Disclaimer Please don't sue—I don't own these characters! Thanks to the powers that be for letting us have our fun.

Chapter Twenty Five

Nyota stretched and rubbed at her eyes. She sat before a large screen, its glow the only light in the laboratory. Spock's students had left and she'd remained in her seat as the sun sank. She'd finished the work Spock left for her and was now just listening, seeing how quickly she could transcribe the various inconsequential transmissions she picked up.

As she was trying to convince herself to stand up to turn the lights on, she heard soft footsteps from the doorway. Turning, she saw Spock reenter with his hands tucked behind his back.

He remained just inside the doorway to survey her. It was Tuesday evening, the last night before Thanksgiving break started, and he was preparing to return to his apartment; all his papers were graded and the only thing left to attend to was convincing Nyota to go to her dormitory.

She'd removed her black boots and sat in front of the screen with her legs tucked under her, which made her skirt slip halfway up her thighs. Her hair was sleeked back into a long ponytail and she looked back at him with weary eyes.

"You are tired," he said as he stepped forward. She liked how his voice joined, rather than broke, the silence. She just nodded. "You are exceptionally tired," he amended.

Looking at her PADD to check the time, she just shrugged, but a large yawn ruined her argument. "Maybe I'll be done," she suggested, starting to expertly lock the machine for the night.

"That was going to be my suggestion," Spock said.

Pulling on her boots, she asked, "Can we go out to lunch tomorrow?"

"If you wish."

Nyota stood, and found herself much closer to Spock than she had anticipated. Without moving, she said, "I was looking for some new vegan places and found somewhere to try out—"As she spoke, she felt an overwhelming feeling wash over her—that he was pleased and suddenly happy? But it was more, it was that strange emotion sort of like possessiveness, perhaps, that she could not name. She took a small step backward until her butt hit the console. His face was completely expressionless. She wasn't supposed to know how he felt. She closed her eyes. This wasn't okay.

"Spock—Spock, can I talk to you privately?"

They both felt a spike of curiosity/anticipation/confusion. He never understood human impulsiveness.

"Certainly."

She didn't know what he needed to hear or what she wanted to say…Would he get mad at her? She should have told him before…Opening her eyes, she shook her head, "Not now."

"Will lunch suffice as a setting?" he asked, his curiosity growing. He watched as she bit her lip; evidently she was nervous about the proposed conversation. What could she want to say to him?

"Maybe. I don't know." Where did one tell her Vulcan professor she'd been able to feel his emotions all the time she'd known him? "Can we find somewhere after lunch?"

Spock just nodded. She couldn't handle his proximity anymore, and slid away from him to grab her bag from beside his desk. "I'll see you in your office tomorrow at like 1100?"

Once again he nodded; he had expected to walk her back to her dorm, but she disappeared out the door before he could offer.

XXX

Nyota walked briskly across campus the next morning. She was not going to arrive for 1100; she'd thrown in a 'like,' hadn't she? Sarah had needed goodbyes, a bit of homework needed polishing off, and she had spent an inordinate amount of time ransacking her wardrobe. Anyways, here she was, off to eat lunch with Spock and, presumably, tell him about the weird emotion-sensing thing.

She had decided he would be able to stop it. For whatever reason, she had this feeling that Spock had control over whatever this was—it had never happened with anyone else, had it?—and that he would not like it. She had never seen him mad, so she didn't know if it would come to that, or if he would be just as expressionless about it as anything; but she felt quite sure he would put a stop to it. And she felt quite sure she was going to miss it.

These emotions had become so important to her relationship with him. What if she couldn't feel when he was annoyed anymore? Would she become unbearable to him? Would she not be able to understand him anymore? What if they didn't work well together? She would still have to finish her thesis and be his TA next semester…

But she knew she had to tell him. It felt too intrusive, especially now that she felt every nuance of emotion…Suddenly Nyota found herself directly in front of his office door. Throwing back her head and throwing on a smile, she knocked.

He opened the door with curiosity. He did not comment on her tardiness. She was not wearing her Starfleet uniform, as they were on vacation and travelling off campus to eat, and he quickly took in the unfortunate fact that her legs were covered by dark jeans.

Bringing his eyes up to hers again, he said, "You did not tell me the name of the restaurant you wish to try."

Deciding she would straight-up ignore her discomfort, Nyota turned to lead Spock downstairs. "It's called, interestingly, The Golden Pig. I'm not surprised you hadn't found it before."

