Nyota felt herself melting into a pool of nervous energy as they rode the lift back to their suite on the twelfth floor. The moment Spock opened the door and she caught sight of the single bed, she felt a pull in her belly that startled her. She couldn't remember ever being so turned on.

She was grateful for the curious crab's interruption, otherwise she'd probably have sand in places she didn't want to think about or be soaked from an unanticipated freezing tide. Besides, they had been on an open beach and people who made grand displays of intimacy in public annoyed her. Why had she let herself get carried away? Why had Spock?

He shut the door gently behind them but he lingered in the entryway. She turned slowly to her right and was instantly struck by the intensity of his eyes. She swallowed and took a step forward, and soon they were a tumble of frantic kisses and limbs, exploring, searching, and indulging.

Nyota fell back on the bed and he lowered himself onto her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and drew his body into hers. He was solid and heavy in a way she hadn't anticipated, a mass of sinewy muscle and dense bone. She rocked her hips into him and he pressed back, harder and more aggressively.

She grabbed his neck, cupping her hands around his jaw to deliver a hungry kiss but her middle and index fingers slipped and slid along his cheek. For several seconds, her thoughts were a nonsensical jumble and she realized what she'd done. The only thing he'd asked her not to do.

"Sorry," she yelped, ripping her hands away from his face to break the mind meld. "I'm sorry."

Spock stiffened and pushed himself up, locking his elbows. Her legs fell from his sides and she wriggled upward as Spock sat back on his haunches. "I'm so sorry, Spock."

Her words were a whisper and for a second, she wondered if she'd actually even said them aloud.

"Do not be," he replied, resting his dark eyes on her.

She twisted her legs around to sit on her left thigh and leaned forward. She was still breathing heavily from their second near miss at sex, but she sensed the moment was quickly fading. Why couldn't they ever seem to get this right?

"I didn't mean to… you know."

"I could have chosen to break contact with you, but I did not," he replied.

She sighed. "It was the heat of the moment and-"

"You were attracted to me on the shuttle," he interrupted, looking down at the gray comforter.

"What?"

"The first time you experienced attraction toward me was during our joint repair of the bone knitter's microassembly, when we were marooned on the planetoid near the Briar Patch."

She peered at him, only dimly aware her mouth was hanging open. Why was he bringing that up now? She could feel every muscle in her face contracting into an expression of confusion and impatience.

"I- I don't- what?"

"You did not consciously know it then," he continued.

"Ok?" she whined. "Where are you going with this?"

"When our minds met, I was briefly privy to both your conscious and subconscious thoughts. It is unusual for an indirect meld to link to such a hidden region of the mind, but yours seems to be particularly active."

Nyota blinked and tried to wrap her head around what he'd just said. She hadn't been attracted to him back then. Not even close. She'd thought of him as an unfeeling robot, a guy who happened to be her commanding officer that she had to get along with to survive.

"No, I don't think so," she finally declared.

"It is the truth," Spock replied.

"I didn't like you until…" She thought about it, scrolling through the whole of their personal and professional relationship, from the first time she saw him during her xenolinguistics programming lab in her second year up until the present.

"The subconscious mind is frequently aware of many things the conscious mind is not," Spock countered. She wasn't really listening.

She first realized she liked Spock when he stopped wanting to be her thesis advisor. Maybe it served as proof that a person didn't really know what they had until it was gone.

Or had it been when he'd walked her back to her dorm room after she'd gotten locked out? Or had it been one morning when she woke up to the sweet smell of chrysanthemums? What a strange thing love was.

No, not love. She didn't love Spock. The idea was ludicrous, so ludicrous in fact that she laughed aloud, earning her a peculiar stare from the man she was definitely not in love with. His expression was patient and curious and when their eyes finally met, she felt a flutter in her stomach. She didn't intend to scowl, but she didn't like being sideswiped by the idea that she felt stronger feelings for the man sitting across from her than she realized.

"Perhaps we should-"

"When did you first realize you were attracted to me?" she interrupted.

