Now that the holiday season is over with, I can write to my heart's content. AtanaM gets my absolute gratitude for being so patient, betaing things so quickly and for fixing my mistakes. Mhgood is so good that words cannot adequately her awesomeness--as many thanks as there are droplets of water in the ocean for your useful trivia and advice.
"My, but you three look like a fright. I'm guessing we didn't exactly make friends with the locals now, did we?" Scotty says. He means it as a joke, but he can't help but widen his eyes as he notices that Uhura is wearing the Captain's shirt, and some frayed, bloodied scrap of a skirt. She barefoot and if he didn't know any better, she's banged up quite a bit. Her face looks like she's in nine kinds of pain, and—are those bite marks?! When she moves, he sees the bite marks all over her arms and legs and he wonders exactly what happened on that planet.
The Captain, on the account of Uhura wearing his shirt, is bare-chested and is bloodied and bruised. Spock is also without a shirt—is there something about this planet and shirts?--and his hair is disheveled for the very first time Scotty has ever seen. He has faint green circles under his eyes and Uhura is openly holding his hand. He knows there is something between the two; he was there, after all, when Uhura walked in and kissed Spock for all the world to see on the transporter deck, but since that day he has seen nary a holding of hands. He thought it was weird, but Starfleet is weird. Maybe it is against the rules.
They stagger off the deck and thank him for getting them off the planet so quickly. Kirk tells Sulu via intership subcom to get them the hell out of orbit and back to exploring the infinite abyss. He then turns to Spock and Uhura and tells them to take a couple of days, he's sure they'll need the rest. They nod, thank him, and start to walk away when the Captain asks to speak with Spock.
Scotty shakes his head. Whatever happened on that planet, it was a right mess. He hopes his friends are okay.
He dreads it, but he has to make sure, has to know for certain that Uhura's injuries were not intentional.
"Spock, I couldn't help but noticing that Uhura was pretty banged up when I got you guys out of the cell. Just..." he takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. "Tell me she's okay, and I'll believe you."
Spock, Kirk notices, is a sickening shade of green and is staring fixedly at the floor.
"Lieutenant Uhura's injuries...you have my word she will recover and no further harm will come to her, Captain."
Kirk gives him a nod. "All I need to know."
McCoy rushes over to them. "Jim! What the hell happened down there? Jesus, you look bad."
Kirk gives a hollow laugh, the laugh belaying the fact his knees are about to buckle. "You should see the other guy."
McCoy only shakes his head. "Where's Uhura? I'm going to need to check her out, too."
"Doctor McCoy, if you would give me a dermkit, I will be able to attend to Lieutenant Uhura."
McCoy shakes his head. "No dice, Spock, sorry."
Uhura limps over, wanting to know what all the fuss is about; she was waiting for Spock at the end of the hallway.
McCoy looks up at the noise of Uhura limping and hissing in pain. His face goes pale, his lips forming a thin, angry line for a moment before he speaks. "Uhura! Good god, woman, what happened to you? Get down to the sick bay right now!"
"Doctor, if you would please just give me a dermkit," Spock is insistent now, his voice rising a little.
McCoy turns on him, his fist clenching and it's obvious that he's using every ounce of control not to kill Spock right on the spot. "Not on your hobgoblin life! What did you do to her?"
Nyota insinuates herself between the two glaring men and pulls the doctor's attention back to her by taking his face in her hands. "I'm fine, Leonard. Really. It's all...surface hurt. I really don't want to go to the sick bay and get poked and prodded and have a bunch of people look at me. Can you please just give Spock a dermkit? I really just want to go to my quarters, get patched up and sleep for a good long while. The mission was..." she looks at Kirk.
McCoy places his hands over hers, using their joint grip to pull her to the side of the hallway, glaring at Spock the whole time. "Uhura, hon, you're anything but fine. If you're covering for him, for any reason at all--"
Jim steps over to them and pulls McCoy gently away from the lieutenant. "Bones, that's enough. Give Spock a dermkit and leave them alone. That's an order."
