Nyota endured. She didn't thrive. She didn't revel in the physically pleasurable, but emotionally barren sex he required several times a day, every day, just to fight off the fever that threatened to consume him. She carried on, refusing to be broken.
Only once had she tried to discuss what they were doing.
"You didn't need me for this," she'd protested, late on the second day. "Any female would have worked. Do you even know it's me? During, I mean. Do you even realize I'm there?"
He'd been stating at her from across the bed, dark eyes unreadable again.
"I know I am not alone 'during,'" he said quietly. "After, in moments like this one, I know you are here. 'Any female' would not…"
He hadn't finished, but she understood anyway. These brief instances of lucidity would have brought embarrassment if someone else had been there to see him, to remember the things he had done.
By the middle of the second day his lack of feeling for her no longer gave her pause. She made herself stop thinking about how the cold purpose behind their repeated joinings seemed so diametrically opposed to the elements that made up the actual deed.
Somewhere between the fourth and fifth days she became inured to the idea that she was merely an object he utilized in his battle against death. So long as he lived, little else about their predicament mattered.
Nyota held on to the few things for which she believed gratitude was warranted: she had not yet needed the dermatological regenerator; the bottle of lubricant was nearly used up, but another could be easily procured; the joinings were decreasing in both frequency and intensity. Soon enough, she would be free to pretend these days had never happened.
*****
She did not roll away from him right away this time. Her cool skin continued to press against his as the haze of need dissipated and suddenly he became aware of the suffocating sensation of her exhaustion, her shame and her resignation to bear all without complaint.
With such a shallow link as the one that was engendered by their skin-to-skin contact, he could not sense the source of her trauma, but he could surmise.
When he had hesitated that first day, she had called him "love" and touched him as he had been afraid to touch her. And yet no evidence of the love she claimed had reached him through the link. Anger welled up inside of him.
She had lied!
He bit back a growl at the thought.
Her breathing evened out and she moved to her side of the bed at last. He did not attempt to stop her or question the alteration of her emotional state.
Human emotions, he reminded himself now that he was free of her, evolved and changed more easily than those of their Vulcan counterparts, and they were not always adept at noticing this.
Perhaps it was my own actions that have destroyed her love for me? He wondered if their friendship would survive.
This time, the low growl made it past his lips.
A vibration rippling through the mattress caused him to turn his head.
She was reaching a hand towards him.
Physical contact would not be wise.
"Do not touch me, Nyota!" he bit out.
She flinched, almost imperceptibly, but moved no closer.
"O–okay," she said.
The catch in her voice was almost physically jarring, and Spock realized that she was afraid.
Of him? He thought of the hypospray he knew Dr. McCoy had insisted she bring with her. Would she attempt to use it now?
He struggled to calm himself. He did not wish to add the confusion of the tranquilizer to the garbled thoughts caused by the need of his Time. Deep breaths and narrowed concentration almost led him to his center.
"I would never deliberately harm you," he told her in far more restrained tones. "My control is… not as strong as it should be by now. The last time, I – I did not properly prepare you… ."
She waved a hand dismissively, but he had felt her emotions and knew she was not as at ease as she wished him to believe. The knowledge displeased him, but he said nothing.
"You were fine," she insisted. "I remain uninjured." Tucking the hand under her cheek, she continued to study him with concerned eyes.
Perhaps she remained his friend, after all.
"The Pon farr nears its end," he told her. It was true, he realized. Already, his thoughts were clearer for longer periods of time. "I believe intense meditation shall suffice for the time remaining. You may leave… that is, you are free to retire to your own sleeping chamber."
He was not certain he understood the expression that crossed her face in response.
Her eyes widened and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Her nostrils flared a little when she pushed herself up off the bed, and he started.
"I'm fine, Spock," she assured him. "A little stiff, a lot tired, but I'm not really hurt."
Turning her back to him, she reached for a robe, identical to the one she had claimed that first morning, slipped her arms into it and quickly belted it closed.
"I think… I think I'm going to take a bath and then maybe, maybe the beach," she said, just barely glancing over her shoulder at him. "We've been hear almost a week and the closest I've been is the balcony.
