The Most Forgiven, chapter 10
Snaking a hand out from under the covers to rub her nose, Uhura opened one eye just wide enough to look at the window. Just as she thought, not quite dawn yet. What an irritation. They had two more days on Vulcan, and she probably wouldn't get used to the time change until the very morning they left. Oh well. At least it gave her a chance to relax, and maybe she'd go back to sleep. It usually turned out that Spock woke up about the time she dozed off again, but he'd been good about letting her stay in bed as long as she wanted. Comfortably drowsy, she rolled over to look at him.
Oh, no. Not again.
The bed beside her was empty. She sat up to see if maybe he'd just gone into the bathroom, but she wasn't surprised to see that the door stood open and the room was empty. Bowing her head, she rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face. Everything had been going so well! As far as she knew, he had stopped his nocturnal wanderings when they began to patch things up, but then Sarek had mentioned Valeris and now he was gone. Damn. She'd seen how the news had perturbed him yesterday, but she'd hoped that if they ignored it, it would go away. Obviously she had been wrong.
Moving to the edge of the bed, she wiggled her feet until she found her slippers, then grabbed her robe and left the room. Maybe he was in Sarek's office. That was a good place for solitude. As she neared, though, she saw that no one was there, so she tiptoed down the hall toward the den. No, he wasn't in the den, either, nor was he in the kitchen. Where else could he be? While the family estate near Gol was grand, with forbiddingly high walls and cold stone floors, this home was modest. There just really weren't very many places a person could go.
Her hands on her hips, she paused in the den, gnawing on her lip as she wondered where he might be. She couldn't pick up a thing through their bond, but she didn't think he'd actually gone anywhere. Wait a minute... Narrowing her eyes, she walked toward the back window. Something was different about the garden. What could it be?
There.
The bench was gone. How odd. In its place were two trenches through the sand, as if someone had lifted one end of the bench and dragged it through the back gate, into the desert.
Well, one mystery solved. Now to solve the new one.
Pulling her robe tighter, she stepped out the back door. She'd always thought it amazing that this back yard was so pleasant, especially considering that the harsh, unforgiving desert waited just on the other side of the wall. Every now and then, she would peek through the gate, and once Spock had even taken her for a short walk toward the nearby foothills. It had been hard going, though, and between the heat and the unstable footing and the threat of carnivorous animals lurking mostly in her imagination, she hadn't wanted to venture far.
She eased the gate open and leaned around to see that she had found him. He'd placed the bench against the wall, and he now sat with his hands clasped on his lap, staring across the featureless desert toward the horizon.
She hesitated, surprised by the open, relaxed expression on his face. She'd expected to find depression or, worse, cold nothingness.
"Uh, Spock?"
He shifted his gaze in her direction, obviously already aware of her presence. "Good morning, Nyota. Did I wake you?"
"No, not at all. I wake up at this time every day, and I just happened to notice that you were gone." She rubbed her arms, chilled by the cool air coming off the desert. "Is everything all right?"
"I am fine. I merely wished to witness the sunrise." Sliding to one side of the bench, he held up his arm. "Are you cold? I will keep you warm."
"Thanks."
She moved quickly to the vacant spot beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Leaning against his solid warmth, she took a deep breath of relief. She'd come out here expecting to find that yesterday's discussion had sent him into a tailspin, but there was no denying the optimism in his voice.
Neither of them spoke as they studied the sky, with its hints of maroon sneaking across the all-encompassing deep purple. Vulcan's sun rose slowly in comparison to Earth's, and she sometimes thought that if the same artist had painted both sunrises, he must have used an entirely different palette for Vulcan's. On Earth, you saw pinks and pale yellows, but this sky would soon be all purples and reds and violent oranges. Nothing soft or pastel here.
Finally, he said, "You were right."
She glanced up, but he didn't look away from the horizon.
"About what?" she asked.
"The mindmeld. You were right. I should not have forced myself on Valeris. It violated everything I have ever believed. It was wrong. I was acting from guilt and anger, and I should not have allowed Jim to ask me to do it. Yet... given the chance to do it over, I do not think I would change my actions."
She swallowed, unable to respond.
He continued. "Years ago I sacrificed myself for the good of the ship. Was it so different this time? The stakes were much higher—not just my friends but the future of the Federation itself."
"Do you think that makes it okay?" she asked gently.
"No." He finally dropped his eyes. "But it is the best I can do. It was a true no-win scenario. Before, everything was made right in the end, but there is no way to avoid the consequences this time. I did it, Nyota. I am sorry. For everything."
"Oh, God."
She squeezed her eyes shut, and suddenly Dr. McCoy's words came back to haunt her.
You hold Spock to such high standards, and when he does something that demonstrates imperfection, you can't accept it.
Dr. McCoy was right. He was right all along.
