A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who reads, follows, and reviews this story. That's honestly why I continue :) We're reaching the home stretch here!The only new Vulcan word in here is adun'a. The text should make the translation clear but if it doesn't let me know. I'm still don't own ST, but the other Uhuras are all me.

Italics indicates dialogue exchanged telepathically

/indicates activity in the meld/

The last meld was one of the most difficult. They mediated for a long time prior, but Nyota was still having trouble setting aside anxiety and fear. She would have to face Nomad again. But even more worrisome was wondering where she and Spock would end up once the sessions were over. Part of her believed that maybe he was just under the influence of her emotions and in a few days when the effects wore off, it would be like it never happened. Or maybe it hadn't, maybe she would wake up in sick bay, without her memories having imagined the whole thing. If it was real, would he delete her consciousness from his? All of it was terrifying. She desperately wanted to put it off. When she sensed Spock coming out of his trance she felt like crying, knowing that the inevitable was approaching.

"Are you well, Nyota?"

She was shaking, but she nodded anyway. He looked skeptical and immediately entered her mind.

/He could never have envisioned such turmoil. There were so many colors they were mixing into brown. Not the same beautiful brown of her skin or the tempting chocolate brown of her eyes. It was a muddy brown that obscured his view of the rest of her mind. The music in her was heavy and loud, like war dirges. He couldn't reach her. "You must calm yourself, Ashal-veh," he called. "Come to me." He needed to get to her before his control was bested by her lack thereof. Otherwise he would be forced to withdraw. "Speak to me."

"Just tell me it's real." He still couldn't see her and she had to raise her voice over the discordant melody.

"Clarify."

"Tell me I didn't make it up. Tell me I didn't make up what I feel from you! Because if I did—then I'd be insane. Tell me I'm not insane."

"You are not insane. You have full command of your faculties. The link is real, as is my regard for you. All of it is real." The obstruction started to clear and she became visible in increments. The unpleasant soundtrack faded slowly until there was silence.

"I thought it was too good to be true, existing in this other space with you. I'm afraid that once this is over you 'll be taken from me one way or another."

"No such thing will happen as long as I have any say in the matter. I have no intention on continuing on my path without you."

"What?"

"I would have you as my mate, Nyota—as my adun'a." He stepped closer, taking her hand, doubling the mental sensation to add emphasis to his words.

"Wife? Spock…Oh God, I am making this up!" Even her delusions had become unfeasible. She would have to see McCoy as soon as she came out of whatever this fog was.

"You are not delusional. Nyota, I wish to bond with you."

"This isn't funny anymore!"

"Examine the connection and tell me if you feel anything other than sincerity." He laid himself bare, dropping every shield and barrier. He was completely vulnerable and completely sincere.

She felt something all over her and in her, the way air fills your lungs after holding your breath. It was a hot raging thing that threatened to overtake her. All her limbs tingled with it and it stirred every cell, synaptic relay, and electrical impulse in her. It was how he felt about her and it had no name. It wasn't love, obsession or addiction and yet it felt like all of these things.

Of course he repressed his emotions. Feeling this all the time would drive someone crazy—or mercifully kill them. It was a lovely ache, and she bathed in it for a short while before he reeled the massive sensation back in.

The change in her was drastic. Suddenly she was bursting with love, certainty and giddy anticipation.

"There are many things worth considering before we establish a marriage bond."

With him still so accessible, she sensed all the sources of his concern. They came to her like a flash feed. First in his thoughts was the fever, he was afraid—genuinely afraid—that he may hurt her, or disgust her. Second was that as a Vulcan male he may seem domineering to her human sensibilities. He was also worried that his lack of affectionate displays would eventually leave her dissatisfied. He would want to continue their relationship discreetly, without alerting the entire crew. His heritage made him naturally jealous and territorial which may conflict with her flirtatious nature.

She combated each of his doubts with her own onslaught. The fever was beyond his control, why should she be disgusted? There was no way she would let him die from it. And if his mother could endure it, then so could she. She knew for a fact that he respected her, and her marvelous femininity was equal to whatever his dominating male personality could throw at her. Eventually, they would find a rhythm to displaying affection. Not all displays of affection are physical—sometimes it's a thoughtful gesture of softly spoken word. Professionalism and privacy were as important to her as they were to him, otherwise she wouldn't treat her first name like a state secret. And she would try to be considerate and temper her flirtatiousness.

Her confidence was staggering and her reasoning was complete. He was satisfied with her answer. Not bonding with her really wasn't an option at this point. She was already his. They would have to address any concerns later as they presented themselves.

