trans_9 | half held dreams & relevant shadows [closed]

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half held dreams & relevant shadows [closed]

The shuttle was going down.

Somewhere there was metal shearing. The consoles sparked and hissed around her. Somehow. Somehow the inertial dampeners were holding. Still there. Still a chance. Communications was static, but she thought...she thought she could hear Spock somewhere in that mess of static. He was somewhere.

And she was here.

Here, in this place. In the dark with alarms blaring and the huge red display flashing the obvious.

<< ALERT: IMPACT IN TEN SECONDS >>

Her head was bleeding and she stared at it for a moment, disoriented, fuzzy, and heard another pop! as a circuit blew. The communications static rose and fell. Transporter lock unavailable. Losing. Andrea was dead.

This was not the way she wanted her--

Uhura lie curled up on Spock's bed, her fingers buried against the blanket she held clenched in a fist, her knees drawn to her chest. Sleep had been long in coming, longer than she might have liked, and she knew she'd dream. It was not exactly a dream. It had happened. Somehow, she'd survive it. She had to survive it. Still asleep, Uhura curled in on herself tightly, and her brow furrowed. Her fingers twitched as a shudder ran down her spine. Uhura had nightmares every once and awhile about the Farragut, about being assigned there, about dying there. About floating in space with the dead Nero had left behind, but this was not that. This had happened and she knew, even asleep, that she was trying to process it.

And doing a piss-poor job of it.

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Vulcans had much less need of sleep than humans, and much of Spock's rest was derived from intense meditation, as opposed to what humans would traditionally define as "sleep". On some occasions, mutual desire for contact would mean that Spock stayed with Nyota, but frequently he would allow her to sleep undisturbed while he undertook quiet activities on the other side of the room.

Such was the case now, as Spock sat on the other bed, regulating his breathing and balancing his katra. He heard the change in Nyota's breathing which signaled the beginning of a dream, but he didn't move for another moment or two, knowing that dreams would often pass quickly and even sooner be forgotten.

This was clearly not to be in the present situation, however, and soon Spock got up and crossed the room to her. Carefully, he smoothed a hand over her forehead, murmuring in his native tongue, "Nyota. Thy safety is assured."

His voice sliced through the images, through the heat, and through the desperate scree of the alarm. Nyota's eyes snapped open and she forced herself to remain still, though she shivered lightly. She glanced at him for a long moment and offered a wan smile.

"I am thankful you are here," she said quietly.

Edited 2010-04-13 05:30 (UTC)

Spock studied her face, fully aware of the fact that she allowed very few to see her thus - vulnerable. Yet she maintained much of her composure.

Through his touches, he was able to see snatches of what she'd been dreaming, but he asked, all the same. "Do you wish to speak of it?" He switched to the slightly less-formal English, which would not constrict her in the same way the Vulcan would.

"It might help," Uhura said, effortlessly following his shift in languages, though her voice was hesitant as her fingers grazed his jaw. Her eyes were intensely focused on his face in a way that was deadly serious, more so than she'd ever been, but she took her time. There were more languages in her head than most people and none of them were adequate. None of them summed up any of what she'd gone through.

"An electrical anomaly," she murmured, "diverted my shuttle and sent it crashing towards the planet. I was supposed to initiate First Contact with a particularly prickly species. As usual, I convinced Kirk to keep his mouth shut and let me do the talking. That talking was supposed to be in person. I am afraid that..." Her eyes flicked to his and held as if he was the only thing anchoring her to the present. "I might have perished. But I don't know. The inertial dampeners were still online. The planet below was mostly water with scattered ice formations. Engineering couldn't get a lock at all thanks to the electrical interference, so the likelihood of my survival with my pilot dead, the controls unresponsive, the multiple fires--"

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.

"I sleep and I dream of it." Her words came out firm. "Eventually, I hope it will cease. And you are right. I'm safe here." For the moment. Her thumb drifted of his chin almost thoughtfully. "With you."

His brow furrowed slightly in concern as she spoke, at the fear she was projecting, even from such a distance of time and space.

She was right, of course. Given the situation, her odds of survival had been low. And yet.

"You did not die," Spock said finally. A simple statement of fact, the sort of thing he was very good at. What he wasn't so good at, was explaining the personal significance the statement held for him. She had not died.

