Confessions K/U, M [PG]

 

Confessions

 

Image: Courtesy of my wanderings through the internet

Summary: When you need the only person who can understand.

Disclaimer:  The characters belong to Paramount, their actions are mine.

Author’s notes:  A new story in my Realizations series.  Set between Lofty Passions and Sometimes I Need More. References events from Healing Touch and my yet to be written story of the end of the five year mission and Kirk and Uhura’s time shortly thereafter.

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“I’m coming, I’m coming…. .” McCoy grumbled softly, walking to the front door of his stately old home.  The whole point of being retired was you could do what you wanted to when you wanted to. The chime was loud—spoiling his afternoon nap on the back veranda.  He was not expecting any visitors and wasn’t too keen to greet the mystery caller.

 

“Well, I’ll be damn.  Hello Nyota—or should I say Lieutenant Commander,” his scowl quickly morphing into a grin.  McCoy stepped back to eagerly allow entrance of the woman who would always be welcome in his world.

 

“Good afternoon, Doctor”—she began with a broad, and somewhat relieved smile—“I wasn’t sure I’d catch you home.”

 

It was not like Nyota to visit unannounced or stay in uniform when she had the option; it sent dormant, battle-hardened nerves on red alert.  “Call me Len, Commander, if this is a social call,” casually noting Nyota’s uniform. “Where else would I be on this fine spring day?” 

 

“Oh that’s just it, Len—on such a beautiful day you could be anywhere out enjoying the weather.” Uhura stepped into the coolness of McCoy’s home, the tension easing from her shoulders by just being in proximity of someone she thought of as family.

 

“Guess I’ve already gotten the ‘Jaded Earther Syndrome’ again—taking the sun and temperature for granted again just like any other ‘sodder’.  Come on back and let’s sit in the parlor.  I have some nice mint ice tea in the chiller just begging to be sipped.”  McCoy realized her answer lacked the the reason for her visit but decided he would peel that onion later, right now his upbringing required the offering of refreshments.

 

 “I’ll be right back.  Find a seat.” Nyota followed the older man down the hall and into a side room with comfortable furniture.

 

“Thank you, Len.”  She smiled but didn’t immediately sit, instead she wandered the room, looking at McCoy’s antiques and decorations.  Most seemed to be family heirlooms—traditional McCoy—but not necessarily personal to Leonard himself. 

 

She stopped at the mantle, fixated by the hologram taken at their final reception on the Enterprise before making home port. Ship life had been chaotic then--crew transferring out—determined to stay in space.  Anticipation of the grand reception coming their way causing all sorts of chatter and speculation about next assignments and promotions.  But Nyota, even through all of that, had sensed an underlying current of tension between McCoy, Spock and Kirk.  Looking closely at their images in the holo one could see something—an uneasiness in their posture, smiles that seemed a bit forced.

 

Little did she know when the image of the senior officers was captured by a fellow merry-maker, that its hints of disquiet foretold a deafening explosion to follow.

 

“Do you miss it?” McCoy’s perceptive voice questioned as he returned bearing a tray of tea and molasses cookies, making Uhura consider how long he had stood at the doorway watching.

 

“It? Len?  Don’t you mean them?”  Coming over to join him on the settee, Nyota did her own bit of challenging as she accepted a cold glass and a small plate of cookies.

 

“It, them.  Isn’t it all the same? Our time on the ship together?”  McCoy knew he felt differently but sometimes you have to let go and accept that life moves on no matter how much you wish it to stay in stasis.

“I enjoyed our mission tremendously. It was a rush to run a whole department of a starship—but it’s over now.  Time for us to move on to bigger and better if you believe the Starfleet credo.  But my shipmates? Yes, I miss them—you—sometimes very much.”  There was a wistfulness in her tone that told McCoy she wasn’t any fonder of that credo than he was.

 

“Some more than others too, possibly?”

 

“I came for a visit, Len—not a psyche eval.  You guys were—are—like family.  I treasure you all.”

 

“Okay, darlin’, but if you’ll accept my humble opinion anyway, it’s not like you to just pop in unannounced.  Does this day mean more to you than any other?  Something about it make you want to seek out a kindred spirit, maybe?”

 

“If you’re alluding to the fact that today is Admiral Kirk’s wedding day, then you’re stretching it, Doctor.” If he was going to act like a physician she was going to call him one.

 

“Oh, don’t go getting tetchy with me, Nyota.  I’m not judging or reading way more into it than it seems.  Jim’s getting married.  I know you two were close for a bit—even after the mission.  You’re here and not at the wedding—there a reason for that?”

 

Taking a sip of the cold tea, Nyota wished for something stronger.  “I *was* invited, but I declined –my last mission was not expected to end this early.  I mean, technically I’m *still* on the mission—our ship just got in this morning.”

 

“So naturally, you beamed down to visit an old friend—regs be damned—or something like that?”  Why did it seem so deranged when he said it so matter-of-factly?

 

“You didn’t go either.  There a reason for that?  Surely you can’t still be mad at him.”

 

“I was *never* mad at Jim. I was angry at Nogura for manipulating him—using his sense of duty to the service and to him personally to get Jim to agree to that damn promotion.  I’m still angry that Jim can’t see that being planet-bound will be the death of him.  At least Nogura’s gilded him a pretty little cage…”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“Lori Ciani? Jim’s,”-- looking at the mantle clock to acknowledge the wedding was probably over by now,--“wife—is also one of Nogura’s hand-picked wonder kids.  You don’t think it just a bit too neat that they’re now getting married?”

 

“Neat? I mean, if you’re around someone you’re attracted to day in and day out—wouldn’t romance be a logical step?”

 

“Hmmm, you’d know that better than me now, wouldn’t you darlin’—but I knew logic would come into it sooner or later.  And where is ‘good ol’ logic, huh? He flew the coop too, didn’t he?  Again, due to Nogura’s scheming. Not allowed to join Kirk’s staff because off some unholy alliance relationship that Nogura thinks will keep Jim aloof from the rest of the Admiralty.

 

“No, good ol’ Spock doesn’t just reject his promotion as Enterprise’s captain—the prize that Nogura thinks would woo him away from Jim’s side—he rejects *all* of Humanity—leaves the service, leaves his family, leaves emotions and Jim behind.

 

“We made a piss poor mess out of the whole thing—me included.  And now Jim is tied to a desk and saddled with a wife too perfect for the picture.  That’s my guilty conscience screaming, Nyota.  What’s yours got to say?”

 

“I don’t feel guilty about anything, Len.”

 

“So, it’s more about regret, then?”

 

“What *did* you put in this iced tea?”

 

“Nothing too dangerous—just something to take the edge off.”

 

“I think it’s peeled a little too many layers off of me.  I came by to see an old friend, not the ship’s therapist.”

 

“Sorry, but the friend is bored.  You’ll just have to look over the doctor in him.”

 

“Easier said than done, Len.  You know way too much about me for me to trust this will stop now.”

 

“Trust me, Nyota,--that’s why you really came to see me—you trust me—trust that what you say here today will go no further.  You trust that I’m the only one who could and does understand.”

 

Uhura raised her chin just a bit and straightened her shoulders—a tell she picked up from Kirk when he was getting ready to bluff his way through something—usually a gaggle of Klingons….

 

“I’m fine, Len.  Really.”

 

“You think so, huh?  Well, I don’t.  You broke regs to come see me and you told on yourself to boot.  Sounds like someone who needs a friendly ear if I ever heard one.”

 

‘Fine”.  She got up to pace, subconsciously staring at the hologram in her back and forth journey.

 

“Admiral Kirk—Jim,” she took a deep breath after correcting herself, if she was going to confess she needed to be brutally honest,--“called me several months ago and told me he was getting married.”

