Unfinished Business
Chapter 9 : Pondering
March, 2273
Uhura stood there, not quite sure what to do. He had looked so strange. So drawn. There were lines in his face that had not been there before. And his movements had been almost jerky at times, as though he must think about what he was doing. And he had not looked at her, not once, after that first second when he had walked through the turbolift doors, deliberately keeping his eyes away from her, not answering when she spoke to him, seemingly pretending that she was not there at all. She did not understand. She turned, and sank down into her chair, confused. It had been unexpected to see him, but something in her had been thrilled, even as odd as his behavior had been. She must attend to duty now, and wait until she was alone in her quarters to ponder over what she had seen and heard.
At shift-end, she went to the mess hall with her crew-mates, but after she had eaten, she went straight to her quarters, and changed into her favorite tee-shirt and loose pants, settling down on her couch, with soft music playing. She curled her feet up beside her, and held a pillow in her lap, her hands clutching at it, and reviewed what had happened earlier.
No one had been expecting him. He had simply appeared. How had he known about their mission? And where had he been all this time? In just four months, it would be three years since they had left the Enterprise, together. And she had no idea where he had been since he had left her at the hospital, nor any understanding yet as to why he had left her there. It had certainly not been an action that she could ever have anticipated. But that was not what she needed to think about tonight. No, what was bothering her now were the changes she had seen in him. He had lost weight. He had always been lean, but now he was spare. Even in the loose Vulcan tunic that he had worn, she had been able to see that his body was narrower than it had been. And those lines on his face - deep groves bracketing his mouth - those hadn't been there before.
He had experienced pain. That was very obvious. He was holding himself in so tightly, was so wound up, that she did not see how he was functioning. She did not understand. Not at all. Had he left her because he was in so much pain that he had been unable to function? Had he not understood that they needed to support each other? She wished that she could talk to him, find out what he had been through, but she knew that this was not the time.
And all the pain that she had fought was surging through her again, now that she had seen him. She must wade through it, and set herself free again, before she could do anything else.
The fact that he did not respond to her did not mean that he was unaware of her. He was desperately aware of her. Her scent filled his nostrils, and the trickle he allowed through the link intensified, but he held himself rigid, and did not react in any way. He left the bridge as quickly as possible, to escape the sight of her. He could not handle it, not yet.
He went to Stores, and drew his uniform allotment, and found the quarters that had been assigned to him. He changed into the odd new uniform and went down to Engineering, and took Scotty his calculations. Scotty enthused over them, and over him, and he did not know how to react. And so he did nothing, and said nothing, that was not required to make the necessary modifications.
And when they had fixed the engines, and warp drive was again possible, he returned to his quarters, and unpacked his few belongings, and set up his fire pot, and folded himself down on the floor, to think.
He had not expected to see her here. He did not know why he had not anticipated this. But it was true that he had not. Nor had he anticipated the hearty welcome that he had received from other crew members. Had he been that well liked? He had not been aware of it. Had friendship crept up on him so slowly that he had been unaware of it? Had he become accustomed to having friends? He could not seem to remember exactly how things had been before, and he only knew one way to act now. He must continue in the way that he had begun, sticking to duty, and ignoring all else. He did not dare to do anything that would possibly force a crack in the shell that he had built about himself. He would not be able to function at all if that happened.
She had looked different. Older. Her body slightly thicker. She should not have looked that much older in such a short time. It had to be an effect of what he had caused. Pain shot through him at that acknowledgement, and he found himself breathing far too fast, his heart pounding in his side. He steepled his hands, and concentrated, slowing both his breathing and his heartbeat, calming himself. He must not think of her. Surely she would not welcome that.
He went through the exercises that he had learned at Gol, putting these people aside, setting a barrier between himself and their welcome. He would function without friendship, he had no need of it. He was here to serve, to assist in forestalling what might come if they were not successful. He was not here to renew old acquaintances. He was most certainly not here for social interactions of any kind.
Kirk sat at the desk in his quarters and pondered over the events on the bridge. Spock had seemed strange, remote. Where had he been? What had he been doing? Even his voice was different, harsher, flatter. He did not look good, lines on his face, and he was too thin. He would not push and probe to find out the man's secrets, but he would coax him into unbending, unwinding, from the taut spring that he was now. If only he could figure out how.
McCoy sat in his small office, thinking hard. He had had so many ill thoughts of Spock over the last almost three years. But when he had heard that he was on board, all those thoughts had flown away. He had missed the green-blooded hobgoblin, and there was no denying it. There had to be an explanation for what had happened on whatever backwoods planet he and Uhura had been on. There must be. And the man had suffered, very obviously. He was painfully thin, and his face was lined and drawn. Whatever he had been doing, he had been in pain. There was absolutely no denying that. Somehow, he had to draw him out, to find out what he had been through. And somehow, he had to help his friends find each other again. They needed each other. There was certainly no denying that. Not in any way, shape, or form. He sighed. As if there were not enough problems with this mission already. He rose and stretched. He could do nothing about it tonight. Time for a nightcap and bed.