It was likely that sometime in the near future, one or both of them would perish. Even before the Ohm, it was merely a fact of life in Starfleet. It meant that Spock wouldn't take moments of relative peace for granted.

"The dreams may or may not cease entirely," he said matter-of-factly. "They will, however, become less frequent with time, and their overall impact will be lessened." He didn't have to explain how he knew this to be true.

Uhura smiled, then, even if it was a careful thing. She wouldn't have died, not then. For one thing, Spock had been there and he would have found a way to bring her home. For another, Kirk was there and he'd back up Spock on getting her home, and for another thing? Uhura had always been resourceful. He was right on all accounts, both dream frequency, lasting effect, and that she had lived.

"Good," she said in a small, thoughtful voice. Her fingers skimmed his jawline, reminding herself, again, that he was real, solid, and there; that he wasn't a figment of her imagination. She wasn't on a crashing shuttle, she was here in a strange and new place. It should have been frightening, but she took comfort in it. She was with him and it didn't matter where. Back in the pod cavern, the crew of the USS Enterprise were all waiting to be woken. Contrary to popular belief, she was hoping Kirk would come out of one of those damn pods. He might have no interpersonal skills (yet) but he was good for situations like the one they found themselves in. The man had luck on his side, that was for sure.

"In the meantime, I will have to deal with their effects. Thankfully, they are only dreams and not real."

Spock inclined his head. "Indeed. And I am here, should you desire aid."

He let her continue touching his face, briefly considering the many and varied reasons that humans touched each other. Considering their lack of telepathy, they were a remarkably tactile race. It was practically its own language, one that he was still quite unsure of himself, but Nyota did not seem to mind.

Her eyes locked onto his as her thumb swept over his bottom lip just once--just the once--before she let her fingers fall away. For a long while there was just silence that had a gravity of its own. It pulled her into him and she let her forehead rest against his shoulder.

"I could not be any more comforted by that knowledge," she murmured, surprising herself when the words came out in Vulcan. It was a sentiment that carried weight to it, depth, both a 'thank you' and that hidden note of deep respect and affection that only Vulcan (done right) could actually express in the correct manner. Sometimes Federation Standard sounded so...crude.

She meant every level on meaning that one might ascribe to that sentiment. So many levels, so many hidden places to fill. And she wouldn't have had it any other way. Her fingers sank against the nape of his neck, absently familiar, as she let his presence ground her.

Spock found himself, inexplicably, thinking about the smell of her hair. Previously, he had assumed it was due to a particular brand or scent of shampoo which she favored, but given that he had yet to encounter any shampoo of any kind on this ship, he was left to conclude that it was simply the way her hair smelled.

He took pleasure in the scent, and in the knowledge of her nearness, but he lacked words to adequately describe his current thoughts. Given the difficulty, he took what he believed to be a logical step - he turned his head, pressing their lips together.

The statistical likelihood of a positive response was high.

Nyota was surprised, pleasantly, and she kissed him back with a careful reserve, savoring each second of contact like it wouldn't come again. It was like this, supremely careful, achingly controlled, but always, the fire raged like that first bright burst of Vulcan sunlight, like that first breath of hot air, and the brilliantly breathtaking sight of his face after he'd come home to her. With her fingers in his hair, she kissed him back slowly, sinking her fingertips against his scalp, letting her tongue brush against his bottom lip as she leaned up into him.

He could send her into freefall without ever touching atmosphere control, and challenge her coherence with a glance. It didn't matter how many times she kissed him or how slowly, how carefully, she clung to that point in time (she had each one emblazoned in her memory, fixed here like an ever playing holo, cycling so she wouldn't forget), each time she kissed him it was new.

And she needed him with an intensity she couldn't have kept from him if she'd wanted. She couldn't quite memorize the taste of him, but she tried. She always tried. She always tried to memorize the feel of him, because life moved and they moved. And she was patient and slow and careful because this was a new thing. She didn't care if it was always a bit awkward and he never quite knew where he should be.

She didn't mind, she'd never mind.

He was a little awkward, yes, because the emotions she stirred in him were powerful enough that they sometimes threatened to tear through his carefully-constructed walls. The control that he had spent his entire life cultivating, the control which connected him to his ancestors and heritage, and which was necessary for his continued health and well-being - he could feel the precipice drawing near.