There was a fractional shift in his eyes. "I do not know."

"How can you not know, if you can figure out what my mind what thinking before I even knew it myself?"

"It is difficult for an individual to reconcile the subconscious mind with the conscious," he explained.

"Try."

"It is not so simple," he insisted. "Even intensive meditation barely penetrates the subconscious' surface."

They were talking in circles. Nyota closed her eyes in frustration, but was struck by the memory of their time on the shuttle. She remembered repairing the bone knitter. They had been reaching for the same screwdriver when their fingers brushed and she experienced the familiar feeling of euphoria that came with ozh'esta. Something was off – she didn't remember feeling anything like that at the time, and then she realized she wasn't experiencing her memory, she was experiencing his.

She closed her eyes tighter and replayed the events in her mind. Her first attempt at fixing the bone knitter hadn't worked, and she'd gotten frustrated.

Her eyes light up when she's angry.

She shook her head and opened her eyes to find Spock gazing at her, his face bearing an expectant look. She couldn't tell whether this memory was hers or his or both.

"You think my eyes are pretty when I'm angry," she whispered.

He cocked his head and considered her statement. After a few moments he nodded and said, "So they are."

She closed her eyes again and tried to allow herself to drift back into the past. A different memory resurfaced and her cheeks burned. They were on the shuttle again and her flight suit was hanging down from her waist. Her black undershirt was pulled up and she was in his arms.

"Nyota?"

Her concentration broke and the memory was gone and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't retrieve it. All she could remember were her own memories of the incident, and she'd worked hard to forget about it because it had been so embarrassing. She opened her eyes and sighed. A tiny, crooked smile stretched across her lips as she thought about that mortifying incident on the Dalton II.

She'd broken her ribs in the crash and Spock had helped mend them. She'd nearly fainted at first from the pain, but he'd caught her in time. Eventually she'd had to take off her undershirt and unclasp her bra for him to finish treating the broken bones. His fingers had even stroked the side of her left breast on accident.

She's warm and soft and smells of a pleasing scent.

Her eyes widened along with her smile.

"You were attracted to me on the shuttle too," she announced. "You thought I smelled nice. You thought I was soft."

This was clearly a revelation to him. He cocked an eyebrow and broke eye contact. Nyota refused to stop smiling.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," she added.

"Embarrassment-"

"Is illogical, I know," she finished, allowing her smile to fade.

"I was kind of embarrassed back then, but I never thought it had anything to do with being attracted to you," she admitted. "Wait, are you sure I was attracted to you back then?"

He gave her a pointed look that made her feel silly for asking. How much more to Spock was there? How much more to her was there? The silence grew uncomfortable, but Nyota reached out her fingers to his, seeking the comfort of the Vulcan finger embrace. The instant their skin made contact, a tiny spark of static electricity discharged.

"Oops," she chuckled, pulling her hand back.

She inched forward along the bedspread until she was close enough to lean forward and kiss him, but he didn't respond to her touch. She pressed harder with her lips, but still nothing.

"Spock?"

She drew away, peering anxiously at him. His eyes seemed unfocused and far away, leaving her to wonder what she'd done. She hated that she could never figure out what he was thinking.

"Spock, what's wrong?"

"Will you consent to mind meld with me?" he asked, his eyes snapping into focus.

"What?"

"Will you consent to mind meld with me?" he repeated.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time; it's only that the last time we were together, you said you didn't want to until we got to know each other better. You called it an 'intimate telepathic link.'"

"I am aware of what I said," he replied.

"So what changed your mind?"

"Your mind is very… intriguing."

Nyota rolled her eyes. "That's probably true for anyone."

"Your sarcastic gesture implies you are not interested in my proposal."

"I didn't say that," she retorted, shifting her body to sit cross-legged.

"Then do you consent?"

Nyota's teeth nibbled on the lining of her cheek. He looked so sweet and serious at the same time, all while still preserving his usual resigned exterior. How did he do that? Maybe it was in the eyes.

