and he feels as though he may vomit.

Nyota cannot be dead. It is unthinkable.

He takes several deep breaths to steady his nerves. Giving way to panic now will serve no purpose. He must think logically, and attempt to discern a course of action that will provide him with more information, and possibly a way to assist in the search.

Minutes later he contacts Earth Space Traffic Control again, this time personally requesting to speak to Lieutenant Commander Poonam Lahiri, his old friend from his academy days. She is in a sufficient position of authority to provide him with more detailed information.

She is pleasantly surprised to hear from him and seems poised to engage in a lengthy conversation until he brings up the purpose of his call.

"The Kenai? Do you know someone aboard?" she asks.

"Yes. A good friend is travelling aboard the Kenai. I greatly desire to gain news of her whereabouts and current health status. I was hoping you could provide me with assistance."

"Yes. Of course I can. Let me check the latest report."

He watches and Poonam looks away from her comm station to a nearby console.

"Okay," she says. "Here's the latest. Two science vessels and one mining vessel in the area are in the process of coordinating a grid pattern search, but the pace is slow because the ion storm hasn't completely dissipated yet. The storm is predicted to last another fifteen to eighteen hours, so a more intensive search won't be possible until then."

Her news does nothing to reassure him. He nods. "Thank you for your assistance. Would it be possible for you to provide me with updates as new information becomes available?"

Poonam smiles. "I can do better than that. I'll grant you temporary access to our instant status report system. That way you'll be able to track the progress on your own. I'll transmit the log on information right now."

A small spark of warmth helps calms Spock's anxiety. "I am very grateful."

"No problem. I'm glad to help."

***

For the first time in his Starfleet career, Spock takes a sick day.

He spends the entire day in front of his console tracking the updates. Most of the reports on the Earth Traffic Control system have nothing to do with the search for the Kenai, and he grows restless and agitated waiting for updates on the search to appear.

Yet, when the updates regarding the search do appear, they do nothing to relieve his anxiety. Thus far the searching ships have restricted themselves to the outskirts of the still-raging ion storm. Likewise, three ships are wholly inadequate for the extensive grid search necessary to locate the Kenai.

After eight hours and twelve minutes Spock's anxious frustration is finally too much for him. Another report of another empty grid section elicits a cry of anger. He rises to his feet and paces his apartment furiously. Why are no more ships being assigned to the search? Why are the ships that are assigned moving so slowly?

He knows the logical answers to his questions, but at the moment logic seems secondary to the imperative of finding Nyota and bringing her home.

He must get out of the apartment and away from the maddening updates. He needs a break.

Spock takes a brisk walk off campus into a nearby shopping district. Once he is surrounded by crowds of carefree shoppers, ambling through the district in small bunches of friends, he sees that his choice of direction was poorly chosen.

It angers him to see so many light-heartened people, content in their ignorance of the lives at stake so far away. Their happiness seems almost an insult to his distress.

He returns to his apartment and forces himself to eat a swift meal of instant noodles before returning to his console. Finally, he checks the updates again.

One of the search vessels has found a small debris field. They searchers are conducting an analysis to determine if the debris is the remains of the Kenai.

Spock feels a sudden churning in his stomach and rushes to his bathroom where he vomits his entire meal into the toilet.

He rinses his mouth in the sink, and slides to the floor, shaking. He feels utterly incapable of dealing with the violent emotions that are erupting inside of him.

After several moments he calms himself enough to return to the console. There is a new report--the debris is Orion in origin. It is not the Kenai.

He sinks into his chair with relief. The Kenai may yet be intact. Nyota may yet be alive.

For a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to compose himself. Then, on impulse, he reaches for his console controls and initiates a subspace communication to the only person he can talk to about what he is experiencing--his mother.

Unfortunately, it is Sarek who answers the call.

Sarek raises an eyebrow. "You have placed your call at a most inconvenient hour. It is not yet dawn."

"I am aware of the time in Shi'Kahr, father. However, I have a matter of some urgency which I must discuss with mother."

"Your mother is still sleeping. It would be inconsiderate of me to wake her. However, I will inform her of your need to speak to her as soon as she rises."

Spock's frustration is mounting by the moment. "Forgive me, but I must speak to her now."

Sarek's brows knit and the corners of his mouth twitch down. "You are fortunate. I hear her stirring. I will transfer your call to her study."

The screen blanked to a soft gray while it was placed on hold. Spock waited with steadily decreasing patience for three minutes and twenty-two seconds. At last the screen lit up with the image of his slightly disheveled mother.