"I–I won't go swimming. I'll have my communicator if you…" She trailed off and looked down at her bare feet.
"I will contact you if meditation fails me," he told her.
She nodded once without looking at him again.
He watched her limp away from him and disappear out the door.
*****
"You may enter, Nyota," he told her from his seat on the floor. "I have finished meditating for a the moment."
The firepot's full glow could not compete with the mid-morning light streaming in through the glass balcony doors at his back. He was left silhouetted against the gauzy white curtains and she couldn't tell whether or not he was having an expressive moment.
Nyota thought there might have been a note of amusement in his voice, but dismissed it as unlikely. There had been nothing amusing about the past six days. She didn't enter.
"I'm going now," she told him from the doorway. "There's a cove not too far from here. The concierge said almost no one uses it because the beach is small and there are trees and… anyway, that's where I'll be. I've got my communicator."
The dark form shifted a little. He was watching her now.
"Enjoy the day," he said.
.
Extinguishing the firepot, Spock rose to his feet after she left the suite. Away from her presence, he found he could more easily analyze, and therefore compartmentalize, his emotions. Of particular interest, he found, was the guilt he felt over using her to answer the call of the Pon farr. It was something he would have to study further at a later date, he decided.
Making his way to the bathing chamber, he selected a water shower. It was not something he chose often — sonics had been the norm on Vulcan, and on starships — but the soothing effects of hot liquid falling against his flesh were undeniable. And even he had suffered some physical strain from the mating.
The heat and pressure of the water combined to him ease into a condition not unlike the meditative state that allowed his people to function as logical beings.
Guilt entered his consciousness again as his muscles loosened his skin was cleansed.
It would seem, he reflected, that this new emotion will not wait after all.
*****
He found her not long before sunset.
Nyota had spent her day in a wooded cove not far from the more popular beaches of the main resort. The crystal green waters of Sbelisdim's sea had called to her, but she remained out of the water, as promised.
Instead, she walked the tiny strip of stand that passed for a beach and explored the grove of trees she'd been assured was entirely safe and free of dangerous animals.
The balance of her time, she spent curled up on a blanket under an atypically broad tree, reading past reports on the mines she and Spock would visit the next week, or eating from the basket of food the concierge had insisted she take with her.
Free of Spock's overwhelming presence, she found herself relaxing. The numbness she'd courted to carry her through each empty joining began to melt away under the heat of the resort's sun. At times, pain threatened to snatch away her growing content, but she would not allow it.
There would be plenty of time to feel sad, she mused, when we're safe at home.
She heard him coming through the trees, his footsteps recognizable to her sensitive ears even in the unfamiliar terrain.
She stood, stripped off her long T-shirt and kicked off her sandals.
"I'm going for a swim," she announced, without turning to greet him.
And then she took off, not stopping until the warm peridot-colored water wrapped her in sanctuary.
.
Spock was not surprised that she had run away from him. He wondered that she had not done so before.
Her lithe form cut the water swiftly at first. Lean but muscular arms and legs propelled her away from the beach, until, reaching some apparently predetermined point, she stopped, twisted and floated on her back.
He sat on the blanket she had abandoned, crossed his long legs beneath him and looked out to sea. Her red one-piece suit was like a beacon in the green ocean.
Twenty-three point two minutes later, the last rays of the sun began to slip below the horizon. Nyota remained in the water.
Like his homeworld, Sbelisdim had no moon, and he had not had an opportunity to familiarize himself with all of the amenities offered by the resort. As the darkness rapidly stole over the cove, he experienced a cold sensation he recognized as fear. She would not be able to see in the minimal light offered by the stars.
Surely she would not risk drowning just to avoid me?
He was in the water before he had a chance to second-guess his actions.
.
She had not questioned his order to return to shore. He had called her "Lt. Uhura" and unnecessary disobedience was not in her nature.
She did question his motivations when he picked up her towel and began drying her hair.
"Come on, Spock," she protested, batting at his towel-covered hands. "I'm not a little kid and I didn't hurt myself out there. I can do this myself."
