Ralash-tanaf mavaul na'korsau ba'tak heh na'vimevilau shom
Music is powerful. When asked, it's often one of the first things that someone will mention as an essential comfort of home. "What would I have to take with me? Oh, my favorite music, definitely: That can help me get through anything."
Even the most non-homey person would be likely to say, "Well, yeah, I had to at least bring some music…"
Lieutenant Uhura has been thinking a lot, lately, about the power of music.
Perhaps it's because people know, now, that she sings, and will ask, sometimes, for their favorites. They love songs of all kinds; yet, she is noticing that, often, the ones they bring to her, specifically, are traditional songs: Old ones which, in the hearing, soothe the soul. She collects their songs to sing when they need cheering, when they are heartsick, or sick, or tired. On the Enterprise, Uhura has learned lots of songs.
Nyota has always loved music. One of her earliest memories is of her Mamasinging to her as she went to sleep: She would drift off to a gentle soft voice, singing, soothing and low. On the evenings when her Bibi came to stay, Bibi would sing traditional songs, songs that taught tradition, too, and Nyota would listen carefully, carefully, to understand the words so that her grandmother would not have to stop, to tell her what they meant.
Sometimes, Mama would go on travels and come back with new songs to sing. Maybe that was why Nyota first became interested in other languages: Bibi's singing, and the fact that Mama would go away and come home singing songs in French, or Spanish, or Italian… Nyota would want to know what they meant. So Mama would go, and come back with new songs for Nyota, and Nyota would learn new ways to talk.
And sometimes – sometimes - Mama would sing to Papa; and Nyota learned that songs, really, are a way to tell someone you love them, without having to stop to find, and say, the perfect words.
So sometimes, Nyota will sing to Spock. Not so much in their own space - because there, they can just be together, and he can know what she feels. But there are times, in the Rec Room, when he will walk in and she will change the lyrics of the song she is singing, and she knows that he knows that's for him. Or maybe
{like the other evening: He came in and sat to one side to complete paperwork in the hour post-shift. At the end of a song for Sulu, she looked up and saw him; and after a pause for breath, started the lilting 'Errant Rover' (a very old traditional song that never failed to make her smile). His eyes had flicked up at the 'suit of blue', but by the time she'd finished the phrase, she wasn't looking in his direction…},
maybe she will sing one with him in mind – and it feels a little risky, a little daring - as though someone might add up one over here, and one over there, and come up with an unlikely-yet-matching two… So Nyota has, since she's been on the Enterprise, learned lots of songs.
And she wonders whether she will ever be able to sing for him the one that he sang, once, for her – forever-and-a-lifetime ago:
Near the end of a grueling week, she had shown up, unannounced, at his apartment. He came to the door carrying his ka'athira – he had evidently been playing the instrument still cradled in his arm – but he set it aside as he sat on the couch to keep her company while she studied. She had feverishly put the last finishing touches on a paper, then immediately called up a textbook to reread some passages for her next exam.
An hour passed, two.
They often sat together and worked in silence, but now she had no time to even look up, much less to let her gaze linger on him, as it often did. She finished the text, then opened her notes… She half-heard him say her name. It took a moment; and then he repeated himself. "Nyota."
Astounded by the novelty of Spock repeating anything – much less when there was no reason that he had to speak - she looked up, then realized her padd had slipped off her lap.
"Nyota," he said – and she wondered, a little distractedly, whether she would ever get tired of hearing him say her name.
She raised her eyes to his, in the small silence that had fallen; and saw him looking at her with a tiny hint of softness, before he spoke again. "You need rest."
She shook her head, her eyes already struggling back to her padd. "No, I can't. I have so much to do."
He made the small sound that she thought should be written 'hmm.'
She looked full into his eyes, then, willing him to understand. "I can't: I have two exams tomorrow."
He said nothing.
"Besides," she said, a little desperately, "I really can't: If I tried to go to bed now, I'd just have monkey-brain."
His expression didn't change at all. He just looked at her. She didn't have time to think about what that might sound like, to him.
"My brain -," she said, "My thoughts," she corrected, "would go 'round and 'round, Spock, like monkeys chasing each other on the branches of a tree. Don't yours ever do that?"
There was another tiny silence.
"I'll make some tea," he said evenly, rising from his spot at the other end of the couch. And as he moved past her – passing in the small gap between the couch and the table that stood in front of it, pulled closer to hold her things – he had touched her just for an instant, his warm hand smoothing an unruly strand of hair, as her head bent over her padd once more. But she was already reading, her lips moving in an effort to make the words stick.
He returned with tea – cups and pot carried on a tray – and quietly placed it on the table in front of him. He picked up his padd, and read, too, for the few minutes it took the tea to steep.
The surrounding silence was broken by the very soft sound of liquid being poured gently into a delicate cup. She had glanced up, at that sound; and she automatically reached to take the cup he offered to her, without conscious thought.
Her padd slid slowly off her lap and bumped gently on the soft flooring.
She could feel his gaze. She smiled a little, absently, and, bringing her cup close to her lips, breathed across the surface of the fragrant liquid; then took a tiny sip. She relaxed back, then, into the arm of the couch, watching him. When he shifted to collect his cup-and-saucer, she slipped her toes under his warm thigh.
He lifted his cup and sipped.
She could tell he was enjoying that first taste – though how she could tell, exactly, she could never say – and she smiled at him when his eyes moved toward her. He took another sip, his eyes on hers, then set his cup down. "Come," he said, moving his arm further up on the back of the couch, making a space for her to nestle against him.
As she eased into him, he turned off the lamp that stood on the table beside him, and picked up his cup once more.
They sat and drank tea in the pleasing hush of his apartment.
She leaned into him; his arm came down to enfold her gently, and she thought how different – how lovely, and peaceful – this was, compared to the dorms. Quieter, even – and definitely more peaceful – than the audio labs, or the most secluded library carrels. She curled into him, gratefully, enjoying his warmth, and this peace. She sipped her tea.
She could feel him starting to speak before she heard the words. "You do not believe that you are adequately acquainted with the material for your examinations tomorrow?"
She sighed. "No, I know it. It's just that – well, I want to do well." She started to move, to look into his eyes; but his arm tensed just a little, and she relaxed again against his side.
"Nyota," he said gently, "if you have familiarized yourself with the new material, and have connected it with the other knowledge that you already possess, you will do well."
"I know. I just…" She shifted away – a little uncomfortable with what she was about to say – although she knew he already knew. "Spock, I want that slot on the Enterprise."
{Now, walking in the corridor of the ship, she hesitates. She is still a little shocked that she had made her aspirations – her intentions - so plain to the man that, as it turned out, was making the very decision under discussion. She just hadn't thought… It hadn't occurred to her to think… But - Damn it, she's earned this job. No one could deny that - whether she is in love with Commander Spock, or no!}
He was still, for a moment; then, drawing her close once more, he allowed his chin to graze her hair in the lightest of possible-maybe-caresses. She relaxed into him fully, feeling forgiven for her boldness.
He picked up his teacup, again, and took a small sip. They sat like that for a long time; and when she was done with her tea, he took the cup, returning it to the tray. Then, with one long arm, he reached for his ka'athira.