As they walked, she did not reference what she had to tell him. Though she had seemed a bit tense when she showed up at his office, by the time they got to The Golden Pig, she was smirking and watching him sideways. He'd been illogically pleased when she said she had searched for vegan restaurants. If she wanted to eat with him, vegan options were a necessity; yet he'd experienced a sensation he could only call warmth, although he'd refused to analyze it. He was surprised to find that she'd brought him just a few blocks past his apartment.

Through the topic of Thanksgiving, and how neither of them really celebrated it, and how Nyota thought it was silly that Starfleet had time off for it just because they were located in San Francisco, they arrived at the topic of her childhood. He'd heard inconsequential details, but not the entire narrative.

"I have two siblings," she said as she took a menu from their waitress and slid into her booth. She noticed Spock was the only man she knew who could get himself into a booth with anything resembling dignity. "I can't believe I never told you this before. Surprise me with a light beer," she said to the waitress, who then turned to Spock.

He found it uncomfortable to have this waitress hear their personal conversation, so before Nyota could continue, he said, "Just water, please." She was not quite far enough away before Nyota proceeded.

"One sister and one brother, both older. And both mildly infuriating." She had an intriguing brightness to her eyes as she spoke of her family, Spock noted. "We're really close in age, so we were always really competitive." She shrugged. "Okay, are still really competitive. My sister is already in space, which is infuriating because there was nothing I could do about time." She looked up to see if he was interested; he was scanning the menu, but when she paused he looked up and acknowledged her comment with a quirk of his lips, so she plunged on. "And my brother is still in school to be a doctor. So the word's out on whether I beat him."

Spock put down his menu and she could feel his amusement. "It is illogical to debate who has 'won' between siblings based on their professions."

"Do you have siblings, Spock?" she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

His head dipped, and she realized that, strangely, this usually neutral topic might be uncomfortable for him. "I have a half brother; however, I have not communicated with him in…some time."

Nyota shifted in her seat, studying him. "Half brother?" she prompted gently, not knowing what he would, or would not, want her to ask about him.

"Through my father," he said, looking up at her again. "He is full Vulcan," he said, although Nyota swore she heard something in his tone that made her think a human might have pronounced "full Vulcan" with a strain of sarcasm.

Or was that just her interpretation of the uneasiness she could feel from him? She was distracted from her intense curiosity by the thought, and couldn't formulate a new question before the waitress came back with their drinks.

Once they had ordered and Nyota began sipping her beer (and the waitress had walked sufficiently far away), Spock commented with a minutely raised eyebrow, "I thought humans generally waited until five o'clock to indulge in alcoholic beverages."

Putting her drink down firmly, Nyota raised an eyebrow, but he could see the tease in her. With mock outrage (given away by the grin spreading across her features), she said, "It is perfectly acceptable for me to drink a beer with lunch."

Actually, it was a calculated move. She was hoping she might get the slightest bit tipsy, which she knew would loosen her tongue, and theoretically make it easier for her to talk to him.

Spock observed, as they ate, that it did make her speak a little more freely. She apparently was what some might call a "lightweight." He watched with amusement as she started gesticulating more enthusiastically.

As she came to the end of her salad, however, she grew quieter. When the waitress came with the bill, they split it, and then she looked at him with an expression he had yet to catalogue.

"So," she said. He clearly had no response to this. "I need to tell you something."

He raised an eyebrow neutrally.

Nyota glanced around at the restaurant, which had filled up since they'd arrived. "Let's go," she said, standing suddenly.

Spock let her lead him outside into the brisk late fall air, where she stopped and turned to him again. "Do you know anywhere quiet around here? And private?"

Weighing his options, he hesitated for just a moment before replying evenly, "My apartment is the closest location where I could guarantee privacy."

Nyota's stomach flipped. His apartment. Did he seriously just offer to bring her to his apartment? She wasn't quite sure this was the best place to tell him—she should probably pick somewhere more neutral, somewhere she would be less emotionally…confused—but her morbid curiosity won out. She nodded, "Okay."

The walk to his building was a blur of planned sentences, internal fighting, and staring at her feet. All too soon he was unlocking his door and waving her in front of him.

His apartment was dressed spartanly, and everything was white or a shade of grey. She walked directly into the main living space, which consisted of one angular couch on the opposite wall, an empty coffee table, and half empty bookshelves. To her left was a counter which separated her from the kitchenette; further in sat a table with two plain chairs. Nothing was left out except a teapot on the stove and a PADD on the table. Straight ahead was a single door; she presumed this led to his bedroom.

It was surprisingly unrevealing. She should have expected it, she supposed, but somehow she'd imagined walking into her professor's apartment would feel a lot more personal.