Her eyes widen. "Spock--what's wrong?"

"I--" Now that he finally has the chance to speak to someone who will understand, he has no idea what to say. "Nyota . . . she is missing."

"Missing?"

Why can he not formulate a coherent explanation? He takes a deep breath to pull himself together. "She is on a freighter, returning to Earth after a research trip to Denobula. The freighter has gone missing in an ion storm."

"Oh my God." Spock sees it in her eyes--she does understand. "Is there a search under way?"

"Yes. Three ships have been searching the area for more than nine hours with no result."

His mother's features harden. "Transmit the last known coordinates of the ship to me, and the names of the vessels conducting the search. I'm going to pull on all my contacts--and your father's--to see if there are any Vulcan vessels that can join the search. In this day and age no Federation citizen should be left to die in the black of space."

Spock winces at the prospect of Nyota facing such a purposeless death. "Nyota is a Starfleet officer. She was aware of the dangers before she enlisted."

Amanda frowns. "You're not giving up, are you?"

"With every passing hour the odds of locating the ship intact with survivors aboard decrease substantially."

"Listen to me, Spock--when the life of someone you care about is at stake, the last thing you should ever, ever do is calculate the odds. And you do care about Nyota very deeply, don't you?"

His voice comes out raspy and broken. "Yes. More than any other friend I have ever had."

"Then keep on hoping. And keep on fighting. Right until the end--beyond the end if you have to."

He ignores the obvious flaws in her assertion and nods in assent. In one thing at least she is correct--it is far too early to give up hope.

"Now," she says, "I'm going to start calling everyone I know who owes me a favor and see if I can't get another ship or three out there to help with the search."

"I will transmit the necessary information."

"Good." She nods briskly, but then her features soften. "Don't hesitate to call me again, any time of night or day. And if you need me to hop on a transport and come to Earth to be with you, I'll be there in less than a day."

"Thank you, but your presence is unnecessary."

"Well, let me know if it becomes necessary. Okay?"

"I will."

"And Spock," she adds, "I'll be praying for her."

Amanda rarely speaks of the religion of her youth, but Spock finds her promise of prayer more comforting than anything else she has said. "Thank you, mother."

After the communication ends, Spock finds that he now has the stamina to keep up his vigil. He logs back into the Space Traffic Control system, and begins reading the latest reports.

***

After two hours and fifty-six more minutes of searching, one of the search vessels reports that it has picked up a sub-space distress call from the Kenai. It is badly damaged, but still intact.

When Spock reads the report he leaps out of his seat, a smile involuntarily forming on his face. He takes several calming breaths and reminds himself that there may be many casualties--he must still be prepared for the worst.

Forty-three minutes later a new report is issued--all hands have been evacuated from the Kenai. There are three dead. Of the thirty-six survivors, seventeen are injured.

Spock paces his living room, his mind turning in circles. The odds are high that Nyota is among the living, but equally high that she is among the injured.

He continues to glance at his console, but though a report about the attempt to recover the Kenai with tractor beams is posted, there is nothing further about the casualties.

After sixteen minutes of waiting, Spock loses his patience. He calls Space Traffic Control. His friend, Poonam, is off-duty, so he decides that the most effective way to obtain the information he seeks is to pull rank.

As expected, an Ensign is taking the incoming calls.

"I am Commander Spock of Starfleet Academy. Two of my subordinates were aboard the freighter Kenai. I require you to inform me regarding their status."

The Ensign blinks in surprise. "Yes, sir," he says. "Give me their names and I'll look it up for you."

"Cadets Nyota Uhura and Gaila Falan-Raz."

The Ensign punches some commands into his console. "All right, sir. Here it is--Cadet Falan-Raz is being treated for minor injuries. Cadet Uhura is listed as being in critical but stable condition. They'll reach Spacedock in two hours, at which point Cadet Uhura will be taken to the Spacedock hospital for surgery."

Spock feels another stab of fear at the words "critical condition" and "surgery." He thanks the Ensign for the information, and cuts off the transmission.

The next two hours are unbearably long. He paces his apartment restlessly with no source of relief.

Spacedock and Starfleet Academy have a permanent network link, and, after the two hours have passed, Spock utilizes his clearance codes to log into the Spacedock hospital system.

Nyota is already in surgery. All he can do now is wait.

His console chimes to indicate an incoming call. He answers eagerly.

It is Poonam Lahiri. "Did you get the good news about the Kenai?" she asks.

"Yes," he says, grateful for her concern.

"It's amazing, really. Did you hear about the cadets?"