 

“And?” prompted McCoy, nudging her over the first hurdle.

 

“I was shocked? Happy for him? A little overwhelmed…”

 

“How about hurt?”

 

“Oh yes, how could I have forgotten that one? And I was hurt…. But did I have any right to feel that way?  Were we together?  I took a six month tour of the border monitoring stations just to waste time until the refit of the Enterprise got underway.  I left him and he was okay with that.  We aren’t a couple—don’t plan to be—but I don’t know what we are.  There are times when I need him and he needs me.  Am I being selfish?  Worrying about the next time my world crumbles?”

 

“And would Jim being married preclude him being there for you?”

 

“Why tempt Fate, Doctor?  I’ve compromised his sense of honor before and I never want to do that again.”

 

“Nyota, I don’t think Jim ever felt that he betrayed anything or anyone by being there for you.”

 

“It’s strange—I can’t explain how it feels sometimes.  Like I’m hollow and all I can feel is his echo—it overruns me, bouncing against my insides—trying to find me—comforting and exciting me at the same time.  It’s been that way since Bengali.  It never goes away.  It just ebbs and flows like a tide. I always know it’s there—that he’s there.  And he feels the same.

 

“So why you may ask, with all of that, can’t we be a couple?  Because outside of each other we desire different things. We know that.  We accept it.  So why am I having such a hard time accepting his marriage?  He seems to have found a way to move on.”

 

“Jim has denied himself for so long—he encouraged you to take this mission didn’t he?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He wanted you to get away.  To stay in space to be free to live without the restrictions that bind him.  It stands to reason he would seek a life with someone who doesn’t feel limited by being on desk duty—someone he doesn’t feel at fault for their limitations.  Jim’s strongest complaint about being a captain was the loneliness.  As an admiral on Earth he is free to share himself with someone.  But I don’t think he could choose someone he felt belonged to the stars—and Nyota—he’s always felt that way about you.”

 

“And I know it’s for the best that I’m out of the picture—but there’s something shifting inside of me that is having a hard time accepting it.

 

“I *know* it’s safer to love him from afar.  Do you know the old Pratchett quote, ‘he was beautiful like a forest fire is beautiful.  Better not get too close?

 

“That exactly describes my attraction to Jim.  I’m drawn but fearful of the flames.  And when I left him six months ago, Len—there was hardly more than scorched earth.

 

“You had left him—Spock had gone to Gol without so much as a goodbye—his ship was being taken away from him and he was jumble of hurt, shock, anger and regret.  When I left he had made some sort I peace with his future—but he was far from healed.  Admiral Ciani has no idea who she’s really marrying.  Six months can’t cure all of that.”

 

“So what can you do about that?  What can you do to help Jim—or Lori for that matter—and not get hurt in the fallout?  If you know you’re not meant to be with each other, are you willing to risk what chance for happiness he’s reaching for?”

 

“You know, when I’m sitting in detention for going AWOL, I’m going to think long and hard about those questions because right now I don’t have any answers.”

 

“No, Darlin’, I’d imagine not.  So, speaking of regs and flat out disregard thereof—you suppose a comm from Starfleet Medical requesting your immediate presence here would do you any good with your commander?”

 

“Ah, well, since there’s nothing in the log to support that request, I’m sure Commander Bricker will be less than thrilled with any interference.”

 

“You planning on serving with him again?  Got any other marks against your record during the mission?”

 

“No, in fact, I have a commendation or two.”

 

“Then what are you worried about, Ny?  Skipping ship a few hours early won’t hold candle against that.  Now, excuse me while I call in a favor.”  And after that’s done, why don’t we go out on the town? This wedding might suck but who says our version of the reception has to?”

 

“And, I guess that’s why I came, Len.  You always know how to show a lady a good time.”

 

“That’s me, Darlin’---that’s truly me….”

 

~Finis

Forgiveness K/U, S/U [PG]

Image: Courtesy of my wanderings through the internet

Summary: A farewell of sorts and portents of new beginnings.
Disclaimer:  The characters belong to Paramount, their actions are mine.

Author’s notes:  A new story in my Tokens series.  Set between Tokens and Of Love and Sunsets.  References events from My Faith in You and Healing Touch.

Dictionary:

T'hy'la: Vulcan.  Friend-lover- lifelong companion, blood brother/sister; soulmate; soul-brother/ sister

Yon-shal tersu: Vulcan.  Literally ‘fireside partner’ as in someone to keep you warm at night. A person with whom one has a deeply intimate relationship with outside of a bond/marriage.

Moyo Zolotse: Russian.  My sun, meant as the equivalent to darling or dear.

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Forgiveness

Chekhov was the first to notice the darker outline in the shadows near Uhura’s front door and then only because the black-clad figure chose that moment to step into the beam of her porch light.

“Mr. Spock vhat are you doing here?”  Pavel asked with relief, now moving aside and letting Uhura see who had been standing on her porch as they returned from her birthday dinner.

“Mr. Spock, I had no idea you were in town-we’ve just come back from dinner-had we known you were here--” Ny stammered like a midshipman under the stern scrutiny of Spock’s silent gaze.

“Commander, I apologize for my late arrival, but I must speak with you tonight,” Spock announced in a tone that brooked no refusal and clearly excluded Chekhov from the conversation.

“Well then, let’s go inside shall we?” Ny tried to lighten the mood and smooth down the short hairs standing at the nape of her neck.

“I must speak with you alone,” Spock replied in the same cold tone, but looked at Chekhov with clear dismissal.

“Mr. Spock, there’s no reason to be rude,” Ny started her own challenge.  Over the years she had tolerated a lot of strange behavior from the Vulcan standing before her, but rudeness was not one of them.

“Nyota, it’s okay.” Pavel leaned in and kissed Uhura softly on the cheek. “I need to be going anyway.  Happy birthday, Moyo Zolotse,” he whispered in her ear as he gave the stoic Vulcan a challenging look of his own.  A look that conveyed he was leaving because he did not want to upset the ending of a beautiful evening more so than Spock intimidating him.

“Thank you for dinner, Pasha, I had a wonderful time.” Nyota hugged her old friend enthusiastically, kissing him back, but on the lips.  It was *her* birthday and she would do as she pleased.

With a smile of vindication Chekhov nodded to Spock, “Goodnight Ambassador” then turned and walked away.  Spock merely watched his one-time protégé disappear around the corner of the next brownstone before following Uhura through her front door.

“May I take your cloak?” Uhura asked as she stripped off her own wrap.  Spock might be uber-Vulcan tonight but she had no intention of allowing his coldness to affect her good manners.

“Yes, thank you,” he answered with the first hint of warmth in his voice. Taking his cloak along with her wrap, Nyota hung them both on the coat tree, studying him as he moved further into the room. He was clad in unrelenting black and moved with the sensual grace she always admired.

“May I make you some tea? If you were out there waiting for very long I’m sure you’ve gotten a chill.” Ny offered in hope of making him comfortable and possibly drawing the old Spock she knew and loved out of the hard shell of aloofness before her now.

“That would be acceptable,” he answered with a slight bow of his head.

“Good, I’d like some too.  Why don’t you light the fire while I make the tea.” She motioned toward the fireplace as she moved toward the kitchen.

By the time she came from the kitchen with a tray bearing a pot of tea, cups and a small platter of fruit and bread, the fire was burning nicely.  Spock was standing before it, palms outstretched, his gaze seemingly lost in the flutter of the flames before sensing her returned presence in the room. Uhura made a show of pouring the tea as he moved to sit next to her on the sofa.

“I think you’ll like this blend.  A friend brings it to me on occasion from Rigel Four.” She made small talk, patiently waiting for Spock to announce why he needed to speak to her so urgently.