"I would appreciate if you would remove your shoes," he said in Vulcan, as though being at home made him slip into his own tongue, as he took off his own and walked past her to enter the kitchenette. She obediently stepped out of her flats, pausing for a moment to look at them next to Spock's shoes, and then followed him quietly. "Would you like tea?" he asked.

"Sure. Thank you," she said, feeling awkward just standing in his kitchen.

Spock moved mechanically, ignoring the thought that the last time anyone had visited his apartment was when he had brought a woman home for one night… "You may select what you would like from the last cabinet," he informed her.

Glad for something to do, she started rummaging through the boxes. Well, not quite rummaging, as everything was precisely orderly, and she didn't dare move anything out of place without putting it back perfectly. "Do you have any Irish breakfast?" she asked.

He turned to look at her, but she didn't notice. "I believe there may be some in the back. I am not fond of it…but my mother is."

Nyota pulled out a bag triumphantly just as the water began boiling. Spock poured hers into a plain white mug and she cradled it between her hands as he poured his own.

"Please sit," he said politely with a sweep of his fingers. Instead of sitting in a dining room chair as he'd expected, Nyota moved toward the couch and settled into the corner, where he usually sat. Curling her legs up under her so her toes peeked out (he noticed her toenails were painted bright red), she hugged her tea closer. He sat at the other end of the couch.

She noticed he seemed quite tense, for being on his own couch. But he did feel mainly content, if slightly curious. She felt a stab at knowing that would be going away soon. She twisted towards him.

"What did you wish to discuss?" he asked.

Stalling she said, "Wait, no, you didn't finish telling me about what happened on Delta Omega 7!"

With half quirked lips at what he recognized as an evasion strategy, Spock obligingly continued the narrative he'd started at lunch.

Pulled into his story from his time on the Farragut, Nyota ended up forgetting herself and scooching closer to him. "So you basically saved everyone?"

"I would not categorize the action as selflessly as you seem to be, but I suppose if you wish to be technical, had I not been there, the outcome may have been less fortunate."

Nyota couldn't help but laugh softly at his modesty, and unconsciously, again, her hand reached out to brush his sleeve. As he looked down at where her fingers had touched his shirt, she felt a funny kind of…longing. No.

"Okay, no, I have to tell you."

Spock looked up at her and she was aware that his back straightened infinitesimally. She started to fidget. "Well, it's something sort of personal—I should have told you a long time ago, really, but it never came up and—I feel weird telling you, but it's weirder how—" She cut herself off, finally, feeling his peaking curiosity. Looking up from the nearly emptied mug of tea, she saw his raised eyebrow and just spit it out, closing her eyes. "I can feel your emotions. I've been able to since my first class."

She winced; sharp confusion washed through her. "Feel…my emotions?" he echoed slowly. She'd never heard him so unsure of himself. And at her nod, swift comprehension, a deeper embarrassment than she had ever experienced in her life, anger, just as she'd dreaded—and then it all cut off.

Nervously, she looked over at him, still reeling from what she'd felt from him.

Spock blinked and stood. As soon as she said it, he felt the openness of his mind. He had allowed her access—she could feel his emotions—as though they had a bond—Embarrassment, as he hadn't experienced since childhood, shot through him. He wanted the moment to vanish, he wanted to control time—he wished many illogical things within the span of 2.3 seconds. How had he allowed such a lapse in control? He grew intensely furious with himself—he had failed, utterly. Determinedly, he snapped his mind closed and attempted to control himself.

He was pacing. She'd never seen him agitated, never mind pacing. As he turned, she saw his eyes flash with anger, and she drew into the couch as though it would swallow her. She wanted to be home, she wished she hadn't said anything, she wished this strange connection had never happened at all—was it her fault? Had she done anything? But now she didn't need to feel his emotions; she could observe, quite plainly, that he was distressed, and she couldn't forget that humiliation and fury…

And then he stopped pacing and faced her. She couldn't meet his eyes, which seemed to be blazing. He couldn't control the whirlwind of his thoughts and emotions; he needed to regain himself. She could not be here. He couldn't stand to be in her presence, now that he knew she was totally aware of such a complete failure of control. Trying to manage his voice, he said quietly, "Leave."

Nyota's eyes widened suddenly, and she was biting her lip. Quickly, she stood and set down her mug too hard and scuttled to the door, which whooshed open.

Outside stood Amanda Grayson and an older Vulcan, preparing to ring the chime.

A/N Oof, I've been writing toward that for a long time. And now we've been set back, my friends…They were doing so well! But first, to uncomfortable adventures with family…

Thanks to all who have reviewed thus far. I really appreciate it! They'll help me get through these last stresses of the school year…