Spock raises an eyebrow. "What about the cadets?"

"It's a great story. Apparently two academy cadets were onboard. The ion storm destroyed the subspace communication system and the main computers. But the two cadets are specialists in communications and computers. So one of them went to work getting the computers back online while the other one rebuilt the subspace communication system from scratch. And get this--the communications expert was injured in an explosion during the storm. But she didn't let it stop her. They say she worked for eight hours straight with a piece of shrapnel lodged in her side." Poonam smiles and shakes her head. "I guess all the other survivors are calling them heroes."

Spock's eyes are wide. It does not surprise him that Nyota and Cadet Falan-Raz would take on the task of repairing the necessary components of the damaged ship--but to work with a shrapnel injury? Had she done herself permanent harm?

Poonam's eyes narrow as she watches him through her console. "You know them, don't you? They were the friends you were worried about."

He nods. "Cadet Uhura has been my teaching assistant for two years."

"She's the one with the shrapnel injury. Is she all right?"

"I do not know. She is in surgery."

Poonam's expression softens. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Spacedock has excellent medical facilities."

Spock knows that her assessment is likely correct, but that knowledge does little to dissipate his fear.

"I shouldn't be surprised that she's your assistant," says Poonam. "I know you'd only work with the best. You should be proud of her. She saved more than thirty lives."

"I am proud. It seems that her performance in the face of danger was exemplary." Spock cannot help but wonder if he would have performed as well under similar circumstances. He is more convinced than ever that Nyota is a truly extraordinary woman.

***

A wave of relief washes over Spock when Nyota's status on the hospital system is updated to "in recovery."

He contacts the hospital directly, and is informed that the surgery was completely successful. Nyota is being held for thirty-six hours of recovery, and is expected to be fit for duty in seventy-two hours. She will be ready for visitors in four hours.

A sense of lightness fills him. Though he has not eaten or rested in hours, he has rarely felt so elated.

He calls his mother.

"I heard they were rescued," she says as soon as she answers the call. "Is Nyota injured?"

Spock nods and relays the information he recently received from Poonam and the Spacedock hospital.

"That's wonderful news, Spock. Have you spoken to her yet?"

"No. She was transferred to surgery as soon as she arrived at Spacedock."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

He raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Why aren't you on a shuttle to Spacedock right now instead of wasting your time talking to me? You want to see her, don't you?"

His mother's attitude takes him by surprise. "Yes. Very much."

"So go. Be with her."

He nods. "That is an excellent suggestion."

She smiles. "I know."

***

One hour and seven minutes later, Spock steps off of his shuttle at Spacedock and heads directly toward the hospital. On the flight up he accessed a map of the facility, and located the surgical recovery area. He knows exactly where to go.

As he rounds a corner to enter the corridor of recovery rooms, he sees a familiar green face--it is Cadet Falan-Raz.

"Commander Spock!" She leaps from her chair in the waiting area and strides toward him with a broad grin on her face. "I'm so happy to see you. I knew you would come. I told Nyota you would, but she said you wouldn't. She said that you would be sensible and avoid drawing unnecessary scrutiny to your relationship. But I told her that you were way too head over heels with her to be sensible at a time like this. I'm glad I was right."

Her frank characterization of his relationship with Nyota leaves him somewhat flustered, but he manages to ask, "Is she well?"

"Oh, she's great. Those doctors patched her up so well there'll barely be a scar. You should have seen her." Cadet Falan-Raz waves her hands in front of her in dramatic emphasis. "She was laying there with her hands in the communications station piecing together scrap metal into a working transmitter and barking out orders at the three civilians helping her, all the time with this jagged shard of metal jutting out of her side." She holds her hands at her side as if she gripped something sticking out of it. "She was awesome."

Spock's nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, trying to staunch a new wave of nausea.

Cadet Falan-Raz must see his discomfort in his face, for she waves her hands in front of her again. "Oh--you don't need to worry anymore. Like I said, she's totally fine."

"I am pleased to hear it."

"Yeah, I bet you are." She grins again.

"Is she ready for visitors?"

The cadet edges closer to him and mutters conspiratorially. "She's supposed to be resting, but I've already been in there three times. That girl of yours is insane. She insisted I bring her our PADDS from the interviews on Denobula so that she can make sure there was no data corruption during the ion storm. I told her they were fine, but she just had to see them for herself."

The corner of Spock's mouth turns up slightly. If Nyota is well enough to work so soon after her surgery, her prognosis must be very good.

Cadet Falan-Raz glances around. "Okay, there's no nurses around right now. I can get you in."

