More emotional roller-coasters for them both, especially Uhura. Life is not easy yet, but at least it's getting a bit better for them.

----

Uhura really didn't know what to do when they finally reached Earth.

Her quarters were out of the question--they were too stark a reminder that Gaila was dead, that Nero had taken her, too. So much of their class, gone in one fell swoop…it would be a damn small graduation, this year.

Spock's quarters were big enough for two, though, and nobody raised any objections when she had her things moved in there. Her Starfleet superiors treated her with the same deference as the crew of the Enterprise, and eventually it made her angry. Everything everyone else had done--the crew who had fought and died, Kirk and Spock who had made their escape possible--were treated as simply a matter of course, but stab a Romulan to death and by God, you were somebody!

"I don't want to be their damned figurehead," she stormed, pacing Spock's tidy quarters. "None of that would have been possible in the first place if it wasn't for you and Kirk, but what I did was…was showy, and they want to use that. Why?"

"Because it was showy," Spock said calmly. "We will all receive our commendations, but the elevation of a group does not carry the psychological weight of that of a single individual. A group, even a small one, is more abstract a concept than an individual."

It made perfect sense. Of course it did, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "So what, you think I should accept this?" She flopped on the bed beside him and put her head in her hands, rubbing her temples.

"That is entirely your decision." His warm fingers took over massaging her temples. "There are merits and flaws to both acceptance and rejection. Acceptance would appear well in the eyes of Starfleet and the Federation at large, and would certainly advance your career, but against that weigh your personal convictions." Uhura felt relaxation spread from her temples all down her face, her neck, her shoulders. "I will support you whichever you choose. To a Vulcan acceptance would be most logical, but you are human--you must do what you feel is best for you, and if that means declining you should not hesitate to do so."

"That's hardly an answer," she pointed out, but the faintest fleeting ghost of a smile crossed her face. "I think I'll sleep on it."

And she did, curled up against Spock's warm body. Amazingly until now she had not dreamed, but she did now--of the Narada, of course, its complex maze of platforms suspended over a drop so great it seemed an abyss. It was completely deserted, silent but for the tread of her booted feet--silent but expectant, watchful. She had the Teral'n in her hand--her right hand, holding it without pain. Nothing hurt here, none of the lingering wounds she still bore in the waking world.

And she wasn't afraid. This wasn't the real Narada, but the Narada-in-her-head, and she would not be afraid of it, not while she was still half-conscious of Spock beside her, safe and sound. No matter the price, she'd got what she wanted, what she'd gone through hell for. Yes, she had scars, only some of which were tangible, but they hadn't killed her and she wouldn't let him.

And yet…she'd killed. God knew Nero had deserved it, and she'd certainly done him a twisted sort of favor, but the fact remained that she'd taken another sentient being's life. She'd watched the life drain out of his eyes, replaced by glassy death, and the memory of that as much as all he'd done to her hovered over her shoulder like a malignant crow. Uhura might not be afraid, but that didn't mean she didn't know guilt--guilt, and a bizarre sort of grief.

But in a way she treasured that guilt, because though she'd killed in cold blood, it differentiated her from Nero. Nero, who had forgotten the meaning of the word before she'd been born. Uhura was still herself, still whole even if she had cracked a little--she'd cracked, but hadn't broken, and neither had Spock. Spock, who had lost so much more than her yet who stood steadfastly by her now. She had to return that as much as she was able, to be there for him if nothing else. In time he would open up to her as well, would share his own grief in his understated way, and she would be there when it happened. She would not stay in this Narada-in-her-head, not when there was so much work ahead of both of them.

She shut her eyes, and when she opened them she found herself on the bridge of the Enterprise--just as deserted, but worlds away from the Narada. This ship, she was sure, would become her home in time--and that settled her question, her difficulty, and with that she slipped back into dreamlessness.

----

When she woke she found Spock already awake, his chin rested atop her head. She lay still, warm and relaxed, breathing in the clean scent of him As all her waking had been since she'd left the Narada, the peace it brought seemed a small miracle. To wake without fear, beside the one she'd been most afraid for…it was a feeling she would never take for granted for the rest of her life.

"You dreamed," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It was not a question.

"I did. And…I think I'll take that medal, or whatever it is. If the Federation wants a figurehead for a while, I guess I can give them one. It's not like somebody else won't surpass it soon enough anyway." What she did not say was that it would surely piss the Romulans off to no end--they might distance themselves from Nero for political reasons, but having it touted so publicly that humans had taken out someone who would essentially be a private hero for destroying long-hated Vulcan would…gall, certainly. "How are you doing yourself?

Spock was honest with her as he would be to no one else. "I…hurt," he said, sounding almost confused. "I knew anger and pain as a child, but…this is…different."

Of course it was, Uhura thought. He'd just lost his mother, lost his entire planet; few people in known history had such a reason for potentially soul-destroying grief.

Except Nero.

Well, yes, Nero had suffered exactly the same loss--that had been the entire point of his destruction of Vulcan. The difference lay in the fact that Spock would never become an omnicidal maniac because of it. Therein lay the vast distinction between Vulcans and Romulans, and though Uhura was sometimes exasperated by the Vulcan ideal of pure logic, it did make certain they weren't as violently, almost insanely militaristic as their long-sundered cousins. One such force in the galaxy was enough, except….