“It is agreeable,” he remarked after a cautious sip, an edge of surprise in his voice.  Ny just smiled and watched as the warmth of the tea slowly eased some of the rigidity from Spock’s body--not a spring thaw by any means but a step closer to the easy Vulcan she was used to.

After finishing his tea, Spock sat the cup down with a sense of dreaded purpose and Ny’s hackles once again rose from the expectant silence between them.

“Commander—Nyota—“, Spock began again, fumbling over the familiarity of her given name.  “I came to see you tonight in order to fulfill a promise and deliver a last birthday gift to you from Admiral Kirk—from Jim.” He spoke the name with gentle sadness as he produced an envelope from his tunic pocket and held it out to her.

Nyota felt her heart leap into her throat as his words took on new meaning. She placed a hand over her chest to hold the wayward organ inside. Now, Spock’s reticence made sense…now, what had never been discussed between the three of them ruptured the carefully crafted fallacy that Spock had been ignorant to the human’s private relationship.  She stared at the parchment envelope in her hands, not remembering taking it from him but caressing it just the same. A maroon wax seal bearing the Kirk family crest dared her to peel it away and seek the words inside.  As always these past thirty years, he called to her and she came.  From the quiet of the bridge or the unknown of death, it did not seem to matter.

Her fingers toying with the seal, she looked up into Spock’s eyes and drew strength to open the envelope.  Gone was the stoic reserve, replaced by a sympathetic gaze that obviously knew that whatever the letter said, it could only bring some form of pain.  Did he know this from reading something similar?  Her hand trembled as she took a deep breath and opened the seal.  Ny unfolded the sheet of inner parchment and her eyes immediately grew too bleary to read as she recognized Jim’s handwritten scrawl—that it was legible meant he had taken great care to make it so.  She tried to blink back the tears but gave up and just let them flow as she read the first line.

My Darling Penda,

 If you're reading this letter then it is because I am dead and Spock has brought this confession to you as a last remembrance from me on your birthday. I know this because I've always recognized you would both long outlive me. Don't be sad; we all know I cheated death so many times that my marker would have to be called in sooner rather than later. I am content with that; it is a fair trade to have lived the life I lived.

 

But now, in death, I need to confess many things I never had the courage to tell you in life. Funny, how the idea of eternity frees one to speak truths they've seldom chosen to face. How the soul runs to unburden itself from wrongs never righted and opportunities thought lost. Please forgive me for not telling you these things in person; I tried to find the words on more than one occasion but I’m afraid this letter is the best I can do.

 

 I need to be forgiven for taking you for granted, for always expecting you to be at my side, regardless of hazard, regardless of what else might be going on in your life. I never asked if it was an inconvenience; I never asked what you might be giving up.

 

 I need to be forgiven for selfishly keeping you in my world, but never making you my world. For hiding behind the rules and regs that supposedly kept us apart when we both knew I could have forced the universe to accept us.

 

I need to be forgiven for depending on you to rekindle my spirit and then leaving you to sweep up the ashes. For using your devotion to push back the despair that tried to conquer me so many times.

 

I need to be forgiven for having loved you too much yet not enough. For loving you too much to let you go, for never pushing you to take on the challenges I knew you capable of because they would take you away from me.

 

I need to be forgiven for not loving you enough to claim you as mine because I could never give you the one thing you ever wanted--all of me.

 

I need to be forgiven for never telling you how much I loved you. For never telling you how you lived in the very center of my heart, keeping others from ever meaning more to me than you did.

 

But mostly, I need to be forgiven for keeping you from ever seeing the love of another. A love much less selfish and much more worthy than mine could ever be. I know because I benefited from that same love, depended on it and used it just as selfishly as I did yours.

 

I tell you this in hope that perhaps I can redeem myself in some small way and give you one last present, a love truly worthy of your heart. Look past the reserve that stands before you and see the love shining in his eyes. It's there, waiting patiently for you to see it too.

 

Please know I always loved you deeply if imperfectly.

 

Jim

 

Nyota felt as if she were smothering—all the oxygen was gone—leaving her in a vacuum with Jim’s words.  She acted out of instinct, looking up into the tall Vulcan’s eyes and for once seeing beyond the veneer of his reserve and finding tenderness in their brown depths.

The heat of the fire suddenly became too much, shoving the letter into Spock’s hands, Ny bolted out the French doors to the coolness of the night.  Leaning on the iron railing she gulped in great lungful’s of air before crumpling as her body wracked itself with grief, anger and fear.

Jim’s words constricted her heart—the blunt truthfulness overwhelming.  It was as if he had just died all over again and she still had not gotten a chance to say goodbye. She had never asked to be his world—just a part of it.  Ny had always known she would be a shadow in his life and was content with her choice. 

Anat’s prophecy from long ago whispered in her head, ‘not meant to be, but meant to be forever’. How true the words had come to be.  The fantasy they shared when it was just the two of them too fragile to withstand the realities of their lives and careers. 

She was devastated that he had left her and furious that he had found a way to tell her all the things she had already known but needed to hear.  All but Spock—and in those thoughts lay fear.

How could she have been so blind?  Not to just his attraction—but her own?  She always had a soft spot in her heart for Spock but when had it grown to something more?  And how had Jim known and she not?

“Nyota, please come back inside before you get chilled.” Spock urged softly as he practically carried her back to the sofa.  The letter, now neatly folded, rested on the mantle.  One look at Spock confirmed he knew its contents.

“Spock—Spock—I didn’t know—you never let me see how you felt.”  Ny shook her head in confusion as her world turned inside out.

“Would it have made any difference between us?  Could you have denied him if he sought you out?” Spock asked, his voice roughened by his own measure of grief and uncertainty.

“Jim would never have come between us if we had been a couple—“ Ny stammered in Jim’s defense, yet knowing she had not answered the question.

“He was always between us—he was your choice.  Jim was my t’hy’la but not my yon-shal tersu.  I could not share you with him just as he could not share you with me.”

“I am not a possession to be bartered for,” Nyota remarked coldly—suddenly realizing she had been the center of a debate she had never been privy to—and not liking it.

“No, you are not, but that did not change the fact that we could not share you and you had made your choice.” Spock again repeated that everything between the three of them was based upon her choice, like it made perfect sense to him.

“I didn’t know a choice I made twenty-five years ago would be permanent.  I was hurt and scared and he represented safety and security to me,” Ny challenged back, reliving the terrifying months between her rape and her final rehabilitation in Jim’s arms.  It was the only choice she had ever made that could have the repercussions Spock claimed.  How he knew she was past caring.

“To a Vulcan such a choice is always permanent.” Spock answered with quiet finality.

“I’m not a Vulcan, Spock.” Ny offered, trying to get past Vulcan logic.

“You are not, but I am.  The choice would still be permanent.” The intensity of his stare told Ny he was speaking of tonight just as much as we was speaking of their past.

“Spock, please don’t make me have this conversation right now.” Nyota dropped her face into her hands, trying to blot out the past twenty minutes of her life.

“I am not forcing you to say anything, Nyota. Jim’s letter has exposed quite enough truths for one evening.”  He rose and swiftly moved to take up his cloak.

Ny panicked and reached out to stop him. “Spock, I’m sorry, please don’t leave.  I just need some time to deal with all of this.”

Spock pushed into Nyota’s personal space, running his fingers lightly over the psi points of her temple. “Nyota, I am not running away.  But I need you to be sure of what you want and who you want.  I will not compete with the memory of Jim.  When you know what you seek I can be found at the Consulate.”

Nyota just nodded, her voice trapped inside by the intensity of Spock’s gaze. He pulled away his hand like it was hardest thing he had ever done and walked out into the night.