Bones stares at his friend and Captain, the puzzlement and anger evident on his face. He is unable to ignore the direct order, yet his sense of honor will not allow him to let this lie. He wants answers and he's going to get them, come hell or high water. He opens his mouth to say just that, but Kirk cuts him off.
"Look," he says quietly. "I know it looks bad, but things aren't what they seem. I promise, if she isn't any better by tomorrow I'll send her along to you. Spock's not going to object, he cares for her far too much to let any serious injury she may have go unchecked by a medical professional. I need you to trust me on this one, Bones, okay?"
McCoy holds Jim's gaze, agreeing to trust Kirk, but not liking it one bit. He turns, heading back up the hall, mumbling something about being right back with that dermkit and wondering what the hell happened to them on that planet.
Spock stares at Kirk, not quite believing what Kirk just did for him. Kirk does not know what happened in that cell; he does not even know if Kirk is aware of his...infirmity while on A-75. Yet Kirk issued a direct order to the Chief Medical Officer, even in violation of Starfleet Code, and Spock is not sure why. Is it a demonstration of friendship? Or is it actually a form of blackmail? Will Kirk use this against him later, taunting him, even using it to take Nyota away from him?
Adun, she admonishes in his mind, no one can take me away from you, not willingly. I beat up the last man who tried, don't you remember?
He grows warm at the thought of his Nyota kicking his brother for trying to kill him. Yes, I remember.
Nyota's laugh trills in his head, like the sound of a pleasant chord of his lyre. I can't believe I'm saying this...about Kirk, of all people, but you should try to be nicer to him...he did, after all, save us. He's trying, Spock, to be your friend.
It is a gentle admonishment, but an admonishment all the same. He has forgotten that she can hear him, that there is almost no part of his mind that is closed to her. He will, of course, have to work on this; there are things that she cannot see, not right now, things he will explain to her later.
I understand, aduna, thank you.
She gives him a small smile and squeezes his hand.
If that green-blooded, ice-hearted son of a bitch dared to harm her...
He isn't sure if he'll be able to follow the Hippocratic oath, if need be.
He wasn't able to find much on Pon Farr. Just a bunch of metaphorical nonsense about burning and fires and insatiable need. He isn't sure what it all means, exactly--he's a doctor, not a poet--but he is pretty sure that it wasn't just an hour's foray. And Uhura...she's so small. Granted, McCoy has first hand knowledge that she can kick some serious ass; he saw her during combat training at the Academy. But Spock's a damn Vulcan. She trusts him, for reasons he can't begin to fathom. What if he broke that trust? What if he did some weird mind power thing over her? McCoy loves Uhura like she were his own sister and he would be very glad to show Spock the Southern way of dealing with men who don't treat women the proper way.
But, Jim did tell him to just hand them the derm kit and Jim would sooner fall on his own proverbial sword than have anything happen to Uhura. As much as McCoy doesn't like it, he's going to have to trust Spock, because he trusts his Captain.
God knows why.
Kirk looks around Bones's office. He wonders where Bones keeps the Romulan ale that he gave him for graduation. He knows Bones hasn't drunk it yet, so it has to be somewhere in this office. Uhura is in the chair next to him, facing the desk, with Spock standing behind her, his hand over her shoulder. They keep touching each other, as if they're afraid if they separate it will be forever. Every once in a while they'll just look at each other and Kirk gets the feeling that there's a conversation going on that he is not privy to.
Where in the world does Bones keep his alcohol?
Bones comes in with the derm kit and tosses it to Spock without a word to the First Officer.
"Thank you, Doctor," Spock says.
Bones just nods and Kirk knows he's pissed that he isn't able to examine Uhura, but he's just going to have to live with it. This is not the time to stick to protocol and Kirk is certain that once he explains the situation, Bones will agree.
