Unfinished Business
Chapter 22 : Too Much Control Does Not Help
April, 2273
It was difficult to know exactly what to do. He spent many hours trying to decide, and still he was not confident that what he did was right. He must make a start, somehow, but he was not at all sure that he knew what that start should be. But he was entirely certain that he must not ignore her, as he had done when he first came aboard. And so, when he entered the bridge, he nodded at her, and when he lifted his eyes from his terminal and saw her looking in his direction, he met her eyes with his own, and did not look away, although he found this very difficult. But he kept his eyes controlled, and did not allow her to see the pain he felt, or the longing. And she looked down, and sighed, and there was tension on her face, and he did not know why.
When he joined the others in the mess hall, he was glad at first, to find that his usual position had been filled. He was not at all sure that he was ready to sit beside her. He did not think that he would be able to control himself at all if she touched him. And if she shrank away, and did not want him beside her, all his hopes would be destroyed. Sitting elsewhere was much better at this point. Where he sat, he could see her, and she could see him if she wished. He spoke with Jim, and with McCoy, and with Scotty, but she did not speak to him, and so he did not speak to her, unsure how to proceed. And when she rose from the table, he saw doubt in her eyes, and what appeared to be pain, and he was afraid that once again he had done the wrong thing.
He could not sleep that night, and so he rose, and walked the corridors, trying to force his mind to be blank, but it would not obey him. Once again, he found his steps directed to the observatory, to the wide windows that looked out at the stars. He stood before the window, hands clasped behind his back, and remembered seeing her standing here, not so very long ago. When he heard the soft gasp behind him, he knew immediately that it was she. Slowly he turned, and gazed upon her, trying to maintain his shields, his decorum, his emotional control. And he saw again the pain in her eyes. He was doing something very wrong, and he must change this quickly. He tentatively reached out one hand to her, allowing some of what he felt to appear in his face, and she did not retreat. However, she did not approach, either. But she looked at him, tilting her head slightly, searching his face, and he slowly, so very slowly, allowed the pain to show. She nodded, then, and sighed. And she went to one of the benches and sat, turning then to look at him. He walked across the room, not sure that he understood what she wanted, but desperate to show that he was trying, and sat on the other end of the bench. They sat there in silence, and watched the stars go by, until she sighed again, and rose.
He rose as well, and looked down at her, and spoke, finally, his voice rough. "I will escort you to your quarters." He waited, to be sure she would accept this, while she looked at him, a curious expression on her face. She nodded slowly, and started off, and he followed, walking not quite beside her, his hands clasped tightly behind him.
When they reached her quarters, she tapped the touchplate beside her door, and stepped into the doorway, turning then to face him again. "Thank you, Spock." And then she was inside, and the door was shut, and he was in the corridor, alone. But she had spoken to him, and he had learned something. When he tried to control all his feelings, and hide them from her, she suffered pain. She wished to know how he felt. She evidentially did not despise him. A heavy weight slid off his shoulders, and he walked slowly down the corridor to his own quarters, knowing somehow that now he would be able to sleep.