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Revelation

Summary

Beta Reader: JSilver2000 This is a continuation of "Would've, Could've, Should've" and "Alien to Me." It's best to read those stories first to find the connection.

Genre:
Romance / Drama
Author:
Uhura the 9th
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
1
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
16+

The Look of...

Spock leaned against the turbolift wall, trying to recompose himself after the initial shock when he heard Nyota say his name on the intercom. He tried to gather his thoughts and regulate his heartbeat. Her voice still vibrated in his mind, causing him to lose his balance. One hand rubbed his heart as the pain throbbed there on his side; with each heartbeat, her voice pierced his thoughts.

“I do not understand. I am unable to regulate my body.” Spock again touched the psi points on his face and calculated that he had 1.154 minutes before the turbolift doors opened to the bridge. Finally, his mind overpowered and subdued her voice. Lieutenant Uhura, WHAT have you done to my mind?!

The turbolift slowed. Spock straightened his tunic and faced forward as the doors opened to the bridge. He purposely faced the captain’s chair and avoided looking toward the communications station. He walked down the steps and stood next to Kirk. Kirk saw Spock and handed him the status Padd. Then he gave his best friend a closer look, noticing that Spock was tense.

“Everything in order with Maintenance, Mr. Spock?”

“Yes, Sir. The computer banks have been upgraded and are performing properly, Captain.”

“Spock, are you all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you sure? You look—you look tired or ill.”

Spock composed himself and answered in his usual tone: “I am at optimal performance, Captain. I shall return to my station.”

Kirk watched Spock step up to his station, his face etched with concern. But Spock was not fine; he was exactly 6.5 feet from the female whose voice was silently ringing in his mind. He stood peering into the sensor hood, trying to focus as he pretended to work and check data. He unconsciously rubbed his heart again, trying to soothe the ache at his side. I do not understand this pain; I will seek assistance from Dr. M’Benga. Spock tried to rationalize that he was having a physical issue, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was something else—something he had not expected or even thought possible. Nyota Uhura was the haunting voice, the voice so clear that it was as if she were standing next to his ear, whispering his name. So soft, rhythmic, and intoxicating that he couldn’t focus on the task in front of him. Spock sat and attempted to read the report on the Padd that Kirk had given him. As he checked all the stations on the ship, the soft voice continued to permeate his thoughts; it started quietly and then gradually grew louder until—

“Mr. Spock?”

Nyota tried again to get his attention; he seemed distracted by something.

“Excuse me, Mr. Spock. I have the latest data log on communications, Sir.”

Spock quickly glanced up to see a red disk extended toward him, held by a slim hand with manicured fingernails. His eyes drifted toward her face and made eye contact with her. Her eyes [Those eyes!] caused his heart to race. He broke contact and focused on the red disk, his hand slowly moving toward it.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I will file it.”

His hand encompassed not only the disk; it grazed her fingertips during the exchange.

A slight energy spark flickered between them, evoking a slight gasp from Nyota.

Nyota’s eyes widened in response to his touch; her lips partly opened and her cheeks felt red. Then it hit her—the hand from her dreams—it was him. Oh my GOD! It’s-it’s Spock! She stepped back and her hand touched her lips. She felt as if she had been staring at his hand forever, the hand in her dreams reaching for her. Nyota turned quickly in embarrassment and almost stumbled back to her station. She sat at her station marveling over the interaction with the first officer. Spock was a man of intelligence, a man that worked tirelessly to maintain order throughout the ship. He was the most dependable person, the person that Captain Kirk relied to solve the most difficult situations in the galaxy. She had never considered Spock as potential beau. Most times he seemed to be distant, reluctant to interact with the crew, except for Kirk and McCoy, and every now then Scotty. Nyota looked down at her hands—they were shaking. She clutched them together, trying to get back her emotional equilibrium. She realized she was holding her breath. Girl, breathe! He is just a man; you’ve been around men before. Get it together and do your job! She placed her earpiece back in her ear and attempted to go back to work. But her mind raced with images of a hand reaching for her, the hand that offered her endless love. Do Vulcans love? It was those hands that kept reaching for her in her dreams, she was sure of it. But now their hands had actually touched, and her emotions were consuming her. Nyota forced herself to breathe; her hands went back to glide across her console. I have to focus. I’m losing it.

Then Nyota’s thoughts went back to the memory of Spock’s hands.

It was those hands that would support her when the communication board failed.

It was those hands that had given or taken disks and Padds from her over the years.

It was those hands that would scoop her up off the bridge floor when the ship was lurching under attack.

