A/N: Again, I'm posting this before my beta reads it. Thanks to everyone who helped with the last chapter so that she could enjoy her anniversary weekend and I could continue to get stuff out. Most of all, thanks to Daddy for asking for this story. (Who knew it'd be more popular than Then Comes Spock. Which I'll be updating in a couple of days, btw.)
Usual disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, the characters (except the ones I made up), a house, a car (since last summer), a dog, My Fair Lady, etc.
Meanwhile, in the communications center, Lt. Uhura was bent over her work station, fiddling with unidentifiable bits of equipment while chatting with her father on subspace transmissions.
"I know, Baba," she said, not looking up from her work, "but I'm almost done and I swear I'll make it up to Spock starting tonight. And Mama, of course."
Intent on whatever mystery object she was building, Uhura missed the look of discomfort that briefly crossed her father's face. She glanced up when he cleared his throat.
"I really am not interested in how you plan to make it up to boy," Benjamin told her. He looked a little flushed beneath his brown skin. "Your mother is another matter. She's getting out of control, binti."
Uhura flashed her father a grin. Famous in the world of mental health or not, sometimes he was still just a dad. While he'd spent years training himself to be the kind of sounding board (but with official credentials) many young women found in their mothers, now that his youngest daughter was all grown up and getting married, every once in a while, he shied away from the more candid kind of discussions they'd had in the past.
"Don't worry, Baba," she assured him. "I didn't plan on giving you details. And I plan to take care of Mama, too."
"See that you do," he said with mock gravity. "Do I tell you what I heard her telling your man the other day?"
Intrigued, Uhura abandoned her work for the time being, and focused all of her attention on her father.
"No," she said, her voice a little cautious. "What did she say?"
"She said that your recent reclusion and failure to work on the wedding is my fault. She suggested that you and I are in cahoots to force poor Spock to spend more time with her. Undoubtedly, she thinks she is the perfect cure for him," he said. "Thankfully, she did not say as much."
Somewhat shocked and more than a little annoyed, Uhura frowned fiercely.
"Of all the… the…" she sputtered. "But that's ridiculous, Baba! You couldn't be in "cahoots" with anyone if you tried!"
Benjamin bit back a chuckle. This was turning into one of those moments where he had to laugh to keep from crying.
"I trust, binti, that you are implying that I am inherently honest," he said dryly, "and not that you believe me lacking in sufficient intelligence to engage in subterfuge."
She grinned at his attempt at humor.
"Baba, sometimes you sound just like Spock," she said. "I thought you said he was spending all his time talking to Mama."
He smiled in return.
"Your mama has also noted the likeness," he confessed. "But, I did not say your man spends all his time with your mother, binti. We have managed to get in some man-to-man time."
Then he changed tack before she could distract him further.
"Naturally, M'Umbha loves having a chance to mother the boy," he said, once again sounding grave. "It is she does not like being manipulated."
Suddenly, Uhura was serious again as well.
"But seriously, Baba, I haven't been trying to manipulate her. I've been too busy working on my… project," she said with a frown. "If you would just stand up to her when she goes off on her crazy flights of fancy instead of standing there looking meek and mild or mysterious and remote, she'd come to her senses much sooner!"
"Says the girl who marrying a Vulcan," he said pointedly. "To her father the famous psychiatrist."
This time her grin was a little rueful.
"It has been said that doctors make the worst patients," she teased. "Anyway, it's like you said, Mama relishes the chance to mother him. She's been dying to work her magic on him for the past five years."
"Yes." Benjamin agreed with his daughter, but had more to say. "And how long has Spock been waiting for you to work your magic on this wedding?"
"It hasn't been that long, Baba," she protested. The truth was, though, she'd been barely aware of the passage of time, these last few weeks.
"It's been eleven weeks since first promised to try to get you in line, binti," said her father.
"Oh," said Uhura, xenolinguist and lifelong student of languages. "Crap."
It was late before Uhura made it back to her own quarters. Most nights she found Spock there, usually this or that bit of wedding minutiae needed her opinion or approval before they retired. Usually, she rushed through the process, eager to get him into her bed and annoyed at any delay. Tonight, having promised Benjamin she would ease some of the burden off Spock's broad shoulders, she'd actually been looking forward to it all.
She was doomed to live in disappointment.
For tonight, anyway.
Sometime after ship's midnight, Uhura heard the door to her quarters whoosh open. She'd long since gone to bed (alone, damn it to hell!), but found sleep was elusive without Spock's warm body next to hers. She jumped out of bed and rushed through the darkness to her small common room.
"K'diwa," she said, a little breathlessly, "where have you been?"
"Lights," was all he had to said, "twenty-five percent."
Slowly, she walked over to where he stood, just inside the doorway. Grasping his elbows, she pulled first one then his other arm around her. Finally, she slid her arms up and over his shoulders and leaned her face against his chest.
"I have missed you," she whispered.
Breathing in the scent of him, Uhura felt her blood quicken. Nuzzling her cheek against the hard pectoral muscle beneath his uniform shirt, she let out a low purring sound and rasped her teeth against his neck. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth to flick at his ear.
"I have really missed you tonight," she murmured.
Gently, Spock's hands came up to disengage her arms from their place on his person. Equally gently, he set her away from him.
"Nyota," he said, nearly sounding pained. "The day has been long and the night has been even longer."
She stiffened at the trace of emotion in his voice. Alarm prompted her to step back towards him, but he held up his hands, palms out and facing her. She halted.
"Nyota, Vulcans do not require as much rest as humans, but it has been a very long ten weeks –," he said.
"Eleven," she corrected without thinking her words through.
"It has been a very long eleven weeks," he conceded, "and I am obviously not myself if I cannot even count time with anything resembling accuracy. I am tired, and in need of comfort. I am not fit for a night of carnal pleasures."
She looked at the shadows of fatigue sculpting his face, took in the way his hand hung limp at his sides rather that behind his back as usual. Bits of orange thread clung to his uniform. A bright red pincushion encircled his left wrist. A sudden rush of concern mixed with remorse threatened to overwhelm her.
"Of course, k'diwa, anything you want. Whatever you need."
Now he stepped into her open arms and wrapped his arm around her lithe body.
"Tonight," he whispered into her hair, "I need to be held. Is that acceptable? Will you just hold me tonight?"
As she led him to her bed a few moments later, she didn't think about the millions of women who had uttered the very same words in hundreds of thousands of bad Earth melodramas.