In a few moments, she emerges from the turbolift once more, the gleam of the corridor meeting her eyes. Now multiple decks below her prior setting, she makes the relatively short journey to her intended destination. The previous time that she had traversed this section of corridor, she had been overwhelmed with sorrow and fear. The fear of losing him. And as she approaches the Medbay again, this time the feeling is different. No more is the route tainted by woe or dread; this time, it is brimmed by relief.

She soon passes through the entrance of the ward, sterile walls within so seemingly quiet. Compared to the events of before, all that frantic chaos, it would be.

Her eyes finally meet him, on the same bed as he had been during this entire ordeal. The medico hovered over his unmoved form greets her with a glance, and she in turn exchanges the gesture. Upon her approach, the medico takes temporary leave of the patient, so that she may be alone with him.

With her hands placed upon the rim of the bed, she just stares at him. Into him, as if searching him. He is, of course, in a deep slumber, his body finally receiving the rest it so desperately needed after such an ordeal. Such a harrowing ordeal, with death nearly taking him, and all at the hands of one man. For now, at least, death has been defeated.

And she just watches him, so apparently peaceful as he lay on the bed. His body on the way to recovery, his mind seemingly unaware of the recent chaos it had endured; the chaos that she had borne witness to. Those images flash in her mind like a bolt of lighting, causing her eyelids to close momentarily. Even in such a restful state, it still pains her to view him like this, with all that he had endured. Even though she knows that he will be alright.

For a time, she remains there, hovering over him just as a loved one would. As eager as she is to feel his embrace once again, she knows that his rest and recovery come first. And so, with a hand grasping his, she leans closer, gifting his forehead a gentle kiss. To offer him her warmth and her farewell. Now is the time for her to return to her living quarters, to rest her own body for the upcoming day. So, with one final glance, she takes her leave, stepping onto the open corridor once more.

As she enters the turbolift yet again, another thought crosses her mind. She recalls the friend who had offered his ear to her, to talk to; to be the tunic onto which she could weep, if she ever felt the need to. Whilst she could very easily go directly to her quarters, she instead opts to alter her destination, just slightly, as the turbolift doors open.

With the evening still fairly young, she makes the journey towards the living quarters of one Hikaru Sulu.

ooo

The helmsman, of course, answers the summons of his door, its chime ringing quietly through his living space. His face, while curious as to who would visit him at this hour, softens at the sight of the Communications Officer. For a brief moment, he gives her the space to speak, and yet for that fraction she remains silent. Until, that is, her face alters and words emerge at last.

"Can I come in?"

"Uhura, of course." With that, his tone is as soft as his face, whilst he gestures for her to enter the space, stepping aside as he does.

So, she moves through the room, not paying much heed to any decorations or adornments housed within. It is almost as if she were in a daze, from jumbled emotions and fatigue. Yes, that will render anyone to such a state.

And, of course, Sulu pays heed to her motions.

"You want to sit down?" He almost brings forth a chair for her.

"No, I just-", she halts, her face changing once more, swivelling to view the friend who let her in. "He's going to be okay, Sulu...", and then it all comes crashing over her. Everything - all her fatigue and her relief - is all released.

And, instantly, she is wrapped by that friend, embracing her as she weeps.

"He's going to be okay." The words are repeated as she clings to her friend.

"Oh, Uhura...that's wonderful news."

For a few moments, they remain there, with all the warmth of a deep friendship flowing through them. Her relief and fatigue have all coalesced into the tears she weeps, but there begins another: gratitude. It shines through the tears, and she now glances upward to meet the eyes of her friend.

"Thank you."

"I didn't do anything-"

"You did; you helped save his life. And you're here...watching me cry." A small chuckle escapes her with that last statement, as her face is wiped by a hand.

"You okay? Do you want some water?", queries the helmsman, as tender and caring as before.

"No, thank you, I think I'm just tired. I know it's still early, but I need to get some sleep. I'll let you do the same. Goodnight, Sulu."

"Same to you. And Uhura, ", he continues, just as she starts to turn, "please, call me Hikaru."

With a smile and a glance, she now begins to make her departure, leaving behind the friend who had offered her comfort. Leaving with his kindness. The moment she reaches the door, he takes one final chance to speak, one final offer.

"If you need to talk, about anything, I'm here."

Her response isn't with words, but with a glance back at him, and a small smile to show her appreciation.

As he watches the door close after her, his own relief marks his face. And now, he makes the journey towards his bed, even with the night still apparently young. He glances at the communicator that still sits atop a bedside table, having been placed there so many hours before.

And, there it will remain, for the friend who had just departed. If she ever needed a friend's ear.

ooo

Now within her own living quarters, the weary Communications Officer makes for the washroom. Upon traversing past the bed, however, she makes a glance at the space where she had slept. Where she had held the tunic to her tears. That garment is still draped over the same lounge chair as before, and she now finds herself reaching for it. The tunic still carries a tiny aroma of its wearer, and she lets that aroma waft into her nostrils.

With the tunic now placed onto the bed, her journey to the washroom is resumed.

At last, her face is made fresh from the water that had cleansed it, and in a few minutes she emerges. A fresh set of night clothes donned, she can now meet the comfort of the bed and well-deserved sleep.

And again, she clutches at the cerulean tunic. This time, there are no tears. This time, sleep comes much easier.