Defeated, he dropped his shoulders, his hands and the towel.
"Yes, I know," he said. "My apologies."
Shaking her head vigorously enough to spray water against his bare chest, she retrieved the fallen towel and began completing the task he had left unfinished.
"For a second there," she noted, a small forced smile on her lips, "I thought you were feeling guilty. But, of course, that would be illogical of you. This was my choice, after all."
"Illogical, but correct, nonetheless," he admitted. "You have received insufficient rest and nutrients in your efforts to ensure my survival. And you sought to seclude yourself here because of my actions. You swam out there. risking your life, because I intruded on your solitude.
"If you had died… Nyota, you are still my friend, and—" Without finishing the thought, he lifted his hands again to close them around her bare shoulders and pull her against his chest.
He did not finish the thought because he felt an icy rage rising inside her even as her body stiffened.
*****
"What the hell was that, Spock?" Her anger was apparent as the love he now realized she still felt for him. "Don't even bother trying to dodge the question. I know what I felt. You love me! How could you do that? How can you sleep with him when you still want me? How can you… how could just let me go on hurting like that if I still matter?
"You still love me and you left me to be with a man who means nothing to you!"
He flinched at the volume of her voice, but did not push her away. In spite of the irritation her chaotic and conflicting emotions caused him, he reveled in holding her without the burn of the plak tow or the all-encompassing need of the Pon farr.
"You were mistaken in your assumptions. Jim has never been my lover, but he does not 'mean nothing' to me," he told her. "I did not leave your bed for his, Nyota.
"My counterpart explained to me that there are great things which, together, Jim and I might accomplish. Things which neither of us could do alone. None of those things could happen I did not learn to accept his friendship.
"Please do not think that I acted out of a desire for glory. Many lives might be saved if the captain and I can learn to act together. Is not saving those potential lives more important than our personal happiness?
"I ended our association because I did not believe I could become the friend I needed to be to him while you were meeting the whole of my emotional needs. You deserve to be loved wholly and completely, k'diwa. You would be disappointed with anything less. I did not wish to become a disappointment to you, Nyota."
"That's the most ridiculous piece of crap I've ever heard come out of your mouth!" she exploded.
"It is no more ridiculous than harboring the idea that I might have a romantic or sexual interest in Jim, or that he might have such an interest in me," he stated. "You have seen repeated evidence suggesting that the captain's preference is for women. Indeed, you were once the object of that preference yourself.
"And you have personally accumulated empirical data concerning my own sexual proclivities. When have either of us given a reason to believe that this has changed?"
He could feel confusion and uncertainty begin to chip away at her ire.
"You're in his quarters every night!"
"We play chess, or sometimes poker. Dr. McCoy is often also there," he explained. "And there are reports to complete. Jim is still learning to tolerate 'paperwork.'"
"He's always touching you," she insisted. "Nobody else touches you as much as he does."
Spock was not so far from his Time that he could easily suppress a frustrated groan, so he refused to try.
"You used to touch me a great deal more."
"Exactly!" She stamped a foot to emphasize her point.
"But, Jim touches many people, Nyota," he continued as if she had not spoken. "That is his was of connecting with his crew. I have come to accept and even appreciate it, since, as you noted, no one else wishes to be in physical contact with me."
"No one else touches you because everyone on this ship has been briefed on Vulcan cultural mores!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "Jim, not surprisingly, apparently thinks he is above honoring the culture of other species. What is surprising, if you're really not sleeping with him, is that you allow it!"
He could not stop himself from narrowing his eyes at her as he thought about his recent months of celibacy.
"And don't look at me like was the one I broke your favorite toy," she snapped. "You were the one to end things. Any touching I did in the past was a reflection of my unique place in your life."
"You are currently touching me in several places," he pointed out dryly.
She looked down at the hand still enmeshed in the dark hair covering his chest and started to pull away. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist to hold her in place.
"What about the long, meaningful looks on the bridge?" she asked. Clearly, he had not convinced her of the veracity of his motivations.