"Sure, I guess," she sighed. "I don't really know what I'm doing though, so do you want to be the one or should I?"

"I will do it, if you choose to consent," he replied. "Every mind meld poses certain risks, but an improperly performed meld even more so."

Nyota froze. "What do you mean, risks?"

"Even with a proper meld, there are possible side-effects, though most are mild and temporary – mental exhaustion, emotional transference, and momentary loss of identity are sometimes reported."

"Loss of identity?" She tried to keep her voice steady, but wasn't sure how successful she was.

"The transfer of mental patterns can sometimes cause confusion for both participants, particularly when they are well-acquainted and have shared many similar experiences. One person may remember certain events differently than the other, or have conflicting emotions about it."

Nyota thought back to Spock mending her broken ribs on the shuttle and remembered experiencing his thoughts and mistaking them for her own.

"What about side effects that aren't mild?"

"Sustained contact with the wrong series of pressure points can result in a degenerative neurological disorder referred to as Pa'nar Syndrome-"

Nyota's eyes widened, and Spock, sensing her trepidation, added, "Though it is known that this condition only affects Vulcans. You could not be harmed."

"But you could be?" she asked.

"I am well trained in the practice of mind melding," he replied.

"So you've done it before?"

"Many times."

"On humans?"

"Once."

Nyota shot him a stern look, and he added, "There is only a singular difference between our species' pressure points; it is located in the brow. I do not intend to make use of this point for the type of meld I wish to perform."

"The type of meld?"

"There are numerous types of mind melds: some explore the active mind, others the passive, while others are critical to functions such as neurological regeneration or pair bonding."

"And which kind are you wanting to do with me?"

"I wish to explore your subconscious mind."

She frowned. The idea of someone playing around in a part of her mind that she was poorly acquainted with didn't sound very appealing. "I don't know…"

"I understand your trepidation, however, I would never intentionally access memories or thoughts without your consent, and were I do to so by accident, I would never disclose them to anyone else. There is a very strict code of ethics involved."

Despite his reassurances, she felt less sure than before. The whole idea seemed creepy. Like anyone else, she had secrets and memories that she preferred to keep private. That was the beauty of the concept of her mind – it was hers and hers alone.

"Your silence suggests deliberation," he said.

"Well, yeah; it's a lot to think about. A minute ago when I did it by accident, I had no idea you would find out my innermost thoughts about you back when we were stranded. You found something about me that even I didn't know. That's weird."

"I am willing to open my mind to you in return," he offered. "Though I respect your decision, if you elect to refuse."

Nyota swallowed and turned her head to stare at the wall. She liked Spock a lot but they'd only started dating. Of course, less than ten minutes ago she'd been eager to share her body with him, so why not share her mind?

"Ok," she murmured, wondering how much she was going to regret this.

Spock's eyes flicked from her eyes to her mouth. "You are certain? I do not wish to coerce you-"

"Yes, Spock, just do it. I'll admit I'm a little afraid you're going to find out what a brat I was as a kid or experience every teenage crush I had, but whatever."

He canted his head to the left. "Would you be more at ease exploring my subconscious mind first?"

She couldn't help it: she laughed nervously. "I don't really know how."

"Once a meld is in place, the ability should come naturally," Spock explained. "I shall refrain from touching your mind until you are ready."

The idea was pretty tempting. She always wondered what flowed beneath his unexpressive Vulcan exterior, and here was her chance to find out.

"Ok." The word came out almost as a sigh.

"You are ready?"

She shrugged and gave him a weak smile. "Not really, but how do you get ready for something like this?"

Spock's head titled further to the left and she rolled her eyes again. "Just do it. Please. You have my permission."

Spock raised his right hand and held it up to her right cheek. His hand was warm, hot, almost. She smiled, uncertain if the involuntary expression came from fear, anticipation, or pleasure. He pulled his palm away from her face, leaving his fingertips pressed against her jaw, cheek, and eye socket. She laughed at the absurdity of the gesture. He withdrew his hand.