Drawing a deep breath, she said, "Maybe you didn't handle it as gracefully as you could have, but you did what you thought was best in a bad situation, and I was judge and jury. Without even looking at all the evidence, I condemned you for being less than perfect. Now you're apologizing for being less than perfect. I've been so unfair to you."
"Nyota—"
"Please let me say this. When I went to the Lexington, I thought that I was just giving you time to get your head together. Now I see that I was the one who had to learn. It was the same old lesson, too, the one I've had to learn before. I just can't seem to get it through my thick head."
He tightened his grip around her shoulders. "Which lesson would that be?"
"To listen to you. To trust you. To be patient. To understand that I'm not the one who needs to control the situation every time. I even thought about how history was repeating itself, but I didn't make the connection. It was me making the same mistake, not you. And maybe... I wanted to punish you for not doing what I thought was right. I was proud of you for your accomplishments with the Klingons, but then those very same feelings worked against me when I didn't agree with what you had done. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, absolutely. As a matter of fact, I knew that you were punishing me, but I did nothing to defend myself. I did not think myself worth defending. I never realized that I could play the martyr so effectively. Perhaps that was my way of punishing you."
She nodded slowly. "I told Saavik once that the people you hurt the most are usually the people you love the most. We did a pretty good job of it, didn't we? And not only did we make mistakes with each other, we made mistakes with ourselves. What a tangled mess."
He didn't respond immediately, and she could tell that he was thinking about what she had said.
Finally, he murmured, "What happens next? To us."
"We adjust, and we move on. I can't imagine it any other way."
"Nor can I." He paused. "Am I still a rapist in your eyes?"
Gazing upward, she saw that maroon had spread across the heavens.
"You're my husband, Spock. You're an honest, complicated man who tries to do what's right. Are you a rapist in your own eyes?"
"What I did does not define who I am."
She smiled sadly. "That's not an answer."
"It is the only answer I can give you."
She shifted, bringing her feet up onto the bench and tucking them beneath her robe. He was right. There wasn't a good answer this time. And she seemed to have forgotten that there was a difference between a person's actions and that person himself. It reminded her of what her mother had often told her when she was a child: 'I love you, but I don't love what you did.' Her mother was a wise woman.
At the farthest reaches of the horizon, maroon segued into orange. She inhaled, noticing the exotic scents that blew across the desert.
"Spock, I'm curious. What made you think to come out here?"
He began to stroke her arm.
"Much to my mother's chagrin, I often sought out the desert when unsettled as a child. She insisted that I not wander alone, but the lure was too great. I could not resist. Our compromise came when she placed a bench here specifically for my use. While the bench is long gone, the impulse to come to the desert is not."
She nodded. "I thought that this seemed like something you had done before."
"But never in such comfort with a woman under my arm. Jim would be proud. Years ago, he asked me if I had ever brought 'girls' out here. Of course I told him that it had never occurred to me. His reply, if I recall correctly, was 'What a shame.'"
His voice was light, but she heard the sorrow caused by this memory of his closest friend. Although she felt an answering twinge, she knew that her own feelings were partly selfish. She and Spock might be able to straighten things out between them, but the angry words she had exchanged with Captain Kirk would be her last words with him forever.
"The captain..." She frowned. "I feel so bad, Spock. After I jumped all over you for the mindmeld with Valeris, I went to Captain Kirk. I was looking for someone to blame, and I said some things I probably shouldn't have said. Did you know that?"
"No. He never mentioned it. What did you say?"
"That he always asked too much of you. That you could never tell him no, and that he deliberately took advantage of that. He disagreed. It was pretty ugly. We never really spoke again after that."
He made a small noise, and she glanced up to see that he was staring at his feet, an eyebrow raised.
"Ironic," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"My last words with Jim were also angry and over that same topic."
"What happened?"
"He wanted me to join him on the maiden voyage of the Enterprise B. His request was actually very reasonable, but he pushed too hard. He assumed that I would agree simply because he asked, and I overreacted. I told him no. He died alone."
She closed her eyes. "Oh no, Spock. It was my fault you weren't with him."
"Not directly. It was my choice not to accompany him."
"I'm so sorry."
"Do not apologize. I do not hold you responsible." He sighed. "No, that is not true. We are finally being honest with one another, so I must tell you that I did hold you responsible. When Jim died, I felt that you had driven a wedge between us. Yet when you returned for the funeral, I was pathetically glad to see you."
"Oh, Lord." She turned her face toward his shoulder. "I wish that I could take it all back—the argument with the captain, the way I harped on you for doing what he said, the way I refused to let it go."
"And I would be pleased if I could retract my angry refusal to join him on that fatal voyage. Even as I indulged my resentment toward him, however, I knew that we would later make amends. One never expects that the opportunity might never—"
Abruptly falling silent, he straightened, removing his arm from her shoulder and turning toward the house. She followed his gaze, and a moment later Amanda leaned around the gate.
"Sorry to disturb you two, but Sarek just came in from the Embassy. Something was delivered to him last night. It's for you, Nyota, and when I saw that the door to your room was open, I, well, I thought you might be interested."