~Finis

Recollections--The Art of Conversation Su, U Implied K/U [PG]

Image: Courtesy of Trekcore and Photo Shop
Disclaimer:  The characters belong to paramount, their actions are mine.

Summary: A new series called Recollections, a look at Kirk and Uhura's relationship through the eyes of others.  This installment: Sulu.

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"So, why do you do it, Yota?"  The question was simple; the true answer anything but.  Hikaru Sulu sat alone with Nyota Uhura--friends for decades but some things were still unspoken.  Forbidden.

"Do what?"  Her challenge was automatic--a deflection she did not expect to need tonight.  Sulu normally understood the gentle art of conversation--where questions were circumspect and answers even more careful.

It was the reason such conversations were held only between the two of them.  Their usual third--Chekov--was avoided during these questionable bouts of introspection.  He was too earnest--too direct--too in awe of the man who originally brought him on as a raw ensign.  That he was now a commander, recently XO of another ship, did little to mute the hero worship in his eyes.

"Stay--come back no matter what else you're in the middle of?"  This was not delicate--it trashed the sensibilities that existed between them.  Many things were known but never spoken, years of ship life having honed their ability to read each other.  It was a survival trait developed over years of guarding each other's back on countless away missions.  It was a skill so recently put through hell and more.  Now Sulu crossed the line--he asked a question whose answer would remove the final veneer between them.  At least he had the decency to blush.

"Be careful, Ru--truths beget truths...." Nyota warned in a casual purr, her eyes flicking to the side, broaching the bartender's practiced indifference.  Her hand tapped softly on the table, advising him to bring another round.  Both parties recognized it as a ploy to buy time, but the question remained awkwardly between them.

It spoke of deeper loyalties--questioned the boundaries of professional versus not.  No crew was like the Enterprise's crew--coming back again and again to serve a man - Captain or Admiral - no matter the cost to their own careers.  They were used to the blunt questions from outsiders, the quieter innuendos or outright gossip in her specific case.  But from each other it was never discussed.  Each of them had their own motivations and it was understood by all that it was something shared, yet private.  It was subliminal, almost instinctual.  You didn't need to talk about breathing--you just breathed.

"It's not pushed back a Captaincy for me, Ru."  That stung.  It was true that accepting Kirk's request to man the helm during their last training mission most likely cost him the Excelsior.  A new ship of the line, its delivery date had been moved up by months, the rush another ill advised effort by Starfleet to meet some arbitrary deadline.  Had Sulu been slotted for any other mission he was sure his promotion would have superseded it.  But even the Admiralty seemed to falter when an assignment involved Kirk.  Naming Stiles captain had caught them all off guard.  The private comm after the announcement was just that--private.  Kirk's apologies meant a lot but could not fill that void in his heart--the deep abyss he understood all too well when he looked into Kirk's eyes.  

Now, in the ugly aftermath of Khan, Klingons and alien probes, Sulu found he was miraculously cleared of all charges but his name was no longer near the top of the promotions list.   Kirk had been rewarded by the Council with a ship.  At present, a nameless shadow of his great love--a rush to make some grand gesture for saving Earth's human population--but still a ship.   Yet Sulu could in no way consider it a fair trade for the loss of a son--he could not imagine losing Demora in the same manner as Kirk lost David.  In the grand scheme of things Sulu considered himself a lucky man.  He was not alone.

"True, but I have a daughter."  Not 'still' only 'have' -- the comment not being directed at Kirk but more toward the woman who sat in front of him.  That the relationship which produced the daughter crashed and burned was not the subject.  Just the fact he had found someone and stayed with them long enough to want a child spoke volumes.  The remark felt unworthy of being spoken aloud but it did not make it less true.

That did more than sting.  She lifted her glass and toasted his very jagged point, his response a non sequitur to anyone but them.

"And a very beautiful child she is." Nyota ceded gracefully, choosing to take the hit rather than strike back.  She loved children but never chose to have any of her own.  The men in her life never inspired that sort of commitment and she would not bring a child into the world without the father being a part of their life.  Uhura knew the men she gravitated toward were poor substitutes for someone she could not have.  It was not possible and never meant to be but the attraction remained.  It was quiet and well-hidden but those who remained from the beginning recognized and accepted its existence without any tangible proof.

For the first time her eyes cut over to a table on the far side of the bar.  It was a quick glance, almost casual to anyone else.  But Sulu caught the involuntary glance toward the man who could provoke those feelings--love and commitment--in Nyota.  The man sat with Admiral Cartwright, friend and recent champion for Kirk and his crew in the Council debate regarding their disposition. 

"We all give up things to serve, Ru, some more than others."  That barb struck bone.  Nyota did not need Sulu to point out what she might have given up to further her career, what she continued to deny by coming when beckoned.  Spock had given up his life; Kirk had killed his ship and lost his son.  It suddenly made their sacrifices seem trivial.

"I think I'm going to call it a night, okay?  Winning a reprieve was worth a toast but perhaps I've had one toast too many."  It was as much of an apology as one could give without acknowledging the insult.  She rose, now studiously avoiding the hazel eyes that caught her movement.  Sulu gently ignored her sudden interest in the table.  It was time to be polite again--time to avoid the truth and crawl back into their separate shells of denial.  He stood with her, brushing his lips carefully against her cheek.  He smiled a forgiving smile--the same one she reflected back to him.  Tonight was a near thing--a layer of skin too much maybe but not above healing.

Sulu sat back down to finish his drink, remembering was not high on his list of things to do tonight, but movement from the corner still caught his eye.  Broad shoulders squared themselves as the admiral rose from his chair.  He smiled at Cartwright, thanking him for whatever influence he swayed in the Council's decision.  Their eyes caught as Kirk straightened--his eyes looking hard at Sulu for the briefest of seconds.  Sulu tilted his head toward the door--the direction of Nyota's departure.  Again, a nearly imperceptible nod was given his way as Kirk excused himself.  His stride was sure and quick--only in pursuit if one knew the prize.

~Finis 

At the Coming of the Dawn K/U [PG]

Image: courtesy of Paramount, Trekcore and Photoshop

Disclaimer: The characters are Paramount's, their actions are mine.

Summary: What is the penance for taking what you desire?

~~~

In the ambient honesty of dawn's faint light she glimpsed the smooth edifice of shouldered muscle. The fragile glow cast it pale, but without doubt the full appraisement of morning would find kindred gold. Her eyes bore the light, choosing to accept its part in their condemnation--a fair trade for the singular moment to gape--to fleetingly glory in the unrepentant forelock that made years forgotten. She felt her heart take notice of the languid, delicate lashes provoking more than envy. She chose to ignore the probability they hid eyes that would wake with doubt, a morning brimming with good judgment and no alcohol would sway the verdict against them repeating their offense. For now the lips were softly innocent, only slightly swollen from their passioned abuse hours before. The cut of his temple and jaw silently petitioned her to once again taste their saltiness. A come-hither pulse at the base of his throat invited attention, its blemished hollow an evidence neatly covered.

Would that her own guilt could be so easily hidden--but she was no longer someone who dwelled on 'if only'. These five years had taught her to act--to seek instead of wistfully hoping.

And now it was done. A shore-leave too many some would say. But would *he* say it? In her mathematics, his was the only opinion that mattered. It was circumstantial at best if others saw them leave together. Nothing unusual in that--chivalry was not only bestowed upon visiting alien princesses. But if last night ended on an invitation to stay, who need know? If their mission was down to its bitter dregs, with little time left for chimeric fantasies, who would cast the first stone?

No, she knew her chief prosecutor would come from within. Upon their first light his eyes would greet her in awkward kindness, no rebuke in them for her enticement the night before. He would only find fault in his lack of resistance--the expectations of a saint ground down to a humanness history knew too well.

And so it would be: him quietly castigating himself for being mortal and her able to change nothing. It was not fair, she knew that before ever asking him to stay. It was the price to be paid between them--the sentencing for intimacy realized. But for now he slept and she was content to smile in the quiet and ache in the afterglow.

~finis

And Thanks Were Given K/U [NC-17]

Image courtesy of my fledgling Photoshop skills.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. I only own my fantasies.

Beta: Flying solo on this one. You've been warned.

Summary: Takes place just as Kirk ends his two year retirement before TWOK. Not a part of my Realizations series just a story written for the THFFF 'A Story Posted before the end of the Holidays Challenge'.