She leads him to a nearby recovery room. "Go on in. She'll be thrilled."

Spock nods, and pushes the button to open the door, his heart pounding.

Nyota sits in a hospital bed, wearing only a hospital gown. She is propped up by several pillows, with a pile of PADDs on her lap. She looks up from one of the PADDs as the door opens, her eyes widening as she sees him.

He steps inside, the door swishing closed behind him.

Her hair is damp and stringy and her skin tone is decidedly unhealthy, but the feature which most draws Spock's attention is the grin slowly spreading across her face.

"You came."

"I could not stay away." He strides across the room and leans over her, pulling her into his arms. He kisses her with an intensity he could not have imagined two weeks ago--tasting her--devouring her.

He sits down on the bed beside her, pulling her even closer as PADDs clatter to the ground. Her fingers twine through his hair, and he can perceive her relief and joy through their touch.

She pulls back, panting, and rests her forehead against his cheek.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks, remembering as if for the first time that she only just had surgery.

"No." He hears the smile in her voice. "They've pumped me so full of painkillers that I'm practically floating."

She leans into him, tightening her embrace. He can feel moisture leaking from her eye against his cheek. He focuses his mind, and her thoughts become almost tangible.

She is remembering. She is reliving her pain and her fear.

"I was also afraid," he whispers. "More afraid than I have ever been."

Her voice trembles as she replies. "I kept telling myself that no matter how scared I got and no matter how much I hurt, I needed to keep working. I needed to bring us home. I have too much to live for."

The power of her emotions surges through him, stirring him in ways he cannot hope to comprehend.

He kisses her again, pulling her in. He feels for the first time how fragile she is--how easily his strength could overwhelm her. Yet she trusts him not to harm her. He knows her thoughts--knows that she is ready and willing to give herself to him completely.

For the first time in his life he has found the place he truly belongs. It makes him dizzy. The haze of lust once more fills his mind, banishing all rational thought.

He cups her face in his hands, pulling her deeper.

She breaks the kiss by turning her face, and he continues moving his lips against her cheek.

"Take off your boots," she murmurs.

He pulls back in confusion.

She smiles up at him. "Take off your boots. Lie with me."

He hastens to his feet, the corners of his mouth curving up higher than they ever have in the company of a being besides his mother. He bends over and quickly removes his boots as Nyota kicks back her blanket and slides to lay flat on the bed.

His mind is a blur as he climbs back onto the bed beside her. She reaches up to pull him down into her kiss as their legs tangle together. As they kiss she slides her hands down his chest and unfastens his uniform jacket, pulling it open.

He raises himself enough for her to push it off of his shoulders, and he completes the task by sliding it off of his arms and tossing it to the floor, revealing the plain gray t-shirt beneath.

Their lips are only parted for a few seconds before he lowers himself for another kiss. He feels her arousal in his mind, and it mingles with his own lust, intensifying his hunger for her.

He is hard and throbbing. The longing to immerse himself in her fills him. He wants to feel her--to taste her--to know every centimeter of her body.

His hands roam her body freely. He slides his fingers up her thigh, pushing her hospital gown higher. Her gasps of pleasure urge him onward, and he can feel how his touch excites her.

He runs his hand up her body to cup her breast, and begins rubbing the hard nub of her nipple with his thumb through her gown as he trails kisses down her neck. A moan escapes her throat. He tastes her sweat, and the scent of her skin fills his nose.

He lowers his mouth to her other breast, running his teeth over her nipple. She gasps and writhes beneath him, pressing her pelvis up against his arousal. He takes her nipple in his mouth again, and again she thrusts against him. They moan together, and he begins grabbing at the hospital gown. He needs to get it out of the way. He wants to taste her skin.

"Good for you, Commander Spock!" says a bright voice from behind him. "I didn't think you had it in you."

He sits up straight with extraordinary speed, gasping for breath.

"Damn it, Gaila," says Nyota, propping herself on her elbows. "Don't you chime?"

Cadet Falan-Raz grins broadly, seeming to fight to hold back laughter. "This way is funner. I could smell the action in here from down the hall and I just had to see what was going on."

"You are so dead!" Nyota tosses a pillow at her roommate, who easily dodges it.

"You won't think that way after I tell you why I really came here," says Falan-Raz.

Spock continues to sit, breathing heavily, on the side of the bed. The haze is clearing his mind, but it is still difficult to focus on what the two women are saying. Until Cadet Falan-Raz's next statement clears his head completely.

"Your parents are here," she tells Nyota.