"Sorry," she sighed, quickly getting herself under control. "I didn't know what you were going to do. I'm a little nervous."

"It will not cause you injury."

"I know," she huffed. "Please, let's try again."

Spock nodded and returned his hand to her cheek. For several moments nothing happened and she started to feel a little ridiculous but then… the horizon of her mind faded. She explored the falling boundaries, sensing vibrant calmness and rigid order. She pushed harder, marveling at the new experience.

She quickly started to feel euphoric and almost overwhelmed. The more she allowed her mind to wander, the further away she got from anything that was familiar. It was exhilarating and terrifying, like diving into the ocean and swimming deeper into the darkness and away from the safety of the surface.

She could hear voices far in the distance, speaking quickly and fluidly. Vuhlkansu.

As the voices grew louder, they became more intelligible and despite Vuhlkansu not being her native tongue, she found she understood the words as easily as if she'd spoken it all her life. She was suddenly hit by unexpected shame and rage.

"He has human eyes. They look sad, don't they?"

"Perhaps an emotional response requires physical stimuli."

"He's a traitor, you know…"

She could feel the anger threatening to boil over, but the voices faded. She struggled to hear, but the experience was gone. Then another powerful emotion struck her – loneliness, a solitude so profound she felt like the only person in existence.

Glimpses and sensations flashed through her consciousness. The air was hot and smelled of alkaline dust. There was a sensation of gritty hair between her fingers – no, not hair, fur – and the howl of a quick breeze in her ears.

"Come, I-Chaya."

Who was I-Chaya? Suddenly she felt very afraid. Something was coming for her, but she couldn't see anything except a tall, long mountain range in the distance. The sky was yellow and the sun was small and vivid white.

Nyota probed at the memory but couldn't make any sense of it. She pushed harder, searching for the source of danger, but all she could see were glimpses of the mountains and the form of a large dog. No, not a dog. Not quite.

The terror continued to swell and Nyota tried to run, but she had no control over her surroundings. She tried to scream, but she had no voice.

"Nyota?"

She jumped, reeling away from the sound of her name. It was soft and sounded like it came from an overhead loudspeaker. The vision disappeared and she drew in a ragged breath. She opened her eyes to see Spock staring at her intently.

When had she closed her eyes? What was happening? Had she had a bad dream?

She blinked several times and the situation started to make more sense. She had been mind melding with Spock, and the scene had to be one of his memories.

"That was so… surreal," she choked.

"You have a very forceful mind," he replied.

"Huh?"

"Your mind is clumsy and untrained, but it is remarkably powerful."

She swallowed a deep breath, trying to slow her anxious panting and recall what she'd seen. Like a dream, the details were already growing fuzzy.

"Who's I-Chaya?"

Even Spock with all his logical discipline couldn't hide the subtle flash of surprise that streaked across his face. "I-Chaya was a sehlat. He was my animal companion as a child."

"You had a pet?" she asked, smiling. What a delightful thought – Spock with a childhood animal friend.

"I considered him more than a pet," Spock explained.

Nyota smiled. It didn't surprise her that the stoic Vulcan would express tenderness toward animals.

"I had two cats growing up," she confessed. "I named them Utundu and Mwombaji."

"My mother possessed a Terran feline called Euclid," Spock replied.

Nyota leaned back on her hands and gazed at the ceiling. "Were you hurt in the dust storm?"

"Clarify."

"You were walking somewhere with I-Chaya; there were mountains in the background and the sun was overhead but it was being obscured by the dust. I was – I mean you were..."

She nearly told him about how she intuited just how lonely and afraid he'd been, but she didn't want to poke at a vulnerable part of his psyche.

"Dust and electrical storms are common in Vulcan's Forge. I was never injured in one."

"It felt kind of like a cross between déjà vu and dreaming," Nyota continued. "It was like I was there in the moment but couldn't control anything or use more than one or two of my senses at a time."