…except now the Romulans no longer had that balancing force, that yin to their yang. Vulcan and Earth had always balanced out the Romulan and Klingon Empires, and now Vulcan was gone. It would drag Andoria and Telleria deeper into the politics of the Federation than they would like…damn. She had to stop thinking about this before it drove her mad. She and Spock had enough on their plates right now.

"It's better that you do," she said, running her fingers along his jaw. "Better that you let it all out, however…un-Vulcan it might be. Don't bottle it inside and call it logical. Hurt is logical, right now."

He shut his eyes, leaning into her touch, and Uhura wondered what he was thinking. He was…Spock; he would tell her in his own time, when he felt he could. Vulcans were legendary for their eloquence--he would not speak until he could do so in a coherent fashion. All she could do was wait until he did, and let him know she was there.

"If I were to return to teaching part-time, would that be all right with you?" he asked at last, opening his eyes. "I find myself…in need of work, but if it would cause you pain I will wait."

She thought about that a long while in silence. She herself couldn't imagine when she'd be fully fit to return to school--she had to guard against pushing herself too hard too soon, or she'd only crack all over again. Spock, though, was Vulcan--idleness did not come easy to his nature.

"If you need it, then yes," she said at last. "I don't know what I'll do myself yet, but I should do something too, or I'll just sit here and…and stew over it." She didn't really want any more public attention than she was likely to get anyway, but there had to be some simple work she could do. They both were in such a state that sooner or later they would need outside interaction, or they'd both feed one another's grief like an ouroboros.

He sat up, taking her hand. "I would like to teach you meditation before then," he said. "All my life I have found it helps focus and clarify the mind--it may help you keep your sense of self, when things grow too difficult."

"Could a human even learn Vulcan meditation?" Uhura asked doubtfully, sitting up as well.

"My mother did," Spock said softly, "and I believe you could as well. It is…soothing is the only way I may describe it."

"All right," she agreed, a tad less reluctantly. "Let me shower first, okay?"

"I must prepare the room anyway," he said as she rose. "You are not allergic to incense?"

"Not that I know of."

"Good. I should have everything prepared by the time you are through."

Showering still seemed an immense luxury--lots of hot water and soap. Spock must have been shocked by what he would see as a gross waste of water, but Uhura was glad he'd not swapped it out for a sonic shower. Her very human senses still insisted water was the only thing that could really cleanse.

Her bumps and bruises were fading fast, and the doctors had assured her none of her…other…wounds would scar, for which she was grateful. She needed no tangible reminders, thank you very much.

Which was why she could not yet bring herself to let Spock touch her in any way more than simply affectionate, nor to touch him in return. He was right about humans and their flashbacks, and there could well be flashbacks of a sort she did not want to have--especially not with Spock. It would probably be some time before she'd be willing to risk it, but Spock would understand. He always understood.

Soap, washcloth, shampoo, conditioner, mind carefully blank. Even touching her own body was somewhat traumatizing, after the way it had been so used. Between her legs still hurt from so much…um…yeah…in such a short period of time, but she wouldn't think about that either. Think of better things, of Spock and home and this meditation he was convinced she was capable of. That, and nothing else.

That she firmly did while she dried off and donned her bathrobe, emerging into a dimly-lit room hazy with sharp, sweet incense. The firepot, which she had rarely seen Spock use, glowed cherry-red in the dimness, radiating heat. Spock himself sat cross-legged in a garment she'd never seen--a dark meditation robe, plain and simple.

Uhura sat across from him, suddenly almost nervous. The fumes from the incense seemed to envelop her in a warm, pleasant fog, and when Spock laid his hand on her face in preparation for a mind-meld, she didn't draw away. Very rarely had she done this with him, either, because the sensation it produced was so damn powerful it could be overwhelming.

It wasn't now, though--not quite, anyway. It was strong, but not overpowering, and she felt her thoughts center around Spock's as though pulled by gravity.

My mind to your mind. The words drifted through her, felt but unheard. My thoughts to your thoughts. There was a calmness, a serenity in those few words that seemed to pervade her entire being. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. You are safe and whole, yourself and always yourself. Nothing here may harm you.

And she believed it--believed it implicitly, and with that belief her breathing slowed into a gentle, steady rhythm, deep and calm.

Your mind is your own, always. Do not be afraid of it--of anything you might find there. In the end you will come to master your thoughts, and no one--not even me--will undo that.

She felt herself sinking deeper into…she didn't even know what--some part of her hitherto unexplored, following Spock's voice. It really was soothing, in away she would not have believed possible, sinking without drowning, without fear.

And then, quite abruptly, she slammed into an alien presence, a foreign invader who had no right to lurk so deeply within her mind. Hitting it was like crashing onto concrete, jarring, agonizing, and she reacted far before she could think, in the only way she could react.

Uhura screamed.

----

Because I wasn't mean enough to them both already. :P Spock will know immediately what the hell is going on, though Uhura does not--and won't be happy when she finds out.