It was those hands that haunted her dreams, dreams of the fulfillment she was seeking in a life of love and family.

The hands from her dreams were now connected to a face, the face of a Vulcan named Spock.

She had never considered Spock as available or even interested in a relationship, yet at this very moment the images of his hands and his face dominated her thoughts as if they were the answer to the most important question in the universe. Her heart was thumping for this man, racing out of control. How long had her dreams taunted her, leaving her wondering whose hands were reaching for her? But now she knew: It’s him—Mr. Spock! Wow!

Fear kept her from turning to look at the man.

Fear that he was looking at her.

Fear that it was all in her head.

It was the longest shift Nyota ever worked. Relief came when Mr. Spock was needed somewhere else on the ship. He walked by her; she felt his presence. Then a lingering scent caught her attention; it was him. Her heart hammered against her chest. How was she going to handle this? She placed her hand over her heart. Sweat glistened on her forehead. No man had ever made her feel this way!

Spock struggled through their shift as well. That brief touch blasted through his mind and body. Nyota’s touch melted his soul. He was losing control of his emotions. The touch matched the voice in his dreams. He wondered how this could be. Although they had worked side by side for years, and he considered her competent and professional, their personal contact was limited to the rare duet in the rec room when he accompanied her on his lyre. Otherwise, she was completely out of his realm. Spock went about his duties mechanically while his mind considered whether there was logic to such a match. He reflected on the conversation he had had with Nurse Chapel 3.28 days ago and analyzed this new situation:

Both females were intelligent and capable in their duties.

Both had performed in an exemplary manner during critical situations.

Both were human females.

Both females were aesthetically appealing and considered sexually desirable by human males.

Nurse Chap—Christine had shown interest in developing a relationship with him. But at that moment, she was not the source of his swirling emotions or the pain on his side where his heart pumped. No, that was Nyota. Spock suddenly realized that he had input the same figures into the computer twice; the distraction was impacting his performance! He turned his head slightly in her direction and observed her as she did her work. Spock slowly rubbed his side and decided that in his current condition he was of no use on the bridge. He logged out of his station and turned to Kirk.

“Captain, I need to complete this configuration in the Science Lab. Do you need my services?”

Kirk turned toward him: “No, Spock. We’ll call you if anything arises.”

Spock nodded his head and walked to the turbolift, staring straight ahead. As he walked by Nyota, her scent hit his nostrils and his body reacted as if the temperature of the bridge had risen 10 degrees; her essence seeped into all his senses and he nearly lost his composure again. Once the doors closed, Spock grabbed the handle on the wall for support and tried to control his breathing and rapidly beating heart.I do not understand how she causes my body to react so! Spock hoped a deep meditation would alleviate his pain and thoughts of Nyota.


Hours later, both Uhura and Spock were in their respective quarters, thinking about how to avoid each other—and the potential mental and heartaches that might result from a relationship. They wondered how they could subdue the attraction that each felt for the other, unaware that the other was wrestling with the same emotions. It was absolutely alien to both of them.

Spock sat in meditation for 7.756 hours, struggling with his thoughts. Nyota wouldn’t leave him alone. Her voice and face danced in and out of his consciousness, while his heartache continued to expand into his lungs. Nyota’s essences stimulated desire and want—emotions so strong that he could not control them, no matter the length of time spent chanting or reciting the laws of logic. He felt exhausted for the first time in his career. I have not experienced fatigue in quite some time. This situation has placed me in a compromised position. These thoughts of Nyota—Just saying her name had now become a form surrender; he could not win. He realized that it was unavoidable; he had to come to terms with the knowledge that this woman—Nyota Uhura is the one! He took a deep breath; the pain in his heart and lungs began to subside; his thoughts stopped swirling. He desired her as a woman—his mate—for life. Both his eyebrows lifted as he registered that thought.

“Fascinating.”

Nyota couldn’t focus on her daily journal. Her mind kept drifting off to the Vulcan male that haunted her dreams. She got up from her chaise and made chamomile tea, hoping it would relax her. She sat and tried to focus on something else; her reports for the next day would lead to contact with Spock.

Her staff meeting would be directed by Spock.

Her duty on the bridge would lead to multiple contacts with Spock.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and an image of Spock formed: his hand reaching for her, his eyes piercing but gentle, as though she could see through him. She finished her tea and got ready for bed. Nyota crawled into bed in her boy shorts and tank top as sleepwear. The moment she closed her eyes, the image of Spock came back, reaching for her, but this time her hand extended toward his. They touched gently, causing her body to react. She grabbed her pillow, holding it tight:

“Why are you doing this me? I—I can’t take this anymore!”