Bones waves his hands, "Get out of here," he tells the two gruffly. "And get plenty of rest, especially you, Uhura. I want to see you—both of you—in two days just to make sure everything's alright. Agreed?"
Spock nods and Uhura thanks him and the couple walk out the door, Spock's hand on the small of Uhura's back.
Kirk gets up to leave. If Bones isn't even going to be kind enough to offer him some Romulan ale, then he's just going to have to open up his own stash. He wants to sleep for at least a day and then some, and hopefully when he wakes up, he won't feel like death warmed over.
Bones's hand comes down on his shoulder, pushing him back with such force back into his seat that it's hard enough to wake up his bruises and cracked rib, making them scream in protest. He hisses in pain, but Bones doesn't seem to care. He hears the beep of a medical tricorder from somwhere over his left shoulder and McCoy's angry voice in his ear.
"Not so fast, Jim. Sit your ass back down. You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do."
Kirk grins at him. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink, first?"
Gods, she hurts.
But she's happy. They're home, safe, and soon she can take that long hot shower and sleep for a good long while. There are very good pain meds in that derm kit and they'll be very helpful in her recovery.
The feel of Spock's hand on the small of her back is so comforting. He's so much more free in touching her and she's going to miss it when he goes back to normal...when their lives go back to normal.
She feels a wave of inadequacy that's not hers and she realizes that it's Spock, that he feels inadequate for not being able to express his emotions in a physical manner.
She shrugs internally. I don't like handsy men, anyway.
Handsy? She can feel his quizzical expression, the one that means his eyebrow has gone up.
Men who like to touch me all the time, the ones who feel like they need to grab in order to show their claim, or whatever. It's all very...primitive.
Ah. But you regret when the fever completely fades and I will no longer be so...demonstrative in my affections towards you.
What can I say? I'm illogical.
She feels his amusement and she is glad that he understands the joke. They make it to her quarters and she hesitates, unsure of what to do now. By Vulcan standards, they are practically married. They are bonded, have gone through Pon Farr. Besides the ceremony, there isn't much more to make them official. Still, she is used to their separate quarters, their separateness as beings and now they are one. Will they share quarters? Will they keep separate quarters and make a gradual process out of moving in together? Why wasn't there protocol to these things? Why didn't she know what to do?
Nyota, calm yourself. It is not necessary that these questions be answered immediately, we will visit them at another time. Right now, we must attend to your injuries.
She nods in agreement, thankful for his calming presence. It must be because of their...ordeal that she's so emotional. She places her palm up the bioscanner of her door and it slides open, allowing her entrance. She pulls Spock in and the door slides closed behind them.
She turns to face him, suddenly engulfed with the desire to be held. He must understand her request through their meld because he complies, holding her to him as if she's made out of glass, like she will break if he holds her too tightly.
"You can hold me just a little bit more tightly, you know," she murmurs into his chest.
"You are bruised in so many places, Nyota, I dare not," he mutters into her hair.
She realizes that she smells and looks like a fine mess and while having Spock hold her is nice, she would really like that hot shower. Her muscles are aching, screaming really, and she needs the relief. Without a word, Spock picks her up, cradling her to his chest and walking towards the bathroom. He sets her down once they get to her small bathroom and slowly undresses her, taking care not to pull too harshly on her already aching body. He gets Kirk's shirt off of her and she's pleased that despite the fact that she hasn't showered in days and she's covered in bruises, the flare of desire is still in his eyes as he gazes appreciatively at her chest.
"Spock," she says softly, regretfully, "I'm going to need a couple of days."
"Of course, Nyota," he whispers, his eyes traveling up to her face. "I apologize. I will wait how ever long you wish."
He pushes the skirt gently down her hips, letting it pool at her feet. He turns from her, turning on the shower to the water setting and making it as hot as possible. Soon there is steam filling the small bathroom and already she feels better. He gestures for her to get in and she steps gingerly into the shower, sighing as the water works its magic on her.