The transfer of memories its self could have been considered pleasant. Her experience on the ship was largely positive regardless of their many brushes with death. She had a sense of home and family among these people that she didn't have anywhere outside of her literal home and family. She was especially fond of Lieutenant Masters, who became like a third sister.

When "Beyond Antares" invaded the replay, they both knew what was to follow.

She had faced the probe—a known killer with four billion victims—boldly. She was wary but unafraid. Then she was arrested by Nomad's light. She could see nothing beyond it nor could she move from its path. She felt the machine become unsettled as it scanned her and sensed its intention but she had no way of stopping it. The last thing she felt was all encompassing panic and desperation to hold on. She was silent, but mentally she had gone out kicking and screaming.

After the wipe there was only darkness and quiet from her mind as the memories died. A terrifying and lonely state that even now made her instinctively look for a way out. It was like being buried alive. She rattled around in the solitude like an animal in a cage until the light of reeducation slipped in—his suggestion. She loved him in a desperate way for that fact alone. She loved him a little more when he stopped the flow of awful recollections and took her to what had been the little shack at the beginning of this whole ordeal. Now it was a beautiful home, fully decorated with little knickknacks and bursting with light, color and sound. Everything was in its place now according to her hectic human organization.

"So there it is."

"Indeed. Your are exactly as you were before."

"No, I'm so much better now."

"I could express the same sentiment." His inner self pulled her close, dropping his forehead to hers. He hoped that his vast feelings for her translated appropriately. They were far too complex to ever be articulated. Even if he could have said "I love you," it wouldn't have been nearly enough.

He wished to bond them that instant but he was aware that she mentally taxed. "Twenty four hours. We will be bonded in exactly twenty four hours." She agreed, although she knew it hadn't been a suggestion. "Rest and Mediate, Ashal-veh. I will do everything else."/

She tried to walk casually on her way to her own quarters, but she wanted to run or dance or float anything other than the measured steps she was actually taking.

"I'm back in business," She announced as she crossed the threshold. They were packing when she got back, trying to clear all their things and leave the room like they'd found it. "I remember everything. I've got it all back."

"Nyota! Are you serious? Are you sure?" Both of them tripped over their stuff, charging a path to her and catching her up in an embrace.

"Of course. I'm all better now. I want to thank you both. Having you here, rooting me to what is most important, it means the world to me."

"We love you so much. There was no place else we could've been."

"C'mon," Mwezi said taking their hands. "Let's pray; we have been richly blessed."

Once they had expressed thanks, she excused herself, walking as fast as she could to the bridge. "Sir?"

"Ah, Lieutenant! What are you doing here; you're not scheduled for another four hours."

"It's done Sir. Everything is back where it belongs!" In a rare display, Kirk wrapped his arms tight around her, squeezing almost too hard.

"That's wonderful. I'll tell Bones and Chapel and Scotty—he's been worried sick. You go celebrate. You're excused for the day! Go find Masters, she's excused too."

"Oh thank you, Captain!" She turned to leave but stopped and faced him again. "And thank you, Sir." Her voice was earnest. "You didn't give up on me. You didn't send me away. And you cared enough to get me back to normal. I'm so thankful. You really are the best Captain in the fleet, Sir."

He looked away bashfully, eyes glittering and blinking away tears. He cleared his throat and made a shooing gesture. "Go on, get out of here, or I'll have you written up for emotionally compromising your Captain." She beamed at him one last time before leaving.

Charlene was at her station, recording dilithium activity. She was so engrossed in her readings that she didn't hear the hiss of the door as it opened.

"I washed my face and hands before I come I did." Nyota offered by way of greeting, showing that she remembered that they both considered My Fair Lady to be their favorite movie.

Her friend turned so hard she could've given herself whiplash. "Nyota?" Her face illuminated. There was obviously so much she wanted to say, but she opted for the most appropriate response. "Where the devil are my slippers?"

They screamed then, running to cross the short distance between them. "The Captain says you can have the rest of the day off. He wants us to celebrate."

"You really remember me?"

"Your favorite perfume is called "Caress" and your favorite lipstick shade is cocoa 16, but the replicator can't get it right. Your dress size is—"

"I believe you!"

"C'mon. I want to introduce you to my sisters."

"Finally! They're all you ever talk about. I feel like I know them already."

"They're going to love you."

The women spent the rest of the evening in Nyota's room with a bottle of wine, looking at pictures, watching holovids and making use of the chocolate her mother sent her. She felt a little guilty the other girls didn't know she was using this as a bachelorette party, but not guilty enough to stop enjoying herself.

Please continue to R&R. TBC.