"Merely an attempt to keep the captain's behavior within the realm of professionalism," he explained calmly. "You are fully aware of his propensity to 'leap without looking.'"
"That's—!"
Spock traced her lower lip with his index finger, halting her flow of words.
"That is the truth, Nyota," he murmured, his dark eyes focused on her trembling mouth. "Vulcans do not lie."
He could feel her struggling against the confusion of her opposing emotions and knew he should release her, stop touching her. But the hormones that had been coursing through his body for the past nine days — since before they had left the Enterprise — had not completely dissipated, and he did not want to let go.
A low growl was all the warning he gave before dipping his head to replace his finger with lips.
His body responded immediately to the taste of her. His heart rate increased five point three percent and his lok strained against his swim trunks.
He lifted his head only when her need for air became apparent through the link. By then, he was already busy tugging at the straps of her bathing suit.
"You said we were finished with this," she gasped between breaths. "You said you could get through the rest with meditation."
He yanked the straps free at last, revealing her gorgeous breasts. "I was mistaken," he said. "I did not account for external stimuli."
Then he buried his face in her cool skin.
.
This time, he had been the one to move away immediately after it was over. Uhura suspected there was finally enough Spock back inside the half-Vulcan's shell for him to actually realize just how unhappy she had become.
"Do you even understand why this is so much worse than if you really had left me for him?" she asked from under the cover of the blanket. Her suit lay in a pile on the sand half a meter from where she sat, pressing her side against the tree.
He did not. She could see that from the set of his shoulders and his silence.
"Damn it, Spock!" she whispered, caught somewhere between anger and misery. She turned her gaze to Sbelisdim's crystal green sea.
General fucked-up-ness she could deal with. It was something she could fight against, knowing that she was right. His cluelessness — his genuine belief that he had made a choice that was, while painful for both of them, truly best for the universe made her feel as if all of her arguments would be futile.
The true believers, the fanatics, are most dangerous ones. She'd learned that lesson in her first Hostile Diplomacy unit at the Academy.
She felt the intense Vulcan heat rolling off him even before his arms came around her from behind, pulling away the blanket, and he curled his body into hers.
"Please don't do that," she begged, her voice barely audible to human ears, her body stiffening. "No matter how reasonable you think I am, I'm an illogical, human woman. I can't just analyze my emotions, put each one in a compartment and live my life. I'll never be Vulcan, Spock."
He held her closer.
"Neither will I, k'diwa," he murmured in her ear. "I did not know you would feel this way. Your emotional responses continue to challenge my understanding of human behavior as a whole. You do not react in ways I have been taught to expect a human woman to behave. You are different from the women Jim and Leonard describe.
"That is a trait I have always admired in you. It is part of what makes me love you, but it is also the reason I sometimes fail you.
"I do not wish to continue failing you, Nyota. I do not wish for you to be unhappy."
His shields were down again, and the weigh of his love and desperation threatened to crush her.
Less than seven months ago, the words he'd just spoken and the emotions he continued to broadcast would have been like the sun to her.
Wanted.
Joyfully accepted.
Needed.
Now they simply represented the possibility of a future filled with insurmountable misunderstandings.
She wasn't inherently pessimistic — she knew that much of what had transpired could have been averted if he had told her why from the beginning, if he had given her a chance to protest. Whether she had been successful or not, she believed, they wouldn't be sinking under their combined sorrow right now. She knew that eventually he could learn not to inadvertently shred her heart.
But now was not then and she didn't know if the time would ever come.
"The thing about love is, the more of it you give, the more of it you have to give," she told him. "I know you don't fully understand that, Spock. Not yet, anyway. And until you do, you need to let me go."
He continued to hold on.
**********
Author's Note: Thanks to those of you who have stuck with this story. I needed to do even more revision than originally intended because I realized this chapter was not only really long, it was also really M-rated. After taking out the explicit stuff, it was still kind of long, so I split it in half. I'll try to get the last chapter cleaned up (so it reads like a stand-alone chapter rather than the half a chapter appears to be right now) and posted by Saturday.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and I do not get paid for using its characters.