~~~

"Nyota, please tell me you weren't so noble and idealistic that you never made a play for him all those years ago--all those lonely, lonely nights out in deep space... ."

Commander Uhura gave her oldest friend from Starfleet Academy, Kiki Morrow, a look that could peel deutronium. "We've had this conversation before, Kiki, I'm never going to tell you anything--especially when I know it will go straight back to *Admiral* Morrow.

Only her eyes moved, taking in the subject of their conversation: Jim Kirk, or possibly, newly reactivated Admiral James T. Kirk, late of Idaho and rumored soon to be Starfleet Academy's command-track supervising admiral. Waning afternoon glare made both women invisible to the men standing outside on the deck. Intent upon his subject, Kirk stood immobile, dressed in casual civilian attire, the intimate drape of his sweater confirming two years of retirement had not diminished the man talking with Admiral Harry Morrow.

"Nyota, you know I would never tell Harry anything like that. Besides, he is the *last* person to judge someone on that topic." At Uhura's raised brow, Kiki rolled her eyes--"Oh, stop it. I made an honest man of him by our second tour."

"I'm not judging." Nyota threw up her hands in surrender, only now quietly suspecting her invitation to the Morrow's Thanksgiving dinner was more than an attempt to share a holiday with an old friend. It had been years since their last real get together but Kiki's penchant for playing matchmaker reminded Nyota of her reason for the gap.

The politics of the situation became another consideration. Two years ago Kirk resigned rather than accept another promotion--one geared to assure his being named Commander Starfleet when Admiral Nogura finally stepped down. Several months later, word of Nogura's illness became known and the jackals started vying for position. Harry Morrow, one of Kirk's peers and 'friendly' rivals, wanted the job, fighting hard for consideration. A few years older than Kirk, Harry seemed to be Nogura's perennial second choice. Kirk suddenly removing himself from the equation limited Nogura's options and broadened Harry's opportunities.

And now scuttlebutt was that he was working hard to recruit Kirk back to the Academy to oversee the command cadets, a new flag position allowing him the authority to rewrite the curriculum as he saw fit. Morrow might not have the power to give Kirk a ship again; he did not yet have the absolute authority Nogura once wielded, but he was trying to give Kirk something of value: the chance to make a difference in shaping the young minds that would go out into the dark.

Would it be enough? And how did she fit into the equation?--quarry?--test?--reward? It was not lost to Uhura that Kiki was a starship and Starfleet medical psychoanalyst long before she transferred to the diplomatic corps.

"Sometimes it just is what it looks like, Nyota." Kiki's prescience only reinforced Uhura's suspicions but she hardly had an option to leave without hurting her friend and potential patron. "Now let's take this wine outside; I only promised them a drink twenty minutes ago. I hope bringing you out with me will keep the heckling down to a low roar."

"Then you're lucky it's wine and not Saurian brandy," Uhura scolded good-naturedly. Kirk liked wine, but it did not hold a candle against his preference for brandy.

"I'll remember that for after dinner," Kiki quipped and Uhura had faith she would.

At the sound of the door opening both Kirk and Morrow turned to see who was coming out to join them. Morrow smiled, motioning the ladies over; acutely aware the two former colleagues were silently staring at each other. "Kiki, bring Commander Uhura over here. I think these two might have some catching up to do."

Uhura moved after a nudge from Kiki, her eyes still examining Kirk. His hair was darker and curlier than when she saw him last. "Commander," he greeted formally, his posture quietly going on alert.

"Admiral," Nyota answered in kind--not sure how to acknowledge him after two years. Two years without even a goodbye.

"Oh my God, is that any way to greet each other? Jim Kirk, allow me to introduce Nyota Uhura. I believe you two have met." At Kiki's snicker, Uhura realized that the Admiral's wife was not the only one attempting a bit of matchmaking.

Kirk's head tilted at the friendly chastisement but hardly appeared reprimanded. Leaning in, he softly brushed his lips against Nyota's cheek. "Hello Nyota, you look as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you--Jim." The name came hard for her--she had always used his title to keep a certain distance between them. His reputation notwithstanding, Kirk always ignored gender on the bridge and successful officers learned to do the same. "It's so nice to see you again."

"Harry promised me a treat if I came over for Thanksgiving," Kirk announced, cutting his eyes over to the admiral in recognition of the social set up. "I thought he was talking about Kiki's home cooking--"

"Speaking of home cooking," Kiki interrupted none too subtlety, "Harry, I need your help in the kitchen," pushing him toward the doorway.

"Yes, dear," Morrow laughed, allowing his much smaller wife to man-handle him into the house.

"You'd never know she is one of the Federation's best diplomats." Kirk shook his head in grinning disbelief.

Handing him his nearly forgotten wine, Nyota laughed. "I think she's just acting out because she can. A Starfleet admiral and a former member of his crew are hardly likely to start a war just because she invites us to the same party."

"I see your point, but I think she enjoys social arbitration as much as the diplomatic kind." Kirk stared at the door, as if expecting Kiki to reappear.

"And there's that too." Uhura could not deny that aspect of her friend's personality.

"It *is* great to see you again, Nyota." Kirk's eyes softened, morphing from mischievous into something that caused Uhura's stomach to do a little flip.

"I've missed you." Where had that come from? Two years of silence did not earn him such a confession. Caught off guard by her admission, Kirk's eyes widened, allowing Uhura to see they were the same warm hazel color she remembered.

Touched by her words, Kirk stepped in close, forcing Uhura to look up at him as he made his apology. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you goodbye."

"At first I was angry that you just left, but I got over it. Doctor McCoy told me a few things he probably shouldn't have." A chance dinner with McCoy clued her in that Kirk made good his threat from all those years ago--to quit rather than be forced once more into a position he did not want. After the V'ger crisis Nogura allowed Kirk the freedom of a ship again rather than lose him altogether. But two years ago the fleet commander knew he was losing the battle to keep his condition quiet and tried to bring Kirk back into the fold. Kirk balked and the Admiral called his bluff only to find it wasn't a bluff at all. Kirk resigned.

Later, after word of Nogura's chronic illness became common knowledge, it suddenly became clear as to why he had fast-tracked Kirk's career. Nogura, the man who technically served at the discretion of the Federation Council, but in reality guided their agenda more times than not, was looking for a replacement, a will as indomitable as his own. He found one in Kirk but realized much too late that the young man he blazed through the ranks, tempered on risk and adrenaline, would no longer bend to his ambitions.

"No, he probably shouldn't have but I learned long ago Bones couldn't keep a secret--at least not one of mine." At Nyota's raised brow for calling McCoy out, he continued. "Yes, I've always played my own game, but sometimes it costs me. A lot."

"But you're back now?" Uhura asked cautiously, not sure how much he was willing to share.

"I think the spring semester should prove to be very interesting." He smiled archly over the rim of his wine stem. "Care to go back to school?"

Kiki chose that moment to announce it was time to eat, allowing Uhura a moment of grace to process his question as anything other than a request to rejoin his staff. His hand coming to rest on the small of her back as they entered the house did not help matters. How could he just pop back into her life after two years and pick up where he left off? Was he now being as presumptuous as Nogura had been of him?