Nyota's mouth hangs open. "No."

Falan-Raz nods. "Oh, yes. I managed to stall them by getting your doctor to talk to them, but that won't last long. I'd say you two lovebirds have less than four minutes to make yourselves presentable."

Spock springs into action instantly, jumping to his feet and collecting his jacket from the floor. As he pulls on his jacket and boots, Falan-Raz helps Nyota to pull her hospital gown back over her legs, lean back against a new stack of pillows, and pull the blanket back up.

Spock finishes straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair as Falan-Raz picks up the scattered PADDs and Nyota tidies her own hair. As Falan-Raz sets the last of the PADDs on the side table, she catches his gaze. "You're welcome," she says.

"Thank you, Cadet, for your assistance."

He glances down at Nyota for the first time since leaving the bed. He is still highly aroused, and merely the sight of her speeds the rate of his heart. Yet, even through his lust, he sees how imprudent and ill-advised this encounter has been. What would have happened if Nyota's family or one of the hospital staff had come through the door in Falan-Raz's place?

He must learn to gain greater control of his desire. He cannot make this mistake again.

"Yes. Thank you so much, Gaila," says Nyota. "I don't know what my parents would have done if they'd found me like that with my boss, but it wouldn't have been good."

Spock clears his throat. "Technically, I am no longer your boss. Captain Varik and Cadet Elliot have both agreed to my proposed Teaching Assistant exchange."

"Well," says Falan-Raz, "that makes it all right then."

Nyota rolls her eyes and Spock clenches his jaw.

The door slides open, and a doctor leads Nyota's parents into the room.

Mrs. Uhura gives a wordless cry and runs to take her daughter in her arms. Mr. Uhura walks in more slowly, a tentative smile on his face.

Spock backs away from the bed, giving the family space for their reunion. He suddenly feels completely out of place. He should not be here.

"Mom, Dad," says Nyota suddenly. "I want you to meet my friend, Commander Spock."

Mr. and Mrs. Uhura turn to look at them. He straightens out, clasps his hands behind his back, and bows. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"So good to meet you," says Mr. Uhura.

"Nyota has told us so much about you," adds Mrs. Uhura.

Spock cannot help but think that no matter what she has told them about him, she must have concealed much more.

After another two minutes of uncomfortable small talk, Spock excuses himself. "Now that I am reassured of Nyota's well-being, I must return to my duties at the academy."

Mr. and Mrs. Uhura thank him again for coming to check on Nyota. Spock turns his gaze to Nyota, and nods. "I will see you soon."

She smiles up at him. "Yes, you will."

"I think I'll leave you, too," says Falan-Raz. "You guys need some family time."

After a final goodbye, Spock and Falan-Raz leave the room together.

As they head down the hall, she leans toward him and speaks softly. "Don't worry. I don't think they noticed your little . . ." She points toward his trousers. ". . . condition there. Or not so little. Thank God for black uniforms, right?"

Spock halts, wondering just how much Nyota has confided in her friend. "Cadet--may I count on your discretion regarding my relationship with Nyota?"

"Don't worry, Commander." Falan-Raz folds her arms. "I completely agree with you that the anti-fraternization rules at the academy are completely backwards. I won't mention anything to anyone. I promise."

"Thank you." Spock nods.

Spock hopes to avoid further conversation with Cadet Falan-Raz. Unfortunately, she insists upon sitting beside him on the shuttle flight back to the academy. He is able to keep the conversation largely focused on her thesis and recent research, and is vastly relieved when they finally disembark the shuttle. It is already late in the evening, and Spock returns directly to his apartment.

As he attempts to meditate, his communication console chimes.

He is quick to answer, and his hope is realized--it is Nyota.

Her smile quickens his desire once more.

"I'm sorry about the little interruption today," she says.

"You were not at fault; therefore, you have no cause to apologize."

"I'm not apologizing. I just feel really sorry that we didn't get a chance to finish what we started."

Spock's breath comes faster, and already he feels the haze of lust once more intruding upon his mind. "So do I."

They simply stare at each other for most of a minute.

At last Nyota breaks the silence. "Okay. I guess I should get some sleep now."

"Yes. Your physical well-being is the primary concern at this time."

"I'll see you soon."

He nods, his mind already swirling with thoughts of what might occur when they meet again.

"Good night," she says, and ends the transmission.

Spock again attempts to meditate with no success--his mind is too full of thoughts of Nyota. Though he is exhausted, he lies awake almost until dawn before finally falling asleep. Yet, even in his dreams, Nyota finds him.