Her mind and body tossed and turned with no relief. Then he said her name, “Nyota.”

She sat up, exhausted and breathing hard. She threw her pillow against the wall in frustration. Tears came down; she just didn’t know how this attraction for her commander had done her in. Her heart was dragging her closer to anguishing pain; she needed to do something. Nyota looked at the chronometer and saw that it was rather late to show up at the Commander’s door. She scrambled out of bed anyway and grabbed her robe, snarling in frustration:

“I need to settle this now before I lose my mind!”

She stomped toward her door and opened it. To her surprise, a tall, dark figure was standing in her doorway. She stepped back for a better view and gasped,

“Commander Spock!”

Spock’s eyes widened. Her sudden appearance stunned him. He had been outside her door for some time, contemplating whether or not to disturb her. He was drawn to her; he needed answers. He could not go on in his current condition.

“I am aware that the time is inconvenient, but it is imperative that I speak to you, Lieutenant—with your permission.”

That very instant, the frustration, the anguish, the images stopped for both of them. She nodded to him and moved aside to let him enter her quarters. They stood in the dim light of her living area. The silence between them seemed to stretch on; they didn’t know how to start.

“I am a Vulcan. It is rare for us to have dreams or visions—but for 3.125 months a voice has interrupted my sleep and my thought processes during my waking periods. It has affected the performance of my duties. Yesterday I confirmed that the voice is yours, Lieutenant.”

Nyota was shocked. It had been the same length of time for her. She whispered,

“I have also been having dreams—dreams of a hand reaching out to me, and when we touched yesterday, I realized it was you, Commander.”

“Miss Uhura, do you believe that there is some connection?”

She stared into his dark eyes and saw the confusion and hope—she took a deep breath and thought;

“Would I admit these feelings and err?”

Could I admit these feelings for him?

“Should I admit these feeling and find peace?”

She then said with confidence; “I believe so. I couldn’t sleep, thinking about you—now that you’re here, my mind and body are calm.”

“Mine as well.”

Spock reached out and touched her fingers. He felt the tingling sensation again; suddenly his hands fell to his sides. He felt dizzy; he fell to his knees before her, gripping the hem of his tunic. His breathing became erratic again. He had lost all reason because of this woman. He summoned all his logic, bowing his head and saying:

“Nyota, nash-veh ma rai gas’rak, nash-veh wuh Vuhlkansu rik’ ozhika

[Nyota, I have no right; I am a Vulcan without logic].

um t’nash-veh kashek heh kash-ral t’ hasu

[You have invaded my mind and sense of being].

“Du ma nem-tor abru’ nash-veh ik t’nash-veh khaf-spol sut

[You have consumed me such that my heart aches].

“Nash-veh ma rai tash abru’ zherka na’ du

[I have no control over my feelings for you].”

Nyota’s eyes filled with tears as she looked down at the man who had just declared his love for her. She had always dreamt of this man, as though they had been together the whole time. Nyota reached out to smooth his jet black hair.

“I nuh’ ma rai tash t’ t’nash-veh olaya na’ du Spock [I too have no control of my feelings for you, Spock].

“Du vesh’ kwon-sum tra’ heh nash-veh didn’t fai-tor ish-veh [You were always there and I didn’t know it].

“Du ma nem-tor abru’ t’nash-veh khaf-spol heh katra [You have consumed my heart and soul].”

“T’nash-veh Nyota [My Nyota].”

“T’nash-veh Spockah” [My Spock].”

Spock gently grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to him, resting his head against her flat stomach. He let out a shuddering sigh. Finally, they were at peace. He felt her warmth flow through him. Spock wondered if all Vulcan males went through this process, losing control of their emotions and exposing their most intimate selves. As he rested against her, Spock realized that her essence was a calming balm to him. He had found the voice—the woman he would spend his life with.

Nyota’s heart was bursting with joy and excitement because of the man kneeling before her, holding her. All her previous relationships had turned to dust. Nyota was not afraid to openly express her feelings of love. Spock had healed her from her past and given her a future. She continued to cry and stroke his shiny black hair, knowing they belonged together. She had never imagined that a man like Spock would love her or share her desire to have a family together. A contented smile formed on her face.

" Nyota,Nash-veh afsakau kal’i’farr” [Nyota, I declare marriage (Will you marry me?)].”

“Yes. I love you.”

“K’diwa”.

THE END

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