The chapter was untitled until I went back to tweak. Eddie Kendrick's 'Intimate Friends' came on so there you have it. I believe it fits.
Thanks to THE beta…not just any beta…LadyFangs for her valuable services.
Love and blessings to all the readers out there from little ole me. Happy New Year. Be safe tonight if you're going out. No drinking and driving. Please designate. I wanted to finish this story before the New Year, sorry, it will definitely end by next week. I hope you've enjoyed the journey.
Chapter 10 – Intimate Friends
Nyota moved from position to position with grace. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Spock had given up half way through the routine. He found it impossible to concentrate on breathing techniques and form while keeping her in full view. Spock was in the back of the room, shielded from Nyota's eyes, behind stay at home moms and business women on early lunch breaks intent on maintaining the delicate curves of their body. Yesterday he was in the same spot, afraid to make a move once the class ended. Scared that her face would hold hatred and most of all pity for him; Spock wanted her love.
Occasionally, he would catch a frown, or lines ghosting across Nyota's forehead with each precise movement. Nyota was stubborn, and the last thing that would stop her from continuing her strenuous daily workout would be a little pain. No person would tell her she couldn't do something. So he could imagine that she'd performed the equivalent of verbal judo on her doctor when he recommended continuing to take it easy. Two days was too long for Nyota to be inactive. At ten days, she was ready to fall back into the standard pace of her life. After yoga, she would swim for an hour in the gym's heated pool, and if the dance studio was empty she'd jump and twirl to some ancient tune not near as entrancing as the woman who danced to the melody.
Nyota had told Spock once, in a rare moment of open love and honesty between them, that her feet were the end of her hopes of stardom in the world of ballet. She had quit before someone told her, no. It was the night after a major recital. She had struggled through practice, the pain in her body almost too much to bear. However when she had fallen gracefully to her knees behind the thunderous applause it made every scar on the balls of her feet worth it. The end had come on her terms. Nyota was a control freak. That's what made the girl fall in love with him. He made her feel out of control, off bearing, and along for the ride. Blindly she had followed him. Allowing only what was in her heart to guide the choices made. Refusing to be without him – unless what he offered was pain or inadequacy. Spock had forced her back on to the stage, the beautiful girl, the ballerina, with bad feet.
Moment by moment was her answer when he asked how this thing they were starting would work, that day in the stairwell after their first kiss. She had believed it- and at the time it was enough for him.
Now those moments had finally ended. And it was he, not her, who had been left behind.
He followed her watching as she swam laps in the pool; her display of strength and determination causing a surge of pride within him. He waited in the crowd of people lining the halls of the gym for her to shower and change. He cleared the studio, asking politely for those who entered to leave the space, while she dressed so she could have the opportunity to lose herself in the choreography.
Today's music surprised him. Nyota danced with an invisible partner. He watched as her body molded itself with each new note. Bowing and smiling graciously as the secret man took her hands. Nyota placed her head on his shoulder and allowed her body to be pulled into his warmth. Spock felt an intense amount of jealousy towards the non – existent dancer. How fitting that he should recognize the song, My Old Flame, her mother's favorite Parker tune. One he had heard more than once from the buds in Nyota's ears. The doctor had hummed it as he reviewed Nero's chart that night in the hospital. Another sentiment the new man shared with the woman that was his Nyota. Spock had never been a fan, swore that it was a waste and could never compare to the likes of Dylan or Morrison. Stupid him. And even more to regret that he'd never opened his mind to her world.
He wanted to show her he was different - changed. A new man. Or rather, one who had been there all along hiding and fearful of rejection. Watching as his body filled the mirrors of the room, Spock stepped up behind Nyota, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. He paused and asked the imaginary man for this dance. The softness that filled her eyes, made tears rush to the corners of his own, and he allowed them to spill just this time for her. She took the hand he offered and they danced. For what felt like hours, but lasted only for three minutes and nine seconds she allowed the melody to repeat, another fraction of time, balm was applied to the wounds of his dying heart. He held her again. He cherished the feeling. Guiding her head to his shoulder and pulling her tightly against his chest. Sheltering her from the outside world, like a spoiled child hiding their favorite toy. Nyota would always hold the keys to his heart - the secrets of his soul.