"The subconscious mind is extremely difficult to navigate, and thus much is lost when one attempts to understand it," Spock explained.

"Oh, and who's a traitor?" Nyota asked, vaguely remembering the voices she'd heard early in the meld.

"Clarify."

Nyota was stunned to realize she could barely remember what she'd heard just moments ago. "There were two people talking, I think, and one said something like, 'He's a traitor' and something about a human's eyes, maybe?"

Spock's posture stiffened. "It is… unimportant."

She sat back up, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. She wanted to hug him and reassure him in any way she could, but he looked so closed off. "Spock, it's ok."

"'Ok' is an imprecise term," he replied automatically.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Nyota sighed. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"The idea was mine, and I do not regret it," Spock insisted. "I merely did not anticipate you being able to penetrate so deeply into my subconscious."

She took his right hand, tracing over the knuckles of his first two fingers with gentle pressure. He relaxed immediately. After nearly a minute of silence he said, "I was not always treated well in my youth due to my unique heritage."

"How so?" Nyota asked, intertwining her fingers with his and shifting her posture to meet his gaze.

"Other Vulcans, children in particular…"

A muscle in his forehead twitched and felt like it pulled all the way to her heartstrings. Spock had been bullied? The concept of a Vulcan bully seemed bizarre.

"It's ok – you don't have to tell me," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the mouth. He remained motionless, but after a few moments he returned her kiss.

"Explore my mind," she offered, sitting up, uncrossing her legs, and leaning forward on all fours.

"You have no obligation-"

"I know there's no obligation," she interrupted. "But I want you to. You shared yourself with me, and I want to share myself with you too."

She sat back on her haunches and gave him her most insistent look. He nodded. Their bodies were closer this time around, and the second his fingertips grazed her face, she leaned forward in anticipation, pressing her knees into his.

She wasn't sure what was happening, but her existence felt very… full. She began to experience emotions that seemed randomly generated and then instantly fell away and ceased to exist. One moment she was ecstatically happy, the next she was falling into the depths of despair, only to experience white-hot wrath.

She hated it and whimpered involuntarily. Spock immediately retracted his hand and said, "I apologize."

Nyota squinted at him, taking several deep breaths to get her emotions under control. She was so tired. "That was… not at all what I expected. That was pretty intense."

"You have very demanding emotions," Spock agreed. "It was never my intention to make you experience them so fully."

"Well, so, now that you've explored my subconscious, what do you think?"

"I think you have a dynamic mind and an exceptionally kind heart."

Her lips parted into a smile. "What makes you say that?"

"Your cat, Mwombaji – her name means 'beggar.' You found her as a kitten under a high-speed rail line near your school. You carried her home in your bag and hid her from your mother because you were afraid she wouldn't let you keep her."

Nyota shut her eyes and drank in the nostalgia. She didn't realize how much she missed her old, lanky cat until now.

"You also miss your father," Spock continued. "You haven't given up hope that he's alive."

"What?" Nyota whispered. "No, he's dead. I don't pretend to hope-"

"There is nothing wrong with hope, Nyota."

She felt tears brimming in her eyes. Why had she agreed to do this stupid Vulcan stunt? She opened her mouth to tell him she figured he would call hope "illogical," but an involuntary yawn escaped her lips.

"Will you allow me to meld with you one more time?" he asked.

"Why?" she snapped.

"I do not intend to directly contact your subconscious again," he explained. "I wish to explore the link between your thoughts and emotions."

"It wasn't exactly very fun the last time. For either of us," she huffed, clenching her jaw to dismiss the tears threatening to roll down her face.

"This form of meld is often used in therapeutic meditation," he said, catching her eye. "It is a calming technique typically employed between mates."

Between mates. She held her breath and stared at him, half searching, and half challenging. "Fine, let's try it."

He placed both of his hands near her jawline and she quickly experienced a crescendo of serenity. She shut her eyes to enjoy the calmness to its fullest extent. They remained locked that way for nearly a minute, and when he withdrew his hands, she tried to follow them with her face.