Two years was a long time to be out of the loop. Detractors branded Kirk a thankless son for leaving just when Nogura needed him. Some were angry, declaring his career advancement wasn't earned but a carrot others were never given. They were not the majority of the Fleet, but a vocal enough minority to cause a stir in Morrow's administration at the news of his possible return. While Nyota had her own reasons to be angry with his leaving, she subscribed to neither critical opinion of her former commander. She suspected Kiki invited her to dinner to discover just this fact.

~~~

Surprisingly, dinner was a mundane but pleasant affair, no politics or work discussion, just an enjoyable meal shared between friends. Kiki announced her love for the holidays, saying it was an opportunity to express herself through food.

"What?" By the look of Jim's overfilled plate, Nyota thought he might be attempting to express his gratitude through eating. "I've been working out."

"Oh, yes, Jim, she noticed." Kiki taunted, doing her own once over of Kirk's physique. Uhura's scathing look did not affect Kiki at all. Jim, for the most part, chose to keep his smirk to a minimum.

"My mom always told me the greatest compliment one could give a cook was an empty plate." Kirk tossed out in his own defense.

"I like how your Mama thinks, Jim." Kiki nodded support. "I was surprised when Harry said he got you to come over today. I thought you'd be back in Iowa."

"Normally I would, but this year Mom decided to visit extended family off planet." A flash of something else--regret? Loneliness maybe--touched his eyes before being pushed away. "Thanks for inviting me."

"You're welcome, Jim. I couldn't let Nyota sit there and stare across at an empty chair, now could I?"

"Admir--Jim, please don't answer that." Nyota interrupted in only partially feigned frustration.

"Whatever is the matter, Nyota? You know how I *love* to entertain." Innocence was actually a becoming, if unbelievable, look for Kiki.

"Nyota, you can't do anything with her--believe me--I've tried," Harry offered in warmhearted commiseration, "Happy Thanksgiving, everyone." He raised his glass in a toast, plainly wasting a chastising glance upon an unrepentant Kiki.

"Happy Thanksgiving!"

~~~

In the end Kiki got her way. Dessert destroyed, food put away, and kitchen cleaned, it was only a matter of time before someone mentioned going home.

"Oh, Jim, be a dear and take Nyota home. You have a flitter and she came by cab."

"I'd be happy to," Kirk answered, graciously giving in to Kiki's antics.

Pointedly ignoring Kiki's victorious grin, Nyota answered drily, "Thank you, Jim, I'll just get my jacket."

"I'm so going to hurt you, Kiki," Uhura softly threatened the woman who followed her into the bedroom.

"What? You can't mean you didn't enjoy having dinner with Jim." Kiki just rolled her eyes at Nyota's rebuke.

"He's my Admir--he's my former CO, Kiki. It's a bit awkward to be fixed up on a blind date with your former commander." Being in his company was one thing - Kiki's blatant efforts to match them up were something else.

"I don't see why--he's hot. You obviously like each other. Oh, don't give me that look again; I've been getting it all night. You can't deny you find him attractive. I read faces for a living for God's sake--I know attraction when I see it."

"That's beside the point. I feel like you set me up as a prize or something." Uhura's internal sensors were blaring their own red alert.

"No, just a friendly face--if not old crew--who?" The question was spoken just a bit too casually to be innocent.

Still couched out of context, Nyota finally heard Kiki's real question. "Maybe we'd be the ones to have the biggest issue. He left. No goodbye. No nothing."

"So, how does he win you back?" The tone was serious, the old friend gone, replaced by the cold stare of an inquisitioner.

"I'm not a trophy." Nyota found her own mettle.

"Really?" Kiki challenged, incredulous that Nyota could not recognize her worth. "You don't think you're something to win? He wants you back--he asked for you. Maybe you aren't a reward, but he does want you back in his professional life. Anything else you make of it is between the two of you."

"Your little party was just a ruse to get us together and see how it went--to see how I would react to his coming back." It was not phrased as a question but Nyota's eyes still searched Kiki's face for an answer.

"Was it? Am I that manipulative?" Kiki's Cheshire smile did little to deny the accusation.

"You better believe it. I know you Kiki Morrow. Harry is going to give Kirk carte blanche at the Academy--both their reputations will ride on how well he is received. You very much want Jim to succeed--he would be a great asset to Harry--but you'd have no compunction against changing his mind if you thought it would destabilize his control of the Admiralty." Nyota found her own voice wound tight with anger.

"I'm glad we understand each other. Now, are you going to stand up for Kirk or stay on the sidelines? I can't see you vocally joining his critics, but keeping quiet is just as effective for someone in your position." Kiki seemed satisfied, as if Nyota's indignation was exactly what she sought.

"Kiki, dear, I'll always have the Admiral's back and you should remember that if you ever decide to switch teams." Banking her own anger Nyota smiled without humor. She might not be in the Admiralty but she knew where plenty of bodies were buried. Her thoughts of Kirk returning were her own--private. She would not allow Kiki to use them against the man she had served for multiple tours.

The diplomat dipped her head in acknowledgement, understanding Uhura's threat was not an idle one. "Then we won't have a problem. Shall we go?"

~~~

Their companionable smiles were back in place as they reentered the living room.

"Thank you both, I had a wonderful time." Uhura smiled sincerely, at least to Harry. While she did not think him totally innocent of Kiki's plan, she doubted he knew the true nature of her intent. One of Harry's weaknesses, and Nogura's biggest issue with considering Morrow as his replacement, was his tendency to only read the surface motivations of another. True, with Kiki at his side, Morrow was more than covered on that front, but it was a very big flaw for someone in such a political arena.

Giving hugs all around, Kiki continued to play the gracious hostess. "Of course you did, dear. All my parties are wonderful because I only invite exceptional people. Now remember, nothing strenuous until everyone's had a chance to digest dinner." Uhura had to give Kiki credit, she was the consummate actress.

"I'm going now." Under the guise of exhausted patience Nyota hugged Morrow goodbye before turning on her heel and walking out the door, leaving Kirk to make his own goodbyes.

Secured in the quietness of the flitter Kirk and Uhura looked at each other, breathing a sigh of relief before bursting out in laughter. "I'm sorry, Nyota." Jim began, trying to restrain himself by focusing on keying in the coordinates to Nyota's house.

"Don't be, Jim, she's *my* friend. I should know better than to think an invitation to her home is purely social."

"I know her too and I fell for it. I should have guessed she'd try to find me a dinner date."

Keeping the conversation on the most obvious subterfuge, Nyota discovered martyrdom was pretty easy to fake. "Yes, that's me, once again pressed into 'safe' escort duty."

Bruised ego in waiting, a look of hurt flashed across Jim's face. "Was it really that bad?"

"Of course not; I always had a great time and was allowed to experience so much more than my rank warranted. It's just--" Nyota caught herself, almost forgetting to whom she was speaking.

"Just what?" Jim prompted, eager to know.

"I just wish it hadn't always been so--so--safe." Realizing she had no way out but with the truth, Uhura said the word blandly, attempting to hide her embarrassment with humor.

"Now she tells me." He rolled his eyes in good-humored exasperation, much more playful than she remembered him to be.

She smiled back, liking the change in him. "Oh, to know then what we know now."

"As I remember it, you informed me early on that your job did not involve 'entertaining' the captain in any way. I always thought your willingness to play escort a great concession." His tone implied he recalled it quite differently.

Uhura was glad he could not see the blush that memory made her feel. Trying to make sure her position was on solid ground she had nearly called him out in her initial interview. "Can you blame me? I was the only female on your command staff--you knew your reputation was--"

"Did you believe it?"

"I was--wary--at first, but I soon recognized you treated me like every other officer. Most of the time I appreciated that, but there was the occasional planetary ball or diplomatic gala where I wished you saw me as a woman." Her smile contained more than a bit of wistfulness.

"Oh believe me, Nyota; I always knew you were a woman," His playfulness transforming into resignation at another cost of command, "But most of the time being captain did not allow for personal choice."

Nyota was rescued from answering that remark by their arrival to her brownstone. Kirk exited the flitter, coming around to escort her to the door.

"Thank you, Jim. Is it safe to invite you in for a nightcap?" Nostalgia made her brave.

Laughing at her challenge his darkening eyes told her much more than his words. "As safe as you want it to be, Nyota."

Feeling a rush as her heart skipped a beat, Uhura looped her arm through his, encouraging him through the door. "I thought I'd already told you my opinion about that."