Her arms wrapped around him. Her scent filled his nose. This is what he had pushed away. His mind raced. It would be easy to take her away. They could leave. He would make her forget, Leonard McCoy and his smiling baby girl. They could have children of their own; little ones who would have beautiful brown eyes and warm smiles – little girls that danced like their mother – boys who were not afraid to live up to a legacy of integrity and pride. He knew what he had done was wrong. If he had been brave enough to face his past – months or years before, she would still be his. Instead he was forced to fantasize about stealing her affections from another who was much more worthy of every ounce of love she freely gave. He would have to let her go, but today was not that day and this was not that moment.
The music stopped. Nyota was no longer in his arms. His face was still wet with tears. Jim's words came back to him. "I repent." It was a whisper that he only felt his lips form. He knew she had not heard him speak, "Nyota…I am sorry for all the sorrow and the pain I brought into your life. The heartache I caused. I don't know what I can do now, but I pray that you will please forgive me."
Nyota turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "Spock, I forgave you years ago."
He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear those words. Shackles lifted from his arms and legs. The weight of oppression from his shoulders as the hole in his heart began to fill. He nodded his head; overcome and unable to articulate anything of substance at the moment.
He felt…free.
It took him a few seconds to soothe the range of emotions bubbling within him. His tears stopped, and an inner sense of calm settled over him. He was composed again as he accepted the hand Nyota offered, just as he had in his dream and followed her out of the studio and into the daylight.
They were a few blocks from her home. The silent stroll didn't bother him. This was the closest he had been to her since the hospital. There was no tension between them. It felt easy and refreshing. He took the bag from her shoulder and aided her up the stairs. Once they reached the door he took the key and opened the lock.
"I can have your car fixed or buy you a new one." Internally he kicked himself for the thoughtless offer. There was no way she would accept.
Nyota sucked her teeth. No words were necessary with that obvious display of attitude, still she spoke "We're doing just fine as a one car family."
Family. The hole in his heart widened. The sting of regret caused him to wince with pain. No, he could not destroy that.
Once inside he noted the differences in the home to the one they once shared. This one was cozy and quaint. Theirs had been almost sterile, like a doctor's office. Everything had its assigned place. Here the smell of vanilla and flour still hung in the air from the morning batch of pancakes that Nyota, McCoy, and Joanna had enjoyed. Spock tripped over a pair of skates and a hockey stick in the middle of the floor. The chaos was comforting.
"Sorry. Joanna's into ice sports now. Last month it was piano." Nyota hurried, moving the little girl's stuff out of the way. He walked, surveying the room as she busied herself clearing the away the mess. The bookshelves were adorned with pictures. He touched each one, recognizing genuine happiness in the framed faces. Joanna lifting two fingers forming bunny ears behind Nyota's head as they both giggled. A picture of Leonard McCoy holding Nyota in his arms, leaning in for a kiss as Nyota threw her head back in a fake attempt at avoidance. History and medical journals sat in perfect agreement on each shelf that symbolized how two souls were quickly becoming one.
McCoy was not physically present but Spock could feel and smell him. He looked at the woman's face before him, she could too. For a moment she would miss him and then her eyes would travel across the room to the coffee table, where his glasses were perched on top of the book he'd been reading before leaving for the day. The mug displaying No.1 Dad was on the counter. A little chuckle escaped Nyota's lips as her eyes shot down the hall towards their bedroom. He felt like he was out of place; a voyeur witnessing something intensely private and not meant for his eyes.
"Tea?"
It was a one word question that had almost escaped him as he focused on regrets. She had not waited on an answer. He heard as she gathered mugs and mulled over her extensive collection, determining which variety he would prefer. The familiar spice danced around his nose and Spock was reminded of quiet mornings that always turned into moments of intimacy.
The mug burned his fingertips. He buried the pain and walked slowly behind her to the table. Silence still hung in the air. Two mugs of tea later he finally opened his mouth and began to speak.
He would tell her all.
Spock started with Denise. The beautiful red headed lady with the unsettling laugh and the first time he'd lashed out at his older brother. The day that he learned hurting others to bury your own pain was a form of self- defense. He told her about his first experience under Nero's tutelage at the age of fourteen. Spock shared in great detail the things that had been done to his body that day by women who were old enough to know better and how despite the filth of their actions he had enjoyed it, climaxing every time someone touched him. She had shuddered in response to his words. She had turned and walked away, shaking her head and refusing to listen before returning to the table, with anger burning in her eyes. He cried during the portion of his story involving the little sister that never took her first breath.