Uhura nodded. "Sure."
Demurely gripping the top of her robe, Amanda moved through the gate and held a small paper envelope in Uhura's direction. It was a bit crumpled, with writing all over the front where it had been forwarded multiple times.
Mystified, Uhura frowned as she accepted it, but a moment later she realized who it was from. She looked back up at Amanda in disbelief and murmured, "Thank you."
Amanda nodded, and slipped back through the gate.
"What is it?" Spock asked.
A glowing red aura had begun to creep over the mountains, and she felt tears sting her eyes at its blinding brightness. She held the letter in his direction and watched as comprehension settled on his features.
"It is from Jim," he said starkly.
She nodded. "Look at this. It was addressed to me on the Lexington, but someone marked through that and wrote our address on Earth. Then someone scratched through that and addressed it to me in care of Sarek. It must have been Mrs. Stevenson, since she was picking up our mail, but all she knew was that we were in ShiKahr and that Sarek worked with the Vulcan Consulate."
"I am surprised that this found you at all."
"Me, too."
She turned the envelope in her fingers and took a deep breath. "I guess I'd better find out what it says."
Carefully tearing the top of the envelope, she took out the letter and unfolded it, and began reading. After a few words, she had to stop and blink.
She leaned close to Spock. "I think that you will want to see this, too."
"Very well."
She started at the top again, and they were both quiet as they read the words so carefully written on the single piece of paper.
Dear Nyota, it began. The captain never called her Nyota.
Dear Nyota,
I have to keep this short, because I must leave soon for the christening of the Enterprise B. I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to this momentous occasion or not. I always enjoy being on the Enterprise, but it will seem strange to board a version of our ship that isn't our ship.
You're probably wondering why I'm writing. I know that things have been strained between us, but something happened yesterday to open my eyes. I called Spock, wanting him to come with me today, and he surprised me. He said no. Simple enough, huh? There was actually more to it than that—he was pretty upset with me—but I thought about it all night. I understand now that his reaction over the christening was just a substitute for something much bigger.
You were right to be angry with me, Uhura. You tried to tell me that I'd asked too much of him, but I refused to see it. You tried to tell me that he would have done anything to atone for putting me in jeopardy, but I dismissed the thought. Did you know that I accused him of not trusting me? Spock, the most trusting and loyal man I've ever known, and I made him feel like he had to prove himself to me. You even tried to tell me that what he did might destroy him someday, but I didn't believe you. Everything was right there in front of me—his distress, your distress, the conflict between the two of you—but I put on my blinders and failed you both. I see now that I even went out of my way to avoid being with you, because deep down I knew what I might be forced to admit. Well, you've heard the saying "To err is human, to forgive is divine"? I'm asking you to forgive me. I made some big mistakes, and I'm sorry.
Time to go. In closing just let me say that he needs you. Please try to understand what he did. Please accept that I never meant to harm either of you.
Please, just come back.
Love,
Jim
Lowering the letter to her lap, she looked up at Spock.
He swallowed. "To err is human... We are, after all, only human."
She tilted her head as she studied his face.
"It is something," he said softly, "that Jim tried to tell me during our last voyage on the Enterprise."
"Good words."
"Yes." He held up his arm to make room for her next to him. "Yes, they are."
She slipped the letter into her pocket, then slid close and gazed out at the mountains. A shimmering semi-circle had risen into view, banishing the haze and spilling brilliant rays across the desert. The sky bled with pure, unmuddied reds and oranges, and while she watched, a single bird wheeled in the distance and disappeared. Wouldn't it be wonderful to wake to something like this every day?
"You know..." She rested her hand on his knee. "I think I'd like to live here. On Vulcan."
He removed his arm, drawing back so he could see her face. "Really? I had no idea. Where did this thought originate?"
She shrugged. "It just seems right. There's nothing for us on Earth anymore. You haven't found a job you like, and Dr. McCoy has his grandkids. The captain is gone. Saavik is off having her own adventures, Sulu has his own ship, Chekov never comes around, and Scotty won't like retirement."
"What about your job?"
She pressed her lips together. "You were right about the Lexington. They asked me to become the permanent first officer."
"Ah. Congratulations."
"I turned them down."
"You did? When did this happen?"
"Just days before Captain Kirk died. I was going to tell you when I talked to you, but I never had a chance. I want to resign my commission, Spock. It's no fun without you and everyone else. I'm ready to move on."
"Well." He leaned back on the bench again. "You are full of surprises this morning, Nyota."
"We can buy a home in ShiKahr. Neither of us will have any problem finding a job." She reached for his hands. "Let's move to Vulcan. It's time for a change."
He considered it for a long moment, but finally he raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Very well. We shall do it."
She grinned and stood. "We'd better get busy, then. We can't keep our future waiting."
Together, they walked through the gate and headed toward the house.
End story
The next story in this series is Listening for the Waves.