~~~

At her insistence Kirk sat on the sofa and watched as Uhura quickly hung their coats on the rack before pouring them both a brandy. She passed Jim his drink as she sat comfortably, kicking off her shoes and curling one leg beneath her as she settled next to him.

After touching his glass to hers he sipped the amber liquid, letting it warm him from the inside. Nyota found herself hyperaware of him-watching the unintentional grimace and tensing of his throat as the alcohol burned its way down.

"You never answered me." The statement pulled her eyes back to his, making Nyota focus on the question rather than the body before her.

"What was the question?" She remembered his flip remark about returning to school but needed him to put it out there, to make a real request for her services if he wanted them.

"If I come back to the Academy, I want you to join my staff. I know you're focused on your research but I'd work around that if you'd be willing."

"Willing to what?" She did not miss the 'if' but that would come next.

"Willing to teach the cadets what it really means to run the communications department of a starship. How one minute it's listening to quasar blips and the next it's translating a first contact. How communicating is more than the language of a culture--how not to get everyone killed by making assumptions based upon your own. They learn syntax and translator algorithms. I want you to teach them the practical application of all that and more--the science and the instinct of it all."

More than slightly daunted by his expectations and faith but refusing to show it, Nyota followed up with her second question. "And what do you mean by 'if you come back'? I thought you had accepted Morrow's proposal."

"Let's just say it's still in negotiation but I'm confident I'll be wreaking havoc on Spock by the spring semester." His eyes warmed at the mention of their favorite Vulcan, the one currently commanding the Enterprise as an academy training vessel.

"I'm sorry Jim, I need more detail than that in order to rearrange my life this time." She did not flinch as he turned his singular attention on her, the admiral finally making an appearance. "It sounds exciting but my research is very important to me too. To build the kind of curriculum you're asking of me will require more than two weeks notice. Who am I kidding, it would take me until the fall to get something viable outlined and implemented."

His eyes lost all humor, replaced by the look of someone facing an ugly truth. "Nyota, you realized there was much more going on at the Morrow's than a nice meal and a chance meeting between old friends.

"You were right earlier, I'm *not* safe. Politically, I'm damaged goods to Morrow and he is too new in his position to risk the wrath of the Admiralty. I have many friends there but quite a few enemies too. My rise through the ranks was at some of their expense. He'd be an idiot to bring me back until he's sure it won't cost him. Harry is no idiot.

"Kiki used you as a sounding board. Old staff, strong attachments, someone I left without a backward glance when I found it impossible for me to stay. I know I have the support of Spock and Bones, but you've always been the emotional anchor of the command team. If you welcome me back, the others will too. I don't have the right to ask it of you but I need your help."

"I've been a captain's woman before. Why should your return as an admiral change anything?"

Kirk's forehead wrinkled in mild worry before his head dipped in tentative agreement. "Okay, I'm scared to know everything behind that statement but I take it you're in my court?"

"Jim, you have no idea the flak I've taken over the years for being on your team. While I am still insulted you left without a goodbye--regardless of circumstances--I prefer those issues to remain private between us. The Admiralty can kiss my pla'krus-dvunek. I'll always be in your court."

"I'm sure Spock will be glad to hear your rather creative use of Vulcan anatomy. I know I am." He found himself leaning forward, perhaps subconsciously sitting on edge awaiting her answer.

"I'm in the mood to accept apologies." She leaned in, closing the distance between them, her lips less than a breath away.

"I'm in the mood to offer those and more." His lips just caressed hers; Uhura felt more the idea of them touching than the reality of it. His breath warmed her cheek as he tilted his head to move in closer.

Her glass found the sofa table as she freed herself of unimportant details. She pushed herself up and into his kiss, this time finding no hesitancy as Jim's mouth covered hers. One of his hands cupped her jaw as the other slid under her hair to cradle her neck. Nyota lost herself in the moment, only recognizing the taste and touch of him, moving to discover the body that had distracted her all day.

"Why don't you take the wine upstairs and start a fire in the bedroom fireplace while I slip into something more comfortable?" She grinned against his lips, liking the film noir of her suggestion.

"Comfortable is good." He kissed back, nodding his approval. "Fire--fireplace--got it."

~~~

Kirk turned from lighting the logs in the old-fashioned fireplace as Nyota entered the bedroom wearing nothing but a long silk robe. His eyes looked her up and down, entranced by the curve of her hips and the tautness of her nipples straining against the soft fabric. She walked to him, placing her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

"That's not safe," he murmured huskily.

"Then I'm doing it right," she whispered back, her hands running down his body, slipping her fingers into the top of his jeans.

Turning Uhura toward the cheval mirror standing vigil in the corner, Kirk stepped behind her, his hands pulling her robe down from the top, exposing her breasts and trapping her arms in the sleeves. The front of the robe gaped, allowing him to see the manicured mass of curls between her legs. She was still partially draped, yet exposed much more erotically than if she were nude. Still holding her arms behind her with his left hand, he pulled her backward against him. Nyota sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned into his hardness.

"Nyota," his warm breath nuzzled her ear, "keep your eyes open. I want you to watch me make love to you in the mirror." His eyes reflected more than firelight.

She opened her eyes, finding herself a voyeur to her own seduction as Jim began to explore her body. His right hand moved across her breasts, caressing and gently kneading, making himself familiar with her skin. He continued roaming, descending his fingers into the curls beyond. Trapped by his gaze, Nyota gasped as he entered her with his index finger, his thumb slowly circling her clit. She was wet with excitement as she both watched and felt him move within her. He spread her legs by wrapping his right leg around hers, stepping outward to give himself better access. Nyota was effectively trapped, made completely vulnerable by their shift in balance. Her voice caught in her throat as Kirk nipped her neck and slipped another finger inside her.

She found it nearly impossible not to roll her eyes back inside her head as he whispered, "Watch, Nyota, watch me as I make love to you." His eyes tracked hers, their intensity holding her just as captive as his hand still encircling her wrists.

A third finger joined the other two before curling themselves inward. Nyota lost any control she might have once possessed. Her body grew rigid and clenched around his fingers before her knees buckled. Jim quickly let her arms go, keeping her upright by sliding his left arm around her waist. He kept her on the crest by pressing deep, continuing to rub her clit with his thumb.

As her spasms relented into only occasional tremors, Jim released Nyota's leg, holding her yet against him. Once able to focus, she was not surprised to find her robe completely open. Still through the mirror, she looked at his face, complimented by the open hunger of his eyes. She smiled, arching her back to capture his head with her upraised arms. "With a look like that I may never feel safe again."

His voice was hoarse as he turned her body into his, lips warning while seeking shelter, "That would be wise."

Still within his kiss, Nyota undid his belt and loosened his jeans, gently easing them down over his hips. Freeing his hardness from restraint, she started to drop down to her knees.

"Oh no," he scolded teasingly, lifting her to her feet and cajoling her toward the bed; "if you think I can take the same treatment you're sadly mistaken."

"What's the old adage? You can dish it out but you can't take it?" Nyota razzed as she elbowed herself toward the head of the bed, challenging him with a flash of her eyes.

"Maybe, but I'll show you what I can take." Jim pulled his sweater over his head, tossing it flagrantly onto the floor. He made short work of the rest of his jeans while she continued to appreciate his form, enjoying the casual flex of muscle his movements invoked.

As he crawled up the bed to cover her, Nyota understood exactly who was being 'taken'. Jim's lips found hers, his tongue feinting past. His hands firmly cupped her breasts before moving down to taste them. The tug of his teeth against her nipples sent a new tremor through Nyota's groin, priming her for the resonance that was to begin. Once again looking into her eyes, Kirk deftly pushed his cock into her wetness, joy-riding in that nanosecond of unity. Instinctively wrapping her legs against him, Nyota held him still, reveling in the same moment, seduced by the depth of all of him.

Jim smiled, understanding and appreciating the strength attempting to hold him in place, but just as easily pulling back and thrusting again. Nyota clenched around him, making him work for the backstroke. He laughed playfully, reaching down to hook one of her legs under his arm. Bracing himself with his other elbow he began a deep, insistent rhythm. When his pace quickened--became less sure--Nyota wiggled her leg free, planting her foot against the bed, matching him thrust for thrust. His fingers found their way between them, touching her once again. She felt herself tighten, the pressure and stretch of him driving her to the peak of another orgasm. He lost it at the same time, collapsing against her, shuddering hard with the force of his own.

