Absolutely oblivious to the happenings within the Medbay, Uhura is seated at her station, her body tensed. Sleep did not come easily during the course of the night, the relatively safe confines of her quarters seemed to close in on her. How could she not be affected, when the one whom she loves is nearing the end of his life? Yet, here is the Lieutenant, with all her professionalism, despite the lump residing in her throat, performing her duties as fitting for an officer of Starfleet.
In fact, the entire Enterprise bridge is thick with a forlorn air, each crew member coping with the distressing news in their own way, working at their stations in woeful silence. Indeed, word seems to travel at warp speed on a starship. Yes, death is inevitable for all sentient beings. Moreover, the passing of a fellow crew member is always difficult to accept; however, the slow demise of one so close in friendship and comradery and loyalty, coupled with the inability to act on it, is far worse. Kirk, in particular, is finding himself distracted, uncomfortable in his chair, his eyes staring distantly into the viewscreen, the deep black void with dots of white streaking by. After all, what Captain would want to lose such a valuable First Officer, and their closest friend?
I'm going to see him. Even the voice within his own mind is uneven.
And that is precisely what he and Uhura do, upon reaching their first meal break. The two officers walk into the Medbay, met by Doctor McCoy and the sight of the ill Vulcan sprawled atop his biobed, as he had lain before. A nurse is hovering over him, checking his vital signs with a medical scanner.
"He's unconscious right now, Jim.", the physician quietly informs, speaking before the Captain does, as if reading his mind. "He collapsed earlier this morning...seemed pretty coherent before that, though – ".
McCoy's speech is interrupted by a sudden commotion, a panicked voice from Spock's bed.
"Rai! Sadvun-tor nash-veh!".
(No! Move away from me!)
It seems that the Vulcan had removed himself from his bed, to the shock of the nurse tending him, and from whom he had backed away. His face is contorted into a mixture of fear and confusion as he huddles against the edge of the bed, his eyes darting around the room. Flinching as the Captain and the physician make an attempt to approach, he barks a warning at them.
"Sadvun-tor nash-veh!".
(Move away from me!)
Curbing her own disquiet at this scene, the Communications Officer begins to approach, despite the patient's continued yaps, and with her open palms held up in front of her. With her being the competent linguist that she is, and knowing his native tongue, she speaks to him in a gentle tone.
"Nam'uh hayal. Etek nam-tor katravahsu.".
(Calm down. We are friends.)
Hearing her utter those words, his face changes, responding with a tilted head, a raised brow and an inquisitive voice.
"Stariben du Vuhlkansu?".
(You speak Vulcan?)
"Ha.".
(Yes.)
"Nam-tor nash-veh wilat?".
(Where am I?)
"Has-sutauk. Etek tvai du rai klau.".
(Sickbay. We mean you no harm.)
"Has-sutauk...".
(Sickbay...)
He glances at the floor for a few moments, searching his mind for memories, answers, anything, yet yields nothing. Then, as he brings his eyes back up, he notices one of her hands has changed form, the index and middle fingers stretched out, the rest tucked into her palm.
"Ozh'esta?".
(Finger embrace?)
As he utters the word, he cocks his head once more and he begins to move, coming around the bed to approach her. Drawing near, he extends his hand, his fingers making the same gesture. Pressing his fingertips to hers, his eyes flutter at the contact. Removing the digits, he moves his hand towards her face.
"Sos? Kash-nohv.".
(May I? Mind-meld.)
"Ha.".
(Yes.)
After the consent is given, he places his thumb, index and middle fingertips onto her face, closing his eyes.
"Nahp, hif-bi tu throks.".
(Your thoughts, give them to me.)
In deep concentration, he probes her mind for answers. Within moments, his face changes again, his eyes opening widely with a realisation.
"Nyota?". He pulls away, removing his hand from her face.
"Yes, Spock...it's me.", she whispers, a smile forming on her lips.
Uttering her name had caused his body to relax a little, yet now it alters once more. Fatigue from his illness and the mind meld soon overcome him, his lengthy figure swaying, eventually falling into her arms. With some assistance from Kirk and McCoy, the Vulcan is carefully laid out onto his biobed, covered thoughtfully by a blanket. The doctor breathes a heavy sigh, turning to Uhura to speak.
"Thanks for that. You came here at the right time. There might be more instances like this, so I might need – ".
"Say no more, Bones.", the Captain cuts in. "Uhura, are you happy to stay here to translate for him?".
"I am.". Her voice is mildly shaky as she glances at the Vulcan patient.
Several hours have passed, and there she stays, by the side of his bed. A bed of her own had been arranged, next to his, in order for her to sleep. A tray of food is brought to her by one of the nursing staff, despite Uhura's insistence that she can procure the refreshment herself, seemingly unwilling to burden the crew member any further. Still, the Lieutenant thanks the nurse, swiftly consuming the meal, then placing the tray onto her bed.
Some time later, as the tray had been taken away and she slowly begins to doze, the Vulcan starts to stir. His eyelids remain shut, his mind and body apparently still within the depths of slumber, yet he mumbles three words over and again.
"...Nyota...kal'i'farr...ko-telsu...".
(...marriage...wife...)
She sits up to observe him, wondering if he will awaken. He doesn't, however, the murmuring ceasing after a few minutes. Doctor McCoy, in close proximity, had heard his friend's mumbling, and soon approaches.
"Wonder what that was about. You know what he said?".
"I do. He kept saying my name, and the Vulcan words for 'marriage' and 'wife'.". Her face softens as she continues. "I think he was dreaming about marrying me.".
She spends the next hour watching him sleep, peaceful and undisturbed by her presence and all that is around him. Only for a little while, that is, as his eyes slowly begin to open, the cocoa irises scanning the room. The female officer allows him a few minutes to take in his surroundings, orient himself, almost anticipating another addled episode. No such occurrence this time, the Vulcan patient appearing calm, more together as he gazes around the ward. His eyes soon turn to her, and she gifts him a kind smile.
"Vuhlkansu il Eingelsu?", she queries.
(Vulcan or English?)
"I am quite capable of understanding Federation Standard, Nyota, but I appreciate your inquiry.".
"You're very welcome, Spock. I'm glad you're more lucid this time.". She squeezes his hand, her smile morphing into a more loving grin.
"As am I. Have you been here long? I hope I am not keeping you from your duties.".
"It's alright, I'm practically still doing my job.".
There is a short pause before he speaks again, his mind forming the words carefully, as he has something that he would like to address.
"During my somnolence, I believe I may have uttered certain words – "
"Don't worry about it...you were dreaming.".
"Perhaps... However, I was truthful in those few words.". Shifting his body closer to her, his eyes narrow, and he places both his hands over hers, his words spoken in a serious tone. "With the severity of my ailment, I realise that I have little time left. Therefore, before my inevitable death, Nyota, I wish to join with you in marriage.".