"Why did you stop?"

"Mind melds are mentally taxing, particularly to those unaccustomed to them."

As if on cue, she yawned again. "Please? I mean, if you're up to it?"

A gentle sensation tugged at her, a tickle. She felt Spock's fingers twirling around the crest of her knuckles, but even the feeling of ozh'esta paled in comparison to the mind meld she'd just experienced. She gripped his hand and said, "Please?"

He gave her a pointed look but returned his hands to her face. She fell asleep that way, enjoying the bliss of a quiet mind and the warm feel of his tender grip.

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur. The weather was nice on Saturday so they spent the morning walking along the beach, inspecting the shells and watching for dolphins in the distance. They hiked a wildlife trail, toured an underwater aquarium, and visited a maritime museum. They fell asleep locked in another mind meld, and when Nyota woke on Sunday morning, she felt sad, wishing there were a way to spend time with him more regularly.

When they arrived at the shuttle port, she was surprised to see a few people protesting outside. Some held signs that said, "Protect our jobs" while others read, "Pilots not particles."

"What do you think that's about?" Nyota asked, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"I do not know," Spock admitted.

They took a seat on a long bench and waited for the shuttle back to San Francisco. She turned to ask him when he thought they could see each other again, but stopped when her eyes fell upon the holographic news screen in the distance.

The Federation government had accepted the most recent report by the Commission on Transport Safety to authorize limited use of transporters for civilian travel. The announcement had sparked a wave of small, mostly peaceful protests at a number of shuttle ports and high-speed rail stations throughout the Federation.

It made sense for people in the transportation industry to worry about their livelihood, despite the commission's report that initial estimates on the impact of the rail and shuttle industries would be minimal. Some theorized that they weren't far away from transwarp capability, which could theoretically make starships obsolete and put her job at risk too. She sighed.

When she thought about it logically though, technology had threatened employment since the invention of the wheel – this seemed to be true on every Federation planet, not just Earth – but people always found a way to keep busy. Technology always seemed to have a way of making some jobs extinct but giving rise to entirely new fields.

She imagined people who trained carrier pigeons were probably quite alarmed when the telegraph was invented, just as telegraph operators would eventually agonize over the invention of the telephone, and now here she was hundreds of years later, able to communicate by methods none of her predecessors could have even dreamed. The need to communicate had never gone away, it had just changed.

"…the first transporters are scheduled to be installed in forty Federation cities by the end of the month, with eight of those on Earth in the cities of Beijing, Buenos Aires, Cairo, Moscow, New York, Paris, San Francisco, and Sydney. There's still no word…"

Nyota stopped listening to the reporter. They were going to install a civilian transporter right down the road from her? Starfleet Academy had transporters, but access to them was highly restricted and logs were meticulously kept.

Ever since their inception, people had worried about the transporter's potential to aid in the commission of crimes. Earth's last known serial killer had used transporter technology in the 2140s to rape and murder nine women in their homes. She also recalled an espionage case from the turn of the century, but she couldn't remember the exact details.

Advocates had lobbied for decades to make the technology more accessible to everyday citizens with proper licensure and background checks, pointing to its cost saving measures, environmentally friendly aspects, and the personal convenience of minimal travel time. It seemed like after more than a century of bickering, they'd finally gotten their way.

She noticed Spock watching her and tore her eyes away from the screen to gaze back at him. It seemed strange that she could miss someone she was sitting next to, but she hated not knowing when they could be together as a couple again…

It clicked immediately. They were opening a civilian transport station in San Francisco in less than two weeks. They wouldn't necessarily have to travel hundreds or thousands of kilometers away to avoid discovery – she could just transport directly to his quarters.

There was a flash of something in Spock's eyes, subtle, but definitely there. If Nyota didn't know any better, she would have almost called it mischievous.

She'd been so certain nothing could top Spock's birthday present, but now she believed the Commission on Transport Safety had given him a run for his money.