And in a completely contradictory fashion, he also felt safe, because he knew she would not want him to give up his control. She accepted it as part of him, as much as she accepted his humanity.

As always, the kiss was utterly confusing to Spock.

She lingered a little while longer than she might have otherwise and when she pulled away her fingertips rested gently on his chin. Uhura's eyes searched his face and she placed a single kiss against his lips, brief, but warm. It left her lips tingling but she said nothing, just paused a few centimeters away and smiled, her lips curving.

Uhura asked nothing more of him than he was willing to give. Balance, she always had to consider the balance of the moment. Never too much, never too little.

Just right.

Spock studied her face. Her positive reactions never failed to surprise him. Particularly the smile she was now giving him - he had never witnessed her smile in such a way at anyone else, thus conferring on him a unique position.

He found it difficult to trace the logical trajectory of their relationship, which had led to this point.

"I trust that you are sufficiently calmed, after your earlier disturbance?" he asked, wishing to express his continued concern for her comfort.

"Sufficiently, yes," Uhura said, her voice thoughtful and almost teasing at once. There were better words, but she couldn't find them at the moment. The smile stayed for him, and lit her face with a subtle glow that most would miss. She was content in this moment.

"You help more than is logical," she added almost pointedly, her tone most definitely relieved, though it was soft and light. Her lips were still tingling as her fingers fell away from his face.

Spock inclined his head, allowing his hands to rest at her sides, gently. Everything he did with her was gentle, not out of a misguided fear of harming her, but merely out of respect for her mind and her person.

"I have come to understand that there are certain aspects of this relationship which... defy all attempts at rationalization," he commented. It was probably the closest he'd ever come to admitting human weakness.

"There are," Uhura said quietly, letting her fingers rest against his knuckles. Her eyes searched his face for a long while. "Does that bother you?"

It was genuine curiosity that lit her voice. There was nothing that pleased her more than being in his company, but she was also aware that their relationship was different, evolving. She tried her best to help it balance out in any way she could.

"If by 'bother', you mean 'to make uncomfortable', I find that is not the case," Spock said with little hesitation. He could tell Nyota of his thoughts; she would not be confused or judgmental.

"I admit that my knowledge of these matters is limited, though I understand that many humans profess belief in what is commonly referred to as 'chemistry'. The concept seems nebulous and thus, broadly applicable to any number of situations." He paused a brief moment, gathering his thoughts.

"Our relationship, based as it is on shared interests, a common worldview, mutual respect and trust developed over time, does not, at first, appear to apply to this concept of 'chemistry'. However, despite these facts, an adequate explanation for my...continued desire to make romantic overtures towards you eludes me."

Good, it didn't make him uncomfortable. There was a part of her that knew that, but having it confirmed lessened that particular worry (it had been small, but nagging) and she nodded, as he spoke. Chemistry. There were all sorts of different kinds of that. And they were a different sort than the usual.

Obviously.

"What we have, Spock," Uhura said, her voice soft, "is one of those things in one's life that is inherently good for both of us. All these years that I have had the fortune to know you under many, many situations, you have shown me so much that I don't think I would have ever gotten to see--about the Universe, about science, and music, about so many of the things we both have an appreciation for. All of those things you have permitted me to see in a wholly new way, different from any other program, teacher, or experience."

She took a breath and let it out slowly, her smile lazy and warm as her palm cupped his cheek.

"Moreover, you have taught me that being myself is the only logical thing to be, since one cannot function properly if they are constantly at war with themselves." Uhura pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Whatever illogical impulses are left beyond the fact that we balance each other out in temperament and," she smiled and kissed him gently, "and chemistry, they do tend to make life interesting. I'm not sure we're meant to find the logic that drives that inherent part of this equation. Perhaps it is just the catalyst that pulls us into each other and aligns the logical reasoning behind everything else."

Spock's lips twitched minutely. "I have no recollection of these lessons. Perhaps you are referring to that which you have taught me."

Uhura didn't bother suppressing her amusement and laughed. Whatever serious there had been had gone completely and she shook her head minutely.

"Perhaps," she said, letting her hand slide away from his cheek, "my own recollection of lessons taught are amiss as well."

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