~~~

"Nyota, I have to go soon." Warm breath caressed her neck, but the rumble of Jim's voice tickled her ear even more.

"Why, it's hardly morning?" The light from the bedroom window barely outlined his face as Nyota sleepily turned into his body, the warmth of him better than any blanket.

"I wasn't planning on being gone overnight. I have horses that need to be fed and watered." Picking up where he left off last night, he answered between nibbled kisses, making the chores sound erotic.

"Oh, so you really *did* go domestic, didn't you?" Nyota couldn't help but tease, fleeters, especially star-bound fleeters, did not take pets-- most did not even take mates unless they were shippers too. It was too hard to make arrangements--too painful to leave them behind when it was time to go.

"Well, I certainly have all the trappings of someone having tried." The tone was flip but his eyes looked away, the subtle deflection a warning she was nearing tender territory.

Snuggling in closer, Nyota brought his mind back to the present by stroking the hardness she found against her belly. She could not erase the last two years for him. At the moment she did not want to--as a civilian Kirk was a fair indulgence. "As delicious as you looked in that sweater yesterday, I think the uniform suits you best."

The compliment triggered a grin of enormous proportion as he announced, "I think the horses can hold out for just a bit longer," before indulging her once again.

~~~

"I can't believe I've let you talk me into teaching next semester. I mean, it's barely six weeks away!" Coming down from her recent high, the question of the night suddenly took center stage in Uhura's scrambled thoughts.

"You're not one for pillow talk much, are you?" Kirk laughed as he rolled to face Nyota's slightly panicked one.

"Jim--I'm being serious--don't laugh at me. I must be crazy to 've agreed to something so absurd. Six weeks to plan and outline a whole curriculum? No way!" She tried to sound angry but his continuing grin took most of the edge from her voice. "I guess I'm lucky I've got six weeks--you didn't know I would be at the Morrow's yesterday--you hadn't planned to ask me--"

"Sshhh," he softly scolded, tapping her lips into submission. "How can I ask you to do something until I know whether I'm going to be re-instated?"

"It didn't stop you from asking me last night--"

"Harry pretty much guaranteed me yesterday it was a done deal. He just has to work through any last minute bargaining. Your being there yesterday was provident--I couldn't pass up the opportunity. If you said no then it was probably not going to happen anyway." His tolerance for the gamesmanship going on with his future momentarily took Nyota off guard.

"You mean, if I said no, Kiki would make sure you didn't cause her husband any problems." Nyota felt no need to be generous in her opinion.

"Something like that." He smiled cheekily at her sudden protectiveness.

"Since when have I ever been able to tell you no?" She scoffed at the mere idea.

"Why does that sound dirtier than it is?" Dappling kisses along the edge of her jaw only made his question more ridiculous.

Nyota actually giggled before reining herself in, "Where have you been for the last eight hours?"

"Somewhere right about here, I think...." His hand moved sensuously along the inner curve of her thigh.

Capturing his hand with hers, she held it still. "Don't try to distract me, Jim. I'm really worried about this."

"Teaching? You've done it before." He seemed truly confused at her hesitancy.

"A lecture series--not a full program--and even then I had more than six weeks to plan." The difference was crystal clear to her.

"Relax. I may have taken the liberty of asking Spock to prepare a few outlines for your perusal if you agreed." Now understanding her panic, he took mercy.

"Spock? Outlines? Mister Spock doesn't know how to just outline." She froze in disbelief, realizing he was most likely sharing only a small portion of a far greater plan.

"He's thorough that way..."

"Wait--even he can't have done all of that in the short time you've been talking with Morrow--Whose idea was it *really* for you to take over the Command track cadets? Spock's?" Her suspicion only grew deeper at his smugness.

"It's his world--I just live in it." Others fell for his innocent grin; she knew he was at his most devious when it appeared.

"Right...but at the moment he needs your expertise in dealing with Command when they get in the way of his plans." She *knew* better than to underestimate them--two years of down time had made her rusty.

"When their resistance to new ideas is illogical, perhaps; Spock is brilliant, but he's not quite gotten the hang of putting just the right spin on it to get what he wants. Until then, he has me." He made it sound so simple.

"You? Well, I've heard it said you can put enough backspin on a ball to play tennis with yourself..." She laughed, the rest of the story should be entertaining... .

He pulled his brows down in a wounded expression. "That sounds like McCoy. Besides, I'm using my skills for good not evil."

"I take it Mister Spock has been trying to get the powers that be to change the Academy curriculum and they wouldn't listen?"

"Alas, you know the Admiralty so well."

"So he just devises a plan to change the power source--one in his favor."

"You make it sound so clandestine."

"Clandestine is hardly the word I would use. Kiki has no idea she's been out maneuvered before she even started." Nyota wished she could be in audience when the diplomat figured it out for herself.

"Don't think it's been easy. If it were he wouldn't need me to get the changes he wants in play."

"Hardly--Mister Spock will always need you. But I wasn't meaning that--just admiring his subtlety--not a word--not a hint of anything has pointed to him. I bet the hardest part was convincing you to come back." She looked at him hard, waiting to hear his answer. Admitting he made a mistake in leaving was not his style but so far he had surprised her plenty.

"Maybe I was ready to come back." The smile was still in place but the tone was painfully wistful.

Sensing it was time to move on to their situation, Nyota rolled over, holding Kirk down with more than her stare. "So now that I know the game plan and am no longer freaking out over lesson plans already written, where do we go from here? Was last night a onetime thing or does it continue once you're no longer a civilian?" That his current lack of rank most likely played into his decision to spend the night was not lost upon her.

"Again with the pillow talk--" He tried to joke but his smile faltered, mutating into a visage much more intense. "I don't know, Nyota. What do you want? I'm still picking up the pieces after telling someone I was going back to Starfleet. The ending was not pretty. Right now I'm not sure I can give you everything you deserve."

She brought her hand up to gently stroke his cheek, recognizing his confession for what it was--fear of allowing anyone else in. "You forget, Jim, I'm Fleet. I'm not asking for a lifetime--I'm just asking for today."

He smiled, his face lighting up at the sense of understanding she granted him. It was more than he could hope for and definitely more than he deserved. "I can give you that. Want to come help me with the horses?"

~Finis