Cry
by SlwMtionDaylite

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though.
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Spock/Uhura
Word Count: 1,042
Spoilers: Star Trek XI Missing Scene/Alternate Version/What-if

Summary: She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her just as she had done in the turbolift shortly after Vulcan's destruction. He, once again, gave into her embrace, pulling her closer, burying his face in her shoulder, seeking comfort.

Written for the Spock/Uhura prompt: heartbreak over at the LJ Community.

He felt their gazes upon him. He felt himself struggle to regain control.

Taking deep breaths, trying desperately to regain his center, Spock spoke, "Doctor, I find myself unfit for duty. I hereby relinquish my command based on the fact that I have been –" He hesitated for a brief second. He never thought, never believed – "emotionally compromised. Please, note the time and date in the ship's logs." Another shaky breath as he turned to the exit.

He felt shame. Despair. Heartbreak.

He halted briefly at the exit, turning to face Nyota. She opened her mouth to say something but suddenly stopped, as though she couldn't bring herself to actually say it.

He needed to leave. He needed to find his control again. It would be so easy to simply give in to his emotions. To allow himself the comfort of Nyota's touch. To cry. To mourn.

But he could not.

His gaze dropped from hers and he exited.

He moved down the hall, vaguely aware of Kirk's voice over the intercom but not listening.

Deep breaths. He tried.

He had lost control, had lost his center.

"Spock," he heard her call.

He halted. "Nyota, please, I wish – I must be left alone."

She came up to him and stopped. Sympathy and concern present in her gaze, she said, "No. No, I think that's the last thing you need right now."

"You should return to your post. You have a duty to perform," he stated.

"I also have a duty to you."

He became aware that they were still in the corridor, where anyone could see them. "Nyota, this is not the place."

She sighed. "We can take this to your quarters, or mine, or wherever. But don't think for one minute I'm leaving you alone."

He barely suppressed a sigh, a cry. Did she not understand his wish to be alone? He was emotionally compromised. He did not reply to her, just turned and continued walking. He knew she would follow regardless of what he said, so it was illogical to say anything.

He found himself heading to the transporter room, halting just before the pad.

He stood as stoically as he could, gazing down at the pad. His arms hung limply at his sides. He could feel Nyota behind him as she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back.

They stood like that for several moments as she allowed him the quiet he needed to regain control.

Finally, his hands came up to rest upon hers. She took it as an invitation to speak.

She whispered, "It's okay to be upset. She was your mother. You loved her. And to have Kirk say those horrible things –"

He interrupted her. "I should not have lost control the way I did. It was illogical. It was –"

"-Human," she broke in.

Spock turned around, facing her and holding her hands in his. "It matters little if it was a human reaction or not. I should have maintained control. I could have killed him."

She looked up at him earnestly and said, "But you didn't. You stopped."

"If my father had not spoken, had not called my name, I would have killed Kirk." He believed this to be true. He had been blind with rage, with hatred, with despair.

Nyota could not say anything in response. She knew, intellectually, that he was right.

"However, I find that Kirk is correct," he spoke quietly, looking down.

She cocked her head, "What do you mean?"

"I should be attempting to avenge my mother's death. I should be doing what I can to track Nero down. However, I am not. I find myself hiding behind duty and logic, following blindly. Perhaps if I was more like Kirk, more human –"

Nyota's hands came up to cradle his face, "No. Don't say that. Don't do this to yourself. Do not punish yourself. You were doing what you knew to do, what you believed was the right choice. Don't fault yourself for that. No one does. Not the crew. Not me. Not your father."

He was quiet as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her just as she had done in the turbolift shortly after Vulcan's destruction. He, once again, gave into her embrace, pulling her closer, burying his face in her shoulder, seeking comfort.

She believed that he would pull away soon, just as he had done earlier. She was startled when she felt the wetness of tears. She held him tighter.

Their embrace was ended abruptly when he pulled away.

"Spock?" she asked, concerned, as he turned around, away from her, to face the transporter again.

"I apologize, Nyota," he said quickly, as his hands came up to his face.

Brushing away his tears, she quickly realized. She moved around him to face him once more. "Spock, it's okay. It's okay to cry."

His hands dropped to his side and his gaze settled on the pad behind her. "No, it is not. Crying accomplishes nothing. My mother is still dead. Her murderer is still free. I do not have the luxury of giving in to my emotions. I must maintain my focus. I must regain control."

She nodded sadly, knowing that he would say that. She would give him this time. For now.

"Okay," she said. She leaned up and kissed him briefly on the lips, which he reciprocated. "I'll-I'll see you later."

He gives her a small nod and she heads to the exit, leaving him alone.

The doors slid open to reveal Sarek, Spock's father. His appearance startled Nyota briefly.

"Ambassador."

He tilted his head to in greeting. "Is my son in there?"

"Yes, sir," she said, glancing back at Spock's form briefly. The Vulcan followed her gaze, the smallest hint of concern gracing his features.

Looking back at her, he said, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Their eyes met and she knew he was thanking her for more than just informing him that his son was in the room.

She nodded. "Of course, sir." Stepping around him, she watched for a brief moment as the father approached his grief-stricken son, hoping that maybe he could reach him, console him in a way she could not.

End