Unfinished Business

Chapter 25 : Hesitant Conversation

May, 2273

He had meditated, but he was not calm. He left his quarters and roamed the almost deserted corridors, not certain what he was looking for. As he drew near the mess hall, he suddenly turned and entered, going to one of the synthesizers on the wall for a cup of tea. It was not until he turned about that he realized that there was someone else already seated there. She lifted her head, and looked at him, and he hovered there in a state of near panic, unsure what was the correct thing to do. After a short pause, he did the only thing that he was capable of. He walked slowly over to her, and stood on the other side of the table, and spoke quietly. "Do I have your permission to sit here?"

She was quiet for so long that he began to steel himself to move away, and then she waved at the seat before him. "Sit. Maybe even talk."

With grateful relief, he set his cup of tea on the table and folded himself down into the chair, never taking his eyes from hers. He was not sure how to start, but start he must. "Can you not sleep?"

She sighed. "No, I couldn't. I went and looked at the stars, and that didn't help, either. I thought maybe a cup of hot tea would help me relax."

"And is it doing what you wished?"

"Not really. Maybe I just needed someone to talk to." She tilted her head sideways and looked at him. "Will you talk to me, Spock?"

"I would be most gratified to speak with you." He was overjoyed, overwhelmed with feelings, which he must control. He must let her lead him where she wished to go.

She nodded then, her face quiet, and sipped on her tea. When she spoke again, the topic was not at all what he expected. "Did they teach you what you needed to know at Gol?"

"No, they did not. They attempted to teach me their discipline, but my mind is not wired in that way. I appeared to have accepted what they taught me, but in reality, I had not accepted it at all. I have found that undoing what they forced on me is taking much less time than putting it in place."

She looked very serious now. "So you didn't get any answers from their discipline at all?"

"I suppose that I did. But not the answers that I expected. What I learned there was that I cannot completely suppress my emotions. They are too much a part of me. And I found that I did not wish to. I have slowly grown used to having emotions, and their loss was very great."

She looked more curious now. "And what emotions have you grown used to having?"

"Friendship. Companionship. While these may not seem like emotions to you, they are not so easily found on Vulcan. Curiosity. StarFleet has allowed me great range in expressing my curiosity, and I must admit that this has given me much intellectual satisfaction, and well as a considerable degree of contentment. A small amount of pride in my own accomplishments, which would never be accepted on Vulcan. Joy in creating. Satisfaction in research done correctly, to benefit those in this crew, and others in Starfleet as well. Contentment in my chosen life. All of these things I had, and did not realize the value of until they were gone."

She was watching him carefully now. "And you are content now? You're where you want to be?"

"I am back in StarFleet and I feel that this is the correct place for me to live and work. I am accepted here, for what I can accomplish, and for who I am. None disparage me or attempt to force me to be someone I am not. And I have discovered that I have friends, who express satisfaction that I am back among them, who invite me to participate in activities with them. The pleasant feeling of spending time with amiable companions is greatly appreciated and anticipated. I do not have to hide these feelings any longer. But I would not say that I am perfectly content at this point. My life is not yet what I would wish it to be."

"And what would you wish for that you do not yet have?" Her voice was soft, and trembled slightly.

"I wish with all my heart that I could put to rights what is wrong between us." His voice, like hers, had gone softer, and deeper, and was not entirely steady. "I have committed grievous errors in my treatment of you, because I did not understand the complexities of what was happening. I wish to atone for this, if at all possible."

A single tear trembled on the edge of her eyelid, and rolled slowly down her cheek. She moved one hand forward, until it rested in the middle of the table. "We have many things to talk about, Spock. Much that needs discussing."

He looked at her hand, and his reached forth, trembling, to lightly touch his fingertips against hers. The shocks that raced along his nerves from that light touch made his whole body shudder, as did hers. "I am amenable to discussion."

"And will you give me reasons, Spock?"

"Where I can. And if I cannot, I will plainly say so. I will hide nothing from you, Nyota."

Her head bowed down, and her fingers clutched his tightly for a moment. And then she drew back her hand, and raised her head again, with tears flooding her eyes. Her voice almost failed her as she spoke. "I can't do this now, Spock. No more tonight. I just can't. It's too hard."

He trembled there, afraid that he had gone to far, pushed too much. His voice when he spoke was rough. "Another night, perhaps? When you have had a chance to formulate your questions?"

She nodded, not speaking anymore at all. And then she rose, but she did not leave. Instead she looked at him, still sitting at the table, his cup of tea forgotten in front of him. "Will you walk me to my quarters?"

He rose quickly, gathering up the teacups. "Let me carry these to the busing station, and then I will gladly escort you to your quarters." It took only a moment to accomplish that, and then he rounded the table to stand beside her, and they walked slowly out into the corridor, and down toward her quarters, not speaking, but very much aware of each other, there so close.

When she reached her door, she paused, and turned to him again. "One step at a time. That's all I can promise."

"That will certainly be sufficient."

She nodded. "Good night, Spock." And then she was inside, and he was alone in the corridor again. But he was no longer rife with confusion and formless anxiety. They had a plan, sketchy as it may be. They would talk again. And he would answer any question she put to him, as plainly as he could. And it was very obvious to him now, that he must court her again, slowly, and in full public view. He must make her understand what she was to him, and that he did not wish to live his life without her.