Then there was the day Spock first laid eyes on Nyota. His recollection was perfect. He described every facet of her physical appearance that day - the jean skirt and t-shirt she had worn. The ankle bracelet that glowed against the unblemished skin of her smooth brown legs and how he wanted to write a letter of thanks to Converse because the red low top Chuck Taylors she wore that day were better than five inch FMPs. He spent many nights thinking about those legs and that pair of shoes.
"You're a dirty old man." The jovial tone in her voice made him relax.
He delved into the conversation with his father. The renewed relationship the two men had formed gave him hope for the future. He shed more tears and wiped her eyes as he discussed Nero. "He was so broken Nyota." It felt good to say her name again.
She asked him about Christine. A subject he had carefully avoided. And he answered honestly. "I hate what I did to her."
Nyota held his hand. Pushing him to continue and purge the guilt he held. She had known about Jim's attack.
"I wanted him to kill me that night. I needed to die."
"Why because you made mistakes Spock? You lived under a guise of what it meant to be a man. Yes, there were things you did that were wrong. People who were hurt during the error of your ways, so were you. It makes no sense to look at death as a reasonable out. It's not. The best thing we can do is pick ourselves up, brush off the dirt, and try again."
Nyota's sentiments were almost as comforting as being in her presence, "Jim said virtually the same words."
"He's a little wiser than anyone gives him credit for." Her eyes brightened and she dashed off, returning with an album in hand. "Pictures from Jim and Gaila's wedding…it was a beautiful ceremony."
She guided him through each photo – providing a back story to each shot, "Oh LaLa was so nervous, she threw up all over the hotel room while we were getting dressed."
Spock paused taking in the beauty of each image of Nyota. He burned with jealousy at the candid shots showing her dancing with McCoy. He was still looking at one of the photos, the one where she caught the bouquet, when Nyota spoke again.
"Why did you keep all of that from me? If you had said something – anything while we were together…" He heard the tinge of regret in her voice. Things would have been different. She would have accepted him and supported him as he changed. "When the thing with Christine began – your past it would have helped me understand."
"I was ashamed. Those experiences were all I knew of pleasure…happiness…fulfillment. Then I met you. I wanted the disgusting fantasy. I needed you. I was at odds with who and what I was. I thought that being with you would right all my wrongs and erase my sins. I hoped that I could be the man of your dreams. Do you know how desperate I was to be perfect, for you?"
"I never wanted perfect Spock. I just wanted you." Her words were without pretense.
"I hid you from Nero and my father under the belief that if I kept you to myself that you wouldn't be tainted. I watched as my blasphemous desires invaded your soul. I couldn't even hate you when Sybok shared every single detail of your escapades."
"He had no right." A part of him was happy that he had spurred her towards anger at his brother.
"Did you love him?" Spock needed to know the answer to that question.
"No. I was numb and operating under the notion that I could remain detached emotionally. In the end being with Sy always reminded me of you. It hurt…it felt like betrayal. He knew that. He forced me to face that. The two of you should really talk. You have a lot more in common than you think. He only wanted to protect you. Sybok loves you Spock."
Nyota cleared the table and the words escaped his lips before he could stop them. "Do you still love me?" He watched as she froze and took a breath before answering.
"Spock please don't ask me that." It was a plea. She was protecting him.
"Nyota do you still love me?" Spock was up removing the cups from her trembling hands, placing them back on the table.
"You will always hold a piece of my heart." Her hand cupped his face, "I love you. I always will. But I am in love with Leo. And we can't go back. I'm sorry."
Spock shook his head. "Do not apologize for what you know to be real. I am thankful that you found what I could not provide."
Nyota cut the tension in the air with the next words, "So tomorrow I think you should actually come up front with me and pay attention to the instructor. Then maybe you can come by the museum and help me review a few of the growing piles of ancient texts on my desk. I really need to get back to work."
His eyebrow lifted slowly.
Nyota smiled in response to the familiar gesture, "Yes, I would like for you to hang out with me."
Spock had reclaimed a precious friend.