She rolls her shoulders, tipping her head back and letting the water wash away the grime from her hair. She realizes, among her bliss and relief, that Spock is still in the bathroom, unsure of what to do.
"I'll be fine, Spock. If you want to meditate, you're welcome to do so."
"Thank you," he tells her and she can feel his relief at having something to do, having a sense of direction.
"Though, would you mind doing something first?" She asks.
"What is it, Nyota?"
"Could you get rid of that skirt? I don't care what you do with it, I just never want to see it ever again."
"Of course, Nyota. I will take care of it immediately." She sees him through the steam picking up the offending skirt off the floor and carrying out of the bathroom.
She sighs in relief, closing her eyes and allowing herself to finally relax, knowing that the remnants of Sybok and that horrid planet are literally going down the drain.
She steps out of the shower an indeterminate time later, wrapping herself in a sapphire robe. She lets her hang loose, letting it dry naturally. She'll have a hell of a time trying to straighten it in the morning, but that's next morning and to be honest she doesn't want to deal with that now.
She walks out into her living quarters and finds Spock in the kitchen. And by the smell of it he's making chicken soup. She smiles; it reminds her so much of home, of her mother making her soup when she was sick and it's so unbelievably sweet that she thinks she might cry.
"Please do not cry, Nyota. I meant only to provide you with sustenance. My mother used to make soup for me when I was ill."
"Oh, Spock." She thinks she really will cry now.
He looks up at her, his face etched with worry. "Nyota, are you in pain or further injured?"
She shakes her head. "No, Spock," she tries to smile, but her voice is thick and the tears are threatening to spill despite her efforts to stop them.
"Then I do not understand," he says almost helplessly.
"Sometimes humans cry when their partners do something unexpected for them. It's because I'm happy, Spock."
He purses his lips, she knows he doesn't quite understand, it's like a mathematical equation that doesn't quite make sense, but he accepts it and that's what she loves about him.
She sees that he's put the derm kit on the coffee table and she goes over to it, opening it to take the pain killers. He walks over to her, covering her hand.
"Allow me," he tells her.
He takes out the hypospray, telling her that it's an anti-inflamatory and will help with her pain. He apologizes for the sting, and tells her she needs to eat, that she has not eaten in so long. She really just wants to curl up next to him on the sofa, listening to music and reading like they used to, like their Academy days. Instead, he goes into the kitchenette area of her quarters and pulls out a packet from the cabinet. He adds hot water, stirring it until he is satisfied with the mixture. She sits on the couch, watching him as he carries out a steaming bowl of what smells like chicken noodle soup and she knows she's going to lose the battle with crying. All of that pent up emotion and all of those tears that she constantly held back are going to break through her emotional dam and there isn't a thing she can do to stop it.
By the time Spock walks over to her, the tears are coming down her face and she knows that she's going to have to explain to him why she's crying like this and she hopes that she can.
His lips purse and his brows furrow just a little. Through their link, she senses his panic, his feeling that he's caused her some sort of pain.
She shakes her head. "No, Spock, I'm sorry I'm being emotional."
He places the soup on the table before kneeling down and taking her face in his hands. "No, k'diwa, do not ever apologize for being emotional. What is bothering you?"
"We're alive," she whispers. "We're alive and off of that planet, and for a while there I wasn't sure we were going to make it, and you're making me soup, of all things, chicken soup, at that. My mom, when I was a girl, would make me soup when I was sick, and I just--" she hiccups and buries her face in his neck, letting it all go, her arms wrapped around him.
He holds her, careful not to hold her too tightly and press on her bruises but enough for her to feel him, to feel the emotions of calm and serenity that he tries to transfer to her.
"We are alive, Nyota, and we never have to see that planet ever again. We will heal our wounds and continue on our way. We will put this behind us. We are officers of Starfleet. That is what we do."
She nods into his neck, her tears subsiding. Eventually, she looks up.
"You said something about soup?"